"Earthquake in the Rialto" Log Date: 11/13/99 Log Cast: Thenomain, Pu-abi, Rory, Richard, Ranjeet, Mouth (NPC emitted by Rory), Gadin, Altair, Theron, Nandin, Riva, Auberius, Listle Log Intro: Strange times have fallen upon Haven. Mages all over the city have begun losing control of their powers, often with dramatic, frightening, and even lethal results. Almost as alarming to those who possess no magic whatsoever is the apparent fact that the mages themselves cannot seem to say what has befallen them all, much less what is causing it. Among those without magic is the trader -- and thief -- Richard, who has found his guardianship of the Mongrel children Roki and Elette once again challenged. How can a man keep his charges safe, when half the city is falling apart around him? But the chaos that has swept over Haven is not yet done, for the roiling of the aether is about to extend into the very earth itself.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Late Morning Date on Aether: Tuesday, July 23, 3905. Year on Earth: 1505 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Last Quarter Season: Summer Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Warm *==========================================================================* Main street crosses the Rialto, which is busy and bustling as you enter. 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: Ranjeet Rory Pu-abi Thenomain Obvious Exits: Streets Delphic Citadel Thenomain scratches his chin and looks around. Fruit stall. Fruit stall. Clearly one close. Probably within ... ahha! Strideful, casual, still relaxed or at least trying to come off that way, Thenomain meanders to Rory. He looks at her then, like any other person in a crowd, looks up to see what she might be looking at. Pu-abi clings basket tightly to her chest once more. For lack of anywhere better to go as of yet, she lingers for a while in the Rialto, looking from stall to stall. "There is something wrong, Thenomain," murmurs Auvrey, voice quieted by this changing atmosphere. Those stupid, infesting black birds that she so many times had to fight over a meal with are quiet. Not Good. It has not been -that- long since she's been off the streets, after all. Pale eyes lighten considerably, bordering on white. "Do you not feel it?" Silly mongrel. Doesn't he pay attention? The last time Richard had come into the Rialto, he'd had the two children who call him uncle in tow. This time he is alone. After what had happened when he'd set foot in the marketplace before, the man isn't exactly trusting that Elette and Roki will be safe here. On the other hand, he isn't exactly trusting that they'll be safe without him either, and thus, Richard makes his way with as swift strides as possible towards the stalls that are his intended goals this morning. Thenomain looks around and watches the sky. Even as the Rialto begins to quiet unusually, unnaturally. "Er ... maybe we should head inside," suggests Thenomain. /Is/ he paying attention? And if so, to what? "I saw a woman explode into flames the other day. Thank you, but the Delphic Citadel does not happen to be the safest of places at the moment." Caution radiates from this Auvrey lass, her eyes sweeping into the shadows once more. "If the animals sense it this soon, and en mass, stalls are not much good either. Any other suggestions?" Calm, yes. Cautious, yes. Panicked? Not -yet-. Thenomain eyes Rory sidelong. "Sense what?" Pu-abi moves over to a stall that used to sell childrens clothes, but it appears the woman hasn't yet decided to reopen, she waves a hand to direct Pu-abi towards another stall. Pu leaves only reluctantly, slipping a hand into her basket as she turns, and pulls out a piece of fruit, eyes then drift over the Rialto again, and as they come on Richard, the woman blinks a few times in surprise. The sound is faint. Subliminal. It seems almost ... rhythmic, with a high, rapid pattern too fast to be counted. It chitters annoyingly on the edge of your perception. "I do not pretend to know, sir," comes the husky reply, silks rippling as she adjusts, slowly circling, viewing. "Something. Ravens are never cautious." And then the sound? A twitching in Auvrey's body nearly mimicks the grating noise. Stepping away from the stall, it is almost as though she be stalking. "Any suggestions?" She repeats, voice a bit more firm now. Thenomain looks one way, then the other, then says, "The Smithy's been there a few hundred years. It's just me and Shimone. Shim's Sylvan, but as magic as a turnip." Rising up slowly, Ranjeet's gaze shifts about the Rialto quickly, looking for familar faces. Upon his features is the stamp of foreknowledge. The question is, what does one -do- with such knowledge. Clambering up roughly onto a vendors table, ignoring the cries and snarls of the artisan, Ranjeet belows at the top of his lungs, "The earth is going to buckle and shake - get clear of anything that might fall and crush you now!!" Many stand, staring up at the Varati wondering if the injured man is simply mad? Is this some return of the maddness of the day before?? Richard is not a mage. But still he has two decades' worth of experience honing his instincts and senses, and even before Ranjeet bellows out his announcement, the lean man in ebon and navy draws to a halt, frowning intently at his surroundings as if looking for some sign of danger. Then his dark twilight gaze snaps round in the Varati's direction, and alarm sharpens his gaze. Tyche. The children...! With a Mongrel's distaste for those who do nothing but subjugate him based on what he is, Thenomain sneers at the crazy Varati. Yes, crazed. Yes. Definately. Crazed. Shit. "Here," he says quickly to Rory, "come with me. Can you lift anything?" He struggles with the massive, two-story doors of the smithy, pulling one open wide. "Away from the crowds," near-whispers Rory, Ranjeet's proclamation coming just as her decision is made. "Lead in, Thenomain..." Intensity radiates from Auvrey as she edges, come Thenomain's lead or no, towards the smithy. "I am a strong woman. What need you me to lift?" Pu-abi's gaze shifts over to Ranjeet and his announcement, Face turning worriedly for a moment. She scans over the crowd again, and there are many, many faces showing fear, and many more riduculing the man, that leaves Pu uncertain of what to do. She edges over towards another booth uncertainly, planning to take cover there if it is needed. Thenomain tells Rory, "Push everything to the sides. Push the tables against the side-tubing. The gears and pipes might fall, but I'll be damned if I let the piping fall on anyone!" Into the large, heat lit smithy he shouts, "Get the fire out!" Well, that might not help, but the last thing we need is a fire. Shapes from within the smithy look up, then start to move. No questions, no understanding. Good Apprentices. Gooood apprentices. The subliminal sound--the perception that is really more feel than hear--rises into the audible. It is a clinking, clattering, rattling sound. Anything free. Anything loose and sitting on shelves. Anything set next to another item rattles against it. The leaves clatter in the trees, rustling against one another. And beneath your feet.. the ground.. vibrates. Thenomain leans against the shuddering framework of the oversized door and starts shouting at merchants, each by name. Things such as, "Lankar! You smelly fish, get your fins under cover!" "Rory!" shouts a voice, elbows shoving a group of panicked people aside as a scraggly, gangly boy pops into view. "Wot's wit' th'ravens? Ain't true, issit? Earthquake, lik'n tha' pompijay Varati man be sayin'?" Strong hands grasp, the young lad literally yanked into the smithy's withins. "You heard Thenomain. Help out, Mouth." So it is that the fiery lass begins as directed, pushing and tugging in appropriate manners. The lad too. And then? Beneath a doorjam, the small boy grappled into her arms, body surrounding protectively. When those about him doubt his words, Ranjeet scans the area once again, lips drawing back in a feral snarl. Catching sight of at least one sane smith, Ranjeet clambers down awkwardly and begins to move from stall to stall - those that have fire he starts to put them out, any way that he can. The crowds are at first shocked, then some outraged. Turning against the mad Varati, the vendors try to drag him off of their stalls, striking blows against him. There is the soft rasp of drawn steel, Ranjeet's eyes dangerous as he slashes at those who draw near. He does not draw blood, but by the glint in his dark gaze, the man means business. Cries of dismay and fearful wails begin erupting from many throats around the marketplace, especially once the earth begins to move. "Away from the walls!" Richard bellows to some of the nearer merchants whose stalls are clustered on the edge of the marketplace. Never mind the cried warning of the Varati, the shifting of the ground is enough to spar him into action. "Grab yer valuables! Move it! Move!" He hurls himself at a startled old woman, helping her as swiftly as possible out of her tiny booth where she'd been settling tin trinkets now beginning to rattle disturbingly, adding their small noises to the building din. Pu-abi's first response to the shaking is wider eyes, a hand reaches out to grasp the stall she's next too, eyes circling the Rialto as shaking intensifies and even those who doubted are now beginning to fear. She edges back away from the crowd, and it's there that Richards shouts reaches her ears, and she steps forward again, moveing through the growingly chaotic Rialto Merchants seem to be taking care of their own. The permenant structures around the sides, most of them the most eliete of shopps, take in the other merchants. Reguardless of race or sex, creed or size, only the typical games of personal politics that helps pass the weeks away determine who runs to whom. "BLOODY 'ELL! OI'S AIN'T GUNNA STAY 'ERE! Ye kinna make me Rory! Ain't gunna die lik'n a" and a great many cursewords become involved in Mouth's hysterical speach, before a continuance of his thoughts returns, "man pissin' 'ees breeches! Lemme g'down w'th'world fightin'!" The mongrel woman's only response are soothing noises, surprisingly strong arms wrapping even tighter around her selected charge. "Hush, Mouth. Shh..Keep still." Crystal eyes once again are drawn outwards, the rattling within nothing compared to that within the Rialto proper. Thenomain waves toward the people he lets haven in the smithy. "C'mon c'mon c'mon." Cupping his mouth he shouts, "Okay, Delphi, if you want to keep us you know what you have to do." Then the door closes. The big, mighty smithy door begins to swing shut with a loud clanking of chains. He shoos Rory and Mouth away from the closing wood. The sound of it rises, and with it the shaking. It is more than just a trembling, now. The earth itself twitches like the skin of a horse trying to rid itself of a fly. It shakes you. Objects are tossed from their normally safe places to fall to the ground--many to break. Many flee the marketplace in growing terror, and those that challenged the Varati either choose to leave him be are begin to help him put out the grills of cooking meats and fires scattered throughout the Rialto. Barking out orders with efficiency, Ranjeet is surpised at how many do respond and obey the authority in his tone, tearing down large tents quickly, putting out fires and shuttling people out of the Rialto as quickly as possible. Again and again, the well dressed Varati calls out to those about him, "Take what provisions you have and flee the city ... stay away from the forest where trees might yawn and fall! Look out for the earth opening beneath your feet!" It matters not who he helps or whom he tells it would seem, purebreed, halfbreed, or mongrel, they are all given what assistance he can before Ranjeet moves on to insure that the rest of the Rialto is at least battened down for what is to come. Authority? The peoples of Haven are not as stupid as many joke. "Come to Haven, where they're cramped so close together that they have to share a brain!" No, that's just stories. The people of Haven are survivors. Reguardless of the words, wisdom is wisdom in the case of life or death. Richard's balance is exceptional; the man's shimmied up drainpipes and trees and ropes all over Haven in some of his more... er... dubious nocturnal activities. The shaking of the earth does not make him stumble, though he grimaces at the dark thought that if this keeps up the ground might not remain where he intends to put his feet. But he'll worry about that when he needs to. For now, like Ranjeet, he focuses on helping urge people out into the open air and out from the shadow of walls. Soon he finds Pu-abi in the throng, and he calls to her urgently, "Get out, luv, you lookin' to get yourself trampled? Move it, go on now!" Thenomain leans against the closed doorway, letting out a long sigh. The world is Out There. We are In Here, in the darkness of the smithy. The worst that could happen would be the building collapse and everyone crushed and killed, perhaps even instantly. Mouth's wails become nothing but a few sniffles and a hold upon Rory that puts superglue to shame. As for Rory? Waiting within, she is, and not so well. Cramped quarters. Closed quarters. It has never been her forte, and if the tightening of her lips, the whitening of her knuckles, or her slightly shallow breaths are any indication, she hasn't mastered accepting it yet, either. Pu-abi is one of those who flee, but she doesn't seem to want to leave the Rialto, no instead the woman pushes farther into it's depths of the marketplace, makeing her way towards the Smithy that she left just moments before, only to stop in despair as the door closes, Gadin's in there. She turns around, lost as to what to do, until she hears Richard's voice calling out. Get out? But where, Fleeing crowds clog nearly ever exit way, nevertheless she chooses one and begins to fight towards it despite herself. The shaking increases, tossing many to the ground. It as if the earth has turned to the waters of the ocean, rising and falling like waves. The rumbling sound of it rises over the clatter, an earthen roar. Gadin has arrived. Thenomain yelps! and falls over, catching his hands on the rough stone floor before his head has a chance to do the same. He quietly curses and pulls himself up, leaning again against the interior of the smithy door. The mix of panic and fear becomes too much, people running everywhere, falling to the ground, and getting trampled by those trying to escape. After his ordeal the previous day, Ranjeet's balance and strength is not what it usually is, and when the earth shakes beneath his feet like a dog shaking off water, he is tossed roughly to one side, crashing into an abandoned stall with a bark of pain that is lost in the din and chaos. Gadin is, the illusion of sudden apparitions notwithstanding, actually not in the marketplace proper at all. No, the small boy is in one of the buildings, the smithy to be precise, huddled up along with the other apprentices while the world seemingly turns topsy-turvy all around him. The shaking continues, going on.. and on. In the distance, you can hear the roar as a building slowly crumbles to the earth. A ball. No, not those frilly things with repetitive music, flighty females, the scent of decaying perfume and strutting men in a meat-market style. No, instead, Rory and Mouth fold into a circular thing, the boy's fragile body completely encompassed by the long folds of Auvrey's, each sinking to the floor with unsteady legs over the ripples and chaos. Pu-abi looses her balance after only a few steps, and then the earth underneath her rises up to meet her side, and she topples over to the ground. Hands reach out in a futile effort to catch herself and lesson the impact of the cobblestones. As the woman hits the ground, she rolls over to struggle to her feet, only to be met by the sight of a stall toppling over ontop of her. Altair is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Altair has arrived. He's never had to try to ride a horse, and after this, Richard isn't sure he'll ever want to. He's getting more than enough shaking and bucking to last a man for his entire life. Keen though his sense of balance might be, he becomes hard pressed to keep to his feet between the writhing of the ground and the increasingly panicked individuals desperate to squirm past him. There's no way he's getting out of here to reach Elette and Roki now. And then he catches sight of Pu-abi going down under that stall; an oath escapes him. Apparently he's starting to develop a habit of having to save this woman; he shoulders his way through the crowd, thundering demands for passage. Thenomain looks to the shapes beside him, almost tasting the fear. And they call it magic. Pah. No, it's available to anyone, fear, sensing it or having it. But now is not the time to do anything about it. The mongrel smith looks over his charges, keeping a close eye, close ear, riding out his unintentional prophecy. Quietly, he begins to wonder if he's maybe a halfbreed after all. Theron soars in from the skies above. Theron has arrived. Theron doesn't actually land but remains in the air. He's not coming down until he sees that the ground has stopped moving. He's accompanied by quite a few of his Guard. First response to ground moving, get somewhere where it's not. Fly. Gadin is pretty low to the ground already, in terms of height at least, but the first few unsettling ripples of the ground convinced him that hands-and-knees are the way to go here. He winces as something in the smithy behind him crashes; some of the tools, most likely, or else works in progress. He doesn't bother to look, since his eyes are rather fearfully trained on the ceiling, willing it to stay right up there while he stays right down here. The earth splits with a quiet roar, a fissure shifting through the ground swallowing a few stalls and causing others to sink and crash as it tries to devour them hungrily, the ground still writhing like an unbroken stallion. As the air screams with the torture of the splitting ground, so does Thenomain, like a link to the earth, like a grasp of man to the world around him. It's short, primal, and his fingernails bleed where they grip against the heat-hardened Smithy door. Even it ripples. Oh Gods, he thinks, I didn't mean to be right. Try as she might, Pu is unable to avoid the stall that comes crashing down on her. Arms raising to her head now trying to shelter and protect that as the wood splinters and crashes all around her and ontop of her, a heavey and painful weight that keeps her from moveing and stifles her breathing. Massive vibrations rattle through the earth, tossing it about violently, as well as anything standing upon it. The screams rise. Although the Rialto was blessed with quick minds putting out hot fires, other areas of Haven are not so fortunate. Already there is the scent of smoke upon the air and fires can be seen springing up in the surrounding areas here and there, the chaos and quaking earth causing them to spread quickly with no one able to put them out it would seem ... Altair comes in from the North, he and a few other Empyrean Hounds flying low and straight from the Bastion. Already trying to take appraisal of the damage, even as it's occurring, they head for that fissure in case anyone gets trapped there. Theron signals, indicating his soldiers then the fissure. This is where military discipline shines. What must be an Acies at the very least, starts positioning themselves in pairs, swooping down to rescue what ones they can from falling into that newly formed crevice. A few break off and try to get to those crushed beneath the debris. Past two shrieking Mongrel girls towards whose brother Richard shoves them. Past a corpulent Varati floundering upon the ground. Richard is then flung to his hands and knees, his palms taking the brunt of his fall, but fortunately for Pu-abi he's more or less reached her now. He half-scrambles, half-crawls to the wreckage of the stall and starts grabbing hunks of broken wood and stone to fling them out of the way, enough to free her. "D'ye live?" he demands hoarsely, trying to free her face and head. Ahh, but to rescue many a wing'ed wonder must land, and the land flows like water, grinding, screaming, a danger to itself and others. Praetors flood the sky, Hounds the ground. Forces from every government creep out through the tremors, trying to assist where they may--but what assistance can be given while the ground still heaves? The weight of the debris on top of her, makes breathing for Pu-abi difficult enough, getting enough air to speak is next to near impossible, never the less a distinctive, if soft and weak "Yes." can be heard. Landing isn't -always- necessary, but yes, the occasional Praetor does land to help where one can, and looks flummoxed at the ground heaves and moves beneath them, it's nearly identical. But the others just redouble their efforts, performing more scooping motions, going, in their own discrimnatory way, for the lightest, which are mostly children, quite a few women and some men. Theron's legions heavily outweigh the number of Hounds on hand, but that's more than understandable. Most of the Hounds are still at the Bastion, suffering from a severe lack of traction capability due to the earth shaking under them. They're on their way, just having trouble getting here. Altair's quick to action, pointing out a few of those unfortunates that cling to ground and debris in desperate attempts not to allow the earth it's prey. He and his other Hounds swoop down from the sky, some coming back up rather quickly with children and women in their arms, others becoming more ground-bound as they help to lift heavier victims from the earth's new, gaping mouth. Fallen wood, glass and even people bounce like bugs being baked on a hot, hot skillet. A particularly loud crash from the direction of the forge behind him draws a yelp from Gadin, as the boy ducks his head turtle-like under his arms. It's actually not a bad strategy to adopt here. Really, though, it's more a matter of being too scared to move than anything that has him holed up toward the center of the room. This can't go on forever, can it? Could it be that the tremors subside? They are, at least, fractionally less in intensity. But they continue to rock the city and the lands beyond... From one demolished and writhing stall crawls the figure of a Varati man, his face bloodied, his dark hair matted and wet with blood it would seem. He clutches an arm already in a sling to his body, pain radiating from his features. Standing is a joke, and yet he continually attempts to rise and make his way through the quaking ground and debris, now making his way with silent determination toward Atesh Gah. It's a damned good thing Pu-abi got out that one choked gasp, because Richard is not exactly interested in wasting time unburying a corpse. A splash of dread surges down his spine at the thought of what must be happening over in Bordertown where the buildings are more fragile -- and where he's left the children. A chunk of something ricochets off his back, forcing a sharp hiss out of him, but he is otherwise undeterred as he paws his way through the debris that's still covering Pu-abi. First her head... then her shoulders, then an arm. "Can ye move?" he barks. Theron himself heads for a woman, huddling beneath a pile of wood, not that she knows. Betraying the quick reflexes that his race is known for and shedding a few feathers in the process, he swoops down, only to scoop her up and out of the way. Pu-abi looks uncertain at that question, her face already knit up with pain, now furrowing more in worry. She turns eyes down to a hand sticking out, as if she needs to look at it to force what she wants, and indeed, first a finger twitches and then the hand itself wriggles. Eyes turn back up to Richard and she nods, she can atleast move a little. Altair sees a couple small kids, cowering as they're caught between a hard place and literally nothing, the bouncing debris they cower against literally pushing them closer to the fissure. He lands briefly, taking each one in an arm. "Hold on tight! I'm taking you for a ride," he coos, trying to calm them as he lifts off again. Right on another bounce, unfortunately. It adds power to his leap, causing a temporary loss of control, but he soon corrects himself and heads for the relatively building-clear center of the Rialto. It is definately subsiding.. however that does not mean that the earthquake's fury is any less dangerous. Just more random. More fitful. The earth twitches and heaves as if reluctant to lie back docilly upon its foundations. That's all Richard needs to know. He keeps digging Pu-abi free, deliberately ignoring the small scratches that jagged bits of wood and stone deal him. Only when he's managed to uncover enough of her body that he can begin to think about tugging her out of what's left of the stall does he hold out his battered hands, urging, "Can ye get up?" Inside the smithy, Gadin takes a short lull of seismic activity as license to move. First he uncovers his head, to bob a quick look around at damage done to the interior of the building. "Is it over?" he calls over hesitantly toward Thenomain. Tentatively, he starts to rise into a crouch, ready to scurry over in the large man's direction. Amazingly, through all the heaving and the twitching, the Citadel remains an island of stability. Although it rises and falls with the earth's shaking, the brilliant white walls show no sign of fracture.. none of cracking or even flaking a bit of the pristine surface. It may be tossed, but it is a steady ship upon the heaving sea of earth. The waves slow now to hardly a crawl, the earth reluctantly twitching and groaning as it finally subsides. It's a repeated process, rising and falling up and down again as the earth rises up and down, lifting Ran up and flinging him down with little care. Ranjeet slowly makes his way through the ruins, pausing when he passes someone in need. There is a soft crying audible, his gaze flickering over to a caravan that has been tossed over on it's side and split in two. The door is beneath it. Drawing his sword slowly, Ranjeet holds his injured arm to his chest, raising the blade with his other. He leans close, listening closely for a moment before he starts to carefully hack at a corner. "Hang on," he barks at the crying voice inside. The crack is peered into, the corner deemed safe to split open, which is just what he does, to the best of his ability. (The Scene: The Interior of Shimone and Thenomain's Smithy. Darkness, lightly outlined by the embers left in the forge. Soon enough the doors will be reopened, and soon enough the damage will be revealed. A crack all up the back wall, every glass tube or instrument broken, many long and painstakingly crafted metal spears bent. Several of the merchants bruised or cut from falling tools, from being shoved into benches, against outcroppings of gears or levers. But none there have died. None inside. At least not immediately.) As the ground finishes its continuous shake, more and more of the Praetors begin to land, setting their cargo down safely, They begin to fan out and go straight into pulling debris off people. With each random burp, they launch themselves up with whatever nearby non-Empyrean is nearby, to ride out the ground shaking, then back down. They don't make the distinction between races, at all. While this may not matter now, there might be some talk in Varati households later. Hmmm...now isn't that a question. Her head lifts and she peers down at her torso, her sari rippled, and touched in places with blood that scratches from the wood have left. Then comes the rest of it, trying to sit up. The mongrel woman makes it a bit of the way, and then crumples in pain falling to the ground again as she shakes her head in the negative. Gadin gets precisely three scuttles before -- scuttles being the unit of measurement when one's scurrying, that is -- before another dying convulsion of the ground spills him again. That would be a 'no' to his question, in his mind at least. The boy keeps dropped this time, figuring that when it's time to move someone older can tell him. Theron alights on the ground himself, directing the efforts of his soldiers, though in truth, they need little. Most do their duty without question. One or two hesitate before helping out Varati, that is until the Imperator glares at them with all the fury he is capable of. They quickly plunge into the rescue effort without another word. The earth heaves one last time and then settles. But one cannot help but wonder if it won't rise up again in protest... Ach, well, in for a dinar, in for a soldi. Richard crouches a bit lower over Pu-abi, carefully sliding an arm under her and ordering brusquely, "Grab on t' me, then, I'll get ye to safety." He glances up as the motion of the ground appears to be subsiding at last, and against the mask of dust and dirt that has streaked his face, his eyes are piercingly blue, their gaze urgent. Back down to the wounded woman he adds, "Where'm I takin' ye?" Pu-abi lifts her arms again, wrapping them tightly around Richard's neck. Yet another good question, the man seems to be full of them tonight. Eyes drift around the Rialto, and then over to a building that yet stands, "The smithy....my son..." Hounds. Hounds, hounds and more Hounds. They start a running march into the Rialto, now that they're finally able to run again, fanning out with the Praetors to start digging survivors out of the debris. Big Varati, small Sylvans, all wearing the Indigo and Black. Altair lands nearby Theron, setting down the two children whom immediately run to the woman Theron rescued. Looking to Theron, Altair's eyes are serious, but afire with duty. "Imperator, forgive my rude bluntness, but brevity is of the utmost. Consider your Praetors as having all the arrest powers and the like bestowed the Hounds. Deputized, if you prefer the term. What I need is for your men to start fanning out over the city, trying to rescue anyone else in imminent danger. Also, to join other Empyrean Hounds as airborn bucket brigades to try and quell the fires before they overtake the city. My ground-based troops will continue digging people out of more stable situations, as well as try to prevent looting in the city." This Varati is unimpressed by the Praetorians good will. Those in the Rialto will testify to the Varati's selfless efforts toward any and all who were in need, as indeed now he finishes hacking out a hole. Reaching in he slowly helps draw the figures trapped within out once again. First comes a young Empyrean girl, her wing broken as she cries piteously. Even though he only has one arm available, he draws her out with the gentlest care, setting her to one side. Again he reaches down, this time with a little help from below, drawing out a young mongrel boy, limp and unconcious. The final reach is for a young woman, Empyrean in appearance, but with ears that are a little too sharp for the Empyre's standards. She cries, clinging for a moment to Ranjeet before gathering her children to her. Ranjeet inclines his head, her thanks sliding off him like water as he once again tries to make his way free of the destruction around him. Smoke is growing thicker upon the air as fires have sprung up all over Haven, water finally being poured on them from above, putting them out as quickly as possible. She just _would_ have to have a son she has to get to, wouldn't she? Reminded yet again that he needs to get back to the children in his own care, Richard only grunts an assent as he gets his remaining arm in under Pu-abi's knees. He's not a massively muscular fellow, but despite his slim build, he's not without a wiry kind of strength. With only a little effort, the man manages to make it to his feet with Pu-abi in his arms, and once he's got her more or less balanced in his grasp he swings a glance around his immediate vicinity to see if the path to the smithy is clear. Gadin waits long past the point where others in the smithy, merchants and apprentices both, are moving before he risks trying to stand again. The ground itself is nothing he trusts at the moment. Tugging down on his tunic he just stares, horrified, at the damage done to the work area: boards collapsed, interior stalls overturned, tools he so neatly put away not more than an hour ago scattered and broken on the ground. And that's not to mention the ironworks in progress, or the rupture in the building itself. True, the damage here is much less than in some others, but in the realms of his comparison it seems catastrophic. Theron inclines his head to Altair as he makes note of the rescue of several of his races rescue by the Varati man. This will be a day that will testify to the good in every man and woman and every breed and race. Then states just as bluntly, "It has already been done, a legion to the Palladium, the rest fanned out over the city, some merely to take stock of the situation and report back to me." He snaps his fingers and calls out, "I need Angaris!" Several smaller Empyreans emerges from the piles of debris, begrimed with soot, "Go, inform all units that for the present our jurisdiction extends to the entirety of the city." They take off in different directions just under warp speed. He informs the Hound, "You might want to have the Heralds announce this, when they get the chance, so that all will know of it." Benedict, the ever present aide steps up and murmurs something about seeing to the bucket brigades, then he takes off. Atesh Gah ... at the moment to know that it is standing ... to know that those he loves and cares about are inside and alive and well. He has to know. His good hand reaches up, his hand wiping away the blood over his eyes, blinking rapidly. Limping hard, Ranjeet steps out of the Rialto, disappearing into the smoke and chaos of the rest of Haven. Ranjeet travels along North, toward the Fairway. Ranjeet has left. Slowly the smithy doors open, creaking on their hinges, protesting from their burdens. A red moppet peeks out, soon everyone from within emerging, Rory in the lead. At her side, hand gripped tightly to Mouth's, the world is viewed with her self-same caution. Pu-abi clings tightly onto Richard as she feels herself being settled in his arms. Once again she crumples in pain as she's jostled around in the procedure. The naraki refuses to allow it to rule her though, eyes open and turn towards the smithy anxiously, head perking when the doors open and she spots Rory and a boy with her, but not the one she's looking for. Not everyone spills out of the smithy, though, because Gadin hasn't thought to leave yet. How is anyone possibly going to repair this? The whole building is broken. It'll take days for him and the others to clean, even then. And what of the work lost? No, Gadin doesn't leave, he just continues staring at the split back wall of the smithy, probably still in somewhat of a state of shock despite the lack of any truly serious injuries. Altair nods to Theron, looking at the greap plumes of smoke that surround the city. Some likely gray with water, others still black and dry. "Realize also that the same will go for the Korallion Guard and the Agni-Haidar, Imperator. As of this moment, I'm considering us all to have overlapping jurisdiction. Between all the forces, so much more will get done to save lives." There's just one problem. He hasn't had a chance to inform any one else yet. He looks just in time to see Ranjeet leave, letting a little 'Damn,' slip from his lips. He pulls a couple Empyrean Hounds close out of the chaos, looking to them with new orders in his eyes. "Espers, I want you two to inform the Korallion Guard and the Agni-Haidar that their Jurisdiction has been extended to the city limits, as has the Praetorian Guard's. It's an emergency crisis order. Tell them to send anyone they can spare to fan out across the city and coordinate with the Reeves and Commanders of the Hounds. Top priority for them should be to dig out survivors and join any land-baed bucket brigades that have formed. Bouradin, you go to the Atesh-Gah. Leona, to the Korallion. And make haste!" They salute Altair and then rush to the sky in opposite directions, carrying their orders. Nandin is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Nandin has arrived. Filthy, bruised, and battered but otherwise whole, Richard's progress through the now ruined marketplace is initially slow and tentative. But as the ground seems stable again for the time being, his steps grow more confident and he calls out requests for Hounds and Praetors to let him pass so he can carry the naraki where she's requested to go. Soon enough he emerges out of the lingering pall of dust that has been called up by the debris that's fallen all over, within view of the smithy doors, and his azure gaze locks on Rory for an instant in startled reaction. Nandin steps into the market place with pure shock in his eyes. Pu-abi eyes watch the smithy intently, many, many people pour out...but not her son. Slowly she lifts blue eyes to Rory, her worry overshadowing even pain as she calls out. "Gadin! Where is he?" Not like she expects the woman to know one of Theno's apprentices from another, but the asking must still be done, and then a dreadfull thought washes over her, what if he can't come out? "Is he hurt?" Theron pauses a moment in his regard from watching his Guards working next to a Hound in extracting a man from beneath the weight of his cart, replying with a puzzled, "But of course, Commander, I would not expect it to be any different." He adds, "I do not know how much influence you have over members of the Delphi, but you might also want to see to them, have someone see how it is they managed, and to request help for all the healers they have. They will have much business. I will, of course, send out our healers to where they will be most needed." He also advises, "You should have emergency stations and tents set up, before letting people return to their houses before we have determined how stable they are." Permission rises up from both Praetor and Hound in response to Richard's request. With the sound of his name being called, Gadin snaps quickly out of the daze he'd fallen into. In all the commotion he can't exactly make out -who- is calling it, but that's definitely his name. Quickly, he heads over toward the opened front doors of the building, eyeing the ground underneath him distrustfully the whole while. "No, Pu-abi, but in shock," murmurs Auvrey, indicating towards the smithy behind her. No more attention is given the woman, however. To Mouth, she kneels before a few whispered words in his ear, a ruffle on his moppet, before she rises once more. Hands dropping to her side, shimmering greys watch the boy sprint off, towards the lesser, more grimy parts of Haven. It is then that her attention finally strays to sweep the length of the Rialto. Now that he's reached the smithy doors, Richard stands there stoically holding Pu-abi, over whom he studies Auvrey intently -- perhaps looking for some sign of hurt upon _her_. "This woman's hurt," he says then, gruff and low. "There a cot in there or summat she can be lyin' on?" With quic steps Nandin hurries toward the mass of shocked and stunned people. "How may I help?" Pu-abi closes her eyes in relief as soon as she spots the boy, who though shakin and rightly so, appears well and whole enough. The mongrel takes in a breath, and then opens eyes again calling out more weakly, "Gadin? Are you well? Come here." Sad eyes lift to Richard, though a smile still forms on those lush lips. "I am not entirely certain. Most certainly a table, I imagine, that can be used until better accomidations are made." No, no hurt on Auvrey, but for the slightly haunted look that has been disappearing since fresh air and open space were gained. Finally, her glance encompasses Pu-abi, to check for the injuries, and something within sparks to life. Nandin has left. Altair looks to Theron, nodding as he takes a deep breath. "We have tents standing at the ready at the Bastion, Imperator. Disaster orders were to have them deployed in the Old City Garden, the Rialto and the main City Garden. I know we don't have nearly enough for the populace, though. They will likely serve as Command tents and infirmary locations." He sighs slowly. Things move so fast! Just then a Reeve comes up and yanks on Altair's shoulder. "Sir! I need to speak with you right away!" Altair looks to the Reeve and nods, a hand coming up a moment. "If you will excuse me for a few moments, Imperator." He then walks a few feet away to consult with the Reeve. Gadin has a few bumps, a few bruises, nothing in the way of seriousness. His eyes light up at the sight of Pu-abi, and though he's been counselled time and time again that he has to be quiet about these things, the first word out of his mouth is, "Momma!" He rushes over toward the woman and Richard both. "The ground was moving, up and down, and then the planks fell off the stalls and all the wire," he starts in breathlessly. Theron nods at the Commander walks away, continuing to watch his own Guard's efforts. At one point, he even pitches in, though, oh so subtly, he is edged out of this. The Guard has spoken, he is their leader, he will lead, despite the fact that he tries to lead by doing. A ever arriving, departing stream of Angaris, messengers, alert him to the state of the city, specifically the Palladium. Something like relief lightens Richard's azure eyes, just a little, at the lack of any apparent damage to Auvrey's lovely frame. But most of his attention is upon the naraki he's brought, and he whispers to her "Easy" as she tries to shift about in his grasp. Once Gadin reveals himself, he shoots a glance down to the boy and tells him, "Your momma's taken a few bangs, lad, and needs to lie down. What say ye show me where I can put 'er, eh?" Pu-abi winces suddenly, and eyes drift over the Rialto again, then back to her son and she gives the boy a weak smile, "I know, Gadin, I know." Attention floats back up to Richard and Rory then, resting on Richard last "Set me anywhere, please, I know you have your own children." "I shall see, if you wish, if there is a healer willing to take her time with Pu-abi." Frank and to the point as usual, there are no delusions within Auvrey as she addresses the handsome man before her. She is more than well aware that others will be attended first, in this city, far earlier than a mongrel slave. "Perhaps a donation will encourage someone.." "...and then the walls of the stall, they fell over too," Gadin continues, obsessively launching into what promises to be a blow-by-blow account of the entirety of the quake, some driving need in the boy to put it to words. He's not very helpful here, really. Though he's quick to rush to Pu-abi's side, the offer of a cot or bed isn't so quick to follow. "And the wood broke on the stalls, it was really loud. And all of the tools fell out of the cabinet, and off the tables, even the big heavy ones. And..." Not his children by blood, but close enough. A quick tightening of Richard's jaw and cheek betrays his barely restrained tension, and he nods once to encompass Auvrey's words and Pu-abi's both once it becomes obvious that Gadin didn't catch his request. Carefully, then, Richard hunkers down, trying to go to his knees while jostling the naraki woman as little as possible and looking for a reasonably clear spot to set her down. "Tell 'em," he barks to Auvrey in the meanwhile, "I can pay 'em, but find somebody who can patch 'er up without magic if ye cannae find a mage." As Pu-abi's eyes turn down to her son, she sighs softly, "Gadin..." It's an attempt to be sharp with the boy, and quiet him, but in her condition, she only sounds weak and pleading. "We need to go inside, There are mats by the fire? Show the man that...and be polite!" Auberius arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the southwest. Auberius has arrived. So it is that her search begins, first with planted feet as ice-coloured eyes flicker throughout the Rialto, over and above the chaos, with one particular kind sought. Slippered feet begin to move, quiet and careful to step over scattered debris and even others who be dead, leaking sickly crimson, or tended by another. One particular healer has been spotted and transformed into Rory's newest goal. Auberius studies the scene for a moment, looking for somone, then walks over to his Noble Leader. "Ave, Imperator," he salutes. "...thought the wood was going to go into the fire and burn everything down, but it didn't," Gadin prattles on, before drawing in another breath. "Because the fire--" And there he stops abruptly, right on the tail end of Pu-abi's words, that admonition about being polite. What sharpness the tone hold at least ends the torrent of words from the boy. "There are mats where I sleep," he says quickly. "They're inside." And he points, though only at the door. Richard pauses in mid-crouch, saying simply and shortly to the boy, "Show me. Your momma needs to rest." His strength is not inexhaustible, and although he voices no complaint about continuing to hold Pu-abi up, he can feel his shoulders beginning to suggest that putting her down _somewhere_ soon would be a very good idea. Theron inclines his head, "Ave, Ceterion." He points to a Ceterion and a Varati Hound trying to get to a mongrel trapped under his goods and his stall, "Go there, and help wherever you can." He advises the Ceterion next to him, "We have been deputized with the powers of the Hounds during this crisis. Help where you can, arrest looters if you must." Gadin is, as requested, being polite. "It's a mess inside," he says, motioning for Richard to follow and casting many glances over his shoulder to ensure he does. "The whole back wall split open, it just cracked, like wood snapping apart only it was the whole wall. You can see right outside and..." And so the story goes on, and on, much longer than the quake itself lasted. But the boy is going inside, stepping past what debris there is on his way to the apprentices quarters. There are mats there, places to rest, just as promised. Pu-abi clings a little tighter to Richard as she's jostled once more. Not sure how much more of this she can take. Another short nod is given to Gadin, "Be careful Gadin." She warns softly the place is indeed a mess, more so then Pu's ever seen it, and her face crinkles in worry for Theno slightly, he must have lost nearly everything, and the repairs...sigh. Auberius salutes again before turning and running to the aid of those trying to free the trapped man. He has but recently awoken, since he patrols the night, and is fresher than most of the others about. He throws his weight and not-inconsiderable strength into the task. A quick, low-worded conversation is exchanged between the Provost's assistant and newly discovered healer, just before the man can reach his own intended destination. Just as easily a pouch is unveiled, and from the way his slanted eyes widen and mouth shapes into a flabbergasted 'o', there can be little doubt in the minds of those around that Auvrey has succeeded. Especially as the small, clubfooted man follows after the quick-footed lass so readily. Richard's side she reaches with only the barest of troubles. "He is Kalen. He heals by natural manners," indeed, the hearty duffle at his side could have easily had spoken such facts. "Kalen, this is Richard. Pu-abi." A long, blue-marked finger points to each in kind. "I will be around, should you need me." Just as efficiently she turns away from the gathered group, and towards a wailing, unparented child of four or five the mongrel heads. Into the partial shadows of the afternoon. "In here," Richard says roughly to Kalen, as soon as the man appears with Auvrey at the smithy's doors. Richard himself trudges after Gadin, and finally -- blessed relief for Pu-abi! -- the man who's rescued her eases her as gently as he can manage down onto the nearest of the mats. "Be easy," he murmurs to the naraki woman, and then at last he hauls himself stiffly to his feet. To Gadin, he shoots a sharp blue glance and the injunction, "Guard your momma, lad, guard 'er well." With that, he shoves a hand into one of his pockets, and pulls out the first two coins he finds. These he thrusts at Kalen, not waiting to see if the man will take them or not. Pu-abi was right: Richard _does_ have children of his own to find, and he can waste no more time. Now that the woman is being attended, he practically flies back outside, without another word. The urgency in his eyes speaks volumes without his needing to bother. Listle is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods. Listle has arrived. Gadin ushers people along, sidesteps debris, winces at the sight of further damage done to the smithy's interior, and manages not to lose pace in his story one bit in the process. He's repeating himself now, telling the scarier or more exciting parts over again, like speaking about them has some magic ability to make things all better. Maybe, in his own mind at least, it does. He scarcely has time to bob his head in acknowledgement to Richard before the man's off, leaving him, his mother, and the healer inside. Youth bundled into her arms, Auvrey lifts away from the ruined grounds with a graceful motion. It is odd, how easily the girlchild quiets, a little fist bundling against her slightly malnurished cheek, snuggling against the woman's silken mane and smooth neck. Silver again flicks across the Rialto's injured, the crushed woman just behind her either forgotten or ignored, the sight kept from the little one's viewing. With the word being spread by the Hounds, other forces begin to trickle into the Rialto. Agni-Haidar, Khalida Guards and Shudra from the North and the Atesh-Gah. Korallion Guards from the South. With the Rialto mostly secured by Hounds and Praetorian Legions, most of these new forces have spread themselves out over the city proper. Another group of Hounds begin a march into the Rialto, carrying poles and materials for what will likely be a big tent. One of the Command Centers Altair was talking about earlier, no doubt. A second team carries in another set of tent materials, following with folding cots and blankets. A tent to take in the Infirmary overflow. After consulting with these teams as to where to place the tents, Altair takes a moment just to look about the area. Get a sense of the big picture again. Gods, what a mess... Pu-abi nearly faints as she'ssettled on one of the mats on the ground. But she fights it as she forces eyes to open and drift upwards to the healer standing over her. "Thankyou...thank you for seeiing me." That said, a hand reaches out and moves over towards her son, "Gadin...stay close...' One last time Richard sweeps the Rialto with his gaze, looking for Auvrey, a pang of some sentiment he can't quite identify making him want to find her and urge her to make sure she stays safe. He catches but a glimpse of her through the chaos slowly giving way to order under the directives of the Hounds and everyone else seizing control of the situation, and for a single precious instant he pauses, staring hard in her direction as if willing her to turn around and face him by the power of his desire alone. Stumbling into the Rialto, Listle barely manages to not trip over a piece of tent that been wrecked. With a slightly panicked look she surveys the damage that has been caused, wondering if anyone she knew has been injured. Theron makes a note of the redirected manpower, thus in a couple of motions and hurried consultations, half of the Empyrean manpower lift themselves up and fly out, to be used elsewhere. Another odd thing about Auvrey. Senses accutely attuned, chin lifting, swiveling, Richard enters her peripheral, and then direct vision. A path is picked, trecked with child and dirtied silks, distance closing atwixt Pu-abi's saviour and the ex-slave. With a third and final telling of just when and how the wall of the smithy cracked, in all its glorious details, Gadin finally falls quiet. He's suddenly feeling very tired. "Where did you get hurt, momma?" he asks Pu-abi. Before she can even answer he looks a question to the healer. "Is she going to be all right? Can you fix her? Do you use magic?" It should be noted, for later arrivals, that Pu-abi and Gadin are actually inside the smithy here. Rory whispers "Do you need me, Richard?" questions Auvrey with velvety undertones as she finally reaches your side. "What can I do to help?" As Auvrey reaches him, Richard allows himself the smallest of crooked smiles. He lifts a hand to the young woman's cheek and leans in close to murmur something to her; as he does, his face remains intent, his expression pained and sharp. Lyranthe soars in from the skies above. Lyranthe has arrived. Auberius shouts to a couple of the newly-arrived Varati, knowing that as much as he hates them they have the strength of the Earth and may be able to help the three at the stall to shift it. Rory senses "Richard murmurs hoarsely, "Watch yourself, Auvrey. I've got to go. For the children."" You sense Rory's quieted smile guarentees as much, though her words are a different course. "Tell me how they are Richard, when you find them." Whatever Auvrey replies to her, Richard says nothing further. His last action is to brush a kiss across her brow -- and then, to abruptly cup her chin in one of his scratched and dusty hands, and brush another across her lips. Then he steps backwards, whirls, and melts off into what's left of the marketplace. In seconds, he's running northwestward, towards the certain wreck that must have been made of Bordertown... and in a few seconds more, he is gone. [End log.]