A Betrayal at Dusk [a forum RP]

[Aramara Meibi]

Hi everyone! I would like to experiment a bit with running a RP here on the forums. The RP will be contained entirely within this thread, beginning with my first post which will set the scene for the beginning of the story. I'm asking you to provide characters for the story, in your first post please describe your character and maybe give a bit of background as to how they came upon the scene. The story will conveniently be taking place on the 3rd Level of Yliakum, The Far Ground, so please use an original character besides the one you play with in-game, unless it makes sense for your character to be there, ie. he's gone traveling or such. If you aren't an active player but would like something for your character to be doing while out of the game, then great! I would be happy to have all you forum lurkers who no longer play to participate and get your RP fix as it were.

I'll give this a week after my first post for people to respond. After that, I will make a post to give further details according to the posts of the players and again ask for your responses. Please try and retain the order established in the first posts, in other words, this will be a turn based RP. After the first week, if you did not make an establishing post but would like to join in further down the line, please PM me first. That sort of decision will have to be made according to the number of players and the progress of the story. If you are participating, but no longer desire to, please be prepared to write your character out of the story gracefully.

So, with nervous trepidation overcome with a nothing to lose attitude, here goes:

[Aramara Meibi]

As the Crystal Wanes

It is a clear evening, the weather cool and fair, and the central plaza of the town Detrats on the Far Ground is bustling with activity. Today is the annual People's Festival, when the local Vigesimi meets with the populace on the eve of his departure to meet with the Octarch.

A stage has been prepared at one end of the square, where he is expected to give a speech, but for now he is mingling amongst the crowd, trading a few anecdotes and tall tales, listening to the concerns and complaints of his constituency. A thin crowd has already gathered about the stage, staking their claim on the prime vantage points in anticipation of his address, but most of the people are still taking part in the day's festivities.

A market is set up on one side of the square, left of the stage, where merchants from across the land peddle their wares. A Demorian in one stall is selling fine and intricate silver jewelry imported from elven metalcrafters. A family of Blikau Enkidukai have set up a colorful display of Ojavedan rugs and tapestries. Klyros and Nolthrir merchants from Land's End and below are selling flutes made from swamp reeds and a variety of baskets woven from dried lakeweed. A representative from the powerful Blacksmith's Guild has on display the finest of the past year's crafted weapons and armors.

On the side of the square opposite the market, to the right of the stage, is the local tavern, The Longbeard, an establishment owned and run by a particularly industrious Stonehammer. Today he debuting his newest craft brew, the Longbeard Stout. The tavern has an open air seating area and a line of inebriated patrons spills out onto the plaza, waiting eagerly for their next round of the dark, foamy booze. In a quieter corner off to the side, a sly and crafty looking Diaboli has set up a game of chance, with a few gamblers at his table taking the bait.

In the center of the square is set up a small bandstand, where a musical trio of travelling Lemur minstrels is performing a lively jig. The merrier of the crowd, young lovers and small children, dance and play around the musicians, keeping in time with the high-spirited music.

What do you do?

[Candy]

A Clamod fenki in plain, inconspicuous garb stands slightly apart from the rejoicing children, whispering to her friend. The girls are hardly past childhood themselves. She needs to get away from the baby of the family, her ten-cycle-old sister; this is her chance to rebel. She's been waiting for this for ages now. She firmly believes that there ought to be no government and no law, that society would divide into thriving tribes rather than crumble if the government were dissolved. Of course, she doesn't fully understand this view, and has heard only the pros and none of the cons. It's propaganda fed to her by her hero, her rogue father, whom she visits from time to time. He's been banished to the outskirts of town. Her mother allows it, more concerned with feeding seven children than making sure her progeny's political views match her own.

"Just keep an eye on her for the rest of the day, alright?"

"Keelana, what are you up to this time?" the fenki's friend asks.

"Nothing, I just want a break, that's all!"

"I don't believe you, but I'll watch your sister. If you let me dance with Micah." Keelana's friend smiled deviously, as if that's supposed to make the Clamod jealous. It doesn't.

"Fine. I'm going to break it off with him anyway, he's a terrible kisser." It's true. Micah is just a cover for the nights she spends spreading her anarchist message by painting on walls and surreptitiously dropping leaflets around town, anyway. She'd spend half an hour with him and then tell him she was going home while her family thought she was still out. It was pretty easy to get rid of him - his hand roamed a little too far every time without fail. She'll probably get caught tonight, though, and there's no point dragging the...mostly innocent menki into it. Keelana works solo, since she's pretty sure nobody she knows personally, save for Father and his outcast gang, agrees with her.

Keelana weaves through the crowd to a familiar shadowy spot, glancing around her. On the pretense of tying her boot, though she's pretty sure nobody is watching her anyway, she lifts a loose pavement stone that she'd dug a hole under by night and wrinkles her nose at the stench. The eggs are good and rotten, perfect to throw at the Vigesemi when he takes the stage. She picks them up, hiding them in the folds of her shawl and silently thanking Talad for the cool weather. Hopefully her plan will draw the attention of others with her view. She knows they're around - she hears others have been painting similar messages on the other side of town.

[I'm only playing Keelana. Feel free to snag one of the other characters if you're having difficulty coming up with your own.]

[Jilata]

The shadow of the house half hides a young Kore fenki in worn out clothes. Though looking relaxed on the first glance despite the watchful look at the growing market, a constant sheathing and drawing of her claws give away that she isn't as relaxed as she acts she is. She is waiting for the hunt to start. It is too early yet. The people are still watchful of their purses. But soon, when the festival is fully going, taking their whole attention, it will be her time to act. Hers and those of the other who are waiting like her.
Szahia's right ear turns to the side as someone approached her. The moment she recognized the voice, her heart stopped for a moment. She already knew that she wouldn't be able to keep all the loot she will make. But she has hoped that she won't be watched. Maybe she could get rid of that guy in the crowd.

"Remember who you are loyal to. The loot is to be shared with everyone."

As if. They keep it mostly in the higher ranks. Someone with a low rank like her won't see any of the money the other will make.

She nods. "Of course. I am not stupid."

No she wasn't. She was able to keep a high enough amount for herself without them knowing.

"That is why I am reminding you."

Szahia keeps herself from glancing to the Ylian boy next to her. How much does he know or guess? She has to be more careful from now on. Keeping their gaze on the crowd, they wait quietly together.

[Aramara Meibi]

[at this point I would like to keep this open for anyone to join, so please, feel free to add your entry]

The Crystal light grows increasingly dim and torches are now being lit across the plaza and on the stage in preparation for the Vigesimi's upcoming address. The Vigesimi himself, a handsome if not rugged Ylian, decked in the finest of gilded armor approaches the stage with his family and his court of local dignitaries, wealthy merchants, a high priest of Laanx, and leaders of the various craft guilds. Arlan Destrinoir inherited his position through his father, but he is not incompetent by any means, having achieved the rank of Captain of the City Guard before his father's passing, and through hard work, dedication and valor, careful to avoid any nepotism. In his few years reign, Detrats and the surrounding countryside has grown in wealth and prosperity, but his chivalrous ways and code of honor has exposed much corruption in the system, and he has not gone without making many powerful enemies.

The City Guard are now stationed throughout the plaza, at all entry points, and wherever there's a clear vantage point of the stage. Anyone who would be watching them and tracking their movements might notice that amongst a handful, wary eyes are watching each other and silent nods are being exchanged.

The minstrel band has ended their jig, two of the members have quit the bandstand to spend their newly earned tips on a few pints of Longbeard Stout, leaving behind their lute player, a lovely crimson haired Lemur woman, who plays a slow and bittersweet melody on her instrument.

Rhishandra, Keelana's Blikau friend, gathers up her courage and takes this opportunity to approach Micah and ask him to dance with her.

"Ohhh, I don't know..." he slowly replies, "Keelana was just here. What if she comes back? She wouldn't like seeing us two together."

"Oh come on Micah!" she protests, "You know she doesn't even like you like that, not like I do. She even said so herself, just a little while ago. She said she was gonna break it off with you. She's just using you you know."

At this Micah grows furious, as of course, it hurts his pride, and what is a menki without his pride? "She said that huh!? Well if she thinks she's dumping me she's got another thing coming. Where is she?" He scans the plaza, but is unable to spot her. He harumphs and goes stomping off into the crowd to find Keelana and give her a piece of his mind, leaving poor Rhishandra broken hearted and alone.

With a sigh she turns and takes Keelana's little sister by the paw, "Come on Tagiri, let's go see if they have any baked roltak left in the tavern."

The tavern now is packed, as news of the Longbeard Stout's robust flavor and, more importantly, outrageous alcohol content has spread across the town. Urist Macguiness Longbeard, the tavern's proprietor, bustles hurriedly about, along with his bevy of barmaids and waitresses, ensuring that everyone has a full mug and a smile on their face. There seems to be some sort of commotion, though, as one of the gamblers has just lost his month's wages to the crafty Diaboli and has snuck behind the bar, trying to sneak himself a free pint.

Across the plaza, most of the merchants are now packing up their wares. They know that as soon as the Vigesimi begins his address, no one will be interested in their goods. They count their gains and losses and stow away their crafts, all save but one stall, that belonging to the Blacksmith's Guild. The Captain of the Guild, a towering Ynnwn with silvery hair and adorned in armor equal in splendor that of the Vigesimi's, has now arrived and is surveying the plaza. Most of his guild's business comes from the local government and military, but the guild's cutthroat practices and underhand dealings with the countryside's more nefarious organizations has put him on sour terms with the Vigesimi. Needless to say, he has a vested interest in hearing the upcoming address.

In the shadows at the edges of the plaza, a third figure now approaches Szahia and the Ylian boy. He is dressed in a heavy cloak, the hood concealing his face in shadow, but they know, he is one of the higher ranking thieves. He directs their attention to the Blacksmith Guild Captain and speaks to them in a gruff whisper, "There's your mark."

"What?" the Ylian boy objects, "Hynlan? You can't be serious. I thought we were in an alliance with the Blacksmith Guild. And besides, you know he's got half the city guard in his pocket. That's a suicide mission!"

"Masters orders," the hooded figure replies in a calm and direct tone. "He wears a dagger which rightfully belongs to the master. It has a large ruby embedded in the hilt. Get it back." Without giving them a chance to further object, he turns and slips back into the shadows from whence he came.

"Come on," the Ylian boy nudges Szahia forward begrudgingly, "You heard 'im. You distract Hynlan while I go for the dagger, ok?"

[Candy]

Keelana ducks away from the spot where she picked up the eggs. The stone is neatly back in place, and she's fairly sure nobody knows what she's up to. Using it again is probably a bad idea. The fenki briefly considers filling the hole beneath the stone back up later, but shrugs off the thought. Someone else can find and use it. She might not have the time, or the freedom, to cover her tracks once they figure out who messed up the Vigesemi's pretty clothes anyway. She looks over the crowd, and sees a familiar set of ears moving towards her among the spectators.

"Rhishandra! You told him everything, didn't you? Never did know how to play your cards right. He could've been all yours, damnit! Calm down, Kee, there are more important things than your juvenile drama. This is your big night; gotta be focused."

She ducks into the crowd once again, trying to stay on the opposite side of the square from Micah, but close enough to the stage to aim well. As she darts past people she giggles, trying to give the impression of a child playing a game. People will be more forgiving if she bumps into one this way and she gives an innocent apology, although the rotten eggs may be harder to explain. She won't deny it if she's caught after they're thrown, but she must stay out of trouble long enough to make her statement.

"Probably better not to stay in one place with this smell anyway."

[C'mon guys, this is fun. Are our posts too long for you or something? ]

[Jilata]

If that guy hadn't stood next to Szahia, that request for the theft wouldn't have brought to her. Will all her acting of being a bad thief noticed? That would be the worst possible outcome. If they knew she didn't bring all the loot back... she grinds her teeth at the thought. Life wouldn't be easy for her if they found out. Most probably it was the best to vanish from this area then. But where to go?

She sighs, pushing herself away from the cold wall. "Distracting him? What exactly do you want me to do? Starting a fight close enough to him to draw his attention? Or push some goods over?" Her gaze wanders to the easy to spot Ynnwn. "I could scratch him as well." She wiggles with her drawn claws.

As she speaks, she started stretching her muscles, relaxing those which were stiffened through the waiting. Whatever that guy thought of to fulfill that request, she would have to do what was asked of her, even if she could get caught through it. Stupid ranks. If she were of a higher one.... But she isn't. So she had to obey. She already knew that.

[Aramara Meibi]

[This will be the last chance for anyone to join into the story freely. I apologize, but I've got some good ideas for the plot and I would like to speed the story up a bit. That being said, my next post will be the catalyst which sets the plot into motion, After that, I'm still open for other players to join in, it will just take more of a coordinated effort, so please PM me beforehand.]

"I don't know and I don't care... you can show 'im your goods for all I'm concerned, just make sure he ain't lookin' when I swipe his dagger. Now, you take the long way... through the crowd, so he doesn't see us together. Got it?"

Without waiting for her answer, the Ylian boy leaves Szahia behind and circles the bandstand towards the market. The Lemur flute player continues her bittersweet melody without a pause as he walks by, but glances up at him with a smile. He passes by without dropping any coin in the tip bucket. He's only a boy, foolish to think he'd understand that this is work, this is what puts bread on my table,  she thinks to herself, closing her eyes and plucking gently away at the strings of her lute.

The boy reaches the market and passes by the Blacksmith Guild booth to the nearby Enkidukai weavers, where he begins haggling with them over a rug. He has no intention to buy, of course, but has carefully positioned himself behind Hynlan, and is nearly in arms reach of the dagger on his belt. He's only buying time until Szahia makes her move.

If Hynlan notices the boy, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns and mumbles something gruffly to his associate running the booth. The associate, another Ylian not much older than Szahia's partner, is a novice to the guild, and sweats nervously in the presence of the big boss. Whatever Hynlan mumbles to him has him stir in panic, and he begins to shout with a cracking voice over to the crowd gathering around the stage, "Last chance at all guild crafted items! Special discount on Swords, Knives, Daggers and Axes! Come and get them while their hot! Don't miss out! Soon they'll be gone!"

Meanwhile, over at the Longbeard, Rhishandra and Tagiri have reached the bar counter and have placed their order, "Two baked roltaks to go, please." Rhishandra helps lift Tagiri up onto the barstool so that she can see over the counter, although she has to practically stand on tiptoe and crane her neck to see herself. She wasn't as quick to develop as Keelana and still retains some of her childhood plumpness, which is probably why she never gained the sort of attention from Micah that Keelana has.

The tavern is still bustling, as everyone is scrambling to get one last mug full before the Vigesimi's speech. One might think that such a place isn't safe for a couple of young fenkis, but Rhishandra's father is a notorious drunk, and she has frequented the spot many times in order to bring him home after a bender. In fact, the louse is passed out right now at one of the tables and a young Dermorian is picking his pockets, most likely one of Szahia's guildmates. So, even though some of the more lecherous of men fix their hungry eyes on the fenki teen, the waitstaff know her as a younger sister, and are quick to jab an elbow into the side of anyone caught leering in her direction.

The other two Lemur minstrels also have reached the bar, and recognize Rhishandra and Tagiri from the dancefloor. They strike up a friendly conversation with the young fenkis as they all four wait for their orders to be served. The waitstaff note that the conversation is polite and innocent, and so leave the minstrels be.

Jolly old Urist Macguiness Longbeard himself isn't getting to enjoy watching his profit margin skyrocket, for he is currently distracted by that rogue drunk who has slipped past the counter and has made his way into the storeroom and microbrewery attached to the back of the tavern. For some reason, that drunk is real good at hiding. "Come out wit' yer hands up, ye filthy varmint, 'fore I grab me de guards, an' have 'em take ye away."

A contingent of guards has now formed around the stage after the Vigesimi and his entourage have made their way upon it. Curiously, although a few seem to be dutifully surveying the crowd, most seem to be watching each other, or have their eyes locked upon various points across the plaza. Some even seem to have their eyes on the crafty Diaboli, who is now packing up his gambling board and dice after cleaning up on some poor saps. His sly smirk is still present as he quits the tavern and sinks quickly into the shadows of an adjoining alleyway.

In the midst of the crowd gathered in front of the stage, a furry paw taps on Keelana's shoulder. It is Micah, who has finally found her. "Aha! I've finally found you!" he concurs. "What's this I hear of you..." he cuts off as his nose crinkles and he covers it with his paw. "Ugh... Keelana... you stink!"

Now, Vigesimi Destrinoir steps up the the front of the stage, his court mage behind him, weaving a spell which will amplify his voice to carry across the plaza. A hush falls over the crowd, and all eyes lift up to see him. The quiet spreads to the Lemur lutist, who ceases her song, to the Blacksmith Guild barker, who clamps his mouth shut. Even the tavern drunks seem to pick up on the change in atmosphere, and lower there voices to near whisper. It seems all eyes and ears, and ear holes and sound vibration sensitive skins are tuned into the Vigesimi.

He clears his throat and begins, "My fellow citizens..."

[Candy]

"NonononononoNO!"

Keelana's ears flatten against her skull, and she narrows her eyes at her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend. He had to find her now, didn't he? She should've just told Rhishandra to tell Micah she was okay with it, saved this for later. "Hindsight is useless; it's now or never." She feels a pang of guilt as the images run through her mind - Micah behind bars, or getting beaten by the guards, Rhishandra and Tagiri and her mother being interrogated. Ending up in that camp with her father. It might not be so bad, if it was just him, but she still doesn't entirely trust his colleagues. Nobody in their right mind would. "Stop it, stop it, the guards wouldn't go that far. I'm just a kid stirring up trouble; all the blame will land on me," she tries to convince herself. Despite her attempt to calm down, taking deep breaths of the reek her ammunition produces, visualizing the Vigesemi wearing the odor and covered in putrid goo, the panic still comes through in her voice.

"Micah, can we talk later? You don't want to get wrapped up in this," she hisses rapidly under her breath, plucking the three eggs from her shawl. Her whispers, quiet as they are, sound like a booming roar to her. Her eyes turn to the Vigesemi and she watches him calculatingly. "Run, now, before they think you're my accomplice or something. I've been planning this for ages now; you've got about three seconds to get outta here."

She draws her arm back with one rotten egg in her trembling hand, clearly aiming, hoping to the gods that Micah doesn't mess this up for her. The egg makes it out of her hand, flying directly at the Vigesemi's face, the other two quickly following, aimed with less precision.

"RUN!" she repeats in a whisper-shout, pointing past Micah and turning to dart in the opposite direction. Of course, running is probably the most suspicious thing someone could do right now, but just standing there isn't entirely smart either. Heck, throwing the eggs wasn't smart, but she tries to avoid what she believes is inevitable: Someone catching her, and the trouble that will follow.

[Edited due to some OOC behind-the-scenes talk]

[Jilata]

Szahia rolls her eyes as the Ylian left. He doesn't know how effective what he suggested could be. A few seconds gained through freezing a person could be quite useful. But this time she doesn't intend to use that. There has to be a less troublesome way of getting this stupid thing done.

She takes her time and examines the area she could operate in. If she acts too far away, it won't work and if she was too close, the risk of getting caught was too high. She sighs softly and makes her way into the crowd. Of course not in the direct way to the Blacksmiths Guild. She uses the natural movement of the crowd to advance towards her target so she doesn't raise any suspicion.

She ignores the twitching of her finger. One, two, three purses she could have gotten already. A stupid idea crosses her mind. What if a purse suddenly spills its content on the ground? Accidentially of course... She grins. She liked the idea more and more while thinking about it.

[Mariana Xiechai]

[Hope it's not too late to join]

A bustling and jostling crowd was always a cause for excitement. So was the presence of a pumped up politician, spouting elaborate, eloquently spoken lies. Promises of change, perhaps, of improvements for the city. Maybe a little bit more control of crime, or maybe even the absolutely revolutionary idea of a guard that might not stand in a silent catatonic state when there was a brutal murder taking place at their feet.

Promises, promises, Rhianon mused, her smile quirking her lips upwards and dimpling her cheeks. The elven woman wound her way expertly through the throng, eyes locked on the peacock-proud speaker. She kept her hood pulled firmly up, so that her vivid green gaze peered outwards, but her delicate features were otherwise obscured. Not that she was planning anything particularly nefarious for the moment, but it never hurt to be careful. A long history of stabbing people did not bode well for the avoidance of long-held grudges, even when those killings were interspersed quite methodically with frequent traveling and the covering of ones light-footed tracks.

No, it was boredom that stopped her long enough to listen to the impending ramble. The bumping and busting of the audience hardly bothered her; she blended in with a practiced perfection, unassuming in every which way. It had been some time since she'd graced the streets of Hydlaa; a sabbatical had been quite necessary for her after a recent encounter with a sadistic alternate personality and resulting recovery. A rather unstable recovery, if she could tell anything about it. But no matter, now was the time to have an internal chortle at the prettily painted buffoon now mounting his imaginary pedestal.

Let us hear what you have to say, hm?

[Aramara Meibi]

[from this point onwards, please PM me before joining this RP]

"My fellow citizens..."

The putrid eggs sail through the air, spinning end over end. The first nails the Vigesimi directly in the face, just as Keelana had envisioned over and over again in her mind's eye. The second and third were less accurately aimed and fly over his head, to land on the dignitaries left standing at the rear of the stage.  A collective gasp resounds throughout the crowd. The Vigesimi is left stunned as rancid yolk runs down his face and drips onto his polished ceremonial armor.

"Keelana!" Micah shouts out as the fenki darts out of the crowd. He hadn't had time to react, had only realized what she was doing after the act was done. Quickly he  realizes the folly of calling after her, for now the entire crowd, the Vigesimi, the guards, know exactly who the perpetrator is. This dawns on him and her last words register. He turns to flee in the opposite direction, but it's already too late. A few concerned citizens more loyal to their local government stand in his way and apprehend him. Keelana, though, makes it out of the crowd and is half way towards the market by now.

What is she waiting for? Damn!

Nervously, Szahia's Ylian partner, Kjarin, glances over his shoulder to Hynlan standing behind him, his eyes glancing down the the ruby encrusted dagger hanging in a black leather scabbard on the Ynnwn's belt. It remains just out of arms reach, but Kjarin is able to quickly deduce the proper method of slipping the dagger out without Hynlan's notice. He turns back to the Ojavedan, trying to play of the snarl tugging on his lip. He's running out of time; he can only haggle with the weaver for so long before either having to make a purchase or come to an impasse. If Szahia doesn't act quickly, he may lose his only chance at a grab and go.

The gasp and murmur amongst the crowd draws his attention back over his shoulder, and he sees not Szahia, but a different fenki, running at a full sprint across the plaza towards the market. He glances up at Hynlan, who is laughing merrily at the Vigesimi's embarrassment.

"Who is this kid?" The Ynnwyn turns to his associate, "I like her!"

Kjarin sees his chance. Szahia or no Szahia, Hynlyn's attention is drawn. Carefully he reaches out towards the dagger hilt. ...And if I pull this off without her help, that's more my share of the cut, he smirks smugly to himself.

"C'mout, c'mout, wherever ye are!"

Urist creeps through his food stores looking for the vagrant drunk. "I know yer in here! No use in hidin' lad, 'tll only make me angry... and ye wouldn't like it when I'm angry." He peeks behind a barrel here, a crate there, but the derelict seems to have all but disappeared. "Ack, just me luck," the dwarven brewer curses and turns to leave the storeroom, having given up on his search. But, as he turns he is confronted with the elusive man, who wears a grin on his face and suddenly seems not so inebriated.

"Aye... yer gonna pay fer that drink ye swiped, and don't be thinkin' yer welcome back ta me fine establishment neither." Urist says gruffly from beneath his beard. He's a fair fellow, but let's be reasonable, he's trying to run a business here.

The man emits a high pitched laugh through pressed and grinning lips, "Hmmhmmhmmhehehehahaha.... as if there'll be a tavern to return to. I'm sorry Urist, but you've chosen the wrong side." The man opens his longcoat and reveals an array of Red Way glyphs sown into the lining, brimming with explosive energy.

"Ye daft fool! You'll blow this place sky high!" Urist's narrowed eyes grow suddenly wide with terror beneath his bushy brow. He shouts into the front room, but it is too little too late. "Everyone out! This place is gonna ---"

As if to finish his sentence, the glyphs in the madman's coat activate, and a torrent of flames suddenly engulfs the both of them, as well as the entirety of the storeroom. The fireball blasts through the roof and blows out all the windows in the small warehouse. As the flames reach the brewery, the fermenting brew bubbles in the sealed tanks until the pressure builds within. The tanks burst at the seams, the alcohol ignites and a second, much larger explosion erupts, this time taking out the entire tavern.

The explosions rock the plaza, sending percussive waves and bits of deadly shrapnel hurtling towards the already stunned crowd. People are knocked off their feet and others duck and cover. Screams of terror are heard, and general panic grips the civilians. The fireball climbs into the air, bathing the square in an eerie red glow and reflecting off the collective wide eyes of the terrorized crowd. Only one thing can be certain at this point: no one could have survived that blast.

[Candy]

Keelana dives behind a kran and scrambles towards the gates. At least, she thinks she's headed for the gates. The crowd is thick and people are grabbing for her, but she's fast. She hears an explosion and pauses only for a second, ears swiveling towards the noise's source, but tries to keep on running. Except...

The fenki comes to and finds a crowd that's just as dazed as she is. More people are running now, and she's on the ground. She closes her eyes again.

"I have to get up."

She doesn't.

"I need to run."

The acrid smell of smoke is in her nose and throat, the taste of it making her feel like her tongue is made of ashes.

The pain comes slowly, and she realizes that she's on fire. Any other time this would be more terrifying than her broken leg and the massive plank, a large splinter of which is sticking right through her ankle, but she pats out the fire with her shawl as if she were merely bandaging a minor cut. Her thoughts are clouded and she drifts between thinking all of this is a dream and not thinking at all. People aren't watching where they run. She needs to move elsewhere. Keelana yanks the wood out of her leg and the agony nearly knocks her out again. She removes her belt and fastens it around what she figures is the correct spot on her calf. It's supposed to stop...something...why don't they make the smoke stop? A woman is screaming about medical attention, but she doesn't believe it's for her.

Someone knocks a large barrel over. Water spills out, and climbing into the overturned container strikes the fenki as a good idea. If she had a clear mind she might think of where her other good ideas have landed her, but she's on Dakkru's doorstep and some part of her knows it. She manages to get in, injured leg first. It rolls to the side a little, she gets giddy, and the world goes black once again.

[Jilata]

As the first turmoil started, Szahia acts quick. The purse she had intended to open with her sharpened claws to spill the content, ended with a quick movement, cutting the tape holding it on its owner, in her paw. She moved on, still acting natural in the crowd. There is no better time to get some purses then now. And that guy she was supposed to distract was distracted already.

A fenki darts close to her through the crowd. She follows her with her eyes and mumbles. "Stupid beginner. Never run."

The shout only let her shake her head. It was easy to connect the things. The comotion was caused by that fenki. She thanks her quietly and goes back to her work, not wanting to let go such a good opportunity. But then the explosion happened. She ducks into the crowd, swearing lowly now.

She has to get out of there. Now. If she got caught, there won't be some easy time for her. And even if she wasn't caught, there was nothing worse then a panicking crowd. She moves along, using temporary open space to get on faster. She ducks under swinging arms, steps over people on the ground.

She could see how many of the purses she could snatch right now. But it wasn't worth the risk. They wouldn't be of any use if she died for them.

[Mariana Xiechai]

The dermorian had found the egg throwing rather amusing indeed. She'd been in the process of throwing her head back and adding laughter to the chattering din of disgruntled civilians and boisterous ne'er do wells alike when an overwhelming concussion of sound boomed out over the plaza. The unexpected force was enough to stagger her, and she danced awkwardly for a few moments, back turned away from the catastrophe that was unfolding behind her.

But she was not oblivious to the heat. Nor to the miscreant bit of flaming wood that hurtled through the air as though seeking an intended target, and finding said target in the meaty flesh of her thigh. Pain lanced through her, and then start, animalistic panic, as slowly the embers on the wood began working into her clothing and devouring the fabric.

Fire!

The elf slapped at herself, swearing and on the brink of tears. Not from the pain, no, though surely her nerves were screaming. The reaction was a phobic one, and the moment she'd managed to extinguish the flames, instantly there was relief.

That is, until she raised her head and saw the fire rising high in the direction of the tavern, lapping at the air with ravenous orange-red tongues. She could see people around her falling down, their own clothing and hair being consumed, their arms flapping frantically and their bodies writhing as they hit the ground and tried to snuff out the flames. Images of dead, blackened, hardened bodies flashed in Rhianon's mind, and they fueled her panic to an entirely new level. Her breathing sped up. She verged on hyperventilation. Her fingertips trembled and moved to jerk the wood from her leg, ignoring the blood that spurted from the injury. Urged by adrenaline and primal fear, she took off at a full run, her pant leg soaking in crimson.

By the time she made it to an alleyway, she was nearly unconscious. With just enough coherency to remove a strip of leather from her bags, Rhianon made a tourniquet just above the injury, leaned back against the gritty stone of a nondescript building, and abandoned herself to the bliss of blackness.