October Content Update: Creeds and Cults Pt 2

CREEDS AND CULTS PT 2

It ought to come as no surprise that the people of the Island-Cities revere the sea. Indeed, the people of Fiore, Mazzare, Arran, and Isonza owe much of their wealth, safety, and prosperity from that great stretch of blue which surrounds the walls of their cities. Through its schools of fish and great water-beasts, the sea nourishes the residents of those cities, and allows them to grow to an extent which the scant farmland available would have never allowed. Without the prevailing winds that blow across the waters, the great merchant houses of Fiore would have never even come close to achieving the wealth they now possess, wealth which is shared one way or another with its rivals and neighbours. Perhaps most of all, the sea serves as a bulwark greater than any curtain wall, a moat wider and more treacherous than anything dug by human hands - one which kept the squabbling and divided Island-cities safe from even the mighty powers of the Flowering Court.

Yet those who make their lives by or on the sea know that the harvest of such boons often exacts a terrible toll. Water-beasts may feed folk, but they just as easily feed on those folk caught within their grasp. The steady winds which carry the lifeblood of commerce can just as easily whip up storms capable of destroying entire convoys of merchant ships - and the great waters which bar the passage of invading armies only speed those of invading fleets.

Given the ability to bestow such great gifts and such terrible curses, it would be all too easy to understand why the people of the Island-Cities see the sea as having a divine and supernatural aspect, and to lavish it with offerings and worship in the hopes that the sea favours them, their families, and their cities in turn.

Yet it would be a misconception to say that the people of the Island-Cities worship the Sea as a God, for such a description brings to mind the idea of a being separate from the world - a master with the mortal realm as its servant. No, instead it is perhaps more accurate to say that the people of the Island-Cities see the sea as the true embodiment of the universe itself, with all other aspects of existence - land, air, trees, animals, even people - as mere ornaments on the skin of the body of the world.

Thus can an Islander's entire conception of the world be encompassed by the sea, its functions, and its ancillaries. When the sea absorbs rainwater and the outflow of rivers, it drinks. When its waves wash away rock and sand, or when animals and folk drown within its waters, it eats. When pools dry up and evaporate, it sweats. Storms represent the sea's rage. Calm waters, its placidity. Winds are its outward breath, floes of ice, its extremities, and all other things merely extraneous to its vital functions.

One might note that there is little room at all for land in this reckoning - something which is perhaps understandable for a people who live surrounded by and make their lives from water. To the orthodox believers of the All-Encompassing Sea, land and all those who live upon it are mere parasites who subsist off the sea's bounty. When humans catch fish from the sea, it is seen as no different from a tick drawing blood from a horse - and likewise, just as a tick which takes too much blood is often swatted away, the rages of the sea are seen as a result of an organism which has grown frustrated by the exactions of the small parasites upon its body - of beings who take from the waters, but give nothing in return.

Thus we come to the main function of the religious strictures and authorities of the Island-Cities - to return to the sea what has been taken, and thus maintain the placidity of the water so that humans may continue to fish, trade, and make war upon its surface. The most important element of this concept of "returning" is that of funerary rites, for a human being is seen as having absorbed the worth of all which they have taken from the sea - every fish eaten, every breath of wind taken, and every drop of fresh water wrested from a rainstorm or stream before it can rejoin the salty lifeblood of the sea. As a result, when that person dies, it becomes a duty to return all of that withheld worth to the sea as if it were a loan repaid - with interest, as is the custom of the Island Cities with such things. Thus, the body is wrapped in canvas and weighted down with iron so that the sea may gain more than what was temporary taken, and thus see the continued existence of humanity upon its surface as a profitable enterprise.

In addition to these fundamental duties, the religious authorities - who are called Wavekeepers in Arran, Seawatchers in Fiore, and Deepwardens in Mazzare - carry on other tasks associated with the sea based on their city of origin. In Fiore, they maintain the city's many canals and waterways to ensure that the city is never too far removed from the essence of existence in the roiling sea. In Arran and Isonza, they also serve to collect the bones of fish and other discarded material to be returned to the waves. In Mazzare, they alone reserve the right to draw fish from the sea, seeing such work as both a sacred rite, and a convenient way of maintaining control over the city's supply of food.

Despite these differences however, the religious authorities of all cities, towns, and villages maintain an additional duty, that of currying the favour of the sea by offering onto it gifts and other means of tribute - usually in the forms of heavy metals such as gold and iron. This is seen as a task of utmost importance, for it is believed that such offerings can determine whether a coming season's sea conditions favour a given community or not. As a result, the quality and the frequency of these offerings are considered the difference between bountiful catches and nothing at all - between a storm to scatter an enemy fleet, or a dead calm to strand a city's own. As all are believed to benefit from a well-received offering or suffer in the consequence of a paltry one, it is thus considered the responsibility of all in a given community to donate what is required of them. This is again done in different ways depending on the city. Fiore taxes every merchant house based on the number of ships they own. Isonza and Arran maintain harbour and sound tolls, and the Mazzarines are rumoured to simply tax everyone.

Naturally, the resources needed to gather and then offer up such vast amounts of material requires both strong arms to carry it, and sharp blades to compel obedience when necessary. Thus, the governments of each Island-City often work closely with the religious authorities - who in cities like Mazzare are themselves part of the city government. Likewise to ensure that offerings are properly organised and catalogued, the religious officials themselves exist under a strict hierarchy. This, ironically, means that those at the top of such a structure are able to take advantage of the great wealth which flows through their hands, often taking more than is strictly needed to maintain their facilities and priestly orders. However, the history of the Island-Cities is full of the cautionary tales of those priests who thought they could get away with cheating the waves, only to have their city suffer under the fury of an enraged sea.

Thus is described the orthodox and most well-established means by which the people of the Island-Cities revere the sea, but it is not the only one. It is, of course, almost impossible for those who live surrounded by the sea not to consider it a force of great power and significance, how that force is respected and worshipped does differ, especially among isolated communities who live outside regular contact with - and therefore outside the reach of - the authorities which headquarter themselves within major cities.

Most of these differences in worship are relatively minor, and pertain solely to personal conduct. One sect, for example, sees any living thing taken out of the sea as a form of theft which is punishable by the fury of the waves. As a result, they only eat the flesh of fresh-water fish and land animals. Another considers the rivers, lakes, and streams to be just as much a part of the sea's body as the waves themselves, and thus will only drink from barrels of collected rain water and abjure the flesh of water-beasts entirely. These sects tend to be more strict in their interpretations of proper conduct rather than more lax, for all understand the fundamental danger of inciting the ire of the sea, and no community - especially one small enough and isolated enough to rely on the sea entirely for its existence - is willing to tempt that wrath by testing the limits of the divine water's patience.

These deviations from orthodoxy are generally tolerated by the authorities as little more than regional idiosyncrasies. So long as the individuals in question continue to give up their contribution for the greater offerings of the season, they are left to worship as they please. Less accepted are those who break with orthodoxy by individually making their offerings to the sea, instead of through the organised apparatus of the religious bureaucracy. Those who adhere to such a practise often claim that an individual's relationship with the sea is a personal affair. The prevailing opinion does not accept such reasoning. As such separate offerings cannot be recorded and thus cannot be measured, there is always the danger that a village, town, or city as a whole might end up mis-accounting the amount which they have offered up for a season, drawing anger of the sea - and since a storm or a calm or a drought affects entire regions rather than individuals, those who deviate from this norm are seen as those who would harm the whole of the community for the sake of their own heterodox beliefs. 

As a result, such dissenters are invariably exiled to far inlets and distant rocks, where they are kept under interdict: to live in solitude or in small communities of like-minded individuals so that the consequences of their heretical beliefs do not bring down the wrath of the sea upon those who still adhere to orthodoxy. Isolated from commerce, from fellowship, and often from even the most tenuous communication, such dissenters rarely last long before they die out or are swallowed up by the waves - something which only serves to reinforce the importance of maintaining organised offerings to those who remain orthodox.

And thus, the current state of affairs continues as it is, with the cities as great bastions of orthodoxy, upheld by both religious and secular power - something which seems unlikely to change so long as the Island-Cities continue to base their fortunes, their sustenance, and their power in war upon the favour of the All-Encompassing Sea.