DCC DotSK: Act 1-3

Feeling the surge of emotions around him, Dufgal could not help but get caught up in the excitement. He reached into his cloak and felt the cold, hard metal of the warhammer head as his fingers curled around it.
"Has no fears, people of Hirot! Lady Anora has the powers to defeat the hound! I’se seen it in a dream!" and to add emphasis, he thrusts the magical weapon into the air.
Then he says something that he didn’t mean to, "Then she’se will be your new leader!"

Cheers go up around Anora, and around Dufgal and his raised up holy artifact! Things happen quickly then. Ty and sloshing Aldric join back up with their companions as a mob chases the Jarl and his entourage back into the great hall. When the Thegns down in the village proper recover from the sorceries and garrotings visited violently upon them, they too see that the crowd is too large and unruly to deal with by far. Hurling curses and angry glares, they fall back into the Church of Justicia, which Father Beacom shuts barely in time to keep out the furious Hirotians. The doors boom closed with a finality, leaving the village and its would-be saviors with a moment to breathe and think -- for the first time in some time.

Remembering that Aldric said to keep it safe and hidden, Dufgal tucks the relic back into the folds of his cloak. He starts to wonder if he spoke too much. It certainly surprised him as he is wont to listen far more than talk.

Anora steps aside, as the crowd surges in all directions. She gathers herself up with the others, and takes a moment to try and find some quiet in the chaos.

"We have done it now!" she remarks, wondering how it had all transpired like this. No matter…

"I think I can coax the priest from his cloister. He might testify against the Jarl to save his own skin." she says, with almost no judgment in her voice.

"If that were even allowed… she adds, noting the anger of the mob around her.

Tyravasiel-Llir turns his blindfolded eyes in the direction of the Jarl's hall.

"I wonder if the thegns were aware of their lord's scheme," he muses. "If not, perhaps they can be turned to our side. Better to isolate the Jarl and his spider so far as we can."

A sturdy-looking girl of perhaps eighteen approaches Dufgal as Broegan starts organizing the villagers from the platform where the lottery had been taking place. The box has been dashed to pieces now, and a fire burns, consuming every piece of parchment that the reviled trunk contained.

"You'll need a haft for that," the girl says about the warhammer's head. Her hair is a mop of auburn curls and she possesses strong forearms and hands, the thief sees. "I apprenticed with Hael the Crane, a master smith... and I know how to haft a tool well enough. There should be an axe handle of ash at Oyd the woodsmith's that we can use."

Finding the offer to affix a haft to the weapon’s head very timely and appreciated, Dufgal agrees to it before checking with anyone else. "I’se full of thanks to ye, miss! That’s a mighty keen offer. I’se happy to come to your workshop now if ye like."

Aldric is surprised as he arrives back in the market center, as he sees that he pulls with him a wake of noisome and excited villagers who surround him when he stops.

"Preach!" faces in that crowd shout. "Father Aldric! Speak unto us the word of Pelagia! We seek to understand why the Queen of Seaform has helped us here when Justicia could not, or would not! Utter her gospel, so that we may know it!"

Aldric enters the chaos of the square, relishing the growing anger and violence toward his enemies. Pelagia's enemies!

His glee sours when he remembers, painfully, that he is one wrong step away from death. Ty's spell had saved his skin, and the fires of revolution that Anora had atoked in the Hirotians provided cover for his escape. But, with Pelagia's displeasure hanging over his head twicefold, he was vulnerable, exposed. He needed to extricate himself from this mess and placate his fucking bitch queen!

Ah, but he was thinking like a potato farmer, not a Witness of Pelagia. The chaos was his to shape around him, not the other way around! First, to get their attention
.. he makes his way onto the platform where the pieces of the fraudulent lottery box lies, in flames.

"I PISS UPON THIS FUCKING LOTTERY!" he bellows, and laughs maniacly as he drops his trousers to his ankles and lets loose a stream of urine into the flames.

Once he has their attention, he pulls up his trousers and turns to the crowd, hands in the air and electric eyes.

"People of Hirot! The tides of truth are returning, washing over your shores! Let them cleanse you and free you from the tyranny of those who would feed you to dogs! Embrace Pelagia as your saviour!"

"Father Beacom will tell you that Pelagia does not give a fuck about you, while Justica, oh she is always watching over you. It might surprise you, but completely fucking agree!"

"Yes, Justica is always watching over you! Watching that you wipe your ass the right way! Watching to make sure you obey the right people! Watching that you line up in a peaceful and orderly fashion to throw your babies into the fucking hound's jaws!"

"Father Beacom and the Jarl were more concerned about about dying in an orderly fashion than living freely! And Sylle Ru has perverted this order, warped it it to his own dark designs. The lottery was rigged from the start!"

"But you Hirotians, you were never fooled. You always had your doubts! You knew in your hearts this was utter bullshit! But it was not your fault. Under the Jarl's boot and the priest's sermons and the serpent's lies, you had no choice but to obey. But now, we, aided by the divine fury of Pelagia, are rendering his dogs impotent! Look at Krieg, stumbling blind like a fucking idiot! We have taken Justica's hammer and return it to the people! We have revealed the truth about this foul lottery for all to see."

"Now is the time to turn your backs on those who would murder you quietly and turn to Pelagia! Yes, Pelagia does not care about you! She does not care how loud you fart, or who you fuck, or if you obey your lord. She will leave you the fuck alone! To live your life as you want!"

"But I want to make this very fucking clear. What she does care about is killing that MOON-FUCKED HOUND! She hates it, and she is sending a storm down upon it. And we are the vanguard of that storm!"

"Who is with us?!"

Standing on the platform, listening to Aldric's harangue, Ty feels a quiver in the pit of his stomach. His lips press together, but the band of coarse-woven cloth over his eyes hides the way they wrinkle at the corners with unease.

In short order, his little company has undertaken to: depose the Jarl, and set up Anora the Blue in his place; supplant the worship of Justicia with that of the Sea Bitch Pelagia; and slay the un-slayable Hound of Hirot. A full slate! And all with no apparent prospect of reward beyond the thanks and plaudits of a village of grubby, short-lived humans. The Mistress of the Ninth Blossom will not be bought off with such ephemeral coin.

The elf lets his veiled gaze roam discontentedly over the assembled throng, seeking some more substantial prospect of advantage. To Anora, he says, "When Father Aldric has finished evangelizing, my lady, you should bespeak the thegns holed up in Justicia's church and the Jarl's hall. Make plain their lord's deception, and offer them pardon if they will come over to our side." Tyravasiel pauses, then adds with a touch of amusement, "This duty falls properly to you as the new Headwoman of Hirot."

By Dufgal's proclamation, granted. But there have been no objections thus far.

Anora’s brow furrows as Aldric whips up the crowd - her crowd - into religious frenzy! She speaks aside to the busty barmaid:

"There goes our plan of using the priest to further our designs against the Jarl."

The woman was earnest, and had played more than her share of a part in this thing.

"Study, Morgan. Study. The witch in her hovel will furnish you with some texts at my instruction, if you wish to learn." she adds, before turning her attention to Ty.

She waves off the idea of being the Headwoman of a place like this. But if the shoe fit, however temporarily, she would wear it.

"I can scarcely recall if I’ve made friend or foe of the Jarl’s men left alive. After today…" she says, remembering all the spells she had thrown about.

"I will try!" she allows, before heading off to the church, parting the crowd, and ushering for Morgan to follow!

ALDRIC

Aldric's antics by no means draw the eyes and attentions of every villager present -- for there are dozens now in the square, and more coming every moment. Word is spreading; the Jarl's hold on this town is soundly broken. There will be no more lottery!

But there are almost a score townsfolk who listen to the priest with rapt expressions on their faces. Who throw up their hands and agree deeply with what they are hearing. Who shout agreement with Aldric's request to join him, and who climb up onto the platform where the fire burns to join in the ceremonial pissing. Men's pricks are pulled out, women's trousers and skirts are dropped. Streams of wee shower and sizzle the flames.

ANORA & TY

While all that goes on, Anora, Ty and Morgan head back for the now sealed-up Church of Justicia. Broegan, who is still directing able-bodied villagers where they are needed, makes eye contact with the wizardess and nods, approvingly. This town will her hers to command, at least for the time being. Dolsten and Lloré tag along behind them, as does Wee Tocs and his crew, at some distance. The barmaid seems to have a dozen more questions for Anora regarding the sorceries she's uttered, and the brunette draws Ty into that conversation as well, having seen him cast enchantments now on more than one occasion. All this she does while drawing deep, distracting breaths.

As they reach the front doors of the church, Dolsten shushes his niece and moves to step in front of the blue-garbed woman the town now looks to as a leader.

"My Lady Anora! Wait! Wait, please! I tried to say this last night, but I could not find the right time, nor the right words! While it seems the Jarl and his seer have deceived us, have secretly chosen who among us the Hound rends... that curse... I believe it is me who caused it!"

DUFGAL

"Aye," the frizzy-haired young woman says simply to Dufgal with a nod. "Let's to Oyd's first to pick out a handle, then I'll work on affixin' it."

Saying that, the apprentice moves to lead Dufgal away from the market, towards the carpenter's shop. Casting a glance back, the murder-minded thief sees Aldric still on the platform with his new flock, and Anora and Ty leading a charge towards the church, which already has twenty-odd men surrounding it. The similarly-sized crew of Hirotians going up to the Jarl's is almost there as well.

Anora doesn’t let a thing show on her face. She must be seen to have expected all angles. And all angles must be subtly guided so that they point at the right people…

"Caused it how?" she asks simply, freeing her hands from the folds of her sleeves, so that she might plant them on her hips when she summons the priest from his hole.

Dufgal dutifully follows the frizzy-haired tradeswoman. Trusting at first glance that she means what she says and only what she says. The fact that she is alone helps her case.

He does retain a critical eye for anything that seems out of place. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was being led into a trap by someone who wishes to swipe the stolen prize.

So, as soon as he gets her far enough away from the crowd, he stops. "How do I’se know you’se ain’t just after the shiny new fing?"
He intimates that the hand she can’t see is poised to strike with his blade if she doesn’t convince him of her honesty.
"Wif all de shenanigans goin’ on ‘round here, I’se can’t be too trusting, see?"