An abandoned church, close to one of the main arteries into the Undercity, in a vastly poor area of the outskirts. Following the Ascendancy’s scouring of experimental creatures from the tunnels, floods of displaced refugees ended up in its halls, gathered there by Ezekiel.

Though it is now safe to return below, many have stayed, charmed by Ezekiel himself.

The Angel of the Undercity, and the Growing Cult of Ezekiel

Ezekiel is the self-styled Angel of the Undercity. It is said he will always listen to those who seek his favour, no matter who you are, and no matter what you ask. The rumour hastened by his own hand is that he cares more for the people of the Undercity than the Ascendancy himself.

With a widespread reputation already for aiding those in crisis, Zeke fully intends to capatalise on his position at the refugee church. He is currently ploughing great resources into making it a haven, and judiciously uses his weather talents and channeling ability to sweeten the deal.

Whether there is any true altruism in his motives is unknown, but certainly he has proved a capable protector, and enjoys the awe and respect that come hand in hand with his efforts. After many of the refugees claimed to see a skull in the sky the final night of the Ascendancy’s clean out of the tunnels, there have been rumours that Ekeziel is more than a man; that he is literally heaven-sent.

For now he is focused on building up this empire.

That night the heavens opened. None of the weather channels had predicted the virulent storm that followed. Raffe stood in the gentle slope of an archway and watched it light up the sky. Rain hit against the church roof like the pound of angry fists. The wind howled like a war cry. But inside it was warm and surprisingly dry. Refugees huddled, many drawn like moths to flame where Ezekiel sat amongst them. His mellifluous tones wrapped like warm honey, though Raffe couldn’t hear what he said. In the sky above the clouds gathered thick and roiling. When the lightning struck, it lit up the hollows like the cadaverous pits of a skull’s eyes.

Raffe, Out in the Light


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