Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
Mothguard has locked the Mount down and are not letting people in.
Kingdom of God: A Quest of Holy Revolution
- Thread starter Cetashwayo
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Mothguard has locked the Mount down and are not letting people in.
Ah. We can't scream at them to have someone come out to talk or anything?
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
It is absolute chaos up there and you don't know if they are dealing with traitors inside their own ranks. No chill rn.
Well, I suppose we shall give them time to sort it out and notice we're fighting outside their doors. Hopefully it'll be before Sword-Altar gets through.
[X] Fortify the streets around the Heavenly Mount.
[X] Menace Vikrag Prison and prevent sorties [Nuns of the Gunpowder Eucharist will support this action].
For this strech of our march started with darimg assault on an old fortress, the spiral once again returns to it in a grander manner. Time strike at the jurors once more, for they seem to have forgotten, that the greatest spark comes from the soul of the righteus when it strikes at the jaw of Evil.
For this strech of our march started with darimg assault on an old fortress, the spiral once again returns to it in a grander manner. Time strike at the jurors once more, for they seem to have forgotten, that the greatest spark comes from the soul of the righteus when it strikes at the jaw of Evil.
The Gunpowder Preacher (Mr. Breaksit)
DocSpooky
Humblest in the World
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I'm still not entirely satisfied with this one, but given that it takes place before all the shit went down I figure I need to post it now before it loses relevance entirely, so
He didn't expect to be concerned about her the morning she vanished. Under normal circumstances, he supposed he wouldn't, but the broadsheets had been very excited about the fights, the assassinations, the previous night. The photographs were gruesome; an old Iconoclast man burned alive inside his temple, a gaggle of Confessor students trampled under stampeding cavalry, a young Amalist woman, practically a child, face down in the gutter with a bullet hole in her neck and scorch marks on her habit.
Whatever the pamphlet woman was preaching, it was clearly troublesome, and now she wasn't here. Many of the street preachers were absent. The lack of their shouts and prayers made the noise of the rush-hour streets seem somehow wrong.
The hisses and clangs of the factory were a blessing after that, and the heat welcome after the chill. The preachers' voices could never reach in here, so their absence was less felt. Nabu nodded to Young Jed across from him and they awkwardly waited for the kettles to start coming down the line. On other days, this is where they would talk about the cassowary fights, but it seemed wrong today. The pause lingered until the devil in the room could be ignored no longer.
"Do you know what happened to the preacher outside?" Nabu yelled over the tumbling of hollow metal shells.
"Huh?" Jed reported back,
"The preacher outside? The girl?"
"Gonna have to narrow it down for me, mate."
"The one who was about.." Nabu frowned waving his hand for a moment, "Women in the Juries or something? Something like that?"
A kettle frame rolled into place and the two began their work assembling the spout and handle. The rivet gun reminded Nabu of the pamphlets again.
"The Khoffer?" said Jed, "Dunno. Probably gone to ground after last night."
"They went after them too, hey?"
"'Course they did! You ever read those pamphlets?
"I never touched one, she only offered them to the girls."
Jed shook his head, "You have to read theory, mate. It's the only way you'll get educated enough to form a proper theological opinion of your own."
There was a sound like the ringing of temple bells right by Nabu's ear as the Most Reverend Overseer brought his cane down on the machinery next to them. "You're here to work, gossip on your own time."
They shut their mouths. It wasn't worth trying to continue a conversation in this noise anyway.
The street preachers had begun to return by the next day. Their rhetoric had grown more firey and their positions more radical. Orthodox voices were met with boos or drowned out by the loud hymns of those nearby. Nabu had had the good fortune of watching a preacher be knocked off a soapbox in the middle of a lecture about the role of the Juries by a well-thrown pomegranate from a woman with an entire basket of ammunition prepared. The woman with the grey cheeks had not yet returned.
By scripture, the factory workers were required a ten-minute sabbat in order to eat and perform midday prayers. Nabu and Jed had found an appropriately meditative spot to eat with a good view of the factory clock. As he bit into his slightly stale naan, he realised he should have asked the throwing woman for a pomegranate.
"Think she was hit, then?" Asked Jed through a mouthful of bread and hummus.
"Hm?"
"Your gunpowder girl. Wasn't here again today?"
"Is that what it was on her face? Gunpowder?"
"You really haven't looked at any of those pamphlets, have you?" Jed stood up and wiped a stray dot of hummus from his beard, "You should if you get the chance. They're good writing."
"Are you gonna start preaching it, then? You seem like an expert."
"Don't have time," Jed gestured at the clock, "I'm no good when it comes to theology, anyway. I can never get the right words."
Nabu swallowed his naan and pulled himself up, "Another time, then. Over beer?"
"Over beer."
The two men returned to the noise of the factory floor
"The word of God is writ in fire and smoke!" She said, and Nabu stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn't alone now, there were two other women with her, waving the same pamphlets, and a very large man in a red bandana trying his best to look intimidating a few meters away. Most of the workers and passers-by were ignoring her as usual, but one of her companions had captured the attention of another worker and was eagerly presenting them a pamphlet.
Nabu stood to the side to compose himself. It was such a small thing, but it felt like a miracle. The preacher, the woman he had never talked to nor listened to, the woman he had been hardly aware of the existence of, was here and she was alive and well and was not face down in a gutter with a lead pellet lodged in her neck and scorch marks on her habit. He breathed in, taking in the smell of fire, metal, and too many people and walked up to her milk crate.
"These rites are a false idol, built to enshrine Man as God and lower Woman into slavery!" She wasn't as young as Nabu had assumed at first. Not weathered and old, but somehow Nabu had thought of her as almost a child, not a woman his age or older.
"Excuse me, Sister," he said, and the preacher and her entourage seemed to notice him for the first time. The nuns were wary and the man concerned.
"I noticed you a few times coming into work and I just thought I never really, uh, payed much attention. Could I have one of those pamphlets of yours?"
The preacher grinned at him with wild eyes, "Of course! Please, share them with sisters, mothers, wives! There is a brief guide to Fulminary Dhyana on the last page, along with our address if any sisters have questions or trouble arming!" She had pressed the paper into Nabu's hand and given the increasingly baffled man a tour of the pages. He blinked, and tried to follow along.
"Thank you, I'll," he paused, searching for the appropriate response, "Be sure to spread that around."
"Be sure you do! Brother Sarkan over there has a few pieces about the broader HaKhoffshim message if you have an interest yourself," she said, expertly maneuvering him further towards the factory, "The Ma'On also have an outreach centre just by the river if you're more interested in our brothers. Please, spread the Word as far as you can! Hello, sister, how much are you paid?"
And Nabu noticed he was now standing behind the whole group except Brother Sarkan who was now holding another pamphlet towards him, arm separating him from the preacher now engaging a coworker. The conversation, evidently, was over. Nabu nodded and took the new pamphlet, the Six-Shin-Alef emblazoned on the front in bright red ink, and tucked them away under his belt. He turned towards the factory, the preacher's voice slowly drowned by the clanking and hissing, took off his coat, and took his usual place at the assembly line. He would have to read these ones, he mused, if only so Jed couldn't keep making him feel like an idiot about these things.
The Gunpowder Preacher
Every morning she would come to the factory, cheeks stained grey and with an arm full of pamphlets. She would set herself up on an old milk crate, too late to greet every worker but always early enough to delay a few. She would wave woodcuts depicting lines of women in military formation, while shouting about visions in gunsmoke and the faithful woman's right to fire. Nabu rarely paid attention. It was not a sect he was familiar with, and not one he cared to learn about. There had been so many since the Sanhedron had been called and it was, to him, simply not worth keeping up. To his relief, he did not seem to be the target of her preaching anyway, she mostly brandished her papers at women, only handing them to the men who asked directly.
He didn't expect to be concerned about her the morning she vanished. Under normal circumstances, he supposed he wouldn't, but the broadsheets had been very excited about the fights, the assassinations, the previous night. The photographs were gruesome; an old Iconoclast man burned alive inside his temple, a gaggle of Confessor students trampled under stampeding cavalry, a young Amalist woman, practically a child, face down in the gutter with a bullet hole in her neck and scorch marks on her habit.
Whatever the pamphlet woman was preaching, it was clearly troublesome, and now she wasn't here. Many of the street preachers were absent. The lack of their shouts and prayers made the noise of the rush-hour streets seem somehow wrong.
The hisses and clangs of the factory were a blessing after that, and the heat welcome after the chill. The preachers' voices could never reach in here, so their absence was less felt. Nabu nodded to Young Jed across from him and they awkwardly waited for the kettles to start coming down the line. On other days, this is where they would talk about the cassowary fights, but it seemed wrong today. The pause lingered until the devil in the room could be ignored no longer.
"Do you know what happened to the preacher outside?" Nabu yelled over the tumbling of hollow metal shells.
"Huh?" Jed reported back,
"The preacher outside? The girl?"
"Gonna have to narrow it down for me, mate."
"The one who was about.." Nabu frowned waving his hand for a moment, "Women in the Juries or something? Something like that?"
A kettle frame rolled into place and the two began their work assembling the spout and handle. The rivet gun reminded Nabu of the pamphlets again.
"The Khoffer?" said Jed, "Dunno. Probably gone to ground after last night."
"They went after them too, hey?"
"'Course they did! You ever read those pamphlets?
"I never touched one, she only offered them to the girls."
Jed shook his head, "You have to read theory, mate. It's the only way you'll get educated enough to form a proper theological opinion of your own."
There was a sound like the ringing of temple bells right by Nabu's ear as the Most Reverend Overseer brought his cane down on the machinery next to them. "You're here to work, gossip on your own time."
They shut their mouths. It wasn't worth trying to continue a conversation in this noise anyway.
*
The street preachers had begun to return by the next day. Their rhetoric had grown more firey and their positions more radical. Orthodox voices were met with boos or drowned out by the loud hymns of those nearby. Nabu had had the good fortune of watching a preacher be knocked off a soapbox in the middle of a lecture about the role of the Juries by a well-thrown pomegranate from a woman with an entire basket of ammunition prepared. The woman with the grey cheeks had not yet returned.
By scripture, the factory workers were required a ten-minute sabbat in order to eat and perform midday prayers. Nabu and Jed had found an appropriately meditative spot to eat with a good view of the factory clock. As he bit into his slightly stale naan, he realised he should have asked the throwing woman for a pomegranate.
"Think she was hit, then?" Asked Jed through a mouthful of bread and hummus.
"Hm?"
"Your gunpowder girl. Wasn't here again today?"
"Is that what it was on her face? Gunpowder?"
"You really haven't looked at any of those pamphlets, have you?" Jed stood up and wiped a stray dot of hummus from his beard, "You should if you get the chance. They're good writing."
"Are you gonna start preaching it, then? You seem like an expert."
"Don't have time," Jed gestured at the clock, "I'm no good when it comes to theology, anyway. I can never get the right words."
Nabu swallowed his naan and pulled himself up, "Another time, then. Over beer?"
"Over beer."
The two men returned to the noise of the factory floor
*
"The word of God is writ in fire and smoke!" She said, and Nabu stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn't alone now, there were two other women with her, waving the same pamphlets, and a very large man in a red bandana trying his best to look intimidating a few meters away. Most of the workers and passers-by were ignoring her as usual, but one of her companions had captured the attention of another worker and was eagerly presenting them a pamphlet.
Nabu stood to the side to compose himself. It was such a small thing, but it felt like a miracle. The preacher, the woman he had never talked to nor listened to, the woman he had been hardly aware of the existence of, was here and she was alive and well and was not face down in a gutter with a lead pellet lodged in her neck and scorch marks on her habit. He breathed in, taking in the smell of fire, metal, and too many people and walked up to her milk crate.
"These rites are a false idol, built to enshrine Man as God and lower Woman into slavery!" She wasn't as young as Nabu had assumed at first. Not weathered and old, but somehow Nabu had thought of her as almost a child, not a woman his age or older.
"Excuse me, Sister," he said, and the preacher and her entourage seemed to notice him for the first time. The nuns were wary and the man concerned.
"I noticed you a few times coming into work and I just thought I never really, uh, payed much attention. Could I have one of those pamphlets of yours?"
The preacher grinned at him with wild eyes, "Of course! Please, share them with sisters, mothers, wives! There is a brief guide to Fulminary Dhyana on the last page, along with our address if any sisters have questions or trouble arming!" She had pressed the paper into Nabu's hand and given the increasingly baffled man a tour of the pages. He blinked, and tried to follow along.
"Thank you, I'll," he paused, searching for the appropriate response, "Be sure to spread that around."
"Be sure you do! Brother Sarkan over there has a few pieces about the broader HaKhoffshim message if you have an interest yourself," she said, expertly maneuvering him further towards the factory, "The Ma'On also have an outreach centre just by the river if you're more interested in our brothers. Please, spread the Word as far as you can! Hello, sister, how much are you paid?"
And Nabu noticed he was now standing behind the whole group except Brother Sarkan who was now holding another pamphlet towards him, arm separating him from the preacher now engaging a coworker. The conversation, evidently, was over. Nabu nodded and took the new pamphlet, the Six-Shin-Alef emblazoned on the front in bright red ink, and tucked them away under his belt. He turned towards the factory, the preacher's voice slowly drowned by the clanking and hissing, took off his coat, and took his usual place at the assembly line. He would have to read these ones, he mused, if only so Jed couldn't keep making him feel like an idiot about these things.
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
@Mr BreaksIt Very happy to see this! Really liked the representation of more ordinary and depoliticized workers and how they might think of the sect and its membership. I was also amused that it appears their register is Australian.
Congrats on getting the first sidestory bookmark
Congrats on getting the first sidestory bookmark
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
You can assume this is happening organically. Zero people in the city don't know that something is happening and word is spreading like a wave function across the city.
Cataphract
Denizen of Qliphoth
- Location
- UTC +8:00
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Love this line in particular, hah! A wonderful omake. I hope Nabu and Jed are doing okay.
- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The struggle is real. @Cetashwayo changing BACK to my original vote:
[X] Retrieve Sarbadgar from Karogen Academy and reinforce his push on the Sanhedron [Scourge of God will be supporting this action].
Deadly Snark
Tryhard As Fuck
Another look at the state of the riot.
- Location
- Minnesota
[X] March on the Sanhedron and protect the Elders at all costs.
The Patriarchial Mothguard by ArvisPresley
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Speaking of the Mothguard
They are the Ever Watchful Eyes of God, All-Seeing and Vigilant
Art by me
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Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
@ArvisPresley Sick. That's gonna be a bonus to the Mothguard's rolls (plural). Threadmarked as well.
- Location
- Australia
[X] Fortify the streets around the Heavenly Mount.
How sweet it is to see the colours planted in the eye of the hurricane, where six wings encompass the tumult. The moon shall rise and the sun shall fail and with it the schemes of both Synod and Sword-Altar shall likewise fail. So expect this to be the longest day, for God's most faithful are never forged in lukewarm crucibles.
How sweet it is to see the colours planted in the eye of the hurricane, where six wings encompass the tumult. The moon shall rise and the sun shall fail and with it the schemes of both Synod and Sword-Altar shall likewise fail. So expect this to be the longest day, for God's most faithful are never forged in lukewarm crucibles.
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
That's the power of dripped out uniforms
Elvish Trickery
Cynical Fashionista and Ancient History Aficionado
- Location
- Agri Decumates
[X] Retrieve Sarbadgar from Karogen Academy and reinforce his push on the Sanhedron [Scourge of God will be supporting this action].
Battle Hymn of the Apocalypse (Pempelune)
Pempelune
Fanfiction Deep State
To the tune of the Marseillaise
Arise flock of the devoted
The World to Come is approaching!
Against us from old Babarak,
The bloody sword comes for our heart! (x2)
From Tzinhas Barracks do you hear
The Malek coming for Vashti?
Evil can sense the Light dawning,
They're rushing to extinguish our hopes!
Cock fists, O flock of God!
Seize whip and lash God's foes,
Swear vows, swear vows!
To see Evil
Shrivel under your blows!
What do they seek this horde of kings,
These plotting rohirs and dark priests?
For whom these unholy shackles,
These fetters the synods have made? (x2)
For Patriarch Elders and all,
For all souls, they wish serf bondage.
But Light will not falter today!
The slavers will be brought down at last!
Cock fists, O flock of God!
Seize whip and lash God's foes,
Swear vows, swear vows!
To see Evil
Shrivel under your blows!
Arise flock of the devoted
The World to Come is approaching!
They tremble, these dark men of sin,
For everywhere God's Dawn is breaking. (x2)
Can you hear, the battle din
Is the song of freedom coming!
In factories and in the south,
In all of God's Kingdom slavery will end!
Cock fists, O flock of God!
Seize whip and lash God's foes,
Swear vows, swear vows!
To see Evil
Shrivel under your blows!
The Battle-Hymn of the Apocalypse
Arise flock of the devoted
The World to Come is approaching!
Against us from old Babarak,
The bloody sword comes for our heart! (x2)
From Tzinhas Barracks do you hear
The Malek coming for Vashti?
Evil can sense the Light dawning,
They're rushing to extinguish our hopes!
Cock fists, O flock of God!
Seize whip and lash God's foes,
Swear vows, swear vows!
To see Evil
Shrivel under your blows!
What do they seek this horde of kings,
These plotting rohirs and dark priests?
For whom these unholy shackles,
These fetters the synods have made? (x2)
For Patriarch Elders and all,
For all souls, they wish serf bondage.
But Light will not falter today!
The slavers will be brought down at last!
Cock fists, O flock of God!
Seize whip and lash God's foes,
Swear vows, swear vows!
To see Evil
Shrivel under your blows!
Arise flock of the devoted
The World to Come is approaching!
They tremble, these dark men of sin,
For everywhere God's Dawn is breaking. (x2)
Can you hear, the battle din
Is the song of freedom coming!
In factories and in the south,
In all of God's Kingdom slavery will end!
Cock fists, O flock of God!
Seize whip and lash God's foes,
Swear vows, swear vows!
To see Evil
Shrivel under your blows!
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- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
One of the Nuns of the Gunpowder Eucharist, running door to door and calling for strong arms and backs to go to Vikrag Prison to contain the garrison there, pauses. She remembers Yatoni Temple, that night at the museum and its tyrant angels. It is the most prominent location in the Western Navel left unaccounted for. What is going on there now? Are student radicals rasing barricades around its campus? Have Jurors seized the building and its learned men? Nobody knows.
[X] Go to Yatoni Temple and see what's happening there. If the Jury has tried to take it, warn the streets. If allies are using it as a rallying point, link up with them. If people are congregating, add them to the mob.
[X] Go to Yatoni Temple and see what's happening there. If the Jury has tried to take it, warn the streets. If allies are using it as a rallying point, link up with them. If people are congregating, add them to the mob.
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Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
Sure, though this will only need one person.
@Pempelune Excellent. Threadmarked under apocrypha. This will come into play for the fighting
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
[X] Menace Vikrag Prison and prevent sorties [Nuns of the Gunpowder Eucharist will support this action].