Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Tue Jul 19, 2022 1:19 am**

Searing 34, 122 - 10:30 AM

Franky and Dalma didn't know precisely when the devastation would come. Neither had slept since Dalma received that vision of Fate. The day prior, they both had been racing across the Knob making preparations as best they could. Franky had formed a plan as best he could with the extremely limited time frame. His first meeting yesterday was incredibly early, before the sun had risen, knocking on Lyra's door. It had taken a small bribe of a sleepy official, but he'd gotten her home address from the Business Licensure Board. Franky had informed Lyra of what was to come and how he'd come to know this. And he'd asked her to go to the Gobbler as quickly as she could and begin doing what she could with her antimagic knowledge. He didn't know how her craft worked, but Franky was a practical man. He suggested the basement beneath the Gobbler. It was underground, the strongest part of the building, and had plenty of supplies down there, with two entrances, a stairwell in the kitchen and the large double doors for wagon deliveries in the back alley.

Following that meeting, Franky set about on a strategic list he'd scrawled up. Franky was well aware of the various business owners of the Knob. This list was those who owned warehouses throughout the neighborhood. Franky started with those whose warehouses were currently storing things like dried and preserved food, barrels of water, clothing, weapons, etc. After all, the nearby Grungeworks produced many of these things, but it was the Knob that held them before being sold. Franky offered 50% over market price on each of these warehouses on the agreement that they were sold to him same day. None refused such generosity. Franky even gave all of the warehouse workers the 34th off.

After that, Franky ventured into the Old Mines, calling forth a meeting of the various leaders of the Druskai and Moratallen clans down there. He kept it simple. He brought with him a chest of one hundred thousand gold coins pulled from the bank, carried by wagon. Allow any refugees entry into the community within the minds and provide safe haven. In exchange, the money, and if the Knob survived, those of the Old Mines could negotiate for more and Franky would listen. They accepted.

Franky then began hunting down every single goblin that had come into the Gobbler seeking employment through Franky's Odd Jobs board. He paid each of them a sum up front, assigning them to one of the many warehouses he'd purchased, and gave them simple orders. Protect these warehouses tomorrow, and any person seeking shelter in them, to provide it. He told them the attack was coming, and he needed them to step up, for the Knob and all of the people within it.

Franky met with his Editor in Chief at the Knob Free Press, and after a vehement argument on the morals of truth and journalistic ethics, she relented to Franky's plan. The newspaper printed an issue that spoke of an incoming attack from Kalzasi on the 34th, retaliation for the Black Wedding. It was unknown how, but that it would come on that day and it would be massive. It implored that all people of Zaichaer evacuate if they could, and if not, to seek shelter underground or to follow the Goblins. It was given to the newsies to distribute for free, to stuff under every door, placed in the hands of every person a couple of hours before nightfall.

Franky and Dalma were standing behind the bar of the Gobbler, all of his staff looking worried. He'd told them about the incoming attack tomorrow, and told them about his plans to fortify the Gobbler. He said he'd provide shelter for any of them and their loved ones. But the workers of the Gobbler and the Free Press were not the only people here this day. Several regular customers were here, other people coming out of curiosity. None were turned away. The Gobbler was huge, but Franky knew on short notice that only the basement was fortified. He'd just have to hope the old building stood up to what was to come.

"We don't know when the attack is coming, we don't know how. But it will be chaos and destruction, of this we can be certain. You all are familiar with the Gobbler. There's limited space in the basement which is fortified. I am giving that space first to the employees of the Gobbler and their families first. Any space left we will allow to be filled on a first come, first served basis." He swallowed hard, looking over at Dalma, reaching out to grasp her hand, "Myself and Dalma will stay up here, to help try to keep abreast of this situation."

Weston stepped forward, placing his metal hands on the bar top, looking Franky in the eyes with a smug grin. "We've been talking, Franky. We've decided that this place is alright, and we'd like to stay here, doing this for longer. Send our loved ones in the basement, but the staff of the Gobbler will be up here helping our people, as we always have. You've always had our back, Franky. We've got yours now."

Every member of the staff stepped forward, joining Weston in this show of rapport. Franky's throat tightened. "Alright. Let's get to work."

Franky squeezed Dalma's hand, then let go, and his demeanor changed. This was the same face her wore when he was serving as major. No nonsense, grim line of a mouth, intense eyes. "Evzark, your staff are to guard the basement entrance from the kitchens. Do whatever you must, we'll clean up after." The Goblin chef and his crew all nodded in unison, and Chestnut had an especially crazy look in her eyes.

"Gug, Glasha, you're to man the theater. The back windows there give you access and view over the loading ramp, that's what needs protecting. Weston, you and Merielle are on front door duty. Bob, you, Birx, Haroth, and Shel gather up as much of the hard liquor as possible and head upstairs. Make torch bombs and chuck them out the windows if you need. Oaky, basement."

Franky now looked at those who weren't staff, "If any of you wish to volunteer, do so now. I'll need to know your name, any training or useful skills you might have."

Posted: **Wed Jul 20, 2022 11:31 am**

Over the course of the last 24 hours Lyra had come and gone from the Hobbled Gobbler more times than could be counted on fingers and toes alone. It had taken most of the previous day, but the foundational framework of the upgrades to the schema were complete. Fresh pictographs of varying complexity were now carefully carved in the walls near the floorboards of the tavern. The basement, which Franky had emphasized to Lyra as a priority, were all but covered with scripts which linked together in a confusing pattern that lead up and out the stairs before connecting with the larger schema arrayed in the main tavern itself. The outside of the Gobbler had also not been spared, with the surface of the walls now containing the largest pictographs of all, especially around the windows where the scripts were even carved into the glass.

Lyra stood on a stool near the back corner behind the bar now, half listening to the speech Franky gave while she finished a few last glyphs with a viscous ink that shimmered slightly after she brushed it on the carved portion of the wall. Stepping down she examined her work, lips turned down in a frown but sighed in acceptance. This was really the best that could be expected given how short notice all of this was. Without a second glance back Lyra picked up her bag and walked down the steps into the basement.

The crowds in the tavern were steadily growing larger, but for now the basement was clear. Torches and candles were used to light the space, and the shadows cast on the heavily scrivened walls seemed somehow warped where they touched the glyphs. At the center of the room was wooden chair which sat in the middle of a complicated, heavily stylized pictograph which looked like a coiled serpent. Its eyes were formed from another, smaller series of glyphs which had lines leading out from it and linking to the rest of the glyphs around the room. On the chair sat a silvery-metal stand holding up an oblong black gem with veins of gold. This was the core of the antimagic array, a gem crafted in a similar manor to the jewels she sold at the Black Scales, but its quality made those items seem simplistic. As she neared Lyra felt her blood stir. Like with the jewelry this artifact was crafted from both Florian's blood, and Lyra's own essence, however, the gem had been purified to the utmost degree and the antimagic properties drawn out and enhanced to equal that of what was commonly known as a null spire. As a master level crafted item even master level mages would feel their grasp on their personal magics grow strained, and below journeyman could not use magic at all. Despite this its range was limited to just a few meters, but that was where Lyra's work the last day came in. Before this gem had been set up in a central location in the Tavern and its affects spread to just barely a foot outside the parameter of the Gobbler itself. Now with the expanded schema its range would reach roughly 15 meters, about 50 feet, in diameter around the building.

Setting her bag down Lyra pulled out a small needle head chisel and hammer, each inset with an aetherite dragonshard and covered with pictographs. With careful strokes she added a few slight alterations to the pictographs on the gems surface, smoothing its connection to the larger array. She then knelt down and added 2 new connection glyphs to the outer ring of the circle before stowing her supplies and walking back up the stairs.

At this point the crowd was dispersed slightly, all having been given their orders, and Lyra took up a position at the bar and began laying out a series of small tools like those of a gemcrafter, and 3 round black stones. She then unrolled a scroll, placed down ink and quill and began making notes on the diagrams there. To those who knew what to look for it was clear that the scroll contained the entire schema for the Hobbled Gobbler. Lyra began making edits to three places in particular where several other lines met.

► Show Spoiler

Posted: **Wed Jul 20, 2022 12:59 pm**

It had been practically an entire day with minimal sleep for the wolf, having spent much of that time helping with preparations for Gods knew what was coming. Rickter sat on the stone of the basement near the center channeling more of his aetheric reserves into the network created, hopeful that the work he'd put in with Lyra would succeed in staving off whatever was to come. He was terrified deep down. Terrified that even at his level of expertise the magic wouldn't be enough, or that he might yet again fail those here just as he did during the Merry Behemoth Expedition. Hannah had never really left his side during all the work, and learning that something big was coming their way had gotten under her skin too.

"Just saying, we could've been long gone from here by now." The rogue muttered as she paced back and forth behind him, the wolf himself barely even budged from the spot he sat at. There was the speech going on above, Franky clearly putting as much effort as he could into organizing this.

"We can't just abandon them..." He remarked almost with a sense of duty, though, his heart pounded heavily in his chest as he expected the worst.

"Oh bullshit, what have they ever done for you, Rick? It's not like you live here, and you don't owe them anything." She huffed at him which garnered a stern stare, Hannah's arms folded over one another as she clung to herself anxiously. He could see it too that she was afraid, afraid enough to rather run than stick around, and for what it was worth his instincts were telling him that he should've listened. He always should've listened apparently, and yet here they were, in danger of something far greater than what the wolf could ever anticipate; and what was scarier was the fact he had no idea what it was. How one went preparing for the unknown clearly stumped him, but he knew Lyra had a plan and that was enough for him to get on board.

"...These people have never done anything wrong either..." He remarked with a tremble in his voice as he thought of his own loved ones first, and then how everyone here at risk of what was to come had their own loved ones to worry about as well. "If I turn my back on them now..." Would he ever forgive himself? Would his inner emotions ever cease to a quiet then? That storm brewing within him felt ready to burst at any moment now, and the stress of the importance in their work didn't make it any easier either. There were families here that wouldn't have the same protection as what the Gobbler had, families that would likely suffer and know what true loss would feel like. If what Lyra told him were true and the devastation they hoped to mitigate were coming... then Rickter's involvement had been sealed the moment his power played a crucial role in everything.

Seeing Lyra come back down into the basement, Rickter's focus shifted from Hannah toward the sorceress. He'd already distributed the next dose of aether into her schema, and reinforced the wards that had been instilled throughout the basement of the Gobbler. Here... at least the majority of everyone down below would be safe. "The wards are done," he confirmed to Lyra with a rise onto his feet, "I take it your gonna need me topside to maintain the main floor?" He inquired as Hannah looked between them fervently, Rickter's hands trembling momentarily before he balled them into fists.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Hannah"

Posted: **Thu Jul 21, 2022 12:27 am**

The tension in the air was thick. She could have cut it with one of her chopping knives. It made her nose twitch. Whenever that happened there was trouble brewing. Even as she walked, she could see people rushing about in order to take shelter against the coming attack. She looked down at the paper in her hands. It had been slipped under the door of her cafe in the Market. Thumbing the page gently she read over the words. Some had scoffed at it and brushed it aside but not her. She knew better than to ignore warnings that were so freely given. Life had taught her that.

The Moratallen of the mines were busy, taking in as many as they could convince to join them in the shelter of the underground. The Sunsingers were darting from sanctuary to sanctuary, urging the witches to take cover or to follow the Railrunners to safety. She heard whisperings that the Council had received word from a Seer that preparations should be made. So, Mimsy had done as she always did. That morning she had risen early. She had heated up her oven. She had rolled up her sleeves and she had begun baking. The door to her cafe however, stayed closed. She simply went about baking. By the time 8:00 AM had rolled around, she had enough goods to bring with her. An insulated pack rest upon her back, with straps over her shoulders. The interior was lined so that it kept in warmth so it allowed her to carry warm goods. She had baked row after row of lemon cakes. Hanging off the side of the pack were two thermos’s of her homemade hot cocoa. She had a few tin cups hanging from her belt in order to pour what she could for those who might need it. In one arm she carried a basket filled to the brim with various fruit strudels, from apple, to blueberry, to raspberry and strawberry with cream cheese. They were small and bite sized but she had taken time to infuse each one with a calming draught brewed with alchemy.

One bite of her strudels and people would be able to breathe easier, think clearer and maybe, just maybe, they would be able to pull through what was being whispered about in the streets. Mimsy looked up at the sign of the Hobbled Gobbler.

“Right.” With a determined nod she shuffled into through the front door. Almost immediate the uneasiness in the room was oppressive. She looked at the people huddling into the reputable tavern with wide blinking eyes.

“Maybe I didn’t make enough…” She momentarily chewed on her lip before shaking her head. There was no sense in fretting over it now. Stepping forward she walked up to the nearest group of people who looked as though they were ready to start shaking from worry.

“How’s about a strudel? Lemon cake?” She offered up her kindest smile and immediately began passing out her goods to those who looked like they needed them. She had only passed out a few things before the weathered Hobgoblin began speaking to the crowd. She listened as he spoke. One look at him and she could tell he was the type to keep a level head in the storm to come. Still, if anyone could have benefitted from what she had to offer, it was perhaps the man who was coordinating so many efforts to keep people safe. That she could respect. That? That she could get behind.

“Excuse me?” She handed a couple a pair of warm cakes from her pack. She stopped to give a raspberry strudel to a little girl who was clinging to her mother. She turned and shuffled up to the hobgoblin. Hanging her basket on her arm, she unhooked one of the tin cups on her belt and quickly unscrewed the lid to one of her hanging thermos’s. She poured warm hot cocoa into the cup and then offered it to him.

“You look like you could use this.”

Posted: **Thu Jul 21, 2022 1:02 am**

Jane had taken to reading the Knob Free Press along with the Brass Gazette, the latter being her mother's, and really most of Zaichaer's, source for news. Both publications were informative for different reasons, but it always seemed that Franky's publication always beat the Gazette in reporting events by a day or two. This had become expected, so much so that the most recent article on Kalzasi's emiment attack made her blood run cold. She knew this day would come, but it had stayed far from the present until now. Thankfully Franky offered both her and her mother shelter from the attack. The real struggle, however, was getting Carmen to believe it herself.

Knob Free Press had been nothing but a trawdry tabloid to Lady Farraway, who constantly shamed her daughter for indulging in such low class divrel. The threat of the attack finally convinced her to compare past issues that Jane had saved to the those from the same days of the Gazette, clearly displaying the pattern of foretelling the news. Carmen rolled the most current issue of the Press tightly in her hands, nearly twisting it apart, before accepting that there was indeed cause for concern. Jane could tell she was not fully trusting of it's validity, but there was an undeniable fear that pushed her to at least humor this grave news.

The basement of their apartment complex had been a refuge during the Dread Mist storm that had hit them last fall, which held well, though it regretibly denied her any chance to study the effects of the storm. A magical attack was different; There was no telling what could happen and Jane didn't have trust in the mundane protection that was their stone foundation's one defense. The only feasible hope she had was in the Gobbler, which Franky seemed to have gone through all efforts to fortify. For this reason, she did what she would have never dared to do, what she would have done anything to avoid were it not for these pressing matters.

Carmen begrudgingly followed Jane into the Knob, a look of growing horror darkening her features as they passed the busy crowds of Elves, Orks, Moratallen, and Goblins. They especially drew her ire as she twisted in sheer disgust at the strange and varied race, so much so that she stopped dead in her tracks, nearly tripping Jane who had been guiding her by the hand so as to not become separated within the traffic.

“By the bleeding Brass, Camilla, where are you taking us?”, she demanded harshly.

Frustration rose within Jane but she knew that it would only add to the tension. Now was not the time to argue.

“There's a safe house in this part of town. The people who published the news about the attack are offering refuge to any who come.”

“I don't see how any house in this part of town could possibly be safe,” Carmen sneered, shuddering as Moratallen brushed past her carrying barrels in both arms.

“Please, Mother, don't do this!”, Jane begged, tugging on her hand, “Like it or not, this is our safest option!”

“The Reconcilators would surely have better options. Why put our lives into the hands of these...people”, she insisted.

“Because the Reconcilators do not know! And if you have trouble believing it then what do you expect them to think? What would anyone from the State think?”, Jane was becoming desperate. It did not help that the Gobbler was only a block away.

“They likely know best! Even if an attack was coming, how would this little—newspaper know when it is to come? Or the best time to act? The State chooses to release information when it's best for the public to know, not at the first murmurings. What use is there to stir people into a frenzy?”

Her denial ran deep. Tears welled up in Jane's eyes, her throat grew tight. She squeezed her mother's hands, practically dropping to her knees. Carmen's face softened, though she crinkled her nose distastefully.

“Please...Please trust me. I don't want you to die.”

“You'll feel foolish after this”, she said, stoically following her daugther.

Weston and Meirelle raised their eyebrows as they saw Lady Farraway enter the Hobbled Gobbler with Jane, looking between them as they realized their relation. Weston blinked and looked away, his metal hand roughly pulling the skin of his face as he rubbed his chin. Recognition was plain on Meirelle's face and she gave a deep bow to Carmen as she walked past her, clearly struck. Jane would be mortified if the situation was not so grave and she quickly pulled the Head of Staff aside, who seemed just as eager to talk to her.

“Millie, is that Lady Carmen Farraway Osgrove?”, Mierlle asked, nearly trembling.

“She is only Carmen Farraway now, but yes.”, Something like shame and resignation sank into her stomach, but for what reasons Jane still was trying to decide.

Mierelle gave a short laugh and pat Jane lightly on the back, whispering to her, “Very well then.”

The Head of Staff assumed a servile demeanor that was so unlike her usual air of command that she even looked like a different person. It was the well-practiced decorum of a servant, which appeared to both surprise and please Carmen all at once. She assured her that she would be well taken care of and called Bob to the front. The Awoken dutifully whirled to attention and offered the Blueblood his elbow, promising to be her chaperone and safeguard against the “crude masses” around them. Carmen recoiled for a moment but eventually took his offer, allowing Bob to escort her into the basement and into relative safety.

Jane gave a long sigh of relief. Her first impulse was to follow after them, but a sense of duty struck her as she saw Franky, her coworkers, and various patrons of the Gobbler rushing throughout to prepare for the attack. She was drawn to join them but at once felt at a loss for what to do. She was not a fighter, nor was she particularly strong, nor did she have any medical knowledge that could assist with potential injuries. Paralyzed by indecision, she shifted in place, feeling woefully useless.

Weston appeared to notice this and tapped her on the shoulder, motioning towards the servers and volunteers who were clearing the dining area of tables of chairs. Some were using the tables to brace the windows, but they mainly seemed to be making room for an uncanny woman in the midst of etching something into the wooden floor.

“Go help them move stuff”, he said with a snap, the steel of his fingers ringing.

He said this as if this were any regular day at the Gobbler. Jane responded in kind, instantly rushing to help a group of servers carry a table. As she did, she walked past one of the lines that the strange woman had laid on the ground. With barely a thought they blazed to life with a potent magical aura, as though they were so powerful that merely acknowledging them was enough to active her glasses. This was all that she could assume and swallowed hard, wrenching herself back to her work if only not to dwell on the implications behind such measures, or the danger they foretold.

But in that moment, it did not matter. There was much work to be done.

Posted: **Thu Jul 21, 2022 2:11 am**

As far as Dread Mists and the handling of them went, Euripides knew absolutely nothing. Nothing beside fables and stories passed on in song. She knew nothing of preparations for the worst outside of the Warrens. A shudder coursed through her at the memory and the subconscious reaching for Jieun as a comfort followed. Fingers intertwined with phantom digits. There for only a moment before there was that fervent need to trace out the notes of the song in her head. But first —

“Mistress of the Mists.” An address for the woman that had brought her there in the first place. Well, someone that had offered her a chance to leave, but well — this was the stuff of song. Legend, really. Lips pursed, she considered. Euri was not a woman that considered, not much. But where an audience mattered, habits remained the same. The milling bodies could, and would, do better with a song. And the people that were to be shuffled down into the sigil-laden basement. They would need distraction, calm.

So, she started again. Pushed up from her chair, legs uncrossing and practically forcing her to leap further than intended. Almost smacking into the tiny gnome handing out baked goods. The shift of crazed madwoman to charming musician was almost nonexistent. Of course, she’d been charming before but now her charm was the manic look to her. A dip of her frame in a bow, doubling in taking a lemon cake from the gnome before offering a wink as she stepped over the small woman. “Lemon cake for the likes of me, sweetie pie.”

“Mistress of the Misted, Ethereal Plane.” A little pep in her steps, translated into a slight hop. “I think these fine people could use a song while we fight off the inevitable end or moment when we are turned into monstrous creatures that will maim and destroy all in our path? A little dance, perhaps, in our final moments of conscious thought. Yes? Yes, you are absolutely right.” Lyra might not have spoken a word, but the bard had talked herself into it all the same.

The same song that had started in her head fired down to her fingers as she flipped her guitar off her shoulder. Not entirely as dancey — perhaps, a slow dance. The idea of fingers laced in comfort and affection. A fondness to her voice after the short interlude of notes. Soothing, maybe. Mostly. She trailed, loosely, a woman guided down to the safe haven of the basement, lingering by the entrance to allow her voice to carry.

guitar | vocals

Posted: **Thu Jul 21, 2022 6:26 am**

34th of Searing, 122

Nathan yawned as he made his way outside the apartment. He flinched when he saw the same newspaper handed to him yesterday sitting at the clerk’s desk. Damn, this is such a headache. It’s all because I live nearby. Fuck. Nathan grumbled as he clenched the newspaper he was holding.

“Yo, you believe this nonsense?” He asked the clerk as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the clerk’s desk.

“What? The one about something big happening on the 34th?” The clerk yawned. “Oh that’s today, ain’t it?” the clerk stood up, grabbed another pack of cigarettes from under his desk, and tossed it at Nathan.

“……..the audacity of this second-tier newspaper….” Nathan grumbled as he caught the pack of cigarettes. “We’re spread thin as it is” he cursed under his breath and made his way outside the building.

He reached a nearby parked carriage and pounded on the door. “Dimitri, I know you in there! Open up!” he shouted as he continued pounding on the door.

“For fuck’s sake, tone it down eh?! I ain’t at your beck and call.” Dimitri shouted back.

“Crimso……..”

“Damn it! Alright, Alright! No need to call that psycho out.” Dimitri swung the door wide open. He sighed and climbed onto the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

Nathan waved the rolled-up newspaper, “You know where to,” and climbed the driver seat and sat beside Dimitri.

“Ah, fuck.” Dimitri sighed as he eyed the newspaper and led the horses toward the Knobs. Nathan then took out a piece of cigarette and lit it, offering another one to Dimitri.

“Guess some folks are easy to fool, right?” he commented as they navigated the streets, progressively becoming busier the closer they came to the Knobs.

The carriage stopped as soon as they exited Willowby Street. Nathan decided to continue on foot and blend in with the crowds. He had chosen to wear his civilian attire that day. His ring would be enough to prove his identity in case things goes south. But, of course, he’s only a vault away from the Hall of Reconciliation anyway. To be stuck on surveillance duty. These lowlifes knew better than the boys back at the Intelligence department. He thought to himself as he made his way toward the printing press. After scouting for suitable places on top of the buildings surrounding the Gobbler, he chose one opposite the Gobbler.

Don’t let this be another riot. Nathan pleaded silently as he leaned on the railings and looked at the foot traffic below. He took out a piece of cigarette and lit it—no need to be so discreet anyway. People are used to being watched in this city.

Posted: **Thu Jul 21, 2022 5:31 pm**

As a member of Zaichaer's Moratallen community, sort of as some of the local giants seemed to have taken Dakkur under their wing after his mistakes in the whole pumpkin chucking bit, the whole arrangement of Franky with the Old Mines eventually reached Dakkur's ears. However with the vagueness of it all, the exorbitant amount of gold displayed and embellished by the sight of the cart coming down from the bank, sightings of goblins being sent to the various warehouses and people talking all about it; it was to Dakkur's understanding that the Gobbler was having yet another interesting event and it was going to be a big one not to be missed. Had he more interest in current affairs to actually read one of those free newspapers or actually pay attention to the hubbub, he would have likely taken the day off like all those happy warehouse workers and hid somewhere but...

Only someone with nothing better to do would be stuck at home when there was an interesting party to be had.

And what an interesting party it ought to be. Dakkur had a vague recollection of someone mentioning to bring weapons as well and if throwing the pumpkins off the cliff had been the incident he could refer to, he would rather not come unprepared. Showing the revolver at his side to one of the Moratallen had him sent deeper into the mines. His earlier thoughts on his surroundings, that this might be some sort of annual thing given the abundance of other people- races, along with a lot food and drinks which he would soon learn were actually supplies, changed the moment he finally recognized the negative energy about. It was a barely perceptible query towards the Moratallen leading him into the mines in the end which got Dakkur out of his silly misunderstanding because it was then he knew "we're going to be under attack?" Maybe he should have stayed in the west where it was better protected or better yet, the Market.

Maybe too late to leave now; as Dakkur mentioned about having to go out for supplies because he did not bring enough the other giant caught him by the arm to take him further into the mines because the Druskai and Moratallen of the Old mines 'got him covered.' "But what abou-" Definitely too late. The half blood was not even strong enough to get the arm off him, without making it look like he was trying to run away from any perceived obligations for the current situation he was trapped in of course.

Posted: **Fri Jul 22, 2022 12:01 am**

When the day had started, Bae had awoken — well. Not Bae. Thys. The rational part of the halfbreed that had grown increasingly dismayed with what had been learned the previous day. How fortunate they had been that the Monteliyets had thought it right that he should learn to read. Before, of course, Dreyfus had…gone somewhere and the halfblood relinquished to the custody of the Reconciliators once more. The same that had read the words of attack and Kalsazi in a paper brought in from the Knob and decided that sending only a few officers would even be worth it.

Thys had not thought much of tagging along. If it was just a bunch of misfits, then that was that and he would be made to do the usual drain of aether. But if it was something — and why would Franky lie? That trusting part of Bae seeping through the surface with the utmost certainty that Mr. Franky would never lie about something like this. A persistent nagging of this single fact like it was all that mattered. Which was precisely why the halfblood had put on his best performance of the diminutive, cooperative lysanrin halfblood to request joining a handful of investigators in seeking out what the trouble at The Knob was.

He was already considerably behind the other officers, a clock somewhere chiming out the change of the hour. Which hour — he’d stopped caring. The anxious twitch of his ears continued throughout his journey into the Knob until he’d reached a point where he felt it might be faster to walk. Dropping down to from the rented carriage to clop his way over to the Gobbler.

It was — packed. Teeming with people that moved about. To and fro, back and forth. Busy with preparations, like — like there really was going to be an attack. He clopped his way further inside, ducking out of the way where necessary as he clutched the rolled up newspaper to his chest. Out of place, and every bit stressed as Thys seeped into Bae and the halfbreed went looking.

For, well — “Mr. Franky?”

Posted: **Fri Jul 22, 2022 2:27 am**

☬ The Vampyre ☬

☬ 34th of Searing, Year 122, A.o.S ☬
Company: Dimitri, Refugees | Thoughts: What interesting turn of events | Mood: Alert

☬ This wasnt what Dante expected to have to deal with today. Looking at the chaos that had unfolded he wanted nothing more than to see this all quelled otherwise it would hinder his plans for the city. Right now, his first priority was to ensure everyone who could make it out alive. He and Dimitri were rounding up as many survivors as they could, making their way to a place that was supposed to be a safe haven.

Just how in the world could something like this even be possible? More importantly, he knew better than anyone that the normal folks of the city would automatically blame the mages for this, believing it to be magic given where the attack was supposed to be coming from. It was going to cause untold trouble for the magical community. With other pieces of his plan indisposed at the moment, it was up to him to form a report with the people of the affected areas. More importantly, it would show them that mages could do more than anything the order was capable of.

That alone left a smirk on Dante's face as he continued to sweep through the streets. Those that could fight were placed at strategic points along the group. Coming around the bend, Dante was greeted by more people running in fear. Trying to get a grasp on what was going on he heard the news that an attack was coming from Kalzasi. In his mind, he was glad he arrived when he did, as there's no telling what state they would be in if he didn't do anything to aid the people. He found himself snarling a bit as he couldn't believe he was helping them, the fools. But his aid would serve a grander purpose in the long run so he didn't mind.

With the way clear they had to keep moving, Dante still taking the lead atheey group ran further to safety. Their destination was well within their sights as they came around the corner of another street. "Keep running, don't stop till you reach the building!" he ordered looking behind them to see two more creatures closing the distance.

He looked to Dimitri, the young human looking at him as if understanding the inverbal command, helping the other humans escape. As they ran past Dante turned to make sure everyone was clear. With their backs clear he went to meet up with the others. Once united with them he took a moment to catch his breath, looking around as others were either rallying for a fight or seeking shelter within the building. ☬

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[S E T T I N GxxT H E M E]

Legend of Ransera

Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)

Re: Solidarity in Chaos (Open to All)