Announcement: As dawn touches the sky and Haven rouses to the day, the tramp of booted feet echoes down largely-empty streets as a small parade of Hounds grimly escorts a lone Varati, the Agni-Haidar Janizar known as Kedar, to the Rialto. At their head, a Herald walks with scroll in hand, ready to announce the activities of the day, once all is set.

Fairway and North - Haven:
      Imposing buildings line the four corners of this intersection, some built from wood and stone while others sport the organic curves and flowing designs of shaping magic. One of the grandest belongs to the illustrious city guard, more commonly known as "the Hounds." Their headquarters is a squat, stone structure with a tile roof and a wide archway that leads into a courtyard beyond. Flanking it on either side are marble likenesses of the legendary Cerberus -- the hound that earned them their name.
      This close to the center of town, the streets are active even into the early hours of morning. Shops and stalls outnumber private homes, many of them brightly painted with wood or stone columns along the front. Carts and the occasional chariot clatter along the paved road, moving to and from the famed Rialto to the south.

As the sun's first rays have touched the skies, the Bastion has roused -- not that it is ever entirely quiet. But now some few ranks of the city guard have gathered from the cells their erstwhile prisoner in the form of a large, dark Varati man, and guided him from the oppressive depths into the open air once more. They move not with utter silence, but with the hush of well-ordered efficiency, guiding him towards the Rialto.

Joining the entourage is a single figure garbed in the black and indigo of the Guard and marked with a rank that supersedes that of all others there. He directs with a quiet word or gesture and the entire proceedings heads towards the Rialto.

Being touched by the sun's light for the first time within several weeks, the prisoner within the midst of guards draws his eyebrows closer over eyes that have not lost the sense of confusion and astonishment for the events that have happened to him. The gaze is lowered to the ground, as if the cobblestone beneath him is the most interesting aspect of this foreign city. Hands bound beneath his back, the held warrior offers no resistance to the guidance of the Hounds around him. Now, like before, he follows the lead of those who are only known as 'candala' to him. The commander's approach finally raises Kedar's attention to the Sylvan, but still no word is uttered as he paces in the parade towards the Rialto.

Dohosan offers no chance for speech, remaining as he does at the edges of the guard about the Varati. In fact, he seems much more like a commander out on a stroll to inspect his troops than a man about to partake in the justice of Delphi. A barked order at his side from the next-highest in the chain of command sets the entirety marching into the Rialto.

The Rialto - Haven:
      Reigning over the Rialto is the very heart of Haven: the Delphic Citadel. It dwarfs the other buildings, which cluster around it like so many children seeking a parent's protection. Day or night, rain or shine, its walls seem to glimmer with a light of their own, as if, over the centuries, the magic within had slowly permeated the entire structure. The main tower soars higher than the tallest tree, and each side tapers inward so that it resembles a giant obelisk. Four smaller towers stand at the four points of the compass, representing the unification of each race under Delphi's government.
      And here is where they all gather. The Rialto is the famed marketplace of Haven, full of shops, stalls, and brightly colored tents. The shouts of merchants, the haggling of patrons, the music of entertainers, and the laughter of children create a nigh-constant cacophony that assaults the senses. But the Rialto is nothing if not exciting, and crowds often gather here for important events and public addresses.

The Sylvan shakes his head to the question and then glances about... no, this isn't for him. Looks like something big is going to happen...

Niamh steps from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.

The wings of what seem to be numerous Empyreans cast long morning shadows over the awakening Rialto, their figures little more than hazy shadows over the marketplace. Two by two they descend from their place in the heavens to land in an opening pathway near closed stalls. Schola guards are the first to set foot to earth, their purple chlamys snapping in the breeze they have created. Four of the dark-clad warriors form a diamond pattern on the ground, providing a clear place for their charge -- Acesian's Dea -- to land. Beside them Thanatos guards provide an opening for their Deus, for the Acesian matriarch is travelling with the Emperor's cousin. Two young girls travel with the pair as well, ushered safely to the cobblestones by Acesian house guards.

Alone, features so naturally soft and affable arranged in a grave and reflective pose, the domina named Olivia Jove has come to represent her people -- as the Imperial Viator -- and witness that which she does not especially desire to see. Apprehension is etched in her eyes' glances, and her lips are flattened by the uncharacteristic frown that further delineates the severity with which she is greeting this event.

Aya watches in slight awe as the seeming angels descend from the heavens... what is going on? Her eyes then travels to the troops, or where she assumes the troops are coming from.

Having taken the better part of the afternoon reading over some manuscripts in preparation for the upcoming Aegis meeting, Maximus Areides has decided to spend some of his free time in the Pantheon to unwind. However, as he had exited the establishment, he'd heard the familiar sound of military feet striking the cobbled surface of the Rialto. Deciding it best to investigate the matter, the masked Dominus has made his way into the marketplace, only to be greeted by a rather large crowd of all manner of individuals. Looking skyward at the figures that descend into the area, Maximus smiles slightly, recognizing the Dea Acesian and her entourage, but not quite recognizing the two girls accompanying her.

Deciding that this isn't the best place to be right now, Fox uses the growing crowd to sneak a bit away. One of the pastries, uneaten, is left for the mongrel girl, should she wish it.

They are preceded by the sound of booted feet on cobbles, but quickly a contingent of Hounds are seen marching into the Rialto, a Varati man bound, but walking, in their midst. In the front, the Herald looks none too happy to be there, compass rose glittering at his throat. In the rear, the former Archon and current commander of the Hounds, Dohosan Eagle-Eye, looks nearly as grim, but that is known to be his usual expression. Joining him is an ancient figure in the white, Delphic kaftan of the Caducean caste with several glittering studs at his throat denoting no small amount of skill in the body of this wiry, aged man.

The Hounds march down the lanes of the Rialto, coming to halt in its center where stocks have been hastily erected earlier in the morning.

Aya does indeed see the pastry and accepts it soundlessly. She continues to watch the angels flock about, thinking a funny little thought to herself. (Look how they taint themselves by landing on earth, I bet they cant wait to go back and sleep in their beds of clouds and drink wine made from the finest grapes) She snorts softly. She watches as the Hounds march in, wondering if her new friend is with them... alas, she couldn't spot him. Instead she rests, leaning against the crates and waits to see what's going to happen.

Following the lead of the Hounds, Kedar paces in their midst with a military precision and determination that matches theirs. While the Agni-Haidar's motions have lost none of their efficiency during the weeks in the cell, his appearance has suffered. Haggard, worn out, a stubble of a beard covering his face and -- most importantly -- weaponless, the man in black has lost quite a bit of the deadly image he is supposed to present. His brown eyes gaze over the gathering with a sense of wonder and confusion, rather than hate or hostility. He is goaded towards the stocks, following silently and perhaps a bit too readily as he takes in the scene around him.

Effie, the older of the two girls with the Acesian and Thanatos group hops from one foot to the other in childish anticipation, trying to see around wings and bodies. "There they are!" she exclaims, pointing a skinny arm in the direction of the Hounds and their prisoner. Her other hand reaches for the toddler at Selene's side, hoping to give Zea a better view. "Come on, over here," Effie directs, tugging at a little girl who obviously doesn't wish to go. Instead, Zea looks up at her mother, who is also watching the procession with an obvious smug smile on her lips.

"Mama, I canna see." The girl's simple begging causes the Dea to bend over and pick her up so that her child might witness the Varati's punishment.

"Remember today," Selene coos to the girl in her arms. "It is not often in Haven you'll see them actually punish a Varati."

The Estrel bin Mazat does not come from the direction of Delphi, but rather that of Atesh-Gah. While he usually manages the stoic expression so representative of his race, today there is obvious anger seething behind those bespectacled eyes. He seems to almost dare the aged Caducean to do this. In fact, it is almost all he can do to not incinerate the stocks and the Caducean at once. Perhaps he will be surprised and the flogging will be all, but he doubts it. A hand goes to his collar and fingers the many pins there.

Looking over at the Dea Acesian and her two small companions, Maximus cannot help but chuckle, covering it with his hand. He remembers the girls now, having seen them both briefly, and is quite impressed to see how the Dea wishes to educate her daughters. Taking a few steps forward so that he is separated by a wing's width from the Schola protecting the Dea, the Dominus' arms fold over his chest, and he cocks his head to the side, large wings fluttering briefly. It was true -- Delphi seemed to be making more and more concessions for the Varati as time went on, and it was good to see one of their number punished. Unfortunately, Maximus is not quite aware as to what the punishment is for, but that is hardly an issue.

Cleon smiles at the antics of the children, "Well, they do seem to be enjoying themselves." Even if he had been unsure of the suitability of such a display for children. Selene's comment to her daughter earns a soft snort and the none-too-quiet comment, "I barely believe it myself. What was this one accused of again?"

Aya realizes that this is indeed a punishment. She frowns and wonders what he did to deserve this. She inches forward for a better look, and that's when she noticed the two girls and the mother lifting her youngest to see. She frowns, why teach her daughters violence and punishment like this? Make them think bloodshed is the only answer... what twisted little birdies these Empyreans are.

The Herald steps up on the stocks even as the Hounds array themselves around it. Dohosan steps forward, but not onto the platform as of yet. Unhappily, his hand rests on the long haft of a whip at his belt, and without pleasure he regards the wizened Atlantean caducean at his side. Green eyes rise to meet that of the Herald and he nods, letting it begin.

The Herald unrolls a scroll from the case at his belt and lifts his head and voice to the crowd as it gathers around. "Let all who gather hear and know that the Agni-Haidar Janizar known as Kedar did break the peace of Delphi by attacking a woman of Empyrean descent within the bounds of Haven with the intent of significantly maiming her. For this act of violence, the Janizar is sentenced by Delphi to twenty lashes, and the permanent mark of Delphi's displeasure." The scroll rustles as it is rolled shut once more and the Herald steps down off the platform and out of the way.

Geridan is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.

Olivia's lips finally dispatch the frown when she sees the Deus of Thanatos and the Dea of Acesius, but the smile is perfunctory to a degree; she is tensed. Arms wind around her, close, and her gaze redirects itself to the Herald at the proclamation. She stands where she can be seen, where she has an unobstructed view of the stage, but her cheeks are colorless; this is, quite plainly, not her choice of duties, but a set to her jawline confirms she will see it out.

Before Selene has the chance to reply to Deus Thanatos the Herald's voice rings through the Rialto, proclaiming the misdeeds of the Varati. "He tried to rip off a defenseless woman's wings, simply because he didn't like what she had to say," Selene adds, leaning over to Cleon so to be sure he hears her in the growing crowd.

Zea, still in her mother's arms, watches the Varati in wonder, for it is her first time seeing one of the monsters her father has told her about. "Bad 'rati!" the toddler calls out toward the podium, the innocence of her voice stained with the chastising words. Effie has darted off again, hoping to get a better look while an Acesian guard trails after Zea's playmate.

Swift strides carry a large Varati form in to the Rialto from the north. His eyes are already set to the stage, churning brightly as he comes within earshot. His gloved hand, as always, rests upon the hilt of his sheathed blade, and in silence, his step slows and he makes his way about to where he might better see and hear.

Aya frowns even more. She doesn't think this will help the relations between the two purebloods... ah well, makes her glad she's not too involved into politics. She inches closer as well, coming up near one of the angel's daughters, though she doesn't notice her.

Except that she was breaking the Varati peace by insulting the Queen, the accused one thinks silently. But he refrains from saying that, being busy enough to watch the gathering around him. Even as the Hounds hold him to place him in the stocks, Kedar offers no resistance. As they rip off his shirt, exposing a lean, well-muscled body underneath, he just gives a hard, evaluating look at Selene. His breathing is heavy, lips pursed, arms clenched tight as they are put against the woods of the stock. The tattoo on his back -- the fiery yellow sun and the black shielding wings -- glows bright in the morning light, a sign of defiance and anger even in the bound of the indigo-clad Hounds.

Having positioned himself near the Dea Acesian and the Deus Thanatos, Dominus Areides can hear their conversation, and a smile creeps across what is viewable of his face. "I must say that I'm quite surprised that the Delphi saw it that way, rather than assuming that the Varati had done so in self-defense or some such nonsense," he murmurs, loud enough to be hear only by the three of them, and the contingent of Schola, if they wish. As much as he would agree with Cleon that it was a bit of a sensitive spectacle for children to witness, Maximus is glad to see that the young Zea is learning so early on where her people stand with the Varati.

In the aquamarine of the eyes of the Imperial Viator, one may find naught but compassion: for Kedar, for the situation, for everything. Such an emotion settles facilely upon her, as lightly as a bird upon an icy branch, and while she sees the other Empyreans, attends their commentary, she offers none of her own and finds no joy in this event. It is to be witnessed, it is to be endured; no approval or disapproval will win its way into her countenance.

Cleon makes a face at the reminder of the deed. Not that he thinks the Varati shouldn't be punished, of course. "Then it is all the more amazing. Did that not happen within Varati lands? I suppose that they could not bother to punish their own for such an infraction. I will put a gold imperial that they do five lashes or less." He nods slightly in agreement with the Dominus who approaches, which perhaps is why his guards allow the man closer.

Turning abruptly to the Empyreans so close, Niamh's eyes narrow at both the parents and the children. To the woman he comments, "The woman was healed of her injury and in return the Agni-Haidar is maimed. It does not seem precisely fair to me." Let the Empyreans think what they will of that, but all the woman got was some pain and a scare. The man will have this brand for the rest of his life. His words almost welcome retribution but the pins on his collar might cause any to think twice about engaging him in combat. Then again, maybe not.

It is probably fortunate that Geridan does not yet see Maximus among the crowds then. Or else... well... that will be left be until the situation arises, should it at all. In the mean time, this Varati, a self-proclaimed 'good one' at that, contents himself to simply watch and listen, not a single trace of expression or emotion upon his hardened features and angular face. His eyes burn and he lets a small inaudible sigh pass through his lips, his gaze never leaving Kedar.

Dohosan mounts the platform without a word, and without expression -- unless one could call the constant, stony disapproval a unique expression. It seems his face has frozen in that manner, jaw so tight that the muscle along its length quivers just short of rhythmic, agitated jumping. He takes the whip from his side -- not the longer and more limber length of a weapon but rather a shorter and bit broader strip of leather more easily controlled. He steps around first to face Kedar as he is bound in the stocks and from his side offers a short stick wrapped with leather and a few quiet words that cannot entirely be heard by the crowd.

Kedar senses: Dohosan has the look of a man making an honest offering -- the most he can give to one condemned. It might even be thought of as sympathy, but perhaps is more the gift of one warrior to another in respect. "Use this if you wish. It will not make it easier, precisely, but you are entitled."

Being addressed brusquely by an Varati? Selene's eyes widen as shock and disgust settle on her visage as she takes in the image of Niamh. "And no doubt your people will hurry this one off and heal him as well. There have been enough attacks on Empyreans in this city by your people, this is a small repayment for all of those." Her tone, as sharp and icy as the look in her eyes is punctuated by a sharp turn of her head back to her companion, and then to Maximus who appeared, quietly, behind them, expressing her disgust with a single look.

Jana soars in from the skies above.

"The punishment, I had thought, was the suffering, and not the long-term aftereffects." So Olivia, soft-spoken as she is, finds cause to make a brief notation to the discussion with the other Empyreans of rank. Whether her syllables will find an attentive ear is yet to be determined.

Strong arms crossing over his broad chest, Maximus' good eye narrows as his gaze focuses upon the Varati addressing the Dea. When her gaze had met his, however briefly, the lad could see the disgust and ire that had been incurred by the statement of the Varati. Moving a step closer to Cleon as the guards seem to part for him, Maximus stands quietly, not saying a word in retort, simply watching the spectacle unfold before him. He was unarmed, and as such, to begin an incident here with so many present would simply not be wise.

"Delphic brands cannot be healed," or didn't the dainty Empyrean know that? Perhaps not, her hair seems to be all the mass that is possibly in her head. "If the Empyrean woman did not want suffering, she should not have insulted the Queen-Maharani at her own festival." Perhaps the Varati Estrel speaks of this to distract him from his own anger.

Kedar looks up at Dohosan, his own somewhat stoic expression replaced by a nonplussed look of thanks to the commander. He swallows, but then shakes his head, running his tongue across the lips. Another ripple goes through the muscles on his back as he lowers his gaze to the ground, blending out any conversation happening around him. His breathing has taken on a more normal rate as he finds solace in a silent meditation that will prepare him for the pain lying ahead of him. Then, realizing the punishment is about to start, his body becomes still, his offered back a mere piece of flesh awaiting the whip.

Hounds seem alert, watching the crowd with eyes sharp for any sign of discontent expressed in a physical manner. The Reeve dispatches a few of their number from their place at the stocks and some time later more Hounds filter into the crowd, wandering it quietly until they are dispersed throughout.

Cleon looks less than pleased, but his guards make no move toward the Varati, "Some would say she suffered enough just being at the festival." No doubt the Deus is among those. "If you think it such a minor thing, I have a guard here who would be willing to cut your arms off. We can allow Delphi to heal you, and see if you enjoy the experience."

Head turning, Olivia fires a glance at the Deus of Thanatos and clears her throat. "Can we not," she asks mildly, with a hint of weary exasperation, "see one clash between our peoples settled before commencing another?"

As a stone amidst a raging and churning river of people, Geridan stands, unmoving while the masses mill and whisper in voices louder than such to each other in awe and excitement. He, remains silent, and only does his gaze leave Kedar when the Hounds disperse and pass near him. Even that, is only for a moment and the grip he holds upon the hilt of his sword tightens, though, of course, he has no plans to draw it. He is just an observer.

One Sylvan brow rises and Dohosan places the offered item back into the pouch at his belt. He stalks around to the other side and nods to the man nearest Kedar. He will clearly give the count. The mongrel Hound puffs up his chest and announces to the Rialto.

"One!" *crack*

Dohosan pulls back and delivers a strong blow to the center of Kedar's back with the whip. "Two!"

*crack*

"Three!"

*crack*

"Four!"

*crack*

"Five!"

*crack*

Aya snorts at all the conversations she is hearing, "One wonders what birdie would like to be insulted in their own festival? If they so desire it, then I will be happy to provide such entertainment." The mongrel says this angrily and for the life of her she doesn't know why she's defending the Varati.

Landing at the edge of the crowd, Jana hurriedly tucks in her wings and begins the long process of quietly pushing her way through in order to get a better glimpse of the proceedings. Murmured apologies are given to those who are forced to back away, giving her brief glares before she moves on.

Aya winces with every crack, biting her lower lip and a deep frown forming, her eyes softening to sadness.

"Then the Varati and their Empyrean-born Queen should hold their festivals on their own soil if they don't wish others to speak as they wish," Selene stabs back quickly, tightening her arms around the squirming Zea. She has more to say, but silences herself both at Olivia's quiet comment and the louder ring of the whip against bare flesh. Olivia gets a brief nod with the Dea's softening expression to her cousin's wife before casting her eyes forward, whispering into Zea's ear to keep her calm.

Niamh isn't fazed by the Empyrean man's words, "Then the woman should not have come to the festival... it would have saved her much pain and embarrassment." As for the guards, well, his arms cross at his chest and he looks down at the Empyrean, "I would be amused to see them try." No, he isn't armed, but anyone knowing what Delphi pins stand for might think twice about attacking the Estrel. A glance to Olivia is given... he may be silent, he may not, but he will not take an order from her. Atar, what did he ever see in these Empyreans?

With each snarling crack of the whip, Olivia flinches, visibly so, her shoulders and wings pinching to ruffle her alabaster feathers, but her features remain still, stonily and stodgily arranged in a determined frown. Moisture, however, seems to be pooling in the luminous depths of her eyes.

The welts ripping deep in the tanned flesh of the Janizar are the best those who watch the accused's back are able to see. Otherwise, the body offers little excitement, not even doing the assorted Empyreans the favor of twitching. The expression on the young warrior's face is a deep frown of pain each time the leather strikes. The brown eyes light up, but the mouth stays closed, avoiding any outcry of pain.

He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't even appear to respond to the cracks of the whip as they sound. But it is obvious, in his eyes, that Geridan can feel them as if they were dealt upon him. But there is no compassion in his gaze, or in his stance... there is perhaps... a note of respect, for what this man must and is enduring... whether or not he approves of the crime.

The Varati in the stocks may not flinch, but the Caducean at its foot does not exactly stay still. The ancient Atlantean shifts from foot to foot, scowling at the ex-Commander, the Varati being whipped, the Hounds nearby, and fairly well anyone within range of his sight.

Panyin is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.

Aya glances at Selene with a look of utter disgust, "You birdies are even more shallow then I realized." She gives the woman a once over and sneers in even more disgust before she rolls her eyes and looks back to the Varati, "Too much hot air to keep inside their little heads it seems..." But she quiets down, her gaze now not moving from the Varati. She is in a bit of awe at his will not to scream or cry out in pain, she would have if she was in his place.

Closer and closer to the front does Jana creep, until eventually she gently collides into the larger, solid figure of a Varati man, the Estrel. Startled, she pushes herself back and peers up at Niamh's head, before offering a quiet, "Oh, ave, Estrel." Deciding that here is as good a place as any to watch, she straightens her posture and sweeps a hasty glance around in search of other familiar faces.

Usually Zea is looking around for her older playmate, but Effie's disappearance is completely lost on her. Her tiny pale blue eyes are transfixed on the dark Varati flesh, welling with blood as the lashes continue to draw harsh lines across it. With some more whispered words from Selene, the young Empyrean girl begins to clap as the lashes strike over and over, as if watching a performance at the theater. Selene kisses the girl on the cheek and looks over to where the mongrel words come from. "So I suppose you would be grateful if a Varati cut off your legs simply because he didn't like what you said? Perhaps you should work with some of my slaves; they have more common sense than you appear to have."

Dohosan's grim expression does not alter. He pulls back and delivers several more blows to the count of the Sentire with distinctive accuracy and monotonous regularity.

"Six!"

*crack*

"Seven!"

*crack*

"Eight!"

*crack*

"Nine!"

*crack*

As skin begins to split and tear, the ex-Commander continues, the line of his jaw tight enough now to look as if he might chew granite and spit gravel. The count continues.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

And the strikes come just a little slower, giving Kedar time to breathe, Dohosan time to draw back his arm and with deliberation land a few more blows.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Tears slither down Olivia's cheek at the tension in the air, at the suffering and the smell of blood -- for, at this point, blood there would be -- but she changes not her expression of fierce determination. Selene and her bantering, the mongrel's insults... all of it slides off her back as she steadfastly observes the mincemeat that Dohosan is dutifully making of Kedar's torso.

Aya snaps her gaze back to Selene, "If the 'victim' spoke the way you do, I do not blame him at all but in fact praise him!" She spits near the angel's feet before turning to look back at Kedar with even more respect.

Cleon laughs brightly at the Estrel's comment, before the crack of the whip cuts it short. "It was merely an offer, I doubt your friend there on the post was so kind or polite to the Domina he attacked so bravely." Finally noticing the look from Olivia, he dips his head and turns back to Selene. "What are they up to in lashes?" Though the Deus seems to take no notice of the little mongrel, a slight motion to one of the guards sends him a couple steps in the girl's direction, scowling in warning.

Each crack of the whip upon Kedar's back is prompted by a stronger, silent outcry of his eyes, but the hard expression and silence is kept. The only sound that follows the beating of the leather is the rattling breath of the bare-chested warrior. Alone with himself, the whip, the pain and his god, he doesn't even realize that there are other people around him, let alone discussing. His fists clench, leaving the knuckles white against the dusty skin, but the strained biceps does not even pull against the wood of the stock holding him. Kedar might not understand why he is to take this punishment, but he knows that he has to go through this, and no amount of fighting can make it easier for him.

Panyin skirts around the edge of the crowd watching the spectacle, keeping her hood up around her face, but peering out so that she may get a better look at what's going on. Bright green eyes widen with surprise and a brief look of disgust is displayed before her features are hidden in shadow once more. Leaning on her staff, she finds a spot to stand out of the way, intently watching the expressions on Kedar's face as he is punished.

"The Janizar was doing his duty," is the Estrel's response. But it seems a mutual decision to end the... conversation. Taking a step away from the Empyreans, Niamh feels a jostling at his back and turns to find the shorter form of the Oracle Jana. A grunt is given in greeting before he turns back to the stocks, his scowl just deepening. The hand lifts back to the pins and loosen the Estrella star.

Dark-clad Schola step between Selene and the mongrel, their icy eyes looking down at the young woman with no trace of humor. "Get away, you street rat," one of them growls, "until you can learn proper respect for your betters." The second fingers his gladius at his hip, also fiercely focused on Aya.

Selene sniffs at the mongrel's action and turns toward Cleon. "I fear I've lost count, Deus," is her apology as she glances up to the Varati again and forgetting the antics of the mongrel.

"Fifteen," Olivia whispers to Cleon. Someone, at least, is keeping count.

Aya begins to move away from the angels, too disgusted from their bantering and wanting to be away from the approaching guards in case she finds herself being whipped. She moves closer to the stage, her anger makes her eyes seem like silver fire. Oh, how she would love to slap all of them and rip apart their wings herself. She doesn't exactly love the Varati, but after this display, she seems to hold more respect to them.

Cleon does not let the conversation end on that note. "So you say. though it appears your dark-winged leader does not share your opinion." Or else, obviously, they would not be able to enjoy this spectacle. Not that the Deus seems to be enjoying it particularly, or even paying terribly much attention to it.

Tilting her head back slightly, and lifting a hand to shield her eyes against the light, Jana falls into heavy silence and watches impassively as each stinging whiplash is delivered. She glances aside at the gathering of noble-born Empyreans, but she does not approach them. Instead, she asks of Niamh in a quiet voice, "Is that the man, then? The one that attacked the woman on the beach? Did anyone ever find out her name?"

"Sixteen!"

*crack*

"Seventeen!"

*crack*

"Eighteen!"

*crack*

"Nineteen!"

*crack*

"Twenty!"

*crack*

The last five blows fall in quick succession, the lax pace thrown away for the dubious mercy of alacrity. They fall one atop another, tearing through skin and flesh and leaving torn muscle behind. Blood does not just patter to the thirsty, dry wood of the platform, staining it before drawn deep into the planks to never be torn free again, but flecks of it fly from the whip to fall on any unfortunate enough to be within range. Dohosan finishes and turns away, nodding to the Caducean and stepping down. The bloody whip is handed to the Reeve to be dealt with, appropriately.

Zea's tiny nose scrunches in disgust as the heavy metallic scent of blood seems to permeate the Rialto. Her hands have quieted and she turns away from the bloody sight to find her mother's opinion on the scene at hand. The Dea kisses her daughter again on the cheek and smiles to the girl. "Its all over, my dear. We'll go to the baths when we get home so papa won't find you smelling like Varati blood."

As the Dea speaks to her daughter, Effie rushes back to them, guard in tow, with a toothy grin on her face, as well as a few stains of blood. "I got to see it up close!" she exclaims as she tosses a wave up at the Acesian toddler.

Niamh is tempted not to answer Jana, especially since she holds such an... Empyrean view on the whole matter. But he will reply, "Yes... and I do not know," he certainly did not try and find out the woman's name, nor does he care. Glancing to Cleon, he offers quietly, "He does... more than you realize." And the Estrel star is rolled about in one hand.

The base of Olivia's throat constricts, several times over, as the last few strikes are landed, and gory gobbets of proof of the deed spatter this way and that. With mercy, none touches the translucence of her cheek, but enough comes close that she is paler than proverbial snow. Then, to Niamh and to Dohosan, with intent to have her words overheard, she says in strained syllables, "On behalf of the Empyre, we acknowledge that the punishment has been meted out and thank Delphi for carrying out such." No sarcasm, no real gratitude: she simply makes her statement, tightly and tensely, and bows to both the Hound and the Estrel before pivoting to depart. And, from the look on her gentle visage, such a leave-taking cannot occur with enough speed.

With a sigh that could resemble disappointment, Geridan turns away from the spectacle... for that's all it really is. The true meaning of this event was lost in the crowds of raving prejudice.... to where it became just another event, just another punishment that was not equal to the crime, just another thing with which people can talk about and find a momentary sense of importance at their 'extensive' knowledge about something to which the deeper purpose is completely lost, and butchered with every useless word that falls from their lips and shattered upon the ground. His brows furrow deeply, and his cape settles in behind him as he cone more begins to head north.

Relieved that the spectacle seems to be ending, Panyin heaves a sigh and pushes back the leather hood that was hiding her face. Seeing the pleasure on the faces of even the children who witnessed this event, she shakes her head with open sadness, drawn again to watch the visage of the noble victim. As the crowd begins to break up, she stands her ground, leaning heavily on her staff with both fists.

Cleon shrugs lightly at Niamh's denial, perhaps not really caring what the opinion of the Varati king is, or just willing to let the conversation drop so that he may escort the Acesian Dea and her charges without further incident. He even pats Effie on the head. "Then you shall need an extra long bath, young Domina." Selene receives a shrug, "If the Dea is ready to depart...?"

The last blows are borne the hardest. They always are. At one of them, Kedar's shoulder muscles try to rear up in an attempt to guard the open, blood-smeared skin, but the wooden holdings in the stocks restrain the man's brute strength to that mercy. The last leash leaves his back a battlefield of minor streaks, welts as well as deeper wounds. Merely the tattoo upon his shoulder appears fresh, almost shiny, as if no leather ever touched it. The expression on the youth's face mirror's the pain his back had to bear, the eyes that were glowing so brightly just a moment ago dimmed. Sweat trickles down his forehead, running down the twisted features of his face. The breaths come harder, abruptly pushes out from his nostrils, but then calm down again once the beating has been taken. It is done. The pain has been taken. He has been victorious over it, rather than passed out. And not failed in showing a weakness of his order. Or so he thinks.

The geriatric Atlantean wavers, looking for the moment as if he might totter so far off balance as to collapse to the ground. But with a hand that clutches at the air in tiny, grasping motions long after he has recovered his balance, the Caducean shambles forward and up onto the platform. He fastidiously gathers up the hem of his Kaftan from the pool of blood on the wood to pick his way around to Kedar's head. No effort is spared for the wounds on his back. Instead the ancient Atlantean man tilts Kedar up to look at him and then presses his palm against the bound man's forehead. It takes but a moment, but when that hand is removed a livid scar in the shape of an inverted star stands out starkly against Kedar's dark skin. His task done, the Caducean retreats and disappears off the platform and back towards Delphi once more without pausing to speak or interact with any in the crowd.

"This was not done for the edification of the Empyrean people," grates a harsh voice to those near enough to hear. Dohosan's eyes rest with the first sign of expression of the day -- open malice -- upon Olivia's retreating form. "He broke the peace for mere words with intent to maim. He has received justice." It takes some effort for the former Archon to shutter his expression once more, but that effort is spent. It leaves the Sylvan man little more than a mute pillar, burning thoughts banked deep in smoldering green eyes.

At Kedar's side, Hounds move to release him. Mongrel and Varati stand to either side, both ready to support him should he need it to rise to his own two feet.

Standing quietly between the two stately Empyreans, Maximus frowns at the mongrel and Varati that continue to address the other Empyreans. But as Effie comes running back to Selene once more, Maximus simply smiles, noting how pleased the young mongrel girl looks that she was able to witness the even t with a front row seat. When the whip is withdrawn from the prisoner, Maximus frowns slightly -- it was not the sight of the blood that bothered him, but the fact that so many, including himself, were so enthralled to see it, perhaps wanting more. "I realize it is not my place to say so, Dea," he says after Olivia and Cleon have spoken, "but perhaps the young Dominilla has seen enough for one day." His tone is quiet and polite, and though he hopes she does not take him to be rude, Maximus is not sure what to expect.

"Hmmm... I see," Jana murmurs, gently folding her arms over her chest as the lashing comes to an end. She slowly shakes her head a few times, but lifts her chin and pivots enough on her heel to listen to Olivia's words with apparent attentiveness.

The Varati Estrel raises his hand to gain attention. Catching the light of the sun is the Estrella star couched in dark fingers. His deep voice is pitched so that it may carry over the crowds, "Varati of Delphi and of Haven, let it be known that this punishment was against that which the Varati Estrella encouraged. Our requests were not given consideration... indeed, we did not urge maiming for this as the victim was entirely healed. If Delphi will not listen to its Varati contingent of Estrels, then we shall no longer have dealings with them."

The jewelled star is cast down to the cobblestones. "Those that choose to leave Delphi will receive training within Atesh-Gah... those who do not will be considered kafir by decree of the Amir-al, betraying their race and their God." This said, the former Estrel Niamh bin Mazat turns, a wave of heat following in his wake, and leads the way back to the Varati embassy.

Pausing, hearing the vehemence in Dohosan's voice, Olivia turns to address him with tension scratching the silver of her voice. "Ar-Commander, I was here to witness on behalf of the Emperor. For all else, again, I thank you." And she is all the more ready to depart than before.

Geridan stops immediately in his tracks at the words. He turns around, one brow raised, the other furrowed, and he lets the meaning of what was spoken sink in to him. for a time he simply stands there, staring... but then slowly... a twitch comes at the corners of his lips... and a light sparks to life in his eyes. His shoulders shake... and a moment later he bursts forth in to uproarious laughter, his head throwing back and shaking as he faces the stage. Hopefully, he'll be drowned out by the gasps and shock of the crowd? But it would seem he does not care who hears him.

For all the Hounds present, that jeweled star is still gone within instants after it hits the cobbles, and the small thief racing off through the crowd. Two shadowed figures detach from their slow patrol -- but with the gathering it is unlikely he will be caught.

An Acesian guard steps forward to take Zea into his arms as the entourage of Acesians and Thanatos prepare to depart. "Indeed," is Selene's response to both Cleon and Maximus, turning her gaze away from the Varati on the podium and those that remain to support him. For whatever joy may have been found on her visage while watching justice served, her feet are quick to step away from the display and barely pause to take in the declaration of the Varati with whom she had argued with earlier. Slowly her lips curl into a satisfied smirk as the former Estrel stomps off with his insignia of Delphi left on the ground. "This may be easier than we thought, " she says to Cleon on Maximus without any further explanation.

Kedar gets in a slow, pained motion out of the stock. Testingly, he shifts his weight to see if his legs still hold him. He does stumble back a bit, but catches himself before falling. The arms of the near Hounds are pushed aside with the remainder of his strength -- making it clear that he does not need the aid of those who have punished him. Yet he still grips the wood in front of him to keep his stance as he lifts his upper body up again. A brief glance -- silent with accusation -- goes through the crowd before it lands on the star that the Varati Estrel has cast on the stone.

A decree by the Amir-al himself. At the tail end of Niamh's words, a palpable silence lowers over the Varati part of the gathered crowds. Slowly, bit by bit, does the announcement sink in, judging by suddenly unreadable miens... and once the young rebel Delphite begins his trek back toward Atesh-Gah, so do the murmurs build up; nothing but a whisper at first, but the sound grows, and expressionless faces break up into masks of worry, of determination, of outrage -- the stares accompanying the latter are mostly aimed at the Empyreans assembled, but the laughing Varati among them is not left out. And then, the first dusky man sporting Delphi robes takes a step northward, in Niamh's wake. He is followed by others.

Shocked, Jana stares after the Varati Estrel as he stalks away into the crowds. Her only reaction is to lift up her hand to her throat, where the muscles have suddenly constricted tightly enough to be near to choking her.

The Hounds hold firm, and with Kedar's refusal of assistance, they draw away from him as well. With punishment completed and help declined, they look to their commanders for direction. Two are left to follow Kedar, whether he wishes their assistance or not, until such time as he would enter Atesh-Gah. The rest disperse into the crowd, watching for any sign of violent reaction to the events of the early morning.

Cleon pauses at Niamh's statement, wings half-outstretched. "Fascinating." He scans the crowd for a moment, noting the Varati reaction in particular. "One can only hope, Dea..." Though the small smile he shares with Selene would say he agrees more than he is willing to admit.

It is triumphant laughter... the laughter of a man who has seen the culmination of something long in the making come together more perfectly than even he could have imagined. And it does not stop. It continues, continues through the silence, through the stares, and over the whispers. It is only long after does it fall in to a rattling chuckle, still deep and thunderous in his throat. A glance is cast to the sky, and Geridan Kentari Rashid, Representative and Advisor to Clan Rashid, smirks broadly before he, with his hand still upon the hilt of his blade, turns once more towards the north and begins to follow Niamh as well.

Aya doesn't like this. Despite knowing very little about politics, she knows enough to realize what just happened can not be good. She watches some leave and some stay, while others have a confused dazed look on their faces. She frowns deeply. Well, I hope this certainly helped. The man just got maimed and now the Varati are boycotting Delphie. She wonders if it will last. A fleeting glance is given to the laughing Varati who seems to have lost it..

Olivia's job is done. Wings a-quiver, she launches skyward to report what she has seen... and heard, judging from the manner in which she follows Niamh's quitting of the Rialto.

As if Delphi had suddenly turned into a living being, sprouted horns, claws and a lashing tail, the crowds push away from the gleaming tower at the eastern side of the square in a wave, as Varati in the area suddenly want to be as far from the thing as possible. More dark-skinned people may be glimpsed through the masses, all of them wearing Delphic robes, and those few of these who do not instantly move toward the north have gathered in clumps, viewing anything and anyone warily as they silently confer with each other.

Selene waits for some of those gathered to clear away before her pristine wings are spread toward the sky. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make certain her daughter is secure, she beats the air heavily and lifts into the sky above the Rialto, followed by the Schola and Acesian guards who trail her.

Olivia, Selene, and Cleon leap into the air and take flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven.

Kedar turns to one of the Hounds. There's no accusation in his gaze, no hate. They are cold and composed when he asks them merely one question, "What happened to the falcare?" With an inhuman control, he keeps his arms to his side, not touching the wounds on his back or rubbing off the blood.

Pleased that the Dea was not upset with him for his rather presumptuous comment, Maximus smiles and follows the lead of the other Empyreans, making skyward for the Palladium, casting a fleeting gaze to the scene below. Leaping straight up, great wings unfurling, Maximus is borne into the air to return to his Domus.

Still standing, still staring after the Varati Estrel, Jana slowly bends her head and lifts her hands to her face. People push by her, jostling her, but she takes no notice of them. Eventually, she turns about on her heel and fights the great rush of crowd to make her way back to the Tower.

"Returned to Atesh-Gah long ago, as you requested, Janizar," speaks the Varati Hound in answer to Kedar's question. The man is inscrutable, unwilling to give away the chafing of opposing bonds of duty, and so his voice is flat and almost hostile in his efforts to appear strong and confident.

Only after the criminal is led away does Panyin gather her small leather cloak around her shoulders, shifting her weight from side to side as the other people in the crowd drift away or take to the sky. Her fingers fiddle with the leather ties keeping her pouch shut as she wonders for a moment if the injured man will be receiving any healing attention. But uncertain of her place here or how she'll be received, she only takes a few steps forward before stopping, brows knit with concern and confusion.

Arrangements will be made for belongings to be transferred from Delphi, presumably by naraki or shudra... so that the Varati students need not go back to that place. Inevitably a few students will stay, those who have been corrupted by the candala there, but the exodus from the Rialto continues as the students return to families or clans housed within the Embassy.

Despite Kedar's messed up state, he nods in satisfaction. In slow paces made with great precision to not stumble once more, he makes his way back to the Atesh-Gah. Once again, a flexing of muscles tests to see how much of his body was harmed, how much remains undamaged. None of the bystanders try to get in the tortured man's way, and he speaks to none. Despite the humiliation of what he endured, he yet does not shy away from any gaze at him.

Two Hounds flank Kedar. As he retreats from the Rialto, Dohosan gathers up most of the guard, leaving a contingent to break down the stocks while the rest return to their duties of the day.

FIN  

[ Home | News | Staff | Players | Links | Gallery | Logs | Library | Updates | Mail ]
[ Connect to the Game ]