When Kraut's shard fell to earth, it fell not into a prepared place but into the hands of Ol' Seamus, a halfling farmer whose world was collapsing. The world of the pre-harvest was a world of scarcity — where a failed crop meant starvation, where soil grew tired and yielded less each year, where the work of farming was an endless negotiation with entropy and indifference.

Seamus was old, weathered, and hollow. His farm had been ravaged by goblin raiders. His fields were burnt and salted. His family was scattered. When he knelt in the ashes of what had been his livelihood, he was not praying to the gods — he was simply screaming into the earth, his fist full of soil, demanding that something answer.

The shard answered him.

It did not speak in words. It manifested as knowledge — a sudden, overwhelming understanding of how the soil could be restored, how the right plants could be cultivated, and how one particular plant — cabbage, that humble, miraculous vegetable — could grow abundantly, resist pests, store through winter, and sustain a family through lean times.

Seamus's hands filled with seeds. Not metaphorically. Physically, miraculously, his hands held seeds he had never planted and could not have grown in mere hours. When he planted them, they grew. In weeks, where the burnt field had been bare, a garden erupted with cabbage plants so vigorous and abundant that neighbors traveled distances to see them.

The god — for it was clear something divine had occurred — emerged from the plant itself, not a figure of humanoid beauty but something stranger: impossibly fertile, radiating abundance, more essence than form. Kraut made Seamus an offer: Spread what grows from this soil, and I will ensure it grows wherever it is planted. Trade in abundance, and I will ensure the abundance multiplies.

Seamus agreed. Within his lifetime, cabbage farming had spread through halfling communities across three territories. Within two generations, it had become the core of halfling prosperity. Within five generations, Seamus's bloodline had become legendary, and the secrets of cultivation (if they were secrets anymore) had become the faith's foundation.

Kraut's essential teaching emerged from Seamus's life: the greatest blessing is the blessing that multiplies when shared. A field of cabbage that feeds only its farmer is a field of limited value. A field of cabbage whose seeds travel to other farmers, who plant them and prosper, and whose children take seeds to new territories — this is the work Kraut treasures.

The faith spread not as missionary movement but as practical necessity. Halflings who converted to Kraut's worship prospered; their farms yielded more; their families grew larger and stronger. Neighboring communities saw the difference and asked to learn. The seedkeepers taught them. Within a few centuries, Kraut's faith was the dominant religion of halfling culture, and cabbage farming was the engine of halfling economic power.

Kraut makes one of the world's clearest bargains: work the soil with faith, tend the plants with care, and I will return abundance that exceeds what you planted.

Krautist theology is practical to the point of bluntness. These are not abstract principles; they are the rules that make a farm prosper.

(See also: claw/Soul_Coins_and_Divine_Economy)

Kraut accumulates power through acts of cultivation and exchange — the spread of abundance from hand to hand, field to field, family to family.

Kraut's temples are not built; they are grown.

A field-shrine begins with a parcel of earth — typically at least an acre — that is cleared and dedicated. The soil is worked with prayers. A pattern is planted: concentric rings of vegetables, with cabbage always at the center, surrounded by other blessed crops. The pattern serves both practical and spiritual purposes: it is beautiful, it maximizes yield, and it communicates doctrine through geometry.

A basic field-shrine has benches carved from fallen wood, facing the center circle where the oldest and largest cabbage grows — a living altar. Some more established shrines have structures: open-air pavilions where the faithful can gather to eat together, sharing meals made from the harvest. The most significant field-shrines (of which there are perhaps a dozen) include permanent housing for a seedkeeper and storage for seeds meant to be distributed to other communities.

What makes a space sacred is not the structure but the understanding that what is grown here is grown for sharing. A personal garden is a sacred space if the gardener tends it with faith. A commercial field is a sacred space if part of its surplus is dedicated to others. A farmer's plot becomes a shrine the moment it is recognized as a place where abundance is not merely produced but multiplied through distribution.

Water is essential — Kraut's fields never lack for irrigation. The faith understands that water is the difference between plenty and scarcity, and a shrine without reliable water is merely a plot of land.

Kraut's faith is organized around regional harvest councils — gatherings of senior seedkeepers and experienced farmers who meet to share knowledge, plan coordinated plantings, and decide how to allocate surplus to communities facing need.

Authority within the faith is earned through demonstrated expertise and generosity. A farmer who has maintained productive fields for decades and who gives away more than they keep has more authority than a younger or less generous farmer, regardless of title. There are no ranks except seedkeeper (a fully initiated priest) and field-tender (those in training).

The faith's organizational structure is intentionally flat. Each region is semi-autonomous, making decisions that affect their own territory. The only central authority is a loose council of the most respected seedkeepers who gather annually at harvest time to share innovations and resolve disputes. This body has no enforcing power; its authority rests entirely on the respect of its members.

Crucially, the faith maintains formal relationships with halfling trading networks. Krautists are the backbone of halfling commerce, and the faith leverages this — ensuring that harvests move efficiently between communities, that seed stock is distributed equitably, and that families never face starvation as long as Krautist farmers have surplus.

Conversion to Kraut's faith happens primarily through demonstrated need and witnessing of results.

Soft entry is organic. Someone learns that a Krautist farmer has techniques that prevent crop failure. They ask to learn. They help with the work. Over seasons, they begin to understand the faith's practical wisdom. Many people have been farming according to Kraut's principles for years before formally converting.

Initiation is public and practical: a vow made before the community in which the initiate commits to treating the soil as sacred, to maintaining their harvest in the faith's principles, and to spreading seeds and teaching others. The vow is sealed by the initiate receiving seedstock directly from a senior seedkeeper, with witnesses present. This is their call to begin the work.

What makes an enemy rather than a convert: Deliberate corruption of soil. Using poison to destroy a rival's field. Hoarding seed stock to prevent others from farming successfully. These are serious enough transgressions that the faith may declare someone an enemy of the faith and refuse them access to blessed seeds.

A devoted Krautist cleric is recognizable by their hands and their choices.

Date: First full moon of spring.

The Sowing marks the beginning of the growing season. Across Krautist communities, initiated followers gather in their field-shrines and together perform the ritual planting of the season's primary crops. The work is accompanied by prayer, song, and incantation meant to align human effort with the earth's readiness to receive seeds. After planting, the community shares a meal — though it is deliberately simple, in contrast to the feasts that will come at harvest. This is a day of planting hope, not yet reaping reward.

Date: Midway between first sowing and final harvest, typically mid-summer.

The Bloom celebrates the moment when plants transition from mere growth to fruiting. Krautists gather to inspect their fields, to pray for the successful transition, and to address any problems that have emerged. It is less a festive celebration and more a practical checkpoint — a time to ensure that the promised abundance will actually arrive.

Date: Last full moon of the growing season; exact timing varies by region and crop.

The Harvest is the most important festival of the Krautist year. Communities gather for days of intensive harvesting, processing, and preservation. The work is hard and continuous, but it is interspersed with feasts, celebrations, and the distribution of surplus to other communities. The Harvest is when Kraut's promise becomes tangible — when abundance transforms from abstract theology into concrete food stored for winter.

Date: First new moon of winter; a formal occasion of seed and supply distribution.

On this day, seedkeepers gather to distribute seed stock to communities and individuals who have been carefully selected. This is not a free distribution; it is a sacred act in which seeds are transferred to those deemed ready to receive them. Families who have proven their devotion, communities that have demonstrated need, new settlements that are attempting to establish agriculture — all are considered. The act of receiving seeds is understood as receiving a trust, not merely a commodity.

Performed at the beginning of each growing season in established field-shrines. A senior seedkeeper walks the perimeter of each field, praying and marking the boundary with blessed salt or ash. The blessing is meant to call Kraut's attention to the place and to mark it as sacred ground. Followers then follow the seedkeeper's path, also in prayer, creating a collective invocation of divine favor.

Performed after the final harvest is in. The community gathers around the central circle of the field-shrine, where the largest and most perfect examples of the harvest are arranged. The seedkeeper offers prayers of gratitude, names the families who worked the field, and then — crucially — distributes portions of the harvest to members of the community and representatives from other communities. Everyone eats together. This is the ritual's essential point: the food is shared, not hoarded or celebrated privately.

Performed when transferring seed stock to new communities or individuals. The seedkeeper holds the seeds before the gathered community, prays over them, and then distributes them. Those receiving the seeds are required to recite a vow: "I receive these seeds as a sacred trust. I will plant them with faith. I will tend them with care. I will share their harvest with those who need it. I will not hoard or waste what grows from these seeds." The public nature of the vow creates accountability and witnesses.

Performed on fields that have been depleted or corrupted. A team of seedkeepers and community members spends days restoring the field — clearing it of contaminants, amending the soil with compost and ash, and eventually replanting with crops meant to restore fertility. The ritual is explicitly restorative and forgiving; a field can be healed, and a farmer who has damaged soil through ignorance (but not willful malice) can be restored to good standing through this ceremony.

Krautist ceremonial dress is practical and minimal, reflecting the faith's orientation toward work rather than display.

A simple linen robe in earth-brown or deep green, designed to resist soil staining. The robe is worn open over work clothes. The only ornamentation is a pattern of leaves embroidered at the hem — simple, functional, beautiful. Senior seedkeepers add a cord at the waist, knotted once for every twenty years of service.

Worn during the major harvest festivals. Created freshly each year from the most impressive vegetables of the season — typically the largest cabbages, braided together with wheat stalks and dried flowers. The crown is worn by the lead organizer of that year's harvest and is destroyed after the festival, the vegetables incorporated into the communal feast.

Not an article of clothing but a sign: the deliberate refusal to wash earth from hands and clothing before ceremonies. Showing up with visibly stained hands is a mark of authenticity, a demonstration that the follower has been working. A seedkeeper wearing pristine robes and clean hands would be regarded with suspicion.

Ol' Seamus is the faith's founder and living legend, though he has been dead for centuries. Very little reliable biography exists; what survives are stories that serve theological functions. The core narrative is consistent: Seamus was a halfling farmer whose life was destroyed, who cried out to the earth in desperation, and who received from that earth both salvation and calling.

The faith treats Seamus not as a saint requiring veneration but as a precedent requiring emulation. Every Krautist is, in some sense, attempting to do what Seamus did — to call forth abundance from apparently dead soil and to share what they have been given.

Seamus's lineage became one of halfling society's most important families, though he himself had no formal role. He was simply a farmer who happened to spark a revolution in abundance.

A historical figure from about three centuries ago. Mina was a seedkeeper of unusual charisma who traveled between communities teaching cultivation techniques and organizing coordinated crop distribution. She is credited with establishing the Harvest Council system that still governs the faith.

Unlike Seamus, Mina left behind written records — careful notes on crop rotation, soil amendment, pest management, and the mathematics of fair distribution. These records are still consulted as both practical guide and spiritual text.

A more recent figure, the Soil-Healer (name not recorded, for the faith believes the deed matters more than the name) was a Krautist who devoted forty years to restoring a region's soil after it had been corrupted by military contamination. Where the Soil-Healer worked, depleted earth became fertile again. When they died, they were buried in the restored soil, becoming — the faith teaches — part of the earth they had healed.

How they refer to themselves: the Merchants or the Far-Travelers

The Seed Traders are halfling merchants and traveling seedkeepers who focus on distributing Krautist seeds, knowledge, and philosophy to distant lands and communities. They maintain trade networks, establish new field-shrines in foreign territories, and are often the first Krautists that non-halfling communities encounter.

Seed Traders are respected within the faith for spreading Kraut's abundance to new populations, though some traditional seedkeepers worry that commerce is diluting spiritual purpose. Seed Traders argue that the point of abundance is that it spreads; commerce is just the mechanism.

How they refer to themselves: the Healers or the Soil-Menders

Restorationists specialize in restoring corrupted, depleted, or poisoned soil. They are called into communities where agriculture has failed, where land has been militarily devastated, or where ancient forest is being converted to farmland. Their work combines practical soil science with ritual and prayer.

The Restorationists are the faith's most spiritually serious sect. They believe that soil restoration is sacred work comparable to healing the sick, and they approach it with corresponding gravity.

How they refer to themselves: the Preservers or simply Cooks

Kitchen Priests focus on the preservation and preparation of harvest. They are experts in fermentation, drying, storage, and the transformation of fresh harvest into prepared foods that can feed communities through winter or be traded across distances. Some are formally ordained; many are simply experienced cooks who have dedicated themselves to the faith's work.

Kitchen Priests occupy a liminal space in the faith — they are not farmers, but their work is essential to the faith's mission of abundance spreading. They are respected, but sometimes seen as less "authentic" than field workers.

How they refer to themselves: the Maximizers or the Bounty-Seekers

The Intensivists believe that Kraut wants the absolute maximum yield from every field — that they should use every technique available, including magical enhancement and radical breeding, to maximize production. They argue that greater abundance means greater sharing potential.

The mainstream faith considers this a misunderstanding of the relationship between farmer and soil. The Intensivists treat the earth as a tool to be maximized; Krautists treat it as a partner to be respected. A soil pushed to maximum yield year after year becomes depleted, defeating the purpose of abundance.

How they refer to themselves: the Providers or the Prepared Ones

The Hoarders believe that true abundance means having enough for any crisis — that a faithful follower should accumulate surplus not to share but to ensure they can survive any catastrophe. They justify this through security reasoning.

The mainstream faith rejects this as fundamentally contrary to Kraut's teaching. Abundance accumulated without sharing is abundance that rots. Security through surplus is security that collapses the moment it is tested; real security comes from community networks of mutual provision.

How they refer to themselves: the True Way or the Leaf Keepers

The Supremacists believe that only cabbage is truly sacred, that all other vegetables are inferior or even forbidden, and that the faith should focus exclusively on cabbage cultivation. They treat other crops as distractions from the pure work.

The mainstream faith considers this a narrow misreading. Yes, cabbage holds a special place. No, that does not mean other vegetables are worthless. Kraut blessed all harvests, not just one. A person cannot live on cabbage alone; diversity of crops is both practical and theological necessity.

How they refer to themselves: the Earthborn or the Living Soil

The Root Eaters believe that consuming raw soil — particularly soil from ancient field-shrines or soil worked by famous seedkeepers — grants connection to Kraut and accelerates spiritual development. They consume earth regularly and claim to experience visions of future abundance.

The mainstream faith is concerned and slightly confused by this practice. There is no theological basis for it, and the health risks are obvious. Attempts to suppress the cult have been ineffective, largely because the practice causes no harm beyond mild intestinal discomfort and the practice itself is difficult to define as clearly transgressive.

How they refer to themselves: the Always-Reaping or the Eternal Gathering

The Perpetual Harvesters believe that the proper spiritual state is constant harvest — that followers should be harvesting, processing, and distributing food continuously, without rest. They practice intense communal labor and ritual starvation (eating only the simplest foods while distributing surplus).

The mainstream faith objects to this as contrary to the principle of rest and balance. Constant work is not holiness; it is exhaustion. A body that never rests cannot sustain years of labor, defeating the purpose.

How they refer to themselves: the Seers or the Future-Growers

The Seed Prophets believe that seeds contain messages from Kraut — that the shape of a seed, the size of a harvest, the arrangement of vegetables in a field are forms of divine communication that can be read like prophecy. They engage in elaborate rituals attempting to interpret these messages and predict future events.

The mainstream faith is skeptical but not hostile. The practice is harmless, and the faith acknowledges that the earth does communicate with those who listen. The question is whether the communication is genuine prophecy or imaginative interpretation, a question the faith does not pretend to definitively answer.

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