"Fear not, for you will survive your next battle. Your legs will not."
"The raiders will be funneled and led to slaughter by your ingenious town defenses. Their children will starve to death this winter."
"Your parents shall not seek divorce, your house shall stand tall and proud. Their love is strong, and their lovelife increasingly experimental since your conception."
"Enter the tournament resolved in yourself and your abilities. None shall take heed of your failures. Or your successes."
"Soon you will become the most handsome, most desirable man in the entire village. Weeping Liver Plague has a ninety percent fatality rate."
- Various prophesies of Yishel, as they were found transcribed upon plates of tortoise shell by the back-alley fortune-tellers of Shur'nab.
Information is, by itself, mindless. It does not want to be released nor remain hidden. It is not good or bad. It exists whether it may be observed or not, even if it is somewhat pointless in that case. It is as immaterial a substance as time, and just as valuable a resource to the thinking, conscious mind. Taken into the intelligent mind, information is only as limited in its applications as the ability of the informed. Thus, among all of the things which can be counted as sacred by the peoples of the world and beyond, knowledge is among the absolute most powerful.
Of course, the gods born from knowledge and from whom knowledge arises do not tend to care much for actually using their knowledge to effect change upon the spheres of existence. Aside from making them natural candidates for the devotion of hundreds of Ivory Tower University staff and faculty, this also made them seem somewhat inactive, unimpressive, or even boring. They simply existed, in possession of all information known and unknown, as persistent and primeval a force of nature as any forest god or sea spirit.
And so, over time, those mortals crafty enough to gain knowledge for themselves developed means and ways in which to treat with these beings and personifications. The first priests of knowledge and wisdom were therefore less like clerics or shamans, and much more like scholars experienced in communicating with the comatose. Through their careful study, ritual, and astral suggestion, ancient secrets were able to be made known, and the innumerable progressions of thought, technology, and innovation were irrevocably changed. The early scholars eventually left their own imprint upon the vast, featureless godheads of information, making them more alike in small ways over many eons to the tiny mortals who prodded at them and picked their brains for wisdom
Gods of prophesy were among the first and most fabulous, followed almost immediately after by the clandestine deities of well-kept secrets and hidden things. Then the concept of illumination was wedded with knowledge by some, and darkness with ignorance by others, and ever since there has been a metaphysical war between the two camps. Firmly established upon the side of spreading any and all knowledge is one strange, tiny being who has come to be named Yishel.
Yishel effortlessly, almost thoughtlessly spills any knowledge which it possesses whenever it seems relevant to the situation at hand. Thus it is the easiest of the gods of prophecy and revelation to access, and oftentimes one of the most accurate. But that does not in any way mean that what is revealed is what the asker of the question wanted to know in the first place. Wedded with every delightfully clear answer given is a related yet often unwanted second answer, tailor-made to confound the bearer of curiosity. Through this, Yishel balance any resulting satisfaction or confidence with uncertainty, and a reminder of the infinite and uncaring tangencies which the universe has in store for all.
Yishel's petitioners tend to be desperate or cynical enough to be willing to weather the double-answers of the god. It has few allies, tending to alienate everyone who has direct dealings with it. Even those beings of pure knowledge who try to paint a more positive image of free information find it to be an unhelpful and annoying compatriot, while those who would prefer to keep something secret and safe for the sake of all simply gesture toward the disconcerting blabberer of weal and woe as reason enough why some things are better left swept under the metaphorical rug.