The Damnation. It's an occasion talked little about, and even so much as mentioning it to the stone-colored Dro'aloth amasses a crowd of imposing glares, enough to shut most of the ignorant up. Of course, if a visitor's stupidity exceeds that, he or she would find his or her head impaled on one of the front gate's pikes, alongside the murderers, thieves, and failed conquistadors.
Although the Dro'aloth have no conception of day and night, their calendars are among the most accurate of the new world, and annually, on the first new moon of the year (hence, the date changes every year), they begin the ceremonies. Orphaned Dro'aloth enter a distanced trance at this time when exposed to the lack of moonlight, and go berzerk when interrupted. Hence, the overworld Erul-ki have often made raids down below to capture at least one of the Dro'aloth children. The reported death count in the last decade is up to 8 casualties on part of the defending subterranean dwellers, and over half a thousand on the overworld raiders, thanks to the unfamiliar environment and the even deadlier fauna in the dark.
From what the archaeologists and cultural researchers have gathered from private conversations with the elders and quiet observations from the actual ceremony itself, it's a grim, brutal reminder of the Dro'aloths' mortality : a ritual comprised of mixed cries. Turbulent emotions can be felt from the crowd, even in the safety of the Upper Stratums. Many visitors, as long as they aren't Erul-ki, are granted the privilege to participate in this ritual. Braille-esque script is provided for their vocal parts.
The Damnation begins with the Pilgrimage, though in comparison to the other Subterran, the Dro'aloths' own Pilgrimage is a short commute to the Sixty-Third Stratum (as of year 10 PostContact [we'll keep it at PC from now on], it is the lowest Stratum built so far), usually taking about an hour to walk down the precariously thin walkways hewn from lead.
At the 63 Stratum, no light can be seen, and providing any sort of vision results in a well-placed arrow to the throat. Therefore, only Dro'aloth and a few other races can actually observe the initiation.
Once the entire population of the settlement arrives, a mass execution of prisoners is performed. Between Dro'aloth settlements, executions differ. Some people are flayed alive, others are overdosed with anesthetics, yet still others simply fade away into nothingness. As for the lattermost style, no one knows if the faded have really died. 25 journalists have been "faded", and though scrying them reveals nothing, vital monitors have registered life signs as normal.
After the executions, the Dro'aloth participate in a cavern-wide feast. It is judged that over four billion kilograms are consumed in this meal. The meal itself is mostly Paiuep, a dough made of a maize-like plant indigenous to the Caverns (oddly enough, re-introduced Dro'aloth have reported the taste as being similar to that of taro). There is no conversation in the hour-long process.
For the sake of brevity, there is a meal following each ceremony. Some settlements slowly diminish the servings as a metaphor to the starvation of eternal life their ancestors had.
There is then a personal offering of words to their gods made by each member of the cavern, visitor or not. The offering may take several hours to a few days, depending on the size of the tribe. For each offering of words, an apology must be made to correspond each wish. If a child asks for more food in the future, he or she must also beg pardon for gluttony. If a hunter asks for a good harvest the following year, she will also expect to starve for the next three for her family's sake, etc.
After the offering of words, each and every member of the Cavern recites a poem in unison. Water is provided for the lead vocalists should their voices fail, but not one member who isn't a water-bearer is allowed to leave the 50 Stratum. In quiet, shuffling steps, the shrill cries of young, old, male, female, healthy, and sick combine together to create a solemn chorus that echoes to the world above.
The poem is never changed, so translation is fairly quick.
"The cries of the poor are lost. x2
Cast down to earth is our kindred,
weeping as blood-stained tears dribble to the stone below.
No one, but those who are equally cursed, know of this.
The cries...x2
Our gods, once so generous and kind,
were split into facets of selfishness.
By Their Gods, they have gained all,
we have lost all.
The cries of the damned have been choked out.
We now beseech thee,
The Face of Greed,
To spare us your scraps...
...lest the children of the One Once Before,
become lost."
The poem is repeated with different passages that recount the history of the Dro'aloth in between; the bones of fallen kills are sculpted into little rosaries to keep track of the prayers. This procession often takes the rest of the week to complete.
After this, the final meal occurs before a self-mutilation of all the children occurs. It varies each year, so first-years differ from the second, and the second the third, and so on all until the twelfth year. Few generations leave without permanently losing a finger, limb, or other organ. Those who have injured themselves too badly are quickly sent to the medicine men and doctors, where the bleeding stumps of fingers, hands, and wrists are hurriedly burned to avoid rot.
Another week of grievance is followed for the past who have fallen. This is also the period when gifted Dro'aloth take in the spirit of a dead shaman to "resume" the service. The gifted's spirits are taken to a place no one knows, but on the chance they might return in another body, they seem to have perfect memories of their past lives. However, their past personalities are all but drained.
And so concludes the Damnation.
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Non-bonus bonus snippet :
The Dro'aloth are siilar to the Draegloth in the sense of their "demonic" ancestry, but unlike the Draegloth, their gods have all but abandoned them. This, and added to the fact that they are a true-bred species (meaning they reproduce without any aid, and can breed with each other with little to no changes in offspring), places them as an entirely different light in comparison to the Draegloth. Dro'aloth were originally created as genetic chimeras of the Dorul-ki (ancestors of the Erul-ki and Dro'aloth) and an alien race that had visited millennias ago. The impact of the alien technology is seen as the once beast-like Dorul-ki have now become more civilized races with major advances in perma-culture (monopolized by the Erul-ki) and metalworking (monopolized by the Dro'aloth).
TL;DR Dro'aloths look like Draegloths without the extra two limbs.
~~~
Actual bonus :
From high above, the little boy clung desperately to the thin, delicate stalagmites teetering almost to a ninety-degree angle. He wasn't so big, at least, and weighed only a miniscule 45 lb. Even so, though, the chorus of bloodcurdling screams from down below caused him to sweat sweat that would lubricate his hands, make him lose his grip.
The only reason why he even ventured down here was because he did have a Dro'aloth friend down below. She had initially said to him, between odd scribbles and the occasional gestures, that she was apart from the rest of her tribe.
And yet, on that full moon, full as any other moon, she left him, a quiet hum reverberating from her bosom, akin to a stone wall. So great was this rumbling that the little boy woke and pursued her to hear.
He was sure that his presence there was illegal...dangerous. And yet, despite his obvious hanging from above, it appeared as though the entire Dro'aloth populace was down below; they either did not care a shadow slithered above, or they were truly as blind as he was in pitch blackness. And for that he was thankful.
And he was thankful for sleep, even though his grip loosened.
