Priesthoods, Part 1
Priesthoods: A Compendium
Blessings the gods grant their priests and priestesses is a topic much discussed and mused over. In the end only the clergy really knows, and we ain’t talking. (Note in margins: Please keep colloquialisms out of official documents, although in this case I approve. ~K) Much, at any rate.
Some groups like Lesganagh’s Chosen have been granted virtual immortality, but are also infertile. It’s been surmised that the gods wanted to avoid a similar situation as with the First Ones. But even in this case, it’s guesswork.
Some things are universally known and seem to be the same all over the northern hemisphere. Humans, especially on Taogh, seem to be oblivious to some of the gods. This can be because of the power and knowledge vacuum left behind after Gathran’s collapse. Elves generally know and respect all the gods. Humans can be a little ignorant. (A little ignorant? ~K)
Lliania’s clergy can tell truth from lie, though it has been noted that one person’s truth might still be a lie. This is not the sole ability Lady Justice grants her clergy. The other gift, however, is much rarer. Some of her priests – it doesn’t matter what position they hold within the church – can discern an item’s history. This ability has been known to swing judgment in a defendants favor, or warrant swift judgment. In any known settlement, the Lawpasser’s priests usually are the judges, sometimes for numerous smaller communities. Their decision is final, though it’s well-known that Lawspeakers alter judgments to prevent worse conflicts. Especially in crueler societies, where the lord of a region might well exact revenge for being slighted, judges will refrain from offending the rulers. The goddess seems content with such calls. Their main income is generated from them overseeing contracts of all sorts, verifying that the parties are honest.
Eanaigh’s Caretakers are a different breed, depending on their sphere of influence. In the countryside, they will act as midwives, healers, and bless the fields, for a small offering to the goddess. In cities, the situation is different. There the majority of Caretakers will see to the feeding of the poor and destitute, caring for the overall well-being. Some are midwives, and they also bless fields. It’s interesting that Eanaigh’s priesthood cares for the vagabonds and homeless, seeing that they are looked over by Cingrib, but this is the way of the gods. (Exactly, don’t ever question their whimsy. ~K)
Broggagh, God of Weather and Rivers has clergy living near rivers. In the countryside, they see to it that crops are protected from storms, and that fields receive enough rain (if the proper offerings are made.) Each farmer has a shrine devoted to the Weatherlord. Many regions have only smaller streams but even those are seen as rivers, if one is close enough to the water. (Technically accurate, but it might upset some of the more fundamentalist priests. ~K) They also take care of rivers near cities to keep the sewage from polluting the waters too much.
What can one say about the Goddess of Love and Loss? Her clergy holds no temple. No shrine is dedicated to her, yet we feel her presence everywhere. (Stop being so poetic, this is an encyclopedia. ~K) Glennaigh’s priests and priestesses can be found in every town. Some are proprietors of brothels, others can be found in populated areas, giving out blessings for offerings. (Again, technically true, but to call these places brothels is doing them injustice. Please refrain from using such terms as Bone Houses either. Not everything inside these temples is of a physical nature. ~K) These blessings are very popular with people freshly in love; although it is known that no deity, with maybe the exception of Cingrib, will interfere with a person’s sympathy or antipathy. Someone who has fallen in love who brings an offering to Glennaigh’s priest or priestess will get his or her opening with the object of their affection. The rest is up to them. Newlyweds sometimes ask the goddess’ blessing for their future. The offerings/blessings in the Bone Houses (Fix this! ~K) are of a more transactional nature. Love and affection, consolation, everything that can mend a broken heart or ward off loneliness is offered here.
Trannagh, God of Trade and Politics, has his priests everywhere. From marketplace to crafters’ roads to the halls of power, very few places are without the Brokers. Businesses make offerings to improve their fortunes; rulers are never without one when receiving an embassy. As with Glennaigh, Trannagh’s blessings never affect the outcome of a negotiation or a customer’s satisfaction. Both of these are still up to the negotiator or the artisan. However, if deals are made in bad faith – without a Lawspeaker in attendance, for instance – no amount of offering can reverse such. Trannagh opens doors, gives opportunities, but only a Lawspeaker can assure honesty. As for crafters and artisans, let’s just say there have been cases where an opulent offering guaranteed attendance, but when it turned out the tradesman had intentionally used substandard materials, no sacrifice would save him from the judgment in both court and public. That, of course, doesn’t mean every vendor brings the god offerings.
(Please insert a section clarifying offerings. ~K)
We Librarians of Traghnalach write, research, copy, and write some more, before we sleep, and then do it all over again. (Sadly, all too true. ~K) Our tasks don’t vary much from region to region. We may have different titles – the Lorekeepers or Elders of tribal structures basically fulfill the same function, though how exactly is just as varied – but the tasks are the same. Essentially the God of Knowledge and Sky tasks his priesthood with recording history. In tribes, the task is comparatively easy. Traghnalach grants a Lorekeeper the knowledge of all that is happening to their tribe. The Lorekeeper sifts through everything he is seeing, dismisses superfluous information – no one cared that diapers get changed or what’s for supper – and then commits to memory everything relevant. In larger communities much information is inscribed on the dominant writing surface, with only a minimum committed to memory. In towns and cities, with thousands of people, the task of writing dominates. We Librarians sift through the detritus of visions, and write down everything else. These scrolls go into the primary vault, and are then reviewed, their contents sorted by relevance, faction, family, and then transcribed on new scrolls which serve the purpose of raw histories. Raw histories are not edited, and it’s advisable that none of the rulers ever get to see them as they usually do not show them in the flattering light they view themselves in. These raw histories occupy a smaller vault, and serve as resource for the official (or edited ~K) histories available to the public. Most of these official histories are commissioned by one faction or another, usually with the goal of aggrandizing a scion of a noble house or ruler. Anyone can read them, anyone can order a copy of an existing scroll, and if the offering is sufficient, one can commission a history for their family. (I understand the desire to keep talking about one’s own creed, but enough is enough! ~K)
The Gyrwas (singular Gyrwa ~K) of Rauggeeth, Goddess of Horses, are a rare bunch. While some might well reside in urban centers, usually serving the horses of capstaed races (provided there is such an arena ~K), most are found in the wild, running with their charges, as it were. If a city has no capstaed, there is no Gyrwa presence in the settlement. That does not mean offerings aren’t made, but similar to Cingrib, such offerings are given to the horses directly. Each settlement maintains a sizable patch of Rauggeeth’s Blessing growing in its limit. The maintenance of this grass, sacred to the Goddess, lies in the hands of the horse owners. And only those who donate time or money into the grass’ wellbeing may cut it to feed a horse or three. This is usually only done when the horse is sick, or needs to be killed when the injury is too severe. As for the Gyrwas, they watch over the herds, and will rain fury on anyone trying to catch a horse without their permission.
The Deathmasks are . . . It’s difficult for me to describe Jainagath’s gift because the God of the Dead’s priesthood is secretive. Their duty is to cremate corpses. Some of the surviving friends or family may wish to honor the deceased, and a monument yard might be a feature in some towns. During cremation, the survivors who wait are put at ease, and even though I myself experienced the magic (not literal magic ~K) of the waiting room. It’s hard to put into words what exactly happened. I remembered my mother, her laughter, her pain, her joy, and her love for me, as I sat there waiting by the fireplace. My sister, who sat next to me, staring at the same flames, had exactly the same experience. But neither of us could explain what and how that happened. The gods are mysterious. Offerings are usually coins. (There are records of Deathmasks animating corpses, please research that. ~K)
Tenaidh, Goddess of Travel and Springs, has shrines in every caravanserai, way station, and source of water. Her priesthood travels roads and paths and streams, and lends aid to lost travelers. At times they maintain temples together with the priests of Broggagh and Roindra, as travel encompasses rivers and oceans as well as streets and paths. Offerings are usually coins. Her priesthood also cooperates with Medhuina’s clergy as oases are fed by springs.
Carrundian, the God of Famine and Disease, isn’t really worshipped as much as appeased. His shrines are central to any proper community (Elven community ~K), and usually stacked with coins, food, drink, jewels, anything people are willing to part with in order to be spared an illness. Humans are largely ignorant of Carrundian and other lesser deities. Elves have taught humans about all the gods, but for them picking and choosing are easier than full comprehension. As such, many human communities suffer greatly from diseases that could be avoided. (And even after they’ve been shown the proper rituals, the subsequent generations quickly forget about them. Fucking idiots. ~K)
Ionnairh, like Carrundian, doesn’t have priests, but the God of Mountains and Rage makes himself known nonetheless. Usually in the form of rising anger or the rumbling of the mountains. While consisting of stone, many mountains aren’t the demesne of Master Stone and his offspring. Broken from the sphere by Lesganagh’s axe during the making of the world, mountains reflect the gods’ despair and rage more than any other place. And anyone not making an offering to the god at his shrines might have a terrible time crossing the mountains, even if there is a road. There have been rumors of tribes, both human and elven, living deep in the mountains, worshipping the god. Amongst them are said to dwell the berserkers, a cult of Carrundianites consisting solely of warriors. Thanks to many tribes reverting to oral traditions, no written account has ever crossed into Breiamhbéo.
Roindra, Goddess of Oceans and Sailors, is the friend of fishermen and sailors alike. Her priesthood blesses ships and boats, and the mariners that use them. Any navigator worth their salt will sacrifice to the goddess before any given voyage. The sea is magic in its primal form: Lady Ice’s melted body. As such it remembers, and Roindra calms the Lady’s lingering frustration. Offerings are diverse. Fishermen sacrifice the best catch of the day, and mariners coin before and after the voyage.
Cingrib, the Goddess of Mischief and Laughter, has no priests either, no shrines, no temples. Yet, she is everywhere. Mistreat a beggar, a hobo, anyone down on their luck, and you will feel her wrath, for these are her favored. Treat them kindly, and good fortune will be with you. It’s easy to ignore the downtrodden, but the Lady of Laughter makes sure you won’t. (Unless you’re an ignorant human. ~K)
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