Creation & Theology

✶ creation

This is a tale all kind of the Boreal know well. It begins in the time of myth.

In this time, a great feathered beast, with a luminescent mane and wings alight with flame, breathed fire into the sky. Where the breath hung, burning in a ball, we called the sun. It burned so bright it lit up the whole of the world. Crops flourished and people frolicked in the infinite green hills, and infinite prosperous kingdoms. The light would fade into evening, then to darkness, bringing night. The beast would take to the sky, sleeping above the people's heads, until a new day dawned when it awoke.

This beast became known as the Bask.

It lasted for many, many years, this splendorous peace. But one day, the days began to grow darker. They shortened. The Bask's breath no longer could abate the Shade which lurked in the hidden corners of the Realm. Somehow, its strength had grown. Until all that the Bask could manage were brief windows of twilight.

The sky grew black, and the Realm wilted.

So the Bask called upon noble hearts, and bestowed upon each a blessed feather plucked from its own mane. Each would become bound to its magic and to its duty - bound to serve the Realm.

Then the Bask took flight to the sky. It dove into the Shade, beating it back with blows from its powerful wings, burning it with its fiery breath. And once it had won the battle, and the sky burned like it had never burned before, the Bask closed its eyes one last time. It fell into a deep slumber overhead, as it had done so many times before. Only this time, it would not awake. As it rested, its Light would continue to disperse.

Once the blaze had passed, the embers of the Bask's battle twinkled and glimmered. The stars formed a cage we call the firmament, behind which the sea of infinite Shade would stay caged.

✶ the bask

art by @piercekenne

The Bask is the intelligent being from which all life in the world can trace its origin. It is an ageless, timeless thing. The Bask is a law of the fabric of reality. You can imagine it like if gravity could think, speak, and feel. While the Bask is, by all definitions, a deity, its nearness to mortals made it a rarely worshiped figure. It is difficult, after all, to assign multitudes of mythologies upon a being that anyone could go and ask questions of. The Bask, when it was awake, was a kind creature that always spared time to converse with even the "lowliest" of people.

The Bask took on an appearance with elements of many animals, notably bearing the head of an eagle. It is for this reason that birds and bird-like creatures are often assigned a more direct relation to the Bask.

When the Bask was awake, it was its duty to bring Light to the world. This is why there were days. This is not a fiction, or a mythologizing of things. This was the reality of the world. The Boreal has no natural sun nor moon. The "sun" was the condensed ball of the Bask's breath, which burned like a torch in the sky, going out several hours later. This led to night, where the Bask would slumber in the sky. Its gentle breaths allowed light to seep out. It is the Bask's body which serves as the Moon. This remains true in the modern age.

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Nowadays, the Bask is revered by all. It is not only the source of all life, but the only thing which allows life to continue. It's sacrifice is greatly respected, and many artistic depictions of it are common motifs in arts of the Realm. However, there is no centralized or organized form of religious worship of the Bask. Instead, it is paid prayers and honor as a ubiquitous part of reality. The worship of the Bask, which has no name, could be called a panentheistic, animistic folk religion. Nearly all people of the Boreal, in some way, worship the Bask. This worship is performed alongside any rituals observed for the Vigils, as opposed to choosing one or the other.

It is not uncommon for small altars to be set up to commune with the Light of the Bask, either to ask for guidance, luck, or simply to give thanks. These altars, whether they are set up in a house, or freely in nature, are called véǫrn (pl. véǫrnr), meaning "altar of the eagle." A véǫrn does not need to have man made components at all, and can even be as simple as a grove that locals use for worship.

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As the Bask's physical form has broken apart, new, lesser deities have been attributed to each part. These Cinders are worshiped as simultaneously separate entities to the Bask, and aspects of its whole. When one of these individual pieces breaks apart, the same process of deification tends to occur. Worship of these individual components is organized, in contrast to the nature religion of the Bask. The pantheon is known as The Vigils of the Firmament.

While no one would build a house of worship for the Bask, people do build halls to devote themselves to the Vigils. These buildings are called stjarnhov (pl. stjarnhovr), meaning "house of stars." Stjarnhovr are usually dedicated to a single Vigil, though will allow worship of others. The only exception is for the Right Hand, which is seen by many as a betrayer god. Its worship is strictly forbidden in Novhustor, Geldbrei, and Umbragard, though the latter sees a significant portion of the population continuing to do so anyways.

It is common for a stjarnhov to have large openings to the outside, to allow the Bask's presence in nature to fill the space.

✶ vigils of the firmament

T H E L E F T H A N D

Vigil of the Lost

Creativity, Hidden Faces, Hunt, Respect, The Forest, Fleshless, Hospitality, Mercy, Cold, Sorrow, Melancholy, Secrets, Winter

It was the Hand that fell first, Born before even the Aeries, when we could not discern kin from combatant.

In the time immediately following the Bask's ascent, the world was thrown into turmoil - beyond even that of the modern age. There were no Aeries, and the Cycle of the Firmament had not yet solidified. Light was a rarity, and the Fleshless grew in endless numbers. The survivors of the time turned their faces to the sky, beseeching the Bask to awaken and save them once more. What they witnessed, instead, was a crack forming along the Bask's Left Hand.

Panic rose across the land, and Shade with it, thriving in the darkest worries of the mind. Man turned against Man and all was naught but chaos and waking nightmares. One day, a young man took it upon himself to heal the crack. Seeking to spill his own Soullight for the Bask's nourishment, he gathered a crowd to pray, and slipped a blade into his heart.

In that moment. the Hand separated from the Bask's body. The people wept. But their tears did not last long.

The Hand Itself reached down, grasping the man's head between Its talons, and willed him back to life. Taking his first breath, the young man was born anew as the First Cinderling. He led the great migration North, to where the Bask's feather would be planted, growing the first Aerie and ushering the Boreal back to safety.

Followers of The Left Hand pay respect to the Lost Echoes, and the Lost themselves - the time and peoples forgotten, unknown, in the darkness of the past. For all those who became victim to the Shade.

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Devotees of the Lost take the practice of hiding oneself very seriously. They wear veils, helmets, and masks, keeping their visage out of the hands of those who would do harm with it. It is not uncommon for them to adopt "Lost Epithets" as well; aliases to go by as opposed to their True Names. However, they must take care never to identify too closely with their Epithets, lest they become their True Name. The strictest observers will go their whole lives never baring their face to the world.

Despite their clouded history with the Fleshless spirits of the Realm, devotees of the Lost tend to have high respect for them. It is only appropriate to respect such powerful beings. They also recognize that many Fleshless can be dealt with politely, and even befriended. They do not erase the history of Flesh and Fleshless collaboration. Without kind and decent Fleshless, many more would have been Lost. As such, many diplomats and scholars of Fleshless are followers of the Left Hand.

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STJARNHOVR. Cold places with running water, abandoned fairy mounds, ancient but unmaintained orreries

RITUALS. To spend the starless week of winter in prayer. Some may wander into the frigid woods, surviving for the dark week only on what they can forage and hunt, dealing with Fleshless.

SYMBOLS. Half masks, snowdrop flowers; dim stars, snowflakes, pine trees.

THE LEFT HAND | It/its, indeterminate. | A robed, hooded figure bearing its weight upon a walking stick.

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T H E F O R E W I N G S

Vigil of Serenity

Art, Deception, Animals, Husbandry, Baskolt, Agility, Twilight, Loopholes, Exuberance, Anticipation, Forgiveness, The Future, Summer

And when the Sun finally burned again, the Wings broke away to dance in the twilight dawn.

A society born anew quickly outgrew its home. The need for more Aeries arose swiftly. Expeditions were sent out in all directions to find appropriate sites. On a curved peninsula, sat atop their baskolts, the Opal Expeditionary watched the first rays of the first dawn to grace the Realm in countless Echoes.

The Aerie was planted shortly after and, as though fueled by the light in the sky, grew much quicker than the first had. In short time, more and more migrated from Lodestar to the newly established Novhustor, even populating the space between with hamlets and farmlands. From the Aerie flowed Rime, lighting the sea aglow. Civilization flourished.

With this came a new change: increasing social stratification. Less focus on survival, and more on frivolity, widened the gap between highborn and lowborn. While some turned to thieving and trickery to take advantage of the gaps in society, others took to philanthropy and patronage. The future looked bright and infinite.

It was in this time that the seat of power moved from Lodestar to Novhustor, and the Seat of Stars was hewn from the lustrous stone of the aerie's peaks. Upon it sat the Empyrean, trusted ruler of the lands. A great feast was held under the dawn glow for the event.

It was in this celebration that a great heist took place. A particularly beloved servant of the recently anointed Empyrean stole the commemorative portrait, holding it hostage until the Empyrean opened wide the gates to the citadel. Not only to allow the people to enjoy in the splendors of the feast and festivities, but also to allow, forevermore, passage through to the aeries' caldera, to observe the Bask's Light where it shined the brightest.

When armed guard attempted to accost the servant, the Forewings were observed to break away from the Bask, as though willingly, fluttering and blowing the embers of the summer dawn across the lands, so that all might rejoice. They lifted the servant far beyond the guards' reach, anointing them the Outlaw Cinderling.

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Devotees of Serenity look towards the future, following their ambitions however they can. The more public house of stars’ dedicated to the Forewings tend to put a more positive spin on Serenity’s less “acceptable” teachings, though it is recognized that in the harsh world of the Realm, even these worser ideals are valuable tools of survival. It is not uncommon for Serenity stjarnhovr to be led by criminals seeking to turn over a new leaf. Or for them to take on criminals’ social debts, bringing them in as acolytes.

The Forewings ask followers to strive in their work, and to present your best. What faces front is most important - the how of this, less so. Creativity is key. There is pride to be found in a well-crafted lie, too. Animal trainers and specialized breeders often worship the Forewings, believing that the Bask's touch on their animals will bring them great talent and skill.

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STJARNHOVR. A back alley behind the marketplace, a manor hall decorated for festivities, a grass field worn from ring dancing

RITUALS. To steal a baskolt foal away from its herd. Rearing the foal and dousing its first primary feather in your blood seals a lifelong bond between the pair, forming a twinhood akin to the Forewings themselves.

SYMBOLS. Half-sunken sun, dancing, gold, needles and thread, horseshoes, broken locks, rabbit gnawing its foot

THE FOREWINGS | They/them, indeterminate duo. | Twin faces or separate entities, which are often depicted as a prince and a pauper, whose roles freely switch, never letting the truth of which is which be known.

T H E T A I L

Vigil of Enduring

Survival, Ingenuity, Reflection, Light, Combat, Discipline, Fur, Agriculture, Rage, Paranoia, Impatience, Emotions, Law, Spring

The Tail fell second, while we turned our tear-stained eyes to the Work.

Once the first Aerie had been planted and begun to grow, so came the difficult work of rebuilding a society to live in. A people wracked with sorrow and turmoil, so used to fighting each other simply to breathe their next, naturally came into frequent conflict with one another. Law and order had yet to be instated, so survival of the fittest became the rule.

While some turned their emotions inwards, reflecting upon their time and place in the world, others turned theirs outwards. Underhanded scraps gradually became disciplined arts of combat. And from the marriage of these two arose the Law of the land.

Society built, and grew, and learned to foster a community - though tensions remained high. It was not so easy to forgive and forget the bloodied, Shadowed history of their fellow man. Honor and nobility became more and more prized. Aspects which the people had to relearn. But it is only by trusting that they would flourish.

When the first royal family collapsed with no successor, a great tournament was held. A teenaged girl, with no hope of winning, participated. Her opponent scoffed at her pathetic displays of strength, striking her down with a greatsword. Her hand was severed, shocking and disturbing the crowd.

The Tail fell, and as he did, the girl's very Soullight snaked out from her shattered bone and bleeding sinew, connecting with the hand. It sprung back to her limb, and the fingers flexed. Her opponent, in awe at the miracle, was not able to stop her attack.

Thus the Tail's Victor Cinderling was anointed, and tethering brought into the Realm.

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Devotees of Enduring embody the fight between Law and Chaos, Discipline and Emotion. They emphasize being in tune with one's emotional state, but never to let it control you. Instead, emotions should be channeled into productivity. Let your fury lead you to victory in battle, even when at your weakest. Let your desperation guide you to novel solutions, even in the face of impossible odds.

The Vigil of Enduring encourages followers to never allow themself to be knocked down permanently. One can always Endure more, and in fact must. Suffering is seen as a religious act, and a representation of one's Soullight strength. Due to their connection to the Soullight, many who show keen interest in the very nature of Light choose to follow the Tail. Philosophers are as common among their ranks as great warriors.

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STJARNHOVR. Fighting or tourney rings, libraries, a tomb for great warriors

RITUALS. To show their dedication and prove their connection to the Light, intentionally sever a part of one's body, and re-tether it. This is usually something small, like an ear, toe, or ring finger, but the more dedicated theurgs will attempt larger amputations, like hands, legs, or tongues.

SYMBOLS. Saplings, flower buds, braided cords, anvils, ore, chain mail, balancing scales

THE TAIL | He/him, feminine. | An intimidating warrior clothed in leathers and furs, face hidden by folded wings and bearing winged axes attached to chains of Light.

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T H E H I N D L E G S

Vigil of the Hearth

Fire, Loyalty, Family, Farming, Community, The Sea, Warmth, Calm, Alchemy, Contentedness, Cooking, Butchering, Rest, Autumn

When we were able to rest, we found our lights on for longer and longer, offering the Hindlegs a place of respite.

The twilight glows of summer fade, as they always do, and the fervor of it all dulls to a pleasant hum. When the people had Endured the work, and frolicked in the Serenity of it, all that was left was to rest and recover. People turned their focus to building not only their lives, but their homes. The honor of the Enduring became a binding social contract among friends, family, neighbors, and even strangers. The fire, which had so dutifully aided Man in its time of need, now found its throne in the Hearth.

The peoples of the Boreal learned to live with the land, not just survive it. Plants became potions and poultices, while animals became impeccably prepared meals or lovingly crafted leathers. Where the Rime-flows spilled into the sea, Shade was cast away, allowing marine wildlife to flourish once more. Hours could be wiled away on boats, safely drifting along opalescent waves. And when one got tired, a home would be waiting. Perhaps even a family.

The time when the first split along the Hindlegs was seen was not one of worry. Man had seen all they could live through, and still find their path home.

But there is one path all must take, and the way is not certain: The journey at the end of one's life. It was a worry one Mother had, clutching her child's cold body to her chest as she wailed. A wail so deeply sorrowful, it stirred the stars above, spurring the Hindlegs into motion. Gentle steps and even gentler hand on her shoulder, the Hindlegs consoled the Mother. It could not bring her child back to life, but it could ensure that its Soullight found its way back to the Bask. Thus, she lowered the child's body into a Rime-flow, and let it burn the Flesh away, allowing its Light to ascend upwards.

When the Mother asked what she would do now, the Hindlegs offered her the opportunity to aid in preventing such incidents from happening more. And so the Matron Cinderling joined the Hindlegs, patrolling the lands.

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Devotees of the Hearth do not shirk duty, or work, but know to enjoy all the littlest moments - the breath between. There is no higher service to display respect or love than to offer safety and reprieve. A well-crafted meal takes time, effort, even putting one's life on the line, and is worth as much as any silver. While honor can get you far, it is loyalty which ultimately draws the line between community and barbarity.

The Hindlegs asks you to not only know and love your home, but to always be expanding it. To extend a kind hand is as important as protecting that which you already have. Everyone anticipates winter for its hardships, spring for bringing forth the summer, but autumn is lost. A moment of calm after and before. This is what the Vigil of the Hearth asks you to embody. It is often the duty of the Hearth's followers to attend to funerary practices. Many fisherman, merchants, and diplomats also look to the Hindlegs to grace their efforts with safety and solace.

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STJARNHOVR. A bustling open tavern, a hidden fishing cove, an isolated cabin for weary travelers

RITUALS. To embark on a maritime pilgrimage when a child of the hearth comes of age, commonly around the fourteenth year. The ritual is begun by the crafting of their own raft and considered completed upon the return from their destination. Though perilous, these pilgrimages often double as opportunity to trade with other aeries. At minimum, the pilgrim must be gone for 100 days. It is traditional to gather a unique wood from each location visited, to be burned together at journey's end.

SYMBOLS. Fireplace, cast iron pots, meat hooks, alembic, sailboat, fishing lure

THE HINDLEGS | He/him, masculine. | A greying wayfinder, clad in hand-crafted clothing decorated in trinkets.

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T H E R I G H T H A N D

Vigil of the Tarred

Redemption, Grief, Tar, Isolation, Fear, Numbness, Clemency, Ravens, Omens,
The Past, Rebirth, Cycles, Forbidden Knowledge, The Unknown

Fell fifth.

Originated from Murkwyrd.

The youngest of the Cinders, the story of the Right Hand is chronicled in winding tales. Once, it was revered as the Bask's closest confidant. A right hand, both literally and metaphorically. It was observed to fall when, 400 years ago, a great cascade of Shade shattered apart much of the Boreal. Where it swelled first, in the territories of Gelbrei, the Right Hand was seen detaching before the stars were blotted out by the dark. Some attribute the survival of any civilization in this flood to the Right Hand's birth.

Once the Hindlegs had guided one's Soullight off the earth after dying, it passed into the Right Hand's guidance, directed back to the Bask. The Right Hand bathed Light, to clean it free of Shade and corruption. Afterglows were a bane to be smote down by its Cinderlings, corruption a plague to be cured by its theurges.

But those days passed some 300 years ago, when the Right Hand drifted from its place in the sky, behind the cage of the firmament, and into the Shade dammed behind. Man wept, for corruption of the Bask could only lead to the world's doom. For ten long years, the Right Hand was lost.

In that time, its last Cinderling, wandered the Boreal, searching for a way to save its patron. It was in the small colony of Murkwyrd - then only barely established - that the Cinderling managed to catch sight of the Right Hand, drifting between wafting Shade. With a lasso of pure Light, he wrenched the Hand back with all his might, pulling it out from the sea of Shade. But his patron was not the same as it had once been, and so the Cinderling departed from the gaze of the people, who christened him the Bade Cinderling.

Thus, did the people make a distinction between the Right Hand as it was, and it is. The former is now known under the name the Extinguished, whose worship is sometimes still held. However, many believe that to worship the Extinguished only gives power to the Right Hand - the betrayer god. While others believe the Extinguished lives within the Right Hand, and is the only thing which holds the corruption back from the rest of the Bask.

In the wake of this event, the people hold their breath to see what the Right Hand will do. They blame many evils on the Cinder. The rising presence of Afterglows and shaded gloams is attributed to the Right Hand's doing. Twisting the Extinguished's jurisdiction, the Right Hand now judges one's Soullight, deciding whether to allow it to pass to the Bask or whether to damn it to wander as an Afterglow. Where the Extinguished could be communed with to divine the patterns between the stars, participating in discussion of future events, the Right Hand interferes, plucking at the strings of the constellations to shift the favor of certain fates.

Yet, despite this, there are those who believe the Extinguished and the Right Hand are one and the same. That the Right Hand was changed by its time behind the firmament, gaining access to knowledge Beyond. The Right Hand may judge, but not unfairly. It even offers solace to those afflicted with corruption. Do not the damned also deserve love?

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Devotees of the Right Hand vary greatly in their ideals, and especially in their opinions of their favored Cinder. But they can mainly be divided into three sects. Followers of the Extinguished continue to worship the Right Hand's past identity, with a heavy interest in divination and cleansing corruption. Followers of the Right Hand who see it as a merciful entity focus on that aspect, as well as its double identity, and how all people can harbor conflicting multitudes. Finally, followers of the Right Hand that seek to plunder the depths of its forbidden knowledge focus on manipulating fate, using terror, and uncovering what there is to be known of Shade and death itself.

What the Right Hand asks of you is a fickle subject with no certain answers. Its intention are as shrouded in mystery as the Hand itself was once shrouded in darkness. But the people will warn you to never stray from the Bask's light, never allow one's Soullight to become corrupted with evil, or beware the Right Hand's reach.

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STJARNHOVR. A small altar beside an isolated tar pit, a rookery of ravens, a dark room with a hole cut in the ceiling through which to focus one's gaze upon the constellations

RITUALS. To consume a flaming chalice of tar. Normally toxic to the body, those that live through this ritual are deemed to have been touched by the Right Hand. The larger the quantity consumed, the greater the risk, but the greater the devotion.

SYMBOLS. Mist, eyes, mirrors, tar flames, constellations, white candles

THE RIGHT HAND | It/she, masculine/feminine. | A faceless, shapeless figure of silvery mists, with hundreds of limbs, each bearing a black-taloned right hand.

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It is not uncommon for people of the Boreal to treat the Cinderlings as minor deities in the pantheon of the Vigils. They are invoked as guardian spirits, the bridge between Man and divinity. Though some are named here, there is a near endless amount of Cinderlings in the history of the Boreal.

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