The disappearance of the gods has given certain classes a unique experience on Appaulos, while others have continued life as normal.
Barbarians have long believed their rage came from some spiritual source. In the Divine Absence, they have seen flickers of some force which suggests such a source, and have, rather pragmatically, moved onto the new resource.
When the adepts lost their powers, people turned to bards for healing. The druids had turned inwards, and there weren’t enough champions or rangers to do the work, but there was usually at least one bard in town. Now, bards are well received by everyone, always welcome in town so long as they aren’t known for causing (too much) trouble, even as the clerics become more common.
(The Champion class is a modification of the Paladin)
Champions were once the anointed warriors of gods, devoted to myriad divine causes, following stringent codes in exchange for divine power. Now, however, they must find new sources of power. Their patrons’ disappearance left them without a power source. Some have found that belief in the concepts behind their once-patrons can be just as powerful, and others have found that, curiously, they may retain some power if the flocks they defend see them as a sort of replacement for the god they lost.
Clerics are new to Appaulos. In the Age of Divine Prosperity, priests were frequently just those who were devoted to their god’s service and the shepherding of their people, regardless of their class. Those who acted as a conduit for their gods to work through were either adepts, or gave themselves over entirely and became proxies for their gods. Clerics are those who found that belief in a concept, even a concept that was represented by a god, can give power like that which came from the gods, but even greater.
In the Age of Divine Prosperity, druids knew their gods like any other. But instead of teaching their followers to depend on them for power, the gods of the wilds taught their followers how to harvest all they needed from nature, with respect and honor. When the gods disappeared, the druids lost no magic. However, they did suffer many attacks from the fiends and undead no longer combated by divine force. They incited the animals and plants of the wilds to hate the undead and grow angry at the presence of those who would take from the wilds without proper respect, and made the wilds living bulwarks against those who would despoil the wild.
Monks learn their arts in isolated monasteries and occult fighting societies. Neither is known for god bothering. While there were gods of strength and martial prowess which monks were acquainted with, they learned a form of combat which found strength in the self rather than external sources. Some monks seek the divine, but mostly they fight the supernatural threats which have taken advantage of the Divine Absence.
Rangers find themselves in a peculiar situation in the Divine Absence. They, like druids, learned to take power from nature rather than gods, but they were always mediators between civilization and the wild. This now puts them in conflict with civilization- which wants to take all it can to shore up it’s weakened existance- and druids who want nothing to do with civilization.
Rogues (and Assassins, Jesters and Thief Acrobats)
Rogues have no real shared experience, it’s a term used to describe a skill set, rather than any specific outlook. In the divine absence, some rogues now loot the forsaken temples for bits of shine, while others seek to defend those temples that they may remain full if their inhabitants return. Assassins have found a certain prosperity now that important people no longer benefit from divine protection, and jesters are often mistaken for bards until it’s found that they have no curative magic. If they don’t cause trouble, they’re not thrown out, but people do tend to be sour in their disappointment.
(The Soldier replaces the Fighter)
In the Age of Divine Prosperity, gods of war and strategy tended armies like gardens. They weeded out those who were detrimental to order and morale, and nurtured those who proved strong and beneficial to the whole. Each god taught their soldiers a specific fighting style, but cross over between allied armies was common. Now, though, the armies are broken, and soldiers are split over dutiful protection of the people their gods favoured and mercenary hiring out of their services to the highest bidder.
Like rogues, sorcerers are a diverse bunch. However, they are easy scapegoats. No one truly understands the nature of sorcery, and so it was easy for the old superstitious fear to find a new face in the belief that a fictional rise in the incidence of sorcery is to blame for the disappearance of the gods, as if millions of babes who could occasionally change the color or temperature of their swaddling somehow stole divine fire. The gods told their followers that sorcery is just the result of powerful ancestry, but without them there to repeat it, their followers have all too easily forgotten.
Many have suffered in the Divine Absence. Some have made due. Warlocks have thrived. Some warlocks have managed to set themselves up as fledgling gods at the center of desperate cults, others have become warlords, cowing villages with fire thrown from their hands. But they’ve truly thrived just in numbers. With no gods around, more mortals are willing to make pacts with fiends, more celestials are willing to make pacts with mortals, and dragons are less stifled by divine meddling. Warlocks may pursue the goals of their patrons, or they may pursue their own goals.
In the Age of Divine Prosperity, the most powerful wizards might have managed a scorching ray. They were pupils of capricious gods of the arcane, and treated magic as a toy, not something to rigorously study. Now that there are not gods calling down storms of fiery rock to defeat arrogant dragons and summoning mounds of food for their fat and happy pupils, however, wizards are learning that they grew comfortable to their own detriment, and are scrambling to learn more without the benefit of their teachers.