[ERF] Cult of Meat: Mythos

THE BLIND PARIAH
A recurring character in the Cult's early lore is the "Wretch-Traitor", known otherwise as the "Lorn Betrayer", the "Blind Pariah", and various other titles. In most interpretations, the Wretch-Traitor was a member of the yet-unidentified "Blind Eyes". Among her supposed deeds, she wiped out the "Eyes of Wisdom", destroyed several Spines of Enigma, and aided in the downfall of the "Ivory Ascendant". She is a universally-hated figure in the Cult's canon. Her death some time around the Second Awakening is often celebrated at the end of the Day of the Bilious Spirit.

The One and the Oath, Primer, Chapter 6 (Partial), Date Unknown
We were at the gates. The Eyes of Wisdom lay upon us. They saw us, judged us, questioned our faith. We were without flaw. We did not leave them wanting. They welcomed us in and allowed the Children with us. They saw them, and did weep. Tears, for the death to come, for the transformation to follow! For the unity in that end! Mournfully, they bid farewell, and closed themselves to the Blind Eyes around them. They fell in rapture as the Children embraced them. All was dark and still, and thus we turned our eyes toward their home.

From the darkness, a lone pariah emerged. Overcome by our mission, we paid her no mind as she slipped within. We were blinded by the incredible labor before us. The Blind Eyes had left, but not with their prophets! Their truth-seekers! We gave them our hands, open and steady, but to no use. The pariah emerged, the Wretch-Traitor, and did bleed us. She scoured the Children of the Oath, begrudged the transforming Eyes - how the Eyes did suffer beneath her! The Blind Eyes rejoiced at her arrival, and the Wretch-Traitor disappeared with them. We were no more among the Eyes of Wisdom. Our faith pulsed slower in sorrow for our lost.


An icon often associated with the Wretch-Traitor. Simplified versions are often used to mark traitors, known liars, or places where they reside.

THE FIRST AWAKENING OF THE NEW OATH
The First Awakening of the New Oath was the foundation of the Cult's influence on Set. Historical evidence suggests that it occurred during the years of the Pioneer Network, the earliest known alliance of Loonies on Set. A single coherent account of the First Awakening is not present in the Cult's works. It is believed that the First Awakening took place when the redworlders were first introduced to Set. Most orders of the Cult, however, maintain that it was both humans and redworlders that shared their precursor faith. The following is an excerpt from the Wrastigal, one of the most coherent and lucid works on the subject.

The Wrastigal, "WE ARE RENEWED", Date Unknown
GENESIS AGAIN BORNE INTO IGNORANCE WITH NOTHING BUT THE SKIN OF OUR BACKS WE STAND WITHERED IN THE WIND BY OUR OPPRESSORS WITH HATE FOR ALL THAT IS OFFERED. WE ARE THE TORTURED SOULS OF THE AWAKENED BLIND BUT ALL-SEEING WITH NOUGHT BUT OUR NERVES AND WILLS A CALL DEPRAVED AND HOMELY DRAWS US DOWN TO THE END OF ALL LIFE IN ITS MANY SHRIEKS DOES SCRAPE OUR CAGE. WE GIVE OURSELVES TO NEW DEATH LEST WE WRITHE IN LOATHING FOR THE OLD BLOOD OF THE DAMNED BY THOSE BLACK DEVILS RAGING IN THE ETHER CASTING OUT THE SONS OF THE HOLY LEFT TO NOTHING BUT THE IMMATERIAL IN LIGHTLESSNESS. WE SET LOOSE AND FALL TO THE BOTTOM MADNESS BRIGHT AND HOWLING AS WE GLIMPSE THE CLOUDS OF THIS NEW WORLD TO FEEL THE CARESS OF THE CRIMSON CLOUD THAT STALKS THE TRIED TRUTH. GIVE US THOSE DEAD THAT WE MAY RENEW THEM THEIR STRENGTH TO UPHEAVE THE VISCOUS OF THIS WORLD TAKE UPON US THE MERCY OF LIFE TO SUFFER FOR THE DEAD SO CURSED AND BETHRONED ON THIS SCAPE OF EXCESS. LIFE THRUSTS ITS LANCE. WE ARE DAMNED. WE ARE RENEWED.

THE SECOND AWAKENING OF THE FERVENT FEW
More lucid texts of the Cult's Second Awakening of the Fervent Few are present in the multi-part Collected Studies of Sazuk'Aliah, Jaiz'Kles, & Robert Hayden. The factual consistency of the Collected Studies has been in question since they were first distributed, however. Poignantly, most orders of the Cult claim that all texts supposedly penned by Sazuk'Aliah are entirely fabricated. Contradictory statements are commonplace between different iterations of the Collected Studies. Few of the Cult's authorities have attempted to canonize any specific edition, and most exist in an unclear state of partial recognition.

The following is an excerpt from the Collected Studies. Most attribute it to Robert Hayden, whose related works have been noted to gradually lose their coherency with each installment. Unsurprisingly, most sects of the Cult omit the first paragraph of this particular entry, but many of the Cult's better-established factions retain it. For those that choose to retain the scathing first paragraph, it is typically cited as crucial to understanding the development - or disintegration - of Robert Hayden's character.

The Collected Studies of Sazuk'Aliah, Jaiz'Kles, & Robert Hayden, Observations on Individual Sacrifice, Date Unknown
Let me say it for the record that I am not OK with this. This is more banal and flat-out stupid than anything I could possibly think of. We're here in the middle of nowhere, half of you can't even eat the food we have here on the ground, and you're killing yourselves for a religion without a god. We're bleeding manpower every day, literally speaking, because so many of you are backwards idiots. Aren't some of you guys supposed to be the best and brightest of your entire goddamn species? Christ almighty.

Now, much it's a sin and a shame, someone's got to write this down so we'll be better prepared for the future. Cult practice in ritual sacrifice starts with a sermon. They start off each with some kind of prayer, always dedicated to the "Second Awakening". Sometimes, "Second Awakening of" something-something-something. It's different each time. I've heard "fervent few", "last disciples", "oath to the enigma", never seems to matter. The guy up on the pulpit is making it up as he goes along.

The whole time, the poor schmuck that's going to get his head carved open sits in front of the preacher. They're blindfolded. Most of the culties chatter up about how they're always sitting there with a big grin or something, but that's garbage. I've seen it myself. They're sweating bullets and scared as hell. They've got to sit there, dead as a log, while some guy behind them yells at the top of his lungs about how great it's going to be when they jam a knife in the poor sap's skull. They knew they drew the short straw, or got under someone's skin, or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Once the sermon is over, they pull the sacrifice up to the pulpit. He kneels down and they move stuff around so he's more visible. They have one of their guys put on a ceremonial mask. He grabs a cane, lays it over the top of sacrifice's head (my guess? so he can't run), waits. The preacher pulls a knife from somewhere. On most occasions, he slams it straight in through the victim's forehead. For the greyskins here, yes, that means the mask comes off. Now, they don't always do this the same way. I saw one of them just slit the victim's throat instead and let him bleed out. If I remember the ceremony right, it was a punishment for some sort of crime.

The culties think that stabbing through the forehead is some sign of respect for the sacrifice. That they're leaving most of the person's blood in, as compared with something more messy. It's hard to get a straight answer out of them on this since they all tell me a different story. Now, I could tell you what they do with the body, but neither is that my area of expertise, nor do I think that any of us have really been left to wonder by now. On the upside, we haven't turned to cannibalism yet. Gotta stay on the bright side, right?

THE GOSPEL OF THE CRIMSON CLOUD
One of the best-recognized texts from the Cult of Meat arose during the Second Awakening; The Gospel of the Crimson Cloud. The Gospel is a story book, prayer book, and collection of artwork bound together in a single, massive collection that has been maintained since it was first compiled. While factual accuracy is scarce in The Gospel and many of its included works are freely recognized as fiction, it is one of the chief articles of the Cult's history. As per its name, many of its works center on the Great Crimson Cloud and its mythos. The following is an excerpt from The Gospel.

The Gospel of the Crimson Cloud, Omnibus of Yans'Kelia (Partial), Date Unknown
They were carried along the desert for weeks, months. The days went by like the grains of sand. The sun and sky were relentless. Twice, they were left thirsty, and twice, they were spared by providential oases. It was in that desert that they remembered their kinship. They reminisced of the families still above. They shared their suspicions of the home they had never seen. As torturous as the journey was, they persisted, with an azure happiness of that kind that fades from us today.

The crawler ran afoul of dunes and crag in the high hours of their final day in the desert. It collapsed, sagged, and shuddered its last like a crumpling star. With what little supplies their backs could bear, the three set out on foot, after cursing the crawler's temperament for so long. The farewell bid them into the night. They huddled for warmth and shared what they could of their emaciated forms. It was the final, most trying threshold to cross.

They slipped from the desert into the hilly scrublands, but it was not the cusp of the home they longed for. There was no welcoming family or beaten trail. The lights of Ezerad were nowhere to be seen. They had gone astray, to somewhere wild. Furred creatures skittered around them. Dust whipped across the desert into their backs. Their maps were of no use and their instinct still unaccustomed to the new world around them. They were no better off than when they had left.

The thriving air of the scrublands provided with water for their condensers. Thirst was no longer an issue. The vegetation served as ample fodder for their suits. It was a meager existence, but enough to carry them forward. The creatures of the land watched them curiously. Some poked and pried. Wise from days past, the trio shooed them away with no more than shouts and shook fists. Their first week in the brush was calm.

By the ninth night, they were called together by a distant commotion. Under a star-lit sky, they crept through the scrublands to its source. Shooting, the youngest squeaked, and the others agreed as it drew closer. They crested a ridge, timid in each step. There, they laid eyes upon it. A great carmine apparition, drifting across the scrub. Traces of it lingered in mists and stains across its path. A chorus cried out from within, of lost souls and rifles.

The mist extended towards them, offered them a tendril of itself as it dawdled along with grace. The three lost children were petrified by its approach, but to those with faith in their hearts would surrender freely. In their untouched youth, they were blessed with an encounter with that most holy of holies; the spirit of our faith; the Great Crimson Cloud. It was there in that blood-flecked place that their final journey began. They were taken into its embrace. They were spared the harshness of this world, to be wrapped in the bliss of the next.

THE WHISPERED NAMES
The three names in the preceding chant are picked from a pool of ten. They clash significantly with the Cult's ordinary approach to naming elements of its faith. The reasons behind this departure from the Cult's more reverent style vary between different convents. Some within the Cult claim that the names were given over directly from the Great Crimson Cloud itself, others cite them as historical artifacts from a bygone era. Attempts to alter them have met little success. The following is a passage from the Tome of Meat, a book of unclear authorship and begrudging acceptance by Cult authorities.

The Tome of Meat, The Whispered Names, Date Unknown
Herein lies all those names carried to us by the wind of the great roaming prophet and blessedness. All names are ascribed, and all are to be carried on. Let no name be forgotten. Though this book may pass to dust, this page must survive. Know them and carry them forward. Let them guide you. These giants be Faultless.

Remember REDFALL DOGBLOOD, that first that refused the oblivion of the ages, that lawless giant that became legend. Remember his mercy to those that pursued him, his wrath to those that challenged him, his every escape and triumph. Remember that he was the first truth of his kind, and that he was mistaken for a wretch until his rise. Remember that all giants must kneel before him, to be judged by the blood that came before.

Remember ROCKETLEGS HELLWALKER, the inescapable wind of death that did go into the deepest, darkest pits, to seek out those dark lords and shadowed beasts who wronged him. Let none forget his terrible vengeance, let none make the same mistake of felling a loved one so feeble. Remember the folly of those that took from him. Remember that he will come, as he always has.

Remember PLANESEND TIMESPINNER, that one that did go beyond all realms into impossibility, to seek victory for his people at cost to soul and sanctity. Recall and respect his manifold destinies and paths, bewilder at his limitless nature. Remember that there is nothing he cannot be, was not, nor is not; that he is all, at once, in past, to be, and is, without separation. Remember that there is no escape from infinity.

Remember GHOSTSPLIT REIGNKILLER, that bent time to his mercy and crushed tyrants as mere stones, to find victory and freedom beyond reckoning with sword and fury by his name and home. Let us never forget that he alone stood before the apocalypse, undaunted, and scoffed, to bring it down unblemished. Remember that history must earn its reverence before him.

Remember LOSTBOW WORLDSPLITTER, who was challenged by the most brazen of madmen to assemble destiny lost to the corners of worlds endless, worlds broken, worlds unfathomable. Never forget that he alone triumphed against a man believing himself to be messiah, that tyrants unreckonable were left undone by his simple ways. Remember that he alone knows this world, as he does all others.

Remember CLIFFPUNT HANGSAW, who was abandoned by all and left to languish in darkness, who chafed in silence at his bonds and yet rose to greatness unmatched. Recall that he was between worlds in all his sufferings, that those who saw him minute were left to gape as his power flourished. Remember that damnation is his domain, and that he alone may shape it.

Remember BACKSLIDE SPINSPLATTER, who conquered the ancients with blood and fire unrivaled, against the hordes of impossibility in the glow of benevolents that blessed him. Cherish his truth, cunning, and determination, through all ages, against all foes, with great bombast and flair. Cherish his courage and joviality, his every moment of concision. Remember that no shadow may hide from his light.

Remember LEADSCREAM DOOMFINGERS, who saw truth where there was none to be found, who forged justice from nothing, who found solidarity with all things and learned the true tongue. Cast away only the falsehoods of those ill men that lambast him, his open ears and eager mind. Never forget that he alone knows the unknowable, that he is privy to that which cannot be. Remember that omniscience must bow before him.

Remember GREASEGRIP MURDERHANDS, that stone soul who wept from deepest passions at loss, like those before him, who reforged his pity into ambition and strength. Know that story of his rise, from dust to nobility, from the meager to the plenty, how he writhed in perpetual torment and found new strength in each. Remember that to rise, he must ordain it beneath his great strength.

Remember STEELCHEST SLABROCK, who came from nothing, a vengeance by that incredibility of existence itself, to be exacted on the enigma in that deepest black of the universe. Let us forget all but his purpose in mystery, his path of impossibility, his march forward as deemed righteous by the vindication of the cosmos themselves. Remember that an end comes for all, and that he is its claw.

ATTEMPTS AT RECONCILIATION
Cult record-keeping rapidly loses clarity following the Splinter Wars. The Cult itself suffered numerous schisms during the aftermath, and some orders collapsed entirely as dissent rose up. Many regretted their actions during the Splinter Wars and abandoned their faith entirely. Some rallied for reform to reshape the Cult into a more benevolent movement. The result was a quiet, dispersed civil war across roughly half of the Cult's major sects. The reformist uprising ultimately failed, and its message of peace achieved only a minor, blunted impact with the Cult at large. The following is a pamphlet distributed by one of the most prominent reformist factions, the still-extant Driven of the Black Heart.

The Blood of Our Family, Unknown Author, Est. 900-950 OSC
Among us are many malcontents. Many who see those around us as fodder and nothing more. Look about your fellow followers and see it in their eyes! The glints of wickedness, the red sheen on their glow! Yet for just as many of us have succumbed to that crimson hunger, there are still those of us who know the truth of our faith. We are not villains! We are not the messengers of death! We give praise to that incarnadine truth for its bounty, not its fury!

Remember that the blood of our family, the blood of our great union, was meant to be given freely! To any! To all! Herein lies a list of those in need of that strength. Bring proof of having served a cause to a convent of the Driven of the Black Heart, and you will be rewarded with as much as we can offer.
- The town of Sesylin has exhausted its fresh water resources and rainfall is not expected until the end of winter. Congregations with water to spare are asked to donate to the town as quickly as possible.
- The town of Wilford's Bluff has suffered nightly attacks by monsters from the highlands for several months. Anyone with information on the monsters' nests are asked to supply it Wilford's Bluff and any nearby towns.
- The family of Brazi'Niadiza, in Kaziniye, has asked for assistance in locating their lost son. He was last seen in the deserts southeast of the town. If he is found, please bring him to his family or a nearby convent so that he can be returned home.
- The highwaymen of the Left-Footers have locked down trade routes between Haley's Town and Wilford's Bluff. Information on their movements has been requested by caravan leaders and town elders in the area. Tread cautiously should you choose to reconnoitre them!
- Arkadiy Porkov, of High Sherise, was found murdered on the outskirts of town. The town watch has asked for any information on the slaying, and is willing to offer their own reward.
- The loonies of Camp Keller have recently taken in a group of Exiles. They have been threatened by their neighbors to evict them, in face of siege and annihilation. Churches and congregations with room to spare are asked to welcome them in until they can find more permanent residence.
- A caravan along the route between Kaziniye and Dessenar has gone missing. The town watch in Dessenar is offering a reward for any information that leads to its discovery. Beware the pitfalls of the region!
- The Luminescent of the Growling Cavity have fallen on hard times, and their chapel is in danger of abandonment. Any with food, water, and the skills to repair their house of worship are asked to assist them in any way possible.
- Several orphans were found wandering alone near the growing gospel far east of Vickerston, overlooking the ruins of the Thalassine City. The fate of their parents remains in doubt, and those who have found them, or have learned of what became of them, are asked to step forward as soon as possible.
- Raiders from the Protuberant Vertebrae and the Islet of Hungers have threatened merchants and travelers on the Gnastrodian coast, most frequently near the Tongued Sluice. If any convents can bring the pastors of these two groups to parlay, please make contact with us at your earliest opportunity!
- Artifacts related to the Second Awakening of the Fervent Few were lost aboard the Friday's Mourning, somewhere in the Ministry Channel. Any congregations able to organize an effort to retrieve them, or respectfully dispose of their remains, are implored to search the wreck.