This is where it all began.
It is midday, with a partially overcast sky, neither warm, nor cold. Everyone you see is wearing clothing that would shield them from the rain, should the rain return, but the skies appear to be clear.
Even with the cobblestones of Argent Avenue and the foliage of Aria Park still wet from the morning's light rain, dozens of Kintargans have gathered along the facade of the opera house to protest the city's new lord-mayor, Paracount Barzillai Thrune. The city's new leader was appointed by Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, in the wake of the previous Lord-Mayor's sudden flight from the city -- an event that still has local rumormongers whispering furiously. In a scant seven days, Paracount Thrune has instituted martial law, a curfew, and seven outlandish and polarizing proclamations . These actions and more have called many of Kintargo's dissatisfied citizens here on this overcast morn. There's been no sign yet of Barzillai Thrune himself, and the opera house's doors remain tightly closed - as they have since the man chose the landmark as his new home - but judging by the growing sound of the protesters, he surely can't ignore the scene on the streets below much longer.
There are twelve Dottari Guards along the front of the building to dissuade any attempts to move into the Opera House along with a single woman with steely silver eyes - lacking pupils - who appears overdressed for the occasion with her small arsenal of throwing axes, knives and polearm. Aside from the woman, who looks patently bored, the guards all seem to be agitated and anxious. At the moment there are only fifty or so people, but there seems to be a steady stream of people.
As you arrive on the scene, you hear one particularly boisterous individual call "Cheliax don't have no right to rule in Kintargo! We don't want foreigners controlling our city!" about half of the crowd seems to back up that sentiment, momentarily, while the other half yell back. Before long, all of the yelling will be useless, as folks fight to have their voices heard over the din.
Tobias shows up early to the protest. He's got a thick longsword strapped across the back of his hips, a round steel shield on his back and the glitter of a chain shirt showing from underneath a threadbare tan shirt. He wears plain pants and worn, old leather boots. He wears a backpack with just a few heavy things in it, the shield lying on top of the backpack. A bolt case with ten bolts in it is strapped to the left side of the backpack. Rainproof clothing and a cloak are both conspicuously missing.
A leather strap is visible around his neck, though the end of the pendant is underneath his chain shirt and thus not visible.
His eyes, brown, are keenly watching the crowd. He stands mostly still, waiting in the center of the park as it gives him the greatest range of vision. He pays no attention to the fact that he's right in the middle of the protest as it starts, scanning for signs of Octavio or another friendly Hellknight to tag along with. He deftly moves out of the way of anyone who steps near him and ignores anyone who isn't Octavio who tries to talk to him.
He's got what amounts to a permanent frown on his plain face, but he's very easy not to notice due to the tiny amount of space he takes up and his lack of attempt to gather any attention.
You also notice Hortense Lierre on the western side of the crowd, she's dressed in a breastplate with a pattern of seaweed and eels etched along the stomach portion, the rest unadorned aside from ribbing along the neckguard, reminiscent of gills. Like you, she is only an Armiger, a low-ranking member within the Hellknights; effectively a cadet. However, unlike most Hellknights, the Order of the Torrent has little support throughout the world and few members, as a direct result, most of its members are beholden to themselves moreso than the organization. Hortense seems to be doing the exact same thing as you; simply watching the crowd. Unlike you, she's wearing an oiled cloak to help keep her dry should it begin to rain.
It is a fine day for a protest, Armon thinks wearily, casting his umpteenth expectant glance toward the heavens. He had dressed for the occasion, wearing a soft gray cloak that paired nicely with his garish, gold-embroidered coat, an amaranthine affair that cost enough money to feed a family of commoners for several months. If his clothing was not enough to profess his nobility, then the signet ring that sat on the small finger of his left hand certainly would be.
And he is a handsome man, at that. His complexion is fair and unblemished, youthful exuberance carried over the turn of his second decade. His long, flowing locks are a warm blonde, the color of ripe wheat. His face had a gentle, serene quality, lacking the haughtiness one might expect from a man of his status. The only problem was that he was not smiling.
This is going to be a mess, Armon observes as the arguing gradually escalates to a cacophony. He shakes his head and sighs, before pushing forward to join the crowd. The noble attempts to reach the crowd advocating democracy with a dignified stride, wanting to get a better grasp of the situation.
Juniper was dressed in a personal favorite today, a long and heavy black leather coat that covered most of her bright red clothing only allowing for small parts of the underfabric to stick out making a pleasing accent while protecting her from the rain that was sure to come. Her black hair is pulled into a tight bun which hides under the leather hood for now as her royal blue eyes scan the crowd.
As she moves past each group she listens for any small talk occasional stopping to speak with anyone that says something that interests her or she thought Lady Docur could make good use of. When the shouting started she'd move to the back of the crowd and try to calm a few of the nearby people before things went really bad.
She keeps her voice steady as she tries to calm the nearby group. "If you continue with this shouting match no side will accomplish anything, you need to settle and let each speak their turn."
She casts detect magic as she moves among the people, checking for any unwelcome surprises however she doesn't bother to check the guards as they were well equip magic or not.
Clothing and the travelers anytool in her bag.
The general mood of the democrats (and you do see a few faces that you recognize) seems to be upset... but very peaceable at the moment. They seem far more interested in talking than doing. Which is well and good; most people who want to do aren't going to attend a protest in Thrune's front yard. One young woman shakes her head and launches into a discussion, "Shensen should be here. If she were, Thrune'd have to listen!" to which a halfling responds with a croaky voice, "Haven't you heard? Shensen's been missing since her place burned!"
The woman looks aghast "The Silver Star burned?"
"Yes indeedy, during the Night of Ashes. It was right around the time Thrune closed the doors to the playhouse."
The woman shakes her head with a sigh, "A shame, too... I was looking forward to seeing her as Aolar in the Huntress of Heroes. Some patron of the arts Thrune is. Moved in and shut the whole Opera House down."
The halfing just shakes his head as well, mouth a grim line, "Wouldn't be surprised if Shensen survived the fire, and Thrune had her thrown in a prison somewhere. She was very vocal about... you know."
It's at this point the pair notice you nearby, in your embroidered clothing, and grow slightly uncomfortable.
Scath pads along next to his current 'druid', a teenage girl, about 15, who has been his druid for several months now. She's an urchin, but with some nice clothes, she can look like a druid.
He stands off to the side, with his armor painted so it looks different, and a few extra bits of leather and metal pasted on to change it's general look.
Rain done for day...
Scath keeps an ear flicked for two-legs in private conversation, as they tend to ignore animals.
He growls at anyone that bumps into him, or shouts in his ear.
He keeps an eye on the crowd as well, curious what they are doing.
As Juniper moves through the crowd, she winds up near the fountain, and near a small group of people, before she hears a heated discussion between a broad, black-haired dwarf and a blonde-haired elven woman dressed mostly in black.
"Are ye' daft, Marm? Thrune ain't got no right tae torture folks in public. Ain't nobody got that right!"
"Are you saying criminals should just walk freely about the town with no repercussions?"
"Aye, and what if I am? 'ave ye' got anythin against the common man? 'Ave ye got any idea what Thrune's gonna do tae folk fer drinkin tea with mint? A sissy drink, aye, but 'tain't right to lock a bloke up for a week just acuz he can't drink the heavy stuff."
"Well, that's just silly. Why would anyone want to drink mint tea after curfew? You're obviously tugging at strawman arguments." Replied the elven woman haughtily.
"Ye' mustae not 'eard me lass. Jail. Fer tea. What's next? Public torture for jaywalking?"
"Better than winding up dead by putting yourself before cart and horse."
"We'll see what ye' have to say when it's You an yours in the doghouse!" the dwarf responds gruffly.
The elven woman grabs at a silver dagger at her side and begins to draw it when you step in... and defuse this particular situation. It's not quite enough effort to sway much of the crowd as a whole, though.
Scath and his little 'druid' girl make their way towards the crowds, and while still on the outskirts hear a pair of merchants talking to one another. It seems to be of no real interest at first, just a pair of men babbling on about taxes, representation, and the like.
The two overpaid, under-qualified looking humans (so pudgy), switch tacks just before Scath decides to move on.
"It's a shame that the Silver Star burned down, though. I hear Thrune had something to do with all of that... but no one can prove it."
"Well... it's not as though his friends did any of the burning, either. And all the beautiful places that did burn." he shakes his head.
"Like the Victocoras. I heard their boy wasn't in town... lucky." the man says, tightening his jacket around him against a wind that wasn't even present.
"Lucky? The boy lost his family."
"Yeah? Well he still has his life, just saying. That's a blessing on its own. And like you were saying, it's a shame it was the places it was. Be better if they wiped out the eyesores that nobody lives in. Like that Livery... down on the east side. Hasn't anyone used it in years, I hear.
"Years? More like decades. They say it's been haunted for at least fifty years. They say the owner still walks through the house slamming doors in the night, and knocking things around."
They then notice the nearby oversized cat, look between him and the druid, and grow uncomfortable.
Amidst the mass of people at the protest, a young, raven-haired woman strides confidently towards some unknown destination. As she passes by it’s clear that though she’s obviously Chelaxian, something about her is quite different. Her eyes are a clear blue, almost like sapphires, and her hair seems to be perpetually reacting to a breeze that isn’t present.
She wears a clean white tunic over a thin chain shirt, cinched at the waist with a heavy set of leather straps. Her pants bear white outer panels with blue inner panels with color somewhere between that of a calm ocean and a clear sky. The waist cloak that she wears is similarly white, but with what appears to be a tumultuous ocean along its lower border. Strapped to her back waist-height are a longsword and a buckler, the latter also bearing churning waves upon a white background.
Misha had been sent here to meet someone by her mentor, Kenzer, but he'd been frustratingly vague about it, so all she knows is that she's supposed to meet a man here about something important.
As Misha moves around, looking for her contact (who will be wearing a single black glove),
"Damn shame the Thrashing Badger burnt to the ground." says a waif of a human woman with a mess of red hair. Her skin is so covered in freckles that she's almost speckled with not-freckled skin.
The gnome beside her looks upwards, one brow arched, "You one of those 'at hung out at the Thrashing badger?"
Very shifty, she pretty much handed out her loyalties by shoving her foot in her mouth. The ginger isn't a supporter of Thrune.
"No, can't say I've been there, I mostly stick to Old Kintargo, myself... more respectable dives. But the last time I was in that area, I was in Clenchjaw's. Place is going to hell."
The gnome's eyebrows alternate, the other raising as the first lowers, "Right..." he says in a tone that says he doesn't believe her. "Well, I used to go to Clenchjaw's, too. Now it's full of rabble, constantly fighting, always arguing, and can't a man hold his liquor. Literally, the floor's covered in it by the time the night is through."
The befreckled woman sighs, "Yup, and Clenchjaw was asleep the last time I was there. During business hours! What with all the fighting, and him not cleaning it up, it won't be long til folks have to pay Thrune's taxes to come drink in this part of town. Not that there aren't plenty of places to drink..."
"Yeah. The place is gonna close in a hurry if he doesn't get his act together. Or start throwing out the Badger's clients, like he should have before they started filling the place to the brim."
Tobias identified some major threats and noticed a friend in the streets, while everyone else heard various rumors of the goings-on within town.
Additionally, Juniper calmed down a pair who were ready to fight, and Scath shut up a pair of people with coinpurses as large as their egos.
Misha wanders by and eavesdrops briefly on a ginger-haired woman and a gnome discussing some place called the "Thrashing Badger". "Burned down... like the Silver Star," she thinks to herself with a frown. "If that's the case those who hung out there are probably not fans of Thrune, and it sounds like she spent time there, even if she denies it now. Maybe I should try to find out her name...
She finds a place to stop, pretending to pay attention to what the crowd is up to while continuing to eavesdrop in case more information comes up, or her name gets mentioned.
Shensen is missing? While not exactly a purveyor of the fine arts, he had attended his fair share of performances, so the name was quite familiar. From the sound of it however, there was more to her than he had initially thought. Armon listens in on the conversation, right until the woman and halfling notice him.
He glances down at his coat, as though he had forgotten what he had chosen to wear that day, though truthfully, Thrune's proclamation was not lost on him. Tugging on his cloak to provide a little more coverage, he offers the two an apologetic shrug and a halfhearted smile.
"My apologies, I did not mean to intrude," he says, his tone sincere, "But I could not help but to overhear your talk of Shensen. Her circumstances are very... unfortunate. Would you be inclined to tell me more?"
This time, as you wander around, you draw significantly more attention than you intended. The windy thing makes people notice you. While they probably think you're a sorcerer (not an uncommon mistake, by any means), that also comes with the drawback of thinking you might be a sorcerer. Despite your armor, or perhaps ]i]because of it[/i] you stand out amongst the crowd, and as you get close enough to overhear things, the voices actively diminish to whispers. As a result, you only wind up with half-told stories and complaints about taxes.
Seeing that this protest will soon turn violent Juniper tries to steal any weapons she can to ensure as little bloodshed as possible.
Her influence had clearly been growing, inasmuch as she was becoming a star... but then she vanished.
But, in joining in their tale, and speaking with them, you grow to empathize with the crowd... and vice versa.
Tobias forges out of the crowd to meet up with his Hellknight ally, though little more than to bump fists, nod at each other and murmur about the protest for a few moments.
Then he forges back into the crowd, searching out the anarchist group. After poking a few in the knees to get their attention, he looks up at them. He's fairly passionless, though his tone of voice makes it...relatively clear that he's not joking around.
Not joking around at all. "You aren't helping." he says. "It would be best if you quieted down and let those of us with brains talk for a bit."
As you move around the area, you definitely find various folks that only seemed to care about arguing, yelling for yelling's sake, and even a pair of people who look like they're just there for blood. Curiously, as you interact with the rabblerousers in the crowd, you note that the people they'd been arguing with seem just as dissatisfied with your interruption as the people the people whose voices you quelled. Others, though, seem to appreciate your efforts.
As the protests go on, two things become evident as the hour is passing: Quite a few protesters (the ones that had arguments that didn't make sense) begin to leave the plaza, and while this is happening, a small open space is forming on the eastern side of street, the crowd in that area growing civilized, pushing less, and being less apt to argue.
Given that the two she'd been listening to had quieted up, probably because they'd noticed her eavesdropping, Misha starts to wander around again. "Someone with one glove... ugh, in this mess how am I ever going to find him? I hope he knows what I look like," she thinks as she resumes wandering about, listening in for other rumors and keeping an eye out for her contact.
She starts to get the feeling that people are taking notice of her as she walks about the crowds. She puffs up proudly, still excited to be wearing the colors of the name she'd been gifted. She smiles at those who seem to take notice of her, which probably doesn't win anyone over given the nature of the crowds she's walking through. Eventually, though, she realizes that standing out so clearly might actually be a problem for her if she's going to try to get a feel for what is going on here, so she wanders to the back of the crowd near the bushes and makes use of her magic sleeves to provide herself with a set of clothes that stand out less, opting for a simple set of grey trousers and a blue tunic.
She then begins to wander about again looking for her contact again, listening in as she goes, and trying to keep a lower profile overall. During that time she catches sight of a young girl and the cat she'd seen up on the rooftops so many times when she'd been spying. She walks over and starts talking to her, saying "Oh, are you his keeper? What's his name? I used to call him 'scratch', 'cause that's what he'd do when I asked him his name!" She kneels down and pats Scath on the head, giving him a smile, "How have you been?" she asks Scath before standing back up. "I used to bump into him all the time on... I mean when I was wandering around town," she says, catching herself. "I'm Misha, by the way," she says, extending her hand to the young girl.
The blonde girl blinks, looking from the cat to Misha. Before responding, she watches Misha bend down to scratch the cat behind the ear. The cat purrs in response.
The girl nods, and then begins to speak. "Oh, hi, yes. His name is Scath.... I'm Sanita." She extends her slim hand to Misha. "What, uhm, what were you doing to run into Scath. He's not usually running around on the street at noon like this..."
Give me a knowledge local. :)
As Scath accepts Misha's doting, and she springs up a conversation with your pet human, you pay more attention to your surroundings.
A pair of men in clothes that mark them as probably day laborers by the threadbare joints of their clothing, are talking in a hushed voice that your well trained ears can hear.
"I'm telling you, I saw the giant lizard down in the sewers!" says Tall.
"You mean the one ain't nobody caught but glimpses of? Hogwash. Next thing you'll be telling me is there's crocs down there." responds Broad.
"What, and you think it's impossible? The sewers flood with the every spring.. wouldn't be surprising if it did." replies Tall with no small amount of naughtiness.
"Right, but don't you think if there were giant lizards in the sewers, someone smart would have found it and caught it by now?" responds Broad, still wearing his doubt like a badge.
"Well... that's the thing. Barney said 's put out traps for the thing, and he'd find them carefully broken, and the food gone. I'm telling you, the thing's clever, Jim." Tall says, earnest.
"Yeah, or its someone playing a practical joke, and the mice getting the food. Now giant rats I could believe." responds Jim, with a chuckle.
"Scath? I'll remember that! It's nice to meet you Sanita," she says. "Oh... I... umm... lets say I spent a lot of time running around at night," she offers as an answer to Sanita's question.
Sanita looks from Scath to Misha, then back again. The cat bumps it's head against Sanita's hand and get's another rub. She nods, seeming to drop the question. "I see, yes, that would explain it..." She continues lamely. Then she looks around at the yelling group. "I think they're going to end up getting the guards to show up if they keep screaming like that."
Tobias grumbles. He'd just rescued those other folks from a completely stupid and pointless discussion. What right did they have to be dissatisfied?
The eastern crowds seem to be just as busy bickering as they are with talking about Shensen, while much of the central crowd has been silenced by Tobias. Misha and Scath have found their way to one another, while Juniper has disarmed some of the people in the crowd.
Scath leaves the girl chatting with the thief, and moves off into the trees, as if going to the bathroom. He sneaks over near the group to the west who quieted down, and tries to hear what they are discussing...
Seeing how fruitless and time consuming her attempts to disarm people was she switched tactics and tried to get those that where there just to cause trouble out of the equation.
She figured the best way to rid the audience of the thrill seekers was to bore them so she'd try to spread the word that the guard was planning to set up a platform for speakers and let each person take a turn talking.
Boring and time consuming, Should work.
Misha nods at Sanita. "Probably, but I do hope they calm down! Getting everyone hauled off the guards is hardly going to accomplish anything," she says, looking at the unruly crowd. She watches as Scath wanders off before turning back to Sanita. "He's a bit of a free spirit, isn't he?" she remarks to her. "Well I need to excuse myself, I was supposed to meet a friend here, but he hasn't turned up yet. Give Scath a scratch for me!" she says with a smile before turning and wandering off into the crowds again.
This time attired less conspicuously, Misha works harder to blend in, even going so far as actively suppressing the breeze that always seems to follow her around. She listens for anything of interest and keeps her eyes peeled for the one-gloved man.
After a session of pleasantly civil conversation, Armon parts ways with the democratic crowd, having come to a rapport with them. That Shensen was a follower of the Dawnflower was not particularly shocking to him, nor was her disappearance. So either Thrune had her thrown into a prison, or she is in hiding, he speculates, finding either to be a likely reason for her absence. If she was as influential as the democrats said, it only made sense that the threat she posed
would nipped in the bud.
Slipping out of the amenable crowd with ease, Armon approaches the partisans. In a manner of speaking, he sympathized with their plight the most... not that he would say so aloud. He was not here to invite turmoil on his family. The noble listens in as he had with the democrats, hoping to pick up on more gossip.
Misha's 'disguise' of looking much more like a normal person is surprisingly effective. As she moves through the crowd, she notices a half-elven woman, kneeling down to examine a halfling. The halfling's got a long gash on its face that's been stitched shut.
"That's a helluva cut you've got there, Tracy" says the half-elf to the halfling woman.
"Well it was my own fault, if I'd just given them the money, they'd have probably just let me go on about my way." responded Tracy.
The half-elf's eyes go hard, and she shakes her head, "Who the hell did this to you?"
"Some blokes down in Temple Hill, wearing red cloaks. I ran late in Clenchjaw's and was out past curfew. Couldn't even call for the guards unless I wanted to go to jail for being out so late." Tracy says, shaking her head. "Asides. The brutes got the money, anyway." she says with a sigh.
"Ah. The Red Jills." the half-elven woman nods, before pursing her lips. "They've been getting worse lately."
Armon happens upon a conversation that's going on midway through as he quietly makes his way amongst the people, held between a man and a woman, both of the 'merchant' class, judging by their clothes.
"I don't know about this reclamation nonsense, and I surely hate all this martial law... but there is one good thing about it. Those damn metal headed Nidalese are gone. Up and left town!"
"Not all of them, though. I hear the church still has a skeleton staff, and their priestess didn't leave at all. Which is strange, because I can't say as I'd expect the dame to stick around, you never see her out and about."
"Yeah, well that's because the Nidalese are shady as a bridge troll. I heard that she only comes out at night, and spends her time going to other people's churches!"
"Wow, uh... okay." responds the woman who appeared slightly aghast only halfway through the most recent spiel.
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Misha listens to the half-elf and halfling talking about the assault and makes a note to ask Kenzer if he knows anything about the "Red Jills". Afterwards she continues to walk around, continuing the seemingly futile search for the one-gloved man.
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Some time after the beginnings of the protest a young man wearing flip fine silks of red and gold quickly moves towards it. The man has red hair and yellow eyes, his completion is fair with a few freckles here and there and he moves with grace, each step flowing into the next. Beside him is a woman with similar a similar figure, long flowing hair and green eyes. On their way in they could be heard bickering, the female voice can be heard first "I swear if you make us late one more time" "are you daft, you were the one who made us late, how can you possibly take so much time on your hair, I took six seconds and a cantrip and it's that perfect wind blown handsome look, you can even clean and sent it that way" "look I'm going to try to find my friends try not to make an ass of yourself" "no promises". The woman sighs and smiles saying "take care of yourself" "right back at ha sis" before they split up.
Michel scans the crowd trying to find someone he recognizes and trying to figure the mood of the mob.
At the turn of the hour, Hortense and the befreckled woman depart from the crowd, and at nearly the same time, the contact that some of you had been sent to meet up with... or rather, a man with a single black glove arrives on the scene.
Three minutes past three, the Devil's Bells begin to ring, chiming three times. No one is quite certain why, but this is the norm. From the third floor of the Opera House, a man steps out onto the balcony. The man is balding and has a multitude of scars across his face. He is dressed in red, gold and orange where there is cloth, but his armor and holy symbols are of a color nearing black. He wears the cross of Cheliax across his chest, as well as very apparent pentagrams (also red) adorning several portions of his armor. He seems in high spirits, despite the protests below.
All eyes are on him, as he hefts his mace (which glows with an inner flame) before him, and clears his throat, before he begins to speak, the crowd going significantly more quiet as he makes his appearance. His voice is deep, and easy to hear, which makes the condescension in his voice palpable. "Ah, my adoring little chickadees. I am sorry to say I have not yet adapted to your quaint, country ways, being accustomed as I am to the sophistication and learning of Egorian. Nonetheless, know I have heard your concerns and that I appreciate your valued feedback, and I know we shall eventually find a mutual understanding in the fullness of time. I take pride in updating Kintargo's quaint, outdated laws to the modern standards the city deserves and strengthening its ties with the empire in these cruel times, but obviously I have approached my duties too aggressively."
The crowd seems to have mixed feelings about the whole thing. He seems to be talking down to them... but he's also acknowledging the problem. Some cheers ring out, some boos. He holds his hands up to silence the crowd... and the majority stop, though there's still muttering.
"You say you chafe at the presence of nonnatives in positions of power? That authorities not of this city have no place as its leaders? That you will not be yoked by intruders? Fear not! Your lord-mayor hears you!" he pauses once more, as more of the crowd joins in for resounding cheers. With a sneer he adds the final words of his speech. "And so it is with a heavy heart that I issue this proclamation, in response to your demands: All ship's captains are hereafter barred from leaving their vessels and setting foot on Kintargo docks or streets, under pain of... let's say... squassation!"
The crowd roars in defiance, and begins to surge towards the Opera House. Several guards are lost within the surge of people, and those that aren't seem to be quite busy keeping their positions and fighting down the parts of the crowd that are trying to overrun them.
At the same time as this is happening, a portion of the crowd casts off their cloaks and begin to wade through the crowds, pummeling people, though striking to knock them out, not kill. These men are obviously members of the Chelish Citizen's Group which functions as a militia... a militia that answers only to Cheliax itself.
Tobias reacts instantly to the beginning of the violence in the square. His eye flits to the instigators quickly, and his trained Hellknight instincts kick in, sending his feet scuttering towards the instigators. His sword flips out of its sheath, the thick blade glinting. He narrows his eyes at one of them, noting weak spots in their imperfect armor or faults in their stance.
When the fighting starts Juniper instantly dumps all her stolen weapons away from the fight hoping no one would spot them.
Once she wasn't burdened by the weapons she'd move towards the crowd but instead of attacking like the others she began leading those that were trying to flee to the safest path out of the chaos she could find.
Tobias begins to make his way through the crowd, towards the Chellish Citizen's group, as Juniper begins to guide the civilians in an actual direction (rather than them being a tide of bodies). As a result of her efforts, she's able to guide the majority of the crowd away from Misha and towards paths that lead somewhere.
During the chaos a knife hurtles through the crowd, and embeds itself in Nox's throat. She stops for a moment, frowning, then reaches up and rips the knife (still covered in her blood) from her throat and drops it to the ground... the wound sealing over almost as quickly as it had formed. She throws the front doors open and moves inside, slamming the doors behind her.
Misha watches as the Chelish Militia doffs their cloaks and begins cudgeling the protesters ruthlessly. "Those bastards, lets see if they can handle me!" she thinks to herself. Angered by the abuse they're dealing, she reaches back for her buckler and grabs it quickly, then reaches back and places her hand on the hilt of her longsword. She pulls it out, but what emerges from the scabbard is just the stub of a blade, the remainder having been snapped off at some point. She brandishes the blade in front of her as if it were a longsword nonetheless and calls out to thugs ahead of her. "Why don't try picking on someone with a weapon, you cowards!" She glares at them and begins to work her way through the crowd towards them.
All of the men except for Orange move towards the obvious threat that Misha has made, while Orange seems perfectly content to continue to knock out random civilians. Red takes a rather pathetic swing at Misha, but his arm catches on one of the fleeing civilians and his attack is completely ruined.
Armon finds that the crowd seems pleased to move around him, recognizing him as something of an ally, they part, even as they stampede forward.
That bastard. Armon clenches his teeth as Proclamation the Eighth is announced, suspecting what the man on the balcony was trying to do. It only takes seconds for things to slip into absolute chaos. He was well aware of the injustice of the proclamation, but someone was going to get killed at this rate. They were playing right into Thrune's hands.
"This is neither the time nor the place to fight!" Armon says over the din of the crowd, not so much yelling as simply raising his voice. Despite its elevated volume, its tone remains one of calm and composure. "Return to your homes, lest you meet an early end!"
Scath places a paw on Sanita's foot, preventing her from leaving the bushes, lest she run into the fleeing people or swung weapons.
The feline's eyes narrow, as he watches Thrune. He notices Nox's apparent immunity to injury, not natural at all. He makes a mental note to return to the spot later, and sniff the blood that was dropped. In the dirt, he scratches...
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K N I F E
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B L O O D Y
D I R T
U R C H I N S
Once Sanita has read it, he paws it out idly as he watches events unfold.