Moistivus is the God of spitting. No one is quite sure how he became this, but he most certainly is now. His followers are few, but arguably talented? They have been gifted with an ability to spit distances that push the very limits of human ability and inspire aspirations in the hearts of young boys everywhere, who wish to be able to spit even an appreciable fraction of the distance they have achieved. This accomplishment is due to the training regimen contained within the sacred book of Moistivus, adhered to in every free moment of their lives, and a steady intake of water (to keep the mucous membranes wet).
His services are gross, but impressive. Each member takes time praying and meditating, trying to attain the zenlike state required for the maximum spitting distance. They empty their minds of all distraction, and fill their mouths with the most cohesive and voluminous loogey they can summon without completely draining their body of moisture. They take turns standing in a ritual circle, preparing themselves for their performance and offerings their final prayers for glory. All are silent now, watching the petitioner with breath held and attention transfixed. The man in the circle, until now perfectly still, becomes a blur of motion. Moving his body in an imitation of the waves of the ocean he flings his head back, and then forward. Once, twice, and on the third time his face contorts into a rictus of pain and concentration, forcing the liquid from his mouth at incredible speeds. All eyes watch as it speeds through the air, landing an unbelievable distance away. The acolytes run to measure the distance, marking it down in the book of great deeds. The next man stands and the cycle begins anew, his prayers going to the God of spitting.
His symbol is a drop of water (or spit) small end to the left and larger end to the right, as though speeding in that direction away from a mouth. He is never depicted in polite company.