Hello everyone and thank you for dropping by the cult of Mibæle. I have decided to create a minor unofficial deity and spread her believes and ways to the hearts of other people.
As such I decided to start by making a profile page for Mibæle and this will slowly turn into a page containing all the information about Mibæle and her ways.
Name: Mibæle (Compassionate Mother)
Also know as: Mother of Martyrs, The Blind Lady, Nihæ (Void) - term used by those who see her as a deity causing people to commit suicide
Aspects: Compassion, love, martyrdorm, selflessness, motherly embrace
Depiction: Mibæle is usually depicted as a blind woman in her 30-ties to 40-ties embracing an everlasting flame, because love is blind and everburning and Mibæle represents all aspects of unconditional love.
Dominion: Healing, fire
Short description: Mibæle is said to provide her loving embrace to martyrs, lovers, altruists and children providing them with the strength, courage and will to make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of love. It is said that she leads the hand of people at the brink of death and eases their pain, to make their ultimate demise as painless as possible.
Her followers are usually living a secluded life, but are providing travelers with food, shelter and healing if required. Some are even actively participating in society, but these are very rare.
Some maidens also pray to Mibæle asking for their love to come true.
Symbols: Everlasting torch, Triskele, Flame, Fjoermogh - a firebird with the head of a fox, body of an eagle, two pairs of wings (one pair eagle, one pair peacock) and tail of peacock
Calling the Lost Love
This ritual is meant for those who have lost their loved one and did not have the opportunity to say their goodbye. Mibæle allows those with pure feelings to communicate with their lost love for the last time (it is only one time opportunity, after which Mibæle no longer grants this chance) and a strong, pure and mutual feeling of love between the one conducting the ritual and the deceased one is required.
- Wooden goblet
- Fine alcohol
- Rose petals (around 20-30)
- Something that belonged to the deceased person (an heirloom or keepsake of sorts)
- Piece of paper with the full name of the deceased person written on it (using a quill made of a feather of the Fjoermogh - that the Fjoermogh shed or gave to you willingly - to write the name down is recommended)
Conducting the ritual:
Place the goblet on non-flammable surface and ensure no inflammable objects are in its vicinity; fill half of the goblet with fine alcohol (the more potent alcohol the better), fill the rest of the goblet with the rose petals and wait until they sink. Put the paper with the name of your loved one on fire and release it into the goblet hence setting the goblet itself on fire; collect the ashes of the goblet and its content and bury them at midnight or midday under a tree together with the keepsake of your loved one. Your loved one will visit you in the next dream you have.
Please remember that conducting of this rituals comes with risks, anything that happens in the dream with your loved one will have a physical impact on your body, it has been reported that multiple people conceived and even came to physical harm. There were also some reports claiming conductors of this ritual died during their dream.
It is unknown how to conduct a ritual to mesmerize a different person with a single stare of the eye, but it is said, that some of the followers of Mibæle are able to mesmerize a person of opposite gender by simply staring them in the eye and calling upon their need to love and be loved. It is also said, that although it can prove to be a powerful spell indeed, it is impossible to force someone to do something, they would not do if they were not mesmerized. So it is said you can remove the boundaries of a person to follow your lead and words.
Preface: No-one really knows how the story of Mibæle even came to be. Some even claim she was no deity but a mortal, as such she is not believed to be of the Elysium Pantheon, but to be either a rogue deity that came to existence through different means than the rest of the gods or that she was deified by those she helped during her mortal time and underwent apotheosis.
As such her story will be one of the many that are told about her, but these are among those that are frequently used and are usually believed to be true.
Part I - Family, compassion and solitude
Be it a god, deity, mortal, demon, or whatever, Mibæle was always known as the Mother, not because she would have given birth to a race, not because she would have many children of her own, but because she saved the lives of many. During her time she spent among mortals, she was the matron of an orphanage for children that lost their parents, got lost to never find home again or just abandoned by their families. No-one really knows where exactly this orphanage was, as it is all long gone or at least there is no longer such a place run by Mibæle and there are no people left, that would come of this orphanage. Although she was not relative of the children she took care of, many of them referred to Mibæle as they would to their mother. Her tender care and love nurturing them, providing with education and skills they will need in their lives, once they leave orphanage and will have to live their lives on their own. Among many of the skills and knowledge provided by Mibæle, it was always focused on healing and tending to others, so many of the children of the orphanage became healers, herbalists and alchemists. Some of the protege of Mibæle remained at the orphanage and dedicated their lives to make the orphanage prosper and soon, out of the orphanage became a spital. Not only have they started to take care of the sick and wounded, but also for those crippled during fights and accidents. Day by day the place which used to be the bastion of compassion and home for those missing love, the place was changing. It became so big, that it lost its soul and Mibæle herself. One day, she was reported missing, never to be found again. Her followers, friends and those close enough that could have been called family were struck with the gruelsome truth - this was no longer a place of love, it was no longer the home of their mother and they have not even noticed she was long gone. The place itself became soulless and purposeless as it grew into more of an organization and less of a family. After some time the place became abandoned, yet many of her former protege became hermits, offering their knowledge, skills and help to others only to be reminded of Mibæle by the warm feeling of an embrace whether they help someone, hence keeping the memory of Mibæle alive in their solitude and spreading her teachings through their actions, but it is only a matter of time untill the last bastions of her will will cease to exist and hence even Mibæle herself will no longer be and it is only in our hands to prevent that and spread the compassion and keep her legend alive.
Part II - The Eternal Flame of Love
It was a rather cold night considering that as of late the majority of nights and days were rather hot. Cold breeze was running through the streets running chills down every single spine it touched. Something was wrong today, there was something strange in the air, something unnatural, ethereal. It was like a cold hand was trying to grasp the whole town and freeze everyone there alive. Almost all chimneys were covering their vicinity in a thin layer of ash and monstrous smoke clouds. This cold night came unwelcomed and unexpected, so everyone was burning anything they did not need, just to keep the fire on and prevent the cold to creep into their homes. But there was one chimney that obviously led to a cold fireplace. Young lady was sitting in front of the fireplace in a rocker, her legs and feet covered under a thick layer of blanket fabricated from some red plush. There were big initials woven into the blanket in an unfinished heart shape that were located in the lap of the lady. The flickering flame of a candle was casting a shadow over the second letter, but from the look of it, it was "W &" either I or any other letter that starts with a line casted like the capital I. The shadow never releasing its hold from the rest of the letter. After further inspection it was clear that small droplets of tears were forming in the corners of the eyes of this lady or was it all that was left of her tears?
Suddenly the shutters of a small and only window in this room were open wide and the cold air filled every corner of the room. The woman has not flinched any. It was like she was frozen in place, like she no longer registered what is happening in her surrounding.
After a short while the door of the room opened, this time the woman sitting in the rocker tilted her head towards it seeing a dark silhouette of a man in the door.
"Honey, you will freeze like this, you need to take care of yourself," the man quickly moved to the fireplace and started working on bringing the fire back to it using a tinderbox nearby. The little wood that remained in the fireplace caught fire and lit the room anew and casted light on the face of the woman. Her lips grew slightly apart and for a moment there was still silence, before a mellow voice of the woman caught the man, who was still facing away from her working on the fireplace, of guard: "Is she back home yet?" Silence filled the room again. The man stopped working on the fire and was hesitant to reply. After a while he sighed and replies in a hurt voice: "No, she is not..." for a moment he remained silent, trying to formulate his next words as gently as possible, while still delivering the harsh truth: "Honey, Irmaile has been out there for two years already and we have not received a single word from her."
The woman once again spoken up, this time her mellow voice tinted in anger: "You are lying, you just... you do not approve of us!"
The man replied quickly, yet it was clear he was hurt by her words: "Honey, I would never ever wish you or her harm. I love you both. Irmaile was always like my second daughter, ever since her parents passed away. And ever since you told me about you two, I was so glad for you both. I would never wish you two to grew apart... but... she is an adventurer, it might really be, that something hapenned to her."
Silence filled the room again and before anyone spoke up the man slowly moved to the window to close the shutters before cold air fills the now slowly warming up room again.
"Father, I will go search for her the first thing tomorrow morning," her voice filling the room like a storm, or it was just the shock her father felt, caugh of guard by her dedication.
"But, ever since that accident..." he started to oppose her decision, but was quickly cut short by her reply to it: "Ever since the accident I could move an inch on my own. But you forgot I was her healer and she needs me. I have spent the last two years here in solitude, unable to move from here, unable to follow her, unable to protect her and heal her wounds. Now I know she needs me, she is out there, trying her best to find a cure, but she no longer has to."
Tears rushed to the eye of the now kneeling man and he asked anticipating a positive answer: "Have you found a way to cure yourself? Can you walk again?"
"No, but she can," the woman said calmly and pointed out towards the door. There was a small dark figure standing there, but what caught the man's attention were the indigo eyes that pierced through the darkness like daggers through skin and in this case he felt like they were mesmerizing him, asking him to go to sleep and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor and felt sun-rays burning in the back of his body through the shutters. It was close to noon already and he found himself in an empty house. Not that anything was missing but his daughter. Without a trace, her rocker and the blanket she was working on for so long. He noticed that it has been already finished. The initials, the heart shape. All the edges. But now he noticed it was the initials of her daughter and her lover, but of his and his late wife. "W and L... I always thought that it was the blanket that brought her the sorrow about her loss... but it appears we were the cause, Layle, because we no longer have the chance to..." he picked up the blanket and put it close to his heart: "If you can, please, keep an eye on both of them, so they can find each other again... and come home, I will be waiting for them... always."
Part III - Of Martyrs and Sirens
In a dimly lit tavern, with even an ominous name "The Three-Headed Swan", a bunch of jolly adventurers were celebrating and boasting about their last quest. One of them was a young lady, that appeared not to be in such a joyous mood, she was actually frowning upon the rest of her companions. "Oy, Layla," cried out an already bedrunken woman who had her legs still in her plate armor, as she unequipped only her cuirass and helm: "Don'tcha beez'uch'a wuzz, 'ey died a h'roic dead! Zrink up! Zelbrate dem, zelbrate ar fitury!" With her last word she hiccupped so fevorously she lost her balance for a moment and landed nose-flat on the table nearly throwing over every single cup that was on it. Layle sheepishly chuckled, but did not respond.
The rest of the night went uneventful with few exceptions when someone pulled Layle closer to them trying to make her drink some of the beverages, but she always refused them shaking her head slightly. No-one tried to ever force Layle into anything, as the Ironclad Fairy would definitely not leave them with only fingers and hands broken. Although she was already out of commission due to her heavy drinking, everyone respected her and everyone knew she is fond of Layla in more ways than friends or fellow party-members. The majority of them thought of them as sisters, but some even joked around by saying that the Fairy fell for the Lady. Everyone always called the other members by their nicknames they got as adventurers, only the Fairy was always calling the others using their actual names, although no-one knew her real name. Actually no-one from the current party was even around when the Fairy started her carreer among adventurers and Layla, or how the others call her - White Lady - was the one who was around the Fairy the longest. The others joined and went with time. It was not long before Layle excused herself and went outside. She slowly walked the narrow alley towards a big building that was towering over everything else in the city. It was the guild where she was headed. It did not take long before the narrow alley connected with the vast space of the marketplace that was in front of the guild. Layla went through the paths among the different stalls the shortest route to the guild and went quickly inside using the small doors on the side. There was also a big main entry door, but it was too heavy for a single woman, man or even beast to open easily, so the small doors on the far side of the building was the obvious choice for the majority of people during the nighttime. During the daytime the main entry door was kept open to allow crowds to both enter and exit the main hall.
Layle moved to the front desk where an already sleepy attendant was stationed - it was probably his last hour untill his shift ended, or he only just started, so was still half asleep.
"Sorry," Layla raised her voice and waited for the clerk to point his attention towards her, before she continued: "I am here to raise a request about the late Whitefang and Golden Rose."
The clerk moaned slightly, but kept his voice sounding at least a little bit friendly and willing to help: "What do you need, White Lady, I presume?" He eyed her up and down and waited for her reply.
"Yes, I am the White Lady, Whitefang and Golden Rose were members of our party led by the Ironclad Fairy... I... I wanted to ask whether they had family or friends that collected their belongings and paid for the funeral... or arranged something about it."
The clerk remained silent for a moment before looking around frantically and then leaning towards Layle gesturing her to come closer, after which he whispered: "It is not my place to speak about personal information of the adventurers, but your reputation is well known around for what you do for even the adventurers that were not part of your party." He started pulling out from Layle, but she grabbed his head and stared deeply in his eyes, the clerk suddenly continued: "Golden Rose had a sister, who collected her belongings, but did neither pay nor arrange for funeral, and you know what happens in such a case with the body," before he continued in a normal voice, he adjusted himself in his chair: "Well as I said, I can't provide you with any information about Golden Rose, but as Whitefang did not have any family, his belongings will remain under our safekeeping for the duration of a week, after which it will be used to pay for his funeral, hopefully it will be enough to cover it, otherwise the standard procedure will be followed."
Layla put a heavy coinpurse on the desk: "Whitefang saved my life yesterday... if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be standing here, there should be enough to cover for both of them to be send out with honor and with their belongings intact."
The clerk quickly caught on the intention Layla had and whispered: "I will arrange for the Golden Rose to get at least some decent equipment to be buried with her," while counting the coins in the purse, once he was done counting, he said: "Nice doing business with you, White Lady, it is always nice to see adventurers taking care also of their departed kin, you are a shining example of a proper adventurer." He scribled something on a parchment and handed it over to Layle: "If you would, please, confirm the contract."
Layla put her hand inside a satchel bound to her side and took out a stamp wearing a sigil with her name. She stamped the parchment and a sigil of wing growing out of a wand encircled in her name "White Lady" has been burned on it. The clerk quickly rolled the parchment and put it into one of the regals behind him. Layla put her stamp back to her satchel and turned around to leave, but before she departed into the dark night, she thanked the clerk. The clerk suddenly looked bewildered, mumbling something about him being so tired he does not even remember what the Lady wanted from him. It was like he snapped out of a dream, or like he was being mesmerized by someone up until the very last second when Layle thanked him.
Part IV - The Fairy and the Lady