Saints, Spirits, and Shouting in the Streets—Let's Talk About Religions!

Darlings, if there’s one thing that’ll get a crowd going (besides free pie or a runaway airship), it’s a good dose of faith. I’m not here to sway your soul—Milosh Cheshire leaves proselytizing to the professionals—but after a lifetime of pawing through towns, temples, and taverns, I can tell you that religion in our world is a bit like a festival buffet: a little of everything, and everyone thinks their auntie’s stew is the best.

The Holy Church of Revelation
Let’s start with the big one. The Holy Church of Revelation is everywhere—cathedrals in city centers, shrines at crossroads, and a choir that could drown out a thunderstorm. They’ve got rules for everything, saints for every occasion, and a fondness for processions that block traffic for hours. If you’re lost, hungry, or just need a place to sit, the Church is your friend. Just don’t argue theology with a Virtue Militant unless you fancy a sermon (or a citation).

Disciples of the Prophet
If you hear a rousing speech about the value of a hard day’s work or the virtues of fair trade, you’ve probably wandered into a gathering of the Disciples of the Prophet. They’re big on honesty, bustling bazaars, and rolling up sleeves for the common good. Their festivals are grand, their food is better, and their priests are always ready with advice—solicited or not. If you want to haggle for a blessing, this is your crowd.

Emissaries of Elysium
If you fancy a walk in the woods, you’ll meet the Emissaries. Druid-robed, flower-crowned, and usually followed by a trail of birds or a goat, these folk worship the wild—trees, rivers, sky-whales, and all things green. They’ll bless your garden, heal your sick pet, or admonish you for stepping on a dandelion. Their rituals are peaceful, their festivals muddy, and their songs oddly catchy.

Followers of the Accord
Think of them as the planet’s do-gooders: honest, generous, and always lending a paw (or hand, or leafy appendage). They believe in redemption, second chances, and the power of a community hug, but not so much into woo-woo as other religions. Their meetings are half support group, half picnic, and if you’re in a bind, they’ll show up with soup and a toolkit. They’re not above getting into a barney when needed, but mostly, they are all about kindness.

Now, these are the posh ones. Robes, rituals, and a lot of talk about “True Will.” If you hear someone quoting, “Do what thou wilt,” you’re either in a Thelema salon or a particularly rowdy poetry night. They prize ambition, contracts, and pride—helping the weak is not their thing, but if you impress them, they’ll toast your name (and maybe try to poach you for their next scheme).

Faith of the Ancestors
In the Kobayashi Shogunate and a few quiet corners, you’ll find folk bowing to the spirits of their ancestors. Shrines are everywhere—tiny, tidy, and tended with loving care. They believe the wisdom of the past guides the present, and if you’re polite, they’ll invite you to tea and a story about someone’s great-great-grandparent’s heroic fish.

Healers of Iron
Spot a clockwork limb, a brass-and-glass prosthetic, or someone whispering to an automaton? You’ve found the Healers of Iron—part tinker, part priest, all about blending mind, flesh, and machine. Their workshops are half clinic, half community center, and their blessings are as likely to fix your heart as your hinges.

Congregation of the Prodigy
If you’ve ever met someone who claims to read your mind or bend spoons without touching them, you’ve brushed up against the Congregation of the Prodigy. They’re seekers of psychic potential, with a fondness for meditation, arcane secrets, and the pursuit of what lies hidden in the mind. Their gatherings are half study group, half mystic séance.

Oracles of the Storm
Visit Baltia or any seaside cliff and you’ll hear the Oracles before you see them—chanting, drumming, and dancing in the rain. They worship the Voice in the Storm, and if the wind sounds like it’s whispering secrets, best listen. Don’t ever call their rituals “weather forecasts,” unless you want a wave of seaweed in your boots.

Gathering of Radiance
These folk are all about chaos, delight, and a touch of Fey mischief. If you find yourself at a party where the rules are made to be broken, illusions abound, and someone’s wearing antlers just because—congratulations! You’ve stumbled into the Gathering of Radiance. They say wisdom comes from chasing your wildest dreams (and sometimes waking up in a tree).

Innocent Harbingers
A bit more somber, this lot. They go about preaching that all things must end, and sometimes lend a hand in making sure that happens. They see mercy in oblivion, peace in closure, and aren’t above helping (or hastening) what’s past its prime. You’ll find them in ruins, at funerals, or quietly tidying up after disasters.

And Then There’s… Everything Else
Gangs of goblins with their own trickster gods, dwarves singing hymns to the forge, Catfolk (like yours truly) invoking Bastet for luck and a warm sunbeam—on Elysium, if you can imagine it, someone’s worshipping it. Sometimes it’s a cult, sometimes a carnival, and often both at once.

Milosh’s Tips for Navigating Faith:

• Accept blessings graciously, even if you don’t know what they’re for. They rarely bite.
• Festivals mean free food. Never pass up a holy dumpling.
• If you’re invited to light a candle, pour a libation, or join a chant, say yes—unless it involves jumping off something tall.
• Don’t mock the local superstitions. The gods might not mind, but their followers certainly do.
• Remember, faith is the glue that holds many communities together—even if it sometimes sticks to your fur.

So, whether you bow, chant, sing, or simply smile politely, remember that on Elysium, belief is as much a part of life as airships and afternoon naps. And who knows? The next miracle might be just around the corner—or at least at the next festival.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to sample the offerings at the local Church of Revelation charity event. Someone has to make sure the dumplings are up to scratch.

—Milosh Cheshire, Catfolk Chronicler, Nova Aurora Daily News