“The God of the Deep has a heart like a great leaden weight. It drags him so low to the ground that the furrows of his passing become canyons. His servants are ten thousand and their faces will never gaze up on the sun. She Who Lights Up the Sky does not bless them. They are small and crawl around their God, and they make offerings at his feet and unto his graven image and the bones of his fathers. Their singing is said to be beautiful. They live upon their own fire and venerate the sorrows of their god. They guard the secret ways into the halls of YNAMON, called YRE by the uninitiated and lacerate their own flesh and fill the passages with their wailing.

Trespassers past the threshold of the holy land are punished with fire and blade.”
– Pre Narim Yiprik, Chronicle of the Seven

Maybe if the paper pusher pushed her god to a couple of meetings once in a while we wouldn't be in this predicament.