Consists of ten gods.
Bohromu is a bear with wings. Liodnya is a snake with horns.
Chutcier is a bird with tentacles. Ziamdaka is a badger with a shell.
Razumajstar is a dragon. Milajyna is a troll.
Daliochadun is the sun. Viablakitny is a whale.
Ziamdaka's shell is the cleaven horn of her father Liodnya.
Chutcier's tentacles are the spilt blood of his father Bohromu.
Razumajstar was born in the winds of his father Chutcier. Milajyna emerged from the gardens of her mother Ziamdaka.
Razumajstar made Daliochadun in his forge to burn the weavings of Milajyna.
Milajyna wove Viablakitny to douse the fires of Razumajstar's forge.
Bohromu has an axe.
He's the god of thunder and war and charity.
He is the 'chief' god.
Liodnya doesn't need no stinking weapons.
He's a freaking snake with horns
what more do you want
He's the god of ice and merchants and magic.
Chutcier wields a bow. Probably.
He is the gods of winds and cities and Carnal Pleasures
Ziamdaka wields a hammer when she needs to fight.
Mostly she just curls up in her shell and waits for better times.
She is the goddess of earth and death and musicians.
Razumajstar wields fire and tongs.
He is the god of the forge and the moon and dragons.
Milajyna does not fight.
Well, not directly.
She is the goddess of weaving and fertility and brickmaking.
Daliochadun is the sun. When not being the sun, he wields a spear.
He is the god of the sun and the wisdom and law.
Viablakitny uses a net to trap her foes. Then she swallows them.
She is the goddess of the sea and fishing and statues.
There are minor demons and spirits and stuff also
Which I am not going to name.
If you need something to blame for your missing socks, fire up google translate and go english to belarusian and mash together whatever comes out of 'sock thief'.
There is probably a monk who spent his entire life chroniciling his adventures.
Also more stuff but that hasn't been
made up woven from wild threads of imagination yet.
From without, a circular stone building- short, squat, and usually dark. Within, the roof (large slabs of stone) are held up by ten stone pillars, each carved with the likeness of one of the gods; each facing inwards towards the statue of a man- usually a holy person to which the temple is dedicated; sometimes the nobleman who sponsored its construction, sometimes just an anonymous everyman- who kneels reverently, holding up a bowl in which sacrifices may be placed.
Sunlight streams in through the stained glass windows, dancing across the stone floor, illuminating the calendar carved upon it. Had one the patience and the knowledge, one could determine the time, date, and phase of the moon by studying the calendar and the patterns of light and dark upon it.
Incense burns in bowls before the pillars, and a soft chanting can be heard from the adjacent chamber. A few worshipers kneel before the pillar of their god of choice; or before the statue in the center, if they wish to appeal to all the gods.
A priest wearing the black robes of the Pantheon walks about the room, speaking softly with the worshipers, topping up the incense in the various bowls.
Built of white stone, several steps lead up to the temple proper. Nine pillars support the roof. An imposing golden idol of Bohromu dominates the central chamber. Flickering torches reflect off of the idol, basking the room in flickering golden light. Other than the idol itself, the temple is sparsely decorated; the lighting and structure are designed to be simple, but imposing.
The altar before the idol is almost always covered in gifts- not sacrifices; the handfuls of coins or loaves of bread laid here are redistributed to the poor by the priests.
Bohromu, as befits his status, is the most commonly worshipped of gods, and as such there is usually a respectable crowd of worshippers, and several priests- clad in golden robes- attending. Organised prayer- where chants of praise are sung, and large sacrifices made- occur several times a week in the busier temples.
Built of wood and stone, in sombre colours- wintery blues, dull greys, dry browns- the temple chamber is somewhat sunken into the earth. The chamber is cool and dark; stained glass windows let in blue light which fools the senses. Mist seems to cover the temple floor, and dark alcoves are set into the walls, containing idols of Liodnya and his servants. The central altar lies in a lowered dais, carved with magical sigils.
Worshippers are rare, and those few that do come, know exactly what they are there for and what they must do, and do not dally whilst they do it.
The priests of Liodnya wear convoluted garments, covering their face and bodies in lengths of blue cloth. They speak in tongues and perform strange rituals- some benevolent, some not.
An low, oval-shaped building, built of heavy stone and solid timber. The roof will often be made of thatch.
A shallow ramp leads down to the main chamber, which appears to be more carved from the living earth than constructed. Religious iconography may be set in the walls, alongside small torches or candles- but few will notice these aspects of the decor. No, the bones are far more interesting. Skulls set into walls, bones hanging from the ceiling, and entire skeletons posed in alcoves, wearing brown robes and leaning upon their massive hammers.
These are the bones of the Deadwatch (Miortdazor), former priests of Ziamdaka who have given up their eternal rest in the afterlife to serve as her servants even in death. Their ghosts protect her temples, shepherd the dead to the afterlife, and serve as vessels of her will. It is said that their bones will awaken and walk should danger threaten the temple, or the treasures stored below.
For a temple of Ziamdaka serves a secondary purpose, besides a place of worship; it is here that the bodies of the dead may be prepared for their final journey; embalmed, cremated, or buried, depending on the will- and wealth- of their owners. Once in clay, the bodies may be buried in cemeteries, or, where geology permits, stored in the catacombs below the temples. These catacombs can stretch for miles- narrow tunnels, winding through the rock, filled with thousands of jars and coffins and sarcophagi- and the treasures of the dead; hence the need for skeletal guardians to deter intruders.
Religion is, of course, omnipresent in all levels of society. The codes of law and chivalry are strongly tied to religious morals, and the priesthood is expected to preside over important occasions.
However, religious fervor has, in recent years, fallen somewhat out of favour. The gods are worshiped and respected, but are ultimately part of the background for the lives of most people; the exceptions are those who live in the north or along the coast, where the incursions of the Haegar and their false gods demands either sceptisism or zealoutry.
Many people consider religion to be a tool; to be used when necessary. Priests serve as doctors, mages, and wise men, and many consider this- rather than respecting the gods- to be their primary purpose.
Amongst the nobility, study of religion is considered a proper and chivalrous thing to do, but not inherently neccessary. Being able to discuss theology at a feast is respectable, but no one will sneer if you only wish to discuss hunting or politics.
The old texts specify ten gods and their nature- but the number and nature of the hundreds (or even thousands) of spirits and demons which inhabit the world is far less rigorously defined.
As such, there are parts of Windheath where local gods are still worshipped by the community, albeit under the name of 'Spirit'.
The priesthood frowns upon such practices, although there is little effort to stop them.
The Adranic faith decrees that the dead should be buried in the earth, packed in clay. This can range from being burnt and buried in a pot, to being interred in a magnificent ceramic sarcophagus.
If someone is not buried properly, they will not be able to enter the afterlife, and their ghost will remain on earth, to haunt the living.
Priests serve the spiritual needs of the people. They will also often serve as doctors, advisers, undertakers, almoners... they serve a lot of other roles as well, is what I'm saying.
There are, broadly speaking, four 'ranks' of priesthood:
Acolytes are the temp-workers of the priesthood. They do the chores and provide the mystical chanting. Sometimes people become Acolytes as repentance, sometimes to flee some tragedy in their lives, sometimes just for something to do. Many will serve a few years, and then go on to work in some other trade. Some will decide to join a monastic order. And some will stay in the temple and become
Priests come in a wide variety of colours. Each god has its own priesthood, and each priesthood has its own robes, usually symbolically related to their patron god (See Typical temple of X above). In addition, the Pantheon (all the gods combined) has a priesthood as well, who wear black (colourless) robes.
Depending on their patron god, they will serve different purposes: Priests of Liodnya work as mages and advisers to merchants; Priests of Bohromu distribute food to the poor and bless soldiers going into battle; etc.
Organization amongst the priesthood depends on the patron god and the size of the temple. Larger temples will be presided over by
High Priests have studied theology and their chosen god for many years. They have experience in running their temple and its businesses, and command respect from commoners, nobility, and their fellow priests. Again, their exact roll depends on their patron god, but High Priests of all gods may be found serving in the court of nobility as advisers. The High Priests of each god will, on occasion, gather in a great council to discuss the state of the faith, and elect from their number a
Arch Priest; the highest rank in the Adranic Faith. Ten Arch-Priests from across the lands, one for each god (The Pantheon has no Arch-Priest), sit on the Adranic Council, where they make decisions which affect all. They rule discoveries heresy or fact, they approve of laws and judgements, and they are technically responsible for declaring a king legitimate or not in the eyes of the gods.
In a very real sense these men rule the faith, and in doing so command as much power as a king would, if not more. No man stands above them; they serve the gods, and bend their knee to no mortal ruler.
The Adranic (and Altanic and Eldanic) faith is based on the faith of the ancient Eldanic people. The faith was well developed, intricate, universal. Then the Duluk came, and burned libraries, slaughtered priests, and sacked temples. The people did not forget their faith, but some of the details became murky.
The subsequent exodus did nothing to help in this regard, and so the Adranic faith seperated from the Eldanic, as arguments over petty details grew into major philosophical differences.
People who study this history feel uncomfortable. Obviously their faith is true, and the Eldani are mistaken. But it would still be nice to have evidence to that effect.
Hence the Readers. Monks, historians, archaeologists- Readers dedicate their lives to studying, interpreting, and translating the old texts. They advise the rest of the priesthood, making sure the faith stays true. They travel a lot; going from monastery to monastery to discuss with their fellow scholars, visiting libraries in the courts of minor noblemen, or even travelling overseas, where they scour ruins for ancient scrolls and tablets which might contain hints regarding the nature of the faith.
Each Reader will have a pet project; a segment of the old texts which he (or she) aims to translate perfectly. No half-measures are accepted on these projects; Readers will journey to the ends of the earth for a scrap of pottery tangentially related to their chosen passage. After decades of research, they might declare their translation complete. Upon doing so, they are granted the title of Grand Reader in acknowledgement of their efforts; a respected, venerable title.
Readers wear black robes, as they are not aligned with a particular god, but serve the whole Pantheon.
The ways of the gods are mysterious. Men cannot know what the future holds.
Oracles can.
Some people are born this way. It is a trait, an affliction, one might say, which cannot be taught or learnt; you have it, or you do not.
If you do, you will usually join the Oracles.
Those with the gift- a vaguely defined mix of prophetic visions and heightened senses- are trained in secluded monasteries. They learn to read omens, and how to invoke them. They learn how to see into the minds of men. They learn how to watch magic flow through the air. They learn how to hear lies and know truths.
Armed with these skills and their innate talents, Oracles can tell what the future will hold, when men lie, and what the gods think. Their services are highly valued as advisers or judges.
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