Tidecleft: Edge of the Storm (IC)

[TheDarkDM]

Sunday Morning
The Riot

She'd lost her knife. Amidst the sea of writhing humanity and echoing sounds of panic, it was an odd thing to focus on, but it irritated her. She was normally so good about clean cuts, but the tattooed woman had lunged right into the blade. Standards among the city's ruffians were clearly lower than Molly had thought. The knife had stuck between the woman's ribs, and her tumble down the steps had taken it with her. Molly had focused on it the entire time she been dodging the tattooed man's wild, grief-stricken punches, until he also overextended himself and she brought a rabbit punch down on his neck. A little too hard, perhaps - he crumpled like a sack of turnips. Her attentions returned to the battle at large, too late to see the ghosts summoned but early enough to see the courage of the mob fracture like glass.

"Seshos' holy hells, you can summon ghosts!?"

She gave the crumpled man at her feet a half-hearted kick.

"What, were you getting bored? No one's going to fight..."

She paused, watching the vast majority of the menacing throng melt into the general chaos of the riot.

"That."

Sighing, she glanced around the arena. Her spirits were lifted by the sight of a few more pockets of violence among the commons, but what truly grabbed her attention was the melodrama playing out on the arena floor. A dead tiger, a small legion of guards beating some poor fool into past, and the king.

The king.

Turning on her heel, Molly began scrabbling towards one of the pillars that led to the support beams for the canopy.

"Well, this has been fun gents but proximity to a regicide is where I draw the line. Good luck! Not that you'll need it."

Rubbing her hands vigorously to work the blood off of them, she began ascending the vertical stone wall like a spider on a web.

[Tentreto]

Spoiler: snip

Show

The Salt Graves common seats
Sunday Morning



Magnus looked the smaller fellow over and glanced at the...ghost warriors? He blinked and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that's probably a good idea. I could go for a drink after this, but it's a mite early. If you haven't eaten yet, The Gilded Oar makes a nice full breakfast." The larger man patted his stomach appreciatively. "It's not far."

The Salt Graves
Common Seats
Buce glanced over the chaos, and then to the large man. "I've eaten a little, but with everything going on, I think I might want to start with another breakfast and see if that improves anything." he quipped. "The Gilded Oar's near the Docks isn't it? Anyway, I'm Buce, a herbalist of sort. " he held out a hand, not very calloused and slightly smelling of various medicines and herbs.

Buce began to push and weave his way through the crowd trying to lead the way. The main goal was to keep moving to the exit, and not be tripped, but that was far easier said than done. Many an elbow shoved him in the ribs, but Buce kept observing the movements of the crowd, and moved towards the most spacious and 'hospitable' routes.

Part way through this, shouts of "The King is Dead!" began to intermingle with the crowd. Whether this was true or not, Buce could find out later, they needed to get out.

[lt_murgen]

AHe quickly arranged for a note to be brought to Ionatan after the conclusion of the festivities, requesting his presence at the Guardhouse at his earliest convienence.

Artur was so intent on crafting the correct greeting to the stranger, that he tuned out the crowd as it became unhinged. Some part of his mind dismissed it as the roar of bloodlust as the spectacle began. Even the conversation within the first tier booth was lost on him.
It wasn't until some idiot riding a tiger burst into the viewing booth that he snapped back to the present. He shoved the waiting attendant out of the way and snatched up his walking cane.

"Protect the king!" he shouted loudly, drew his sword and leapt forward to engage the beast and the brute grappling with it.

"Guards, would you help over here? This isn't exactly a one-man job."

The nearest two guards, seemingly relieved not to have to face the tiger directly, joined him. One also began to pull, while the other held the beast at bay, preventing it from turning to attack Regor and the first guard. The tiger began to slowly slide backwards out of the Atrium.

Seeing the resourceful Regor taking control of the situation, he checked on the ladies. One seemed quite shocked, the other being her remarkably resourceful self. He chose, instead, to move towards the entryway to the box and find some additional guards to assist with the tiger.

In the passageway beyond, it was abandoned. An idiot-bearing wild tiger had encouraged anyone in the hallway to seek shelter elsewhere. He hurried one way, and then another, but the corridor was empty. Returning to the booth, Aartur spied a pair of men, one with a knife and the other a club, approaching.

”Gonna be rich folks here. Lots of sparklies.” The tall one wheezed.
”Dusty, there’s gonna be guards too.” His companion replied, tapping his club against his free palm nervously.
Ut-uh, little brudda. Kitty gonna keep them occupied for a long time.” He smiled, then pointed with his blade. ”See, just a rich grandpa.” He indicated Artur.

Artur did not speak, merely walked toward them slowly, sizing them up. The larger man, Dusty, was clearly the threat. He held his thin blade with the casual grip of a seasoned cutpurse. The smaller one, his brother, was more nervous. Artur lunged towards the brother suddenly, closing the distance. He brought the sea-brass shod base of the cane up, catching the thug squarely between the legs. He spun as Dusty shouted angrily at him and swept the knife in a wide arc. Artur caught the blade along the edge of the cane, skittering along the dark walnut wood. The force of the man’s attack was redirected along the length of the cane, turning him towards Artur. He gave Dusty a shove with his elbow and shoulder, sending him off balance.

He turned back to 'little brother' who was still coughing and heaving. He rained a series of quick horizontal sweeps of the cane at the man’s head. The poor creature had no idea how to use a club defensively, and Artur drove him back. When the man hit the wall, Artur brought his cane down, knocking the club from his hands.

Artur realized, a moment too late, that he had turned his back on the the more-dangerous Dusty. He heard the scuffle of the man’s feet and turned. The knife cut along his left side, slashing through his layers of clothing. Artur felt the bitter, white-hot lance of pain along his ribs. But the turn had saved him, turning a lethal stab into merely a deep cut. He brought his arm down, trapping the thief’s knife-hand. His other hand let the can slip down until his hand was resting upon the curved, metal, dragon-head handle of his cane. He smashed it into the man’s temple. The man staggered, and Artur shoved him backwards, into his brother, and the wall. The impact knocked them all to the ground. He managed to land a pair of solid blows to the pair, knocking them unconscious.

He paused, breathing hard. Then he struggled to his feet. He heard the sound of someone stumbling up behind him. He turned, resignedly. He didn’t have any more strength for another fight. Amazingly, some peddler had stumbled into this level, and was poking her head into the first tier box.

"Pardon me", she injected, "but if your looking for a drink to soothe the nerves I do happen to have some hard cider with me. With any luck, it should still be nice and warm to boot."

He took a moment to catch his breath.

Now incensed, Alden made a few attempts to leap up and find purchase enough on the second tier railing and pull himself up. He hadn't the athleticism to manage it and instead settled on shouting his frustration in the direction he'd last seen the thief. Thankfully for the delicate sensibilities of the aristocracy, his curses were in Carpathian.

“Your Grace!” Artur spoke, quite shocked. “Let us escort the ladies from this place. The immediate passage beyond is clear, for the moment.”

[woolli264]

Sunday Morning
The Riot

A woman rushed at Little Bear. This one had a knife. Little Bear was so focused on the fight at hand that he barely even heard the armoured man behind him chanting,
"Von meinem Recht als König, ich rufe dich, Ahnenklinge! Komm meine Soldaten, kämpf dich mit deinem gefallenen König!"
Little Bear raised his axe above his head ready to end the life of his attacker. Her eyes widened in fear and she started to slow her approach as Little Bear's axe slammed into her face. Blood sprayed and her head was split, she collapsed to the ground, instantly dead.

Little Bear looked up at the surrounding thugs and grinned for they seemed to be staring at him in fear. It was only when he took a step forward and their eyes did not follow him that he realized they were in fact looking past him and not at him. He turned to see the three ghosts surrounding the armoured man and took a step back. "By the gods," he swore, "the dead walk again"
He was brought back to the present by a rock crashing against his head, "Ow" he grumbled as he picked it up and put it into the skull of the man who threw it.
By this point the aggressors had dispersed and the mob continued to surge by as they rioted.
Little Bear and Molly noticed the kings attack at about the same time and Little Bear grimaced at the thought of being so weak that a mere animal could end your life.
"Well, this has been fun gents but proximity to a regicide is where I draw the line. Good luck! Not that you'll need it."
As she climbed away Little Bear wiped off his axe and put it away, while lamenting the drink that had been offered and was now gone.

He turned to the ghost king and said, "I'm sure you can handle yourself from here?"

[Sønderjye]

Early Sunday Morning
Aboard the Canceuax

It was still dark and Sylvia, or Lloanna as she had introduced herself to the shipcrew, were hanging over the railing of the Canceuax, generously sharing her dinner, from the evening before, with the sea. Her seasick schedule had been unusual to say the least. While most of the crew simply attributed it to her being a weird landlubber, this was only a small part of her frequent visits to the shiprailing.

She had specifically chosen the Canceuax as her vessel due to her impression of its dwarven captain Rhano. Men who were shameful about horrible things might commit those same again, and men who are shameful about nothing are worse. Rhano were in that trustworthy middleground of holding shame of reasonable things, such as stealing cookies when he was a kid, and cutting off fingers of prior crewmembers who were caught stealing from the cargo. She hadn't however had time to chat with the rest of the crew.

Her first 'tribute' to the sea gods had been offered on the fourth day, when the boatswain had discovered that she was a woman. Her second had come when Izpolat kindly informed her that the carpenter had been part of a mutiny on a previous ship and in careful detail explained the process.

This last round had come after learning that the cooper had been part of the same mutiny and had no shame about it. She send her past self a 'thank you' for cutting off most of her hair after some vomit had been trapped in during a previous 'offering'.

"That man behind you", she started tensing up as Izpolat's whispering voice appeared in her ear, "doesn't have the money to marry a woman he love", she promptly relaxed. "Hey Jacoba" she said in a friendly tone, still staring out over the star-illuminated sea. The one-eyed Estaz was one of the few crew members she liked which could have been influenced by his way of making the dry buscuit taste edible.

"Pff. I don't know how you do that", Jacoba said in his deep voice as he walked to the railing beside her. As previous itterations of that conversation she just smiled at him and thought to herself: 'Because you're the only one with a romantic sob story'.

-------------

The ship landed about the same time as the sun dawned, and for a full minute Lloanna marvelled at how the ship and everything around it seem to transform into fire and gold. She wasn't allowed to believe in gods but if she had believed she would surely have taken this as a sign from them. Her heart suddenly didn't feel so heavy.

She stayed at the boat while the sailors unloaded, unsure of where to go now, and just enjoyed that she in spite of the pirate attack had made it this far. Eventually they finished up unloading and Jacoba told her that there was a big thing happening in an arena and asked if she wanted to join him and a few other crewmembers. She gladly accepted.

Sunday Morning
The Riot

As the group came closer to the arena it was clear that they were too late. From the loud noise level from inside of the arena it was clear that the games had already begun. There were shouts and the guards looked like they were panicking, but perhaps this was normal for events like these?

Suddenly the gate burst open and a flood of people poured out. The crew dispersed to seek shelter but Lloanna's crippled leg didn't allow her to get out of the way fast enough. The mass of running bodies caught her and she was knocked over.

"That man was part in rigging the g.." Izpolat's whisper were drowned by Lloanna's scream as someone stepped on her face.

[PepperP.]

Salt Graves
First Tier, Atrium


“Your Grace!” Artur spoke, quite shocked. “Let us escort the ladies from this place. The immediate passage beyond is clear, for the moment.”

Relieved to hear the passage was clear for now, Everly steered Senna and urged the bald person to continue to follow them. They passed through into the atrium itself, where looters were busy grabbing everything that wasn't nailed down. She let go of Senna's shoulders and retrieved her dagger.

"Keep moving forward, hopefully we will look too daunting for them if we stay in a group." She held up the tiny torch Senna had given her, it was dim and guttering. Feeling no small bit guilty, with the last of the flame's energy, she set the tasseled curtains at the far, deserted end of the room aflame. If they were beset by attackers, the flames would be more help to her than the small knife she held. She sent silent apologies to the arena owner and kept pushing forwards with the others.

[TechnOkami]

Ionatán
Rock Bottom
Mid Morning

Our intrepid Satyr sailed onwards in his dinghy, rowed away from the aftermath of chaos he wove together and around Tidecleft until he came to a quieter, more reserved side of the city known as Rock Bottom. Few people would find him here, or so he thought. It wasn't as shady as the Web, but it also didn't have nearly as many edges to it either, at least not ones that would as actively want to take a stab at him. The oarsman who rowed finally reached a low enough ledge, as a standing Ionatán hopped out with a dual clack of hooves against stone. He turned to the man and said simply thus:

"In regards to your payment I haven't a coin on me. Don't fret though, find a Masked One and tell them Ionatán sent you, and you'll get your coin. If you still don't receive it, come find me after I get big here in the city and I'll pay you double."

The old sailor was initially a little cross at the situation, but the promise of a potential double pay kept his temper in check enough, and grumpily sailed off to some other part of the city. Left to his own devices now, Ionatán roved and wandered this lower, poorer, yet surprisingly up and coming sect of the city. Perhaps he'd find some small bar or tavern or family with enough supplies to trade some light entertainment for a few meals and a bed, at least until Tidecleft decided to be stable once again.

[Aedilred]

She held up the tiny torch Senna had given her, it was dim and guttering. Feeling no small bit guilty, with the last of the flame's energy, she set the tasseled curtains at the far, deserted end of the room aflame. If they were beset by attackers, the flames would be more help to her than the small knife she held. She sent silent apologies to the arena owner and kept pushing forwards with the others.

The curtains went up quickly, and as the party made their way out, the flames beginning to spread to the wooden stands, discarded clothing and eventually to where the soft furnishings in the nobles' box had been scattered by Hoss and the tiger.

The Berenguel family retainer, having paid for Senna's cider, made his way back through the building with increasing concern to where Sunyer stood at the rail, looking down at the scene below and the stricken king.

"My lord, the building is aflame. We must leave now!"

Sunyer seized his arm and pointed. "See there - he is breathing: the king yet lives. Go at once and find the prince. Inform him that the king is alive but gravely wounded, and that he should return to the city at once. Take my fastest horse and as many of my men as you must to ensure his safety."

"But milord, the fire-"

"Will be much the worse if the king perishes in it. Go and carry the message; I can make my own way out. And remember, Afons, the king lives! Tell all you meet - the king lives!"

Sunyer sheathed his sword and swung over the railing to call down to the royal guard. Most of them had assembled themselves around the king, protecting him from further harm while a handful of them tried to tend to his wounds. Sunyer regretted that Senna had left - while she was no surgeon, he had no doubt that her ability to see the king well would far exceed that of the soldiers here.

"The building is afire!" he called down, then jumped down to the lower floor, raising his hands as he landed to show that he was not carrying a weapon and meant no harm.

"The fire is contained but will spread quickly. The king must be moved or he is likely to perish in the flames." He gestured to some of the surrounding seating. "If some of these benches are broken up they might serve as a stretcher of sorts to allow four men to carry the king without worsening his wounds, while the rest clear a path. And has anybody called for a doctor or priest to tend to him?"

[Shimeran]

Reishka took careful note of the lady's face as well as that of her companion. She was obviously flustered, as many of the blooded folk were prone to. There might be an opening for a sympathetic gesture later, once she'd spoken to her people. In the meanwhile, the crowd seemed to be dying down. With a sign, she shouldered her load and started making her way toward one of the less crowded entrances. The tavern seemed like a likely destination. The day had been hotter than she anticipated, but she could turn that to her favor by reversing the flow on the her specially made container and chilling the brew. Once she got outside she'd see which way the crowds were trending. There were a few places along the waterfront that sprang to mind, while having a few of her people besides where she could put out feelers.

[Jerry]

Sunday Morning
The Salt Graves

"The building is afire!" he called down, then jumped down to the lower floor, raising his hands as he landed to show that he was not carrying a weapon and meant no harm.

"The fire is contained but will spread quickly. The king must be moved or he is likely to perish in the flames." He gestured to some of the surrounding seating. "If some of these benches are broken up they might serve as a stretcher of sorts to allow four men to carry the king without worsening his wounds, while the rest clear a path. And has anybody called for a doctor or priest to tend to him?"

Veridian looked up from his work as the panicked newcomer starting barking unnecessary orders. He quickly took in his fine dress and well manicured hair and recognized him as a probable well meaning aristocrat.

"Easy now fella, this is my operating table and I have the King under my care and control." As he spoke, two guards ran up carrying a stretcher between them. The doctor stood and washed the king's blood off of his hands the best he could.

"I'm Veridian Stimme, doctor in good standing with the Physician's Guild and no stranger to treating wounds at the Graves." He turned to the guards,

"Ease him onto the stretcher fellas. We'll take him out through the cells." He turned back to the well-dressed man.

"I gave King Frederick something to help him sleep, I'm sure he'd appreciate your concern if he were conscious at the moment." A wry smile crooked a corner of his mouth.

"Alright, everyone on alert. We're headed through the cells and up to the King's litter. Let's move out." He commanded the Kingsguard casually before saluting the would-be hero with two fingers at his forehead and disappearing with the King beneath the Graves.

[Nefarion Xid]

Salt Graves
First Tier, Atrium

"Why are things on fire!?" Alden gasped, a half octave higher than he'd intended. Between the flaming drapes and Artur's voice in his ear, he seemed to snap back to reality, forgetting about his pilfered necklace for now.

"You're hurt," he said, still looking a little dazed. He realized he'd touched his hand to Artur's wound, absently grasping for something solid in his confusion. He pulled back bloodied fingers.

[Mary_Sue]

Salt Graves
First Tier

The duke paused in their escape to turn to the others with a sympathetic, but frazzled look. "Yes, I apologize for the tone, but, as you do live under my roof, I do feel responsible for your safety and if anything were to happen to ..."

"There there, none of us are in our right minds. It's not your fault." Her voice was soothing as she she used her arm to guide her friend away from the ensuing madness.

She sniffled and gave them both a grateful look for their reassurance, though it was short lived as the ruffian absconded with the duke's necklace.

"Stop, thief!" But of course the miscreant did not stop, nor was their any proper authorities to appeal for help to. Well at the end of her rope, Senna stomped her foot angrily before Everly shepherded her forward to the atrium.

"Keep moving forward, hopefully we will look too daunting for them if we stay in a group." She held up the tiny torch Senna had given her, it was dim and guttering. Feeling no small bit guilty, with the last of the flame's energy, she set the tasseled curtains at the far, deserted end of the room aflame. If they were beset by attackers, the flames would be more help to her than the small knife she held. She sent silent apologies to the arena owner and kept pushing forwards with the others.

"Why are things on fire!?" Alden gasped, a half octave higher than he'd intended. Between the flaming drapes and Artur's voice in his ear, he seemed to snap back to reality, forgetting about his pilfered necklace for now.

She sent her friend an accusatory glance.

"Everly, really." She caught herself, not knowing if Everly had wanted the others to know of her "gifts".

"We really need to move faster, that is." She urged the others on towards the daylight at the entrance to the atrium.

[lt_murgen]

"Why are things on fire!?" Alden gasped, a half octave higher than he'd intended. Between the flaming drapes and Artur's voice in his ear, he seemed to snap back to reality, forgetting about his pilfered necklace for now.

"You're hurt," he said, still looking a little dazed. He realized he'd touched his hand to Artur's wound, absently grasping for something solid in his confusion. He pulled back bloodied fingers.[/QUOTE]

Artur felt the man touch his side. The brief pressure brought another burst of white-hot fire. He grimaced and exclaimed through clenched teeth,"I will live, Lord Briarcroft. The cutpurse's aim was favorably misaligned. For now, you and I must hasten the ladies out of this place."


"Everly, really." She caught herself, not knowing if Everly had wanted the others to know of her "gifts".

"We really need to move faster, that is." She urged the others on towards the daylight at the entrance to the atrium.[/QUOTE]

"Miss Clark, Miss Sinclair, Follow me. Count Berengueler has left you in our care." He looked over the pair. Miss Sinclair seemed the most level headed and calm. Even more than her friend, or the Duke. "Strike that. Miss Sinclair, please lead the way. Lord Briarcroft, second, if you please. Miss Clark, follow them. I will be endmost, to assure we are not pursued. "

[PepperP.]

Salt Graves
First Tier, Atrium

"Miss Clark, Miss Sinclair, Follow me. Count Berengueler has left you in our care." He looked over the pair. Miss Sinclair seemed the most level headed and calm. Even more than her friend, or the Duke. "Strike that. Miss Sinclair, please lead the way. Lord Briarcroft, second, if you please. Miss Clark, follow them. I will be endmost, to assure we are not pursued. "

"Don't forget Mr. Harland, and our new friend." She gestured at the bald person following along behind them. She turned then, a bit apprehensive and holding her dagger out in front of her, ready to cut her way through the looting masses if necessary. Fortunately, the fire had convinced most everyone to flee the atrium along with them and they exited the arena and joined the churning mass of people who were either fleeing or looking to make more trouble. She pushed through the crowd until they returned to where they had left James who had the horses and carriage ready to go. She turned to Artur.

"Would you like a ride, Master Nicolescu?" She took James's proffered hand and stepped into the carriage and beckoned the others to swiftly join her.

[Lleban]

Sunday Morning
The Salt Graves: Exterior

As Nespira nodded in approval, Duggin sprinted toward the atrium exit, woman and child in hand. While it seemed the wrath of the crowd was starting to wane, it was quickly supplanted by yells of fire and more panicked running. Leaving the Salt graves with his charges, he briefly considered going back to find the mercenary before getting a better look at the plums of black smoke rising from the stadium and hearing cries of "the KING IS Deeeaadd." Resisting getting trampled was one thing, but smoke inhalation was not at the top of Duggin's to do list right now. Duggin assured himself that Nespira can take care of herself. Before heading to The Gilded Oar near the docks Duggin decided to deposit his charges at the nearest carriage and gave them free,if not cold, pastries for their trouble. Aunt Margret would say that its too late for breakfast,but Duggin would counter Its too damn early for rioting, what insanity caused riots at a few hours from dawn.


Sunday Morning
Docks a couple blocks from the Gilded Oar

Causally looking out to sea with his emerald spectacles, and his blood stained uniform, Duggin saw something that might just make today not terrible. Deep within the fog lay a round structure drifting toward the shore covered with a magical aura.

Spoiler: Plot Ticket

Show

A large hollow black Dome covered with overgrowth and barnacles is drifting toward the city. What's not obscured by plant matter is covered by unknown hieroglyphs. It will mostly likely hit the shore half a mile north of the city within 3 days time.

[Nefarion Xid]

Salt Graves, Exterior

"I believe your driver deserves a raise," Briarcroft quipped to Everly as they drew near the carriage. He remained outside while ushering the ladies in with the hand not coated in blood. It wasn't much, but he was still making an effort not to look at it.

"Go back to the castle," he ordered. "Basil was an army medic before he took a bolt to the thigh, he can tend to Master Nicolescu."

Briarcroft paused a second, leaning in towards Artur and listening to his breathing. "You'll be fine. They didn't pierce your lung." Having been run through twice in his life, he certainly knew what a punctured lung sounded like.

"Mister Harland, you'd better ride up front. Kill anyone who gets in your way. I'll pay your court fees." He glanced back towards the shrieking arena, clearly meaning to go back instead of join them in the carriage.

[PepperP.]

Salt Graves, Exterior

"I believe your driver deserves a raise," Briarcroft quipped to Everly as they drew near the carriage. He remained outside while ushering the ladies in with the hand not coated in blood. It wasn't much, but he was still making an effort not to look at it.

"A bonus at the very least." Everly agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment as it was with some relief that they began to file into the carriage.

"Mister Harland, you'd better ride up front. Kill anyone who gets in your way. I'll pay your court fees." He glanced back towards the shrieking arena, clearly meaning to go back instead of join them in the carriage.

As realization dawned on her, she leaned forward and took the duke's hand, suddenly looking frightened for the first time throughout the ordeal.

"Your Grace, no! You can't mean to go back in there! It isn't safe!" In her concerned distress, she couldn't seem to come up with an argument other than what was glaringly obvious, though that should have been enough to any sane person.

[Minescratcher]

Salt Graves, First Tier Exterior

Regor was finally beginning to snap. He'd seen no trace of assassins yet today and was expecting them at any moment, with the riot providing perfect cover and adding to the danger in its own way.

"Mister Harland, you'd better ride up front. Kill anyone who gets in your way. I'll pay your court fees."

"Well I certainly hope that won't be necessary," Regor responded, although his voice said that he expected it to be. As he stepped out of sight behind the carriage, the sound of his fingers snapping could be heard once more, and he climbed in holding a crossbow and bolts that he rested against the windowsill.

"The coverage is very generous, though, Your Grace, and I thank you - though I am inclined to agree with Miss Sinclair. You had best come back with us, that promise will be useless if you burn to death."

Spoiler: Plot Ticket

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When Andon's head clears, he finds a note in his hand, thrust into it at some point earlier. Sable notices a shady person following her for a few minutes before attempting to approach stealthily and hand her a similar note (readable once she finishes translating Pravian).

Both notes detail how one Regor Harland was responsible for sowing the seeds of magical chaos at the Graves by hiring the illusionist. Andon's has a hastily-added addendum that Regor may also have been involved in the tiger attack on his Majesty, and concludes with a suggestion that the Order of the Silver Chain be informed.

(Character assassination!)

[Dorizzit]

[Salt Graves]
Exterior

The stranger, for their part, has been meekly following the group with little input to the situation. Lacking any kind of context or useful memories of day-to-day life, they have no real opinion of the situation beyond a vague desire to be somewhere else and find clothes.

Maybe follow that up by sleeping for a few months. The day is still young.

They enter the carriage after everyone else has had the opportunity to do so, not sparing a glance back. After settling in to a convenient corner and readjusting the scrap of cloth to better preserve what passes for their modesty, they look on impassively as Everly begins arguing with Alden.

[Othniel]

Sunday Morning
The Salt Graves

Spoiler: Snip

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The Salt Graves
Common Seats
Buce glanced over the chaos, and then to the large man. "I've eaten a little, but with everything going on, I think I might want to start with another breakfast and see if that improves anything." he quipped. "The Gilded Oar's near the Docks isn't it? Anyway, I'm Buce, a herbalist of sort. " he held out a hand, not very calloused and slightly smelling of various medicines and herbs.

Buce began to push and weave his way through the crowd trying to lead the way. The main goal was to keep moving to the exit, and not be tripped, but that was far easier said than done. Many an elbow shoved him in the ribs, but Buce kept observing the movements of the crowd, and moved towards the most spacious and 'hospitable' routes.

Part way through this, shouts of "The King is Dead!" began to intermingle with the crowd. Whether this was true or not, Buce could find out later, they needed to get out.

"Magnus Hakonsson. I'm a sailor. Fought at the games here before. This is the strangest day I've ever had, counting the times I was shipwrecked." Magnus frowned impatiently at the crowd between him and the exit. "Everybody, MOVE!!" he bellowed. The combination of his size and the healthy set of lungs he had sent people scurrying out of the way, and a narrow path opened for the big man and his new acquaintance. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Spoiler: OOC

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Using Intimidation to force my way through the crowd of people and out of the Graves. Buce is welcome to follow in Magnus' wake.

[Tentreto]

Spoiler: Snip

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Sunday Morning
The Salt Graves



"Magnus Hakonsson. I'm a sailor. Fought at the games here before. This is the strangest day I've ever had, counting the times I was shipwrecked." Magnus frowned impatiently at the crowd between him and the exit. "Everybody, MOVE!!" he bellowed. The combination of his size and the healthy set of lungs he had sent people scurrying out of the way, and a narrow path opened for the big man and his new acquaintance. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Spoiler: OOC

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Using Intimidation to force my way through the crowd of people and out of the Graves. Buce is welcome to follow in Magnus' wake.

Sunday Morning
Salt Graves Vomitorium
Buce stared for a second, then followed his companion. He was certainly more...persuasive when it came to getting through a crowd. Buce kept his eyes out and moved quickly, both of them making quick progress. Even here, the odd pickpocket tried their luck, but a knowing glare and a drawn knife dissuaded them. With any luck they'd get out before anything terrible happened.

Eventually, the crowd thinned a bit as the passage ended, with people spreading out into the street.
Buce paused for a second to quickly catch his bearings. "We've gotten past the worst of it, and no way am I going back to argue for a refund on this." he almost chuckled, despite the gravity of the situation, pulling out his bet.

[Nefarion Xid]

Salt Graves, Exterior

"Your concern is touching, Miss Sinclair," Briarcroft said, still holding her hand and giving the woman an affectionate smile. The young man really did have such kind looking eyes. Perhaps not so kind as to keep that sort of smoldering look to himself, but gentle at least.

"But, I'm not going back in. I'm going around. The man who stole my necklace was pushing his way through the crowd towards the northwest entrance. I mean to head him off and have a word with him about personal boundaries."

[Sønderjye]

Sunday Morning
The Riot,

Having sought cover behind in an alleyway nearby, Jacoba recovered enough to look around for Lloanna and after a long moment he found her in the middle of, or rather underneath, the trampling crowd.

He took a step forward but suddenly he felt something grap his arm. Turning he found Methos, another crew member, solemnly shaking his head.

"She'll die!" Jaboca yelled over the noise as he tried to pull his arm away from Methos.
Methos held tight and responded in an equally loud voice: "You'll die, you fool!"
Jacoba half-hearted tried to pull himself free from Methos strong hold a few more times but they were more token pulls than anything else. Truth be told he wasn't much for running into mass that might as well have been a horde of panicking wildebeests.

It had been less than a minute but to Lloanna it had felt like an eternity of pain. At the start she had tried getting on her feet but she could barely get a feet off the ground before she was shoved back again. She then tried squirming around to avoid the worst of stomps, but when that didn't produce any tangible results she had sought refuge in just protecting her head from the blunt of the force.

A foot forcefully planted in the side of her face had her taste blood and reminded her of the harsh reality. If this continued she would die. And somebody would probably break Azuriel.

"I don't want to die!" She yelled as her as her brain frantically sought for a solution: "I DON't WANT TO DIE!" Even if she emptied her longues yelling it felt like the punding of blood in her ears made more noise. Then a name came to mind and she made a split second decision. Was it risky? Yes. Had she been warned not to use it? Yes. But it's amazing what expecting to die can do to otherwise sound judgement.

"Anglatosh", she called out almost gently. Even if unnoticed the effect was immediate. Insects slowly started crawling out from underneat crates and stones they hadn't been before.
"Anglatosh, Anglatosh, Anglatosh." Insects started falling out of people's sleeves or hats, and the sound of tiny buzzing wings began competing with the loud noise of the mob.

Then another foot hit her now unprotected face, as a man had started shaking his arm wildly to get rid of a few fat hornets. The hit shut her up but it also made her forget her count. 'Did I say it three times?'

Spoiler: Plot Ticket

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Anglatosh is the true name of a fey which form are composed entirely of crawling insects and who can create and manipulate disease-bearing insects. While most feys needs material rituals to be called upon, all Anglatosh needs is her name called 8 times within 5 minutes by someone with the right genetic marker. If the name is said 7 or less times the summoning isn't complete and Anglatosh stay in the fey dimension.
In Otchaka categorization Anglatosh is in the strongest and most destructive class of fey that the family have been in contact with, and they suffered great losses the first, and I should note only, time they tried to summon her. They were unable to stop Anglatosh from creating insects even if he himself were contained.
In other words Lloanna have no way of controlling the murderous fey if the summoning ritual is finished.

[Tychris1]

Sunday Morning, The Salt Graves
Bergen Valdof

Watching as they fled, Bergen glanced up at the fleeing parkour trained woman, at his erstwhile shaggy companion, and lastly at the throng of would-be thieves who now fled en masse at the sight of his ethereal guard. Not shifting his gaze he replied to Little Bear "I've no wish to partake in regicide either and am more than capable of handling some rabble. Stay safe, young one. Live your life fully and kindly, with bravery and determination. Now if you'll excuse me, I should go find my wife. She is in good hands but still a husband worries," And with that he banished his ancestral blade from his hand, the massive two handed sword dispersing into a pile of gray mist, and diffusing into the air around him "Stay safe, strange woman!" he boomed out. The chaos still raged but it was clear to the Fallen King that the general air was changing from violence to fleeing.

Not that the two were mutually exclusive.

Turning his back, he allowed his summoned warriors to cut down any thieves or bandits who thought it wise to continue looting in his general vicinity, and proceeded to work his way out of the arena. "So much blood, so much pain, just to see my wife again. One day soon, you'll laugh and sing. So swears now the Misty King." He thought to himself as he exited the Graves, his hulking frame making easy work of shoving through the crowd. He was sure that Alden would keep his wife safe, he was a good man, and most of all he was a noble man whom Bergen trusted to act righteously and honorably defending such a beautiful woman in need. His confidence in her safety however was quickly shaken at the sight of a sudden swarm of insects appearing, the air felt foul to him, and with his past experience he had no doubt as to who or what could be further adding to this mischief. "Fairies." He fumed internally to himself. Swatting aside handfuls of the meddlesome creatures, Bergen noticed a wounded woman on the ground, stomped to near an inch of her life, and surrounded in this maelstrom of fairy induced mischief and human panicking. Tossing aside a man about to add to her growing wounds, Bergen knelt down and reached out to the strange wounded woman, cradling her head with one massive hand, and rising up to tower over the masses. His spectral warriors soon followed in his wake, attacking the voraciously swarming hornets, and one of them dissipated in a puff of gray mist in their intense supernatural battle. But the King cared not for any of that, all he cared about was this one act of kindness.

"You're safe now, my child."

[Mary_Sue]

Salt Graves, Exterior

"But, I'm not going back in. I'm going around. The man who stole my necklace was pushing his way through the crowd towards the northwest entrance. I mean to head him off and have a word with him about personal boundaries."

Upon entering the carriage, Senna had reclined her head back and promptly closed her eyes. At hearing the duke's insistence on going after the necklace thief, she sat up and opened her eyes.

"Thick dark blond hair, skin tanned from the sun, he wore a red shirt and had a scar on his left cheek." Her gaze was clear though her face was still pale from upset.

"May fortune grant her favour." Her tone was resigned as if she had decided not to argue with the duke's intentions. She sighed, closed her eyes once again and leaned against Everly's shoulder.

[PepperP.]

Salt Graves,
Exterior

"Your concern is touching, Miss Sinclair,"

That was the second time today he had said that to her. She felt she should perhaps be more coy with her concern, but she could not remember why as he gazed at her with such intensity.

"But, I'm not going back in. I'm going around. The man who stole my necklace was pushing his way through the crowd towards the northwest entrance. I mean to head him off and have a word with him about personal boundaries."

She had been about to continue her protestations when Senna came forth with the details of the duke's assailant.

"Thick dark blond hair, skin tanned from the sun, he wore a red shirt and had a scar on his left cheek." Her gaze was clear though her face was still pale from upset.

Perhaps she should insist upon accompanying him? She was more than capable.

"May fortune grant her favour." Her tone was resigned as if she had decided not to argue with the duke's intentions. She sighed, closed her eyes once again and leaned against Everly's shoulder.

Senna's weary head upon her shoulder changed her mind, she was more needed elsewhere.

"I'll send James back with a horse. He will meet you right here. Be careful."She faced forward and called out to her driver.

"James, to the castle!" She cradled Senna's head upon her breast as they were carried to safety, stroking her hair soothingly. She couldn't help but glance back but saw neither the duke, nor any pursuers. Regardless, she could not help but feel as though they were being chased.

[lt_murgen]

"Would you like a ride, Master Nicolescu?" She took James's proffered hand and stepped into the carriage and beckoned the others to swiftly join her.

Salt Graves, Exterior

"Go back to the castle," he ordered. "Basil was an army medic before he took a bolt to the thigh, he can tend to Master Nicolescu."

Briarcroft paused a second, leaning in towards Artur and listening to his breathing. "You'll be fine. They didn't pierce your lung." Having been run through twice in his life, he certainly knew what a punctured lung sounded like.

Salt Graves, Exterior

"But, I'm not going back in. I'm going around. The man who stole my necklace was pushing his way through the crowd towards the northwest entrance. I mean to head him off and have a word with him about personal boundaries."

Artur was going to leave the group at this point. After all, they were safe and soon to be spirited away. But with both the Count and the Duke leaving to tend to other matters, the calculations changed.

It was not his place to chide one of the upper classes about propriety. But a proper gentlemen would have his guests as his first concern over a mere trifle. He had personally inspected the necklace at one point during his research for the man. It held no intrinsic value, merely sentimental ones.

So he took the Duke's statement as an order, boarding the carriage.

"James, to the castle!" She cradled Senna's head upon her breast as they were carried to safety, stroking her hair soothingly. She couldn't help but glance back but saw neither the duke, nor any pursuers. Regardless, she could not help but feel as though they were being chased.

"James, if you please, one stop before the castle." Artur requested. "While I am certain Basil is quite capable, I have another person who I know can set me to rights." He told the ladies. And then to James he called, "THe Elixirium, Herbs and Sundry, in the Sunfall district, fine man."

[hi-mi-tsu]

Salt Graves

Seeing Duggin escaping with the innocents, Nespira's smile grew cold.

"So then...which limbs shall I take, since you saw fit to stay about? I'll be nice and let you choose,
but only if you choose quickly!"

Spoiler

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Nes uses Intimidation I + Swordsmanship II to be scary!

"Ain't worth it, Luke! Let's get out of here!" The would-be robbers scrambled over themselves, running from the woman approaching them, and Nespira nodded in satisfaction. Then the acrid scent of smoke hit her nose.

"Now the place is on fire?!? Could this day get any worse?" Good thing Duggin had gotten out when he had - she sincerely hoped that they'd made it safely past the crowds.

"The king is dead!"

Gods above and below, Nes, you should learn not to tempt fate... Running for the entrance, she made it out in time to see the weird armor-man lifting a girl from the street, ghostly warriors surrounding him.

"You!" She halted in front of him, panting slightly as smoke billowed out from the Graves. "What were you thinking? What are you thinking?!? Are you part of this madness?
Who summons...ghosts...I think...in the middle of a riot?!?"

[PepperP.]

Elixirium &
Castle Briarcroft


"James, if you please, one stop before the castle." Artur requested. "While I am certain Basil is quite capable, I have another person who I know can set me to rights." He told the ladies. And then to James he called, "THe Elixirium, Herbs and Sundry, in the Sunfall district, fine man."

Everly's lips pursed in annoyance at the delay, but held her tongue. She could hardly begrudge the wounded man his healing herbs. Their stop at the Elixirium was brief, at Everly's insistence though she did take the time to purchase a calming draught for Senna's nerves from Agatha.

At length they reached the duke's castle, albeit without the man himself. Everly sent faithful James back to the arena on the fastest horse to hopefully fetch His Grace safely home. She ushered in the motley group much to the befuddlement of Basil who busied himself bringing in a round of hot tea. As she settled in to anxiously await the return of James and Alden, she couldn't leave without her carriage driver after all, her attention fell upon the strange bald person they had met in the Graves. Met or was it rescued? She could not keep the events of the morning straight in her mind.

"Pardon me, I never did get your name. I am Everly Sinclair, and this is Senna Clark." She motioned to her friend and then looked again for Basil.

"Please get this person some proper garments." She was sorry her vagueness would be to the detriment of Basil's comfort, but she felt it necessary due to her lack of knowledge of this person's identity or station.

[Dorizzit]

[Castle Briarcroft]

The odd stranger is entirely silent on the way back, content to stare out the window of the carriage. When the group gets back, they follow meekly into the castle, taking a seat on either a chair or the floor when they have arrived at their end point.

"I am..."

They start confidently, but trail off. They lean forward, clutching their forehead in one hand and eyes fixed to the floor.

I cannot remember. I have...I had a name. I am...I am...

After a while, they shake their head and look back up.

"I do not remember. I have been through...an ordeal, recently, and it has harmed my memory. It took all of my focus to escape, and I lost much of myself in the process. I will...I believe I will recover in part with time. This is not the first time this has happened."

They blink.

It isn't? No, I suppose it wouldn't be.

They sigh lightly, looking away again as they think. After a moment, they snap back to look at Everly.

"I seem to have forgotten my manners, as well. Thank you for your assistance. It is a pleasure to meet you."