Author Topic: Selections from Personal Essays on Halan Themes  (Read 2180 times)

The Three-Fold Law

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« Last Edit: January 20, 2019, 07:31:48 PM by The Three-Fold Law »

The Three-Fold Law

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I. On Creation
« Reply #1 on: May 21, 2018, 09:08:53 AM »
In the beginning there was only Chaos. Then there were the Nine. Chaos is unfettered potential, unfettered energy. This energy was the raw stuff of the Weave. From this potential came the Nine. They were of Chaos, but they had form given to them by the Weave. They had thought, and they were thought, and they became more. Of their names, we have little indication. Even the name of Hala is but one of many names for the Ninth Goddess, and should she have a true name, a divine name, it is hidden from those whose minds could not properly comprehend it.

The Nine became aware that all was static and unchanging; for without was Chaos, and the Gods themselves were ordered, but they were formed whole, and did not grow. So they separated the World from Chaos and gave it order. They etched the patterns of the World upon the Weave, and it took shape. Each of the Nine must have had their own part of the world, but Hala’s was the force that bound all of these parts together, the invisible energy that unites all things, the Weave itself. Just as she held the physical world together, she must have been truly blessed among the Nine, for her gift to Creation was the one without which nothing else would have been possible. In this way, the Goddess is the spark that kindles all life; hers is the womb that engendered all who live and breathe; we are all her children.

The Nine placed Man into the World. Man was formed of Weave and Chaos both. Man could grow, could change, even in ways that the Nine could not foresee. He was something different, something new. The Nine knew that if they remained in the World, Man would simply do as they did, and would stagnate. Man needed to be left to his own devices to develop, to evolve. The Nine believed Man would become something wholly different, would grow to reach potential even of which the Nine could not conceive. So the Nine placed Man into the World and withdrew, and made among themselves an Oath not to interfere but to grant unto Man only distant favors and blessings.

Yet the Nine underestimated the bestial nature of Man. For Man did not strive unerringly towards his own development or his own perfection, but instead used the gifts that the Nine had given him to argue, to bully, to steal, to kill. Mankind was terrible not because his strength eclipsed that of the Gods but because his petty self-interest led him to small-minded cruelty and petty tyranny. Man languished in a half-light of depraved and savage self-destruction. And the Nine despaired of their creation.

Alone among the Nine, the Goddess Hala was unwilling to leave her children to their fate. If the Nine had placed mortal Man in such a predicament, then the Nine must set it right. The Goddess begged the Eight Unwilling to return to the World, or, if not, to release her from the Oath they had made. The Eight refused: the Oath had been made to let Man determine his own fate, and by the Oath they would abide. So it was that the Goddess, lamenting bitterly, declared herself forsworn. From that day onward, Hala would no more be of the Nine, but would enter into the World to grant succor and comfort to her mortal children. Such was her love for her Creation.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2018, 04:55:35 PM by The Three-Fold Law »

The Three-Fold Law

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II. On the Thirteen
« Reply #2 on: May 23, 2018, 10:16:51 PM »
When the Goddess Hala returned to the World after the departure of the Eight Unwilling, she knew that to simply use her power to intercede openly would rob humans of that characteristic that made them unique in the beginning. She had to find a way to break the stalemate that kept humans bound in the endless cycles of petty violence and suffering: in order for her desire to deliver Mankind from their prison of degradation, she would need to place a finger upon the scales that the Nine had balanced so well--too well. Instead of delivering them herself, therefore, she would grant unto them the power to effect their own deliverance: she would give them the secrets of mastery over the Weave.

The Goddess walked the hills and valleys of the world, and gathered to herself six men and seven women women who, despite their oppression and torture by the darkness of the World, retained yet wisdom, compassion, and a desire to see mankind reach its full potential. To these Thirteen, the first Hallowed, she taught the secrets of the Weave, granting to them the ability to manipulate the raw energy at the foundation of the World itself, giving them power beyond any other spellcaster arcane or divine. These Thirteen went out into the World to fulfull the Goddess' most sacred commandment: oppose suffering at any cost. Some settled down and founded hospices, teaching the people who came to give reverence to the Goddess to access the lesser divine blessings that Hala might grant. Some of the Hallowed joined covens to produce greater works of magic, and many of these married and began families. The bloodlines which sprang from these Witches persist still, and it is from these bloodlines that spring yet Witches of unsurpassed power, many of whom prove to be Hallowed in turn. It is unknown if the bloodlines are required for a Hallowed Witch to be born, as the secretive nature of the faith means that no genealogical records of any substance are kept from generation to generation, except sometimes in the recitations of each Witch's own ancestors.

With Hala's Gift imparted, the Goddess stepped back from the World once more, but not to depart, to watch, to wait, to answer prayers, and to inspire, to take her place among the gods and new goddesses of the World. Those who remained spread out over the lands, founding new Hospices and new covens. In order that the lessons of Hala might be remembered, the leaders of the hospices and covens wrote down Hala's teachings in volumes which came collectively to bear the name the Tales of the Ages. When their students formed new covens or hospices in turn, the leaders of the new hospices copied the texts of their teachers. Because the originals varied tremendously between them, because new information, spells, rites, and rituals were added, and because errors and omissions were made in copying, no two groups have precisely the same text, and thus no two groups are the same in practice. Some wear white robes, some blue; some are veiled, some are not; some consist of only one gender, some are mixed. They all share the same fundamental commandment: seek always to take the path that results in the least suffering. This is the legacy of the Thirteen.
« Last Edit: January 20, 2019, 07:32:52 PM by The Three-Fold Law »

The Three-Fold Law

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III. On the Goddess' commandment
« Reply #3 on: May 23, 2018, 11:12:34 PM »
The Goddess enjoins us to always take the path that results in the least suffering. From the earliest days of the novitiate, we must repeat it, and write it, and recite it. At first it seems a simple statement, perhaps, and easily espoused, but in practice one both complex and nuanced. Indeed, the fundamental question is one that has divided the followers of the Goddess since the first Thirteen Hallowed split between the hospices and the covens.

The root of the question is this: Is the path that results in the least suffering the path that in and of itself
causes the least suffering? If that were true, would it not be simplest simply to not exist at all? We are all obligations on others at some point in our lives, and in being so we cause them hardship that might be prevented entirely were we simply to cease to be. But then again, to live a life in which we relieve others' suffering or, simply by our toil and industry, prevent it, is undoubtedly superior to one in which we simply did not inflict any at all. Therefore, many of the Goddess' followers conclude that the best way to honor the commandment is to ease the suffering of all the individuals who might come to them for help, treating sickness, pain, and grief with magic, herbs, tonic, and wisdom. They combine this with monastic rules which aim to minimize the harm they themselves do to others without the walls of their hospices. The strictest of these, generally those hospices found in Mordent and Falkovnia, cover their entire bodies with woven cloth, symbolically setting aside their individual identity to better focus solely on the commandments and works of the Goddess, and believe it sacrilege to reveal themselves. The subsumation of the self into the Goddess' will helps to resist temptations and failings such as pride, gluttony, or greed, all of which lead to suffering. The principles of this branch of Halan worship can best be summed up as helping all those in need to who come to the hospices to ask for help.

Yet there is another interpretation of the commandment, and one with a radically different praxis. It is all well and good to ease the suffering of individuals, one might argue, but it was given to the Halans to redeem Mankind from the venal and base nature of the World as the Nine created it. To merely treat the symptoms, the thought runs, is to callously prolong the suffering of thousands, if not millions. Therefore there are those among the adherents of the Goddess who seek to bring about the Goddess' vision of a perfected Mankind by taking whatever actions are necessary to reshape the World in the Goddess' image. What machinations they might employ are needfully shrouded in secrecy, but to replace a ruler of unredeemable cruelty, to subtly undermine racial theories of superiority, or to manipulate groups into settling their differences are all tactics that these more activist Halans have employed in the past. That is not to say that they will take up arms in open insurrection--this option is not ruled out, but Halans must always be pragmatic, as they must weigh the suffering that would occur if they died against the suffering that will occur if they take no action. The principles of this branch of Halan worship can best be summed up as weighing all possible actions on a scale and taking the course of action that results in the least suffering, even if that course requires manipulation, secrecy, or violence.

These two views are (obviously) not always compatible. However, there is no easy way to divide Halans between them. Most hospices, undoubtedly, belong to the former school; most covens, undoubtedly, belong to the second. But since the Hallowed exist both in the hospices and in the covens, and some covens play the role of a hospice and some hospices are well-known and politically-connected, the reality is far more confused. It has happened in the past that these differing philosophies have led to open conflict between different Halan groups; most notable are the continued efforts by hospices to suppress or control solitary witches, whom they believe to be a great threat to the local populace with their unfettered power, despite the fact that this power was granted by Hala to her chosen to change the World for the better. These conflicts can and have ended in violence, and Hala has not withdrawn her favor from either winning or losing sides, preventing any easy interpretation or conclusion. The Goddess' commandment, therefore, is one that is anything but simple.
« Last Edit: January 20, 2019, 07:33:11 PM by The Three-Fold Law »

The Three-Fold Law

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IV. On the significance of the Veil
« Reply #4 on: May 26, 2018, 08:00:07 PM »
Not all Halans who work in hospices are veiled, I understand. In some places, the hospice sisters wear little more than a shawl to identify them, a touch of weaving for the Weave, as Mother Ermintrude used to say. Yet to me the idea of going before the eyes of those who do not see me first as part of the Goddess' power in this world but rather as a woman of flesh and blood is now as alien as it would be to run before them entirely undressed. It was not always this way. Like all novices in the White Hands Hospice, until fifteen I did not wear the veil. Of course, I did not go outside the Hospice by the Mother's commandments, but I was bare-headed even in the sight of those who came to the hospice for healing and comfort. Their eyes seemed strange to me, seeing through me, as though they did not understand the truth of what and who I am. In this way, I feel as though those who see me veiled see a truer version of myself than the face that greets me in the mirror after I bathe.

Some have asked me how I can stand to wear the veil. Others have called it stupid, or foolish. The truth is that I longed for it even before I was instructed to put it on. I yearned so much to be a part of the Goddess' will for Her servants, to surrender myself as Sister Thomasin said we should do. The girl who put on the veil was full of self-doubt and loneliness. The veil made me whole. Together, I and my sisters and brothers are part of something greater, are doing work far beyond what we could ever have done without the Goddess' grace and our fellows' companionship. To live as a normal woman, to form attachments, is to lose the way. It is no secret that the sisters and brothers in the Hospice do not marry unless they first take off the robes, and those are few and far between. To have possessions, to have selfish desires, these deprive others and thus engender suffering. In order to take the path of least harm to those in the world, we must first withdraw ourselves from it.

The Veil is therefore both a symbol and a tool, a symbol for us, personally, in manifesting our commitment to our Goddess and the commandments she has given to us, and a tool in allowing us to exist as Her servants both in our own eyes and in the eyes of those who behold us. And to those who see a veiled sister, knowing that such a person will always give them succor or assistance should they require it, it is a beacon of mercy and compassion in a world inflamed by murderous violence and tyrannical subjugation. And, of course, it means that each Halan who dons the veil sees the world through the Weave. This is the significance of the Veil.

The Three-Fold Law

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V. On the manifold and pluriform modes of magic
« Reply #5 on: June 27, 2018, 04:34:27 PM »
Although the followers of Hala are all called Witches, this term masks both in reality and in theory a heterodox and heterogeneous array of diverse practices. Some draw on magic, either arcane or divine; the Hallowed manipulate the fabric of the Weave itself, the perverted and debased form of which is the filthy so-called 'hag magic', although in reality it is not magic at all but something deeper, more powerful, and therefore far more dangerous. At the root of it is the Goddess: all 'power' (to use here the term in its broadest possible application), no matter what its nature, comes ultimately from the Goddess, be it magic constrained within the Warp and Weft or Weaving without it. Though to the common folk of Barovia, it is all demon-craft, and to those of Dementlieu, it is all illusions, to the servants of Hala it is to speak of a stained-glass window as a "window"--it loses in the mere telling all the riotous glory of streaming, lancing, shadow-destroying illumination.

The first variety of magic, and undoubtedly the oldest, is divine magic. This is the power granted directly by the Nine Eldest in the earliest days of Mankind to their priests and avatars among the tribes and septs. This energy is limitless, for it is part of the Godhead itself, and can be used to heal, harm, or protect, suffusing bodies and souls with divine might. The Goddess grants this form of magic above all others to the brothers and sisters of the Hospices, for it is that most suited to their work, and it is in light of this granting that the Witches of Hala can properly often be termed also her priestesses and priests. This magic, however, is not limited to the faithful of Hala; the other faiths both great and small, from the Green Witch down to the smallest, local deities, almost all receive such magic from the object of their adulation. Divine magic, furthermore, can take multiple forms and be granted in different ways. Some followers of the Goddess might see in the diversity and eternal life of nature the true glory of the Weave, and receive power from Her that gives them greater power over Nature itself. What is certain is that it all must come from the Goddess.

The second variety of magic is that wrought by the hands of Mankind themselves without grant or aid from the Gods: the arcane. This magic draws on the energy permeating the World; it is of the World, not of the pure Weave. It is often elemental in nature but also deals in force, vision, and the energies of life itself, with all the diversity of power found in the forces of the World itself. This power can also be drawn from life-force; this talent is often inherited, granting the ability to cast spells from the energy found within an individual's blood, an often-hereditary ability commonly called sorcery. This magic is not necessarily evil, as some believe, for it springs from the Creation and thus from the Goddess like all magic does. Like any power, it can and is used for ill and good alike. Halans who practice this form of magic often specialize in enchantment, allowing the imbuing of people or items with arcane power, or in divination, allowing the unseen to be seen. It is found much more often among the witches of the coven, as it is to their work that it is better suited than the healing duties of the hospice sisters and brethren, but all Halans are encouraged to know how it functions and how it might be used.

Above both of these types of magic, however, lies an entirely different type of power: the Weaving, the Plucking of Warp and Weft, the Gift from the Goddess to the Hallowed. In form, it can resemble either arcane or divine magic, but it is wholly different in nature. Instead of drawing energy from Creation or from the Goddess, the Gift allows those who learn its secrets to manipulate the fabric of the Weave itself, to change the very nature of reality and bend the fabric of the World to their will. In this way they resemble nothing more than the Goddess herself, creating themselves the power they need to achieve the aims and goals that Hala entrusted to Her faithful.

In the same way, if this ability is used by those who do not possess the blessing of the Goddess, it is hag magic. Against her will and consent, the hags rend the Weave and twist it, spreading foulness and corruption into the substance of the World, and using the power that bleeds from it to achieve their sinister and wicked ends. This is so evil and despicable because it harms Creation itself and perverts and corrupts that which was the holiest and most pure of Gifts--it is an abomination that cannot be tolerated or suffered.

These are the manifold and pluriform modes of magic.

The Three-Fold Law

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VI. On the nature of Death
« Reply #6 on: August 29, 2018, 02:23:53 AM »
Death, writes Henry Ettinghill, is the cession of humanity; the final extinguishing of the spark of human mortality; the surrender of the temporary individual to the eternal collective. To most of those who dwell in suffering in the World, Death is to be feared, a consequence beyond all understanding, beyond all rationality, beyond all finite bounds. The human mind, though born of Chaos, is bounded by the strands of the Weave; it is against our natures to comprehend the infinite, for it is as much alien to our constitution as it would be for us not to change, not to learn, not to be shaped by our experiences, and there is nothing that Mankind fears more than that which he does not, or cannot, understand. Fear, although it is born of an ancient and primal instinct that protects us from harm, when it cannot be alleviated, is a form of suffering, a form of suffering so intense that it can drive Man to irrational, even cruel behavior in his desire to remove himself from it. As a form of suffering, therefore, the Goddess' commandment binds us to give to those gripped in its clutches what relief we can.

Furthermore, as we can always take action to make less likely the event of our own death, be it through precautions, medical treatment, or prayer and other forms of spiritual practice, it would be easier if our fears were only for ourselves. This may be true of some, but there are few who do not fear the death of a loved one, a family member, a friend, a lover, even a pet. Death binds us in a web of concern, a strangling, obsessive perversion of our natural desire to protect others, that leads us to hope beyond hope for an outcome which we should rationally know is impossible. To those thus afflicted, and to our own hearts, such a fear finds ready entrance, and to extract it warrants not only a better understanding of the nature of Creation but a profound change in how we view our own selves in relation to everything around us.

We are led from our first moments of awareness to view ourselves as different, discrete, individual, particular. I have read in Addison and elsewhere that there are tribes in far-off places who view themselves only as a unity and have no word to refer to themselves other than the collective noun that describes their tribe, clan, sept, or sect. Such an understanding is closer to the truth of things, but it is not how we in Mordent or elsewhere in the Core are raised to think. Instead most of the peoples of the Core cling to their individuality, their personhood, expressing themselves through different clothing, hairstyles and colors, spectacles, jewelry, or other adornments, or perhaps through their speech, mannerisms, habits, or quirks, or even through values, principles, and beliefs. It is the sum total of these, the persona, therefore, to which an individual clings, the persona that they fear losing; the persona whose possible remembrance might be only poor consolation when faced with its potential or imminent loss, and the persona which, once destroyed, can never again be rendered as it once was. In short, it is the persona which expresses the Chaos at the heart of Mankind, bound by the Nine within the Weave.

Why, though, should we fear the loss of Chaos? After all, all Chaos comes from Chaos, and will return to Chaos. Chaos cannot be divided or separated. Chaos is unlimited potential, everything and nothing at once. All that was before, will be again; all that will be, has been. Thus, although the Weave is constant, the lives of mortals work upon the Weave a pattern, one whose repeat is itself infinite both in length and in number. It is therefore precisely because the mortal mind cannot conceive of unbounded Chaos that it rebels against understanding this, the true nature of things. It will suffice to say, therefore, that every one of us is bound within the Weave, and we leave upon it an impression, an imprint of our persona and an indelible record of our existence; and when the Weave repeats, we will again know life and be bound in the Goddess' purpose, until Mankind meets his true potential. It is not certain what the Goddess will do then, but there are only two possibilities: the former, that Mankind will be free of fears, of persecutions, of pettiness and cruelty. Or, perhaps, the potential of Mankind achieved, all will become aware of the Goddess' true nature beyond the Weave and come to accept the infinite potential of Creation, and thus erase all barriers between all those who have ever lived, without separation or distinction, without jealousy or envy, forever.

It is for this reason precisely that the Halans often seek to hide the persona, and to adopt only the persona of a servant of the Goddess. In the fulfillment of Her commandments we are all imperfect--sometimes only too flawed. But Halans, in dedicating themselves to Her service, are choosing to set aside Chaos and dedicate themselves wholly to the Weave. In this way every witch might be the next form in the pattern of the Weave woven with the threads of the Thirteen Bloodlines, and every witch, unencumbered by the fear of losing what they have already chosen to set aside, might work to bring about Her purpose and fulfil forever Her chief commandment. This, for a Halan, is the nature of Death.
« Last Edit: January 20, 2019, 07:33:28 PM by The Three-Fold Law »

The Three-Fold Law

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VII. On taking life
« Reply #7 on: December 15, 2018, 11:37:19 AM »
When the Nine wrought the world and set all things within it, it was their intention that all things that live should in turn die, and pass into the Repeat, to be worked again in turn upon the Weave. Some patterns repeat quickly, while others are long in the weaving; some are smooth and elegant, others sharp and jagged: this is the nature of the infinite diversity of Mankind’s experience, and it is holy. Yet when the Goddess forsworn returned into the World, she gave to her chosen followers not only knowledge of the true nature of things; not only the power to shape the course of Mankind’s development; but a moral and spiritual commandment that they should in all things use their powers to follow the path of least harm. For this reason, no servant of the Goddess should ever take a life lightly, nor consider such a possibility without proper consideration of the indelible marks it will leave upon the Warp and Woof.

Nowhere is this a more fraught and perilous endeavor than in situations of momentous significance. A decision made in a single heart-beat may lift thousands from suffering; the same decision, wrongly made, might condemn thousands more to endure the baseness and cruelty of Mankind’s nature for centuries to come. Although situations of such true magnitude are rare, the moral and spiritual dilemma that they present is not. Consider, if you will, a king such as Typhibor, the young tragic hero of Rencauld’s ‘Fantasie Dramatique de Rokume.’ Although he endeavored above all else to follow what he sincerely believed to be the path of righteousness, in pursuing a near-hopeless cause he condemned all of his followers to death and suffering at the hands of the evil Perfidio, such that
“And for their pains, the monarch and his hosts /
Wrought loss from gains; from champions, but ghosts.”

It must not be understated how such a momentous decision as the taking of another mortal life can reverberate for years, decades, or even centuries to come, or what an enormous immediate impact it may have on the lives of others.

If a man dies, even though he may be wicked and dissolute, he may leave a wife and several children, through no fault of their own, without food, shelter, or coin. In this way, although the harm that such a man might do by selling illicit substances or cheating others out of money might be great, the harm done to others by removing him could yet be greater still. A servant of the Goddess must always bear in mind that acting out of anger or revulsion may feel righteous, but it may serve the Goddess’ purpose very ill indeed. Consider again the example of Rencauld’s Typhibor. Had some wicked man in his exiled court betrayed him to Perfidio before he gathered up his host for the final, dramatic battle, he would most likely have been taken prisoner, tortured, and killed. This is suffering. Yet most of his men, who took up arms because of his inspiring words and fair countenance, would have been prevented from doing so; their lives would be spared, and their wives and children would likewise know a less tortuous experience, and escape the horrors no doubt inflicted by the victorious tyrant.

A useful counterpoint may be to consider the assassination of the tyrant himself. Were he, in turn, delivered into the hands of the young king, his death is assured; but he had many commanders, such as Malvo and Stregon who have regular appearances in the first act. Would these commanders have meekly accepted Typhibor’s return? Or would the land have been rent by civil strife, the common folk trampled into the mud, as blind to the morality of the struggle as those who struggled were to the suffering of those with no part in it.

In all matters where the loss of life is possible, and due consideration may be given, servants of the Goddess therefore must in all things weigh the burden of suffering that each choice imposes; if to act, even unto taking the life of another mortal creature, would in fair probability cause more suffering than it relieves, then the servant is bound to inaction; if to not act, even unto taking the life of another mortal creature, would in fair probability consign those who might otherwise be spared to greater suffering, or to cause an opportunity to lift such suffering to be missed, then the servant is bound to action. Even more, it is the only action permitted by the Goddess’ commandment. This is how every servant of the Goddess must shape his or her intentions when taking life.
« Last Edit: December 15, 2018, 11:38:58 AM by The Three-Fold Law »