The History of Orthodoxia

Isolated from the rest of the world, religion is of paramount importance to the Orthodoxians: superstition runs amok throughout the land and fervent prayer coupled with constant penitence is the only way of life. Churches and chapels outnumber people two to one, the congregation live their lives in constant fear of divine retribution while at the same time operating under the mentality that the fear they are experiencing is a blessing and should be regarded as sacred.


All of Orthodoxia has long been ruled over by a powerful and ruthless theocracy, lead by the High Pontiff, with the highest bishops serving directly beneath him. They preach their merciless doctrine to the congregation tirelessly, unsatisfied until it is evident that entire congregation share the same terror that they themselves feel at the prospect of being at the mercy of God’s wrath. The smallest of sins are held in the absolute highest contempt and are punished accordingly with the most severe of sentences, unapologetic in their cruelty.

The Twisted One

The Orthodoxian religion revolves around one omnipotent God: The Twisted One, a god typically depicted humanoid in appearance with grossly and terribly contorted limbs. While The Twisted One is the sole God worshipped in Orthodoxia, there are also lesser icons thought worthy of prestige and devotion such as renowned Virgins, Saints and infamous Martyrs.


The Story of the Turned Throne and the Burnt Tree

The High Pontiff would spend his days preaching and lecturing the congregation, warning them of the horrific and macabre repercussions by their one true God should they ever lapse into a life of sin. He lavished in his role as The Twisted One’s most senior devotee, rarely leaving the sanctuary of the Great Cathedral where his ornate, golden throne resided amidst various other ostentatious displays of the Church’s wealth such as intricate carvings of gold depicting previous instances of the God’s terrible punishments.

Despite all of his best efforts, The High Pontiff could not escape the conviction that both he and the congregation were failing to rise up to and meet the various expectations of the unforgiving God; riddled with frustration at their insufficient devotion, in an act of desperation The High Pontiff heaved his golden throne with all of the strength he could muster and turned the entire throne around. He then stood and solemnly vowed to never again turn back or cast his eyes on the faces of the miserable congregation until The Twisted One granted him the guidance to redeem his people. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years; and still The High Pontiff, defying belief and reason, remained rooted to that very same spot in silent meditation, waiting for a sign.

The congregation returned to the Great Cathedral day after day in an effort to observe some kind of divine message to no avail. This age has since been referred to as the Age of the Turned Throne.


Years passed before it seemed that something was beginning to change: branches began to emerge from the ends of his fingers then all over his dead, withered body. The branches grew out from his arms, head, feet and legs winding outwards continuously until one could no longer see where the High Pontiff ended and the branches began.

This growth accelerated so dramatically that the High Pontiff was soon entirely transformed into a great, withered and barren tree, great branches extended ever outwards, destroying everything in their path until they finally broke through the Great Cathedral’s ceiling.

The Bishops and Cardinals were aghast. Lacking any appropriate reasoning or explanation, they cried out accusing The High Pontiff of the worst possible variety of heresy. For what else could have prompted The Twisted One to commit such an act? Now in the absence of a High Pontiff, the Bishops and Cardinals grew greedy, eyeing the vacant throne with lust in their eyes. Blinded by their desire, they ordered for the great tree to be sacrificially burned in a terrible ritual that was reserved for only the most terrible of sins.


For ninety days and ninety nights the tree burned incessantly. The Cathedral was filled with a fierce lament emanated from within the tree. Ash piled up in great heaps within and surrounding the Cathedral, engulfing everything but the turned throne that remained above the ashes, pristine and golden.

Such was their single-minded enthusiasm that they did not notice the mountain begin to shift beneath them and before long it had swallowed up each and every one of them. Even the congregation were not unscathed - every single person disappeared into the dark pile of ash and not a single voice was to be heard.


Seasons changed and decades passed by unnoticed until finally a great, ravishing flood came. Violent storms battered the Great Cathedral until it collapsed under the strain, its mighty ceiling caving inwards, lashings of water washing away the ash.

From the wet, dank ashes rose those unfortunate souls who had been swallowed years ago, transformed into horrible and bloodthirsty beasts, left with nothing but their faith.


The final being to emerge from the ashes was The High Pontiff himself but not in any recognisable form; he has been transformed into the most frightening beast that ever walked the land.

This is the Age of Corruption.