Sermon 31

Nerevar-named-Hortator delivered bladed thesis.

"I am only strong as I make myself."

Mehrunes Dagon deflected this argument, retorting with barbed antithesis.

"Your limit is under my domain, and I pronounce you feeble."

But Nerevar unravelled this rhetoric with a flurry of blows.

"Reality is mirrored by the individual, not the reverse."

And Mehrunes Dagon brandished sophistry's shield.

"I reject your critique."

Thus did synthesis collapse, Veloth tumbled about the debaters. Mehrunes Dagon mired Nerevar in tautology, dragging him down. And though Nerevar's sword-thrusts were pointed and incisive, Mehrunes Dagon had the weight of consensus behind him.

He crushed Nerevar's position. "I conclude this debate in favour of my House."

Nerevar struggled on, eliciting Dagon's laughter.

"You prolong the inevitable. Do as I say, and you shall not suffer."

But Nerevar would not relinquish his identity. Ayem's fire burnt in his heart, and it fuelled his defiance.

"Let me present my offer," said Dagon, bending to claim Nerevar's person.

He pinned him down with his upper arms, and with his others he spread Nerevar's steel-fleshed swell, revealing his hidden carnation. Dagon licked the petals, dewing them, and the flower unfurled.

"You shall not have me," said Nerevar.

And Dagon made of his tongue a spear, stirred it within Nerevar. The Hortator's moan-shaken body went limp. He fumbled for his own spear, gripping it in fingers taught with pain-pleasure.

Dagon laughed. "You hold your spear stiff even now, at your undoing."

And Dagon reached around, engulfing Nerevar's spear-hand in his own.

"There is happiness in slavery," Dagon said. So saying, he took Nerevar's spear, running his fingers down its shaft, coaxing strange and subtle movements from it.

And Nerevar did gasp at this affront to his person. "I am stronger than my spear."

The Lord of Razors knelt then, placing his spear between Nerevar. He stroked it back and forth in carnal promise.

"Do you submit to the crescent moon, and the single star, bleeding through the blackness?"

And Nerevar's reply was a grit-muted moan.

But as Mehrunes Dagon prepared to penetrate his Second Aperture, Nerevar glimpsed an image of Ayem. She waited on the horizon, flame-hazed and hungry.

And Nerevar's marrow became churning possibility.

He folded space, folded it again. Shaped by the reversal, he swallowed Dagon's spear. The Lord of Razors howled his surprise, and Nerevar silenced him by driving his own spear into his mouth. For this was a secret posture he'd learnt from the King of Rape. It was dominance's cure, offering power to neither, and Nerevar used it now on Dagon. (This posture was later named the Divine Union of Tiger and Wolf.)

In this sacred joining were Nerevar and Mehrunes Dagon made one. The Hortator tasted destruction's heartbeat, savoured the flavour of time. For his part, Dagon raged, yet Nerevar's starving ego provided poor purchase, and he could not get his talons into the thin flesh.

At the hilt of Dagon's spear, Nerevar discovered a secret, which he bit off.

This violation roused the Lord of Razors. With new-grown strength he cast Nerevar away.

"You think to tame me?" he said. "But I am the fire of change!"

And thus did Nerevar come to know Dagon as but an orphaned fragment of Ayem.

The Hortator raised his spear, shaped by the Devil-Tiger into a thing of beauty. Dagon readied his own weapon.

And Nerevar charged. Dagon tried to turn his spear aside, but it slipped between the cracks of reality, and Dagon could not touch it.

Nerevar struck out, laying Dagon low. The Lord of Razors revealed himself, and Nerevar fell upon him. He aligned his spear, smooth and sleek, thrusting low.

And Dagon did howl as Nerevar drove his spear into his Second Aperture, down to the hilt. He writhed upon it, panting and groaning. Nerevar did not relent; he joined to Dagon as he would Ayem, finding revelation in the mingling of their breath. Sweat dripped from his forehead, Dagon lapped up the golden beads, like embers on his tongue.

Nerevar's countenance was grim, teeth tight and grinding, eyes like suns, nostrils flared and steaming. He took Dagon like a wolf takes his prey, violent, desperate, and above all hungry.

Dagon clung to him, drawing him deeper, leeching warmth from Nerevar's fire. The Hortator's thrusts grew arrhythmic, and he was emptied of heat. It streamed into Mehrunes Dagon, like liquid light. Nerevar withdrew, utterly spent, his spear low.

And Dagon stood, laughing. He touched the wound Nerevar had made, wet with his passing.

"I am forged in such flames," he said, licking damp fingers.

And though his limbs were lead-filled, Nerevar prepared for a second assault.

Seeing this, Dagon said, "Slick your spear with blood and thrust against my husk, little saint. You only stoke my urge."

Mehrunes Dagon pounced upon Nerevar in a whirl of limbs. Broken, he cried out to his Mother for succour.

Then did Ayem come in glory, arrayed in starlight and splendour. She held Kalabhaksa aloft, hurled it at Dagon.

"Why do you disturb me?" he said.

And Ayem threw Kalabhaksa again, and again, till it was unto a gadfly. Mehrunes Dagon stamped his hooves in rage.

"Cease this! I am in the midst of a feast!"

Nerevar righted himself and said, "My Mother is eternal. Though you rule the world, she will be the thorn of entropy in your side."

And the Lord of Razors did howl.

"I will unmake you!"

And Ayem said, "I am already formless."

But Dagon was deaf to this. He spread his arms wide, crawling with chaos. His voice was primal urge given shape and sound.

"DAGON ALTADOON CHIM GHARTOK."

And this was Dagon's secret name, which has the power to define reality. Nerevar looked upon Dagon's infinity, and was enlightened. In the blazing climax of love-agony he'd been granted an insight, and this was Wisdom-named-Chaos' gift, the only gift.

Nerevar stretched out his hand, and plucked the third syllable of Dagon's name free.

"This I make mine," he said.

And Dagon was undone, for he had lost his centre. Without it, he could not hold, and his essence fled his bones, returning to oblivion, roaring his rage.

And Nerevar wiped the Universe's gore from his face, threw back his head and laughed.

Ayem appeared beside him, placed a jewel on his forehead.

"Let this be your eye."

And Dagon's bones collapsed into the proof of Ayem's greatness. She looked at Veloth, rendered to ash and said:

"Let me demonstrate my love, for you who require such."

And she laid out Dagon's god-bones, heavy with potential, and made of them a foundation.

Then did Seht manifest as a rain of ruby blossoms.

"To my sister's city, I offer a beginning."

Vivec came next, borne on a wave of laughter.

"To my sister's city, I offer irrepressible action."

And Nerevar bowed before Ayem, saying:

"And to my Mother's city, I offer myself, and all who walk like me."

Ayem held Kalabhaksa aloft then, assuming the first stance of destruction's dance. And all about her flowed streets, temples, palaces. And Ayem said:

"Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, nomad, lover of leaving. Let this city be your centre."

Thus was founded the city of Ayem-Almalexia in the days of Resdaynia.

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.