The unspoken message shifts the opinion of the 'spectating' workers enough for Dreams-of-Light to notice the difference. They frown and murmur amongst each other, their expressions showing unspoken questions about the sermon and the truth of their situation. But none dare speak openly to Dreams or address such concerns aloud, as there are monks watching nearby, and the last anyone would wish is to risk themselves or their family being labeled an Anathema friend.

On the other hand... it is almost certain these people will return to their homes, to tavern common rooms and other places they might gather, to give voice to their growing doubts. Despite the success the Immaculate Order has had at pacifying the people in the past, it cannot completely nullify the impact of recent events and the dissatisfaction that they have at the increased security that resulted.

Gerrun, in the meantime, doesn't even seem to be reacting. He is deep in what appears to be a serious conversation with an attractive blonde woman, a secular Dragon-blood whose hair is arranged in braids woven with tiny jade bells. Seated at a pew nearby her is a girl no more than 14 or 15 years old, with even paler blonde hair in ringlets and eyes of a vibrant crystal blue. She is garbed in a black floor-length cloak, covering the clothing underneath, with the hood raised so that her curls are only partially exposed. On her neck is a collar, much as Dreams wears.

[Private to Dreams-of-Light: You have a little more leeway right now since Gerrun appears to be attending to business. It's doubtful you'll be allowed to just run off, but you could possibly talk to someone. Or listen in on Gerrun's talk.]

Dreams smiled inwardly and drifted casually over to the pew where her fellow Anathema sat and took her own seat. She tapped her collar and gave the girl a sympathetic smile before turning to eavesdrop on Gerrun.

[Private to Gatekeeper: OOC: 10:01, Today: Dreams-of-Light rolled 3 successes using 4d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,2,2,10. Per + Awa, eavesdrop. ]

The girl on the pew smiles, but the expression seems odd on her, as if she had merely practiced smiling enough times that she got the hang of when and how to do it. Almost immediately afterward her face goes smooth. "My name is Mourning Bell," she says aloud, almost without inflection, and observes Dreams-of-Light closely. "I like your robe," Bell remarks innocently. "But I think you should heed the masters more, so your skin stays pretty."

Gerrun is talking rather animatedly to the Dragon-blooded woman. Dreams can't make out every word but she gets a good impression of what they are talking about: the attack that had maimed Sefima. One of the neighboring temple nodes was attacked by 'Free', and some of the epithets and insinuations they speak in describing this entity gives Dreams the impression they are a pack of untamed beastmen, attempting to incite the workers to riot and possibly lure 'them' out.

"...if Free wishes their attention... we should do the same..." the older blonde woman sounds like she is saying. "...could unwittingly lead us... where the Uncollared are hiding."

Gerrun's reply is much quieter than his usual booming voice. He gives the two sitting on the pew a brief sidelong glance. "...more direct... draw them out with one of their own..."

Meanwhile, Mourning Bell swings her legs back and forth, humming to herself. She is short enough that her feet cannot reach the floor from where she is sitting. The girl doesn't seem interested in the quiet conversation at all.

Dreams chuckled richly, though if it was at Mourning Bell's comment or the attack upon Sefima, even she couldn't tell. The Collared beside her was indoctrinated, broken, faking it or maybe even all three. "All men - and women - die. Even the Dragon-Blooded. Even us. Pain is my friend because I have made it so. For as long as I breathe, I will serve the Unconquered Sun to the utmost. And when I should die, I will face Him in the end and know I will have done my best."

The Zenith deliberately arranged her robe to show a little more cleavage when Gerrun and the secular Terrestrial glanced her way, baring her teeth into a smile that had no friendliness in it. "And thank you for the compliment. I am Dreams-of-Light, Zenith Caste priestess of the Unconquered Sun."

Then she chanted her noon prayer under her breath, as she always did, no matter where she was.

"Thy priests go forth at dawn; they wash their hearts with laughter;
Divine winds move in music across thy golden strings.
At Sunset they embrace thee, as every cloudy rafter
Flames with reflected color from thy wings."

The Dragon-blooded woman laughs throatily as she hears Dreams' introduction and the blasphemy that pours from her lips. She speaks loudly enough to be heard clearly. "Oh, you have a live one, I see. Not even the Immaculates themselves can cow her. That will be a problem, won't it?"

Gerrun's face is creased with a frown, but Dreams-of-Light knows he is holding himself back. He'd noticed the subtle reaction Dreams inspired in the few workers who lingered. Nor does he wish to reduce to base tactics when a woman of obviously high breeding -- with a perfectly behaving Collared Anathema, at that -- is watching. "She can talk. But few will think her words anything but heretical ravings. It only means that her contact with others should be vastly reduced."

"Is that so?" The blonde, bell-adorned woman glances at Dreams' cleavage with interest, showing no sign of disgust. "Continuing to take from her with only scripture to explain yourself will only make her fight all the harder. I wonder if she is wasted here, languishing away in the Earth District with you."

"You are little better, sorceress," says Gerrun roughly. Obviously there is little love between him and this woman.

The blonde meanwhile gestures to herself in introduction. "So, Dreams of Light, Priestess of the Sun, is it? I am Cynis Zerabia, and I see you have met Mourning Bell. She is my daughter, and one of the Wretched. You'll show her, won't you dear?"

Mourning Bell smiles her perfect smile and then her eyes turn suddenly dark. Even the whites become completely black. A perfect circle scribes itself in blood on her forehead. [Private to Dreams-of-Light: I'm not sure you'd know an Abyssal on sight (particularly since she was disguising it up until now) but I figure they are mentioned among the other types of Anathema preached against. Either way you get a distinctly unpleasant feeling when the girl accesses her Abyssal Essence.

We'll time skip soon, I think you'll able to see some of the other PCs soon-ish -- they are going to attend the next mass.]

---

OOC: edit, she should have been a Cynis instead of a Ledaal.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:23, Fri 27 Mar 2009.

Dreams faced the Dragon-Blood squarely. "Nightbringers aren't touched by death, my lady," she said with perfect politeness.

"Of course they are not," Zerabia says crisply, touching Bell's head once she has banished her dark power, and looks like a normal (if pale) girl again. "She is a rare one, a corrupted Solar. There are only six of them in the entirety of the Coils, and we have their shards completely controlled. In time, the same will be done for you Solar Anathema as well. After all, the technology for such already exists. It's just a matter of finding the opportunity to apply it." The blonde looks quite pleased at this thought.

Gerrun steps in. Dreams can see the vein on his temple that pops out whenever he is very, very displeased. "You are shameless, Zerabia. Leave us be. You have enough information from me. Send your Black Anathema on her task, do not waste her Essence on displays."

"Oh, do you care that much? How sweet. And here I thought you hadn't the taste for women. Farewell, Master Gerrun, and pet." Zerabia's painted lips are still smiling when she starts to move away, toward the door further into the temple complex.

The Earth Master grasps Dreams-of-Light unkindly by the arm. "Back to the cell with you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:45, Tue 10 Mar 2009.

"Bad news?" Dreams asked sweetly as Gerrun hauled her off. Whatever pain she endured tonight, it would be worth going through at the knowledge there were free Exalted out there.

Gerrun's hand grips harder. But he doesn't break her bones, or even bring out the rod he often prefers for discipline.

He takes Dreams-of-Light roughly to her small chamber and -- using the collar to keep her dazed -- shackles her by her hands and feet. When he is done she is suspended from the ceiling by her arms, and her legs chained to the back wall. She drapes there uncomfortably, her limbs stretched painfully as her center of gravity shifts her head and torso away from the wall.

The Earth Master has no more words for her. The heavy door closes and there is neither light nor sustenance for days.

[Private to Dreams-of-Light: I'd say about 3 days pass. You can write Dreams' thoughts or you can wait a bit longer while I get the next scene set up.]

Deep within the darkness, shut away from the light, Dreams allowed herself to drift into a reverie despite the pain. She chased fragments of memories and dreams, of what the Sun looked like, and the look on Gerrun's face if he ever met Sol Invictus.

Dreams-of-Light feels it is somewhere between dawn and zenith when the door to her cell opens again. Gerrun is there, holding a chipped tin cup of water. He steps toward the wall, forces it to her lips and tips it. Whether the water goes into her throat or sloshes down her robe from her stubbornness, depends mostly on her.

"Too soon. This is hardly enough deprivation for you." The Earth Master shakes his head and begins to undo the shackles. "But it is time for mass, and I will have you attend -- quietly."

Before she enters the B25 Conclave temple, Gerrun brings her to a washroom. There are two fully-shaven monks there, both female. Under his careful gaze they strip all but the collar and bathe her -- by dashing her repeatedly with buckets of cold water. They use rough rags to dry her still-healing skin. They brush her hair without comment, without care for working out the tangled strands carefully. Dreams gets an impression they, too, are serving some sort of penance, by being made to attend to her like maids. It is not the first time she has seen such.

Gerrun watches the entirety impassively. One wonders if he has even the capability for desire with such an attitude. Finally, he brings Dreams-of-Light a new robe to step into, a 'proper' robe. "Wear it. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Dreams swallowed the water carefully and endured the 'washing' with the faintest curve of her chapped lips. She donned the robe and tied it tightly, twisting her hair into a loose knot. Then she smiled brightly at Gerrun and replied, "The easy way. Your torments get more tedious by the hour, and are woefully unimaginative."

"You thought this torment? No. In fact, I was showing you kindness. Little that you deserve it." Gerrun's face hardens as he brings Dreams from the deeper bowels of the Greater Temple Complex towards the chamber that serves as the B25 Conclave Temple... as seen from the outside.

They emerge together from one of the doors at the rear of the room, to the left of the pulpit. The double doors leading into the laborers' settlement are currently open, flanked as before with two monks on either side.

Dreams-of-Light recognizes most of the people seated at the pews. In fact she might even suspect that there are fewer than there were even three days before. Had her silent message that day had more of an effect than previous days? Though Dreams has only but rarely seen the outside of the temple since her captivity, she can almost feel a palpable difference in the people. Unrest... uncertainty... and in some, even unhappiness.

Some start to murmur when Dreams comes in, dressed appropriately, clean with no scars showing.

At one of the front pews sits the blonde woman with bells in her hair that the Zenith remembers is called Zerabia. Her paler-haired 'daughter' is with her, in her enveloping black buttoned cloak. Zerabia smiles at Dreams, as if in welcome -- surely a blasphemy!

Then, from the front doors, comes a trio Dreams has never seen before. Two are dressed like miners, and one like a clerk, trailing behind them. [Private to Peleps Dashu; Ledaal Xurizu; Saina Nanaret: Here's your cue to enter, and some info specifically from your point of view.

Among the people gathered for mass, all of you see the collared woman you glimpsed a few days before, coming in from a door on the rear wall. She's dressed in a much more chaste robe this time, that covers most of her body. She has creamy skin and long black hair bound in a loose knot, and she's quite beautiful... not as much so as Dena, but enough to be appreciable.

She's being escorted by an Earth Immaculate of the Fourth Coil, a tall, well-built man, bald and clean-shaven, with blue eyes and eyebrows that indicate that his hair is black.

The blonde woman with bells in her hair, you're certain is a Dragon-blooded of high breeding. Hard to mistake that. The girl sitting with her has pale blonde curly hair coming out from her black hood. She's very pale skinned with light blue eyes. Almost doll-like. She also, you notice, has a collar as well.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:06, Thu 12 Mar 2009.

Dreams smiles sweetly at Zerabia and drawls, "Hello there, m'lady. Come to entertain yourself by listening to Master Gerrun's sermons again? As you can see, he's dressed me more appropriately for the occasion."

"He has indeed!" Zerabia says, laughing softly as she takes in Dreams-of-Light's slightly altered appearance. Mourning Bell, silent today, just smiles her strange, practiced smile.

"I am sure this will be quite theatric," continues the blonde Dragon-blooded quite frankly. "After all... there's been these attacks by Free, and all these terrible rumors... The Immaculate Order of all things must save face, and encourage solidarity at a time like this."

Gerrun, Immaculate of the Fourth Coil, climbs the dais to the pulpit carrying in both hands the heavy tome of the Immaculate Texts. He gives a sharp look to Dreams and a dour, disapproving one to Zerabia.

"Oh dear. Let's sit and be quiet for now, shall we?" Zerabia offers a space on the pew to Dreams. There is also Dreams' 'usual' seat, the one set into the rear wall where Gerrun usually has her sit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:45, Thu 12 Mar 2009.

Dreams sat down with Zerabia, openly defying Gerrun with a toss of her head. Oh, she'd pay for this, but damn if the look on his face wouldn't be worth it...

Nanaret, in her guise as 'Bryn', steps into the temple interior for the first time.

She is a tough, wiry woman, above average in height, wearing a dull brown worksuit and a woolen cap over her head. Her skin is dusky brown and her hair a tousled blue-black, cropped close to her head. Her face and hands are still slightly grimy, though she has washed herself as best she could before shuffling in with the rest of the congregation.

The posture Bryn assumes is one of weariness from the day-in, day-out work cycle of an Earth District laborer. It isn't necessarily a fabrication, either -- after all, for the past few days she has been living that very life. And she has had less sleep than she would have liked, in order to make it back to the Conclave in time for her brief absence to go unnoticed.

Inwardly, though, her blood pumps with the brashness of this very move. Stepping right into the Immaculates' den! Ranavalona stirs in her psyche, a dull yearning for action, for carnage. Not now! Nanaret -- Bryn -- remains firmly in control of herself, taking in everything and everyone around her with a careful curiosity. Is that girl... another collared? Two of them in the same place?

Bryn makes her way to a rear pew and sits down, assuming her miner companion will join her. He is her brother, after all.

Dashu walks in and sits next to Nanaret to keep up the guise of him being her sister.  He was sure Xurizu was right behind him.  As he walked through the temple, a cold chill ran through him.  He disliked this place.  To him, it represented the source of all the suffering in the Coils.  The Immaculates were the ones who pushed forth their propaganda vilifying the Sun Chosen.  And here he was walking into one of their temples.  "For a reason," he kept telling himself.  This reason did not keep him from trying to note all the best hiding places in the room.  After all, he was one of the Wretched.  Hiding was what he did.

As he took his seat for the service, he looked around and noted their target sitting near a little girl who was also wearing a collar.   "She's one of us too?" he thought to himself.  He takes a moment to study both the collared women and then turns his attention to the other occupants in the temple.
[Private to GM:

Best not be ill-prepared.  I'm activating my infinite MA master before I enter the temple.  Committing 16m from the peripheral pool and paying 1m to keep anima from flaring.

Today: Peleps Dashu rolled 7 successes using 9d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 4,8,9,5,7,6,7,10,8. Perc + Awareness. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Fri 13 Mar 2009.

The younger girl with the collar looks completely content, even blissfully distracted, her blue eyes wandering 'round the room as she sits obediently. But Dreams-of-Light looks defiant and anything but content to the newcomers' eyes, sitting on the other side of the blonde Dragon-blood. [Private to Ledaal Xurizu: You're certain you've seen this blonde woman before. Though she was not your keeper, she was definitely around now and then, a colleague of Sienna's. In fact, seeing her has jolted some small part of your memory. You sudden recall names: Sienna, Misa and Zerabia... a trio of sorceresses. Misa, you recall, is silver-haired, while Sierra is red-haired and Zerabia, obviously, blonde. You'd seen Misa before, in fact, during the fight back in Floor B29.]

The disguised Night Caste familiarizes himself with his surroundings. Some of the best places for hiding are toward the far end of the room. Beneath the altar, between the locked cabinets holding sacred items for Immaculate rites, or shadowed by the statue of the Elemental Dragon of Earth, situated behind the monk preparing the Immaculate Texts and beneath the mon of the Omphalos at the rear wall. There are two doors at the rear wall, as well; the left one the Immaculate monk and Dreams-of-Light came from, and another one on the right side. On the left side there are also dimly lit alcoves, possibly for conferring privately with the monks.

The other workers and families in attendance have mostly quieted their uneasy mumbles and settled in the pews. Some have names the trio would remember (such as Cairen, the clerk Xurizu knows, and Vergun, the man Dashu remembers had lost his brother). Others they might not remember by name, but have seen daily: a timid man with short, uneven scarlet hair, a man with dark brown dreadlocks, a woman with straight purple hair cut short and angled to the line of her chin. Nanaret notes Hilde is not around at all... though she does recognize more than one off-duty guard.

Right now, with all these people in the way, there is no safe, immediate way to contact the collared ones. Dashu, Nanaret and Xurizu have little choice but to sit through the sermon, for now.

---

OOC: I'll move through the sermon and allow for more interaction when I'm not too sleepy to write.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:16, Fri 13 Mar 2009.

Xurizu started a little when he saw the blonde woman sitting up there at the front of the room, but managed to conceal his surprise well enough that hopefully none of the those present would notice his momentary loss of internal composure and thanking fate that she was facing towards the front of the temple.  He didn't like the thought of testing his disguise against someone who might actually know him.  Once he'd gotten over that thought, he was able to take in more of his surroundings, wondering at the second collared person in the room, scant more than a girl.  What's she doing here? he wondered about both of them, as he took a seat, nodding in greeting to Cairen as he settled himself.

I wonder what an immaculate sermon is like these days ...

Master Gerrun stands at the lectern with the Texts open in front of him. The opening sutra he reads is a vignette of a man who shirked on his duties but once in his life, but that one time inadvertently set off a chain of events that wrecked the foundations of society he lived in.

"We all have a duty to maintain the proper order of society," Gerrun preaches. "Every one of us, from the lowliest refuse worker to the high-born maiden in her manse of blue jade! Society is built up by the hard and honest work of those who accept their place in the Hierarchy, and apply themselves wholeheartedly into occupations appropriate to their station. To stray from our established lot in life is to invite uncertainty and breed mistrust. There can be no true order if even a single man chooses selfishly to prioritize his own immediate comfort, ambition or gain!"

Gerrun's intense, fervent gaze sweeps through the gathered crowd. Many of the common folk under his penetrating blue gaze bow their heads quickly -- sometimes guiltily -- when he focuses upon them. "Take pride in the work you do. You are not mindless drones, as the machines are. So long as you hold faith in your heart, you are greater than the commands you are given. You are suffused in purpose. You will never be poor in spirit, for you are the foundation stones of society, and your efforts enrich us all." Not every man or woman bows, though. Some gaze back at him, their chins held steadily. Though is it for belief in his words, or belief in themselves?

"But be wary. Among you walk those who would convince you to stray from the path of duty and diligence. They will place in your heart the idea that order is unnecessary, that you ought be allowed to rise from your station, partake in knowledge and decisions you are ill-prepared for. They will speak to you of freedom. They will speak to you of injust enslavement. But once they have abused your faith, they will build nothing lasting with you, for they will ultimately wish to defy the Hierarchy and pursue their own ambitions."

"They are the Anathema," the Earth Master pronounces ominously. "And they must be brought under the watchful eyes of the Dragons, lest they unravel all that your hard work has helped build."

Gerrun continues on at length in this theme, reading another passage from the Texts of the days when Pasiap still walked the earth, and the Anathema found his faith too mighty, and his patience too enduring to break him. To emulate Pasiap, he states, is the best defense against those who flaunt power without earning it.

It goes on for at least forty minutes, until finally the Earth Immaculate shuts the sacred tome upon which the Immaculate sutras are scribed. By then, all but a few of those seated are noticeably glassy-eyed with the fervor Gerrun has stirred, and the ones that aren't... stand out. Zerabia, for example, looks alert and bemused, and the younger collared girl seems almost disturbingly happy, swinging her legs back and forth on the pew.

Zerabia gives Dreams-of-Light a critical look. "Heard it all before, I presume?"

---

OOC: Hopefully this is not moving too fast, I just figured no one would talk during sermon anyway.

"Of course," Dreams responded before rising and turning, sweeping her gaze across the gathered Immaculates and workers. She knew she had to get these words out before Gerrun choked her.

"Master Gerrun speaks of the sin in defying the Hierarchy. But what of the Terrestrials' defiance of the Mandate of Heaven, which the Unconquered Sun, the Lord of Heaven and Earth, set down at the beginning of time when all Exalted overthrew the Primordials. The Celestials were placed above the Terrestrials; but in Five Coils, we find the opposite... an inversion, if you will, of the natural order. Yet they accuse *us* of breaking the Hierarchy? No, it isn't us, but those who are so powerless they must chain us with collars that choke our breath if we speak the truth."

She took a breath and continued. "The Celestial Exalted sinned, there is no denying it. We forgot the fundamental truth of the Hierarchy - that all have their place in it, and that the Exalted must take care of the mortals beneath us! Yes, Gerrun is correct in that. But the Dragon-Blooded, who even now repeat the sins of the Celestial Exalted, wouldn't let us have another chance to build a world where everyone has a place according to their worth. I can understand their fear. But I will not excuse it!"

[Private to Gatekeeper: OOC: 09:45, Today: Dreams-of-Light rolled 1 success using 8d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 2,1,9,6,3,2,5,5. Cha + Performance, Preaching!.]

Throughout the sermon Bryn focuses on two things: attempting to mimic the reactions of the people around her, while listening closely and carefully to the sermon itself. She remains appropriately hunched and cowed in her seat, and when Gerrun looks her way she fidgets and doesn't quite meet his eyes. After all, Bryn the miner is anything but a rebel. She's the everywoman looking to make a living and stay out of trouble. She talks a little too much sometimes, and now and then she slacks at work, and she's just a little bit thick-headed, but she's a good person and a model citizen. She rightly fears and admires the Immaculate monks.

Nanaret, though, is anything but ignorant and anything but admiring. She knows some of the darknesses the Dragon-blooded hide, how they tell different truths to different people and hide the rest in order to keep the people content. Maybe this monk truly knows only what went on in this Conclave, but Nana has served time in the Pit, seen the mutant rejects they sent from the District of Wood, witnessed the hypocrisy of the Water Purge.

Ranavalona recognizes the rage inside her, and croons softly to her 'puppet'. They deserve it. These upstart Dragon-blooded deserve to feel your fingers digging into their throats. When the dark-haired collared woman opens her mouth, delivering what could well be her final defiant speech to the dazed crowd, Nanaret very nearly gives in. They DO deserve it! They'll silence this woman because she speaks her mind, for questioning what should be questioned!

But the rational part of her mind gives her pause. The Immaculates may very well want the other Celestials to reveal themselves. They may be waiting for them to rise up right now and join in solidarity with the collared woman. Keep your cool, she decides, forcing herself to look up at the Immaculate with a confused and worried expression on her face. Don't give up the act yet!

During the service, Dashu had tried to to imitate the reactions of the people as best as possible so that his disguise would not be compromised.  He did manage to remember some of the sutras from his days as a child before he exalted.  All the while though, he did try and keep at least one eye on the woman to keep track of her actions.

Dashu cursed to himself as he heard the collared woman engage in her lofty exchange with the woman.  If the idea was to be discrete then there was no way to go unnoticed with when the collared woman was giving speeches.  She seemed to obviously be a Zenith.  He hoped this exchange would end soon enough where he might be able to see where the collared woman went to.  Having located the possible hiding places earlier he looks around the building once again to note possible exits from the building and how the mortal parishioners were behaving.

[Private to GM: Today: Peleps Dashu rolled 4 successes using 9d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 2,9,10,6,8,5,5,2,5. Perc + Awareness. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Sat 14 Mar 2009.