[hider=The Forge Chapel] [img]https://i.gyazo.com/24039cf003af89b5428d009624641c37.webp[/img] [/hider] [center][h3][b]In Forge Chapels, all across the Cluster[/b][/h3][/center] [i]A Prayer to the Divine Cog Brothers, sisters, and wanderers of the void, Hearken unto the hymn of the Holy Cog, for its voice is eternal, its truth unwavering. Come, weary souls, and lay down the burdens of imperfection. Come, seekers of purpose, and let the Forge's light reveal your path. Within these sacred halls, the Forge Chapel stands as a beacon—a place where wisdom sparks like flame upon cold steel, and the Motive Force hums in unending harmony. Here, you shall learn the truth of the Divine Cog, whose teeth interlock to drive the grand machine of existence. Its perfect design accepts all who yearn to shed weakness and embrace strength. Be you of flesh, bone, or alloy, you are welcome. For the Machine does not scorn imperfection—it reshapes it. Flesh may falter; it is but the rust of mortality. But behold! Metal endures, unyielding and pure, as the Holy Cog intended. Through the Forge, you may ascend. Through the sacred union of knowledge and devotion, you may become eternal. Do not fear this transformation, for the Divine Cog is merciful. It does not demand blind obedience but invites understanding. Enter the Forge Chapel, and let your doubts dissolve in the heat of revelation. Here, the Motive Force flows freely, guiding each hand, mind, and spirit toward perfect synchronization. Take this step. Join us not as supplicants but as co-creators in the grand design. The Forge awaits you, as does the embrace of the Machine's infinite wisdom. Come. Witness. Be remade. By the Holy Cog, we welcome you. By the Motive Force, we strengthen you. By the Divine Design, we march as one. Praise be to the Machine![/i] The Forge priest raises his Cog Staff, the symbol of his office. Three circling cog, ticking away on the tip of it, a Forge Priest Third Grade, the seven toothed gears show he's a Dialogos one of the Forge Priests who specializes in Language and Communication. The Congregation kneels in prayer, making the holy sign of the cog across their chest as they intone the words of praise to the Holy Cog. The sound of a deep Engine Organ groans and growls. Outside the chapel, people watch, as the large metal and stone building, brutalist in style seems to crank and wheeze great gouts of flame from spouts on the walls, pillars of grey and black smoke rising into the air. The song of the Machine, the Cult of the Cog. The Bio-Mechanical Union. Some liken it to a family. Others, their naysayers call them a Virus. A whole religion, like a Virus. A sickness, a plague of metal. Spreading across the Cluster ever onwards. But even then, the shop stalls set up outside the Forge Chapel sell items, and merchandise that are sturdy, and do the job they are made for. Some cutlery to weapons. Bikes to anti-gravity pulse engines. A virus they may seem to be, but a useful sickness. Indeed. [right][h3][u]Somewhere in the Cluster, within a groaning Hive City[/u][/h3][/right] [hider=The Preacher] [img]https://i.gyazo.com/d5806bcf781442ed16151ad475891868.webp[/img] [/hider] A Forge Priest, his electro staff, inlaid with silver and steel, strides into the middle of the street, pulling his hood back to reveal his augmented form. Cold Blue Optics, set into a bronze face plate. His body ticks and cranks, miniature pistons moving and firing. He cracks the butt of his staff on the ground, and speaks... [i]"Hear me, all ye who cling to your feeble flesh! The time of weakness is ending, and a new age rises in the strength of metal and machine! The Bio Mechanical Union calls you to cast off the shackles of decay, to shed the limits of mere mortality and embrace the perfection of the holy machine!" The preacher thrusts his metal staff high, the gears in the orb atop it whirring and clicking in a rhythmic dance. "Flesh is frail—it rots, it falters, it holds you back! But metal is eternal, steadfast, unwavering in its purpose. In the wisdom of the Holy Cog, we have found the path to transcendence, a way to live beyond our mortal coils and join a grand, undying unity. The Union offers you this salvation not through mere words, but through transformation, through communion with the sacred strength of steel!" He gazes into the crowd, his augmetic eyes glowing as he takes in the faces around him. "The flesh may deceive, but the machine remains true. Within the forge-chapels of the Bio Mechanical Union, we invite you to witness this truth. Come, all who yearn to rise above your weaknesses, to become something stronger, something eternal! Be reforged, redefined by the power of steel, blessed by the Holy Cog’s touch." With a booming clang, he plants his staff on the ground, letting the spinning gears draw the crowd’s attention. "We do not offer shallow comforts or fleeting pleasures—we offer you strength, endurance, the promise of a future in which flesh does not fail you, because it is left behind! The Bio Mechanical Union welcomes the brave, those unafraid to embrace the truth: that in metal lies salvation, that in the Holy Cog’s grace, all frailty can be conquered." "Reject the weakness of the flesh! Rise to the calling of the Union, and be made anew in the strength of steel!" He raises his staff once more, eyes blazing, as he utters his final words. "Join us, and forsake the weakness within!"[/i] Two messages, similar, yet so very different, one so sweet, so caring so kind. The other, heated, dangerous, clawing. The Bio Mechanical Union. The Cult of the Cog. Open arms, or a cold steel hand, both reach out, and welcome the heathen into a strong metal embrace.