Clash of Cults

[orleanide]

[Tonight on Victorian London: Emerald edition, we bring you a normal everyday ritual.

For the most part.

Under an abandoned church - the remains of the Order of Dagon - a new group has set up their own gathering. Shrouded in dark hoods, at least twenty people have been separated into groups of three or so with an overseer for each.

In short: it's sort of like a classroom for cultists. Most of these people are new and trying to harness the energy from the rift that infamously goes through London. Surely their god will be pleased. But before they try the main event, they really need to get their newbies into shape. Just going through some basic summonings and magical exercises, nothing that should be too bad.

Enter a problem: See that weirdly shiny relic in the center of these destroyed, watery ruins? Another cult happens to believe that belongs to their God. That cult is currently waiting in the shadows for a moment to strike and attempt to steal it. So maybe they ruined this harmless practice session on purpose or maybe the rift in spacetime was too much for the newbies to handle. Either way, their summoning doesn't go...right. It gives cult number two over there a chance to run in, magic ready.

So where does this leave you?

Maybe you were just summoned in. Maybe you were spying. Maybe you were invited as a witness to the training session. Maybe you were passing by when fireworks started blasting out of the church ruins.

Either way you should probably get out of here. There are strangely spacious sewer exits against the right wall, definitely wide enough for people to go through. There are crumbling stairs and doors going to winding catacombs. Maybe you can follow some of the escaping cultists and hope they don't turn on you. Maybe someone will rescue you.

All of it is up to you.]

Comments

[inhumanity]

[Christopher puts a hand on her forehead to stop her.] Too many numbers. No fun. Can't hear any of it. I'd like another cookie, please.

[affectate]

I enjoy numbers! The meaning is simple: my age far outweighs your projected mourning time, based on my most likely cause of death from existing in such a place, and my projected regeneration speed.

[She says as she hands him another cookie. That's such a weird word. Cookie. It's a biscuit.]

[inhumanity]

No.

[He puts the cookie in her mouth.]

[affectate]

U-Uu --

[Well. It stops her from talking at least. Instead she launches into a coughing fit. Ow.]

[inhumanity]

[Sorry, Michi, but your pet dog is giggling.

SHE'S JUST SO FRAIL.]

[affectate]

[YOU WON'T BE LAUGHING WHEN SHE DIES IN EIGHT YEARS

Which won't be happening anymore I guess.

Anyway, she's okay after a bit, if a little startled. As people tend to be when they nearly choke to death.]

Christopher... was that truly necessary?

[inhumanity]

You weren't listening to me.

[You weren't listening to him saying he didn't want to listen to you.]

[affectate]

You were not listening to me...! I will be all right at this distance.

[inhumanity]

[He crouches down in front of her and gives her a monstrous puppy face.] But you don't have tea for your cookies here. Or milk.

[affectate]

[SHE IS POUTING IN KIND. DON'T MAKE HER GET UP PUPPY-DAD. IT'S FUN WATCHING PEOPLE DIE.]

I require neither milk nor tea, Christopher. If you would like some of either, then perhaps you should fetch it yourself!

[inhumanity]

[He shakes his head.] Your poor father must be suffering as you go through your rebellious age. Having seen many go through it myself, I know the best thing to do is just to encourage you. Go in, Michi! Slaughter all the people before us!

[affectate]

[... She doesn't really want to cause her father any more trouble. At the same time, being seen in there might make things worse.

And killing people is so...]

Mass murder is so very boring, Christopher.

[A beat.]

In addition, if you would like, you could refer to me with any other name...! I do possess several that you would certainly find more ease in pronouncing.