NationStates Jolt Archive

The following is posted on one of many flyers found on telephone poles, car windsheilds, and doorsteps throughout the world:
Greetings, fellow traveller on this lonely world we call Earth!

Are you an unhappy person? Do you ever stay awake at night, wondering about the secrets of the world, the one TRUTH that unites us all? Do you ever wonder if, somewhere out there, you may have a greater purpose in life?

If you answered yes to any one of these questions, this letter is for you. If you answered no, read it anyway and you'll most likely find something you agree with.

We are the chruch of the Five Angellic Orders, and we have your answers!
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1196190.jpg
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1179847.jpg
This is the crest of our religion, and it displayes the five orders of angels working under Iskal, the angellic link between man and God.

The orders are:
Heart Order
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1179854.jpg
This order of angels deals with the connections we humans make with each other. Friendship, love, even hate are all governed by angels of the Heart Order. Understanding this order helps you connect with other members of our religion, as well as help convert those who have not yet seen the light in our ways.

Body Order
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1179852.jpg
Our pains and pleasures, what we believe our physical limitations to be and what they actually are when we forget the lies we were taught all are under the juristiction of this order of angels. To know this order is to master your body and release it from its earthy teathers.

Spirit Order
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1179855.jpg
Angels that function under this order exist to help us expand our minds past the limitations we place on them, and change our perception of reality to the true one. Our minds are clouded by human wants and desires, sins and lusts, and these angels are here to help us overcome our flaws of the mind.

Hand Order
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1179853.jpg
The angels of the hand order teach us to apply our physical and mental skills to the real world in the form of creation. These angels are the builders within us all, and represent the human power to materialize things of the mind with physical force.

Union Order
http://67.18.37.14/135/37/upload/p1179851.jpg
When all these orders synergize under one power, you end up with the truest of orders, the highest and hardest to master. Those with a grasp of the union order of angels excell at all things, and have reached the best possible state a human can aspire to in this physical world of ours.

If you would like the answers to your problems, please visit our Welcome Center in your area for a complimentary consultation and order allignment reading, which allows us to tell you which orders of angels inhabit and influence you the most.

Should you desire to join our glorious religion, there is a one-time entry fee of $100. But what is money compared to pure utopian bliss?

May the Orders be with you, Iskal bless!

((OOC: Feel free to RP as someone finding one of these fliers and going to a Welcome Center to be screened. I'm looking at building a cult here. ;) ))

ReBUMP

Corum had wandered far and wide, on both land and sea, sky and space. Thirty years had seen him on many planets and in many lands. But he was no mere traveler. He had spent seven years in Central Worlds marine corps and after dishonorable discharge decided to sell his skills to highest bidder. Now at fifty, though most lived to around one hundred and twenty in central, he was left wondering just what he was doing and wanted to do with his life.

Greetings, fellow traveller on this lonely world we call Earth!

Are you an unhappy person? Do you ever stay awake at night, wondering about the secrets of the world, the one TRUTH that unites us all? Do you ever wonder if, somewhere out there, you may have a greater purpose in life?

If you answered yes to any one of these questions, this letter is for you. If you answered no, read it anyway and you'll most likely find something you agree with.

We are the chruch of the Five Angellic Orders, and we have your answers!

"Hmph."

Every religion he knew of held nothing for him and he continued walking. But the sign on the pole nagged at him.

'I had never tried did I?' he thought to himself. 'What can it hurt? I certainly have no answers elsewhere.'

He asked around, finding directions to the Welcome Center. Before entering he made sure his PPG was hidden and his dagger was ready in it's arm sheath hidden under his sleeve. His other weapons he had left in the small motel room he was renting. Satisfied, he entered.

The tall man stood over six feet in height with greying brown hair and blue eyes with almost a violet tinge. His skin was tanned and scarred in many places and his hands were rough. He looked around the welcome center, not sure of why he was here, let alone where to go.

Brusca leans down from her galloping steed and in a swift and practiced movement snatches the sheet of paper from the grass.
More litter blown from other nations into our homelands....
She stuffs the offending object into her leather pouch and continues her journey, where it lays forgotten until many hours later.
Whats this? Oh, the litter.....
She goes to throw it into the fire, but something catches her eye and she reads what it says.
Humph, another religion......Mind you, it does sound more in keeping with the old ways than the others....
Damn, I suppose it IS my job to check it out!

Cursing Odin under her breath, (just incase the old goat is listening in again), for seemingly dumping every duty upon her head, she goes to get changed into the ceremonial armour of a Valkyrja.
Thirty minutes later she has remounted her war horse and is on her way.

Corum had wandered far and wide, on both land and sea, sky and space. Thirty years had seen him on many planets and in many lands. But he was no mere traveler. He had spent seven years in Central Worlds marine corps and after dishonorable discharge decided to sell his skills to highest bidder. Now at fifty, though most lived to around one hundred and twenty in central, he was left wondering just what he was doing and wanted to do with his life.

Greetings, fellow traveller on this lonely world we call Earth!

Are you an unhappy person? Do you ever stay awake at night, wondering about the secrets of the world, the one TRUTH that unites us all? Do you ever wonder if, somewhere out there, you may have a greater purpose in life?

If you answered yes to any one of these questions, this letter is for you. If you answered no, read it anyway and you'll most likely find something you agree with.

We are the chruch of the Five Angellic Orders, and we have your answers!

"Hmph."

Every religion he knew of held nothing for him and he continued walking. But the sign on the pole nagged at him.

'I had never tried did I?' he thought to himself. 'What can it hurt? I certainly have no answers elsewhere.'

He asked around, finding directions to the Welcome Center. Before entering he made sure his PPG was hidden and his dagger was ready in it's arm sheath hidden under his sleeve. His other weapons he had left in the small motel room he was renting. Satisfied, he entered.

The tall man stood over six feet in height with greying brown hair and blue eyes with almost a violet tinge. His skin was tanned and scarred in many places and his hands were rough. He looked around the welcome center, not sure of why he was here, let alone where to go.
The welcome center was small and unassuming, an inviting place that made absolutely sure to be fancy and decorative, but not to be too exuberant. Its carbon-crystal stained glass windows poured multi-colored light out into the streets, casting spectres of the angels portrayed in them onto the ground, and beconing passerbys in by promising them a divine hearth and sanctuary within.

As Corum pushed open the door, a intricitly-crafted steel piece with engravings of angels and the divine insignia covering its surface, the gleaming white interior was revealed to him. To say it was clean would be an understatement. From the marble floors to the Greco-Roman statues and pillars, the place was immaculate. Unlike the outside, the inside didn't limit itself in appearance and showiness, and instead flaunted the wealth of the cult. In the center of the room before Corum, the epitome of this financial temple, was a large marble statue of the angel Iskal, the nexus between man and God, surrounded by five collumns each engraved with the insignia of one order of angels.

Directly in front of Corum, however, was a sign that seemed to rise directly out of the marble floor, as if some divine hand had pinched the hard white surface and drew it up halfway to the ceiling, making a flat panel. Inscribed on this sign were the following words:

Greetings Traveller!
You have taken the first step towards enlightenment, and for that we commend you! You have peeled away the humble exterior of our Welcome Center and found the divine bliss within. We welcome you, even if you are not a member of the Church of the Five Angellic Orders, in the hopes that you may find a personal enlightenment in whatever path you take. Should you choose or if you have already chosen to follow our teachings, enlightenment is assured from Union of the orders and the following of Iskal. Iskal is the guide and the path, Iskal is the seeing and the thinking, Iskal exists only as a causeway to bring us to God.
All interested in joining the Church should proceed to the welcome desk past the statue of Iskal and speak with our Divining Technition. Any interested in simply attaining more information about our Church should talk to one of the Greeting Members in the statue plaza.
God Bless! May the Orders be with you!

Stationed around the statue Corum observed several white-robed members conversing with commoners, the robed ones all smiling the same loving, friendly smile. The majority of these were females, their robes tied with a white sash around the middle so as to expose their figure to anyone... interested.

At the far end of the room stood a large thick table made out of dark wood, behind which stood a woman in green robes and a strange golden box for a hat that seemed to vibrate or twitch.

Brusca leans down from her galloping steed and in a swift and practiced movement snatches the sheet of paper from the grass.
More litter blown from other nations into our homelands....
She stuffs the offending object into her leather pouch and continues her journey, where it lays forgotten until many hours later.
Whats this? Oh, the litter.....
She goes to throw it into the fire, but something catches her eye and she reads what it says.
Humph, another religion......Mind you, it does sound more in keeping with the old ways than the others....
Damn, I suppose it IS my job to check it out!

Cursing Odin under her breath, (just incase the old goat is listening in again), for seemingly dumping every duty upon her head, she goes to get changed into the ceremonial armour of a Valkyrja.
Thirty minutes later she has remounted her war horse and is on her way.
After almost an hour of riding, Brusca came upon a single tent blowing in the breeze. It had a multitude of teathers tying it down, most of which were fairly hefty lengths of ropes. The tent itself appeared to be made of a solid sheet of some unidentified animal's hide, undulating slowly in the wind.

In front of the tent was a simple wooden sign with a lamp mounted on top, reading:
Church of the Five Angellic Orders: Welcome Center!
All are allowed inside!

The Archbishop of Roan groaned when he read the blasted pamphlet he had been sent from the Intel Office. As if the bloody Magus wasn't problematic enough! he put the pamphlet into a 'to be denounced later' file.


~~

Alyosha Chyorny read through the entire thing once more, twice. "A foul perversion of the true faith," he finally decided, starting through it a third time. This time, after he finished a page, he ripped it out and folded it into the shape of a swan.

"...more Resian junk, really," his Intel Advisor, Dean Gray, murmured softly into his ear as he stepped from behind the curtains.

"GAH!" the paper flew up. "I told you not to do that!" he backhanded the man. "And you have no proof of your accusations. Honestly. Milk is soured mysteriously. It's because of Resi Corporation. A meteorite falls to earth near your car. It's Resi Corporation. Just once, I would like to hear an explanation BESIDES Resi Corporation."

"Um...Crimmond?"

"Right. That's it. I'm going to go get happily drunk now."

~~

Ivan had seen the pamphlets and in the dead of the night had them read to him. They called to something inside him, something he had never felt from the competing faiths of the Magus Reborn or of the Church. So, he had gathered up all his belongings, hoping they would be worth the $100 he needed, and set out, hoping against hope that there would be some place near his village where he could join this new religion.

Ivan had seen the pamphlets and in the dead of the night had them read to him. They called to something inside him, something he had never felt from the competing faiths of the Magus Reborn or of the Church. So, he had gathered up all his belongings, hoping they would be worth the $100 he needed, and set out, hoping against hope that there would be some place near his village where he could join this new religion.
((OOC: First off, roffle @ all the stuff I cut out of the quote. :p

Second, Ivan is in Roania, correct, and not some other nation less likely to get random-people-I-don't-care-about-but-who-are-technically-on-my-side wacked? My cultists would have to be nuts to go up against the perpetual inquisition you've got up there, but hey, they're cultists, it's their job to be crazy. I'll find some way to explain it.))

(You are correct, sir! ^^ And the Inquisiton's too busy to bother with some cult like that at this moment.)

Corum looked around, not surprise by the extravagence of the place.

"Another give me all you have so I can live like a king religion", he muttered. The women caught his eyes and watched them appreciatively. He forgot about the reason he was here as he admired thier fine figures. But to say that he wasn't paying attention was a fools errand. The woman in green, specifically the box hat she wore, made him a bit edgy and his fingers twitched, wanting to pull the gun from it's conceiled place in his belt, under his coat.

(You are correct, sir! ^^ And the Inquisiton's too busy to bother with some cult like that at this moment.)
((OOC: On to RPing!))
IC:

Kostya Shritkova drummed his fingers against his fine wooden desk, watching and waiting for fine new converts to come down into what his fine religion had converted from a fine Roanian sewer into a fine Welcome Center. "It's well hidden!" the man who greeted him here told him when he joined up, "Besides, we got rid of all the *ahem* waste and the nastier monsters they had running around down here. There's nothing to be worried about!"
Kostya had seen the likes of dire wolves and other Roanian nasties, and he was none too willing to find out what kind of toothy, eye-less, gelatinous monster would live in a space normally reserved for rats, alligators, and the occasional mime in your average city. Nevertheless, the place was clean to the point that he could eat a sandwich off the ground if it was really necessary, like all the welcome centers. He just didn't like the idea of crawling out of a manhole everytime he needed to buy more milk. He wasn't even sure that this sewer-center was "hidden", as right above the manhole was a wooden sign painted with day-glo orange lettering reading: "Church of the Five Angellic Orders - Welcome Center! All encouraged to join!". But he had been through "the works", he had had his order balance checked and registered, he had payed his $100, and he had already converted four of the ten people needed to earn his fare to the central commune island of the Orders. He had so much invested in this right now that he couldn't give up. All he needed were another six people to venture into his center, and all would be right in his world and he would be out of this deathtrap of the inquisition.

His halfway-point incarnate dropped down the ladder from the manhole, carrying the biggest bag of junk Kostya had ever seen. It was a veritable yard sale on legs, but Kostya didn't mind. He just watched two of his converts help Ivan down the ladder, all the while smiling his happy yet vacant smile. When at last Ivan made it down in one piece, Kostya spoke up.

"Welcome to our Welcome Center, friend! What can I do for you this fine, beautiful day? Are you here to sign up for the Church of the Five Angellic Orders, or do you just wish for some information?"

Corum looked around, not surprise by the extravagence of the place.

"Another give me all you have so I can live like a king religion", he muttered. The women caught his eyes and watched them appreciatively. He forgot about the reason he was here as he admired thier fine figures. But to say that he wasn't paying attention was a fools errand. The woman in green, specifically the box hat she wore, made him a bit edgy and his fingers twitched, wanting to pull the gun from it's conceiled place in his belt, under his coat.
((OOC: I'll get to your post tomorrow. Sorry, but it's 12:30 over here and I need sleep. I just don't want you to think I forgot you. :( ))

Ivan frowned. "I...I would like to join you. Please." he fell to his knees. "Oh great master, teach me and lead me. Kill me if you must! But please, get me away from this miserable life. I have had your words read to me, and I am your faith's if it will but accept me!"

((I could do more there, but...I think that pretty much sums it up. And I'd be interested to know how you dealt with the Vorpal Worms...))

~~

Dean sighed as he left. Behind him, Alexei was half-way through the first bottle of the vodka that was his shield and comforter in the wonderful world of imperial politics. Well, there are worst vices... he thought. I wonder if he'll notice we swapped his normal stuff for non-alcoholic?

Edmund Hyazinth stepped next to him as he walked. "Well?" the Minister for the Armed Forces said.

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Let me guess. Resi's in charge of this cult?"

"They are! Why won't anyone believe me?! Why won't any of you take my advice?"

"We do take your advice, Dean. It's just that...in this case your advice is poorly thought out and asinine. Look, there's not even any real proof that this cult even exists in Roania. What, they're hiding in the sewers?" Edmund laughed at the thought. "Perhaps with a big wooden sign over their 'entrance' that reads 'Potential Converts Sign-Up Here' in day-glo orange?"

"Yes, yes. Laugh it up. Charles and Leopold were yesterday."

Behind them came the violent sound of a bottle being thrown against the wall. "Shall we run for our lives?"

"Oh yes, lets."

After almost an hour of riding, Brusca came upon a single tent blowing in the breeze. It had a multitude of teathers tying it down, most of which were fairly hefty lengths of ropes. The tent itself appeared to be made of a solid sheet of some unidentified animal's hide, undulating slowly in the wind.

In front of the tent was a simple wooden sign with a lamp mounted on top, reading:
Church of the Five Angellic Orders: Welcome Center!
All are allowed inside!

Dismounting, Brusca looks at the tent with disdain.
Looks like they could do with someone who knows how to make a decent dwelling.

She strokes her steeds nose and speaks quietly to it, with a snicker it tosses it's main and turning gallops off.
Brusca turns to look at the tent again and settling her claymore more comfortably in it's back sheath, she strides towards the entrance.

Right, lets have a look at these 'Angel' worshippers

Jothen Corathen had been one of the top executives in an Aerion megacorporation at just the age of 37, Vice President of Marketing and then on to become Chairman of the Board of Aerion Motor Works <AMW>, the largest and practically only manufacturer of Aerion motor vehicles in the nation. He had a life of great success, of great luxury, and everything. Yet he was alone, and it was lonely at the top.

Following the recent political, and social turbulence within his native country Jothen decided to resign his post, cash out what stocks he had, and flee the country. He did so on his private business jet, along with his personal assistant, and a pilot. They had arrived in another country.

He had a found a flyer from the Church of the Five Angellic Orders, and something had intrigued him about it. Something deep inside.

When they landed in the other country, Jothen stepped off the business jet, and looked up the Church. He went to the Welcome Center wearing one of his elegant designer business suits, and stepped inside.

He looked around, looking almost lost, but looking closely over what was inside.

Corum looked around, not surprise by the extravagence of the place.

"Another give me all you have so I can live like a king religion", he muttered. The women caught his eyes and watched them appreciatively. He forgot about the reason he was here as he admired thier fine figures. But to say that he wasn't paying attention was a fools errand. The woman in green, specifically the box hat she wore, made him a bit edgy and his fingers twitched, wanting to pull the gun from it's conceiled place in his belt, under his coat.
As was their job, one of the women noticed Corum's obvious tension. Everyone intuned to the psychology of the cult could tell this, they had delt with people like him before with very positive results. The first step to nullifying his rage was a healthy dose of sex appeal, administered by one of the lovely women of the statue courtyard. It was blasphemous and went against their teachings, but later on those brought into the cult through these means were often reminded of their moment of weakness by their superiors as a way of commending them on how far they had come spiritually.

Like a ghost a maiden crept up behind him and gentilly caressed Corum's twitching hand in the most non-threatening and even sensual way possible. She whispered quietly to him in a bit more than friendly tone, "Relax... calm yourself... we're here to sooth you..."
Ivan frowned. "I...I would like to join you. Please." he fell to his knees. "Oh great master, teach me and lead me. Kill me if you must! But please, get me away from this miserable life. I have had your words read to me, and I am your faith's if it will but accept me!"

((I could do more there, but...I think that pretty much sums it up. And I'd be interested to know how you dealt with the Vorpal Worms...))
Kostya was stunned. If only it was always this easy to help them see the light... he thought, standing up out of his chair to address the Roanian.
"Rise, friend," Kostya said in a voice soft as silk, "There will be no killing. You have shown your willingness to see the light within us all, and because of this we will treat you as an equal in the quest for enlightenment. You have been shown to have a mind willing to receive our blessings, but we have yet to see if your soul is open. Follow me, please."
Kostya approached Ivan and placed one hand on the small of his back. With a light touch that was more guiding than pushing, Kostya led Ivan through a door in the back of the room. As the door cracked open, a large Roman-style bath was revealed. Marble collumns dotted the room, as did statues, fountains, and some strange sort of blue ivy clinging to the ceiling. The floor was covered with what appeared to be a multitude of bubbling jacuzzis carved out of solid rock.
"These are our mineral springs," Kostya spoke, "In these we have combined elements to clense the body, the nerves, and the mind in one wonderful fell swoop. After you exit, we will test the water to find out what your order allignment is. For the best allignment results we suggest you enter the springs nude, but if you absolutely require it swim trunks and dressing rooms are by the far wall."

((OOC: Bleach. Lots and lots of bleach. Drowned out the entire sewer with it, actually. :p ))
Dismounting, Brusca looks at the tent with disdain.
Looks like they could do with someone who knows how to make a decent dwelling.

She strokes her steeds nose and speaks quietly to it, with a snicker it tosses it's main and turning gallops off.
Brusca turns to look at the tent again and settling her claymore more comfortably in it's back sheath, she strides towards the entrance.

Right, lets have a look at these 'Angel' worshippers((OOC: I'm assuming she actually enters the tent, as no one will greet her while she's outside of it.))
IC:

All that awaited Brusca inside the tent was a sign, a torch attached to the sign, and a large hole in the ground. On the sign was a painted white arrow pointing down at the hole and the following words engraved above it:
"Please drop in and come out of the cold!"
((OOC: Sorry for the copout, I'm trying to set up this center with a little anticipation. ;) ))
Jothen Corathen had been one of the top executives in an Aerion megacorporation at just the age of 37, Vice President of Marketing and then on to become Chairman of the Board of Aerion Motor Works <AMW>, the largest and practically only manufacturer of Aerion motor vehicles in the nation. He had a life of great success, of great luxury, and everything. Yet he was alone, and it was lonely at the top.

Following the recent political, and social turbulence within his native country Jothen decided to resign his post, cash out what stocks he had, and flee the country. He did so on his private business jet, along with his personal assistant, and a pilot. They had arrived in another country.

He had a found a flyer from the Church of the Five Angellic Orders, and something had intrigued him about it. Something deep inside.

When they landed in the other country, Jothen stepped off the business jet, and looked up the Church. He went to the Welcome Center wearing one of his elegant designer business suits, and stepped inside.

He looked around, looking almost lost, but looking closely over what was inside.

Jothen's eyes swept over walls of interwoven marble, gold, and dark wood in astounding and intricate designs that seemed able to be made by no human hand. There were pictures of angels, the five holy symbols, the crest, Iskal, and even a very large dragon that seemed to be a hybrid of both the eastern and western styles. Inside this center, water formed artifical creeks and canals in the floor, its gentle flow filling the cacophenous room with a gentle clamor of water rushing. The solid floor was divided into soft wooden squares capped with marble and a gold lace, a strange blue moss growing up from sections of the wood and coming to a distinct halt at the stone tiles. The air inside the building was filled with the aroma of this wet wood and the strange fragrent scent of what one would assume was the moss, entwining together in the atmosphere with the water sound to bring on an extremely relaxing state of mind.

Against the far wall, acrossed several wooden panels were several desks amongst a grove of trees within the building. People in plainclothes were conversing with others dressed in white robes, but their conversations were lost in the watersound that filled the room, becoming nothing but a distant echo to anyone more than a yard away.

Jothen looked around closer at the Welcome Center, admiring how it was not unlike the fancy country club facilities and spas that he often frequented back in the Grand Kingdom of Aerion. He stepped in closer, smiling at those who passed politely, as he stepped toward wherever the desk was. He glanced at his fancy silver watch encrusted in diamonds, and figured he had plenty of time.

He felt relaxed already, and begin to forget about his flight from Aerion. He had a soft smile on his face as people passed, and gazed around.

Jothen was a tall man, with slick backed black hair, and slightly tanned features. He was very attractive by many standards.

((OOC: I'm assuming she actually enters the tent, as no one will greet her while she's outside of it.))
IC:
All that awaited Brusca inside the tent was a sign, a torch attached to the sign, and a large hole in the ground. On the sign was a painted white arrow pointing down at the hole and the following words engraved above it:
"Please drop in and come out of the cold!"
((OOC: Sorry for the copout, I'm trying to set up this center with a little anticipation. ;) ))


(OOC LOL, it made me laugh, "Brusca in wonderland!")

IC:
Brusca reads the sign then walks over to the hole and peers down into the darkness, her face shows that she is not happy.
Drop in and come out of the cold.....Yeah....Looks like Loki and Hel have got together for this prank! Well, it's not the first time I've out witted them both!
She checks that her claymore is settled in the right place, so as not to snag anything on the way down.
Odin's gonna owe me BIG time after this little escapade, I've got better things to do than to pander to the childish pranks of the Gods.....
And without a second thought she steps into nothingness and down into the hole.

Like a ghost a maiden crept up behind him and gentilly caressed Corum's twitching hand in the most non-threatening and even sensual way possible. She whispered quietly to him in a bit more than friendly tone, "Relax... calm yourself... we're here to sooth you..."

Corum took a moment to enjoy the touch on his scarred and calloused hand. For too long had any such touch needed to be bought. Even he hadn't sunken as low as some mercs to the point of rape as a right of conquest. Finally he sighed, knowing that her purpose was to subvert and confuse him.

He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them and looked down at the woman with his almost violet eyes. He wished he could have a woman to hold and love, and not one that had to be paid or did so because they were ordered or because they were afraid or to bend him to thier will. He extracted his hand, though he was obviously more calm, "Tell me of your religion."

(OOC LOL, it made me laugh, "Brusca in wonderland!")

IC:
Brusca reads the sign then walks over to the hole and peers down into the darkness, her face shows that she is not happy.
Drop in and come out of the cold.....Yeah....Looks like Loki and Hel have got together for this prank! Well, it's not the first time I've out witted them both!
She checks that her claymore is settled in the right place, so as not to snag anything on the way down.
Odin's gonna owe me BIG time after this little escapade, I've got better things to do than to pander to the childish pranks of the Gods.....
And without a second thought she steps into nothingness and down into the hole.
The hole was not rocky and craggy as it appeared at the surface, but was actually a long tube made up of one piece of steel. It slithered down below the surface for a few seconds before spitting Brusca out on to a soft slik cushon the size of a Honda. It squished pleasantly under her fall, rippling under her momentum before finally returning to its normal size and shape.

The room Brusca was deposited in could best be described as a hunting lodge. No, it was more like the hunting lodge to end all hunting lodges. Along the wooden walls were shaped of warriors, ships, and fearsome beasts etched into the wood. Grand battles were desplayed in a panorama dug into the pinewood that depicted countless heroic epics of forgotten protagonists.

And those were just the walls.

A massive fire pit stood in the center of the room, around which a few men and woman clad as Brusca was with weapons at their side drunk mugs filled with a fine amber Meade, provided to them by the green robed figures wearing circlets made of spry twigs that seemed to be circling the room tending to the needs of their guests. The fire itself was a puzzle, as Brusca had seen no smoke coming from outside the tent, but surely the fire needed an outlet of they would all suffocate. However, the room was strangely humid and warm, quite pleasant to be in. The warriors sitting around the pit spoke loudly of war and battles fought, being sure to bloat every accomplishment and inflate every deed until they were unrecognisable as the feats of mortal men. They laughed and drank their honey Meades, which were quickly replaced by the robed figures.

Not far from this was a depression in the floor marked by two steps down on all sides, in the exact center of which was a desk with another robed figure sitting at it. He was aged, his wrinkled face smiling a knowing smile as he stared into the fire his youthful guests so enjoyed.

"Ey! It'sa newcomer!" one of the burly men by the fire shouted, "Come on down, stay a while, 'ave a Meade!"

Jothen looked around closer at the Welcome Center, admiring how it was not unlike the fancy country club facilities and spas that he often frequented back in the Grand Kingdom of Aerion. He stepped in closer, smiling at those who passed politely, as he stepped toward wherever the desk was. He glanced at his fancy silver watch encrusted in diamonds, and figured he had plenty of time.

He felt relaxed already, and begin to forget about his flight from Aerion. He had a soft smile on his face as people passed, and gazed around.

Jothen was a tall man, with slick backed black hair, and slightly tanned features. He was very attractive by many standards.
((OOC: Ack, sorry, missed your post. Otherwise I'd have done it first.))
IC:

A perfect follower, an observant cultist thought, he looks as if he's at peace already. His order allignment must indeed be high. And look at his clothes! Surely a man of his clout could sway others to our path.
This cultist was a man known as Robert Blake, or the Robert Blake, as he referred to himself before he was converted to the Church. It was this tallent of observing people and deconstructing their mentalities based on base mannerisms that earned him the position as head of this welcome center, which he knew was just a stepping stone to higher places in the Church. This pleased him not in the sense of personal accomplishment, but in the fact that his heightened status would allow him to better run the Church and would be good for all included.

What this man needs is a deal-breaker, Blake thought, eyeing Jothen with a veiled scrutiny.
"Elise, Angora," he spoke softly, summoning two women in tight white robes to his side, "Attend to our guest. He needs your special brand of persuasion."

Every welcome center kept a fair supply of beautiful women and men somewhere within itself for such a purpose. The human hormones have the innate ability to make something seem completely right when the human brain knows it to be completely wrong, an illogical method of persuasion used by anyone trying to pitch a hard product. In this case, Blake simply wanted to solidify Jothen's interest in all of this.

The ladies approached Jothen, their footsteps on the marble masked by the flow of water, making it seem as if they floated to him.
"Hello, sir," Elise said with a seemingly loving smile as Angora made a vaguely masked giggle, "Are you interested in our group?"

Corum took a moment to enjoy the touch on his scarred and calloused hand. For too long had any such touch needed to be bought. Even he hadn't sunken as low as some mercs to the point of rape as a right of conquest. Finally he sighed, knowing that her purpose was to subvert and confuse him.

He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them and looked down at the woman with his almost violet eyes. He wished he could have a woman to hold and love, and not one that had to be paid or did so because they were ordered or because they were afraid or to bend him to thier will. He extracted his hand, though he was obviously more calm, "Tell me of your religion."
He was smart, this one, thought the girl, He can control his hormones, even though he is obviously interested.
"Come now," she said to him in her muted voice, "We will discuss our religion later. What you need is to calm your freyed nerves. Life in your world is so hard, I know. You must've gone through hell before finding us here, but we're here to save you from all of that."
She paused for a moment, but then blinked and stood up straight as if she had an idea.
"You know what? I should introduce you to our religion while getting you to relax. Through that door there is what many people who have come in here call a jah-ku-zi, but it is a mineral spring of which every welcome center is equipped. Bathe in it for a while, losen yourself up, and when you're done I'll show you how we use it in our religion."

Corum eyed the doorway suspiciously.

Life in your world is so hard, I know. You must've gone through hell before finding us here

'She's either very good at her job or speaks from experience', he thought, which one he hadn't decided.

He looked back at her, "Ladies first."

The hole was not rocky and craggy as it appeared at the surface, but was actually a long tube made up of one piece of steel. It slithered down below the surface for a few seconds before spitting Brusca out on to a soft slik cushon the size of a Honda. It squished pleasantly under her fall, rippling under her momentum before finally returning to its normal size and shape.

The room Brusca was deposited in could best be described as a hunting lodge. No, it was more like the hunting lodge to end all hunting lodges. Along the wooden walls were shaped of warriors, ships, and fearsome beasts etched into the wood. Grand battles were desplayed in a panorama dug into the pinewood that depicted countless heroic epics of forgotten protagonists.

And those were just the walls.

A massive fire pit stood in the center of the room, around which a few men and woman clad as Brusca was with weapons at their side drunk mugs filled with a fine amber Meade, provided to them by the green robed figures wearing circlets made of spry twigs that seemed to be circling the room tending to the needs of their guests. The fire itself was a puzzle, as Brusca had seen no smoke coming from outside the tent, but surely the fire needed an outlet of they would all suffocate. However, the room was strangely humid and warm, quite pleasant to be in. The warriors sitting around the pit spoke loudly of war and battles fought, being sure to bloat every accomplishment and inflate every deed until they were unrecognisable as the feats of mortal men. They laughed and drank their honey Meades, which were quickly replaced by the robed figures.

Not far from this was a depression in the floor marked by two steps down on all sides, in the exact center of which was a desk with another robed figure sitting at it. He was aged, his wrinkled face smiling a knowing smile as he stared into the fire his youthful guests so enjoyed.

"Ey! It'sa newcomer!" one of the burly men by the fire shouted, "Come on down, stay a while, 'ave a Meade!"

Brusca looks around, she was impressed and the pillow was a most amusing touch.
Very nice, one of their better tricks, I might just play along and stay for a while....

She relaxed a little and allowed herself to laugh as she heard one of the warriors end his exagerated tale.
"Friend, when you prove yourself to be fit enough for the great halls, in Valhalla, I will make sure that you have an oppertunity to re-enact that moment of honour!"
His companions roar with laughter, then as the realisation of who she is sinks in, each become subdued until an uncomfortable silence has replaced the mirth.
Their eyes follow her as she walks to the man proferring the mead, (now not as cock sure as he had first appeared), she takes his tankard and drinks the contents, handing it back to him drained dry.
"A good brew, you all seem very comfortable here."
She looks towards the desk and it's occupant, then back to her countrymen.
"I may join you for a while after I have spoken to this gentleman, so please, continue to enjoy each others company."
His tankard already refilled, he raises it in salute.
"It would be a great honour Valkyrja, mere men like ourselves rarely have the chance to meet one of Odin's hand maidens before we die."

About to take her leave, a robed figure offers her a tankard, filled to the brim.
Oh what does it matter...it can wait..
She accepts it and joins her fellow norsemen by the fire, encouraging them to tell more tales.

Some time and several tankards later, she excuses herself and walks to the desk.
"Well met old man, I am Brusca, Valyrja, when do I get to speak to my fellow angels?"

Ivan looked at the waters in trepidation. "...I know not how to swim, master," he said, slowly. "In my village, the pool was reserved for the men of the..." his lips worked soundlessly for a few minutes, as he tried to remember a word once spoken to him, "bourgoise." He goodnaturedly ambled over and dipped a finger in the water, then pulled back. "...it's hot! But how is it heated?"

((I don't do much with the people from the Roanian Sticks. I should do so more often. They're so much fun.))

Jothen glanced at the women, clearing his throat, though seeming not in so interested at the moment in their flirting. He smiled, however, "Yes, I am interested in your group. Is there a knowledgable member here I may speak with?" He glanced around at all those in attendance, seeing none that would appear to him as of authority. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing in a dignified manner, as he awaited an answer.

Corum eyed the doorway suspiciously.

Life in your world is so hard, I know. You must've gone through hell before finding us here

'She's either very good at her job or speaks from experience', he thought, which one he hadn't decided.

He looked back at her, "Ladies first."
The girl was startled by this. Courtesy wasn't common in these parts, and manners were scarse. She had a sneeking suspicion, however, that this wasn't mere politeness and that she should be careful around this one. More careful then she already was, at any rate.
"Of course, I thank you sir," she said, opening the door with a yank before proceeding inside.

As the air from within began to escape, it made a moist hissing sound as it spread to the outside room. It most certainly wasn't poisonous, but it was... different. It felt different on Corum's skin as he walked through it, and it wasn't just the moisture, although the moisture felt different from regular water as well. Heavier, almost. The air was lighter, and the water was heavier. How odd.

((OOC: I'm assuming he follows her. Correct me if I'm wrong.))

Corum and the girl entered an airlock-like chamber, and the large door they entered through sealed behind them. In front of the two was another large door, and a small red light was was apparently beeping and flashing.
"Close your nose, eyes, and mouth. NOW." the girl said firmy, being quite used to what happened next.

With a loud FOOM, the entire room filled in an instant with thick whipped-cream like material.

Brusca looks around, she was impressed and the pillow was a most amusing touch.
Very nice, one of their better tricks, I might just play along and stay for a while....

She relaxed a little and allowed herself to laugh as she heard one of the warriors end his exagerated tale.
"Friend, when you prove yourself to be fit enough for the great halls, in Valhalla, I will make sure that you have an oppertunity to re-enact that moment of honour!"
His companions roar with laughter, then as the realisation of who she is sinks in, each become subdued until an uncomfortable silence has replaced the mirth.
Their eyes follow her as she walks to the man proferring the mead, (now not as cock sure as he had first appeared), she takes his tankard and drinks the contents, handing it back to him drained dry.
"A good brew, you all seem very comfortable here."
She looks towards the desk and it's occupant, then back to her countrymen.
"I may join you for a while after I have spoken to this gentleman, so please, continue to enjoy each others company."
His tankard already refilled, he raises it in salute.
"It would be a great honour Valkyrja, mere men like ourselves rarely have the chance to meet one of Odin's hand maidens before we die."

About to take her leave, a robed figure offers her a tankard, filled to the brim.
Oh what does it matter...it can wait..
She accepts it and joins her fellow norsemen by the fire, encouraging them to tell more tales.

Some time and several tankards later, she excuses herself and walks to the desk.
"Well met old man, I am Brusca, Valyrja, when do I get to speak to my fellow angels?"
"Yer talkin' to one!" the man gaffawed between gulps of his Meade, "This' Valhalla right 'ere! We drink n' party all night, n' train t' fight all day! These 'ere green robes provide all our food, all our meades, n' all our equipment. Ah use'd t' question why they did it, but ah've been 'ere for months now. They tell some purdy good stories too, stories of the angels killin' beasts that made men crazy n' evil. You get t' acceptin' it, ah think they jus' want t' do good deeds fer others, gives 'em solice with Iskal 'n all. Yer welcome t' stay the night and fight in the mornin', if ya want. Anythin' else ya want t' know?"

Ivan looked at the waters in trepidation. "...I know not how to swim, master," he said, slowly. "In my village, the pool was reserved for the men of the..." his lips worked soundlessly for a few minutes, as he tried to remember a word once spoken to him, "bourgoise." He goodnaturedly ambled over and dipped a finger in the water, then pulled back. "...it's hot! But how is it heated?"

((I don't do much with the people from the Roanian Sticks. I should do so more often. They're so much fun.))
"Brother, we're all equal here," Kostya smiled sincerely, all the while thinking Dammit, just get in the pool! I don't have all day to convince you the water isn't evil!
Surpressing his urge to give Ivan a less-than-friendly nudge in the direction of the bubbling waters, Kostya continued.
"We use a special combination of gasses, heat them with the sun's power, and run them through the water. It's very soothing, really, I take a bath in these waters once a week to test my order allignments for improvement."
Maybe if I think about it hard enough, I can push him in, Kostya wondered, narrowing his eyes in a non-threatening way, all the while thinking PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! PUS... ah hell, I don't think my Spirit Order is high enough.

Jothen glanced at the women, clearing his throat, though seeming not in so interested at the moment in their flirting. He smiled, however, "Yes, I am interested in your group. Is there a knowledgable member here I may speak with?" He glanced around at all those in attendance, seeing none that would appear to him as of authority. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing in a dignified manner, as he awaited an answer.
Damn, Blake thought, Could he be gay? I really pegged him as a straight man... I should've sent one of our guys over just to even the odds...
"Brother Blake!" one of the ladies cried out, Blake was too occupied with his inner monologue to guess which one it was, "Brother Blake! This man requests your presence!"
"Hm... uh? Oh, yes! I'm sorry," Blake said, snapping out of his trance and walking up to Jothen.
"A pleasure to meet you!" he said, finally reaching Jothen and extending his hand, "My name is Brother Robert Blake, and I manage this house of worship. Perhaps you have some questions before I ask you about yourself?

(OOC - Not to be a pain but he would have stopped when he felt something wrong. I was anticipation hallucinatory gas of some sort actually and therefore probably could have been caught in that case but if it definitly felt wrong he wouldn't have entered.)

(OOC - Not to be a pain but he would have stopped when he felt something wrong. I was anticipation hallucinatory gas of some sort actually and therefore probably could have been caught in that case but if it definitly felt wrong he wouldn't have entered.)
((OOC: Not a problem, I half-expected him to do something like that, which is why I added that bit of OOCage. You can go ahead and RP him stopping and what have you. :) ))

As the air from within began to escape, it made a moist hissing sound as it spread to the outside room. It most certainly wasn't poisonous, but it was... different. It felt different on Corum's skin as he walked through it, and it wasn't just the moisture, although the moisture felt different from regular water as well. Heavier, almost. The air was lighter, and the water was heavier.

Corum stopped. He had half anticipated a hallucinagen of some sort but whatever this was made him back out. Again his hand began to twitch, moving slowly toward his belt and he scanned the room with the people to see if anyone was moving toward him or reaching for anything out of sight. He stepped back so as to keep the girl in his periferal vision as he looked over the rest.

"Yer talkin' to one!" the man gaffawed between gulps of his Meade, "This' Valhalla right 'ere! We drink n' party all night, n' train t' fight all day! These 'ere green robes provide all our food, all our meades, n' all our equipment. Ah use'd t' question why they did it, but ah've been 'ere for months now. They tell some purdy good stories too, stories of the angels killin' beasts that made men crazy n' evil. You get t' acceptin' it, ah think they jus' want t' do good deeds fer others, gives 'em solice with Iskal 'n all. Yer welcome t' stay the night and fight in the mornin', if ya want. Anythin' else ya want t' know?"

Brusca bristles, a look of rage and anger flickers across her face, but she controls herself and she looks calm again. Though her voice, betrays an edge of menace.

"So, this is VALHALLA is it? Thor's mighty halls of the DEAD? Where no MORTAL may tread? Where the VALLKYRJA will look after my every need?"

She looks straight at him and steps forward so close to him that he feels her breath against his cheek as she speaks. Her voice is low and filled with hate and disgust.

"You didn't do your homework did you my friend?.....
I am Brusca, Valkyrja, hand maiden of Thor, gatherer of warriors souls, Guardian of the Norsemen, gate keeper to the Halls of Valhalla."

With a deft movement she takes her hunting knife from it's sheath and holds the tip to his throat.

"Now tell me who you are, before I decide whether to slit your throat before or after I feed you to the ravens"

Corum stopped. He had half anticipated a hallucinagen of some sort but whatever this was made him back out. Again his hand began to twitch, moving slowly toward his belt and he scanned the room with the people to see if anyone was moving toward him or reaching for anything out of sight. He stepped back so as to keep the girl in his periferal vision as he looked over the rest.
The girl leading him inside turned around to find Corum hesitating at the door, paranoid as ever.
To Iskal, she thought, watching him, Does his paranoia ever let up?

Slowly she walked back to him, came up close and touched his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" she said, putting on her best confused look and staring into his eyes, "Are you alright? Is there anything at all I can do to help you?"

Brusca bristles, a look of rage and anger flickers across her face, but she controls herself and she looks calm again. Though her voice, betrays an edge of menace.

"So, this is VALHALLA is it? Thor's mighty halls of the DEAD? Where no MORTAL may tread? Where the VALLKYRJA will look after my every need?"

She looks straight at him and steps forward so close to him that he feels her breath against his cheek as she speaks. Her voice is low and filled with hate and disgust.

"You didn't do your homework did you my friend?.....
I am Brusca, Valkyrja, hand maiden of Thor, gatherer of warriors souls, Guardian of the Norsemen, gate keeper to the Halls of Valhalla."

With a deft movement she takes her hunting knife from it's sheath and holds the tip to his throat.

"Now tell me who you are, before I decide whether to slit your throat before or after I feed you to the ravens"
"Aye, lasseh!" the Norseman shouted, holding his head up to avoid having his carefully braided beard shaven by the knife, "Twas merely a comparison! Ah'd 'ave t' die honorably in battle t' go to the real Valhalla! Calm yerself! Ah applaud ya fer 'aving such faith in the old ways, but not at the expense of me neck!"
Most of the norse just went on drinking their meades, ignoring this confrontation. It didn't involve them, and they had no intention of fighting for someone who could take care of himself. The man's friends had other ideas though, and a few of them were reaching for the longswords they had strapped to their backs with every intention of cleaving Brusca in two, regardless of her connection to the Gods.
"Stay back!" the Norseman commanded his friends, noticing their actions, "This' mah battle, n' ah'll fight it!
"Now lasseh, if it's fight yah want, we can go outside and 'ave ourselves a proper duel right now. Ah'd be more than happy to indulge yah."

Back away from the action, those in green robes who were not carrying serving trays somehow seemed to aquire odd guns in an instant. Those familiar with Resian technology would know this was due to their baggy sleeves and upper-arm tactical gun couplings. With a twitch of a given arm muscle, the gun would release from underneath their upper arm and fall down their sleave into their hands, ready for combat. This was all done covertly, and only the most perceptive could catch a glimpse of this.

"If you don't mind I would like to hear about your order." Though he was still cautious her touch made him relax and looked down at her hand in some surprise before returning his gaze to her eyes. His own eyes were a mix of a touch of maddness, though maddness from long periods of being hunted. The rest seemed balanced between saddness, haunted memories, fear and steel resolve.

"Aye, lasseh!" the Norseman shouted, holding his head up to avoid having his carefully braided beard shaven by the knife, "Twas merely a comparison! Ah'd 'ave t' die honorably in battle t' go to the real Valhalla! Calm yerself! Ah applaud ya fer 'aving such faith in the old ways, but not at the expense of me neck!"
Most of the norse just went on drinking their meades, ignoring this confrontation. It didn't involve them, and they had no intention of fighting for someone who could take care of himself. The man's friends had other ideas though, and a few of them were reaching for the longswords they had strapped to their backs with every intention of cleaving Brusca in two, regardless of her connection to the Gods.
"Stay back!" the Norseman commanded his friends, noticing their actions, "This' mah battle, n' ah'll fight it!
"Now lasseh, if it's fight yah want, we can go outside and 'ave ourselves a proper duel right now. Ah'd be more than happy to indulge yah."

Back away from the action, those in green robes who were not carrying serving trays somehow seemed to aquire odd guns in an instant. Those familiar with Resian technology would know this was due to their baggy sleeves and upper-arm tactical gun couplings. With a twitch of a given arm muscle, the gun would release from underneath their upper arm and fall down their sleave into their hands, ready for combat. This was all done covertly, and only the most perceptive could catch a glimpse of this.

Brusca laughs, a laugh as hollow as cave, full of scorn and contempt.
She winds her knife a little further into his beard.

"You still do not understand do you? I am a Valkyrja, I am immortal, no mortal can kill me. Cut me down and chop me into little pieces and I will remake myself and come for you again. Mow me down with your bullets and the holes will close in front of your eyes."

To prove her point, she flicks her knife away from him and cuts deaply into her wrist, so deap that the bone can be clearly seen before the wound fills with blood. She holds it up to his face, the blood running down her arm and dripping onto her armour slows then stops. In moments the wound begins to close and in front of him, it knits itself together and disapears, her skin unblemished.

"There is only one who has the power to make me no longer exist and I doubt that he has any intentions of doing so."

She wipes her blade casually upon his beard and carries on talking.

"So lets drop this chirade, call your green robed dogs off and tell me what you are doing in the lands of the Norsemen"

Jothen shook Brother Blake's hand in an firm, business-like manner, "Mr. Blake. Well I am sure I will learn all I need to know through the information I receive in time. I trust my instincts on this one. What questions did you have for me?" He smiled a polite, pleasant smile, focusing on the man in a conversational though serious manner. His hands remain clasped behind his back.