4551/The Way of the Everlasting Dragon

The Way of the Everlasting Dragon
Date of Scene:	14 September 2016
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	The mendicant warrior-ascetics of the cult of the Everlasting Dragons show up on Anor Londo's doorstep. A disaster is narrowly averted when a dragon-ish idol shows up to demand a stage performance instead.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, 974, 941, Lexicon, Reiji Arisu, 911, 1014, Staren

---

Priscilla has posed:
As a change from the gleaming white and tawny marble and granite, banded with all that glittering gold and silver visible in the midday light of Anor Londo, the impossibly vertical, convoluted and gargantuan jungle of gothic architecture and pre-secular renaissance ornamentation is bathed with the fiery red, gold and fucshia of the sun setting over the surrounding mountains.

    It leaves the sky a deep, cool blue, with the first stars of the night starting to appear, unconcealed by modern light pollution, and the stones, pillars and buttresses are tinted luminous shades of brass, scarlet and violet. The capital, as always, manages to look like a completely different fantasy painting with all the different phases of the sun and moon; perhaps expected from a citadel that celebrates the celestial gods.

    Something is distinctly out of place this evening however. Where the inhabited section of the city should be slowly quieting down as the residual warmth of the sun rises from the flagstones, retreating indoors and turning on their lights, the streets around the massive, main walkway to the equally massive stairs to the even more massive palace are still packed with people, taking their lanterns, glow stones and magical lights with them, until it almost resembles a street festival. In fact, some people have been parked there so long that they've rolled out some wares and started selling them though the currency glows pretty brightly at this hour.

    The commotion seems to be centered around the main plaza before the palace; technically the top of a wider section of it that continues hundreds of meters downwards. Where normally only sentinels would stand watch and weird, bony demons would perch on the spires, it now swarms with visitors, all of whom seem to be very preoccupied with the thoroughly barred front gates. What must be at least thirty people have arranged themselves in semi-circular rows to face it, with twice that number sat at a respectful distance behind them, and half that number left standing guard, facing outwards.

    Those chosen to stand watch look like a military unit. Though non-uniform in build, garb and equipment, all of them are knights or warriors who have ditched their national livery and clearly made their own, all doing their best to adopt the same washed out hues of stoney greys and dark, blood reds. The rows seated behind them look more like pilgrims, priests, and more generically armed 'adventurers', seated in what appear to be positions of prayer, surrounded by their belongings as if they had just arrived, and plan to stay in that space for a while.

    The ones at the very front appear to be little more than mendicants, save for one detail. They possess nothing but frayed prayer rugs that they have rolled out, adorned with sparse, pseudo-religious paraphernalia, and upon which they have adopted identical poses that appear to be more meditation than anything, distinctly out of place in the more anglo-saxon backdrop.

Priscilla has posed:
    That one detail that makes them even more out of place is that each, statue-still figure has been grossly distorted to the point that they no longer clothe themselves. Formerly human figures bear similar degrees of wasted emaciation, but highly variable marks of partial metamorphosis. Grainy, stone-like skin, elongated, spiny bones, claw-like fingers and toes, distorted, serpentine necks, and the like are common sights. More advanced stages are seated in the frontal rows, where elaborate horns sprout through their skulls, having much of their facial definition already lost, with 'vestigial' tails, and tufts of black or silver fur here and there, with the rarest amongst them showing almost engraved-looking stencils on their stone skin, carved like primitive, artistic vistas of nothing in particular, save for common marks of wings between their shoulders.

    The number of iron knights in the area has tripled, with snipers posted on many, distant roof tops for the keenly observant to pick out. Though the air is filled with quiet, harmonious humming, the atmosphere feels like the tension before a riot.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna is crouched under whatever cover or overhang provides her both line of sight to the proceedings and something to give her some slight protection from the snipers she is presently eyeing, trying to count them and keep track of who is where. She isn't certain what is happening here, but it seems to be out of the ordinary. She'd wanted to speak to Artorias (who she finally wrote down the name of) about certain things, but found this instead. Curiosity for what's happening here overrode her prior matter for the moment.

    Alongside her, Enark, still pleased with himself following being able to meaningfully contribute to TWO mission in Lordran, has decided he had best avail himself of Carna's protection and make the trip here as well to see what else he can learn about. His own curiosity is very similar to the Lantern's, but based upon a genuine interest in learning and the accumulation of knowledge.

    Carna's is more like a cat's. She just wants to poke at things to see how they react. But even so, she has to admit that Enark's mystical abilities are useful. Maybe some study wouldn't be so bad...

    Enark, meanwhile, is nomfing on some kind of food he bought, glad to be able to experience the taste of such without the additional flavoring of poison fog or dust. "Aahh... I almost feel alive again." he says as he wipes his mouth with a tattered handkerchief. Then he gestures around. "So, what's all this about?"

    Carna says, "I do not know. That is why I am here."

    "Ah, I see! Hmm." He stands up on tip toes to see over the heads of those in the way, and try to catch better sight of the meditating individuals who appear to be undergoing some form of metamorphosis. "Yes. Hmm. Very ghastly. Hm. I believe... From what I have studied... That those individuals..." He holds up a hand to forestall interruption that isn't coming. "...Are transforming into something!"

    Carna turns her head slowly to look at him. "You don't say." she remarks blandly.

    "Oh, indeed! The signs are hard to spot for the uneducated, but I have a certain--"

    Carna stands up and starts off towards the crowd. Maybe the snipers will be less likely to fire into a mass of bodies to eliminate just one.

    "--Ah! Wait!" Enark picks up a bag of souvenirs and scurries after his protector.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Protest with the potential to turn into a riot situation?

    Of bloody course Mel is going to be here.

    The Chaser has already landed, its driver disembarked, and now she calmly strolls up through the plaza, coming at the gathering from further back where their 'guards' will see her. She's careful to keep her hands out of her coat pockets, where they can see that she's not preparing to draw any sort of weapon; there's one strapped to her back, of course, but that wouldn't exactly be a quickdraw, so she's banking on them not being put on edge by it so much. "Evening, folks. Marshal Mel Brock, I'm here as a friend of the Queen's. Mind if I ask what's going on here?"

Lexicon has posed:
    There are dozens of reasons for a DCC to explore unique new worlds. What brings the Silver Drive's patron guardian to Anor Londo is one of the simpler ones: Curiosity. Lexicon's come across sparse information about some great events in this place, though little in the way of details about the kingdom or the creatures that inhabit it.

    Which is why a short-haired brunette in a fuzzy coat with long sleeves trots along the roadways of a town winding down for the night, drawn to the mass of activity in the square with all the visitors. Eyes wander the gathered cultists, merchants, and large numbers of armed knights. Two and two is put together by the time she glances upward at the archers milling around along the upper levels.

    A ring of digitized code manifests around her hand, sketching out a wireframe in the shape of a spear with a gemstone opposing the pointed end. But rather than equip this as a weapon, she swings it back and slots it across her back for now., held in a completely non-threatening way by being put away.

    Only then does she pay closer attention to the nearest of the guys trying to hawk wares, curious just what trinkets are being sold.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
A new religion under threat and/or causing trouble among the local population? Strange eldritch creatures from beyond time and space? FANTASY BUDDHISTS!?

The only things missing that would otherwise be necessary to attract a Shinra agent are ghosts, and Anor Londo probably has a ton of those anyway.

    Reiji arrives not long after Mel and steps out from a nearby corridor to meet her approach. "Looks like we've got loiterers," he says with a mild huff. "They seem to have come on pilgrimage. Or at least, they appear to be praying." Of all the things to be called in to deal with, 'a bunch of pilgrims getting in the way' is definitely one of the tamer ones. "Hopefully we'll be able to find a way to disperse them without too much of a fuss. This isn't exactly a proper place for prayer."

Elizabeth Bathory (911) has posed:
    Elizabeth Bathory, Hungarian nobility born with a silver spoon in her mouth from an awful family of messed up people (the least deviant of which was a homosexual in the middle ages - a fact specifically called out actually noted in her history) and also associated with Hungarian dragons due to her family crest... Was bored.

    She was SO bored.

    And she heard from her cute MasterBezel (talk) that there were some stupid cultists who worshipped dragons and that maybe she should go both-he meant perform a concert for her adoring fans.

    Elizabeth's selective hearing made her more than happy to oblidge, leaving Lezard 'muh waifu' Valeth to brood over how to KILL ALL GODS and FORGE HIS WAIFU. This cannot possibly have ANY consequenes for his more-or-less allies in Priscilla and the Lordran Explorers.

    With her frilly skirts, curly horns, draconic tail, 'scaled' legs (more red diamonds running up the outsides of her legs), and strange claw-fingers, JPOP STAR SUPREME, RABU RABU LIZ-CHAN arrived. On her spear. Which she flew like a witch's broom, into the crumbly ground behind all of the draconic cultists. "Hell~o, adoring public! Your delightfully draconic pop sensation is here!!!" She shouts.

    This will end fantastically. For everyone.

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Popping in and out isn't a big skill of Heaven's Armory, so for the sake of being able to quickly pop in, Hravn is currently here in only her true body, there on Mel's back. She is, at least, talking to Mel, though there isn't yet a lot to 'say.' She has some curiosity about this place--more than other places, her curiosity being a general trait--because her sister is connected to it. She's curious about the adventurer-guards and the cultists, but doesn't seem to have any judgment to pass on them, as yet. She's also curious about the odd currency of the place, but it's beside the main point of the visit. There's a flash of recognition as Reiji shows up, and a sidenote on the archers above them. All of this is, more or less, transmitted to Mel as they walk.

Staren has posed:
    Staren is in his power armor, because he's /always/ in his armor when in the dangerous world of Lordran. As he comes to investigate, though, he doesn't see what the big deal is. "Is there actually any law against this? If there is, have they been asked to worship less distructively?" He asks of his comrades as he approaches.

    The catboy waves a hand at the assembled worshipers. "I mean, you know how I generally feel about religion, but they're clearly turning into dragons, so it doesn't seem like they're worshipping something fake..." he rubs his chin. "Unless they're doing it some /other/ way to imitate their object of worship..." he shrugs. "Let's ask, shall we?"

    When he reaches the outer ring of guard, he waves to them with a smile and asks, in as friendly a tone as he can manage, "Hello! So, what's going on here?"

Priscilla has posed:
    The crowd itself, that is, the crowd forming around the spectacle, are neither hostile nor obstructive to Carna and Mel trying to push their way through. For the most part, they appear to actually just be gawkers. Mind you, almost all of them are armed, or at least certainly capable of magic, but that just goes without saying in a place like this, and especially from a crowd who had all been through a nightmarish gauntlet not even a year ago. A couple of them take offense, but aside from a rather burly, shirtless guy shoving Mel for the crime of lightly brushing the girl in his arms, they don't do much. If Staren wants to tromp through them to take the direct route, they notably part ways. It's doubtful they know all that much about power armour, but they /definitely/ know about armour that looks too heavy for a human to wear.

    The nearest merchant to Lexicon appears to have brought a big sack of goodies and spread them out and in several rugs and pots around himself, and is otherwise having a casual time of sitting and waiting for people to come to it. A lot of it is food, of course, probably expecting people to stick around all night for the action. Much of it is familiar, being various forms of snack meats, pastries and fruits, but some of it looks distinctly . . . weird. Like when were glowing flowers and moss a snack food? And what kind of skewered, grilled fillet looks like it had two necks?

    The rest is a mixture of nicknacks, old books, spare tools, fabric, and other impulse clutter people might want to take home. Some of it is utterly incomprehensible, like a popular item that appears to be nothing more than little silk bags of what looks like solid gold meth, though nobody is snorting it. What stounds out, and what Hravn is interested in, are that various denominations are coins are amongst the things he's /selling/, and people are /buying/ everything with . . . little wisps of white fire? Balls of glowing mist? The guy just seems to kind of . . . absorb them too, like breathing winter fog in reverse.

    Mel gets the sense that one of the armoured bouncers is eyeing her suspiciously, as much as anyone can in this place where nobody seems to take their helmet off. His thick arms are folded over his breastplate, with something on it scratched out and replaced with a brass dragon, albeit a weird looking one. "I am aware of the Daughter's strange company, but do not think that any outlandishly garbed visitor can simply claim to be her confidant and have me believe it. Present proof." He challenges.

    Staren has better luck with a shorter, mildly friendlier one, who incidentally answers Mel's question. "The joyful news has long spread over the mountains, but it is a long and perilous journey for those of us not chosen by the Darksign to arrive here. We are but late to return to the side of the masters of these worlds, as we all once were at the origin of time. Few have the bravery or the skill to follow the path, so it seems there are few of us, but I believe many among those here would gladly hear of the way that transcends life and death, for all they have suffered." 'Helpful' is a relative term. That's mired in some Deep Lore.

Priscilla has posed:
    Guess who doesn't care about Deep Lore? It's Elizabeth. There is a significant disturbance as she comes flying in, though despite the differences, it doesn't take 40 INT to determine that she looks kind of like a dragon, even if way prettier than the weird, naked, demihuman monks. Most of the outward line turns to face her and draws weapons immediately, causing much of the crowd to back up, and the distant snipers to anchor their absurdly, excessively large bows by stabbing literal spikes of metal at their bottom limbs into the rooftops.

    "Name and explain yourself!" one of the men yells, interrupting some of the prayer going on as all eyes focus on her. Some of the crowd actually seems hyped to see something so ridiculous happen in place of police brutality. Only the stone mendicants at the front pay no mind, somehow remaining utterly still in their identical, pseudo-lotus positions.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Of course they wouldn't just take these mysterious foreigners at their word. Why would they? Everything that Reiji has known about this world has made him well aware that caution is how anyone and everyone manages to survive another day. It's a forgivable bit of rudeness- one that is about as common as dirt in Lordran. Reiji holds no grudge.

    The Exorcist clears his throat from over Mel's shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. But if you require proof of our identity--" He steps forward, toward the mysteriously draconic knight and lifts from his side a jet-black, lacquered sheath. A tattered cloth, like the wraps of some hoary mummy, is wound just beneath the tsuba. When he draws the sword, it is without sound, without light. Its blade is nearly invisible, light passes through it as if it were a pane of glass.

He reveals only a slight sliver of the blade. Just enough to make it clear just what it is.

No need to actually draw a sword here, after all.

    "I assume that's enough?" Reiji asks, snapping the sword back into its sheath, and the sheath back into its place on his person. "Now. Could you please explain why you and the rest of these pilgrims have occupied this plaza in such great numbers? This is no place for worship."

And then there is a Lancer.

Reiji squints at the purple dragon-girl. He asides to Mel. "...Looks like we might have another public disturbance on our hands."

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna tilts her head as she gets a better look at the transforming people, having avoided using force to make way if possible, so as not to cause an incident. And then she glances around as she picks up voices, some familiar, some not. Seems she isn't the only one investigating. But when she looks towards Enark, his fascination with the transforming individuals seems to have been snatched away as someone comes flying into the area.

    "Ah, hello, ahh... ...Yooouuuuu?" He recognizes her from the mission they went on to kill a dragon, at least. Then his expression brightens further as he says, "Oh! Oh! You're a popular idol? I had no idea that there would be a concert here as well! Ah, sing... Uhh... ...Blast, I wish I was more familiar with her discography. Ahh..." He turns to Carna and asks, "Do you know any of her son--Wait, of course you don't." He turns away from the Lantern again.

    "...Sing... ...Sing..." He completely misses the hostile response from the snipers, the guards, and everyone else, distractedly looking at the meditating demi-dragons. Then, as an explanation is demanded of Rabu Rabu Liz-chan, Enark's voice calls out over the crowd, "...Sing 'Through The Fire And The Flames'!"

    Carna is busy looking around for the most expedient route out of here if this gets ugly.

Staren has posed:
    Staren only gets a vague reply about how 'the news' has spread. "Um..." He looks around, pretending to ignore shenanigans starting elsewhere, "What news is that?"

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Well, Mel is just about getting ready to work on answering the man with questions about her credentials, when-

    Well, first, when Reiji walks up, but more importantly, 'when Elizabeth', really.

    "Sensei," Mel greets as the exorcist saunters up, lifting a hand to give him a casual wave. She's content to fall quiet and let Reiji's authority get her question answered; but Elizabeth's sudden 'concert' and the pilgrims' reaction to it is rather concerning. "Hey, yeah, this could start getting a little ugly. Any chance you could talk this crowd into dispersing? I'm afraid my authority as a Marshal is a little meaningless here. For that matter, Hravn, be ready, and if you have anything special that applies here, lemme know."

Lexicon has posed:
    Food items are skimmed over and then ignored once Lexicon discovers an inability to identify the things on display before her. Instead her attention drifts to the books-- and who is surprised that the DCC of Britannica, a Drive with no less than 18 libraries, would find books interesting. She picks one up, cracking it open to thumb through a few pages out of curiosity with a little 'hmm' sound. When some psycho dressed like a dragon drops out of the sky, however, the brunette winces and casts her attention across the square.

    Noting the sudden aggression of the guardsmen, Lexicon sets the book back down on the merchant's blanket and excuses herself, trotting through the crowd to investigate.

    At the edge of the crowd, she comes to a stop and squints, "Oh, it's a J-pop show?" Eyes closing, she sighs and pulls the spear from her back, raising it in both hands, "A place like this would sure suit something more crunchy than frilly japanese love songs..." The spear is rammed down into the stone where it anchors itself, and the gemstone on the upraised end begins to glow with a pure white light. Yeah, she's anticipating trouble.

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    So the currency is... some sort of energy that appears as fog. Hravn actually has an inkling of what sort of energy it is, if only because she's looking at it through the not-eyes of a sword's spirit. That will likely be easy to figure out, later, and isn't relevant to the current crisis, in all likelihood.
    Elizabeth occurs, and Hravn's attention is mainly focused in that direction, as mcuh as it's possible for her vision to focus. Mel gets an 'acknowledged' sort of feeling, along with an agreement that this one is trouble. If Hravn were to open up her senses to it fully, she has the feeling that all of them would pronounce this Servant the same. Still, no plan of action immediately presents itself.

Elizabeth Bathory (911) has posed:
    "Who am I? DIDN'T I JUST SAY SO?" Liz growls, showing off some teeth, before sighing, wiping her face with her long red fingers. Then, she strikes a pose, fingers V'ed across her eyes, cocking her hips and placing her free hand on her hip.

    "I'm Rabu-Rabu Liz-Chan! But you..." she gestures at the guards. "Can call me the Lancer Elizabeth Bathory, Servant of Lezard Valeth."

    She then takes a few clipped steps into the crowd of cultists, before reaching down, her tail sweeping behind her... To pull off one of her boots, so she can jam her bare foot - whose toes are strange, red claws as well - into the face of one of the cultists. "I heard these needy fans needed someone to worship - a dragon! - and I'm so much better, so they should learn to worship me!"

    She is utterly oblivious to the Haters. They will Hate.

    Well, that's not true, she gives Reiji a cute look, a cross between a bright idol smile and a 'nyeeeeh'.

Priscilla has posed:
    In that continually helmeted sense, Reiji can imagine some dark eyes widening in that visor slit, since the knight(?)'s body language is enough to demonstrate recognition. "Proof of the Pacifier. Revenant slayer and Curse breaker. Sanctioned by he who gave us the first death. Assuming you are the genuine article, what business have you here? The dead rest easy. There is no darkness to banish here." He clatters with the act of shifting his weight uncomfortably at probably being forced to answer that question. He is also extremely uncomfortable with having Elizabeth at his back, but they can't /all/ turn around like a bunch of hapless goons.

    Staren is badgering along similar lines. His guy is more cooperative, if more irreverent towards robo-cat. "What else? Have you been living under a stone? That a child born of dragons found these lands a summoned champions of other worlds from the mists! That she commanded armies of heroes from mere echoes of possibility, and laid low the traitors and schemers who propped up the illusions of old! That from them she called forth the Ashfinder and bid it go forth! That the Everlasting now holds sway over Anor Londo, and the false gods driven out in fear! That only the loyal will remain, and the Everlasting will return anew!" There are some . . . considerable artistic liberties with that story. No doubt someone over-fixated on a specific aspect when retelling it. Wonder what that could be.

    The knight shrugs and simplifies it with less enthusiasm for Reiji, after he seems to have vouched for the Marshal he apparently doesn't like. "It is the closest we can get to the presence of this world's originator who dwells within. Until the Daughter bid us inside, we will remain here in faith, and await enlightenment. No adherent worth his soul would refuse to find his way to a Dragon; not when such a chance was deemed impossible not long ago."

    He then shakes his head at Mel. "The crowd down the stairs is not mine to command; let them watch. Those adherents above them are well beyond me. I am but a knight who has yet to achieve his first glimpse of enlightenment. I have no right to demand anything of those so far along the path. I serve by guarding the way." Yeah and those superhuman soldiers in the fluted armour that Solaire keeps around guard the city they're squatting in too.

    The merchant protests as Lexicon drops the book she'd just picked out, calling "Hey! No touching it if you ain't buying it!" in a weasley voice. The interior is a totally unfamiliar language anyways, something between Norse runes and Gregorian illuminated manuscriot. It looks old, but at least kept somewhere dry, cool, and without bugs. A couple of gawkers part and turn at hearing her spear crack the stone, hands falling to ubiquitous grips and scabbards in anticipation of someone starting a scene where it pinches them in.

Priscilla has posed:
    The knights seem completely floored at everything coming out of Elizabeth's mouth. It seems they're, however briefly, too stunned to do anything about it. Seeking refuge in audacity, and all that. It's only once she actually steps on a man in prayer, falling over with an almost comical, muffled splutter as his startled flailing kicks all his stuff over, do they actually come to their senses and intervene.

    The rest of the middle section all stand up in unison, interrupted in prayer, and immediately screen the weirdos at the front, their meditation still completely unbroken. The Lancer is boxed in right away by a good number of men with swords and spears. How many of them are mooks, and how many of them are the real deal, is actually pretty tough to say. A good number of them have exceptionally abnormal levels of prana. There's little point in singling out where the indignant responses come from. "Deviant!" "False idol!" "How have you strayed from the path so?" "What manner of degenerate seductress?!" "Cease. Sit with the others." "There is no need for argument amongst those who would become dragons." "Prove it!" "What sort of sick experiment . . ." "Am I to believe this the queen's concubine?" "What's a Rabu-Rabu?!"

Staren has posed:
    Staren tilts his head. "I know that story... most of it. I'm /one/ of those heroes. We were focused on the stuff we were fighting, though, and not all of us were here for every thing." He scratches his head. "The everlasting... I take it that's the dragon this is a statue of? So..." he rubs his chin. "Okay. You worship the everlasting and you're here because he was involved in the adventure that led to Pr-- to Queen Priscilla coming to power. So I guess what I want to know is..."

    "...Why do you worship The Everlasting, and more importantly, is there a way you can do it without blocking traffic?"

Lexicon has posed:
    "It's an extremely cliche way to mispronounce 'love-love' using Japanese pronunciation rules," Lexicon explains. She leaves her spear where she jammed it into the stone roadway, stepping around it and separating herself from the crowd. When she stops, she simply leaves her hands hanging down her sides, where they disappear into her oversized sleeves, "She's trying to be cutesy but it's pretty forced if you ask me."

    Blue eyes squint briefly at Elizabeth, then glance towards the lead guard, "Lexicon, DCC of Britannica. I just came to see the sights but I don't mind working on vacation. If you need assistance with any troublemakers," She tilts her head towards Liz, then again towards the deforming cultist worshippers, "Just point me at who you want to get lost."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "Oh, this is not gonna be pretty," Mel observes blandly. She turns to the man guarding the worshippers again and says, "Hey, I'm taking my jacket off, I'm not getting ready to attack you or anything." First thing to be unbuckled is Hravn's sheath, which she holds onto telekinetically while unbuttoning her longcoat. This, she tosses onto the ground, where it flattens out about an inch up as if on an invisible surface. She steps onto it like a platform; and up it rises, taking her high enough that she can float /over/ the crowd.

    She takes this moment to re-strap Hravn to her back.

    Mostly because she's heading over to where Elizabeth has been boxed in. And those people all look a little peeved, so she wants her sword on hand. When her coat platform floats directly above where the crowd has encircled the Servant, it comes to a stop, and the space sheriff leans over slightly to extend a hand - more in a symbolic gesture than out of any real intent to haul her up. "Hey, hop on up, I think 'exit stage left' might be a good idea before this whole thing turns ugly."

Priscilla has posed:
    The man Staren is talking to then squints at him. He can tell he is squinting by how far he is leaning forward. "Really? And which one of those would you be?" He doesn't sound aggressive, but Staren has probably the least consistent appearance out of the entire 'core' group. It doesn't help that specific models of power armour are hard to tell tales about.

    "A statue? My boy, the /real/ thing is inside! The true, unmistakable article? Can you not /feel/ it? Can you not hear its presence in your mind? Or is your brain too full of titles and politics to have time for the pulse of the universe? The dragons have long preexisted the Daughter. Long preexisted you and I. Long preexisted everything! Long before there was Fire and Dark, life and death, even the appearance of the first souls! They are everlasting because they defy definition! They exist well beyond our transient distinctions of things that rise and fade!"

    "To understand the Dragon is to have one's heart beat with time itself; it is to /become/ a Dragon, freed from death and sickness, of fear and want, of all mortal limits and failings! All that prevents one from transcending this petty existence of souls and gods and Flames and undead is enlightenment; that of the will, and that of the warrior. You take too much for granted. For one to crusade in the company of our eldritch messiah, and see her only as a queen of beings as fallible as the rest of us . . ." A transcript reads like the mad ramblings of a dark cultist, but he relates all of it with the warmth of a Buddhist monk. And besides, it is objectively factual that the Union recruited the help of a dragon, and pretty obvious that a few of these people are doing a /pretty good job/ of looking like one, freaky and unromantic as it is. No doubt the severe lack of majesty and beastliness is considered proof of their dedication.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Seeing the response that Elizabeth gets, Enark suddenly pretends not to know her and look somewhere else, lest he be labelled an associate. Besides, she doesn't seem interested in singing Dragonforce songs for the crowd anymore.

    Carna, meanwhile, listens to the explanation given to Staren of what has transpired and Staren admitting he was involed in that. Didn't she write down something about this before? That there was some grand effort to save this world, and many of those involved in Lumiere were also part of that?

    It might be prudent to ask questions and learn more about what happened before... That could also give some perspective on this whole dragon thing. What is this about exactly? How is Priscilla connected? All Carna knows is the queen has some kind of soft spot for dragons.

    ...Either way, right now, staying near the meditating people as others draw weapons and move into formation to defend them doesn't seem prudent. So she grabs Enark by a tattered sleeve and starts dragging him away from the commotion. "This is not a healthy place to be. Let us stand with those more likely to be given a wide berth."

    Enark, alarmed by this forced relocation initially, still can not really disagree with the premise of it. Though he does call out to Rabu Rabu Liz-chan and the meditating demi-dragons alike, "I want to ask you some questions about dragons later! There is one on a tower where I come from, and it is making accessing my library very difficult, and if there is some way to placate it or maybe even cut off its--STOP PULLING YOU ARE TEARING MY SLEEVE, I ONLY HAVE ONE SET OF ROBES!"

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    "Mel," Reiji inclines his head at the Space Sheriff. He allows himself his daily allotment of smirk and the edges of his mouth twitch ever so slightly upwards. "Have you been keeping up with your training? I hope that you Hravn have been getting along well together." If ALL THOSE SLASHES aren't enough to cement the bonds between soul and sword-- well, there are other ways. Reiji would rather not use them, but they exist! "We'll try to break this thing up peacefully, first. I don't want to get the guards involved just yet- that might just spark a riot."

    Elizabeth gets a look. It's an eyebrow-raised, blank-faced, exasperated expression that seems to say 'really?' And then 'Bitch, I live with a fox. You can't smug at me.'

First, though, Dragon Knight. Who seems to know who Reiji is, at least!

    The Pacifier? That's a new one. 'Curse Breaker' too, but at least Reiji can kind of see where that one is coming from. "The dead rest easy," Reiji agrees, "But I'm here today on behalf of the living. Specifically, the people living in this city. I can appreciate the desire to lay witness to your ancient deity, but I'm afraid that this--" he gestures vaguely at the semicircle assembled around the gate. "--Is unacceptable. You all have waited for years to meet with your dragon. You can all wait a few days in order to petition Lady Priscilla for an opportunity to meet with him."

    "Not that he's very talkative," Reiji says with a shrug. "Wise. But reserved. I'd wager this much attention might make him perhaps a little uncomfortable? But I can't exactly speak for him, either. Regardless, just to clarify a few things--"

    He holds up a hand. There are three fingers extended. "One, the gods you're talking about still live here. Many of those who fled have returned home to Anor Londo, and several have brought friends." He folds his fingers back into a fist as he counts down, "Second, the Everlasting Dragons do not rule Anor Londo; Lady Priscilla does, and though she is of both Dragon and God, she is her own woman first and foremost. The Elder is here under her protection as her guest, and as her distant ancestor. Third, we fought alongside her for our own reasons, not least because she is a brave and worthy woman, and a good friend of mine. Now, if you'll excuse me--"

Elizabeth.

ELIZABETH THE WALKING HERESY.

    Reiji groans, running his hands down the length of his face. Goddamnit, Lezard. Why did you have to let her out without a leash?

    "Mel," Reiji sighs as his stance lowers ever so slightly. He's about to jump. "I'm going to go on ahead. We might need some telekinetic containment if things get messy." With that, the Exorcist leaps boldly over the gathering crowd in a SINGLE BOUND. Is this the power of TRUE BUDDHIST MEDITATION? No, Reiji just doesn't skip leg day.

He lands, as he does, right between Elizabeth and the crush of violent dragon cultists.

    "Alright, you all calm down!" He bellows, pointedly exposing the hilt to the Blade of Death. "Violence within the walls of Anor Londo is strictly prohibited under the laws of Queen Priscilla. With the authority invested in me by the ruler of this land, halt now and calm down. Nobody needs to get hurt today."

    He glances over his shoulder, just a bit. He is deeeefinitely peering at Elizabeth. "You really need to not rile these people up. They have come a very long way to see a completely different dragon. If you want to organize a concert, I can probably get you the paperwork."

Staren has posed:
    "Staren?" he answers, pointing at himself with a thumb. "I shot Kalameet's wing off with a giant beam cannon?"

    His eyes widen at the assertion that the statue is the real dragon. That's... actually pretty believable. He laughs at the comment about titles and politics. "Oh, I don't care about such things... but, perhaps as I am from another world, I can't hear the dragon in my head, no."

    He listens to the man's spiel, nodding along with it. "Well, that sounds like a fine goal! I see some of your comrades are already making progress... I didn't think it worked that way, but that's evidence enough that the Everlasting supports you, or perhaps that your belief is enough." He smiles. "Across the multiverse, I see far too few people willing to accept the idea of becoming more than mortal. I have my own path, and my own choices of what to keep and what to escape, but it really is nice to see a group of people so determined as all of you, transcending mortality without harming others to do it!"

    Staren looks back at the guard for a moment. "...But seriously, do you have to all worship right here at once? Maybe you could do it in shifts, or worship from your hotel rooms sometimes? Um..." Staren scratches his helmet. "Um... I know it's a petty mortal concern, but you're disturbing this fine city. Not in a way that means we have to come to blows or anything, but I think the Queen and her people would appreciate if we could reach an arrangement that doesn't require, like, overhauling the city road network to tunnel under you all or something."

Elizabeth Bathory (911) has posed:
    As the guy splutters and flails as the PURE INNOCENT IDOL, Liz-chan's foot is lifted slighty. "What."

    She slowly slips her foot back into her spike-protruding boot, looking real cheesed off. "Am I not good enough for you? Is that it?"

    She leans in, eyes empty and angry, as she looks down on Shitty Nerd mysticant. And then...

    She raises her hand to strike this piece of mostly-human filth and the soldiers - and Carna/Enak's leaving the Danger Zone, as well as Mel offering her an 'exit stage right' option, with Reiji in the wings leaping in - zeroing in on her.

    She brings her hand down, slowly, patting the squealing cultist on the head a little TOO hard, before leaning back, placing her loose fists against her hips. "Hmph! Fine! I see how it is. But that trashy idol you all worship is peanuts compared to me!"

    With a light hop back, and a spin, two large draconic wings burst from her back in a brief flash of red light. "And Rabu-Rabu... It's love! Love-love! Is your world such a crapsack that you don't even know what love is??!"

    She alights on Mel's floating carpet, looking confused.

    "No, wait, that's probably correct. This world is such a pit, though the architecture can be nice..."

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Hravn continues doing nothing because everything she could do at this point would very likely make things worse, such as joining Elizabeth and Mel on the jacket with another body, or adding primarily combat-oriented magic to an encounter they're trying to not make any worse.

Priscilla has posed:
    It almost seems as if the idea of this 'petitioning' had never occurred to anyone present. After all, why should they be required to go through the laws of gods to be in the presence of something so beyond them? Something, one should be reminded, they largely dislike being around, never mind having people running around worshipping it. It seems as if they expected to be able to just come in through the front doors too. Civilization and warrior monks ill mix, one could suppose.

    As to the rest, Reiji gets the strong impression that /all/ of those listening don't like hearing him sassback, but feel as if they can't reject it out of hand. After all, for all his dedication to a totally different religion, and lack of care for transcending mortality, he is hardly ignorant of Lordran's mysteries, and knows a lot of this first hand. Most of them here can't even say to have any idea of Priscilla's character, or even seen her outside of maybe some sketch someone has done. At most, someone might have insisted on a royal portrait by now.

    "Very well." One of them finally grunts, trying to be a bigger man the rest, and without bitterness in being humbled by a firsthand account. "No Dragon aspirant would be caught dead submitting themselves to the whims of celestial bureaucracy however. I would not insult our honour by subjecting our sacred path to the whims of clerics, priests and soothsayers pushing quills and parchment back and forth. If will listen to you at all, it will be after you guarantee a direct petition."

    The knight talking to Staren /lights the fuck up/ at hearing his name, and everything else he has to say. "The innovator! He transient soul who freely changes the shell of his flesh! He who sculpts the form of others to better suit what they deserve, and he who unmakes the obsolete with blue fire and thunder! Of course, of course! Of all of you, I would expect /you/ the most to understand! My apologies, I had no way of knowing by looking!" Looks like Staren might have found a legitimate fanboy. No doubt a transhumanist would appeal to some in this particular crowd.

    "I see, I see. I would trust that you would not mislead me for the sake of politics, nor feel too beholden to the authority of a queen. We do not recognize the authority of dukes and kings and Lords, but the authority of our Daughter of the Ashen Sun; our White Lady of Disaster, we cannot ignore." It only gets more over the top. How pretentious has this stuff gotten by word of mouth? "Alas, there are few places where we are close enough to hear the Dragon's voice over the crude noise of living." He then looks slooowly towards Elizabeth. "Though this place is noisy enough as-is. What is your explanation for her? Is she some innovation of yours? Some experiment of one of your cohorts? She wears the adornments of a dragon, but only in ways that frame her beauty. Such is not our way. I cannot imagine one is perverse enough to desire that for its own sake."

Priscilla has posed:
    Being fair, nobody here has a clue what a Servant is. The Aspirant Elizabeth picks on doesn't seem to recognize just how much harm she could actually to by hitting him. The others look pretty tired of her shit though; that is, the others at the top of the stairs. The crowd at the bottom thinks it's hilarious, save the ones who want to get the hell out of dodge. With no particular commitments to sacred dragon stuff, and in fact, scattered reverence for dragon ladies as a matter of principle, she gets a number of cheers for having the guts to showboat like that, though none of them want to be in the way if the Dragonslayer Archers start firing. The fact they've been that still and disciplined this entire time is really something.

    "Further pilgrims to the city are welcome." The glorified bouncer intones to Lexicon. He then, pretty predictably, jerks his thumb at Elizabeth, currently self-aggrandizing on top of a floating platform the lady claiming to be a cop just made, and had coopted into a stage. "You look like the capable sort. If you would defend the honour of the Everlasting, what say you to taking this trouble elsewhere as a random, uninvolved outsider, hm?"

Staren has posed:
    Staren grins wide. Someone gets it! He retracts his visor and offers to shake hands. And now the problem becomes clear: They need to hear the dragon, but the range is limited. Hmmm...

    While Staren's considering this, they bring up Elizabeth. He looks at her with disgust, and replies honestly but coldly: "She's the assistant to my enemy, Lezard Valeth. But we're under a truce while in this realm, so don't take any action against her on my behalf. It's a... we have our own squabbles in other worlds, but we all agree not to cause any problems here, right?"

    Staren looks back to the statue, rubbing the chin of his helmet. "Hmm. I guess maybe we really do have to move it. Or... ask him to move? I'm honestly not sure which is easier, when a dragon is like this. That or build a new church here and roads around him. I wonder if they're having any unemployment problems here, could kill two birds with one stone with a public works project like that..."

Staren has posed:
    Staren gasps as he has another idea: "Or maybe we could find some way to extend the range! Hmm... Ms. Brock's a psychic, maybe she has some idea of how to do that..."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "So, uh, now that you're here," Mel says, putting her hands in her jumpsuit's pockets while they're standing on her coat, "Far be it from me to tell an idol her business or anything, but it seems like causing a riot here would upset Priscilla, and that'd make life difficult for your Master. Just an idle observation."

    If she intended that pun, she's not showing it. The coat-platform, meanwhile, has started to steadily glide towards the edge of the crowd, where it will be safer (or at least easier) for the Lancer to hop off. "Final station, gates of the palace. This train will be making no more stops, have a nice day."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Well. They may not like him for it, but at least they're not about to riot anymore. Reiji breathes another long sigh, but flashes Mel a quick THUMBS UP as she airlifts Dragonforce One out of the danger zone. Crisis averted. Anor Londo is not on fire. Everything is fine.

Well. Almost everything.

     "I can't guarantee that I can get you an audience with the Elder," Reiji says to the One Sane Man. "But I can guarantee that I will do my best to make sure your concerns reach Lady Priscilla's ear." Also, that she should maybe get them to not call her White Lady of Disaster. She might have Kalameet's eye, but that's probably not the kind of thing she wants people going around and calling her, especially in worship. "I understand that it would be inconvenient for each of you to file a request for audience, so I'll do what I can, but hers is the final word."

The exorcist, being a Japanese man, ends his speech with a polite bow, "I thank you for your patience. Do not worry, as a priest of sorts myself, I know how vital pilgrimage is. We will do what we can."

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark is trying not to become too agitated by all that's going on, noting the rising tension of the crowd and the guards and those people with stupidly large bows. Carna is listening in to all the back and forth between Staren, Reiji, Mel, the mystics, the guards, etc. etc. and writing it down as quickly as she can. This is exactly the sort of stuff she had intended to ask about.

    So Priscilla's ancestor was a dragon? That would explain some things. Transhumanism? Trying to become something else? Also interesting. The disparity in stories about what happened here, as told by Reiji, contrasted with the popular version of events? Quite a conflict of details, though from what she is seeing in Lumiere, when enough time has passed and enough people have gotten involved, wildly divergent tales of the same thing seem to be inevitable.

    Elizabeth Bathory's conflict with the police or whatever they are, her insistance that she is a dragon, the views of such by the dragon knights... There's a LOT to write down.

    And a lot she has to ask about when this is done. But she's learning a lot, just by observing.

    Observing has taught her a lot so far.

Lexicon has posed:
    "Capable is one way to put it," Lexicon comments to Mr BOuncer, stepping around the larger man and resting a hand on her hip. She draws in a breath to puff out her chest and make herself look bigger than usual-- which is still fairly small compared to most adult women, in more than one way. Reiji's claim that this is a place of peace and not to be sullied with violence is also fresh in her mind, which is why she hasn't drawn her Crusher yet.

    Suitably puffed up, Lexicon lifts her gaze on Elizabeth, standing up there on Mel's floating jacket. And before the DCC can even say anything to assert her authority, Mel's already floating the coat away and taking the offending dragonlady with it.

    So all Lexicon can do is glower for a moment, since telling Liz to get lost wouldn't /accomplish/ anything with her already technically leaving. She can't help but feel that took the wind out of her sails, a bit, but there's obviously several people here with a vested interest in keeping the peace.

    Glancing over her shoulder at Mr Bouncer, Lexicon comments, "See? You just gotta give them the right 'look'."

Elizabeth Bathory (911) has posed:
    "They're dragon cultists! Dragon! I'm a dragon, though not some lame stone dragon. I'm a dragon of Hungary, the most beautiful country in the world! Fitting that my line should be among the rulers of that place. And, well, Austria."

    Elizabeth shrugs. "It's all a political blur, really." And then she's floating awayyyyyyyyyy!

    "Wait! My adoring public! Stupid coat, I wasn't done talking!" She stamps on the coat a few times. "You should respect and love me! Worship /me/! Your dragon god can't give you anything! He can't give you love! You don't know what love is! ... That makes this very hard!"

    Then Lexicon gives her the Sinkiest of Eyes, and the look that crosses the petite servant's face is 'u wot m8'. Then, rage. "Oh, you think that you accomplished something? A dirty look? I'll give you, fool, ONE chance to apologize personally to me for your dirty, inciting look, and if you /don't/, then I'll start killing people and I just do NOT know when I'll stop or feel satisfied!!!"

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "No killing people here, please," Mel replies to Elizabeth blandly, going from 'hands in pockets' to 'arms folded over her chest'. "If, uh. If a pop star goes around murdering a bunch of people, the queen of the city might have to ban pop music, or something. And then you'll never be popular here." Hey, she doesn't have any actual authority and the 'you'll make your Master's life difficult' approach didn't work.

Lexicon has posed:
    "--Oh," Lexicon casts her look back towards the (unwillingly) retreating Elizabeth, "You heard that?" She doesn't seem intimidated at all. The girl leans forward slightly, instead, "You've got a snowball's chance in hell of getting an apology outta me when you're the one acting like a stuck up bitch. But, I don't have much interest in letting you kill people when I'm just a tourist, here."

    Behind her, the spear she'd left embedded in the street spreads its spars and begins to glow. Silver light paints digital code in rings around the girl, who is enveloped in pixellated light. Stepping off as the light fades, she ascends with a different appearance, silver hair and crimson eyes, on square-shaped wings of light. Metallic processor pieces wink in around her as she rises to the same altitude.

    When she speaks again, the girl's voice is the same but has a much harsher edge. As do her words, "You're talking to Silver Soul, guardian goddess of Britannica. I ain't starting a fight here 'cuz these people said this was neutral ground. But I ain't fuckin' apologizing either." Leaning forward with one hand on her hip, she points with a talon-gauntleted finger, "Find me some other time if you wanna start shit, but when it comes to a fight in this place, I'm turning you down." That same hand points aside, at the horizon, "Now get lost, bitch!"

Elizabeth Bathory (911) has posed:
    Liz looks posisitvely aghast as Lexicon powers up. There's a narrowing of eyes, and then a cocking of her head, horns turned at a slant. "Well, you're not a Servant, but you sure are /loud/. And rude! So rude! They were worshipping dragons! I'm a dragon! You'd think they'd be happy to worship at my feet!" She shrugs, sweeping out her arms in a big, overemphasized shrug, stepping off Mel's coat with a light step as her tail-tip hovers up between her shoulderblades like a three-arm show of shrugging.

    "You're so mouthy to your betters, though! Guards! Why don't you restrain /this/ person? They have a weapon! Do your jobs better, or I'll complain to your Queen myself! Hmph!"

    Then she just sort of stands there, hands on her hips.

    The only reason she's not leaving is because she was told to, but for some reason she seems MORE relaxed with the threat of violence in the air.

Priscilla has posed:
    The knight Staren talks to gets halfway into telling him something about who he'd take the idea to, before the surrounding area erupts into the kind of noise only a large crowd can make as Elizabeth and Lexicon pick fights with each other. In fact, the guard Lex had just been talking to had only just laughed, and started to say something about her technique, before the gawking mob at the bottom of the stairs gets even better than what they wanted. Instead of seeing someone coming out to lay down the divine law, or the iron knights in action, they get to see a real, honest to god catfight between pretty multiversal girls.

    Having gotten what they wanted out of Reiji, and to an extent Staren, the heavily armed and armoured men whose self-claimed job is, as essentially knight interns, to guard the others 'further along the path' from being disturbed, they begin gesturing for them to relocate, gathering up their stuff, though the weird stone people only show the slightest signs of moving, as if recovering from a vegetative coma rather than a meditative trance

    The men and women of Anor Londo daring and bored enough to be out here, at this time and this place, are loving it. One of the Aspirants starts to repeat to Elizabeth that they don't acknowledge queens, Lexicon isn't their problem, etc. etc., but then one of the /actual/ peacekeepers of Anor Londo, two of them in fact, intervene.

    One of the knights atop the high towers and roofs, drops straight down. What must be eight or nine feet of metal man crashes down on the flagstones with all the loudness one would expect, but looking as if he'd skipped the last step of a staircase, and the stones seem to support him as well. Though faceless like many others, his sheer size, and impassive silence, is far more intimidating, and has an entirely different air than simply a helmeted human. He steps between the two almost casually, unslinging an ornately carved and etched shield that looks like a slab made of a hundred kilos of solid silver and iron, apparently prepared to preserve peace with that, and a sword second.

    Behind Elizabeth, a much more reasonably sized figure just sort of /appears/, hazy and indistinct, save for being outlined in shades of midnight blue as if a deep, sapphire light were catching them at an odd angle. What they're wearing is very much different, being plain, contoured, and swathed in obscuring cloth and a legitimate mask, and all they do is firmly place their hand on her shoulder and turn her towards the palace; oddly enough, less like a bouncer, and more like a road manager pulling their idol away from the paparazzi.

Staren has posed:
    Spiritual problem-solving cancelled on account of /catfight/? Staren holds his hands out in a 'Seriously!?' gesture. "So much for throwing off those petty mortal interests..." He's not super-upset, though. He's learned everything he immediately needs, here.

Lexicon has posed:
    A massive knight interposing himself between prissy dragon and pissy DCC only prompts Lexicon to lean back, both hands resting on her hips as she glances up at his face--or what passes for one under super-heavy armor. She doesn't say anything, simply glowering up at him with glowing red eyes. But she gets the point, and after a moment, she grins, "Yeah, guess I went overboard, there, huh."

    Her wings disappear and the girl drops down to street level again. As she walks back to her discarded spear-device, the transformation fades in wisps of silvery light, and it's a brunette who collects the Relay and ceases its glowing shenanigans, "Back to being a tourist."

Elizabeth Bathory (911) has posed:
    Liz is MUCH TOO DIGNIFIED to pull down her eyelid and bleeeeh tonguewaggle... And there's a huge knight between them, now, too. So whatever. They backed down! And said they went overboard!!!

    !!!!!!!!!!!!! APOLOGY SORT-OF DETECTED

    Liz, finally, lets herself be guided away. "You're taking me to the VIP, right? It'll be improved by me, the P, being VI."