In a cathedral overlooking most of the town of Raegustus, a man in a silver-embroidered black cloak stood watch over the quiet scape below. He smiled to himself, looking up at the waxing gibbous moon... tomorrow it would be full, and the ceremony could take place. All that was left was the sacrifice... and his assistants were taking care of that matter as he thought. His lips curled up in a slight smile as he turned back into the sweeping structure, as three shadowed figured bore an oblong shape wrapped in black on their shoulders into the back entrances of the keep.
Roderick's steps were long, purposeful, as he strode down between the lines of benches, to an ornate altar set just below an elegant work of stained glass, depicting nothing recognizable, but lending a scene of chill authority through colors and sweeping, jagged lines. The light from the moon shone through, dampening the light from the several iron candelabra and sending a hue of crimson over the man's hooded head. The three attendants, waiting just before the altar, dropped to one knee as he approached. A large, powerful hand lifted from the folds of the cloak, passing a sweeping gesture over their lowered heads as a powerful voice bade them to rise. "My Lord," the one at the forefront spoke with an equally strong but respectful tone, "We have found your offering, just where you said it would be. I must admit that my Lord has exquisite --"
"Enough of your sniveling, Ettore. did you make sure all of the qualities I asked for were intact?" At a furtive nodding, he smiled more broadly, more easily, as he looked up to the altar, to the offering. A moment passed in silent thought, before Roderick's voice once again rang out into the silence of the chamber. "You may go now; I must prepare for the ceremony tomorrow night."
"Yes, my Lord." The three spoke as one, then quickly left the sanctity of the place, leaving Roderick alone to his prize. He shrugged the cloak from his shoulders, tossing it onto one of the benches, before also removing a crimson shirt embroidered with runes. He smiled, his breath quickened, harsh, as he took a fistful of the covering. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, before ripping the cover off. His back was turned to the doors as he set about the preparations... the four tasseled black cords, two angled candelabra, his scepter, the athame... everything was as it should be. His body flushed, his hands trembling... he began.
At sunset the following day, much of the village made it's way, single file, up the hill to the cathedral. Each wore a hooded cloak, each wore a grim expression beneath their cowls as they marched through the massive double doors. Roderick was there, in a resplendent robe of crimson silk, covered all over with runes and sweeping vines in gold, his face equally foreboding as he directed all to where they needed to be sat, handing each of them a different color candle in turn as they passed to the benches.
When everyone was seated, he and his three assistants, wearing simple but finely made white robes, made their way to the forefront, behind the altar, which now sat covered with an elegant navy blue sheet, with images of the moon and stars dotting the expanse. Lifting his scepter high in his hand, he silenced the crowd, before speaking.
"My countrymen, countrywomen... you have come to me, asking that I be the one to perform the midsummer ritual. And tonight... you shall have it!" A cheer rose up from the gathering, quickly silenced by the scepter's raising. "Tonight, we make an offering to the gods Dionysus and Pan, that we may all enjoy the rest of this year." At this, two attendants turned to a mahogany cabinet, and from it pulled four bottles. "First, to Dionysus, I would have each of you step forward, and accept an anointing of wine, from the sacred vineyards said to be blessed by the hand of the God himself."
The assembly stood, and made four lines, as each attendant and Roderick himself took a bottle. With a soft, echoing sound, the bottles popped, the corks set aside. With a murmured prayer, each person accepted the blessing, returning to their seats with smiles on their faces as they sat once more, seemingly eager for the next part of the ceremony. When the bottles were returned, Roderick stood in front of the altar once more. As his attendants began calling the corners, his voice boomed out into the cavernous domain, deeper, stronger. "And now... the offering to Pan. There is only one way to truly pay homage to the protector of the forests, and Lord of the Satyrs..." just as the attendants finished, he ripped the covering from the altar.
There bound head and foot, spread-eagled to the altar, was a woman barely into her twenties. Long blonde hair flowed over the edge of the ebony wood, brown eyes staring hatefully at Roderick as he stood there, smiling. Astonished murmurs arose from the crowd as they took in the sight... her flawlessly pale skin, the perfectly proportionate mounds of her breasts, capped by nipples the pink of rose quartz; the look of anger on he face, her luscious lips, long shapely legs... "This virgin shall be taken in the name of Pan, and thus seal His favor for us throughout the coming year!" the crowed cheered as he drew his shoulders back, his attendants removing his robe.
Despite his seeming age, he was a handsome man... not as chiseled as the barbarians to the south, but not a weak man either. His green eyes gazed down on her, his lips smirking. Her attention drew involuntarily downward to his sex... soft now, but pulsing with life, with purpose. She watched, transfixed, like a snake to it's charmer, as it pulsed, lengthened, rose...
