PM to join [Dock Warehouse] Don't fear the Preacher

[Fallon]

81st Summer 515 AV
Night

The sky was akin to an inky black, devoid of light with barely the breakthrough of moonlight within the clouds. The air had taken to a cooler chill, the long hot days being replaced by the opposite by night. That was not to say this was any winter level of cold, but it still enough to cause a brief pause to admire the goose bumps that formed along her arms. Not that Fallon stayed still for particularly long to study them, she had a focus for the night and so would keen herself to work on it. Dressed lightly, the cloak of black wrapped around her form, hood raised to block out the pale skin and features that would be associated with her. There was little more than silence to her from, the entire body curled in on itself as she took to the narrower and quieter streets of the city. The glow of candles occasionally slipped between the gaps in the windows, the quicker steps to ensure she remained out of the illumination for as long as possible. She could not be seen, she should not be heard - less her attempts to gather information would risk being for naught.

Exhaling the inspector continued to push on with her movements, the gloved hand gently tapping against the kukri and tools she hung upon her person. Rope, a knife, smaller things that would hopefully help in gaining her entry. Her book and quill and been left at home - too much extra weight for her liking on this occasion. No, this time she would have to rely on her memory for this job. And it was as so that she begun to slowly collect the information in her mind of what she did know based upon the client's information. The group of preachers had been about for a few days now, speaking and whispering that the end was nigh. She distinctly remembered hearing them in the street below her office for the last few days - successfully scaring the locals and causing them to make a beeline away from the immediate area. It was a problem of concern for business, but the truly needy seemed to find their way to her regardless.

Just like her latest client.

She had been tipped off that there was to be a late night meeting to indoctrinate new people in, and while it was made into an announcement there was one thing that was clear in particular - they had not said where they were going to host it. Which in itself caused a small dilemma for her attempts to find out information. Still, it would have to be somewhere big where a potentially large body of people could be hosted, but away from the prying eyes of authorities. The woman gave a quick step back into the shadow of one of the alleyways, hands pulling the cloak in tight around her as she watched the shapes of others move on past the mouth of it , lantern lit and the dirty vestment robes that belong to a preacher catching her eye. Cowls raised, the hushed voices tickled at her ears as she peered out the shadows after them, "Come brother. We must not be late to the meeting."
"I know," hissed the other, "Come, this way, hurry now to the docks, the warehouse is there. And soon we will have more to add to our family."

[Fallon]

Fallon pulled herself back, turning her feet down the alleyway and around the back of the houses. The docks, she knew how to get there now after nearly two seasons in the city. Her steps moved faster, her head watching her sides for any eyes that may be watching. One of the warehouses there? Perhaps where they stored cargo waiting to be shipped out? There was quite a few to pick out, but if there was to be a meeting in one of them she hoped that they would be labelled clearly enough for potential recruits to find them. Taking the next left turning Fallon let her eyes look into the gloom of the night, flickering towards another lantern that hovered in the distance and down towards the warehouses. Her lips parted, form scuttling across the open street and down into the depths of the Sailor's Quarter.

Across the way now she moved, watching the silhouettes of the buildings grown taller and more weathered, the faint glow of street lanterns lighting the way down. More bodies now, she could count them as she found herself edging ever closer to the destination, the warehouses towering above. Voices, she could hear the low hum of chatter as she slipped between the wooden frames of structures. Gloved hands patted her way along the walls, the low crunch of ground beneath her boot as she inched ever closer. Eyes peered at the slither of light as she approached one of the warehouses, the hooded forms quietly welcoming people with those soft voices.

Stepping around the crating and planks that were leaned against the walls, Fallon moved gently, hands gently brushing as she looked to the entrance and then around it into the darkness. There in the gloom she could see the tall lifting hatches going up to the floor above, the stacks and mess of nets and crates hanging down from the gap. Inside the low glow throbbed, the occasional flicker of a shadow as something stepped around the light source. But deeper within she could hear the sound of a voice speaking up above the background hum, "Hello, hello! Please, your attention."

Fallon cursed under her breath, her form quickly stepping across the gap to the warehouse side. Hands scrabbled, her head inclining upwards to the open hatch, a last look back and forth. She needed a view and a good point to survey the situation without being noticed. Shoulders rolling she pressed her back into the wall of the warehouse behind her before taking a quick step towards the wall, a spring up, toes pressed into the meeting warehouse wall, her gloved hands clawing at the hatch entrance. Muscles strained, boots scrapping against the wall as she focused only on the idea of getting up onto the ledge. With a grit of teeth she continued to pull, planting her arms onto the solid edge and twisted them so her hands could gain a grip onto the frame. Knees bent, continuing to push her upwards onto her stomach, the feeling of a hard stretch of decking before her. Another gasp, she continued to pull herself up, legs kicking as she dragged herself in panting. Chest heaving, the woman peered towards the edge of the upper decking, cloak being pulled about her once more as she felt her way among the few crates that littered the surface. It was below however that the voices of the meeting of the preachers began.

[Zandelia]

A strange and curious bunch indeed these cultists, or perhaps that was the wrong description. Were they as mad as some whispered that they were for believing in something that others thought abnormal? Was she a dangerous mad woman because she believed that it could be moral to assassinate someone – say a corrupt official – if it led to a greater good? Any would say that she was but she was as sound of mind as any she could name. At any rate, she found herself in the unique position to observe them – she was amongst them. It had now been overly difficult to infiltrate, all that was really required was a cloak and a very words spoken. It was as if they saw that they did nothing wrong, that there was no need for secrecy.

Almost at any rate, secrecy is not the same as caution and there has been plenty of that so far. Covered faces, robes to swathe the body. No one here know who the others are, not amongst the basic attendees at least. I suppose there must be a leadership somewhere who knows more than the rest she mused to herself as she did her best to mill about and fit in.

She was keeping to the edges where she could, hands folded over each other so that literally nothing of who she truly was could be seen, every inch of flesh tucked away from sight. A few mumbled words in an affected reedy tone of voice was enough to mask her speech, if not perfectly then enough that should nothing untoward occur she would hopefully be forgotten within a few Bells. She circled the growing throng slowly, weaving through people and pausing every so often so as to arouse no suspicion. She had been a little bemused when the request had been made of her to attend the meeting, to watch and report. It was beginning to become an enjoyably simple evening.

She was not entirely sure why she was wanted here, she had not been told. She simply did as she was asked, for the betterment of Zeltiva – such a pious line but she knew better than to provide needless opposition. So far she had seen nothing truly of note, though a smattering of the less careful betrayed that there were a number of the great and wealthy present – the rings of fanciful silvers and gold upon their podgy fingers gave that away clearly for one whom was looking. Not to mention the way some of the gathering rambled around, arrogant posture and bearing a sense of self-entitlement. Perhaps that was the reason, to keep tabs upon where the leanings of political influence was tilted this season.

She finally came to a stop in her slow circling, towards the back and the door now. She never broke into a place without a way out and she was standing quite close to it, she was no fool. That was why she also had enough weaponry – besides her hands – to fight her way out if required. She didn't believe she would need to but she knew mob mentality and wasn't about to take any chances. As it was her gaze was fixed quite pointedly upon the rudimentary stage, comprised of stacked boxes and barrels, covered with rough planks. Assembled hastily and, she did not doubt, would be dismantled upon its use being ended. Her gaze wandered every so often, drifting from person to person and straying up to the rafters every so often.

But for now, she waited.

[Fallon]

The wood gave a quiet groan beneath her feet as she shifted about, form crouched and shrouded in the black cloak. Her form rippled in the shadows, slinking as she took a step and clamber onto another one of the crates and promptly rested there, ears flickering as the cloaked and hooded members of the city flittered about below, the mumbling of voices belonging to various classes and dialects. With the cloak pulled around her, Fallon peered out from beneath her hood, lips peeling back as she observed. An impromptu stage, the speaker upon it with the arms held out wide with the broad robes hiding most of his form. She saw the bodies turn, the faint glimmers of silvers and fine materials making tell tale signs of the people - merchants or the high class, she could not tell from this distance.

"Attention, my brothers and sisters!" He called forth again, "Attention! We have gathered today to welcome in a beginning of a new age and the start of an end. We have all see the signs my brothers and sisters! We have heard the calling and it is utmost pleasure to see that you have come to join us this night!" Enthusiasm, her ears twitched as she let the gaze move to the other people to judge their reactions. Some turned their heads, a few others clapped and cheered - perhaps they were the more settled in the group or the youth consumed by pride for a cause to Zeltiva.

"It is on this night that we can prepare ourselves for what is to come! Our salvation before the ends of days and the great sacrifice that is to come!" he piped up again, hands raising high, "Our saving is before us all if we merely join hands with the other!" There was a pause the brief turning of the head to the right of the stage, "Our Deliverer from the evil and the destruction to come is here, and we chosen few who have come this night will be saved! Saved I tell you, for the greater good!" Fallon craned her chin upwards to look towards the black and red robed shape that stood at the edge of the stage now, dark gloved hands curled around some ornately carved staff. Hunched over, she heard the gentle clunk of feet as the other took up to the stage, the main speaker stepping to the side and giving a noticeably large bow, "Our Deliverer. May we walk in your grace ever more."
"That is all," came a female voice as she stopped upon the edge and looked towards the crowd. It was only now that silence filled the hall and lasted, all eyes falling upon the woman as she tapped the base of the staff to the stage.

"Children of Zeltiva!" the words were clear, enunciated and far from a Zeltivan accent, "It is on such a night like this that it is fortunate I have had time to speak to you. A dark time is upon us, and the end does approach. The horns of Ivak have blown twice now, his wrath and rage has left the land warped and changed by his wild power. The Valterrian was the first time, the great Djed storm that rocked our homes the second, it is merely a matter of time before his wrath once more turns unto us." She could hear the mumbles within the crowd, faint but questioning, "And when it does come, only those chosen and lead unto the light shall be spared from the apocalypse to come. All others who turn their backs, your siblings, your fathers, your mothers, your children - if they do not hear the call then they shall all meet the same fate. They shall burn."

A hissing gasp, worry, she could not blame them. Fallon's eyes squinted down, her head tilting as she looked unto the other reaction of the public, "All our times have come, and now we stand upon the edge of a new age! But fear not, take my hand and we shall soar!"

[Zandelia]

You knew it was going to be one corker of a speech when the whole affair began with a demand for attention. It was something about the word, repeated expectantly like a mother to an errant child or a master to their apprentice. It just dripped with sardonic arrogance, almost leered down at them to remind those gathered that they were indeed inferior and not in the know...but the speaker, however, was different. That was the first clue that she had found herself standing amidst a throng of utter lunatics. The second came with a shudder at around the point the phrase 'beginning of a new age' was jubilantly announced.

Jubilantly...yes that is the word. Fantastic, I'm glad I'm near the door. Not sure I'd survive many of these rabid, ranting, rocker-wrecked bastards. Anelda...I'm going to...you won't sit for...days... she kept her thoughts very private and, just in case, very small.

The insane heard voices, she hoped they couldn't hear hers. Looking around the hoods and their shadows were taking on a more sinister feel now, more of malevolent potential than milling muses. Throngs were dangerous in an of themselves, throngs with a structures belief system more so. Added to that having a particular direction and leader...she was not entirely happy they existed at all, much less in her new home city. As the words washed over her she could feel the memories of that day in Sunberth, on the docks, when she stood between death and her friends. She was getting the sinking feeling that she would be called to do the same again if this group ever got anywhere off of the ground with whatever schemes they held.

Because...and this is important...they wouldn't just roll over and let some ideology they didn't agree with take over everything. And given that they're talking about 'saving' those who are worthy I'm pretty sure they won't just leave it at that but try to make sure as many as possible are 'worthy' she told herself, with a twist of the lips to match.

It was the age old argument, that suffering upon the world meant that it was going to end. That people should do the right thing to survive, the right thing being what they were told to do by someone or other – in this case this particular cult. Perhaps cult was the wrong word, they seemed docile and of well meaning so far. Civic figures were present, families perhaps. It might as well have been a new temple gathering. Or it could have been a way of coming together, shared beliefs being used to galvanize positive city-wide improvement. She held on to that small glimmer of belief until the talk of burning – that killed off any sense of hope. That sealed it – they had to be stopped.

And Anelda needs to know she's going to need an army of spies and probably quite a few mercenaries. I've seen some of the blue of the Wave Guard here too. Stupid fools left their uniform on under those robes. That means you can't count on all of them now either...what fun she noted with a sense of growing dread.

Her gaze drifted about as the words came to a close in the first foray of this attempt at convincing rhetoric. It drifted upwards and she was sure she saw movement but it faded quickly. She kept her gaze there for a time, watching and waiting to see a small flicker of motion – they came intermittently. She was not sure who it was but she was sure she was not the only set of eyes here. That was good, it meant she didn't have to be the only witness. She switched her focus back to the speeches and her mission here this day.

She wished it was less...interesting.

[Fallon]

Fallon's form shifted, inching ever about the top hands gently pressing against surfaces to garner herself some support before she slipped atop of a collection of crates and peered down into the depths of the warehouse once more. She would have compared it to madness, an insanity that spread and possess like a disease. Once it had taken root in the mind there was no escaping its grasp, and no amount of purification would save the individual. It was dangerous, and it was such that made Fallon's adrenal race just that little bit faster, just give her a moment to hold her breath and stare down in worry for what fate may become of the people. With a sharper inhale she slunk her way across.

"Will you, chosen people of Zeltiva, join us in our union?" Fallon's nostrils flared as the speaker continued, the faint scent of smoke resting on her senses - the source she could not pinpoint. Her head craned as she watched the forms of two of the other robed move about, hunched and carrying something up onto the stage. It was taking centre behind the supposed Deliverer, and only as they pulled away that she saw the roaring coals of the brazier and the iron rod that was plunged into the white glowing depths. The voice however continued, "Will you surrender yourselves in the hope of being freed from what is to come? Do not fear us! Instead take our hands and let us fly. Become like us, and we shall be chosen unto the new world by our right."

What where they doing? What were they planning to achieve? Bring people into the group through a mass initiation? In what manner? Fallon's lips pursed into a line, her eyes coming down to a narrow as the more confident members seemed to congregate. A low hum of noise seemed to exist, all eyes upon the speaker as she placed her hand upon the shaft of the iron rod. The gloved hand wrapped around it, the hissing fire beneath hot as she pulled it forth and displayed the glowing edge, "Who will be the first to step forth? To offer themselves in purification and cleanse their soul unto be saved? Whom shall take up the mantle and cast away their fears?"

There was another long length of silence, the quiet sounding of awkwardness. Fear? Worry? Could she blame them? Not really. The wood beneath her gave a noticeable groan in protest, and quickly the woman withdrew her foot and slinked back to the shadows. A few heads turned to look up, the briefest glimmer of blue catching her orbs before they peeled away back to the speaker. For a long moment there was silence, the Deliverer scanning the crowd the voice turning to one of venom, "Or are you all cattle, waiting to merely burn? Unworthy of the chance of red-"
"I'll do it!" came a voice from within the crowd. There was a gasp of amazement as the bodies parted and the gaze turned to that of the new speaker. Young, barely a lad by the sounds of things, "I not scared of any fire."
"Good... Come here my child."

Whispers, she could hear it as the cloaked lad moved ever closer to the stage. Being pulled up onto it the Deliverer paced around him, "See? This is more man, more brave than all of you! His will shall save him, and unto us he will be protected. His right he has picked, and saved he will be. Uncloak yourself, do not hide your face in shadow dear boy - wear what you have chosen with pride! And tell me, what is your name?"

There was a pause, before the cloak was pulled back. Brown curls sprung forth, barely the stubble covering his jaw - Fallon would have reasoned him a late teenager at most, but still wanting to make the adult decisions. A fool. Slinking to one of the edges, she worked her way round hunched to get to a better angle. He answered, "Ronny Aronson, miss."
"Good. And are you scared?"
"No miss!"
"Take a knee and present your chest. We shall begin and lead you as the first of many into the new age."

A shuffling the lad took to one knee, fingers tugging at the buttons of his shirt as he revealed the skin beneath. The Deliverer merely looked at him from beneath her cowl, the palm of her right resting upon his forehead after discarding the staff by merely dropping it. It was the left now that held the hot iron shaft, her voice ringing in tone, "For we are those chosen to live on, for we are the ones who's souls are the purest of them all. We shall be freed from this world and brought into a new one. We are the chosen, and with the power vested in me I shall protect you from the doom of Ivak's wrath. Now be purified and freed from the shackles that oppress you!"

He barely managed to let out a cry of pain when the hot brand pressed upon his chest. And in response, the crowd only cheered.