Names: Sish-Tal - Qorathi
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Province(s): Goddess of Violence, Pillaging and Murder
Common Symbol: A jagged blade crossed with a skeletal hand

Qattal-as-Saffah, known as Sish-Tal to the Seru, and Qatala to the Qorathi, is the Chaotic Evil goddess of violence, slaughter, and pillaging. She is the storm of blood that runs through the veins of war, the divine embodiment of savagery and unchecked fury. While Malik-al-Maut guides the stillness of death, and Al-Sama commands the order of the heavens, Qattal-as-Saffah revels in the chaos that mortals and gods alike fear to embrace. She is the daughter of Al-Sama and Simrāh, whose rage is sharpened by the tempering of divine blood and the lessons of war.

She manifests as a towering, night-dark figure draped in the pelts and bones of her victims, her horns curling like gnarled black roots and eyes glinting with crimson fire. Her holy symbol, a jagged blade crossed with a skeletal hand, is worn by raiders, mercenaries, and berserkers who dedicate themselves to sowing terror and domination. Among her most devoted followers are the mortals and spirits who leave nothing unburned and nothing unclaimed, offering the fallen as tribute to their mistress. Her presence in the mortal world is marked by sudden massacres, the clash of blades, and the scent of iron in the air—a hymn of chaos that her faithful learn to hear and follow.

Qattal-as-Saffah’s influence thrives wherever discipline falters and restraint fails. She whispers in the hearts of generals who take needless risks, and laughs in the screams of the conquered. Her voice is heard in the wailing of the weak, her laughter carried on the wind like a dirge of inevitability.

In myth, she was once the guardian of peace, until Hēiyào offered her the Fever of the Edge. “Why guard a gate,” he hissed, “when you could be the fire that consumes the city?” Drinking from a cup of warm copper, Qattal’s oath shattered, and she rose as the Goddess of Violence, Pillaging, and Murder. She dwells in the shadows of the world, ensuring that wherever her spark touches, terror follows. She dwells in the Red Maw, a hall carved from obsidian and bone, where rivers of blood flow in geometric patterns that sing in endless loops, a place where death and slaughter are sanctified, and the cries of the faithful echo as music to her ears.