"Rhetoric, Rats, and Riots"

Log Date:
	9/16/99

Log Cast:
	StormBearer, Faanshi, Pu-abi, Stormbearer's crow (NPC emitted by
StormBearer), Cynara, Giles, Ashe, Richard, Cersei, Thomas, Roki (NPC
emitted by Richard), Gaiden (NPC emitted by Thomas), assorted Avalon guards
(NPCs emitted by Thomas), assorted Outcast guards (NPCs emitted by Cynara),
Cepheus, assorted listeners and rioters in the crowd (NPCs emitted by 
multiple sources), Spirit-Whisperer, Morning-Mist, Jana, Eric, Eric's
Hound escort (NPCs emitted by Eric), Niamh, Elette (NPC emitted by Richard), 
Tyache, Daanica, Nox

Log Intro:
	Even though the plague is beginning to slacken its hold on the city of 
Haven, even though the discovered cure has begun to save enough lives that the 
embassies in the city have once more opened their gates, many who have suffered 
through the disease's ravages still retain a powerful fear that it was 
deliberately unleashed upon Haven's helpless masses -- and are looking for 
someone to blame for the deaths and dire shortages of food and water and 
supplies that have occurred as secondary consequences of the sickness. Against 
all logic, a good number of these frightened folk have turned their anger upon 
the Mongrels, even going so far as to try to burn Milane -- the ambassador from 
the newly established nation of Avalon -- at the stake as a witch for all that 
it should be common knowledge that Mongrels have no aptitude for magic.
	Thomas Murako, leader of Avalon, has spoken out against this gross 
injustice in letters he has distributed all over Haven and announced his 
intention to address it for all to hear within the Rialto. Even though she has 
been resolved to stay away from the Mongrel leader for a number of personal 
reasons, the halfbreed healer Faanshi has heard the rumors of Thomas' 
coming speech... and she follows the tug of her heart to the marketplace, 
hoping to catch a glimpse from afar of the man who has been her friend, hoping 
to listen to him speak and renew her own quiet faith in him and the nation he 
is struggling to lead.
	Faanshi does not know, however, what all is in store for her and 
everyone else in the Rialto this night...

*===========================< In Character Time >==========================*
             Time of day:  Evening
          Date on Aether:  Tuesday, April 8, 3905.
           Year on Earth:  1505 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waxing Crescent
                  Season:  Spring
                 Weather:  Partly Cloudy
             Temperature:  Comfortable
*==========================================================================*

The aroma of baked goods lures you south toward the Rialto.
The Rialto - Haven(#159RDJM)
     Reigning over the Rialto is the very heart of Haven: the Delphic Citadel. 
  It dwarfs the other buildings, which cluster around it like so many children 
  seeking a parent's protection. Day or night, rain or shine, its walls seem 
  to glimmer with a light of their own, as if, over the centuries, the magic 
  within had slowly permeated the entire structure. The main tower soars 
  higher than the tallest tree, and each side tapers inward so that it 
  resembles a giant obelisk. Four smaller towers stand at the four points of 
  the compass, representing the unification of each race under Delphi's 
  government.
     And here is where they all gather. The Rialto is the famed marketplace of 
  Haven, full of shops, stalls, and brightly colored tents. The shouts of 
  merchants, the haggling of patrons, the music of entertainers, and the 
  laughter of children create a nigh-constant cacophony that assaults the 
  senses. But the Rialto is nothing if not exciting, and crowds often gather 
  here for important events and public addresses.
                      (Note: 'places' are enabled here.)                      
Contents: 
Colin 
Bella 
Nestor 
Tronia  
Kallista                
Obvious Exits:
   Streets <N,S,E,W,NE,NW,SE,SW>  Delphic Citadel <DC>      

StormBearer enters the Rialto from the western part of Main street.
StormBearer has arrived.

"--very good to be out, Kosha," Faanshi murmurs to the big dog at her side, on 
  the edge of the marketplace where she's managed to find an unoccupied bench 
  at least for a few moments. Her voice does not carry very far, but 
  nonetheless the hound pays rapt attention to her, his long plume of a tail 
  wagging back and forth. No small wonder; in addition to conversation, the 
  young shudra is also sharing some of the meat she's just bought from a 
  vendor.

Pu-abi arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the south.
Pu-abi has arrived.

The first sign of StormBearer's approach is not any sight of him, or of the 
  tap of his new onyx cane which he carries everywhere, but the flapping wings 
  of his avian friend. While few may associate a crow flying overhead as a 
  sign of a herald's approach, Halfbreed Shudra Healer Chicks might realize 
  this if it lands on the bench next to them, which it immediatly does. It 
  lets a short half-caw, partly to Kosha, but more to Faanshi.

Cynara arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest.
Cynara has arrived.

At the arrival of that crow, two things immediately happen: Kosha begins to 
  bark an alarm (valiant sentry, isn't he?), and Faanshi starts where she sits 
  there on the bench. Green eyes blink over the top of her veil, and then her 
  gaze takes on a distinct light of pleasure. Odd that she might react thus to 
  a crow alighting on the bench next to her, but she greets it with all the 
  warmth she might display to an old friend. "Imphadi crow," she murmurs 
  warmly, "hello. Would you like some of the beef I have bought?" Slender 
  hands hold up the small share of meat she's sharing with the dog.

Pu-abi is running as she enters the Rialto, but once the girl's embraced by 
  the closeness of the booths, and the crowd of people, the woman slows to a 
  stroll, her eyes narrowing into slits as she looks all around her 
  suspiciously.

Giles arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest.
Giles has arrived.

Short light movements bring the crow's beak down on the meat inside the 
  healer's hands without poking the girl with selfsame beak. The meat is taken 
  to the wooden planks of the bench and the bird sets upon it. It's gone in a 
  few moments.

As this is occuring, a tap taping sounds at the edges of the Rialto, and 
  though it is lost among the multifarious sounds of commerce, those who hear 
  it and recognize it's source may be puzzled. You see, it is StormBearer, and 
  the noise is coming from the onyx cane held in his hand. He has no trouble 
  walking, as can be easily seen by the way the cane often is away from the 
  ground as he steps, but still he carries it. Strange. Heading in the 
  direction that his friend the crow had headed, he spots Faanshi and 
  continues to move that way, calling out. "Hoy, Faanshi!"

More barks from the dog are the immediate response to that hail. Kosha had 
  been sitting on his furry haunches, but now he leaps to all four paws and 
  swivels his head around in the direction of the cane-bearing Sylvan. Faanshi 
  in her turn glances sharply up, an uncharacteristically bold glance for her, 
  and cries out delightedly, "StormBearer!" Swiftly, she opts to divide what's 
  left of the meat pie between the crow and the dog, and then she leaps to her 
  own feet in a swish of her silks.

Ashe arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest.
Ashe has arrived.

Cynara strides into the Rialto on purposeful feet. Her steps take her directly 
  to a vendor known for his excellent wine. Nodding to the man behind the 
  counter, she orders a goblet and slides her money towards him. Taking the 
  wine from his grasp, she nods in her normal cool manner, and turns about to 
  look over those gathering to hear Thomas speak. Observant blue eyes taking 
  in every face and every snippet of overheard conversation.

Richard enters the Rialto from the northwestern intersection of Fairway and 
  Border.
Richard has arrived.

Cersei soars in from the skies above.
Cersei has arrived.

Thomas is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.
Thomas has arrived.

"I've heard he's going to invite more people to live in Avalon." A mongrel 
  woman mutters to another, knowingly. The other turns to her and shrugs, 
  "Everyone knows they are invited to Avalon." Frowning at her friend the 
  first woman sniffs, "Yes, but its nice to be reminded once in a while that 
  there is more than living under the feet of purebreds."

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

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

A child in his arms and a child at his side, Richard slips in through the 
  throng gathering in the marketplace, sharp blue gaze taking stock of who's 
  present... and their moods. The scruffy dark-haired child at his side might 
  be heard to be piping, "An' you missed a lot of it, Uncle Richard, while you 
  were gone, he likes all the Mongrels and wants 'em to come live in the new 
  place an' maybe he's gonna be king of the Mongrels an'--" Smiling faintly, a 
  smile no more than a curl of one side of his mouth, Richard murmurs back to 
  the boy, "Aye, Roki... so I've been after hearin'. Look sharp now, we'll be 
  sittin'."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spirit-Whisperer steps from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.
Spirit-Whisperer has arrived.

Morning-Mist steps from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.
Morning-Mist has arrived.

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

"Ahse already got a shop 'ere...ye gonna be payin' fer me new shop an' 
  supplies an' feedin' me family 'til ahse get up an' runnin' Murako?" A man 
  calls out from the crowd. Another voice joins him, "Yeah, you gonna give us 
  everythin' we gots here and more? Why leave our stuff an' shops if ye ain' 
  gonna give us the same...least here we get fed."

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

Jana soars in from the skies above.
Jana has arrived.

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

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

"Should we oughtta move t' Avalon, Uncle Richard?" pipes the young voice of 
  Roki, as the lad jumps up and down trying to get a better look at the 
  proceedings. It's awkward, but Richard sighs and stoops carefully down to 
  pick the lad up. Then, still balancing Elette on his shoulders, he 
  straightens up once more while muttering to the boy, "I ain't hearin' a good 
  reason why yet, Roki. Keep still now."

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

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

Eric steps from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.
Eric has arrived.

Niamh steps from the gates of Delphi and into the Rialto.
Niamh has arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's the plague again!" One man screams out from amid the crowd. Another 
  echoes, looking quite panicked, "Its a sign! Murako will bring the plague 
  back to us." After all, these are the sorts of citizens who burn people at 
  the stake for witchcraft. Assuming that this swarm arrived for supernatural 
  reasons isn't out of the realm of possibility. Someone else shouts, "Get 
  them off me!! Rats!!" And still someone else, "Mongrel plague-bringers! 
  Curse you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looks like this could be brewing into another small riot at this pace. Unhappy 
  people, some of which came here looking for a fight as is, lots of rats, 
  biting and getting underfoot. Thomas hears the shouts behind him and as 
  Gaiden helps him up, he watches as the panicked man who knocked him over is 
  flattened by the halfbreed. His eyes scan the people before him, wide and 
  almost disbelieving, "This shouldn't have happened, Gaiden." Its the Captain 
  next to him, placing a hand upon his shoulder, "Come on, Thomas, we have to 
  leave. NOW." And the pair begin to back off. Right about then, several angry 
  people come out of the crowd, intent on making this a personal issue. At 
  their lead is what appears to be a large-sized Varati, and amazingly, a 
  Mongrel. Its the Mongrel who speaks up, cursing, his face is red, "Where are 
  you goin', Murako?! It twas you who brought dis plague upon us. You and yer 
  wretched Avalon!" Pointing, the Varati scowls as well, "You people make me 
  /sick/." This might get ugly, and fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Airborne, curse ye, get 'em both airborne and outta here!" Never mind his own 
  safety. Richard thrusts little Elette at the Empyrean and waves him into the 
  sky. "Roki, tell 'em where to go!" The boy cries out, "Uncle Richard, what 
  about--" "Never ye mind! Go, bairns, go!"

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

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

Gaiden scowls at the two men before him, clearly content to let this escalate 
  into a brawl. He balls his fist and moves to step forward. But, he's stopped 
  by Thomas' hand, "Forget it, Gaiden. Lets get out of here. Its clear we're 
  not welcome." About then, Thomas' eyes notice the approach of Faanshi, 
  Stormbearer, and a bit behind, Ashe. He /was/ turning to go, but then 
  pauses. But before he can even speak the Varati before him looses it and 
  takes a swing at the Mongrel leader, "I'll show you how welcome you are, 
  Mongrel!" The Captain who stands before Murako is the one who takes the shot 
  tho. If that's intentional or accidental is hard to tell ecause of the 
  chaos, but Gaiden is knocked aside with a dull *thudding* sound and the 
  Mongrel/Varati combo scowl and close on the Rialto's 'guest speaker', 
  "You're next, Murako."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tyache is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.
Tyache has arrived.

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

Tyache travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Tyache has left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pu-abi walks westward toward Main and Border.
Pu-abi has left.

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

Holding his side, blood seeping between his fingers, Eric steps between Ashe 
  and the Varati menacing her. His blood stained sword is lifted and the 
  Provost says, "Now would be a good time to reconsider your foolhardy 
  actions." Eric's Outcast escort is no where to be seen, probably in the 
  midst of a fist fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Richard ambles toward the southwest.
Richard has left.

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

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

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

Gaiden has swiftly moved to Thomas' side, now joined by two of the other 
  leather-clad guards who are obviously Avalon's meager defense-force. All 
  have their weapons drawn by now as this is a leathal situation. They look 
  pretty beaten as it took a bit of effort to get away from the angry crowd 
  that is only now being held at bay by the Delphic Hounds. "Are you allright, 
  Thomas?" the Captain asks, breathing heavily. "I'm fine, Gaiden. Just a 
  little bruised." Its about then that Cepheus turns towards him and mentions 
  'exiting'. Murako looks to the ex-Archon and nods swiftly, "I would tend to 
  agree. Which way?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thomas looks from Cepheus to the guards who stand with him, and then towards 
  the Citadel, "Why don't we try for the Citadel, Cepheus? Its closer and 
  assuredly safer." He thumbs in that direction and stands his ground. Gaiden 
  echoes, "Thomas might be right. We might have to fight our way out through 
  the North exit and that might start things all over again. Besides, no one 
  is going to storm the Citadel, and I can't think of a safe place we can hole 
  up in this city right now." One of the other guards with him nods as well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I prefer the direction which will cause the least bloodshed." Thomas retorts 
  to Cepheus, turning with the ex-Archon and his men towards the Citadel as 
  the Hounds mop up the rest of the mess which was created in the wake of the 
  speech. Even as he flees, the shouts continue, "MURAKO!!" Fists are shaken 
  even as people are led away and the 'minor uprising' begins to die. "Mongrel 
  scum!" "Plague-bringer!" Add this incident to the burning at the stake and 
  it definitely has not been a good few weeks for the Mongrels. Gaiden and the 
  other guards follow suit and soon, they draw closer to the Delphic tower -- 
  a much safer location.

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

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

Thomas steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds.
Thomas has left.

Cepheus steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds.
Cepheus has left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giles has left.

Where _did_ StormBearer get to? Faanshi sinks to her knees there on the 
  cobblestones, throwing shaking arms about Kosha as the dog does his level 
  best to lick her face -- and never mind that there's a veil in the way. But 
  as Cynara and the guards bear the wounded man away, the shudra girl is left 
  to peer uncertainly at the woman who remains. "You... addressed me?" she 
  whispers shyly.

Spirit-Whisperer steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds.
Spirit-Whisperer has left.

The mongrel woman's eyes sweep over the remaining few within the Rialto, a 
  deep sigh escaping her lips. No matter how hard she may have tried to warn 
  of such things, somehow being in the right offers little comfort. Her eyes 
  briefly settle upon the halfbreed Estrel, not mistaking his displeased look. 
  So it would seem the line has been divided, with the mongrels upon the 
  losing end. At the veiled healer's question she looks back to the woman 
  offering a soft nod, "Aye, please....don' leave. I..I wanted to talk if'n ye 
  wouldn' mind?"

Kosha is growing calmer, now that the rats have gone and there seems to be no 
  further attackers in the immediate vicinity of his beloved mistress. 
  Beginning to thoroughly scratch the dog's head, Faanshi peers over her veil 
  in Ashe's direction; although her expression cannot be read, her eyes and 
  her voice are soft and anxious and kind. A glance is flashed to Delphi, 
  however, before the murmur of 'I am... not sure that I should stay here now, 
  imphada' creeps out from behind the concealing blue silk.

Not really taking that for an answer, Ashe questions softly as she begins to 
  rise to her feet, "Ye're a friend of Thomas?" The words are almost hopeful, 
  a slight spot of blood staining her gown at the side, though nothing too 
  serious.

Faanshi's expression might be mostly hidden by the veil, but it does not hide 
  the abrupt lightening of her eyes and the earnest nod of her sari-shrouded 
  head. "Yes," she murmurs as she too begins to stand. "I am... a friend." 
  Kosha meanwhile skitters around, whurfing softly, lifting his attention to 
  the Mongrel woman.

Ashe
     Thick illustrious locks of pristine white cascade from this young 
  mongrel's crown: spilling in a carefree mass to her shoulders in the ideal 
  melding of sophistication and impish sensuality. Two slender brows of 
  midnight create majestic archways to a pair of striking icelandic blue eyes. 
  Captivating with the curiousity of a cat, the hypnotic orbs wander 
  appraisingly with their slight almond contour masked by a foliage of thick 
  lashes. Her complexion is a flawless ivory, rivaling the most precious of 
  all pearls in color -- save for a fleeting kiss of rose-petal hue which only 
  adds a healthy if not illuminating spirited glow to her features. Even the 
  greatest of masterpieces have their flaws but perhaps none so evident as the 
  slightly kiltered positioning of her lips. Though stained a soft mulberry 
  rose, they somehow appear at odds with the rest of her features, if not 
  somewhat impish -- granting her a contradictory essence of pixie charm.
     While standing regal at five feet and eight inches, her feminine figure 
  is delicately crafted -- as if chiseled from soft marble. A long-sleeved 
  chiton of deep lapis silk clings appreciatively to her form, accentuating 
  each curve with pride. The bodice hugs her breasts lovingly while the rest 
  of it tapers in to fit like a well-loved glove. A warm mantle of golden 
  cloth wraps around her partially barren shoulders for extra warmth, adding 
  an almost classic elegance to the chiton, while the sides of the garment 
  seem intentionally sliced away at the midriff, highlighting her flawless 
  ivory tone. A long slit crawls up her left side, exposing a teasing glint of 
  her shapely leg beneath. A pair of thin golden sandals complete her 
  ensemble, adding a touch of humbleness to the otherwise ethereal woman.

It is the adorable antics of the animal which capture the mongrel woman's 
  attention, her expression lightening before looking back to the veiled 
  woman. She remains silent for several long moments, just studying the woman 
  and her animal friend before continuing, "Thank ye..." For what she thanks 
  the woman is uncertain, her gaze once again straying to the animal as the 
  first smile she has shown in days begins to tug at her lips, "Ye other 
  friend seems to be a handful."

Scrutiny can get Ashe a figure who, despite the volume of the blue cloth that 
  swaths her frame, might be determined to be barely taller than she, and 
  rather more delicate than one might expect of a girl wearing the clothing of 
  a woman of the Children of Fire. Her skin: paler than one might expect of a 
  Varati, too. Her hair, glimpsed just under the edge of the sari, and the 
  delicate brows and lashes about her eyes: ebon-black. And her eyes 
  themselves, green as summer leaves. The dog, under study as well, can be 
  seen to be a healthy young animal, with unmistakable intelligence in his 
  eyes as he perks his ears at she who stares at him. As Ashe speaks again, 
  however, Faanshi casts her hound companion a tender glance before looking 
  back to the other young woman and modestly pointing out, "I have done 
  nothing... save try to keep the Provost from bleeding, imphada... but you 
  are welcome...!"

"Aye, though twas no' him I was referrin' to, I thank ye for that as well." 
  Ashe replies softly, slowly making her way closer to the woman. She pauses 
  to retrieve her earlier discarded sandal and even further still to place it 
  back on again. Once more she looks upon the veiled woman, this time 
  explaining softly, "Tis so many who'd see him dead, an' to be honest, I don' 
  think he'd be carin' if'n they succeeded. Tis a blessin' that he has one of 
  ye skill as a friend." She pauses, a deep sigh weighing heavily upon her, 
  "Thomas needs friends to look after him, even if'n he's too stubborn to care 
  for himself."

"I..." Faanshi goes still, taken aback by hearing such words about Thomas 
  Murako coming from a woman she's never met before. Eyes of leaf-green meet 
  those of ice-blue, and the shudra can be seen to blink several times before 
  she slowly rises. "You... you too are Thomas's friend? I do not think I saw 
  you when I went to Avalon..."

"Aye...a friend.." The words seem almost painful to speak, as the mongrel 
  woman lowers her eyes to the ground in hopes of keeping them from revealing 
  too much. At the mention of Avalon, she manages yet another soft nod, "I 
  think ye were gone when I came...I didn' plan to stay. Twas to be a visit, 
  but sometimes -- " She slowl lifts her gaze to look back upon the veiled 
  woman before cotinuing. "Sometimes ye don' have a choice. Tis the head that 
  can tell ye one thing -- but tis the heart that mus' answer."

Another blink from those summergreen eyes. "You know me," Faanshi murmurs in 
  consternation, not quite a question, more of a startled realization. And 
  without really knowing why, she adds earnestly, "I... wanted to stay but 
  could not! Please, is... is Avalon alright? With the plague and all? I have 
  only been allowed to come out of Atesh-Gah in the last few days, and no one 
  has sent me any news, I have worried so... are they alright? Imphadi Gaiden 
  and Imphada Milane, and Rab and Daniel and Judith... and... is...." The 
  words veritably burst forth from her, in a tired and gently anxious stream, 
  and the eyes visible above the veil go liquid.

Nodding softly, the mongrel woman replies gently, "Aye, ye need no' worry 
  Imphada....they're all fine." The words give her a slight start though, as 
  Ashe considers them thoughtfully, "Ye couldn' stay? Why?" WHile the reason 
  may be obvious to some, the mongrel woman only knows what little she has 
  heard of the healer, nothing more. Her pale gaze wavers curiously over the 
  healer, perhaps learning far more from her actions than by anything possibly 
  spoken. With each passing moment, her expression softens further. Aye, she 
  is glad this woman is a friend of Avalon.

"You do not need to call me imphada," Faanshi murmurs then, blushing crimson 
  behind her veil. "I am only a shudra. And... that is part of why I could not 
  stay... I do not think Thomas approves of me. If you are his friend..." As 
  Kosha casts a stern glance and sniff around, looking for any further 
  dangerous four-legged or two-legged creatures, the halfbreed takes an 
  uncertain step forward. "If you are Thomas's friend... watch him well... but 
  you do. Yes?"

Giles has arrived.

"I'd die for him..." The words are soft as they slip easily from the mongrel 
  woman's lips. She nods softly at the mention of the veiled woman's station. 
  "I'm sorry." She frowns deeply, understanding perhaps too well what it is 
  like to be trapped and kept from being somewhere. She replies quietly, "If'n 
  I'd the power, I'd free ye to join us....mebbe one day I'll be able to help 
  ye -- help ye the way ye helped Thomas an' all the others." Ashe falls 
  silent once more. She may not be much, nor may she be the most skilled of 
  any woman around -- but she is honest. It is only in her silence she 
  realizes she has failed to introduce herself to the woman. With a gentle 
  curtsey, she lowers herself before the veiled woman respectfully, "If you 
  ever have need of me Imphada, ye've only to ask for Ashe. I'll be sure to 
  hear of it."

Giles makes his way south, toward Seaside.
Giles has left.

"I am a shudra... not a naraki." Faanshi might be smiling; one cannot tell 
  with the veil in the way. "I will... the Amir-al willing... take my life in 
  my two hands when I demonstrate before my God-King that I can heal and do it 
  well." Her voice has grown less tense, however, especially at that murmured 
  avowal of devotion to Thomas Murako. In response to Ashe's introduction, she 
  lifts her hands to clasp them at her breast and bow over them. "Namaste', 
  Ashe. I am Faanshi, shudra of Clan Khalida... and thank you."

A soft laugh escapes the mongrel woman's lips, apparantly amused that anyone 
  would offer her respect in return as well as thanks. While there are 
  admittedly few people she does not like, this veiled woman ranks somewhere 
  high on the likeable list. Ashe's brows wrinkle slightly almost amused at 
  her own thoughts before deciding to share them aloud. "Ye know, ye are one 
  of the first an' only women outside the luvs at the Siren an' Domina Cynara 
  who doesn' seem to mind bein' near me. Mebbe we can become friends -- though 
  ye don't need to give an answer...tis just a thought an if'n ye didn' mind, 
  well then mebbe." She sighs softly, her foot accidentally bumping the 
  discarded sword of the Provost before she crouches down to retrieve it 
  slowly. Ashe shakes her head, "Tis a cycle ye know... man kills man, man's 
  son kills man's killer, an' his son an' his son after. Ye spill one drop of 
  blood an' twill follow ye till the day ye die."

The gentle limpid gaze above the veil goes even more gentle, and sad as well. 
  Faanshi watches Ashe crouch and reach for the blade, and murmurs as she 
  does, "You speak with wisdom, Ashe... and... I speak with truth when I say 
  that I would welcome any friends I can find, and gladly."

"Nay, I'm no' wise. If'n I was -- I'd no' be lettin' my heart lead my head... 
  " Ashe replies softly, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, I'm thankful I'm 
  no'....'cause no matter if'n there be pain or no'...sometimes tis worth no' 
  bein' wise just to experience it all."

Ushas, but this evening has taken a strange turn, has it not? From StormBearer 
  and his crow companion, through Thomas's speech, through rats, through 
  riot... and now an exchange of philosophical statements with a woman Faanshi 
  has only just now met. The halfbreed's attention lingers upon the 
  white-haired woman's face as she speaks; at last, once she falls silent 
  again, Faanshi murmurs in reply, "I think that there is more wisdom in your 
  heart than you know, Imphada Ashe." But she leaves it at that, as she peeks 
  uneasily around the now more or less quiescent marketplace. "But... Khalid 
  protect us, I do not think I should stay here... and you. Did you see where 
  Thomas went? Perhaps you should rejoin him..." And with that, the shudra 
  trails off, vaguely troubled by having so soon met another friend of 
  Murako's... only to need to part ways with her so soon.

Giles arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the south.
Giles has arrived.

Nox soars in from the skies above.
Nox has arrived.

Nodding softly, the mongrel woman offers a faintly audible sigh, "Aye... if'n 
  only I could be convinced he'd want me with him now." Almost as if in answer 
  to her words, one of the Avalon guardsmen enters from out of the Delphi. He 
  pauses at the entrance, eyes scanning the Rialto until they fall upon the 
  spotted mongrel. He begins his way towards her, not hesitating in his step 
  until he finally manages to reach her. Offering a firm bow to the veiled 
  woman the guard says something quietly to the mongrel womn, to which Ashe 
  nods gently in reply. Looking back to her newly found friend, she offers an 
  apologetic bow, "Mebbe we shall meet again sooner than ye think...until then 
  -- keep safe." Once satisfied the guard turns to head on back to the Delphi, 
  before pausing to wait for Ashe to follow.

"Ushas keep you," comes Faanshi's soft murmur, "and Thomas..." She bobs her 
  head to the other woman as she turns to follow the guard away, then swiftly 
  ducks her gaze at the man's glance and bow; quite obviously, this silk-clad 
  maiden is distinctly unnerved around males. Seemingly by habit and instinct, 
  she steps away to let the others depart.

Nox drifts in with a low flight, just slightly above the roofs, still his dark 
  outline is well visible against the clear sky, before he soars down at a 
  quiet, lone spot of the edge of the market place. Brushing back his messed 
  up hair, he looks around, to get a clear view of the Rialto.

The marketplace is... rather a mess. Remnants of what may well have been some 
  sort of wide-scale brawl can be glimpsed here and there from above -- and a 
  large number of Hounds still lingering on the scene, taking care to 
  vigilantly watch over any groups of people that get a bit too large or who 
  mutter angrily among themselves about the "plaguebearing Mongrels".

Nox mutters a curse below his breath as he anxiously glances between the 
  Hounds as well as the mob, checking for any wounded, dead or injured people. 
  He stretches himself, folds back his wings, before strolling in a seemingly 
  casual, yet watchful pace over to Ashe. Just before she greets the mongrel 
  woman, a flicker of a friendly, comfortable smile is given to Faanshi, 
  indicating he means no harm to the veiled woman. "Ave, Ashe. Guess I've come 
  too late again, didn't I?"

Just about ready to head back to the citadel, the mongrel woman nearly 
  collides right into the dark empyrean. It is perhaps a good thing as she 
  realizes she nearly forgot the Provost's sword and once again holds it at 
  her side. Her lips curl into a faint smile as she gazes upon the man. "A day 
  late an' a dinari short -- tis lucky ye weren' the rescue party Nox luv, or 
  else we'd all be in a bit of trouble." She jests softly.

Nox's are not the first black wings she has ever seen -- after all, the Khalid 
  Atar's wings are the hue of the night. And the daughter of his chosen Queen 
  possesses black wings, as well. But still, Empyreans with ebon plumage are a 
  rare enough sight to Faanshi that she blinks twice at the newcomer. The 
  hound at her side whurfs a time or two, drawing the maiden's hand back to 
  his head. "Namaste', dominus," she whispers very softly, though she was not 
  the one addressed. And, sadly, she adds, "There was a riot." These brief 
  words uttered, she peeks off to each side, deeming it time to withdraw.

Nox crosses his arms in front of his chest, making a sour face. He ignores the 
  suspicious, wary and downright hostile glares with which some people, even 
  some Hounds, study his unusually colored wings. He's gotten used to them by 
  now, after all. The inclination of his head to Faanshi is one of formal, but 
  otherwise expressionless politeness, but his deep baritone voice is soft and 
  warm, "Thank you for informing me, imphada. There is no need to wait, if you 
  feel uncomfortable in my presence." Turning back to Ashe, he studies the 
  sword for a moment, before noting somberly, "The fate of my life, I guess. 
  Whatever happened, I just wish I wasn't so damn useless. I believe I've 
  dealt with trouble before." He arches up his eyebrows, forcing himself to 
  smile at the woman, even though there's hardly a reason to, in such a 
  situation. "Will you tell me what happened, Ashe, or are you in a hurry to 
  leave?"

Faanshi actually pauses for a moment, grateful for Nox's warm tones, but a 
  trifle too shy to explain to this dark-winged stranger that just by being 
  there, he does not necessarily make her uncomfortable. Demurely lowering her 
  eyes, she settles for murmuring in gentle and earnest tones, "Thank you, 
  dominus. Kosha, come... come, Kosha..." Shooing the dog at her side into 
  motion, the maiden peeks one last time at Ashe by way of farewell, bobs her 
  head to Nox... and slips off across the marketplace. Soon, she is gone.

[End log.]