Metaphaos

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Metaphaos is a god who manifested for Durocher at the Blue Heron Institute.

Personality[edit]

He claims that being well known to humans, bound up in their history and culture, would be too limiting.<ref>I’m not one of your gods from the books, and very few of the gods who practitioners will deal with are. Being bound up in history is too constraining, too formalized, it comes with too much baggage. You only find the best gods if you go looking in places unknown. - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

He has been known to help in a small role on the "cleanup crew" dealing with other gods that have gotten out of control.<ref name=":0">“Guy travels to a temple deep in the woods that wasn’t built by man, where a deity of civilization has risen. He wants wealth and gets kids instead, and before the hour’s out, his great grandkids have great grandkids. The poor little explorer is now wading through birthing-muck and the bodies of descendants who are fast-tracking their way through learning how to crawl, walk, and talk, trying to get far enough away that it all stops. Meanwhile,the god there is happy as can be, starting a deific civilization from the singular seed of one man. Then the cleanup crew arrived, I played a small role in that.”

“You self-police?”

“It’s easier than it once was. To hear the older forces talk about it, it used to be lawless out there. But you know how lawless things were, teacher.” - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

He was willing to grant a single minor healing each to Durocher's class, but after that asked for "a symbol branded on the arse, thigh, or upper chest, a three week fever dance, or a moderate animal sacrifice, to start!"

Relationships[edit]

He has a sister who came with him to the BHI.

Appearance[edit]

When he manifested an avatar at the BHI, he appeared as a statue-like figure with flame for hair and glowing eyes. He wore a cloth draped over him. Every movement of his "hair" made the air stir, and every step he took made the room shake. His posture and tone was casual, his voice deep and loud yet never hard on the ears. He constantly gave off lesser Others like humanoid matches which danced around and tented to him. He was so tall he had to duck his head to avoid banging it on the church roof and the bookshelves near him were knee-high.<ref>The god walked across the stage, past his sister, his head ducking low so he wouldn’t bang it on the beams that supported the roof, and took a seat at the stage’s edge, hunched over a bit. Lesser Others peeled away from him, taking to the air, grabbing onto beams, and cavorting around him, humanoid figures with heads like lit matches, their ‘hair’ a dancing and flickering glow, their heads too golden-bright to have faces. His hair was similar, but his face was defined, etched more severely than a statue’s, his eyes bright. Each bend and sudden turn in his blazing mane made the air in the rest of the room stir. His steps, though gentle, made the room shake.

He wore only a cloth, and it wasn’t even draped on him like a toga might be. It was more by accident, volume, and design that it shrouded him. His posture was casual, one foot flat on the ground, the knee of the same leg higher than any of the bookshelves that lined the classroom, while the other leg was folded under him. His face was framed by long flickering hair as he looked down on them all, while lesser entities appeared like the sparks from a fire, taking to the air or gracefully navigating his head to drag locks of hair behind his ears and away from his face, so it wouldn’t be covered.

“Yo,” he addressed the room in a deep voice.
[...]
“No problem,” he said. His voice was loud, at the same time he was very obviously keeping his volume down. The acoustics of the church-style building carried the sound. “They’re worn out.”

“They are. It’s been a long couple of days,” Durocher said. She walked around at the foot of the stage, past Raymond, who was sitting in on the class.

“Very few come to visit my ilk when times are good, so I’m used to it,” the god said, before laughing. The laugh should have been painfully loud, but it wasn’t. - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

His true form is much larger, too large to fit inside the BHI hall.<ref name="8.1e1">“Gods tend to send splinters or aspects of themselves to tend to minor matters,” Ms. Durocher addressed the class. “You’ve done so, yes?”

“I wouldn’t fit in here at full size,” he said, laughing through the sentence. - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

Abilities and Art[edit]

He manifested in response to a shouted invocation from Durocher,<ref>Then, in the first minute of Ms. Durocher talking, she’d shouted out an invocation, and then this. Inviting a pair of gods into the classroom. - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref> sending just a small fragment of his true self.<ref name="8.1e1" />

He has a mystic symbol for his worshippers. He can be called upon to heal or mend with a glow of light and warmth, among other things. As a god, he has discretion over what to grant his petitioners.<ref>He held up his hands. A glowing sign began to form in the empty space before them. “If you wish to mend or heal, say some words to that effect, and call on my name. We’ll get it done somehow.”

[...]
“Metaphaos, bright haired cool god-”

The god laughed at the front of the room.

“-heal my friend of these cuts.”

Light shone beneath Verona’s hands. She stroked the length of the bandage, then pulled her hand back.
[...]
“One healing for each of you!” Metaphaos addressed a group of boys. “Don’t be greedy. If you want more, talk to me. I only ask for a symbol branded on the arse, thigh, or upper chest, a three week fever dance, or a moderate animal sacrifice, to start!”
[...]
Verona sniffed. But light shone. Warmth leeched into Lucy’s face, like her face was close to a fire, but at no risk of being burned.

She opened her mouth, then moved her lips. No cut. She traced a finger at her lip’s edge to check.

“Thank you, Metaphaos,” she said. “Maybe it’s because I was a wimp, but that was bothering me an awful lot. You’re too kind.”

The god glanced at her, smiled briefly, then turned his head, looking at another group. “I’m not healing that. Be good, girls.” - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

He can hear anything said shortly after someone has used his name.<ref>“Metaphaos, um-” Avery said.

“Fluff him up a bit,” Verona told her.

“Fluff?” the god asked, from the front of the room.

“In the most respectful, appropriate ways,” Verona hurried to say. “You’re the coolest god I’ve ever met, I wouldn’t be fake about this, don’t worry.”

“Way to go, Ronnie,” Avery muttered.

“I didn’t think he’d hear.”

“You said my name,” Metaphaos boomed. “I listen.” - Excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

History[edit]

Before the Story[edit]

He isn't one of the gods old enough to remember the days of Primevals.<ref name=":0" /> He was born fully-formed, already shaped and powered by human faith and with power over creation.<ref>“And this is how you heal.”
“Sure thing,” the god said. He smiled. “Blow a bit of life into a vessel, doesn’t matter if they’re a man or a clay dog. Or do a bit of repair to their fundamental structure, patch a hole, carve something out. Most gods get to be gods because they have that faith backing them and they have the tools to do that creating. Sometimes it’s one and the other follows, other times? We’re like this, right out of the tin. Grown and gorgeous.”
- excerpt from Vanishing Points 8.1</ref>

He once helped in a small capacity with the effort to deal with a new, alien god of civilization who had created a super-fast breed of human in deep the woods.<ref name=":0" />

Vanishing Points[edit]

Summoned by Durocher to the BHI for her class on healing.

References[edit]