Prayers and rites to Laran (Mars)

 

Etruscan hymn to Laran

Hark, attend, O Laran of the gleaming helm, thou whose tread doth shake the very earth whereon we build our hearths and raise our walls. We call upon thee in the solemnity of this rite, laid bare before thy might.

Thou art the vigour in the arm that lifts the lance; thine is the fire that leaps within the eyes of warriors when the horns signal the advance. Thy breath is the rushing wind that precedes the storm of battle, the shout that echoes across the field where bronze doth meet bronze. We see thee in the flash of the drawn blade, in the unwavering stance of the hoplite, in the dust raised by the charging ranks.

O Laran, whose sinews ripple with the promise of strife, whose gaze is fixed upon the turning point of conflict, lend thou thine ear unto thy people. Bestow upon our young men thy formidable spirit, that they may stand unyielding against the foe. Let thy shadow fall upon our legions, a mantle of dread unto our enemies, a sign of surety unto ourselves.

We pour libations unto thee, Laran; we offer the first fruits of our strength. Harden thou our shields, sharpen thou the points of our javelins, guide thou the aim of the slinger. When we march forth from our gates, stride thou unseen beside our standard-bearers. May thy fierce countenance turn aside the ill-omened bird, may thy presence quell the trembling heart.

Grant, O Laran, that our boundaries remain inviolate, that the courage thou dost impart brings not ruin, but secures peace through strength. Be thou the bulwark against the aggressor, the swift hand that strikes down insolence. Hearken unto this, thy sacred invocation, and know thy people honour thee, Mighty Laran.

 

Etruscan hymn to Laran

O Laran, fearsome Youth, whose countenance glows with the fierce ardour of the forge-fire ere the hammer falls, Thou art the very sinew of conflict, the animating principle within the raised arm and the forward-surging host. Thy breath is the brazen trumpet's call that stirs the blood from sluggish repose; Thy footfall upon the earth precedes the tremor of marching legions, a vibration felt in the deep marrow of the bones of men. Thou art not merely the Wielder of the spear, that ash-hafted arbiter of mortal destinies, but the stern Preceptor whose lesson is taught in the sharp clangour of steel on shield, in the dust raised by furious contention, and in the stark silence that follows the battle's fevered pitch. Before Thee, as attendants in Thy formidable procession, stride not gentle Graces, but Necessity, stark-visaged and unyielding, and Tumult, her voice a discordant symphony of shouts and the splintering of wood and bone. Yea, audacious Valour walks nigh unto Thee, his breastplate catching the sun's glare, whilst trembling Fear, pale and wide-eyed, doth scurry in the shadows cast by Thy inexorable advance. It is Thy potent will, O Laran, that doth infuse the hearts of warriors, lending strength to the wavering arm, steeling the resolve against the chilling whispers of despair, making glorious the shedding of life's crimson dew upon the thirsty ground. Thou art the Patron of the decisive moment, the Lord of the charge that breaks the foe's arrayed line. The sweat that courses down the warrior's brow is a libation poured unto Thee; the straining muscles are cords strung upon the lyre of Thy grim purpose; the very air grows thick and heavy with the emanation of Thy presence when the ranks engage. We perceive Thy might not only in the grand theatre of opposed armies but also in the sudden fury that seizes the individual soul, the protective instinct that guards the threshold, the righteous anger that rises against transgression. Therefore, let the sacred fires burn brightly in acknowledgment of Thy dominion. Let the sharp scent of incense rise, not as a plea for cessation of Thy vital force, but as a testament to our understanding of Thy place within the intricate cosmology ordained by powers most high. For Thou art the sharp edge of the world, the trial by which strength is measured, the fierce furnace wherein mettle is proven. Laran, Lord of the Upraised Spear, Master of the Tumult, Him of the Gleaming Greaves, be acknowledged in Thy puissant and terrifying glory, now and amidst the turning cycles of the sun and the silent journey of the stars across the profound and watchful night.

Etruscan Prayer to Laran

O Laran, thou celestial artificer of tempests, whose fiery breath doth animate the forge of heaven and whose thunderous stride shakes the adamantine pillars of the earth! Harken, we beseech thee, to the humble entreaties of thy supplicants, who, with hearts bowed low yet spirits aflame, seek communion with thy majesty. Thou, who dost straddle the empyrean and chthonic depths, whose raiment is woven of lightning’s argent threads and whose brow is crowned with the smoldering diadem of war - verily, thou art the axis about which the spheres of strife and harmony revolve. From thy sacred hand spring the fates of warriors, the clamor of bronze-clad hosts, and the silent resolve of those who, in shadowed vigils, keep the sacred flame of valor undimmed. Lo! When the heavens darken and the tempest’s maw gapeth wide, it is thy voice that roars through the vaulted firmament, commanding the winds to dance in frenzied homage. Thy chariot, drawn by steeds whose manes are tongues of flame, doth cleave the ashen clouds, scattering before thee the cowardice of men and the pestilence of discord. In thy wake, the earth is remade—a crucible wherein the dross of frailty is purged, and the mettle of the steadfast is tempered. Mighty Laran, thou who art both the smiter and shield, the devourer and deliverer: grant unto us, thy ephemeral children, the fortitude to endure the caprices of fortune. Bestow upon our trembling hands the strength to wield the sword of justice, and upon our faltering hearts the clarity to discern the path of honor. Let thy celestial fires illumine our souls, that we may walk undaunted through the vale of shadows, our spirits aflame with thy divine ardor. As the oaks of sacred groves bend yet break not beneath thy gales, so let us, imbued with thy favor, stand resolute against the onslaught of chaos. Let thy presence, like the first breath of dawn after a night of terrors, herald the triumph of order over imbalance, of courage over despair. Accept, O luminous sovereign of the storm-wracked skies, these offerings of words and will—meager though they be—as tokens of our undying reverence. May they ascend, as incense from hallowed altars, to thy celestial court, where thou reignest eternal, enshrined in splendor beyond mortal ken.

Etruscan liturgy to Laran

Hark! Within the hallowed precinct, where the scent of cypress and ancient stone doth mingle with the fragrant smoke of juniper ascending, let us commence the solemn rites ordained. Let the acolytes, garbed in unblemished linen, prepare the altar, washing it thrice with water drawn from the sacred spring ere dawn touched the eastern hills. Let the Chief Augur stand forth, his gaze fixed upon the heavens, awaiting the signs permissive.

(The Chief Augur raises his lituus, observing the sky in silence for a moment, then nods gravely.)

Augur: The auspices are favourable. The vault above shows no ill omen. Tinia, Father of Gods, Uni, Queen of Heaven, and Menrva, wise in counsel and craft, look down upon this assembly with aspects benign. Let the venerated Haruspices approach and prepare for the greater revelations held within the sacrifice. Let the fires burn brightly, symbols of the vital spark we seek to honour and preserve!

(The Haruspices, robed in purple-bordered vestments, take their positions near the altar. Attendants bring forth offerings: bronze spearheads, a shield newly polished, bowls of grain, and flagons of strong wine.)

Augur: Now, let our hearts and voices turn unto the potentate of the brazen helm, the Lord of Strife and Stalwart Defence, He whose stride shakes the very earth, the formidable God, Laran!

(The Augur pours a libation of wine onto the altar fire, which flares briefly.)

Augur: Hearken, O Laran, thou whose sinews are forged in the celestial fires where Might itself was born; thou who art the very anima of the drawn blade and the levelled spear; before whose charge the serried ranks of lesser spirits do quail and scatter like dry leaves before the tempest's breath.

We invoke thee, not as the mere instigator of blind rage, that chaotic Fury which confounds the minds of mortals unto their own ruin, but as the Ordainer of Contest, the Guardian of the City's strength, the divine Archetype of disciplined Valour, whose terrible beauty resides in rightful struggle and the defence of hearth and boundary stone.

O thou, whose companions are swift Victory, laurel-crowned and stern of mien, and resolute Fortitude, her gaze unwavering, her footing firm upon the shifting grounds of chance; thou for whom the clash of bronze upon bronze is sweeter music than the shepherd's pipe; thou whose sacred creatures are the wolf, cunning in the hunt, and the woodpecker, diligent herald, attend!

We, thy devoted people, stand now upon the threshold of uncertain days. The shadow of conflict lengthens, and the whispers of our adversaries are carried upon the wind like ill-tidings.

(A second libation is poured.)

Augur: Therefore, O Laran, Bulwark of our Folk, we offer unto thee these tokens of our dedication: this unblemished grain, seed of life, that our fields may yet flourish under thy protection even amidst strife; this wine, dark and potent, symbol of the lifeblood we pledge to guard; these instruments of war, fashioned by skilled hands, consecrated to thy service.

Grant, O Resplendent Warrior, whose breath is the battle-cry, that Courage, that adamantine virtue which distinguishes the noble soul from the base, may inhabit the breast of every soldier who marches beneath our standards. Let not Fear, that pale and trembling spectre born of doubt, find purchase in their hearts, but let it be banished unto the Stygian gloom whence it arose. Infuse their arms with Thine own irresistible momentum; guide the cast of the javelin that it may fly true; lend weight and impact to the sword-stroke that it may cleave through enemy shield and resolve alike. May their formations stand as firm as the ancient mountains of our land, unyielding before the surge of hostile advance.

Confound, we beseech thee, the counsels of those who plot against our prosperity and peace. Let their strategies unravel like poorly woven thread; let confusion be their strategist, and disarray their marching-master. Turn their own ferocity back upon themselves, that they may become entangled in the snares of their own making.

Let thy fiery gaze, O Laran of the Flashing Helm, be a shield unto our walls, a deterrent visible even unto the farthest foe. Preserve the strength of our magistrates, the wisdom of our elders, the vigour of our youth, that the intricate tapestry of our society, woven through generations under divine guidance, may endure, whole and vibrant.

(The Haruspices now approach the designated sacrifice – perhaps a ram or boar, though its end is implied, not detailed. They perform their divinatory rites with solemn focus.)

Augur: (Turning again to the assembled) Behold, the Haruspices seek wisdom in the vital structures laid bare, tracing the lines of fate as decreed by the immortals and interpreted through Laran's martial sphere. Let us await their pronouncements in disciplined silence, our faith firmly placed in the God of Resolute Action.

(A period of silence ensues, broken only by the crackling fire and the low chanting of attendants. One of the Haruspices steps forward.)

Haruspex: The signs are complex, yet favourable in the main. The seat of Counsel shows firmness; the paths of Aggression show some entanglement for our foes. Laran demands unwavering resolve; vigilance must be our constant companion. No swift and easy triumph is promised, but steadfastness, under the God's fierce eye, shall ultimately prevail.

Augur: It is heard. The God has accepted our offerings and vouchsafed His counsel through the sacred signs. Laran, Mighty Lord, thy will be acknowledged! Remain thou our guardian, our inspiration in the press of battle, our unwavering shield in times of peril. Let thy martial beneficence extend over this city, its people, and its defenders, now and in the seasons to come.

The rites are concluded. Let the sacred fire be banked, but let the fire in our hearts, kindled by Laran's might, burn ever brighter. Depart in strength and order, carrying the God's blessing into the world. Muluvanice! Be thou propitious!