Date: September 16, 1999
Place: The Rialto - Haven
Cast: Ashe, Cepheus, Cersei (I), Cynara, Daanica, Eric, Faanshi, Jana, Morning-Mist, Niamh, Pu-abi, Richard, Spirit-Whisperer, StormBearer, Thomas
Emits: Avalon guards (Thomas), Elette (Richard), Gaiden (Thomas), Outcast guards (Cynara), Roki (Richard)
Scene: Even though the plague is beginning to slacken its hold on the city of Haven, many still retain a powerful fear that it was deliberately unleashed upon Haven's helpless masses -- and are looking for someone to blame. Against all logic, a good number of these frightened folk have turned their anger upon the Mongrels, even going so far as to try to burn Milane, the ambassador from the newly-established nation of Avalon. Thomas Murako, leader of Avalon, intends to address this gross injustice for all to hear.

"I've heard he's going to invite more people to live in Avalon." A mongrel woman mutters to another, knowingly.

The other turns to her and shrugs, "Everyone knows they are invited to Avalon."

Frowning at her friend the first woman sniffs, "Yes, but its nice to be reminded once in a while that there is more than living under the feet of purebreds."

Pu-abi looks up as a crowd begins to mill around, and snatches of what they are talking about can be heard. The naraki is definitely interested, and her aimless, lost wandering begins to take a form as she mills in with the rest of the crowd, looking this way and that for the man they're talking of.

A slight shadow circles over the busy Rialto once as the shadow's owner looks for a place to rest, not wishing to land on the ground and become part of the crowd. Cersei finds a somewhat quiet rooftop from which to watch the goings on without having to become part of it. From a small bag she carries with her, she pulls a scroll and a quill with which to take notes as her eyes scan the people below with some indifference.

A child in his arms and a child at his side, Richard slips in through the throng gathering in the marketplace, sharp blue gaze taking stock of who's present... and their moods. The scruffy dark-haired child at his side might be heard to be piping, "An' you missed a lot of it, Uncle Richard, while you were gone, he likes all the Mongrels and wants 'em to come live in the new place an' maybe he's gonna be king of the Mongrels an'--"

Smiling faintly, a smile no more than a curl of one side of his mouth, Richard murmurs back to the boy, "Aye, Roki... so I've been after hearin'. Look sharp now, we'll be sittin'."

Languid steps carry the branded healer amongst the crowd. Her wings are tight against her back, and her golden hair is only partly pulled down to cover her forehead, leaving a bit of the brand displayed for all to see. There is no shame on Cynara's cool features as she meets eye after eye defiantly, waiting for Thomas to begin.

The words "King of the mongrels" filters through the crowds in a curious ripple.

Slipping on in, the tall former cyprian moves off to the side a bit, close enough to reach Thomas should she need to, yet far enough back so as not to cause any special notice to herself. Ashe waits silently for the speech to begin.

StormBearer smiles at the unexpected energy in Faanshi's response. He approaches, onyx cane in hand, and smiles. "Chookma, friend Faanshi. I trust you have been well?" Yes, it is StormBearer, but there is something about his manner of speech that suggests a subdual that was not there last time he talked to this particular halfbreed.

Pu-abi chews on her lip, as the man with the two children passes by her. She can't help but hear the title too. King of the Mongrels, really? She's been holed up in Atesh-Gah too long. Yes, she must listen to this, the naraki woman decides, her head turning downwards to search for a seat amongst the crowd.

"Namaste', StormBearer, yes! I thought... well, now that Atesh-Gah is open again, I heard... I heard Thomas was going to speak, and I thought..." Faanshi finally now does dip her gaze, shyly; her voice drops shyly as well, carrying no further than the Herald's ears. "I thought I would maybe come and listen, for a bit. Kosha needed the walk!" The dog, in the meantime, snaps his gaze around in several directions, noticing the gathering people and pulling protectively closer to his young mistress. Kosha's ears are perked up, and the dog is clearly alert.

As the crowds begin to gather, Thomas Murako is nowhere to be seen. As one looks out across the faces that have assembled in the Rialto, they might see a large percentage of Mongrels, but a fair number of purebreeds as well who have obviously come to watch the 'spectacle' that is Avalon's leadership. A few moments pass, voices continuing to be soft amongst those who have come to watch. Then, from the North, someone calls out, "He's here." ...and like filter down the lane, it goes from one person to the next. Upon the lips of some as a boon, upon others a curse, and not upon others at all. Soon, over the heads of others, one can espy the tall, broad frame of Murako, the ex-slave turned 'leader of men,' making his way through the throng towards a central point. With him, are several armed men dressed in leather armor and bearing weapons at their sides. One of them, for those who know such things, is Gaiden, Avalon's Guard Captain. Thomas himself is dressed in the suit of armor that he commonly wears when in public, hefting a broad sword at his side. Upon reaching the point where he plans to speak, he and the other Mongrels begin to gather together some benches and other refuse to create a make-shift podium for the man to stand upon.

Cynara spots Richard in the crowd and offers him a polite, somewhat knowing smile of greeting, While maintaining eye contact with the man, she spreads her wings and lifts herself to a better vantage point, atop a sturdy stall. Settling upon the new perch, continues to scan the crowd thoughtfully as words such as 'king of the mongrels' wash amongst them. Her head does not turn as he is announced, but watches the reactions of those whose heads do turn.

Cynara is not exactly easy to miss. As he crosses gazes with her, the black-haired man with the tiny girl-child in his arms gives the winged healer a tiny ironic smile by way of reply, Richard briefly follows her ascent before returning his attention to the approaching delegates of the fledgling nation. With a deft hand, he gestures in Murako's direction for benefit of the children, and then he hoists the little girl up onto his shoulders.

Pu-abi somehow manages to find a spot in the midst of the crowd, climbing up on an overturned barrel, leaning back on the palms of her hands. Eyes drift warily around the square once more, and then they turn towards where everyone else is looking, the man, Thomas.

Watching silently, Ashe's gaze sweeps across those gathered, a bit unsure of what to expect given the last time so many were in the marketplace. If only she had her dagger. She heaves a faint sigh and waits, her attention divided between Thomas and those who have come to listen.

StormBearer's gaze is directed towards the now grown form of Kosha, and the Herald leans down to pat the dog on the head. "Hallo Kosha." And then he straightens back up. "No need to explain to me, Faanshi. Simple whimsy would be a good enough reason." Ah, look, there's Thomas now.

Cersei's bronze-flecked eyes turn from the crowd directly below toward the direction indicated and watches with quill poised over parchment as the 'leader of men' makes his way forward into the Rialto. She takes note of those that accompany him, what they wear, the weapons they bear and their general demeanor. Each is noted on her scroll when she takes a few moments to tear her eyes from the 'mongrel king.'

Kosha wags his tail rather more vehemently at StormBearer's attention; he may be more or less full grown now, but it's clear enough that the young dog is still half puppy at heart. Faanshi shoots the Sylvan a warm and grateful glance before subtly shifting position, an odd cross between trying to look as unobtrusive as a veiled young woman in the colors of Clan Khalida can... and getting an unobstructed look at Thomas Murako. Above her azure veil her summer-green eyes go abruptly lighter of hue, almost... captivated. "Thomas," she murmurs very softly, for no one's ears but her own.

Rising above the crowd upon an upstanding bench, Thomas towers two or three feet over most of the people who lie before him. The men below him secure the 'podium' in place and then take up a post near the base of it, eyes scanning the throng in the event of a knifed maniac might come charging from amidst it to end this before its even begun. Such a thing would not be uncommon given the political climate in Haven at the moment. Darkened brown eyes, calm and almost serene, the Mongrel's eyes take a moment to survey all who are here, passing over the crowd in a single sweep and then back again. Raising his hand, its clear that he's going to speak, and that is the motion for everyone who mutters or speaks to grow silent. Though they do not at first, in time, a quiet has settled over the normally busy market. When Murako speaks, its strong, and those who have heard him before know the man has a good, powerful speaking voice, "Friends, Brothers, Sisters..." a pause, "...Enemies." He clearly makes mention, knowing that he has detractors amongst this number, "I would like to thank you for coming here today, to listen to my words. I know you are busy and that this is taking a large amount of time out of your schedule, but I felt that it was not only right but necessary. Many of you who are here, may have heard me speak before. I may have told you about the ideals of Avalon and what we represent. But, that was many months ago and certainly much has changed since that time, both here, and in distant lands."

Cynara sips idly from her goblet, surveying the people's expressions as they watch the men building the podium for the mysterious nation builder. Her demeanor is cold, calculating. Her normal expression. Now that he has arrived, it seems those closest to him are watched most carefully. One might notice, as well, that besides Murako's own armed guard, there are several large brutish looking men lingering among the crowds. Could the Outcasts within Haven have their own form of a guard? Are they guarding or ready to attack the speaker?

As the man begins to speak, Pu-abi's eyes become glued to his figure. She sits on her barrel, barely moving at all, with her head tilted slightly in an effort to hear.

A few people notice the mongrels, halfbreeds and dark Empyreans about them who look to be... less than savory, and they begin to inch away. These men do not even look at Thomas, but instead keep sharp eyes upon the crowds, dark looks of warning upon their faces.

"These last few months have been very hard on all of us who live within the lands of Aether." Thomas' brow furrows a bit, "We have suffered a war, that while finished, has still left marks upon each of us that may never fade. Just as we have even begun to recover from that, a terrible plague has struck us and taken away the lives of so many loved ones. Tensions are running high as people seek someone to blame for these atrocities, those of you who read the letter which I sent out, know who I place the blame upon." A dramatic pause as he shifts his gaze across the crowd again, "No one. Each and every one of you has been affected in some way by all of this. Many of us have already lost so much and it is my belief that this can stop. Perhaps not for all time, but for even a brief few moments." Shifting his weight a bit, he shakes his head, "What saddens me even more is that people are lashing out against those who cannot defend themselves for these 'crimes.' Ignorance has fueled hatred and is now costing lives." Raising his voice, he shouts fairly loud, "HOW MANY MORE MUST DIE BEFORE THIS MADNESS WILL ABATE?"

War. That particular concept actually doesn't trouble Faanshi overmuch -- except when she considers the doom of Lycenae, and the sharp hatred in the eyes of Empyreans who have shied away from her on the mere grounds of what style of clothing she wears. But the war also allowed her to meet that man standing there speaking now... and the memory of it flashes full across Faanshi's eyes as she listens. At the mention of the plague, her hands clasp tightly at her breast, and it might perhaps be possible for the Herald at her side to hear the soft indrawn breath behind her veil.

Cersei pauses in her hurried note taking when the mongrel's voice reaches the level one could easily consider yelling to study Thomas. A small drop of ink falls from her stilled quill but she takes no notice of it, instead she remains in silence with only a slight hint of a frown on her lips, noticeable if anyone were glancing toward her perch on a nearby rooftop, but most the most part she's gone unnoticed.

Cynara watches the dramatics of the man who has lead so many to his country, rallied so many souls to his side for the freedom he offers. She appears unaffected. Odd that the branded healer, who seems constantly surrounded by rumors of deviousness and cold-hearted retribution, would be sitting so calmly, listening to the man who has called the Outcasts away. The rumors abound, and some are even certain that she is a large part of the underground riff-raff, if not their leader herself, and yet, she only watches as this man attempts to steal away the people she claims as hers. Will she just stand by and let that happen? Will there be blood shed tonight? Will those armed men attack or defend... Funny, the underlying tension that drifts through a crowd when only some of their number know the truth of identities...

Creak, creak. The barrel shifts under Pu's thin form ever so slightly, her own face turning downwards in a frown, all too well can she recall the events of which the man speaks, but then confusion follows. Things have, after all, always been such, and they always will. The woman, lifts a hand to pull back the blue material from her face, shaking her head ever so slightly.

Thomas's voice quiets again as he settles, growing silent for a moment longer. When he speaks again, it is in a more level tone, "There are those amongst you who would call me a 'King' or a 'leader of men.' Yet, each time I hear that title, I correct others. That is not what I seek to be to anyone. I am Thomas Murako, a man, like any other. I do not seek to be a God or a lord of men. I seek to be a teacher and to guide people on the right path." Moving his hand to the hilt of his weapon, the Mongrel continues, "When we began Avalon, many followed us for different reasons. They sought freedom, or to find a place to start over once again. Yet, someone asked me once, why I wished to make Avalon a reality. I gave it some thought, and after sometime I found out the real reason I stood up that day before the Palladium and spoke to those refugees." This sounds just about as sincere as someone can muster words, "Because I was tired. Tired of all the hatred and the violence. Tired of the blood that was shed without a forethought or care for what was left in its wake. I wanted to teach people that there COULD be a life without shame and a place where the color of your skin or the nature of your family didn't matter. A place that people could feel safe and proud to be a part of a nation once again. Even here in Haven, where we are all supposedly equal in the eyes of Delphi, Mongrels are being burned at the stake for crimes they do not even have the power to commit. Are we really safe here, or anywhere for that matter?"

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

Ashe's own thoughts begin to drift at the weighted words spoken. She lets out a deep sigh, pulling her mantle tighter about her. She perhaps knows too well that while Avalon offers a home for many, there will always be a few who will not wish to go. Haven may no longer be safe for mongrels, but to some it is all they have and ever want from life. She listens in her silence, her eyes drifting to fall upon the various individuals gathered: a few mongrels here, a few empyreans there, the branded healer, and veiled woman and her dog. So many... Her gaze finally finds its way back to Thomas, letting out a deep sigh.

There with Roki at his side and little Elette perched upon his shoulders, Richard smiles narrowly. Mongrels, safe? All right, then, Tommy lad, let's be after hearin' exactly why anyone oppressed'll be any safer in Avalon than they will here in Haven, eh? he thinks. But he has enough politeness to keep the cynical thought unvoiced -- expressing it only in the sardonic little smile that curls his mouth. Men are right bastards, laddie, and even in Avalon, eventually, they'll get around to stabbin' each other in the back.

"Is Avalon a perfect utopia that men and women will never see ills, aches or pains?" Thomas says softly, shaking his head, "No, it's not." A pause as he asks again, "Will the men and women of Avalon never suffer hardships or pain? No, they will. And I know that if you asked each and every person who was there now about this winter, they would tell you it was not easy. I have never tried to tell anyone that it would be, nor has any other person who has stood before a crowd and talked about it. Life is full of hardships, and if you are coming here seeking an easy route to paradise, then I cannot help you." Murako turns and looks around again, his manner straight and posture erect, "What I can offer you is a place where at least your voice will be heard. Where you will have rights and be given a vote like any other man." Another pause as he reaches inside his armor and takes out a scroll, unraveling it with his fingers, "We have written a charter this winter. One which grants each and every citizen of Avalon, the same and equal rights regardless of race or belief! Already, we have opened up trade with several powerful factions in the land, and Sylvan representatives travel to Avalon even as I speak to help us begin the Spring planting. Others ARE taking heed of our efforts, and I tell you that to join with us would not be an effort made in vain, it would be an investment in your future and your children's future!" His voice lowers a touch, "It would be a chance for you to make a difference. To be part of something."

High above the Rialto, a winged form circles briefly over those gathered below. The late morning sun shines off of white wings as the form comes lower, the Empyrean man's plain clothes evident in the harsh light. The figure of Cepheus seem to take in the scene below, a moment later dropping onto a selected rooftop with a rather graceful landing. It just so happens to be the same on-which Cynara sits, what a coincidence.

"Any man?" someone calls out, a strident female voice, full of annoyance. "What about women, Murako? Ye gonna be givin' us the vote too?" A number of other cries chime out in sympathy of the unseen speaker, before nudges from others in the crowd convince them to settle down well enough to let the speechmaker deliver a reply.

Another absent sip is taken from the goblet that Cynara holds in her hands. Yes, hatred. Can't have that, can we? Her features seem to waver towards a smirk, but they are controlled before it grows to its fullness. Her head tilts, brows raising a bit as she listens, "And they'll be safe in Avalon," she murmurs to herself, this time hiding the smirk in her cup, definitely good wine. Her eyes roam over the crowd again, connecting with one or two of the ruffian type guards briefly before moving on to the others there. Watching those who are taken in by the speech as well as those who sport completely doubtful expressions.

Pu-abi leans forward intently, her seat, rickety to begin with, now threatening to break underneath her with all of its loud groaning and creaking as her weight shifts. She nods in silent assent with the voice, eyes turning up to the man behind the podium, awaiting his answer intently.

Upon your foot, something rests, and slowly, you begin to feel furry things moving around about your ankles. Then a soft *squeak*, not unlike that of a ...rat?

Spirit-Whisperer and Morning-Mist step from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.

Faanshi blinks, glancing down at her feet for a moment, startled out of her earnest attention to the Mongrel man addressing the crowd. The dog at her side growls softly, lowering his muzzle down to sniff round the shudra maiden's sandals.

"Ahse already got a shop 'ere...ye gonna be payin' fer me new shop an' supplies an' feedin' me family 'til ahse get up an' runnin' Murako?" A man calls out from the crowd.

Another voice joins him, "Yeah, you gonna give us everythin' we gots here and more? Why leave our stuff an' shops if ye ain' gonna give us the same... least here we get fed."

Cynara nods to Cepheus as he settles down beside her. Only just disposed his position, and he seats himself with the likes of a branded healer, what a tasty bit of news that will make for the gossip mongers. She smirks at him, nodding to Thomas, "He's going to make everything all better, you know," she chuckles.

Jana soars in from the skies above.

"A land of sunshine, and freedom for all," the voice of the ex-Archon mutters behind Cynara, his tones probably not loud enough to carry much past the roof-top the pair is on. "How perfect." He surveys the crowds below from his position next to the Outcasts' leader, a faint smirk on his face.

Spirit-Whisperer steps out into the Rialto from the gates of Delphi, one arm draped casually on the hip of Morning-Mist. A head is turned, and the Estrel mutters something to a Hound at the gateway. He hardly brakes a stride, however, his face displaying a calm, good-natured expression. Looks like he's late. Content to be nearly inconspicuous at the rear of the crowd, he fixes his bright blue eyes onto Thomas as the man speaks.

"Should we oughtta move t' Avalon, Uncle Richard?" pipes the young voice of Roki, as the lad jumps up and down trying to get a better look at the proceedings.

It's awkward, but Richard sighs and stoops carefully down to pick the lad up. Then, still balancing Elette on his shoulders, he straightens up once more while muttering to the boy, "I ain't hearin' a good reason why yet, Roki. Keep still now."

Thomas's eyes turn towards the first person who spoke about women's 'rights' and their ability to vote. Voice and eyes stern, he answers seriously, "Every citizen of Avalon is granted these rights. It would be rather hypocritical of us to discriminate based on gender, would it not? I'm not going to stand before you and say that Avalon offers rights for men only." A little smile breaks out upon his face as he considers the thoughts, "Indeed, Avalon has a great number of women amongst its most influential figures. Many of its biggest contributors have been female. We do acknowledge their skills and their sacrifices." As soon as he finishes that, other people begin to react as Faanshi did -- downright startled. It starts around her area, and then works its way outwards. Some scream, and others merely back away quickly. But one definite thing that can be heard is the loud SQUEAL of rats. Lots of them, making their way amongst the feet of those who have gathered to watch Thomas speak. The Mongrel man is fairly far from this and doesn't appear to notice things getting a little rowdy, turning to look at the man who spoke about his shop and his family, "For those who travel to Avalon, yes, we can make accommodations for tradesmen and your family. We are always seeking merchants to add their craft-skills to our exports and imports. While I can't promise you the kind of exposure that one might get in a place such as the Rialto, I can tell you that there will be opportunities to sell your goods and to make good profit..."

It is then that one of the guards below Murako looks up towards the growing chaos and mutters, "What is that?" Then, all eyes in that area shift back as the little critters make their way underfoot and across the market.

While she cannot hear the words spoken between the pair on an opposing rooftop, Cersei allows her hand a moment to rest from her constant writing to give Cepheus and Cynara a quick glance from her own perch. The glance is only a few brief seconds, nothing more than a passing interest in her fellow Empyreans before she returns her attention to the crowd below, and more important, the mongrel who's words she is diligently putting to paper.

Eric and Niamh step from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.

Towards the gates of Delphi, one might notice, the Provost, and his Hound escort, staying out of the way and far off to the side.

At Faanshi's side, Kosha start barking loudly at the sudden streaming of rodents through the crowd. The shudra maiden is torn between keeping an eye on Thomas and Gaiden and the handful of others with the Avalon party that she recognizes... and shifting her feet awkwardly to try to avoid the scampering creatures. Her eyes go wide and alarmed over her veil, but if she makes any sound of startlement it's difficult to pick it out over the growing din of the gathered throng.

A flutter of wings, a few downy feathers floating away, and more than one angry jeer accompany Jana's landing into the Rialto. On the outskirts of the crowd, she comes stumbling to a halt, nearly crashing into more than one pedestrian with mumbled apologies. The girl smoothes down her ruffled hair and kaftan, blearily looking around. Her eyes stray towards the Estrel, then to the Archon and the ... the branded Healer? Jana does a double-take, whipping her head back around so that she nearly loses her balance.

Screams? That's odd. The graisha, Morning-Mist, turns towards the scream, finding it more interesting for the moment than anything else. Oh, rats. She smiles then slips out of Spirit-Whisperer's grasp. Without a word she moves over to a spot in line with the path she expects them to take.

Niamh starts out of the gates of Delphi, but pauses just outside of them. His dark eyes dart about, recognizing few, if any of those gathered. Perhaps he should stay by the gates... hopefully it will be safer there.

It's the sounds coming around her that first arouse the naraki to the fact that something isn't right. They're not the sounds of people murmuring about equal rights for woman, or the establishment of a mongrel city... no, no, they're all wrong for that. And then Pu-abi feels something against her foot, all of fur, followed by a tail, and now she can distinguish sounds of skittering feet. All that propels her to her feet, letting the barrel crash down on the ground behind her.

Cynara turns as the screams begin to filter toward her. Her eyes catch sight of the disturbing little creatures and she chuckles, nudging Cepheus with an elbow, "Thomas's friends are here to support him, how nice."

"Uncle Richard, lookit the rats!" This comes from the pale-haired waif perched upon Richard's shoulders, as Elette breaks her usual silence to pipe out this solemn request for her guardian's attention. As it happens, however, the man whose shoulders she occupies had already spotted the creatures scurrying underfoot. A look of almost genteel disgust momentarily crinkles his fine-boned features, as he lightly kicks one of the creatures away from him.

"Hang onto me, bairns," Richard mutters to the child on his shoulders and the boy clinging to his chest.

Continuing to watch, Ashe's brows dip into a slight frown at the growing unrest of the listeners. While she is closer towards the speaker and other in the front, she cannot miss the scampering rodents. Rolling her eyes, she readjusts her mantle, not willing to let the presence of mere rats to get the better of her. After all, would good would that do?

StormBearer takes one look at the rats doesn't like them. Instinct to protect his younger friend kicks in, and he reacts. The onyx cane at his side falls against his side and he bends over, his arms reaching to scoop up Faanshi away from the rats, which are probably dirty and maybe even carrying the plague.

A lot more screams and a bit of hysterics begins to take some of the people in the more crowded section, then a child falls over. Right into the rats.

"I thought the rats disbanded from that motley group..." The reply comes from the EX-Archon as his eyes catch sight of the rats below. His eyes continue slowly scanning the crowd, a brow raising as things begin to heat up down below.

Chaos rapidly begins to descend on the Rialto -- again. People begin to do the dance of panic as the rats continue to run frantically about the market, trying to find any place to get away from all these humans. The animals appear to be panicked and coming from seemingly one direction. Its clear that this was no accident, and given the nature of the Mongrels' efforts, this comes as little surprise. The little critters don't appear to be hostile, seeking cover rather than battle, but when cornered they will bite and indeed, it happens to not a few who happen to trod upon them.

Amusement plays upon Cynara's features as she watches the pandemonium below, calmly sipping her wine, then passing the goblet to Cepheus in offer. "It's good, the vendor down there makes it special for me," she notes, nodding in that vendor's direction.

Swept up into the arms of her Sylvan companion, Faanshi gasps and blurts out to him, too startled to speak softly as she usually does, "My friend... what, where are they coming from--?" She's light, is this maiden in Varati silks, despite her size. "What are you doing?"

Morning-Mist laughs lightly at the chaos that has been loosed on the people gathered to hear Thomas speak. More accurately, she laughs at the people themselves. She shifts position so that she will be just at the edge of the path. With one smooth motion, she reaches down into the throng of rodents and scoops one up. Just as quickly she breaks its neck and then begins to make her way back to Spirit-Whisperer's side, though a couple of times she is almost tripped up by a rat or two.

Rats? Jana cannot help a small, involuntary shudder that runs through her body, and after a swift glance around the crowded market, she spreads her wings and flutters to the top of another building's roof. Grey eyes linger upon the ex-Archon and the sadistic witch he has for company, filled with disapproval and curiosity both.

A smirk escapes the young Augustin's lips as the drama of the moment in the streets below. Cersei remains rather calm, her place on a rooftop easily allows for that while those without wings scream and run in the streets below. She chuckles softly and continues with her writing, making sure to add this small tidbit to her report.

Niamh blinks as the rats scurry about. How interesting. If any approach him they are singed quite quickly...serves them right for trying to come near, anyhow.

Enough seems to be enough, the Provost whispers to his Hound escort and the young Sylvan nods and runs toward the north. The Provost strides towards the main mass of people and slips within the crowd. He seems to be looking for something, kind of difficult though as he dodges people and rats.

StormBearer's answers to Faanshi are short and to the point. "Someone has undoubtedly brought them from below ground, and I'm keeping these rats away from you," he says, catching a rat with a kick it goes flying a bit away. "They bite." Good enough reason isn't it?

"Tyche's left hand," Richard mutters under his breath. Wingless he might be, but he's not after screaming. He is, however, after keeping the two children under his protection out of harm's way. Rather more concerned about the shifting mood of the crowd than he is about the rodents, he mutters another and sharper order to the children to hang onto him. Then his sapphire eyes sweep his immediate surroundings, looking for the fastest way to edge out of the gathering. If there's going to be hysterics here, he's not going to keep the children in danger.

Pu-abi begins to kick at the rat's around her feet, she has no desire for to come and bite her. Slowly she edges towards the front of the crowd, there seems to be less rats there, and maybe, maybe the man will talk again, or perhaps she can catch him on his way out.

Thomas just watches as the speech breaks out into a mess. His eyes reflect disappointment, but little more. Still holding the paper in his hand, people seem more concerned with getting away from the stream of rats than listening to anything more about Avalon. It's right about then that someone seeking to escape a rodent runs right into the bench, screaming in panic and basically topples the Mongrel leader's podium. Murako is a tall man and suited in armor -- those sorts generally fall easier than most and indeed he goes down with a shout, the paper in his grasp falling out of hand. The men around the bottom, the guards who came in with him, they look startled as their 'leader' takes a fall and Gaiden rushes over towards Thomas. Both men exchange words in private as Thomas is helped to his feet, but it's clear that with all these people running helter-skelter this way and that, the speech isn't going to continue at this time.

Spirit-Whisperer senses the commotion, but he's yet too far away to realize exactly the cause of the problem. Then Morning-Mist makes her move, and the halfbreed instantly knows. He can only shake his head as he stares at the graisha. But the crowd isn't all that's become agitated. More than a few of the ravens who've come to call the center of Haven home over the past year are equally excited. Many of the large black birds are fidgeting from their positions on roof and stall tops. They can see the rodents, and it's likely that they're pondering dinner.

"Which vendor?" The Oracle reaches out for the goblet, taking it from the infamous "witch" that Jana named. "I may get something similar..." For the instant he seems totally detached from the "rat-incident" below, the man swirling the goblet around some, watching the wine run down the sides. "Looks good..." He lifts the goblet to his lips, taking a short drink. That finished he hands it back to Cynara, "Very good, in fact." Cepheus smiles briefly, eyes falling back to the chaos below a second later.

A heavy halfbreed sees Thomas fall, and rushes toward the person who toppled him. One of the Outcast guards not with Thomas, his guards might not recognize him as friend when he reaches for the panicked person and throws him back into the crowd.

Faanshi is a fairly sheltered shudra -- but she has in the last several months had a number of forays through Haven, and one of the things she's learned is that frightened rats do, indeed, bite. Moreover, her sandaled feet are rather less protected than those of anyone fortunate enough to own boots. She starts to breathe out a thanks to the Sylvan, but she is distracted first by her dog as Kosha pounces upon one of the panic-stricken creatures and seizes it in his jaws... and then she is distracted by the clang and crash of the collapse of Murako's podium. "Thomas!" she cries then, in alarm.

Eric helps up a man that stumbles in front of him. He stops and begins glancing around, and up. His eyes scan the surrounding buildings, the stall tops, and even piles of crates. He glances a moment at Cynara and Cepheus but then turns his gaze towards the north and begins to head that way through the crowd, helping whomever he can as he goes.

One of the rats makes its way to Ashe, deciding that all her skirts would be a wonderful place to hide. As the rat begins its ascent, her eyes go wide. She still tries hard to ignore it and concentrate upon the speech. A soft gasp escapes her as she sees Thomas felled by the clumsy man and begins to make her way over when the rat decides that her movements are interfering with its climb and bites her.

"It's the plague again!" One man screams out from amid the crowd.

Another echoes, looking quite panicked, "It's a sign! Murako will bring the plague back to us." After all, these are the sorts of citizens who burn people at the stake for witchcraft. Assuming that this swarm arrived for supernatural reasons isn't out of the realm of possibility.

Someone else shouts, "Get them off me!! Rats!!"

And still someone else, "Mongrel plague-bringers! Curse you!"

Cynara's eyes wander over the crowd as if watching a game, as she nods to the man beside her, "Mmm, I thought so," she agrees. Seeing Thomas fall, she winces in an obvious manner and draws in a quick, mockingly concerned breath, "Oooo, now that's got to hurt, with all that armor and all..." she observes.

To interfere, or not to interfere. That is the eternal question, and it plagues Jana's mind at the moment as she crouches on the rooftop, watching her 'father' and the witch. The chaos below her doesn't even seem to register in her hazed senses. The Rialto could be experiencing another riot, for all she seems to know. Her expression darkens even further as she sinks down to her rump, bringing her knees to her chest and folding her arms about them.

One of those Outcast guards -- an Empyrean with raven-dark wings -- melts out of the crowd to approach the black-haired, blue-eyed man with the children. Richard starts to wave the man off, but as soon as someone starts to hysterically shout, he immediately changes his mind. "Help me get 'em outta here," he demands, handing off Roki to the now glowering darkling -- who's also alerted to the increasingly ugly mood of the crowd. "Go with him, boy!"

Niamh continues firing at the rats... literally. Hopefully the scent of burned rat-flesh will deter others from approaching. At the screams he looks up, watching as the crowd starts to break into a panic. One hand presses against the gates for a moment, making sure he's close enough to slip back in if anything dangerous happens.

"He'll be bloody lucky if he can get up at all..." The reply is quick from Cepheus, who seems to care less WHO he is sitting with. Wicked witch of the west or not. He doesn't seem to notice Jana's scowl, nor the other eyes that might find his way toward the pair. A faint smirk crosses his face as the sadistic mongrel-hating shouts drift his way, "Tsk... that's not nice..."

The rat's ceased to be a serious problem some time ago, and now, now it's the crowd that Pu struggles again. Despite her best efforts, she is pushed this way and that helplessly. She can't even force herself to stop, as soon as she does, the crowd pushes her out of it's way or forces her along with it in the panic.

StormBearer hears Faanshi cry out Thomas's name soon enough to look and see the toppled state of the podium. Bounding through people and over rats, he pushes towards where it had once been, and where Thomas now is. Let's go make sure he's all right. Plus, there doesn't seem to be many rats there, so he can set Faanshi down once he gets there.

Most people actually interested with Thomas' speech seem to have fled with a majority of the rats, problem is the crowd of angry purebreeds left standing in the middle. From the north Hounds begin to gather fanning out to head into the Rialto.

Looks like this could be brewing into another small riot at this pace. Unhappy people, some of which came here looking for a fight as is, lots of rats, biting and getting underfoot. Thomas hears the shouts behind him and as Gaiden helps him up, he watches as the panicked man who knocked him over is flattened by the halfbreed. His eyes scan the people before him, wide and almost disbelieving, "This shouldn't have happened, Gaiden."

It's the Captain next to him, placing a hand upon his shoulder, "Come on, Thomas, we have to leave. NOW." And the pair begin to back off.

Right about then, several angry people come out of the crowd, intent on making this a personal issue. At their lead is what appears to be a large-sized Varati, and amazingly, a Mongrel. It's the Mongrel who speaks up, cursing, his face is red, "Where are you goin', Murako?! It was you who brought dis plague upon us. You and yer wretched Avalon!" Pointing, the Varati scowls as well, "You people make me sick." This might get ugly, and fast.

Morning-Mist notices the crowd beginning to get edgy and quickly slips back to Spirit-Whisperer's side. After all, who knows when mongrel might become graisha to someone who just wants to hurt someone? She appears next to him holding her prize by the tail. "No was so boring Morning-Mist think would be."

Cynara watches the darkling man take the child in his arms and move Richard safely through the mad crowds. She shares a brief look with the dark Empyrean, and then chuckles at Cepheus, then tsks a little herself, shaking her head in exaggerated sympathy for those who seek their safety. Her eyes are, however, sharp to scan the crowd now. Any Outcasts positions are noted and watched carefully for any signs that the rabid crowd might make a foolish mistake and turn upon her people.

"Oh, blessed Ushas... Hawk of Heaven, no, no..." Faanshi doesn't yell this very loudly, but what she lacks in volume she makes up for with heartfelt horror as from her position in StormBearer's arms she gets a look at those beginning to close in on Thomas. Kosha barks his dismay at his mistress's being carried off, and tosses aside the rat he'd bitten to bound in the Sylvan's wake. The dog throws himself between fleeing bodies, bent on keeping on Faanshi's trail.

And Eric, the Mongrel Provost, he's somehow managed to be in the very middle. "We'll show how power really works!" yells an Empyrean in the Mongrel leader's face. Eric begins to say something but a Varati next to him throws a mean left hook into the temple of the Provost and the Mongrel drops out of sight.

The one rat seeking refuge in Ashe's skirts is jostled free, but not before taking vengeance and biting her yet again. She curses softly, and continues to make her way over to Thomas and Gaiden.

Cersei crouches over her writing as a shadow of a fleeing Empyrean passes over her, but aside from that slight interruption, it would appear the scene has no affect on her, all except for that swift moving hand that diligently sets words to parchment. Perhaps one day this might be replayed out as a comedic performance in the Palladium, it is certain more than a couple of nobles would find humor in the words she records.

"Airborne, curse ye, get 'em both airborne and outta here!" Never mind his own safety. Richard thrusts little Elette at the Empyrean and waves him into the sky. "Roki, tell 'em where to go!"

The boy cries out, "Uncle Richard, what about--"

"Never ye mind! Go, bairns, go!"

Spirit-Whisperer barely pays the rats notice. Only a few scattered rodents find their way this far from their source. Besides, there's more to fear from the massed crowd. The Estrel frowns slightly at the rat dangling in Morning-Mist's hand, but manages to force a smile at the woman. "Hopefully it won't get to be any less boring than it already is." One of the Hounds at Delphi's gate turns to run inside, and the others there step forward to at least attempt to assert their presence. Most of the difficulty is at the other side of the Rialto, however. The Estrel, his graisha friend, and the Hounds are at the far outskirts of the gathering.

Cepheus seems content to watch the crowds too, although he doesn't bother to look for Outcasts. Instead, the Oracle actually starts searching for Delphic people caught in the fray, the smile wearing out of his face rather quickly. "Hmmm... you'd think the Hounds would be here by now to stir things up more..." The mutter drifts from the man's lips, a faint smirk regaining his face.

Gaiden scowls at the two men before him, clearly content to let this escalate into a brawl. He balls his fist and moves to step forward. But he's stopped by Thomas' hand as the man says, "Forget it, Gaiden. Lets get out of here. It's clear we're not welcome." About then, Thomas' eyes notice the approach of Faanshi, StormBearer, and a bit behind, Ashe. He was turning to go, but then pauses.

But before he can even speak the Varati before him loses it and takes a swing at the Mongrel leader, "I'll show you how welcome you are, Mongrel!" The Captain who stands before Murako is the one who takes the shot, though. If that's intentional or accidental is hard to tell because of the chaos, but Gaiden is knocked aside with a dull *thudding* sound and the Mongrel/Varati combo scowl and close on the Rialto's 'guest speaker,' "You're next, Murako."

As Eric is hit, Cynara jumps to her feet. No longer is this the fun sport to watch, but it is a battle. Her eyes search out the strong, armed men who have been watching the proceedings and she nods to them. A few disappear, only to return with more in tow. A loud roar comes from these men, but they do not seek to harm in mass, instead, they force their way through to the sides of those who are among their own number. The Outcasts of Haven are herded by these men into protective groups, or it is attempted at least. Three men rush to Eric's side and the Varati who first struck, receives a blow to the back of his head, hard, with a club made for just that purpose.

Finally, Pu-abi manages to break herself free from the crowd, bursting forth from a knot of people just as they were about to leave the Rialto. The woman pushes herself up against one of the many booths that line the marketplace, using that as shelter as the woman's eyes stare out with fear at the quickly developing battle.

More Hounds join the ones on the north side of the Rialto, many more. Like someone opened the flood gates. More likely the doors to the Bastion. They begin moving quickly pulling the crowd apart, forcibly if necessary.

StormBearer gets closer to the position of Thomas now, separated from the mongrel only by the twin brawlers. He's not much use in this, having both hands full and being a non-combatant for the most part anyway, so he begins to work his way around the now violent duo.

The darkling from the Outcasts is clearly not particularly thrilled to leave Richard behind -- and the children are even less thrilled. But Richard is taking no argument on this, fiercely shooing the Empyrean into the air. Only when the children are safely out of harm's way does he then direct attention to his own situation, taking stock on who's immediately around him and where the best escape routes are -- and where the Hounds are. Time to leave. Richard starts to dive through a momentary break in the gathering before a glowering white-winged Empyrean seizes him, barking out an insult about a Mongrel in Varati clothing: the worst of both worlds!

Hounds on the scene? If the crowds were angry before, the forcible actions of the Hounds only make the masses worse. Planks and boards begin to surface in the crowds, some of the larger members about to make an attempt to take their aggression out on the Hounds. The goons that help to save Eric only seem to make things worse, many on the Rialto's floor mistaking them for more Hounds. Things seem to get rougher really fast.

With a scowl and a curse on his lips, Niamh wades into the fray. A shimmering nimbus of heat surrounds him, intended to keep any other attackers away as he tries to make his way to the rather violent Varati.

Another group of rag-tag ruffians close in on the king of mongrels, or rather, on them men that surround him. The Varati is grabbed by the shoulder as the Mongrel brute is tackled by another of his own kind. "Run, Thomas," the Outcast grunts.

The original Empyrean that was yelling at Eric lashes out at the Outcast who just felled his friend. Another Varati draws steel and leaps forward as well. The crowd shifts hiding the action for a moment, and when it parts, the Outcast has Eric. The Varati with the weapon bleeds freely onto the ground, falling to the cobblestones. The Provost has his sword out, and blood stains the blade. Apparently it takes more than one hit to fell the Provost for good. The two begin to move away, even as Hounds begin to close in and the rioters begin to surge forward.

Aghast, Faanshi hisses into StormBearer's ear, "I cannot help here! I cannot help -- get me aside, let me be able to wait to heal--" She freezes in a surge of terror in the Sylvan's arms as she catches a glimpse of an unmistakably Varati male acting as Thomas's primary assailant.

A prickling, familiar aura of fire tickles at Jana's senses, and moving drowsily, her eyes roam the crowd to settle upon Niamh. There is shock in her features, jaw dropping an inch, before she clambers up to her feet to get a better look. What in the name of the gods is going on? When did this fighting break out? "Niamh!" she calls, her voice shrill and high.

Ashe pauses to take off one of her shoes and remove her palla, before wrapping the shoe up in it and closing it again to make a semi-swingable weapon -- not to mention give her an extended reach. Once close enough she hauls her arm back and swings out aiming at the head of the Varati that felled Gaiden.

Niamh pauses ion his approach and turns to look for the sound of the voice. He finally finds the Oracle perched on one of the rooftops. Motioning for her to stay there, he glances back over to the crowd, hoping to reach the other Varati before the Hounds get to him.

This crowd wasn't quite as large as the food riot, being as many people don't want to see that repeated. But, these people are little less angry. It's a good mix of the pure races, spotted with angry 'loyalist Mongrels,' who have always been detractors of Avalon's efforts -- some are driven by hysteria and ignorance and others are so set in their ways they cannot conceive of change. The arrival of the Hounds seems to help a bit, but with the climate of late in this city, its getting downright dangerous to be anywhere in a group. Thomas' eyes watch as Gaiden falls to the ground, scowling, "Gaiden!" As his would-be assailants go down, Murako does the SMART thing and backs off, trying to get distance and get out of the way. These people want his blood, and no matter how brave someone is, that's a scary thing. He espies StormBearer and Faanshi getting closer and even as he withdraws, his attention is drawn in that direction, "Storm..." Raising his voice to gain their attention, he gets hit across the jaw and is sent stumbling back even further. Who exactly hit him remains a mystery in this mess.

Cynara glowers at the Empyrean who seems to have caught Richard. Her eyes search for the children, and not finding them, she assumes the darkling has done his job. She hisses lightly and nods to ward Richard, "Why can't they just leave people alone when they are running like that?" she asks Cepheus in a put-up, irritated tone.

The work of Cynara's "friends" doesn't escape the sharp eyes of the Empyrean on the roof-top, Cepheus smirking faintly. "Nice touch." His grey irises drift back to Thomas' last known where-abouts, any sign of a smile leaving his features. "Because they are fools. Enough of this." He looks back at Cynara, "Excuse me..." He nods politely, the large Empyrean leaving the rooftop in a quick jump. A quick dive send the man shooting across the top of the crowd, a glimmer of steel flicking in the air beside him. As the last Archon of Haven jets toward the mongrel leader's last position, a sword is drawn in the sunlight, flickering reflections shifting across the crowds.

Frowning as events continue to spiral out of control, Spirit-Whisperer takes ahold of Morning-Mist and attempts to usher her backwards in the direction of the Citadel. He backs up too, allowing the Hounds there to step outward between their Estrel and the crowd. He looks over his shoulder and barks, "More men! We have a riot here!" The halfbreed then returns his focus to the seething mass of angry people.

Pu-abi clings tightly to the edge of the booth, using that to anchor herself, as a hand reaches out to lift the veil to her face again. Her skin is too pale, and stature to short, but still, perhaps in the confusion of the moment, properly swathed and veiled, perhaps she may be mistaken for a Varati. In the end it is worth the try, to put off at least a few assailants. Blue eyes dart around for the most likely escape route.

Eric and his newly found Outcast escort move toward Thomas as well. An island of defenders soon seems to be forming around Thomas and his men, Outcasts, Mongrels, Ex-Archons, and Avalon Guards all working together, it would seem. Working towards putting down this riot and protecting the Avalon leader.

Make Morning-Mist move? But then she might miss the excitement. Oh well, it's likely someone will go a bit too far and ruin the fun potential of the event. So she eventually lets herself be directed by Spirit-Whisperer to a safer location.

Nearly a year ago, Kosha was the runt of his litter. Now, though, nearly having achieved his full growth, he is a rather considerably sized hound. And it might well be now that one can get an idea that he is not too many generations removed from the wolves from which domesticated dogs have sprung, because as the riot begins to surge around his mistress and the man who carries her, he is now snarling. His teeth are fully bared, his hackles raised. And Faanshi, in the meantime, clings to StormBearer in growing fright -- but perhaps to her credit, she does not scream.

Cynara nods to Cepheus and launches into the air at the same time, heading in the direction of Richard, since there seem to be none of the Outcast guard in his vicinity. She growls as she lands behind the large Empyrean man. "Leave him," she commands in no uncertain terms. Her head flicks back to allow the hair to fall away from the brand, leaving it bare, displaying it to the world as if in warning.

StormBearer's pace most definitely picks up when he sees Thomas felled. He is, however, not the only who saw it. A certain previously circling crow dives into the fray, and whoever hit Thomas is likely to get a number of nasty scratches on his face, if not a missing eye or two. StormBearer quickly reaches Thomas, however, because of quick steps and a bit of luck.

Jana has no intention of moving from the safety of the rooftop just yet. She narrows her eyes in her effort to keep a watch on the Fire Acolyte, shifting about nervously. She knows going down into that mess is near suicide, and the Varati can surely take care of himself. "Niamh!" she calls again.

By the time Cynara closes in on Richard, the Empyrean and the man he's seized have begun a good old-fashioned fist-fight. Unfortunately, however, although the two men seem fairly evenly matched the white-winged man's gotten in a stroke of luck, for he's snaked an arm around Richard's throat. "Mind your own business!" the Empyrean growls to Cynara as she reaches them, while his captive writhes in his grasp and viciously jabs an elbow backwards into his gut.

Those foolish enough to attack the concerted efforts of the Hounds are soon lying unconscious. The rioters begin to thin out more and more as the Hounds seem to be closing in on the what's left of them. Fighting is still going on, but now it seems mostly just centered on Thomas, Eric, Ashe, Cepheus, StormBearer, and Faanshi.

*Crack* Contact. The makeshift mantle-sandal sling manages to connect with the head of the Varati brute responsible for striking Gaiden. But damned if he doesn't still stand. Ashe curses, "Damn, what are they made of." It is only after he remains standing that she suddenly realizes the folly in her endeavor. The Varati turns to look at his assailant and upon seeing its a woman begins taking a few steps closer to her. Um, uh, no problem... Ashe begins to slowly back away -- her arm beginning to swing her makeshift weapon again.

Damn that Empyrean wench! Scowling, Niamh pauses again, now fully in the middle of the crowd. Luckily, few are able to come too close with the blistering heat surrounding him. "What?" he booms up to the rooftop. She should just let him alone and let him just try and talk some sense into that other Varati.

Cynara wastes no time, her hand reaches to grab hold of the Empyrean man's arm. "Do not anger me," she warns in a deadly tone, "You do not know the pain I'm capable of." Her features are set in a grim, dark expression that seems to find pleasure in the prospect of any pain he might give her cause to impart. "Let. Him. Go."

Gaiden meanwhile is struggling to get to his feet, head shaking, holding his jaw. That punch appears to have gotten the better of him, but soon enough he's back on his feet and looking around for Thomas. The people who felled him, are down, and he's not about to wade into a mass of Mongrel-haters. Turning back towards Murako's direction, he sees the man go down from the punch, "THOMAS!" Immediately, he rushes in that direction, nearly tripping over a bench in the process. Murako, meanwhile, seems to have taken that hit pretty well. He didn't fall over, but is reeling backwards. Looking to the left and to the right, he searches for an escape route. Not happening. The approach of people seems to matter little, save getting free of this crowd. Backing off even more, he espies the wedge which the Hounds are making and moves his best to get into a spot where there aren't people who are attacking him. As StormBearer's crow finds its mark, one of the assailants -- presumably the one who attacked Thomas -- grabs his face and falls backwards, wailing, just as he's hit by a Hound's sword pommel.

Pu-abi tries it now that the fighting is breaking up, holding her veil firmly in place, the naraki bows her head, and makes a straight beeline for one of the streets that exit the marketplace, and by the grace of all that's good, she manages to make it without getting stopped, and only a few odd looks.

Talk some sense into a man who's probably filled with bloodlust? What is that fool Acolyte thinking? Jana viciously jabs towards the Delphic Citadel, and that so named wench raises her voice yet another few decibels. "Get out!"

Pu-abi heads westward toward Main and Border.

Something akin to a massive shipwreck sounds through the crowd as Cepheus literally falls out of the sky onto a few of Thomas' original attackers. Sword pommel leading the way, a few attackers go down in a massive pile and don't get back up. Who says momentum isn't worth anything? Only a moment passes before the Oracle is back on his feet, sword sheathed and fists ready. It seems the attackers are slowly being reduced in number by the combined efforts of everyone involved...

Holding his side, blood seeping between his fingers, Eric steps between Ashe and the Varati menacing her. His blood-stained sword is lifted and the Provost says, "Now would be a good time to reconsider your foolhardy actions." Eric's Outcast escort is nowhere to be seen, probably in the midst of a fist fight.

The Empyrean's frost-blue eyes finally find the brand on Cynara's forehead -- and the man freezes in what might almost be fright. Then he utters an oath and quite literally shoves Richard forward away from him, sneering contemptuously, "If you want him, branded, you can have him. Filthy Mongrel lover!" As Richard sags to one knee, sucking breath into his lungs, the Empyrean beats a hasty retreat.

Niamh is not about to obey an Empyrean, even if she is technically his senior in rank. But things seem to be in hand... somewhat... and she did offer some rather intelligent advice. So, carefully, he tries to make his way back to the Citadel...

Said crow makes another dive, this one not intended to assault but as a landing. StormBearer quickly finds his friend upon his shoulder, and after a moment, a strange look crosses his eyes. Instead of heading deeper into the fight now, the Herald seems to be carrying Faanshi away from it, towards the less violent areas of the Rialto which are beginning to appear.

Cynara glares at the Empyrean as he takes his flight. Turning to Richard, she points in the direction of the nearest clear path out and says only, "Go!" With that, he is forgotten, those close enough to witness the Empyrean's reaction to Cynara are quite aware that leaving the man unmolested would likely be the best course of action. With a pump of her wings, Cynara lifts herself back to the roof top to take note of the status of things. It seems that most of the Outcasts have been herded out of harms way, while a few still fight. Her eyes roam over the area where Thomas and Cepheus were last seen.

By now, Thomas does not look very happy. He's got a nice red-mark on his face from a punch, his armor is disjointed, and he's got a whole market-full of people who want him dead. Reaching down, he grasps the hilt of his blade, ready to draw the weapon and use it. Yet, as he sees StormBearer closing and the familiar caw of his crow ally, and Cepheus' strong blade added to the 'cause,' he withdraws his hand slowly. Just standing there, he can do little more than watch as the whole Rialto becomes little more than a brawling match once again.

"Thom--" Faanshi cuts off that choked little whisper even as she utters it, unwilling to make even that noise, now. Her increasingly terrified gaze sweeps the fighting immediately nearest her, and little glimpses of motion and conflict emblazon themselves on her sight. Ashe and the weapon she swings. Gaiden, trying to rise. Cepheus descending into the fray. The crow, moving with a canniness no natural bird should exhibit. But once StormBearer starts trying to get her away, she pleads to him hoarsely, "Put me down somewhere... get back to him..."

Jana releases a sigh of relief as she observes the Acolyte begin his retreat, and she crouches on the edge of the roof, teetering between safety and the crowds. Only then do her eyes stray towards the Estrel and his graisha companion, narrowing even more as she watches .

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

Richard smirks at Cynara, wondering exactly the woman decided to appoint herself his personal savior. "Gone," he grunts breathily, seizing the opportunity to melt into the crowd before anyone else gets any clever ideas about engaging him in hand-to-hand. In moments, he's out of sight, taking the first escape route that presents itself. Almost too bad it's not in the same direction the children vanished with the darkling, eh? But then again, a man with no wings can't exactly go up....

Jana had better be ready for an display of uninhibited Varati temper when Niamh gets back to the Citadel. He does not look pleased at her interruptions.

Richard disappears toward the southwest.

The Varati man sneers, obviously wanting very much the blood of the insolent mongrel woman who dared to strike him. Yet the arrival of the Provost has put a damper on that. Instead he growls deeply, "This is far from over." The man backs away, reserving a final glare for the mongrel woman before leaving before word can get back to the pasha of his actions.

The crunch of bone marks yet another one of Cepheus' targets, a city-dweller reeling backwards clutching his nose. It seems even a retired Archon knows how to target. "Fool." The large man twists and starts toward Thomas, "Time to make an exit..." As he moves toward the mongrel leader he wipes a bit of blood onto his plain clothes, the red becoming quite obvious.

Eric lets the sword tip drop, Hounds push in even closer, the brawling starting to dissipate. Unarmored rioters are not much match for the armored, well-trained Hounds. Eric blinks and looks down at his left hand. He uncovers a deep gash in his side, blood pouring freely when the Provost uncovers the wound. "Damn," mutters the Mongrel as he begins to swoon, the blood loss getting to him.

Gaiden has swiftly moved to Thomas' side, now joined by two of the other leather-clad guards who are obviously Avalon's meager defense-force. All have their weapons drawn by now as this is a lethal situation. They look pretty beaten as it took a bit of effort to get away from the angry crowd that is only now being held at bay by the Delphic Hounds. "Are you all right, Thomas?" the Captain asks, breathing heavily.

"I'm fine, Gaiden. Just a little bruised." It's about then that Cepheus turns towards him and mentions 'exiting.' Murako looks to the ex-Archon and nods swiftly, "I would tend to agree. Which way?"

And so, ends the scene, at least as far as the young scribe is concerned. There is only so much fighting Cersei can watch and record before it bores her. From the safety of her rooftop perch she calmly packs up her belongings and stretches her golden flecked wings to depart the morning's entertainment. The Augustin would not have thought it so had she actually been a part of the fight in the Rialto, but one gains such a different perspective as a spectator. One last look to hunt out the 'stars' of this production before her overly large wings lift the scribe into the air and back to the palladium.

Cersei leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven.

From where she perches, Jana doesn't seem to be too afraid at the thought of yet another argument with the Varati Acolyte. She simply watches him through the corner of her eye, before she focuses her attention from the Estrel to the direction she had seen Cepheus depart. It doesn't take her long to find his aura -- and then him -- within that tangled crowd. Well, no worries there. She looks towards the Citadel's spire, and her wings spread as she prepares to take flight.

Spirit-Whisperer is livid as the violence continues. Shoving one of the Hounds in the back, he shouts, "Go! Forget me and help them break this thing up." He reaches out to shove another Hound, and the guards reluctantly advance. One stubbornly stays beside the Estrel, but the handful of others trots across a Rialto littered with debris and trampled rats to the remaining hot spots that by now aren't nearly so hot. These have mop-up duty, and they set to work, lending their support to the other Hounds who are currently engaged.

StormBearer's halfbreed-laden retreat continues, bringing him right past the wounded Provost, though he doesn't realize it. The crow remains upon his shoulder throughout this, though he falters for a moment as his foot catches upon a stone, but he does not permit himself to fall, not with Faanshi in his arms. Instead, he simply has to pause a moment to regain his balance.

A quick finger points toward the north, "It'll be a bit of a scuffle." Apparently the ex-Archon has already put quite a lot of thought into the matter. "But we can make it." Cepheus starts moving in that direction, removing a protesting Empyrean in his way with out seeming to have anything in the way of second thoughts. "Move ya' fool." A fist sends the man reeling out of the way, surely a few more will be required before it is all over.

As the man before her begins to swoon, Ashe drops her sandal and takes her mantle once more. She glances back up to Eric and slowly tries to pry his hand from his side to allow her mantle to be used to stop the blood. She tries her best to support him and keep him standing, "Ye are gonna need to help me, I ain' stron' enough to carry ye."

Cynara only watches now, silently directing the last of her men to disappear, make for the sewers. Obeying their leader, most of them scatter way, dodging the Hounds or tackling them, making their way quickly to any exit they can find. Cynara watches for a few moments, verifying the safety of all she can before she returns her gaze to the direction of the leaders. Her frown darkens as she sees the blood upon Eric, and with one strong pump of her wings, she is off and flying in his direction.

And as StormBearer pauses, Faanshi's green gaze locks on Eric. "Down," she then cries to the Sylvan, "put me down, please....!" Even before her eyes notice the signs of blood on the Provost and the way color has sharply drained out of his face, her palms and her ears prick into fiery life. "I can heal him!" she calls out, surprisingly clearly for a maiden so usually demure.

Morning-Mist just watches the whole event take place from her new vantage point. She glances up towards the rooftops and sighs. Now that would be a good view. But alas she is stuck where she is so she resolves to enjoy it as much as she can.

Eric finally falls, only now kept up by Ashe. His fine long sword clatters to the cobblestone, as his grip loosens. If he hears Ashe, he doesn't really seem to notice. He coughs, and blood spills forth from his mouth, eyes shutting in sheer agony.

Thomas looks from Cepheus to the guards who stand with him, and then towards the Citadel, "Why don't we try for the Citadel, Cepheus? It's closer and assuredly safer." He thumbs in that direction and stands his ground.

Gaiden echoes, "Thomas might be right. We might have to fight our way out through the North exit and that might start things all over again. Besides, no one is going to storm the Citadel, and I can't think of a safe place we can hole up in this city right now." One of the other guards with him nods as well.

StormBearer does not hesitate. Oh, wait, yes he does. Okay, but after the hesitation, he doesn't hesitate anymore. He sets down Faanshi quickly then, allowing her to heal whoever it is who needs healing. Which he hasn't seen yet.

It takes all Ashe can manage to keep the two of them standing. As curses softly and tries hard to hold her mantle tightly to stop any more blood from flowing. As it begins to fall from the provost's lips, she desperately looks around for assistance.

A smirk comes from the Oracle, the man nodding, "As you wish, I simply thought you would have preferred otherwise." Cepheus grins briefly, despite the fact he is in the midst of a massive fight. "Let's go..."

Cynara lands next to Eric, just as one adventurous Varati seems to be making his way in that direction. Her glare seems to change his mind and she kneels down next to Eric, her lip twitching as she hooks her hair behind her ear. "Eric?" she asks in a cold, no-nonsense voice.

Niamh finally makes his way back to the gates, quickly entering the Citadel, moving to seek Jana out to have a few choice words with her.

Seeing that something is amiss in the Rialto, Daanica can't help but to be confused at first. Her eyes move toward Ashe, and sees that she seems to require help. She moves forward, and avails herself to her.

Eric's eyes roll back in his head then snap forward at the sound of Cynara's voice. A mere moment of recognition hits before his eyes shut in pain again. He falls mostly to his knees, Ashe not really able to hold him up.

Once the Acolyte has returned to the safety of the Citadel, Jana decides to follow suit. She has seen enough of this. She jumps, wings beating at the air and carrying her upwards towards the tippity-top of the Tower.

Jana leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven.

Niamh steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds.

"I prefer the direction which will cause the least bloodshed," Thomas retorts to Cepheus, turning with the ex-Archon and his men towards the Citadel as the Hounds mop up the rest of the mess which was created in the wake of the speech.

Even as he flees, the shouts continue, "MURAKO!!" Fists are shaken even as people are led away and the 'minor uprising' begins to die.

"Mongrel scum!"

"Plague-bringer!" Add this incident to the burning at the stake and it definitely has not been a good few weeks for the Mongrels. Gaiden and the other guards follow suit and soon, they draw closer to the Delphic tower -- a much safer location.

Unable to hold him up any longer, Ashe slowly lowers him -- using her own body to guide him down before finally she allows his head to rest in her lap, giving Cynara better access to his wound. Looking over to the branded healer, she sighs deeply, "Tis a bad wound...we need to move him somewhere."

Assistance has materialized in two guises for Ashe and Eric -- the authoritative Empyrean woman, and the maiden in Varati silks. This latter, Faanshi, starts in a surge of sick dismay, momentarily wonders if this Empyrean will try to ignore her as the ones in the Tent City have done. But the man obviously needs help, he needs it now, and if anyone wishes to call her to task they can do so after the Provost is no longer bleeding. "I can heal him," she offers as clearly and loudly as she can, though her voice quavers with barely suppressed fight.

Thomas, Cepheus, and crew disappear through a tall set of gates and enter Delphi's grounds.

Spirit-Whisperer is holding the fort, so to speak. He's hardly a brute, so wading into the crowd would certainly be a Bad Idea. He stands at the Citadel's gates, directing traffic. As Hounds from the compound's garrison filter out into the Rialto, he points and shouts. The stubborn Varati Hound at his side ensures that no one will see his as a target. Seeing Murako's escort hobbling in his direction, the Estrel orders the nearby guards to lend them assistance.

Kosha throws himself around StormBearer, nosing up anxiously next to the shudra halfbreed healer. Snarls still rumble in his furry throat, but they're growing softer and beginning to modulate to whines now as he catches the scent of Eric's spilled blood.

Cynara lifts her eyes to Ashe, hard, cold, all business. "We don't have time to move him right now," she answers, then hears the other woman's words. Stopping, she looks from the halfbreed to Eric, assessing his condition mentally before she nods to Faanshi, "Do your best, let me know if you need assistance." She will not allow Eric to die, that is certain.

For the first time, the tall mongrel woman glances over to the shudra maiden -- watching her curiously. Despite all the commotion, Ashe manages to offer the veiled woman a faint smile, the man's head still resting in her lap. Slowly, she moves her mantle away from the wound, allowing the veiled healer to gauge the depth of the wound.

Her hands are itching, her ears are pricking. But if there's one thing the Nabi Devaki has managed to accomplish for Faanshi, it is to teach her how to keep her power from leaping out of her control before she intends to release it. "Thank you, domina," she whispers, and that's all she says even as she flings herself to her knees by the fallen man. Slender golden hands reach for the Provost; aether flows. A considerable amount of it, rough around its edges, but shaped and structured -- and soaking immediately into Eric's wounded form. She catches Ashe's smile and the display of the rent flesh, but if she smiles in reply that cannot be sensed with her veil concealing her features. Then, a heartbeat later, her eyes clench shut while her magic meets the wound and bids it to close.

Cynara observes the closing of the wound and her voice is one of murmured instruction, a teacher by nature, "Slowly, don't rush it. Feel the order and make it be..." She speaks in a soothing voice, so as not to distract. "You are doing well," she commends. When the wound has knitted itself together enough to stop the bleeding, the branded healer looks about at the Hounds who are about to start asking questions. "I must get him away." she states, waving two of the Outcast guards over to take him, "Gently, the meeting room," she instructs them. She turns to Faanshi and smiles, a faint warming of normally cool features, "You did well. Tell your teacher you are a good student."

The Provost moans ever so slightly as he is shifted and moved, but most of the pain seems to have left his face.

Faanshi snaps a now drained green gaze up to Cynara, startled by the praise, startled by -- does he still bleed? No? Oh, praise Ushas... "I... have no teacher now, domina," she breathes, but she bobs her head wearily, regardless. As it seems that the winged woman knows the Provost, and the Hounds wishing to assist the man, the shudra looks around in growing dismay. Where did StormBearer go? Where's her dog. "He.... won't bleed anymore, no..." With that, then, she pushes herself to her feet and begins to try to escape the crowd.

Merely waiting in silence, her own skill not nearly of any adequate level to assist, Ashe sighs. She does not fight it as the guards come to take the Provost away, though neither does she make any attempts to rise with the rest. Her attentions drift over to study the veiled woman. Ashe considers her thoughtfully for several long moments. As the veiled woman gets ready to leave she calls out softly, "Imphada?

Cynara considers those words for a moment, her expression thoughtful. She nods, "Let me know if you need one," she offers to the shudra, then turns to Ashe, "Bring me word of Thomas when you can, all right?" She waits to see if Faanshi responds.

You're not getting anywhere without your loyal hound, Faanshi. Kosha flings himself at the girl in silks of red and blue and gold, whining his demands to know that she is all right. Almost knocked over by the anxious dog, the maiden blinks again in Cynara's direction, blurting to her, "But I-I do not know who you are, domina--" Ashe's call registers with her at the same time, and those nervous green eyes, all that is visible of her face, flash their gaze back and forth from winged woman to Mongrel.

Cynara smirks, and shakes her head, "I am Cynara," she offers, then nods to Ashe and follows the men carrying the Provost.

Spirit-Whisperer watches, agitated and uneasy, as the crowd begins to disperse and the violence fades. Hounds are still making their rounds, enforcing the peace roughly where necessary. The Estrel grinds his teeth as he surveys the damage, clearly unhappy. Finally, apparently frustrated that there's nothing more for him to directly do, he pivots and turns back to the compound's gate, leaving the Hounds to their business. Thomas is inside, after all, and there's certainly more to be sorted through before the day ends. He and his escort of one quickly disappear into the Citadel.

FIN  

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