You didn't find religion. Something found you first, and it's been very patient about collecting.
God left. The lock He put on the gates going out is still very much intact. But the gates going the other way — the ones smaller, hungrier, bored things use to slip in from wherever they were before — those were never locked at all. Cultists are the ones who noticed, and made a deal. Not with a devil. With something smaller, stranger, and infinitely more petty: a minor god with a domain, a grudge, and nothing better to do than watch you carry out its will in exchange for power it never had to work for.
Your patron, chosen at 1st level. Each is a specific, named petty god with its own personality, its own idea of a fair trade, and its own opinion of you. Grants a feature again at 7th and a capstone at 15th.
Deals fate like a hand of cards and never once cheats — it doesn't have to. It just tells you the odds and lets the wasteland do the rest. Followers describe it as scrupulously honest and utterly without mercy.
A god that arrived starving and never found anything in this dead world worth eating. It grants power freely to anyone willing to carry a little of that hunger for it — a craving that's never quite yours and never quite goes away.
Watches. Records. Never forgets a favor owed in either direction, and calls them in on its own schedule — which is never the schedule that's convenient for you.
Push your devotion past what your Zeal pool covers and your patron notices immediately — petty gods have nothing better to watch. What comes back isn't wrath. It's spite, with a sense of humor.
| d8 | Result |
|---|---|
| 1 | Petty Interference — probability tilts against you for no reason your patron will explain; your next check takes a penalty. |
| 2 | Cruel Joke — a minor sensory prank at your expense; you're dazzled or deafened briefly while your patron amuses itself. |
| 3 | Called In — you owe a favor now. The GM notes it. It gets collected later, at the worst possible time. |
| 4 | Jealous Silence — your patron simply stops answering; no Rites for the rest of the encounter. |
| 5 | Marked Debt — the god skims a toll directly off your soul; you take spirit damage. |
| 6 | Reversal — the Rite works, but also partially hits you or an ally, because your patron thought that would be funnier. |
| 7 | Public Attention — every hostile creature nearby suddenly knows exactly where you are. Your patron wanted an audience. |
| 8 | It Notices You Specifically — GM's call. Your patron shows up, demands immediate tribute, or a rival petty god decides you'd be more interesting to poach. |
| Lv | Class Features |
|---|---|
| 1 | The Bargain, The Idol, Zeal, Rites known, Basic Revelation, initial occult spellcasting |
| 2 | Skill feat, Cultist feat |
| 3 | General feat, skill increase, expert Occultism |
| 4 | Cultist feat |
| 5 | Ability boosts, ancestry feat, Advanced Revelation, expert spellcasting, skill increase |
| 6 | Cultist feat |
| 7 | General feat, skill increase, master Will, Bargain feature II (the Idol changes) |
| 8 | Cultist feat |
| 9 | Ancestry feat, skill increase, Backlash Control (reroll one Backlash/day), expert Class DC |
| 10 | Ability boosts, Cultist feat |
| 11 | General feat, skill increase, master spellcasting |
| 12 | Cultist feat |
| 13 | Ancestry feat, skill increase, Greater Revelation, master Occultism |
| 14 | Cultist feat |
| 15 | Ability boosts, skill increase, Bargain capstone, master Fortitude, legendary Occultism |
| 16 | Cultist feat |
| 17 | General feat, skill increase, legendary spellcasting |
| 18 | Cultist feat |
| 19 | Skill increase, Godtouched Apotheosis |
| 20 | Ability boosts, Cultist feat, The Final Bargain |
A representative loadout, not an exhaustive list. Violet bar = general access. Rust bar = Bargain-flavored but open to all.
Your patron marks you permanently and visibly — a boon matching its domain made manifest in your body or your shadow. Choose a lasting benefit that fits your Bargain; everyone who sees it knows exactly what you are now.
The defining choice of your career. Choose one, permanently:
Turn on your patron and tear a portion of its power free by force. You keep a permanent fraction of what it gave you — but the god is now diminished, humiliated, and will never forgive you. It has all the time in the world to plan around that.
Give yourself over completely. You become your patron's herald in the mortal world — permanent, dramatic power, and a standing obligation to its will that follows you for the rest of the campaign.
These three are the Cultist's Bargains — but they're also the roster of named petty gods for the whole setting. Any GM needing a patron, a cult antagonist, or a wildcard NPC boon-granter can reach for these directly.
Nobody knows what The Croupier looked like before it slipped through. What's left is an idea wearing whatever shape is handy — a dealer's visor made of static, a stack of chips that's really teeth. It runs games nobody remembers agreeing to enter, and it never, ever cheats. It doesn't need to. It just tells you the odds, exactly and honestly, and lets the wasteland do the rest.
Cults to the Croupier gather wherever fortune already runs thin — casinos gutted by the Turning, scrap-auction rings, dueling pits. It rewards audacity and punishes hesitation in equal, scrupulous measure.
It arrived starving, from somewhere that apparently starves gods, and found nothing in this drowned, dead world worth eating. So it settled for the next best thing: lending its hunger out, one cultist at a time, in exchange for the strength that hunger carries. Followers describe an ever-present, low-grade craving for something they can never quite name — and a strength that shows up exactly when they need to take something by force.
Gluttoneth's shrines are always near food, however scarce — granaries, ration lines, butcher stalls — not because it wants an offering, but because it likes to watch.
Somewhere, in a place that isn't quite anywhere, The Ledger keeps a genuine physical book, and every favor anyone has ever owed anyone else is written in it whether they know it or not. It doesn't grant power so much as loan it, at interest, against a debt it will absolutely collect — just not necessarily from you, and not necessarily now.
Its followers tend toward information brokers, blackmailers, and people who are unnervingly good at knowing exactly what you need and exactly what it'll cost you.