Sgrios Shambler

My desk, the humble old thing, is expected to house a myriad of thoughts and activities. My aisling spark rarely lets me focus on a single project through completion and, as a result, I have the unrealistic expectation that my desk can house the same infinity of thought that I hold in my mind. Sadly this is not the case and I must, from time to time, purge my space of those ideas that are simply occupying valuable real estate. This time of reflection is a culling of sorts as I unfurl dusty scrolls with half-written masses, frantic scribblings of some thought that seemed to carry weight at the height of some sleepless night or the half dozen ideas for manuscripts I plan to submit to the college. As such, our minds are graveyards of similar dead thoughts. Bygone memories of better days that have come to pass, hopes that have failed to coalesce before their potentiality expired, irredeemable philosophical ponderings that inevitably lead nowhere. In the seemingly infinite plain of our m...

The aisling mind is divinely inspired; a boundless landscape of wonder and possibility. When Deoch lowered his godly finger from the ether-realms and pressed the spark into our mortal bodies, He unlocked an infinity of thought and progress. This is, however, always a blessing and a curse - with advanced capacity for knowledge comes a new sphere of fear and anxiety. Having a greater grasp on the limitations of life itself gives way to a fear of the inevitable death; a fear unique among mortals. There are more complex fears that the Aisling philosophers of Mileth are always keen to prattle on about; vague existential threats that are always looming on the peripheral of reality, somehow never seeming to take action against our realm. Of all these things that may or may not exist, the one invisible force that seems to direct the realms of man is time. This measure by which we gauge the lengths of days, the passing of a year and the age of everything from stone to stonemason. This unrel...

There was once a valiant warrior; the pride of his village. By the strength of his arm and the steel of his courage the town was saved from many a horrid fate. Each time he was able to stave off disaster, his ego would swell. The elders brought him gifts of gold, the priests brought him powerful amulets and rings, the maidens gave of their bodies what a man values more than gold and power. The village leaned heavily on this boy, and, while he was happy to lend his particular talents to the preservation of his village, each wave of terror corrupted his kind heart bit by bit. Each gold coin he earned in the employ of the elders set a monetary expectation; he began visiting the church after his exploits and asking for his reward. When the young women soured on his demeanor, he began to take by force what they would not give. Appreciation turned to ask; ask turned to demand and demand gave way to force. Within years the village savior had become the evil he had sworn to protect agains...

It is comforting for us to know that the gods watch over us, that they walk among us, that we are cared for by something larger than ourselves. Here, in this forsaken place, we are shrouded in the eternal protection of Lord Sgrios; he who knows death as a subordinate. When I see a felled tree pitted by worms, when I see the dead of yesterday’s hunt nurture the land with their festering bodies, when those I love fail to take another breath I know he lives, and when I am spared from such a grisly fate, my faith in Him is rewarded. His presence is strong and pervasive in our world, and rarely am I ever far from a reminder of His great gifts. But faith is a currency spent in more institutions than this holy shrine, and it is one that accumulates at a glacial pace and diminishes as water in the desert. What do we do, then, when our faith is lost? We, followers of Sgrios, are blessed to dedicate ourselves to such a powerful god, yet there were others -- gods who predate those of our curr...

Sermon prepared and delivered by High Priest VanMorgan Tonight we will be discussing the relationship between Deoch and Sgrios. The Temple Attendants tell us that Deoch was once the god of Debauchery and is the god of inspiration. I must say it was something of a topic here in the Temple "back in the Deoch." While we were out murdering Aislings in the Mileth Crypts, we had to wonder exactly what kind of things were going on over in Suomi. It was quite salacious when we tested members and they asked what debauchery meant. I mean this in no disrespectful way, it is simply the truth. But let us look to the inspirational part of Deochs facets. From acts of sensuality to the inspiration for the greatest works of art and beyond are what Deoch influences. That is no small feat. So now, how does all this pertain to Sgrios? It is true that Deoch is a Dubhaim God and therefore "related" to Sgrios. But according to Sgrian dogma, that is not the MAIN reason he is our ally. De...

Sermon prepared and delivered by Acolyte Xyphera As Aislings we have all seen our share of Chaos here and there. Be it on the battlefields of Medenia, or, in my case, the dim and chill depths of the Mi leth Crypt. So it's a bit of a given that we are all familiar with the concept of Chaos to varying degrees. As followers of our Lord Sgrios we may have even encited some Chaos of our own here and there.. But is it truly Chaos that we have enacted or witnessed? I remember reading a quote somewhere that goes something along lines of, "What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly." Under the gaze of our Lord Sgrios we are but flies in his web, though some of us may have more comfortable spots within the web. The differences between Gods and Aislings may be more vast than any ocean that we will ever see with our mortal eyes. Triggering or enciting Chaos in order to watch the aftermath, the scrambling of mundanes and Aislings alike, can be fun from ...