Featuring: Andreas, Aurelius (NPCed by Cleo), Calm-Winds, Celerity, Cleo, Coral, Effie (NPCed by Zea), Gaiava, One-Eye, Quintus, Silence and Zea (Various victims and Praetorians NPCed by Andreas, Quintus and Zea)
Date: September 17, 2004
IC Date: July 13, 3930
Summary: The fires in the fields were just the beginning to the chaos to envelop the Empyrean city. Fires erupt in the Forum and on Aventine Hill and amidst the confusion some of the women of the city are taken by force.
Forum Victoriae - Parnassus
This extensive plaza is truly the heart of Parnassus, a gathering spot able to accommodate thousands. All round the perimeter rise stately buildings of traditional Empyrean architecture. Tall columns of white, gold or green marble standing on elevated platforms support long pediments filled with bas relief carvings detailing a variety of different scenes that provide the front faade for each building. Museums, libraries, and government buildings are all accessible from the forum. Fountain sit in wide open spaces and numerous stone benches provide visitors with a place to sit.At the far eastern end rises the city's seat of government, the Basilica Drusus. Set on a high base, the Basilica looks out over the forum with a long platform jutting out from it's wide portico to provide a stage for government officials to address the people. Opposite the Basilica is a structure just as grand. The Temple at Parnassus is almost as large as the Basilica but where the Basilica is built from warm golden marble the temple is a brilliant white. The tops of trees can be seen poking over the wall that surrounds the temple complex, hinting at the small garden within.
At the four corners of the forum are archways as tall as the buildings beside them and through these arches are the streets that lead out of the forum and to the rest of the city. Streamers and banners fly from every conceivable sprit or column-top, filling the air with the fluttering colors of the rainbow.
Announcement: From the Sylvan fields southeast of the city of Parnassus tendrils of smoke begin to rise. At first it appears to be nothing more than a campfire, or perhaps a farmer burning off some refuge, but the tendrils of smoke grow thicker and darker, filling the sky over the fields with heavy clouds of black soot. A few farmers rushing into the southern gate of Parnassus with their carts laden with personal goods cry breathlessly about a fire spreading through the crops and there is worry as well that the fire is heading towards the forests.
Announcement: It is almost as if the Varati fields do not wish to be outdone by the Empyrean ones, for plumes of smoke begin rises in the fields west of Irha-Esh. They too start small, as if campfires were being set, but soon the skies over the Varati city darken with smoke as the summer crops begin to burn.
Announcement: The fires in the Varati fields begin to flicker and fade at once, as if suddenly deprived of their fuel. But even as one fire ends, a massive *BOOM* comes from Irha-Esh as the area before the Temple explodes into stone, dirt, and fire. The entire City shakes with the force.
The fires spread rapidly throughout the fields to the south and west and have darkened the skies; the streets of Parnassus fill with terrified farmers leading heavily laden carts with all the possessions they could quickly gather. Overhead gryphons and Praetorians lead the charge to put out the fires while Guard on the ground do their best to calm the growing fear of the commoners rushing in and looking for protection. But it is not just the farmers that come to the forum, growing numbers of city residents flock here as well, waiting, perhaps, for some word from the Procurator, or the Governor, or the Praefect or anyone who can give them any details. Shrieks and cries go up as the ground is rocked by a deafening noise, coming from the direction of Irha-Esh, followed by grumbles from some that the Varati are playing with fire, with disastrous results.
Announcement: Above Parnassus Praetorians and gryphons stream across the sky, carrying buckets and barrels of water for without fire mages of their own, they have only one way to extinguish the flames on their own fields. Many of the Praetorians return to the Eyrie covered in soot, filling the Parnassus skies with a host of artificial darklings.
Of course she could have send a servant, but as her father rushed ahead at the first rumours that reached them, Cleo has little wish to sit at home and worry while pacing the hall. Her presence might be small and a little overdressed in this mass of peasants, but her path is one of determination, right through the center of the Forum, making for the basilica.
Announcement:In Irha-Esh, Atarvani are swarming about, bringing the wounded out of harm's way to be healed or tended to and trying to control the fires in their own City and on the northern part of the Bridge. Agni-Haidar have brought out the wyverns and have them at the statue, working to move it so that there may be at least some passage.
Zea is hurried along with the help of her handmaiden, who looks more terrified than they annoyed Vilica. Domina Celerity is with them as well as they enter into the Forum, shocked at the sight before them. "F ... fire," the handmaiden gasps as Zea angrily shakes off the older woman's arm and points towards the steps of the Basilica where Empyreans mingle, but no men of authority stand to declare what course of action should be taken or to assure the masses that everything is alright. "You see? You see!? No one is there; we should have just stayed home." She lifts a scented handkerchief to her nose and inhales deeply after a coughing fit. "If it wasn't for that damned smoke, I would have, but it won't be much better here," she mutters.
Andreas is already in the forum, likewise heading for the Basilica, frowning. Eventually, he gives up on walking, and rises on wings above the crowds, trying to get enough height to see what's happening.
Still trying herself, Cleo is caught up in the thicker part of the crowd, with no help to get ahead but fists and elbows. Maybe it doesn't make her all that popular, but at them moment she doesn't even give the impression that she cares, a quiet need has closed her face from expression. Until she looks up and finds Andreas, azure eyes now showing the worry that has brought her here.
More carts roll into the forum, but some do not linger. They continue northwards, perhaps seeing protection within the Eyrie.
Announcement: The waters of the estuary slowly begin to darken with a sickening red color, as if blood is being poured from over the side of one of the ships. Frantically those who witness the destruction point to the docked Amarada as the culprit. Atlanteans who had headed into the water for protection find their home invaded by a strange red algae, making breathing rather difficult, though not completely impossible.
The smoke seems to spread like, well, wildfire but it starts coming a bit to close for comfort. Shrieks of fear bring more Empyreans hurrying into the forum which is already crowed with farmers' carts, Praetorians and other city residents. "Aventine Hill! Fire! Burning!" Chaotic shouts blend into one another as people clamor for some assistance, for someone to take control of the situation. Indeed, it appears as if the fires are growing closer and soon the Praetorians are shifting their flight patterns towards the nobles' estates on Aventine Hill.
Announcement: In Parnassus it seems the fires are drawing too close for comfort. Smaller blazes have erupted in the noble neighborhood of Aventine Hill and cohors of Praetorians are quickly angling in that direction to save the homes that are threatened by the flames that lick at the well-tended gardens.
Andreas hovers for a moment, assessing the situation, before moving to wind up over a bunch of dithering guards. "*You*. Take as many of these..." he gestures to the milling crowds "...as will, and head for the baths. *Plenty* of water there. Form a chain, do what you can for the fires on the hill." Is this *really* Andreas Fortuna? Either way, his voice has a tone that suggests he's not in the mood to be argued with. "MOVE."
With all that's happening around her, with her father still in the basilica in all likelihood, and with at present little chance to reach him, Cleo still finds herself smiling with pride as she watches from a distance how he is taking matters in his own hands. Until an elbow lands in her back and the pain has her deciding to wrestle her way to the left instead of directly towards the basilica. Perhaps she can still reach the building from the side where the crowd is a little thinner.
Announcement: Most of the fires have been doused in Irha-Esh, but there is still massive destruction and injury from the odd explosion. Houses and tunnels have been ruined while others threaten to collapse. The entire Qajar district seems to be in disarray and in some parts have collapsed completely.
There is some soft rustling that seems to come about from nearly everywhere within the forum and then suddenly ... there is smoke! There is fire in the Forum! The innocent farmer's carts are suddenly ablaze, dark form shifting off of them as they go up like Empyrean candles in great gouts of fire. Empyreans everywhere start screaming in earnest and the already nervous gathering of Nobles explodes into full out panic.
Fire in the fields, fires threatening their homes and now fires in the Forum! Zea has gone from disgusted to honestly frightened as it seems the entire city is going up in smoke. She grabs for Celerity and tries pulling her away from the large bonfire that has been set in the forum, heading towards the temple, with her handmaiden quickly following behind her. "Zeus and Apollo," she gasps, as if the words were a curse. "What is going on here!?"
Andreas swears, under his breath, wings carrying him up and out of a blast, before putting a very rapid two and two together and making a pretty decent four. Several powerful wingbeats carry him over the heads of a group of nobles, picking out one he knows to be reasonably level-headed and tractable: "Severianus? Get these lot organized: water from the fountains. Slap them if you have to." He doesn't wait to see the effect of his words, blue eyes scanning the nearby 'farmers' for their reactions to the explosions of their carts.
The chaos grows even more frightening as dark forms flicker in between the fires, clearly -not- Empyreans. A few cry out, clutching a wing or an arm as they get too close to one of these shadowy figures that move about the din and terror like fish swimming through water, calm and clearly in their element. Those that move to close find themselves burnt or cut, barely able to react before the person has slipped away.
Celerity finds herself being pulled by Zea fractious moments before fear sinks in. Her wings tight to her back, she too is running just trying to keep up. "This is unimaginable." No tales of this backwater had prepared her for something like this. "Is it... the Varati?"
Resolve is one thing, but even Cleo can only stand that much fire and with those around her, she's now running to the north, as it seems to be one good place less fire infested. In her panic, she halts only a moment against a wall to scan back for Andreas, but with so many faces hurrying past, it is hard to tell who is where.
It seems some of the other carts that scattered out from the forum are burning as well, including those set under the line of laurel trees that lead into the city. The Praetorians are swamped with containing the fires and many are cursing Tyche's ill luck that some of their comrades are off in another corner of the province. Zea pulls Celerity against the wall, out of the fire and hands her the scented cloth she had been breathing through. "Here, use it," she offers as she lifts her smoke-clouded eyes to the ruin in the Forum and scowling at her own inability to help.
Andreas finally spies a Praetorian he knows: "*Laertes*! To me..." The Empyrean addressed lifts off from where he's trying to marshal some firefighters, and Andreas points out some of the dark shapes. Laertes nods, signaling to his section, some of whom unship bows, lifting in the air, and start trying to pick off the moving shapes.
In the panic and the chaos, it's easy for sharks to know just when and where to strike. And it would seem that they have chosen their targets well, for they move in just when each is at their most vulnerable and unprotected. Three pirates whirl about, encircling Celerity and Zea with blades drawn and smiles bared. One of them rushes forward with rope, twisting Zea's hands behind her back while another points his blade at Celerity's throat. "Please don't move Domina, I would hate to get blood all over your pretty gown. Now then ladies, if you'll kindly come with us? We'll be sure to get you out of here sound, if not safe."
One-Eye slips behind Cleo in the confusion, a cold knife is pressed against her throat and a hand catches one arm, twisting it behind her back in a most painful way. "Ahhh, Domina, looking for me are you? How sweet!"
Celerity takes the cloth and raises it to her mouth and breaths through it, relief in her eyes. She drops it for a moment, pushing away from the wall. Squinting out through the smoke, she looks for her own handmaiden currently lost. A hesitant prayer goes out for the mongrel girl who was returned to the house for a wrap... She is about to ask Zea something when a blade is pressed to her. A gasp escapes her just as the husky words are spoken and she freezes in place.
The force of the twisting rope drops Zea to her knees and she cries out in pain. However, with the chaos surrounding the Forum it is unlikely her cries are heard past herself and the group of pirates seeking to steal her and Celerity away. Her eyes grow cold as ice and they narrow on the one holding her arms behind her as if willing something, but nothing comes. No winds spring up from the mage. She is left utterly defenseless. "Damn you and all your pirate kind," she spits at the nearest one.
"Let me go. My husband is of the Guard!" Celerity forces the words out, emboldened by Zea's spitting, but they only come out shaking. Her breath is halting. "Please, I don't want to die..."
Stunned in her confusion, Cleo is for a moment easy to handle, until the twist of her arm brings out an alarmed, "What the...? Get your..." A scream of pain, followed by stream of curses that might make the average man blush.
"*Laertes*..." Andreas has a sword out, is diving on One-Eye. The Praetorian in question turns at his yell, bow drawn, and starts to fly in that direction.
"Damnation from such pretty lips, why, you must have been on board the Amarada, my sweet," drawls one of the pirates upon Zea's exclamation, brushing a finger against her bottom lip, "to have gotten such a tongue. I'm afraid your accommodations won't be as nice as they were there, but don't worry. We won't mess your hair. Much." His gaze slithers down her figure before rising up as he notes, "It's the other parts of you we'll be more interested in messing with."
If she's frightened, she doesn't show it, but Zea holds a frosty glare to the pirate threatening her. "You have no idea who you're dealing with," she snarls at him even has her body cringes at the implied threat. "You touch me and you *will* die, I promise you that." She casts Celerity a quick glance, a touch of nervousness in it for her new cousin. "We promise you that."
Celerity's arms are jerked back painfully, and the bite of rough rope comes across them as her wrists are bound tight. "Don't fret, pretty little bird, we'll bring your friend along with us to keep you company ..." The pirates all look around at one another, laughing at her claim. "Oohhhhhh, the guuaaaaard? We're -so- scared," snorts one of them rudely. He jerks on Celerity's arms, causing her shoulder to wrench painfully. "Come on, we don't 'ave all day, y'know ..."
One-Eye laughs at Cleo's curses, murmuring in her ear, "My, but ain't you a mouthy little thing. You keep up with that and I might just have to stuff your mouth up with something. Ye wouldn't want me to do that, now would you?" But he twists her arm higher up her back, the pain excruciating as the entire limb seems completely helpless.
Announcement: Some of the fires in the Empyrean and Sylvan fields seem to be dying down, but the problematic fire that concerns all of Parnassus are those that have flared up in the Forum and on Aventine Hill. Praetorians continue to fly through the skies, ignoring the soot covering them, to keep the water coming and to end this hell on aether.
A deep voice is heard shouting orders from the smoky sky above, as a Praetorian officer circles lower, once shining armor darkened with soot. Wiping away sweat and soot from his brow and eyes with the pass of a gloved hand Quintus throws a gilded gaze about the forum, as he sets sandaled feet to cobblestone.
Not that Cleo was in any position of strength to ever compete with someone like One-Eye physically to begin with. She had her answer ready, but instead of words coming out of her mouth, finds tears jumping to her eyes in pain. The cursing stops, as he wished it.
Andreas's dive is thwarted by a late explosion from one of the carts, evidently the proverbial hangfire that finally caught: he curses, wheeling out of the way of the blast, and circling back. Cleo's now lost to sight, and he curses some more.
Announcement: Even the poor mongrels don't appear to have been forgotten. The waters of the estuary rise and fall unnaturally. Heavy waves crash over the Bottoms and threaten to flood all of mongrel town as larger waves head west towards the bridge, threatening to rise up and sweep the red-stained water over the heavy stone walls.
Celerity chokes on a scream as she is pulled about and tied up. Her shoulder roars with pain and tears stream down her cheeks. She calls out Evander's name more than once... and then another's name, quietly, as she sobs.
Black sacks are pulled out, and wads of cloth are stuffed into both Zea's and Celerity's mouth to keep them quiet. The pirate pushing the cloth into Zea's mouth does so with particular roughness and pleasure. "Ahhh, finally something to shut you and yer foolish warnings up wi'. So, I'm gonna die if I touch you, aye?" His hand lifts to crudely cover one of her breasts, squeezing it painfully hard. "Well let me make -you- a promise, pretty .... you and me are gonna get to know each other -real- well. Reeeeeeal well. Got it?" The sacks are put over their heads to further confuse and disorient them. "Alright, ladies, we be heading out of 'ere now, nice and easy. All ye gotta do is put one foot in front of the other. Don' try to escape, or will stick we and leave ye to bleed to death, ye understand? Nod if ye understand."
Zea gets out one strangled scream of a name "Sebastian!" as the pirates yank her about. Pressure against her burned hand has her squealing in raw and honest pain as tears spring to her eyes. She threatens to scream again, curse the pirates for their treatment and threaten revenge, but she's quickly gagged and forcibly blindfolded and dragged out of the chaos of the forum.
The group of Praetorians Andreas directed at the dark figures moving between the carts seem to have had some success, a couple of the hurrying strangers dropped with arrows feathering them. The question still remains whether any will be alive to answer questions. Andreas, meanwhile, drops next to Quintus, face somewhat smoke-blackened from the near miss. "They've taken a couple of captives."
Announcement: The wave heading toward the bridge grows and crashes roughly against it, sending a good deal of the salty water over the side, washing across the stone and likely knocking down a few of the less-secure tents. It seems to be the only large wave sent to attack, but the waters of the estuary are still extremely choppy.
Announcement: As the fires in Irha-Esh have been put out, some Atarvani try to actually get over to the other side of the city to help with their fires. A few risk being boosted by the wyverns and a handful manage to climb over the fallen statue to dash across the bridge over towards Parnassus.
One-Eye drags Cleo off toward the nearest door, taking refuge behind fires, which the Empyreans give a wide berth to, or behind tall columns. Chuckling softly he rumbles in her ear, "Not so tough now, are you sweetheart. This is a sweet deal, I can't believe no one thought of doin' this before. We're gonna be rich .... RICH! And you're all part of that perfect little dream, my pretty little bird."
Quintus draws deep breaths, heartbeat pounding in his ears. A nod, as a look as black as the devil's blood twists Quintus' face. "Question those that still live.. I want to know where they are being taken, and care not whether these wretches survive the asking. Go now." Eyes narrow and shoot off in another direction, as he hears a name screamed... Sebastian? Turning his steps toward the call.
Announcement: The dark clouds of smoke over the fields and near the forest have dissipated. Apparently, some of the fires have been able to be put out.
Reprehension dawns in azure eyes still blinking away tears, Cleo biting back words dying to get out, instead more or less cooperating with One-Eye, partly to prevent another painful twisting of arm, partly waiting for the right moment to free herself. But as she's pushed further away from the crowd and fires at the Forum, that chance seems to never come at all.
Zea struggles within the sack over her head and her body flails about as she tries to make some contact with her captors. Any future screams are contained within the gag though her body speaks loud enough as she and Celerity are dragged through the smoke and fire chaos of the forum and away from Parnassus to only the gods know where.
"Right..." snaps Andreas, tersely. A part-run, part-fly carries him over to where Laertes' and his comrades have dropped two of the pirates, and he rolls one over, growls in frustration at the glazed, dead expression and the arrow-shaft protruding from his throat. His one-time comrade isn't in much better shape, gut-shot, and coughing blood, hands clutching at the shaft in his vitals. Andreas sets a hand to the arrow. "Start talking, and you can die clean. Who gave you your orders, and where are they taking the prisoners?" He's quite willing to twist the shaft to encourage the pirate to be talkative.
Celerity has given up. Her shoulder is hurting, her head is hanging and she is dragged along. She feels completely and absolutely numb. What rot is this? Where is Evander? Even without the gag biting in her mouth she would no longer cry out. She glimpses fiery horrors as they go by and a part of her whispers that she should be thankful she is in one piece...
A door is propped open, two pirates guarding whilst the other three shove Zea and Celerity out with dark chuckles. At the other side of the Forum, another door is opened as One-Eye drags Cleo out silently, hidden by smoke and fire, only the light winking in illuminating his dark form and his dark deed.
Curse this smoke; a man can't see a thing... Quintus continues his chase after a phantom cry, whether it is truth, or some trick of a smoke dazzled mind, the Centurion could swear he spies a number of figures... some of them winged. "In the name of the Empyre, I bid you all approach!" The commander's deep voice, hoarse already from shouting roars. He is too far gone to reach them, though it shall not be for want of trying... Temper already tried by the events of this day, the Praetor unsheathes his spatha...
Announcement: It seems the waves are not content with the single attack on the bridge for the estuary being to churn again. Smaller waves crash against the bridge's supports, heralding the arrival of a wild and towering wave that crashes over the bridge, threatening to further swamp it and knock down more shops and stalls. It does not, thankfully or unfortunately, bring down the sturdy stone structure as it washes goods and some citizens off the bridge and into the water.
"Vilica! Zea!" Effie, the Vilica's trusted handmaid was separated in the confusion and now searches desperately for her mistress as some of the fires are put out, though the forum still smokes, choking the throat and the eyes. "Vili *cough* ca!" She wanders around, almost blind, scared and as if lost when she finds no familiar face or voice in answer.
The pirate looks up at the Andreas and laughs a dry and mirthless sound. He viciously spits up at the man threatening him and shakes his head, refusing to speak. He does, however, keep a grin on his ruined lips and reveals yellow and rotting teeth. "Thanks be to the Cap't Demetrius," he growls out before his head falls back against the stone of the Forum.
Andreas growls in frustration, twists the arrow savagely and straightens up, looking around, before crouching again, and starting to systematically search both bodies.
The panicked Effie will no doubt not be calmed by the sudden presence of a heavy hand on her shoulder. The sight of a soot blackened Praetorian with similarly stained wings, bare sword in hand may or may not do anything more for her confidence, "Who are you, and what has happened here? Answer me, girl!" Quintus demands.
Weaving his way through the doused fires, with nearly black clothes and wings from the soot and coughing from the smoke, Aurelius Zethinius crosses the Forum on his way to the basilica, his first aim that he never reached when his help was asked with putting out fires at Aventine Hill. White lines on his forehead show his concern, while he takes in the chaos surrounding him.
The disoriented handmaid squeals and nearly jumps out of her skin at the Praetorian's unexpected hand on her. Looking up she lets out a sigh of relief before assaulting him with request for aid. "Dominus, you've got to help me! I was here with my mistress, Vilica Acesian and the Domina Jove, Ceterion Evander's wife and now I can't find them!" Her eyes are wide with panic and she can barely breathe as she rushes to explain. "I heard my mistress scream, but I can't find her. Oh gods, you've got to find her!"
Andreas stands again, the two pirates' meager possessions to hand, straight into the path of Aurelius Zethinius. He blinks, then nods. "Deus."
An officer to a fault, Quintus swallows the sudden urge to curse like a plebian. "Zea Acesian?" He clarifies quickly, before looking up once again. ...No, Praetorians don't curse like that, Quintus... don't do it... Effie is addressed quickly once again, "Find her I shall, be assured. For now though, get clear of this smoke, girl... and keep together with the others. Guiding her as gently as he can, but more firmly than perhaps he ought in the indicated direction, his formidable voice is raised again to boom throughout the plaza, "Optio Gracchus! Get your cohor moving- Do not make me repeat myself!" He orders, overruling the Optio's protest, "Get you cohor in a search pattern starting at the gates of the city, and moving outward, you mark is any Empyrean bound in any way, in the company of another race. Seek me out at the docks IMMEDIATLY should such be discovered. NOW, Optio!" Golden eyes go over a line of Praetors presently refilling buckets, and leaving them to their task, "Ceterion Hebrides, with me... I have a name towards which questions must be directed." He intones ominously.
Effie, trembling, doesn't move as she's ordered to do. Her tear-stained cheeks are likewise covered in soot and her tears make a mess of her face. "Dominus, please," she says, tugging on the sleeve his tunic. "Please, check with the Amarada. She was sailing with them the last couple of weeks. Ask for Dominus Sebastian, maybe he knows where she is."
"Dominus." Aurelius, glances from Andreas' face to the items in his hands, back to the man's eyes. "You know more of what is going on?"
"Some." Andreas' tones are clipped, frustrated. "Some of them..." he pokes the dead or dying pirate with a foot, "got among us. They have prisoners." Apologetically. "Including Cleo. I tried..."
Dark azure eyes traveled down to the body being prodded, the concern increasing before his thoughts turn into alarm, head snapping up. Searching Andrea's expression for clues, frowning to show that no joke was ever more improper, Aurelius hopes, "She's at home. Safe."
Quintus nods again to the frantic Effie, "Calm yourself... the best service you may render your mistress is in retaining your faculties. A sharp look goes to Andreas and his conversation partner. Zea Acesian, Celerity Jove, and Cleo Zethinius. This was a *very* calculated move. Sebastian has much to answer for, the Centurion reflects as he spreads his darkened wings, and takes to the darkened sky... taking the short route to where he imagines the good captain would be located.
Andreas shakes his head. "She's not. She was on her way to the Basilica when one of them grabbed her." He runs a somewhat bloody hand through his hair. "I'd know him again, but one of their damned explosions caught me." The soot and smoke on his face will attest to that.
Despite his blackened face, Aurelius grows quite pale, and though his body stays still, a rumor starts in his wings. "You saw... It can't be. All this smoke. You must be mistaken?" But he already knows; he knows Andreas. The rumour in feathers grows to a tremor in wings.
Effie watches the Praetorians take off, angling towards the docks and a hint of relief shows on her smudged features. She does, however, keep wandering around the forum in search of Zea. Perhaps they're all wrong and her mistress is just hiding from her. "Not a time for games," she murmurs to herself as she skirts around a burning pile of wood.
Andreas grips Aurelius' arm with his cleaner hand. Gently, "I wish I was. But I'll find her. I swear."
Not sure whether to shake off the hand or to grip it tight, Aurelius does neither, eyes locked on Andreas as if the man were a life saver. "Who. Did they..." His voice fails him, as he shiver in his wings continues in his body now, but appearances are no longer a priority. "Who is looking for her?" No more then a whisper, "Tell me someone is looking for her?"
Some of the fires are still blazing in the forum, but a good deal are smoldering out. Word trickles down from Aventine Hill of looting in the noble houses, scorched stone walls and ruined gardens. There are already angry cries heading toward the Basilica, shouting for someone of authority to take a handle of what has gone on today, but so far the Basilica doors remained closed, no one comes out to survey the damage. "I heard the Governor's hiding under his desk crying for his mater," one man jokes as he helps clear away some of the debris. "I heard the Procurator fled the city as soon as the fires started, didn't want to handle a job this big," counters another.
Two Atlantean women, flanked by a two men, one obviously a priest and the other a Guardian, step from the fields to the Forum. Other Atlanteans have arrived with them, scattering throughout Parnassus, mostly water mages, helping to douse what is left of the flames. The priest directly behind the Guardians also steps forward as well, arms lifted as he calls forth the water to help the Empyreans with one of the blazes still remaining in the Forum. Gaiava remains close to the Guardian's side, watching, verbally silent.
Arriving with the other Atlanteans, Coral looks around at the burnt devastation, a frown on her features as her eyes move from one building to the next. She stays next to Gaiava, nodding to the mage as he moves to do what he can calling the water to put out the other blazes. "Should then we go to the bridge? It is very dangerous there, but there were fires remaining."
Silence's unusually stern expression tells the entire story. Clearly, the Sylvans have been deeply affected by this as well, and they are here to tell their story, and perhaps offer their assistance. "We saw the smoke from the fields. We did our best to put the blaze out, but I fear most of the crops are lost," he says to whomever it is that seems to be in charge at the moment. Calm-Winds is close by, flanked by a pair of solemn looking Sylvan men.
There is sobbing among those still circling in the Forum, as well as those cursing and grunting as they try to clean up this mess. Effie, the Acesian handmaid is one of the former, for she finds her mistress' handkerchief laying, discarded, near the wall by the temple. She picks it up and inhales the perfume lingering on the square of linen and promptly buries her face in the fabric. Around her, the others, Empyreans and mongrels mostly, are busy putting things to right and, sadly, carting off the bodies of those that have perished. The bodies of a few pirates, however, are left until last. Let the carrion birds take them. A couple Praetorians spot the approaching Atlanteans and regard them with a suspicious gaze, but some appearing welcoming and relieved.
A Praetorian approaches the Sylvans and orders the Ceterion they were talking to away and back to his duty. "The entire crop," he says, paling slightly even though his tone and posture are as rigid as stone. "You can fix it, can't you? That's what the Sylvans are here to do, isn't it? Heal the fields and help the crops grow?" The Praetorian sounds overly tired and quite annoyed at the news.
Gaiava shakes her head at the other Atlantean, and if she speaks to her, it is only silently. That quick interchange completely, she steps forward, the Guardian following close behind as she approaches the Sylvans and the Praetorian. "Chookma. Are there any fires left in the fields that we can help with? We have no skill with earth, but if you need it, the temple could provide a few mages to help water your fields if need be." Her seaweed green eyes turn to the Praetor then as she inclines her head politely adding. "Ave, officer. If there is anything that we Atlanteans can do to help, please, let us know. I have bought several water mages with me, and more are on the way to help the fires. But there are Shapers in the service of Pasiphae as well, and Healers, when they can be spared after healing our own people."
Calm-Winds's attention is less for the buildings, but for the injured - and apparently, there are plenty of injured to be seen. The frown on Calm-Winds's face disappears as she notices bodies being taken away, with more bodies dressed in an unfamiliar fashion being left to lie for now. "Sweet spirits," she says softly as she surveys the damage. The Praetorian goes ignored by her, until he reaches the word 'heal.' "We still don't know the extent of the damage," she says, "but we'll do what we can." At Gaiava's approach, she tips her head slightly. "Most of the fires are out, but the fields are still hot and might flare up again."
The Praetorian angrily looks about, spreading an arm to encompass the entire forum. "The city's still threatened by fire, we need help here. My men are near exhausted carrying water back and forth. Zeus almighty, these fires need to be put out now!" He glares at the outsiders around him, a man whose orders are followed without question and he expects the same from these strangers. His gaze narrows on the Sylvans and adds, "If any of you are healers we could do with some help in that area too." All around are cut and burned Empyreans and mongrels and some of the more unfortunate ones have singed and burned wings.
Coral nods to Silence, "It is good to see that you are well." Nodding to the Praetorian who comes over she turns again to the Sylvans, "Is the damage in the fields bad? We were hurried coming here from the island with the mages and sending them where we still saw smoke coming." Even though her white clothes are covered in sooty and bloody stains, she stands up proudly next to her Atlantean companion, "I am not a skilled healer but I can help with other tasks that might be needed. There is still fighting on our island, so we thought it better to be out of the way of harm to allow our warriors to focus their energies."
Silence frowns at the Praetorian's question. "It will take time to heal the earth. These things do not happen overnight, any more than rebuilding the city will." He does not seem insulted; more like he is trying to educate the ignorant. He turns to the Atlantean delegation. "Calm-Winds is right. The fields have mostly stopped burning, but I am sure that the Earth-Elementals could use your help in watering the fields. I cannot speak for them, but I suspect they will be grateful. Coral, I am glad to see you. The fields are devastated, but they cannot burn the earth itself. It will recover."
"We left a few Atlanteans behind, inkana," Gaiava says to Calm-Winds, "near your fields to watch our ships and to help with the flames should they reignite." To the Praetorian then, she smiles. "Then it is good that our mages are already hard at work. Look." As the Lawkeeper points, the Atlantean priest that had been following her earlier, with the help of a Praetorian carrying a bucket, douses the last of the flames on that building of the Forum. Nodding to each other in mutual thanks, he moves on to the next building where two other Atlanteans and several Empyreans are already hard at work.
The Praetorian holds a glare on the lesser-breeds for a moment before his expression softens, just slightly. "See to the injured, if you can, the most serious first." He looks over the forum and then back adding, "That means the wing injuries first, mind you." What would be obvious to a fellow Empyrean needs to be spelled out for these other races. He scowls as he sees one of his Ceterions carried off, his wing hanging limply. "Just sprained it," calls out another Ceterion, noting the Centurion's concern. "If any of those bloody pirates are still breathing, leave them be. Our people need healing first, not those thieving bastards."
Calm-Winds once more tips her head. "I am a healer," she says to the Praetorian, "and so long as the injuries are not mortal - or involve badly broken bones - I can be of help." She again frowns, briefly glancing at pirate corpses and their weapons. "Pirates," she murmurs softly. Needing to think about it no longer, she moves into action, tucking her staff into the crook of her arm. "A sprain," she calls to those carrying the injured Ceterion, "I can heal easily, and that's one more pair of able hands to help."
The Praetorian nods gravely and begins to step through the wreckage, expecting the healers to follow, while staying out of the way of the Atlanteans who have come to help. "There's a little girl over here," he murmurs with a quick glance back to them. Indeed, on the steps of one of the side buildings sits a frightened woman holding a young girl with a wing that sits at a disgustingly wrong angle. She's whimpering into her mother's chest while the older woman tries to soothe her without touching the wing. "Start with her," the Praetorian asks, trying to sound as humble as possible.
"I'm a healer too. Let me take a look. I'm only a Novice, but I should be able to help out." Silence moves to the girl, smiling faintly. "Hello, miss," he says softly as he kneels. "My name is Silence. I'm going to try to fix your wing for you, dear." He waits for the mother's approval before he continues. (At least, he thinks that the woman is her mother. Can't assume, now, can we?)
The woman, obviously terrified, looks from the Sylvan to the Praetorian. The Centurion gives her a nod, letting her know it is ok, even if he is a savage. "Meg," she begs of the sobbing child, "Meg, let the healer touch your wing, alright. He won't hurt you," she adds with a suspicious glare shot to the Sylvan, daring him not to make a liar out of her.
Calm-Winds hesitates in following the Centurion, but when she sees the lower-ranked Praetorian's bearers not slow, she turns to follow the officer. She gives a slight wince as she's led close enough to feel the child's pain, even without yet needing to look closely at the injury. A silent nod is all the confirmation she gives the Praetorian, and the faintest hint of a smile touches her lips as Silence approaches and speaks. Calm-Winds chooses not to confuse the young girl by having two strangers speak to her, and instead quietly examines the injured wing from a few steps away.
Silence nods to the woman, and then the pain washes over him. The poor girl is suffering terribly. He grimaces, rocks back slightly, and then puts the pain out of his mind as he leans gently towards the girl. First, to stop the pain. He lays his hand gently on the front of the wing. He smiles to himself at the unfamiliar feel of the feathers beneath his hand, and then concentrates his will on making the girl's pain stop. He closes his eyes and concentrates hard, harder than ever before. His breath stops for a moment, and then he starts breathing regularly again once he is sure the pain should be neutralized.
Announcement: Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the smoke billowing above Parnassus is fading as the fires are tended to. The bridge is swamped with water and ruined shops and rumor is carried from the outskirts of town that the fields, full with summer's bountiful crop, are in almost total ruin. The Varati continue to work on their own ruined city and the injured and dead throughout the region are being seen to by healers and family.
Even as the last of the fires begins to flicker out under the ministrations of the Empyrean bucket-wielders and the Atlantean mages, another shipment of Atlanteans enters Parnassus. Seeing them, Gaiava points towards the fallen bodies. "Tend towards the Empyreans with broken wings first." The Lawkeeper instructs, verbally so that the land dwellers can here (and presumably, mentally as well) "And leave the pirates where they lie." To the Guardians she gestures to follow her as she approaches the closest Praetorian officer that she sees. "Perhaps we should bring all the injured to one place. Away from where the fighting and the fires so that they can be tended to more easily."
The Praetorian approached by Gaiava, a younger woman with a long golden braid, rubs the soot from her cheek and then looks around the forum. "Take them to the Temple," she says, coughing out the words as she partially covers her mouth with the back of her arm. "At least if they don't make it the gods can see their lares free," she mutters under her breath.
Coral reaches webbed fingers up to bring some pink locks of sooty hair behind her ears where they've escaped from her braid. Surveying the situation to find a place for her to help she nods with Gaiava's words, "And it would also I think help those who are looking for family members who are lost. If we can instruct them to a place they might be less frightened." The instructions from the guard seem to please her as she glances to the other Atlantean woman and goes to tell Silence what they've been instructed, "We will begin sending those who are injured and those who seek others to the temple, if they come to you."
Already some of the able-bodied Praetorians begin carrying the injured towards the temple, while the silent faces of the shocked Daughter of Graiae watch the morbid procession into the temple which, thank the gods, is untouched. Sobbing family members follow, unwilling to leave their loved ones behind. The girl sobs some more as her wing is tended, more from fear than from pain. She quickly sticks her little thumb in her mouth and sucks on it as a means of comfort while her mother soothes her and warily watches the healers.
Silence's eyes open, and then he goes to work, repairing the flesh underneath the thick layer of feathers. He finds the flesh easy to mend now, and decides to venture a little further, his control very firm over his magic today. Thus, he is able to mend some of the underlying bone structure, and before very long, the wing is more or less as good as new, aside from a little lingering soreness. Silence gasps, his energy waning for a moment, but the deed is done. "I did it!" he exclaims, half to tell the girl that he is finished, and half to himself in disbelief. "I think the whole structure should be healed now," he says, standing quickly. "Bones and all," he says, wondering. He turns to Calm-Winds, and quietly says as an aside, "I think that I'm an Acolyte now," and he grins a crooked grin. "Let's go help the others." He does not wait for a thank-you, as there is much to be done.
Gaiava nods in agreement to Coral and the Praetorian as she glances back at the Guardians as if silently inquiring if they understood. They nod and move to help the Praetorians carry the injured towards the Temple. "I will go tell the healers where to go and make sure that everyone is tended to." The Lawkeeper says. "Blessed be, domina." She smiles sadly at Coral then and perhaps seems as if to voice a reply to the Ephor's question when a priestess approaches her with a mental message directed towards the Lawkeeper alone. Gaiava's eyes widen as she turns to Coral, saying. "I am sorry Annan Coral, but I am needed back at the Temple. You will make sure that everything here runs smoothly?"
The mother should be thankful, she should be gracious and she should be humble, but she's far from it. "You had some novice laying hands on my child?!" She jumps to her feet with the girl held tightly to her. "Some novice savage touching my Meg? He could have hurt her even worse!"
Coral nods to Gaiava, "Yes, I will bring the Atlanteans back. If we are needed there send for us, but otherwise I will stay here and help." She looks over as the woman becomes irate at the Sylvan healer, and clears her throat, "And she is well, yes? There are many others who need healing, do you whish them not to receive it because of one not being as skilled as another?" Her eyes blink easily, but for those who know her, her tone is a bit more short than usual. By comparison, however, it is still quite polite.
Calm-Winds watches closely as Silence works, and her smile indeed fades for a look of mild surprise as she sees that he isn't having any difficulty. Yet, there's no denying what her own magic tells her he accomplished, and when he stands with his proclamation, she smiles gently. "I think you are right," she answers Silence softly. She glances toward the mother, but decides that staying for an explanation is not a good idea, even as Coral comes to their defense. "The injured will be brought to the temple," she says to Silence, "in case you didn't notice while you were focusing. We should head there."
The woman turns an angry glare on the calm Atlantean but doesn't say a word. Instead, she gives a disdainful sniff in the other woman's direction, holds Meg tight to her chest and stalks off towards home. The Praetorian nearby watches her go with a shake of his head. "Let's get more of these injured into the temple. It'll be easier to clean this mess up with them out of the way." A Ceterion comes running up to the Centurion and asks, "What about the pirates, sir? What's to be done with them?" The man considers for a moment and then waves him away. "Burn them, toss them in the estuary, feed them to the gryphons, I don't care. Just get their skins out of Parnassus!"
Before she leaves, Gaiava hears the woman and sighs softly. She nods at Coral and says aloud. "Have the Praetorians explain the situation to their people. They seem sensible enough, and tired enough to see good sense at this time. Blessed be, Annan Coral." With that, the Atlantean turns and nods towards the other priestess as they both walk out of Parnassus.
Coral turns to the Centurion who came to his superior and asks, "Are any yet alive of the pirates? It could be convenient to ask them more information about what it is they were doing here today. I believe there was more to this than simple wrecking of destruction." The angry Empyrean woman isn't given another glance. Since she doesn't appear to need any of the services offered here by the others, Coral isn't going to stop her from stalking off.
The Centurion points to a couple dead men still untouched. One has his throat sliced open and the other has his guts literally spilling out of him. "Those are the only two I've found," he responds following a quick cough as a cloud of smoke obstructs his vision. "If there are more I haven't seen them."
Silence laughs at the woman's protestations as he walks away. For anyone who knows him, it isn't unusual for him to laugh at inappropriate times, and this is certainly one of those times. "Leave to an Empyrean to complain about someone healing her child for her. Why, I could have pulled her from Tupuran's grip and she'd probably still have protested," he comments quietly to Calm-Winds as he makes his way to the Temple.
Coral nods to the Centurion at his gesture, "My thanks. If any are found..." She leaves the suggestion hanging, not necessarily thinking it likely from his description. "I will go now and send others to the temple." Moving off among the crowds, she speaks kindly to those who need aide, or direction, or are simply lost in the chaos, sending them to their temple where they will hopefully find things that need assistance or what they seek.
