Well, after weeks of finals and studying and then holidays, I finally got down to writing and creating things for the cult. Here's the first Rite of Return, which is the beginning step for cult members to "return" from the polite civilization and begin on the journey to become closer with the Primal Spirit.
Gurn stands besides the oak tree that serves as an altar,
gazing up into the canopy above. He sets his hand on one of the large
protruding roots, and begins to speak. "Once, we had the Gods. When the world
was created, the Gods governed the realms-- Life, Death, the Suns, the Wilds,
the Seasons. When they fell, we discovered that these realms were not held up
by the Gods, but could exist beyond their power." He looks to Ellen, beckoning
her towards the tree. "And when they fell, the Wilds continued on as it ever
did, as Lady Asaka had said they would. But beyond that, the disruption of
their immortal power allowed us to see something, hear something we've never
felt before. The Primal Spirit, the progenitor of all life, the essence that
exists within the land, within us, the Spirit Being which goes through all
things Wild and living."
You say, "Step to the tree, and place your hands upon its trunk. Here, we are
closest to the Primal Spirit."
Ellen approaches the tree, placing her hands upon its bark with a solemn
A loud creaking groan fills the air as Ellen places her hands upon the trunk.
The mass of roots around the tree stretch out, undulating from the soft earth
as they rise from their long slumber. A low gust whistles through the
overarching branches above, tousling the broad leaves into an eager rustle.
Roots manifest themselves from the ground beneath, clods of dirt dropping off
them as they slither up, entwining themselves firmly around her feet, crawling
up and up until a thick mass of roots has bound her firmly in her place.
You say, "Close your eyes. Relax, and breathe as the land breathes. Let your
heart beat with the rhythm of the Spirit."
Ellen closes her eyes and becomes very still, allowing the serenity of the
plains to enter her being.
The very ground seems to thrum beneath your feet, a low steady beat too subtle
to feel before. Second by second, it grows stronger, until the pervading rhythm
seeps into every pore, sways with each blade of grass, guides each movement and
heartbeat. The roots binding Ellen pulsate in kind, a hazy green glow emanating
from the mass.
You say, "Can you hear it? The Primal Spirit calls."
The world around you becomes blanketed in silence, but for the perpetual
thrumming of the land-- even that falls into the background, unnoticed. At
first, there is nothing, but amongst the silence, a sound emerges. Quiet at
first, it grows steadily; a low bellow, a quiet hiss, a gentle purr, the
rushing of a river, rustling of leaves, thundering of an avalanche until the
symphony of the Spirit echoes throughout.
You say, "Can you feel it? The Primal Spirit rests within you."
A ravenous hunger, an insatiable lust, an unquenchable thirst. The flush of a
rampant rage, the bubbling outburst of a heartfelt joy, the uplifting sensation
of a breath of awe. Everything Ellen has ever experienced, every instinct,
every impulse, every emotion-- It all comes to you at once.
You say, "What do you see, Ellen? What form does the Primal Spirit take to
Black-Tongued Ellen, Druidic Ascendant says, "I see life, pure and unbridled by
the trappings of those who would seek to tame and control it."
Gurn nods slowly and smiles, indicating to the surrounding
heartlands. "But even as we attune ourselves to the Wilds, even as we
strengthen our bond with the Spirit, there are those who tear us away from it."
The air chills, dropping rapidly in temperature until shivers run through your
body. Snow begins to drift from the heavens above, floating and swirling lazily
on the breeze as they fall. Beads of sand tumble in from nowhere, dancing madly
with the white downfall, drying the very air itself until your throat dries,
parched and thirsty. The sounds of the Spirit and the Wilds slow, faltering
with each second that passes.
You say, "Can you feel the world's life fail? The hunger and the desolation of
the Pines, the sweltering heat and barren dunes of the desert where magick
The grass around you withers, becoming sickly, black, a tainted stench creeping
through your nostrils. Images warp around you, tinting red, purple, black,
bulging as if something were trying to make its way in. Quiet whispers scheme
and giggle just out of earshot, and you can feel a slight tugging at your
possessions, as if someone were trying to take them away from you. The
afterimage of flame, ashes, and destruction flash into view for a moment before
fading, the thrumming of the Pulse fading slowly along with it.
You say, "Can you feel the world's corruption? The wanton destruction left in
the wake of civilization, the mad grab for power by any means possible?"
The roots recede around you, slackening as they burrow back within the ground.
You say, "If left unchecked, then our connection to the Primal Spirit will
close. The weakened bond will be lost altogether, and the natural world will
corrupt, weaken, and become a shadow of what it is."
You say, "We are cult of the Primal Spirit. We keep the bond with the Wilds and
the Primal Spirit alive, and we fight against the world's corruption. You have
felt Its presence, seen Its form. You are beginning your Return, Ellen."
Your mouth turns up as your face breaks into a smile.
You say, "Welcome."
And upon completion, the person gets a pendant. Might revise the Rite a bit(if anyone has suggestions, that'd be nice), but that's where we are, and how we're starting up.