I thought about this one for a while, because some drama happened to unfold both during and after this sermon. I debated whether or not to include said interactions and eventually settled on a 'no.' Those who were present have something interesting to gossip and roleplay about and I feel that shouldn't be countered with a mundane OOC explanation of events. To that end, this log ends when the sermon does. Maybe I should have been irritated but the actions during and at the close of the sermon served to invite all manner of RP to my doorstep and I ended up having a wickedly pleasurable time dealing with the aftermath among several other things. I've only lightly edited this log for readability and in order to make it be seen from a third person perspective. (Bet I messed that up somehwere, too!) I went ahead and left in all of my personal errors and typos because why not.
Here we are! The Sermon:
Font of the Devourer.
Whispers in a thousand dissonant voices, each starkly dissimilar, carry hauntingly on the air from a
healing shrine of Morgfyre nearby. The stone walls are sculpted to appear as though entirely of
pulsating flesh, constantly shifting and mutating. At various intervals hands, feet, and every so
often a horrible gnashing mouth emerges to snap at the empty air, as though mad with hunger. Upon
the back wall is the only permanent growth of this edifice, a giant staring eye, red-veined and
piercing. It gazes greedily down upon a wide rectangular hole in the floor beneath it, around which
even the thrashing motions of the living room become still. Within the hole there is nothing but
endless blackness and a terrible silence broken only by the screams of those sent to the gaping maw
of the Devourer of Souls.
She is a fiendish archlich master viscanti grotesque demigoddess and giant patches of her skin have been
covered by calcified rot and pus, the disgusting liquid hardened and taking on a nearly crystalline
sheen and hiding much of her flesh from view. Blazing emerald eyes stare out unhampered save for the
times when hardened locks of ravenesque hair swing to block her line of sight. Deep beneath the patches
on her skin, faint crimson traces of her flesh can be faintly drawn out due to the black lines trailing
over them in a serpentine, ritualistic manner. While her limbs have been weighed down with the heavy
pusstone, raw will and strength have broken the calcification over her fingers to allow her fine motor
skill yet. She is wearing elegant high-heeled shoes of metallic dawn hues, a flowing, shadowed set of
hooded pitch-black robes and a bewitching censer smouldering with lavender flames. She walks with
the truefavour of Drocilla.
Rideta stays silent for a long moment, her emerald eyes dancing lightly from person to person in
attendance. Her face a mask of disgusting stone and hardened puss, there is perhaps only the briefest
evidence of emotion within her features. A visible corner of her lip turns up and her eyes seem to
shrink slightly before she finally speaks.
In a gruff, raspy intonation, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Thank you for coming."
A seething rush of wind sweeps in through the entrance of the Cathedral, growing in intensity and
fervor before the great doors are inexplicably swept shut and a fathomless silence takes hold.
Bringing her misshapen and blocky limbs before her and clasping her fingers together, Warlady Rideta
Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "As a member of the Clergy it's been rather disdainful that we haven't
held a sermon in so many years. I cannot claim to be all-knowing, yet, but I can claim an affinity of
knowledge for both The Devourer and our own Lady Enchantress."
Unclasping her fingers and waving her arms out before her in a grand gesture, Warlady Rideta Feyranti,
of the Gaping Maw says, "It's safe to say that I'm largely guided by Their shared tenets. What follows
will be a brief and truly cursory explanation of some of these lessons and how they affect you."
An elegant strand of indigo fog appears before Rideta, twining and writhing against itself in a complex
dance before coalescing into a intricate glowing Censer. The figure glimmers brightly and changes shades
to a white, metallic sheen. The tiniest spark of light within heaves and expands, quickly growing into a
pronounced and ravenous flame of deep lavender. Rideta smiles.
In stark contrast to the diminuative item of refined beauty lies the stone walls beyond, which seem to
come alive and animate in a sickly green display. Coarse tendrils of flesh and horror begin to flail
about continously in the background behind Rideta . The movements are pronunced by soft sucking sounds
and a grinding of teeth, echoing throughout the chamber in constant hunger.
Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "At first glance these two share absolutely nothing in
common. What does Lord Gorgulu have to do with Lady Drocilla? To the common fool, nothing whatsoever.
One might see a voracious hunk of flesh that demands satiation as nothing more than that. A powerful
Elder Goddess espousing beauty of form lies a far cry from such things as well."
Ulalah's nose gives a little wrinkle.
Eyes flashing brilliantly in the light, you say, "However."
Vyell tilts her head and listens intently.
You say, "We here gathered are no fools, and thus we seek enlightenment."
Ulalah leaves to the west.
Rideta thrusts her hands forward in an upward fashion as a cold mist wafts down from her body. The
landscape beneath her shifts. The floor beneath her rises just so, creating a modest pulpit, and a
pillar of twisting flesh some four feet tall grows before her and undulates wildly.
Rideta visibly grits her teeth and casts a wicked grin before making a cutting motion in the air. The
disgusting swell of skin ruptures in countless locations and expels a horrific fluid that fills the room
with a nauseating aroma.
The grotesque smell persists for just an instant, suddenly overtaken by an overwhelming draft of
lavender. These sores begin to immediately scab over, causing the pillar to gradually slow in motion and
violence until a hardened collumn of decay stands before her at last. Rideta leans forward, resting her
form against the crude lectern.
Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Lord Gorgulu is a hunger, aye. A deep, unfulfilled
longing to consume utterly everything. Most are aware of this facet to His being. How that desire
translates into power, however, eludes many. Lord Gorgulu's insatiable need for more is the very
definition of strength... of passion."
Bringing a curled fist down upon the thick lectern, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says,
"Never being satisfied, always looking to the next item, the next task, the next meal. Hunger is the
essence of ambition and hated foe to complacency. How can one rest, satisfied with life, if they are
constantly hungry and eager for more? It's impossible!"
Her voice rising with every word, until she is nearly yelling, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping
Maw says, "Ah, I've already given away the correlation haven't I? Passion! Our Lady Drocilla views
passion as incredibly important to the Mortal Shards. One must have passion in all things. One must put
their everything into any given task and display their need for perfection! One must become a slave to
ambition and seek to do all they can to create, to change, to endow the world around them with glory!"
Rideta frowns as the ruddy calcifications about her mouth crack and fall away as she speaks and divulge
the presence of perfect wine-colored lips, seemingly a cruel jape against the horror of the rest of her
A crazed gleam upon her features, she hammers brutally against the lecturn as she speaks, causing it
to shudder, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Passion, Ambition, Hunger, the very
cornerstones of Change and Transformation! These vital tenets are the sole reason for the existence of
our dear City. Would that Saverian the First did not heed this Hunger and pronounce himself Warlord.
Would that he failed to abolish the House of Prophets, would that he sat flaccidly and never pronounced
the glory of the Viscanti and uphold them above all others. Could you even imagine?"
Rideta pants softly, rivulets of rusty tinged sweat eeking out a path across her face. She leans forward
just so, causing great clumps of hair to hide her features. After a moment she whips the obstruction of
hair savagely and causes the hardened blocks encasing her mane to shatter amongst eachother, revealing
more and more the image of pristine raven locks. She composes herself, smoothing the rumples and creases
of her robe.
Rideta clears her throat.
Laughing softly, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Do you hunger? I think you should."
With a sudden shift in tone as her coarse and raspy voice moves into a pristine, sultry tilt, Warlady
Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "But with this heedless desire for more comes our next lesson
alike. Lord Gorgulu is also a symbol of caution, is He not? His great hunger nearly doomed us all many
years ago, and would have brought ruin not only to this city but to all of existence."
Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "In this we must recognize caution, control, and the
wisdom gained through this recognition.It is not a true directive of our Lord, but an indirect one of
equal importance and measure. Our desires, ever encompassing... but brought to heel and focused like
Rideta clenches her fists in her fervor, the action sending barely visible fractures coursing up her
arms with an audible crack.
Her blackened tongue dancing against her teeth, enunciating each syllable in a lusty exhalation, Warlady
Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Refinement."
With an amused expression, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Our Lady's teaching of
refinement is traditionally interpreted as transformation into elegance, and this is true. An urchin
into a Lady of the Court, for instance. Rags to gowns. Leather to lace."
Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "But, there are other paths. Refinement has so many
more far-reaching connotations. Refinement of action, refinement of slaughter, refinement of technique.
So long as it is driven to improvement, one can say that there has been a refinement, no?"
Rideta begins to quite literally become taller, larger, her form growing in length and proportion as her
sermon continues. Great chunks of pusstone debris begin to fall from her limbs, revealing unnaturally
perfect carmine flesh within. Her skin glows with a liquescent sheen that ripples across her semi-divine
form and the faint sent of pepper drifts lazily through the room.
Continuing to speak in a low and steady tone, seemingly oblivious to this ongoing revelation of
presence, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Refinement, in this sense of wisdom through
control, is therefore refinement of purpose. You feel the hunger and the need to improve roiling your
guts, tumbling about like a boulder deep inside of your belly, this desire for greatness... but you must
focus your energies!"
Shaking her head softly, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "You must recognize that this
refinement is not simply in existence, but must be crafted through your own efforts and practices. One
is not simply born refined, one must forge that path through strength of will and adherence to passion.
One must have a goal, a dream, and pursue it relentlessly. Over time this dream is like to evolve as you
do, and through it we find greater refinement of self."
Holding out her hands, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "Hunger leads to passion.
Passion yields to Ambition! Ambition need be tempered with Wisdom to be Refined, and Refinement creates
the Improved Self. The process is a cyclical one, ever repeating, because as hungerers we must always
reach for more. Perhaps eternally so. Only the Lady might know when we pitiful shards have reached
perfection, but we are graced with the knowledge that this transformation is meant to be a difficult
Rideta casually pulls a pair of long crimson needles from within the folds of her robe and sets to
taming the long flow of inky hair atop her head, fashioning it carefully into an extravagant and looping
bun, which she impales in place with the pins.
Chuckling, the sound like sweet honey, Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw says, "After all, from
She is a fiendish archlich master viscanti transformative demigoddess and looms over her surroundings
with an uneasy combination of grace and intimidation, aided in part by her six and a half feet of
height. Carmine skin, as smooth to the sight as velvet, seems to shine with a liquescent sheen that
gives off faint traces of stolen light and carries the strong, harsh, and spicy aroma of cayenne
pepper. Rich, inky hair has been gathered in a luxurious updo, the loose bun held in place by two
needles. Accompanying the updo are two long loops of hair that begin at the nape of her neck and
stretch down to the middle of her back. Gleaming with a fierce intelligence, her emerald eyes have
been outlined with the barest hints of eye shadow and liner. Her nose ends in a faint upward curve,
defining the bow of her upper lip, the flesh there painted in a deep wine only a shade or two darker
than her skin. A glimpse of pearly teeth can be seen when she opens her mouth, her black tongue
nearly constantly in threat of being shredded against her dangerously sharp canines. She carries
herself with the grace of a lady of court, evident in the easy and fluid movements of her limbs.
Despite this, there is no evidence of undue fat, her muscles defined in a fair display of
athleticism that accentuates her feminine attributes. She is wearing elegant high-heeled shoes of
metallic dawn hues, a flowing, shadowed set of hooded pitch-black robes and a bewitching censer
smouldering with lavender flames. She walks with the truefavour of Drocilla.
Rideta gives a flick of her wrist, accentuated by the graceful movement of her arm, and the floating
censer before her vanishes. Another deliberate motion and the sculpted walls behind her cease their
motions and sounds as a fathomless silence takes hold of the Cathedral once again.
Rideta taps a manicured nail lightly upon the foul lecturn before her and it shifts in upon itself,
turning a bright coppery color before fading into a sickly goop and vanishing through the floor.
Her chin high as she gazes imperiously across the room., Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw
says, "Hunger. Passion. Wisdom. Refinement. Learn these lessons well, and grow to untold heights of
Warlady Rideta Feyranti, of the Gaping Maw smiles and says, "In the name of The Five and in the name of
The Twelve, slaughter well."
(Magnagora): Thax says, "My truest favour to the soldier that brings me the weave of Neos."