This occurred last night -

"This is inspired by Whiteburn, and while that cultist is many things, inactive is not one of them. They shook their thuribles and said their words, and the fire was quenched, the tidal wave receded. They fixed what They broke.
Perhaps this is a good reminder that They are the visitors here, and Their meddling with our home is causing all this. They have broken our home, and year after year have the audacity to demand we placate their destruction, to seek praise for quieting their tantrums.
Harawep, like Jeihrem before her, like Drogor before him, like Dergati before him, they have snarled Fate, torn the planes, left monsters and interlopers in their wake. We seek to unknot, to stabilize, to expunge.
Those twice damned cultists got one thing right – bring a crowd. Shove enough Elemental, Lunar, and Holy mana into a rift, satiate Those That Take, and the rift will mend. Cheer on the mighty and mysterious monster that masqueraded as minding our affairs, cared for our groveling. Hooray, it looked the other way and ruination averted!
Enough. This is our HOME, these are our souls, our lives, our dreams. They have no right to any of it, and the more they demand, the worse things get. And that’s where you come in.
This is a conduit. It is a vessel for Her influence, and the area is worse for it. Can you feel it? The clinging… Otherness? Her interloping, the tingle of Her energies? It has no place here.
We should stop this. Keep them from meddling. Prevent them from ruining. Quench the fires, push back the tide, unknot, mend. This is ours to fix, by keeping Her and Hers away.
This is anathema torn from the wreckage of the meddling Her and Hers left behind. If you have any, place it on her altar.
This is loimic, left behind by some of the innocent extraplanar creatures stranded here. If you have any, place it on her altar.
This is the ritualized material of a spider, her chosen symbol. If you have any, place it on her altar.
This is our blood, symbol of our home. It is ours, this is ours.
Harness the streams, rooted in this place, and concentrate on the altar. Our connection is stronger. We are stronger. This is ours, not theirs."

About a minute later...

An aged-sounding voice crackles through the area, invading your mind! It says, "Defiliers, worms, mewling ignorants! I give you a chance to redeem yourselves, to take your filth and cleanse it, for Me to stay My Sword, and this is your choice! So be it!"

That's about when it got hairy. Hairier and hairier. Turns out we aren't stronger, it isn't ours, Harawep won.

(Necro Leader) had some choice words for us. Clearly, we're missing something essential to accomplish our goal...