One quiet cycle in Edonil, a sole jaluk in silver and white carries the pieces of an altar from his house to aside the magthere. Two sides and a solid stone slab. It looks little more than a simple table, then a hammer is laid across the top and a cruel looking dagger is unsheathed. Digging deep into his right hand, the jaluk then proceeds to drag the bloodied hand across the slab, drawing what seems to be a spider atop a crossed sword and mace, to those who know it is the holy symbol of Selvetarm. Following this mutilation, the individual bends to his knees and mutters a prayer as the wound in his hand slowly stitches itself together, then stands and bellows

SELVETARM ULTRIN!

Jaluken of Edonil, warriors of the Magthere and mages of Sorcere, our time has come!
Throw off the shackles of worry and fear, and join me in calling out to our patron, Lord Selvetarm!
It is Selvetarm who grants us our prowess in battle
Selvetarm who shields us from the blows of our enemies
Selvetarm who will lead us on our righteous conquest to conquer these caves we call home.

Do not fall prey to the lies of Vhaeraun, who wants us to betray the queen who has ever watched over us.
Do not fall victim to the coercions of the whoredancers, who blind themselves with the wretched sun above.
Do not let Kiransalee woo you with promises of power, for she cares only for the skeletons she raises.
Nau, trust in Selvetarm, for he is one of us. Selvetarm is a warrior with nau equal, and he is what we should all strive to be. Cunning in tactics, but willing to enter the fray without abandon.

So I call upon you, jaluken of Edonil, to invoke Selvetarm's name with each swing of your blade or blow of your hammer. Call out to the Spider who Waits when you launch a bolt from your crossbow. Shout out to Selvetarm whenever you wound an enemy, for every wound may very well be their last, and every kill in Selvetarm's name is a sacrifice in his honor.

Lets send Selvetarm the sacrifices he so deserves!

...this display goes on for some time in the same manner, invoking selvetarm and shouting out to the jaluken to carry out his will, no matter if he has an audience or not.

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Slander [Zanthair Akarupa of the Horsemen of the Apcalypse] - Sorcerer 'Mediocreare'
Isendu't'tar Ussen'd'Vhid d'My'ana'd'Xull'd'Vharcan - possibly the longest name in Amia
Tiffany Seagrass - weak and fragile weaver of words

*Israe'anna looks at the display, and hisses*
"So this male wants death, to dare to drop the name of my diety out of his mouth is blasphemy! This heretic will be as good as dead to even think for a moment that his utterance of the queen of vengeances name will be overlooked, such is punishable a thousand fold.... watch the shadows male, for I think you will hear one last scream...."
*She stalks off, plotting her vengeance with another silent hiss*

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Nakasha
Izzy
Defender Calika Nethzil
Aridial

*The spiders of Edonil gather around the display and watch from above on their hefty perches in the heights of the massive cavern.*

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"I once took the high road and it took me straight to hell and I stood there all by myself." -Hank III

*auen places an axe in each hand as he raises them both over his head* Xas!!! I am here to serve! *dangles the chains attached to each axe trying to make noise*

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Braller Thunderbeard: The Dwarven mini-Jesus with a porn star name. Blasphemous.
Dante: "He is likely to heal you as he is likely to smite you."

A few cycles later, the individual sets up once more, doing his entire ritual of driving the dagger deep into his hand and drawing the holy symbol of selvetarm in blood atop the altar...

SELVETARM ULTRIN!

Jaluken of the Magthere, this cycle I talk directly to you.
Those of you who have yet to win yourselves a major victory, consider this your chance.

In the caves off of L'Obsul, that pit of heresy and rothe, lies a settlement of illithiri loyal to heretical opinions. These heretics seek to undermine us and destroy our way of life, so I beseech you to bring the fight to them instead! Sargtlinen, bring me the head of their high priestess, and I will reward you with a sack of gold.

Slaughter the heretics, behead their leader, and bring it to me, all in honor of Lord Selvetarm. Do this, and you will naut only show your faith, but go to your dwelling a little bit richer.

So go out, and prove yourselves to me. Prove yourselves to the city. Most of all, prove yourselves to Selvetarm.

SELVETARM ULTRIN!

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Slander [Zanthair Akarupa of the Horsemen of the Apcalypse] - Sorcerer 'Mediocreare'
Isendu't'tar Ussen'd'Vhid d'My'ana'd'Xull'd'Vharcan - possibly the longest name in Amia
Tiffany Seagrass - weak and fragile weaver of words

Ul'ath'tallar Nizzre'tyne wiggles her toes and admires the fresh blood red dye added to her toe nails. "Just a touch darker." She says to the handsome and burly shirtless jaluk kneeling at the end of her bed.

Her gaze returns to the parchment detailing the words and actions of a certain well known jaluk. "So," she comments "this is what happens when he is sober."

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Ari'aerath Dlues'athsha ~ Silver Singer with the Bow of the Sun
Clarette Feohn ~ Magic is Art.
Victoria Marrs ~ "I have an herb for that."

Elvinna'dris stops by Nizzre'tyne's office with a smirk and some freshly made tea, carried by none other than 52. It seems there's a few matters of business to discuss, malla. The holidays are coming to an end...

She chuckles.

In an office in Tarkuul Aly'isgar fingers the glassy-eyed rat that attempts to ravage her gauntlet by biting and scratching. Patiently, Aly’isgar finishes painting upon its gray furred back; the curved line with a circle at the end sort of looks like a six or maybe a nine. She lifts the once live creature up by its tail, twisting her wrist in order to get out of its clutches. “Let us go and teach the Selvetarm about the Lady, shall we?”

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Ari'aerath Dlues'athsha ~ Silver Singer with the Bow of the Sun
Clarette Feohn ~ Magic is Art.
Victoria Marrs ~ "I have an herb for that."