Cultists Selling Propaganda

RPP Summary (Ormarr): Fun short. I've been exploring Frightful's age--most animals (like a hawk) age more quickly, and it's not something I've brought in as much as I'd like. There were some great contributors to the scene, and I had a lot of fun harassing Teppus about being in a cult.

RPP Note: If you were in this scene, you could add a summary here, too, in order to get credit for it. Or, include your summary in your +request. Either works. Full details on RPPs can be found on the RPP page. - Lah

-=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Industrial District - Engineers Row *>--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The heart and soul of Alexandria's economic boon lies sprawled out before you in the form of innumerable smoke stacks, towers, warehouses and industrial yards where works of steam, iron and artifice and magical technology are primed and charged and sent forth into the public. There is a reason that Alexandria is known as the city of engineers and the city of airships and the great Industrial District would be one of them. Factories and the businesses that support them and technological industries ranging from airship design to mana-crystal mining to steam and clockworks abound here. Many of the buildings are large sprawling complexes and the clang of metal and the churning of gears or the hum of propellers is an ongoing affair. Dwarves, gnomes and goblins are a common sight here but the Alexandrian human worker, the symbol of the cities industrial era and spirit of craftmanship, is a steady sight.

One of the more prominent buildings in this area is the massive complex that houses the Enclave of Engineers and Techno Arcane Union. This great building with it's craft warrens, artifice generators and towering smoke stacks and spires is the local chapter of the enormous union of crafters and guild workers. It is the local authority on all matters of engineering and artifice.

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Spike A large, be-spiked war golem. 1m 3h

Teppus Average looking fellow in chainmail. 27s 2d

Munch Dreadlocked golem with metal scales. 13s 1m

Ormarr A short, bandy-legged, pepper-and-salt oruch 0s 1d

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Enclave of Engineers <EE> Iron Docks <SE> Faren Road <N>

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<Meet> You join Teppus.

It's Ceriday, Aestry 28 22:09:13 1014. The full moon is up. The tide is low and rising.

The sky is grey-black, moonless and starless. It's hard for human eyes to see anything in the deep shadows round about, without a light. It's warm, still, and humid.

It is an ordinary day in the Alexandria Industrial District!

Which is to say there's all kinds of things going on, all over the place. And there, in thye middle of it all, is Teppus. Teppus is actually handing out flyers with stick figures on them. They all praise the greatness of Serriel.

"Hello. Have you learned about Serriel today?" He asks each passer by. Some of them are curious. Others mutter about 'cultists'. Still others take a flyer and move on without a word. Others just roll their eyes.

The Engineer's Enclave isn't where one would expect to find a druid, true, but this particular druid loves to climb...and the most interesting climbing structures are certainly here. In any case, Kama'o is several dozen yards above the street, attempting to climb across the roof without burning herself. A few charred feathers on her arms suggests she hasn't been completely successful.

The Egalrin climbs like a monkey, but instead of using her tail, she uses her beak. That gives her five appendages, and her wings give her a sense of security, which come in useful about...now. A great burst of steam issues from a previously still pipe, startling her and making her lose her grip with both feet. With a startled screech, he Egalrin starts to plummet Ea-wards. Thankfully, her wings snap open and moments later the descent becomes relatively controlled...although the landing does not promise to be the smoothest she's ever made. At least those pamphlets will add to the padding when she lands on Teppus' head.

"Ah, girl..." just beneath the gray-black sky, a lantern glows. Just beneath the lantern, a bandy-legged oruch stands just beneath, his arms crossed as he looks up, up...to the top of the lantern. An aged hawk rests there, her eyes blinking slowly. He shows his age as well, though not as much, not by far. He smells of the wild, the wilderness, and his teeth are scarred, a tusk broken, and the furs he wears have seen better days...

By far.

So when an annoyed-passerby shoves one of the papers he'd just received at the oruch, with a, "Here, you take this," the oruch starts. Stares.

Squints at Teppus. "Ya part of that cult again? Tha...one about eatin' manly waffles in the mornin?" And then, well. There's a bird. Plummeting from the sky. Frightful the hawk spreads her wings and flies off a ways at the commotion. Aged, her movements are slow, and the long-drawn-out hiss she gives at the end of it is indicative of a long set of years of raising young chicks.

Munch applauds quietly. The golem isn't sure what the shows about, but the bird landing on the guy is a pretty good trick. Munch wanders closer, peering absently. Maybe they'll juggle stuff? "Waht are you doing?"

• What

Teppus has left.

Teppus has arrived.

• SMASH* Spike has glued many many feathers to her body, wings, etc... Or else she's using some sort of feather suit. In fact, it looks suspiciously like a cockatrice suit (which is damned close to a chicken suit). The sound? Spike plummeting to the ground. Without getting up, she points in first the direction of the hawk, then in the direction of Kama'o... To noone in particular, she informs,"I wanted to be like the flying birdies."

So, it really is an ordinary day in Alexandria. Falling Egalrin and falling War Golems and oruchs and... Teppus is looking a little beside himself at Ormarr's commentary, but then there's an egalrin falling on him and then he goes right down with it because this totally, even though she's not all that heavy or big, really caught him by surprise. At least he cushions the older bird's descent, right?

Right.

"LOOK OUT!" This probably would have been more useful had it not been screeched in Auran. There's a floury 'FOOF' sound when Kama'o collides with Teppus, followed by a whistled wheeze. Thankfully, Kama'o does not actually weigh all that much...but that just means that her deceleration is somewhat more pronounced than Teppus' acceleration. As a result, she rolls off of him and remains...well, spread-eagled on the ground, groaning. Though avian physiology is strange, she seems to have the wind knocked out of her rather than being in serious pain. "Iiiii," she wheezes, after a few long moments. "Iiii. Sorry. Kama'o is sorry." She's a little too out of it to notice much about the rest of her surroundings--even the falling golem.

Frightful puffs up ancient feathers, feathers that sometimes go this way, or that, at the sight of them, and lowers her head. I am BIG that says, I am FRIGHTFUL! She'd flown a pace away to the back of a bench, near a blind, older woman.

Who's feeding the pigeons.

And so it doesn't take much, at all much, for the blind, elderly woman to turn around and POP! drop one of the breadcrumbs into Frightful's hissing maw, with a cheerful, "There you go, dear." ...while all the while Ormarr eyes the mess the two 'birds' had made. And then, well. "If ya'd wanted to make that big of an impression, Cultist, there are easier ways t'go about it. ..." Like hiring Spike. Only a crazy man would hire Spike. Crazy. Like a Cultist.

Munch isn't falling, he's helping Spike up. "There ya are. Heard you were in this area." There's probally an organized guild to warn to public of Spike sightings. "Isn't the feathers, ya gotta have the wings." Munch flexes his own stubby leathery wings in example.

Spike quite firmly announces to Munch, at this point,"YOU ARE VERY DISCONCERTINGLY SHAPED." Still, she rises to her feat,"I MAY HAVE SOME DIFFICULT PROPERLY CLASSIFYING THE KIND OF THING YOU HAPPEN TO BE." Clearly the volume is broken today. Still, she adjusts her hat slightly, wings sprouding from her arms (held on by leather straps),"Will these work?" Clearly, they won't.

Munch has reconnected.

Munch has partially disconnected.

The madness. It is spreading. Teppus is on the ground too, hearing the arrival of Spike (it's hard to miss) and seeing the fallen Kama'o and staring at Ormarr and... oh god, what the hell is going on? He sits up, slowly, and then looks at all of them before, asking, "Did I just get struck by the madness stick again?" he asks, puzzledly. "Please, someone tell me I am under the effect of a confusion spell." That's what is directed at Spike as he stares at her. "Kama'o, are you all right? Hello, Ormarr. I... what in the name of all the..."

There are pamphlets going in all directions now. Incidentally.

"Iiiii." Kama'o still sounds hoarse as she begins to slowly climb to her feet, brushing herself off as she goes. Pausing halfway, she begins to pick up what pamphlets she can. "Kama'o will be all right. Just some bruises. Kama'o is very sorry, iiwa. I did not mean to run into you like that." There is not much wind, but all the activity sends pamphlets flying here and there. One is snatched out of the air with her bill and then added to the pile in her hands.

Then? Then she spots Spike. The elderly bird freezes in place and stares for a few moments. "Iiwa? Do you know any of the guards?" she asks Teppus, quietly. "Kama'o is sure they would like to know that machine is here. It has caused quite a lot of trouble before."

"Near as I can tell, ya got taken in by some cult again," the older shaman says kindly enough. His eyes glint with it, though, and he doesn't bother fighting back the grin as he glances down at the flying pamphlets. "I'd get those for ya, but I'm sure I'd break a hip or somethin'. Ya know Qat's been bringin' me prunes?" he says. And Frightful makes an ulp-unk! sound as the crumbs go down. And after that, well. Continues. Continues to eye the lot of them suspiciously. Cranky old bird.

Munch shrugs lightly. "I'm Munch. You're Spike, right? Been wanting to talk to ya." As a pamphlet drifts past, the lower half of Munch's face splits open, his head lurching foreward, a soft snap, a brief grinding sound, and the paper is gone.

Spike nods slowly,"I GOT YOUR THINGUMMY. THEN I GOT DISTRACTED. A LOT. YOU ATE THAT PAPER. IS IT GOOD?" She grabs a piece of paper, stuffs it in her own maw, and chews. Omnomnom. "Mission accomplished. You are talking to me."

"....it is not a cult!" Teppus manages to say after a moment. He's regained his senses and he says to Kama'o, "It is all right. And that is Spike. I believe the guards are always watching her. Say, look over there." He points over towards, indeed, one of the city guards who is no doubt been assigned to 'Spikewatch'. The chances are he earned the most demerits last month. Spikewatch is not a duty anyone would really want, but is no doubt important, none the less.

Teppus looks at Spike. He looks at Munch. Then back and forth, "...is true love blossoming?" he asks, very queitly, and with humor in his tone. "Also, it is not a cult."

You add a request to the queue.

Kama'o glances down at what papers she's managed to collect and blinks once. "Iiii. Kama'o has seen these before. At the tent for Serriel." She studies them for a moment more before handing them back to Teppus. That done, she rubs at a bruised forearm with her other hand and mutters something under her breath in her native language. Only then does she glance over at the guard. "...Why do they not lock it up?" she asks quietly. And then, she's distracted. "True love? Where?!" Brightening, she looks about eagerly for an acceptable couple. The war golems apparently don't count, in her mind.

"Ya say so," replies the old shaman. Oruch or no, he's clearly humoring the man...or yanking his leg. He smells of the woods, of pine, and after a moment, takes a step towards the bench and the old woman...the bird-person he gives a wide berth (for they poop from the sky, you know). And, Frightful still perches there, eyeing them with her aged eyes and sharp beak. As she does, one of her legs begins to twitch.

Munch buzzes softly, glancing over at Teppus. "Tastes okay, but odd. Oy, what sort of ink you use, Cult Man?" Half turning back towards Spike, he shakes his head. "Started talking, so mission is only half done. Accomplished when target topic is covered."

<Meet> You offer to meet Jinks.

Jinks has arrived.

<Meet> Jinks joins you.

Spike tilts her head and begins gabbling in... well... a new sort of Spike-ese. "Ink=squid-based? Possibly trogoldyte blood." She pauses, scratching her chin, then waves to the member of the Spikewatch currently shadowing her,"Torrin? This will only take a moment! Dinner, after?" Then back to Munch,"Set information-transfer: begin. Topic: Conversational target. Query forwarded: Explain?" Golem-speak?

There's a squeek of an unoiled hinge and the air opens in on itself a short distance down the road. Quiet music and the glow of candlelight spills down followed by a rope ladder unfurling with the hollow cladder of wooden slats tumbling. Glittering of jewels and swaddled in crushed velvet of deep purple and black, Jinks descends from Nowhere and back into reality. He fiddles with his rings and steps to one side, allowing for a second gnome to follow down out of the pocket space and put her feet on Alexandrian soil once more.

The pair laugh and lean in close to exchange -- well, best not to pay too close attention. Some laughter and theatrical bow from Jinks sends the girl off, retreat back into the Enclave. With a sucking noise, the rope ladder rolls back up on itself and the door disappears with a report like that of a popped cork.

"I was referring to the golems," is Teppus' amused response, "and was not serious. Though I'd be glad to see it too, if it was somewhere around here." He gets to his feet, slowly, with a groan. "Ow. I've been on my feet too long today." He then eyes Spike and Munch. Then Ormarr. "*Not a cult*," he corrects him one more time. "Cults don't have real Gods giving them real paladins and priests and what not." He sniffs.

"Iiii?" Kama'o turns to eye Teppus once more. After a moment, though, she simply brushes herself off again, and runs her talons through a few of the feathers that seem to have suffered the worst damage. "Well. Kama'o still thinks they should all be locked up," the Egalrin opines. She does not endeavor to make her voice particularly quiet, either. "But it is Kama'o's bedtime. Good-night, iiwa." Keeping one eye on Spike, she begins to shuffle away slowly...though she looks as if she's ready to run should anything particularly untoward happen.

Kama'o goes OOC.

Kama'o has left.

Frightful yanks her leg up from the bench. As she does, the creature begins to tip...and Ormarr grasps her quickly, before lifting her in two large palms. Her feathers stick out awkwardly to either side. One pokes upwards, giving the hawk a sort of secretary's look. "Eh. Come on, girl," he says quietly, and still watching her, says not too much louder, "Cult!" But he's too distracted to harass Teppus further, or notice even, the spectacular Jinks.

Munch peers at Spike for a long moment. ".....what? Erm... right, anyway. Looking to make a book, or flyer or something. Like your help, please." He glances towards Teppus again. "Do cults know what ink they use? Because you didn't answer the question."

"Of course not. I have no idea what ink is being used, or why. Qat does the pamphlets, anyways," replies Teppus. He runs a hand rthrough his hair and then clears his throat, eyeing Spike and Munch a moment later. Then he adds to Munch, "It is *Not a cult*." He seems like he has that part on auto-pilot, as much as he has to keep saying it.

At this point, Spike's head rotates 180 degrees, looks at Teppus, and says,"May I join your Cult? I've never been in an undifferentiated ego mass before! It sounds fun!" A pause, and she offers to Teppus,"Maybe you should hire this Qat person. I bet she will enjoy being paid in chocolate and compliments."

"Kind of like a hired romance, eh?" Ormarr suggests, as he then leans down to speak with the old woman. "You ah..." he starts to say, and manages the rest of it in a kind of whisper.

As much as an oruch can.

After a while, the old woman puts aside her small, paper bag and peers up at him through thick, cokebottle lenses.

Munch peers at Teppus. "You keep saying that. Are you trying to convince us, or yourself?" He sighs, turning to Spike. "Self delusion. It's sad, really."

Spike replies,"Not everyone can be a magical winged wonder of a connoseiur or a super-sharp, mentally agile ace detective. It's just who we are."

Teppus has disconnected.

Teppus has connected.

The old Ourch is still being eyed. "I don't need to convince myself," he says in aside to Munch. "I am not delusional or anything like that! I serve Serriel. Saw her myself once. She's as real as the rest of the Gods. I don't need you to tell me because I can feel her presence. Right here." He thumps his chest.

Jinks yawns quietly, raising the back of his hand to his mouth, and then extends both arms in an indulgent stretch while the corners of his mouth mirror the act with the widest of wide smiles. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head he starts down the street, narrowing his eyes at the unlikely quartet locked in conversation. "Don't they have laws about riff-raff clogging business thoroughfares? Or are we 'spreading the word' about some half-baked gobber 'deity?'"

"Cult," the older oruch chimes in without so much as a hitch. He continues to cup the old bird in his hands. Beside the two of them, the elderly woman reaches down to the bag at her feet, and begins to rummage.

It contains whisky, and a bottle of whisky. Of course.

Munch glances sidelong at Spike. That statement was true, and yet, there's something very wrong with it. "...you know, I've never seen a priest of Deus tell people he isn't delusional. And I never thought he was delusional. You say you aren't, and so I start to wonder."

Spike quips to Munch,"We detectives frequently cite that denial is frequently the first sign of guilt. And cultists deny things ALL the time. All the time." She begins fiddling with her hat again.

"This is the fate of all new religions. I imagine people thoguht that about the other Gods too, when they were new," mutters Teppus under his breath, irritably, before he turns towards Jinks and says, "Oh, it's you," as if that explains everything. Somehow, Jinks is to blame for everything. And then Spike is talking about being a detective and his hand just goes over his face.

After a moment, the elderly woman with the bottle glasses clasps her hands together, and then reaches for the whisky. She hands it up to the oruch, who proceeds to give it a shake. What's left sloshes in the bottom of the bottle. And he just smiles a bit at Teppus before giving him a salute with the flask.

Munch thinks for a few moments. "I'm not that good with history, but pretty sure the real gods were already around when people showed up."

"It is in fact." Jinks confirms with a lopsided smile. "But you forgot to your observation without the appropriate emphasis, tallman." He waves one hand, the gems and precious metals glitter in the manalight, tiny chains tinkle. "New gods aren't entirely impossible. Power grows just as it wanes. They can die, too, as Animus illustrated quite recently." He sniffs and shrugs his shoulder. "So then we are talking about the New One? Never trust anything Hobs bring to you, I say, and don't believe everything you see." He tilts his head at Teppus, "I was entirely certain I saw Mulria and Eluna kissing one another in a darkened booth, once, but it turned out to be drunken pirate women with a flair for the dramatic when it came to their dress and facepaints..."

Ormarr then proceeds to upend the remains of the flask into the hawk's maw. The elderly woman, however, looks entirely fascinated by Jinks' speech. At least, she keeps adjusting her bottle-glasses.

Spike transfigures her clothes to that of a copper-store detective novel protagonist, then blows bubbles from her shiny new bubble-pipe, informing Teppus,"You tell this 'Serriel' character, that Ace Detective Spikington McChairfoe would like to have a word with her. I'm pretty sure Alexandros frowns on cults."

Ormarr plucks out a few coins, and starts to hand them to the elderly woman, but she raises an ancient, frail hand before pointing towards...

Oh, oh dear.

Oh /dear/.

Ormarr tugs at one of his pointed ears and asks, "Ya wantin' an introduction, eh?" And in answer to his question, she simply starts to get up, her eyes on The Jinksian like a long-lost cup of water. Oh, stars! Oh, shine!

He glitters when he walks! Oh how he shines! "He's much handsomer than in the stories," she says softly to Ormarr. "Oh...if I were just seventy years younger!"

And now Teppus is just *staring* at Spike. Just staring at her. "It's not a cult. It is a recognized Faith. But even if it wasn't recognized, I'd be doing what I am doing anyways because it is what She would want of me. This isn't funny and it's not a game. Serriel is real, and I don't have to convince any one of anything. I'll keep handing out pamphlets by the hundreds to introduce her to people, but I know what she really wants is for me to get out there and do right by people and make sure that civilization gets the protection it needs to flourish. That's what I do. That's what I am going to continue doing." And then Ormarr is just...eyed. Eyed more.

"You should hand out your pamphlets in the morning at little gatherings with food. You could call it 'Breakfast Serriel.'" Jinks observes. He points at the woman, "I am, in fact, the prettiest thing you'll likely ever see -- but I'm not to be touched! Except by pureblooded gnomish women. With large... hearts."

Munch tsks at Teppus. "Those wise old priests everyone trusts what they say just because they say it? You notice how they never, ever, get rattled, like you are right now? Because they put up with years of thsi crap, until they learn how to deal with it." Peering a moment, the golem reaches over and touches Jinks. Because it amuses him.

The old woman straightens a bit, though she's still a shepard's crook, just a touch. And with Ormarr's help, pat-pat-pif-pats over towards Jinks. She likely couldn't make it on her own, though the bones suggest...at one time she might have been...well. A little more than she is now. Though, that wouldn't be difficult, what with the bottle-gla--

The air shimmers a touch at her feet when she comes to a rickety halt. "Oh! Well, I'd just heard so much about you..." she seems at a loss. And then scrounges up a smile that has all the smile-lines in her face drawing up, neat as a button. "My daughters talk about you all the time! I can't wait to tell them I got to meet you!" Ormarr looks confused. Except she's well, prattling. And she's an old lady. "Maybe I could have your autograph?"

Jinks steps neatly away from Munch when the construct reaches out at him, narrowing his eyes up at the hodgepodge assembly of this and that. "Real people aren't things to be fondled. Unless, of course, you shamble your way down to a redlight district and pay a few coppers." Glancing at the old lady, he smiles. "I don't sign anything. The courts and their agents are always trying to steal my money and give it to lazy women fat with child. As if I were made of money!" He makes a sublte, dismissive gesture and a pair of copper coins tumble out of his coat cuff, cartwheeling, rolling, and bouncing away into shadows.

Spike looks at Teppus long and hard, as if considering what he has said with a true and thoughful eye to the weight of his words- Oh, no, wait, it's Spike,"You're boring. Stop talking. This is boring, too. I'm going to go visit the carpenter's guild. They're throwing me a party. Something about 'record profits'." The golem turns and begins to trundle in a random direction. Because she has no idea how to get where she's actually going.

The old woman's eyes narrow a bit, which might kick off Jinks' instincts. It /might/, though with Jinks, there's no telling, and for all intents, this is an old woman standing here. A wrinkly, bottle-glass'd, old woman. She reaches over and taps the oruch on the arm, and, "You can take me back, then. ...and oh...around the golem, please," she adds in a timid whisper. Because, apparently...

Golems? Who stick random things in their mouth? A bit frightening!

Munch tsks. "Nah, I've only got the Feeding and Fighting of The Three F's. 'Fondly gazing Into Each Other's Eyes' isn't built in, so no intrest in redlights. You seem to run enough for two anyway, so guess it balences."

Jinks smiles sweetly -- and then has another look at Munch. "I suppose... but it would be much easier to trust You People if you had some reproductive processes that didn't involve paying half-mad artificers. 's why you can't trust goblins; they don't breed properly but fall off of particularly sickly mushrooms."

Jinks shrugs and starts off, making a point to head the opposite direction of Spike -- lest he be mistaken for an ambulatory chair and come under siege.

Munch hrmms, and heads off himself, starting to climb up the side of a building. Ended well enough for Spike and the bird lady, and looked sorta fun. "...could go with the -all- mad artificer. Worked well enough for me."

Ormarr goes OOC.