[Location] The Temple of Jalat

Trinity · December 4, 2009, 10:04 PM

The Temple of Jalat
Bottom of the Sea

In the depths of Narim there exists a district that used to be devoted to poverty and crime, an area where the mob ruled and the best defense was the first strike of a sword; where the guards looked the other way and status was achieved by how much a man could steal. On the darkening Narim was razed though, this district was especially lit with the flames that licked the tops of the buildings made out of less sturdy materials than the rest of the town in the name of money. Now, in a place where the spirits of the dead lingered on and their wake was in the midst of the starving members of the living, the crime was gone and the poverty had become an epidemic. In place of the unruly businesses and meeting places for gangs a temple had been built - the polar opposite of the one that resided in the other side of town - a temple devoted to the Lord of Death, Jalat.

The middle of the Bottom of the Sea District of Narim had been cleared of decay, though the cobblestones that paved the path remained cracked and the foliage that had begun to grow between the shattered remnants remained unchecked. Walls of pale stone had been constructed around the site; vines and ivory ran up the sides and ended in a twisted, mangled manner around the tops of the pillars that marked the edges of the grounds. The middle contained no gate, but instead was marked around the outer edges of the path with larger rocks that mirrored the color of the outer walls. The path faced east, causing the building to block out the sun in most of the brightening and threw the temple into shadow. Nearing the front of the cathedral-esque building, two statues heralded the entrance. They were of the darkest green, chiseled from the cheapest and most affordable stone that could be found in the widely accepted image of the Lord of Death. In his hand, a writing utensil sat, as the followers in Narim believed that he also served as the Usher of the Umblat, as they would have said, recording the deaths of millions and ferrying them across to wherever it was that judgment would place them.

Inside the dark, sullen oak doors that were tinged with the remnants of ash from the darkening the city burned, the halls spilled open to reveal a very dimly lit room. The backs of the hall were lined with stone pews; tall free-standing candelabras stood to provide a small amount of luminescence. No windows sat on the western or eastern edges of the temple, and long halls extended north and south, so no external light was able to pierce the veil of gloom that lingered within the temple. No notable objects to sit upon were in the expanse of the open front room either; though a dark carpet had been rolled out across the middle and many people could be found throughout the brightening on their hands and knees, resting upon it while paying tribute to Jalat. In the center of the room, against the wall opposite the doors, the floor was risen by four steps and a low-rise table became the centerpiece of the room. Upon the table, shorter candelabras rested in neat rows on top of a dark velvet cloth. The center of the wall behind it was indented to frame another depiction of Lord of Death. This time he was draped in a sharp, noble appearance. The statue lacked a face and instead wore a hood similar to the statues outside the temple's doors. In his right hand, a scythe was clenched, but his body composure was of a peaceful stance. A cloak twirled about the statue, the end tapering into the image of the Great Devourer, the caretaker of the Everdeath. Crouched on the ground, the creature held an axe in one hand and wore the hood of an executioner upon his head.

The walls that led north and south depicted various forms of Jalat and those associated with him - Meephos, God of Gluttony and Passion; Haya, Goddess of Lust; Jorel, God of Chaos. However... The three Aeternians that accompanied him were not depicted in the best of lights, due to their tense relationships. Vultures were etched into other places in the brick, as rooms peeled off for private sanctuary of the homes of the Priests. There were stairs in the center of the building, if the halls were followed around enough, that led up to a room where those tormented by the ghosts of the city were allowed to commune with the Lord of Death and beg his assistance in ushering the souls to the Umblat, to free the town in exchange for their continued worship. It was also the place where funerals and rites of passage were held for the recently deceased, before they were to be buried in the graveyard below, just visible outside the second story windows.

Outside, the grounds are shrouded in an ever-present mist that lingers throughout the brightening, from the first sunrise to the last sunset. The dead were buried here and it was said that Jalat ushered them on to the afterlife easily because they were buried and communed in his presence.

The graveyard covered much of the open fields behind the temple, and at the very back right edge there was a singular catacomb that reached into the depths of the port city's earth. It had been barred off for as long as the temple had stood; and a feeling of fear and unease overcame all that neared it. No graves were erected near it, for fear that an ancient evil was residing therein. It was especially important, then, that those visiting the Bottom of the Sea District paid homage to Jalat, lest the terror of eras past swallow them whole.

No Narimite condemned those that entered this place of Death; their attempts to rid the city of ghosts were as good as anyone else's. Occasionally the whisperings of the dead lingered outside, though strangely none were found inside the temple itself, as if they were repelled by the Lord of Death himself, or his extreme presence therein. In the darkenings, when the fear ran the highest, the doors of the temple were shut and locked tightly. The windows were draped with curtains and the citizens in the area communed with Jalat again, asking him to funnel the screams of the dead that surrounded the temple on into the afterlife, safely to the Umblat where they belonged. Strangely enough, one could observe that no ghost was able to pass the catacomb's entrance outside in the graveyard, nor could any cross the threshold created by the statues of the Death God's avatar outside the main entrance.

The Jalatian priests that resided inside the temple were always cloaked in dark reds or violets, while the high priest was always in black. Their hoods were always above their heads, and they led the evening communions while the screams echoed throughout the halls. They lived in the back of the temple, in the rooms that the long and narrow halls led to. Their voices were always soft, dark, haunting. Unaffected by the ghostly presence, they preached of how the port city must pray to the Lord of Death so that he might gather the lost souls inside Narim's walls and bring them to the Umblat where they belonged... that the death that was enacted upon the people here by the Orcs must be atoned for, that their souls must be given to the Death God, as they were taken when he was not present and in a manner he did not approve of. It was their teachings, then, that Jalat would cleanse the city of the dead souls that wandered and relived their horror each darkening when all of the citizens acknowledged his presence in their lives, and that above all, he was supreme. They also taught that there would never be peace so long as men were allowed to retain their emotions - and as such, they must become dead in their feelings just as Jalat was. The final teachings of the Narimite sect was that men were used to kill one another to be spared the true agony of Jalat's personal means of collection. An agonizing fate for those who did not follow him, indeed.

At the dawn of every brightening, and the dusk of every darkening, the chants of the faithful could be heard just behind the doors. Should anyone enter the building during these everlasting rituals, one of the lesser priests, robed in blood red or violet would appear out of the back hollows of the temple and, gently reaching for the arm of the newcomer, their cold, calculating touch echoing the touch of Death from Jalat himself, would softly whisper... "The Lord Jalat is near. Have you come to pay your respects? Perhaps you wish to seek the Shepherd. The Prophet is currently in the Court of Souls, if you seek guidance about the lost souls."

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