Did God create the universe in seven days? That's debatable.

Can one guy create four religions in 10 days? Yes.

This is one of them.

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Avism- a Study in Brief

by Mukhti Sedar, Theologian


It comes as little surprise to people that the Beastfolk are a collection of races and cultures steeped in violence and historical rivalry, but it is a common mistake to believe that their bloody nature is the result of their faith, Avism. This is an understandable misconception, since the practice of Avism and their peoples’ gravitation toward conflict seem to be the only two variables that unify the Beastfolk races.

Yet dismissing Avism as a savage, heathen faith is just as misguided as dismissing the Beastfolk as modern-day barbarians. In my studies of the faith, I have in fact discovered quite the opposite. Avism does not condone barbarism, but rather serves an admirable and quite logical role in guiding its followers toward transcendence and good.

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Avism

Avism is also called the Avian Faith. It is technically polytheistic, but only has two clear deities: Hawk and Raven, respectively. Unlike Odem, our Human faith, which posits the existence of an all-powerful, unknowable deity comprehensible only through faith and inner peace, Avism is a faith derived from the dualistic nature of all Beastfolk. Simply put, all Beastfolk are part man and part animal, and thus their faith is representative of their very nature.

This is not to say, however, that Hawk and Raven are representative of human and animal traits, respectively. It would be more accurate to say that Hawk represents transcendence, enlightenment, and the ability to touch divinity while Raven represents guile, humor, mortality, and the cycle of life.

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Hawk

In the Beastfolk creation myth, the existence of Hawk draws parallels to the Lord of our faith in that he created the sphere of existence and populated the world with its creatures. Where things begin to differ is that Hawk did not specifically imbue men, dwarves, and elves with wisdom, but rather used the First Children, the birds, to carry the creations of his divine wisdom from the heavens and spread them to the creatures of the ground. The creatures of the ground, initially formless and pliable, sought wisdom in different ways. Some creatures sought simple forms of wisdom, content with the gifts of seeing beyond the horizon, smelling opportunity in the air, or unlocking mysteries from deep within the earth. These creatures became what we think of as animals, whom Avism refers to as the Second Children.

After the Second Children had chosen their gifts and spread throughout the lands, only a handful of creatures remained. Plagued by indecision, they could not choose between Hawk’s many wisdoms and gifts. Many sought to be closer to Hawk himself, to have all wisdom and all virtue in a single vessel.

Hawk was sympathetic to their plight. The creatures that remained neither existed nor non-existed and would remain in this miserable state forever unless they earned a place. He therefore summoned all of the First Children and instructed them to watch over the indecisive beings and protect them while He ascended into heaven to forge a new wisdom, the Sampo.

Thus, Hawk ascended to his throne and set about creating a new wisdom unlike any others. He combined the vigor of blood, the fluidity of water, the cunning of animal, the perseverance of iron, the subtlety of air, and at last a fraction of his own divine essence to create the Sampo, an object of sublime beauty and the fabled vessel of divine wisdom.

Yet as he toiled, he failed to notice that one of the creatures of the ground had stolen his way into the heavens on the wings of the divine Hawk himself. Just as Hawk was about to land the final strike on the Sampo, completing his divine mastercraft, the crafty and greedy creature took hold of the vessel.

“This will be a flawed creation,” the creature insisted. “My people cannot use this.”

Hawk was taken aback by the boldness of this creature, yet was amused. In this moment of curious defiance, the creature spoke again.

“If you complete the Sampo, you will fill the sky with hawks. You will cast a shadow over the land and your people will no longer know or revere you.”

Hawk realized that he had acted in error. By transferring the whole essence of divinity into a vessel, he would have offered transcendence and godhood to all creatures who wished it. He realized that this would create an imbalance throughout creation that could never be rectified.

“What would you have me do?” Hawk asked the creature.

“I would add one other thing,” the creature responded. “If you will allow me to hold the Sampo.”

Hawk gave the Sampo to the creature, as he had not created sin and therefore had no reason to fear it.

Yet the creature was possessed of avarice and a lust for wisdom, not just wisdom freely given but forbidden wisdom as well. Not content with a single sip, the creature upended the Sampo, gulping down every last drop, and then swallowed the Sampo itself.

This enraged Hawk, who promptly drew his hammer and slew the creature. Until this point, Hawk had created all life to be endless and limitless, but to be insulted in such a way at the moment of his triumph caused him, in a single moment, to usher anger and death into existence.

Anger spewed forth from the heavens and tainted every creature, and without any understanding of this violent force the creatures became wrathful toward one another. The world was plunged into war and pain, and Hawk was unable to pacify his creation. Consumed by anger himself, he prepared to destroy his creation.

Then the Sampo came to life, laughing, swallowing the greedy creature whole as it had swallowed him. A blackness billowed forth, and this blackness took on a form like Hawk’s, a parody of the creator god. It laughed and split the heavens asunder, consuming half of the world in darkness and half of the world in light.

“I am life. I am Hawk.” Hawk challenged.

“I am death. I am Raven.” Raven laughed.

“You are the Sampo. I created you.”

“You created the Sampo, but you did not create me. I am the dark wisdom. I am the essence of eternity. Without me, you do not exist. Without you, I do not exist.”

“I created life everlasting, but I failed to create paradise. My creatures exist in strife and uncertainty,” Hawk spoke.

“I will ease their strife and uncertainty with a new wisdom,” Raven countered.

With this, Raven descended to the mortal plane. He granted the wisdoms of the Sampo to the undecided, unformed creatures. These became the Third Children, among them Men, Elves, and Dwarves. Yet Raven also gave the bitter wisdom of death to all of Hawk’s creatures in order to prevent them from warring with each other. By the end of his work, only Hawk and Raven remained immortal.

In a rage, Hawk used the sword Tosia to rip a hole in Raven, from which he pulled the Sampo and cast it into the stars. He then banished Raven from the heavens for eternity, but the deed was done. Hawk’s creation was saved as the curse of mortality held the chaos of anger in check. Curiously, Raven had saved life by cursing it with death.

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Raven

The creation myth, with Hawk, the Sampo, and the arrival of Raven, is a universal theme throughout the Beastfolk races. The idea that Raven is not a creation of Hawk, but in fact an eternal rival is central to the belief in the deity of both gods.

Raven is also a critical deity in the creation of the Beastfolk. Remember that the Beastfolk are conspicuously absent from the creation myth up to this point.

After Raven appeared in Hawk’s dominion, bringing salvation to all life by balancing it out with death, there was a time where the Third Children took the blessing of Hawk’s wisdom and the Sampo and multiplied, spreading across the lands. To the East, the lofty mountains became home to the Stonekin, the Dwarves, Gnomes, and Goblins. To the South, the jungles and forbidding deserts became home to the Striders, the Humans and Elves. To the West, the frothy oceans and islands shrouded in mystery became home to the First Children and the enigmatic Shoal People. To the North, however, the Third Children struggled to survive.

The Second Children, armed with fur and fang, hoof and horn, could thrive in the vast plains and thick forests while the First Children could fly to safety when bitter cold and howling winds engulfed the lands. The Third Children, having chosen wisdom and the touch of divine intelligence, had been forsaken the gifts of the other children and struggled greatly to survive through the cold winters. They slid into depraved customs, murdering and devouring each other to survive, and they slipped away from faith and balance.

After Hawk had banished Raven from the heavens and the light, Raven descended into the underworld and night, rarely to be seen or heard from. Hawk grew complacent with the presence of Raven, confident that any trickery woven by night could be repaired by day. With Raven shrouded and forgotten, the Lost Children begged Hawk to intervene on their behalf, to create another Sampo to give the suffering salvation from sin and cold.

Hawk was reluctant to create another Sampo. Raven had exploited Hawk’s sympathy for the Lost Children to usher himself into the world, and Hawk had no wish to raise mortals toward divinity again. The gift of self-determination came with the burden of self-doubt, and Hawk knew that the Third Children could overcome strife with the benefit of his gift provided they remained innovative.

Raven, however, saw another chance to strike at his rival. The rivalry with Hawk confined his being to the night and the underworld, but Raven was nothing if not the embodiment of cleverness. He set about creating his own ‘Sampo’, a wisdom from which the needful could drink and solve their problems, a masterwork to affirm his existence to all for eternity.

Like the Sampo, his creation would be wrought with essences and wisdom, but the Sampo would not be a gaudy vessel or a totem of awe-inspiring beauty. It would be something that could neither be claimed, owned, nor eaten. It would be a prophet, a man named Masada.

Into Masada he would weave the vigor of blood, the fluidity of water, the cunning of animal, the perseverance of iron, the subtlety of air, and a part of his own essence, the Bitter Wisdom. Masada would serve Raven and become the salvation of the Lost Children.

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Masada

Curiously, the Beastfolk are culturally unique in that they do not theologically attempt to claim themselves to be the first pedigree. Elves, Dwarves, and Humans alike, through their respective faiths, all claim to be the first of the intelligent races, a position I feel is inherently flawed. The Beastfolk, through their belief in the works of the prophet Masada, do not claim to be the first people. Curiously, this makes them unique, and in many of their minds it is proof of their inherent superiority. Much as a machinist makes improvements upon the flaws of a prototype model, Masada the Prophet improved (in theory) upon the flaws of the other races by creating the Beastfolk.

Masada’s existence is verifiable because he appears in theology and folklore throughout Human and Elven cultures. In the Elven faith he is most famous as one of the Auspices, the warrior who defeated the warlord-potentate Yakos. In the fable, Yakos had been the victor of the Battle of Calligeneia, a colossal and apocalyptic clash between 53 of the demigods and innumerable soldiers. Yakos emerged the sole surviving Auspice of that battle and lorded over the Elves as warlord-potentate until Masada confronted and defeated him. This story ends tragically for Masada, as he too was slain -- by his own allies. The Beastfolk regard the slaying of Masada as his martyrdom, and to this day haven’t fully forgiven the other races for their role in his demise.

In the Odem faith, Masada is a Human and a prophet of the Lord, a warrior scholar, and an enemy of weakness and sin. He strode alone into the lands of the North and delivered the Lord’s will and salvation to the people there. Faced with intractable sin and shameless debauchery, he transformed them into the Beastfolk, affirming for all eternity the existence of the Lord and his power.

But the tales of outsiders cannot encapsulate the complexities of Masada like the writings of the Cult of Raven. Just as the first and most exalted apostles of Odem were persecuted, the early followers of Raven were galvanized in their faith by the cosmos of enemies surrounding them. In their conviction, they worked tirelessly to commune with Raven, to better understand his motives and to disseminate knowledge of his existence and efficacy.

They were hunted by the Vigilant of Hawk, they were murdered by the faithless, and they were cast out by community after community, yet still they remained faithful. When Masada arrived, and proved his divinity the Cult of Raven flocked to his side to protect him.

According to their writings, Masada was by all accounts an ordinary looking human of slim features and fair skin, with black hair and dark eyes. He was born into darkness to parents unknown, some argue a forbidden coupling of beast and man, and wandered the taiga as a child for ten years before the priests of Raven retrieved him. There the child was informed of his destiny and became one with the spirit of Raven.

Masada saw that the people were suffering, violent, and shrinking away from faith. They were ill-equipped to live in the holy lands of the North and, while gifted with intelligence, lacked the virtue of Hawk’s other children.

He faced the most monstrous sorts of people, men tainted irreversibly by greed, kingdoms of cannibals, and countless reprobates. He saw the pious huddled together into enclaves, unwilling to spread the virtues of Hawk and Raven in order to cling to safety, stupidly pouring their prayers into meaningless animal totems. Between the murderers, cannibals, fools, and cowards he saw a plague of opportunists feeding upon the death and decay of this shameful society.

Masada thus led the priests of Raven on a bloody pilgrimage through the impregnable Taiga, across the voracious Vuca River, and into the snowy steppe of the North. There they constructed a legendary temple out of magnet stones. From this place, Masada waited and waited for the night that the moons darkened and the stars dimmed, so that he could see the glimmer of the Sampo in the great ether. He wrenched the Sampo from the sky and drew it onto the altar of the great temple.

Here he united the masterwork of Raven with the masterwork of Hawk, and in a moment slipped into the fabric of creation itself, engulfing the lands in pure darkness for a night.

When the people of the North, the Lost Children, arose the next morning the power that Raven and Masada held over the Sampo faded, and not even the Temple of Magnets could hold it in place. As it returned to its ordained place in the stars, the people first awoke to find that they were no longer cold.

Masada, the incarnation of Raven, had forever branded the Lost Children, creating the Beastfolk, the Fourth Children. Unable to twist or violate their minds and wills, he conformed their bodies to the harshness of the land and the violence of their habits. The lupine Vucari, the mustelid Sabalazmon and Rosomai, the feline Checchiatari, the vulpine Liskai, and the ursine Vastaami at last had the ability to survive the cold, but were cursed with an eternal appetite for flesh. The Patkani gained the constitution to survive in the extremes, devour almost anything, and multiply, but they were cursed with blight, starvation, short lives, and the scorn of other races. The cannibals of the coast were cast into the sea, forced to eat fish flesh, blighted with a horrible, stigmatizing stench, and afflicted with eternal rage, becoming the Holischiky. The Hirvi could eat the grasses and the bounty of nature as befitted their pacifistic nature, but as punishment for their cowardice and failure they were punished with sweet flesh and would be forced to fight for their survival.

From the standpoint of modernity, Masada’s actions may appear to be more of a curse visited upon unfortunate Humans than a boon towards their society. In reality, Masada’s actions may have saved countless lives, delivering them from the constant fear of winter and forcing a lawless and depraved society to come to terms with its bestial habits. Dividing the fractious people into new species resulted in the formation of strong clan groups, which in return created the foundation for early Beastfolk kingdoms and nobility. Association with a certain animal disposition gave each member of each race a sense of place, as well as a tacit code of conduct on which to abide. Masada never forced the Fourth Children to worship him or heed his wisdom, and to this day races like the reclusive Vastaami and the chaotic Holischiky hold no apparent worship towards either Hawk or Raven despite evidence of their work.

From that point onwards, accounts vary on the appearance of Masada. Some sects believe that Masada took on the form of a raven-man and retained this form until his murder. Others maintain that Masada retained his human form, while many insist that he switched between both as he saw fit.

What is certain is that the transformation of the Lost Children into the Beastfolk, or Fourth Children, happened well before Masada emerged as a figure in Human and Elven mythology. To this day, he is the only known demigod or prophet of the Beastfolk lands, and in contrast to the many minor cults of the Elven Auspices he has virtually unchallenged importance in the faith of Avism.

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Duality and the Afterlife

A key theme in any faith is the belief in an afterlife and the potential for the soul’s transcendence to a sublime state. The structure of Avism, with Hawk presiding over the heavens and Raven presiding over the underworld, can easily confuse outsiders into believing that Hawk is a benevolent and ‘good’ force in the universe while Raven is a malevolent and ‘evil’ force.

This misconception largely stems from the Odem faith, which carries some similarities to Avism and considers a number of Beastfolk to be its members. Odem believes in an all-powerful Lord, savior of souls, who fights against the Nadir, the oblivion from which the demon Iblis spawned and the source of all evil in the world.

The resemblances between the darkness of the Nadir and the Raven deity are superficial. Raven is, in fact, a deity of equal benevolence to Hawk. He does not devour or destroy souls, but rather transfers the souls of the evil, guilty, or otherwise sinful and reincarnates them in an appropriate animal form. Upon death, the First Children, the birds, render judgment upon the soul. If a soul is judged worthy of transcendence, it is carried by raptors to a final judgment before Hawk and usually accepted into heaven. If a soul is judged as corrupt or insufficient, it is devoured by ravens and taken into the bosom of the world, where Raven subjects the soul to trials and tribulations before transferring it to a new creature, generally an inferior one, in the hopes that it will seek redemption in a new life.

This means that the physical body of an individual, animal or sentient, is largely irrelevant in the cosmic theme, and that it is the ultimate goal of any soul to reach transcendence. Avism believes that the mortal plane is a trial through which souls are trained and tempered, and eventually take their rightful places in Hawk’s kingdom.

This connection to the birds and the air is reflected in Beastfolk funerary rite. Generally speaking, it is best to cremate a body in the hopes of freeing the soul and carrying it toward the heavens with the vapors. If cremation is impossible, the body is then carried into seclusion and placed on an altar, preferably near where birds roost. Here, ravens devour the body and carry off the soul to be judged. Burial is greatly frowned upon, for it denies a divine connection to the air and thus is regarded as trapping both body and soul, tantamount to burying someone alive. Even where there are no hawks or ravens, it is still preferable to leave the body to the animals and the elements, where the body can return itself to the fabric of creation and the soul will continue on its journey, seeking judgment.

The curious rivalry and kinship between Hawk and Raven is also a matter of confusion to outsiders, and as a faith Avism is somewhat unique in that there is no clear hierarchy in the divinity. This touches upon a fundamental aspect of the faith: Duality.

Every Beastfolk has to face their dualistic nature. They cannot hide from others the fact that they outwardly resemble and share the traits of beasts, yet live and think as men. Where some faiths speak of a hierarchy where intelligent creatures are inherently better than animals, Avism regards animals as co-habitants and competitors in the mortal plane, not simply as inferiors. For men and animals alike, as well as the Beastfolk, this world is a competition with countless souls clamoring toward transcendence, each in its own way, yet all intrinsically interconnected. This results, understandably, in contradiction, confrontation, and conflict.

Conflict is an important theme in Avism, and if the stories of its acolytes and apostles is a violent one, it is primarily so because of the hardships imposed by its native land. Avism does not condone cruelty, and the Duality is a struggle that all men and beastfolk must face. It is not about embracing the animal aspects of one’s nature, stripping off one’s clothes and civil vestiges and scurrying off into the woods. Simultaneously, it is not about denying the beast and pretending to be something supposedly more enlightened. It is finding a balance between two aspects and transforming internal conflict into positive action. Mercy, justice, and love hold the same value in Avism as they do in any other faith. They are virtues to be aspired towards through cooperation between two seemingly distinct and rival personas.

This is a strange concept to faiths where aspiration, ambition, and singularity of purpose represent the ideal state of being. Avism holds a somewhat rational mindset based on the mortal experience, that as long as there is scarcity there will be conflict. Thus, life without conflict is impossible, and therefore the faithful must seek to balance the needs of the animal with the needs of divinity without denying one or the other.

Curiously, this very concept of duality and mutually opposing, but immutable forces is a foundational concept in the philosophy of Dialectics, an academic doctrine that Dwarven scholars claim to be their own. In opposition of the older systems of hierarchy and academic dominance, in which theories and paradigms replaced one another, Dialecticism emphasizes the coexistence of different, often contradictory theories in tandem so that all ideas can be potentially weighed and judged. While they claim that Dialecticism is the result of long study, logical discourse, and old-fashioned Dwarven innovation, I am fairly certain that they liberally borrowed part of the concept from their Beastfolk neighbors.

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End Times

Another common theme to all faiths is that of the apocalypse, or more appropriately the end of creation. Avism is no exception in this regard, and the herald of the end times is the eruption of the mountain of myth, Nga. Nga plays an important role in the birthplace of creation, and it is believed that Hawk created the world from the infinite material of the mystical peak. It is also believed to be the bosom of wrath and fear, forces so powerful that even Hawk and Raven, in all their power, proved only able to channel it or manipulate it, but never destroy it.

In the end time, when the souls are in sufficient balance and the virtue of Hawk combines with the cunning of Raven, the two gods will create a third masterwork, a collaboration far greater than the Sampo or Masada, and use its power to finally conquer wrath and fear, and all the sin it has woven into creation. The fight against wrath and fear will be enormous, with mortals and even the gods themselves laying down their lives to stop it, but in the aftermath there will be victory. With creation in a perfect state of balance, Raven and Hawk will be no more, and all beings will become divine, immortal, and perfect.

Nga, the mountain, is a curious presence in mythology and theology throughout Sejhat. What early Elves called Nazo, the early Dwarves called Nilgain, and the early Humans called Nurta, is generally regarded to be one and the same mountain, Mount Noah. This massive, remote snowpeak ascends from the dry, mystical Olu Plateau and apparently pierces the sky itself. As awe inspiring and aloof as the mountain is today, it is clear that even the Beastfolk or Pre-Beastfolk cultures living in the shadow of this monstrous mountain must have held it in awe or even terror.

What makes the Beastfolk myth about Nga intriguing is that the mountain has never erupted in recorded history, and there are is little geological evidence to indicate its volcanism. Other theologians suggest that Mount Nga is not in fact the Beastfolk name for Mount Noah, but is instead synonymous with Mount Iblis, a very volcanic and hostile place in the Sea of Salmura. They reinforce their claim with the fact that Iblis is considered to be the source of all evil in the Odem faith, the seat of Nadir, and that the mountain once erupted so violently that it instantly destroyed the mythical first Human nation, Feridun, whose survivors are our ancestors.

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Core Morals

For the greater part of their cultural existence, the typical Beastfolk citizen has lived a pastoral, bucolic existence, relying on herds of domesticated animals for their survival and economy. The more sedentary cultures to the south, including those of the Checchiatari, Patkani, and to a lesser extent the Vucari, were the only ‘clans’ to establish feudal societies, allowing for more abstract interpretations of law and justice.

The effectiveness of any religious law, then, was predicated on basic concepts that appealed to a family or clan-based society. Many species of Beastfolk also carried their own unique interpretations of law best suited to their cultures and dispositions. As a result, it is more difficult than most societies to identify true ‘core’ morals. In my studies, however, I have come across some universal themes.

First, theft of another’s property is a serious sin, and in the case of livestock is often punishable by death- provided guilt can be proven. While it may seem curious to place property over life, the majority of conflict between Beastfolk has been over herd ownership and land rights. Veritable rivers of blood have been spilled in the name of a family or clan’s herds.

Second, devouring the flesh of the Third Children or the Fourth Children (namely, any intelligent species) is a grave sin, not even permissible under conditions of starvation.

Third, balance in one’s life is the path to ascension. One should not deny the animal or the man within, and respect both. By extension, this also translates to a balanced and healthy viewpoint towards all other beings.

Fourth, life is sacred and its wastefulness is a sin. The lives of intelligent species are especially sacred. Ending an animal’s life to preserve one’s own is acceptable, but taking the lives of the Third Children or the Fourth Children is only acceptable when one’s own life is directly threatened. Taking the lives of the First Children is generally forbidden. As such, poultry meat is generally considered taboo, yet some cultures, like the Sabalazmon, eat eggs because they are not interpreted as being birds.

Fifth, harnessing one’s rage and fear is the path to ascension. Neither can be denied, but the ability to ignore these emotions or channel them into good acts is one of the highest principles in the faith. Inertia or cowardice before these cosmic forces is considered sinful, and this concept is particular poignant among the Hirvi who, according to the creation myth, carry the form of the elk as punishment for the cowardice of their ancestors. Similarly, indulgence and abuse of the powers of wrath and fear are also considered sinful. This virtue ties into the concept of balance.

Sixth, the dead must be honored properly. To deny their souls a chance to be judged is to deny the will of Hawk and Raven.

From this point, many codes and morals vary greatly between the Beastfolk, from complex, layered legal interpretations to loosely defined ‘codes of honor’. This is understandable, since the cultures of the Beastfolk currently range from industrialized to clan-based societies.

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In Conclusion

Avism is a faith that is elegant in its simplicity and shares many connections and similarities with the Odem faith. It is as resilient and functional as many of the people who practice it, and as such it is a worthy rival among other continental faiths. Our own difficulty as Humans in converting followers of Avism into Odem can be much more easily understood when Avism is regarded not as heathen barbarism, but as a strong faith with core values and a firmly established religious institutions.

From my personal standpoint, it is healthier to regard Avism and Odem in relative partnership, rather than emphasize the differences in culture and faith in an inflammatory manner. The optimism in the strength of our own faith and convictions without the proper study of Avism led the Caliphate to disaster in the White Jihad. As the aggressors in that holy conflict, the burden is upon the clerics and scholars of Odem to prove the mercy and virtues of our faith, as well as the acceptance of all races.

It is also foolish to assume that Avism is a faith by the Beastfolk, for the Beastfolk. While it is true that the narrative focuses on the Fourth Children, those men who were joined with beasts, it applies its concepts of morality with equal breadth as Odem. I have met many Human followers of Avism, and their enthusiasm for the faith combined with our common blood proved crucial in the production of this document.

For travelers to the North, I hope to produce not just an understanding of Avism as a faith, but also to absolve it of the blame it unfairly receives for the conduct of some Beastfolk. The lawless atmosphere of many communities, and the draconian autocracy felt in others, is predominantly the result of political and social forces rather than the faith itself.