Azavesh was never meant to live forever. He did not seek immortality or power—he was merely a witness, a god whose purpose was to observe the oaths and vows of mortals. But as the world grew older, so too did the weight of betrayal and regret. Promises, made with hope and conviction, crumbled into dust and disappointment.

Azavesh did not judge—he simply witnessed. But witnessing was enough to break him. As each vow was shattered, he felt the pain of its unraveling. One day, driven to despair by the weight of countless broken oaths, Azavesh begged for death. But fate had one last cruelty in store:

Someone—a mortal, half-mad and desperate—swore to kill the Forsaken Witness, and in failing to do so, bound Azavesh to life. Now, as long as one promise remains unkept, Azavesh cannot die. Even his own wish to end his suffering is denied, caught in the web of a broken vow.

Azavesh cannot forgive, for he carries the pain of every unkept promise. He cannot hope, for hope itself is made of promises and intentions. All he can do is continue to watch, bearing the agony of the world’s unfulfilled words.

Azavesh rarely interacts with other gods—his sorrow isolates him. While some pity him, others find his endless despair a distraction from more pressing divine matters.

Tarvash, The Unyielding, sees Azavesh’s endless lament as weakness. To Tarvash, a broken promise is a challenge to be faced, not a wound to be nursed. He cannot understand why Azavesh refuses to move on, and his disdain is barely concealed.

Gaevash, The Eternal Muse, is perplexed by Azavesh’s fixation on keeping vows. To her, promises are fleeting, like inspiration itself—meant to be redefined and broken as life changes. She sometimes taunts him, urging him to abandon his duty, but Azavesh only sighs in resignation.

Atenzu, The Balancekeeper, quietly respects Azavesh, though they do not understand him. Atenzu believes in harmony and balance, while Azavesh’s endless grief feels too one-sided, too stagnant. Still, Atenzu knows that broken oaths create discord, and thus sees Azavesh as a necessary guardian of truth and consequence.

Ironically, Steve, The Watcher in the Gaps, holds the most sympathy for Azavesh. Steve understands that not all possibilities end well, and sometimes a promise is born to be broken. Though Steve’s presence is often unsettling, Azavesh sometimes listens to his musings, finding a strange comfort in the uncertain nature of fate.

Followers of Azavesh are often truthseekers, scribes, and keepers of records. They do not swear oaths lightly, and some refuse to make promises at all, fearing they might add to their god’s suffering. Their prayers are not of hope or power, but of atonement and acknowledgment.

In the frozen wastes of Vaurholm, where promises of warmth and safety are often broken out of necessity, Azavesh’s influence is both feared and respected. The survivors know that even the most well-meaning promises can shatter under the harsh reality of survival. The Priests of the Forsaken often lead remembrance rites, where people admit their failures openly, hoping to lessen the god’s burden by being honest and resolute.