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Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2012 11:43 am
Quote: --and then ...! The metal piece clatters down a step against the front door of one of the homes down here, the silvery ribbon unraveling from within it. As you are about to reach for it, however, the door of the home opens, and you find yourself staring at the soft slippers of a City Person. He bends to retrieve the piece of the clockwork casually, as though retrieving his morning paper. Half of his hair blends in with his black skin, and the other half is shock white in contrast; only one white eyebrow is visible on his face, as well, which he quirks as he eyes you. It is early enough in the morning that it is not much of a shock that he is still in nightclothes with a smoking jacket over them. A bit stranger is the manner in which he addresses you then, as though he knows you somehow, or may have even been expecting you: "Do you believe that the end justifies the means? Always?" He gestures with his fingertips towards the end of the cul-de-sac where the constable has cornered the dog, a casual wave like flicking the ashes from a cigar. "You should keep an eye on your friend," he adds, then twists one end of the silver ribbon once around each index finger, stretching it flat to scan its surface. Having apparently lost interest in you for the moment, he retreats to his home, and shuts the door. --- There is a clank of a gate shutting off in the direction the constable had been headed, and sure enough, he is separated from you by a wrought-iron gate coated in peeling paint. The cul-de-sac ends in a small garden, though the plants look a bit in want of care. The constable has cornered the dog clockwork, but he is no longer alone. With a quiet rustle of fabric, cultists ring the ox-horned man in the garden, though the buildings at the end of the street prevent you from seeing just how many of them there are. The sleeves of two of them are visible just beyond the bars, but, more importantly, the one now facing the constable carries a small glowing orb in a golden cage. The policeman looks around him, clenches his fists, flexes his sturdy muscles. "The gate is shut with magic," the cultist with the caged orb cautions. "Even if you overpower all of us, you will not be able to force those bars open until I choose to allow it." Reactions are welcome, though there may not be much more you can do here, other than watch. So far, at least, the cultists have not noticed you....
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Posted: Fri Jan 20, 2012 7:01 am
With the door now shut firmly in his face, Tempest brought himself to his feet. He stared at the door for a moment, trying to burn the man's face into his memory - it was unique enough that he felt he could recall it. All of this was rather strange, really-
At the sound of the gate, the boy spun on his heels and looked up the block. His eyes widened when he realized what had happened. No, no, no! Feet pounding the pavement, he rushed towards the gate and leapt onto the bars - however, he wasn't that great a climber, so the best he could do was hang there and stare outwards, trying his best to see over the heads of the cultists.
He did not know what the orb was, what it might do - but he could only imagine that the constable was in a lot of trouble just now. Trouble that a sandy-haired book child probably could not help him with. Tempest swallowed thickly and clung to the gate for dear life, dreading what might come next but equally afraid to look away.
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Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 7:48 pm
The cultists closest to the gate glanced back over their shoulders at the sound of someone jumping onto the bars; they nodded to each other, but appeared to decide not to bother with the Book Child for right now. Their leader squaring off with the constable in the middle of the scrubby residential garden commanded their attention.
"In the name of the District Watch, I place you all under arrest for crimes against the City and its People," the policeman said.
"The best you can do?" the leader replied. He spreads his arms, cage containing the orb still held in one hand. "Come, arrest me, then. I assure you, our work is only concerned with the betterment of ourselves, and of the City."
The constable scoffed. "By slaughtering its citizens? My duty is to keep the people safe. If that's what you're trying to do, then you're failing, because too many people have died."
The cult leader raised his voice slightly, as though trying to intimidate the bull-horned man's letters with his own. "Our mission is far more intricate than you could imagine, copper. And it requires far more skill and preparation than you use to chase down petty thugs. No, we are working against far more powerful things, and you, and all the other citizens who stand against us, are standing in the way of salvation for the City."
He pointed at the constable. "Perhaps I should place you under arrest, for impeding my work! My civic duty!"
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