My feet have ached, but not for weariness. They have yearned to push beyond the simple life, guiding me beyond the turn in the road, and the next large hill. What lies beyond, I do not know, only that there is adventure there, and He is will me on my journey. What can be said of the god of Travel? Curiosity spurns us, and our feet given wings when he pushes us onward. Sploron appears in many forms, never what you would expect. He may be a mountain or a blade of grass, but it is always undeniably amazing to the beholder. I have spoken with Sploron in my adventures. He came to me as the ocean waves, telling me to press onward for beyond the waves there would be land, and beyond that, the things I sought the most; friends.
To those who seek aid on the road and journey of life, it is only natural to turn to Sploron. The kindly god may not always be the most predictable, but will always grant aid to a road weary traveler. Plenty of caravan leaders have passed through dangerous lands, aided by an unseen guide around the sinkholes and pitfalls of the roads. Sploron is responsible for watching the roadways. Many people flock each year to his temples for blessings as they journey. Even the smallest of sojourns falls under the god’s protection. Reports from caravans traveling under the gods protection have been know to have giants march out of the forest and stop bandits, and have even had the ground buckle before them to protect them from far greater dangers.
The followers of the god of Travels rarely take up the mantle of a paladin, but when they do, they are the true protectors of the road. They do not take sides. Anyone in need or wishing to travel with them is invited to walk with them. The paladin then acts as their guide and protector until their task is complete. Many will continue their travels with a group afterward if their interests and ideals are similar. Many such paladins also bear many trade skills in deference to their god.
The same can be said of the clerics of the god, who often frequent simple temples dedicated to his name. These temples are rarely more than single rooms for other followers to gather. Offerings of crafted gifts are left at the temples by those who arrive, and are ultimately born away by another who will leave it elsewhere. Both crafts and travels go hand in hand.
Like Demuen, Sploron chooses not to take a definite form, usually appearing as the race of the one who called on him. He always appears to be a male of that race. Sometimes his presence is as simple as a whisper on the wind, or as physical as a roadside defender. Many claim that his garb is always the same though. His fingers are adorned with beautifully ornate rings depicting trade tools. He always has an amulet that burns with the white light of his lady and dons boots with the gifted feathers of doves.
Followers of Sploron do not have a set burial rite, but the majority follow the rites used by followers of the goddess Estridae.