City: Amoren
Location: Market near the outskirts
Time: Dusk
43rd of Glade, 120 AS
There was a slight breeze that whispered through the crowd gathered before the fountain in the market. It was a warm breeze that passed between legs and over shoulders, and as it tugged on clothing and hair there was a sound like the soft shushing of a mother calming her child. At this moment one could almost forget where they were as the last dying lights of the day cast their glow on every autumn leaf of Amoren, setting the world ablaze in reds and golds. A smokeless fire that smelled of poverty and desperation.
The flames of retribution. Reima thought to herself as she looked over the crowd from her elevated position. The breeze became a sudden gust that whipped the veil from her face and snatched at her ashen skirts, pulling and tugging with such force that the little Fae had to squint her golden eyes against the assault. When at last the wind had past Reima passed a hand over her braided hair, lingering on a white flower that bloomed over one ear before she pulled the grey veil back over her features once more.
"This world is broken." The statement was left to hang now in the still air, the crowd waiting in silence through more than a few fidgeted restlessly. It was those that Reima focused her gaze on, staring at them for a long moment until they ceased their motions. Perhaps it was the intensity of her stare, or maybe the atmosphere of the scene. More likely it was the Eye of Ulen emblazoned on her veil, an indicator of who she was and what she represented.
"This world is broken." The words were repeated, this time softer and with more meaning. "It is twisted, corrupt. It is infested like a diseased body, being eaten from within by a plague known as mortal hubris."
There was another pause in which a few more stirred and cleared their throats. This was expected of course, and it couldn't be helped. These were people who needed to hear the words of Ulendreaism. They did not yet understand, but given time they would.
Without a word, Reima raised a small leatherbound book in one hand, undoing the clasp with the other and letting the cover fall open of its own accord. She turned several pages, her motions slow and meticulous, almost reverent as if she treasured each and every stroke of the pen and the words they formed. Finally, she seemed to find the page she was looking for, and there paused and put a finger on the page before looking up.
"It was written that from the fractured Providence of the Clockwork Empire would rise a new Empire, one which would come to be known as the New Clockwork Empire forged in blood and sacrifice. The words were spoken and then written in The Oaths, and thereafter the Pontefix set House Blancéford to be the ruler of what would be the Daravinic Empire. This act ignited the fires of change, and the separated became whole once more, and so the Empire of Rust came to be." Silence filled the space once more, the minds of those who knew the basics of history recognizing the tale of the founding of Daravin. Reima waited until several in the crowd showed recognition, and she nodded to these and continued, "This prophecy was made, along with four others. This first prophecy was written and now has come to pass as was foretold. Four more remains, and at their end, there will be a change in the world the likes of which shall put the Sundering to shame."
One hand jutted forward, four fingers held upward for all to see, "Four Prophecies are still to come." all but one finger was folded, "The region of Turoth shall be made one beneath the new forged Clockwork Empire." A second finger was raised, "Having seen these works, Ulen will grace the great Pontefix with his voice and his blessing to guide the change to come."
A third finger followed came up, and with it Reima leaned forward slightly, adding an edge to her voice as if righteous anger boiled inside, "The heretics of the world will be put down with impunity, and the streets will run with their blood and bile. The nations of old will fall and pave the way for the final prophecy."
The last finger was raised, and with a loud clap, the book in her other hand was snapped shut, "When all these things have come to be, only then will Ulen return to us and bring with him a cleansing cataclysm that will sear the world and reduce it to ash. From that ash, there shall arise a new world, one freed from the impurities of old."
"The time is quickly approaching. I know you have felt it, seen it. This is why you are all here now, listening to these words. Those who prepare themselves for what is to come shall be saved and taken into Ulen's protective embrace. Those that do not will face the flames of destruction, alone and bare." Reima clasped her hands behind her back, looking around at the crowd who were now lit by the fire of touches and lamplights around the market. The twisting shadows cast by these lights cast odd shapes upon their features. The silence stretched further, and at last Reima raised one hand to touch over her left breast where a heart would be, "On this night, I leave you with a question. Where will you stand when Ulen returns? Have you prepared for yourself?" Again she paused and reclasped her hands at her waist, "For your sake, I pray that your eyes are opened and you begin your preparations immediately."
With that Reima turned and stepped off her boxes, signaling the end of the evening's sermon. A sigh was quickly stifled as a wave of weariness washed over her. This had been the fourth sermon of the day, the shortest one for certain, but after spending all day in the sun talking to and answering questions she was exhausted.
I deserve a drink. Reima thought with a smile, pushing her veil back over her hair. Looking over her shoulder she could see the crowd beginning to disperse. Watching them idly Reima wondered if Urs was still awake. Maybe he could buy her something. None of the local bars would sell to her, no matter how much she tried to argue that she was, indeed, old enough to drink and that she was not some lost child looking for her mother. She could have punched the last man who tried to pat her head. Lucky for him she had not saved up a Jynx, or she would have used it without hesitation.
Hopping up on the edge of the fountain Reima let her feet tangle as she began packing away her things into the small back she carried for this occasion. She definitely needed a drink tonight.
