Interlude: Moon Festival and the Sacrifices

Oh, MoonFest.

Firstly there is food and good company. As that is essential to any good Chinese festivity. It has been seven hours since the Balance first put the rice on and whilst not every moment of the time since was spent cooking, his achievement in the meal that resulted is not to be undervalued. The Chronicler has brought mooncakes back from the Orient and they are shared, their resemblance to the moon is remarked upon. 

The associated legends of the moon are told, including the Old Man on the Moon (who determines the fates of lovers by tying them up with invisible red string – yes, it's both invisible and red) and the rabbit who is constantly making rice cakes. The Chronicler also tells the story of Chang'E and the ten suns... 

Afterwards, the Loinfire Club's discussion drifted to those who worship Chang'E (quite a rare practice, as far as the Chronicler was aware. Moon festival was really about admiring the beauty of the moon and its fullness, its light, its roundness and of course, its proximity to humanity. It's about the reunion of man and moon.) and the practice of burning paper offerings that become "real" in the spirit realms.

At this the Anthropologist suggested that perhaps we should burn the goddess some offerings, perhaps even a tiny romance novel and some vodka so she can have her own readings. And to tell herself that she's not really missing out on all that much, what with being stuck in the palace of the moon with the obsessive compulsive rabbit as a roommate. 

The suggestion was taken up by the Club and we made a tiny little romance novel (these things don't have to be to size, the paper manors, for example, rarely are) with an appropriate cover and Chinese title. And with incense, we offered it to the moon in the back garden.

It didn't burn as well as can be desired (the Balance decided to pour the vodka onto the book) but it was done in the end.

(It is true that we are somewhat mixing two different customs here, but the Chinese – as well as various pagans – do it all the time and the logic holds as much as can be expected.)

Anyway, back to the story...

The Participants...

The Dwarph, Axe-wielding, at times; mostly bearded; usually rowdy and eventually, drunken.

The Big L, sometime smiter of all things heretical, misusers and abusers of magical and spiritual power, and bringer of the manly quiche.

Sohrdhan, sometimes thought to be the god of pain, which is probably why she's here. Also keeper of the tally.

Azrhael, who is secretly God, but we don't talk about that.

The Balhanhce, a philosopher with biological pretentions. One could but suppose he's here to keep the balance, but his credentials are dubious.

Cathed, classicist extraordinaire, connoisseur of MarySues and probably too fond of Stardust.

Luhcah, who is ninja, really.

The Wahtcher, who watches. Who knows what secret thoughts lurk beneath her quiet surface?

The Anthrohpolohgist, endlessly verbose and displeased about her nickname and convinced that everyone will soon find out who she is.

Lady Miriam, the Blessed Right Hand of Bast, who is lovely and not at all scary.

Alhmost Jehsus, who probably isn't, but close enough. The festive season is nigh and we're trying to rake in the ratings.

The Chrhoniclher, who is recording these events for your reading pleasure.