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[ZEITGEIST] The Continuing Adventures of Korrigan & Co.
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<blockquote data-quote="gideonpepys" data-source="post: 7591685" data-attributes="member: 79141"><p><strong>Session 222, Part Four - The God Trial</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>The God Trial</strong></p><p></p><p>The dull roar of a crowd in Plaza Hyperion can be heard from over a mile away. When the unit gets to the Plaza, they are treated to the spectacle of a makeshift stage assembled from toppled marble masonry, rising ten feet above the rest of the plaza. Atop it, eight armored priests, their platemail doused in volcanic ash, hold the ends of chains. Together they watch a feeble manacled prisoner – an old deva woman wearing tattered religious robes.</p><p></p><p>Legate Savina Tullius paces around the accused. Tall, beautiful, and endowed with powers to fascinate the crowd, Savina is making a grand show for her audience.</p><p></p><p>“You have all gathered here to bear witness and hear the crimes of Velkali, the goddess who shelters travellers and offers rest at oases. What oases? I note from an epistle of the ecclesiarch Stella Amphora, who wrote in the year 157 B.O.V. that Velkali was welcomed into our pantheon by the request of the people of the northeast. Any traveller who has gone there knows that land is dry and parched, its people dead. Today that waste has spread throughout our country, and aside from this sheltered garden that people have crafted, our nation is unsafe.</p><p></p><p>“What did this god do when the great calamity struck our people? Nothing! Not a finger was raised to provide succor to her people in the hour of their need.</p><p></p><p>“I quote from the holy poem of Agraman, sacred to Velkali, ‘<em>And she said to the desert folk / let this pledge be never broke / that in your lean and hungered days / your suffering I shall assuage.’</em></p><p></p><p>“I ask that this tribunal take this as evidence that Velkali has forsaken her core vow. She is derelict in her duty.”</p><p></p><p>The elf makes a sweeping gesture towards the crowd. “Who would bear testimony for Velkali? Any?”</p><p></p><p>Uriel speaks up. The initial boos and jeers of the crowd die out when he levitates out of the crowd and floats over to the makeshift stage. Relying on the newly rational world order, his arguments are appeals to logic and focus on the true role of the gods: that people should rely on themselves and not look to the gods to save them. Though compelling, they do not find purchase here, and the charismatic Legate Tullius is easily able to dismiss them: “You cannot defend a god who claimed worship, sacrifice and propitiations by simply saying people should not rely on them. That may be your understanding of theology, it may even be the truth, but it is not what these people have been sold for centuries. Unless you have evidence, stand aside, and let the people judge for themselves the guilt or innocence of this god.”</p><p></p><p>Uriel sees that emotions and hysteria have won the day here, and reluctantly withdraws. He remains above the crowd, hovering, and ignores the occasional missile that bounces off him, or whistles by his head.</p><p></p><p>“And so it is,” says Legate Tullius. “The god has not done was she was pledged to do. Even the humblest tailor can complete their task given to them. Should we not expect any less of gods? Take her. We march for the mountain!”</p><p></p><p>The crowd parts as the armoured guards drag the chained priestess down from the stage. The whole mass of several hundred people heaves out of the plaza and onto the road that leads to Enzyo Mons. Many sing an old song that prays for condemned men as their souls head to the afterlife. (Of all the gods in the Clergy pantheon, no one disputes that the god of death is doing his job.)</p><p></p><p>The trek takes a little over an hour. On the path up the mountain various shrines and small chapels have been toppled or burned down, and crude wooden grave markers erected with the names of dead gods. Between these, beggars huddle under blankets and hide their faces as they hold out pleading hands for alms. The crowd is generous, spending no thought for the morrow, which may, after all, never come.</p><p></p><p>The cathedral of Triegenes looms at the edge of the volcanic caldera, and shining forms circle in the sky above – angels, called to serve Vitus Sigismund, their armour and blades reflecting the hellfire light of the lava.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="gideonpepys, post: 7591685, member: 79141"] [b]Session 222, Part Four - The God Trial[/b] [B]The God Trial[/B] The dull roar of a crowd in Plaza Hyperion can be heard from over a mile away. When the unit gets to the Plaza, they are treated to the spectacle of a makeshift stage assembled from toppled marble masonry, rising ten feet above the rest of the plaza. Atop it, eight armored priests, their platemail doused in volcanic ash, hold the ends of chains. Together they watch a feeble manacled prisoner – an old deva woman wearing tattered religious robes. Legate Savina Tullius paces around the accused. Tall, beautiful, and endowed with powers to fascinate the crowd, Savina is making a grand show for her audience. “You have all gathered here to bear witness and hear the crimes of Velkali, the goddess who shelters travellers and offers rest at oases. What oases? I note from an epistle of the ecclesiarch Stella Amphora, who wrote in the year 157 B.O.V. that Velkali was welcomed into our pantheon by the request of the people of the northeast. Any traveller who has gone there knows that land is dry and parched, its people dead. Today that waste has spread throughout our country, and aside from this sheltered garden that people have crafted, our nation is unsafe. “What did this god do when the great calamity struck our people? Nothing! Not a finger was raised to provide succor to her people in the hour of their need. “I quote from the holy poem of Agraman, sacred to Velkali, ‘[I]And she said to the desert folk / let this pledge be never broke / that in your lean and hungered days / your suffering I shall assuage.’[/I] “I ask that this tribunal take this as evidence that Velkali has forsaken her core vow. She is derelict in her duty.” The elf makes a sweeping gesture towards the crowd. “Who would bear testimony for Velkali? Any?” Uriel speaks up. The initial boos and jeers of the crowd die out when he levitates out of the crowd and floats over to the makeshift stage. Relying on the newly rational world order, his arguments are appeals to logic and focus on the true role of the gods: that people should rely on themselves and not look to the gods to save them. Though compelling, they do not find purchase here, and the charismatic Legate Tullius is easily able to dismiss them: “You cannot defend a god who claimed worship, sacrifice and propitiations by simply saying people should not rely on them. That may be your understanding of theology, it may even be the truth, but it is not what these people have been sold for centuries. Unless you have evidence, stand aside, and let the people judge for themselves the guilt or innocence of this god.” Uriel sees that emotions and hysteria have won the day here, and reluctantly withdraws. He remains above the crowd, hovering, and ignores the occasional missile that bounces off him, or whistles by his head. “And so it is,” says Legate Tullius. “The god has not done was she was pledged to do. Even the humblest tailor can complete their task given to them. Should we not expect any less of gods? Take her. We march for the mountain!” The crowd parts as the armoured guards drag the chained priestess down from the stage. The whole mass of several hundred people heaves out of the plaza and onto the road that leads to Enzyo Mons. Many sing an old song that prays for condemned men as their souls head to the afterlife. (Of all the gods in the Clergy pantheon, no one disputes that the god of death is doing his job.) The trek takes a little over an hour. On the path up the mountain various shrines and small chapels have been toppled or burned down, and crude wooden grave markers erected with the names of dead gods. Between these, beggars huddle under blankets and hide their faces as they hold out pleading hands for alms. The crowd is generous, spending no thought for the morrow, which may, after all, never come. The cathedral of Triegenes looms at the edge of the volcanic caldera, and shining forms circle in the sky above – angels, called to serve Vitus Sigismund, their armour and blades reflecting the hellfire light of the lava. [/QUOTE]
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