Father Rhine, Guardian of Germania

No river is more famed, more beloved nor more steeped in Legend and Lore than The Rhine, presided over by He Who Flows, Father Rhine.

By whose jars the river spawns high in the Alps, at times flowing tranquil and wonder-beautiful and other times raging and deadly, many a romantic tune was sung of the Rhine and many a lament for those whose final resting place was deep within it's watery depths. But though the bones at his bottom may be countless, so too is the life Father Rhine provides, his waters form the life giving blood of Europe alongside his sons and daughters; Main, Neckar, Töss, Moselle, Lahn and a manifold of others across the Aeons. At once an Amiable and Kind God, yet also unforgiving and swift in punishment. Despising the Foolish and the Greedy, sending them to the depths in their arrogance, diminishing them in their avarice, rivers are not known for giving second chances. Yet he is nothing if not generous, delivering bounty all along his banks and not denying entry nor a home to many other Gods and Spirits, the Dwarfs that dwell among the crags, the Nixies that swim along his path, The Elfs who find their home among his woods, the Sturgeon Gods who guide the Shoals, The Wild Huntsmen who Storm across his banks and tides, as well as the many Lake Gods and Water Kings who amiably find their own Kingdoms and Duchys among his waters. As long as they too are giving, are kind and respectful they will find a home amidst his watery realm.

So too will those of Man, should they abide by his rules, the many tribes who have taken upon them the mantle of Rhinelanders. Father Rhine defines all parts of their life, he enriches the air they breathe, guides the path of industry along his banks, waters and warms the Vineyards, he even provides the fish and livelihoods of many who know him, atop his deltas and hills farming flourishes and wildlife makes a happy home from the swimming Beaver to the regal Kingfisher. In love of him and his gifts his denizens dip their infants in his currents, they are from then on of The Rhine, baptized in his embrace. They grow to know both his kindness and brutality, they hear the music he composes from the fluting birdsong, the strumming currents, the drumming crash of the waterfall inspiring the music in their hearts, and in their concert halls.

Just as he embraced them in their birth he too shall embrace them in death their corpses, their ashes their blood and bones carried down his winding path and out to sea, building new land upon the North Coast their ghosts going out in faerie boats upon the Whale Road and the endless rivers of the ancestral meadows in one last ferryman trip to the Realms beyond, all guided by Old Father Rhine not by force or bluster, but by example, woe to those who take more than is their due who try to tame the river, who stop and pollute his waters that flow not just upon his banks but in the blood of all who know the Rhine, he made them, his fruits nourished them, his waters quenched them and washed them, his woods made their air, his vineyards made them merry, they are of him as much as he is of them, he is Father of his River and ways and we carry him with us, those of us who once perhaps only in the age of myth grew up from Bearish Beasts beside his operatic banks, looking out upon his many children ornate oar in hand, wrapped in river green, broken horned and joyously bearded Our Dear Father Rhine.