The Power of Belief
The following is a journal entry from a student magazine at Regiclith university, whose contents had been considered worthy to be passed across the desk of the great Eggwimsyl Eggdimsyl himself:
Magic is as much a part of our world as the air we breathe and the earth we stand upon. A grand, ethereal tapestry that binds together the very fabric of our reality. A “weave”, as it has often been called. One of the greatest pursuits, nay, the greatest pursuit in the combined history of all intelligent species has been to truly understand this weave. And while we still have much to learn, we’ve done a pretty good job of it. If you will, imagine a shirt with one string loose. To some, it may be tempting, irresistible even, to pull on that string. Such is the calling of a wizard. We do not fight the itch to pull on that loose string. We embrace it. For most people, they will just end up destroying their favorite shirt. Such is too often the fate of careless practitioners, for whom what is destroyed is often their lives and the lives of their loved ones. But to a trained mind, a loose string is an opportunity. If one pulls on just the right strings at just the right angles they could create something more than just a hole. Maybe a hole that looks like a snowflake, or a raging inferno, or even just their own name. And then once they’ve had their fun and wish to form a new shape, they can always count on their loving mother to smile and stitch it back together. Wizards too have that loving mother to count on, and her name is Mystra. However, intense learning and practice is not for everyone. Some may place their faith not in themselves, but in their aunts and uncles as clerics, or even a complete stranger as warlocks.
Divine magic is an interesting subject as it is theoretically easier to access than arcane magic, yet much more poorly understood. Interviewing clerics on the subject generally does not provide any more valuable insights, as typically they are more interested in understanding the will of their patron deity than the mechanical intricacies behind this transfer of power. The largest commonality within their response seems to be that they place their utmost faith in their god, and in turn their god chooses the cleric to be the one to deliver said god’s miracles. I do not intend to be disingenuous to the faithful when I ask this, but one question I’ve often had is why do the gods bother with clerics? Would it not be simpler for such powerful beings to carry out their will on their own? Do they simply find joy in granting the faithful their power, whether out of the goodness of their hearts or for a hefty price, or do they truly need the help of mortals? I believe the answer lies not within ourselves, but in the deepest reaches of our oceans. Much of what I have to say on the matter is purely speculative, and in need of much deeper study to confirm or deny, but still worth discussion nonetheless.
Finding survivors of aboleth attacks is a tricky prospect, not because they are rare, but because they are often adamant about staying right where they are, deep under the waves with their new master. The indoctrination an aboleth imposes on survivors as well makes anything they say dubious at best. However, across various aboleth congregations, their responses have been nothing but consistent on one major point. They all claim the gods did not create this world, but rather stole it from their masters. This, of course, is a preposterous notion raised only by those subjected to years, if not decades, of brainwashing, but I’m afraid that’s not where the evidence ends. The kuo-toa are a peculiar species of ocean dwelling humanoids whose culture is dominated by religion. They pay heed to countless gods and goddesses that do not appear in any of our established pantheons. The fun part is though, they’re all still real. Not quite as powerful as our gods and goddesses, but still just as real. This peculiar ability has earned their species the famed title of “god-makers”, but it got me thinking, what if we’re all god makers?
Continuing from my previous analogy, I believe the true difference in magical styles is that arcane magic is the process of tearing holes in the shirt, while primal and divine magic are when the soul sews in new stitches. I believe that gods are born when a hole torn into the weave takes the shape of a personality or a concept. Over time, it becomes impossible to unsee the hole. It becomes part of the shirt’s identity. But there is no use for a shirt filled with holes, so the soul stitches over the hole. But the shape remains, and is much more stable and well defined than a simple hole. And so I now believe that the soul, and by extension the gods, are a naturally arising defense mechanism within the weave to keep it from tearing itself asunder. Naturally, as most intelligent species have the capacity for, and sometimes even obsession with, moral thought, it is no wonder that the most powerful of the gods happen to revolve around our concept of morality. But I have to wonder what the gods were like in a time before moral thought, when concepts such as hunger, the passage of time, and the thirst for knowledge were strongest in the minds of mortals.
There is one more subject on this matter which I shudder at the thought of, but all the same have not stopped thinking about since it entered my mind. What happens when a stitch is forgotten? A real stitch needs at least semi-consistent maintenance, else it will fall apart and lose all meaning. I believe this is why the gods need their clerics. Because without belief, without countless souls constantly reweaving the threads, they may eventually wither and die. I suspect this need not necessarily be a global phenomenon either. If there’s a community in which no one ever maintains the stitch, then in turn, no one there will ever see it, and thus no one will ever know there ever was a stitch to maintain, nor derive any joy nor fear from gazing upon it. A “blindspot”, so to speak, between the people and the stitch. Perhaps it is safe to say that most of us have a “blindspot” to the hundreds, if not thousands, of kuo-toa gods, and why they never seem to affect us until the kuo-toa get directly involved. Perhaps in turn the kuo-toa have a “blindspot” to our own gods, and perhaps that is the very reason the weave has any space left at all for their gods to fill.
One hole in my hypothesis still remains, however. If the gods depend on us for their survival, and gain more power as they gain more followers, shouldn’t they do everything in their power to convert everyone in the realm to their worship? The importance of clerics and soothsayers becomes clear, yes, but I would think combining that with more direct involvement would be a more effective strategy. I propose two potential solutions to this seeming contradiction, one of which seems more likely than the other. The first, and less likely of the two, is that the gods are simply satiated with who they have. What I believe to be the actual case, however, is that such a frenzied clamoring for followers would actually be counterproductive to its own goal. No two gods have exactly the same agenda, and some are even diametrically opposed, so it may not be much of a stretch to say that, as of now, sixteen greater gods and countless lesser gods all fighting for control could result in the destruction of all mortalkind, the very lifeblood of their own existence. So perhaps they simply all agree to avoid this case of mutually assured destruction at all costs.
I truly hope this speculative discussion of the nature of divine magic has been thought provoking, and maybe even a little frightening. If this subject has piqued your interest, we can never have enough researchers into the mechanics of divine magic. It has remained a gaping hole in our understanding of magic from the dawn of time to this very day. But with enough people, we may truly come to explain the unexplainable in due time.
(High Inquisitor Niles) — This article comes from a land where Class S Infohazard #4 “Ones Who Watch” reigns supreme. It has been left in its original language by intention, not mistake, in case it were ever to be… misplaced. Bring this to one of our translators. You will soon understand just what makes Class S Infohazards so different from the rest, and why it is paramount they remain contained. At least until your mission is fulfilled. If you have any final questions, I suggest you ask them now. This mission. Cannot. Fail.
(Agent of The Pure) — Wouldn’t it be wise to save my questions until after my required research?
(High Inquisitor Niles) — Normally this would be the case. However, I have urgent business to attend to elsewhere. While receiving the report revealing the plans for this cultural exchange, I also received news of a group of hunters operating in a region bearing high risk of encountering information on both Class S Infohazard #4 “Ones Who Watch” AND Class S Infohazard #1 “The Black Dragon”. I must handle them mys…
The man cloaked in black pauses for a moment, and looks up. At you. Yes, you. He holds his hand up in a fist.
(High Inquisitor Niles) — Quiet. We are being watched.
Magic is as much a part of our world as the air we breathe and the earth we stand upon. A grand, ethereal tapestry that binds together the very fabric of our reality. A “weave”, as it has often been called. One of the greatest pursuits, nay, the greatest pursuit in the combined history of all intelligent species has been to truly understand this weave. And while we still have much to learn, we’ve done a pretty good job of it. If you will, imagine a shirt with one string loose. To some, it may be tempting, irresistible even, to pull on that string. Such is the calling of a wizard. We do not fight the itch to pull on that loose string. We embrace it. For most people, they will just end up destroying their favorite shirt. Such is too often the fate of careless practitioners, for whom what is destroyed is often their lives and the lives of their loved ones. But to a trained mind, a loose string is an opportunity. If one pulls on just the right strings at just the right angles they could create something more than just a hole. Maybe a hole that looks like a snowflake, or a raging inferno, or even just their own name. And then once they’ve had their fun and wish to form a new shape, they can always count on their loving mother to smile and stitch it back together. Wizards too have that loving mother to count on, and her name is Mystra. However, intense learning and practice is not for everyone. Some may place their faith not in themselves, but in their aunts and uncles as clerics, or even a complete stranger as warlocks.
Divine magic is an interesting subject as it is theoretically easier to access than arcane magic, yet much more poorly understood. Interviewing clerics on the subject generally does not provide any more valuable insights, as typically they are more interested in understanding the will of their patron deity than the mechanical intricacies behind this transfer of power. The largest commonality within their response seems to be that they place their utmost faith in their god, and in turn their god chooses the cleric to be the one to deliver said god’s miracles. I do not intend to be disingenuous to the faithful when I ask this, but one question I’ve often had is why do the gods bother with clerics? Would it not be simpler for such powerful beings to carry out their will on their own? Do they simply find joy in granting the faithful their power, whether out of the goodness of their hearts or for a hefty price, or do they truly need the help of mortals? I believe the answer lies not within ourselves, but in the deepest reaches of our oceans. Much of what I have to say on the matter is purely speculative, and in need of much deeper study to confirm or deny, but still worth discussion nonetheless.
Finding survivors of aboleth attacks is a tricky prospect, not because they are rare, but because they are often adamant about staying right where they are, deep under the waves with their new master. The indoctrination an aboleth imposes on survivors as well makes anything they say dubious at best. However, across various aboleth congregations, their responses have been nothing but consistent on one major point. They all claim the gods did not create this world, but rather stole it from their masters. This, of course, is a preposterous notion raised only by those subjected to years, if not decades, of brainwashing, but I’m afraid that’s not where the evidence ends. The kuo-toa are a peculiar species of ocean dwelling humanoids whose culture is dominated by religion. They pay heed to countless gods and goddesses that do not appear in any of our established pantheons. The fun part is though, they’re all still real. Not quite as powerful as our gods and goddesses, but still just as real. This peculiar ability has earned their species the famed title of “god-makers”, but it got me thinking, what if we’re all god makers?
Continuing from my previous analogy, I believe the true difference in magical styles is that arcane magic is the process of tearing holes in the shirt, while primal and divine magic are when the soul sews in new stitches. I believe that gods are born when a hole torn into the weave takes the shape of a personality or a concept. Over time, it becomes impossible to unsee the hole. It becomes part of the shirt’s identity. But there is no use for a shirt filled with holes, so the soul stitches over the hole. But the shape remains, and is much more stable and well defined than a simple hole. And so I now believe that the soul, and by extension the gods, are a naturally arising defense mechanism within the weave to keep it from tearing itself asunder. Naturally, as most intelligent species have the capacity for, and sometimes even obsession with, moral thought, it is no wonder that the most powerful of the gods happen to revolve around our concept of morality. But I have to wonder what the gods were like in a time before moral thought, when concepts such as hunger, the passage of time, and the thirst for knowledge were strongest in the minds of mortals.
There is one more subject on this matter which I shudder at the thought of, but all the same have not stopped thinking about since it entered my mind. What happens when a stitch is forgotten? A real stitch needs at least semi-consistent maintenance, else it will fall apart and lose all meaning. I believe this is why the gods need their clerics. Because without belief, without countless souls constantly reweaving the threads, they may eventually wither and die. I suspect this need not necessarily be a global phenomenon either. If there’s a community in which no one ever maintains the stitch, then in turn, no one there will ever see it, and thus no one will ever know there ever was a stitch to maintain, nor derive any joy nor fear from gazing upon it. A “blindspot”, so to speak, between the people and the stitch. Perhaps it is safe to say that most of us have a “blindspot” to the hundreds, if not thousands, of kuo-toa gods, and why they never seem to affect us until the kuo-toa get directly involved. Perhaps in turn the kuo-toa have a “blindspot” to our own gods, and perhaps that is the very reason the weave has any space left at all for their gods to fill.
One hole in my hypothesis still remains, however. If the gods depend on us for their survival, and gain more power as they gain more followers, shouldn’t they do everything in their power to convert everyone in the realm to their worship? The importance of clerics and soothsayers becomes clear, yes, but I would think combining that with more direct involvement would be a more effective strategy. I propose two potential solutions to this seeming contradiction, one of which seems more likely than the other. The first, and less likely of the two, is that the gods are simply satiated with who they have. What I believe to be the actual case, however, is that such a frenzied clamoring for followers would actually be counterproductive to its own goal. No two gods have exactly the same agenda, and some are even diametrically opposed, so it may not be much of a stretch to say that, as of now, sixteen greater gods and countless lesser gods all fighting for control could result in the destruction of all mortalkind, the very lifeblood of their own existence. So perhaps they simply all agree to avoid this case of mutually assured destruction at all costs.
I truly hope this speculative discussion of the nature of divine magic has been thought provoking, and maybe even a little frightening. If this subject has piqued your interest, we can never have enough researchers into the mechanics of divine magic. It has remained a gaping hole in our understanding of magic from the dawn of time to this very day. But with enough people, we may truly come to explain the unexplainable in due time.
(High Inquisitor Niles) — This article comes from a land where Class S Infohazard #4 “Ones Who Watch” reigns supreme. It has been left in its original language by intention, not mistake, in case it were ever to be… misplaced. Bring this to one of our translators. You will soon understand just what makes Class S Infohazards so different from the rest, and why it is paramount they remain contained. At least until your mission is fulfilled. If you have any final questions, I suggest you ask them now. This mission. Cannot. Fail.
(Agent of The Pure) — Wouldn’t it be wise to save my questions until after my required research?
(High Inquisitor Niles) — Normally this would be the case. However, I have urgent business to attend to elsewhere. While receiving the report revealing the plans for this cultural exchange, I also received news of a group of hunters operating in a region bearing high risk of encountering information on both Class S Infohazard #4 “Ones Who Watch” AND Class S Infohazard #1 “The Black Dragon”. I must handle them mys…
The man cloaked in black pauses for a moment, and looks up. At you. Yes, you. He holds his hand up in a fist.
(High Inquisitor Niles) — Quiet. We are being watched.
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