The recent scars or cracks if you prefer to call them such was causing much excitement in the Armoury among the Doomguard.
Among the sub-factions the Harbringers were busy scouring their books for some hints of prophecy regarding these events. The Reciters of names had practically stopped chanting feeling that they must have finally recited all the names of the primal Creator. Many sifters resident in the Armoury were packing their bags announcing that if this was the end, they wanted to be back at the fortress on the plane of Dust to witness it, to be close to the negative plane.
Several groups of Destroyers had headed out into the city to cause mayhem, feeling perhaps retribution from the authorities could be safely ignored, although they were still careful to avoid doing anything that would cause the Lady to act, after all, they didn't want to miss the end. The Regulators sat in confusion, wondering where they had gone wrong. General consensus was that it was too early. This earned them scorn from the Sinkers who declared that the Regulators had no true desire to see Entropy succeed. Several arguments came close to fights over this. The Sinkers otherwise occupied themselves in a varity of ways. Some studied the cracks, some opened bottles of fine wines and sat and watched, others went out to join with the Destroyers in the streets.
Scars in the fabric
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*Loki_999
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Dorian was quite relaxed about the whole situation. If this be the end, then so be it, he would face it with composure. If not, it was worthwhile observing the effect of it on the population and the Entropy it was causing all by itself. Indeed, if not the end, then it certainly was helping things move along nicely.
Still, no point sitting idly he concluded....
After some time considering, he hired a local merchant with a cart, enlisted the aid of a couple of junior Doomguards, and went to the storeroom where the most mundane and lowest quality weapons were stored. With appropriate permission, he loaded as many as he could onto the cart, covered it, and had it towed into the Hive ward.
Once there, he sent away the other Doomguards, this was after all, going to be his show. He informed the merchant his wagon should be left, handing him a pouch of jink that was worth twice what the carts was worth, not that the merchant didn't complain for a while.
He then moved a crate near the card and started to orate:
"Friends, Sigilians, planer travellers, lend me your ears...."
One of the nearby people, possibly a Bleaker, pulled out a knife and started to saw at his own ear which caused Dorian to smirk behind his mask.
"... all of you must be aware of these cracks in the fabric of space and time itself! Some of you may have come across strangers who you thought were people you knew. Maybe some of you have woken from your sleep to find your partner in bed with you, only to find it was not them, but some stranger with their face!"
Dorian scanned the crowd, judging their reactions. He saw the signs, some people nodding, perhaps due to personal experience, perhaps simply weak minded fools who believed whatever they were told.
"Yes, these are linked. These scars, these cracks, they are openings to alternate worlds. Worlds where we all exist, living different lives"
Dorian is largely speculating here. Based off the chant he had heard, and a few things he had witnessed, this was just one possible, although bizarre idea. He had considered other variants but this one would do just as well as any other for his purposes, the truth of the situation be damned.
The gathering crowd are not all listening of course or looking in approval at Dorian. Some are fingering weapons or projectiles. Perhaps content to listen for the moment, but waiting for the right time to throw something at the orator. Dorian was not worried. He believed he could gauge the mood of the crowd, could channel it in the direction he wanted. It would only take a few loud-mouths to set things going and these were generally the sort easiest to manipulate...
Dorian continued....
"Just think, who are these people coming through the cracks? What do they want?"
He paused to let that sink in, let their imaginations do his work for him.
"I'll tell you what they are! Body snatchers! They come in the night for you, they want to take over your lives. They flee from their own universe, seeking a fresh one where they can live.... but first, they must dispose of you!"
He points at a random person in the crowd, one which already looked like he was listening intently, and then another saying "... and you..." and another "... and you."
"Yes friends. There can only be one Artur Fellblade" Dorian had no idea if there was an Artur Fellblade in the audience, but it was a name he had heard before in the streets, some common merchant in the hive ward he understood and a common enough name, "... one Molly Scraggins. They will come for you, kill you, and live your lives, kiss your loved ones, take your jobs, and steal all you have!" Dorian's voice at this point had risen to fever pitch.
The crowd was now definitely roused. Mumblings, grumblings, threats and oaths being whispered and shouted.
"Look around you, who here do you know? Is the fellow to the left of you the person you think he is? Didn't he have a scar on his face yesterday? Wasn't his hair shorter? These aliens, these invaders, they must be sought out, destroyed before they can take over our lives"
Dorian finished his speech in at such volume that people streets away must have heard.
The crowd was now properly riled and was going to explode for sure... just in which way. Dorian was ready. He had spells prepared to aid his escape if necessary, just one final touch before he withdrew was needed.
He flung back the covering from the wagon. The stockpile of rusty, semi-broken, poorly manufactured weapons, made visible to the crowd.
"Here are the tools you may use against those who would do you harm! Seek them out, find them, hunt them, and show these invaders that your lives are not for the taking!"
The crowd surged forward...
Still, no point sitting idly he concluded....
After some time considering, he hired a local merchant with a cart, enlisted the aid of a couple of junior Doomguards, and went to the storeroom where the most mundane and lowest quality weapons were stored. With appropriate permission, he loaded as many as he could onto the cart, covered it, and had it towed into the Hive ward.
Once there, he sent away the other Doomguards, this was after all, going to be his show. He informed the merchant his wagon should be left, handing him a pouch of jink that was worth twice what the carts was worth, not that the merchant didn't complain for a while.
He then moved a crate near the card and started to orate:
"Friends, Sigilians, planer travellers, lend me your ears...."
One of the nearby people, possibly a Bleaker, pulled out a knife and started to saw at his own ear which caused Dorian to smirk behind his mask.
"... all of you must be aware of these cracks in the fabric of space and time itself! Some of you may have come across strangers who you thought were people you knew. Maybe some of you have woken from your sleep to find your partner in bed with you, only to find it was not them, but some stranger with their face!"
Dorian scanned the crowd, judging their reactions. He saw the signs, some people nodding, perhaps due to personal experience, perhaps simply weak minded fools who believed whatever they were told.
"Yes, these are linked. These scars, these cracks, they are openings to alternate worlds. Worlds where we all exist, living different lives"
Dorian is largely speculating here. Based off the chant he had heard, and a few things he had witnessed, this was just one possible, although bizarre idea. He had considered other variants but this one would do just as well as any other for his purposes, the truth of the situation be damned.
The gathering crowd are not all listening of course or looking in approval at Dorian. Some are fingering weapons or projectiles. Perhaps content to listen for the moment, but waiting for the right time to throw something at the orator. Dorian was not worried. He believed he could gauge the mood of the crowd, could channel it in the direction he wanted. It would only take a few loud-mouths to set things going and these were generally the sort easiest to manipulate...
Dorian continued....
"Just think, who are these people coming through the cracks? What do they want?"
He paused to let that sink in, let their imaginations do his work for him.
"I'll tell you what they are! Body snatchers! They come in the night for you, they want to take over your lives. They flee from their own universe, seeking a fresh one where they can live.... but first, they must dispose of you!"
He points at a random person in the crowd, one which already looked like he was listening intently, and then another saying "... and you..." and another "... and you."
"Yes friends. There can only be one Artur Fellblade" Dorian had no idea if there was an Artur Fellblade in the audience, but it was a name he had heard before in the streets, some common merchant in the hive ward he understood and a common enough name, "... one Molly Scraggins. They will come for you, kill you, and live your lives, kiss your loved ones, take your jobs, and steal all you have!" Dorian's voice at this point had risen to fever pitch.
The crowd was now definitely roused. Mumblings, grumblings, threats and oaths being whispered and shouted.
"Look around you, who here do you know? Is the fellow to the left of you the person you think he is? Didn't he have a scar on his face yesterday? Wasn't his hair shorter? These aliens, these invaders, they must be sought out, destroyed before they can take over our lives"
Dorian finished his speech in at such volume that people streets away must have heard.
The crowd was now properly riled and was going to explode for sure... just in which way. Dorian was ready. He had spells prepared to aid his escape if necessary, just one final touch before he withdrew was needed.
He flung back the covering from the wagon. The stockpile of rusty, semi-broken, poorly manufactured weapons, made visible to the crowd.
"Here are the tools you may use against those who would do you harm! Seek them out, find them, hunt them, and show these invaders that your lives are not for the taking!"
The crowd surged forward...