A Soft Voice Amidst Cacophony

"People of Idas - I address you now not as people of Telantha, for you know as well as I that we are not Telanthans. We have come here from cities throughout the land; some from my own, shattered Yarsin-on-the-mount, others from Viroth, others from Urgat. Still more, from places beyond. All of us have fled the Darkness, and the demons, and have come here, the last bastion of Light in the world. And we have endured.

All of us have come here, possessing nothing, and the City took us in.

During Nightfall, we suffered. After Daybreak, in the chaos and disorder that briefly followed, we suffered. During the Plague, we suffered yet again."

"Even now, we stand poised upon the edge!" Bjar thunders, his eyes intent upon the crowd, commanding their attention absolutely, silencing their brief mutterings of agreement with no more than a look.

"Even now," he repeats, his voice carrying clearly even as it softens, "We huddle within the City's walls, awaiting what may be the final onslaught of the Dark. When the demons come, some of us will fight. Some of us will wait for the inevitable."

He looks about, focusing on as many individuals as he can, choosing those whose attention seems to waver, attempting with his piercing gaze to oncemore ensnare them.

"There are likely few among you who do not know the name Azirni. You have perhaps known my family as tailors, from our decades of establishment in Yarsin. You women will likely know my brother Mariv, or at least his reputation." A pause as a number of people chuckle knowingly. "Others of you will know my sister, Eleia, by all of the mischief she causes - or those boys who seek to cause mischief -with- her. Don't think I don't know you." Another pause, as more laughter ripples through the crowd, serving to dispel even more of their unease, to warm their expressions as they listen to Bjar.

"And many of you know me, personally. I have mended your garments, or have transformed the plainest linen into clothing that would almost befit nobility." A scattering of murmured acknowledgement, confirmation. "Or, perhaps, you have known me as a physician - Jorich, I helped splint your hand. And Neyla, you came to -me- for advice about your son, did you not?" The murmur increases, people nodding slowly. "Others of you will know me in my position as the Priest of Melchior, and the leader of the Omuit Order. I have blessed you, and advised you, and prayed for you."

He pauses, confident now that he holds the crowd within his thrall, and calls out solemnly, his eyes dark with memory;

"I have spoken to the gods, and I have died by my own hand. And I have -risen again-. I come before you with all of the knowledge I have gained for my sacrifices, with all of the instruction and the answers that I have bought with my blood and pain and tears.

I come before you now, to offer you a third path, besides dying on the battlefield or dying where you hide. I offer you -salvation-, if you only have the courage and the will to walk the path upon which I will lead you."

The masses, swollen now as more arrived to hear his words, begin to mutter, their collective tone becoming uneasy oncemore. He raises his hands.

"I offer you this, but I demand nothing of you, save that you trust in my judgement. When have you, -any- of you, relied upon me and found me to fail you? And those who do not know me - when have you ever been offered such a choice, between suicide and the lingering, fearful death? When have you been offered -hope-, amidst all this despair and corruption and violence?"

He lowers his hands, his words becoming quieter, his tone almost intimate, the entire crowd willed to silence by the sheer -presence- of his voice. He pours into his speech all that he is, remembering the strength of will he required for his ceremony, and tapping oncemore that reservoir.

"I hold aloft my faith as a torch, a Light amidst the Darkness, and I shall walk with no fear, for I have tasted death, and I know that the gods walk beside me so long as I remain devoted to them. Remember what I have said, all of you - if you will only follow that Light, when it is time, I will lead you through the Darkness. There will be suffering, as all mortals must suffer..."

He stops again, his eyes shining with pride, with the fervor possessed only by a zealot, secure in his faith and in his audience, reveling in the moment of his preaching.

"But there will be -salvation-!"