Solidarity (Bar Room)
Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2022 3:05 pm
34th of Searing, 122 AS
Location: Hobbled Gobbler (Bar Room)
The wards held, and though dust was shaken free from the rafters with each concussive blast, the Tavern as a whole still stood. Even the windows remained whole with only a few cracks. It was the best possible outcome, and Lyra breathed out in relief. Slowly she stood from behind the bar using a stool for support as she pushed a few stray hairs from her face. Her eyes scanned the counter where the glyphs were still whole and empowered. Things were going well. The second explosion was unexpected, and a part of Lyra had wondered... Well, nothing had come of it so she let the thought fade away unexamined.
Most of the vulnerable had escaped down the stairs to the basement, leaving those read or willing to fight on the main floor of the Gobbler. Goblins and dwarves with thick arms, a few elves with knives, and several other races either standing or pulling themselves off the floor as the minutes began to tick by without a 3rd blast. Rickter was no longer visible, which meant he had taken up his place outside, and a quick glance at the control glyphs confirmed her suspicions.
"Perhaps I am too old for this." Lyra whispered to herself with a sardonic grin, but then shook her head and straightened her back. She could feel the fear in the air, the high trill of terror barely masked by heavy drums of determination from the men and women in the room. It was to be expected. Fear was a tool much like Hope. It gave strength when your legs shook uncontrollably, it found the energy to flee or fight once last time. Perhaps she could have suppressed it, but Lyrielle didn't. She knew what these people needed more than anything, more than hope, was fear. Fear for their lives, fear for their loved ones, and fear for what was to come. That would be how they survived his day.
Lyra collected her things that had fallen to the floor, carefully picking up the shards of broken glass from her ink in one hand and setting them on a plate while packing her bag. Once everything was collected she took the plate of glass and dumped it all into the nearest trash bin, and went looking for Franky. Her work here was complete, and it was near time for her own endeavors to begin.
Location: Hobbled Gobbler (Bar Room)
The wards held, and though dust was shaken free from the rafters with each concussive blast, the Tavern as a whole still stood. Even the windows remained whole with only a few cracks. It was the best possible outcome, and Lyra breathed out in relief. Slowly she stood from behind the bar using a stool for support as she pushed a few stray hairs from her face. Her eyes scanned the counter where the glyphs were still whole and empowered. Things were going well. The second explosion was unexpected, and a part of Lyra had wondered... Well, nothing had come of it so she let the thought fade away unexamined.
Most of the vulnerable had escaped down the stairs to the basement, leaving those read or willing to fight on the main floor of the Gobbler. Goblins and dwarves with thick arms, a few elves with knives, and several other races either standing or pulling themselves off the floor as the minutes began to tick by without a 3rd blast. Rickter was no longer visible, which meant he had taken up his place outside, and a quick glance at the control glyphs confirmed her suspicions.
"Perhaps I am too old for this." Lyra whispered to herself with a sardonic grin, but then shook her head and straightened her back. She could feel the fear in the air, the high trill of terror barely masked by heavy drums of determination from the men and women in the room. It was to be expected. Fear was a tool much like Hope. It gave strength when your legs shook uncontrollably, it found the energy to flee or fight once last time. Perhaps she could have suppressed it, but Lyrielle didn't. She knew what these people needed more than anything, more than hope, was fear. Fear for their lives, fear for their loved ones, and fear for what was to come. That would be how they survived his day.
Lyra collected her things that had fallen to the floor, carefully picking up the shards of broken glass from her ink in one hand and setting them on a plate while packing her bag. Once everything was collected she took the plate of glass and dumped it all into the nearest trash bin, and went looking for Franky. Her work here was complete, and it was near time for her own endeavors to begin.