Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Domain: Trickery, Tempest, Madness
Tharizdun is not merely a god—he is the absence of all that is. While most deities govern aspects of reality, Tharizdun seeks to unmake reality itself. He is entropy incarnate, the first and final nihilist, a god who dreams not of dominion, but of erasure. Even the concept of Tharizdun is dangerous: to know him is to risk madness, for the mind is not meant to grasp a being who wants nothing to exist.
Once called The Dark Primordial, Tharizdun was either born in the time before time or forged himself in the black between stars. His fall was not into evil—but into utter negation. He created the Abyss by corrupting the raw Elemental Chaos with a shard of pure Nothingness—a wound in the fabric of existence that can never be healed.
The Shattering of the Lattice of Heaven
The gods once ruled in perfect celestial order. The Lattice of Heaven, a divine architecture of law and balance crafted by the Prime Deities, held the Planes in harmony. But Tharizdun saw this ordered cosmos as a cage—a lie to protect fragile life from its inevitable end.
And so, in a moment of divine betrayal, Tharizdun shattered the Lattice of Heaven.
What followed was the Dawn War—a cosmic conflict that raged across every plane of existence. Celestials clashed with elementals, gods fell by the dozens, and the mortal realms trembled beneath divine ruin. It was in this war that the Elder Gods bled, and many of the firstborn deities were slain, their names lost to time.
The sky weeps still where the Lattice cracked. Reality is less stable now, and mortal dreams bleed into the Realms Beyond.
The Chain That Binds
In the war’s final hour, the surviving gods—good, evil, and neutral—formed an unlikely pantheon to do the unthinkable: they united. Together, they forged a prison outside of time, a forgotten corner of the cosmos where even light cannot reach. There, they chained Tharizdun with their artifacts, The Tides of Chaos.
And yet the chains rust. His dreams slip into the world in the form of mad prophets, blighted cults, and black spirals carved in blood. The Abyss continues to churn. His whispers reach mortals who despair… who hunger… who wish for the end.
Those who serve Tharizdun are not worshipers in the conventional sense. They are vessels, acolytes of entropy, broken minds given purpose through unmaking:
“In the beginning, there was only Tharizdun. In the end, he shall be all that remains.”
“Why worship gods who fear what must be? Our god does not lie—he frees.”
“The Spiral is not a symbol. It is a path. And once you walk it, you never return.”