(LOG) The Tenebrae's Majority Speech

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Location: Delta Junction, Alaska
Discord Handle: Voxumo#7925

Sun May 20, 2018 6:10 am

This is a log of a speech I did as the Tenebrae. Several posts were removed from other players given the use of languages that codely my character did not know and as such just appeared as gibberish. A few relevant posts from other players were kept given their importance to the overall scene.
Church Plaza Before the Church
[Pleasant, cloudless, slight breeze from the northeast, afternoon] 
  Broken flagstones sporadically litter the plaza, shifted by years of
neglect into a treacherous minefield of muck or stone.  One wrong step can
wedge a leg knee-deep in a pothole, or trap an ankle.  Tiny homes and
businesses ring the edges of the plaza, all dwarfed by its main occupant:
the church that rises in all its derelict glory to the west.  One tarnished
bell still hangs high above in the tower, made delicate by its rotted wood
and crumbling stones, solitary as it sounds the hours.  

(A crowd of primarily freeman have gathered before the church, or more
correctly before the cloaked individual standing atop the steps leading into
the church.  A good number of cloaked brutes linger closer to the masked man,
clearly acting as ragtag security. )

[ Exits: north  east  south  west ] [ Air exits: up ]
     A menancing black pyre has been erected here, reaching for the sky. (northeastern corner) 
     A swath of dirty linen cloth is tied to a post. (center) 
     Rough timber posts along the road burn candles rank with rancid animal fat. (northwestern corner) (lit)
A person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder is standing atop the church steps, before a myriad crowd

Once a sufficiently large crowd has gathered, the cloaked man clears his throat and gestures with both hands for the crowd to silence. "As I am sure many of you are wondering, Why have I gathered you here today? And who exactly am I?" The cloaked figure gestures towards the crowd from atop the steps "Both valid questions my friends. Those who've come before me have had many titles, though you might know me best as the Tenebrae," He pauses to allow that detail to sink in, gaze sweeping across all those present. "and why I've gathered you is in regards to your future. The Future of freemen all across our great kingdom." [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

With the revelation of whom this individual is, muffled whispers of shock can be heard among the more naive members of the crowd [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

(REDACTED) listens quietly as the speaker speaks, his eyes a bit wider than normal as his young personage seems to be in the presence of a well-known bandit.

"In the wake of our Dear Queen's passing, you can be damn certain vultures of all variety will emerge from all corners of the kingdom, their beady gaze upon who will sit upon the throne next." His right arm sweeps above the crowd in a horizontal slash "As such it is important that we not allow ourselves to be used. A noble from Asglen, Roland ab Beaufort, is one such vulture. No doubt in the coming weeks he will make his intentions known across the kingdom, versus spoken only in the shadows. This particular vulture is no doubt involved in the horrific death of our Late Queen, as he spoke of dethroning our Queen on the unfounded basis of possessing the blood of a Harmon, well before her actual death! Coincidence? I think not!" [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

(REDACTED) nods along as the figure speaks, not necessarily appearing to agree, but at least listening and understanding.

(REDACTED) moves his way forward through the crowd, " Come on, let me through, I can't see, never saw the Tenebrae before." he says to the few freemen around him.

"Of course you may ponder how this involves you? How this involves the Freemen of our Kingdom? I'll tell you how. This usurper, this vulture, in the letters he sent to your city leaders months prior to the Queen's death, his words held no compassion for us. The manner in which he wrote, he viewed us as little more than insects. This is not an unfamiliar stance for a noble to take, but most do not make such a view so easily known. No doubt if allowed to speak his silver-tongue, he would lie to your faces and proclaim some false love for the freemen..." The Tenebrae shakes his head, cloak shaking with the movement "No. I will not stand by as we are lied to. As truths are kept hidden from us!" [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

(REDACTED) finally makes it to the front of his little crowd of freemen, looking at the cloaked individual with a bit of wonder, then frowning and canting his head, " I thought he was taller." he whispers to whichever freeman is next to him.

"Do not mistake my words here today. I've no love for the nobility, but I have even less love for those who would so blatantly use us as mere pawns in their schemes! We are the Freemen of this Kingdom! We are the blood and air that keeps this kingdom thriving! Without us," The man slams his right fist against his chest, an audible clink of metal resounding across the plaza "The nobility would have no kingdom to lead!" His fist is shot into the air in a forceful gesture "It is upon this role we fill that I call upon all those gathered to wield the power it offers us. The power of the Majority!" Of course the vocal charalin in the crowd are not unnoticed, given they stand out like a sore thumb upon their steeds... But the one identifying as the Tenebrae seems to pay little mind to words spoken in savage tongue [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

And likewise, like sore thumbs, the Charalin are likely the only ones who don't join in on the cheering and fists rising in support of a fair-skinned man with close-cropped ebony hair's speech. a (REDACTED) at least looks indifferent and stoned faced, or just stoned, or both. He turns and looks at (REDACTED) and (REDACTED) and blinks. "It was good speech," he decides to say, nodding his head. "For them," he then adds, gesturing at the Freeman who are not savages. 

(REDACTED) grins and claps at the speaker's speech, " Majority!" he calls out as those around him cheer.

"And do what?"  {REDACTED) shouts up at the supposed Tenebrae.  It's not disagreeing, necessarily, but... undirected, looking for focus.

"All those who bleed to ensure the nobility maintain a kingdom to lead are part of this majority." The cloaked man utters, perhaps overhearing the words of the savages "I ask you here today, will you stand by and allow yourselves to be the insects the Usurper views us as? Or will you stand up and make your power known? To make it known that we will not stand by and allow him to claim a throne not his, and to lead OUR Kingdom into destruction?" Regardless of the answers that are given, the Tenebrae continues, his voice as forceful and full of determination as ever "I call upon all those gathered here today, and to all who will hear of my words to stand in solidarity against those who seek our Destruction to further their own ends! Who would seek to strip us of our Humanity! Who would seek to rob us of the power we wield as the Majority!" [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

Triggered both from the speaker and from (REDACTED), a slow chant starts spreading through the crowd, hands rising in time as they start chanting, " Majority! Majority! Majority!".

"Somethin' to drink to!"  (REDACTED) puts in to the cloaked figure's words with a chortle at her own comment.  "Solidarity of the decent, hard-working folk!"  She doesn't pay much notice towards the eyes on her.

"This is Our World! Our Kingdom! Our Lives! And it is time we make our voice known, make our power known! And most importantly make any who treat us as pawns and insects second guess their choices!" All throughout these final words, the Tenebrae has been thrusting his fist into the air, emphasizing the end of every sentence "Spread this message across the land, to any who will listen! If the vultures ignore our words and the Usurper takes the throne, the Majority will ensure his arse does not have time to stain that honorable seat, as we will revolt!" [a person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder]

A person wearing a fully-faced mask with charcoal hands cupping the eyeholes with an enveloping gray cloak pinned with a hand at the shoulder yells, ""We will not stand by and be lead to our destruction! If matters come to it, the majority will reclaim our kingdom from the Usurper and Vultures!""

(REDACTED) grins a bit as those around him chant, listening to the speaker, " Our world!" he calls out, the small crowd around him taking up the words again, " Our world! Down with the Usurper, Down with the Vultures!" he looks around, " Hey, I didn't say all that!" he says to a nearby freeman, he then shrugs and goes back to listening, well as best he can with chanting going on around him.
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Sun May 20, 2018 7:54 pm

A 'response' from the Holy Order took place to rumors of the above speech in Church Square; the log of which is posted below, edited to contain the meat of the speech itself.
Farra looks fatigued, the small woman impeccably clean but, for now, holding herself with a kind of lethargy one might not exactly expect from a woman wearing such fine clothing as she is adorned by. a cascading liturgical robe of chalice-faced crimson velvet covers much of her figure, but beneath that a six-panel bodice alternating white silk and golden velvet is smart and prestigeous, fitting easily in a reserved, Lithmorran fashion. a white-and-gold Inquisitorial bolero with a crimson lining shields her eyes from the autumn sun; nearby, a pigeon-eyed guardswoman with a narrow build stands with a spear shouldered, present and watchful of the assembling crowd.

"People of Lithmore!"

Farra's voice echoes out, calling any low chattering to silence as she lifts a hand helping to indicate that result. a bold metallic ring set with the iconic Inquisitorial seal glitters fat and imposing on her pale flesh, quick to catch the light. She's got an impressive set of lungs on her for a woman so small, her voice carrying out across the Square without terribly much trouble. Her smile dances to her lips, warm and pretty, as her hand lowers and she begins to speak.

"Recently, we entertained a speaker here before the Cathedral of blessed Saint Aelwyn; perhaps, perhaps, some of you were there for this speaker: a man who clouded himself with a mask, a man who called himself the Tenebrae and claimed to speak 'for the people'."

She gestures, continuing along. "He stood here, not far from where I stand today, to throw accusations about like the daggers his cloaked ilk do, to try to try to wedge in the hearts of good men and good women the doubt that empowers his brood. Shall it be said what it is the Tenebrae is: the leader of a band of murderers, thieves, cheats, and worse." [Farra]

This diminuative brunette certainly seems comfortable on this stage she's stood on, with all these many eyes turned to offer her a regard. Her voice is sharp and easy to understand, her mastery of the kingdom's common language evident and without the accent one might expect from a noblewoman with 'dul' centering her name. 

"As he and his minions gathered their crowd to the south, the leadership of this Kingdom strove to bring Justice to the murdered Queen, her Majesty ab Samael. The Lord Justiciar and the Lady Earl Marshall work tirelessly to ensure the culprits are brought to the light; myself and the Prime Medicus of the Royal Physicians examine evidence and track various leads to keep this city safe; and the Lord Seneschal..." A strained smile momentarily takes to her lips, a strain wrinkling her eyes; it doesn't take a clever wit to guess that some dissonance exists in the woman at the mention of the Great Lord. "Well, I hope he's found some way to contribute." [Farra]

A glance locates Steven dul Greighton's arrival and she continues on, apparently content not to answer this maiden as she continues to speak. She doesn't shout, not really, despite her volume: perhaps she's had some bardic training at how to play to a crowd. "This Tenebrae is a masked criminal, a man who refuses to even show his face as he tries to incite a mob to put cracks in the Order which governs this great Kingdom so that the poison of his lies might seep in to fester for his own gain." As Farra continues to speak her gaze roams the crowd; Marisa dul Damassande is, upon being spotted there with her small retinue, given a pause of the Grand Inquisitor's roving gaze and, in the brief pause between sentences, a minute dip of her head before the honeydew-green stare continues about the assembly. "I know, good people, that you pay his deception no heed: that he is but a rat at our feast, hoping to grow fat from stealing your hard work for his own."

Here the woman has lifted a hand to gesture with it in a wide sweep to include all. Upon one cuff of her litigurical robe, the golden sigil of Saint Celeste shimmers with the soft silk it is sewn with. "In his arrogance, still, he claims to speak for you: the people of Lithmore, the backbone of the Lord's community; in his ignorance, he tries to cast blame towards those he has never met, to the nobility which Dav ordained stand as the chaperones and guides to maintain this holy Kingdom."

 The beautiful noblewoman helming the Holy Inquisition continues on with her address, "King Dav ab Harmon, the Saint of Saints, consolidated this Kingdom so that all might be safe, kept secured away from the poisoned whispers of the Taint. Men like this Tenebrae resisted back then, and certainly they find their courage in the chaos of our Queen's death to try to raise themselves again to the ruin of all. Would you trust what a blind man sees, what a deaf man hears?"

There is a very, very brief pause that doesn't quite offer enough time for any answer: the question is proven rhetorical as the Grand Inquisitor supplies: "Of course not, no; so do not trust what a masked man claims as any kind of truth." 

By now her arms have fallen back before her, the voluminous sleeves of a cascading liturgical robe of chalice-faced crimson velvet masking much of her stoic figure. Her voice doesn't seem much worn from the effort of speaking across the square. "This is not my Kingdom, certainly not. This is not your Kingdom, or the Kingdom of the Nobility, or the Kingdom only of the Crown. This is the Lord's Kingdom, and we are the Lord's people, each placed where we stand with a purpose He guides us to fulfill. This is our Kingdom, people of Lithmore. Do not trust it to serpents who diguise their faces and offer sweet poisons in these difficult days."

From here, her focus locates Steven dul Greighton in the gathering, calling out to him: "Lord Justiciar, have you anything to add regarding the Tenebrae or his 'Brotherhood'?"

The speech is listened to with a calm expression on Steven dul Greighton's part, though he doesn't seem inclined to refute it. Rather, the faint nod of his head can be seen as if he were in a semblance of agreement. Periwinkle eyes focuse their gaze upon Farra's own when she looks to him, his weathered face seeming to darken with a degree of age. When he speaks, he does so with a deep, easily carried voice as if he were all too used to speaking before a group. "What the Grand Inquisitor speaks is truth, as any law abiding and faithful resident of our fair kingdom should know." He doesn't move from his position but he does draw himself just a mite taller as he's given a wide berth by the few people lingering too near, unless otherwise noted. "Only recently have I received missives from the Tenebrae seeking to claim he represents the citizens of Southside. How he was different from those who came before him. That he -cares- about the people rather than holding ill intent." A pause is given, long and pregnant in its meaning before he finally punctuates, "Yet not even days later I found evidence to prove otherwise. A man is only as good as the company he keeps, and the Brotherhood has always been a den of vipers and scoundrels looking to benefit off of the backs of the people they claim to care about."

Farra's chin dips to the Lord Justiciar as eyes turn back towards her. "Go with peace, people of Lithmore, and with the assurances that those who lead do so with honor and deterination, with truth and faith. And that when one turns from their calling, to try to betray their oaths of Nobility or Governance, that they will be buried beneath the Justice which unites us all, each in our place."

Her head dips; the wide brim of her white-and-gold hat shields her eyes. "Lord Bless, Lord Protect."

The speach is, apparently, at its end.
~~ Team Farra'n'Stuff. ~~

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