"Honor For the Dead" Log Date: 12/3/00 Log Cast: Faanshi, Mairi, Starfang, David (Faanshi's PC alt emitted by Faanshi), David's NPC fellow musicians and other crowd members (NPCs emitted by Faanshi), Jenner, Jihaad, Delilah, Aztlan, Garret, Lyranthe Log Intro: As of late the life of the shudra healer girl Faanshi has been more or less quiet--more or less. There have been complications as of late surrounding an impulsive young gladiator named Tyler who seems alarmingly interested in her, and a Varati calling himself Mehul who seems even more so. But baffling males or no, Faanshi is still a shudra with a shudra's duties, and a young woman in mourning besides. And on a summer morning when she has a bit of free time, she ventures out to the Rialto in search of black thread with which to maintain her mourning garb. What she finds, however, is a market full of music, friends who greet her--and an inexplicable standoff between one of the Agni-Haidar and the Hounds who have erected a monument to comrades slain in the line of duty.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Morning Date on Aether: Thursday, June 28, 3907. Year on Earth: 1507 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Gibbous Season: Summer Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Warm *==========================================================================* As much of the traffic seems headed toward the Rialto, you follow. 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: Starfang Memorial of Shields Mairi Obvious Exits: Streets Delphic Citadel The Smithy Memorial of Shields A tripod, composed of three spears with crossbars of wood to steady it, has been erected here. Mounted upon the tripod, one upon each face, are three shields. Made of wood and bound with strips of iron, they are painted black and have the insignia of the Hounds, a Cerberus, painted in the center. The shields are terribly damaged, as though they were used in a fierce battle. One has been obviously put back together from pieces. Beneath each shield is a name: Gressor Throwing Fox Brehar The memorial is watched over by members of the Hounds. Standing in shifts, they have guarded it continuously since it was erected - sometimes there are several, sometimes there is only one. Most always, though, they seem to be lower-ranking members of the Hounds - soldats and sentires, mostly. Summer -- and it's a day off for a quartet of young Mongrel men from the Pantheon, three of whom have decided to haul their slightly slow-on-the-uptake, black-haired, blue-eyed compatriot out into the Rialto to get him to busk. Four full male voices in harmony, led by David's liquid baritone and Jackie pounding away on a hand drum while the lot of them belt out a song about -- of all things -- riding a donkey are what greet Faanshi as she slips into the Rialto this morning with her ever-present dog at her side. It's enough to stop her, for she recognizes the young men; she's seen them sing before, and they're gathering a little crowd of Mongrel lasses, a few of whom are giggling and even tossing coins their way. Faanshi is a rather stark contrast to them in black sari and veil, but Kosha makes up for it, large and eager. Rather like the young singers. Summer, indeed. It may not be searingly hot, but it's too warm for Mairi Of the Many Skirts, and she's not looking too comfortable behind that stall of hers. Mouth set in a hard line, she looks like she's been chewing rocks for breakfast. Lemon-flavoured rocks. And now there's /music/, too. The world is plotting against her, we're sure. A strident, irritable voice lifts as she shouts at her rival, "Stealing my patterns again, are you? Keep that up and I'll tear out your spleen." That dealt with, she returns to repairing a blouse and looking bitter. Starfang ambles slowly across the square, occupied with a half-finished wooden not-so-successful attempt at a wolf. In her hands is also a miniscule knife which seems quite ridiculous, especially compared to the decent dagger occupying the bracer on her left arm. However, the tool is very suitable for small, precise cuts. All that is really needed here is more skill. Peeking up every now and then, she does take not of the boys and their audience, largely dismissing it while she makes another regrettable error in her carving. At the sound of mairi's bitter voice, a small smile plays on her lips while she continues to carve to try and hide the fact that the wolf has only one ear, now. Yep, there's music, all right, and despite the heat, a couple of the young Mongrel girls are taking this as an excuse to dance as much as propriety and a morning crowd in the market place can allow. Skirts swirling about their ankles, they're bouncing from foot to foot as David and his compatriots rally forth with the chorus of "Way-hey and away we go, donkey ridin', donkey ridin', way-hey and away we go, ridin' on a donkey!" And Faanshi, usually plaintive eyes turning a bit less plaintive for once, dips consideringly into a pouch tucked somewhere under her sari, bringing forth a meager but earnestly offered coin or two to toss into the open burlap sack before the young drummer. That accomplished, the halfbreed healer takes a step back from the little gathering of lasses enjoying the singers -- both their music and their looks -- and peeks this way and that, preparing to go about her business. The music and the heat combine to make the blood pound in Mairi's head. Seething inwardly (okay...not just inwardly), she glares at the musicians and their admirers, no doubt imagining removing their internal organs, or something equally unpleasant. Knuckles whiten on the sewing needle, and her teeth gnash. /Singing/. And.../why/ is that /Sylvan/ smiling like that? To Mairi, one Sylvan is indistinguishable from the next, and they are /all/ batty. She sniffs, mutters something physically improbable about the ancestry of the musicians, and tries to concentrate on..sewing. Starfang looks up at Mairi and very poorly stifles a giggle, looking around to the musician, pretending it's them making her smile. Her smile fades a little as a curious frown is invoked by a figure in black. Indeed being so disrespectful as to forget about Mairi for the moment, she starts to pad to the figure in black, apparently expecting to see something. Or someone. Throughout last evening, into morning and now into afternoon, there have always been at least a pair of Hounds standing on either side of the small memorial erected in the center of the Rialto. One now is an Atlantean. The other, a mongrel, shows signs of exhaustion - he's apparently been here for some time. Still, Jenner stands erect in the black uniform of the Hounds, and has watched the goings-on in the Rialto since well before the sun's rise. A number of folks in Haven might actually agree with Mairi's anatomically impossible conjectures about the heritage of the singers -- they are, after all, Mongrel boys. But they're good-looking lads, with strong and pleasant voices, and even the black-haired one whose blue eyes seem to turn a bit vacuous when he's not singing seems seized by an uncharacteristic vigor as long as he's lifting up his voice in song. David takes the lead, voice notably clearer and more resonant than those of his companions, and much to the delight of those two girls in the front he steps forward... oh, _gods_, he's not actually dancing with them, is he, singing at the same time? Looks like it. Whatever races' gods must have been responsible for putting a crowd of musically inclined young people out into the Rialto today, they're clearly doing it just to torment Mairi. As for Faanshi, the singers and their audience are easily enough dismissed, though she has to coax Kosha away from thrusting an investigative nose into the sack where the boys are collecting their money. Ears drooping a bit -- maybe the dog is even disgustingly cheerfully musically inclined today? -- the dog trots off at Faanshi's heels while the maiden makes her way through the market. The less charitable of the Rialto's inhabitants might venture to say that Mairi's bitterness results in the fact that /she/ doesn't have handsome singers asking her to dance...unless 'singers' means 'customers' and 'dance' means 'shout at'..but anyway, the woman grumps and glares, before settling down to wish a curse on all happy young people. She reaches for her cloth...to find she sold the last of it. Lovely. Now she has to make that Long, Hard Trek (maybe fifty feet) to a stall that sells that particular shade of wool. Muttering about how her rival must have stolen it, she lets herself out and latches her stall shut, gripping her broomstick firmly in one hand. Starfang and her /giggle/ earn a DeathGlare, and she thumps off in the direction of her...quarry. Starfang calls out to the one in black, "Chookma." If it's the wrong one, there will likely not be any response. Only then does the large dog become visible to her. Comparing the distant cousin with the botched wooden wolf in her hands, she grins. Noise from behind her makes her head turn before she comes to call out the maiden's name, raising her brows at the unexpected closing of Mairi's stall. Jenner regards the Sylvan girl evenly, with a bit of tired amusement on his face. At least the dancers give him something interesting to watch. Ah, but if the dog at her heels were not identification enough for Faanshi in a marketplace crowd, the way her sari-swathed head turns about at the call of a somewhat familiar voice -- and the Sylvan-green eyes that no pureblood Varati would ever have, momentarily visible above her smoke-hued veil -- can clinch it. Is that Starfang's voice? Kosha yurfs too, alerted and curious, and Faanshi considers before murmuring something to the creature at her side. "Find Starfang, Kosha, go find..." Eagerly, then, the hound cuts out in Starfang's direction, his proud plume of a tail laying an easy trail for Faanshi to follow. Starfang kneels to receive Kosha's head in her hands for accurate, sharp-nailed scritchings. "Thought it was you." In between scritching, she stuffs the tiny knife into her bracer, almost thumping the big dog with the hilt of the other, normalsize one which is definitely easier to distinguish from a needle. She holds the wooden figurine in half of her left hand, using all remaining fingers to scritch Kosha's right ear, while her right hand is busier with the dog's belly by now. She chuckles at him. "So where's your lady friend, hmm? She chase you away?" It's a bit tough, granted, for a fellow to belt out a song at the top of his lungs while a couple of giggling girls are trying to dance with him. But the black-haired singer seems to give it a valiant try, though even _his_ voice can't help but get breathless with the exertion of trying to figure out exactly how to dance with two girls at once. His friends take pity on him, seguing the donkey-riding song into a new one -- something about a sailor named Lukey whose boat is painted green. A popular ditty with the crowd, apparently. Several voices join in with the three other Mongrels on the chorus: "A-ha, me boys, a riddle-ah day!" And this frees up one of the performers to whip out a tin whistle to carry the melody line. The more layers are added to the music, the more it swells out to reach the ears of the marketgoers, laying down an audible cheer to go with the summer's day. It even reaches Faanshi, lightening her voice as it emerges from behind her veil: "I am here, Starfang; chookma...!" Coming up just behind the dog, the shudra maiden bows to the smaller healer, in that formal way she has, with her hands clasped at her breast. Enough cheer to gently lift the spirits of the two Hounds at the memorial. Both, for all their somber stance, are at least smiling. However, the afternoon crowd still gives them a respectful berth. By now, most of the shoppers have either heard or gathered the purpose of the sheild-laden tripod, and even if they don't respect the Hounds - few would wish to anger them by interfering with their vigil. Jihaad is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Jihaad has arrived. Starfang looks up to Faanshi, smiling, while her hands continue to scritch Kosha. "IT's good to see you." Havnig said that, she just looks up at Faanshi, content to scritch the maiden's dog for now. There are a number of fundamental truths in Haven: Mongrels occupy the lowest rung of the social ladder (even cute ones who can sing), Khalid Atar has a fiery temper, Delphi is a force with which to be reckoned, and the fastest way to Kosha's heart (if you don't happen to have a fresh haunch of venison handy) is to skitch his ears. In veritable doggy bliss, Kosha leans hard into Starfang's skitching, while Faanshi straightens up again and looks down to Starfang with eyes that might, just might, suggest a shy smile behind her veil. "It is good for me as well," she returns. And it is: it's quite the relief to see someone who isn't of the variety of Troubling Males, given the last week and a half or so that she's had. "You shop this morning, in the market?" Starfang shakes her head at Faanshi. "Naw... just looking around a bit while I'm trying..." she gives Kosha some more scritching, then stands up, handing her botched figurine to Faanshi, "Trying to make something." She shrugs, "I know it isn't very pretty. yet." Faanshi's black-covered head tilts thoughtfully as the object is handed to her, and while Kosha whimpers a protest (in the world according to Kosha, the only time that Kosha-scritching should cease is in when Kosha-feeding kicks in), the shudra can be seen to blink. "It is... a dog?" she asks earnestly. "Or a wolf?" Quite serious of tone, she praises, "I do not think I could make such a thing, myself. I would not know how to begin!" Delilah is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Delilah has arrived. A massive black clad figure moves at a casual yet rigid stride along the road to the north. As the giant draws closer to the Rialto, he is recognized as one Atar's Lions of Fire. The morning sun is exposed briefly from its cloudy veil, glinting of the soldier's armor and his sacred Falcare in a brilliant blaze of light. His cowl is drawn back, displaying rugged features that one might consider attractive. His ebon hair spills down his broad back in glossy waves. His hard jade eyes scan the bustling Rialto with a harsh abrasive gaze, coming to rest on an object surrounded by the pathetic indigo and black candala that maintain order in Haven. He nears their position to see what the object is that warrants the attention of two Hounds Lots of candala out and about today, indeed, and a good number of them are in fact making merry. And making music. A small crowd of Mongrels is gathered around a quarter of musicians, and while a hand drum and a tin whistle carry the melody line, a veritable gaggle of voices is harmonizing on a song about a boat painted green. In the middle of the gathering, a lanky black-haired young man is dancing with two curly-haired girls, and the lot of them all are as cheery as summer sunshine. In rather distinct contrast to the merry-makers is Faanshi, clad in black and quietly conversing with the Sylvan beside her. Between them, Kosha looks back and forth hopefully, as if wanting one or the other of them to pick up where Starfang had left off skitching his ears. Jenner stands to one side of the memorial - three battered shields mounted, one to a side, on a tripod of spears. Another Hound, a pale-skinned Atlantean, stands to the other side. While both appear in fair spirits, likely due to the music and dancers that have sprung up in the market, the mongrel of the pair appears somewhat tired. The memorial has stood in the Rialto since early evening of the day before last, continuously guarded by a vigil of Hounds who had come and gone in shifts. Both of the Hounds turn their eyes towards the approaching Agni-Haidar, but neither of them speak. Starfang frowns at Faanshi, shaking her head, "It's not right at all... One of the ears is missing, and, and, his nose is all bent.. His back is all wobbly..." She clearly refuses praise. "But, maybe if I practice, I can make those, like how I make flutes, you know? I could never make them as good as _he_ can, but then, he's a shaper. Cheater." She grins. As most of the stalls have opened, Delilah takes a gamble and decides to try agian to find something for her Warlord, Sumai, even if it is nothing more than a ring for his piercing. Even though the Rialto is crowded, a small aisle is made for the Kshatri sue to the glares and frowns from her guards, who are even more wary after her ordeal awhile ago. She looks over to the memorial before shrugging slender shoulders and heading to her goal: A rather expensive-looking Jeweler with a large selection of men's jewelry. A particulary large and flawless ruby is what caught her attention. her guards, of course, follow on her heels. Jihaad stops several feet from the two, looking the memorial over intently. After a long moment of scrutiny, he looks to the Hounds and speaks in a rumbling baritone, "This is how you honor your fallen?" "He... a shaper?" Faanshi's sungolden brow crinkles a bit, as she tries to fathom of whom Starfang might speak. Trying also to see with the other young woman's eyes, she turns the little wooden animal about in her fingers, but to her gaze, the carving's various faults are not nearly as apparent. "I have a shaper friend, he made a very nice toy for Kosha...!" Evidently, it hadn't occurred to her that there is a difference between shaping an object and carving it. Jenner regards the Varati for a moment, then shakes his head. "No. The Hounds have already honored them. We do this so that the people will be reminded of how our fallen honored Haven." His tone is even, but there's some measure of challenge in his stance - even before the towering Varati. Delilah examines the ruby, wincing internally at the price the jeweler says. The merchant, however, assumes one of those long speeches intended to get the unwise to pay that extreme price. As the crowd shifts, Delilah's attention is taken up by the sudden sight of Faanshi. The young Seeress of Messala, meanwhile, absently haggles with the merchant, wondering of Faanshi'll notice her and if it'd be a good idea to make Faanshi nervous by having her guards at hand. Finally, she settles for a price, reaching into a fold of her navy sari for the money. Starfang nods eagerly, "Yes, SoulWeaver. He's still learning, but he's made a few things... they're _beautiful_ to me. For me." She smiles, quite fondly. "So what did the man make for Kosha?" She doesn't seem to notice any bit of Faanshi ignorance. Or maybe she just can't care. Jihaad sneers and replies almost mockingly, "A waste of good kindling. None will remember nor honor fallen kafir. This so called memorial has no place here. Perhaps disposing of it might be in order?" he taunts. Aztlan strolls out from the gates to the Delphic Citadel into the Rialto's bustling commerce. His gaze flits to the taunting Jihaad and then to Jenner and the other Hounds nearby. Wonderful, what a guy. Aztlan is sure he is loved by the rest of his people. Garret arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest. Garret has arrived. "Do you know how they fell, Agni-Haidar?" Jenner's voice becomes more measured, the Hound's face growing hard. A mongrel perhaps, but with a pride nonetheless. As of yet, Faanshi hasn't noticed Delilah or her contingent of Messala guards; she's still involved in conversation with the small Sylvan. Handing Starfang her carven animal back, the shudra maiden ventures shyly, "Sunset Tide crafted him a toy bone of hardwood... with bead in it, to make it jangle! Kosha is very fond of it." Nor has she spotted the Lion of Fire who's decided to take it into his head to taunt the Hounds in their appointed duty -- which is probably a good thing, for Faanshi. As of yet, the singers and their gathered audience are also oblivious to any potential confrontation. The song about the painted boat winds down, resulting in a flurry of cheers -- and a bright blush from David as one of the Mongrel girls kisses his cheek. And then the other follows suit, much to the delight of the crowd as well as David's compatriots. Some of the onlookers go on about their business, having shopping to do, but several others linger on as the four Mongrel boys from the Pantheon start in on their next song. Jihaad snorts in distaste at the mongrel Hound, "Does it truly matter?" Garret steps into the Rialto from the southwest, looking, well, blank. IT's how Garret usually looks, truth be told. His step is a bit surer as of late, however, and there's grim determination in his eyes that's almost out of place. Noting the Memorial of Shields, he heads over towards it, respectfully. Around this time, Aztlan has arrived to the memorial, having had his interest aroused by the words exchanged between the Varati and the other Hound. He pointedly glances from each to each, his face soft, compassionate, simple. "Is there a problem, Sentire? Imphadi?" he asks each, glancing in both's direction. Starfang casts an almost too quick glance, masking a frown for Faanshi as she seems to not have noticed a Varati about to pick a fight with Hounds, or perhaps not thinking they're serious. Or something. Yeah. "That's a nice gift. Kosha is getting spoiled..." She looks down at the beast, grinning at the sight of the poor unscritched doggie. Her shopping finished, Delilah decides to at least say Hi to her friend. But the Lion of Fire catches her attention, and her two guards exchange a resigned sigh. But Delilah shakes her head, and walks on towards Faanshi, visable to any who would happen to look. She shakes her head, supressing the stirring of her magic as it pushes at her. "Not as of yet, Soldat," Jenner says to Aztlan, although his narrowed eyes don't leave the large Varati's features. "They fell," the Hound addresses Jihaad, "bringing down an Empyrean convicted of killing a Varati. Now if you care to continue speaking poorly of the dead, perhaps you'd care to shift your attentions to the bastard that killed my comrades. Otherwise, I'll kindly ask you to hold your tongue." There's a pause before Jenner adds, almost as an afterthought, "Imphadi." "Kosha is quite shameless," Faanshi agrees in a tone that might, just might, almost be considered wry. Is it possible that somewhere under that black veil there might lurk a sense of humor? Around Starfang, at least, she seems comfortable enough to let the glimmer of ease peek through. But even though she is of predominantly innocent temperament, she is not entirely unobservant. Something in the corner of her vision -- perhaps the gleam of armor worn by Delilah's guards, or perhaps the subtle gathering of Hounds near the memorial -- makes her turn her head for a moment, glancing in that direction. To her eyes, the uniform of a Lion of Fire is unmistakable, and her brow crinkles for a moment at the sight, but she makes no comment about what the men might be doing. Such is not her place. And at any rate, she also espies Delilah coming her way, and to her, the shudra abruptly and deeply bows. Kosha perks up, recognizing the young seeress; his tail begins to wag. Jihaad glares at Aztlan with utter contempt in his eyes, "I merely seek to rid the Rialto of excess kindling." He takes a step forward, "Any Varati killed by winged candala is not worthy of my concern." Another step forward." Now step aside or I shall move you all myself!" His voice cuts sharply through the din of the marketplace Lyranthe soars in from the skies above. Lyranthe has arrived. With a narrowing of his eyes, Garret steps between the Agni-Haidar, and Jenner. "Sir," he says in his usual clear monotone voice, "let me assure you, this memorial is here legally, and any attempt to remove it, would be an affront against the city of Haven, not to mention the noble Hounds that keep the peace here." Garret's expression is blank and unreadable, but any Atlanteans present might catch some of his annoyance leaking out. "As I currently have the honor to act as Provost, I believe I am in a position to know such things, so please believe me. Do not interfere in this matter." The two guards of Delilah's attention are taken up by the Lion of Fire, giving Delilah a chance to dart away from them and to Faanshi. "Namaste, Faanshi!" She says, giving Kosha a chew-toy she'd intended for the pet. Aztlan nods lightly to the Varati, understanding of his words, as he is not in the warrior's way, but yet crosses to place a gentle hand upon Jenner's shoulder. A moment's glance is given to Garret, nodding to his words, yet the Atlantean Hound's own voice speaks to Jenner, and when he does speak, it is soft: "This is neither the time nor place for such. Opinion remains a freedom granted to all; how we act upon it also is a freedom, yet despite the imphadi's disheartening words, let us allow him safe passage so as to protect the sanctity of this memorial and the relative peace of the Rialto's patrons, hmm?" Some of the Mongrel marketgoers who'd stopped to listen to the four boys from the Pantheon start noticing the posturing going on near the memorial; one young fellow elbows a companion, and a girl whispers to the two others with whom she'd just been discreetly ogling David's fair-haired friend Breon. The musicians' audience is torn: to linger on and enjoy the singing, or remove themselves from the vicinity? After all, if an Agni-Haidar gets it into his head to challenge the Hounds, it's generally advisable for common citizenry to get out of the way as fast as possible. David doesn't notice immediately -- the boy IS a little slow, after all -- but his friends are quicker on the uptake. Brown-haired Nat shoots a frown in the memorial's direction, and as soon as he gets a chance, he steps up to call out gaily to their remaining audience, "An' there's more where this comes from, lads and lasses; we'll be back t'morrow, ye ken? And we'll bring Davey with us!" A round of applause -- a blink from David as he finally catches on -- and the boys from the Pantheon disperse, taking their audience with them. Jihaad looks sidelong at Garret and nearly growls his words, "That you even address me is an affront! You would do well to get out of my way kafir!" His hand goes to the lion-headed pommel of his weapon, but he refrains from drawing it...for now. The two guards look from their ward to the fight, trying to decide wether to grab the girl and run, or to join the fight about to happen. The blanketing of wings over sky cast a shadow over an area near the Memorial, and after spotting a place some several paces off, the owner of them lands with a graceful backflick of her wings. Storm-grey eyes assess the situation and those gathered; and here she had just come to pay homage and do her part as a Hound. "Sentire Aztlan! Esper-Soldat Jenner!" The Reeve's voice is clarion in the din of the Rialto, a trick she learned from a certain Commander. Stepping up to the Memorial and turning her gaze on Garrett and the Agni-Haidar, the winged-woman crosses bulky arms over an equally impressive chest. "Is something amiss here?" "You will stand by the memorial, Esper-Soldat," Jenner says to Aztlan, no question as to the order in his tone, "As his 'safe passage' would take him through it." The man's right hand moves across his body to rest on the swordhilt at his left hip, but the weapon remains within its sheath. "Imphadi, this Memorial remains. The Provost remains. You are in Haven, and the law of Delphi stands here. Please, go about the business of your day." Delilah walks up to Faanshi, rolling her eyes at the bow. "Please, Faanshi. Don't bow to me! Its kinda embarassing.." She says, givign her friend a hug. Starfang hides in the folds of her dress a small not all that wellmade figurine of a wolf, looking to the crowd around the knot of armed men. Brawl? Plunder? Hm... Faanshi snaps back into her attention, she turns about, "I don't know if you should stay here. Might get bad." She seems concerned, even. Garret nods to Jenner's words as he says them, and merely raises an incredulous eyebrow at Jihaad as the Varati grasps the hilt of his sword. "Please, do not draw your weapon here," he says in that same emotionless tone. "We offer you neither insult, nor offense, but the memorial will stand." Garret's pale blue eyes look up harmlessly at Jihaad as the slender, unarmed Atlantean continues to incredulously stand between the Agni-Haidar, and the Hound memorial. At Lyranthe's arrival, Garret nods to her. "Blessings," he says by way of greeting, leaving any reports to the Hounds to give. And really, he assumes Lyranthe can figure it out, she's a big girl. The breaking up of the little knot of dancers and musicians cannot help but touch Faanshi's awareness as well; she'd recognized those four Mongrels, indeed, from the wake that had been held for her lost beloved, and even though she'd occupied herself with conversing with Starfang a small shy part of her had been enjoying the rough earthy harmony of the singers and their enthusiastic drumming. She peeks off in the direction where the musicians had been, and past them to the memorial and the increasing numbers of Hounds present. Ushas, she thinks. But here is Delilah, hugging her, and most of her attention must go to the seeress. "A-as you wish," she says softly, though now her voice is a trifle troubled by what she witnesses across the way. "Delilah, may I introduce my friend Starfang...?" And with one sungolden hand, she indicates the Sylvan healer. A sharp grating ring of steel resounds throughout the Rialto as Jihaad's blade is freed of its sheath. People start to move back to a safe distance, not wishing to get in the Agni-Haidars way, "Step aside!" Nodding to Garrett with a respectful dip of her helmed head, Lyranthe pushes the butt end of her staff firmly against the ground. "You are threatening the Provost Imphadi," the Reeve growls. "whether you mean to be or not. I suggest you put away your weapon before I decide that I have sufficient enough grounds to have you arrested." Inserting her massive female form in front of the mongrel, she faces Jihaad with nothing even close to resembling fear in her eyes. "Please." Jenner's hand remains upon the hilt of his sword. Together with the atlantean Hound that had been standing vigil with him, the pair flanks the Reeve silently. Neither shows any sign of moving from their position, although it seems to be only an effort of will that keeps the green-eyed mongrel's sword in its sheath. Delilah gives the sylvan a curious look. "It is a pleasure, Branded One." she says, bowing slightly. Her guards, however, feeling her best bet is to be safe in Atesh-Gah, stride over and (without one word) pick her up and carry her off, ignoring her rather hot curses. Starfang stares after Delilah, one hand slinking up check if indeed the cloth is still covering her forehead almost past her brows. Hm. It _is_. She frowns deeper. However, the nearby danger draws her attention, and she starts to get a little restless at the sight of bared steel. they're like to have at it, soon. A quick search shows which traders choose not to lock their stall and stay inside and pray. The likely places to.... _FIND_.... things. Jihaad looks down at the Reeve with a sneer, "You are outclassed, candala. You would not live to see me arrested." Twirling his blade around in a complex pattern, the Lion of Fire sheathes his Falcare with a sharp click, "I give you quarter this day. Next time I may not be as merciful." With that he spits at her feet and turns his back to the Hounds and strides away, shoving any in his path roughly aside. Garret quietly notes Lyranthe step up beside him, and face Jihaad. He says nothing, merely standing there and letting the Reeve and her Hounds do their duty, though he's not moving out of Jihaad's way, either. Garret merely watches the large Varati ... as Jihaad blusters, and walks away. Pale blue eyes narrow on the Agni-Haidar's back, and Garret just shakes his head. "I am glad," he says quietly, "that this is resolved without bloodshed. Reeve, Esper-Soldat, Sentire, please forgive me for intruding into your business, but I had hoped that I might be of service." While outwardly, there's no change on his face, any Atlanteans nearby could feel Garret's emotions flicker on, and off, as if another force was trying to over-take his magic. In the moments when they can catch anything leaking from his mind, it's almost as if another presence is there with him. An older, protective entity ... that growls darkly. "Merciful Ushas," Faanshi breathes, greatly disturbed by the sight near the memorial -- and by the Messala guardsmen abruptly scooping Delilah up and striding away with her. Kosha lets out a bark of his own disturbance, but as of yet, nothing untoward appears to be coming towards _Faanshi_, and that's the hound's greatest personal concern. He edges closer to her, a half-uncertain growl rumbling in his throat. The Reeve's temper is kept coldly checked; she will not dishonor her teachers by releasing whatever feelings she might have on the exposed--however exposed on can truly be wearing armor--back of the Agni-Haidar. Lips part as a retort is considered, but no. There are subordinates here she must set an example for. Turning darkened, narrowed grey eyes on Garret after giving the Esper-Soldat and Sentire a once over to make sure that they are alright, Lyranthe manages a terse smile. "Please Provost, no apologies are needed. Thank you for watching after my men." Clapping the Atlantean on the shoulder with a familiarity she should not possess, the Reeve turns to Jenner, gesturing in the air with a gloved hand as she speaks. "Alright Sentire, speak up. What brought that rock grubber down on all of you like a landslide?" Aztlan places a hand on Jenner's shoulder, saying something softly to him before he looks to the Reeve and Provost, falling silent once more. Delilah get carried away, hands tossing about as she gets carried away. Delilah has left. Jenner gives Aztlan a brief smile, "No problem. I didn't want to get my sword dirty on him, either." With that, he turns to Lyranthe. "Damned if I know, Reeve." Although he's still simmering at the Varati's words, his eyes still flicking now and then to track the Agni-Haidar's departure, his tone is genuinely puzzled. "Soldat Funashi and I were standing vigil - the Agni-Haidar came up to us as we stood and asked if this was how we honored our fallen. When I told him it served to remind Haven how our fallen honored the city, he started talking about the whole thing being trash." As Jihaas leaves the Rialto, Jenner's hand finally leaves his sword. "I even told him they died going after a Varati-killer, but that didn't do a thing. Esper-Soldat Aztlan here made a good effort at being concilatory, and even the Provost stepped in. The big son still made noises about wanting to wade through us all." He shrugs, "That's when you arrived, Reeve." Starfang looks a trifle discouraged by the averting of a massive riot, yet just shrugs it off. It's not as if it won't happen another time. She turns to Faanshi, seeming completely unconcerned, now. "So, what brings you here, this fine day?" Garret offers a go at a smile to Lyranthe. It doesn't quite work: Garret hasn't mastered facial expressions, and likely never will. At Jenner's explaination, the Atlantean listens intently; he wasn't around for the initial confrontation. A short exhalation of breath is Garret's only respons. Then, quietly, "If you will excuse me?" he says. "I ought to be about my business." Then, turning to the memorial, he pours some water from his ever-present waterskin onto his hand, then flicks the droplets onto the shields. "Honor to the dead." Faanshi draws in a soft, slow breath, having the entirely opposite reaction from Starfang to the averting of violence: profound relief. She peeks worriedly after the Lion of Fire, half of her wondering why the memorial must have angered one of Khalid's own chosen warriors -- and half of her wondering, though she would never dare admit it to _anyone_, whether it was necessary for the Lion to openly confront the Hounds who guard it. "I was going to shop for thread," she murmurs to Starfang, tinily. "Black thread..." Listening carefull to Jenner, Lyranthe nods occassionally but otherwise does not comment. As Garret speaks, she glances at the Atlantean and nods. "Fair winds, Provost" she murmurs, half-distracted as she considers the Varati Jihaad's actions with a thoughtful glint in her eye. Rubbing a gloved thumb along the side of her nose thoughtfuly, the Reeve turns her attention now on Aztlan. "And what of you, Esper-Soldat? Have you been here long? Is this the only incident that has occured?" Aztlan smiles lightly, "I just returned from a lesson with one of my students on the Citadel when I saw the situation rising," he admits, bowing his head. "Twas a pity the Aether chose not to bless him, for I would have enjoyed watching him writhe in my grip as I severed the link it woul dhave held on him," he remarks, half jokingly, half with...something darker. Something -- a merchant whose stall she might have been eying a little too closely, perhaps? -- abruptly makes Starfang melt out of Faanshi's vicinity, leaving the shudra to blink in multiple directions, alone save for the dog who nudges his nose against her side in search of assurance that all is well. The shudra pauses long enough to scritch his ears and murmur to him. With that, then, she peeks in the direction of the memorial, conscience twisting within her breast. She cannot for the life of her imagine while the honoring of dead comrades must anger one of the Lions of Fire... and furthermore, her time in Haven _has_ brought Faanshi the occasional incident where she's gotten a glimmer of understanding that the Varati aren't exactly well-received in the city. She does not consciously consider her actions, then, but a little niggling of guilt and concern within her prompts her to move on shy silent feet towards the gathering of Hounds -- not close enough to disturb them, but close enough so that she might peek at the memorial more closely. Close enough that she might bow her head in humble acknowledgement, sketch a sigil across her breast, and murmur a prayer behind her veil. Jenner sighs, looking up at sun's place in the sky. "Damn shame, too. It's just about the end of the two days we'd planned to stand vigil here." He looks to the Reeve, then to the others present, "Think we should keep the vigil another day, so nobody mistakes coincidence for cause? Wouldn't want anyone to think we were worried about him coming back." Garret nods to Jenner in agreement. "I'll sign off on that as soon as I get back to my office," he says. Then, tugging his protective hood up over his head again - Garret sunburns easily - he heads back towards the Citadel's gates. And Faanshi, as soon as she has made her small gesture of respect to the memorial for the dead Hounds, turns and whistles quietly to get Kosha to follow along at her heels; in moments, before anyone can intercept her or question her, the halfbreed in black creeps off shyly into the crowd. Black thread will just have to wait for another day. [End log.]