Howdy folks. I recently began a campaign and decided to require everyone to create a follower of Iomedae. I'm posting here because I would love to see some examples of Iomedaen oaths, prayers, war crys, or whatever that you guys might have had crop up organically or otherwise in your own campaigns.
From my own game I used this as an oath administered to the group in their "graduation" ceremony from the Seventh Church:
Justice and honor are a heavy burden for the righteous. We carry this weight so the weak may grow strong, and the meek grow brave. We bring light to the darkness and stand the line between the monstrous and the common man. We shed blood for the innocent that their innocence is kept.
So long as we draw breath, so long as we can clutch a sword, so long as the Goddess' light fills our hearts we will not falter in our valorous pursuits, nor abandon our honor, nor compromise in the face of evil. You kneel as supplicants but you rise as weapons of the lady's will. I christen you Knights of the Lady and I name you the Circle of Seven Stars, and I bid you make me proud as the products of my tempering. Stand and take these swords and wield them forevermore in the Inheritor's name.
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When in doubt, I just use some version of the 23rd Psalm. Like so:
Iomedae is my General; I shall not fear.
She makes me camp down in green pastures:
She leads me across the churning waters.
She has restored my soul:
She leads me in the paths of righteousness for Her name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For She is with me;
Her sword and her shield, they shelter me.
She prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
She anoints my head with oil; My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and justice shall follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the Fortress of the Goddess forever.
Never goes wrong. =3
(The following is a Short story from a game in which I am involved, detailing the knighting of a paladin in Lastwall. It draws heavily from A Song of Ice and Fire stylistically, and a few other settings, but I've always been very proud of it.)
The sanctuary was dark but for the candles that lined it in rows. Gold dancing flames cast a somber light on the stone walls, reaching upwards to the shadow of the high-vaulted ceiling with its high arches rising into hidden shadows. The chapterhouse bells tolled out, a single reverberating sound marking the just before the dawn. It was in the darkest hour of night, at the birth of the new day, that the vows were to be taken. There would be another ceremony in the morning for all to see, but this was the true swearing in.
Gaelen's knees ached from kneeling the whole night in silent prayer. He was dressed in white linen from head to foot, robed. Slowly he straightened, raising eyes to the shadows just beyond the flickering light, feeling an exhaustion that begged for the gentle release of sleep. Instead, he spoke three words. "I am ready."
They emerged from the shadows like ghosts, swathed in tabards of gold and white, bright swords naked in their hands. There were five in all, brothers in faith who were here to be his witnesses. Stories told of the Knights of Ozem bespoke of handsome figures bedecked in shimmering armor. The faces that surrounded him were cragged and serious, etched with experience, steps alive with danger. Three stood before him, one on his center, left, and right. Two were behind, he could feel them there, making the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Should he prove false, those behind him would not hesitate to strike.
"The Night ends." The First spoke. "The Dawn comes. Here we gather to bear witness to the oath of Gaelen of Greyspring; Son of Adala. The Light of the Sword has laid the path before his feet, but only the Golden Oath will mark the first step."
The blade of a sword, tinted by the glimmering of the candles, was extended towards him. "In utmost sincerity, and with deepest conviction, do you you so swear to hear and bind your life and your soul to the Goddess, as man, as mortal, as defender and champion?"
Gaelen felt chills pass through him from head to foot as the senior warrior spoke. He bowed his head, the act still causing pain as his body slowly healed the wounds that had kept him unconscious for a full week before. With reverence, his lips touched the proffered steel, whispering his reply. "By her grace, I so swear." His heart trembled.
"Then let us bear witness," the first intoned, "to the Vows of the Heart, and the drawing of the Second Breath." The first's sword was placed point down in the ground. The sound was like a hammer falling to Gaelen's ears.
"The world is darkened by the death of The Last Azlanti." The Second spoke. "In the North, Shadows gnaw at the soul of the world. In the South, the Homeland rots beneath the boots of the Tyrant and the Diablerist. Mere miles from where we stand, The Whispering Tyrant sleeps dreaming of freedom. The manifold evils believe the righteous to have scattered. In a thousand shadows, forgotten by the eyes of man, the wicked prey upon the weak." The second sword was turned down. The sound echoed amidst the flickering light.
The third spoke next. "The Inheritor has not forgotten. The weak cry out for defense: The Inheritor hears. The wronged cry out for Justice: Iomedae answers. The Shadows rise: The Light of the Sword drives them back. The Night enshrouds the world: The dawn shall come, and send it fleeing. The wicked will not stand against The wrath of the Goddess roused." The third sword landed. Gaelen felt his eyes dampening, his vision blurring.
The first now stood before him, blade raised. Outside the windows, the eastern sky was growing light. A rooster crowed somewhere in Vigil, heralding the coming of the morning. "Speak the words, take the oath, be reborn."
Slowly Gaelen raised his head, trembling beneath the symbol of the hard faced Goddess whom had brought him this far. Haltingly, in a voice that sounded so much smaller to his ears then ever he had imagined, he spoke the memorized words. "I swear, beneath the eyes of heaven, in the presence of my brothers, by life, by blood, and by soul, to live and die in the service of the Inheritor. I will be a shield against the night. I will be a vessel for her will. When called I will come forth and struggle to the last for the faithful discharging of my duties. My body shall defend the people's lives. My heart shall defend the people's souls. My sword shall stand unyielding against the wicked. This Golden Oath I do undertake, under pain of death, should I fail in its upholding."
Forward they came. The first laid his sword across his right shoulder. "In the name of Iomedae, I charge you to be brave." A second sword joined it seconds later, crossing his opposite shoulder. "In the name of the Inheritor, I charge you to be pure." A third, from behind, was laid over the first at an angle. "By the Light of the Sword, I charge you to be wise." The fourth across the second, the steel weighing upon his shoulders like a tangible weight he would remember everafter. "By her will, I charge you to be honourable." The fifth was laid across the back of his shoulders, the steel ringing his neck forming the sunburst that surrounded the Goddess's holy symbol. He was the sword. "By her grace, I charge you to be compassionate."
All as one, the five spoke. "Do you so swear?" Outside the windows, the sun was rising, its light filtering like molten gold through the high windows of the Cathedral.
Softly, his hands shaking and eyes closed, Gaelen spoke, raising his face. "I so swear."
It was as if a new life flooded through him, a torrent breaking loose from a dam to flood the man with a warmth such as he had never felt before. It infused him. hardening his will, uplifting his waning strength, driving back exhaustion and fear like the sunlight before the waking dawn. His eyes fell upon the statue at the far end of the Sanctuary, and for a brilliant moment, he beheld not a work of stone and fresco, but a living, breathing woman, fiercely resplendent in her burnished armor and crimson cloak. He felt hands rest upon his shoulders, and a pair of loving eyes stared into his own with a noble and gentle smile. "You are mine, now. Welcome home."
The statue was a statue again, and as the dawn flooded through the room, Gaelen realized that tears were flowing openly down his face.
"You knelt a man of worth, and a warrior of honour." The first of the Knights of Ozem said. "Rise Sir Gaelen, Knight of Ozem."
As he slowly got to his feet, the second smiled broadly, raising his sword into the air. "Let the darkness of the world quake; A Paladin is born."