"It looks like it is about to start," Corven notes as he looks at the gathering crowd and then at the Church and one of the building's balconies. "Or at the very least something is going on. There is motion on that balcony over there," he adds as he points at the aforementioned position.
"Hmm? Oh, grand." Alic winks at Corven and turns to regard the balcony. "I do hope it goes well."
Pelleas turns as the new arrival mentions something is occurring on the balcony, and gives a slight cough before staying quiet. The lanky tiefling, who until now had been slouched over in his lab coat, straightens himself to his rather impressive full height with his hands still in the pockets of his coat. The sash hangs loosely on his frame, but his stature and appearance make it all the more noticeable to those amongst the crowd. "Let's see what they have to say, then. While its unlikely, perhaps our worries are for naught."
Castiel wraps an arm about Cimri and squeezes, looking for all the world like a roguish rake. Bye Aunt Rhona! He chuckles mockingly before whispering Cimri's ear. She does raise a point, the others stick out like a sore thumb. Was that the point?
"I didn't realize I was so obvious," Cole says from behind them once the sheriff is out of earshot. "Perhaps I should practice my blending in a bit more. I thought I was fairly decent at it."
Hel closes with the rest of the group, catching the tail end of the conversation. It piques her interest, that Cimri's aunt is the sheriff; she has a great appreciation for the irony of that situation. "I don't think," says the black-haired and -handed woman, "that subtlety is the point. Are we not wearing these" - and here she plucks lightly at the sash - "to remind people of where the true power in this town lies?"
Cimri turns to Castiel and pulls his hand off of her shoulder though she purses her lips giving mixed signals. "That is indeed the point"...
Before she can continue, Tileavia Allamar, Fifth Sword Knight of Iomedae, appears on one of the church’s balconies, dressed in the yellow-trimmed white cassock of her faith, and addresses the crowd in a clear, strong voice.
"Friends and neighbors, I have wondrous tidings to share! We have all known hardships in our lives—needless sorrows, injustice, even cruelty. Indeed, such is the struggle of all who live. But many among us have known more than our share. Many among us have shouldered burdens laid upon them not by the Inheritor, but by those who would curse her name and
taunt her faithful.
But today, I bear a missive from champions of Iomedae’s faith, heralds of the goddess’s will, who know your troubles and would see them end.”
She gestures below and at that precise moment, the doors to the Church open and two men carry a box swaddled in white linen between them and place it on the table in front of the church. The priestess unfurls a rolled parchment and again raises her voice.
I received this letter last night:
‘People of Longacre! The time of your redemption is at hand. When the song of the Inheritor rises, you all must choose: live as complacent vassals of corruption and evil, or embrace honor and claim the glory that is your right. The Glorious Reclamation gives you a choice.’
Signed, ‘Lencia Visserene, Knight-Inheritor of the Glorious Reclamation.’
Friends, it is up to us to restore the worship of Iomedae to its proper place in Cheliax and reclaim our nation in the name of the Inheritor. But we have been given a sign—a sign that the ‘Angel Knight’ has come to Longacre to lead us to glory!”
The two men lift the linen and box lid, revealing an ornate silver helmet sculpted with angelic features and a halo of curls. The faceplate’s eyeless hollows stare sternly into the crowd.
The crowd, or at least most of it as some people do begin to leave, appears interested in the proclamation and begin moving forward to the table. They also begin speaking in clusters. Allamar lingers for a moment and seems as if she is about to turn and enter the Church once more.
Well, that wasn't ominous. Castiel gives a wry grin and shrugs. Should we maybe... do a bit of exploring?
"Less ominous and more problematic," Cole mutters darkly. "She's all be declared war on the entirety of Cheliax in the name of the Church of the Iomedae. I didn't think that they were that convinced of their power. This Angel Knight is more likely than not only a smaller piece of the bigger problem."
"Iomedaeans are perfectly willing to smite anyone who doesn't fit their straitlaced sense of propriety," Hel sniffs. "And this 'Glorious Reclamation' all but declared war on Cheliax as practically its first action." She frowns to herself, then says, "We had best be about the second portion of today's task - observing who is sympathetic towards this trite tart's declaration."
With that, the petite bob-haired young woman begins moving through the crowd - not roughly, but she is willing to place the back of her wrist on someone's arm or side and use her strength to move them inexoribly out of her way if they try to deny her passage. She will expressly not throw the first punch, or even the first punch that hits, should someone offer her violence. Moving in this manner, she thinks, will calls attention to the sash she wears, and ideally raise the intimidating implication that 'if this is the least of those willing to act at the behest of Archbaron Fex, what are his more powerful agents going to be like?'
Once she reaches the front of the crowd, she will take a long look at the helmet in order to remember as much as she can, spit to the side, then turn around and deliberately lean against the fence, crossing her arms and looking into each and every nearby face she can.
She entirely intends to make sure everyone who comes up to look at the helmet also gets a reminder of the Archbaron's support - and knows that they've been eyeballed and, possibly, ID'd.
For moving through the crowd:
Then, at the fence:
"A prudent suggestion," Cole replies evenly, absently slipping off in to the crowd and keeping his ears open for any signs of approval and interest in this 'Angel Knight'. "This Angel Knight will need to meet the Angel of Death. As will anyone who's foolish enough to heed her call and side with the self righteous b*stards in this church. Perhaps the Baron will pay for my... nightly activities if I direct them properly." With Hel acting as a rather blatant eye draw, he skulks about, doing his best to eavesdrop unobtrusively.
Alicarus moves up to stand by Hel, providing a second pair of eyes, both for watching and for staring at everyone who approaches. After a few seconds, he tilts his head and comments as if in afterthought. "You know, one thing I don't understand from that speech: what was that about 'restoring' Iomedae worship? Iomedae was never a goddess of Cheliax, it was all Aroden, wasn't it? And when that god left us, Asmodeus stepped in to provide order in his place. She was always a minor part of life here, Iomedae. Seems like rebellion and treason to me, however you paint it." He shrugs and casually turns his gaze back to the nearest townsperson, narrowing his eyes slightly before giving a toothy grin. "Food for thought."
"If Aroden," says Hel absently as she gives a good hard look at the crowd, at one point scratching her chest under the sash to draw the eye to the Fex flash there, "then Iomedae. She was his Herald, his right-hand girl, so to speak, so when he disappeared - I personally reserve judgement on whether or not he actually died - she picked up his mantle - many of his responsibilities. Philosophically, she should have become the patron goddess of Cheliax in his place, but people don't work as cleanly as logic, and so ..."
The petite woman shrugs. "Chaos. Mayhem. And one of my five least-favorite words, politics. Not that I don't understand it, mind you, just that I don't like it. All the politicians should be lined up next to all the priests and paladins and inquisitors and have their heads lopped off. Politics should be made illegal right next to theology; leave people alone, whether to speak to the gods or to chart the future." She spits to the side again, as if to get the bad taste of the conversational topic off her tongue.
"An interesting viewpoint from someone serving the Chelish crown," Pelleas says, approaching Alic and Hel--he motions for Covern to follow if he so wishes, but doesn't force the other man. "Not that I entirely disagree when it comes to politics. That has always been something better suited for my brothers, I'm afraid, I've never had much of a head for it. Still, it is... interesting that they're so emboldened. Perhaps this Reclamation is more of a thorn in the side of the crown than they'd care to admit. Not that you'd hear me say that in their presence, of course."
Hel's eyebrows lift politely, but the fact that she has brains means she's not so stupid as to go advertising such things right in front of everyone. "Do you know something we do not about our ... mutual acquaintance? Perhaps we might discuss this later." She gives a significant look towards the townsfolk who may still be gathering to eyeball the helmet.
"Not exactly, no. But yes, I do know... well, I have an inkling. However, this isn't the place for such talk. We'll need to discuss this later, I agree." Pelleas does his best to look menacing like the others, but his lanky body and strange appearance are more odd than frightening. He bares his teeth once, but the needle-like smile only serves to be an awkward reminder to the tiefling that he lacks any sort of imposing nature.
Castiel shrugs. Religion has oft been the opiate of the masses. Whatever rhetoric they choose to use is of little import.
Corven indeed follows the tiefling, if for no other reason than to indulge his curiosity. Well, that and the fact that at least these new acquaintances seem to have the right idea more or less, something that cannot be said for at least a part of the crowd still lingering about and trying to take a better look at the helmet.
Although he does not exactly join the woman and the men in their staring at the crowd, neither does he join the aforementioned crowd. Instead he stands a little to the side, observing and taking note of the sashes. His attention though is mostly on the commoners still around. After all, it is not a rare thing for a gathering of people to turn into a mob.
"So," he says, turning to regard Pelleas, "now what?"
The townsfolk mill about and converse amongst themselves. They begin to head to the fron of the Church to inspect the helmet as the Angel Knight requested. Or at least they did until a certain set of what appear to be ardent followers of the Baron take a threatening position near the helm.
Just their mere presence and glares seem to ward of further closer inspections. The two men turn to regard the group, their stares the icy hard stares of religious fanatics.
After 15 minutes of the stares back and forth with neither side flinching, the two men take the helm back within the confines of the Church. At that point the crowd does begin to disperse in its entirety.
As the crowd disperses you all see Cimri speaking with her Aunt once again. She and her three deputies move along as the crowd dwindles down to just your group.
Cimri approaches you all, "Well, that was enlightening. Shall we make our report all together?"
"General civil displeasure. Not unexpected or terribly problematic, but I have no doubt that it's going to get worse. Rabble rousers are experts at exploiting the unhappiness of the masses. At least my new... companions managed not to incriminate themselves before I even met them." He sighs and slips away from the crowd as they start to disperse, waiting for the people to leave before he rejoins the group. "I believe that would be best. The people are restless, but it would be wise to confer with our employer before anything else happens."
"Yes, let's." Pelleas stretches, raising his lanky arms high above his head as he sighs. "I'm afraid I haven't found much to report either way, but I'm sure one of you has something you'd like to say." He looks over at Corven as he poses his question, then shrugs. "Perhaps you might join us? If you wish to, that is."
Castiel nods as well. Yes, this should be.. exciting. He smiles and follows the group, with an arm about Cimri's waist, they look like lovers, and not skulks.
While Hel was in no way trying to glare at anyone, the two Iomedaean servitors' pugnacious stares offer her some amount of amusement, and so she engages in polite conversation with them - nothing they could outright be offended by ("Hi there. Nice day, isn't it? Unseasonably warm, don't you think? My, that sun does glare brightly off armor. What a distinct visage that is; I imagine that makes for excellent long-range identification." and suchlike), but absolutely nothing to set them at ease. Because setting them or the crowd at ease is definitely not something she wants to do.
Hel's eyebrows go up as she watches Castiel try to put his arm around Cimri's waist, curious as to what her reaction will be. She's certain Castiel knows that should he try that with her, he'd shortly be missing an arm ... but who knows, maybe he doesn't. Or maybe she wouldn't. Idly, as she follows along she examines her own feelings, curious as to whether or not she'd still be offended to such a violent degree ...
"I think I will," Corven nods at Pelleas' offer. "Cheliax may have its faults, but I do not believe order is one of them. And this Glorious Reclamation seeks to bring about chaos."
He smiles. "Besides, you and your... hmm... friends here have made me curious. I may as well satisfy that curiosity."
"Where to then?" He pauses then before posing another question. "And also, who are you?"
Cimri spins out of Castiel's arms and gives him a solid smack on the ass. "Watch your hands, after all, you don't want the Ripper getting mad and slicing you up do you". She grins and pouts at the same time, it's alluring as hell.
She then turns to Corven, "So, it seems my allies have picked up a stray. Who we are is less important than who you are. Come along, if on the way we decide we like who you are you can come with otherwise we''ll have to tie you to a tree and blindfold you. Don't worry, it'll just be for a bit..."
Cimri leads the way to the edge of town while paying close attention to what the new "recruit"has to say.
"My my my," Corven says, his voice soft, his tone casual. "It seems you are rather lacking in manners. Your... allies have seemed much more cordial so far. They have certainly not threatened me with trees and being tied to them."
He pauses, his expression changing as if something has just occurred to him. "Or do you have something of a thing for ropes and blindfolds? If so, I am afraid I am not willing to accommodate you, though your... friend here might be." His gaze turns to indicate Castiel as the 'friend' in question.
"As I have said to others friendlier than you, my name is Corven. Corven Sworn if you need it in full, though the second part will probably tell you little if anything at all," he continues. "It is a word rather than a proper last name. Other than that, I am Chelaxian-born and Asmodean-bred. By the clergy that is, although I will admit I am not much of a priest. Not my particular interest."
"Now, I have shown you some of mine. Your turn... girl." He smiles. "And if you take offense by my calling you that, I do remind you that you referred to me as a stray. That brings to mind dogs. I could very well return the favor with a gender-appropriate word. I did not."
Castiel smiles at Cimri and laughs. Corven, welcome to the group!
As Corven speaks, Hel drifts a touch further away - five, ten feet. Just in case, is what goes through her mind, but 'constructive paranoia' is what it might best be called. "She's mindful about our employer's preference for discretion and privacy," states the bob-haired young woman, "which is something you'd best take to heart. 'Stray' is a word that applies to many things - coinage, for example, which going by your attitude is apparently not something you care to have fall into your purse. Arrows also, which - also going by your attitude - you seem to be entirely desirous of making an acquaintance with. For myself, I prefer courtesy, and not offending the person upon whose word one could find oneself ... left kicking one's heels on the porch, like a brat kept outside while the adults talk business."
It is of note that she does still have her bow in hand ...
"I speak as I am spoken to," Corven returns with a shrug. "I believe some of your friends can attest to that. So if your ally, or you, for that matter, like courtesy, well, you may as well show it to be shown it."
The man's smile remains despite the conversation subject and the general posturing and threatening. "As for arrows, I suppose they make for... unpleasant acquaintances, to be sure. As do fists. And blades. And spells that harm. Coin on the other hand, a bit more pleasant. As is a good fight. Your point?" He chuckles softly. "Pun not quite so intended."
"My point," says the unarmored archer with a precise bite to her words, "is that any offense you've taken from her words is entirely on your part; Cimri merely stated facts. You are a stray person that certain of our association have picked up. And, should she judge you not suitable - or, I would guess, should you piss her off by being a fvcking offensive bastard by all but actually calling her a b1tch - we will leave you behind. Or blindfolded and tied to a tree until after we take care of our business, to which you would have proven yourself unsuitable by being an indiscrete fvcking offensive bastard." She shrugs, and breaks into a trot, covering a surprising amount of ground despite her casual-looking movement. "If you get your head out of your ass, you'll hear better!!"
"Such mouth! Colorful if nothing else," he quips. "Not terribly original, but still..."
Corven takes a deep breath. "Now that we have all..." He pauses. "Well, alright, some or even just two of us postured sufficiently, is there anything of substance you would like to know? I am sure we could banter like this all day, but I am assuming you have places to be, places I could perhaps tag along."
"And I hear well enough. But I do appreciate the concern and the advice, oh quick-footed one." He seems rather unperturbed by the insults. "I am not all that good with nicknames, I admit, but since you have not yet introduced yourself... Which is common courtesy, I might add."
"Sorry, I could not help myself...," he adds sheepishly, referring to his reminding her about common courtesy.
Alic shakes his head with a sad expression as the banter goes sour, and he clicks his tongue when it finishes off. "Well, I don't know about posturing, but it seems we've gotten our fill of snide commentary and then some." He draws a heavy breath and pats his sides, as though missing his chain. "Cimri, you shouldn't provoke someone we've just barely met, especially someone as intriguing as this man. He was pleasantly spoken earlier, and seems at least somewhat aligned with our interests. And at this stage, it strikes me that we could use all the assistance available, mm?
"Corven, though, I'm surprised." He purses his lips and tsks twice. "Niceties aside, it's simply not a wise idea to anger a new acquaintance. Why sow discord? Out of simple spite for the world and those in it? That's no way to get anything done. We need to be accepting of others, and if we don't understand them, so much the better! By meeting someone new you expand your knowledge of the world. Believe me, Cimri is a wonderful opportunity to learn--and about far more than ropes and blindfolds." He winks. "Not that they don't have their charms.
"Hel, though, dear, you've antagonized as well. I understand we're all tense, and you more than most given the reason for our presence here and what's happened. But regardless of 'stating facts' there are nice ways to say things and... unpleasant manners. And I know from our conversation that you're also aware of very intelligent and pleasant talk.
"I think what's happened is a lot of people getting off on the wrong foot. So, let's go through more formal introductions, and try to move forward from... this." He rankles his nose and then smiles and bows. "Corven Sworn, my name is Alicarus Vorasik, although as Cimri's implied I'm sometimes called 'the Ripper,' which makes more sense when I'm in my vestments. As a divine servant of the true worship of the Midnight Lord, I've come from Nidal to spread his benevolent love and assist in maintaining order and society in Cheliax. I've a chain and leathers, I can fight and I can heal, and I've a keen mind and a cool head, so I'm told, although I certainly have my heated moments.
"So, what is it that you do? After all, I'm sure you're aware we have some certain interest as a group, even if we haven't come out and said what it is. I for one would be delighted to have another companion, but I understand the others may be more apprehensive and they desire better knowledge of your own interests and skills." He smiles broadly, clasping his hands together in anticipation.
Cimri giggles and rolls her eyes at Ali, "Oh I don't know, most of the men I tie up tend to quite enjoy it when all is said and done. A pity you have no interest.
Hel is quite right. Don't mind her, she is simply protecting our interests and the interests of our employer. You'll like her once you get to know her. Or not. I don't really care either way. I like that you hold your own against her, she is a tough customer.
Well if you are Chelexian born and raised by the Church then you can't be all that bad hmmm. Of course if our employer disapproves well I can't speak as to how he will react.
I am Cimri, last name you'll have to wait for until we know we can trust you. That is Cast, Pel, and Cole. Now you know us. Shall we get going?" She points around the group at each person present. And waits hands on her hips expectantly.
"I wasn't aware that local introductions involved so many speeches and barbed comments," Cole says dryly. "And innuendos, can't forget the innuendos. Perhaps I should have spent more time observing your customs before I came to town. I've learned all sorts of interesting things over the last day that I hadn't realized before now." He shrugs. "No matter. Let's get going before people start wondering why we're standing around yelling at each other."
"Pleased to meet you, Alicarus," Corven says, offering his hand. "And you do make a good point. More than one actually. It does take two to argue after all, and I can certainly accept my share of the blame."
"Although I am not a particularly... devout man, I was raised and educated by clerics of Asmodeus, who made for strict and disciplined surrogate parents. Now, I may not have particularly liked the former, or facets of it anyway, but I did grow to appreciate the latter, even if I found that the life of a priest was not for me." He shrugs. "Take from that what you will, but my talents and my skills are more of the physical kind, rather than the spiritual."
He pauses for a moment before continuing. "After a while I left the temple and indeed Cheliax. But no matter where I went I found I rather missed my homeland's more disciplined traits. I am not the most fervent of patriots, as I am certainly not the most fervent of Asmodeans; if anything, I find Irori's teachings quite a bit to my liking, though I could do with a little less of the rigidity." He smiles again. "But that does not mean I want my country to fall to the chaos those of the Reclamation seem to be preaching about."
"As to what I can do? I can fight without the need for weapons, and I can be pretty... discreet if I need to be. Stealth, subterfuge, that sort of thing." He looks at the black-haired woman, as well as Cimri, and shrugs almost apologetically. "Although on occasion I am not. The oocasional lack of patience at slights, real or imagined, is probably in my blood, you might say."
Cimri turns to Hel, "He seems like a good Chelexian lad. Let's see what our employer thinks. As Cole stated, it would not do to linger overlong, I think the Church has been watching this whole exchange..."
"Ah yes, the church." Alicarus turns and gives a jaunty wave toward the building and anyone still present nearby. "Hi-ho, farewell, neighbors! Enjoy mongering fear and rousing the rabble! I've heard it's gone very well in the past, especially Galt!" With that cheery call out of the way, the Kuthite sets off down the road with the others. "If we, or I alone, might detour to my own congregation for a moment, I would be much obliged. I should see how the deacons are getting on, and I'd like to reclaim my vestments. Men of the cloth aren't much of anything without their cloth, mm?"
"I couldn't really give less of a damn if they've been listening or not," Pelleas says, walking with the others. "I doubt they're so bold as to attack a member of a noble house... even one so minor as mine." Other than that, he keeps quiet on the way back.
"You might be surprised," Cole says to Pelleus. "I have little doubt that titles will rapidly becoming meaningless if the people decide to get in on this Angel Knight's little rebellion."
Hel glances back at Cimri's calling-out, then sniffs and, turning back to watch where she's going, lifts one hand to give a 'whatever, your funeral' sort of gesture.
"If they latch themselves to this fool's errand, they'll be butchered like the rest once they meet significant resistance. I have no fear of them, not truly."
The group arrives back at the Ash House in the afternoon. As was the case this morning the screen is up but no light can bee seen from behind it despite the darkness of the room The Krenshar growls at the sight of Corven.
"So you have brought another along with you. Tell me Hel, do you think it wise to trust another when so many have fallen off after our first job together? I am starting to wonder about your judge of character Cimri..."
Hel glances at Gaurig when they arrive and gives it a courteous nod of respect. Looking mildly surprised at being immediately and directly addressed, she immediately replies, "I can kill them if they leave from now on. Would you like me to go find the others and put them out of your annoyance? I'm sure it wouldn't take me more than a couple of days."
Hel, I think that might be a bit... extreme. We've done nothing to implicate our employer, and those who have left us know even less than we. Any who leave now... He shrugs. Perhaps they may wish to reconsider.
Hel ... giggles. It's kind of disconcerting to hear, actually.
"I liked him well enough," Pelleas says indignantly, his tail twitching behind him. "He seems to have the right of it when it comes to this Reclamation nonsense, if nothing else. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I thought more help would be nothing but beneficial, provided they were useful?" He pauses for a second, raising an eyebrow and turning to look at Corven. "You are useful, aren't you? I forgot to ask about that."
Cimri frowns, "Those who dropped off are still loyal to Cheliax and Asmodeus, they are just not "team players". Better that we run with those who are willing to play along and not run off cause they disagree with how we are going to do things or lack the commitment beyond their own selfish desires.
In fact their own selfish desires is a strong indicator that they will not betray us, self preservation is a strong motivator.
No Hel, I don't think there is any need to track them down and kill them nor do I think bringing this one here is a mistake. I vetted him about as well as I vetted any of these other agents".
Cimri then tells Razelago what took place in the square. Everything that took place before, during, and after.
He takes it all in before responding, “That’s a more dramatic move than I’d expect from a country priestess—I’m impressed. Tileavia Allamar might be more interesting than I’d thought. It’s the helmet and this ‘Angel Knight’ I’m curious about, though. I’ve heard rumors of the
Glorious Reclamation. An overzealous mob of Iomedaean fanatics calling for a nationwide revolution, as if there was any hope of that. Still, Archbaron Fex might find this information valuable.
In any case, you’ve done well. You’ll find your payment in the parlor. I shouldn’t have any more work for you today, but I suspect that might change tomorrow. I’ll send word. Be prepared”.
Cimri appears as if she was going to ask something further but pauses.