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[ZEITGEIST] The Continuing Adventures of Korrigan & Co.
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<blockquote data-quote="gideonpepys" data-source="post: 7592603" data-attributes="member: 79141"><p><strong>Session 222, Part Five - The Sermon on the Mount</strong></p><p></p><p>The crowd marches through the open doors of the cathedral, where priests in soot-dappled armour and monks in funereal robes watch for signs of dissent. The monks intone low hymns, slowly repeating parts of the chant for the sacrament of apotheosis.</p><p></p><p>Ten-foot wide fluted columns rise eighty feet to support the ceiling, from which statues of holy figures hang, their eyes turned skyward. Some of them have been recently cracked and removed, their white marble pristine beside the ash-coated surfaces of the rest of the ceiling.</p><p></p><p>Rows of pews stretch the length of the building, which is constructed with a slight downward slope akin to stadium seating. Aisles flank the pews, lined with ornate statuary that depicts the life and ascendance of Triegenes. Grand stained glass windows beyond the rostrum permit crimson light, but where a traditional cathedral would have a back wall behind the pulpit, here the building opens to a wide balcony with pitted and burnt stone tiles. Grandiose fountains lie on either side of the balcony, each consisting of stone sailors on boats, holding silver chains that end in harpoons and fishhooks, the symbol of Triegenes. A railing encircles most of the balcony, but leaves a fifteen foot wide section open, perilously overlooking the burbling molten rock in the mouth of the volcano.</p><p></p><p>From the moment one enters the cathedral, a single figure is visible all the way down the length of the building, standing at the precipice. Bald, silhouetted by the fiery haze, Vitus Sigismund raises one hand and beckons the mob and the condemned to meet him on the balcony.</p><p></p><p>The crowd fills the cathedral and many flow out onto the edge, though priests stop the group before a dangerous number press through. The onlookers form a half-ring around Sigismund as Legate Tullius and her priests guide the priestess of Velkali to the edge. A bucket of blood with brushes in it has been set up on the balcony. Legate Tullius goes to Sigismund and whispers in his ear. He scans the crowd and sees the unit, but does not react beyond that.</p><p></p><p>Then Sigismund begins to speak, and as he does, his fellow monks take up bloody brushes and begin to paint symbols on the priestess. “I understand,” Sigismund says, “that the tribunal of the people has found the goddess Velkali guilty of forsaking her pledge to protect us in our time of suffering. Before you lay sentence, heed this sermon, children.</p><p></p><p>“I have faith. I know you do. Say, do you have faith?”</p><p></p><p>The crowd murmurs in agreement.</p><p></p><p>“Do you have faith? Don’t lie.”</p><p></p><p>A louder, pleading response from the crowd cries yes.</p><p></p><p>“I hear your uncertainty. I feel it too. I do not wish to see those who I pray to be shown as liars. I pledged my life to the gods, foremost of all to Triegenes. The core of our faith is this. A man can overcome adversity to become anything he chooses. A hero. A king. A god.</p><p></p><p>“But too many of us choose the wrong path. We become braggarts. Blackguards. We swagger and slander and become tyrants over whatever small world we can grab.</p><p></p><p>“And this new world, this dark and damned world we see around us? I tell you it has changed because those who once led us were lying to us for years. They did not trust us. I tried to find the truth, and they killed and cursed righteous friends who would have pulled their schemes into the light. And their scheme, I tell you, was to decide what we would be. They decided what they thought was right. And they did not give us a choice. They did not let us test ourselves. If the meaning of life is to choose what you become, they tried to eliminate it. That’s as good as killing us all.”</p><p></p><p>Korrigan leans towards Leon and whispers in admiration, “This guy’s good.”</p><p></p><p>“Our hierarchs betrayed their vows to us. I’m sure the kings and philosophers and sovereigns of the rest of the world did the same to their people.” (Here he casts a pointed glance at Korrigan & Co.) “They should be punished, and we, the children, should retake a world they have stolen from us.</p><p></p><p>“I say to, none of us is different. Our leaders abandoned us. The gods? They abandoned us! And you, each of you! You know you have abandoned your brothers and sisters. Do not think we are better because we sit in judgment. We are all weak.</p><p></p><p>“But we are all strong too, in that any man can rise above his frailties. Any ruler can be just. Any god can obey his pledge to this world. I shall ask you to lay sentence, but know when you judge, you judge yourselves as well. Have you, children, risen to what you could be?”</p><p></p><p>He pauses for a long moment of silence.</p><p></p><p>“This goddess, Velkali, is guilty! She has forsaken us, and like a soldier who leaves his post, her crime cannot be forgiven. Tribunal, what is your sentence?”</p><p></p><p>As one, the crowd roars, “Death!”</p><p></p><p>With swift confidence, Vitus begins to chant. He grasps the priestess’s head and somehow compels her to intone with him, “Before I was nothing but words. Now I am all that is believed. I am faith made flesh. I am flesh made a god.”</p><p></p><p>The monks remove the chains on the prisoner, who falls over, gasps, and begins to swell in size. (Uriel notices Leon whose mask is turned towards him. He can feel the unseen eyes boring into him.) Blue-white energy arcs off of her body in fiery blazes, and she staggers to her feet, fifteen feet tall, with long blue-green hair flowing and rippling like water. She looks down at her hands, then lifts her gaze to the crowd. She opens her mouth to speak, but beside her Sigismund has planted his feet solidly, and he lunges into her, pressing with one hand. The blow hurls the goddess off the edge of the balcony. The crowd holds its breath.</p><p></p><p>Caught in the telekinetic grip of Uriel, the goddess rises back up out of the caldera. The crowd’s gasp of outrage is as loud as a roar.</p><p></p><p><strong>End of Session</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="gideonpepys, post: 7592603, member: 79141"] [b]Session 222, Part Five - The Sermon on the Mount[/b] The crowd marches through the open doors of the cathedral, where priests in soot-dappled armour and monks in funereal robes watch for signs of dissent. The monks intone low hymns, slowly repeating parts of the chant for the sacrament of apotheosis. Ten-foot wide fluted columns rise eighty feet to support the ceiling, from which statues of holy figures hang, their eyes turned skyward. Some of them have been recently cracked and removed, their white marble pristine beside the ash-coated surfaces of the rest of the ceiling. Rows of pews stretch the length of the building, which is constructed with a slight downward slope akin to stadium seating. Aisles flank the pews, lined with ornate statuary that depicts the life and ascendance of Triegenes. Grand stained glass windows beyond the rostrum permit crimson light, but where a traditional cathedral would have a back wall behind the pulpit, here the building opens to a wide balcony with pitted and burnt stone tiles. Grandiose fountains lie on either side of the balcony, each consisting of stone sailors on boats, holding silver chains that end in harpoons and fishhooks, the symbol of Triegenes. A railing encircles most of the balcony, but leaves a fifteen foot wide section open, perilously overlooking the burbling molten rock in the mouth of the volcano. From the moment one enters the cathedral, a single figure is visible all the way down the length of the building, standing at the precipice. Bald, silhouetted by the fiery haze, Vitus Sigismund raises one hand and beckons the mob and the condemned to meet him on the balcony. The crowd fills the cathedral and many flow out onto the edge, though priests stop the group before a dangerous number press through. The onlookers form a half-ring around Sigismund as Legate Tullius and her priests guide the priestess of Velkali to the edge. A bucket of blood with brushes in it has been set up on the balcony. Legate Tullius goes to Sigismund and whispers in his ear. He scans the crowd and sees the unit, but does not react beyond that. Then Sigismund begins to speak, and as he does, his fellow monks take up bloody brushes and begin to paint symbols on the priestess. “I understand,” Sigismund says, “that the tribunal of the people has found the goddess Velkali guilty of forsaking her pledge to protect us in our time of suffering. Before you lay sentence, heed this sermon, children. “I have faith. I know you do. Say, do you have faith?” The crowd murmurs in agreement. “Do you have faith? Don’t lie.” A louder, pleading response from the crowd cries yes. “I hear your uncertainty. I feel it too. I do not wish to see those who I pray to be shown as liars. I pledged my life to the gods, foremost of all to Triegenes. The core of our faith is this. A man can overcome adversity to become anything he chooses. A hero. A king. A god. “But too many of us choose the wrong path. We become braggarts. Blackguards. We swagger and slander and become tyrants over whatever small world we can grab. “And this new world, this dark and damned world we see around us? I tell you it has changed because those who once led us were lying to us for years. They did not trust us. I tried to find the truth, and they killed and cursed righteous friends who would have pulled their schemes into the light. And their scheme, I tell you, was to decide what we would be. They decided what they thought was right. And they did not give us a choice. They did not let us test ourselves. If the meaning of life is to choose what you become, they tried to eliminate it. That’s as good as killing us all.” Korrigan leans towards Leon and whispers in admiration, “This guy’s good.” “Our hierarchs betrayed their vows to us. I’m sure the kings and philosophers and sovereigns of the rest of the world did the same to their people.” (Here he casts a pointed glance at Korrigan & Co.) “They should be punished, and we, the children, should retake a world they have stolen from us. “I say to, none of us is different. Our leaders abandoned us. The gods? They abandoned us! And you, each of you! You know you have abandoned your brothers and sisters. Do not think we are better because we sit in judgment. We are all weak. “But we are all strong too, in that any man can rise above his frailties. Any ruler can be just. Any god can obey his pledge to this world. I shall ask you to lay sentence, but know when you judge, you judge yourselves as well. Have you, children, risen to what you could be?” He pauses for a long moment of silence. “This goddess, Velkali, is guilty! She has forsaken us, and like a soldier who leaves his post, her crime cannot be forgiven. Tribunal, what is your sentence?” As one, the crowd roars, “Death!” With swift confidence, Vitus begins to chant. He grasps the priestess’s head and somehow compels her to intone with him, “Before I was nothing but words. Now I am all that is believed. I am faith made flesh. I am flesh made a god.” The monks remove the chains on the prisoner, who falls over, gasps, and begins to swell in size. (Uriel notices Leon whose mask is turned towards him. He can feel the unseen eyes boring into him.) Blue-white energy arcs off of her body in fiery blazes, and she staggers to her feet, fifteen feet tall, with long blue-green hair flowing and rippling like water. She looks down at her hands, then lifts her gaze to the crowd. She opens her mouth to speak, but beside her Sigismund has planted his feet solidly, and he lunges into her, pressing with one hand. The blow hurls the goddess off the edge of the balcony. The crowd holds its breath. Caught in the telekinetic grip of Uriel, the goddess rises back up out of the caldera. The crowd’s gasp of outrage is as loud as a roar. [B]End of Session[/B] [/QUOTE]
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