[Jade Stage] The House of Death has Four Walls

[Lmns Crn]

I've been wanting to revisit religion in the Jade Stage for some time now. It's among the oldest stuff I've written for the setting (and almost certainly the most frequently revised), and it's about time I fleshed out some of these familiar faces with new lore I've recently written. [note=Quick Stories]If you're looking for a quick read, "Corshall's Shrine Near Kisobu" and "The Greedy Dead" are brief fables that might whet your appetite. [/note]

To start with, here are the four faces of death, according to the "dwarven" faith. I'll eventually aim to post similar detail for all seventeen gods of that pantheon, and move on to include information on other religions as well. The dwarven faith is a good place to start, because it's very much a dominant force on the world, and the old Cardan empire spread it all over the place. It ain't just for dwarves anymore.

Read, enjoy, post, whatever. There's no separate discussion thread or anything; I'm just having some fun with stuff I wrote.

[Lmns Crn]

[ic=The Song of Comings and Goings]

"Four names we name, all out of sight,
Four names to run from in the night;
Four ways to watch your fate respond,
Four ways to greet the Great Beyond."
-Cardan children's rhyme

[/ic]

The Cardan faith attributes responsibility for death to four disparate gods, who bicker constantly, sharing their powers grudgingly.

Betha, the Healer

Betha the Healer, sister of Salma, is best loved of these four. In her hands, the power of death is a gift, given to ease the suffering of mortals, replacing pain with peace. In the Healer's name, an order of hospitallers serves in all but the most remote regions of Marebo, providing medical care for donations, distributing merciful, painless death when they can do no more.

Bethan Healers

Betha is one of the more popular of the Cardan gods, and the faithful all have frequent occasion to offer her prayers and supplication. The few that devote themselves wholly to Betha's priesthood form the Bethan Healers, a charitable order dedicated to the spreading of Mercy's gifts, in her name. The Healers operate in almost all parts of the world, blind to boundaries of nation, race, politics, and even belief. The Healers' doctrine demands they do everything in their power to help anyone who seeks them in need, so it is rare for governments to turn them away or restrict their work, even in areas where observation of other facets of the Faith is prohibited. (This convention makes the current situation in Ithyria all the more startling.)

The colors of the Bethan Healers are green and white, and their symbol, like Betha's, is an open hand. They display these devices prominently on their clothing and outside their clinics, so that even the illiterate can locate them in times of need (and to benefit from the unofficial diplomatic immunity the symbols often provide.) Healers live on donations from the communities they serve, so their clinics are typically sparse, spare places containing little more than necessities. Healers typically live in the same communal buildings in which they house and treat patients.

Typical of all things fundamentally Cardan, the Bethan Healers' order integrates scientific advances readily into its daily practice. Treatments employed in Bethan hospitals vary according to the capabilities of the specific Healers who work there, and simple folk remedies are often juxtaposed with restorative magic and surgical techniques. All Healers know simple techniques to deaden pain, induce sleep, and give death painlessly when other options are exhausted.

Teachings of Betha

Betha's commandments are few, and her scriptures resemble medical textbooks more than anything else. Chiefest among them is the Curani Codex, a ponderous encyclopedia of medical knowledge named for the Healer who oversaw its assembly. The Bethan Healers have been the source of numerous medical advances though history, and while skeptics credit their ingenuity and constant exposure to medical emergencies which provide opportunities for refining treatments, the faithful insist that the Healers are merely listening to the gentle whispers of Betha herself, transcribing her secrets.

Teachings not directly related to the treatment of illness and injury are few, and are largely bound up in the symbol of the open hand. It is not by scholarship, fame, or religious fervor that a good person is known, but by the work of the hands done for others. Bethan teachings are also thought to be the source of the most widespread imaginings of the Great Beyond: that death heralds not only the end of all pain, but the end of all sensation entirely. This most common conception of the Beyond is grey and bleak, but tranquil.

Corshall, the Orphan

One of the least understood of the dwarven gods, Corshall respresents death in its most abrupt, senseless, unforeseeable aspects. Whether because of secrecy or simple deific incomprehensibility, the priesthood has very little to say on the specific nature of Corshall's involvement in such events, and confusion about his role has given rise to a roiling stew of conflicting emotions regarding this enigmatic god. Corshall is a deity in whom many place their hopes but none their trust, whom some curse and others come to terms with, and whom no one seems to truly comprehend.

Corshall's link to tragedy is interpreted by turns as mitigation and causation. The death of a child may lead one grieving parent to beg Corshall to lead the child safely to the Great Beyond, for he is the guardian of the unjustly dead and of children (whose deaths are always unjust.) Another parent may curse Corshall for causing the death, for he also represents the unpredictable and essentially unjust nature of life's end. Corshall is also credited with the fickle dispensation of both good and bad luck, and with the facilitation of narrow escapes from terrible fates. People whose daily lives involve luck or danger often consider Corshall their patron; gamblers and soldiers alike hope the Orphan will smile upon them for one more day.

Disciples of the Orphan

Dedicated followers of the Orphan are few, and the lives they lead are frighteningly isolated. They have no temples, no holy text, no standard doctrine, no leaders, no organization, and no reliable way of locating one another. Their patron makes them unwelcome in many cities, hated by those who consider them bringers of ill luck, despised by those who have lost loved ones and seek to place blame. Most of Corshall's chosen travel frequently, keep no permanent homes, and keep their affiliation hidden from all but the most closely-trusted of their friends, if they have any. Many function as comforters to the grieving and protectors of the young, doing what work is needed and moving on before they are discovered.

There is no temple to join, no visible organization to find, so most disciples of Corshall choose their path out of a feeling of being individually called. In many cases, this "calling" takes the form of a manifestation of channeler power, perhaps because lesser signs are more easily ignored, or perhaps because the Orphan is generous with the gift of power. Corshall has fewer followers than perhaps any of the dwarven gods, but many of those followers are also Hands. Hands of Corshall, more so than the Hands of any other god, tend to exercise their powers subconsciously and inadvertantly, to the extent that some consider themselves pursued by magic rather than wielders of it.

Corshall's Shrine Near Kisobu

In the early days of Imperial Cardannis, there lived two brothers of Mero Clan, as different as ground and sky. Aneja had been given mastery of the mind and its sciences, a knowledge of agriculture, and skill with all growing things. Harat had been given strength and sureness of the body, and knowledge of all wild beasts and their hunting.

The two brothers put their talents to use in various ways throughout the year, following the changes in growing seasons and in the migratory habits of creatures. One winter, they both found work in the mountains near Kisobu. Aneja was working to cultivate a new species of cave-grown mushrooms which could be grown under harsh conditions; Harat was hunting the mountain trolls, before the growing cold could force them out of their homes to prey on dwarven settlements below.

While following a winding trail through the cliffs, Harat's foot found a loose stone, which gave way. Each pebble struck and dislodged seven others, and the sudden rockslide threatened to carry Harat to his death. His life was spared by the unlikely growth of a gnarled spruce, whose exposed root Harat was able to grasp. He held fast until the rocks had settled at the foot of the mountain, and pulled himself to safety, battered but not seriously harmed. Grateful for his life, he made his way to a promontory rock facing south toward the city. There, he constructed a cairn of stones, a shrine to Corshall, who had spared him.

Aneja did not return home that night, and Harat was not concerned. It was not unusual for his brother to spend long nights in his tiny cave, nurturing his mushrooms. But Aneja did not return home the next night, either, and Harat began to feel worry for his brother. At the first cold light of morning, he set out to his brother's mushroom-cave with a loaf of bread and a jar of cider, hoping to offer a hot breakfast to a chreotech too deeply absorbed in his work. When he arrived at Aneja's cave, Harat was stricken; the mouth of the cave had been sealed by a rockslide.

Heartsore and angry at his brother's cruel fate, Harat returned to the shrine he had built in a fury, curses against Corshall on his lips. Intent on tearing the cairn apart, stone-from-stone, Harat grasped the first large rock and hurled it down the mountain. But the motion was exaggerated by grief and rage, and Harat's foot found a loose stone, which gave way. Each pebble struck and dislodged seven more, and the sudden rockslide did carry Harat to his death.

Corshall's shrine still stands on the promontory rock, looking south over the valley to Kisobu. Few visit it anymore.

Kath, the Fate-Scribe

Kath the Scribe, brother to Jatta, is the collector of all knowledge-- including the knowledge all mortals possess and fear: the realization that one day, each must die. The Scribe writes with the pen of fate, coolly and without compassion; he is respected and feared, for he represents the absolute finality of unavoidable death.

The Hour and the Day are Marked

Endless patience and unfathomable comprehension are the traits of Kath, who remembers all things that have come to pass, and waits for a future no other entity can see as clearly. Some place elements of time and prophecy within the compass of Kath's power, though a more common theology attributes these to his brother, the Skyfather. Kath holds dominion over death because of its inevitability; the one true and inescapable fact that can be said of any creature with no supporting knowledge is this: "One day, you too will die." To Kath is made known the hour of all deaths before they happen, and he records this information with the pen of fate, sealing the doom of mortals. The Fate-Scribe is not cruel, merely unavoidable; his work is not slaying, merely a chronicle of events.

Though many imagine Kath as the most distant and emotionless of the gods, there is some evidence that he merely covers compassion for mortals with consummate restraint. Some Lorekeepers explain that Kath's greatest act of mercy was the decision to withhold his knowledge from mortals, both to spare them the pain of a death that can be foreseen in immaculate detail but never evaded, and to grant them the joy of learning for themselves.

The Archive Eternal

Kath is said to dwell in a bleak manor at the edge of the Great Beyond, looking out upon the Void beyond the stars. In this, he is unusual among the gods; with the exception of Jalsilvi's prison, the Scribe's great Archive is the only location permanently inhabited by a god. The Archive is lined with shelves of infinite height, heavy-laden with books containing all facts: past, present, and future. Each book has been carefully penned in Kath's own hand; he now watches with scientific detachment as events continuously unfold to match his writings, always accurate.

Disciples of Kath strive to do his bidding by creating imitations of the Archive Eternal, amassing and preserving stores of knowledge in the mortal world. The Lorekeepers operate temples that are libraries in all but name, collecting, copying, and trading information. Their undeniable usefulness gives the Lorekeepers considerable clout in former Cardan Imperial lands, and to a lesser extent, elsewhere in the world as well; universities are dedicated to the Scribe, and monarch support Kath's temples financially in return for the services of Lorekeeper advisors. As part of there efforts to protect any knowledge from being lost, Lorekeepers share information freely with common folk who seek it, often trading facts for monetary donations, or for information to add to their archives.

Itinerant Priests

Libraries do not fill themselves, and new knowledge does not leap up to announce itself to the Lorekeepers. The Itinerant Priests are a holy order charged with the collection of new knowledge for the archives, a task which sets them busily to travel. Chosen for their vast memories, attention to detail, and intrepid spirit, Itinerant Priests travel Marebo in Kath's name, recording all they see in their everpresent grey journals, which more stationary Lorekeepers later copy into the permanent Archives. The path of the Itinerant Priest is arduous, and many leave the order for quiet library positions after only a few years. Those who feel a stronger calling proclaim that the constant discovery the Itinerant Priests are privileged to experience is the truest and purest form of offering to the god of knowledge.

The Daughters of Knowledge

The three children of Kath are the goddesses collectively known as the Sisters: Daeshora, Losh, and Henth. As embodiments of the darker, more human aspects of knowledge, they bear some resemblence to their father, but share a deeper kinship with the mortals whose affairs they complicate. The faithful treat Deception, Secrecy, and Fear sometimes as antagonists, but often as useful if self-serving tools, certainly easier to comprehend than their distant and alien father. Like the concepts they represent, the Sisters could not operate without two conditions: information, and mortal schemes to use that information for personal gain, sometimes (though not always) at the expense of others. For this reason, some sects whisper that Kath must have lain with mortal women to produce his offpring, because the Sisters are of all the gods the most closely-woven into mortal minds and hearts.

Kath's own relation to his daughters is similarly uncertain. In some texts, he is described as pleased by his offspring's manipulations; in others, he regrets their very siring. In most cases, Kath reacts with disinterest, if at all-- even divine mischief holds few surprises for the Scribe.

Exejhith, the Collector

As a rule, the four endings merely govern the process of death; they do not revel in it. Exejhith is the exception. Depicted as a lame man with a farmer's sickle, the Collector harvests souls as a farmer harvests heads of grain. He takes pleasure in bloodshed and the wasting of mortal lives, working to incite violence and provoke war, tricking mortals into sending their kin and themselves to the slaughter for his amusement. Mortal opinions vary about his three deific rivals, but the Collector is almost universally feared and reviled, and with good reason.

Death Walks Tirelessly

Common depictions of Exejhith place a plain robe about his shoulders and a staff in his hands, a constant reminder of his status as outcast and pariah among the gods. Only two gods suffered wounds at the sieging of Ebras Oun, and of those two, only Exejhith still suffers, walking with a limp due to a painful slash of Rayeb's sword. His walk has become a symbol of his insatiable hunger; he is the only deathgod who travels, always searching for his prey. Because of Exejhith, the solitary traveler is a well-recognized literary symbol heralding misfortune, and the superstitious among the faithful believe that Exejhith himself travels the world in this guise, personally seeking victims, in open defiance of the Covenant.

Some tales credit Exejhith with fearsome sorcerous powers in addition to his status as a god. This version of the Collector wields forbidden knowledge stolen from the Scribe, as well as claiming Kath's daughters as his concubines. (The two are already enemies; Kath perceives Exejhith's beloved undead creations as a violation of death's finality.) This sorcerous Collector is feared as the source of sickness, famine, and other misfortunes, which he calls forth with curses and wicked invocations. His walking staff functions as a mage's scepter, and its surface bears inscribed the impossibly tiny name of every creature killed as his offering.

The Collector's Cultists

Exejhith takes his place in the faith as a villian and antagonist to all mortal life, so his temples and worshippers are rare and well-hidden. Most of the faithful invoke the name of the Collector only out of fear, but rare and deviant priests exist who seek his favor and blessing. Exejhith serves as the patron of murderers and betrayers, and his followers take lives through violent action or crucial inaction, with literal poisons or with poisoned words. Some historians speculate that several of the bloodiest wars in Marebo's history were begun at the urging of the Collector's cultists, who had worked their way into the confidence of influential men.

The single common thread that unifies such cultists is the need for secrecy, since few outsiders tolerate the servants of the Hungering Death. They operate singly or in small cabals, making use of secret signs to identify their own. Not all disciples of the Collector are his Hands, but many display at least a small portion of death-magic gift. They use written records of the lives they have offered to Exejhith as the focii for their spells. Traditionally, such Hands represent the dead with runes carved upon staves in imitation of their lord, but more cautious individuals often use small books, which are easier to conceal.

The Greedy Dead

The Book of Roots contains a story missing in other accounts of the gods and uncorroborated by history, but noteworthy nonetheless. It describes children of Exejhith, naming them only "the greedy dead," and describing nothing of their appearance or creation. According to the story, the greedy dead were corpses of the slain which refused to lie down, and instead sought to choke the life from those they had known and loved in life. They spread their curse with each killing, and victims slain by the greedy dead went on to find prey of their own. Exejhith had created the greedy dead indirectly, through the actions of his mortal servants, and the Covenant bound the hands of any gods who would have chosen to intervene on behalf of the dwarven nations.

The gods conferred, but were at a loss about how to stop the growing crisis. Exejhith had been clever, and had neutralized the most powerful of their followers, any with a chance to halt the greedy dead. Jatta could sweep them into the sea with a mighty storm, Betha could halt their still-beating hearts and freeze the ichor in their veins, but all were bound by the Covenant and prevented from taking direct action.

But there was one god who had not signed the Covenant, yet who was chafed eternally by its bonds. Suspicious of his eagerness to help but with no other choice, the gods agreed to grant Jalsilvi a reprieve from his eternal imprisonment for just one night, to touch his feet to Marebo's soil and destroy all that he pleased, on the condition that he burn every last one of the greedy dead. Jalsilvi, who knew only fire and craved only ruin, leapt from his prison with a mad smile, alighting among Exejhith's unnatural children in an instant. They were reduced to ash before they could react, and Jalsilvi lapped up the ashes and breathed in the smoke of their destruction, but was not satisfied. He ran free upon the face of the world, gleefully burning as he went, until the Skyfather's first rays of dawn crested the edge of the world, heralding the end of the gods' agreement and restoring the bonds of the Hunger's prison.

Jalsilvi had destroyed a great many things during his single night of freedom, and Marebo still bears the scars of his handiwork. The Hunger and the Collector were united in resentment of their fellows, the latter for the destruction of his children, the former for his renewed imprisonment, felt all the more acutely after his brief reprieve. Kath perceived that the bonds holding Jalsilvi to the Covenant against his will had been weakened by their temporary undoing, and he counseled his brother in secret, so that the Hunger might not escape. Then Jatta reached into his own chest and brought forth his heart, setting it in the sky as a bright lantern. This wandering star Siert, red as the Skyfather's heart-blood, bright as the gleam in the Hunger's eye, keeps watch over Jalsilvi at night when his bonds are weakest, a vigilant warden at the prison of the gods.

Hands of Exejhith have sought the secret of the greedy dead for centuries, coveting the unending army their creation represents. Many scholars dismiss the story as pure fiction and the greedy dead as patently impossible, but some implicate the greedy dead in the catastrophe of Damira Clan and the unexplained vanishing of the inhabitants of the city of Dara.

[Numinous]

LC, I simultaneously despise and admire you for the work you do.  The take on death you have provided is truly amazing, especially in the way you combined so many different aspects of the phenomenon in a single faith.  Unfortunately, I have little useful criticism, but all my encouragement is yours to keep.  Amazing stuff, my friend.

[LordVreeg]

BICKERING DWARVEN GODS.  
I love this already.

[blockquote-LC]Typical of all things fundamentally Cardan, the Bethan Healers' order integrates scientific advances readily into its daily practice. Treatments employed in Bethan hospitals vary according to the capabilities of the specific Healers who work there, and simple folk remedies are often juxtaposed with restorative magic and surgical techniques. All Healers know simple techniques to deaden pain, induce sleep, and give death painlessly when other options are exhausted.[/blockquote]  what tech level are we talking here?  And how magic rich is the campaign?  

Love the Curani Codex.  And love that death is actually seen as an end...very rare in gaming worlds.

Corshall comes across as a mix of a Patron of Grim Fate and the patron of the 'Virtuous Pagans' (to borrow from Dante).  I like the aspect, however.


I love the Daughter's of Kath.  What a great mechanism!  There is a whole set of adventures just in that little faith subset.  Even just in the finding of the real relationships.  


I will betray my prejudices.  I despise simplified religions.  Any student of history understands the incredible passion religions and their interpretations evoke.  So I have many different sects and churches within the belief systems of my setting; i.e. the Church of the Lawful Triumverate (Nebler the defender, Abradaxus the Harsh, and Rakastra the Just) competes with the Messianic Church of the Theocracy of the Shield (Nebler) for worshipprs of Igbar, especially since the recent fall of the Theocracy of Nebler!  
I guess what I am getting at is that I am well pleased with this thread, as it focuses on the imperfect understanding of mortal beings in their understanding of more complex and powerful beings.  When you say 'it ain't just for dwarves anymore', you speak to the constant, flowing change that happens to a faith as it ebbs and flows and changes.  And this is what lends the versimilatude that immerses players into your world.
Kudos.

[Hibou]

Dude, like... awesome.

[Lmns Crn]

LC, I simultaneously despise and admire you for the work you do.  The take on death you have provided is truly amazing, especially in the way you combined so many different aspects of the phenomenon in a single faith.  Unfortunately, I have little useful criticism, but all my encouragement is yours to keep.  Amazing stuff, my friend.

Dude, like... awesome.

Muchas gracias. This means a great deal, coming from the two of you.

This thread is not finished. I'll be posting some more stuff within the next few days, hopefully. Thank you for reading.

Cordially,
-LC

[Wensleydale]

I hate you, Luminous. D'you know why? BECAUSE EVERYTHING YOU WRITE I WISH I THOUGHT OF FIRST. :P

Good job. This is awesomeness in deific form (rather literally). I like the way you take death as... real death, really, unlike many fantasy worlds, where gods of death are all evil necromancers (or in one case I can think of, a strange, neutral fellow who still builds a wall out of atheists' souls... strange, that) and death is seen as an evil, yet procrastinatible thing. I also like the way you've dealt with gods as being mysterious, yet believable, and also - and this is the part I both loathe and admire you for - DYNAMIC. Something I always try to (and I think sometimes fail at) is truly making gods that DO change, and DO influence others - as real-world religions do. Happily, DnD also fails at this. I love the way that, unlike Moradin and co, your Cardan gods DO influence those who are brought under the span of the Empire. If dwarves conquered a place for hundreds of years in your generic DnD setting, I'd bet you anything that by the end of it, the human population would still be mysteriously speaking Common and worshiping Pelor/the Triad/insert other goodish god here.

So, yeah. I liked muchly.

[Ishmayl-Retired]

LC,
Unfortunately, I've found that I can no longer read your threads. :(  The reason is quite simple.  Everytime you write something, it gets stuck in my head, and then all of a sudden, my Shadowfell page gets updated with Jade Stage information.  I've tried therapy, drugs, and memory-inhibitors, and nothing seems to work!  My pen quite literally begins writing Jade Stage facts in my "Shadowfell facts" file on my desk.  Sometimes while I'm not even there!

So yeah, on a more serious note...

I love this statement:

In her hands, the power of death is a gift, given to ease the suffering of mortals,

on Betha.  It seems to have a nice little ring to our current "real world" politics, without blatantly stating such as obvious.  When you say that Bethan priests operate in all parts of the world, "blind to boundaries," does that mean they simply ignore boundaries, even if such are imposed upon them, or that all parts of the world generally accept the healing of Betha's followers, knowing that it is the best healing available?

Do Bethan priests (and followers) not believe in an afterlife?

And what an excellent story Harat and Aneja offer us.  A dwarven Cain and Abel, if looked upon in the right light.  We can be pleased when a God looks upon us and smiles, but more often, we must worry about when a God looks upon us and is frowning.

I love the different approach each of the deities (and their subsequent religions) use to look at death (or the reprieve from).  It's nice to see that death in the Jade Stage as represented as more than just simply an evil thing, or even just as an end to good things.  

When speaking of Kath's views of (and his relationship with) his daughters, I was somewhat surprised that I didn't see a more obvious view of how Kath would regard his offspring: an inevitability.  Someone whose core ethos and being reverberates around the idea of fate surely doesn't question what is given him.

You said in your introduction, regarding dwarven deities, "they ain't just for dwarves anymore," but I'm curious about something.  You describe Exejhith as an old lame man, but seeing as it started as a dwarven god, does that mean that the "old lame man" is just a current and modern representation of the deity, or that dwarves originally believed that not all the gods were inherently dwarven?

And how is Exejhith pronounced, anyway?  I'm imagining  ek-SAY-zhÉth.

Great Stuff!  

[Lmns Crn]

LC,
Unfortunately, I've found that I can no longer read your threads. :(  

I love this statement:

In her hands, the power of death is a gift, given to ease the suffering of mortals,

Any real-world political commentary there is unintentional. I'm not even sure what you're referring to, honestly.

When you say that Bethan priests operate in all parts of the world, "blind to boundaries," does that mean they simply ignore boundaries, even if such are imposed upon them, or that all parts of the world generally accept the healing of Betha's followers, knowing that it is the best healing available?

Do Bethan priests (and followers) not believe in an afterlife?[/quote]And what an excellent story Harat and Aneja offer us.  A dwarven Cain and Abel, if looked upon in the right light.  We can be pleased when a God looks upon us and smiles, but more often, we must worry about when a God looks upon us and is frowning.[/quote]I love the different approach each of the deities (and their subsequent religions) use to look at death (or the reprieve from).  It's nice to see that death in the Jade Stage as represented as more than just simply an evil thing, or even just as an end to good things.[/quote]When speaking of Kath's views of (and his relationship with) his daughters, I was somewhat surprised that I didn't see a more obvious view of how Kath would regard his offspring: an inevitability.  Someone whose core ethos and being reverberates around the idea of fate surely doesn't question what is given him.[/quote]You said in your introduction, regarding dwarven deities, "they ain't just for dwarves anymore," but I'm curious about something.  You describe Exejhith as an old lame man, but seeing as it started as a dwarven god, does that mean that the "old lame man" is just a current and modern representation of the deity, or that dwarves originally believed that not all the gods were inherently dwarven?[/quote]And how is Exejhith pronounced, anyway?  I'm imagining  ek-SAY-zhÉth.[/quote]Next Post: The Sisters![/b]
(Note: This topic is tough, and needs a little polishing, so feel free to poke as many holes in it as you like.)

[Lmns Crn]

The Sisters

[ic=The Bright Eye Pierced, Act II, Scene III]

ICANUR:
"Anepa ul matki, tiris cria; Sisters Three, I invoke you.
Anepa ul matki, tipis assir; Sisters Three, I beseech you.
Anepa ul matki, by the toil of my hand, by the boil of my blood, by the fire in my mind;
Sisters Three, I lash you to my will, I bind you to my service!"

FIRST SISTER:
"Mortal son of Salma, did you never wonder how foolish,
How foolish a thing it is to command the gods?"

SECOND SISTER:
"Son of Damira, we know your troubles. But O,
How great your troubles could become, should you act unwisely!"

ICANUR:
"Nevertheless, I will have a boon from you,
The three of you, before you depart."

THIRD SISTER:
"We shall see."

[/ic]

Of Knowledge and Mortal Hearts

Daeshora, Losh, and Henth are the names of Kath's daughters, and deception, secrecy, and fear are their gifts and their delight. They are the product of knowledge steeped within mortal minds; so comfortable are they with the mind's workings that their whispers masquerade as mortals' own thoughts. Their songs and promises are seductive, and have led many to success-- and many, many more to catastrophe.

The Sisters, as they are collectively known, are sometimes called the "mortals' goddesses," because their kinship with mortals is closer than that of any other gods. They are often understood to be a natural consequence of the existence of intelligent mortals with self-serving natures, the avatars and advocates of the selfish drives that keep mortal creatures alive. It is the Sisters that spur mortals to flee from danger, to conceal their true motives, and to cover their crimes. Everyone hears their voices whispering soft and low, and now and then, everybody acts on their advice.

Some say the Sisters can speak to mortals in ways other gods cannot, because their unique relationship with mortals allows them more freedom to stretch the bonds of the Covenant. Others theorize that no such prompting is even necessary-- that the voice of temptation in mortal minds is simply an innate aspect of their condition with which the Sisters happen to agree.

Anonymity and Ubiquity

In most depictions, the Sisters are shown to be identical and indistinguishable. Onlookers can never be sure which of the Sisters is which, and the distinction is all but meaningless. The Sisters operate as a unit, and it is as a unit that mortals must regard them; their gifts are too interconnected to be easily extricated. When the Sisters are represented singly, each goddess still represents all three; thus, speaking to any Sister is equivalent to speaking with all of them.

Further, the Sisters are depicted without faces. They see without eyes, hear without ears, and speak without mouths; their heads are blank and featureless orbs, bereft of indentifying features. All mortal faces are the faces of the Sisters; they dwell in all mortal hearts and speak through all mortal mouths. Their facelessness denies mortals the ability to easily recognize the Sisters' influence in their everyday affairs.

Daeshora, Beguiler

Often thought of as the fairest of the Sisters' aspects, Daeshora holds falsehood in one hand and temptation in the other. She presents comforts and beauties which prove to be hollow or unattainable, leading mortal hopes down sidetracks that prove colorful but fruitless. Hers are the irrational hopes, the pipe dreams, the false promise of a desert mirage, the unreachable splendour of a rainbow. It is Daeshora's hand that guides mortals to falsehood, crafting tiny and well-intentioned lies as well as greater and more malicious illusions. Hers too are the pleasant fiction, the insincere compliment that smooths a relationship, the insidious false pretense, and the false foundations of undeserved trust. Writers, actors, grifters, thieves, diplomats, politicians, and spies-- these and many more place trust in Daeshora, as unwise as such a trust may prove to be. Daeshora is often associated with the color green, and the superstitious consider green to represent falseness.

It is with her help that mortals deceive even themselves, protecting themselves from painful truths with an armor of self-delusion. There are many that call such gifts merciful, but any such mercy is doomed to be short-lived and bittersweet.

Losh, Secret-Keeper

The mistress of knowledge kept guarded and unshared, Losh is characterized as taciturn and implacable, most like in character to her stern and distant father. Losh is credited with very few specific actions in the Song of Roots and similar mythologies, and she does not waste words, almost seeming to define herself through absence and silence. Losh teaches that knowledge is an asset only when carefully guarded, and those who walk her path seek advantage thorough becoming sole masters of information. The power of Losh is well known to military strategists, dissidents, inventors, criminals and those who pursue them, and to common folk in all manner of everyday interactions. Her steady hand has safeguarded many enterprises that would otherwise have failed, shielded many mortals from certain death at the hands of their fellows, and lent crucial advatage to those who would change the world, time and again. The color of Losh is blue, and is associated with placidity and silence.

Losh is said to know every secret ever hidden by mortal hearts, but her endorsement of such secrets is fickle. Every thief who hides in the shadows, every soldier moving to outflank an enemy force, every plotter scheming for gain, every liar protesting his sincerity-- all do so with supplications to Losh upon their lips, but she is also said to be behind the discovery of such affairs. All the Sisters keep little faith with those who bargain with them, but to Losh are uttered the bitterest curses.

Henth, Panic-Bearer

Oldest and most mischevious of the Sisters is Henth, she of the vinegar tongue and icy touch, the keeper of fear. With panic in one hand and worry in the other, she delights in humbling mortals, laughing at their inability to master their fears. She is characterized, perhaps unfairly, as among the most petty and cruel of the gods, but her urgings have surely saved countless lives. Fear checks mortals' tendency to get in over their heads, speeds them away from situations that would surely kill them, and prompts them to handle delicate and important tasks with care and caution. Everyone who has jumped at a shadow, fled for his life, or double-checked the lock on his door knows Henth well, though not as well as the paranoid, the phobic, and the insane. Henth's color is violet, the color of the long, evening shadows, where fearful things lurk and linger.

The Knife of Fear

Before the Covenant, before the first breath drawn by mortal lungs, before the Sisters came into being, there was fear. When treachery brought low the enchantments concealing the fortress of Ebras Oun, the warrior-god Kordain stood at the gates with his kin, preparing to defend the tower whose symbol he would later claim as his own. Outside the walls, the Adversaries had gathered, laying siege to the tower with mighty forces: rapid flames, scouring black winds, and hungering stones. Kordain called forth a tree from the ground, tall and straight, and uprooted it and made it into a spear. So armed, he stood at the gate of Ebras Oun, bellowing challenges to his foes. But he hesitated.

The great warrior then felt a spasm of pain and saw that he had been wounded by an unseen weapon. A deep gash had opened in his left shoulder, just beneath the collarbone and above the heart, and the blood flowed out from the wound like a great waterfall, staining his golden garments red. Brought to himself by the pain, Kordain mastered his hesitation; despite his wound, he held the tower inviolate until all the gods save one could agree that the battle served no purpose. Kordain's strength had been diminished by his wound, and even after its healing, his arm held only a shadow of its previous might. He is today know as the wounded champion who persevered despite all difficulties, but he never discovered the source of the injury that gave him pause.

Some scholars believe the true conclusion to this story is found in an isolated passage in the Song of Roots, occurring much later, after the creation of mortals and the appearance of the Sisters. In this strange story, the Sisters give symbolic gifts to the other gods, showing deference to those who came before them and cementing their place in a council of peers. To Kordain, Henth presents a broad dagger carved from a single piece of bone. For this, Kordain has always borne hatred and suspicion for her, though the Covenant prevents him from acting upon it. Neither god has acknowledged the matter since.

The Pure-Thought Order

Most of the faithful do not count the Sisters among the Adversaries, since the common view is that they mean mortals no ill. Despite the often tainted-seeming nature of their gifts, and the tendency of mortals to enact their natures to an extreme and bring themselves to ruins, the Sisters are generally considered to be as helpful to mortals as they are harmful, despite the difficult task of understanding their motives and their urgings.

One small sect judges the Sisters' whisperings to be direct manipulations of mortal thoughts, and utterly unacceptable. This Pure-Thought Order strives to maintain the sanctity of their own minds by resisting such influences, labeling the Sisters among the Adversaries and the actions and emotions they represent as forbidden. The Order's strict prohibition of all deceit, all secrecy, and all fear dissuade most of the faithful from attempting to follow that difficult lifestyle, and most outsiders consider dealing with the Order to be far more trouble than it's worth. The Pure-Thought Order exists largely in isolation and seclusion, regarded by others as a curiosity, an annoyance, or a club of sanctimonious fanatics.

[ooc]Stuff below this line was edited into this originally-incomplete post on 8/27.[/ooc]The Sisters' unique role in the Cardan pantheon-- somewhere between protection and temptation, between benevolence and antagonism-- places them on the outskirts of the Faith. They are always tacitly acknowledged for their gifts, and supplicants can often be seen begging for their aid at their altars in large, pantheon-broad temples, but showing too great an interest in the Sisters and their siren call is typically considered cause for alarm.

The Sisters have no lavish temples all their own, only scattered, secretive parlors where their darker facets are appealed to directly. They have no dedicated priests, only the generalized priests of the Faith, who do their best to interpret the will of all gods, the Sisters included.

They do have mortal Hands, however, and these most blessed (or cursed) individuals find the Sisters just as inseparable and indistinguishable as all mortals do. There are no hands of Henth or of Losh, only hands of the Sisters, who draw a mingled power from all three. Such Hands, if their nature is known, are distantly respected by the faithful but never trusted-- just as the Sisters themselves. Cunning Hands use their patrons' gifts to keep their power secret. Most Hands of the Sisters exist far removed from the institution of the temple and the Faith, and continue using their powers in the capacity in which they were discovered-- often as liars and bullies, as cheats and swindlers, as thieves and thugs. One clergyman once remarked that the Sisters have more Hands in the streets of Yolek-Ja in the span of one afternoon than ever served the temple throughout all of history, but the flippant remark may have been closer to the literal truth than the speaker had surmised.

Though many Hands of the Sisters use their powers of tracelessness and manipulation for selfish purposes, others turn them to subtly charitable goals. It seems that to gain the favor of the Sisters, the means matter more than the ends. Perhaps as a result, such Hands are arguably the most self-guided and autonomous miracle-workers associated with the Faith (though the Hands of Corshall are a frequently-mentioned counterpoint), and often come into conflict even with one another.

[Lmns Crn]

Okay, took me long enough, but I think I've gotten that post finished. If anybody's still reading this, let me know what you think of the Sisters.

There are other gods and groups of gods I plan to add to this thread, and I'll do so as time permits, in the order that fancy strikes me. If you have a preference about which to hear about next, make it known.

Here are the remaining pantheon elements:

The Makers. Jatta Skyfather and Salma Earthmother are not the creators of the world itself, but fashioned many of the things that inhabit it-- including mortal life. They are dominant gods that stand at the center of the Faith in its traditional interpretations, and are the font of honor and wisdom, bounty and mercy. Through their teachings, the faithful prosper and grow strong.

The Tower. Fehn, Rayeb, and Kordain are the martial deities of the Faith. Though they represent self-sacrifice, courage, and tirelessness, respectively, they are often understood as three facets of a single entity, an embodiment of strength employed to shield the weak. They feature actively in the Song of Roots and other tales and myths, although some evidence suggests that Rayeb and Kordain were originally simoc hero-gods who were incorporated into the Cardan Faith as it spread. Concordantly, the Tower replaces the Makers as the central figure of the pantheon in many heavily simoc-influenced varieties of the Faith.

The Twins. The fraternal twins Aureth and Uljas, children of the union of Jatta and Salma, were gifted shapers among the gods-- while their kin toiled to create their works, the Twins' thoughts became real. Their magic protected the fortress of Ebras Oun until Uljas betrayed the defenders, bringing down the wards to allow the Adversaries in. The resulting conflict between his traitorous power and that of his sister tethered the two to each other by an eternal chain of energy. Through this Conduit, the two siblings see into each others' minds, anticipating and countering each others' every hateful move. Though they are powerless to affect the mortal world due to their stalemate, the Twins' imprisoning Conduit provides the source of all mortal magic.

The Adversaries. Gods who care not for the well-being of mortals are termed the Adversaries, and are feared and avoided by the Faithful. Rennan the Bitch Queen, jealous sister of Jatta who corrupted the dwarves before they were formed, is chief among them, as is Taneri the Hunter, who delights in cruel dominance and malicious excess. The most dreaded, perhaps, is Jalsilvi the Red Hunger, whose sole, all-consuming desire is to break free of the prison imposed upon him by his peers, in order to devour the whole of Marebo in flame.

[Ishmayl-Retired]

I'm extremely interested in the Makers and the Tower.

[LordVreeg]

I am still reading.
Reading the good stuff creates a wonderful standard.  And this thread has some of 'the good stuff' in it.  Actually a good amount.

I get the feeling that the adversaries are not worshipped, but are feared and stayed away from, or maybe placated at some level.  Does the bitch queen send fair-seeming creatures into the mortal world to taint them?  Just an impression.

Love the twins, and a tangible source of magic other than 'formulae/pseudo-science'  Well pleased with this, and of the solidity it lends to the mythos.  It seems a little simple now, but with the proper fleshing, a winner.

The tower is something that resonates even more for me.  I am a BIG user of the different aspects of a deity, and of the inability of a mortal mind to comprehend the nature and totality of a greater creature.  Your tower triumverate agrees with my sensibilities.

As for the well-written Sisters, even though you speak of them as on the outskirts of the religion, somehow the vibe I get from them is one of intermediary proximation: as if they were between the past, ancient deities and the mortal words.  Almost as if they were the translators of the mortal heart to the divine world, demi-gods, closer to man yet still divine.

However, the fact that your work is evoking a resonance and internal reconstruction speaks well of it.  Kudos.

[Lmns Crn]

I am still reading.
Reading the good stuff creates a wonderful standard.  And this thread has some of 'the good stuff' in it.  Actually a good amount.

...

However, the fact that your work is evoking a resonance and internal reconstruction speaks well of it.  Kudos.

I get the feeling that the adversaries are not worshipped, but are feared and stayed away from, or maybe placated at some level.[/quote]not[/i] mainstream in the Faith; most people avoid the Adversaries, recognizing them as Bad News.

Does the bitch queen send fair-seeming creatures into the mortal world to taint them?  Just an impression.

Love the twins, and a tangible source of magic other than 'formulae/pseudo-science'  Well pleased with this, and of the solidity it lends to the mythos.  It seems a little simple now, but with the proper fleshing, a winner.[/quote]The tower is something that resonates even more for me.  I am a BIG user of the different aspects of a deity, and of the inability of a mortal mind to comprehend the nature and totality of a greater creature.  Your tower triumverate agrees with my sensibilities.[/quote]As for the well-written Sisters, even though you speak of them as on the outskirts of the religion, somehow the vibe I get from them is one of intermediary proximation: as if they were between the past, ancient deities and the mortal words.  Almost as if they were the translators of the mortal heart to the divine world, demi-gods, closer to man yet still divine.[/quote]I'm extremely interested in the Makers and the Tower.[/quote]Ask, and ye shall receive. I am pretty sure I am going to tackle the Tower next.

[LordVreeg]

Great name for a book, 'The Two Triads'...sounds familiar, for some reason.  AH, well.

[blockquote=LC]I like the Tower a lot. Probably because my favorite character ever played by somebody else in one of my games was a devotee of the Tower, and played it to the hilt. So amazing.[/blockquote]
Isn't it crazy how a player can take a concept and idea and just run with it?  a few of my religions have done this, Notably the Church of the Autumn Harvest and the Platform of Trade.  I notice that you very carefully avoid making this collection of myths (or pantheonic elements) 'the TRUTH', instead leaving open the door to imperfect human understanding.  So I have to ask now about the practise of faith in the Jade Stage, since it 'ain't just for dwarves anymore'.  Players will deal with people a lot more than gods.  I hope.
I don't see churches of this god or that god, more like bastions to the faith, maybe that have slightly different foci than others.  I also see some strange weird shrines...(I love weird shrines and strange temples....).  Maybe like the Ephors in '300'?


Maybe to the Sisters?