Siwas on Mularos

 

Siwas squints at a sheet of age-dark parchment.

Siwas asks, "Welcome to the Garden of Suffering." She glances around at those gathered, a faintly sardonic smile touching her lips. "I am pleased to see so many here this night. Perhaps something will be learned, hm?"

Siwas says, "My name, as I'm sure many of you are aware, is Siwas Devessi. Tonight I will be speaking to you of Mularos. He is also known as 'He who is the Sorrow of the World', or simply 'the Sorrower'."

Siwas quietly says, "As we are in a place considered holy to some, myself included, I ask that you show respect to this garden, and also to the shrine when we enter within."

Siwas glances at a marble shrine.

Siwas says, "To put it in its simplest terms, Mularos is the lord of all suffering. He draws strength from such, especially that inflicted by others. At first, this concept seems elementary, but when considered carefully, it reveals itself to be rather complex."

Siwas says, "There is more to suffering than simple physicial discomfort. The agonies of the spirit, of the mind, of the heart belong to the Sorrower as well. This is an important point, often overlooked."

Siwas quietly says, "None of us here is a stranger to pain. Think back, if you will, to your own past. Have you ever spoken a cutting word to someone, crafted specifically to wound them? Have you ever struck a lover in anger, or perhaps killed them?" Her gaze flicks over each person gathered, though her tone is even and calm. "Or perhaps you took joy in causing pain to someone you considered an enemy."

Siwas says, "Each time one of these acts was committed, the Sorrower gained strength from it, whether you meant to aid him or not."

(Siwas stands quiet for a moment, watching your reactions, arms folded casually across her chest.)

Siwas raises an eyebrow.

Siwas says, "We will now move inside the shrine. While it was desecrated during the recent war, we have restored it to its original beauty."

Siwas quietly says, "I will not stand for any destruction in this place tonight. Please be aware of this."

Siwas's group just entered a marble shrine.

[Shrine of Suffering]
Wide, polished columns of deep black marble ascend toward the ceiling, a contrast to the pure white walls of the chamber. Set between the low pillars is an altar of flawless ivory, elaborately inlaid with bloodjewels and a base twined with thorny, carved brambles. Overlooking the altar, a statue of a young man with his arms stretched above his head, casts a slight shadow across the room.
Also here: Thrassus, Wulfhen, Briah, Mahasti, Raelee, Khelil, Calean, Great Lady Wylde, Triffid, Lumaco, Atoyoz, Natulari, Laerilas, Riggen, Nilandia, Respital, Evesong, Galenok, High Lord Landceal, Divid, Otein, Laakshmi, Siwas
Obvious exits: out

Siwas wryly says, "There is a misconception that all servants of the Sorrower are bloodthirsty animals who care for nothing more than finding their next victim to dismember. This is patently false."

Siwas glance at the parchment in her hand.

Siwas put a sheet of age-dark parchment in her black velvet cloak.

Siwas says, "Just as there any many forms of suffering, there are many ways to serve. While some who worship Mularos are indeed sadists who delight in bringing physical pain to others, some are more suited to enduring what pain is caused to them."

Siwas takes a drink from her jasmine tea.

Siwas traces the lines of her thin scar.

Siwas quietly says, "Their agony brings as much strength and glory to the Sorrower as those who wield the knife do by their methods."

Siwas says, "Some find that their talents lie not in the realms of physical suffering, but in the more delicate tasks of emotional anguish. I will not speak in detail about this, but I felt it was worth mentioning briefly."

Siwas says, "Still others find that a mix of these is what best suits their own personal tastes. There is no 'One True Way' to serve the Sorrower.

(Siwas raises a hand and gestures to the altar behind her, and takes a step to the side so it can be clearly seen by all.)

l altar
Fashioned from pure white ivory, the altar's base is ensconced by numerous carved brambles, their curved thorns gleaming softly. Atop its surface are numerous bloodjewels arranged in a heart-shaped pattern, the inlay of a black dagger glimpsed beneath their translucent surfaces. A winding crack spans the length of the design, the flawed gems reflecting the light from their shattered facets in a far more beautiful fashion than their unblemished counterparts. Siwas put some fragrant jasmine tea in her black velvet cloak.

Siwas removes a clam shell candle holder from in her black velvet cloak.

Siwas removes an embossed beeswax candle from in her black velvet cloak.

Siwas carefully places her beeswax candle on a clam shell candle holder.

Siwas says, "Here, let me make this easier to see."

Siwas lights the beeswax candle, which flickers and begins to burn.

(Siwas holds her candle closer to the altar.)

Siwas says, "This altar behind me, in particular the bloodjewels on the surface, serves to clarify another common misconception about Mularos." She lets her hand fall to the surface of the altar, tracing a fingertip around one of the cracked jewels. "I am often asked how I can serve someone who wants me to suffer. Who would let me die in agony and not release me from my torment."

Siwas wryly says, "I am often accused of having low self-esteem because of this misconception, but that is beside the point."

Siwas gazes heavenward.

Siwas says, "You see here, how much more beautifully the damaged, broken gems reflect the candlelight than those in the design that are unbroken? So it is with we who serve the Sorrower."

Siwas quietly says, "Just as raw ore has to face the flames of the forge, and the blows of the hammer on the anvil to become a peerless finished work, we are not everything we can be without being tested and tried, and found worthy."

Siwas says, "Every type of suffering makes you stronger, whether you realize it at the time or not. Every time you endure pain and move through it instead of surrendering to it and losing yourself, further defines who you are."

Siwas says, "Grief, loss, sorrow.."

Siwas says, "..flames, steel, fists."

Siwas says, "It all serves to make us stronger, and thereby allow us to endure more, to bring Him greater glory."

(Siwas stares at the statue for a long, meditative moment, then shakes her head slightly and turns back to face the crowd.)

Siwas snuffs out an embossed beeswax candle.