I'd be the voice that urged orpheus, when her body was found

One by one, little children appeared from the mist of the moors. Each painted in distinct patterns and striking hues, as befitting children of one of God's disciples. Blessed, each and every one. The first to appear was a young girl, who greeted him informally and commented on his resemblance to her mother. It was not long before she settled upon one of the furs he had just laid down, patiently awaiting the sermon. A small smile crossed his dainty features, and he dipped his skull to her in a gentle greeting. "That is because she is my sister, little one." he informed her in soft, lilting vocals. And just like that, there was another one. Bearing similar colouration to the first, and quick to introduce himself and his sister. The willowy priest lightly inclined his head once more in a decidedly formal greeting for a pair of children. "Welcome Cutlass, Sagittarius. I am Pontifex, your uncle." he replied quietly, and then his attention was quickly diverted by the arrival of yet more of his nieces and nephews.

An exceedingly pale child, long legged and light footed in a way that drew his eye. She moved quite slowly, carefully picking her way across the soft, heather strewn terrain. As she drew close, the pale silvery blue of her eyes nearly blended with her alabaster pelage, and when she carefully moved to sit up against Cutlass, the milkiness of her pupils was all he needed for an understanding to form. Initially he was concerned- why had his sister not culled the weakness from the litter, as was their way? Then, the miraculous nature of a portion of these offspring bade him pause. Of course. To cull any of the children that were blessed by God to have been created from the essence of two females.. that would be blasphemy. The girl introduces herself as Pythia, and asks why he has come to the moor. "Well, Pythia," he begins carefully, auds flickering to capture the sounds of another small body approaching. "Your mother would like for you and your siblings to understand the importance of your bloodline, and the power that dwells within each of you, as we had been taught when we were your age. And so, I am here to deliver those teachings." he explained, tone measured and perfectly serene.

Another pale child, this one painted in dove greys and adorned with budding antlers that he recognized immediately. The boy was silent, his stare unyielding. He did not speak, and so neither did the waifish godling. It was a short stare-down, as the keen eyes of the priest delved into the very soul of the odd moon-child. There was something unnatural in those eyes, something unfamiliar. This litter was destined for something, that much was obvious. The circumstances of their birth alone had set them on this path, but the oddities among them would guide their ascent as much as their internal fortitude.

The bounding, carefree approach of a patchwork pup interrupted the soul-searching staring contest. The girl had the oversized fangs that were common of many blessed wolves in this region, though when she grinned up at him they seemed to shift and adjust into a new position. That was.. unique, to say the least. She bade him pay the boy no mind, and introduced him as Corsair. The girl offered up her own name, Gilda. Evocative of the man who had seemed to find myriad ways to break his sister's heart. Interesting choice. "Hello Corsair, Gilda. Please, make yourself comfortable. I think we can begin the lesson now." he said simply, and with a gentle smile for both of the children.

Long limbs pulled him forth, so that he might recline upon his hindquarters in the midst of the group of pups. He spread the small morsels of dried meats across the dew-soaked grasses with a careful forepaw. Free for them to take and chew while they listened. "It is nice to meet you all, and I am glad you've chosen to join me today. My mother might have called this a sermon, but I would rather call it a lesson. By your mother's request, I am going to teach you of your divine origins, so that this knowledge might guide you to greatness in the years to come." he started with the low, reverent intonations that he more commonly utilized for prayer. However, they felt appropriate for the moment. A kind of mellifluous invocation of the divine that he hoped would ensure the attention of his nieces and nephews remained fixed upon him.

"Long before any of us walked the terra, there were many gods that toiled within the heavens. Among these was a great and powerful entity, Abraxas. He ruled over them all, as both a king and a god among gods in his own right. The other divines envied him for his strength and his cunning, which he used to keep them all in line and doing his bidding. Over many countless aeons, the lesser gods found seeds of envy and hatred growing in their hearts, which they nurtured among themselves until they festered. The other gods plotted an uprising against their great and powerful ruler, Abraxas. They wanted his throne and his kingdom for their own." there was a slight furrow in his brow as he spoke, two-toned gaze sweeping over the gathered children to assess how they were taking in the ancient history of their own lineage. "And so they gathered their strength, and as one great force they rose up against the King of Gods, Abraxas. They cast him from the heavenly realm- they stole his great power that they so coveted, and struck him down to the realm of mortals. A great rage welled up within him, so wounded by their betrayal, and it spilled out of his now-mortal body. Through this, the world knew suffering. Pain, hate, sickness, and war."

He paused again, looked over the children. It was not a kind tale, nor a particularly honourable origin. It might be difficult for these children to accept, at such a young age. "As the years wore on, Abraxas sired many children. To these children, he was their God as much as he was their father. These children took the name of Abraxas as their own, to spread his glory through the realm. It was Abraxas' hope that as his children spread his name, and their dominion grew and spread across the lands, that his power would return to him. It is not known precisely when he died, but it was upon his death that we came to know him only as God. He is trapped in the infernal realm to this very day, and only through the great deeds of His descendants- you, your mother, and myself, among many others in these lands- might His power be restored. It is our duty to bring greatness to His name, and should we fall in the line of that duty, we can join Him in that realm and be by his side. This is how the children of God ascend to become gods ourselves, so that we might serve Him and eventually retake the heavens from the traitors who cast Him out." as the final syllables were uttered, and the lingering vestiges of his speech turned from echoes in the mist to an empty silence, his gaze drifted upwards. The skies were blocked by that low-lying fog, and the clouds overhead that kept the mist from truly dissipating. It did not matter, the divine tether was never truly broken for the godling.

He allowed the silence to linger, for the lengthy explanation of their origins to settle within the minds of his young nieces and nephews. It was a lot to take in, and he would not fault them for taking the time to turn it over in their minds for a while yet. "I will not ask anything of you in this moment, children." he assured them with soft, calm vocals. Instead, he smoothed a paw over the intricate scars that wound up his foreleg thoughtfully. "Take a moment to consider what this means to you, and in a few moments I will check in with you all. At that time, if you would like to ask anything of me, you are welcome to do so." there was reassurance in his smile then, in the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and the curvature of his shoulders as he lowered his skull to try and meet each child's eye, to ensure they knew his sincerity.

"Pontifex" || "Hallux" || "Pollux"