"Thievery, Turmoil, and Change, Part 1" Log Date: 6/3/99 Log Cast: Milane, Ilario, Spirit-Whisperer, Medea, Faanshi, Sevilen, Thomas, Cyrano, Eric, Fern, Iolia, Starsong, Pasithas, Lucien, Thenomain, NPC Atlantean Hound, Numa, StormBearer, Voe, Maat, Cepheus, Mari Log Intro: Imphada Kiera, I am writting you this letter in the hopes that I might express my desires upon the matter of your shudra, Faanshi. In our recent meetings, I had extended her an offer to join myself and others in travelling to the new land of Avalon. There, her healing arts would most certainly find good use, as they are many who will be in need of the gentle touch that only a skilled Caducean could provide. Though Faanshi and I only spent a short time together, I know that this will be good for her development both as a mage and as a person. It is my sincerest desire that you grant my request to take her into our service. I have been told she has explained her desire, but I am not certain if your shudra has elaborated on the 'terms' for her visit with us. I am not asking her to leave her place by your side, or within your household, for I know the Clan Khalida is an esteemed body. She should not have to choose between her loyalties and I will not ask her to contradict her oaths which have been made to the Amir-Al, the Clan, or the Kingdom. She would be an honored guest amongst our number and held in the highest regard. One concern that I know you expressed was that she would be beyond your reach or influence. This could not be further from the truth, as anytime you would be welcomed among our number and held in the same regard. This nation is an opportunity for those who have found acceptance in other places difficult. A place for those who have not found a home or a purpose. I know you struggle with these demons even now, Imphada, and it is my desire that if you cannot find it within your heart to join us yourself, that you give Faanshi the chance to live her dreams and discover who she truly is. I shall be available to talk in person on this matter, or you might send your response via a Herald. Your servant, Thomas Murako Days have passed since Faanshi first met with Thomas Murako in the Gem Inn, and was invited by him to journey with him to the infant nation of Avalon. Since that invitation, Faanshi has managed to locate her wayward mistress Kiera Khalida, and ask of her leave to travel with Thomas, even if only temporarily. The matter has warranted a second visit by Faanshi to the man that many in Haven are beginning to call the Mongrel King, mostly in jest -- though some with utter seriousness. And Thomas has on her behalf written a letter to Kiera to try to persuade the halfbreed favored by Khalid Atar to allow Faanshi to accompany him back to Avalon. But Faanshi has remembered that Kiera cannot read, and Faanshi is able to read only the smallest and simplest of words herself. Moreover, her continued shy forays into Haven have caused her an unexpected and most frightening brush with death, as she stumbled across the dying body of the Empyrean woman Jelara, who had been stabbed in the Rialto. Faanshi struggled to help save that woman's life, but overextended herself in the bargain... and so was forced to rely upon the servants of Atesh-Gah to deliver Thomas Murako's letter into the hands of a Herald at their convenience. Now, some small number of days later, Faanshi still awaits word from either Kiera or Thomas that her message has been successfully delivered. She does not know, as she ventures into the Rialto on yet another crowded night in the marketplace, that not only has her message reached its intended ears, but it has done so via a crow-accompanied Herald she has met before... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Night (Duskside) Date on Aether: Tuesday, September 29, 3904. Year on Earth: 1504 A.D. Phase of the Moon: First Quarter Season: Late Summer Weather: Sprinkling Rain Temperature: Warm *==========================================================================* 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: Fern Riva Thomas Iolia Spirit-Whisperer Starsong Medea Ilario, browsing the tailor shop. Cyrano Milane Eric Sevilen Obvious Exits: Streets Delphic Citadel Milane watches Eric's words from her side position at Murako's horse with an inclined head in a gesture of attention. On her lips, a beaming smile has dimmed to a more pensive one, and her eyes look at he new Provost with a sense of understanding over hero-worship. And when Murako's statements reach her ears in tandem with Eric's speech, Milane looks up once to Murako and gives him an accepting nod, with closed eyes. "Let us hope so, Thomas. . ." she says in a resigned tone before looking back to Eric. Ilario's eyes shift back to the person who bumped him, and any sign of lingering amusement vanish as his eyes narrow at the mongrel woman. Fern's submissive look of apology manages to head off the Empyrean's angry retort before it is spoken, and he withdraws his arm hastily from contact with her. Spirit-Whisperer, the aged Sylvan Estrel, and their formal escort of Hounds makes their way back to the Citadel as well. The elder seems almost bored as the small group follows Medea and her escort. He turns his head, yawning, and speaks shortly and quietly to the halfbreed who, in turn, winks with an impish smile. Medea steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds. Medea has left. On tentative feet, a slender figure in red and blue and gold makes her way into the square from the north... only to stop short at the unusually large gathering in the square. Faanshi peers out uneasily from beneath her sari through the sprinkling rain, daunted by the milling crowds -- perhaps now is _not_ the time to try to wend one's way through the marketplace? Sevilen stands utterly still, emerald gaze keenly watchful. The sound of the Empyrean-Mongrel collision nearest to his mounts draws Thomas' attention towards the spot where Fern and Ilario stand. Though he doesn't say anything at first, he can see the narrowed eyes of the nobleman and the demure, apologetic look of the young woman. How typical. Even though no words are exchanged, he turns his mount so that he faces both of them, his voice rising a bit as if to get attention, mostly directed at the woman rather than the man, "Is everything well here?" Murako, policeman or champion of the downtrodden? As he concludes his words, his gaze drifts slowly towards Ilario, taking the man in for what he is. The two men at his side shift their attention as well, looking between both the girl and the Empyrean with some curiousity. "Cohor prepare for Flight." Cyrano says to his group, then returns his attention to Iolia, "Fair and shift winds carry you Domina, my appologises that the news you carry will not improve many moods." The Optio says before giving a pointed finger skyward, spreading broad wings with his unit and heading into the evening sky. Eric smiles as several well wishers come forward from the crowd. He shakes hands, nods, generally listening and being civil. The commotions on the outskirts of the crowd are not heard or seen, since now he is at the level of the crowd and totally blockedfrom that area. Continuing to pat at Ilario far longer than would truely be necessary for simple assistance in rebalancing, Fern repeats her apologies over and over, "Beg pardon, Dominus. The crowds and all.... So many people..." Finally, she takes a step back... straight into the side of Thomas' horse. Eyes widening in surprise, the woman's hands move in a quick juggle of something tucked under her tunic. "No... no, everything's fine here." By the time she whirls to face the mounted mongrel, her expression has smoothed to blandness. That a faint clink of small metal near her feet indicates she's dropped something doesn't appear to phase her one bit other than a sudden flicker of brown eyes toward the nearest exit. Spirit-Whisperer steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds. Spirit-Whisperer has left. Eric nods and chuckles to one well wisher. "Well, if you will all excuse me, I have many a preperation to make. Thank you." He backs up then makes his way into the Citadel Eric steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds. Eric has left. Something about Thomas making "inquiries" prompts Milane to tense her posture and directly focus her gaze on _him_ to make sure that _he_ is okay. It is almost an obsessive watch. Clearly, he can defend himself more than an unarmed woman. But, it is instict to Milane to be ready to fight a good fight if need be, for the mongrel man. Though she wanted to go and greet Eric and wish him all the best Haven has to offer, Milane's focus is clearly on Murako at this moment. So _many_ people....! Especially near Delphi's front walls. Uneasily, Faanshi looks left and then right from her position on the northern edge of the market, and then quietly, cautiously, and shyly begins to circumvent the crowd as best she can. Her hard-learned directions say she must go to the southwest, and getting to the Atlantean quarter from the Rialto is the only route she knows. One girl in a crowd this size is not exactly the most obvious thing to spot, but then, her garb stands out brightly. Cyrano leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven. Cyrano has left. Stepping slightly away from the ranks that prepare to take to the air next to her, Iolia gives a sharp nod to Cyrano as he speaks. Turning her gaze to the sky to watch the Praetorian unit's departure. "The news shall be passed, as duty demands." She speaks with a low tone, "May strong and swift winds carry you all." her eyes offer the farwell to all of the gaurd before she looks back to the rest of the crowd. Remaining just a short time longer before her own wings stir, spreading wide in the now open area and she pushes herself from the earth to the sky to carry word to those who would wish to know. Starsong's head turns, checking on the crowd and her fellow students, seeing what interesting things they might be up to now. She reaches down from her perch to tug the sleeve of an Adept, white-robed like herself, and she speaks to the other Healer for a moment, her words quick and almost pleading. The Adept, rolls her eyes at the Novice, then sighs and concedes, and immediately, Starsong's face bursts into a smile, and the girl hops nimbly down from the fence and darts off into the crowd to explore. Ilario makes an effort to brush off the mongrel woman, his tone annoyed, and patience thin, "Yes, yes. Get your hands off of me, woman." His gaze shifts to the mounted mongrel only briefly as the man speaks, but he doesn't make any attempt to reply or acknowledge Thomas. Momentary relief blooms as Fern moves away, but it is replaced almost instantly by a look of outrage as his own hand rests against his toga, near the waist. "Thief!" he shouts indignantly and leaps after Fern. Iolia leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven. Iolia has left. Sevilen watches all of this without expression, hands folded before his still form. Pasithas enters the Rialto from the western part of Main street. Pasithas has arrived. Lucien steps from the gates of Delphi and into the rialto. Lucien has arrived. Pasithas strolls into the Rialto, oblivous to the others there. She starts to head north, but stops at a few booths to browse. Thomas's gaze meets Ilario's in the moment which that Empyrean looks upon him. Though the other doesn't reply, the Mongrel seems confident that his message was carried through, eyes intent upon the nobleman even after he's looked away again. One of the men at his side watches as Fern starts to hurry away from the scene, his eyebrow arching, "Thomas .." ..he utters and points to the Mongrel girl, /just/ about the time that the 'Thief!' alarm is raised. Murako's eyes dart away from his target and towards the young woman is now moving away from them. He makes the connection quickly enough. Suddenly, the large Mongrel is sliding from his horse, dismounting and motioning for his compatriots to do the same, "Come on .." Then, with the others in tow, he begins to make his way through the crowd in the direction of the 'accused' party. One silk-clad girl in a crowd is not necessarily obvious -- but when you -are- that silk-clad girl, skirting the edges of the marketplace, you're in a rather easier position to spot obvious things happening in the throng. And accordingly, Ilario's bellow and the mounted figures of Thomas Murako and his companions draw Faanshi's startled attention. From several yards away, she stops, blinks, and looks wide-eyedly in the direction of the commotion, torn. Should she go for a closer look? Starsong slips happily through the crowd, between people of all sizes and shapes and races, saying quick, "'Scuse me! Pardon me!"s to everyone she squeezes by. The cry of "Thief" draws her attention, and she stops short, looking up and around to see where it's coming from. Lucien arrives in the Rialto in time to hear the word 'thief' and see the group chase an accussed, the winged Hound takes to the air to persue as well. A look on almost viscious glee as he joins the hunt. Milane keeps a watchful and intent gaze on Thomas, and a careful distance as to remain anonymous for any advantage she might have. She might have heard the word "thief" and might have registered the definition. What is important to Milane, however, is the impact that the word may have on Murako. Her brown eyes dare not blink as she watches his every move, every action with ready attention. The dagger at her side, as pathetic as it is in comparison to the sword Murako wields, will be ready should anything happen to the man. With these thoughts, Milane steps closer. Of course the first thing Pasi notices is jewlery, but as soon as Lucien enters her attention is on him. Worried, she watches as he tries to....what is happening? From self confident smile to "Oh Shit" panic, all in the blink of an eye. Fern's heard that word 'thief' a time or two before, and she knows what it means. Without so much as a by-your-leave, the mongrel woman dives for the narrow opening between two of the horses before her. Yes, its going to slow her down a bit, but it's likely to slow down the wing-encumbered man who has lept after her even more. Unfortunately, those horses have gone into restless motion from the dismounting in the time it takes to get there, and the mongrel woman gets tangled between a horse and one of the lackies. Even as she tries to break free, words tumble from her lips. "It wasn't me! He's just an oppressive Empyrean trying to place blame on the underdogs of society!" Hrm.. odd words coming from a commoner. She must have been listening to some of the speeches going around lately. Unable to spread his wings and take flight in the crowd, Ilario is forced to shoulder through. The young Empyrean's build doesn't lend itself well to shouldering, but he forces a determined passage, to busy trying to get clear and watch the fleeing Fren to even mutter apologies to those he bumps. The mongrel woman's escape might have been clean and quick, had it not been for her own bad luck, but the pursuing Empyrean still lets out a triumphant, "Aha!" as he catches up to where she's been stalled by horses and dismounting men. His right hand darts out, trying to grasp a handful of her clothing while he keeps a wary eye on the woman's hands in turn. The Empyrean taking to the air, Thomas's dismounting, Fern's attempted escape between the horses... all these things are spotted by an increasingly anxious Faanshi as the shudra maiden slips as close to the scene as she dares, still doing her best to keep out of the way. She can glimpse weapons out, and a nervous chill courses down her spine; the Rialto has been awfully violent as of late, and she breathes a prayer to Ushas that tonight will not be following the trend. Pasithas finally starts to catch on. "Lucien!" she whispers to herself, following her husband in the air on her feet. Thenomain hangs out in the doorway to the smithy, arms crossed. Yes, another typical night in the Rialto. Want a really oppressive Empyrean? Lucien is your winged guy. Mongrel owned and ridden horses to spook and dismount there riders as he pursues the girl, oh joy upon joy. The excessively well dressed Empyrean Hound gleefuly prepares to buzz them to spread the horses. He would do it to and well, but his wife' ground based arrival halts an excellant opportunity. He stops the hawk dive to simplely hover moving above the thief. Milane walks closer and closer to the scene, still keeping a backstage position to Murako, with her dark-eyed gaze intent on his person. Her hand grips tightly around the worn dagger's handle, just-in-case in needs use. As she is not looking at anyone else, Milane does bump into several beings as she inches closer, but there is no apology. They shouldn't have been there in the first place. "Thomas. . ." she mutters under her breath, ". . .what are you doing?" Okay, the event in the rear of the Rialto has gone from a mild uprising to a full scale ruckas. As Fern tries to make a speedy escape between the horses, she catches one of the dismounting Mongrel men and nearly causes him to fall from the steed to the ground. Instead, he catches his hand on the reigns and more tumbles from the animal than slides. /Very/ graceful as he cries out. The poor beast, meanwhile, appears to have been quite spooked and it whines loudly rearing up and setting the otherss on edge as well. That second Mongrel man appears to be lost in the confusion of rearing horses and he tries to grab their leather straps to get them under control. Murako, on the other hand, appears to be quite intent on getting this girl. As she makes her move towards the horses, his eyes follow her and then when she gets tangled up, he is upon her. Ilario, the Empyrean so zealous to get his hands on her, gets nothing but one of Thomas stiff, thick arms against his charging body. The motion, while far from soft, is enough to stop his forward motion and shove the Empyrean back, "Wait!" He cries out. Now, he stands litterally /right/ next to the accused thief, but between her and the afflicted party, hands spread wide, chest heaving. Pasithas watches, eyes wide with worry, from a distance. Her lips move in a silent prayer for her husband's safety. Starsong is pulled unceremoniously out of the middle of the crowd by the ever-vigilant Adept, and, despite the Novice's protests, she is led off towards the Citadel again and out of the growing commotion. Starsong steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds. Starsong has left. The young Empyrean, intent only on the fleeing 'thief', receives the forceful stiff-arm in the chest, and forward progress comes to an abrupt halt, except for the air that escapes his lips with a surprised 'umph'. Blue eyes blink once before real outrage sets in, and he barks a rather military-sounding command at the much bigger mongrel in front of him, "Unhand me and grab that woman!" For whatever reason, it actually sounds like he expects the strapping, armed man in front of him to obey immediately. Realizing he's lost sight of the girl, he shift to try and look around Thomas and locate her again, fulling expecting to find her vanished into the crowd. No, Fern isn't dumb, and she's clearly surrounded, what with the hovering Empyrean, the horses and all. She doesn't try to pull free from Thomas' grip, but does take the time to adjust her clothing and smooth her hair back. Sure, let the armor clad Mongrel stand between her and the Empyrean. It gives her the opportunity to combine smugness and indignation in the look directed from over Thomas' shoulder. Theif? Her? A sideways glance, then another slower perusal is given to Milane, the dagger-weilding woman nearby, but then her silent focus returns to Ilario. Her earlier cries of oppression and innocence have long since ceased. Ilario Well-preened wings arch proudly from the shoulders of this Empyrean youth, framing his form in luxurious white feathers. Lithe and wiry, he appears to be a late teen, and seems to be in good condition, though it's doubtful those uncalloused hands have seen truely hard labor. His features are pleasant and kind to the eye: Fair skin, laughing sky-blue eyes, high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose, and a slender mouth. Very fine hair, the gold of a sunbeam, is parted in the center and falls just to his shoulders. His normal expression is one of vaguely amused, if aloof, interest. He wears a quilted sky-blue tunic, just right for the late summer evening. The tunic is overlaid with a cloud-gray toga, the hems of the draping robe decorated with an angular pattern of blue lines. The light blue tunic is secured around his waist with a woven leather belt, and a bone handled, long-bladed hunting knife hangs in its sheath at his left hip. Odd footwear -- Ankle high leather boots, very practical for walking and decidedly un-Empyrean in design, cover his feet. A heavy exhale that uses more air than was inhaled exits Milane's mouth. That hand gripped on the dagger may as well be bleeding, because Milane has dedicated a full woman's energy to holding it. She is ready to fight the good fight -- and the mongrel woman feels the confrontation coming. This Empyrean man is not going to have a mongrel man, as strong as Thomas may be, tell him what to do. "Oh Thomas. . ." Milane murmurs in worried maternal tones as she takes a place behind him. Milane closes her eyes, and appreciates the feeling of being uncut for a few moments. As the commotion grows the Hounds, who have been present during the ceremony, make their way through the crowd towards the horses. From the looks of things, there are three who have been dispatched to deal with this mess: an Empyrean, and two Atlanteans. One of the Atlanteans, a middle-aged wears the insignia of an officer is at their lead. "Let us through." One of them calls out, "Let us through." Their progress is slow as many people seemed to at least be curious to gawk at this little altercation. The girl is caught, by the mongrel. No matter, Hounds have authority not mongrel leaders of illegal states. Lucien lands opposite the imposed arm of Thomas. Feet settle hand as his closed wings droped him the last five feet to avoid hitting horses. "I will handle this matter." The first Hound on the scene says with a dark joy. Pasithas breathes a sigh of slight releif. Lucien's safe still. Please don't let anythin else happen....She pushes her way through the crowd to get close enough to see the scene before them. She smiles as she watches her beloved do his cherished job. Protecting others. The maiden in Varati garb is not about to get in the way of anyone -- especially individuals in the uniform of the Hounds. Faanshi inches around between two booths on the market's fringe, looking for a better vantage point and all the while praying for a peaceful resolution to the scene before her. Milane is not the only one in the crowd watching Thomas Murako with deep anxiety; Faanshi's green gaze, as long as no one is looking at her, seeks out the armed and armored Mongrel man, in between those who ring him. A surge of concern for the cornered thief, too, sweeps over her as she catches a glimpse of -- and recognizes -- Fern, and then the concern is counterbalanced by dismay as she realizes what the woman must have done. Eric steps from the gates of Delphi and into the rialto. Eric has arrived. Eric walks westward toward Main and Border. Eric has left. Numa is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Numa has arrived. Lucien A tall proud looking Empyrean male standing at least six foot in height. This creature before you has those features that most exemplify the Empyrean race. His hair is platinum blond and flows in a thick mane just past his shoulders. His skin is bronzed over firm powerful muscle tone. Silver-white wings that accentuate his emotions extend boldly from his back. His posture bold and confident, perhaps slightly arrogant, perhaps not. His eyes set him apart as much as they join him to his race. They are ice-blue like an arctic wolf, and like that wolf they exude a predatory gaze around him. They have a hunger for something unknown and speak of a ruthless to acquire this mysterious goal. His dress more than anything pulling him away from his race. The toga so common, ignored in his morning routine, in favor of tight black pants. A fine silk tabard flows across this form to mid thigh, indigo trimmed in silver, the center of which has a Black Cerberus hound with crimson eyes circled in silver to separate it from the dark blue of the rest of the following garb. Below the tabard is a black course silk shirt. At his waist rides a trimmed sapphire sash holding a curved dagger with a ruby inset in the pommel opposite a silver guilded rapier. He wears soft black velvet boots that rise above his knees and fold back revealing their rich purple interior. Slightly visible from the right boot is another dagger an exact duplicate of the first. Carrying: Rapier The large Mongrel's hand comes to a rest on Fern's shoulder, holding the girl in place. The movement doesn't, however, appear to be because Ilario has commanded it, but as a reassurance to himself that she's not going to be going anyplace, anytime soon. Clearing his throat, Thomas turns a /stern/ gaze towards the Empyrean nobleman, "Dominus, this young lady isn't going anywhere until the Hounds arrive and can sort this out." His posture is straight and firm, meeting the other man's gaze without hesitation. The commotion with the horses seems to have died down as the second Mongrel man gets their reigns under control, the first having untangled himself sufficiently to come to a resting position behind Murako, his eyes flipping back and forth between all the participants -- the observant would notice that his hand is upon the hilt of his weapon as well. "Now.." ..the Mongrel 'leader's' eyes begin to scan the crowd and he espies the approaching officer, "..we'll get this resolved." Turning to look at the girl, he asks, "What is your name?" Releasing the grip on her shoulder, his hand moves downwards to apparently rest against her waist and get a 'better grip' on her small frame -- keep her close to him. Numa wanders into the Rialto seeming aimlessly, but pauses when she notices the horses. Lifting up to her toes a little she tries to see what is going on, but being so short, manages only to see movement. She weaves her way through the stalls and crowds until she can get close enough to see something. Pasithas frowns at the mongrel. The hounds -are- there. Lucien is. She steps closer, sliding past another onlooker as she does so. By now, Milane is comfortably behind Murako as a symbolic guard of the mongrel leader. There is support in numbers. Even though she could not do much damage, her person could be used to distract attention from his and in doing so, prevent him injury. She bites down on her lip, and scans the scene -- Nobles ~ Empyreans ~ horses ~ mongrels. This does not seem to favor her race at _all_. A small smile comes to Fern, another of her kind and gender, in reassurance and understanding that she is there. "Oh Khalida. . ." Milane murmurs, instinctively, to invoke strength in to her leader. The Hounds gather on the scene in numbers, Lucien could be less pleased with the arrivial of a superior, but it would be difficult to imagine how. The Empyrean Esper defers to the older Atlantean officer. The other two like Lucien but with less remorse let their leader speak as well. The officer address the leader of the mongrels with cool and even tones first, "What did you see sir?" Brown eyes flare for a moment, then flicker with a surprised bit of understanding as Thomas speaks. Though she doesn't look at all like one of the Cyprians normally seen in the city, for some reason, she suddenly steps forward and into his touch. "I am know as Fern, Sir," the woman intones lowly. A smile quirks at the corner of her mouth, before she turns confidently to face the Hounds. As her arm is still under the control of the mongrel leader, she remains close at his side. Milane There is beauty in the odd couping of distinction and delicacy that takes a few glances to recognize in Milane's face. The precise line of her oval face is accented by high, symmetrical cheekbones, and a defined, long nose. There is something very soft, however, to her sharp and exaggerated features. It could be the strange combination of warmth and sadness in her circular mud-brown eyes, or the tremble of her gently-pink lips. Perhaps it is the glow of olive skin that is further deepened in tone by the sun. Black hair has been tied up in a purple ribbon, with the soft curls cascading gingerly down her shoulders and back. Milane's dress has improved somewhat over the impoverished and scantily clad existence from just days ago. A simple, black tunic is fitted on her torso. Though the sturdy tailoring and material covers her body well, the easy and generous curves of the tall woman are readily distinguishable as feminine. The tunic is worn open slightly to display a yellow-gold locket of Varati style delicacy that the mongrel tugs at with affection. A pair of fitting, brown pants of some animal skin mold over her womanly hips and lightly muscled legs before fitting into a pair of old but proudly maintained brown boots with a slight heel. Though her form is feminine, it is obvious that Milane has seen much hard labor in her time through her unusually muscled stature and broad shoulders. Despite Thomas size and independent manner, Ilario still acts as if the action was at his bidding, even though it clearly was not. His gaze slides sidelong to note the arrival of the Hounds. Authority has arrived at last. Retreating a step from the large mongrel man before him, Ilario straightens and re-folds his wings, turning to address the apparent leader of the guard patrol, even though the Atlantean has chosen to speak to the mongrel man first. His explaination is spoken concisely, with little doubt, "That woman..." a finger points accusation at Fern, "stole my purse." He looks up at Thomas with open annoyance, "And this 'person' assaulted me when I was about to catch her. Obviously they're her accomplices." He settles in to wait, apparently having said all he deems necessary. Perhaps if Faanshi were in earshot of Milane, the shudra girl might look with some startled pleasure at a woman who swears by Khalid Atar. As it happens, though, from her vantage point near a glass-blower's stall, the girl is doing well to hear the louder raises voices of Murako, Ilario, and the arriving Hounds. Milane's presence at Thomas's back is, nevertheless, noted. So is the dagger she bears, and the expression of fierce loyalty on her countenance. _Thomas has another friend,_ Faanshi tells herself, and the thought gives her a measure of relief. Numa weaves her way enough that she sees Thomas's head above a few others, and between wings. Her breath catches, and with some effort, she starts to nudge her way through, "Move." A soft spoken woman with a low voice, she is not above jabbing others in the back or using her body to gain passage to draw herself nearer. Pasithas cares not of Thomas or the girl being arrested. A nudge in her back accompanyied by the voice saying "Move." does not sit well with her. "I'm staying, find another spot. I want to see my husband." Sevilen at last moves, feet carrying him towards the outskirts of the crowd. A glance is given the Empyrean accusser then the alledged thief by the Atlantean, for his part the Atlantean doesn't jump to any conclusions as he reguards Thomas. If the mongrel wanted to truely assault the Empyrean Ilario, there would be blood. All witnesses, the Hound behind Thomas, Lucien, Thomas himself and the men he commands, Milane, and Fern are given a good look over. Thomas's gaze remains level and calm, even at the approach of the Delphic Guards. Waiting till Ilario has finished making his accusations, he keeps Fern close to him, still apparently cautious of the fact that this girl will make a break for it. "That has not been proven, Dominus." The Mongrel answers the Empyrean's words with ones of his own, "You have /said/ she has taken your money. Because she is a Mongrel does not mean she does not have the rights of due process like /any/ other citizen of Haven." He turns his gaze towards the Hounds, the Atlantean officer in particular, "I am Thomas Murako, sir. It is clear that the Empyrean Dominus is quite upset that he is bereft of his money, but he is wrong on the fact that I am 'aiding' this young woman here in any capacity. There are several here who could testify to the fact that I merely arrived to watch the ceremony, and only responded to delay this girl because she had been accused of stealing another's property. To be honest I have never met her before in my days. However, I welcome you to pursue whatever investigation is necessary for the retrieval of this man's fine property." And with that, he releases Fern and allows the Hounds to take her as they see fit. Behind him, one of the younger Mongrels in leather armor clears his throat and takes a step closer to Murako, muttering something to him. Numa pushes harder into the back of the Empyrean, Pasithas, who blocks her path. Varati, Empyrean. As if things were not bad enough. "Why do you not get to a perch and watch, rather than blocking the way for everyone else?' The sharp words are offered as the jab is landed. Pasithas doesn't budge, but instead turns to face the other woman. "I arrived before you. I deserve to make sure my husband is safe from whatever distance I choose. Besides, the conflict is over. Go away now." She makes no move to return the jab, not one of violence. As for race, it has nothing to do with that either, Pasi has Varati friends. But -They- have manners. Ilario listens to the eloquence of Thomas' speech like he's hearing a talking dog, or some other amazing wonder of the world. Surprise seems to cool down his temper somewhat, though feathers ruffle indignantly once again at the suggestion that he might be mistaken about the thievery. After a brief internal struggle, he manages to restrain himself from mixing words with the mongrel man, and instead adopts a nuetral expression and keeps his eyes on the trio of Hounds. The growing, jostlying crowd around the group is studiously ignored. StormBearer enters the hustle and bustle of the Rialto from the northeast. StormBearer has arrived. The Atlantean satisfied with Thomas' answer nods to him, "Thank you sir." Then his attention slips to Ilario, Sir, you say that this girl stole your property? If so please discribe it." A troubled look crosses the Reeve's face, as he looks to the girl focusedly. The Hound Lucien takes the girl when offered from Thomas, begining to search her completely and his eyes also travel to Thomas looking for the purse. Numa snorts, "Husband?" She shakes her head and looks like she is getting a touch angry. "Look, all I want to do is make sure Thomas is well. So, if you just move your wing, I can squeeze by, and we will both be happy." She smiles, not a real one, but she did try. Voe is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Voe has arrived. Now that order begins to descend on the chaos, Fern moves more and more toward confidence. After a sideways glance to her 'saviour', she bows her head and lowers her gaze to the ground. Her hands remain loose and unthreatening at her sides, and she makes no attempt to break free of the hold still on her arm. All in all, she looks quite harmless, and almost pitiful. Just another of those poor mongrels who try to eek a meager honest living off the streets of Haven.. Voe makes her way south, toward Seaside. Voe has left. Pasithas looks at her wings, not in the way. "I don;t see how having my wings behind me are any problem to you? As for my husband, he is the hound right there." She points to the well-dressed Lucien. Ilario gives a curt nod in answer to the Atlantean guard's question, and adopts a polite, even tone to explain, "It is a plain blue pouch with a leather drawstring. I can name the exact amount of the contents, if that is absolutely necessary." His gaze shifts over to Fern as the mongrel woman is searched, apparently with full expectation that said pouch will soon be in the searching guard's hand. Milane looks at Fern with an all too caring expression for a stranger. They are the same, Fern and she. Trying to do what they must to survive. A nice coat of shine comes across Milane's pupils as she watches the other mongrel female move towards Thomas with respect. But her emotion goes tucked away for now as she reclaims her obsessive watch over Murako. Everything is still ready to spring into action: limbs, dagger and blood if need be. Her heart is heavier now. Voe is drawn in from the southeast by the hubbub of the Rialto. Voe has arrived. Thenomain watches this all from a distance, thinking, /Is this going to be interesting? Pff./ "You are welcome, sir. I am visiting Haven as a represenative of the new nation of Avalon. I will continue to be cooperative with the Hounds in any respect that is necessary." Thomas announces to the Guard before he turns to look at the other Mongrel who began to mutter with him, drawing close so that their words might be private. Taking a step back from the group as the Mongrel girl gets searched for Ilario's possessions, he confers quietly with the man and nods, "I agree. Aye." Smiling just a touch, Murako seems to be very relaxed and if he's part of this crime, he's certainly not showing any sort of outward signs that he's 'stressed' as a result of the Empyrean's accuastions against his person. Apparently, their conversation concludes and the young Mongrel man turns towards the horses, crossing to his fellow who holds them in check. Those two exchange a few words and one nods. As the quest for the missing pouch continues, the Mongrel leader's gaze looks speculative, patient as he waits. Voe walks westward toward Main and Border. Voe has left. Ah. Night in the Rialto. Nice, Relaxing, and pleas.. hey, whats all this? As the Herald known as StormBearer enters the Rialto from a southerly direction, he carefully watches the crowd of people here. Hmm. Is that? Yes. Yes it is. Above, the crow often found upon his shoulder flies overhead. The Herald moes swiftly in the Direction of Thomas, obviously with some purpose in mind. Unfortunately, Lucien does not locate the purse at least not on the girl, Fern. This doesn't stop him though as he moves over to the leader of the mongrels, Thomas. "Sir, if I may? I would like to search, or rather have you and the others she bumped into search themselves for the purse, it is an old thief trick to deposite the evidence on the innocent as they flee the authorities." The Atlantean officer nods at Lucien's suggestion and adds thoughtfully to confirm the Esper's suggestions, "If you would not mind sir, that would be in the best interest of clearing up the matter." Numa mumbles, "All I want to do is make sure Thomas is alright. Is that fine with you?" She tilts to the side just a little before trying to look over heads. She does look once to the Hound pointed at, then smiles a she spies Thomas a short distance off moving towards the horses. Pasithas shrugs. "Look if you want, just don't hit me." She smiles as the Reeve nods to Lucien's suggestion. Ilario's face grows increasingly concerned as he watches the search of the woman come up empty. Wings rustle in a hint of distress and then he frowns to himself, looking back over his shoulder towards the doorway where he had been standing when this all began. Seeing only gathered on-lookers, his frown deepens. A little hope reappears as he hears Lucien's idea, and he looks back towards Thomas and his companions with renewed interest. Quiet, unobserved, Faanshi keeps watch on the scene at hand, remembering how to breathe as it begins to seem more likely that no weapons will be introduced to anyone's flesh. Something else catches the girl's attention, though: the figure of StormBearer making his way through the crowd. Espying the Sylvan Herald, the shudra maiden abruptly straightens up, an unusually alert expression flickering across her leaf-colored eyes. Helpfully, Fern lifts her arms for the search, even going so far as to wink at the man doing the ... *feeling* when she manages to catch his eye. And, imagine that, the pouch isn't found. A supremely smug look flickers over at Ilario before she pulls the cloak of 'respectful, lowest class citizen' about her once more. With great patience she steps slightly to the side as the Hounds show interest in Thomas. That brings forth a small frown, but a shrug dispells that as well, and she simply watches along with the rest. Thomas's face grows pensive as he realizes that the pouch isn't upon Fern, "It is not upon her person?" The tone which he takes sounds vaguely incredulous, as if he believed that the girl had in fact 'lifted' the Empyrean noble. Shaking his head, the Mongrel clears his throat and takes a step forward, spreading his arms so that the Hound might search him for the pounch that was missing. His voice intones softly, "As I said, I wish to cooperate with the Hounds, sir. You may search me as you see fit." The two men near the horses remain in place, their hands soothing the mount's and keeping them calm. They watch the proceedings with a careful eye, gaze riveting upon Murako, their leader, as he submits to a search by the Delphic Guards. An odd thing for a diplomatic envoy of a faction to do without severe protest or complaint. Numa squeezes her way past, tucking her breath in enough to get through whatever space she can muster. Finally, she takes a breath and manages to get over near the horses, close enough to touch, and look up at the pair on them. She nods, offering a slight smile, but looks as well towards Thomas as he submits to the search. The lone crow which flies stealthily above the Rialto suddenly see's something, or someone which catches its attention. Its wings tilt and move closer to its sleek body, sending it into a guick dive. Down it goes, setting itself right next to Faanshi. It tilts its head to the side, watching her carefully. Pasithas tenses again, watching her husband. The lady besides her seems more relaxes now that their confrontation is over, but Pasi can't shake them nervousness for her new husband. Ilario actually looks less-pleased when Thomas agrees to the search without complaint. A pensive, darkly thoughtful look settles over his youthful features, and he folds his arms across his chest, gaze moving between Thomas and Fern. There is a puzzle to be solved here, his expression says, and the wheels are turning. With two winged friends now to her name, Faanshi has grown just a trifle more likely to periodically glance into the sky -- but with her attention riveted on the crowd surrounding Ilario, Thomas, and Fern, it is quite easy for the crow to come down on her without warning. There at the side of the glass-blower's booth, she gives a little jolt of surprise, her head jerking round to mark the landing of the bird. StormBearer's expression is one of suprise as the Mongrel Leader submits to the search. The Hounds are searching Murako? What's all this? Then the Herald's mind works it out. Despite the strangeness of the situation, this is certainly something to remember. Stormbearer approaches the scene, standing slightly off away as he watches. Milane, seeing that her presence may be more of a hindrance to Murako, steps away towards the exterior of his gang. She remains present, just in case, but realizes that her immediate person may be an obstacle to clearing up the scene. The olive coloring of her skin, and general neutral tones of her clothes, allow her to once again become anonymous among her peers. The Hound, Lucien, scowls disappointedly and shakes his head. Wings fidgit behind him in frustration. Having given Thomas a quick scan in every sensible area he still is not rewarded by the purse. A glance is given the near by horse, and then he goes to inspecting it as well. Finally, very disappointedly the Hound once again shakes his head. The Atlantean superior frowns as well as he looks to the Empyrean noble, Ilario. "I am sorry Dominus, but without the purse, we cannot arrest her. It is possible that something else happened to it." He offers somewhat embarressedly. Shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other, Fern begins perusing her surroundings. The number of women intently watching the mongrel leader isn't lost on her, and a faint smirk plays about her lips at some random thought. The Hound's words draw her attention back to the present and she pipes up at last, "Am I free to go, then?" Polite and ever so understanding is she, despite the inconvenience. Pasithas frowns as well, disappointed -for- her husband. Hopefully this won't make Lucien look bad to his superiour. Ilario barely pays attention during the rest of the search, and is a bit startled out of his gloomy thoughts as the Atlantean Hound addresses him. His gaze settles meaningfully on Fern, still accussing and certain, even though he nods absently to the guard. "I understand," he tells the Hounds, "You've done what you could. I suppose it's little more then I should have expected from them. Thank you, Captain." Numa cranes her neck up and asks, "Did she put it somewhere? Drop it in a merchant's cart or something?" She tilts from one side to the other, then frowns, "Or does the Empyrean still have it on him? Has anyone checked that it really is missing?" Thomas clears his throat as the Hound searches his person for the pouch, shifting a bit so that it doesn't appear as if he finds the movement of the Atlantean man's hands pleasurable. After all they are searching him well. His eyes drift towards the perusal of his horse's saddal-bags. Clothes, rope, other mundane items such as writing implments. Few letters. The usual that someone might carry with them. No pouch though. As Lucien offers his condolences to the Empyrean nobleman, the Mongrel turns his eyes towards Ilario and shakes his head slowly, "I apologize for the apparent loss of your goods, Dominus. I also apologize for my rough behavior. If you will allow it, I will gladly repay the debt of your missing coinage so that there are not hard feelings between these parties? How much were you carrying in your sack?" His hand moves slowly to his side as if to reach for his own coins. Maat is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Maat has arrived. StormBearer watches quietly from the crowd as Thomas speaks with Illario. His Heralds cloak shields him from most of the sprinkling rain as he does so, and his eyes gaze out from beneath the hood. Nearby, Some hounds and a munber of mongrels stand by. Cepheus steps from the gates of Delphi and into the rialto. Cepheus has arrived. Cepheus makes his way south, toward Seaside. Cepheus has left. A trace of indignation flows through Fern at Thomas' offer to recompense Ilario. After all, if the money isn't proved stolen, who's to say the Empyrean didn't make the whole thing up, right? But she remains silent, as a quick end to this is in her best interest. Despite the aloof and thoughtful air that's settled over him, Thomas' offer draws Ilario's gaze to the mongrel man, and there's a flicker of surprise before his face shifts into an mask of ironic amusement. "How kind of you," he notes, pride lacing the words as he shoots a cool glance to Fern, then looks back to Thomas. He seems on the point of simply refusing and turning away, but there is a certain level of practical concern warring with his pride, and he finally frowns to himself and expels a weighty sigh, "The sum was an Empyreal silver crown and fifteen pennies." Hmmm, either he's honest, or he's named a very modest sum for an Empyrean nobleman to be carrying around. Not a word about Thomas' apologies, though. The leader of the Hounds, an Atlantean officer, is still looking disappointedly to the Empyrean noble Ilario, "Again my apologies on your loss sir, and my thanks for your understanding." With that said he looks on to Fern. "Yes, you are free to go. Though go with the warning to present yourself more carefully before running." That said he and the Hounds save Lucien begin to make there way north pausing long enough for the Atlantean commander to offer, "Thank you sir for your help." To Thomas. Lucien though heads to Pasithas, no this Empyrean is not pleased. At least being with his beloved wife will lighten his spirits in a moment or four. Mari arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the south. Mari has arrived. Thomas nods and dips his hand into the plain brown leather pouch at his side and takes a pair of Empyreal silver crowns from within. The coinage, though dulled and a bit dirtied, is the real deal. Then, with a muted dignity, the Mongrel crosses towards Ilario and offers him the sum, "I'm afraid I don't have your fifteen pennies, Dominus. So take this silver in their place." Okay, comparitively, this is like a hobo whipping out a hundred dollar bill and asking a businessman if he's got change for it. The man seems to carry himself with that sort of pride that is mirrored in his Empyrean counter-part, and there is no gloating or indignant looks, the likes of which Fern offers. He smiles to the other man, waiting for him to take the coins, "I hope that we can see past this, Dominus, should we ever meet once again." Murako's words are soft and from outward apperances, quite genuine. Mari gives a glance around the Rialto. However, she is on a mission to see the High Priestess, and therefore no time for dallying. Mari steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds. Mari has left. Pasithas smiles softly as Lucien comes towards her. Trying not to upset him more. "Ave, husband." Thomas glances to the Hounds as they pass, adding after he speaks to Ilario, "You are welcome, sirs. It was a pleasure to be of assistance." Well, he's a lawful Mongrel as well. Maat ventures into the Rialto, then expels a silent sigh as it would seem that the person or item that she sought is no longer present. Instead, she gazes around and spots departing Hounds and the cluster of people about Thomas. Oh, yes, the Rialto, Den of inequity and petty thieves. She looks around the Rialto as if to check for spots of blood as well. With the conflict seeming to settle down, Faanshi divides her attention between the Mongrel leader, the wronged Empyrean noble, and the crow who's come in for a landing beside her next to the glass-blower's stall. Turning to hunker down a little, she peers at the creature and gives it a gentle glance rarely turned by her upon any creature with two legs -- mostly because Faanshi generally does not dare to look at two-legged creatures. "Hello, Imphadi Crow," she whispers to it, before peeking towards Thomas again... and the Herald who seems to be this bird's friend. Then she straightens, testing her resolve, and finally beginning to slip towards the Mongrel leader. Indignation? Wha? Who... Fern is now all curious interest upon catching a glimpse into Thomas' pouch. Hmmm, he looks to be even more endowed than the Empyrean... to judge by the coins, that is. Nodding vaguely at her own dismissal, the woman drifts over toward the horses, obviously meaning to catch Thomas before he leaves. StormBearer moves towards Thomas as he finishes up his business with Ilario. As soon as he is finished, the Herald removes a scroll from within his cloak. His green eyes shine out from within the hood of his cloak. "Excuse me, Thomas Murako, I have a message for you." The 'robbed' Empyrean spares the departing Hounds a brief nod of acknowledgement, then shifts his attention back to Thomas. He looks upward at the Mongrel man, his own face a mask of determined nuetrality, and he holds out one slender hand, palm up, to receive the two coins without comment. Genuine or not, he doesn't look like he's in much of a mood to acknowledge the man's words, giving only an even, "Mmmm" in reply. He doesn't inspect the two coins -- in fact his hand closes over them and drops to his side immediately, taking the issue of money out of sight, if not out of mind. "You're not doing her any favors," he finally says to Thomas. And again, with no comment on who the mongrel is doing favors for, the Empyrean turns to go. Eric enters the Rialto from the western part of Main street. Eric has arrived. Eric travels east to the intersection of Main and Vicina. Eric has left. Lucien steps over to Pasithas quietly, he looks as disappointed as if the purse were his own. Wings shift themselves in aggitation, He wraps an arm around his pink winged wife and begins to suggestively lead her from the sight of his botched arrest. No look is given any other person just couldn't handle any mocking looks at the moment and he is not even feeling good enough to want to fight, for him that is depressed. "Ave my dear, perhaps we could go to the Palladium or the Pantheon, I do not feel like shopping any further." Numa waits beside the horse until Thomas returns to it. She crosses her arms and frowns before shrugging. For a moment she looks up and speaks quietly with one of the mounted men, a faint smile and giggle at something said. Then as she looks again at those gathered, she shakes her head and turns, perhaps intent on departing afterall. As Thomas is descended on by a number of interested parties, he merely drops the coins into the afflicted Empyrean noble's hand without word or complaint. He doesn't dignify the man's accusation with words, but gives him a hardened, speculative stare which has little beyond the sort of compassion that one might give a 'less fortunate'. If such a thing is possible for Mongrels to do. It is StormBearer's words which catch his attention, "A message?" Murako's speculative look depends as he considers what one would assume was a representative of the Heralds, "Is it one that needs to be spoken in private?" His eyes dart about the crowds as they break up, finding both Fern and Faanshi approaching him from separate angles. Pasithas places her own arm about her husband. She smiles brightly, trying to cheer him up. "That would be lovely. I am begining to become hungry, amor." She lets Lucien lead her to the Pantheon. StormBearer nods, his hand stretching out from beneath the cloak, pointing towards Faanshi. "Yes, I reccomend privacy, however, that one should be present." he says. Meanwhile, the crow has alighted, and returns to StormBearer's shoulder. Ilario has no interest in anything but a quick exit, it would seem. A few brisk strides carry him through the ring of onlookers and into the clear. White-feathered wings snap open as he leaps, and the wind blows back behind him as they sweep hard to carry the Empyrean up into the sky. Ilario never makes a backward glance, despite a few chuckles and many a look from various members of the crowd. Thenomain glances around. That, he considers, was perhaps the longest possible pointless excusrion into the crime of Haven that he has ever seen. Though he considers this a while, in case it really is true. Ilario leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above Haven. Ilario has left. [Continued in "Thievery, Turmoil, and Change, Part 2"...]