Titles: The Keeper of Wealth, the Obsidian Lady, Lady of Fire and Stone, the Keeper of Times Past, the Jurist of Worth
Portfolio: The deep earth, secrets, toil, wealth
Domains: Artifice (Toil subdomain), Darkness, Earth (all subdomains), Fire (Ash, Smoke subdomains)
Favored Weapon: Heavy pick

Worshiped primarily in her aspect as the goddess of earth and mineral wealth, the deity often known as Moundhearth is mistress of the dark places of the world as much as of the fires at its core. Like both, she is uncaring and impersonal, as aloof as the other Divines from mortal interests, but perhaps, among all the gods, the deafest to their prayers.

While her stubborn adherents organize to uselessly beseech her for gold, jewels, and even the skill to mold such things into something greater, Moundhearth remains silent. When her faithful gather to extol the virtues of secrecy, property, and craftsmanship—many times twisting these ideas into selfish justifications for profiteering, crime, and self-aggrandizement—the goddess does nothing. When artisans labor in her name, as though contact with the treasures of the earth might somehow magically transfer to them some sort of personal worth, the Lady of Fire and Stone could care less.

Honestly, it is probably through their sheer, dogged persistence that the cult of the Keeper best connects with their deity, for despite the remoteness of all the gods, it is Moundhearth's adherents who are typically the most serious, dedicated, and determined in their insistence that maybe—if they petition her long and loudly enough—she will eventually respond. While this is entirely possible, such an answer is historically more likely to take the form of a landslide, earthquake, or sudden and catastrophic volcanic eruption than of a shower of gold or a fountain of gems (or so the tales would have one believe). Some say that the shuddering of the ground or the oozing of magma to the surface are the irritable Obsidian Lady's mutterings, her reply to the constant attention of mortals of whom she has only the lowest opinion. Others claim that she sleeps unquiet, her body the flesh of the world, and that she tosses, turns—and bleeds—as mortals tunnel ever deeper, wounding her carelessly in their pursuit of personal gain.

Whether this is true or not, none but the gods can say; but, Moundhearth's church is certainly among the most political of religious organizations, demanding tithes from her followers and constructing ever-greater monuments to their unresponsive deity in the name of art and labor, while at the same time practicing her value of secrecy by purportedly skimming the plate for themselves.

Dogma: The earth's secrets are its own to keep; if one is worthy of them, it will be proven when those mysteries are pried free and brought into the light. The same is true for all enigmas, and likewise for any task—results require energy and effort. Like the earth, one must be patient and immovable from one's purpose; like the shadows of deep places, one must embrace one's own secrets; like the flames at the heart of the world, one must continue onward forever, always knowing that, in the end, everything burns.