Date: November 12, 1999
Place: The Rialto - Haven
Cast: Deianyra, Drusus, FallingStar, Jana, Nox, Pandora, Richard, Sarra
Scene: The night all magic went awry....

The chair crashes over, shattering into pieces of rotten wood as Sarra vaults out of her seat. Subconsciously, the tension has had to have had some effect, but she's in a rather self-centered mood, by the looks of things. As long as she doesn't start singing, everything will be fine... What she does do is begin to wander about the Rialto, blinking and apologizing to various people and chairs that she bumps into. She's forgotten to squint, which reduces her vision significantly, especially considering the dwindling light.

Drusus holds out a hand to Flavius, who looks ready to leap onto a wall and cling, catlike. He's no mage. But the recent events have just been... extraordinary. And ordinary is his bread and butter. Drusus says, "Be calm, Flavius. Wait. I do not think it will be entirely safe to go in there right now."

And to test his theory, Drusus tries something: he tries the normal manifestation of his own power, which is an stilling of the air around him. The feathers of his wings are suddenly pulled out, as if standing straight away from his wings; his hair rises and the hem of his tunic and toga lash as if some unseen force were trying to rip them from him. His eyes widen with alarm. Dust is pulled up from the ground around him, a whirling devil of choking brown dirt exploding upwards and outwards. His guards take an involuntary step away.

Drusus freezes and in too many long moments the effect clears. His hair is tousled and powdered with dirt and he swallows, taking in a much-needed long and deep breath. "Well, now," he says conversationally to Flavius. "Interesting." Once again he looks at Delphi. "Yes. We'll be staying out of there for a little while."

The Emperor, now cheated of his destination, turns and looks out over at the Rialto and its inhabitants. It's not alarming to see so many signs of anxiety in the crowd. There are so many mages in this city, and the non-mages are too used to being around mages to miss when the mages are upset.

Deianyra seems unaware of Richard, his little charges, and everyone else passing by her for the moment. Centered completely on what's going on in her own head, her unusual senses have been shut down, blinding her in effect. Brushing the copper hair back from her forehead, she sighs and blinks, searching the crowd once more. For what, she is unsure.

While his guardian starts gruff haggling with the merchant for a pair of child-sized cloaks, Roki catches sight of the disturbance across the way, centered around Drusus. It's hard to miss, after all; several other market-goers shy away in palpable unease as the air stirs up dirt around him, backing off enough to give the little boy a clear view. "U-Uncle Richard," he blurts, "th' Emperor, he made a dirty wind, didja see?"

This catches Richard's attention enough that he shoots a sharp sapphire gaze towards the Citadel; with that, then, he forks over a handful of coins to the equally uneasy merchant, and barks to the children, "Keep a sharp eye, bairns. The mages're goin' mad, it seems, and the faster we get to cover the better."

Miss? There is no way to miss these things. There are cries of horror as a cart of turnips suddenly sprouts in every direction, sending out feeling roots like some sort of tentacled monster. They wind and curl, eliciting a high-pitched scream as one disgustingly white curl wraps around a woman's foot and brings her tripping to the ground. Green suddenly flowers over the entire cart, turning a brown mass into a lush and massive bush of green within seconds and leaving the owner to stare at it in stunned horror.

Yes, some mages have already gone mad. Jana is probably one of them. Skittering about now like a frightened animal, she darts from tree to tree, peering up into its branches. Between shrill whistles, she calls out a single name, "Sage! Sage!" This continues for a short while before she sags against a tree trunk, pressing her fists against her eyes and suppressing a moan.

Pandora stumbles in, looking beyond exhausted. The Atlantean's hesitating step is not that of one unaccustomed to the weight of the waterless land, but the bare-footed drag of one so worn to the bone that each effort to put one foot in front of the next is a near-blinding pain. Water sheets off of her body... not just that which would drip, but a constant flow leaving spreading puddles behind her.

The cart erupts in a furious boiling mass of life gone utterly wrong. Flavius can only squeak with terror. The Schola, having stepped away from Drusus, now step closer, pointing their pikes at the cart. One can almost hear their thoughts: how in Ares' great Name are we supposed to handle that? Luckily, it is some distance away. Drusus looks over and sees Jana's frantic pleading to the trees. Abruptly he turns and strides towards her. The Schola hastily keep up. Poor Flavius is left behind. He'll never look at a plate of vegetables the same again.

Deianyra had lifted her head just in time to spot the cart well, sprout roots. Blinking violet eyes rapidly, she takes a few steps away from her stall, wings and nostrils flaring. "What in the name of Tyche...?" She mutters. She glances at the cart's owner and then onwards to the mages falling under some affliction. The next prayer upon her lips is for herself.

Aether-emit from Luna: Pressure builds, pushing from all sides and building up within you, clamoring, screaming, begging to get out. So much power, it is easy to feel tempted...

Sarra has the worst luck, along with being the worst thief in Haven. A vegetable bonks her on the head, and she looks at the fallen turnip in startlement. "What... has the city gone mad?" She looks up, and turns slowly, only now realizing the magnitude of what has happened to the city.

Nox has felt nothing directly of the changes in the aether, but the effects is all too obvious to him. With a wary gaze, he watches the chaotic changes on the Rialto, then decides to not remain too close. Spreading his wings again, he flies up, to crouch down on a roof of a shop, his violet eyes never leaving the center of activities.

Cover. Yes. Take cover. FallingStar glances about herself, shivering like a leaf in the wind as she searches for some of that cover. Especially cover from psychotic self-growing vegetables, which would likely be all the rage in some famine-stricken part of the world. She finds a nice niche between a pair of stalls and wedges herself in there, resting the basket in front of her feet as she curls up, wrapping arms around her legs. Hiding. Hidden. Safe. She even closes her eyes, squeezing them tight shut. Can't see anything, can't feel anything, she's safe in her little space.

Webbed fingers reach desperately and close around the pole holding an awning aloft. Pandora clings there, looking distinctly unhealthy even with the color of her skin so oddly patterned. Something about it looks... off. She raises her eyes to the spire of Delphi and pants, gills fluttering in red slits against her blue-green neck while water continues to stream off of her body.

Sinking to her knees, Jana's eyes are drawn towards the northwestern skies. Wings are brought up about her head, holding there, stiff and tense, waiting out whatever invisible terrors haunt her. Eventually, a shaky hand reaches out, pulling her back to her feet. "Soon soon soon, now now," she whispers, then turns and again lifts her fingers, emitting another whistle to the tree tops.

Deianyra shakes her head and turns to head back to her stall... but never gets that far. Her face scrunches up as the aether begins tapping at her skull, tapping inside her skull, begging, pleading, demanding freedom. Freedom that might well kill her, if the rumors of that Estrel were to be believed. True, Deia was no Estrel, but she also had a lot less in the way of training. A hand lifts to her head, as if to keep the pressure back by physical force while she turns to seek shelter in her stall.

"Flavius!" Drusus barks. "Get back home now!"

"Eep!" is the pudgy scribe's response but oh, Tyche, is he happy to get out of the Rialto! Hey may not look like a hunting hawk, but he certainly flies with the frantic speed of one.

Drusus begins to kneel by Jana, to reach out a hand to her, but then something happens. He sucks in his breath. "Marcus. Stay here with the domina."

"Aye, Deu--" The Schola barely has time to acknowledge his monarch's command before that monarch is gone. Bowed over, he runs, his useless wings tucked tightly across his arms and back and his left hand keeping his saber from rattling against his leg as he tears off eastward.

Drusus races east to the intersection of Main and Vicina.

Elette and Roki survived the plague, survived the deaths of their parents and Richard's own bout with that dire illness. These children have developed steel within them beyond their years, and so they do not scream as chaos begins to erupt in any number of locations across the market. Roki grabs hold of the cloaks Richard thrusts into his young hands, while the tall black-haired trader and thief swings his edgy stare around everything in sight. Now, in fact, would be a good time to find cover. The food will have to wait. "C'mon, children, now," he orders them, shifting Elette's weight to one lean arm while grabbing hold of Roki's shoulder with the other. "We're leavin'!"

Telepathically to all the area: Pandora's mind rambles into the Aether, suddenly louder than it has all right to be, echoing hollowly with the single-minded drive to get to the Citadel. Every other thought has been subsumed into that all-consuming need.

Sarra doesn't really seem to understand what's going on. It's not that she's stupid... she has just been dazed by the events of the past few days, and even the panic of those around her don't spur her to action. She stops, right by a large table, trying to avoid any more falling fruit. She turns helplessly to those around her. "What...?" Mongrels. Oi.

Aether-emit from Luna: The pressure rises once more, bubbling inside you and ready to burst. Hotter and hotter it gets, pressing harder and harder in its striving to get out... much more powerfully than before. But before it bursts totally free it starts to ebb again. Not to its recent, roiling levels does it fall, but an increment higher, tap-tap-taping on your defenses.

Nox can at least keep an overview from his exalted spot on the roof. He spots a few familiar faces among the crowd, gaze wandering between Sarra, Richard and his kids, to make sure none of the chaos let them fall on the ground. He smooths his feathers absent-mindedly with his fingers, as suddenly an unexpected gall of wind catches him. Trying to grasp something, he reaches out into the empty air as it engulfs him, pushing him over the ledge of the roof.

Pandora gasps and falls to her knees. Nearby, every last bottle of wine bursts open, the liquid within snaking out in ruby glory in tendrils that appear to be alive. They don't crash to the ground immediately, but rather reach out to the falling Atlantean and sinuously wrap around her body before flowing on to the ground and spreading out there like a puddle of blood.

Deianyra winces as the pressure begins to grow inside her head and she stumbles, wings flaring for balance as she lands hard on her hands and knees. A breath hisses out painfully and she rises unsteadily, unaware of the blood seeping out of fresh cuts in her knees as she seeks shelter. Confused, she loses sight of her stall and turns to park herself in the nearest alcove she can find, which happens to be the same that FallingStar is cowering in. Her head snaps around to spot Pandora, but she stays where she is. Anyone drawing near is assaulted by an unexplainable anxiety beyond their own.

Grey eyes wander up towards this strange man, this Schola named Marcus. Jana cringes away from him, murmuring something to herself about finding her lost one. Bony fingers are lifted to press against her eyelids once more, and the search for the one named Sage is abandoned as she falls back to her knees. A choking sob is wracked from her throat, followed by a long, low whine of pain.

Even if FallingStar wanted to move, it probably wouldn't be an option at the moment. She curls up even tighter, whimpering softly in pain both mental and physical, apparently totally oblivious to everything outside herself. And, well, Deianyra's proximity isn't really helping her any, even if she's not consciously aware of it.

He might be one of the few remaining sane people in the immediate area, it grimly occurs to Richard -- and if the mages going mad weren't bad enough on its own, their magic is going wild as well. He lets out a hiss of shock as he is peppered with shards from shattered wine bottles, and instinctively he whirls to try to shield the children from the eruption, as though he might have wings upon his back with which he could cover them. But he does not; he has to settle for putting his lean shoulders and back between himself and the small ones, as the tendrils of wine shoot past them in their quest to surround Pandora in scarlet liquidity.

Not a drop falls upon Richard or the children and as the puddle advances towards their feet, it suddenly pulls back and 'decides' to flow another direction, leaving not even a drop behind. Pandora's white wrap, as well, shows not even a single speck of red on its pristine (if sodden) expanse. She groans aloud in a voice rough with disuse, "Delphi... must... warn... Delphi." In her crouch, the pendant falls free from within her clothing to swing back and forth, the four-pointed star sparkling in the light.

Sarra gasps, as the oh-so-musical sound of shattered glass mixes with a chorus of screams... She clutches the table hard, tugging her hoods both over her head, tying them tightly. She seems in a frozen panic, but her small precautions prevent, for now, too much disaster befalling her.

Nox manages to unfold his wings in mid-fall, which only serves the gust of wind to carry him further towards the center. Unfortunately, his ungraceful land happens to be right on top of the crouching Jana. Stumbling right into her, he emits a deep, startling, "Umph!" then manages to regain his stance as his sandals touch firm ground. His head snaps back over his shoulder, to study the woman he just rammed. "Sorry, ma'am," comes his immediate excuse.

Aether-emit from Luna: Again, it crashes over you, the building pressure. Higher and higher. It wants out. Now.

Deianyra lifts stained hands to grasp her tousled, copper-tressed head, wings collapsing around her in an attempt to shield her from the growing demands of the aether. But the demands come from within. As her 'other' sense flares in painful being, the confusion grows. No longer 'blind, FallingStar's fear and pain feed Deia's empathic sense, amplified right back at the poor healer and anyone else in the vicinity. Pain, anguish, fear... the range extends outward from Deia as the aether grows more insistent. Inhaling sharply, Deia turns to glare at FallingStar. "Stop it!" She hisses.

A webbed hand closes around a tiny ankle left unmarked by the wine. Now the leg is quickly wet, and the foot, and a puddle grows around the child's feet as water flows from the crouching woman. Pandora stares up from her sprawl into the girl's eyes and croaks, "It comes... from... the depths. Comes here..."

Telepathically to all the area: Pandora's mind roils with sudden fear and an image etches itself through the Aether -- sinuous. Serpentine. And teeth.

Deianyra wrenches her attention from FallingStar, turning to gaze at Pandora across the way. Blinking at the frightful vision being relayed to her by the Atlantean, Deia shakes her head, as if that might clear it. And perhaps the sun will sprout daisies, but one must try.

Fed by the nearby empath, by the insistent demands of the aether, by everything else that has been building up for days, FallingStar suddenly uncurls, back arching against the confined space as she gives a silent scream. Scarlet stains her hands where nails dug into the skin, blood trickling unnoticed down her arms. Stop it? If only she could.

Now Elette begins to whimper in Richard's arms, burying her face against his ebon shirt once he surges to his feet. Wails of confusion and terror begin to erupt from some of the merchants and market-goers in Deianyra's immediate proximity, and three Mongrels go scrambling backwards in a blind terror, desperate to flee the shapeless pain gripping their thoughts. They might not be able to wield magic -- but they are all too vulnerable to its effects. Hearing the cries, his own eyes turning dark and strained as he tries to wrestle with emotions not his own threatening to well across his mind, Richard barks out another order to get Roki moving, and soon the man and the two children are trying to push their way through the market. More people join them; someone screams, "Get away from Delphi! The mages! They're mad! They're all mad!"

Jana's screeches as Nox flies into her, and she bats her hands at the man as if he were the Khalid Atar himself. Frightened, exhausted tears roll down her cheeks, and she cries out, "It is beginning! It is now! The Wrong is now..." She begins to stagger up to her feet, pushing aside the Schola that attempts to help her, reaching out for the tree trunk. "I have to find Sage," she murmurs, "... have to, have to..." A wild-eyed gaze settles upon Nox, and she tells him, "Go... get out while you can."

Aether-emit from Luna: Once more... but this time the wave of pressure trembles around you, remaining. Longer. Longer. It does not seem like this will ebb...

Deianyra grits her teeth, one hand pressed tightly to her skull. Turning back to FallingStar, she grimaces, reaching out a hand to the woman, as if wanting to help her. But she hesitates. What can she do? She can barely control herself. That thought, she turns her attention to trying to dampen her empathic abilities, but with the aether growing ever more insistent, her lack of training and fear is her downfall and her efforts prove futile in the end.

Aether-emit from Luna: Like a tidal wave just before the crest falls upon the land, the pressure within trembles around you, quivering with potential. You feel it hold there with aching force until suddenly it crashes. Around you. Beyond you. And then it is gone. Completely.

Nox looks at Jana as if she's coming from another planet, even if he is the one with the wrong colors. But that doesn't seem to matter. "Sure thing," he only mutters, trying to once again take to flight. However, the dense crowd is not giving him enough room to spread his wings, so he has to resume slipping through the crowd. Suddenly, Sarra's cowering, hooded form catches his eyes, and he turns on his way, rushing towards her.

Deianyra trembles with the force of that last aether wave, opening her eyes a crack. Exhaustion lining her face, she glances over her shoulder, uncertain. Could it be... over?

Pandora's eyes roll up and back and the woman trembles once and then collapses into the puddle on the cobbles. The water ceases its endless run from her skin, slowing to a few droplets and then eventually starting to dry in the sun.

Oblivious to the wild buckings of the aether if not the drastic results, Richard and his two charges duck and dart their way through the panicked throngs trying to get out of the marketplace. Soon enough, the man and the children reach the relative safety of the Rialto's edge -- but even then they do not stop, running pell-mell into Bordertown, the place one is least likely to find mages going mad.

Richard and his two young charges race toward the northwest.

As quickly as she'd stiffened, earlier, FallingStar sags, collapsing into a little heap onto the ground. Her hands uncurl, the wounds inflicted on her palms still bleeding sluggishly, staining her skin and clothes alike. Without a word, without moving, she just begins to cry, silently, tears streaming from unseeing eyes.

As the fur (among other things) flies, Sarra is only trying not to get hit. The mage energies jerk her chair around, because she's picked the chair a bit too close to one or another of the overactive mages. The mongrel herself grips the table with both hands, breathing harshly as she attempts to keep calm. Keep calm... the feat of her life, and not improving terribly right now. Nox's form is noted, but she can't do anything about it. Panic fights it's way up into her eyes; she's never been terribly good at self-control. It's a really, really good thing she's not a mage, or... well, bad things would happen.

Nox finally managed to elbow and slink his way to Sarra and, without asking or even hesitating, he grabs the girl at her neckline and simply drags her up, towards him. A few people punch and kick the dark Empyrean around as they rush away, but Nox's attention, despite the pain, is totally focused on the thief. "Let yourself go!" he whispers soothingly, "I'll take you home."

Pandora picks herself slowly up off of the ground, still looking nothing more than exhausted. She certainly doesn't have the energy to communicate her fear. Webbed hands cling to the awning-support as if it were all that allowed her to drag herself and remain upright.

Deianyra glances about her one last time before seeking out FallingStar once more with her violet gaze. The woman doesn't seem alone in her collapse. Deia was severely affected, but her magic was not so strong as that, perhaps. Reaching our a gentle hand, she places it on the woman's shoulder, shaking. "Are you all right?"

Gack. That wasn't supposed to happen. Sarra's startlement overrides her panic, at least briefly, so that she doesn't even question the fact that she's being dragged away. She ducks her head, gasping for breath as she tries to avoid those nasty folks about her. While they aren't trying to hurt her (except for the odd merchant whom Sarra might have actually succeeded in pilfering from), the crowd is not exactly sane, and hitting a moving target isn't all that easy. All her attention is concentrated on that, and on calming herself, so she has no time to try to figure out where she's being taken or who has her.

Startled back to awareness of herself and surroundings at the touch, FallingStar shudders, one hand drawing up to scrub at her dampened cheeks. Considering how messy her hands were before, well, she looks really bad by the time she's done. No answer is given to Deianyra's query, but at least the Sylvan is moving. And she doesn't seem to be injured, except for her hands.

Pandora glances over towards Nox and Sarra with what might almost be a note of envy. No-one here to carry her away, as much as it might be desired. She takes one step away from the booth. And then another. And a third. Eventually she picks up her lurching pace towards Delphi once more.

FIN  

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