Acerbus
The Sacrosanct Orator, the leader of Acerbus politically and spiritually, walks through stone halls, carrying with him the traditions and faith of his people, and a bowl full of blood. His echoing steps on that gray floor are like mythology: old, slow, laden with meaning. The bowl shakes in his decrepit hand, and a beautiful young aide leads him by the other. She knows not to smile at him. She knows not to make any expression at all. He does not look at her: he looks ahead- in as much as he can still see at all- towards the huge double-doors.
When the word of the Gateway's opening was heard, charismatic young revelators, wise fidels in their formal postures and mystical seers were quickly recruited from across the Twilight Band. It didn't take long at all. Thousands begged for this opportunity, even without being asked, and the Temple Gathering's clerks picked whomever appeared to be the best candidates freely. Wasn't this what so many of them had wished all their lives for? The forty or so who were chosen stand now in the inner chamber of one of the most important temples on Acerbus, dressed in red robes, their faces uncovered. They try not to whisper to one another. It helps that in a group this small, from across all the world, none of them know one another. A majority of them only know the Orator from media. As the aide opens the doors with a bit of struggle, their gaze moves from her to him. He stares back half-blindly as he descends down to them in trembles.
The chosen remind themselves that they are about to become missionaries for Revelationism. They contain their imagination, as they try not to daydream about the alien worlds and other colonies where they are about to be sent to spread their faith. They are each feeling the same thing. Among them, there are some from powerful families or islands that could not be excluded. There are some others who are politically cunning social-climbers who, before this opportunity came, might have been in pursuit of a seat at the Temple Gathering. And there are the true believers, a few with dangerous bright eyes, whose faith burns so much like fire they become beloved or hated by everyone who meets them.
The Sacrosanct Orator is nothing like any of them.
Invited theocrats, family members of those chosen, and the press watch from a high balcony as he moves down below with ritual in every creaking, ancient joint. He dips his hand into the bowl, slow, letting it run down and soak into the sleeve of his robe and drip onto the floor with a pit-pat-patter. The soon-to-be missionaries feel his wrinkled fingertip as he paints a circular symbol on their foreheads: two snakes biting each other's tails, with a third dividing between them.
The Orator, despite his title, says nothing. Revelationism is a religion of actions and not words. The missionaries watch him turn away from them, with his black and starkly white robe trailing on the floor. He halts suddenly for a moment and has a bad coughing fit. The aide forces herself not to react. The Orator leaves their sight still gagging and clearing his throat. More than one of the new missionaries have tears running down their faces. Soon they will travel across the cosmos, finding their long-lost brethren. Their teardrops fall and mingle with blood on the floor.
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Diplomatic Missionary: Revelator Andrea Federus
Commodore: Ava Jones
Destination: Kamenymir (@Eldritch Puppy)
Andrea stands with his arms crossed, an alcoholic drink in his hand and a disapproving, skeptical scowl on his face. This is not unusual- it's his typical bearing. He wears it now because he's just gone through the Gateway and arrived at a new star system, and discovered that space on the other side looks essentially the same as space viewed from Acerbus. Somehow this feels like a fake-out. He expected the world to be a little different countless lightyears away. But on a lower and more spiritual level, it is deeply appropriate. Of course, he thinks to himself. It is all the same everywhere. 'There's nothing new under starlight.' I bet the people are just the same, too. He'd worked harder than he liked to make sure he was one of those chosen to become missionaries to other colonies of Earth still alive, to take part in the Orator's weird little ritual and get himself assigned. A part of him revolted at it, but since the day his knees had hit that temple floor when the Gateway tore itself into the sky, a unnamable feeling had eaten away at him. He had to see.
They vessel he's been placed aboard to play diplomat has chosen a random destination. Nobody knew or could reasonably guess what the other side would hold- it was a blind shot in the dark of space. This this too feels cheap to Andrea, and also strangely appropriate. The Revelator had been asked to pray for their vessels to emerge where the gods willed. He refused. He did not want the gods in the way.
It seems that the Gateway does not always deposit you directly at the opposite end. The retrofitted, forty year old frigate- the first of its kind ever created by Acerbians, now repurposed and furnished for space travel for the wealthy and powerful- and its two destroyer escorts hover now in space like ships on a dead sea, trying to orient themselves with no context. At last the Commodore who commands the escorts forces Andrea, citing security concerns, to momentarily stop scowling and drinking and do his job. Half against his will, he records a message, which is translated by the shipboard AI into various languages and broadcasted out to the new system they've found themselves in:
"Hail. I am Revelator Andrea Federus, a diplomat-missionary from the Esoteric Temple of Acerbus. We have come from across the Gateway in search of other colonies from before the Fall of Earth. We extend our hand out peacefully to make formal contact, and inquire as to how our fellow man has fared these five centuries, if we are welcome. Thank you."
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Diplomatic Missionary: Blessed Johannes Daviso, a fidel devoted to the Bearer
Commodore: Davide Ferrarius
Destination: Interrupted by the arrival of the Yellow Horde (@Enigmatik)
Wherever these missionaries were going to go, they're not headed that way anymore.
They are in a retrofitted worker transport vessel, the Wine of Dionysus: a personal project originally created by a wealthy young man who wanted to turn it into his own space yacht, a burgeoning trend on Acerbus that doesn't quite have an industry yet. The shipwrights did a good job, if a plainly improvisational one. Ship design itself is an industry less than eighty years old on Acerbus, younger than the Sacrosanct Orator, and Acerbian ships tend to be ugly. It serves just well enough for this purpose. It is shiny and new, it is small but rich, and inside it is as comfortable as Acerbian interior design can be.
The lead missionary, Blessed Johannes, is submerged deep in the ship's pool in meditation when he is forcefully awoken by a grating, skin-crawling klaxon. The report, delivered to him breathlessly by a nervous crewman before Johannes' even has his beloved veil back on, is that a large fleet of vessels similar to those who identified themselves as a 'Red Horde' (whatever that means- Acerbians were struggling immensely with understanding that message) in Sol has appeared in Acerbian space. They had provided no prior communication to Acerbus. The word "invasion" is flashed around, but it does not stick- they are making no hostile action. Johannes is shown a captured image of the newcomers. The two destroyer escorts flanking the Wine of Dionysus suddenly feel small.
An hour later, Commodore Ferrarius is watching Blessed Johannes closely and uneasily as he drafts a greeting message. After revisions and suggestions by the other missionaries under him, and a read-over by the commodore who frowned down his long nose at it but offered no comments, Johannes records (and the shipboard AI translates):
"Hail. This is Blessed Johannes Daviso speaking. I represent the Esoteric Temple of Acerbus, the people of our world, and our faith in the truths of the Cosmic Mothers who are sang of in the Sacrosanct Songbook. The Temple's jurisdiction includes the whole system of Frigus, where you have entered, including both asteroid belts, the gas giant worlds and the planet of Acerbus itself. I am a missionary and a diplomat appointed to reach through the opened Gateway peacefully to other children of Earth, to make formal contact, or to greet those who have come to us- as in this case. I would like to inquire as to your intentions. Am I speaking to the Red Horde?"
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Diplomatic Missionary: Beatrice Kleus, a Seer
Commodore: Blaise Mancini
Destination: Unfortunately, the Nameless' System (@Sep)
Beatrice's visions are troubling her. The visions of an Acerbian, which they have instead of the "dreams" and "sleep" that their ancestors had, are rarely peaceful- but Beatrice's have been like a fire shut up inside her skull for a week. Her nerves have rattled her and made her daily meditations into an extended nightmare, which haunts her with images she cannot understand. She has closed her eyes and seen visions of lava, and snakes with gouged-out eyes slithering across the stars, and she is always visited by a deformed old woman who shouts "Dismember them, skin them, or they'll find you out!" She has not yet met a single foreigner, yet she regrets becoming a missionary. Standing on the bridge of a hastily redecorated transport vessel, flanked by brutal-looking twin destroyer escorts, her hands tremble. They started to shake when she crossed the Gateway. Looking at the viewscreen now, she tries to remind herself that she is educated and qualified, experienced in religion and the politics of religion, and this job was offered to her for a reason. She is capable.
She reassures herself that she could speak competently with any other human. If only she could find them. They exited the Gateway and, wherever it has thrown them, all that is in visual range is an odd cluster of what they thought might be asteroids. Beatrice immediately felt (sensed is the word she would use) that there was something strange about it. She is a mystic, not an astrophysicist, but these are not arranged at all like the belt in Frigus. She knows they aren't.
Her suspicions are confirmed when Blaise tells her that what they believed to be asteroids are generating heat. Her trembling hands do not like that news. She remembers the deformed woman in her visions. Were the gods telling her to strike first at whatever is lurking in those maybe-asteroids? But she can't, it isn't her way. If they are generating heat, and if this truly is a system where another Earth colony had long ago been sent, they could be warm only because of some devices put into them by the other colonists.
After only a brief period of internal and external debate, Beatrice lifts her hands up towards the stars and allows the gods to guide her as she says out into this strange system (and as the AI translates):
"Hail! I am Beatrice Kleus, a Seer from the far, far away planet of Acerbus. With the old portal between the stars miraculously reopened by the will of the gods, my people have sent me here to find others such as ourselves out in the cosmos. If you can hear my voice, fellow born of Earth- we have come to make contact with you once again. Let us meet face to face and speak of all that has happened."