Mini Event my friends, my people, my flock
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Gideon Clemments
The Priest

Age: 52 | Height: 6' 1" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#1
GIDEON

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
"People of Torchline."

He was stood on a wall dividing two houses, tall enough to give him attention but not so tall he couldn't make a quick getaway if he had to. As much as Gideon wanted to believe he'd be able to stand firm and take on any detractors, he was still weak from the attack at the Temple and he knew the Ascended had many tricks.

Always having had a talent for pushing his voice far and commanding attention, he quickly gathered a crowd before he began his speech proper. A rehearsed version had been memorised, but he had always believed in improvisation if it was needed. When enough eyes were on him, when they might listen to the truth he had to deliver, Gideon began.

"Too long you have allowed yourselves to be blind. To accept and tolerate beyond reason - to let the wolf into the pen in the interests of fairness." Surely they knew what he was talking about already. "The Ascended have wormed their way into your daily lives. The portals were first. Convenient, maybe, but do you know what the Voice does to you in that time you're in her mercy? What she learns about you?" Part of what he had to do was to just get the doubt firing in their heads, make them consider how much they were trusting this 'new' Goddess every time they travelled in her devices.

Pointing up to the Slagveld (which had seen better days, but he didn't know that), he continued: "An Ascended is working in your government. There was a shrine on the coast - did you know that? They built a shrine for their Goddess on Torchline's coast with no regard to what the people here wanted. Just like in the Greatwood, where they destroyed the Mathair. They don't care what we want. What matters to us. Why should we respect them when their respect is so lacking? Has the Voice ever considered the Gods she is trying to replace with cheap convenience and machinery?!" Eyes sweeping the crowd before him, he tried to gauge how they were feeling, how well he was doing; little did they know he had his best to come.

"Perhaps you think I'm overstating the risk. Let me tell you: Last week I found on this very beach a young woman dying, covered in her own blood--" He shouted, gestured, did everything he could to passionately ensure they understood his words. "I saved her by the grace of the Gods. She was put there by an Ascended. Their fangs that they use to take our blood aren't just for show. They will rip your throat out." Hand curled into a claw, he slashed at his own neck. Now that they knew just how violent the Voice's 'chosen' could be, he turned the conversation back onto them.

"How much further does it have to go? How many bled out like animals for their gifts? How many tempted away from the Gods? How many rendered sterile, inhuman and machine to satisfy her ends? When are you going to stand up and fight, Torchline?!"
That's why I hold with all I have
That's why I hold
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
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#2
NATE

Anything that starts with People of whereever has bad news written all over it. Nte knows this as well as he knows anything, and yet he still stops, pauses his stalking to turn and give the crazy the attention he so clearly desired. If nothing else, it would be good for a show, right?

Wrong.

All too quickly the words stole a flame in Nate’s chest, the urge to defend himself with everything he had warring with itself, unable to decide if he wanted to argue, or simply break something on this man. Indecision slows his roll long to actually think, long enough to realize that brash words and hasty fists aren’t the best way to go about this. Not when it’s his existence being slandered, not when he is in the position he is.

No, instead he files every little thing the man says away; every detail he knows, every angle he tries. He moves through the crowd that’s gathered, slipping closer and memorizing every detail he can of the face as well, a task made difficult by the rage clouding his vision.

Hey buddy!” Nate presses as much jeering derision into his voice as he can, hands cupped around his mouth in an attempt to drown out the tail end of the man’s words. “Either take it off or fuck off, no one wants to listen to your shit!
Is there an acceptable result?
Do we mean something when we talk?
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#3
MABEL

Mabel wasn’t a person of Torchline. In fact, she avoided it most of the time.

But she’d been here to train and strive to overcome some personal traumas – which hadn’t really taken its full effect yet. But underneath her parasol, and within shadows and eaves, the youth could wind around market squares and residences without noticing the sea too much.

Besides, there were other things afoot and raging; voices clambering, people gathering, some other bewitching things taking place. She followed, slinking in and amongst proportions of darkness, narrowing her eyes, rising on her tiptoes to peer over stranger’s shoulders. Not expecting the words of blasphemy to ring out over the seaside courtyard.

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed down nothing; looking, glancing, wondering if inhabitants were considering the weight of these notions. If she was going to have to escape, run for her life in some bizarre uprising spawned from the wagging tongue of a man who knew naught.

Then she saw, heard, Nate from the reaches, and some manner of relief, and then anger stoked in her. Reaching down, her hands could only ghost over pebbles and stray rocks along the ground, shifting around under citizens’ feet. Mabel truly had no fight here, but couldn’t let it go. Not with the raw, tempestuous ferocity flickering and pooling through her system.

So she took the stones, rose up, and then hurled them at the priest.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
Raza Ekambe
Owner of the Hanged Man

Age: 37 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 20 - Int:
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#4
raza
“Well if it ain’t that fucker Zeph ran out…” Musing aloud to anyone (or no one) in particular, Raz is drawn by the growing crowd and finds herself leanin’ against a cart at the back of the pack. Back again. Back for more? She settles with her hands crossed across her chest, trident lyin’ comfortably in the crook of her elbow.

And it doesn’t go well from the start, as her eyes narrow at the insinuation that Torchers are blind and stupid, that they didn’t know any better and didn’t have the capacity to take care’a themselves. She twists her lips together tightly for now, taking a moment to scan the crowd for others she might know. Nate stands out for a minute, clearly one of the objects of ridicule and she’s tempted to let him take it from there.

Except that… it seems the guy needs to learn a lesson about Torchline an’ its people.

Scooting folks away from her, Raza straightens and lifts her trident higher in the air. Nate tells him to fuck off and someone, somewhere throws rocks, but the proprietress had heard the Priest’s final words and she latches on. “Oy! Bein’ run outta the Hanged Man weren’t enough, this fucker’s come back t’say we’re blind ‘n dumb too! ‘E wants a fight? Let’s give ‘im one.

Aiming the trident’s tip at Gideon, Raza shoots a bolt of lightning towards the man, hoping to hit him somewhere where it’ll count.

----------------

Raza tries to incite the crowd to attack and shoots at Gideon with her trident -

Type: Dark
Sea Panther Trident | A trident of gleaming black metal. The chief point is fashioned out of a pale, twisting horn, sharp as a razor, and may be detached as a dagger. The trident may deal additional Lightning damage once per thread.


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#5


Raza's attack misses.
Varus Callahan
Assassin / Hollowed Grounds Captain

Age: 347 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 20 - Int:
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#6
i say i'd do it all again, but i hate paying for my sins
He finds himself back in Torchline, not for any other reason than sheer curiosity. And apparently, it’s perfect timing as well – hearing the commotion and arriving in the corner, hidden under the shadows of the nearby shops, watching with arms crossed at all the bullshit spewed about from a man standing atop the wall. He spies Nate nearby, the only one he recognizes, but he doesn’t focus on too many of the other faces, not as the man up there keeps going on and on.

It’s all bullshit, but Varus doesn’t particularly want to draw attention to himself. It almost sounds like it’s got Order written all over it, and if that’s the case then perhaps Varus might be able to help out Wessex like he’d promised. So he slips a bit closer, to the edge of the wall, still hidden but with eyes on Gideon, watching and waiting.
VARUS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
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#7
SuNJATA
the flood
Nate’s probably going to kick his ass for being here. But here he is, anyway.

Especially when he hears the booming voice of a stranger, one that he thinks he may have vaguely heard before at the start of Flowerbirth. Regardless, the Flood arrives, with no humor and no understanding revealed on his face. All that’s there is a quiet twitch of the scarred half of his lips, edging toward a frown, edging toward a sneer as the man continues and Sunjata brushes past Nate with his shoulder, a slight edge of an apology glanced over toward him before his focus is entirely on Gideon.

He looks pretty shitty in comparison, yellow bruising haloing the worst of the injuries as they begin to heal, hair grown longer and pulled back, a sleeveless shirt with arms that are crossed while he listens after Nate’s outburst, watching as Mabel from the edge throws stones, watches as Raza defends the people of Torchline and it goes wide.

It’s the spirit, though.

An Ascended is working in our government as a healer. I suggest you get your facts straight.” He calls out at first, his voice hoarse and a touch painful with his recovery from inhaling the Prince’s acidic gas. But he steps forward, steel gaze focused sharply on the Priest, step after step until he peers up at the wall that the man stands upon. “Also, if there was an attack on Torchline’s soil, I’d prefer to have heard about it rather than have you spew your bullshit, penalizing an entire race based on the actions of a few. How do we even know you're telling the truth?” He calls up, shifting into his bat shift until he’s atop the wall as well, shifting back into himself and gets into Gideon’s space – recognizing him yet still not recognizing that this was the Gideon he’d heard so much about.

Be a smart man and get the fuck out of Torchline before I make you leave.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Gideon Clemments
The Priest

Age: 52 | Height: 6' 1" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 17 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#8
GIDEON

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
Ah, how quickly they showed their weakness; responding with violence, threats, taunts, but no actual points. They were fighting from a place of emotion and attachment, of hesitation to see how they were wrong, how they had invited the wolf into their flock. Even in the face of thrown weapons (which thankfully missed) and shouted jibes, Gideon maintained an upright stance and a smirk on his face.

"Is that all you have to offer?" He asked the crowd as they tossed their projectiles. "In the face of the truth you act like animals." Seeing that the first one that had spoken was an Ascended, Gideon met his eyes and added: "Or perhaps like machines unable to calculate a solution."

Then one approached that looked worse for wear; with a moments inspection past the bruising, Gideon realised it was their leader - good. He could get right to the heart of the matter, talk to the man that was allowing his land to be so corrupted. Hands behind his back, Gideon kept himself still and straight, even as Sunjata rose to the wall and got into his space. "And here we have your leader, just as civil." Gesturing to Sunjata, he looked him up and down. "You may allow Ascended in your bed, but not all of us do. Not everyone would trust an Ascended healer; what will they put in your bodies when you aren't looking? And - I'm sorry - who would report an Ascended crime to a man that has been blessed by Safrin and yet still sleeps with the enemy?" Final words said, he met Sunjata's eyes; a challenge.
That's why I hold with all I have
That's why I hold
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#9
Aurelia
hear those bells ring deep in the soul
chiming away for a moment
Drawn to the scene by the commotion and the sound of angered voices, Aurelia turns from whatever business she'd just been conducting to adhere to the situation at hand. The voice trying to rise above the others, the man standing upon a wall... it makes her eyes narrow with suspicion.

Wading into the crowd carefully, she hopes to settle the incited anger with a wave of her hands and the call of her own voice. "Torchline! Don't stoop to his level! He has no real power over us," Hopefully, people won't give him the satisfaction of feeling as if he's right, "these are just the delusional ramblings of an old man - afraid of change!"

Sunjata's voice through the crowd is heard, and she knows that if things get much worse, there may very well be action taken against the priest. But as Gideon pipes up again, her chin turns up sharply toward him. He won't recognize her, more than likely, but she doesn't much care about reintroductions right now.

"Gideon!" She moves forward through the crowd, hoping to get close enough that he'll have to hear her, "I've met Ascended with more heart and soul than you. Get a move on, we don't want what you're selling!" That last part is more an urge than a threat; a part of her doesn't want to see him hurt - conflicted as that misplaced concern feels. She'd thought of him as a friend, as someone she could trust, before true colors had waved their vile flags. She just prays he has the sense to fuck off.
feel your breath course frankly below
see life as a worthy opponent
Raza Ekambe
Owner of the Hanged Man

Age: 37 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 20 - Int:
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#10
raza
Much to her dismay, the lightning goes wide and a loud growl of frustration rips through Raza. She lowers the trident, but it seems to have partially done what she wanted it to - there are others around her who are grumbling, particularly when Gideon calls them animals.

Insulin’ the very people he’s speakin’ to probably isn’t the best tactic for someone who’s trying to get more people to their side.

‘Sides, if they’re acting like animals, if they’re blind an’ dumb, then why not show ‘im their animalistic side? Raza leans into the woman next to her, whispering somethin’ quietly, who sends to the next person, until the area around her has the idea ‘a what she wants to do.

Lifting her face to the sun, Raza howls, something inelegant and off pitch, but definitely animalistic. One or two others join her in her baying, while yet another starts to hoot like a monkey and pound on their chest, another moos, and a fifth barks until they create a small menagerie of sounds to drown out the speaker.

If nothing else, at least a few people laugh at their antics.

------------------

Raza and some NPCs start howling, barking, mooing, and sounding like monkeys in order to disrupt the MeEtInG
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
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#11
What a commotion.

Loki first alerts her to the gathering, the dragon coasting on the thermals above Haulani before diving down to see what all the fuss was about. Wessex was somewhere in the city below her, turned, and headed towards the group at her companion’s insistence.

A cloaked figure arrives at the fringe, just in time to hear a man go on about trusting an Ascended healer and then to see a woman call him Gideon and defend the Ascended. Hmmmm. Sunjata is there, so she looks for Nate and finds him, tall as he is. Unable to tell if there are other Ascended here on sight, Wessex opens her mind to speak to any of them who might be in the vicinity.

There’s a guy here, near the - she gives some nearby markers and the continues, - who sounds pretty anti-Ascended. Might be an Order member, if he’s calling Ascended the enemy. Let’s see if we can’t make him use a compass if he has one, hmmm?

Her tone curls and coils, a plan developing in her mind as she tries to remain hidden with her Shadow cloak, sticking to the shadows of the buildings around them until she can get within ten feet of Gideon.

With any luck, the distractions of the others would mask her movement.

The Wraith
the bright
the thing in the night
Wessex

Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#12
MABEL

Others united on a front of foolishness and ignorance – and perhaps since LongNight, did Mabel find herself in and amongst comrades. Perfect strangers banding together to fight an onslaught of racism and rampant stupidity. Her jaw slackened at the one with the trident, at the siege of words, at the galvanizing of spirits. Was this how life was supposed to be? Had she been hidden away for far too long?

Wessex’s voice in her ear suddenly startled her, but she didn’t require the explanation. She was already there, cloaked under her parasol, desperate for a way to make things happen, but other than howling like an animal with several others within the crowd, she didn’t know what to hasten  - and the youth wasn’t about to waste her throwing knives on this worthless douche.

Instead, she crept along to a market stall, where several already seemed to be thinking exactly the same: grabbing hold of some of the more rotted fruit, and then scurrying back to hurl it at the preacher.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
Varus Callahan
Assassin / Hollowed Grounds Captain

Age: 347 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#13
i say i'd do it all again, but i hate paying for my sins
He fits the part, Queenie. He doesn’t know how close Wessex is to him, but he tries anyway. He’s here too, drifting closer toward the wall that Gideon stands upon, he tries to sidle closer, keeping the Priest in view.

Everything erupts around them and Varus finds himself still attempting to remain shrouded by the shadows of the roof, the cloak that sits upon him, watching and waiting to see what happens next. Hopefully, gods willing, they get Gideon to use his compass and get him out of here as well as finish their quest.

He’s just not yet strong enough to make a stand himself without the others nearby. At least they’d already started hurling things at the Priest.
VARUS
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
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#14
NATE

Nate is absolutely going to kick his ass for being here. But that’s a thought for later.

He follows in Sunjata’s wake on autopilot, glaring up at the man on the wall all the while, the mocking cut of his feature bled away into something twisted. Everything about this man set him on edge, every fucking word that came out of his mouth grating against Nate’s nerves, even without considering his actual words. It was the air of smug superiority, like they should be kissing his feet for deigning to step in the mud.

Gods Nate wants to kick his face into it, show him what dirt really is.

Sunjata here necessitated some kind professionalism, some kind of keeping a hold of himself. And he could, mostly. Kept his feet on the ground as Sunjata made his points, kept his gaze trained on the preacher man. And then he spoke again, and Nate saw red.“You shut your disrespectful fucking mouth or I will shut it for you!” Nate screams the words in Gideon’s face from his sudden place on the wall, his hand grabbing for the front his fancy little outfit just so he couldn’t weasel away too easily.
Is there an acceptable result?
Do we mean something when we talk?


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