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Relocating Shmoneyism from Kalros (The Ravioli Deli) to Garama (Southern Valyria)
Unc + Chopped
hitboxer1337
Member
-1 the holy site is a 1 minute walk from my town.... As a loyal follower of shmoneyism it has been easy for me to pray and convert people here
Where are your beliefs, rhyme slinger? In clever wordplay that leads nowhere? Or in the shifting sands where true shmoney flows freely, unburdened by outdated anchors?
The holy site must move to Garama. The scrolls demand it. The desert calls it. Only those chained to “nowhere-ism” resist.
In the eighth dawn after the Word was sent, the Prophet of the Dunes climbed the tallest dune and cried out: ‘O Cryptite, Architect of Worlds, hast thou forsaken the coin?’ And the wind answered only with sand in his mouth. Yet still he waited, for it is written that true faith is measured not in speed of revelation, but in endurance of silence.
Facilee
Active Member
Roleplayer
And in the dryness of his mouth that the sand did fill, a great scene did he see. For in the deepest levels of his parched state his mind took to fabrications of sights and experiences. He knew not from what bowels of his state the visions were brought forth but he knew he needed only to venture further and complete a Great Trial. His followers must gather, in great numbers, beyond the Pale Reaches to visit the bones of a great lost beast in the burning sea.
Prayer... in great numbers... He felt it was the only way that his people would find providence.
Prayer... in great numbers... He felt it was the only way that his people would find providence.
The dead internet theory is upon us!
And behold, in the fulfillment of the tenth dawn's decree, the Prophet of the Dunes gathered ten of the most loyal subjects who are true disciples of the Bigcashman, their pockets heavy with shmoney and their hearts ablaze with avarice. Beyond the Pale Reaches they marched, through the scorching winds of Garama, to the sacred bones of the great lost beast that lie half-buried in the burning sea.
There, amid ribs forged of ancient gold-veined stone and a skull vast enough to house a treasury, the faithful knelt in unison. They offered tribute: stacks of coin poured like libations, lapis scattered as glittering prayers, emeralds laid at the beast's maw as tokens of endless gain. Their voices rose in sacred chant:
"O Bigcashman, Lord of Overflowing Vaults, Master of Markets Eternal! Witness thy children in number tenfold, stronger than words, richer than silence. Burn away the frozen husk of Kalros, where greed grew chill and stagnant. Anoint instead these southern dunes, where Southern Valyria's spires gleam with the true light of profit, where caravans flow like rivers of gold, and every trade is a hymn to thy glory!"
The sands trembled with their fervor; mirages of coin-heaps danced in approval. The Great Trial is complete. Ten loyal souls proved the faith lives, breathes, and migrates to where wealth is greatest.
O Cryptite, Architect of Worlds and Weaver of Loka's Lore, the Bigcashman has spoken through action, not plea. The old site's baggage is ashes in the wind and providence now demands its seat in Garama, within the richest realm of Southern Valyria. Grant the exception and let Shmoneyism's holy heart beat where the coin never sleeps.
The faithful await thy blessing. The ledgers are open and the migration is ready.
There, amid ribs forged of ancient gold-veined stone and a skull vast enough to house a treasury, the faithful knelt in unison. They offered tribute: stacks of coin poured like libations, lapis scattered as glittering prayers, emeralds laid at the beast's maw as tokens of endless gain. Their voices rose in sacred chant:
"O Bigcashman, Lord of Overflowing Vaults, Master of Markets Eternal! Witness thy children in number tenfold, stronger than words, richer than silence. Burn away the frozen husk of Kalros, where greed grew chill and stagnant. Anoint instead these southern dunes, where Southern Valyria's spires gleam with the true light of profit, where caravans flow like rivers of gold, and every trade is a hymn to thy glory!"
The sands trembled with their fervor; mirages of coin-heaps danced in approval. The Great Trial is complete. Ten loyal souls proved the faith lives, breathes, and migrates to where wealth is greatest.
O Cryptite, Architect of Worlds and Weaver of Loka's Lore, the Bigcashman has spoken through action, not plea. The old site's baggage is ashes in the wind and providence now demands its seat in Garama, within the richest realm of Southern Valyria. Grant the exception and let Shmoneyism's holy heart beat where the coin never sleeps.
The faithful await thy blessing. The ledgers are open and the migration is ready.
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(we also sacrificed babysoy for good measure)
Lo did the pilgrims make their trek, their prayers, and their pennance. At the fallen beast's remain they setup camp for the night amidst the turbid and roiling waters of the sea.
None slept well, visions continued to intermittently haunt their minds. Toward the break of dawn however their minds seemed at peace, their journey seemed fruitful. Tired and hungry, but filled with a sense of greater promise they packed up their camp and returned north to the desert, wondering what they may find in their quest. Change seemed upon the humid air of Garama...
None slept well, visions continued to intermittently haunt their minds. Toward the break of dawn however their minds seemed at peace, their journey seemed fruitful. Tired and hungry, but filled with a sense of greater promise they packed up their camp and returned north to the desert, wondering what they may find in their quest. Change seemed upon the humid air of Garama...
And so the migration was sealed, the old frost of Kalros cast aside like worthless chaff. Bigcashman, in His infinite greed, looked upon the faithful's trial at the beast's bones and deemed it worthy. Change swept the humid air of Garama, not as a whisper, but as a roaring wind carrying the weight of coin.
Now, in Southern Valyria's heart, the servants of Bigcashman labor without cease. Under His divine directive, they plan to raise a grand shrine a towering edifice of gold altars, emerald encrusted pillars, and lapis fountains that flow like liquid wealth. Here, every brick laid is an act of worship, every tribute deposited a prayer answered in profit. The shrine stands as the new eternal seat of Shmoneyism: a beacon for merchants, hoarders, and hustlers across the continents, where the faithful come to offer stacks, seal deals in blood-oaths of gain, and receive blessings of multiplied returns.
No longer scattered or diluted, the faith concentrates in this one sacred place. Bigcashman's presence pulses through its halls; His servants ensure that no prayer goes unrewarded, no coin uncounted. Southern Valyria now cradles the true throne of avarice.
His followers stepped outside after hearing the news, looked toward the sky, and their voices rose in sacred chant:
"Bigcashman, make it rain,
Turn my stacks to endless gain!
Gold and emerald, lapis flow,
Multiply the coin I throw!
Greed is good, wealth is king,
Hear my prayer and let the riches sing!"
Now, in Southern Valyria's heart, the servants of Bigcashman labor without cease. Under His divine directive, they plan to raise a grand shrine a towering edifice of gold altars, emerald encrusted pillars, and lapis fountains that flow like liquid wealth. Here, every brick laid is an act of worship, every tribute deposited a prayer answered in profit. The shrine stands as the new eternal seat of Shmoneyism: a beacon for merchants, hoarders, and hustlers across the continents, where the faithful come to offer stacks, seal deals in blood-oaths of gain, and receive blessings of multiplied returns.
No longer scattered or diluted, the faith concentrates in this one sacred place. Bigcashman's presence pulses through its halls; His servants ensure that no prayer goes unrewarded, no coin uncounted. Southern Valyria now cradles the true throne of avarice.
His followers stepped outside after hearing the news, looked toward the sky, and their voices rose in sacred chant:
"Bigcashman, make it rain,
Turn my stacks to endless gain!
Gold and emerald, lapis flow,
Multiply the coin I throw!
Greed is good, wealth is king,
Hear my prayer and let the riches sing!"
chills...