Date: October 18, 1998
Place: The Rialto - Haven
Cast: Altair, Cynara, Dawn (Aurora I), Edrick, Kita, Sakhr, Tahira
Scene: The outcasts receive a shipment of food and weapons, but had not counted on a Varati raid.

Late morning in the Rialto sees the usual hustle and bustle--perhaps a bit moreso as a caravan of goods starts arriving from one of the northern entrances. Food and supplies, it looks like, and the carriers are all well-dressed mongrels. Whoever they work for must be wealthy. The leader of the party directs the others to begin unloading goods while he casts a glance around the square, face inquisitive.

Cynara stands between to shops, her wings held tightly to her back, golden hair covering her forehead. She watches from her place of concealment, blue eyes scanning the crowds warily, occasionally connecting with the gaze of some other outcast among the crowd.

In the darkest corners of the alleys, hiding on rooftops, camouflaged so as not to be seen from the sky, Sakhr and other Behzad Clansmen wait patiently, faces hidden by scarves, their eyes secretly observing the caravan arrive, abiding their time.

Unnoticed among the shop-goers, a hooded woman arrives from the fringes of the square and begins weaving her way among passersby. Her goal is unclear at first; she pauses now and again to look around, and finally catches sight of her quarry. Cynara. Newly determined, she presses through the throng toward the winged woman's 'hiding place.'

Edrick stands near a food stand, holding an apple in his hand. His free hand rests on his sword hilt, keeping an eye out for trouble in the area.

The young shechah enters from the north, her robes rustling softly, a small basket upon her arm. Tahira allows her gaze to drift appreciatively about the various occupants, managing a faint nod.

A pack of Hounds joins the gathering, the acting Archon Kita herself included, walking in from the north and breaking up once in the Rialto.

Altair walks in from the north, working his way towards Edrick and the food stand. He picks up an apple, paying the vendor with a coin before offering greeting to Edrick. "Slow day so far, I hope...?"

The lead mongrel of the caravan starts looking a little irritated; clearly he was supposed to meet someone here, and that 'someone' hasn't turned up yet. He studies the face of anyone who pauses to glance in the caravan's direction, with no luck. Meanwhile, the other workers under his direction continue unloading goods. A covered basket is tilted too far and the lid slips aside, revealing a gleam of metal. Weapons?

Cynara's scan of the area lands upon the approaching cloaked figure and she moves to stand more in the open, head held high, a glance shot to a mongrel just across from her.

In one of the alleys closest to the arriving caravan, Sakhr flashes hand-signals to his troops: wait, do not move, keep hidden.

Edrick turns to Altair and nods. "Aye, just the same old thing day in, day out." He takes a bite from the apple.

A little mongrel boy walks into one of the alleys, unsuspecting of the men hiding there. At seeing the dark figures, the boy opens his mouth to scream, but no sound ever leaves his lips as he is quickly silenced.

The young Varati shechah continues to make her way through the market, pausing upon arrival at the fruit stand. A soft hand emerges from the folds of Tahira's robe to select a ripened plum, surveying its color like a true connoisseur.

Altair glances a moment at the Varati, and shakes his head with something of a chuckle. "You know, I was on patrol yesterday when I ran into a Varati. He never bothered to look at the uniform, just the wings. Right away, he started to try and provoke a confrontation. It's people like that who get on my nerves."

Words are exchanged between the hooded 'mongrel' and the golden-haired Empyrean. Some might take note of this, but most ignore it. After all, the Rialto is one place where all may mingle freely, race and caste aside.

Cynara senses: Dawn's tone is guarded, perhaps a little defensive. "How goes your 'plan,' healer? Who did you find who was generous enough to feed all of the underground?"

Kita makes her way towards Edrick and Altair, once she spots them, alone now.

Edrick takes another bite from his apple, then offers a brief nod to Altair. "Tell me about it.." He grins. "You'd be amazed as to how many people think I stole this uniform." He chuckles, tapping the hilt of his sword with his hand. "It's not every day you see a mongrel in the Hounds." He hasn't noticed Kita approaching.

Sakhr and his men keep a close eye on the caravan, and the warlord cautiously scans the grounds, Hounds, mongrels, a Varati shechah... His eyes linger with her a little longer but finally return to the caravan, to the chests, and he smiles, tight-lipped.

Dawn senses: Cynara's icy eyes fall upon you for the briefest of moments before moving back to their surveillance, "It goes well, for the moment, though the goal has yet to be obtained," she replies, "And the person who supplied it is of no consequence to you."

Altair nods, taking a bite of his own apple. "I don't see anything wrong with it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm proud to be with you." He notices the approaching Kita and waves. "Ave, Archon," he calls as she closes in.

"But you are not a mongrel," says Kita to Edrick, stopping nearby the pair and glancing over the market. "You are a Hound."

Pausing briefly in her appraisal of the sweet fruit, Tahira's gaze lifts slightly to fall upon the conversing trio, flickering in silent question before returning to her own business of shopping.

The goods continue to be unloaded; chests, crates, baskets, and boxes alike being set down between two merchant's stalls. The head mongrel, antsy now, continues to study the faces of passersby. One of his companions calls out, "Just what do we do with all of this, Darin?"

The mongrel named Darin throws up his hands. "Tyche knows. I was to meet someone here. Orders were vague."

Edrick turns to Kita, smiling. He nods briefly. "Aye, that I am."

Cynara senses: Dawn frowns, the down-turned curl of her lips evident beneath the hood. "If it involves those I protect, it very much is of consequence to me."

Altair nods to Kita, smiling. "I wish the rest of Haven would see us like that. Some do, and yet others still insist on ignoring the uniform..."

With a flick of his wrist, Sakhr sends a group of his men to relocate themselves to an alley closer to the Hounds, to keep them covered.

Edrick has no idea as to what's going on with the caravan and the mongrels. He smiles at Altair and nods in approval. "We protect people that hate us." He shrugs. "Life is good."

Selecting three plums and placing them into her small basket, Tahira redirects her attentions to the various citrus fruits in the next column. Every so often, she lifts her bejewelled gaze to study the group of Hounds with faint interest.

Dawn senses: Cynara's eyes fall to you once more, "The food is of consequence for those you protect, where it came from is not. Rest assured that I would never pledge their lives to anything without their consent. We had little choice, I called in a rather costly favor, that is all you need know." She brushes past you into the crowd.

"Mmm," Kita answers noncommittally, still watching the Rialto, picking out the men she brought in and then left, who are now spread out, talking with each other or merchants or passersby.

As Cynara moves past her, Dawn stays rooted, her hooded gaze following the winged woman. Any hint of expression she wears is lost in shadow.

Cynara nods to the mongrel across form her as she steps past the cloaked figure. Several other mongrels seem to mill about, closing in slowly on the caravan, yet keeping their distance, following Cynara's lead as she heads for the head mongrel.

Edrick raises a brow slightly at Kita, wondering what she's doing. He looks to Altair, his brow still raised. He mutters something to him. "... going..."

Altair quirks a brow as he looks to the Archon, then leans in to hear Edrick's mutter. He shrugs his shoulders, looking more alert as he glances around the Rialto, then mutters back to him.

Darin is still looking befuddled and stressed; those goods are enough to feed an army. There's still more to be unloaded, and he has no idea who's going to claim them. He mutters a few uncharitable things under his breath about vague orders, a lack of written contracts, the tedious journey into Haven, and anything else he can think of to complain about. Just then, he notices Cynara approaching.

Altair mutters, "... but... up.... our... peeled... I have no ... something's... up.... suggest we keep... eyes..."

Edrick nods briefly to Altair, glancing about, a brow raised.

Several mongrels and other sorts of outcasts blend in with the crowd, yet still keep their eyes peeled upon Cynara. The winged woman approaches Darin and stops, speaking in low tones to him, unheard to the crowd.

Altair hmmms, looking to the caravan. He taps Edrick on the shoulder, pointing in that direction before muttering a moment.

Tahira dismisses the bustle of activity around her, closing herself to her own thoughts as she continues to sift through the various fruits at the nearby stand. Occasionally, her ears will perk a bit at the discussion of the nearby Hound members, but otherwise she remains silent.

Darin brightens at whatever it is Cynara has said to him, and he immediately begins motioning to his 'crew.' "Where to?" he asks the winged woman. "We can't leave it all here."

Altair mutters, "I've spent enough... Nobles to know... standard... mongrel... but... not... company..."

The hiding Varati tense as their Warlord gives them the signal for stand by, countless eyes concentrating on their own specific targets.

Edrick listens to Altair's words carefully, then looks to his commander. He takes a few steps toward her, then whispers something to her.

Altair looks to Kita, his face one of suspicion.

Edrick points over to the caravan while speaking softly to Kita.

The mongrels that are milling about just around Cynara are motioned to, one wave of the winged woman's hand and they too approach the caravan, "We'll take it from here." she says to Darin, and the mongrels close in on the food packages, lifting them to their shoulders, eyes darting about. Cynara glances toward the Hounds and then back, urging those with her to be quick about it.

Unobtrusively blending in with the passersby, the hooded woman, Dawn, watches Cynara and the mongrel leader converse, her arms folded, stance somehow disapproving.

A forward movement of Sakhr's gloved fist is the sign for the Varati hiding in the alleys and up on rooftops to jump forward onto the Rialto. Most carry crossbows, arrows nocked, with more hanging at their sides. Others carry swords. It is not long before the market seems to be crawling with them. One group of about six men rush to the Hounds, others keep a close watch on the main entrances to the Rialto. As one of the last to arrive, Sakhr steps forward after scanning his men, all masked by scarves. Almost casually, he walks forward to the caravan, his sword in his right hand. But even though his stance is casual, his eyes surely are not, as they flash from the mongrels to the Empyrean woman. To the Hounds he pays no mind, sure his men will take care of them. Addressing all standing near the chests, his low voice rumbles, "Hand over those goods and you might walk away with your life..."

The mongrel workers had been ready to accept whatever orders Darin or the winged woman, Cynara, were about to give. But Sakhr's sudden appearance, as well as that of dozens of Varati warriors, halt them in their tracks. One of them drops a crate, and with a loud clatter, knives, short-swords, and daggers spill out onto the cobblestones.

Kita turns her face towards Edrick as he speaks, without looking at him. A moment passes before she answers, only a single shake of her head, not even speaking. Then the Varati move, and daggers appear in her hands with a grimace, though she does nothing with them except eye the men surrounding her smaller group.

At the increase in tension, Tahira looks up from her place near the stand. A puzzled frown enters upon her brows, the rest of her expression masked by her semi-concealing veil. Bright eyes widen as she glances about the marketplace, apparently unsure of what is going on, her feet rooted to her place.

Altair pulls out his sword, drawn in a defensive stance as he shakes his head. "I knew when I woke up this morning that this was not going to be another slow day, no matter how I hoped."

Edrick glances at the caravan when he hears the crate fall. His eyes widen, muttering a few curse words. He drops his apple and pulls out his sword.

Prompted into movement the moment the Varati appear, the hooded 'mongrel,' Dawn, starts to slip as unobtrusively as she can toward those around the caravan. She's also trying to keep track of just how many Varati there are...

Cynara turns to Sakhr, noting his sword, she lifts her chin, blue eyes blazing as three mongrels, taller than the woman, jump in front of her, facing the man, "This food belongs to me, take whatever else you like," she states in a firm voice that shows none of the fear that may be lurking beneath her calm exterior.

Altair crouches a little, knees bending as his stance widens and strengthens, his sword becoming more aggressive as he looks at two Varati swordsman. "Unless you want a headache, back off!"

Darin glances confusedly between Sakhr and Cynara--he edges away from the hulking Varati with the sword, and pipes up timidly, "I was just following orders..."

Sakhr barks a laugh at the Empyreal woman, but the sound holds no humor. He idly taps the open chest on the ground with his sword and answers her, "You can keep your food woman, that is not my interest..."

One of the Hounds at the other end of the Rialto draws his sword, but a timely-placed blade at his throat prevents him from doing more then that.

The young shechah divides her attention between the gathering at the cart and the gathering between the Varati and the Hounds, nearby. She holds her tongue out of uncertainty, gaze darting back and forth in confusion.

Edrick shakes his head at the Varati. He mutters, "Let's not get stupid here, people." He glances at the Varati. He tightens his grip on his sword.

Cynara nods once, and trusting the mongrels before her to protect her, she turns her back, focusing on Darin, "Yes, and you will continue, we will take the food," she states again, motioning once more to her comrades. The number of mongrels closing in on the caravan seems to have increased a great deal, all coming from nowhere to grab whatever they can carry and scurry away in all different directions.

"Altair, Edrick," Kita says slowly, frowning to herself and watching the square, "Hold." Though she doesn't put her own weapons away. She still does nothing with them, but they are there. And the rest of her Hounds? Well, one less. A few are smarter than that.

One of the Varati near the Hounds grin at Altair. He spits on the ground, perhaps challenging him to fight.

The mongrel workers are not merely carriers, it seems. One or two of them draw blades and take up protective stances around the yet-unloaded goods. "These were not intended for Varati dogs," one of them has the temerity to say.

Darin just looks confused, glancing from Sakhr to Cynara and back again. He echoes his comrade. "We have our orders. This is property of the Empyre." As soon as he says that, he wishes he could take it back.

Altair's sword looks eager to fight, but he shakes his head a moment. Without looking, he speaks to Kita. "I don't know what's going on here, but I don't like it. We shouldn't stand idly by and let anyone hold back the law!"

With another quick flick of Sakhr's hand, more Varati dart into the Rialto, this time no soldiers, all running to the caravan and grabbing chests. After checking the boxes are indeed filled with the weapons, they swiftly hoist them up their shoulders and run off, covered by the armed men.

"Halt!" shouts one of the mongrel workers, giving chase. More of them draw weapons and do their best to hold off the Varati 'thieves.' "In the name of the Empyre, hold!"

Edrick growls, obviously upset. He curses out to the Varati men, "You will all pay, every damn one of you!" He takes a step forward.

Sakhr narrows his eyes at the mongrel who dared speaking up. His blade flashes through the air and the mongrel falls to the ground, his hands clasped at his throat where blood spills in great amounts from a deep gash. A low rumble fills the Rialto, "Any other fools have any objections..." It sounds almost like an invitation.

Altair keeps hearing the Empyre called, as he just seems to grow angrier and angrier. "We HAVE to do something! They're committing MURDER!"

Tahira's gaze snaps over to the Hounds and surrounding Varati near her. Taking a deep breath and gathering her strength, she slowly begins to move closer to the cluster, pausing just a bit outside.

Kita's eyes dart at Altair, and with a glance at the Varati surrounding her, she pointedly slips her daggers back up their sleeves. "Edrick, stop!" she snaps.

An outcast sees a Varati with a bundle of food and the Varati is tripped and disappears amid the feet of the crowd around him. He does not reappear and the mongrel makes off with the food as quickly as he can.

One of the Varati men with crossbows lifts his weapon, and points it at Edrick, growling.

Edrick pauses at the sight of the crossbow, still holding his weapon tight. He growls at the bowman, his eyes narrowing on him.

Two Varati soldiers see their clansmen disappear in the crowd and, growling low, they start a chase after the mongrel, waving their swords to disperse the crowd that easily moves aside.

Cynara growls at Sakhr, turning fiery blue eyes upon him, "Order your men to leave the food!" she demands.

The four Varati men with swords advance toward the three Hounds, making sure they hold their ground. They seem ready to strike at a moment's notice.

From over the Rialto, dark clouds begin to gather. They build slowly... changing from the fluffy white of a late summer morning to the brooding black of a brewing storm.

Outcasts are best at hiding, and the offending mongrel is gone before the Varati can catch him.

The mongrels around the caravan do their best to defend their goods, but are no match for the brawn and physical prowess of Varati warriors. More chests are stolen, and the workers' outraged cries go unnoticed amid the commotion.

A stony glare falls upon the Empyreal woman, and with a voice much the same, Sakhr growls at her, "Do not tell me what to do, woman..." But he does order his men, "Leave the food. Take the weapons only. Do it now..." He does not have to raise his voice for his men to follow suit, dropping chests filled with food and only taking the ones containing weapons.

The three mongrels who guard Cynara also watch for the small cloaked woman who was their leader, keeping an eye for Dawn, as they stand protectively around her successor.

Turning her gaze to fall upon the female hound, Tahira calls out calmly from nearby. She does not appear to be armed, but then again, beneath the many robes, it is hard to tell for sure. "Please... if you have any wisdom you will let it be. For to resist will only bring blood upon your hands. I speak so as to let you know of the truth. Naught more..and naught less."

The two Varati soldiers come back to the caravan, without their colleague. They shake their heads at Sakhr, who acknowledges them with a single nod.

Edrick calls out to his commander, his eyes still locked on the Varati bowman, "We can take these men, commander, we gotta stop them!"

Sakhr turns his head only to look at the Varati woman and studies her, trying to figure out where she stands.

"Did you lead us into a trap because of your pride, healer?!" shouts an outraged voice from the throngs. Dawn, fists clenched and heedless of danger, strides toward the Empyrean, while a wind picks up and flares her cloak about her. "You'll have us all killed..." she hisses, enraged.

Altair doesn't move. Not an inch, as he looks one particular swordsman square in the eye. His eyes are narrow, angry, ready to fight. The only thing holding him back is Kita. "We are the law. We are the ones whom are supposed to handle this! Not a bunch of cutthroat, murdering Varati vigilantes!"

A small mongrel boy emerges from the crowd and stomps on a Varati foot, hard, before snatching a small bundle of food and trying to dart away.

Sakhr watches his troops carry away more chests, already more then one third is hoisted off. But yet he urges them to hurry more, barking short commands to them.

The young shechah calmly turns her gaze to the outspoken, golden-haired Hound. "Aye, but should you seek to make use of your hand of this so-called law, you will surely perish. My people are not ordinary people, you have little knowledge of what tis like. Do not mistake my words for sanctioning the efforts before you, for tis not my fight. I merely wish to see no more blood than there must be, upon these streets."

The small child seems to get away with it, but the soldier whose foot he stomped on is not put off guard much, and he chases after the boy, sword drawn.

Kita ignores Tahira, herself. But she does respond to Altair and Edrick. "Sheathe your weapons," she says, mouth tight.

Darin is still shouting protests that the goods belong to the Empyre, but no one seems to pay him any heed. Those under his 'command' are valiantly trying to stave off the Varati warriors, and one mongrel even manages to wrest a trunk away from one of the 'thieves' after slashing at him with a knife.

Cynara turns to the cloaked figure, "The trap that was set has been foiled, oh gracious leader who would do nothing while her people starve!" she snaps back at the woman, eyes angry, "Look!" she points to the held Hounds, "They are trapped by those they should protect us from!"

The Varati soldier the mongrel had attacked now grabs his own wrist, blood spilling over his clothes as he grunts in pain.

Edrick pauses, glancing at Kita, his eyes wide. "Do WHAT??" He gets a small glance at Tahira, raising a brow at her. He looks back to the Varati, his sword still drawn. He says, "Commander, we can take these thieves!"

The mongrel boy squeals in fright as he notices he is being chased and, catching sight of Dawn, he heads directly for her.

Sakhr's attention once again goes to the two women behind the mongrels protecting them, and his eyes narrow further, studying their faces, glad his scarf hides the smile forming on his lips.

Altair looks to Kita incredulously! "We've got to do SOMETHING!"

The soldier chasing after the boy changes his direction as the child does too.

Kita looks hard at Edrick and Altair, then, silent, turns back to watch what happens past the six holding her back.

"I protect them," Dawn flashes back heatedly to the winged healer, Cynara. "I keep them safe and out of harm, but your blasted pride but an end to that." Raising her voice to be heard over the panicking crowd, she calls out, "Outcasts, return to Sanctuary! This is a trap!"

And all around, the winds rise, picking up stray scraps of paper, leaves, dust, and swirling them in miniature cyclones, which strangely seem focused almost solely around the Varati warriors. Above, the storm continues to build. The sky is almost black.

The four Varati swordsman continue to press the Hounds, keeping them from advancing. The two bowman wait for the first chance to fire, arrows nocked.

One of the six soldiers blocking the Hounds, snarls and raises his bow just a little further, aiming at Edrick's heart.

Edrick briefly looks up at the sky, raising a brow. He mutters, "It's night already?" He shrugs a bit, glancing back at the Varati. He growls, wanting to charge.

Sakhr glances up to the sky and growls before the two women. Addressing them, he rumbles, "It better not be either one of you building this storm. Just take your pathetic food and go."

A summer storm has inexplicably gathered over Haven. Flashes of lightning illuminate the darkness of the sky, and the subsequent low rumble of thunder echoes from the heavens.

Altair glances at each of the Varati, shaking his head in desperation. "She's right...." He sheathes his sword. "There are too many of them."

Tahira's gaze flashes to the guards surrounding the Hounds. She blinks, trying to think quickly before replying in a strained voice, "If they do not strike upon you, tis unfair to strike upon them. I do not think the Visir would approve of such actions."

Edrick growls, and turns all the way around to face Tahira. His eyes wide, his voice loud, he yells, "Would you just shut your damn mouth, PLEASE??" He seems really annoyed by her preaching, but has made himself completely vulnerable to the Varati.

Almost every chest containing weapons has now left the Rialto, carried away by Sakhr's men, but he still does not seem pleased with the time they make, as he orders, "Faster! Get them away, now!"

"Thieves!" yells one of the furious mongrels, attacking an escaping Behzad warrior with a blade despite the Archon's order. Some more of them have deserted the remainder of the caravan to chase after the weapon-stealing Varati.

Cynara shouts in response to Dawn, her voice as loud and strong as she can make it, "It is not a trap! Take the food! Hurry!" She spins on Dawn, "They. Must. Eat." she hisses back at the woman. "This silly war will starve them out and you will have no one to protect!"

The Varati bowman's finger seems to tighten around the trigger as he hisses at Edrick, "Shut your mouth, candala."

The other Varati bowman growls, muttering words.

Varati soldiers move in from all sides, backing their comrade. They easily outnumber the chasing mongrels.

The young mongrel boy finally reaches Dawn, dropping his food and throwing his arms about the woman's waist and crying.

The young shechah glances over to the Varati bowman aimed at Edrick's heart. Her response dies upon her lips as she appears almost distracted. Her gaze wanders toward the hooded outcast woman, wincing as her arm rises to shield her eyes.

The soldier chasing the boy halts and looks at Sakhr. The warlord gives the slightest shake of his head, and the soldier waits back

Edrick turns around quickly, facing the Varati again. He narrows his eyes, ready to fight. He glances at Altair, seeing that he's put away his weapon. A brow quirked, he barks, "What are you doing!?" He doesn't noticed the bowman's aim.

Altair shakes his head, still keeping in a hand-to-hand fighting stance, what little good it could do him. "I'm following orders, even if I don't like them. That's what I'm doing."

Sakhr glares at the hooded woman and studies her for a while. Then he says with a cold voice, "No trap woman. Take your food if you want to, I have no interest in that."

Lightning flashes from the sky, and the resulting boom of thunder is deafening. At last, the rain starts to fall--a torrential downpour that echoes the fury of the storm.

Dawn bends down to wrap her arms around the mongrel child, shouting over the sound of the storm and the commotion in the Rialto, "Return to Sanctuary, now!"

Edrick grits his teeth, his hands shaking. He seems highly upset and nervous at the same time. He turns to the Varati, and yells, "You'll all die and burn in Hades!"

As one of the mongrels steps between the hooded woman and the Varati soldier, he is easily slashed away, blood staining his sleeve where Varati steel meets mongrel flesh.

Despite the torrential shower of tears, Tahira continues to shield her eyes from the outcast woman. Her robes plastering to her and weighing her down immensely. She falls to her knees in silence, tilting her head upwards before closing her eyes in prayer.

The Varati bowman growls, and pulls the trigger, the arrow launching directly at Edrick. Through a stroke of luck, the gusting wind knocks it off track, and hits him in his left shoulder, landing with a hard thud.

Edrick staggers back, dropping his sword. He grasps the arrow embedded in his shoulder as the blood trickles out. He falls to his knees, growling from the pain.

With a deafening crash of thunder, the rain starts to fall. This is no gentle summer rain, but a violent downpour, and it seems particularly focused over the Rialto.

Despite the torrential shower of tears, Tahira continues to shield her eyes.

Cynara looks up at the sky at last, blinking in confusion, then irritation, she glances back at Dawn and then to see how the outcasts are doing with the food. Most of it has been carried off now, but there still remains a bit and the outcasts are scurrying as best they can, some faltering at Dawn's words and glancing to Cynara, "Take the food or starve!" She yells forcefully at them.

The Varati bowman quickly reloads his crossbow.

Kita stands silently by, but for her clenching jaw, motionless.

The winds rise with a sudden howling fury and twist like invisible snakes through the Rialto, sweeping past 'innocents' toward the fleeing Varati warriors. Several of them are bowled over by the force of it, and chests and boxes go clattering onto the stones underfoot.

Squinting through the heavy downpour, Sakhr raises his sword slowly and places the tip of his blade against the hooded woman's neck, growling at her, "You! Make it stop... now!"

The little mongrel boy in Dawn's arms screams as the Varati soldier comes closer. He clings even tighter to her, twisting about behind her.

The Varati soldier who had chased the child moves closer as his warlord places the blade against Dawn's throat. Seeing his comrades fall with the wind, he reaches to conclusion and a dagger appears in his right hand, which he raises at her back.

Edrick twitches, his hand clenching the arrow planted in his shoulder. As the water from the sky pours onto him, his blood mixes with it and runs down his chest onto his legs. He looks up at the Varati, and tries to speak, but his voice is too low to hear.

The mongrels guarding Cynara growl, one leaping forward to protect Dawn, "Get your sword away from her!" he yells, standing menacingly in front of Dawn now.

Rain streams down the young shechah's face as she concentrates upon her prayer, curling up into a small ball.

Altair 's hand is instantly on the hilt of his sword as he looks to Edrick. He kneels down, inspecting the wound a moment. "Lousy, filthy Varati! You don't have an ounce of honor in your entire body! All of you!" He holds the wound around the arrow, trying to keep it closed.

Dawn slowly stands at the feel of cold steel against both her throat and back. She shoves the child behind her, vainly trying to shelter him. "I can't make it stop," she hisses to Sakhr. "Make your warriors return what they stole."

Sakhr's blade finds itself now against the mongrel's neck instead of against the woman's throat. The warlord slashes at the man in reaction.

The rain comes down in sheets, soaking all those who have not yet fled the Rialto. Oddly enough, the storm is not as intense further away from the center of town.

The dagger the Varati soldier is holding plunges down on Dawn's back, the blade inside her to the hilt. Only then does he look at his warlord, the soldier's face twisted in uncontrollable hate.

Cynara turns at the sound of her mongrel guard's scream and is just in time to see him fall. Her eyes widen with anger and she looks back to Sakhr, and then to Dawn. "What are you doing?!" She yells, bending down to see to the fallen man, while still casting demanding looks at Sakhr. The man is healed quickly, and weakly begins to stand, rubbing disbelievingly at his throat.

"No!" Dawn screams as she watches the mongrel fall to the warlord's blade. A 'boom' of thunder echoes her cry, from above. But her cry is useless, and so is all her power, against cold steel. As she is stabbed in the back, she crumples, falling forward to one knee with the blade still protruding from her flesh.

Altair looks up at the sky, then to Sakhr. "Get your idiot men OUT of here before you've murdered every damned person in the Rialto!"

The two remaining mongrel guards launch themselves at the Varati who stabbed their benevolent leader, quickly disarming him and pummeling him with their fists.

The storm rages out of control. Lightning forms a webbed network across the sky, glowing white-hot and flickering before disappearing into blackness, and then the roar of thunder reverberates through the city. The force of the rain is ever stronger than before, pounding onto the earth below.

Cynara gasps as she sees Dawn fall and turns accusing eyes upon Sakhr, "She did nothing to you!" she screams into the roaring wind. "She was defenseless, you cowardly pig!"

Tahira's eyes snap back open at the screams, attentions turned to the falling woman. Horror settles upon the young shechah's features as she powerlessly watches the blood begin to wash the marketplace mixed with rain.

Sakhr booms over the storm to his troops, "Everyone home, now!" He stares at Cynara, stepping closer to her, over the fallen Dawn. Inches away from her face, he halts and growls in her face, "I suggest you do the same, woman..." With a twist of his arm, a dagger appears in his hand, and with a quick motion it leaves his grip to land in the Varati soldier's throat. Still addressing Cynara, he continues, "There was no need of that. Take the woman away and heal her. Go!"

Those who did not flee at the outset of the fracas do so now, if for no other reason than shelter. The Rialto is soon deserted but for the few remaining Hounds, mongrels, outcasts, and Varati.

Sakhr turns on his heel and walks north, toward the Varati Quarter, shielding his head from the rain as more of his men do the same, some remaining to watch the departure of their leader in safety.

Dawn remains where she fell, the child who'd run to her in fear now kneeling over her slumped form. "She's bleeding," he cries hysterically. "Someone help her...!" He lifts beseeching eyes to the winged healer, Cynara.

The two bowmen near the Hounds, as well as two of the ones holding swords, follow their warlord north, the other two remaining to keep the Hounds from taking action.

Everywhere on the Rialto, the Varati run to alleys, dispersing in different directions.

The rain is painful as it falls. Cynara watches the dagger fly and then glares at its thrower, "There was no need for this," she hisses. She turns toward Dawn, and kneels, everyone else having deserted the area. She bends down and gathers the fallen woman into her arms, struggling and grunting as she lifts her.

After that resounding boom of thunder and the spectacular light-show of lightning above, the storm lessens, somewhat. It is still powerful; rainwater sluicing along cobblestoned streets inches deep. But the worst has passed.

Slowly drifting off into her own world from her kneeling position on the ground, Tahira continues to watch the fallen woman, horrified. Rain continues to fall, yet still she appears unwilling to move.

Altair lifts Edrick, supporting him with his arm as he looks at his pale features. "We need a healer, and fast! Archon, with your permission, I'm taking Edrick to the Infirmary." He looks to Dawn, shaking his head.

At the edge of the Rialto, Sakhr bends to pick up a fallen sword. Sheathing his own blade, he idly plays with it, looking back at the square once before leaving. At the moment he leaves, and his remaining men retreat.

The goods that the mongrel workers had worked so hard to protect are almost all gone, now. Stolen by Varati and outcasts alike. Only a few pitiful remains are left, and Darin, shivering beneath the scant shelter of a merchant's tent, moans woefully about his lost payment. "Augustin will kill me..." he might be heard to wail.

"See to his wounds," Kita says slowly, low and quiet, "Then I will see the two of you in my office." Other than that, she still does not move.

Sakhr travels along North, toward the Fairway.

Altair takes Edrick with him to the infirmary, to find a healer. He steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds.

Cynara senses: Dawn 's hood has fallen back, and her features are pale, eyes closed. She doesn't stir as you lift her into your arms.

Cynara staggers under the weight of the woman who matches her own size--she was never known for her strength. The mongrel boy tries to help, gathering Dawn's cloak and throwing the dripping edge over her feet to keep it out of the way. Cynara bends down a little, speaking to the boy, "Cover her face."

After a moment, Kita turns on her heel, walking north alone.

The rain continues to fall, but it has lessened. The sky is no longer quite as dark, either. Black gives way to charcoal grey, then slate-grey, and finally a more misty shade. By that time, the rain has slacked off to a drizzle.

FIN  

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