The shard that would become Demergat fell into a maelstrom of islands — a region of such savage weather that human settlement seemed almost impossible. Yet people lived there anyway. They had learned, through centuries of hard experience, to build structures that could withstand the worst the sky could offer. They had learned to read the storms and predict their worst moments. They had learned to survive through submission rather than resistance — the island that fought the wind broke; the island that bent and gave way endured.

These were people shaped by extremity. The weak had not survived to become parents; the survivors were hard, competent, and ruthless in their own way. When Demergat emerged from the storm itself — not as a figure but as an overwhelming presence, a personification of the weather's will — the people of the islands recognized him immediately as their god. He was not the god they prayed to in hopes of salvation; he was the god they acknowledged as the actual force governing their lives.

Unlike many gods, Demergat did not arrive with a gentle introduction. He manifested as a hurricane so severe it exceeded any storm the islands had ever recorded. Ships sank. Buildings collapsed. Thousands died. And in the aftermath, when the fury passed and the islands lay battered but still inhabited, the people understood: Demergat had arrived not as savior but as judge.

A single priestess — the histories call her Veera of the Storm-Wall — stood at the highest point of a ruined temple and cried out to the god: "I accept. We accept. We will build no more in defiance of the tempest. We will not flee. We will endure and submit and build again, knowing it may be destroyed again. We accept your rule."

The storm broke. Demergat's avatar appeared — a figure of impossible beauty and terrible composure — and spoke to Veera alone. The actual words were never recorded, but the outcome was clear: a bargain had been struck. Demergat would not destroy indiscriminately. The people would worship, would submit, and in return, they would receive enough warning and enough divine favor to endure.

Within a generation, Demergat's faith had spread throughout the archipelago. Not because it was comforting — it was brutally clear that Demergat cared nothing for individual suffering — but because it worked. Communities that organized under Demergat's doctrine, that followed his strictures about temple maintenance and submission to authority, that performed his rites, survived at rates measurably higher than communities that tried to resist or ignore the weather.

The faith became not merely spiritual but practical necessity. It was a survival technology, encoded in religious form.

Demergat's attention eventually turned outward. The islands were secure in their submission; the god's power had grown through their worship. Now Demergat demanded expansion: his clergy were to bring his truth to other lands, to convert other peoples, to build his temples in territories that had no history of worship at him.

This was not the organic spread of a faith but deliberate conquest in religious form. Demergat's clerics arrived with the dual message: "Worship Demergat, and your ships will navigate treacherous waters safely. Refuse, and the waters will claim you." When necessity did not convince, other methods did.

Over centuries, Demergat's faith became a religion of expansion and consolidation, backed by the clear threat that refused worship would result in divine intervention against any who resisted.

Demergat's bargain is the clearest contract of all divine relationships: submission guarantees survival. Resistance guarantees destruction.

Demergat's theology reads like a law enforcement manual written in metaphor. It is practical, strict, and concerned primarily with order and obedience.

(See also: claw/Soul_Coins_and_Divine_Economy)

Demergat's power is accumulated through acts of submission and expansion — the control of worshippers and the conversion of new territories.

Demergat's temples are not places of meditation or learning. They are fortresses.

A storm-shrine is built of massive stone, designed with the singular goal of providing absolute protection from weather. The roof is the most critical element — reinforced beyond what seems necessary, built with multiple layers and backup supports, engineered to withstand impacts that should destroy it. If a temple's roof fails during a storm, the clergy lose their divine powers until the roof is rebuilt and the next storm has passed over it and proven the repairs sound.

Interior layout reflects both practical and theological concerns. The central altar houses a chalice of storm water — water collected from the last storm to pass over the temple. This water is considered sacred; it must be refreshed after every major storm. The failure to refresh the chalice is considered a grave ritual transgression.

A completed temple includes adjoining administrative chambers — courts where judgments are rendered, registries where the population is recorded, barracks for the clergy and militia forces. The temple is not merely a house of worship; it is a center of control and administration. In regions where Demergat's faith has dominion, the temple often becomes the actual seat of government.

The largest and most significant Demergat temples are small cities unto themselves, containing housing for hundreds of clerics, storage for food and military supplies, and workshop space for the production of weapons and fortification materials.

Demergat's faith is organized as a rigid hierarchy with clear chains of command and absolute delegation of authority.

The structure mirrors military organization: a priesthood commands all religious and civic functions in a territory; below them are judge-clerics who administer law and punishment; below them are keeper-priests who manage individual temples and conduct day-to-day worship; at the base are lay followers who provide labor and support.

Authority flows unambiguously downward. A cleric's command is understood as the voice of Demergat; questioning a superior is considered both spiritual transgression and practical insubordination. The mechanism for resolving disputes is themselves in authority to render final judgment.

In territories controlled by Demergat's faith, the religious hierarchy often becomes the governmental hierarchy. The high clergy of a region effectively govern it as autocrats, with judicial, legislative, and enforcement authority concentrated in their hands. Nominally, they govern "in Demergat's name," but practically, their authority is absolute within their jurisdiction.

The faith maintains clear communication channels between regional leadership and distant leaders. A cleric in one archipelago can contact the highest authorities in another, creating a global network of control despite the distance. This network is maintained through a combination of sending spells, message systems, and regular diplomatic delegations.

Conversion to Demergat's faith is often involuntary, though the appearance of choice is maintained.

Soft entry is rare. Most conversions come through a combination of pressure and incentive. Communities are offered the chance to convert peacefully, to become part of Demergat's growing faith, to receive his protection. Those who refuse are met with increasingly direct divine intervention — weather that specifically targets them, ships that mysteriously sink, structures that fail. Eventually, the choice becomes clear: convert or be destroyed.

Initiation is public and binding. The initiate stands before the gathered community and a storm-cleric, and renounces all other worship. They swear submission to Demergat and to his earthly representatives. They are entered into a registry — a record that links them, their family, and their obligations to the faith. This registry is treated as permanently binding; one cannot simply leave.

What makes an enemy rather than a convert: Active resistance. The deliberate refusal to convert despite repeated opportunities. The hiding of non-believers or heretics. The maintenance of worship to other deities. These individuals are treated as enemies of the faith and targets for active conversion efforts, which may include direct miracles of divine punishment.

A devoted Demergat cleric is recognizable by their composure and their bearing.

Date: Every Saturday (weekly observance).

Each Saturday, all followers gather in their regional storm-shrine for mandatory service. The gathering begins with a reading of the week's weather patterns (understood as divine communication), continues with prayers of submission, and concludes with the refreshment of the storm chalice if a storm has passed in the previous week. Attendance is taken; absence is noted and addressed.

Storm Day services are kept deliberately brief and formal. There is no warmth or comfort offered; the purpose is purely to reinforce submission and collective obedience.

Date: First full moon of the year.

Sustar commemorates the original emergence of Demergat — the hurricane that brought the god to the islands. Followers gather to celebrate survival and to renew their submission. The service includes a recreation of the original covenant: the most senior clergy address the gathered followers as Demergat's voice, and the followers respond with synchronized recitation of the vows of submission.

Date: A week-long observance beginning on the last new moon of the third month.

The Lagana commemorates the first successful defense of Demergat's original temple. The story — emphasizing fasting in the face of siege, endurance despite hardship, and ultimate vindication — is read aloud. Followers participate in a week-long controlled fast, eating only simple foods. The point is to embody the hardship that the faithful must be willing to endure in service to the god.

Date: Last moon of the year.

Publicly framed as a day of mercy: enslaved persons who have submitted fully to Demergat may be formally freed. The festival is carefully managed to display Demergat's power to bind and release — showing that the hierarchy and submission are not random cruelty but a system with internal logic.

In practice, the conditions for release are stringent enough that actual releases are rare. The festival's primary function is symbolic: it shows that submission has structure and that obedience can be rewarded, encouraging continued compliance.

Performed following conquest of a region, this ceremony formally transfers unmarried women to warriors and clerics through recorded ceremony. The transfer is entered into the registry. The ritual formalizes what is understood as the establishment of household order in a conquered population.

Performed after every significant storm. Storm water is collected with ceremony, brought to the altar, and formally placed in the chalice. As the old water is replaced with new, prayers are recited asking Demergat to recognize that his will has been acknowledged and recorded. The ritual is part devotion and part practical insurance policy — the clergy's powers depend on the chalice being freshly filled.

A punishment-and-cleansing rite administered by clergy following formal trial. The trial establishes the offense; the Sazā corrects it. Punishment is delivered with procedural formality — a statement of what order was violated, the correction applied, and a declaration that the matter is resolved. The emotional tone is deliberately cold and impersonal; there is no mercy implied, only law.

Performed at the formal conversion of a community or civic institution. The newly converted gather, are entered into the registry, and swear collectively before a judge-cleric. This oath is foundational; everything the faith subsequently does in that community traces back to it.

Demergat's ceremonial dress is deliberately intimidating and uniform, emphasizing authority and control.

A heavy, water-resistant cloak dyed in deep blue and grey, embroidered with lightning bolts and crashing waves. The cloak is massive, designed to seem to enhance the wearer's presence. Rank is indicated through the quality of dye, the complexity of embroidery, and — for highest ranks — the addition of precious metal threading.

Worn by senior clergy during formal ceremonies. A headpiece of carved seashell and coral arranged to resemble a crown, communicating dominance over oceanic forces. The piece is intimidating and impractical, chosen purely for psychological impact.

A sturdy leather belt adorned with pouches and fastened with a buckle shaped like a ship's wheel or anchor. The belt holds ritual items and is a symbol of rank and responsibility.

Carried by high-ranking clergy in religious processions and rituals. Topped with a crystal resembling a storm cloud, the staff is used to invoke Demergat's blessings and to mark the authority of the ceremony. In some sect traditions, the staff is used physically in the Sazā rite.

Worn by the highest clergy and judges. Heavy silver or gold chains marking rank and authority, designed to be visible from distance. The chains communicate power and hierarchy in purely visual form.

Veera is remembered as the first to recognize Demergat and to negotiate the compact. She stood at the highest point in a ruined temple and cried out to the god, accepting submission and offering the people's loyalty. In exchange, Demergat granted them the possibility of endurance.

The faith does not canonize Veera as a saint in the traditional sense; she is treated as a precedent. Her moment of submission — the willingness to accept inevitable force rather than resist it — is held up as the model of proper faith.

An unnamed follower who was cast overboard during a storm and, in his desperation, experienced a vision of Demergat. The god offered him salvation in exchange for lifelong conversion efforts. The sailor agreed. He died, then inexplicably revived, and spent his remaining years preaching the faith to any who would listen.

The story is used theologically to support the idea that Demergat will preserve the faithful even through death — that submission guarantees survival, even in impossible circumstances.

A historical figure from about three centuries ago, Lyssa was a temple keeper responsible for maintaining storm-shrines across multiple islands. She is credited with developing the system of registry maintenance and population control that has become central to the faith's administration. Her work made Demergat's expansion into new territories possible because she created the infrastructure for controlling large populations efficiently.

Lyssa is cited not as a heroic or spiritual figure but as a proof of concept: efficient administration in service to divine expansion is the highest form of devotion.

How they refer to themselves: the Peacekeepers or the Gradual Ones

The Manis focus on converting communities through demonstration of benefits rather than through direct force. They establish temples in target regions and provide genuine services — weather prediction, maritime safety, trade network access — before fully asserting religious authority. They argue that voluntary conversion is more stable than forced conversion.

The mainstream faith tolerates them because they are effective, though hardliners consider them theologically soft.

How they refer to themselves: the Wave-Makers or the Iron Fleet

The Armenites are the militant wing of the faith, commanding warships and warrior-priests. They believe force is the clearest form of conversion — that resistance should be met with overwhelming power, that speed of conquest matters more than the method. They use both divine miracles and direct military force to expand the faith.

The Armenites are crucial to expansion efforts but are difficult to control. Their methods are effective but often generate lasting resentment in conquered populations.

How they refer to themselves: the Keepers of Order or the Registrars

The Nasallians specialize in the administrative consolidation of conquered territories. They focus on registry maintenance, population control, law enforcement, and the establishment of bureaucratic infrastructure. Their work ensures that conquered populations remain subjugated and that the faith's control persists even without active military presence.

How they refer to themselves: the Compassionate Ones or the Second Chance Keepers

The Mercy Sect argues that Demergat's strictness is meant to enforce discipline, not to cause suffering, and that mercy is compatible with faith. They advocate for more lenient punishments, for allowing some autonomy within the hierarchy, for treating followers with more respect.

The mainstream faith considers this a fundamental misreading of Demergat's nature. Mercy is weakness; the god does not forgive or compromise.

How they refer to themselves: the Weather-Speakers or the Storm's Voice

The Naturalists believe that Demergat is not a conscious deity but rather the personification of natural weather patterns. They treat "submission to Demergat" as submission to natural law rather than to the clergy's interpretation of divine will. This heresy fundamentally challenges the clergy's claimed authority to speak for the god.

The mainstream faith opposes this viciously. If weather is just nature, then the clergy's authority rests on mere human power, not divine right. This heresy, if it spread, would destabilize the entire power structure.

How they refer to themselves: the Free-Wind Keepers or the Breakaway Sect

The Liberationists believe that Demergat's original covenant was with the islands and their people, and that expansion beyond those boundaries violates the original faith. They argue that forced conversion in foreign lands is not the god's true will but the corruption of that will by ambitious clergy.

This heresy is dangerous because it is not obviously false — it appeals to historical record and could potentially delegitimize expansion efforts if it gained traction.

How they refer to themselves: the Water-Taken or the Drowned Returned

The Drowning Ecstatics believe that to truly commune with Demergat, one must come close to death by water. They engage in ritualized near-drowning experiences, holding worshippers underwater until the last moment before death, believing this brings them into direct contact with the god. They claim to receive visions and prophecies during these experiences.

The mainstream faith is deeply disturbed by this cult. While the faith values extreme submission, it does not intentionally risk the death of followers; they are resources, not disposable. Additionally, many of these practitioners have died, suggesting either fraud or genuine danger.

How they refer to themselves: the Avatar-Bearers or the Living Demergat

The Possessed Fleet believes that Demergat actually inhabits the bodies of particularly devoted followers during storms. These individuals walk into hurricanes intentionally, believing themselves to be conducting the god's will directly. Some survive by improbable circumstance; most die.

The mainstream faith denies that these individuals are possessed, treating them as deluded. However, their deaths are sometimes presented as martyrdom, which complicates the official response.

How they refer to themselves: the True Administrators or the Record-Perfecters

This schismatic group believes that the registry is not merely administrative but spiritually binding in ways the mainstream faith does not fully appreciate. They conduct rituals with registries, believe that registry entries have magical force, and claim that properly kept registries grant them direct authority over registered individuals' souls.

The mainstream faith considers them heretical but not particularly dangerous, as their practices don't significantly interfere with normal operations.

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