Open [Temple of Viratas] The Mass

[Vetari Violet]

58th Day of Autumn, 513 AV Everything was perfect. The warmth of the great Temple of Viratas was more inviting than ever, colorful tapestries hanging from the ceiling, leading visitors to the main chamber whilst depicting the scenes and teachings of the Viratassa. The halls were lit by red candles, flickering in the dimness of the cave. To most Symenestra, this was an oddity. They could see just well without them, so why were they here? That question would be answered as soon as they entered the main hall. Done up in yet more finery, the main hall was well lit by chandeliers and candles lining the walkways, directing people to take seats in the various tiers of bleacher-like structures that had been set up, as if this were some sort of spectators event rather than a ritual. Three seats, set apart from the others, were closest to the great pool of blood, blessed of Viratas. Here sat the ruling couple, Nessora and Avadon, along with their daughter Silenva. Three people stood at the center, on three sides of the great blood pool. They all wore long silk robes, identical from one to the next, but any who saw their faces could recognize them. Two were Daratur and Vetari Violet, the high priest of Viratas and his adopted son. The third was Sari, Daratur’s assistant in the Temple, attending well and often to visitors who might come on less active days. Today she greeted all who entered, directing groups and individuals where to sit as Daratur and Vetari made the final preperations. The oddest spectacle in the temple, however, was the presence of a number of non-Krova women sitting in the very front row along one whole side of the amphitheater. Many were confused, unsure why they had been called here, but unmistakably calm. Those men that would claim these women, for they were the surrogates who’s presence was to be celebrated by the Harvest Festival which had taken place only a day before, sat beside them just as confused by the presence of the women. Already nervous whispers flowed through the crowed like the blood in the veins of any man. There was only 5 chimes until the ceremony was set to begin. This was meant to be a celebration of the Symenestra, their history and their greatness. So why choose this rite to bring the Azo into the fold? To some it was a curiosity, to others it was downright offensive. One thing was certain: this would be no ordinary Post-Harvest Mass.

OOCThis is the Mass thread Poison told you about a short while ago. Please, hop on, take a seat and enjoy the ride! This thread is moderated by Poison, even if I am the original poster, so don't get discouraged! We'll run through who shows up and takes a seat and where in the theater before beginning the Rite. Please, feel free to post your characters response to whatever happens during the ritual. It should be very interesting!

[Sosicly Magnolia]

The city seemed to truly come alive this time of year. Especially after the Masquerade, it was twice as busy as the years previous. Symenestra after Symenestra hurried down the roads to the Temple to participate in the most anticipated event of the season aside from the Masquerade. However, it was obvious upon entering that things were not what everyone had thought of when the rite about to take place but the Temple itself was beautiful. Sosicly found herself lost gazing at the colors, lights, and extra decoration not necessary for their peoples eyes. Her fingers trailed against the wall as she walked, pleased that she had left early enough to be situated near the front. And at the sight of it her eyes widened in shock. In front were obviously humans, the ruling couple, Daratur the High Priest and Vetari. Surrogates in the Temple. Her brain seemed to short circuit on the thought, her lips pursed in agitation. There had to be a reason for it, she thought, hands drumming nervously against the notebook she pulled out. Behind her she could hear the mutterings of those coming in, growing into a small chatter but one didn’t need to hear what they were saying to know. She turned behind her to watch the last of the people float in, looking as confused or upset as she was. But Daratur did not seem to be ill at ease from what Sosicly could see, he was closest to Viratas, and if he dubbed the surrogates allowable in the Temple then that meant Viratas did as well. But even as she reasoned with herself her hands tightened around the book. She just hoped to Viratas that the mass began soon.

[Ivedrin Hesperis]

By the evening of the mass, fall was well advanced, and Ivedrin Hesperis could feel it. As the Harvest Festival had approached, each new day had seemed to drop more cares onto his shoulders, piling them atop his great and singular anxiety: his brother's return to Kalinor. While the actual reunion had been exactly what he expected, the vandalism and frantic repairs that had preceded it and the arguments and tensions still following it were more than enough to drain the mental reservoirs he had spent the first half of the season preparing. Consequently, his father's demands that the whole web attend mass tonight had prompted a deep sigh of relief; a night of meditation and prayer, set to the soothing cadences of Daratur Violet's voice, sounded profoundly restorative. The temple's new and opulent appointments, however, were his first clue that his plans were to be dashed. Shuffling into the entranceway behind a host of other families, the Hesperises could not help but gawk at the fine tapestries, silver chandeliers, and pools of flickering candlelight. They traded whispers that died down and then swelled again as they entered the main chamber, ushered into the stacked tiers of seats by the priest's assistant. Ivedrin was just as astonished and perplexed as the others by the unprecedented tableau; his amethyst eyes opened wider and wider as his gaze trailed over the faux-amphitheater, the two officiants, the ruling couple and their daughter, and finally the surfacer women – undeniably surrogates. His sister-in-law, Jasniya, tugged on his sleeve, pointing out where his brother Izedor sat, stone-faced and still, next to a dusky-skinned Benshira in a pale blue gown. For all that she tried to convey confidence – shoulders square, spine straight – the captive woman had crossed a protective arm against her chest, fingers squeezed around her abductor's bicep. The other surrogates fared no better; each one shifted with nervous energy, anticipating the mysterious foreign ritual that was soon to begin. Ivedrin frowned at the sight of them, unable to match his brother's stoicism. It was the first time he had seen Izedor's “prize;” ever since he had learned the true meaning of the Harvest, twenty years ago, he had absented himself from the pageants where the surrogates were introduced. His stomach churned as he watched her. The man who had stolen her was her only buoy of familiarity. She might not even know what fate awaited her. And if I had accepted, she could have been mine. His cheeks tingled as warmth flushed his face. However necessary, he could not do what his brother did, but the heart still mourned when doors to possible futures closed. The more he aged and the more he refused, the more would shut. “What is all this?” Jasniya murmured next to him, echoing the primary question of his father and mother farther down the line. She was blessedly unaware of his feelings and far more concerned with witnessing blasphemy. “I haven't the faintest. But surely it's Dovna Violet's idea, right? Maybe Enda Hyacinth has infected him with her taste for circuses.” “Drin!” She hissed, knuckling his arm. “We're in the temple!” But she was already shaking with quiet laughter. Humor, apparently, was the required remedy for both of their nerves. He looked away, seeking composure; it was only then that he noticed the dark-haired Symenestra woman sitting next to him. “Hello, Soscily,” he whispered, recalling his former student's name after a short moment. He smiled in reassurance, noticing the whitened fingertips curled around her writing book. Nothing followed the greeting, however; it seemed the strange spectacle had rendered even a teacher of language at a loss for words.

[Lauralyn]

Talking her place slowly in the Temple, Lauralyn tried to keep her nerves under control. She could feel the uncertainty in the air as thick as the deep crimson blood churning in the great pool. She kept glancing at the surrogate’s… their owners clutching them as if they were trophies, and not living bleeding human women. All life was sacred not just their own. Why were they in the Temple? There had to be a good reason for it. But Lauralyn, even while she thought this, she kept her moth clamped shut. She kept her quivering hands knotted together on her lap. If her god… her beloved Viratas didn’t agree with her, did that mean he hated her? She didn’t know what was about to happen and it unnerved and upset her.


She sat by her lonesome but she could see familiar faces all around her. Her brother, Davuan, just 13 years old, sat with her parents to her right, all of them visibly shunning her. She hoped her brother would follow her way when he was old enough to think for himself. He was an impressionable young boy, with a nervous and shy personality. What a shame that both the children in their web were so unlike their parents. And there would never be another. With a shiver, she cast her eyes ahead to find that Sosicly was directly in front of her. The woman with whom she’d worked with for years and never grown close to. That notepad clutched tightly in her hands a reminder that she would never make a sound. But Sosicly was much louder than Lauralyn was. She was so sure of herself. In a way, Lyn looked up to that, respected her obvious self-assurance, while Lauralyn was riddled with insecurity.


Lyn tore her gaze away from the young woman when she heard someone else greet her and back to the spectacle of the brightly lit temple as she awaited whatever was to come next.

[Viridae Kabre]

Seivis squeezed Viridae's hand as they paced quickly to the seats closest to the front of the temple. As they walked, Viridae flicked his hood over his head, a self conscious gesture indicating he was not comfortable with this crowd.

"Why do I have to be here again?" He hissed into Seivis' ear, lengthening his stride so as not to be dragged.

"After that dream you had, why wouldn't you have to be here? If dad is still out there, he may not be safe without the protection of Viratas. You would be out of work without his blessing. We are NOT discussing this any further," She said as she swung in. Viridae locked eyes on Sosicly, and silently occupied the empty seat next to her. Seivis scowled at him and sat on her other side, apparently displeased she could not sit with her brother.

"Hello Sibealy," He whispered. Seivis scowled again, and shot him a look, purple eyes burning hot pink. He wrinkled her nose to her.

"Good to see you again Krova," She said quietly to Sosicly.

[Vetari Violet]

Things began to settle slowly, a hush falling over the crowd as the entrance closed. Now anyone who wanted to interrupt the Mass as it was in progress had a few miscellaneous Ochya guards to deal with just outside the halls. The candles seemed to flicker with anticipation, sending dancing shadows over the gathered population of Kalinor. ”Greetings, people of Kalinor! Friends, family, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons and daughters. Krova. Welcome and thank you for giving your time from the celebrations to look to and honor Viratas.” It was Vetari who spoke, slowly walking in a circle around the great pool of blood at the center of the room. Daratur and Sari stood at opposing ends, to the left and right of the great basin that drained into the ever warm pool of vitality below. They stood as sentries, still and silent, building upon the mystery and tension in the air. ”Our heritage is a long one, magnificent and honorable but we often forget where we came from in our day to day lives, who we were before we lived in these cavernous halls. Before the Valterrian. Though we know it is not so there is a feeling inside us that says it has always been this way, that things do not change and cannot change. A tiny voice that tells us to be content with what we have, to hold our lot and be grateful that it isn’t worse. This voice is holding us back, keeping us from moving forward for the sake of contentment. “The last time we as a people disregarded this voice our ancestors turned their eyes from their old, dead gods and looked to Viratas in love and in trust. We survived the Valterrian because they made that choice, because they threw caution to the wind and pledged themselves to one who understood how much we needed him. For our lives today, we have Viratas to thank.” He produced a straight razor from his cloak, slitting a thin red line across his palm and squeezing the blade, a small red puddle gathering in the basin and slowly flowing into the greater pool. ”May this blood give greater life.” The chambers echoes with the chanted reply of those throughout the hall, repeating the quiet prayer said at each offering of one’s essence to their lord. Some voices were confident, others confused, but most were quietly respectful. Nobody was sure where this history lesson was going, but opinions were divided as to where it stood. Some were pleased, the discontents with the way things were in their cavernous home. Others more concerned, feeling this disrupted their traditions and their way of life. ”The time has come when we must once again throw caution to the wind and dive into uncertainty, for a threat far greater than any cataclysm has come upon us, silently. It came so quietly that we do not know when it began, when our children began to kill their mothers as they were born. Perhaps it was simply how the gods that made us designed us, though I could not understand why one would do such a cruel thing to their own children. Perhaps it was a curse placed on us by some ancient and long forgotten magic. It truth, it does not matter how or why it was done but more the simple effect it has caused to us all. My friends, we are a dying breed. “Since the days of our ancient ancestors, our numbers have dwindled. First, pressed north by the Myrian savages in Falyndar into Kalinad, where we made our home. When the Valterrian came we escaped here, more of our numbers cut off by the grand disaster. Then we, by isolating ourselves from the world, began to kill each other in an attempt to repopulate. We knew this was not right, and so went out into the world to find other ways to exist. As such, the Harvest was born. “But I dare say something is still not right. No other race had to die for their own to be born, so why should we? We are no lesser than any of them, neigh, I say we are better! I tell you, Krova, that if we continue to do the same thing for all time and expect something to change, we shall all be sorely disappointed. And so, I bring you the newest change to our community.” He nodded to Daratur and Sari, who produced brass goblets from their robes, crouching by the pool and taking some into the cup. The blood of their ancestors, untouched for centuries, was now in the palm of their hands. The two of them walked, slowly, to the seats of the ruling couple and presented them as Vetari continued to speak. Gasps erupted in the crowd, in wonderment and confusion. Nobody had ever drank the sacred blood of their ancestors before, and it was entirely unknown what effects it may have. ”We have grown too distant from our ancestors, friends. I hope that by imbibing their blood, blessed by our lord Viratas, he may give us the opportunity to overcome our affliction and become great once more!” As the entire crowed watched, the couple drank.

[Sosicly Magnolia]

Sosicly had nodded to the greetings, flashing both Viridae and her old teacher a grin before returning her gaze to the front. The doors slid shut soon after and sounded almost ominous in the crowds silence. But at first things were not as strange as they looked to be, what Vetari said made some sense but she could feel the ripple of unease growing as he spoke. And it was not just her, the room seemed to bleed tension, everyone waiting for the other stone to drop. Then it did. Sosicly watched in awed horror, her nails peircing the leather of her notebook, as the ruling couple drank. She sucked in sharply through her teeth and turned to face Viridae, questions on her face that he probably couldn't answer but she wanted to know all the same. Hurriedly she turned her gaze to the front again, terrified something would happen to their rulers and shoved the ripped out page to Viridae. He is mad! Do you think we will all drink? Viratas preserve them his offering could not hurt them so could it do something more. A smidgen of hope bloomed that she squashed viciously. Would Vetari had the surrogates drink, she wondered with growing horror. It was like watching a body fall to the depths of Kalinor, terrible but you just couldn't look away.

[Vyvian]

Vyvian watched with unbridled interest from the furthest back he could be from the crowd. Smiling almost sinisterly he rested his elbows on his knees and his head on his clasped hands. He looked like some crimson Reaper, waiting for what could be a total calamity to occur. Sometimes Vyvian's mere presence caused unusual events to happen merely because Vyvian's presence led to odd things happening. He remembered the time he entered a public dining area, out of desperation for food, and one of the nearby patrons chocked on their food in shock, which he declared afterwards exclaimed that Vyvian's morbid appearance made him think he had been cursed by some obscure gods. Vyvian shrugged mentally. Let the suspicious be the suspicious he supposed. He was far more interested to see what this blood would do, especially if they gave it to a surrogate.

[Viridae Kabre]

Seivis glanced at the paper over Viridae's shoulder, and nudged him, urging a response. Viridae, gave it a glance, and snapped his attention back to the front of the temple, Calm and surprised all at once, emotion clouding his mind.

"This is blasphemy," Seivis hissed under her breath, her brow furrowing heavily. Viridae placed a hand on her knee to keep her from rising in her seat. He looked so Sosiclly, a saddened expression on his face.

"I refuse. The blood is sacred, and this practice is borderline morbid. What if they are wrong? What if-"

"What if we are punished? This blood is tribute, and we are not permitted to take it back," Seivis hissed, turning towards Sosiclly. "I understand the urgency of our blight. I understand that we are rotting down here...but this. This is not the solution."

Viridae turned to Seivis, holding to his calm resolve. "If not this, then what, Bitta? Its been over five hundred years. Nothing has changed. No amount of prayer, nor tribute, nor penance has broken this curse. We turned to Virtas in desperation, given him all we could, every Symenestra heart, every drop of blood pledged to his name. And for what? Do you not agree Sibeally?"

[Ivedrin Hesperis]

From his perch among the stacked seats, Ivedrin watched as the strange service began to unfold. His head tilted to the side as Vetari Violet, the priest's son, stepped forward in place of his father. During his time at temple, Ivedrin had often seen the young man help to administer ceremonies or aid in worship, but never deliver a sermon on his own at an event of such scale. Could the unusual staging be Vetari's idea? Even amid the uncertainty of the evening and the nervous whispers of his family, the thought brought a smile to his lips. He had taught Vetari for a year at Mene Madras, and though he would never admit to harboring favorites, he had found something of a kindred spirit in his ravenously bibliophilic student. Perhaps this mass was the considered result of that year, and those before it - Vetari's long hours curled around books or hunched over the creaking writing desks at the Cribellum, mind and pen joined in the work of learning and in devotion to Viratas. If that is the case, then this cannot be blasphemy. Instead, a quiet pride bloomed in his chest; to witness Vetari's moment was an honor. Trusting in his student, he clasped his hands and intoned the traditional prayer, also his teacher's creed: “May this blood give greater life.” Many of the orisons that rose from the tiers of Symenestra did not share the confidence of his own, however. His voice mingled with warier and bewildered murmurs, feelings that intensified and erupted into outright astonishment as the assistant priest's history lesson became blood rite. Ivedrin stared, rigid and heart pounding, as the Hyacinths drank from the brass cups. With one swallow, the ruling couple had imbibed centuries' worth of their people's holiest offerings. His heart climbed with Vetari's call for change, but now his breath was stolen. Even while his mind could process the symbolism, the act itself shocked, and left only questions where his air should be. Just what did it mean to drink from the ancient pool? What would Viratas think? What would the blood do? “By my brother,” Jasniya swore beside him, robbed of the ability to say anything more. Their gazes drifted as one to the surrogates, whose presence suddenly became clear. Is that what this is? He will give the blood to surrogates who are sure to bear in the coming seasons – an experiment? He had to give Vetari credit. If that was in fact what he was doing, it was far bolder than anything he had expected from his student. As inappropriate as the feeling was, Ivedrin could not help but smile again and shake his head in admiration. Stranger still, though – the ruling couple has condoned all this? Or-? His eyes flicked to his brother's position among the harvesters and surrogates as he contemplated the Hyacinths' involvement. If the two rulers knew what would happen, Izedor did not – with hands clenching his knees and his jaw set, the hunter seemed just as shocked by the breach of tradition as the rest of his web. Ivedrin knew that his brother was restrained enough to endure a ritual that only involved others, but what would the man do if they approached his surrogate? Viratas, have mercy, he prayed, and waited for the mass to continue. Do not let this actually become a circus - or worse.