The Pantheon of Second Provania Part 1

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Second Provania

On the Provanian Pantheon

The Lost Pantheon of the Provanian People: A Preliminary Examination**
By Dr. Alison Bossman and Dr. Alan Puga
Introduction

Our work in the excavation sites of Ancient Provania has unearthed not only the architectural grandeur of a civilization lost to time but also fragments of its mythology, preserved in oral traditions, pottery shards, and temple inscriptions. While much of the old faith was obliterated following Lindora’s conquest, recent finds suggest that echoes of these deities still persist in the folklore and traditions of modern Provania, however faintly.

This paper seeks to reconstruct the lost pantheon, using both archeological evidence and cultural anthropology, in the hopes of offering the Provanian people a glimpse of their religious past.


The Creation Myth and the Betrayal of Bry’Pwl

One of the most striking revelations from our excavations is the story of Bry’Pwl and MacMullian, which survives in fragments from temple walls and oral retellings. The myth suggests a divine act of creation—Bry’Pwl gifting his lover, MacMullian, the ability to bring forth life. It is a motif that finds curious parallels in other ancient civilizations, particularly in the themes of betrayal and cosmic balance.

MacMullian, described in later texts as a wandering god, appears to have been both protector and betrayer, a liminal figure navigating between loyalty and deceit. The role of the chalice—what it contained, and why it marked his downfall—remains elusive, though comparative mythology suggests an intoxicant or a substance that led to his corruption. Bry’Pwl’s tragic end, murdered by the very one he loved, is echoed in later works associating him with death and the underworld.

Could this story have had socio-political implications? Was MacMullian’s betrayal meant to symbolize a historical event or the shift in religious practices? These are questions we are only beginning to explore.


Karfrish, the Whiskered Trickster

One of the more enduring figures of Provanian mythology is Karfrish, the goddess of deception and trickery. Depictions of her in both anthropomorphic and piscine forms appear on pottery shards, often alongside the recurring motif of a whiskered fish.

One particular artifact, a painted clay vessel found near Lake Provan, offers a fascinating insight into her legend. The accompanying inscription, though weathered, appears to recount the well-known tale of "The Fisherman and the Whiskered Fish," where Karfrish, in the guise of a shimmering fish, tests the honesty of a hapless mortal.

What makes this tale particularly compelling is its survival into modern Provanian culture. While few today still actively worship Karfrish, the imagery of the whiskered fish remains a popular symbol, particularly among fisherfolk who invoke her name in jest or as a metaphor for luck.


Willus: The God of Song and the Fickle Nature of Divine Favor

The god Willus, whose name appears in children’s rhymes and music-related motifs, presents an intriguing case of religious syncretism. The invocation of his name in relation to dreams, lust, and power suggests he may have once been considered both a muse and a conduit to divine inspiration.

Yet, his presence is fleeting, more a whisper than a deity of clear dominance. His role, much like MacMullian’s, appears transitional—a force that aids but does not always stay. It is possible that Willus was not a major god in the original pantheon but rather an honored spirit or minor deity whose worship endured through secular traditions.


Pyrrhos: The Charioteer of Fire

One of the more unsettling mythological finds comes in the form of a pottery shard bearing what appears to be a cautionary tale regarding Pyrrhos, the god of fire. Unlike the comforting hearth gods found in other civilizations, Pyrrhos is portrayed as a figure of relentless force. The fragment speaks of an unknown traveler who, upon questioning Pyrrhos, is struck blind and made a ghost, reinforcing the idea that divine knowledge—or perhaps divine fire—was something mortals were never meant to possess.

The fact that Pyrrhos is associated with a festival of “Kjara-Anday,” an event we have yet to fully translate, indicates a significant cultural observance. It is worth considering whether the story served as both a moral lesson and a reinforcement of the natural cycle: the sun gives life, but stare too long, and one is consumed.


Concluding Thoughts: A Pantheon Rediscovered

These discoveries, though fragmented, offer an incredible opportunity to piece together what was lost. It is clear that Provania, far from being a monolithic culture, had a nuanced and evolving spiritual tradition—one that mirrored its own history of turmoil, resilience, and reinvention.

While Beckism has largely replaced the worship of these ancient deities, elements of the old ways persist, suggesting a subconscious continuity of belief. We anticipate that future excavations and linguistic studies will yield further insights, bringing us closer to understanding the spiritual world of the ancient Provanian people.

For now, we can only stand on the precipice of the past, eager to listen as the gods whisper their secrets through stone, fire, and the glimmering waters of Lake Provan.
 
The Fisherman Who Thought He Had Caught a Goddess
As told by old Jerek, who swears he knows a guy who knows a guy who saw it happen.

Ah, my friends, listen close, because this is a story of a fool. Not a cruel fool, not an evil fool—just a fool, like many men before him.

A fool who thought he had caught a goddess.

But tell me, little listeners, have you ever tried to hold onto the wind? Have you ever tried to catch a shadow?

No?

Then you are already wiser than Osman.

---

A Fish Unlike Any Other

Osman was a fisherman by trade, and a poor one at that. His nets tangled, his bait went missing, and if he ever caught a fish, it was only because the fish had given up on life and let itself be caught out of pity.

But Osman, oh, he was stubborn. And he had heard the tales—tales of the whiskered fish, the one that shone like the dawn, the one that brought luck to whoever caught it.

And so, every morning, Osman rowed his boat out onto Lake Provan and prayed that today would be different.

And one morning, it was.

Because the moment he cast his line, the lake swallowed it whole. The water surged, his boat lurched, and Osman, for the first time in his miserable fishing career, had something big.

And it fought.

It dragged him across the lake, sent his boat spinning, pulled so hard it nearly yanked his arms from their sockets.

But Osman? Osman laughed.

"At last! I've got you! You can't escape me now!"


And he pulled—with all his strength, with all his might—

And from the depths of the lake, something rose.


A woman.

A goddess.

Karfrish, the Trickster, standing on the water, shaking the lake from her hair, her eyes gleaming like the night.

---

The Bargain That Never Was

"Well, well," she said, amused but unimpressed. "It’s not every day a mortal catches a goddess."

Osman gawked, stunned, triumphant. A goddess! He had done what no man before him had done!

"Aye," he said, "and now, you must grant me a wish!"

Now, at this moment, Karfrish could have laughed.

She could have vanished on the wind, slipped through his fingers like mist.

But she was curious.

"A wish?" she echoed. "Tell me, foolish fisherman—what do you think you've caught?"

Osman **did not hesitate.**

"I’ve caught you, Karfrish! And now, you must grant me fortune!"

And Karfrish, bless her lying heart, smiled.

“Ah, of course,” she said. “You have caught me. So you shall have fortune.

She stepped forward—one step, two, three—closer, closer, until Osman could see the glimmer of her teeth, the glint of mischief in her eye.

“Hold me tight, fisherman,” she whispered. “And do not let go.”

Osman did.

He wrapped his arms around her like a drowning man clutching to driftwood, sure that his fortune had arrived, sure that she could not escape.

And Karfrish, the cleverest of them all, laughed.

Because fools always believe they have won.

---

What Osman Found

And then—

The lake churned. The sky cracked.

And in one great rush—Karfrish was gone.

Vanished.
Not into mist.
Not into shadow.
Not into wind.

But into fish.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

An impossible wave of writhing, flopping, whiskered fish, filling his boat, spilling over the edges, knocking into him, tangling in his hair, slapping him in the face.

Osman screamed.

The boat rocked, nearly overturned.

He clawed his way out of the sea of scales, choking on the smell, gasping for breath.

And when he finally looked around—Karfrish was nowhere to be seen.

All that remained was the net.

His net.

Still in the water.

Still empty.

Because Osman had not caught a goddess.

Osman had caught exactly what he had been fishing for.

Fish.

---

The Moral of the Tale

Ahhh, but do you see it now, little listeners?

Do you see the truth behind the lie?

A fool thinks he can catch the divine.

A fool thinks he can trap something greater than himself and make it do his bidding.

But Karfrish? Oh, Karfrish belongs to no man.

And when Osman thought he had caught her, when he held onto her with all his might,

All he got for his troubles was exactly what he had been fishing for.

Not a goddess.
Not a miracle.
Not fortune.

Just fish.
 
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