Greetings and salutations,

The following is the text of a sermon entitled "Suffering Life" which
was delivered on the shores of Lake Muurn on the 16th of Scarlatan, 403
AF. My personal thanks to Senator Prenumbra Snowhunter and Sir Shiro
Sohma-Gothfraidh for arranging the warm Cyrenian reception. With that, I
pray these words work to deepen your spiritual understanding of my faith
and bring you some measure of the strength that they have brought unto
me.



With every passing of the sun, a vast plateau of water is lifted in the
wide oceans beyond, held many feet above the surrounding sea, suspended
afore it breaks upon our island's rocky shores and makes our tide. It is
said the water is lifted by the invisible call of the heavens - the wild
waves, heaving and churning from pole to pole, rise obedient to that
invisible force.

In all lands and under all skies, since time immemorial the invisible
attraction of the Evil Life, which has brought such strength to us, has
raised lives wherever it has touched them, lifting them above the common
level of surrounding mortals. The conquests of science, the march of
history and criticism have not dampened its pull nor dispelled its
mystique for the uninitiated. We may, I think, conclude with the voice
out the far past, that although the heathens may break our bodies, they
shall ne'er crush our spirits.

If you have felt this pull, this call to greatness that we know to be
Evil - then you know the hardships that inevitably follow. What
greatness, after all, has e'er been achieved without pain, free from
sacrifice? As the comets blaze in our heavens, so too do the faithful
shine brightest when facing their worst. We are the Adikoi, and this is
Suffering.

Consider, by way of example, the noble wolf, a survivor in the
wilderness, fierce and resourceful. Her notoriety floweth not from the
lap of indolence but the mercilessness of her environment. Hail and snow
are her kinsmen and hunger her taskmaster. Every day is another uphill
race with death. Fine linens are not her mattress, hot biscuits not her
fare. Nay, the only time this one enjoys a hot meal is following cold
murder.

In turn, let us consider an animal related in kind, but alien in
purpose. The poodle, this decorative canine of the foppish classes. He
enjoys a life of luxury. The poodle works not a day of his life, opening
his mouth like a newborn bird. Food is his entitlement by station, but
never merit.

How is this fair, you may ask, that this indolent cur enjoys the riches
of wealth whilst our starving heroine claws her way through the sleet
and rain? Does this not strike you as unnatural? In truth, that which
keeps the dog's station in life above that of the wolf is purely
artificial, having nothing to do with the qualities of the creatures,
but is wholly due to the sickness of society. Stripped of these
bindings, placed together in the world's broad field of battle - there
really is no contest.

Yet tell me, what is it that gives the wolf her advantage? Is it her
bushy tail? Her pointed ears? Nay, and neither is it found in her fangs
or claws. For cannot a wolf pup, snatched from its mother, be raised in
foppish weakness and emerge as such?

What makes the wolf a wolf, and the dog a dog is simple - Suffering. It
is the struggle that gives the wolf her fearsome qualities. So too
consider your own lives, are you a poodle, or a wolf? Ask yourself, "Do
I live within my zone of comfort, or beyond it?" Shall we find you on
the hunt, or decaying within the seductive embrace of old habits?

We often refer to life as a cycle, always alternating between day and
night, feast and famine, thin and flush. In a similar vein, some find
their lives flowing from periods of intense suffering to periods of
relative peace and relaxation. In this context, I see this word,
"relaxation", as simply another term for death by slow decay. If
achieving the very best in this life is indeed thy goal, you shall deny
yourselves these periods of atrophy.

Am I calling on you to forego all manner of recuperation? Of course not.
It is one thing to catch one's breath after a long sprint yet it is
quite another to languish there, in a disgustingly useless state of
inactivity.

Nay, when you have chosen to chart the outer limits of thy destiny, you
cannot accept these extended periods of self-indulgent quiet. And why
would you, when you might instead join us, becoming one with them that
choose to live on the edge of what is possible, continuously pushing
their mortal boundaries. To live in Suffering means exactly that, to
strive until it hurts, to the best of your ability, forever and always.

If you will but give yourself over to this life of constant Suffering,
you shalt open yourself to a new life, where the walls between the seen
and unseen grow thin, indeed as ephemeral as the fog floating in from
our rocky shores. Living within these hell fires of your own making, you
shall feel yourself coming into contact with something more than
yourself.

And is this not the object and goal of faithfulness? To feel the power
of our faith working within our hearts, pulsing through our actions?
Examine your heart and make the decision to rise above common
mortalhood. Know in your soul that you are destined for so much more
than you are, something wholly Above, something utterly Divine.

Walk towards the pain, my friend, and through your strife shall you find
your triumph.

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Scarlatan, in the year 403 AF.