Orram

• Primary Domains: Depth, concealment, pressure, submergence. He rules what lies beneath: the weight that compresses, the hidden kept down.

• Secondary Connections: Secrets kept, latency, shadows, burden-bearing. Strength held back until the moment of release; truths stored under strata.

• Tertiary Reflections: Compression and collapse, drowned memory, silted-over pasts. Things not ended (Caelbrith) nor turned (Ny’yala), but pressed under, enduring, unseen, dangerous when finally unburied.

Followers often say Orram does not speak, he weighs. His presence is felt in the chest when one holds a secret too long, in the ears when silence grows unbearable, and in the gut when descending too deep in the sea. To invoke him is to welcome pressure: to bear what others cannot, to be hardened by silence until silence itself becomes strength.

• The Abyssal Stone: A black rock said to pulse faintly when held to the ear, whispering secrets buried by the drowned. Often used in rituals of initiation among monastic cults.

• The Drowned Bell: A great bronze bell pulled from a sunken ruin. It rings only underwater, its sound breaking minds rather than air.

• The Lurker’s Veil: A robe woven from kelp and night-feathers. When worn, the bearer blends into shadow and water alike, but each time it is used, the wearer loses a memory, pulled into Orram’s abyss.

Unlike others, Orram’s scripture is rarely written. His teachings are oral, hidden, drowned in riddles or chanted as low dirges. Still, fragments survive:

• The Sunken Codex: Pages soaked and half-rotted, impossible to preserve fully. It insists that silence is power, and speech is surrender.

• The Weight of Stone: A series of carved tablets instructing how to bury sins, literally or figuratively, beneath earth or water so they cannot rise again.

These are not merely laws but disciplines. To follow Orram is to cultivate patience, endurance, and secrecy until they become weapons.

• A spiral sinking downward, etched in black or blue.

• A single hand beneath a line of water.

• A weighted stone tied with rope, cast into sea or well.

Followers often mark walls with dripping paint or etch spirals into stone floors of secret meeting places. Shrines are wells or caves, where offerings are dropped into darkness, never retrieved.

• What is unseen is unbroken. Hide your strength until it is needed, then let it crush.

• Secrets weigh, but the weight makes you strong. To carry what others cannot is holy.

• Patience is power. The tide does not hurry, yet nothing withstands it.

• Drown the unworthy. That which cannot bear the deep does not deserve to rise.

Those who kept secrets, who lived with hidden hungers or burdens left unsaid, sink into Orram’s depths when they shed their mortal coil. His realm and body in the closest sense a god can have to one, its pull is subtle in life, but in death, irresistible. The Gnawing Expanse. A black ocean with no shore, where shackled hands rise from beneath to drag newcomers down. For Orram’s faithful, this is paradise, the embrace of depth, the silence of concealment, the end of striving on the surface. They breathe water as air, descending into the abyss where luminous eyes guide them to sanctuaries of coral palaces or atop floating islands made of impossibly large hands. For others, it is terror, the unending press of depth and weight, lungs filled with brine, those who try to fight instead of succumbing to its embrace and being rewarded as his devout find themselves. Here, secrets are kept forever, souls become part of Orram’s abyss, watching but never rising again. His blessing is permanence, his curse the same.

• The Tidelock (Amethyst 12th): Observed at coastal towns and monastic enclaves. Worshippers submerge themselves in silence, fasting from speech for a full day, mimicking Orram’s depth. Ritual drownings, sometimes symbolic, sometimes not, are performed to mark the cleansing of secrets.

• On Harrow Day (Topaz 30th), Xaethra’s followers mock, but Orram’s cults instead honor the drowned dead, tossing offerings into the sea for those lost to the Fall.

Orram’s purpose is concealment, but not for its own sake. He ensures secrets remain buried until their weight collapses worlds. His goals are less about ambition than inevitability:

• To keep hidden what must not rise. Orram devours knowledge too dangerous for mortals, holding it in his depths.

• To make silence the crucible of strength. He teaches that only through stillness, through endurance, can true power form.

• To erode all illusions. What is spoken can lie, but what silence keeps is always true.

• Followers whisper that Orram’s silence is not absence but waiting, that one day, he will unseal all that he has buried, and the world will drown in truths too heavy to bear.

Orram’s truest manifestation, to mortals who have glimpsed him, and survived long enough to speak, exists as a a formless void that devours all light around it. Orram is the only god fabled to have attempted to appear in The Folklands physically, and how we both know of today of the terrible dangers such an action brings; Legends tell of one day in the earliest years of The Origin Age, long before we knew his name, that the clouds parted into a pit of emptiness that pulled at the eyes and lungs alike. Within that void drifted translucent, half-visible arms, grasping and clawing at one another, each dragging the next deeper into the collapsing dark in any way it could. A sight at once obscene and silent, the sky above collapsing into itself like a wound that would not close. Witnesses describe the feeling of being lifted upward while pulled downward at the same time, ribs constricted as though the air itself was pressure, their mind being pulled in a hundred places at-oncce. Those who endure this vision did not remain whole. Many left scarred in body and mind, lungs filling with saltwater where none existed, veins standing out like ropes along their arms, or eyes permanently milked white, blind yet haunted by the memory of Orram’s gaze, claiming to still see it every waking moment. Some of his priests claim this form as a kind-of divine warning, a reminder that depth and concealment are not confined to sea or stone, but descend wherever shadows are strongest, even in the clouds above. He does not only wait beneath the waves, he waits wherever mortals believe themselves safe from being swallowed. Because a gods' true presence annihilates to-be-sure, Orram most often communes through lesser masks mortals can withstand, from a great distance, dreams of drowning in clear air, visions of a dark silhouette walking just beneath the surface of mirrors or still ponds, voices pressing down in silence heavy enough to bruise the spirit. To follow Orram is to invite this weight into one’s life, to carry secrets and silence until they become both shield and shackle.