| rdfs:comment | - The flame burned brightly. The countless men who owed their allegiance to None lined up to give their offering. They approached the flames, and wounded themselves, offering the blood to the fires. Their devotion was judged by the blood spent. A token offering was a prick on the finger, while the fanatics often gave their lives, leaping into the flames. They were watched by None. Those who gave token offerings glanced at it fearfully, but it made no move. The zealots, shortly before their leap, gazed hopefully at it, hoping for a trace of approval. They got nothing.
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| abstract | - The flame burned brightly. The countless men who owed their allegiance to None lined up to give their offering. They approached the flames, and wounded themselves, offering the blood to the fires. Their devotion was judged by the blood spent. A token offering was a prick on the finger, while the fanatics often gave their lives, leaping into the flames. They were watched by None. Those who gave token offerings glanced at it fearfully, but it made no move. The zealots, shortly before their leap, gazed hopefully at it, hoping for a trace of approval. They got nothing. The religion was a lie of course. It fabricated fanciful tales of salvation and preservation only because it made its task easier. It had suffered this procession once a week for almost two-hundred years now. It had lived far beyond its years thanks to the fire. Many decades prior, when it had a name, it served the Wizard. It had only scatter memories of its time serving the Wizard and times before, and those memories gave it peace. Bloodshed, destruction, war. But to what cause?
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