Whether mere superstition, the abandonment of the pseudo-gods, or the strict judgment of Eru upon them, these tribes always assume that any calamity to befall is a result of the abandonment of their deities. In order to seek the forgiveness of the gods, they believed they were required to perform some deed. It is part of the Nezgeth tradition that their gods cannot forsake the tribe without granting one final gift of wisdom revealing the nature of this deed. To receive this wisdom is the purpose of the Brith-nel-fhet.

The average Nezgeth tribesman would never see a Brith-nel-fhet in his lifetime. For weeks the priests must ready themselves to enter into direct communication with their gods. After the ritual is finished, the tribe must act on the words spoken by the gods. Sometimes the wisdom provided by the Brith-nel-fhet is vague at best.

Regardless if a majority of these rituals were mere superstition, in 398 GUE Belegur used this ritual as a sly method to deceive the Nezgeth into doing his evil deeds.

The Brith-nel-fhet itself is described here in eructating detail, having been recorded in ancient documents by a first-hand observer:

In the most sacred cave of the Nezgeth, the High Priest moved slowly back and forth, pacing across imaginary bridges of power spanning the points between the four cardinal directions. The two lesser priests sat cross-legged in lowered recesses to the west and the east, while their elder walked from the chief in the northern position toward his own recess in the southern corner of the chamber. As he moved, he traced out the patterns that existed in the many intricate lines in the ground connecting the four recesses. Carved by skilled hands countless generations ago, the lines conveyed many of the most basic Nezgeth religious tenets. The diamond formed by the four points symbolized the unity of their four highest gods. Other patterns formed by the intricate crossing lines spoke of each ritual that has a place in the Nezgeth religious life. The circular curve connecting the four chief points depicted the sun, the ever-present, blinding, all-important sun, and the sum of the lines in the picture, twelve, represented the number of centuries legend told that the tribe would remain in exile from the ancient homeland across the sea.
      In front of each of the four seated figures rested a flowing wooden model of a majestic sailing vessel, and supported by each of the main masts stood four burning sticks of heavily scented incense. Directly in the center of the four points burnt a flickering oil lamp, serving as but a weak reminder of the tyrant sun that still shone somewhere outside the cavern. Around the perimeter of the four points rose the sweeping rocky walls rising up to a point high above, hidden by the dim light and smoke. Hewn roughly into the walls are generations of pictorial images, tales of the Nezgeth tribal history.
      The three priests sang with great energy, chanting the holy words that accompanied the images of the previous Brith-nel-fhets. Slowly and patiently throughout this long chant, Ath-gar-nel rocked back and forth, muttering silently to himself, so as to be sure that the priests could not overhear his words.
      The younger priest in the western recess, after his third of the chant was completed, slowly began preparation for a nourishing mixture that would be necessary to receive the advice of the gods. Words that had been passed down to him from times distant dictated the use of difficult ingredients, rarely found in the desert. In expectation of the Brith-nel-fhet, the priest’s apprentices had traveled for nearly a year in search of what would go into the sacrament he was preparing now. Chief among the ingredients were lerf, the sturdy morgia root, and a good amount of the disgustingly brackish water found in the Hevith Springs to the south. After using mortar and pestle to grind the poisonous glands of the lerf to an unidentifiable pulp, the blessing with the incense began. With the chant continuing in the background, the net effect was highly hypnotic. Eyelids lowering, the priest sank into trance state as he mixed the ingredients in the proper amounts.
      Soon, his work done, the western priest transferred the potent mixture into a wooden bowl and raised it into the air, speaking words of praise to the god in whose corner he rested. He then quietly drank of the liquid, barely noticing its disturbing taste. As he lowered the bowl to the lines on the ground before him, the others began to share in his deepening state of inner awareness. Focusing on the dim light in the center of the chamber, the four were only barely aware when the bowl began to move of its own accord, traveling along the lines of power to the high priest in the southern corner. Lost in enlightened meditations, the priest sat for many moments before showing the slightest awareness of the bowl’s presence before him. Then, without any change in his internal focus, he leaned forward slightly and took hold of the bowl. He drank his own share, and then rested the bowl on a line to his right.
      Again the bowl moved, this time toward the eastern corner. As the magical liquid began to take hold, the priest in the west soon lost consciousness altogether. The effect of the poisonous glands in the potion had been counteracted by certain other ingredients, but the new combined effect was strange to behold. In the western corner the young priest’s eyes closed against his will, as if touched by an irresistible force from above. The flowing lines in the ground continued to guide the bowl to the others in the chamber, who drank their share while watching the frightening motions that possessed the first two.
      Suddenly the head of the western priest slumped forward lazily, almost touching his chest. His breathing grew more regular, matching the signs of deepening sleep that took hold. In a moment, however, his left hand began to move of its own accord slowly toward a smooth fur pouch fastened at his waist. The priest, entirely unconscious and unaware of his surroundings, merely voyaged deeper into his own mind while another power made use of his body. Soon the contents of the pouch lay emptied on the ground. For years, ever since his initiation into the priesthood, the Nezgeth holy man had been told by his elders to keep sacred the contents of the pouch, and never to open it except in the time of Brith-nel-fhet. Now that the time had come the contents of the pouch lay revealed, and the priest, moving ever farther into his soul, would never remember.
      Each of the four in turn moved deeper into trance and emptied out their own pouches, similarly untouched in the generations since the last such rite. Soon the ground around the burning oil lamp was scattered with an odd assortment of mystic Nezgeth artifacts. The items from the three priests were very similar in origin and meaning. Their three pouches each contained a bundle of short spense-sticks, dry and withered with age. In the next few moments the priests would one by one lean forward unknowingly to sacrifice one of these sticks to the oil lamp before them. Also found in the three pouches were ancient, fragile scrolls that the dry desert weather had preserved for uncounted ages. The three scrolls were decorated with a flowing, wondrous script, the meaning of which was long since lost. Priestly tradition and rumor about the contents of the pouch told that no Nezgeth eyes had ever gazed at the scrolls outside of a Brith-nel-fhet. For years the high priest had speculated about the scrolls in secret, wondering if some part of the ceremony would give him the power to understand the mysterious writing. He would leave the cavern at the end of the day still not knowing the answer.
      Scattered amongst the sticks and the scrolls glittered several valuable gems, gathered from a forgotten hoard. Near the blade lay a small tool of engraving that fitted snugly into one of the lines of power leaving the northern corner. (Other items at one time in possession of this tribe included the broken end of a blade belonging to Entharion, and a cube of foundation). With all these objects adorning the floor of the cavern in a haphazard fashion, all the necessary aspects were in place for the next step of the ceremony.
      Slowly, with ghostlike care, each of the four stood up in turn and began to enact a most graceful and eerie dance. As each priest and the Warrior glided from corner to corner in the chamber, they occasionally bent, picking up certain objects and handing them to their neighbors. In an intricate web forming an ancient juggling act, each and every object soon passed through every hand, as all the participants in turn unwittingly performed a necessary deed on their newest object with something already in their possession. This part of the Brith-nel-fhet finished, the four turned away from each other and look outward to the walls of the cavern and beyond, imagining the lands that lay to the north, south, east and west.
      They would awake hours later with no recollection of the anything after the drinking of the potion. All four participants would be suffering from an intensely aching head and painfully unfocused eyes.
      It was assumed during that time that their gods would speak to them by engraving more symbols into the cavern walls.

SOURCE(S): Zylon the Aged