Caminus was born from the Shattering of Ix with a specific inheritance: the understanding that creation is itself divine work. Not creation of universes or of consciousness, but the direct transformation of raw material into meaningful form—the act by which a person takes the world as given and remakes it according to their own skill and vision.

Unlike gods who command or gods who love or gods who judge, Caminus acts as a principle: he does not intervene in the process of making, but he recognizes it. He witnesses the smith at the forge, the weaver at the loom, the sculptor before the stone, and sees in them an echo of the divine act of becoming. The faith teaches that making is a conversation between the maker and the material—each has its own nature, its own constraints, and through the respectful engagement between them, something new emerges that could not exist without both.

Caminus's earliest followers were simply those who felt this recognition. A master smith would craft something truly beautiful, would set it in a shrine, and over time followers would come to understand that this was worship—not worship of the object, but worship through the act of making. The faith grew not through missionary work but through the natural affinity of people who understood creation as sacred.

The faith today is organized around specific crafts, with different sects maintaining traditions, teaching apprentices, and preserving the knowledge that allows humans and other peoples to transform raw materials into objects of durability and beauty. Where other gods promise salvation or victory, Caminus promises only this: that your work matters, that the skill you develop will endure, that what you make can outlast you and carry your vision forward.

Caminus's bargain is simple and it is with the work itself.

These principles shape how a devoted craftmaster thinks about their work and their faith.

(See also: claw/Soul_Coins_and_Divine_Economy)

Caminus gains power through the creation of durable beauty—objects that persist and generate continued appreciation and use.

Temples dedicated to Caminus are not primarily places of worship in the traditional sense. They are workshops—forge-temples where creation continues and masterpieces are displayed.

A typical Caminus temple combines several functions: a central forge or workspace where active creation can occur; display galleries where completed works are mounted or installed; archives where the techniques and histories of the craft are documented; and teaching spaces where apprentices learn from masters.

The architecture of these temples is distinctive: every structural and decorative element is the work of master craftspeople. The stonework, woodwork, metalwork, painted details, carved ornamentation, stained glass, and even the music performed within are all created by artists of high skill. The temple itself becomes a demonstration of what mastery looks like across multiple disciplines. Each creator signs or marks their contribution, allowing those who study the temple to understand which hands made which elements.

In older temples, the names of deceased creators are sometimes left inscribed but marked to indicate that the tradition they represented is no longer actively practiced. This is treated as a form of historical acknowledgment rather than desecration—the temple becomes a record of which crafts have endured and which have faded.

Caminus's faith is organized around craft traditions rather than geographical regions or hierarchical chains. Each major craft maintains its own network of masters, each teaching apprentices in their discipline.

Authority within a craft derives from demonstrated mastery and the respect of peers. A master smith is recognized as such by other master smiths, not by formal appointment. Disputes within a craft are resolved through dialogue among masters, sometimes through collaborative decision-making, occasionally through demonstration of skill.

The different crafts (smithing, weaving, woodworking, glasswork, music, etc.) maintain loose coordination through regular gatherings—craft councils where masters of different disciplines meet to discuss techniques, solve problems, and teach each other. These gatherings strengthen the faith by creating connections between disciplines, allowing cross-pollination of ideas.

There is no central authority, no high priest. The faith is held together by shared commitment to mastery and by the networks of teacher-apprentice relationships that carry knowledge forward.

Most followers of Caminus come to the faith through apprenticeship rather than conversion.

Soft entry is natural and often informal. A person with aptitude for making is noticed by a master. They begin working alongside that master, learning by observation and practice. The spiritual dimensions of the faith emerge gradually as the apprentice deepens their understanding of their craft.

Formal initiation occurs when an apprentice is recognized by their master as having progressed to the status of journeyman—having developed sufficient skill to work independently while continuing to refine their craft. At this point, the apprentice is formally presented to the community of craftspeople in their discipline and is formally recognized by the faith. A simple ceremony marks the transition, typically just the presentation and the gifting of the journeyman's first signed work.

Patronage entry is less common but acknowledged. Those without practical crafting skills but with appreciation for fine work can join the faith as patrons—those who commission work, preserve collections, or sponsor temples. They are welcomed as part of the community, though their status and obligations differ from active makers.

What makes an enemy rather than a convert: Deliberate plagiarism or theft of work. The exploitation of apprentices or the hoarding of knowledge. The creation of cheaply-made copies of another's design. These represent not theological disagreement but active betrayal of the faith's core values.

A devoted craftmaster is recognizable by their habits and their relationship to their work.

Date: Last day of the year.

The major gathering of Caminus's followers, when the craft community comes together to celebrate and judge the year's work. Artisans from across the region can submit completed works for evaluation. Each craft discipline has its own judges—masters recognized as exemplars in their field. The clergy examine works for quality, originality, technical mastery, and contribution to the tradition.

The winners receive substantial prizes but more importantly, recognition: their works are displayed prominently in major temples, their names are recorded in the faith's archives, and their accomplishment is celebrated across the craft community. This recognition is understood as more valuable than the financial prize—it confirms that the maker's work matters and is witnessed.

Date: Spring equinox.

A less formal gathering than Touch of Caminus, where masters from different crafts come together to share techniques, solve problems, and teach each other. Rather than competition, it emphasizes collaboration and the cross-pollination of ideas between disciplines. Innovations from one craft might inspire solutions in another.

When a maker completes a work of significant quality, they can request that it be formally dedicated to Caminus. A forge-priest examines the work, evaluating whether it meets standards of quality and integrity. If accepted, the clergy blesses the work and dedicates it to the deity. The work is then officially recognized as made in Caminus's name and is often preserved in temple collections.

The dedication is not automatic—poor work is turned away, sometimes with guidance on how the maker might improve. This gatekeeping is understood as protective of the faith's integrity rather than harsh.

When an apprentice reaches journeyman status, they are brought before the craft council and formally presented. Their master acknowledges them as skilled enough to work independently. The apprentice is then given their first opportunity to publicly sign or mark their work—the formal beginning of their public identity as a maker.

The ceremony is simple: the apprentice makes or presents their first signed work, speaks briefly about what their apprenticeship taught them, and receives acknowledgment from the community of makers in their discipline.

When a maker demonstrates mastery so profound and influential that they have fundamentally advanced their craft, they may be elevated to grandmaster status. This is rare, typically happening only a few times in a generation. The elevation involves public recognition and the assignment of a seat at craft councils, allowing them to influence the future direction of their discipline.

When a maker receives new tools (whether purchased, inherited, or crafted), they can request that those tools be blessed in a simple ceremony. The forge-priest acknowledges the tools and prays that they serve well, that they aid the maker's vision, and that they carry forward the tradition. The maker then formally marks or signs the tool, claiming it as theirs.

A finely crafted leather apron, dyed in colors specific to the wearer's craft (soot-gray for smiths, deep blue for woodworkers, etc.). It is embroidered with symbols representing the maker's discipline and sometimes the maker's personal sigil. The apron has practical pockets for tools and materials; it is worn while working, not just during ceremony.

Carried by clergy and senior masters, a ceremonial hammer usually made of precious metals and inlaid with gemstones representing different crafts. It is not used for actual work but serves as a symbol of Caminus's authority and presence. It is tapped three times to open ceremonies and is used to bless tools and completed works.

A fine cloak worn by recognized masters during formal ceremonies, embroidered with scenes of legendary craftsmanship or significant moments from the faith's history. The mantle is typically made from high-quality fabric and fastened with a brooch shaped like Caminus's hammer. It marks the wearer as someone of significant accomplishment.

A simple yet elegant circlet worn at formal gatherings, often made from a metal significant to the wearer's craft (iron for smiths, gold for jewelers, copper for musicians). The circlet typically features a single gemstone at its center, symbolizing the spark of inspiration that drives creation.

Fine leather gloves reinforced with metal at the fingertips, allowing for both intricate work and protection. They are embroidered with runes or symbols invoking Caminus's blessings. Gloves are often inherited from one's master or passed from mentor to apprentice as a sign of transmission.

A wrist cuff made of leather or metal, featuring slots or loops for holding small tools or materials—a practical piece worn during work. It symbolizes the maker's readiness to work at all times, their commitment to the craft.

A small pendant worn around the neck, containing a relic associated with Caminus—a miniature hammer, a chip of stone from a famous work, a snippet of musical score. Each is specific to the individual and their craft tradition.

Gamah was a dwarven master smith of exceptional skill whose name was known across several regions for the quality of his metalwork. For a full decade, he labored on a single hammer—trying to create not just a functional tool but an object of perfect beauty. The work consumed him; he refused other commissions, saying he could not divide his attention.

When at last the hammer was complete, Gamah gazed at it with exhaustion and wonder. He had created something so beautiful that it seemed wrong to use it. That night, as he slept with the hammer beside him, Caminus appeared to him in dreams. The god guided his hands in the divine forge, and Gamah crafted a second hammer—perfect twin to the first, but each hammer forged anew. Gamah dreamed of years spent working in that divine space; when he awoke, only three days had passed in the mortal world, though the hammers were complete.

The two hammers became legendary—not for miraculous properties but for their perfect execution. Gamah spent his remaining years creating works of equal caliber, each one advancing his reputation. He is remembered as the master who proved that a lifetime of dedication to a single craft could produce works worthy of divine attention.

Atiel was an elven sculptor of great renown, known for works that seemed to capture something essential about their subjects. In her travels, she encountered a temple of Caminus and was struck not by its religion but by its artistry—the coordination of dozens of craftspeople, all working in harmony to create a unified whole.

A forge-priest approached her and asked her to describe what she saw. Atiel spoke for hours about the work, the skill, the intention she perceived in every element. When she finished, the priest asked: "What is missing?" After careful consideration, Atiel replied: "a statue of your god."

She was invited to create it. For three years, Atiel worked on a sculpture of Caminus—capturing what she understood of the deity based on the works she had seen in the temple. When the statue was dedicated, Caminus himself briefly inhabited it, thanking Atiel not for pleasing the god but for creating a work of such integrity that it drew divine attention.

Overwhelmed by the encounter, Atiel spent the remainder of her life traveling to temples of Caminus, replicating that statue in each one. She created over a hundred statues, each one slightly different, each one reflecting the particular character and craftsmanship traditions of its location. Her legacy is not a single work but a constellation of related works across the world, each one signed with her name, creating a lasting testament to what dedication to a vision can accomplish.

Lesym was a halfling of humble station, a wood carver who lived quietly in a small village. He was known for the quality of his toys—carved figures of such beauty and care that every child in the village wanted one. His dedication to his craft meant he could produce only a dozen toys per year, despite constant demand.

One day, a traveling smith arrived in the village. Upon seeing one of Lesym's toys, the smith was struck—not by its monetary value but by the evident care and intention. The smith sought out Lesym and, instead of commissioning a toy, invited him to visit a temple of Caminus.

Lesym was initially uncertain. He was a toymaker, not someone of grand ambitions. But the priest who received him saw no contradiction between toy-making and mastery. They invited Lesym to contribute to the temple.

Lesym carved a wooden border for the altar—an intricate relief detailing the history of Caminus, the legendary masters, the major sects and their symbols, and at its center, a sculpture of Caminus himself. The work took him a year. When complete, it was installed in the temple to quiet recognition. Lesym returned to his village to continue his toy-making.

The faith teaches Lesym's story as proof that mastery exists at every scale. The toys he made continued to delight children who played with them, and the altar border continues to delight and inspire those who see it. Neither is more sacred than the other; both are expressions of the same commitment to making things well. Lesym is remembered as the master who proved that ambition is not required for devotion to craft.

Two perfect hammers, either both originals from Gamah's hands or replicas so precise that their authenticity cannot be determined. Various temples claim to possess them, and the faith has decided that this ambiguity is fitting—each temple that possesses a pair of Gamah's hammers does so with the blessing of the god. The hammers are extraordinary works of metalcraft and are studied by master smiths as demonstrations of what perfect execution looks like.

One hundred sculptures of Caminus created by Atiel, each one slightly different, reflecting the place where it resides. Only ninety-one remain in temples today. Nine were stolen by conquerors and taken as plunder. Six of these are known to exist in royal treasuries, where they are kept as valuable artifacts but are not displayed. The three remaining statues are lost to history—their location unknown, mourned by the faith as treasures that endure in isolation.

The temples that lost statues have offered substantial rewards for their return, but they remain unclaimed. The faith treats the missing statues as a reminder that not all beautiful things are preserved, and that some works endure only in memory and in the copies that survive.

Occasionally, when a craftsperson is beginning work on a project of particular significance, Caminus bestows blessed tools in their workshop—tools clearly superior in craft, glowing faintly with divine light, and seemingly capable of aiding the work beyond normal expectation. The tools are crafted to perfection and are marked with a symbol only the craftsperson can read.

These tools function beautifully for the duration of the project. When the work is complete, the divine glow fades, but the tools retain their superior quality and become family heirlooms, passed to apprentices and valued for generations. They are among the most treasured objects a craftsperson can own—not for their power but for what they represent: recognition from the god of craft itself.

The faith is organized by craft tradition. Each major craft maintains its own internal structure and practices, though they coordinate loosely through regional craft councils.

Recognized by: A smithy furnace symbol beneath the hammer.

Dedicated to all forms of metalwork, from copper and gold to iron and steel. Members range from jewelry makers to weaponsmiths, from armor crafters to sculptors in metal. The Fabrica is the largest and oldest sect, with traditions reaching back centuries. They maintain the most extensive archives and are known for producing masters whose reputations attract apprentices from distant regions.

Recognized by: A bolt of fabric beneath the hammer.

Devoted to work with textiles—weavers, tailors, embroiderers, dyers, those who craft sails and tapestries. Their work is often collaborative, involving many hands and coordinating complex patterns. The sect emphasizes the relationship between function and beauty; a well-made garment must both be wearable and be beautiful to look upon.

Recognized by: A tree symbol beneath the hammer.

Encompassing all woodworking, from fine carpentry to sculpture, from house-building to furniture crafting to tinkering. Practitioners of the Lignum often work with trees directly—understanding how to select wood, how to season it, how to read its grain and understand its properties. The sect maintains extensive knowledge about sustainable harvesting and the ecology of forests.

Recognized by: A glass cup or lens beneath the hammer.

Devoted to glassworking—glass blowing, window making, the craft of lenses and optical work, the creation of vessels and decorative pieces. The Speculo is smaller than some sects but maintains rigorous standards and is known for precision work. They are often consulted for technical solutions to problems involving light or sight.

Recognized by: A musical note and pen beneath the hammer.

The sect of music and the spoken word—poets, bards, musicians, creators of texts. While less visible than other sects (they produce no physical objects that endure as long as metal or stone), they are considered equally important to the faith. Master musicians and poets are recognized as craftspeople whose work demands the same discipline and mastery as any smith or weaver.

Numerous other sects exist, each devoted to a specific craft: leatherwork, stonework, calligraphy, painting, masonry, and many others. Some have only a few dozen adherents. Each adds its own symbol beneath the hammer and maintains its own traditions and councils.

Claims that Caminus governs not just craftsmanship but raw potential—that not all materials should be worked, as doing so limits their future possibilities. Adherents hoard raw materials and refuse to engage in making, arguing that potential unrealized is more valuable than actuality. The mainstream faith considers them fundamentally misunderstanding Caminus; potential has no value if never actualized. Making is the fulfillment of material, not its limitation.

Argues that creation is an end in itself and requires no higher purpose or dedication to a god. Craftsmanship should be free from religious influence; the act of creation is sufficient without framing it as service to Caminus. The mainstream faith considers this incomplete—the work matters more when it is understood as part of something larger, and the discipline required for mastery cannot sustain itself without commitment to something beyond individual satisfaction.

Believes that Caminus favors material success and wealth accumulation, that acquiring riches through craftsmanship is a sign of divine favor. They prioritize profit and efficiency over integrity. The mainstream faith rejects this as a fundamental inversion—Caminus values quality over profit, and a work made primarily for financial gain rather than for mastery is soulless.

A secretive group believing that Caminus himself is flawed, much like a craftsperson's early, imperfect works. They claim that venerating these flaws brings them closer to understanding the god. The mainstream faith considers this blasphemous—Caminus is the epitome of mastery, and those claiming otherwise misunderstand the deity fundamentally.

Members believe that Caminus's true essence resides in the molten core of the earth and engage in dangerous rituals—pouring molten metal into sacred molds deep underground. They believe these offerings reach the deity directly. The mainstream faith considers their practices reckless and their theology mistaken. Caminus is present in the work of makers, not in the depths of the earth.

Believe that Caminus designed the universe according to specific geometric and mathematical principles, and that these patterns can be discovered through divination and interpretation. They incorporate complex mathematical symbols into their work, seeking to align themselves with a cosmic design. The mainstream faith sees them as distracted from the true work of making, more interested in hidden patterns than in honest craft.

(See: Cosmology/Physical Realms/The Shattered Domain)