In early 650, a dwarf proclaimed herself a prophet named "The Living Moon". She swiftly began rabble-rousing among the farms and workshops of the Buff Trade. Despite warnings from the Hammerer, she continued proselytizing the word of the Moon. Shunning the caves, she taught that only the light of the Moon could dispel the evils of the world - the darkness of the undercities was a breeding ground for all sorts of ills. This blasphemy against the deeps did not go unnoticed - after increasing surveillance and repeated brushes with the law, the Hammerer posted notice... the so-called Living Moon, previously known as As Gidthermosus was banished from all towns of the Buff Trade.
Fleeing under cover of night, she took six disciples from the farmhands who were most devoted to her new worship. Leaving behind the lands of the Buff Trade, the Glowing Cult founded their new haven... Ilonrath Tamol Ingtak, "Moontemple the Savior of Twilight". There they would build a great temple to their goddess, the Moon, and achieve salvation.
***
The first year was hard. They passed out of the civilized lands, and into the realm of beasts and bandits. Making their weary way to the swamps at the headwaters of the Rushing Fancy, they knew that the goblins were said to dwell nearby. Despite the threat, the Living Moon announced that here where the waters came from the earth was where the Moon must have her temple. The First (for so the followers of the Living Moon now styled themselves) discovered that there were both sand and clay nearby. Felling the trees, they built a crude hall and shelter. Over time, others came to help - the Living Moon had impressed many, and though they were not willing to flee with her, they claimed they missed her teachings so much they followed her to her new seat of power (few mentioned the religious and political purges that drove them from the Buff Trade). Furnaces and kilns were established.
***
By the second year, the fortress had become a sturdy structure of fired brick - the raw logs of the initial construction were removed, and fed in turn to the voracious furnaces. Caravans began to appear, trading surreptitiously and fading back into the forests - merchants had no politics but money. The humans came as well, bringing metals and food and taking away wood, shell and ceramic crafts. Things were going well.
The night of Midsummer, the devotees stayed up all night, swaying and chanting beneath the full Moon. When the Moon finally set, the Sun turned the east a glowing crimson. The Living Moon spoke to her followers, saying "The time has come, my children. We must give the Moon her temple. It is time!"
***
The glass forges glowed night and day. Green glass blocks were made, more and yet more. The Moon was to have her temple, and glass was Her medium. A stepped pyramid of green glass, rising above the forests. Statues of the Moon's holy stone, the kimberlite of deepest night, would stand watch over the faithful. Within, the holy of holies would be constructed according to plans revealed only to the Living Moon.
Clear glass statues would guard the temple; a clear glass altar would be set before the silver door of the holy of holies... the Door of the Moon.
***
The night of the great consecration approached. The disciples spent weeks fasting and praying, growing weak of body but strong of spirit. The power was building, and the Moon's temple shone like a beacon in the night. The light of the fires and torches reflected through the green glass and seemed somehow amplified, brighter, and the soft shining light bathed the entire Glowing Cult in its radiance. The Living Moon began the Long Song, the consecration that would bring down the Moon to the temple and apply the final purification to what her loyal dwarves had struggled so long to build.
Evil does not yield so easily, however. The darkness struggles always to quench the light, to silence the voice lifted in song, still the praying hands in their motions, extinguish the shining flame of hope.
The animals were restless; they cried out in the darkness. Something was out there. Into the torchlight came a horrible beast, the cursed weretiger Smunstu Violenturges. The followers of the Moon flung themselves at it, desperate to stop it - it slew them without a thought, without mercy. The First attacked it with whatever came to hand, but nothing made a mark on it... they fell, one by one, their blood staining the plaza of the temple they had labored so long and hard to build. In the end, the Living Moon was struck down at the moment of her victory.
Deep in the forest, far off the roads, at the headwaters of a river, there is a temple made entirely of glass. Legends say that on the night of the full Moon, the temple shines again with the light of a thousand torches, and the unquiet ghosts of the Glowing Cult try again and again to re-enact the ceremony of consecration. If they can only succeed, they will be freed... but success never comes.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6218946 times)