Sgrios Mass: Crimes of Complacency

I like to think that, as Sgrians, we have a keen finger on the pulse of our fleeting mortality. By finding a home in the darker corners of Temuair, we have become sharply aware of the tenuous grip we have on our precious lives. Each wound that shrinks to a scar; each illness that sets us on our backs, each passing deoch that brings us closer to our end - these are bells that chime the song of Sgrios, and with each brush with death, we devote ourselves anew to His service. But not all signs of death are so obvious; there are ways in which we sacrifice our lives without the drama of disfiguring scars; without coughs; without pain; without calendars. Of all of Gramail’s repulsive gifts to the world, there is one with which he syphons our spark, ounce by ounce, until we’re left as little more than a necromancer’s puppet: this disgusting trance through which our spark is snuffed out is the dangerous swamp known as complacency. While Sgrios is best known for His chthonic duties; tending to t...