Azorr'Baloth

Azorr’Baloth, also known as The Wandering Eternity, is one of the five Old Gods—the Great Elder Ones—whose presence predates time, memory, and the formation of The Known World. Revered by madmen, drowned cults, and those obsessed with memory and stagnation, Azorr’Baloth is not a god of wrath or judgment, but of eternity, knowledge, stillness, and the slow entropy of time. Where other deities guide fate or offer salvation, Azorr’Baloth offers only duration—an infinite spiral in which all things eventually return to where they began.   It is said that Azorr’Baloth did not arrive in the world so much as the world formed around it. In the Primeval Time, it swam through the skies and oceans alike, trailing coils of ancient thought and creating rifts in causality with its gaze alone. Its form is that of an endless aquatic serpent—its head festooned with forward-facing eyes, each representing a possible future, and its body an infinite chain of lost memories. Its presence is a drowning weight, not one of violence, but of inevitability.   Unlike its kin, Azorr’Baloth does not demand offerings or obedience. Its favor cannot be earned—only endured. It is a god of memory without mercy, time without movement. To worship Azorr’Baloth is to accept that change is an illusion, that the past is not past, and that history is the cage that shapes all futures.   During the Primeval Time, Azorr’Baloth is said to have arrived rather than emerged—descending from beyond the stars like a comet of memory, trailing forgotten truths behind it. Unlike its more violent kin, it did not conquer with force, but with knowledge and inevitability. Where it passed, empires slowed to crawl, minds became trapped in recursive loops, and memory became more real than the present. Its empire was one of silence, slumber, and historical recursion—built beneath the waves and within the folds of time itself.   Its eventual banishment during the Primeval War required not battle, but severance. The Elemental Titans are said to have broken time itself in order to push it beyond the Astral Filament—cutting its endless body into metaphysical segments and casting them adrift. The Realm of Insanity now houses what remains of it, but its body may still stretch across eras. Some Old Cults believe the god is still slithering through the world unnoticed—just not in our present.

Depiction

Azorr’Baloth is rarely depicted in full. Most representations show only its head—a whale-sized serpent maw lined with symmetrical fangs and ringed by concentric eyes. Its body coils endlessly behind it, trailing off the page or into the horizon. Murals in ancient drowned cities show its form circling the world like a serpent devouring its own tail, except that the tail is tomorrow.   Its symbol is a spiral without a center, sometimes flanked by mirrored eyes or vertical ink-lines meant to resemble leaking memory. Many followers tattoo themselves with recursive scripts—phrases that, when read aloud, trap the speaker in a loop of logic or thought.

Tenets of Faith

Azorr’Baloth does not speak, command, or grant visions in any conventional sense. It is not known to favor individual mortals, nor does it seem aware of its cults. And yet, across time and distance, its worshippers often arrive at eerily similar conclusions—suggesting a psychic echo, a memetic gravity that shapes thought in its wake. These so-called “tenets” are not holy doctrine, but interpretive philosophies, rituals born from obsession and repetition. Each cult may emphasize different aspects, but the following ideas form the heart of Azorr’Baloth's enduring faith.   Memory is the Only Truth. To followers of the Wandering Eternity, memory holds absolute primacy. History is not past—it is ongoing, and any event that is forgotten may as well have never happened. Through memory, one achieves immortality; through forgetting, one is unmade. Cultists devote themselves to obsessive chronicling, ritual remembrance, and the preservation of moments. Some recite daily timelines of their actions aloud. Others refuse to let their dead go unspoken, believing even silence can erase a soul.   Change is a Lie. All things that appear novel are merely echoes—refractions of what already was. Spiral cults reject innovation, seeing progress as delusion and deviation as corruption. To walk a new path is to lose your place in the cycle. Stability, tradition, and the restoration of past forms are sacred duties. Some cults dress in ancestral garb, reenact past events, or rebuild ruins stone-for-stone, believing they bring the world closer to its rightful shape. Those who attempt to invent or redefine are viewed as diseased elements in need of correction.   Time Must Spiral, Not Line. Time is not linear—it loops, folds, returns. The Spiral is the shape of the divine, and those who fight against it sow suffering. True harmony lies in recognizing patterns, walking the same paths, and allowing time to bring the past again. Cultists embrace recursion: repetitive behavior, mirrored actions, and rituals that echo across generations. A wedding might be held on the same day, at the same hour, using the same words as an ancestor’s, not for sentiment, but as a sacred alignment of temporal resonance.   These tenets are interpreted with eerie consistency among isolated cults who have never encountered one another, suggesting a memetic infection or latent psychic resonance from Azorr’Baloth itself. They are rarely written as laws—but carved into architecture, recited in rituals, and embodied in daily repetition until life becomes indistinguishable from memory.

Followers of Azorr'Baloth

Worship of Azorr’Baloth is almost always hidden, and often not even recognized as worship. Its followers are not driven by glory or apocalyptic fervor, but by obsession with memory, stasis, and preservation. They are found among coastal scribes, deep-sea prophets, fossil-keepers, and architects who build libraries that will never be read. They revere silence, structure, and repetition. Many write scrolls thousands of pages long, never to be finished, meant to echo the god’s own unending spiral.   In the drowned, shifting ruins of Varkuun, priests sink beneath the sea in weighted robes, meditating until they expire, believing their final breath will echo forever in Azorr’Baloth’s endless coil. Others seek to preserve entire histories without interpretation, burying ancient knowledge in mirrored vaults so it may persist without being changed by understanding.   Surface cults operate in quiet places—fog-choked monasteries, river-fed cave systems, or tide-chapels built into cliffs. Their rites are long, slow, and wordless. Some believe that to speak in the presence of idols to their god is to dishonor the weight of memory.   The most devoted followers of Azorr’Baloth are chroniclers, memory-keepers, archivists, and long-lived creatures obsessed with preserving their knowledge. Water-dwelling mortals such as sirens, merfolk, tritons, and kuo-toa sometimes fall under its influence, especially in regions touched by leyline anomalies.   Cultists often tattoo mirrored spirals on their foreheads or eyelids. They walk in silence, speak in echoing mantras, and write with inks designed never to fade. Some fill their lungs with seawater before meditation to replicate the god’s domain.   These cults rarely gather in numbers, and are more like sediments—slow, layered groups of scribes and oracles whose presence is only noticed centuries later when ruins are uncovered and their scrolls still whisper.

Heralds and Harbingers of Azorr’Baloth

Heralds of Azorr’Baloth are memory-bound mortals slowly eroded by obsession. Drawn into the Spiral not by choice but resonance, they begin as record-keepers and ritualists until repetition consumes their identities. Some recite their own names until meaning fades; others copy phrases that shift with each iteration. They believe preservation is sacred, and forgetting is sin. As their grip on linear time slips, they begin to embody the god’s echo—living archives whose thoughts are more memory than mind.   Rather than fight with force, Heralds battle through memory. They rewrite history via ritual, reenactment, and sabotage—trapping towns in loops or altering records until their version becomes dominant. Rival Heralds rarely meet directly, but wage slow, recursive wars through timelines and tradition. Victory belongs not to the strongest, but to the version that endures.   A Harbinger of Azorr’Baloth is no longer bound by time. These ascended figures ripple with pre-memory, speaking in echoes of conversations yet to occur. Clocks stutter in their presence. Reflections lie. They move through history as if re-reading it, undoing change and restoring forgotten paths. Harbingers do not bring prophecy—they are prophecy made flesh, dragging the world backward, one spiral at a time.

Temples to Azorr'Baloth

True temples to Azorr’Baloth lie beneath the sea—cathedrals of black stone, worn by currents, etched with unreadable scripts. These are places where gravity and memory distort. Some say time moves differently within them, or that visitors emerge having forgotten their own names while remembering lives not lived.   On land, its shrines appear in isolated cliffside libraries, river tombs, or forgotten vaults close to the shores where time seems to slow. Pilgrims may spend years in silent prayer, copying the same sentence until it changes on its own.

Aboleths, Spawn of the Eternal Deep

Azorr’Baloth’s godspawn are the aboleths, ancient psionic Aberrations that dwell in deep oceans, subterranean lakes, and the folds of planar currents. Each aboleth remembers everything its ancestors ever experienced—stretching back to the Primeval Time. They do not believe in mortality, only reversion. In their view, the world belongs to them because it once did, and thus always will.   Aboleths view their god not as a master but as a condition of existence—a sea of memory in which they swim. Many aboleths seek to reconstruct ancient empires exactly as they once were, down to the placement of stones. Others wish to destroy history as it is written, replacing it with what was.   Some whisper of the First Aboleth, a gargantuan beast buried in the deepest abyssal trenches of the Blue Expanse, whose mind extends through time and whose dreams create entire timelines. Whether this being is a true godspawn or simply the tip of Azorr’Baloth’s own physical body remains unknown.