Asketi's Respect

The white-scaled S'Kra Mur pulls the robes tighter about her body, as if it would help.

The sheer cliffs before her loom upward, spirelike and forbidding, into the snow-laden sky. A sharp twinge in her chest gives her a moment's pause. Steeling her resolve, she continues. There is still a considerable distance to cover.

In her mind, she hears the cries of alarm. Terror, panic, outrage. Pleas for assistance and the howling of the unfaithful. She registers amongst them the tapping of the unicorn's onyx hooves somewhere within her soul, measuring the last remaining roisean of her life. The Ride has begun.

And still she climbs upward.

A sharp pain causes her to double over with a hiss of breath that curls upward and away; a desperate survivor of a sinking vessel. She stops herself from leaning against a stone outcrop for support. Irrelevant weakness. There is no room for doubt. The final stretch is within sight.

Pulling herself upward, arm over arm, she continues.

Each breath is a painful, burning trial. The face of the banshee flashes before her and she sees her own death with glass-like clarity. Already, she feels her once-strong lifeforce beginning to ebb. But there can be no room for failure. The offering must be made.

And still she climbs upward.

Pulling herself over the edge, she staggers upright. Though numbed to extinction, the feverish force of her determination pushes her limbs toward the severe marble pillars of the temple of the North Wind.

A tortoiseshell-furred Prydaen and a Rakash stand before the altar. The Prydaen's ears flick once in recognition and he trills at the S'Kra Mur.

She stares past them with a deathmist-clouded eye at the dust sheen covering the surface of the altar like a blanket of snow. She lets out of a groan of despair that turns into a wet gurgle, cut off abruptly as the blood bubbling from her lungs is frozen over.

She buckles. From a distance, she can see her own body moving on its own. Holy water and oil slop over her scales.

Her soul cries out to the horizon. Ah, Asketi! A boon, I pray, a boon!

Her ribcage collapses.

The Prydaen's ears quirk outward and his tail bottlebrushes in shock. When the cloud of obscuring frost crystals disperses, he sees before him a S'Kra Mur wrought in ice, kneeling in supplication. Light glimmers payfully off the frozen sheet of holy water cupped in her claws just above the altar.

-----

Zhirrisk stares blankly into the distance.
>
You say, "My Lady... I was too late... forgive this worthless, wretched soul."
>
A lesser North Wind banshee arrives, bringing with her a deathly cold zephyr that blows from the north like the expelled breath of Asketi herself.
>
Zhirrisk blinks.
>
A lesser North Wind banshee smiles bitterly.
>
Zhirrisk gulps.
>
You say, "Mercy, Child of Asketi. We only come to see that Your Mistress is praised."
>
Zhirrisk nods emphatically.
>
A lesser North Wind banshee leans forward, smelling the corpse, then murmurs, "This prey will no longer run, Mistress."
>
You say, "I have never intended to run."
>
A lesser North Wind banshee exhales, causing the air to drop in temperature, then nods in satisfaction and leaves.
>
A lesser North Wind banshee just went northeast.
>
You say, "Even in Death... I will honor You."
>
Zhirrisk says, "Hold..."
>
Zhirrisk gestures.
In a blazing fountain of red-gold sparks, a red Moongate blazes into life.
>
Predator Liurilias came through a red Moongate.
>
Zhirrisk trills softly at Liurilias.
>
Liurilias waves.
>
Liurilias shakes an ebony adder bead at you.
>
Liurilias gestures at you.
You feel a sense of security as the spell lends its protection to your fragile memories.
>
Maxwelinski says, "Ah ha."
>
You say, "I must make up for my weakness."
>
Maxwelinski says, "It is that time isn't it."
>
Zhirrisk says to Maxwelinski, "Yyyyyes."
>
Liurilias says, "Hmm, shattered ribs, that seems unhealthy."
>
You say, "The pain was nothing... a trifle."
>
Liurilias gestures.
A pale blue nimbus explodes outward, enshrouding Liurilias's body like a ghostly blanket.  Slender tendrils of silver vapor slowly arise from the cloud and reach for Liurilias's eyes like long spectral fingers.
>
You say, "I wish only to continue the ceremony."
>
Liurilias puts his bead in a small muddied box labeled "Yahoo Asketi".
>
Liurilias gestures at a frozen Whiteburn statue.
A translucent wave of silvery light flickers faintly over the surface of the Whiteburn statue.
>
You say, "Thank you, Grand Inquisitor..."
>
Liurilias gestures at a frozen Whiteburn statue.
Shimmering waves of holy light wash over the Whiteburn statue, bathing its surface in a pristine halo.
>
Liurilias says to you, "Your statue is as stubborn as you are."
>
Liurilias gestures at a frozen Whiteburn statue.
Brilliant waves of holy light pulse blindingly through the cracks of the Whiteburn statue!  Violent creaks begin to emanate from it in protest.

A frozen Whiteburn statue slowly topples to the ground and sublimates into coils of frosty blue mist.


[ After Whiteburn was resurrected and a few more worshipers had arrived, it was time to begin. ]


You stand near an ice-blue marble altar.
>
You solemnly say, "We are here today to honor and praise the Goddess Asketi. Queen of all Hinterlands and Mistress of tundras. Taker of life, she reaches out with an all-spanning arm and tears the breath from the unfaithful as their blood freezes within their unworthy bodies. She who drives the very North Wind before her to do Her bidding. She who commands even the souls of the dead to shudder in brumal anguish. Praised be."
>
Maxwelinski takes a long drag off of a burning dark grey cigarillo.
>
Maxwelinski says, "For sure."
>
Maxwelinski exhales hastily, as if thankful the experience is over.  He bites his bottom lip and waves the smoke away as fast as possible.  The bitter scent of fresh rue emanates from the cigarillo as fragile tendrils fill the air with an acrid, vinegary aroma.
>
You chant in a soprano voice:

    "Gurgling, ratting final breath,
     From the glacial star-strewn path.
     Heed the banshee's wail of death
     Queen of Darkness! Winter's Wrath!"

[General] Your mind hears Ciroce thinking, "Hideous horned black steeds and hags on the town green...I feel like this is escalatin'..."
[General] Your mind hears Azante thinking, "Lots of them, too."

Gabellia begins to pray.
>
You solemnly say, "As the sun rises upon this, the first day, know you all that we stand before Her in the time of judgment."
>
You wildly exclaim, "Look out to the horizon! See the extent of Mistress Asketi's domain and tremble with awe at our own smallness! Feel the carress of the cold as it coils, serpentlike, around our frail throats! Hear the wind itself wailing as it lashes the mountain in futile repentance! Know that we are but guttering flames before the might of Asketi! Worms that scarce deserve the breath we steal! But e'en our last ragged breath we shall use to honor Her name! This is the hour of judgment! Praise be!"

[General] Your mind hears Ciroce thinking, "Cadderly, you might wanna come down here if'n that ghast problem is taken care of in Haven"
[General] Your mind hears Promithius thinking, "Its going to escalate horribly! "

You throw your head back and howl!

[General] Your mind hears Cadderrly thinking, "things heated up fast in Riverhaven, nasty Wretchs and such"

You chant in a soprano voice:

    "Mightier than mortal lords
     Who must come to Her call.
     I am but a messenger!
     Asketi taketh all!"

You wildly exclaim, "All who have forgotten! All who spit blasphemes from vile tongues! All who dare to show defiance in the face of the Holy! All slaves of mortal hubris! All the insolent, arrogant, faithless! All heathens and all godforsaken souls! The maggots, earthworms, tadpoles, and weevils that claim their lives have sovereignty! Unworthy, all! Unfit! Unclean! Infidels! Treacherous! Defiled!"
>
You furiously say, "The cry of the unicorn heralds the Night of Judgment. Let those who slander and blaspheme tremble before the whirlwind their own pride has reaped. For each sin, the scouring of the North Wind shall score and quarter the guilty thirteenfold. May their cries of anguish echo oer fields laid barren and lifeless, despoiled and worthless as their own putrified souls. Serpents of ice, adders of sleet."
>
The relative silence is broken by the sound of a hoof, pawing on stone.
>
Zhirrisk grins ear-to-ear.
>
You exclaim, "In the Night of Judgment, the wail of Asketi's Harbingers will mirror that of the wretched souls. May She be sated! May Her thirst be slaked! May all those who bear witness know of Asketi's Power and never again forget! Praise be!"
>
You sibilantly say, "We all kneel in repentance, supplicants at Thy feet."
>
You drop to one knee, bowing your head in deference.

[General] Your mind hears Alorcu thinking, "all clear on Ratha"
[General] Your mind hears Syllanthis thinking, "the rest are probably on the boat over to the islands. It's a leisurely cruise for the ghasts before the slaughter."
[General] Your mind hears Syllanthis thinking, "the pirates are going to be really surprised."

You unflinchingly say, "Chaff before the Scythe."
>
Eyes widening, Sarkranis wheezes piteously.
>
You worshipfully exclaim, "Taketh Thou what Thy wish, Mistress. We shall not forget. We are beholden to Thy rule. May our prayers be pleasing to Thee, Thee of the Dark who is pleased with little of mortal make. Take of our blood and breath and all the gifts laid before Thee, as bare and shivering as our souls. Pitiless One, we who sully the eidolic solstice of Thine Mount with our impure presence know that we may live only by Thy mercy. We know that we may draw breath only that we may once more Herald Thy rule. Then all shall know, from here to the very gates of the Spiral! Praise be to Asketi! Obeyant all to Her law!"
>
You get a grey burlap sack from inside your locksmith's toolbelt.
>
You get a grisly heart covered in sticky blood from inside your burlap sack.
>
Zhirrisk gets a miniature Asketian herald wearing night-black armor from inside a sleek repair case fashioned from frosted glass.
>
You reverently place a grisly heart covered in sticky blood on the marble altar.
>
You offer your heart to the gods in homage of their greatness.
>
A violent bluish glow coruscates about Sarkranis's chest.
>
You say, "All those with offerings, present them to me and I shall offer them up to the Mistress of the North."
>
You stand back up.
>
Zhirrisk gazes at his herald.
>
Staring desolately, Sarkranis wraps her arms around herself and huddles.
>
Miskton offers you a coal-black burlap sack.
>
You gesture at Sarkranis.
Small tendrils of curious silvery light slither from your fingertips toward Sarkranis.
Coils of frosty blue mist escape Sarkranis's nostrils.
>
Starrprancer gets a slice of coconut cloud cake from inside her tinker's pack.
>
Starrprancer asks, "Call me odd, but what goddess doesn't love cake?"
>
Starrprancer offers you a slice of coconut cloud cake.
>
You reverently place a coal-black burlap sack on the marble altar.
>
You offer your sack to the gods in homage of their greatness.

[General] Your mind hears Ciroce thinking, "More steeds out the NE gate"

You reverently place a slice of coconut cloud cake on the marble altar.
>
You offer your cake to the gods in homage of their greatness.
>
Maxwelinski offers you a dead red-chested songbird.
>
Zhirrisk says to you, "I'm afraid I might not have anything worthy enough..."
>
You squint at Maxwelinski.
>
Sarkranis nods at Zhirrisk, obviously agreeing with his views.
>
You ask Zhirrisk, "You had a song, yes?"
>
Mistanna gets an ebony adder bead from inside a small muddied box labeled "Yahoo Asketi".
>
Mistanna hums to herself.
>
Zhirrisk nods to you.
>
You say, "Offer that."
>
Zhirrisk clears his throat.
>
Zhirrisk says, "Alright..."
>
Zhirrisk inhales a great swallow of air.
>
A hideous horned black steed just arrived.
>
Zhirrisk warningly sings in a tenor voice:

    "When the wild winds blossom a dark in all our hearts
      A chilling bite devours the soul like a angry, ravenous shark
      Corruption lingers in the corners, selfish greed abounds
      And not a single wretched righteous man or woman is to be found..."

Zhirrisk glances at a hideous horned black steed.
>
Zhirrisk savagely sings in a tenor voice:

    "Hail! Asketi! Hail pelt them all!
      Hail! Asketi! In hail, watch them fall!
      Cover the sky with ice-grey sleet, your breathless, beautiful pall,
      And in glory, smite them! Smite them one and all!
      Hail! Asketi! Across Elanthia, we hear your call!"

A hideous horned black steed glares at the assembly.
>
Zhirrisk twitches an ear nervously.
>
Maxwelinski says, "Oh my."
>
Zhirrisk faithfully sings in a tenor voice:

    "None shall hide, no! none shall flee, their sins you see like flame
      And with a pinch you snuff them out, so they might never sin again!
      Their lives flicker dim, their wails lost midst the screaming winds
      And once again the flocks of mortal hubris have been thinned!"

Azante opens his arms in a benevolent motion as he chants, "May Alamhif grant us his protection and guidance on our journey back from death's void."
>
(Whiteburn gazes at the steed in awe, trembling slightly.)
>
Zhirrisk stormily sings in a tenor voice:

    "Come! Hear the screams, the slaughter, the patter of frightened feet!
      Come, grab your coat, your boots, her ice has claimed the streets!
      The hooves of night come thundering, the din of battle roars!
      Come, kneel before the unicorn, find peace as you are gored!"

Zhirrisk quivers.
>
Azante assumes a meditative expression as he brushes his fingertips over his prayer beads.
>
Miskton shivers.
>
Zhirrisk zealously sings in a tenor voice:

    "Hail! Asketi! Hail destroy them all!
     Hail! Asketi! In hail, watch them crawl!
     Cover the sky with blood-red sleet, your lifetaking, savage squall,
     And in glory, smite them! Smite them, great and small!
     Hail! Asketi! Cleanse the wicked, one and all!"

Zhirrisk bows to a hideous horned black steed.
>
Starrprancer rubs vigorously at a spot of dirt on her prayer sash until the spot disappears.
>
Zhirrisk grins weakly.
>
Azante runs his fingers along the surface of his prayer sash, a dreamy expression on his face.
>
You raise your voice in reverent praise, "Honor be to Asketi of the Northern Wind.  Spare our fields, and our souls."

You sense that you are as pure of spirit as you can be, and you are ready for whatever rituals might face you.

You feel that the dark gods have cracked a bleak smile of good favor at your attempts to please them.
>
Starrprancer curtsies.
>
Starrprancer raises her voice in reverent praise, "Honor be to Asketi of the Northern Wind.  Spare our fields, and our souls."
>
Rozze quietly says, "Catchy song."
>
Rozze twitches an ear nervously.
>
You worshipfully exclaim, "Praise be to Asketi and Her Divine Vessels!"
>
Zhirrisk makes a wheezing sound.
>
You say, "I bear more gifts, from those of the villages who could not make the climb..."
>
Starrprancer says, "May she smite all those whom have forgotten her power. May they repent their ways and offer their blood, and souls to her."
>
A hideous horned black steed emits a shrieking nightmare of a sound, ears flattened against its neck. [ Everyone fell over. ]
>
A hideous horned black steed just went southeast.
>
Rozze quirks her ears outward in surprise.
>
Maxwelinski cowers in fear.
>
Zhirrisk shivers.
>
Zhirrisk breathes very slowly and looks much calmer.

[ As Whiteburn declares the gifts, she places them on the altar one by one and offers them each in turn. ]

You exclaim, "Precious jewels... as brightly they shine, so shall our regard for Thee never die!"
>
Zhirrisk says, "Somehow that was more frightening than when I actually was gored to death..."
>
Azante says, "Praise to Asketi's vessel, may Her wind remind us of our duty and fealty to the foces beyond our understanding."
>
Sarkranis whispers, "I would like to make sacrifice of my blood, more precious to me than any item I could give."
>
You say, "We honor You by returning that which was stolen from You. The fangs of Your Children."
>
You say, "Prepared crops from the fields... they know they have You to thank for sparing them."
>
You say, "The promise of worship from all magicians that seek to harness Your elements."
>
You exclaim, "I make an offering of blood!"
>
Zhirrisk quirks his ears outward for a moment, blinking at you in surprise.

< Fluidly, you slice a tyrium khopesh with a fossilized shark tooth pommel at Sarkranis.  Sarkranis completely fails to block with her targe.
The khopesh lands an extremely heavy hit that tears a painful cut across the knuckle of the left thumb, lightly stunning her.
>
Mistanna gazes at Sarkranis in admiration.
>
You throw your head back and howl!

< Moving fluidly, you slice a tyrium khopesh with a fossilized shark tooth pommel at Sarkranis.  Sarkranis completely fails to block with her targe.
The khopesh lands an extremely heavy hit (9/23) that tears a painful cut across the knuckle of the left thumb, lightly stunning her.
>
You worshipfully say, "May Your thirst be slaked."
>
A soft hissing fills the air, resolving slowly into words.  "Why should we believe this display?"
>
Azante begins to pray.
>
Starrprancer lightly touches her spider pin as she says a quick prayer.
>
(Sarkranis raises her bloody hand over the altar, allowing precious life blood to drip onto it.)
>
Azante runs his fingers over his prayer beads while whispering a prayer.
>
Sarkranis reverently says, "Great stealer of life, I offer mine willingly."
>
The voice continues, "We have seen.  We have heard.  But why should we believe this?"
>
Starrprancer gazes at you.
>
You say, "Mistress of the North, You shall always be honored. Year after year, we will come. Though many of the Children of Truffenyi are ignorant, there are those who will learn. The Lesson will continue. They will come, Mistress. They will know your name."

[General] Your mind hears Wyrmscale thinking, "nasty steed with a hag on at the barbarian's guild"

You say, "We will teach all, though they close their ears to us, we will not stop."
>
The voice continues, "This one alone offers herself to the gathering."
>
You say, "I, too, will offer my blood."
>
You glance at Zhirrisk, a male Prydaen.
>
Zhirrisk quietly says, "She is not alone."

[General] Your mind hears Ciroce thinking, "Some in Haven on River Road East near the gate"
[General] Your mind hears Cadderrly thinking, "hag on the west side"

Zhirrisk bows reverently to an ice-blue marble altar.
>
Azante says, "I also offer my blood as a symbol of my reverence."
>
Miskton says, "For the sake of all those suffering down below, I will offer my blood as well."
>
Hissing fills the air, soft murmurings rising and falling.
>
Sarkranis says, "May the fire of our blood warm Thee on this the darkest of nights."
>
Starrprancer says, "If I offer my blood will those who refuse to pay heed still be reaped? Cause I'm not here to stop it.  I'm here to praise great Asketi for doing what must be done."
>
Starrprancer smiles darkly
>
Mistanna says, "I as well, though I know not if You prefer the thrill of the Hunt, Goddess. Though I have eluded your creatures this day, I wish to give you honor still."
>
Sarkranis says, "The faithless will learn the value of their blood."
>
You say, "Those who refuse will have the coldest of lessons to learn. Perhaps before the coming of the next Ride, more will have their eyes opened by pain and hardship."
>
Mistanna bows.
>
A soft chirring chuckle echoes around.  "What must be, must be.  The Lady, too long neglected, may be pleased by the offers made here, but we Ride."
>
Starrprancer smiles.
>
Sarkranis says, "None will resist the summon."
>
You darkly say, "There was naught that could be done to deter it. Those children deserve every pound of flesh taken for their sins."
>
Starrprancer says, "May her ride be vicious, and may the those who ignored her be washed in blood."
>
Azante says, "And may the sacrifice of the many remind us all of our lapses in devotion."
>
Mistanna appears to be listening intently for something.
>
Starrprancer quietly says, "What I wouldn't give to be able to ride one of her steeds along side her, and watch the carnage."
>
You gaze upward.
>
The hissing voice carries on, "Your lives are not forfeit, today.  The Lady's heart is nearly warmed by the offer.  But not enough.   Enough dawdling here.  The Ride continues."
>
Zhirrisk grins at Starrprancer.
>
You exclaim, "Rapturous death be upon the faithless!"
>
Mistanna grins slowly.
>
The voice returns to hissing, which grows softer.
>
Zhirrisk purrs deeply, relaxing his body in obvious contentment.
>
Maxwelinski slowly empties his lungs.

[General] Your mind hears Syllanthis thinking, "is Haven clear of invaders?"
[General] Your mind hears Carme thinking, "not yet"
[General] Your mind hears Hammerfist thinking, "straglers"

Starrprancer smiles.
>
You eagerly exclaim, "Their rattling death cries, a joyous hymn to Thy brilliance!"
>
Zhirrisk quietly says, "May they suffer in torment and anguish as they bleed out in the streets..."

[General] Your mind hears Powerhaus thinking, "anyone clerics around Crossing for an uncurse, I licked someone's statue"

Starrprancer exclaims, "They seem to think they are getting things under control in my thoughts... Oh how little they know.  It has but begun!"
>
Mistanna offers you an ebony adder bead.
>
Mistanna says, "I shall head back to the Ride."
>
You reverently place an ebony adder bead on the marble altar.
>
Mistanna stands up.
>
You offer your bead to the gods in homage of their greatness.
>
Mistanna says to you, "Thank you for leading us here, Priestess."
>
You say to Mistanna, "Thank you for returning."
>
Starrprancer says, "I wouldn't mind being with my father for her ride."
>
Zhirrisk asks, "Crossing, perhaps?"
>
Starrprancer says, "I can run from there."
>
You say to Starrprancer, "Enjoy. There is naught sweeter than the blood of sinners."
>
Starrprancer nods to you.

[General] Your mind hears Carme thinking, "looks to be clear, anyone wanting a gate back to crossing I'll open a gate one north of the portal"

Miskton asks, "Having made the offer of blood, I feel I should hold up my end of that, even if the offer itself was enough to be appreciated. Could someone help me with that?"
>
(Miskton holds up a hand.)
>
You lovingly exclaim, "Asketi shall slake Her thirst and may She be sated! Praise be!"

< Moving in gracefully, you slice a tyrium khopesh with a fossilized shark tooth pommel at Miskton.  Miskton completely fails to block with his bronze-trimmed targe.
The khopesh lands an extremely heavy hit (9/23) that cuts open the left forearm from elbow to wrist, severely stunning him.
>
You throw your head back and howl!
>
Miskton stands near an ice-blue marble altar.
>
You whisper to Zhirrisk, "Bleed me, if you would. "
>
Zhirrisk gazes at you.
>
(Miskton holds his hand out over the altar, letting blood drip from his wound.)
>
You slowly and deliberately empty your filled lungs.
>
Taking a deep breath, you throw back your shoulders and harden your resolve.
>
Zhirrisk gestures at you.
A crackling stream of energy flies at you!
The scaled skin on your left hand draws and tucks as fleshy bubbles distort its shape.
You are lightly stunned!
>
You laugh in maniacal glee!
>
You exclaim, "Nicely done!"
>
You sniff the air around you.
>
You chirr contentedly.
>
Zhirrisk gives a courteous nod and tips his helm politely.

[General] Your mind hears Starrprancer thinking, "It's not over yet. The Ride has just begun."

Something invisible slithers through the blood, soundless, but leaving a discernable trail.
>
Miskton begins to pray.

[General] Your mind hears Nimthiriel thinking, "NOT clear in Haven"

Zhirrisk begins to pray.

Whiteburn smiles with sheer delight as she holds her hand over the altar, blood dripping steadily upon its surface.
>
(Whiteburn bows her head and rocks back and forth, hissing a sibilant chant of praise.)

[General] Your mind hears Powerhaus thinking, "harbringers in Crossing too"
[General] Your mind hears Woten thinking, "I love killing those guys!"
[General] Your mind hears Elfverhan thinking, "they hide pretty well becareful"

Zhirrisk flicks one ear back as though listening for something.

[General] Your mind hears Morlen thinking, "Misty Black Zephyrs in Crossing as well."

Miskton rubs his left hand.
>
Maxwelinski draws something on his paper.
>
Maxwelinski offers you a textured sheet of drawing paper.
>
You sibilantly say, "Be sated, Mistress. Our promise be true. May the faithless know only the cold embrace of death."


The paper is drawn with:  Kneeling adjacent to a blue marble altar among a group of people a prominently scarred S Kra Mur gazes upward, mouth agape at a looming figure. A distorted hag, garments twisted as if in a wind and mounted upon a horned steed sneers down at her. The eyes of others in the crowd are averted downward, to the sides or clenched tightly, some with tears streaming down their cheeks and fists squeezed at their sides. An assortment of gems and trinkets, liberally covered with blood in bright pastels, stand out on the altar in contrast to the dark tones of the rest of the picture.
Along the bottom of the paper, you notice, Author:  Maxwelinski


You nod to Maxwelinski.

[General] Your mind hears Powerhaus thinking, "banshee at TGN"

You ask Maxwelinski, "Do you wish to offer this?"
>
Maxwelinski says, "It's for you, you can offer it if you like."
>
Miskton says, "I had best try to get this taken care of, if the empaths aren't overwhelmed with triage."
>
Maxwelinski says, "I just observe and document the things sometimes."
>
Miskton nods politely.
>
Miskton says, "Praise to Asketi."
>
Maxwelinski says, "I didn't expect an encounter with the divine today."
>
You say, "Thank you for coming."
>
You say, "I will stay here..."
>
Zhirrisk trills softly at you.
>
Maxwelinski nods to you.
>
Maxwelinski says, "I really have been here for months, I'll be here a good while longer."
>
Maxwelinski says, "There's a roof."
>
You softly say, "It is not a bad place to be. Her altar needs tending."

[General] You hear your mental voice echo, "Praise be to Asketi of the North! May Her name be honored through the years! Know you all who bear witness to this Ride that the hour of judgment is upon us! Kneel before the whirlwind you have reaped and tremble!"
You concentrate on projecting your thoughts.

----

The cries and oaths of those fated to the Ride accompany the measured tempo of the Rakash's mournful enchante. With her heartbeat pulsating within her skull like a temple drum, the S'Kra Mur kneels where she last drew breath and watches her blood pop and blister as it flows in a sluggish, molten stream to congeal in steaming lumps upon the surface of the altar. Some otherworldly presence draws steadily from the wound as though pulling wine from a keg. The Prydaen gazes at her with an expression of mixed wonder and sorrow.

A final few drops of blood land on an ice-blue marble altar and smolder into a coarse ash. A satisfied hiss mingles with that of the S'Kra Mur's giddy chirr.

In time, three becomes two and two becomes one. The Children of Asketi, sated and engorged with the lifeblood of the sinful, return to the embrace of their Mistress.

The S'Kra Mur casts a burning cobalt eye toward the hateful sun. She reaches out with her mind.
"All those who have survived the Grim Harvest, know that you have witnessed just a sliver of Asketi's power. Do not forget Her name. Do not allow neglect and pride to turn your hearts inward and away from reverence. Remember your place before the Immortals, and next year we may be spared."

She then turns her attention to the altar.

"Asketi, Mistress of the North... Your Children asked how they could know that my word was true."

Without hesitation, she climbs atop the pristine, mirror-like slab and stretches out upon it. With a voice cold as the Void, she continues.

"You know that I live only to serve the Dark Ones. I did not speak of such things only because it is as redundant as saying the ocean is vast. My life is not my own when the Gods have need of it. It has ever been thus. I have spilled my blood and the blood of infidels. I Have sacrificed both willing and unwilling upon the altars of the Dark Ones. Was not my icebound heart a fitting sacrifice to Your perfect Winter?

"If still You doubt me, then I, Whiteburn, Servant of the Dark, offer my life."

The S'Kra Mur lies still in repose atop the altar, clawed hands folded upon her chest and a peaceful smile on her reptilian face as she closes her good eye.