(1866-11-23) A Feast of Chaos
A Feast of Chaos
Summary: Chaos breaks loose all over the city of Rikton.
Date: 1866-11-23
Related: A Feast of the Faithful in Chaos
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Havelock  Jarret  Emrys  Jephray  Letholdus  Shirlyn  Siada  Stellan  Thomas  Viola  Yves  

<* Rikton - Holy Palace Grounds - The Holy Palace - Throne Room *> (Later Tarris Manse)
The palace throne room is richly appointed and dominated by a dais upon which an exquisitely gilt edged throne, carved with the varying Crosses of the One Faith sits tall, commanding the eye to gaze upwards towards it and the one who sits upon it. The white marble floors are polished to such a shine while all about the room columns support the high domed ceiling upon which scenes from the One Faith are depicted with such beauty and artistry. Paintings and richly appointed tapestries line the walls and members of the Palace Guard stand still and to attention bearing their large pikestaffs. Doors lead off into the depths of the palace, to many a room each as rich as the last. Offices, private quarters and studies all serving the Head of the One faith.
(1866-11-23)

The day has gone well. Earlier Knights said their vows, and then in a long procession the nobility, headed by some of Rikton's elite nobles makes their way down to the ocean. There a group of Cardinals dips the nobles in the water, one after the other, absolving them of their sins. The day then has some subdued parties, but nothing like has been seen the rest of Carnival, since the sins have been cleansed, it would be a shame to sin again.

So it is that as evening comes, the Palace of the High Priest is laid open for feasting. Nobles especially are invited, but more than a few wealthy and influential merchants, especially those from Four Corners and Kentaire find their ways into the halls of High Priest Alejander. There a grand meal is laid before them, with Knights, who had fasted and held vigil being given preferential treatment to the food. Boar, roast beef, great bowls of potatoes crushed to a fine paste and laced with cloves of garlic and headed with butter, vegetables from every corner of Tirth, including sautéed Ice Peppers. Soups and stews and the bread, loaves of the pastry like items piled on each table. Loaves of baguettes, potato bread, sourdough, Banana Bread from Navali, and of course baskets at each end of Rikton's unique hard breadstick with an herb cheese dipping cup.

Torches would defile such a setting, and in their stead, Oil lanterns are fitted to the wall sconces while the hall's many hearth's provide warmth and their own bit of light. The dais, where the High Priest sits is modest as it sits with a grand view of the bay through an ornate but functional window that nearly takes up the wall the dais rests in front of. A simple linen table cloth of white, with a sampling of each dish rests on the table. Beside the central ornate chair are eight others. Rikton's Cardinals and the High Priest's personal council sit in these plain unadorned chairs, their red robes immaculate and clean. Though only four of the chairs are occupied, with half of the Faith's Cardinal's seeing to their flocks, or performing duties in the name of the One this night.

The Charing lady strides in, her usual brown leathers adoring her body. She looks comfortable, at least, if she's late. She doesn't really care. There's a certain… grouchiness that follows in her wake, it's safe to assume not many make eye contact with her for fear of freezing to their seats. Shirlyn pulls a chair out and it squeaks across the white marble floors. With a flick of her wrist she tosses her long braid to her back, it looks as if she's about to put her boots on the table when she sits, but to her neighbor's relief she just pulls her chair in and herself closer to the table.

Stellan was up early to recite his vows and get dunked into cold water and to nearly freeze as he attempted to dry off. It was a good way to get woken up, to be sure. He was presently feasting on a dish of boar and potatoes - so far his third of the night. With his mouth full, he wasn't much of a conversationist with the rest of his table, but that was something they may be thankful of.

In light of the fasting, Yves had seen fit to return to some semblance of his normal attire. Light colored shirt, vest and trousers. The addition of a cloak was exactly that - an afterthought. Still, the durable half-cloak was the only thing between him and the chill morning while watching the knights take their vows. It may be a past time for the northern lord, but he does spot some of similar bloodline or at least association.

The day had been a long one, with the aiding in the Cleanings for many of the lower profile Reliant brethren, with the Bishops and Cardinals seeing to the nobility and the greater of those within the Knightly Militant Order. It had been a most fitting task to take often being amongst the Retinue of the Reliants as a Chaplain of the Order of Saint Sarah, and thus Viola now also found herself amongst on of the back tables for this more subdued feast to close out and mark the end of Carnival. Dressed within her usual priestess robes, even if ones that might be slightly better tailored, saved for such occasions. But there is a lack of adornment. A few quiet words shared along with the others at her tables as well as an easy smile as food is served.

Being a Templar has some perks. But it also has some requirement, which is what Letholdus is experiencing today. Despite his noble birth, and station, Templar Letholdus Romante stands in the ceremonial uniform of the Templar. ON Guard Duty. It was NOT how the current Heir of Galenthia wished to spend his time. He had just finished fasting and saying vigil, but he had drawn the short straw, and this was his shift.

So it was that the steel griffon adjusted the cloak pin, and squared his shoulders. His eyes scanning the room for signs of anything out of place or remiss. He also tried to not drool to overly much. The sight of the food there was maddening, and he desperately wanted some of that roast beef. The smell was worse than the sight. To drool would be undignified of a man of his station. It just simply would not do.

He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. Doing his best to look like a proper Templar. As is right.

Thomas sits in the midst of the table in the feasting hall. He is neither the highest of the high nor the lowest of the low and appears pleased with his spot in the middle of everything. After a vigil last night with hundreds of knights in the Cathedral and the associated ceremonies, Thomas knighted his squire, the now Sir Synthia Reine and then proceeded down to the ocean to cleanse his sins away with the blessings of clergy. He's since changed into comfortable cobalt blue tunic with grey trousers. The attire is simple and adorned only with a small house sigil on his left breast. Like Stellan, who he sits near, the Baron is tucking into some roast boar and potatoes. He manages to say in between bites, "This is a bloody good pig."

Clean, neat and clad in the robes of the Holy Order of the Reliants, Sir Havelock Synn offers a nod towards one such occupant of a table and slips in at their side. While on the other side Viola would find that Havelock has just settled beside her with a nudge and a rustle of red and white robes, "Mother Viola.", the knight offers with a warm if perhaps slightly crooked smile, "Any more of the carnival and we'll be too fat and too drunk to escape this city of sin and vice to perform our godly works beyond its walls." The words spoken with a merry hint as skewers a chunk of meat from a nearby plate with a knife.

Thankfully he's non of those knights from the militant orders, so Jarret doesn't have to worry about any such things. He didn't take part in any vigils or vows or such, instead staying low profile. Stepping inside now, he pauses little as he looks around rather thoughtfully, looking a bit hesitant about where to seat himself.

One of the perks of being a Chaplain especially on this day is you are invited ever so often to come and feast along with the others. Likely it was as he was able to attend to some of the knights along at the ocean-though he was mainly baptizing those whom had already sworn over to the Holy Orders, it is still an honor, and the notion of food enough to have him drooling once the chill was away from standing in the waves.

Still there be good meat and likely wine and else to wash it down-and his tattooed fingers have been itching for beef, capon and whatever else the High Priest would have for such a spread. A rustle of black cassock and robes, and the bearded Chaplain forces himself opposite of where the Reliant have camped themselves. "Brother, and sister." comes his accented greeting as Jephray Gwynain is quick to gather meat and to eat, and bread..Ooh more meat.

Viola offers Havelock a warm smile quite easily,"Sir Havelock, good to see you. And glad to see they had enough soap to see you through." A hint of mirth in her eyes. "Now speak for yourself, Sir Havelock, I think this might be the first time I've had to sit down and had a proper meal. I need to get back on the road so I can see to regular eating again.. Someone had to still man the infirmaries and take care of all the scraps and bruises for the drunk and disorderly. "Though I must admit, not rushing off to another battlefield has it's appeal as well."

The short Northern knight accompanying Thomas at the table nods his agreement heartily, not yet being able to vocalize it due to his mouth still being full. Synthia's shiny new spurs were noted in the corner of his eye as he gulped down and proceeded to wipe his mouth with a napkin, though such a gesture was likely pointless at the rate he was going. "Congratulations, Sir Synthia," he offers with a friendly smile and turns back to Thomas. "Your doing, I assume, good Sir?"

"Wine, wine. Where's the blasted wine." Shirlyn mumbles to herself, hearing something about a bloody pig. Her eyes look up from the cup she is filing to nearly the top and sets down the flagon. She smirks, picking up a roll and tossing it discreetly as possible — which isn't very discreetly at all — a few chairs down to the pigging out baron Chandus. She then sits back to hide herself in the silhouette of the portly man next to her, snickering to herself. One of the attending priestesses cough behind her, Shirlyn looks at the woman and shrugs. What?

Jarret finally decides to move for one of the seats, ending up not too far from where the Chandus is. He also manages to spot the roll tossed by Shirlyn, shaking his head a little as he drops into a seat now.

Havelock grins at Viola and lifts his pleasantly bloodied chunk of meat in a salute to Vi's own words, "Regular eating… stale bread, hard cheese and biscuits so dry that not even a rivers worth of water can revive them. That's good eating." A grin, a laugh, oh it's good to be away from the troubles of the north for a while. Away from all those battlefields and howling soldiers. When Jephray ensconces himself opposite, Havelock offers a smile and a nod, "Brother, welcome." A hand gestures to the bounty laid out before the occupants of the table. A bounty that almost seems too good to be true. Yet one that shall be supped and eaten lest it vanish too soon, "I am Sir Havelock Synn and may I introduce Mother Viola Magrenal, a true healer and a great warrior."

"Aye, aye, it was and well earned in war and tourney. This was the best way I could think about do-" Thomas is cut off when a roll lands on his plate; in his gravy, actually. His eyebrows shoot upwards and he glances left and right a bit sluggishly. In the light of the oil lamps, one could see if they looked closely that his cheeks are reddened from the wine he's imbibed since they've sat down. It's certainly removed his chill but he's having his own issues finding the assailant. He snaps his gaze to Jarret, half in greeting and half in question. "Sir Jarret, did you see the guilty party? Anyone?"

Ah. With the arrival of further Church members, it may be best that Yves moves towards the cluster that is Viola, Havelock and Jephray. Along with spotting a newly filled platter set within reach, the decision is made. "Good Day. Would there be room for one other who at least observes the One with piety," he says, holding back from giving a bow but nods to the three nearest.

Jephray waggles a knife in Havelock's direction. "Oh well met, Sirrah. I don' run into many of your Order, outside wartimes it feels like." And so he is moving to catch an onion that has been rightly roasted. "Well, I take that back-I do know some of your order here in the city when I am in. My quarters are in the Monastery as are the rest of Saint Michaelis' sons." Which would likely explain his own dour grey black robes-though he is missing the tale tell sign of the white cross on his chest. "I do know your more administrative types." he allows before he reaches his inked hand over. "Father Jephray Gwynain." And he looks back towards Viola and he bows his head. "Sister, a pleasure I am assured." and so he stretches his arms out. "By the One, this has been a grand Carnival. Reunions, an all o' that..Plus the revelry. I think I've done more confessions this week than air when on circuit or in the field."

There's a blink when Yves appears and with that he pats the bench next to where his large bulk is parked. "You can sit with me friend. I won't press you for salvation-just gravy."

Shirlyn puts her finger to her lips when Jarret notices her, and grins wickedly — perhaps slightly familiar to the Sokar heir, perhaps not. There is the matter of that Blue Rose with a gilded stem that is present on the tunic of the same color, however. Still she remains flattened, giggling to her self while she hides behind the fine portly fellow until her eyes meet the full cup of wine on the table and sighs. "Damn it, forgot the glass," she mumbles to herself, again the priestess clears her throat. "Will you quit it, woman!" The Charing woman says a bit too loudly.

It is as one sound of terror that the wind comes howling.

To each they hear it differently. A loved one thought gone weeps in their ear. A child crying for help. A disturbed voice whispering of the cold where they live. And many, many, other variations of that wind whisper, and haunt the hearing of others. Even in this hall of stone, the wind finds voice in the ears of the feast. The Speaking dies down to quiet murmurs, and some confused words amongst the guests.

Until the Hearths and oil lanterns all go out at once.

It is as if a child blew out the candles on a name day pastry. One minute the Hearth is crackling, the next they are cold. The air temperature drops immensely, and the breath of the guests can be seen as puffs as they breathe in and out. But the frightening part of it all is when the stars, one by one seen through the window that the High Priest rests on turn a vibrant shade of blood red. The clouds descend like bleeding wounds in the sky, looking as if a mad man grabbed them and dragged a blood soak rag over the sky. The clouds descend and become a sickening, almost surreal fog.

But then, the Summer moon rises and it begins to bleed. Like the stars, the Summer moon turns a sickly red, the color appearing to bleed in the night sky. Somewhere in the hall. Somebody screams. The High Priest stands and three Knights Templar move in and usher him out quickly. No words spoken. A cardinal stands at the Dais and raises his hands to get the room's attention. "My Lords. My Ladies. I believe it best if you return to your domiciles. See to your people. The High Priest, and the Church will be busy." He bows his head and makes the sign of the One. "Go with the One, for he watches you all, Go with him, and he shall see you through night."

Stellan's gaze drops to the roll and his eyebrows perk up in surprise, but he shrugs. "It's still good. You should probably eat it before it becomes soggy, though." To Stellan this was not an assault but impromptu gift-giving. His blue eyes light up when Jarret comes into his view. "Hey Sokar!" He greets merrily. Stellan may not even remember his first name.

"But those dry biscuits are truly my favorite, quite handy for doing the wash. Don't you agree?" Viola grinning to Havelock. It was fine to be away from the troubles of the north and the south, and home once again. Viola offers a smile easily to the bearded priest that joins them,"Sir Havelock is being far to kind, I only do as the One wishes and asks of me to do. It is an honor and a pleasure, Father Jephrary." A bow of her head being given in turn with the greetings exchanged. "I do agree, it has been quite the week for confessions. Though I fear, my year still numbers more than this week." Something about battle field confessions. A roll taken up, it's density given a test, a glance towards Havelock,"Far to soft, good only to be slathered in gravy and butter I fear."

Viola's hazel eyes turning up with the appearance of Yves. A nod given after Jephray's words have been spoken,"You are certainly welcome to join with us this day." But what other conversation might come dies upon her lips as the winds comes, as the oil lanterns and hearths are snuffed all at once. Whether it be the chill or what ever it was Viola heard within the winds, the priestess shivers.

The Templar's head snaps up at the whispering winds, and then seeing his brother's escort the High Priest out. But his eyes lock on that window. "Mother of One." He whispers under his breath. He moves toward the table where he saw Thomas and Jarret. Fellow Galenthians, and good to have in a time like this.

He stops beside Thomas and looks to Jarret. "Sirs. I think it best we get to our Manses." He looks about. "Since I have no other Romantes, and I believe my brothers shall be soon busy. I hope you do not mind if I trust I can accompany you to that area." He bows his head in respect. Then draws the short Gladius he has beside the Longsword and offers it to Jarret. "Sokar. It might be best if Two of us where armed with more than an eating Knife." He nods once.

Shirlyn's eyes search around. It's midnight after all, hard to see, she doesn't panic though when things go dark just sighs. "You know… I just said the other day that thing would be okay. Bloody Abyss," she curses, reaching out to grab her cup of wine where she left it and the flagon next to it. waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then a scream. "Shit," she sighs as she waits for the mayhem.

Jarret shakes his head at Thomas's question. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to see who the guilty party was," he replies to the man, offering a nod to Stellan as well. Looking about to say something, when all things go… well… to hell or something close to that. Pausing a bit as he hears Letholdus, he takes the offered sword. "Ah, yes…" Spoken a bit quietly as he looks around. "What's this…"

Yves had begun to sit, already reaching for an empty plate only when the lights go out. All of them. Where the lordling was relaxed and quite amicable one moment, the man's posture tenses as he takes in the change of their surroundings. Much like the proverbial hairs rising along the back of one's neck. Only, that this may really be happening. Whatever it is, one shouldn't be armed with just a plate. Closing his eyes to listen, he forgets the plate and plants one foot onto the nearest chair. "I think this is not part of the festivities," He murmurs, reaching for the dagger that had been there. Merely hidden.

Thomas rises from his seat, immediately alarmed by the whirlwind of supernatural events that have just taken place. His eyes are as wide as saucers, his fists clenched and his whole body tensed. Whatever sluggishness might have been present a moment before has flushed out of his system, washed like his sins in the waves of the ocean. "Aye. Aye, I think we do. I have a small group of men here, Viscount. They were feasting at the manse while I was here… What in the sight of the One just happened?" In want of some kind of weapon, Thomas grabs the sharp knife used to cut the boar up off of the table. He nods at Jarret and Letholdus. "We ought to travel in numbers."

Havelock clasps Jeph's offered hand and likewise gestures to Yves to join just as Jephray requests gravy and offers many a greeting of his own, "By all means, join us. Welcome." A smile easily offered, for this time of revelry and peace and prayer has indeed been just what was required. And soon enough another chunk of meat a ways off to Havelock's side is skewered and popped onto Viola's plate before another is skewered for himself, good succulent meat and then some! "Butter? Gravy! There is ample…" Though just as he speaks, the lights flicker, the chill descends and for a moment Havelock's eyes narrow as his hand clutches that knife of his a little tighter as he gazes towards the bloodied stars, "By the One…" The Reliant rises, the knife driven into the table with a thunk. Breath frosting, the robe clad Reliant continues to gaze through the window.

He blinks rapidly in surprise as the lights suddenly go out and the High Priest and his retinue abruptly leave and urge them to return to their manses without any explanation. He isn't outside so the strange happenings with the moon and stars go unnoticed for now, but the scream certainly doesn't. His expression slowly sours…

And he takes the last bite of his boar, begrudgingly. Unlike the southerners, he had no available weaponry or allies, so he promptly moves away and towards the exit as instructed.

Chomping along, Jephray seems like he is in good enough moods, a swig of wine and he is spitting out a piece of gristle that was apparently too tough for him to chomp along. "I've been seeing war-many men like to wait till they are dying before-you know?" a grim motion made and then the whirlwind occurs which has him pausing in a bite of his onion. That is set down as the lights go out and the rest is spat out. "Right well." Stammered in a quick moment. "Looks like we're all fucked." it comes cheerily enough. "Should we be heading to the armory?" Likely he means the one within the monastery.
Yves spends 1 luck points on So that Yves knows what's coming besides Something Wicked This Way Comes..

Siada was seated somewhere near others she knew. Eating like the rest, her eyes moved over one person and then the other happy for a moment. When the chill descends she blinks "what is this?" she asks her question raises slightly as she looks to the other Lords n Ladies, the other knights and Huntresses.. she draws a breath and she frowns "I believe we should." she says to Jephrays words.

Darkness abounds and Viola makes the sign of the One with the bleeding stars and moon. Though she is far slower to stand then Havelock. A hand soon enough going to his arm as he stares out the window,"We should abide by the Cardinal's words, Sir, and see ourselves returned to the monastery and see what is to be bidden and done by the will of the One." Namely more the will of the Reliant’s tasking.

Yves replies to Jephray even as he pulls the silver blade from the boot sheath, "We need to at least get to somewhere defendable. Someone or some/thing/ must have used magic - incorrectly." That, for the group of fellow Church people, he takes up a loosely defensive position with a glance to Havelock and then Viola. Dinner? He's lost any appetite in exchange for adrenaline. "What we see here, much less the feel in the air is proof of that." What? He believes in strangeness? "And with such things, the lore always states that there is a consequence for incorrect use."

Havelock casts a glance at Yves, "There's a correct use?" The words spoken with a faint hint of sarcasm as that eating knife is plucked from the table and held rather readily, the red and white robes billowing as the Reliant shifts and casts his gaze about the room, his voice quiet enough for those standing close at his table to hear, "I've seen things up north, but nothing that rivals this. The monastery is defensible, built for that exact purpose alongside the barracks of the Order Militant… they form the bastions of the great gate to this very palace."

The room is actually being orderly about leaving. With people filing out, in low hushed and fearful whispers. However, that all ends with the Gun shot.

There is a muzzle flash and the thunder of a Long Cannon ROARING in the fear filled room and the occupants begin to PANIC in droves. Screams of terror echo over the room, and people begin to shove and scream and do anything they can to try and get out.

Somebody screams "SHE JUST VANISHED!"

Others cry in the same manner as random people disappear. One such unlucky person disappears and reappears at the height of the ceiling and falls with a scream of terror before he impacts on a table sending food items flying in every direction.

But where did the Long Cannon Shoot? Shirlyn knows. Or might suspect. The ball impacts her left shoulder with such force that it sends her flying from her chair and onto the table behind her. This sends even more food and wine flying through the air.

"Bloody Magick? I thought that was all dead?" replies the Chaplain his voice rising a bit-anger proceeds natural feelings of shock and or awe. "I know the Monastary will have arms, and the templar cells is at least a defensible position. I wouldn't be surprised to see if it hasn't armed itself by now." the chaplain titters on as he moves to stand, one hand moving to grab the man who was next to him. "Aye, so it is. I would have thought the Great Enemy unleashed from his chain. God be good."

"What sect are you boy?-Don't mind my hand-that shake is from Munt's field during the succession. It'll coalm in a bit-and I cannot see you." Jephray states before he is looking blindingly in the way of where Havelock and Viola are, as eyes adjust. "Ah, I suppose we will all be directed active duty."

And cue a long cannon going off. "Are we shooting people now? The One Bind!"

Letholdus nods to those with him. "Excellent Sir Thomas. If you would be so kind as to lead us to your men." There is the sound of a long cannon going off and Dus's sword is in his hand. "I think NOW would suffice. Thank you sirs."

It is when he begins to exit the palace when he notices the stars are gone and the moon is seemingly bleeding. Stellan halts, merely watching everything around him unfold. "Ah man…"

The foot finally falls, and the shot rings out, predictably sending everyone into a frenzied and stampeding panic. Thankfully he's already outside, but he swiftly moves out of the way of the wave of people and grabs onto a piece of furniture - he doesn't even comprehend what it is - before the sea of people overtakes him. "Why can't people just leave shit alone!?"

She heard the shot, it took a moment for it all to register. Her boots hit the table, flipping the contents over where her head hits the bench behind her. She coughs heavily and groans in pain, then she gets mad. "Son of a Mother FUCKING BITCH," she coughs. "Yeah. Don't mind me assholes," she gasps, "just got shot…" she's blinking her eyes, but anything she can see is double. Then rather suddenly, and entirely not her style, Shirlyn turns her head and vomits her liquid dinner. Her gasps are short and sharp, she wasted what energy she had bitching. Typical.

"Go. We'll follow," Yves states to Havelock, adding in Jephray and Viola as part of the impromptu group. It's not like he's even hiding his words, so that some of those others at the table may come along. It's the question from the Chaplain that finds the man's shoulders lifting into a shrug, though his eyes are cool as ice. "I might offer my services to the Church from time to time. Anything else will have to wait."

Siada blinks as people disappear, and one falling from the ceiling has her jumping up as she moves over to Thomas, the small woman tugs at his coat "Ser.. I do not have any weapons but I am a Huntress of Cassomir house, please allow me to help you .." she asks

Thomas motions with his knife to Stellan. "You there, Sir Stellan. Come with us if you've no countrymen of yours to go with. We are best traveling together, as in a pack of wolves." His gaze snaps over his shoulder at the sound of tumbling; first, of Shirlyn falling from the shot, and second, from the impact of a man dropped from the vaulted ceilings. "Shirlyn!" He ignores the man, dropping his knife and running over. "Let me get you, let me help."

A faint nod of acknowledgement is given from Thomas to both Letholdus and Siada. "Good, yes. Once Shirlyn is up, we'll go."

Frowning as he looks around at the chaos, Jarret growls. "You don't have an axe or any kind of more useful weapon around?" And then the shot going off, and he sees Shirlyn get hit, starting to hurry over towards her, pausing momentarily as he sees Thomas move to check on the lady. Looking around at the other people rather carefully now.

Viola shoots a look Yves way, even if that dinner knife is grabbed,"Magic? I am going to assume if someone is using magic, correctly or incorrectly…Our standard defenses are not likely to be all to effective." She's a priestess…weird things have been known to happen. Magic..work of the Darkness…work of the One. A nod going Havelock's way, even if it is mere shadows and the like with all the lights gone out. "To the monestary then, our things are there." Meaning a better chance for defense, when they have something better than…dinner knives in hand. Moving to work on that orderly 'retreat' from the room.

Til that shot of a long cannon is heard, it has her freezing and crouching. To battle hardened..screams and panic just aren't things easily stirred within Viola. But even she is soon blinking when people are vanishing…or more so someone is soon falling from the ceiling. Since that…was something new. "Sir…" well she didn't have a name for Yves, so Sir it is for now,"I think..we might be seeing some of those… consequences. And I can't imagine there is a defense for that…" a hand goes warbling at the area where the man just feel upon the table. And the One love her, she is a healer above all..and even if the man is likely to be dead from that fall or close to it…dinner knife in hand, Viola seeks to get her way towards him to aid, if there is any to be given to the poor soul.

The perhaps once orderly filing out of people is rudely interrupted as some vanish, possibly reappearing in odd and dangerous places. Panic sets in at the crack of the gun shot, at the smashing of bones and the breaking of glass. No longer are things orderly. The rush begins. Some of the West's highest nobility, many of them warriors of great renown, have lost their nerve and are utterly routing out of the door. The isolated screams are quickly drowned out by a cacophony of noise, both boots on the ground and voices trying to make sense of the situation.

Stellan normally doesn't like southerners pointing knives at him, but given the unique circumstances he's perfectly fine with it now. He nods solemnly to Thomas while he still dodges panicking people coming his way. "It doesn't seem I have much of a choice…" Or at least not any better options. He does not partake in the theory discussion on just what was happening or what may still happen - he has far more personal experience with the supernatural than he's comfortable with, but he didn't necessarily want anyone to know that. There are also those more competent at handling the wounded present, though Shirlyn's retching does cause him to cringe.

"Oh an Agent of the Sceptre is it? You diplomats.." Whatever anecdote that was going to come from the Chaplain is lost as he is ducking down-oh and look someone from the air just fucking dropped on a table. "Right.- I know the way in the dark. I've been here for a few months, if you allow me to lead, I'll get us along the right route." There's a look given over to Havelock "Are you in the same area-if so your badge will grant us entrance quicker than mine- Come along then-and step lively." He would wretch, but he is too excited at the moment. "One defend upon our souls-your heavenly host we call.." quick battle prayers rattled along as he makes haste-without dinner knife to lead the way-you know if you can follow is rather large dark mass amongst the panic. "Follow dears, I don't want to lose you."

"Thomas?" She cocks her head to the side and whispers. "I didn't know you had three heads." She squints. "No. Don't forget your promise you fucking idiot." Shirlyn gasps. "Go. Find Emrys. I'll get out of here somehow," she says between labored breaths. "Find a healer. I'm not getting up without vomiting on your shoes anyway."

"Shut up, Shirlyn. We're leaving now, damn you." And with that, Thomas leans down to grab Shirlyn and throw her over his shoulders in a fire man's carry.

Sir Havelock Synn eyes the meal that almost was, an admiring glance, almost as admiring as the glance he almost managed at a certain coin a while back. A step from towards the mad bustle of people seeking to exit and then Havelock is watching Viola move towards the man who vanished and reappeared at a most unfortunate altitude, "Viola!" Her name shouted as Havelock tosses aside the knife and seeks to move after her, "By the One!" The words snarled, "An orderly manner!" as the Reliant is shunted into by another guest, the long cannon shot not having helped the calm and quiet exit that started but moments ago. To Jephray the Reliant nods, forced back by the press, while trying to hold his own all the same, "Give it a moment, we'll get crushed by the press."

Shirlyn says, "Fuck you Chandus, you're leaving me. Get a fucking healer before I punch you in the nose. Or the eye. Whichever I hit." Shirlyn punches him in what she thinks is the arm. "Cut it out! You could do more damage than good."

Yves quickly corrects to Viola's statement with, "Lord. Yves." It's the nearest thing for an introduction. With the advent of magic, he's choosing his words wisely as he reaches for one of those serving knives to offset the real dagger in his right hand. "You all flaming talk too much for comfort," he mutters, the crowds of people making the progress not so easy. "I'll explain what I can later."

Siada without anyone else as a lead follows Thomas. She looks just as scared though she is trying to at least offer whatever support she can as people rush around her. She ignores Shirlyns pleas as Thomas lifts her and she hopes wherever they go, they fill find some weapons.

Letholdus slides up next to Thomas and looks to Shirlyn. "Ah. Lady Charing. I thought I heard uncouthness spilling from what should be a proper Galenthian woman." He says dryly then leans down to look her in the eyes where she's being carried by Thomas. "Sir Chandus has the right of it My lady. Now. As far as I cna tell we're in what approximates to a war zone. So. Kindly shut your Vitch hole, and let us get the Abyss out of her hmm?" He smiles to Shirlyn. "There's a good lass."

Laughter and manic leaves the Chaplain, as he pushes, bodily so-someone out of his way, before he is making a motion for the others to FOLLOW. "They teach us that in seminary, Lord. Yves." repeating the man's name as stated. "This way, the main hallway out will be fucked all crowded. But there's a good way along the right, we can cut back out into the courtyard from there. The Cardinals use it to get from main mass to their apartments before luncheon."

Jarret shakes his head a little as he listens to all the others, taking a few moments to reach for something on one of the tables. Yes, some food, since he hasn't been able to have any yet. That done, he prepares to leave with the others, keeping quiet for now.

Viola shrugs when she hear's Havelock call to her,"You know me, Havelock..never one to miss out on all the mayhem." Pressing onwards to the flurry of activity…and the man sprawls on the table. Why by alright, is indeed…expired. But there is a rather colorful Shirlyn over yonder…being slung over a shoulder. By no other…than Thomas, "And just where are you taking her? Away from all the healers? She'll bleed out before you get her any where like." But then the other southern Lord is stepping into the fray and saying his piece. A sigh given,"Well seems they'll have you well taken care of my Lady, I'll be sure to pray well for them to get you somewhere before ya bleed out. "

"Yes, maybe, but you'll SURVIVE, Shirlyn! Shut your bloody mouth and we're going! Alright lads and lasses, follow the Templar to the manse." Thomas gestures with his head towards Letholdus, his arms occupied… and apparently being punched by Shirlyn. "Cut that out, Charing, unless you want to walk." He grunts, frowning.

"Letholdus…" she says informally. Reaching into her shirt and pulling something small and sharp and shiny and holds it to Thomas' back. "Put me the fuck down Thomas Chandus or so fucking help me you'll be less a damn kidney." Then Viola speaks, Shirlyn vomits again. "I HATE YOU THOMAS. Put me down you fool!"

The d'Tremaine knight simply does his best to follow the contingent of Southerns with weaponry. He is on the fringe, behind everyone, but endeavors to keep them within his line of sight. The only weapons he has in his possession are his fists, but he is hardly beneath punching a peasant or two out of his way.

"Priestess, help dress her wound then quickly before you go." Thomas pauses, the knife at his kidneys causing his frown to deepen. "We haven't the TIME"

"If there was time to shoot me there's time to heal me." She gasps for air when he sets her down. "Real smart," she coughs. "Viola," Shirlyn smiles, "we meet again."

Siada shakes her head slightly wondering now a bit about the man she has chosen to follow. She waits with him, standing between him and Letholdus.

Viola nods to Thomas when he actually pauses. Dinner napkins and a number of things are taken up to deal with the wound,"It went clean through," she notes. Shirlyn given a smile,"Yes, it does seem we have met again. perhaps we should try it some time when there isn't blood and mayhem about, hmmm?" Idle chatter to perhaps distract the lady as the wound gets packed to stop up the bleeding.

"But no walking, that ankle of yours is in sorry shape," a thing Shirlyn likely discovered when Viola's hands went checking her over in a quick fashion. The woman was used to working on a time constraint. Looking to the two Lords, "She'll need to rest up…least if you can see her to some safety." Was any place safe right now? "And best to handle her with care, with that cough, and air grasping, I have a feeling she might have bruised a rib or two, at the very least as well. Perhaps cracked one."

A shuttered and coughing laugh is given to the Priestess. "Yes. We should," she snorts. "Through is good, but yes I'm in rough shape." She looks to Thomas and frowns. "And you were carrying me like that. Hit my head too, " she rubs at the egg on the back of her head. "Stupid fucking long cannons." Shirlyn suspects the person who shot her is already gone. Wise. She still shouts at them to spite herself. "You'll have to," she hacks a cough, "try better than that, asshole!" She eyes her caretakers and sighs. "Let's go."

"Well, a bruised rib doesn't mean she'll suffocate and thank you, Mother. I'm picking her up and putting her back over my shoulders. Shirlyn, put that bloody knife away. This is the quickest way to do this." Thomas leans down to scoop Shirlyn back up now that she's been dressed. "I would stick with us, Mother, until you find your group."

Stellan simply watches and waits. He is more useless now than he normally was!

Many of the revelers have already left the room, but it is still not quiet. A hand cannon shot cracks out of nowhere and ploughs into an oil lantern near the remaining group, shattering it. Oily flames shoot in all direction and things quickly begin to catch on fire.

Letholdus nods to Viola. "You are a Welcome presence sister." The templar states simply. Then there is another shot and Letholdus frowns. "Damn. Fire." He states. "We nee dot leave. Now." he nods and gestures toward an exit.

Fire is the result of the Hand Cannon shot and soon the room begins to fill with choking smoke and terrified people push harder to get out. Glass breaks as somebody breaks that beautiful ornate window and leaps to the courtyard two stories below.

She tucks the blade back in her hiding place."I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, you know… A shoulder to lean on would've…" she coughs, "been better." Shirlyn groans. "Fuck. Emrys. Just take me back to the Silver… no. Tarris Manse." The long cannon goes off again and Shirlyn cackles, it's a harsh laugh, painful sounding but it's there. A retort it would seem.

Jarret shakes his head a bit as he looks around again, listening to the others. "Time to go, the sooner I can get hold of my poleax the…" And then that shot cracks out, and he ducks instinctively. "Time to GO!" Looking around once more, working on pushing the others towards that indicated exit now.

Stellan was already near the exit and needed no further ushering once smoke begins to fill the enclosed room. He offers the rest of the panicking people a regretful look before he's on his prompt way out - fully, this time.

"I fear I didn't pack the compresses for the feast, Lady Shirlyn to help with that knot on your head," Viola managing to keep a bit of humor about the matter. Something of battlefield humor flaring up. "Should have known to pack well, seems feasts are never the tame affairs they once were." Viola nods to Thomas,"She won't, just don’t try bouncing her about to much, least you turn it into a true break. And a fine offer, Sir Thomas, but this is my home I'm sure I can find my way to them quickly, I know where they where headed." Least that might have been a handy enough plan til that dosed oil lantern gets burst and sparked by another shot of a long cannon. The fire closing off the path they had gone,"Guess I'll be with you til we least get out of this place building…Or do you all need a guide back to where you are staying?" The woman had grown up in this city.

Thomas breathes out hard and then back in, his face setting. "I'm ready, let's go!" As the one carrying the heaviest burden, Chandus has no issues taking off towards the door at a run. It's not a sustainable pace, but at least it's one that will get them away from the flames as soon as possible. "One or the other, Mother! Go!"

Viola nods towards Thomas and makes a run for the exit as well. Though is likely soon lost to the group of nobles as they break for their digs, and she breaks to try and catch up with her group, or least make for the monastery.

Shirlyn snorts at Viola. "Feasts. Indeed. You should come full kit next time, Viola. Tell everyone to mind that pig. It's deadly." Another cough that could be taken as a laugh as she's slung over Thomas' shoulder, it's probably the best one she could give anyone in the position she's in, and off they go.

OOC Please go Here http://eternalcrusade.wikidot.com/log:1866-11-23-a-feast-of-the-faith-in-chaos To see the outcome of the Faithful on this night.

The group makes their way to safety. Its rough going but they get out of the now burning main hall of the most Holy Place in the West. They push their way through the throngs and head toward the manses. The Tarris Manse is the first one they see as they make their way through a city that is covered in panic.

As they approach, a man steps from the alley and smiles darkly. He wears a hooded leather jerkin and a half mask. He also holds a battle axe.

"Steel Griffon?" He asks calmly.

Letholdus narrows his eyes. "And who are you?" He states Darkly.

"The man who wrote us and gave the coins said you'd be here." He laughs. "Which means your wife will be in the Manse in a few minutes." He motions and men step from the shadows. "Shame you won't see yer kids. Course your children will not see more than tonight I think." He drops his hand.

The men all draw Hand Cannons and fire.

"You have got to be kidding me," Shirlyn says from her perch on the shoulders of a one Baron Chandus. "Put me down, Thomas," she says quietly. "I'll get inside. Emrys," she coughs out and then coughs harder as she pulls her small blade once more. "He'll protect Claire."

She takes the knife, that presently takes the place of an eating knife out of its sheath. It's old, anyone can tell that. Thin, with a deer antler handle. Shirlyn hands it back to Stellan. "Don't lose this, Northerner, my brother gave it to me and it's very fucking sharp." It is in fact a dagger, but she legitimately retired it to be her eating knife, sentimental in value.

So it turns out following the southerners was a terrible idea of near epic proportions, as the group runs into what appears to be assassins hellbent on killing the most armored member within their retinue. As the guns are whipped out, at such a short range, it seems their demise is imminent…

Shirlyn hands him a dagger as he prepares for the end. He stares back at her, incredulously, but doesn't protest. At least he'll die with something pointy in his hands, he thinks.

Starting out this walk as the rear guard, Jarret pauses at the men coming out from the alley. "I don't suppose you folks would care to wait until I can drop by my own manse to get hold of my armor and weapons?" A brief grin, before he adds, "No? Okay, we'll just have to take you guys down, then. Not that many of you." Diving a bit to the side as things seem to start, he prepares to get to his feet again, ready for the attacks.

"Bloody…" Thomas leans back, easing Shirlyn off of his shoulder when the man moves around the corner. This gives him just enough time to try diving when they fire. It's not enough time, though, as one of the leather wearing brigands fires a shot from point blank into the Baron's chest. Thomas doesn't get up. In fact, for a moment or two, it appears as if he's down for the count. Blood begins to spread out from his wound on the cobblestones.

Two of the Chandus Sun Shields who Thomas managed to rally to the group are flabbergasted when their Baron goes down. They wear cobalt tunics and are unarmored, carrying no more than daggers with them. Still, seeing their leader on the ground, they lash out at the bandits furiously.

Thomas is not dead, though. He breaths in deeply, something which causes him to grimace, and attempts to pull himself away to cover behind a wall.

Stellan makes a leap in what he deems a futile attempt to dodge, but miraculously manages not to get hit by the spray of gunfire. It helps that none of the men were particularly good shots to begin with, and furthermore they seemed to want him dead less. He winces as he scrambles back to his feet, and immediately opts to charge at the most intimidating-looking bandit first. Take out the greater threat first, he thinks.

Thomas lets her down alright, down straight on her back with thud after he's shot in the chest and is knocked backwards. She hits her head and instantly groans before passing out a few seconds. She wakes up and eyes the Tarris Manse. No doubt chaos in there too with all the lights snuffed out, but still she screams as loudly as she can. "EMRYS YOU BLOODY BASTARD, GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE. THERE ARE PEOPLE TO KILL!" She scrambles over to Thomas, and slaps him silly. "Wake up!" When he breaths she sighs. "You're a fool too!"

Siada sighs, what good is a hunter without a weapon. She watches Thomas pull himself out of sight and she looks then to Jarett and then Stellan then she too moves to see if she might be able to find a bow on someone less fortunate.

Dus's eyes narrow in hatred as he moves out of the way. "DAMNIT. Protect Baron Chandus and lady Charing!" He moves forward to engage the Brigands with his broadsword. the Weapon singing as he moves.

The Brigand before Jarret laughs. "The Blood Axe? Fitting I'm the one carrying an axe that is about to be red with YORU blood eh?" He swings and misses, but turns in place to bring the axe around for another attempt. The other men drop their hand cannons and draw their Gladii. They rush forward to attack those of this party.

For all the cries out for assistance and likely for Emrys to show his head, there is but one answer that prevails a loud shot of a Long Cannon is heard and a man taking aim for Letholdus is taken out and sent falling to the ground with a clatter. Reloading time is quick and easy, as men from the manse come out to even the odds, in their lead comes Emrys Tenebrae, with freshly reloaded long cannon in hand, as his sword hangs in a hastily belted on scabbard. "Tarris!" he shouts, so as to bring attention his way, and to hopefully give rallying point to the assailed. As such, the Lion of Tenebrae doesn't mince words, he merely aims and shoots for another target. "Clear the rabble, Get em in." orders barked out once the din of battle is met.

The Man screams out, "KILL AND FADE!"

The guard in front of Shirlyn dodges the attack on him, sending the man to where she sits wobbly on her knees with a push dagger in her hand. Shirlyn lashes out and catches him in the abdomen though doesn't do much damage at all. "Stay back you fucking assholes." She looks down at Thomas. "Hey. Don't you damn well die on me," she smirks.

The charge is not as successful as Stellan had hoped it to be. The man does not dodge - Stellan is too quick for that - but his dagger scrapes the bandit's right arm greave uselessly when it's thrusted forward. "I need an actual fucking WEAPON!" He complains out loud as he continues to try to stab the leader of the pack with what he considers little better than a kitchen knife.

Having pulled himself behind a statue of Saint Ruth, the Patroness of Patience (ironically because all he can do is listen to the battle), Thomas Chandus has to stop for a moment and catch his breath. He looks down with glazed eyes at the enormous wound in his chest and does his best to clear his mind. Though he's a neophyte healer, at least he can try to staunch the flow of blood. He leans down to rip the rest of his tunic completely off. Once it's torn to bits, he begins to try folding it neatly before using the fabric to put pressure on his wound. If he hears Shirlyn, he makes no indication. Sweat is pouring down his temples from even the minor efforts, and blood beginning to seep from his mouth.

The two dagger wielding Chandus soldiers engage in a dance with one of the brigands, one taking the lead and occupying his attention while the second attempts to lunge at him wildly from the side. No one is injured yet, though knives bounce off of the brigand's armour.

There's a brief moment of laughter coming from the Sokar heir as he hears the part about his blood going to be on the other man's axe. "Do your best," he remarks, with a brief shrug. "I've long felt like a dead man walking anyway." A brief pause, as he waits for the incoming attack, then dodging out of the way, although this makes his own attack miss. "Can't kill what you can't hit, scum…"

Siada like stellan is trying to do all the small huntress can with no actual weapons, she tries to wrestle with the bandit and his own weapon "Give me this!"

"OH!" Shirlyn says, "Good idea. You hold that." She says of his shirt bandage. " And I will drag you out of here." She grumbles a little. "This is going to fucking hurt." She smirks at Thomas. "You're not fighting anymore like that. You ready?" This time she shouts. "You and you!" She says to his men… not really a commander but she's loud. That counts for something when trying to save their own liege. "Hey! One of you help me. Please?" She even uses her manners!

Once the shot has been fired, Emrys is quick to pass back his long cannon to his page, a wee lad, who sadly got picked to come along on this auspicious occasion. "Take this inside and reload. I will tell your father, you performed admirably." and so he sends the youngster back, before his sword is loosened and drawn. Dark steel in hand, he with his older men, make the push. "Tarris!" he calls out again, hopefully for the party to hear. "Tenebrae!" As for the poor bastard he will engage, he will get a hacking cut for his neck-if the slippery devil doesn't pivot first.

Siada falls it was not to any surprise, she tried, but without a weapon she could do nothing ..The bandit brings the tiny huntress down and she rolls to the side trying to find cover.

The Northern knight among them manages to skin the arm of the leader this time, at the very least. Jarret seems to be having a significantly better time splitting the fiend open. "CUT HIM IN HALF!"

A bandit rams his blade into Siada and rips it free turning to find another target and charging at him. Letholdus slams his blade into his opponent, drawing blood but doesn’t manage to drop the man. He spins his head to Emrys. "Bloody Tenebrae!" He calls out, "Is my wife somehow in there?!" He says moving to stand near Emrys and still fight his target.

With time and effort, Thomas is able to slow the bleeding in his chest. Though undoubtedly there will be some true healing that is required on the Baron, at least his is no longer at risk of bleeding out. Finally, he blinks as Shirlyn stands over him. "No. Go fight. I need to… recover my breath."

The two Chandus infanteers should have never been outside of their manse in the first place. Privates Nead and Justus had gone to carouse at a tavern nearby after they dipped in the ocean and now, due to their disobedience, stand in the street with daggers, toe to toe with a leather clad bandit. Still, they're having an effect. After Shirlyn's vicious knife slash, Justus chimes in on his own, slashing the man's right arm. Nead is busy dodging the bandit's sword with a stupid, cocky grin on his face.

That bandit didn't have enough, it would seem as he comes back at the wiley Charing lady. "You know what. Fuck you." She pulls her arm back and drives the push dagger into the man's chest. A moderate would, but she's weak herself and damn does her left shoulder hurt. "Ouch. Fuck!" She looks at Thomas' men. "You ARE going to help me now. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW!" Apparently her jaunt into the niceties of asking please is over. She frowns at the blood seeping through her bandage, frowns even deeper at the wound in Thomas' chest. "Come on…" she says impatiently.

Once more he goes head to head with the axe-wielding enemy, and this time Jarret manages to get in a good hit, even with the less familiar weapon he's using. "You ready to give up now?" he remarks, as he steps back, after having managed to dodge the incoming blow.

The Leader growls at Jarret. "I'm ready to take your fucking head Blood Axe!" he roars and charges right at Jarret.

Emrys is able to check the Bandit he was fighting with a hit from his pommel into the man's gut, pushing back, while his sword is freed further. Bringing the blade before him, he dodges a wile blow, before he cuts back at the other bandit. "Ladys, fire into them if they break from us!" shouted towards the house. As for Letholdus there is an answer. "Oh, Good-brother-yes. Bede is with her." that would be his eldest Squire and healer. His professional.

Thomas spits and gets up from his redoubt on the ground, his refuge behind Saint Ruth. Patience, her virtue, has been had and carried out. While Thomas is not going to be winning any awards for health tonight, he is awake. His tunic has been torn off, some of it pressed into his chest wound and some of it wrapped around him to secure it in place. He is covered in his own blood on his chest, torso, his arms and his mouth. But yet, he is up. Though he is unarmed, the Chandus raises his hand in the air and screams, "THE UNYIELDING SUN!"

It's very likely that he's a bit loopy from his loss of blood.

This time Shirlyn stands up, even though the bastard wasn't attacking her she takes the push dagger and stabs him in the eye. A milky substance pours out of the socket, close call for the idiot, an inch further and he's a dead man. She sees the gladius sitting on the ground and looks at the carnage around her, bends down and picks up the blade and tosses it back wit a shout. "NORTHERNER. Stellan, yeah? Kaedon Tourney?" Shirlyn sniffs, putting all her weight on her good foot, as the blade clatters at Stellan's feet. "Take it. Kill them."

She sighs as Thomas gets up of his own accord. "You bloody fool. Come on, let's go… this way." She says hopping, keeping her back to Thomas' just incase her little bandit friend comes back. "Emrys!" She shouts. Clearly needing a bit of back up to get the blood-loss loopy Thomas out of there.

"Blood and Bloody ashes of the One's fucking asshole flatulence!" Letholdus lets loose with a string of curses. This would surprise many because Dus is not exactly known for his swearing, preferring to keep conversation civil even in the worst cases. He lashes the man who is wounded before him. "How?! When?" He asks Emrys as he battles. "She was safe in Firen whilst I performed my duty to the Church!"

The Bandit Leader roars and is suddenly turned to a gurgle as Jarret's gladius rams into hsi throat. Arterial spray shoots out as he falls to his knees, eyes wide, then falls face first. The Axe clatters to the ground. Unbloodied.

Oh, nice. Here comes the axe-wielding bandit rushing forward. Waiting for the right moment, Jarret sidesteps in a spinning motion, managing to get out of the way of the incoming axe, and plant the gladius in the man's throat. As the bandit goes down, there is a dark chuckle from the Sokar. "Not ready enough it seems. Thank you for the axe." Getting the Gladius free, he looks around momentarily, looking to see if anyone might need the sword, before dropping it to the ground after a few moments. Picking up the unbloodied axe, he shakes his head a little. "And that's why I'm the Bloodaxe and you not," he remarks to the corpse, before turning towards another of the enemies.

The Northerner continues to flail angrily with his dagger until Jarret finally brings the scumlord down. His face immediately brightens and his lips break into a grin when Shirlyn tosses the gladius his way. It is promptly caught and flourished as he turns towards his next target… ugly bandit number two. "Much obliged, m'lady!" He calls out merrily before slashing down at the brigand. Stellan happily abandons the steel toothpick.

Letholdus slashes and the Bandit's head flies from the man's shoulders in a spray of viscera. He moves quickly, sword held ready as he moves to lash at the remaining enemy combatant.

"Yeah. You're welcome," Shirlyn shouts back to Stellan, smirking a little. "How about my dagger back?" She shouts, but she didn't need to as the most trustiest of daggers fall at her feet. "Thank you!" She bends down, and nearly falls on her head, stupid concussions, still she snatches up the dagger putting it in her good hand and the push dagger in her bad one.

Two. That puts a smile on her face, however pained. She manages to back Thomas towards the entrance. She fights off the bandit that has been following them, taking a vicious slash to his neck. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE!"

The brigand is dead before Stellan's slash even hits it's mark, and he is instead left hacking into a corpse. He frowns, then moves to make the sole man left standing a corpse like his friend.

Though he may be loopy, he is conscious enough of what is going on in front of him to spot the falling bodies of decapitated bandits. His tunnel vision has closed into the combat immediately in front of him. Thomas moves over, grabs a gladius out of the hands of a man with no head and throws himself into the fight, slashing at the final enemy.

One more enemy going down, thankfully this one is distracted with trying to kill Emrys, so Jarret can sneak in and plant the axe in the man's chest. As he gets the axe free again, he pauses to shake his head a little at the Tenebrae. "Would be a good idea to kill them, not play with them," he remarks lightly, before he moves towards the next one as well. "Okay, my friend. You either give up, or you die…" That to the bandit.

Stellan makes a mental note to try to deduce the maker of the armor these brigands wear as the gladius he stole bounces uselessly against the chest plate of the man he's attacking, before he's ruthlessly cut down by the others attacking him. He sighs and takes a long step back to assess the carnage, but keeps his new weapon in hand, alert for any more danger. He was unscathed, but the others… not so much.

Shirlyn tosses a right slice that finds her missing and over extending her arm. "Ouch! I'm going to find and kill the son of a bitch that shot me." She hops back to dodge the bandit's strike. Then, a gladius goes through the guy's chest. Shirlyn blinks. Looks over her shoulder and frowns. No. She's mad. "You fucking idiot!" She shouts at Thomas. "You God damn, idiot! You've got a hole in your chest! Ugh!" She eyes her proximity to the door and smiles, pulls back her right fist and cold cocks Thomas to the jaw.

Letholdus slides his blade into his sheathe. For once not bothering to clean it first. He turns on his heels and begins to trot back to the Tarris manse. "See to the wounded! We MUST get off these streets!" He stops his forward momentum and turns to help move the others to the Manse.

Another swing for the enemy's chest, and once more Jarret needs to yank that axe free. Looking around to see if there's any other enemies nearby, he frowns a bit now. "I need to get to my rooms…" he mutters, words kept rather quiet as he looks around once more.

Probably due to the ferocity which he threw himself into the fight and the fact that the brigand was overwhelmed by many enemies, Thomas gets his sword under the man's guard, slipping it through his ribcage and probably into an important organ there. Of course, this is concurrent with a host of other wounds that the bandit takes, so who knows if it's what killed him? He's not looking at Shirlyn and doesn't hear or see her coming. Her punch hits him hard, hand releasing the sword which remains in the bandit's chest. He's sent sprawling onto the ground, stunned, landing on top of another bandit's head and crushing it under his trousers.

"Fuck." Thomas reacts a moment later, spitting more blood from his mouth. A swear from his mouth is rare indeed. It takes him a few moments before he snaps back in at Letholdus's yelling. "Ah. Aye." Forgetting about the gladius, he steps over to help Private Justus retrieve a badly bloodied and bleeding Private Nead, who had his chest pierced by a foeman's sword. Luckily for Thomas another soldier is helping Justus out, leaving the Baron to wander, dazed, into the Tarris manse.

Stellan didn't think he'd ever wind up in a Tarris manse, but sure enough, that appears to be where he was going next. Noticing Siada's tiny form crumpled on the ground, he meanders over the bodies towards her to pluck her up and carry her after Letholdus, whether she's conscious or not. He thinks he has less of a risk of getting punched, himself.

Shirlyn sighs and pushes him away from dragging people. "For the sake of the One, Thomas, go find a proper healer." She gestures to the packed hole in his chest. Though she doesn't look too damn good herself. "Or if you’re going to do any work. Give me a shoulder. Hmm?" Lady hops-along smiles crookedly. "Sorry I punched you."

Finally, Thomas takes note of Shirlyn. He stops, looks at her and smiles tiredly. "Punched? What? Aye, come." He moves to give Shirlyn his shoulder and then, without waiting, ambles into the Tarris manse.

Siada slowly raises and she looks around, holding her side she blinks her eyes and slowly leans over one of the dead and relieves them of any cannons. She moves to the manse herself to hopefully find healing and arms..

Rikton - Tarris Manse
The white cobbled path that leads in from the street is well worn, with a touch of greenery either side. Flowers bloom along the walls, ivy crawls and set about the courtyard neatly and symmetrically are four stone benches. The white stone house that is lead to by the cobbled path is as equal as the next either side, two stories and with leaded windows gazing out upon the street from each level and an ornate wooden door allowing entrance to the building, above which the Cross of Rikton is chiseled.
(1866-11-23)

It is hours past midnight once the motley group of nobles gets pulled into the Tarris manse, where a number of soldiers, Chandus, Tarris, Tenebrae and others are in the process of arming themselves and consolidating everyone into defensible positions. For now, there is a lull after the battle outside. The wounded, including Thomas and Private Nead, have been moved over to an area that whatever healers they have declared to be the infirmary.

Letholdus places a hand on Jarret's shoulder. "Sir Jarret. I have a boon to ask if I may." He says calmly to the other man. "Somehow, my wife, hte Duchess Claire Romante is here. In this hell. Before I left, the Queen named Claire and I's childrne the heir to Galenthia." He looks to Jarret. "My wife is giving birth to the heir of the kingdom and she is HERE." He nods once. "I ask you Lord Sir Jarret Sokar of Hosue Sokar to go to yoru manse, gather what men of fighting age you can, return here and help me defend my wife." He locks eyes with Jarret. "I beg you. For our home. We cannot have another war of succession."

Stellan doesn't belong here, and doesn't attempt to appear or act like he does. He overhears Letholdus's speech to Jarret, but his priorities are with his own kingdom and family. The lull in violence was appreciated for only a short moment before he starts moving to exit the safety of the manse. The few southerners he's associated were safe now, as far as he could tell. "I need to go," he announces. "I hope the rest of you remain safe, but I have others I need to go see to." He had no idea/ where Casimir or his family was, and it simply wasn't in him to sit and wait for news.

First hobbled stop, Left and Right, they were at Tarris Manse hanging out with Emrys who ran out to Shirlyn's Inn room to grab her gear. Second stop, the healer that attended Claire and was popped over with her. She did a fine job sewing up the bullet holes, and applying unguents as well as wrappings to Shirlyn's shoulder; pain dampeners until she could move the fingers on her left hand again and make a solid grip. Then the blasted ankle, ointments and a stiff wrappings to make it so she can bare weight on it again, even if she still sports a limp.

Having paced around near the entrance very briefly, Jarret blinks at the hand on his shoulder. "She…. what?" Sounding a little surprised as he hears that, he looks a bit thoughtful as he listens to the rest, nodding slowly. "I… I'll see what I can do," he replies, expression rather stony for a few moments, before adding, "My father's from your house, you know…" A few brief moments as he grins, "Which I suppose make you that annoying cousin, right? Think you folks can hold the fort here while I go get my men, and some proper weapons and armor?"

Siada was not sure where she belonged as well, she dose however look over to the announcment, she holds her side. "If I can find a bow my skills as a young huntress are yours as well" she says to the Lords.

Letholdus jsut nods witha g rim smile. "Aye. I wish your sister was here too. I have a feeling we could use her damned bow." He bows his head ot Jarret. "Thank you coz." He says with a slight relief. "Go. I will hold the door alone if I must."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License