The Church of the Tiny God
Idolaters, Gravebent, Fanatics and Folklorists
“We are all ourselves, tiny gods; flecks of deity who carry intent beyond the narrow scope of our lives. It is the indentation we leave on the Grave that manifests our will. We will die, die and die again, truly. But each death is a brushstroke and by these we make the world.: - The Unadorned, High Priest. Featured Above.
Farmers to Philosophers
When the Fountainhead emerged in the heart of Essex, the lives of its people were collectively turned on their heads; The Church is the natural extrapolation of a fearful population being shown what, to them, looks fundamentally like miracles. After the Fountainhead, supposedly, consumed the Monster that terrorized the city at the climax of last year’s Festival of Light and Sound, a fanatic group of cultists began to worship at the feet of the monolith. They believe the Fountainhead to be the closest thing to a god that could exist, and ache for the beautiful world they saw in their dreams.
In the silence that followed the Incident, the Church has doubled down on their staunchly held belief that their Tiny God is not insensate but rather held in stasis by an absence of belief. Their operative logic remains that if you die believing something, the world subtly changes to accommodate that belief. The Gravemind, they believe, is a kind of sieve for intent - carrying the hopes and will of the past and bearing into a future that we crave into being.
The cultists dress in bleached white cloth that matches the interior of the Fountainhead, with a greasy, ashy thumbprint on their foreheads to proclaim their faith.
Who Insist Will Shapes the World
Small miracles, clever configurations of crystal wrought by mystics in white. There is just enough to the cult’s fantastic claims that it is difficult not to stop and consider. But to each illusion there is arithmetic, arcane and opaque as those theorems may be.