Dream Dev Outline Sermon 1

From atop the pulpit stood a rather large Neries, he'd be leaning against the wood with a cocky smile plastered across his face. His vibrant sienna eyes gazing out over his flock. Was it perhaps the largest congregation of a faith upon the continent? No, not really. Was it filled with large names and powerful movers and shakers of the world? Again, not really. However, it had something that truly mattered. Faith in the dream, and a willingness to hear the Neries speak of it.

Many who looked up at the young Deacon wouldn't see what was expected of a spiritual leader. There was no flowing beard, no ceremonial robes denoting his station, no fancy pointed hates. What they'd see was a scrappy looking young man, someone who smelled faintly of alcohol and appeared to not have shaven recently. Though despite his disheveled appearance or perhaps because of it he had a certain rugged charm to his smile, a certain passion alight behind his dull reddish brown hues.

He'd give a nod to the faithful who'd gathered that evening. The golden jewelry adorning his horns jingling with the motions. Rising from the pulpit he'd been leaning on the young deacon scanned the crowd. Looking to memorize the faces of those who attended, attempting to commit the magi and non-magi alike to memory.

He'd raise his hands in greeting, the glint of gold and precious stones decorating his fingers adding emphasis to the gesture. The thrum of power built in his vocal cords as a dull hum of hymns echoed in the background of the church. Not from any mortal singers, not but from the melodious magic of the deacon. With a bit of suspense built

<font color="gold">"Not all here know me but allow me to introduce myself!"</font> At the end of the sentence the large man's legs twisted together, his upper body dipping low as he swept his hands out. Performing a grandiose bow to the filled pews of faithful.<font color="gold">"I am Deacon Fengari of the Grey Church! Trained in Nostvale before being shipped across the churning waves to serve the church within Agartha."</font> As he spoke he rose back to his position, taking a moment to stride across the raised dais.

<font color="gold">"I wish I could have arrived in better times, with the late-archbishop still alive and well. It saddens me that we must continue dreaming of our utopia without such a paragon to help guide us. A moment of silence, if you all would. In respect for their service to Humanity."</font> As if being an example the Neries tilted his golden capped horns towards the ground. Giving a few moments of silence to the achievements of those who'd came before he.

Raising his head back up he'd launch into his own Sermon. He knew that most audiences needed to be kept at a fast clip or else they grew restless. After all more often than not it was boring to sit within the church and listen to one person drown on about things that didn't matter to those present. He'd stroll back to the pulpit, his steel toed boots clanking distinctly against the wooden floors. Taking his place at the pulpit he'd lean forward launching into a fiery speech.

<font color="gold">"I'm going to talk about the Dream for a moment. A message delivered to us by the Prophet Sareen. The one who ascended to become the Dreamer and saved the lives of my people. Though, her personal achievements aside the message she gives us is to strive to achieve the pure hope that Azreal first had."</font> As he spoke he'd lean further upon the pulpit using the leverage to gain a few inches closer to the audience.

<font color="gold">"Azreal's original purpose was to save humanity from the suffering of a world created flawed! I'm not here to breed hatred in your hearts over the failures of a weak creator. No, I will leave that to others who desire revenge more than actualization of Azreal's hopes."</font> At this point he'd start to stride across the dais once more, his voice ringing across the church as clear to those in the back as if they where right beside him. Voice control helped, melodious magic guaranteed.

<font color="gold">"The dream which I hold in my heart and which Azreal wished was that we, Humanity, would all live in a world free of the suffering of imperfection. Freed from the corruption of decay, hunger, death. Where no child would be orphaned, no man famished with hunger, no woman widowed and alone! A dream of Utopia.</font>

With the swing of things picking up the man jumped off the dais, striding into the aisle as he looked from face to face. At times his almost clawed hand reached out to touch a person, grasp a hand, grip a shoulder. He was always attuned to the feelings of others, it had served him well in his life and now it'd serve others.

<font color="gold">"That is the basic message that we know to be what Azreal desired. For a long time many who answered the call to seek out this dream only viewed the nightmare that came after. Azreal in his pursuit of our salvation created the Holy Arts, yet in doing so he plunged himself into madness. His white wings tainted black as his soul tarnished. This may make you think, are the Holy Arts evil? The answer is no. They do what they are supposed to, when we are able to replicate it properly it brings the dream closer to fruition. That is why we must always strive to greater our mastery over the Holy Arts, so that in time all may be able to be returned to life."</font>

He stopped speaking for a moment as the thrum of trumpets echoed in the background. Turning he advanced up the aisle at a run, sprinting back to the pulpit with hearty fervor. He'd bring his hand down upon the wood with a resounding thud, the noise ceasing as he accentuated his words.

<font color="gold">"Now, what I wished to talk to you about today! Loyalty, it is a strange concept to many upon Agartha. Matching one's words to one's actions can be a trying thing! But how can we, as examplars of the dream, be disloyal? By walking into those doors you all showed trust in my words. Trust that I would give you a message you wanted to hear. Who would I be if I didn't deliver? Some may not enjoy what I say, but I said it as I said I would. You see? Words to ACTION! That is why I gathered you all here for the  mass."</font>

He was talking about the truth, honesty, loyalty. He was preaching about the tenet of stability. It was one he'd always found hard to grasp. It was anthema to his being. Yet, he had to try for his believe in the dream.

<font color="gold">"If we are to bring all the people of the world together, bring our hands together in the pursuit of the Dream. We must show that we, as individuals, as a group, as a nation! Are willing to stand by our word! Whom would call to a fairweather friend for aid? Whom would keep such a person within their house?! None! It would be madness, that is why we must show that our ability to stand by one another. Our unity in thought and deed is honest."</font>

Sweat was starting to coat his face as he leaned upon he pulpit, his gaze unfocused upon any one individual instead sweeping to lock eyes with all he could. As if he was talking to each present in a one on one discussion.

<font color="gold">"The tenet of Stability, is one all benefits from. I offer such a thing to those within this house. I offer such a thing to those without! For we all dream, we all hope, it takes those who are willing to brave the nightmares of the waking world. It takes those willing to continue sleeping against it's harshities. It takes Dreamers to bring actualization of our hopes."</font>

With a deep breath he'd sweep his gaze across the room once more.

<font color="gold">"That's all I had prepared for the sermon, are there any questions I could assist with?"</font>