Past few hours have been pretty fun. Magnagora held a festival complete with wargames and debating competitions, and I finished it off with a sermon. Thanks to the Divine that provided some flavour along the way (Alaron moving, the river of blood, me floating). Much 
for divine interaction.
So, without further ado, the sermon...
Font of the Beast.
This font emanates an air of palpable authority strong enough to induce awe. It
is formed entirely of black marble and gold, the contrast drawing attention to
every tiny detail of craftsmanship, every miniscule carving that adds to the
aura of raw majesty. In each of the four corners of the room stands a different
tableau: in one corner a flame roars angrily, in another stands a bloodstained
Iron Maiden, in the third hangs a gleaming silver web, and in the fourth writhes
a mass of mutating flesh. A path of red stone lined with gold leads straight up
the center of a room to a magnificent altar of bone, stained a deep crimson by
the life's blood of a thousand sacrifices. Before the altar stands a mighty
scepter, its head of polished obsidian, waiting to deliver judgment to the
faithless. In the back of the room sprawls a huge throne of skulls, empty to the
naked eye but radiating the cold, regal presence of the Supreme Master of Nil.
Cloaked in tattered robes of black, this figure's visage is hidden from view. A
malevolent demon prowls here. A stunning fiend stands here, playing with its
hair. Apprentice of Stone Anja is here. She wields a twisted staff in her left
hand and an iron shield in her right. Ur'Warlord Daevos, the Dragon of Midnight
is here. Protector of Stone, Korolak D'Baen, Speaker of Spectres is here. He
wields a twisted staff in his left hand and an iron shield in his right. Xerine,
One Of The Damned is here. He wields a silver-edged kite shield in his left
hand. Specialist in Survival Zalana Feyranti is here. Myrmidon Kalas Ildaudid is
here. He wields a warrior's iron greatsword in his left hand. Trooper Marlucia
is here. Connoisseur of Discomfort, Dvyrus d'Erlette is here. Feyrll, Apprentice
of Earth is here. Urth Gavriel, Instrument of the Fates is here. Penitent Polion
is here. Trooper Yukari Saitama-d'Erlette is here. She wields an etched-platinum
klangaxe in her left hand. Penitent Varshsa is here. She wields an onyx throwing
dagger in her left hand. Ur'Guard Initiate, Ridenath is here. He wields an
elegant katana in his left hand.
You see a single exit leading south.
You see the following people here:
Anja, Daevos, Korolak, Xerine, Zalana, Ildaudid, Marlucia, Dvyrus, Feyrll,
Gavriel, Polion, Yukari, Varshsa, Ridenath, Kahazul
Kahazul emerges from the heart of the cathedral and walks the
red stone path to the Font of the Beast, robes drawn tight about his form and
some object clutched between decaying fingers. He gestures towards those
gathered on either side of the aisle as he begins to speak.
You say, "Gather 'round, proud citizens of Magnagora! I've a few words to share
with you all, if you'll hear them."
Feyrll tilts her head and listens intently.
Alaron y'Bolgari, the High Priest of the Silent Cathedral steps away from the
altar, allowing Kahazul to take his place.
Kahazul draws up beside the altar and turns to face those
gathered, a wide grin illuminating the void beneath his cowl.
You say, "Please remain silent for the duration of the sermon. And whatever
visions come to you from the darkness, take care not to scream, lest you awaken
some truly malignant force. This place is thin, and who can tell what monsters
dwell between the planes?"
Kahazul takes his place behind the Font, drawing back his cowl
while placing the object on the altar before him. It is a tome of extreme
antiquity, the title faded to nothingness and the pages yellowed and mossy. He
raises one hand above the volume and chants a harsh, guttural syllable that
causes it to fall open to a page somewhere near the middle.
You say, "This past month has been rife will celebration of our Empire and its
many great persons and accomplishments. We are indeed blessed by good fortune
and enlightenment beyond any other living mortals, but let us not forget the
beings that have made this prosperity possible. Let us pay our respects to the
Demon Lords of Nil."
Crimson Psionist Mederrach Feyranti bows his head in silent prayer, his lips
moving without sound.
You have emoted: Kahazul turns towards the raging fire in one corner of the room
and nods his head. The flame immediately leaps upward and the temperature in the
room rises several degrees, the odor of burning brimstone growing thick.
You say, "Let us always hold Ashtorath first within our hearts! Lord Ashtorath,
Duke of Inescapable Damnation - he embodies fury and hatred, the mad passion
that drives all life. Let your rage empower you to strike down your foes without
question, to utterly destroy any who would harm your allies, and to annihilate
all who have wronged you in the name of revenge."
Kahazul turns towards the opposite corner, in which there rests
a silvered spider's web. The web shimmers slightly as it is addressed, and one
can barely discern tiny black shapes moving over its ethereal surface.
You say, "Let us always hold Baalphegar first within our minds! He is the Keeper
of the Web of Despair and the Prince of Dark Fates. Knowledge is his realm,
secrets especially, and destiny is his plaything. Let your thirst for forbidden
knowledge drive you to new discoveries, and may you be wise enough to share your
secrets only for your own gain. Do not let others dictate your destiny, be they
friends, family, or the fates themselves. You are your own master and cannot be
made to answer to any mortal - cleave your own path and leave your mark upon
creation!"
Kahazul turns towards the adjacent corner, in which an iron
maiden leans ajar. Thick droplets of blood form at the tip of each spike and
fall to pool at the maiden's feet, the echo of their impact reverberating
throughout the room and carrying with it the sickly stench of spoiled meat.
You say, "Let us always hold Nifilhema first within our hands - so that we may
wield blade and skewer with unmatched skill, and work her art most flawlessly.
Lady Nifilhema, so beautiful that no mortal dream can match, so terrible that
your nightmares pale. Manifest pain in every thing you do, to bring suffering
upon your foes and pleasure upon those close to you. Revel in the violence that
surrounds you as a servant of the Empire, exalt in it and raise it up as the
highest of art forms!"
Kahazul turns towards the opposite corner, in which a mound of
festering flesh and sinew writhes atop a pedestal. Its frenzied movements grow
more exaggerated as Kahazul looks upon it, seeming to bubble and mutate before
your very eyes.
You say, "Let us always hold Gorgulu first within our flesh! The Devourer of
Souls is the taint personified, its most pure creation and most horrible of
scions. Devour all, as he does, and remake it in the image of Nil and the Taint!
Sow pestilence and rot as a farmer would sow seeds, that the land may thrive and
explode forth corruption of every variety."
Blood continues to flow from the Iron Maiden, faster and faster as it grows into
a small river, wending its way towards the Altar in the center of the room.
Simultaneously, the mass of mutating flesh twitches and writhes in everlasting
agony.
Kahazul smiles, satisfied, turning back to the Font and the
book.
Kahazul raises one hand into the air as his eyes begin to scan
the pages before him, and after a moment he clamps his upraised hand into a
fist. As he does so the air about him seems to warp and the four symbols present
in the corners of the chamber begin to fade out. The writhing mass of flesh,
testament to Gorgulu, becalms itself; the mighty flame of Ashtorath dims; the
web of Baalphegar loses its luster; the iron maiden sinks away into the shadows.
All that is left is the bloodstained altar and Kahazul beyond it, suspended upon
a sea of black swarming with indistinguishable shapes.
As Kahazul gestures, the sea of the darkest midnight bubbles and boils beneath
him, raising him into the air.
You say, "To the other Demon Lords of Nil you have pledged your mind and your
body! But there is one more, and such trivialities matter naught to him!"
Kahazul pulls his hand forward as though tugging at a curtain,
drawing a swathe of liquid shadows before him. The shadows form a sort of screen
that remains suspended in front of the font, and upon it writhing shapes begin
to dance tortuously.
You say, "Behold, souls from the very pits of Nil, damned for eternity! Their
suffering shall last until the death of time itself, and even then their screams
shall echo for numberless eons throughout the void! Woe to any that should
encounter them!"
Kahazul begins to chant in some alien language, invoking the
spirits of the damned. His blasphemous song is quickly cut short by an
otherworldly wailing that originates from every point in the room
simultaneously, the walls coming alive with the writhing forms of the condemned.
Kahazul shouts over it all, his voice amplified by some unseen force.
Crimson Psionist Mederrach Feyranti grimaces, glancing around himself, followed
by a twisted grin of satisfaction.
You shout, "To the Supreme Master we must pledge our very souls, to Luciphage,
the Dark Lord of Nil! It is through Supreme Master Luciphage that we may attain
perfection, through careful manipulation of our foes, infinite patience in our
schemes, and unwavering domination of all those subservient and inferior to us!
Glory unto the Supreme Master!"
Zalana's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
You have emoted: Kahazul casts his arms out to either side, dispelling the
spirits instantly and plunging the room into pitch.
You say, "Stray not from the path of the Demon Lords, and never act in such a
way as to earn their disfavour, lest you join the legions of damned souls you
witnessed here tonight - an infinitely small fraction of the whole! Never allow
yourself to be deceived into the beliefs of the Light, for their ways are old
and weak. Mortality rose in the wake of the Light and shall fall by it. Are we
tainted and undead not blessed by Kethuru and the Demon Lords, and above
mortality? Our reign as the undying lords of Lusternia shall last forever."
You say, "Do not forget today's sermon. Remember. Remember, always, that your
body is Gorgulu's to consume, your passions Ashtorath's to abuse, your blood
Nifilhema's to spill, your mind Baalphegar's to plunder, and your soul
Luciphage's to sunder!"
Kahazul allows his arms to fall to his side, and light returns
to the chamber as quickly as it was extinguished. The room is unchanged.
You say, "That is all. I bid thee all farewell - do not tarry long in this
place."
Crimson Psionist Mederrach Feyranti bows his head in silent prayer, muttering
softly under his breath.
fling hermit at ground
You fling your Hermit tarot to the ground. Upon contact, it explodes in a great
flash of technicolour light.
You vaguely make out a large, square doorway of light and you step through it.
for divine interaction. So, without further ado, the sermon...
Font of the Beast.
This font emanates an air of palpable authority strong enough to induce awe. It
is formed entirely of black marble and gold, the contrast drawing attention to
every tiny detail of craftsmanship, every miniscule carving that adds to the
aura of raw majesty. In each of the four corners of the room stands a different
tableau: in one corner a flame roars angrily, in another stands a bloodstained
Iron Maiden, in the third hangs a gleaming silver web, and in the fourth writhes
a mass of mutating flesh. A path of red stone lined with gold leads straight up
the center of a room to a magnificent altar of bone, stained a deep crimson by
the life's blood of a thousand sacrifices. Before the altar stands a mighty
scepter, its head of polished obsidian, waiting to deliver judgment to the
faithless. In the back of the room sprawls a huge throne of skulls, empty to the
naked eye but radiating the cold, regal presence of the Supreme Master of Nil.
Cloaked in tattered robes of black, this figure's visage is hidden from view. A
malevolent demon prowls here. A stunning fiend stands here, playing with its
hair. Apprentice of Stone Anja is here. She wields a twisted staff in her left
hand and an iron shield in her right. Ur'Warlord Daevos, the Dragon of Midnight
is here. Protector of Stone, Korolak D'Baen, Speaker of Spectres is here. He
wields a twisted staff in his left hand and an iron shield in his right. Xerine,
One Of The Damned is here. He wields a silver-edged kite shield in his left
hand. Specialist in Survival Zalana Feyranti is here. Myrmidon Kalas Ildaudid is
here. He wields a warrior's iron greatsword in his left hand. Trooper Marlucia
is here. Connoisseur of Discomfort, Dvyrus d'Erlette is here. Feyrll, Apprentice
of Earth is here. Urth Gavriel, Instrument of the Fates is here. Penitent Polion
is here. Trooper Yukari Saitama-d'Erlette is here. She wields an etched-platinum
klangaxe in her left hand. Penitent Varshsa is here. She wields an onyx throwing
dagger in her left hand. Ur'Guard Initiate, Ridenath is here. He wields an
elegant katana in his left hand.
You see a single exit leading south.
You see the following people here:
Anja, Daevos, Korolak, Xerine, Zalana, Ildaudid, Marlucia, Dvyrus, Feyrll,
Gavriel, Polion, Yukari, Varshsa, Ridenath, Kahazul
Kahazul emerges from the heart of the cathedral and walks the
red stone path to the Font of the Beast, robes drawn tight about his form and
some object clutched between decaying fingers. He gestures towards those
gathered on either side of the aisle as he begins to speak.
You say, "Gather 'round, proud citizens of Magnagora! I've a few words to share
with you all, if you'll hear them."
Feyrll tilts her head and listens intently.
Alaron y'Bolgari, the High Priest of the Silent Cathedral steps away from the
altar, allowing Kahazul to take his place.
Kahazul draws up beside the altar and turns to face those
gathered, a wide grin illuminating the void beneath his cowl.
You say, "Please remain silent for the duration of the sermon. And whatever
visions come to you from the darkness, take care not to scream, lest you awaken
some truly malignant force. This place is thin, and who can tell what monsters
dwell between the planes?"
Kahazul takes his place behind the Font, drawing back his cowl
while placing the object on the altar before him. It is a tome of extreme
antiquity, the title faded to nothingness and the pages yellowed and mossy. He
raises one hand above the volume and chants a harsh, guttural syllable that
causes it to fall open to a page somewhere near the middle.
You say, "This past month has been rife will celebration of our Empire and its
many great persons and accomplishments. We are indeed blessed by good fortune
and enlightenment beyond any other living mortals, but let us not forget the
beings that have made this prosperity possible. Let us pay our respects to the
Demon Lords of Nil."
Crimson Psionist Mederrach Feyranti bows his head in silent prayer, his lips
moving without sound.
You have emoted: Kahazul turns towards the raging fire in one corner of the room
and nods his head. The flame immediately leaps upward and the temperature in the
room rises several degrees, the odor of burning brimstone growing thick.
You say, "Let us always hold Ashtorath first within our hearts! Lord Ashtorath,
Duke of Inescapable Damnation - he embodies fury and hatred, the mad passion
that drives all life. Let your rage empower you to strike down your foes without
question, to utterly destroy any who would harm your allies, and to annihilate
all who have wronged you in the name of revenge."
Kahazul turns towards the opposite corner, in which there rests
a silvered spider's web. The web shimmers slightly as it is addressed, and one
can barely discern tiny black shapes moving over its ethereal surface.
You say, "Let us always hold Baalphegar first within our minds! He is the Keeper
of the Web of Despair and the Prince of Dark Fates. Knowledge is his realm,
secrets especially, and destiny is his plaything. Let your thirst for forbidden
knowledge drive you to new discoveries, and may you be wise enough to share your
secrets only for your own gain. Do not let others dictate your destiny, be they
friends, family, or the fates themselves. You are your own master and cannot be
made to answer to any mortal - cleave your own path and leave your mark upon
creation!"
Kahazul turns towards the adjacent corner, in which an iron
maiden leans ajar. Thick droplets of blood form at the tip of each spike and
fall to pool at the maiden's feet, the echo of their impact reverberating
throughout the room and carrying with it the sickly stench of spoiled meat.
You say, "Let us always hold Nifilhema first within our hands - so that we may
wield blade and skewer with unmatched skill, and work her art most flawlessly.
Lady Nifilhema, so beautiful that no mortal dream can match, so terrible that
your nightmares pale. Manifest pain in every thing you do, to bring suffering
upon your foes and pleasure upon those close to you. Revel in the violence that
surrounds you as a servant of the Empire, exalt in it and raise it up as the
highest of art forms!"
Kahazul turns towards the opposite corner, in which a mound of
festering flesh and sinew writhes atop a pedestal. Its frenzied movements grow
more exaggerated as Kahazul looks upon it, seeming to bubble and mutate before
your very eyes.
You say, "Let us always hold Gorgulu first within our flesh! The Devourer of
Souls is the taint personified, its most pure creation and most horrible of
scions. Devour all, as he does, and remake it in the image of Nil and the Taint!
Sow pestilence and rot as a farmer would sow seeds, that the land may thrive and
explode forth corruption of every variety."
Blood continues to flow from the Iron Maiden, faster and faster as it grows into
a small river, wending its way towards the Altar in the center of the room.
Simultaneously, the mass of mutating flesh twitches and writhes in everlasting
agony.
Kahazul smiles, satisfied, turning back to the Font and the
book.
Kahazul raises one hand into the air as his eyes begin to scan
the pages before him, and after a moment he clamps his upraised hand into a
fist. As he does so the air about him seems to warp and the four symbols present
in the corners of the chamber begin to fade out. The writhing mass of flesh,
testament to Gorgulu, becalms itself; the mighty flame of Ashtorath dims; the
web of Baalphegar loses its luster; the iron maiden sinks away into the shadows.
All that is left is the bloodstained altar and Kahazul beyond it, suspended upon
a sea of black swarming with indistinguishable shapes.
As Kahazul gestures, the sea of the darkest midnight bubbles and boils beneath
him, raising him into the air.
You say, "To the other Demon Lords of Nil you have pledged your mind and your
body! But there is one more, and such trivialities matter naught to him!"
Kahazul pulls his hand forward as though tugging at a curtain,
drawing a swathe of liquid shadows before him. The shadows form a sort of screen
that remains suspended in front of the font, and upon it writhing shapes begin
to dance tortuously.
You say, "Behold, souls from the very pits of Nil, damned for eternity! Their
suffering shall last until the death of time itself, and even then their screams
shall echo for numberless eons throughout the void! Woe to any that should
encounter them!"
Kahazul begins to chant in some alien language, invoking the
spirits of the damned. His blasphemous song is quickly cut short by an
otherworldly wailing that originates from every point in the room
simultaneously, the walls coming alive with the writhing forms of the condemned.
Kahazul shouts over it all, his voice amplified by some unseen force.
Crimson Psionist Mederrach Feyranti grimaces, glancing around himself, followed
by a twisted grin of satisfaction.
You shout, "To the Supreme Master we must pledge our very souls, to Luciphage,
the Dark Lord of Nil! It is through Supreme Master Luciphage that we may attain
perfection, through careful manipulation of our foes, infinite patience in our
schemes, and unwavering domination of all those subservient and inferior to us!
Glory unto the Supreme Master!"
Zalana's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
You have emoted: Kahazul casts his arms out to either side, dispelling the
spirits instantly and plunging the room into pitch.
You say, "Stray not from the path of the Demon Lords, and never act in such a
way as to earn their disfavour, lest you join the legions of damned souls you
witnessed here tonight - an infinitely small fraction of the whole! Never allow
yourself to be deceived into the beliefs of the Light, for their ways are old
and weak. Mortality rose in the wake of the Light and shall fall by it. Are we
tainted and undead not blessed by Kethuru and the Demon Lords, and above
mortality? Our reign as the undying lords of Lusternia shall last forever."
You say, "Do not forget today's sermon. Remember. Remember, always, that your
body is Gorgulu's to consume, your passions Ashtorath's to abuse, your blood
Nifilhema's to spill, your mind Baalphegar's to plunder, and your soul
Luciphage's to sunder!"
Kahazul allows his arms to fall to his side, and light returns
to the chamber as quickly as it was extinguished. The room is unchanged.
You say, "That is all. I bid thee all farewell - do not tarry long in this
place."
Crimson Psionist Mederrach Feyranti bows his head in silent prayer, muttering
softly under his breath.
fling hermit at ground
You fling your Hermit tarot to the ground. Upon contact, it explodes in a great
flash of technicolour light.
You vaguely make out a large, square doorway of light and you step through it.
Yeah it was fun, that was the most fun I've had on Lusty for a while 
. Good sermon too.
. Good sermon too.I was wondering what that was...
Sounds like it was a lot of fun, too bad I had to miss it
Sounds like it was a lot of fun, too bad I had to miss it
Nice.
Now we know why Magnagorans are such wholesome, well-adjusted people.
Now we know why Magnagorans are such wholesome, well-adjusted people.
Very nice!
Now have Daxera sneak you inside the Deep Blue cathedral and hold one there
Now have Daxera sneak you inside the Deep Blue cathedral and hold one there
Actually, the first thing I thought was "that sounds an awful like those Moon rituals where people would shout about it that they made fun of."
QUOTE(Temporary_Guido @ Jun 9 2006, 12:30 AM) 295792
Yeah, it was intentional. And I got plenty of 'omg shut up' tells from idiots, as expected.
Should have put tells off for the duration, just to make the 1337|\\|355 complete and undesecrated.
Still awesome. Might have to move Kymir back into the Nihilists. ... again.
