June 17, 2024


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Goroth is the Elder God of the Dimension of the Doomed.

Goroth values strength and submission. He cares nothing for his worshippers, but still demands their obedience and service. He is a colossus of stone flesh, lava tendrils for hair, with encrusted rock formations on his forearms, and magma that flows through his veins. A large metal plate covers his chest and his held there by chains. More chains hang from his body, which he uses to both attack and subjugate his enemies. He possesses the Rune of Earth Magic.
Dimension of the Doomed
Goroth resides in Dimension of the Doomed, a wasteland of lava that hardens into a red dusty stone. These stonelands are carved into decorative tombs and temples.
It is ironic Goroth values strength and submission, as his true power is denied him by the metal plate on his chest. A great foe enslaved Goroth to the Dimension of the Doomed, and bound him as a means of humiliating him. Now he seeks the means to escape his prison and expand his power. 
Goroth demands the worship of any beings he comes across. If they deny him this, he destroys them without hesitation, while those you worship him fall under his protection. The worshippers that prove themselves the most worthy by showing they possess the greatest strength, and submit themselves fully to him, are rewarded the greatest. He transforms their bodies into living stone and metal, as they burn with magma from within. His Forged Ones are completely dedicated to him, and serve him in many ways.
Goroth’s slaves include all manners of beast. Some lost humans, often wayward mercenaries and merchants, others chthonian beasts that dig and dwell within the earth.

Lore Scrolls #

“Recovered Mission log, TCS Providence, 09/07/2283 Lt. Commander Kaneko, Acting Captain Slipdrive damaged as we jumped through gravity well of a rogue star. Helm was able to control our crash, to land us on the single body orbiting the rogue. Providence badly damaged; salvageable, but we don’t have the parts. Multiple casualties upon impact, including Captain and First Officer. At such a close orbit, the surface of this—planetoid? asteroid?—should be molten, but Science Division reports readings that, though harsh, can sustain life, at least for short periods. Sending out scouting parties before determining our next course of action.”

“Multiple excursions have failed to report back. Can’t keep sending people into danger, but sitting around blind is a death sentence. Elected to lead the final excursion myself, leaving behind only the wounded, medics, and a squad of Marines. Air breathable but painfully hot, even at night. Surface rock unidentifiable; gravity too strong for body this size; constellations foreign. I think the damaged slipdrive did more than just take us off course. Located numerous corpses in nearby chasm; remnants of battle? Bodies are desiccated, but boast metallic prosthetics—slapdash, built of scavenged and recycled materials, but displaying advanced mechanical techniques.”

“Don’t know how long they’ll let me keep this recorder. Sunrise was almost blinding. Discovered a massive step pyramid on the horizon, hundreds of feet high. Grounds around the ziggurat were littered with more cyborg corpses. Snuck inside just in time to hear screams. Found central chamber with many of our missing crew—including some of those I left behind!—being fed alive to a great central flame. God, the smell… We tried to save them. Of course we tried. Surrounded before we could even reach them. More techno-organic hybrids. Heaven knows what’s next for us, but I fear the flames.”

“They took me to a room high in the ziggurat, to meet someone called “the Smelter of Flesh.” Beneath a great window, this… creature of charred skin and metal prosthetics droned on about the glories of brutal murder. And the ones he addressed… God! They were my people! Or parts of my people. They’d been… changed. Injuries and even healthy limbs replaced by steel muscles and razor spines. They reached out with fingers equal parts flesh and flexing prongs. Jaws of recycled metal parted, but their words were lost behind the wires and steel spines now revealed behind their teeth.”

“He stared out at the blazing sun that should have blinded him. Spoke of “Griothrhig,” using horrible sounds I can’t make. Goroth, I’ll call him: The Sire of Embers, the Unappeasable. Born in the heart of that star—or perhaps who is that star? A god of heat and hate, forge and fire, a shaper and destroyer. Only in the destruction of others, or even oneself, can one glorify Goroth. Drifted to the window as he ranted, and below I saw the techno-organic servants of Goroth battling one another. But a few marched off toward the Providence, dragging parts behind…”

“They know Earth! For centuries, the Smelter says, they have been weaponsmiths and warriors. A hundred times throughout history they have guttered and risen again, like an eternal flame. Some remain there, he tells me, even now. I pray to a God I don’t really believe in that he lies. He offers me a chance to join. To enhance my own glory, and his—for those who bring new followers share in their deeds and their achievements—and of course, Goroth’s. But whether I join or die, I will be part of someone’s glory. Not much of a choice.”

“Can barely think through the pain. Probably final log entry. They’ve stripped Providence bare of working equipment. Wish I knew what they were doing with it. Wouldn’t join them. Couldn’t. But they’re still making me fight. More “glory” for them than just throwing me into the fire. Hand mangled in the last battle. Leg scorched. They’ll be… replaced soon. They’re mad, all of them. Some unholy mixture of savage horde and pyramid scheme, and all they want to do is destroy. Well, if I’m to die, they’ll have to earn it. They’ll remember my name. That’s glory, I suppose.”

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