By the light of evilly smoking lanterns and guttering torches. Clad in flowing vestments and bearing sacred tomes dedicated to bloodthirsty gods, the hooded priests offer up screaming souls sacrificed upon the marble altars of their temples. None save the gods may look upon the face of a priest, and to be granted a blessing by a holy servant of the gods is a great honour. Such blessings grant a warrior a great boon, for it is said that these divine beings revel in the slaughter and murder done in the arena as much as the crowds. At each rising of the full moon, hooded priests roam the streets of the city in great procession, smoking braziers swinging before them and maddened crowds of chanting devotees capering in their wake. That numerous disappearances soon follow is a small price to pay for the protection of the gods and is a burden willingly borne by the people of the Great Realm.