Third Interlude - The Sons of Thunder
From the outside, the Assembly Hall of the Sons of Thunder (Ulgotha Chapter) looked like a simple--if unusually clean--factory. Inside was another matter.
The devices that lined the wall didn't accomplish much other than looking orderly and mechanical. Edwin Rass assumed that was more or less the idea.
Rass stood on one of the catwalks that lined the ceiling, shrouded in gloom, his cigarette glowing in the darkness. The enchanted lights of the Hall below were looked upon as an unfortunate necessity by the Sons of Thunder. Rass blew smoke out into the eight story void beneath him. There was a rally going on beneath him, but Rass was barely a Son of Thunder, anyway.
To say that the Sons of Thunder were a valued part of Ulgothan society would be heartily agreed with by most of the city. That they were competent artificers and had members in the upper echelons of nearly every manufacturing plant in the city was quickly noted before the conversation moved nervously to the next subject. That the Sons of Thunder were a cult that worshipped machines was an item of conversation that would receive awkward glances but no outright denials.
Rass strode down the catwalk to the elevator and threw the down switch. The elevator extended its hitch into the building's already mobile framework and descended to the ground floor. Being situated in the manufacturing capital of the world, this Assembly Hall was understandibly the largest in both membership and physical dimensions.
Rass stepped into the light, the artificial glow playing against his blonde hair and luxurious moustache. As a board member of the Greater Sardipan Ironworks, he wore the upper class suit and coat that was expected of him, though he forsook the top hat whenever possible. The sounds of the rally carried to Rass' position.
"...And soon, none will doubt the sanctity of order, the perfection of the mechanical!"
Rass very much doubted it. Rass didn't so much worship machines as believe in them. As far as Rass could tell, machines could greatly improve the quality of human life. Unlike most Sons of Thunder, he had his doubts about what benefits machines could bestow after a human life had ended.
It was just such an issue that sent him out of the Assembly hall on that cold October night. The rain had turned to sleet as Rass stepped out onto the street and called for his coach.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.
"Imperium Street. Chimaera Laboratory." said Rass.
"Very good sir." said the driver. "Off to speak with the Savant, then?"
"Actually, it is his assistant that I plan to call on tonight." said Rass, shutting the coach door.
"Jacob Kilburn." he muttered to himself.
The devices that lined the wall didn't accomplish much other than looking orderly and mechanical. Edwin Rass assumed that was more or less the idea.
Rass stood on one of the catwalks that lined the ceiling, shrouded in gloom, his cigarette glowing in the darkness. The enchanted lights of the Hall below were looked upon as an unfortunate necessity by the Sons of Thunder. Rass blew smoke out into the eight story void beneath him. There was a rally going on beneath him, but Rass was barely a Son of Thunder, anyway.
To say that the Sons of Thunder were a valued part of Ulgothan society would be heartily agreed with by most of the city. That they were competent artificers and had members in the upper echelons of nearly every manufacturing plant in the city was quickly noted before the conversation moved nervously to the next subject. That the Sons of Thunder were a cult that worshipped machines was an item of conversation that would receive awkward glances but no outright denials.
Rass strode down the catwalk to the elevator and threw the down switch. The elevator extended its hitch into the building's already mobile framework and descended to the ground floor. Being situated in the manufacturing capital of the world, this Assembly Hall was understandibly the largest in both membership and physical dimensions.
Rass stepped into the light, the artificial glow playing against his blonde hair and luxurious moustache. As a board member of the Greater Sardipan Ironworks, he wore the upper class suit and coat that was expected of him, though he forsook the top hat whenever possible. The sounds of the rally carried to Rass' position.
"...And soon, none will doubt the sanctity of order, the perfection of the mechanical!"
Rass very much doubted it. Rass didn't so much worship machines as believe in them. As far as Rass could tell, machines could greatly improve the quality of human life. Unlike most Sons of Thunder, he had his doubts about what benefits machines could bestow after a human life had ended.
It was just such an issue that sent him out of the Assembly hall on that cold October night. The rain had turned to sleet as Rass stepped out onto the street and called for his coach.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.
"Imperium Street. Chimaera Laboratory." said Rass.
"Very good sir." said the driver. "Off to speak with the Savant, then?"
"Actually, it is his assistant that I plan to call on tonight." said Rass, shutting the coach door.
"Jacob Kilburn." he muttered to himself.
posted by Andrew Michael | 2:15 PM
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