Sanities Demise, outlands of Skorhn, year of the rising sun
The ritual had been prepared, and the time was near.
Inside the darkest of the caves, the most foulest of cults, the final machinations of the gleeful eclipse were slowly being brought into motion. A cavern 40 feet high, filled to the brim with hooded figures of all manner of deformity. A man with a lizard tail poking out of his robe quietly chants next to another, of whom a green liquid drips and sizzles out of every orifice. The pews arranged in a semi circle all facing four obelisk stones, vertically faced outwards with binding runes and iron shackles alike waiting for the chosen ones. It was not long before everyone was settled and the proceeds could begin.
A hunched figure steps out of the crowd and ascends the steps. “You all know what is to happen” His words creaking with age. “Those of you who believe to be the chosen, step forward to the obelisks.” From the mutterings of the crowd, 8 figures step forth, looking at each other warily. The mutters grow into violent shouts, accusations flying, small fights breaking out before the elder calls for silence. “There can only be 4, half of these are heretics! Those of you who are the true chosen ones, slay your accusers and be made known to the Gleeful Eclipse!”
A ring is loosely formed around the group of chosen, and the fight begins. A man steps forward, wielding lances of flesh and blood, stabbing forward without mercy. A shadowy woman melds into the shadows before striking out from behind. A grotesque, half man half beast charges without relent, seeking to tear apart those who would challenge him. And finally a cloaked figure stands behind the melee, flames wreathing his body and seeking to char everyone but itself.