When Stell'Arya first formed Shepherds to the Land, she believed to have spoken true. When the goddess uttered the worth "Vigor and Growth," she had summoned forth the dualities of nature: That which is wild, and that which is tamed. The result was the forming of two divinities: Eris'Neas and Cor'neas. The twin brothers of nature, along side Meri'Diana, complete the trinity of Nature gods, the first shepherds, according to the scriptures. Eris'Neas, then, represented the tamed aspects of nature, the Growth of life. Eris'Neas is usually depicted as a young man, with auburn hair and slim features, like his brother, Cor'Neas. Adorning his head are a pair of stag horns that are often depicted as gilded in silver or adorned with charms. Many artistic liberties are taken with Eris'Neas depending on the idea that artists wish to portray. Some statues of Eris'Neas, often carved of wood and stone, show the god of the wilds as an entity with the the head of a stag. This imagery pays respect to his role as patron god of hunters, who owe respect to the creatures they hunt, as well as symbolic of his role as a unifier of communities. Other paintings of the god show his more human side, by depicting a man carrying a bow in one hand and a basket of flowers or crop in the other. This idea of a divinity that both preaches hunting and farming symbolizes the value of keeping fair balance with nature. Eris'Neas protects both the communities of mortals and the sanctity of nature.
As the third of the Nature gods, alongside Meri'Diana and Cor'Neas, Eris'Neas’ dominion spanned fields and forests. The shepherd god shared the Domain of Nature, alongside his wilder twin. Yet, Eris'Neas was not a god of untamed destruction; he was the force that held nature in balance. He taught that life and death were intertwined, that to hunt was to respect the prey, and that to harvest the land was to honor its gifts. The most profound aspect of Eris'Neas’ philosophy was the balance of nature and the Children. As a protector of hunters, Eris'Neas instructed them in the ways of restraint, urging them never to take more than they needed, never to forget that every animal taken had a place in the grand cycle of life. Those who hunted with wisdom and respect, who offered prayers of thanks for their kills, were blessed by Eris'Neas—granted strength, speed, and insight to understand the world around them. But there was also his more fearsome side. Those who disregarded the balance of life—those who hunted for sport, or who recklessly destroyed the land—found themselves cursed. Eris'Neas’ wrath was swift and unforgiving, much like his brother's. But it was not often made rashly, the god of farmers was very patient with the Children. For Eris'Neas believed that life thrived only through careful stewardship, and he would punish those who sought to claim dominion over nature, rather than live alongside it.
Eris'Neas was also revered as a god of healing, both in the physical and spiritual realms. His divine touch was said to heal wounds, cure ailments, and restore those who had been broken by the ravages of time or war. His followers believed that the very plants of the world—the herbs, the roots, the flowers—were blessed by his hands, and they were careful to gather them with respect, for to misuse nature’s gifts was to invite the god’s disfavor.To the people of the land, Eris'Neas’ blessings extended beyond the healing of bodies. For this reason, he was given power over the Domain of Healing. He was the god who mended communities, who taught the value of mutual care and the bonds of family and tribe. The Domain of Communities was his to hold. It was said that Eris'Neas, when moved by a community’s devotion, would descend in the form of a lush, green tree, its branches heavy with fruit. Those who had known loss would find comfort in its shade, and the wounded would find strength in its roots. Through his influence, he encouraged mortals to heal each other—whether through medicine, compassion, or simply by listening. Communities that embraced his teachings were often united in ways that transcended simple kinship. They shared in their harvests, their stories, their burdens, and their joys, living by the creed that no one should suffer alone. Eris'Neas became not just a god of nature, but a god of unity, a reminder that the health of the individual was tied to the health of the collective.
Eris'Neas is worshiped primarily in rural areas, where people lived in closer connection to nature. Shrines dedicated to him were often found deep within forests, by streams, or atop hills where the land could be seen stretching endlessly, a testament to his dominion. Offerings of fresh fruits, herbs, and woven garlands were left at his altars, and festivals in his honor often coincided with the changing of seasons.
The first gift Eris'Neas offered the Children was the knowledge of how to till the soil. He was not always the god of Farming. His domain of the Harvest and Farming was granted to him for his work of securing the Life-Giving Crops. When the Children then came forth, he chose to guide them in their endeavors. He showed them how to read the earth, to understand its moods and its needs. In the beginning, he knelt beside a group of farmers, teaching them the art of planting, watering, and nurturing crops.
The god did speak. "Know the land as you know your own heart," he told them, "and in return, it will feed you."
He taught them the rhythm of planting: the careful timing, the respect for the cycles of the moon and sun. Under his guidance, the first seeds were sown, and the earth, once barren, began to yield. But farming was not the end of Eris'Neas’ gift. The cycle of life, death, and rebirth did not stop with planting. He also taught humanity how to tend to the harvest, the careful gathering of what had been sown, ensuring that none of the crop was wasted. With the harvest came both bounty and scarcity, for the fields could not always be counted on for an abundance every year.
So the god of farmers showed them the wisdom of balance: how to store what was gathered for the lean times, how to share the abundance with their neighbors, and how to honor the land in all its moods. He spoke often of gratitude, of never taking more than what was needed, for the harvest was a gift from the earth itself, and to waste it was to dishonor the divine. When the first harvest came, the people feasted, their bellies full, their hearts light. They knew the touch of Eris'Neas in every ear of corn, every cluster of grapes, every grain of wheat.
As the Wheel turns, and the world falls from vibrant Summer to brisk Autmun, Eris'Neas shines most brightly. As the season of ripening drew near, the god would walk among the people, his spirit woven into the amber leaves that fluttered from the trees. Autumn, he taught, was the time of gathering, of gratitude, and of reflection. His court, the Court of Autumn, concerned itself with these teaching. It was a time for the earth to rest and for the people to prepare for the winter’s cold a time of harvest and community, a time known as Harvest'All. The autumn equinox became a sacred time, a celebration of balance: the end of the harvest, the onset of the dormant season, and the harmony between human and nature. In every village, a grand feast was held to honor Eris'Neas, with songs sung of the blessings of the earth, of the lessons he taught, and of the cycles that sustained all life. Eris'Neas, in turn, would walk the fields, blessing the lands one last time before the snows came. And on the first frost, the leaves would seem to glow with his divine touch, the last vibrant colors of the year before the silence of winter took hold.
It was Eris'Neas, the god of nature and healing, who first saw the Children in their fragile state. Though they were strong in their bodies, their hearts and spirits were often broken by sickness and injury. So, Eris'Neas, with skin woven from the finest vines and eyes as deep and endless as the forest’s heart, descended from the heavens to walk among them.
One evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills, Eris'Neas came upon a small village where a young woman named Elira sat beside a fire. Her hands, calloused from hard work, were wrapped around a bundle of herbs. Her face was drawn with concern, as her brother, Tolan, lay ill in their home. The fever had taken him, and no matter what the village healers tried, his body only grew weaker. Eris'Neas approached her quietly, kneeling beside the firelight. His voice was like the rustling of leaves in the wind, soft yet full of power.
Eris'Neas spoke. "Why do you sit alone, child? Your brother is sick, and yet you do not seek help from the village healers."
Elira looked up in surprise, but something in the god’s presence calmed her. She knew, without knowing why, that this was no ordinary stranger.
"My brother is dying," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "The healers say there is nothing more they can do. But I cannot accept it. There must be something that can save him."
Eris'Neas studied her for a moment, then smiled gently, a smile that seemed to carry the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the night. "Then you will learn how to heal him, for I see that you have the heart for it."
"Me?" Elira’s voice cracked with disbelief. "I am no healer. I only know the herbs and roots my mother taught me."
"Herbs and roots are only the beginning, Elira," Eris'Neas said, his voice like a song. "True healing lies not just in plants, but in the earth, the air, the water, and the sky. It is in every living thing around you."
Eris'Neas reached out a hand, and as he did, the ground beneath them hummed with life. The trees stretched their limbs toward the sky, their leaves shimmering with vibrant energy. The fire crackled, sending up sparks that danced like fireflies in the dusk. "The world is alive with the magic of healing, and I will show you how to tap into it."
Over the course of that night, Eris'Neas taught Elira the ancient ways of nature. He showed her how to listen to the wind and feel the subtle shifts in the air, to notice the rhythm of the land as it pulsed beneath her feet. He taught her how to call upon the spirits of the plants, to ask them for their guidance and to understand their language. He showed her how the earth’s minerals could be used to draw out sickness and pain, how the water could wash away the shadows in the body.
At dawn, when the first rays of the sun painted the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, Elira stood by her brother’s bedside. Her hands glowed with the energy of the earth, her touch warm with the wisdom of the god who had walked with her through the night. She placed her hands on Tolan’s fevered forehead and whispered the ancient words Eris'Neas had taught her. The fever slowly ebbed away, the color returning to Tolan’s cheeks as if he were waking from a long, dark dream. When the last of the sickness was gone, Elira stood, gazing down at her brother with tears in her eyes. Her heart swelled with awe and gratitude. She turned, only to find that Eris'Neas had disappeared into the light of the rising sun, leaving her with only the soft echo of his voice.
"You are the healer now, Elira," he had said. "Remember, the healing touch is not just a gift...it is a bond, a sacred trust between the healer, the patient, and the world itself."
So, Elira became the first true healer among the humans, her knowledge passed down through generations, as the earth and its magic continued to guide her hands. The plants grew more vibrant, the rivers ran clearer, and the world itself seemed to thrive, all because one woman had learned to listen to the wisdom of nature and the god who had shown her its power. From that day on, whenever the winds whispered through the trees, it was said that Eris'Neas still walked the earth, teaching all who would listen the sacred art of healing.
The Wheel turns once more and the cool winds of autumn beging to sweep across the land, the people of the fertile plains, hills, and valleys gather together to celebrate Harvest'All, a time of bounty, unity, and remembrance. It was a festival born from the love and respect for Eris’Neas, the god of farmers, fields, and the harvest. As the nights grew longer and the air crisp, Harvest'All marked the turning of the season, when the earth was laid bare of its bounty, and the warmth of the community was needed most to prepare for the cold, harsh winter ahead. Harvest'All begins with a cleansing ceremony, when the last sheaves of grain were gathered and the fields were blessed by the village priestess or high priest. The ritual involved singing sacred by the beating of drums, to send thanks to the god for the season's harvest and to ask for his protection as the winter neared. The fields themselves were marked with symbols, carved wooden idols of Eris’Neas, small offerings of fruits, vegetables, and grains left as a token of gratitude. As the village gathered, families would share stories of their year’s crops and offerings to the god. The elders often spoke of the old days, of how Eris’Neas had saved their ancestors from famine during harsh winters, and how their ancestors had promised to never waste the land’s offerings.
The highlight of Harvest'All was the grand Feast of Eris'Neas, a day of indulgence and community. The central square of the village or town would be transformed into a long, open-air banquet hall, with tables adorned with autumn leaves, wildflowers, and the fruits of the harvest: pumpkins, apples, squash, honey, bread, roasted meats, and seasonal root vegetables. The Feast was not just about food—it was a celebration of abundance, the promise of warmth, and the unity of the people. Traditionally, every family contributed a dish that represented their part of the harvest: grain, vegetables, fruit, or even drink. It was said that the best dishes were always saved for the center of the table, where a great feast would be spread for all to enjoy. Those who had been blessed with a particularly bountiful harvest would share their wealth, ensuring that none went hungry as the long winter months loomed.
The table itself was a representation of the interconnectedness of the community—each dish a symbol of the earth’s gifts and the hands that worked to bring them forth. As the evening wore on, the people would offer songs, dances, and stories in honor of Eris'Neas. It was customary for the youngest among the villagers to dress as the god himself—clad in robes of gold, green, and brown, wearing a wreath of autumnal leaves and wheat on their heads. They would wander through the crowd, passing out small tokens of Eris'Neas—golden apples, miniature sickles, and wheat sheaves—as blessings for prosperity in the coming year. At the height of the evening, the festival’s final act was a moment of quiet reflection. To consider the coming winter and all that the year had brought to everyone. Weddings held during this time of year focused on bounds forged by careful toiling and care. Couples often reflected on how they will be working to earn the bounty of their labors. Funerals held during this time often alst reflected on the gifts that those who passed on to the realms of Thana'Tomos had left. Families would even leave room at their community tables for those that had passed on, because they too deserved to celebrate the spoils of their hard work.
