Erescal stands, feeling the Lifeblood of the Old Gods course through their veins. Raw, undiluted power.
Secrecy is one of my strong points. I am an agent of chaos and death. I shall glad,y partake in this purge of the unfaithful. Akashir, grant me strength to do thy bidding!
Erescal exits, heeding not the actions if the others. If he comes upon an open street, an alleyway, or some other urban area, he looks for an unwary and unwitting passerby to test his newfound power upon. If he finds a more desolate area, he heads towards Akkerad, on foot.
Akashir... we shall indulge in blood and decay. Like a flame, we together shall reduce heretics to nothing but ash. Decay shall be the fate of all those who oppose us, and even those who do not. I am Faithful. I am your hand, and I shall strike down those you deem unworthy to breathe furthermore.
Erescal exits the Cult Lodge, an abandoned building the Old God's followers use as a meeting. This is very much the slums, and tonight a slight fog has rolled in. The gas lamps make it easier to see through the fog. Erescal scans his surroundings for an desolate area- the entire street may as well be desolate. Aside from the occasional drunkard wobbling aliong the cobblestones, not many people are out tonight in hopes of avoiding being a victim of criminal activity.
Slowly making his way to the closest alley, Erescal wonders just how
drunk some of these hobos are. In the alleyway he notices a single lone man in tattered clothes drinking from an almost empty bottle of whiskey.
"Urhhh... Hector. What the hell do you want?" He angrily slurs before taking another drink.
"I keep tellin' you, asshole... I don't have yer stinkin' money yet, give me some... time..." The drunk begins to doze off, leaving himself completely vulnerable to whatever Erescal decides to do.
I Head towards the Tavern on foot, When I get there I will Search for some flammable liquid and a cheap glass bottle...
(You can guess where this is going right?)
((Yes, yes I can.))
John Doe decides that arson is currently the best method of spreading cult influence.
He quickly dashes to the tavern at a remarkably fast pace. Reaching it in about 20 minutes, John quickly realizes he really overdid it on the running and falls to his knees out of breath just outside the door. He isn't feeling faint, but his lack of security in his footing delays him as he shakily rises from the ground and stumbles in tremoring like a diabetic that just chugged a bottle of maple syrup. When the barkeep isn't looking, he tries to slip behind the counter and grab one of the bottles of whiskey.
"Hey! Hands off." Narrowly avoiding a vicious right hook, John turns to be eye-to-eye with the bartender.
"Heh, pretty fast reaction for a drunk. Next time I won't miss." John feels as though backing away from this man would be a sin in the eyes of his Patron.Mortecia stands up, strides out of the room and goes to look for any bums, vagrants or wanderers in a alleyway.
Making her way out of the lodge, Mortecia gets an (admittedly unoriginal) idea for her daily offering.
In a similar manner to Erescal, she finds an alley with not one but two sleeping hobos. A double sacrifice would do more than maintain her status in Akashir's eyes; it may even
increase it.
Azur walks to the tavern and circles it a few times, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. He notes any useful information, then goes in and sits down to get a look at the inside.
Azur makes it to the tavern, but it takes more time than expected.
After circling it a couple of times, he's got the outside of the building all noted up in his head. There aren't many windows, and the ones that are there are rather small. There is a backdoor into an alleyway that could make for a quick exit or a low-profile entrance. Regardless of this, Azur decides to enter through the front and take a seat near the corner. There are a large number of drinkers here, but not so much as to be overwhelming. Over the slight ruckus Azur notices the bartender yelling something about a patron keeping their sticky hands off of something. Soon he realizing that the patron in question is none other than the sole Steelborn member from the Cult- John Doe. John is staring the bartender right in the eyes, his stoic gaze unwavering even as the bartender throws a punch that is quickly evaded and makes a threat or two.
((Man, all of us Akashir servants have the same idea. . . ))
"Gottagobye!!!
Siri rushes out of the building and hails a cab. Once inside she tells the driver to go to a remote part of town. Then, once they have arrived, she slits his throat, takes the money from the cab, and bolts.
Siri rushes from the lodge and looks for a cab to hail. Unfortunately, they don't usually run at these late hours and especially not in the slums.
After leaning up against a wall and rethinking her plans, she hears the tell-tale sound of an unsheathing blade before feeling a hand over her mouth and a knife at her throat.
"Ye better have some money. If not, I might have to settle just fir yer head... heh." This place really is teeming with criminals and vagrants.
Perhaps some magick is in order?(("Even the Arbiters that are in the pockets of the Hermetics disapprove of some of their practices like Alchemy", huh...?))
Valith stays behind a moment to consult the Grandfather, provided he doesn't mind taking questions. "Grandfather. Can you name any of the Arbiters who take these alchemists' coin? Or does their corruption go all the way up to the guard captain?"
If he doesn't know, then I bid him farewell, and leave, following behind John (crazyabe) if possible, since he seems reasonable enough as a fellow Apostle. I then look for rope. Yes, rope. Rope saves lives -- and is also useful for trapping them, by tying doors shut, laying tripwires, or simply whipping people silly. Mmmmfh, papa needs his lash. He needs to get to WORK.
Valith is the only one to stay behind as the Grandfather starts to clean up. He gets the Grandfather's attention and implores politely, "
Grandfather. Can you name any of the Arbiters who take these alchemists' coin? Or does their corruption go all the way up to the guard captain?" The Grandfather smiles a bit, seemingly pleased with Valith's curiosity. "
The rotting wound of Hermetic Corruption runs deep indeed, Apostle. Not a single one of the Guardsmen or Arbiters are innocent, the Guardsmen are willing pawns and the Arbiters are their masters- Who, in turn, are puppets of the Hermits."
He turns away and makes a final remark, "
Sierris would favor you greatly were you to make a beautiful tapestry of their flesh. Blessed be, Apostle."
Valith lost a lot of his time to keep up with John in the conversation, and although he makes it halfway to the Tavern he loses his balance along the way and falls flat on his face. Momentarily delayed, Valith rises from the ground slightly miffed by his own clumsiness.
Act now, Apostles. 
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Topic: Roll To Heresy: A Minimalist RTD About Cults [DEFUNCT] (Read 16301 times)