(M) The Wizard's Resistance [GodlyD&D & Hannelorian] (IC)

[GodlyD&D]

Baracon, the original city, was brutally held in subjection once the mighty wizard overthrew the council with killing the council head, and putting the people of the whole city to labor, building edifices for him to be magnified and remembered, including the great towered structure. It had remained this way here for nearly the past two years, with many among the more oppressed living in fear, and appointed officials were stationed for certain areas policing for any dissenters.

Felanor, a strong young male of Baracon with moderate tan skin not really distinct from the other inhabitants, with light brown hair of moderate length on his head and a trim mustache and light beard, came to the entrance of the old slavehouse, which had not been used for a couple of generations, cautiously, looking around him for any observers among the few passing by just then. Those ones seemed to have their attention on any of the pressing issues that would concern them then, and were paying him little heed. He swiftly went through the door and closed the heavy wooden structure for a door to the earthen wall shut behind him. It was dim in here with just a narrow high window a little further on, and the lamp with a lit wick set on the low table nearby. He said to those sitting there, "He is here then. Right? Jagaron, the wizard who would restore hope for us?"

Jagaron answered, "I am right here. We are still waiting for more interest among the people of Baracon in finding the one to support who will challenge the hold of Hamrod over all here, with his massive projects. How many did you reach for that?"

Felanor said, "I spoke with a dozen people this day, carefully finding out if they had loyalty to the rule with Hamrod now, or had any desire for him to be overthrown sometime soon. I managed to interest eight to be support for this. Jeniah should be here shortly but was ambitious to bring more in to this cause. I don't know about the others."

[Hannelorian]

The sun sat high in the sky, lording over the vast expanse of its domain, light flooding the earth in every direction as far as the eye could see. With that divine light that sustained life came an intense heat that made those below wish for the sweet release of death. The summers in the city were long and often harsh. This one would was proving to all that it would be no exception. Despite the soaring temperatures, life in the original city moved on, much as a machine would. The people were as cogs, ever turning, ever churning. There was no time for rest, there was no time to slow down. Progress meant a constant motion at consistent pace, now and always. Or such was the will of the great and benevolent wizard Hamrod, whose reign brought peace, prosperity and public works. Or so the ministries of government would have you believe. Praise his mercy, praise his glory and commemorate his brave and noble action to end a corrupt regime.

For those who remained, there was little hope. Hamrod's oppression was reaching a crescendo and the common people were his captive audience or perhaps they were the orchestra. Each person playing their instrument in honor of Hamrod. Their instruments varied little, the sound of suffering, the sound of a worker breathing his very last breath to place one final stone in a great monument that would never be grand enough to reach true completion. It was the sound of the cracking of the whip to spur on those who were slowing, those who dare even stop for a single moment of rest. Through their continued labour, they work toward repaying Hamrod for his wisdom, for his benevolence. Their death, the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate show of gratitude.

The days didn't matter, at least not for Miranda. Each day brought more of the same, more work, more pain, more death. Each day she rose at the same time, ate at the same times, worked the same grueling hours. Each day she toiled under the same merciless sun, with the same man cracking the whip. Perhaps there was one difference between days, no, not the mere fact that technically it was a new day, but rather, that each day she grew weaker, more tired, her will to press on slowly but surely draining from every fiber of her being. Miranda stood a shadow of her former self. Less and less herself with each rise and fall of the moon. Those who knew her before would remark on how she was full of life, a glittering, gleaming bright spot. They would comment on her wit, her grace and intelligence. Now there was nothing but an ever diminishing figure who remained in an eternal dour state. Still, Miranda retained her signature beauty, even now. Her skin tan, kissed by the very sun she was now beginning to resent, bright green eyes, and long dark brunette hair which came to rest upon her shoulders. Her delicate features were striking, and betrayed just how hard she had truly been put to work.

Were Miranda to think on it, she was no worse off than most others. Many had lost almost everything. What little they held on to they guarded like wild animals. Miranda did not allow herself a moment to sigh as the thought came and went, instead she simply carried on working as was assigned. Much of the morning as she always had, carving away at stone or other similar material according to the latest set of designs provided. They were always changing, more needed to be done to increase the sense of drama, the grandeur so desperately desired by their dear leader. Gone was art for arts sake. There was little thought she put into her job, follow the patterns, carve with the utmost care. Should even one piece be ruined, it brought the potential for disaster, the potential for death. Would that, she wondered, be such a terrible thing? Relief from the pain of existence.

It was of little importance but there had been whispers. Miranda was always listening for the whispers. Whispers contained the promise of hope for a better future, hope for a world that wasn't overflowing with darkness and fear. It felt futile to hold on to such silly notions. She couldn't tell who was more delusional, herself for simply accepting the order of the world, or those who clung to hope that for the most part would never be realized. Of course, not all things stayed whispers. This was when the danger truly set in. When whispers became conversations. Conversations that had best been kept secret. Conversations that even she found herself part of, just words here or there. Never looking at one another, always while working. Had she gone too far this time? To entertain such triviality? But now, now she had a place to go. A place to meet others who did feel as she truly did, that something had to change or their city would collapse upon itself taking every last person with it.

Miranda toyed with the notion that this was some sort of trap. What if it were? The thoughts were there once more, would not death be better than remaining alive as she was now? The risk could be worth the reward, no matter what happened. And so cloaked in nothing but normal garb, tattered with age and wear she made her way to the disused slave houses after her shift was completed. Eyes darting, looking for those who would dare watch her, but in the chaos of the night, none seemed to take notice as she would join the cause, the small group in a dimly lit room. There were voices. Whispers had become conversation, and conversation was about to become revolution.

"Is this... well... I suppose it must be. Hello." Miranda whispered almost, having no doubt in her mind she arrived at the correct location.

[GodlyD&D]

"Hello," a voice came back. "You must be here because you have heard that we gather here to discuss preparation for resistance. The others who gathered here who were new came with someone else we sent for finding more. So this is a surprising difference. Tell us then your name and what you heard, that brought you to us."

It was an authoritative voice, which would be just what she would like, for needed hope in Baracon. It was the one called a wizard, certainly, and not the one who had come to power putting people in general there to harsh work making the monuments, and leaving a few for harvesting and butchering for food that needed to be available there. Only such another wizard could effectively challenge that one now in authority over all who were in Baracon.

He said still further, "No need to remain in the shadows there, come closer to the lamplight, that we may have a look at you."

She saw him better as her eyes adjusted. He seemed just moderately old, with brown hair swept back on his head and with a short beard, with slight suggestions of grayish streaks. He seemed like a strong man but not so much for the confidence showing from him, certainly he was confident of other power. His collar and robe now seen in the dim light were quite dark, with a small line of seemingly bluish color between where they met. His eyes still seemed kind.

[Hannelorian]

The notion that there would be a response to her greeting was not strange, nor was it unexpected, yet in that moment when the firm voice addressed addressed her, she found herself caught off guard. Perhaps there was a small part of Miranda that questioned whether or not this could possibly be her reality. Was she really standing here? It took her a moment to process the words as they struck her ears. She was tired, she was so very tired. The past two years had proved to be beyond exhausting, beyond back breaking. Perhaps it was this exhaustion that had pushed her to this point, where she would so recklessly abandon her better senses, or at the very least her sense of self preservation.

"My name is Miranda..." she began in response to the first question she was asked. She dared not reveal her family name. Revealing as much as she had, her given name seemed like a foolish decision on her part. The constant fear had been ingrained in her. It was like a scar, or more accurate, like a wound that refused to heal. A wound that festered more and more with each passing day. Fear that if her identity was known, someone would report her. Perhaps this entire meeting in and of itself was part of an elaborate trap laid by Hamrod and his agents to capture and imprison perceived enemies of the state. "I have come to see if there is any sense in keeping the flame of hope alive." Miranda's voice nearly trembled as she spoke. Had she signed her own death warrant?

"I met a man... though I see not his face here." Miranda spoke plainly, her voice slowly evening itself out in tone. Her eyes had now adjusted to the dim light of the space, and she brought herself to raise her eyes to the elder man before her. The man who had asked her. "He told me that if I came... here, now... There might be a chance to save what is left of our once great city." The fear she felt roiled within her, almost strong enough to make her collapse to the floor, sick to her stomach but she stood strong, bravely in place. Miranda put one foot before the other and now stepped into the light. Her slender figure, beautifully delicate features making themselves known to the group. There was no going back now, no hiding.

A part of Miranda was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Where were the guards that would rush in now that she was bathed in the light of the lamps? Where were the swift strikes to snuff out the flame of her life? Nothing happened. She was still alive, still breathing. She cast her gaze over the man. She hadn't known what to expect. Was he supposed to be the one who could liberate them from their chains? Then again, Miranda didn't know what a man who could oppose Hamrod was supposed to look like. Hamrod himself looked so ordinary in life, despite his depiction in stone across Baracon which made him bigger, larger than life in a literal and figurative sense. His eyes were soft, they kind. This was a look she hadn't immediately recognized, it had been so longer since she had seen that in another person.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room and the other present. They were bold, and if this was not a trap she knew not whether or not this would be enough to truly start a path toward change. Sacrifice, that was necessary. There had been so few revolutions without blood, sweat or tears. Were they to be the fateful ones. "Are you that person? To restore our hope?" Miranda asked as seriously and straight faced as she could before taking her seat among the number of those gathered. The place she occupied was beside a strong young man who she knew not, recognized not. She had wondered if they had indeed crossed paths before and simply never taken notice. In truth she wondered that of many of those assembled.

[GodlyD&D]

The man, who was certainly the wizard that had been spoken of in hope, for the oppression to end, said then, "I am here as the only hope that can come soon enough. More have gathered together now for support of this, and with powers I can use, the wizard Hamrod will be fully challenged, so that his hold will not continue to remain. If he was left to his devices, there will be ultimately ruin to all Baracon, and the people living near all around. His hold must certainly be brought to an end, as soon as it can be managed. Now that you are with us, Miranda, it is important for you to know others here, who you can recognize as allies. We are still discussing our plans tonight, for a while still, please try to get to know some of these here, at least, as you would now recognize me for the wizard who can challenge the hold over all our city."

A few were gathered at the table there, with a lamp that was lit on it, with this man, where they had seats, others remained standing close by to where that man and those nearest to him sat.

This man who was the hoped for wizard said, "So this plan is best, when Hamrod speaks to the people of Baracon on the high day, it will be when I come forth for the challenge, first blasting him away from his position where he stands to speak. While this will humiliate him with a weakness the people will perceive, it still does not itself disable him. His armed servants will certainly come out to deal with me then, but those of you we now have armed will come from your assigned positions to surprise those ones with an attack, while I yet make further attacks against Hamrod before he counters with his attacks against me, which I must provide blocks for."

Felanor, the strong young man, who stood near, moved over a little to make room, and told Miranda that she could move closer and hear the discussion.

[Hannelorian]

Miranda, who had moved to stand next to Felanor found herself somewhat conflicted as she listened to the wizard. He had asked quite earnestly for her to know the others present. For her to see them for who they truly are so that she may recognize them as her allies in the struggle to end their ever present and all consuming oppression. She wanted to know them, she wanted to be one with them. She wanted to recognize them and take solace in their shared ambition to liberate their once magnificent city. However, to know them was to endanger them. What if she were caught? What if they failed? Miranda would be able to recognize others under duress. She would be tortured, pressed to name those among their number, those would dare co-conspire against Hamrod.

Similarly, now they all knew her name and her face. They would recognize her on the streets, in line for bread, anything and everything. They were in that sense, one, and all in danger together. Perhaps this was part of the appeal, it was the thing that bonded them and in some strange way protected them. They all must trust one another. Without trust there could be no possible hope for success. If they failed, they failed together. If they succeeded, they triumphed together. So, in the spirit of unity and of revolution she looked around the room once again. She lingered longer this time, as the words the wizard spoke hit her ear. She allowed herself to truly process and absorb the features on faces she saw, to consume the words as they were spoken.

The faces of those assembled represented the average citizenry of Baracon. They were simply ordinary folk, who knew where they had come from or who they had been before Hamrod's reign. They were tired, some looked malnourished, which didn't surprise her one bit. Yet, the one thing that truly stood out to Miranda were the looks on their faces. Some had even been smiling as they listened, clearly so full of hope. It was emotional, it was truly moving for Miranda could not remember the last time she herself had worn a smile or indeed carried any such semblance of joy. Was it possible that she, too, at some point find hope to enough to smile when in the presence of this wizard and his followers? There was a smell sense of reassurance she could feel build within her. Perhaps this was possible after all.

The plan was straight forward and it was bold. Miranda might go so far as to say the plan was brazen. An open strike, an open revolt on the high day. A plan that would depend on all of their strength to resist the armed guard, to fight back against them. Miranda couldn't help but wonder if they were all simply lambs being lead off to slaughter. They could so easily be put down, killed and made an example of. This is what happens to those who challenge the rule of Hamrod the wise and magnificent. Those who would throw up their hands in open rebellion would be crushed beneath the feet of their most benevolent lord. Or so they would say. Miranda rolled the plan over and over in her mind, consciously reminding herself that simply because a task was difficult, did not mean that the very same was impossible. Where there was hope and the will to fight on, there would always be a chance of victory, of success, of freedom.

When the elder wizard had concluded his speech, Miranda turned her attention to Felanor. He was a strong man, a handsome one who couldn't be very much older than herself. "And you believe in this? You're ready to fight for this cause?" She asked not with a harsh or incredulous tone, but rather one of genuine passion and curiosity. She wanted to know what others thought, why they themselves had come to this place, and what it was that brought them hope for a brighter future.

[GodlyD&D]

Felanor turned to Miranda, and surprised saw her eyes full of questions with the expression of uncertainty. He told her with a comforting tone, "I met this man, Jagaron, first several weeks ago, and another friend with me, Sepharod right over there, knowing I hated the oppression and wanted deliverance, told me that this man had powers, that could be our hope for deliverance. He is tremendously confident, and arranged with several of us for an occasion in which he demonstrated some of the things he can do. He had trained under Shalmerad, the old one, the same under whom Hamrod had trained, before Hamrod ever took hold of the power over Baracon. Hamrod knows Jagaron has such powers, but Jagaron has been in hiding, even with use of such power for that, and has not been found, and has only been seen by those of us who agreed to come together for support. It is the plan to deal with Hamrod at a coming public appearance, but we really should have more gathered from the city to be on our side, for that, so that Jagaron is not perceived as an enemy, which Hamrod would still use. We have half a dozen days, to yet gather more to our side, telling those we can, to be support for us, and meeting with this wizard who will challenge Hamrod when the time is right, which he says he is sure will be on that high day. Each of us shall find more who we trust to speak to for joining us."

Felanor gestured to Sepharod, and to Jeniah, to come and speak with Miranda with him. They saw his gesture, and they smiled at Miranda as they came over.

[Hannelorian]

As Miranda listened to Felanor, she couldn't help but wonder what had brought him to this point. The point at which one begins to risk one's life by so whole heartedly conspiring to bring revolution upon the land that reared them. A part of her felt certain that his story could not be entirely dissimilar to her own, or to any of those present really. She supposed it didn't really matter, ill fate for one was ill fate for all. Felanor spoke of Jagaron with a confidence she had seldom experience in recent years. She could see the hope beaming from his presence, he seemed to know something she did not. Or at the very least, he had been with this group long enough to harbor a hope she was only beginning to rediscover. The old name of Shalmerad was mentioned in passing, there was a name she had not thought of in some time. The pupils of the old wizard were numerous at one point, almost all of them now wiped out at hands of Hamrod, Miranda had little doubt.

The notion that there should be more of them present was troubling to Miranda. Would there ever be enough gathered in what was about to be open rebellion to succeed in their task? There was the idea that perhaps worry or fear should be assuaged by the number of days between now and the execution of the plan. Six days, the world could change in six days surely. After all, it had done so at least once before in her own living memory. In less than six days Hamrod had executed the head of the council and taken command of the entire city, crushing any and all who dared to stand opposed to the new era that was about to dawn in his glorious city, under his most regal name.

"Are you not worried that time is running short?" Miranda asked, her tone purely inquisitive, gentle almost to a fault. She was genuinely curious, though cautious to ensure that she did not seem to be overly doubted in her question. Deep down she wanted more than anything to believe in this, to have not only hope but faith. Faith that everything would work out she need only trust. Yet this seemed just ever out of reach. She did not know these people, she had not spent time among them as it seemed so apparent others had. She was new and perhaps unprepared for the calm tones of those assembled on this day. Felanor seemed to summon two more of the would-be-rebellers in their direction and for the faintest moment she could feel herself begin to smile before she allowed it to fade into characteristic nothingness. These men too, had smiled, wide, as though they truly believed, truly had reason to live with abandon that they could feel such things. That small act in and of itself was enough to hearten her to the cause, to hearten her to the possibility that it might just be okay to have such faith.

"Though I am but fresh faced to this group, I feel no differently than any gathered. Change must come or we face most certain extinction. But what can I do to help? How might I be needed?"

Miranda had for many moons now doubted herself and what she might be capable of. The crushing arm of the state slamming down on her and her people over and over again. There was little confidence left, little anything aside from the faintest notion that it simply might be easier to give up. Succumb to the fate that seemed absolutely inevitable.

[GodlyD&D]

Felanor answered Miranda as well as he could, even as Sepharod and Jeniah came up to them, "It is not abundant time, I can agree with you. Nor should it be abundant. Every day is more suffering for us, though there are ways we find to avoid some of it. Jagaron let us know that this event would be a unique opportunity, and the direction that Hamrod is taking is leading to certain crisis to all of Baracon, with all the use of resources his efforts are involving, and we will not have much time to rectify that when Jagaron would overcome Hamrod. There is need of urgency anyway. You are as important in this as the rest of us. As someone told you, you must tell others, as we do. We can help to give you tips for how to say things that can have others show you already if they would be receptive and side with us when invited to come here and join us. We should have our numbers for support of Jagaron grow, and we are each here involved in that. Sepharod, you are among the very first involved with Jagaron, and know these ways best of all. You can tell Miranda here how it is done."

Miranda then saw Sepharod, and Jeniah right by him, up close now. Sepharod was rather taller, while slimmer, he seemed younger than Felanor, yet there was wisdom recognizable in his eyes. He spoke kindly, "Welcome here, Miranda. Jagaron is adept in great powers, so much so, that he might have done what Hamrod has done, and come to that position of power that Hamrod did. But only if he was like Hamrod to take power like that over the city. Which he is not. He knows still the foretellers speak truth of what is coming. They necessarily have to be in hiding after they speak. It has become known that at least one of the foretellers escaped from Baracon, with some who were following him, in disguise with the clothing worn by those going out to the fields for the harvesting and bringing in trapped animals. They seem to have completely gotten away and have fled beyond where any from here would likely find them. But we will not have the same opportunity. The element of surprise is necessary, and so it will be soon that Jagaron will act while Hamrod cannot be prepared for that. You will see those who are most unhappy in the enforced work they are involved in. Talk to those you can about what hope they might have for anything that would make them happy. If they trust you, they will tell you what you need to see, to tell them of this place we have for now, to see Jagaron who has all this power that is needed to overcome our oppressor. Watch how I approach Jeniah, to see how I do this, for an example to you."

[Hannelorian]

Miranda was admittedly struggling to come to terms with her current situation. This had been so wildly out of character for her. She had listened to the whispers and brought here to a place that seemed or at the very least felt entirely impossible. Here she stood as a sinner, worse than that as a traitor. Here she stood conspiring against the very ruler that had taken so much from her, from all those gathered. Here Miranda stood, listening intently to their answers, having signed her own death warrant. There would be no road home, not now.

"Do you not fear talking to the wrong person? All it takes one so loyal, however misguided to Hamrod, that they hear your words and rush to turn you in? This could crash down around us before it ever begins." Miranda spoke with a great concern in her voice. She questioned not the wisdom of Sepharod, or Felanor or the others. It was exceedingly clear that they had all put a great deal of thought into this plan, and it was not a decision reached lightly. Miranda couldn't help but feel a part of this plan was reckless. The people of their great city had broken long ago, and most feared for their own lives rather than caring for the lives of others. People reported their neighbors for crimes they didn't commit to prolong their own existence, to curry favor with the leaders. That seemed to pale in comparison to the idea of an actual revolution.

It had been said that Jagaron could have done what Hamrod did, but he did not. Miranda found little comfort in this. Simply because one hadn't taken extreme action did not mean one wasn't capable of it, it did not mean one was a particularly good person or fit for rule. How was one to truly know if they would be getting something better than what they had? Words were hollow. Though after years of forced labor, propaganda campaign after propaganda campaign and ruthless executions, anything seemed like it would be better. After all, how could it get any worse? It was a dangerous place to be in.

"Begging your pardon, rather than showing me how you approach Jeniah, approach me instead. Show me by talking to me. You both have had the great good fortune of following Jagaron far longer than I have. I am but a novice here... so show me. Convince me." Miranda did not truly need convincing, but she wanted to experience how they recruited first hand. She wanted assurances for her doubts, though she did not know if there was anything that truly be sufficient. This is something she would have to accept on faith alone, and that was something she was now preparing herself to do. She would do as she was asked, talk to those who seem most willing.