Description: The Hand of Dohma was created amongst folks who had seen the past works of Jedah Dohma and took him to be their personal savior. They have come to Majigen to seek him out, and in doing so, attracted a number of disenfranchised residents of Metro City into their fold. Tonight is a momentous occasion for them, as the Black Messiah makes a personal appearance. With him, he brings good tidings and promises of a better tomorrow -- but his message carries a dark undertone for those who do not subscribe to his worldview.
Metro City: an oasis of activity within the otherwise inhospitable wasteland of Majigen. To the darkstalkers who have resided in Majigen for quite some time, the aromas of human habitation are repulsive, and in need of purging -- and yet, the one rule of Lord Jedah Dohma has been to leave the humans alone. Indeed, the locust patrol has been taking long, wide sweeps of the area. As is their typical behavior, the defenders have been avoiding attack -- staying out of reach of the cudgels and primitive found weaponry of the locals, and only descending to break up fights as needed, and obtain help for the wounded. Charitable and magnanimous actions from the army of the bloodlord who is holding the city itself hostage, to be sure.
Metro City residents have long become used to the.... unique scents of the city, but the smell of rot and decay in the Majigen environment is a bit more pungent than most are accustomed to. The human body can adapt, but it was with no small amount of effort -- another reason the greatest concentration of humans has been within places with access to portable generators and air circulation units.
Tonight, though... there is a gathering of an entirely different sort: a rally. Conspicuously within view of the Il Paradiso Opera House, the first and most fortified bastion of human settlement, the cult named the "HAND OF DOHMA" has been massing for... something. There was no event announced -- at least, not outside the cult's elusive membership rolls -- and yet, the group is chanting, raising their hands to the thickly veined "sky" of the Majigen domain. A choir of voices sings out, though it's not terribly clear what their eerie chorus is heralding. It's just... loud. And droning.
The center of the square is illuminated with a column of red light. The Hand of Dohma neophytes are startled, breaking off their choir -- but the more devoted realize what the red light portends.
It starts as drops of blood -- larger, messier drops that begin to stick together, coagulating and bonding into messy splotches. They draw together in flight, forming a larger mass. Where the blood should hit the ground, it does not: levitated as it is by an uncanny anti-gravitational field.
And before long, the seven foot tall form of the Black Messiah forms in its grisly glory. Blood congeals, surges, shudders as it molds itself into the bloodweaver's form. And then the royal purples of Lord Dohma's coat distinguish themselves first from the bloody mass, followed shortly afterwards by the blue pallor of his skin.
"Loyal and devoted servants..." Jedah Dohma states warmly with a bow, pausing to address the quadrants of his audience in equal measure. "It pleases me to see such an assembly gathered for the dawn of a new age."
If there are dissenters, they are likely to be drowned out by the cacophony of the hundred-odd followers as they raise their hands and voices in rapturous delight, pleased that their savior has deigned to address them in person.
Somewhere in the second story window of a long-since abandoned fashion boutique, someone watches from a distance. There are a lot of people doing things from about as safe a distance as they can manage, and what distance is actually manageable is so narrow a measurement it sounds like saying 'distance' is far, far too generous.
"Huh! You don't see that every day, eh?" A certain someone says to an uncertain someone which may, instead, be a certain no-one. It's a roundabout, clumsy way of saying that they're speaking to pretty much no one. "Usually those sorts come up empty-handed after waiting so long. Heck, I'd feel good for 'em if I felt the same way."
Howard Rust, Jr., mysterious (but undoubtedly stupid) figure whose reaction to being caught up in all this is somewhere south of what normal people with normal lives would react to. His surveillance of the gathering of the square reads much less as someone trying to get a grip on things and far more akin to... sightseeing? It's hard to tell with him, if there actually has been any legitimate ulterior motive (or actual acknowledgement of the whole situation).
It could well be he has caught on to the previous reservation of the Darkstalkers wandering the realm to actually predate - this might put him ahead of the curve in adapting and otherwise surviving?
He whistles aloud as the form of Lord Dohma himself comes to unworthy eyes from the form of blood. Some sharp, numbing feeling just goes through him from looking! Perhaps the nuance of his greetings to his followers is lost in the sense of awe? Those of such power often inspire that, and even the most thick layer of ignorance can't deflect such influence and presence.
That, in addition to the deep-seated feeling of terror deeply rooted in just about any healthy human psyche, to witnessing something such as this.
Dear Diary,
I cannot believe what I had seen! A swarm of... monsters?! gathering together inside of this city! Could it be that this is one of those American festivals I have heard about? It's quite lively, and they use such an amazing amount of special effects! It's so amazing what they do!
What is perhaps one of his more terrifying moments alive is mistaken for good nature - and as such has simply mistaken it for a celebration! Having 'bought' a ragged coat, Zappa claps for Jedah and watches within the ground!
It's a good natured clapping, for you see, he does not truly understand what is going on. He can easily be mistaken for just another face in the crowd!
A veritable ocean of fiends, some of the most powerful beings that would grace the face of the Earth and more than a match for almost any human opponent that would dare to rise up and stand in their presence. To the normal citizens of Metro City, this crowd is little more than an army banging their shields outside of a besieged fortress's gates.
And yet, starting at the edge of the square it begins to part almost instinctively, like the waters passing over a shark's fin. Perhaps it is because those Darkstalkers least able to wield power have by nature been pushed to the sides, and even the slightest impulse amongst their betters would cause them to give way.
Perhaps strangest of all is the fact that much of the crowd stands above the force that has managed to bend it. Perhaps it is the fact that this force bends it in utter silence, without a word or touch to force others to be aware of its presence. Or perhaps it is the fact that the crowd slowly filling in the wake begins to rumble faintly with anxious whispers.
Rising up above this force, just barely, is a blade of fiendish origin. An artifact held for centuries by the leaders of the Lycanthrope tribes. A scythe forged in human agony...
...a weapon lost to a human protector. The famed Eclipse Scythe, strapped to the back of Ryu Hayabusa stands almost like the banner of a samurai preparing to enter the fray. A stolen banner that speaks to the failure of a mighty fiend and one of the few human forces that can inspire the the same fear in a fiend that they relish inspiring in human chattle.
A force that continues silently approaching the center of this event.
None of this sat right with one errant knight, Kliff Undersn.
Things used to be a lot simpler back in his day. Why.. he remembers the good ol' days, nothing like a good holy purge when this many Darkstalkers gathered in one place. Bloody, tasking affairs those, but so rewarding, as nothing felt better than doing God's work, bringing light to an otherwise bleak world, and holy retribution on monstrous, inhumane creatures.
Those were the days indeed.
Now... things a little more complicated.
See, back in the day, Kliff would be marching into town square in bright armor and a squadron of Holy Order knights to cut a bloody swath on these loathsome wretches. And yet, much to the surprise of everyone, notably himself, these Darkstalkers had done little more than acts of vandalism. Truly bothersome things those that were likely going to cause the already troubled town of Metro City a pretty penny, but.. dispersing crowds performing civil disobedience was not exactly what the Holy Order was created for. To think that Darkstalkers nowadays had such gall, to be parading around demanding equal treatment or worker's compensation or some other nonsense. What travesty!
And yet, Kliff could not put those news his long lost son gave him. That it was the United Nations who took him away, and turned him into a monster.
None of this sat right.
"Hmm.." A short figure standing next to Rust actually answers him back. It's not much of a response, merely a grunt of noise that states he acknowledges what he's saying but doesn't have anything to say about it. Here stands Kliff Undersn, who has ordered the Holy Order to stand back while he investigates all this chaos. He is notably not looking like the shinning old knight as he does, but instead wears a tattered brown cloak and moving around leaning himself on a walking stick. A short old hobo, watching these monsters gathering with strangely great curiosity, eyes peering about to see those few brave souls that would actually move in to face this peril.
"The unbelievers have begun to question my motivations for relocating Metro City here..." The scythelike, razor-sharp wings at his back hover independently of the sweeping, grandiose gestures Jedah makes while addressing the cultists. His followers listen, enthralled -- as his rhetorical technique has led them to believe he is addressing each member of the gathering on a deeply personal level.
"And they would certainly be justified. But you see, my devoted servants... in order to usher in the brave new age, a number of questions were in grave need of answers that could only be sought by forcing people out of their respective comfort zones. Progress... does not come without a price, and this price, I strongly believe... is acceptable."
Jedah squares his shoulders up with the Il Paradiso, but he keeps his gaze comfortably aimed upon his devoted followers -- even though he's -fully- aware of observers from the opera house, from surrounding skyscrapers and multi-story buildings, from the streets and from the shadows. Mental note is made of an current of change sweeping from the direction of his left shoulder -- but to address it obliquely, and now, would diminish from his message.
"The past weeks, you see... have been a test. A series of escalating challenges visited upon the locals of Metro City. An inversion, if you will, of the so-called natural order of things. You see... creatures of the night are forced into the shadows, cloaked away in long-forgotten corners, simply to allow their continued survival. Humanity has placed our kind out of sight, out of mind -- though we once coexisted equally, in harmony."
The past of which Jedah speaks occurred very differently, of course. But the Hands of Dohma -- largely human themselves -- take a very short view of history. They nod, in complete raptured devotion to their savior -- only the ones nearest the Eclipse Scythe parting to allow passage.
"And now... their true nature is revealed. In the absence of a pressing threat... scared, unenlightened humans turn to violence. To strike down that which is feared, to initiate battle where nothing but misunderstanding exists."
Lord Dohma turns an eye to the aforementiond scythe, a faint grin forming upon his lips.
With a bit narrowing of his eyes, Zappa sees the world ... swimming a bit. It's a sudden effect upon him, as if the words themselves are impacting the man, eyes wide with both fear and wonder. Yet he could swear he hears something telling him to sleep. To rest. That he is tired and it is, simply, a dream.
Or perhaps it's just the napping sickness he somehow came down with when he visited Europe!
Either or, Zappa's eyes roll up into his head as the man seems to sudden convulse upon the words, twisting and twitching all together before he hangs, 'standing' but yet not quite, arms and legs hanging as a balloon would with no air - no energy behind them.
S-ko stands watching Jedah, dark hair covering her eyes - nodding. "VIOLENCE." She agrees.
It's both their fault - and the best way to /solve/ their existance. The very best way. To answer the question 'how is Zappa standing with no muscles', merely picture S-ko holding him like a teddy-bear. It makes it so much easier.
The strange Howard Rust, Jr. - made all the stranger now that he's somehow made twin braids out of his hair in a hairstyle that continues to be completely inappropriate for both his age and gender by local cultural standards - has a surprisingly not-so-strange reaction to the musings of an aged man in rags as he lifts one arm and leg up in effectively being ambushed.
"Oh! Were you resting here? Sorry about that," he says in a level of cheer that really isn't warranted for the atmosphere, situation, or the way the crowds slowly part, "didn't mean to scare you like that."
He was the one far closer to being scared.
Relaxing his pose to look back out to the gathering and what is being said, the words of a displeased entity who holds absolute power within this realm should register as something other than... a smile.
"Don't you worry any about!" He says, as Jedah explains the methodology of his tests, of his reasoning, of his desires in words and ways that should inspire dread and worry - for all one knows, that is bubbling up in this man and he is saying this as a means of keeping himself sane... maybe? "This isn't the first time I've seen something like this - it's kind of a sticky thing. I'm of the mind," if he even has much of one, "it'll all work out... just got to take in everything the world's got to show."
There is one merciful beat of silence as he leans out the window in the wake of a passing locust.
"Huh... someone coming to meet with him? Can't quite... make it out from here... ehhh...."
He squints and peeks out so hard that he looks like he could just fall out of the window at any minute, seemingly unperturbed by his own visibility.
At odds with the rippling concern he leaves in his wake, Ryu Hayabusa would seem to be at complete peace. There is no aura of intent, no threat of violence beyond that which is inferred from his mere presence among this crowd at this point in time armed as his is.
If there was any intent behind the man, it would be directed like a laser beam at Jedah. It is the sort of look that isolates, treats the two points at the end of it as though they were the only ones in existance. And still it holds no direct malice, merely attention.
The further the famed master ninja of the Hayabusa clan moves into the crowd, the more it becomes apparent that it is not merely his own personal aura that grants him unobstructed passage toward the central figure of this congregation. It is like water moving through water, easily wrapping around points of resistance and bypassing them without apparent thought.
Ultimately this path leads the ninja to a point that, if this were more coordinated, could be considered just a few rows back from Jedah's position. And then he simply stops, folding arms across his chest. The water has found its pool, for the time being.
It's only when he's directly addressed that the old man turns to spare a peripheral glance to one Mister Howard Rust, Jr. A tired, yet surprisingly sharp looking eye for a man his age, peers up from underneath his tattered brown hood, weight shifting a bit as he tries to adjust how to comfortable lean on that walking cane of his. "Quite alright, sir." He answers rather politely for being a complete stranger in the middle of a very strange situation. "Not many things can scare a man at my age." Says he just as he gets a good look at the -THING- Rust is wearing on his head. "Hmm.." He's heard muttering again before glancing back to the dark gathering ahead by an equally dark minister, whispering very softly to himself. "I stand corrected.."
But to the matter at hand! It is as Rust had feared, this Jedah, the obvious master mind of this ploy has simply be bidding his time to unleash an even greater evil upon this city. It would have been too hopeful of him to think that these Darkstalkers, these Fiends of the Night, could actually have any sensible thought of coexistence in their perturbed unholy minds.
They really did intend to kill them all.
When Rust speaks again, Kliff glances up again at him -purposefully putting his hood in the way of his eyes so he can't see the toupee- and speaks again. "Awfully chipper outlook considering all that has been happening..." Kliff doesn't want to point out the obvious, that Jedah means nothing but ill will towards humans, wanting instead to know just -why- Rust seems to be so hopeful about all this. A good shepherd always pays attention his flock after all.
"Looks like some kind of warrior." Answers Kliff when Rust tries to make out the figure of Ryu Hayabusa boldly striding towards Jedah. Easy enough to tell that much with that giant weapon strapped to his back.
As Ryu Hayabusa makes his way throughout the crowd, Jedah lets his attention drift back towards his more devoted listeners. "As human scribes would tell it, the 'Age of Reason' ushered in a new age free from the 'dark ages' where our kind roamed the earth -- where simply the powers of knowledge and rational thought could uplift the 'educated' away from the lowly, so-called 'darkstalkers'. But that simple belief could be no further from the truth -- human civilization has been in denial, determined as it is to deny the simple truth -- that the ones they have been shunning are, in fact, destined to succeed them."
The cry of 'violence' attracts his eye, a discordant voice ringing out within the crowd. He turns to it, smiles, and shakes his head. "Violence was publicly frowned upon then... but just as now, it was advocated, promoted by the same Church that preached tolerance and forgiveness. As if one could simply erase one's sins by destroying those who disagree...?"
Jedah turns his head slowly, his gaze lingering on the building housing Mr Undersn and Mr Howard, for just one moment. And to the figures atop the Il Paradiso rooftop... another moment. As the believers sing his praises, Lord Dohma continues... "No. If it was a test... the people of Metro City have shown their instincts to be just as base and unreasoned as in the supposed 'dark ages,' favoring violence as a means to end all disputes. And this is the reason for the tournament. To allow some to express their violence... to demonstrate their willingness to progress to change. To broaden horizons."
He pauses further, drinking in the mixed emotions he can feel all throughout the city. Those in front of him... in favor. Those far away, and those immediately in front of his feet... concerned.
"It must be stressed that -action- should be taken. And where the Crusades failed -- simply aiming to -crush- the opposing forces... I shall take a more benevolent position."
Jedah glances up to the sky. To the swarm of locusts hovering overhead. He drinks in the emotions even further.
And spreads his arms wide. "One thing drives -every- animal species on this planet. One overriding concern that dictates every action... is the fear of death. The survival instinct. And my devoted followers... I have the cure."
Even his flock isn't sure if that's something they should cheer for or not.
Not much can scare a man at his age, indeed. There is a rare sage nod from the aging strange man of such interesting choices in hairstyling...
That hair is real, and the decision to play with it in such a way is probably equally disturbing as almost any sight here.
"I've seen plenty! Well, credit where it's due, this is one of the biggest yet. Maybe the biggest."
If this man has been stuck in a situation where an entire portion of a hugely populated city has been plunged to a hell-realm, one would wonder why few would've heard of it, but the man speaks with a certain conviction in what foolishness he spouts.
It could be the one big trait that separates the two men's outlooks leading up to this point.
"A warrio-- huh. Yep, I can see a weapon... ooh." He winces, as though echoes of what that scythe represents cleanly communicate to his psyche, along with... the glance.
It says something that, even when one cannot see some details clearly from a distance, it is very striking when someone whose finer details are well out of focus, with only a slight turn of their head, cuts deeply with just a gaze.
It is here when the fool who seems to have pushed his luck so far in taking this all in as an old routine once thought lost to more mundane times might now be expressing legitimate concern outside of matters of immediate grave peril. The words that Jedah himself builds towards...
Leaning back into the building, he waves a hand as if to say 'hi' but it seems more of reflex than much genuine intent of polite greeting.
"I've seen a few close scrapes already, tell you what--"
His babbling at this point need not be printed, for all that is worth saying about what could yet happen is already said.
Despite the outright lies that are being unleashed in front of him, Ryu Hayabusa doesn't not move from his current position. There are times when it is appropriate to be the aggressor. Hayabusa would hardly be a proper ninja if the thought of dispatching an unprepared opponent was an unacceptable proposition after all.
No, while this situation is dire and must be redressed, this is not the time or place to land the first blow. Now is the time to be prepared for what is likely to come next. An open attack on the leader in a place like this that could be considered "unprovoked" by these cultists and other followers would lead to unnecessary bloodshed among the people currently having their city held against their will.
And so Hayabusa waits, listening to blatant lies. Not simple mistruths or confused history, no, Jedah knows full well that every word he says is in sharp contrast to the bloody history of the combined world. A world in which fiends used their power to oppress humanity. A world that was separated with decisive violence by the chosen few, including his own ancestor, that were granted the strength to stand for their fellow man.
With such a taste in vengeance, it is no surprise that S-ko would not care - she, a ghost, would survive even without the host managing to. Violence is enough to her, Zappa's body writhing as jedah manages to gaze towards him in the crowd. Violence lashed out towards her, causing her to lose something dear.
Never, truly, again - because she had nothing to lose.
It would be humanity that lost, the many members of their kind causing such trouble. The form of Zappa crawls up the side of a lamp-post, body somehow wrapping around it, circular, as S-ko sits on it, using it as advanced seating. She claps - earnestly, unlike Zappa had before.
Two different reasons, the same response. Yes. Death. That is /certainly/ something that she can agree with towards their kind. Yet... a cure for death?
S-ko listens.
Zappa, meanwhile, dreams about a man named Urien, toga carefully placed, saluting his many members. Which is odd, as he had never met them before!
That is... really disturbing.
And Kliff is not talking about the dark gathering below-- he's still kind of peeking at Rust's toupee from here and there out of morbid curiosity. Just when he thought he had seen it all in his long service leading the Holy Order, he runs into something like /this/, and on a mission out of all places.
Guess perception really is the first thing that goes in old age, Kliff could have probably picked a spot next to a man that wasn't so easy to pick in a crowd.
Then again, perhaps it was fate itself that brought him next to one Mister Howard Rust, Jr. "Have you now?" Kliff says amicably to the strange man next to him whilst still keeping an eye down towards Jedah and Ryu Hayabusa in particular. "You do posses the look of a fighter, my friend." Continues the ancient knight. "Perhaps you've yet to play a part on this debacle."
Kliff narrows his eyes whilst Jedah continues to preach his dark faith. Ah.. mortality.. the ever pressing subject that prods humans and darkstalkers alike, at least most of them as far as Kliff can tell. The old knight has long stopped caring about such things, as it is an inevitable part of life, and death should not be feared if one has led a long and fulfilling life. When the time finally comes, Kliff would be ready to accept his long, well earned, rest. So he doubts this Jedah has anything to say that could interest him.
"No.." The Holy Order commander suddenly tenses as he hears that this dark creature has found a 'cure' for death. "He couldn't mean--" Does he plan to turn them all into vampires??
This could get bad.
"You see... death has a side effect only for those unprepared for it. With proper planning... it is merely a transition to a different state. Armies in glorious battles did not seek to admit their vanquished foes into their good graces -- nay, they simply sought to bring death to their enemies, without planning for what a more holistic mindset would see as inevitable -- severing souls from bodies just allows the souls to get bound to ... trinkets. Places. Sometimes other people. But much more rarely would they enter the Valhalla of the Viking tradition, or the heaven of the Christian tradition -- the deeds of the recently departed usually demanded some sort of penance, or purgatory..."
Jedah presses his lips together, forehead knitting as he surveys the crowd. Silence is not generally a good sign.
"Death is nothing more than a change -- and as we all know, my friends and disciples, change itself is inevitable." A smile creeps back onto his face as he gestures to the crowd, hoping to stir the emotions back up.
"My followers... you will be among the first to receive my blessing. Tomorrow... in the location known to your priests and clerics... I will grant you freedom from fear. Freedom from the constraints which typify the state of human existence. For, my children... you will ascend anew. And take your rightful place in the glorious hierarchy."
-This- got the Hands of Dohma cheering.
The locusts swarm overhead, surveying the scene with a cautious eye. Those more dangerously dedicated among the crowd have surely picked up on the more subtle overtones -- and the locusts will need to be ready to act.
But Jedah knows something more -- and as he bows to the crowd, taking a step back, it brings an uptick to his smile. Knowledge that not only his followers are before him -- but those who might question his generous gifts. And given the dark lord's mysterious flair for theatrics, they might not get that chance for much longer.
Problematic.
Now there is a time limit on how long Hayabusa has to act. Jedah certainly has something more in mind than merely offering a blessing, and allowing those plans to go through will undoubtedly cause a great deal of suffering.
Unfortunately this is hardly the right time or place to act.
No, Ryu Hayabusa, sometimes referred to as the Ultimate Ninja, may be more capable than most at fighting off a massive swarm of violent foes, especially those with fiendish touches, but he has no desire to put himself in the position of attempting to dispatch an Archfiend and a small army at the same time.
Now is the time to be smart, to find a way to isolate Jedah and get into a position where he can hopefully gain some form of advantage.
"You bet! I was in the pro leagues some years back." This man looks the part of a fighter, but one past his prime. He's let himself go, what with the extra weight. Sure, he's got that old, beat-up toolbelt full of... tools, and that length of pipe stabbed through a pocket on his right hip that has burst open from underneath. Almost kind of like a sword.
Could providence have seen this man come here to play some greater part, and not just the unfortunate event of simply being within the field of effect as it all plunged (ascended? carried sideways?) into Majigen?
If so, whoever's in charge of the fates should probably be fired.
"Looks like he does mean it!" It is as though at once, the two men were of the same thought? It's not clear if he actually has expectations or just kind of thought of something on the spot he thinks has been confirmed. The man scratches away at his chin - exquisitely clean-shaven and smooth, unless... he just can't grow facial hair?
"You... see a lot of talk about what comes after." Rust Jr. waxes poetic.
"Not quite sure why they'd be in a hurry to go see! They look like they're enjoying the moment just fine." Rust Jr. waxes stupid.
His eyes, visibly, start to wander towards some defunct power cables, a long-ravaged clothesline drenched in blood... he peers out one side of the window.
Being past his prime means little to Kliff.
He knows quite well that old fighters can still throw down with the best of them-- even if they are tired old men.
In reality the only thing that is keeping Kliff from charging head long right now is that he, unlike a certain Ultimate Ninja in the crowd, does have a code of ethics that dictates he can't strike a foe that has not struck first, even if it so happens to be a malevolent Darkstalker. The perceptive old man senses that should it come to blows, there are some in the crowd that could help him push the tide back, including perhaps this strange fellow next to him. It would be an uphill battle for sure, but what warrior worth his salt fights only easy battles?
Kliff glances at the strangely chatty Rust as he voices his thoughts on the matter and then looks back to rub his chin in thought. "What dark gift could he be promising these lost souls?" He asks to himself before arching a bushy white eyebrow up to Rust. "I hear quite a lot of talk about that, especially recently." It doesn't help that he's from, you know, the Church.
Looking at the locusts above tells Kliff that he's not the only one that is sizing up the competition. This Jedah person can probably tell which ones in the crowd are his follows and which ones are gunning out to him. Some being a tad more obvious than others like in the case of Hayabusa, though if the Ninja wants to play the part of dashing knight who is Kliff to try and stop him when he encourages that kind of behavior?
"For now, at least." Kliff says back to Rust as he taps his cane, casting wary glances to those things that appear to have caught of their presence. "I sense they won't be lingering here for long."
"My children... the unenlightened seek to rob you of choice. They may attempt to convince you that your -choice-, your ardent -belief- is -wrong-. But the tides of change are crashing upon the shore, you have to decide whether to stand tall and proud, defying the inevitable -- or to be doomed to wash away with the current. My children... you have been blessed with incredible opportunity. I urge you to consider action, lest you stagnate, constantly living in the shadows and fearing the sounds of the night, huddling for protection within paper walls for the rest of existence."
Jedah bows once more, raising his hand to a man who seems to be the acting cleric in charge of the congregation. The man rises to the crowd, turning to face them, as Jedah steps backwards. His wings spread, and with a nearly complete lack of effort, the Dark Savior ascends into the sky.
"My brothers and sisters -- your prayers have been answered! She of the outstretched spider legs is but one example of the divine blessings offered! Surely our own gifts will be grand and exalted..." It's probably difficult to deal with the mad ravings of lunatics, but it's clear now -- Jedah is promising salvation to some.
But for those who can hear it -- there are sounds -other- than the locusts. The wings of bees can be heard beneath the city streets. The thunder of hooves, the scratchy clattering of insect feet, the paws of darkstalkers on the move. Something... is definitely changing for the worse.
Zappa does not clap, though S-ko continues to watch on, using him as a seat.
It is a perfect opportunity for her to do as she pleases - whether she completely fits the plan that Jedah has or not. It certainly sounds better than the world she had been a part of before hand.
Zappa, meanwhile, begins to slither around the light-pole in place, performing what might be seen as an oroboros circle. It's kind of weird.
Could it be that, for his failings in picking something out with his eyes, something deeper speaks to the growing crescendo of the denizens of the night on the move...? Of the patrolling winged locust-like creatures that seem to patrol a little less and more stand their ground.
"Huh, hey, I remember that guy," now is probably not the time for nostalgia as his gaze sweeps along out to the crowd, catching only the end of Jedah's ascent, the raving of the Hands of Dohma having all but flushed out his ability to make out much in terms of speech, "huh, he looks like he's having a good time--"
The sounds grow louder yet.
"Noisy!" It's hard to tell if he's scared or has somehow found some form of comfort in this environment. "Could be me, but it sure sounds like they're getting all worked up with." With what?
"Say," he turns to the aged man with a cane as he crouches down, "need a lift? I've seen a couple places within... five minutes, if it's too noisy."
Does he mean too dangerous?
"I know I don't look it, but tell you what, I've had trouble sleeping because it's been so quiet--" Now is really not the time to discuss bizarre sleeping habits.
For better or for worse, Rust breaks Kliff's concentration. Its hard to tell at the moment if that's a good or a bad thing.
"Hm? Which one?" Asks the old knight as he peers into the crowd of.. let's be real now, they are all freaks.. his eyes clouded as they are by age still remain true and can pick each individual apart without the need of glasses (when he's reading is another story though).
But indeed, things are getting to be perhaps more energetic that the errant knight was hoping for. Something tells me that staying around this place for much longer would instigate some kind of altercation from these crazed fanatics. The forces of the light shall stand strong if it comes down to it, though Kliff thinks this oddly jolly man should really not get involved at this juncture.
"That would be appreciated." Says Kliff with a face that says he really didn't need to know that. "I'm new to the city and its happenings. Perhaps you can tell me more of it on the way there." To think that Metro City could ever be quiet.. Kliff didn't think it would remain like that for long.
There will be one more night at peace. And then all hell will break loose, as the sinister plans of Lord Jedah Dohma begin to cycle into motion. Action, it seems, will become a necessity of survival in this unholy experimentation on the people of Metro City. While some will embrace the change with open arms, others will not.
Log created on 20:26:54 04/24/2015 by Jedah, and last modified on 00:03:32 04/25/2015.