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The noonday sun filters through grey clouds, casting a grey light over the chill day in Kintargo’s Aria Park. The cold does not overly seem to matter to many, however, as a large crowd has gathered in the park, right before the centuries-old Kintargo Opera House.
Once a place of culture, art, and delight, its exterior seems somehow colder than ever before. It is a lifeless place now, a corpse that symbolizes all that Kintargo has lost. For as long as the Victocora family has been in charge of the Opera House they always ensured it was open to the public. But alas, all things change, and now the Opera House has become High Inquisitor Lord-Mayor Paracount Barzillai Thrune’s home away from home. Ever since the previous Lord-Mayor’s flight from the city - something many have doubts about - and Barzillai was appointed her replacement, the people of Kintargo have become increasingly upset at the martial law and his frankly bizarre proclamations.
It is for this reason that so many are willing to brave the near-freezing, grey tinged weather to raise their voices about… well, about anything they want to complain about.
”Open the Opera House again!”
”Free Kintargo!”
”Stability, unity, and order!”
”Kintargo belongs to her people, not the House of Thrune!”
”All hail the Lord-Mayor!”
”Let us drink tea!”
”Where’s Lord-Mayor Bainilus? I bet you had her killed!”
”The guilds demand a return to prior taxation!”
”Greedy bastards, taking our Opera House!”
”Disband the CCG!”
The protesters’ various slogans ring out over the square before the Opera House, steam emitting from many mouths. While their passion is admirable, it is clear that there is no real unified voice in the crowd. Some are protesting that Kintargo is being ruled by a Thrune’s direct hand, and wish for local rule. Others are upset at the increased taxes and changed business policies under Barzillai. A third group seems most upset that Barzillai wasn’t elected legally, but appointed by the Chelaxian government. The fourth group seems to be there solely to shout random inflammatory slogans in the hopes of escalating the situation. The final group - small minority - is made up of loyalists to Cheliax, who spend most of their time shouting down the other groups.
However, there is no sign of the Lord-Mayor himself. Instead, a dozen dottari guards stand before the firmly closed door of the Opera House, all dressed in their signature black and red armor. Several of the poor fools have bluish lips from the chill, but most remain stoic in face of the inclement weather.
Standing with them is a singularly ugly woman grasping a glaive with the blade pointed upwards and its butt firmly against the ground. She is Nox, Barzillai’s bodyguard, and she stares fiercely at the still-gathering crowd of protesters, clearly finding this duty unpleasant.
Lady Jessibel Aulamaxa, Vantine Roubanis, the noble priestess Lady Aisling Talbot, Third Sword Knight of Iomedae, Lord Alexius Vashnarstill, and Nyxra Illphukiir all find themselves in close proximity to a brazier that some considerate individual has set up to fight off the cold - luckily, they seem to be some of the only ones nearby, as the crowd continues to shout and roil.
Nyxra arrives at the protest, the cold wind howling through her hair and sending it flying about. There's a sharpness to her eyes as she looks around at the assembled throng of people--and she immediately picks out the Thrune loyalists at the far end of the courtyard.
Of course they'd be here. Gotta keep that knee bent--how else will they get their master's attention?
Her hand tightens around the composite longbow in her grip and she taps the longsword belted at her side before tugging one of the straps on her green leathers tighter. In the wake of the Night of Ashes, she knew better than to go anywhere without a means of defending herself. Especially to a protest that could turn violent at any moment.
Aisling barely notices the cold as she arrives in the park, flushed both from the brisk walk and from the family argument she has walked away from. Walked directly to where her parents told her not to be, in fact. Who do they think they are, ordering me around? I'm not a child anymore. Of course, doing something because you've been told not to do it is the essence of childishness, a realisation that only makes her crosser.
The chill wind whips at her hair, which is artfully brushed to give it a slightly dishevelled appearance. It's a contrast to the rest of her, which is all neat, clean and tidy. Beneath her cloak, her breastplate is polished to almost a mirror brightness and there's not a speck of dirt on her boots or the hem of her cloak. Her gaze roams across the crowd as she takes in the lack of coherence and the themes of the various chants. She reserves her particular contempt for the pro-Thrune crowd (you fools. Grovelling at the feet of devil-worshipers who would sacrifice you in an instant, if it gained them something.) and the more rowdy anarchists who appear to be spoiling for a fight (you fools. I can't think of a better way to turn the bulk of this town against you than by smashing everything up.) With the breezy confidence of youth, protected by noble birth, she walks through the crowd until she stops by the brazier. It's as good a place as any to take stock, especially as her anger wears away and the winter chill penetrates.
She has no difficulty parting the crowd: her height (almost 5 feet 7 inches) and her bearing (square shoulders, the walk of the truly privileged) both help, of course. So does the longsword at her side. But it's the bright silver symbol of Iomedae, hanging defiantly round her neck in plain sight, which probably draws the most attention. It's not illegal to wear the symbol. As a barrister, she knows that part of the law chapter and verse, like some holy text. Aisling reminds herself of this every time she catches someone's eye, and glares at them as if daring anyone to push the matter.
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It takes a few minutes for the rummaging and clomping to wake Vantine, and it’s a few minutes more before she gives up on her stubborn attempt to sleep a little longer. The guy won’t stop.
The guy… Alexius? Yeah, Alexius.
Vantine realizes it's later in the morning than she had thought. She sits up and watches Alexius as he finishes dressing and putting himself together.
”So you’re still going to that rally at the Opera House?”
Alexius pauses to look over at Vantine and offers her a smile that hints at some lingering grogginess.
”Good morning. Yes, I’m still going. Do you still want to come along?’
Vantine sighs and takes stock. She has a slight headache, and she’s hungry. She slides out of bed and also starts to dress.
”If we can stop for coffee on the way, sure.”
It takes about an hour and a half for Vantine to arrive at Aria Park with Alexius, including the stop at a bakery along the way for a sticky bun and cup of sugary coffee. Fortunately the previous evening had been quite chilly, so Vantine is well-equipped in a dark purple and black woolen dress and long wool coat.
As they stand on the edge of the park, Vantine pulls her coat tight around herself and watches the crowd. She feels let-down by what she sees, competing sets of rabble yelling back and forth at each other and sometimes in the direction of the Opera House. She frowns and squints, wrinkling her nose.
”Who is it that’s having the after-party? How soon do you think we can leave to go to it? This is looking like a flop.”
Vantine wanders about in the crowd without worrying about staying close to Alexius. She avoids tights knots of people, or those who seem very agitated. Before long she spots a familiar face, which raises her spirits about being there. She weaves through the crowd to get to the young woman, and calls out when she’s close.
”Jessibel! I should have known I’d find you here. Have you decided who you’ll be shouting at yet?” she asks with a roguish grin.
Lord Alexius Vashnarstill does not try to keep up with the strange woman he had spent the night with. Indeed, he gladly let her put distance between the two of them. He had been faking a limp for years but today there was no need for such pageantry. On the so-called Night of Ashes one week past, the Raven had - among other things - fallen off of a three-story apartment building, crashing through a terracotta awning and landing on some poor urchin trying to hide from the chaos caused by the Thrune agents. The strangely alluring Vantine had commented on the impressive collection of bruises he had gained that night. Pushed down a flight of stairs by Thrune thugs, he had told her. He may as well have been a useless, crippled old man for all the good he was that night.
Alexius stops, hooking his cane over the crook of one arm and rubbing his leather-gloved hands together, then turning the collar of his long coat up to block out some of the wind. It is cold today, and the thin layer of mail under his outer silk tunic was not helping to warm him. It weighed heavily on his shoulders and pulled the warmth from his body. It would be little use without proper padding underneath it, but protests against totalitarian governments did not infrequently turn to violence. He begins moving again, loudly slamming his cane into the ground with each step. The crowds of people readily jump out of his way as they hear him near; many of them had no doubt fallen afoul of the young lord’s temper and retributive strikes for not clearing a way for him quickly enough.
He continues through the crowd till he comes upon a relatively unpopulated brazier. He strolls up to it and raps it smartly on its side multiple times with his cane, sending a shower of sparks into the grey skies, and shouts ”Free the tea! Free the tea!” I hate tea. Alexius glances across the convenient fire at the young woman, one he recognizes. ”Lady Talbot.” he says in a casual tone. Good. Talbot. One of the good ones. And she has a real weapon. He returns his cane, which held a small sword hidden within, to the crook of his arm and holds his hands over the fire, scanning the crowd while trying to look disinterested. ”What brings you to this dismal place on this dismal day in this dismal month? Who protests in the middle of winter anyways? Free the tea!”
Jessibel starts when someone addresses her. Dressed all in black--including a reversible cloak that shows a flash of red on the inside--the young noblewoman seeks out the speaker, her blue eyes troubled and uncertain. When she recognizes the speaker to be her recent acquaintance Vantine, some of the usual vivaciousness returns to her expression.
"I don't think I'll be shouting at anyone today," she admits. "There's a tenseness in the air...lots of people mad about lots of things. I don't want them mad at me!"
She looks up at the man Vantine's with today, not recognizing him. She does recognize the name 'Lady Talbot,' however. She gives a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement to the tall, stern woman, hoping the barrister doesn't remember her from the time she represented Jessi and her wild friend, Sabrina Sarini, for an incident a couple years back when Sabrina somehow managed to talk Jessi into agreeing that painting pentagrams on the outer wall of the House of Golden Veils, the local temple/bank of Abadar, was a good idea.
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Aisling is slightly startled at being spoken to, and it takes a moment or two before she recognises Alexius. When she does, she of course offers him the courtesy due to his rank. "My Lord Vashnarstill." She considers his question, which is fair but doesn't have an easy answer. Or at least, an easy answer she's willing to admit to. "I'm here out of curiosity, mostly. And to try and keep things orderly."
She glares at one group of anarchists who look like they might be about to do something foolish. She shakes her head at them, from side to side, a warning. "That would be a bad idea, little man. Don't start something with the dottari, because they will finish it. And then I'd have to defend you in court, assuming you lived long enough to be prosecuted."
She turns her attention back to Alexius, but not before catching sight of Jessibel. (Unfortunately for her, Aisling has a good memory of the various cases she has handled, and Jessi's case stands out.) She gives another respectful nod: both the Aulamaxas and the Vashnarstills vastly outrank her, both families being part of the Court of Coin. "My Lady Aulamaxa." She looks at both Alexius and Jessibel. "What brings two representatives of the Great Houses here today?" She turns her attention to Alexius. "I hope this is not an impertinence, my lord, but it is not tea that you are renowned for drinking. Or is mint tea a folk remedy for hangovers?" Her tone is polite, the sort she uses in court just before she shreds the other side's arguments to pieces.
"Throw Thrune ou-" The protester that Aisling reproaches (a Chelaxian man with a scar running across his lips) freezes, before looking at her with a mix of terror and awe. "A-ah, yes, of course, my lady. I'll just, uh..."
The scarred man looks at his compatriots and flees the scene, leading them away from the protest. Apparently, the threat of either the dottari or an angry Iomedaean priestess shook him enough to cause him to doubt the wisdom of continuing his agitation.
After exchanging greetings with the others, Aisling spends the rest of the hour seeking out and browbeating the would-be Galtan rioters into silence. As she does so, she notices a few people looking at her appreciatively - a gnome woman with bright green hair, a large Mwangi man with dark hair and eyes, dressed in very heavy clothing, and a few others.
Nyxra looks over at the group of noble-looking folk over by the brazier, but can't put names to any of their faces. She snorts and shakes her head at first (I mean really, the TEA is what they're protesting about?), but after seeing one of them approach the Galtans first and cow them into silence, she finally gets up some nerve.
Right. Let's get these bootlickers out of here.
"Bad idea to hang around here, boys." She growls as she approaches the loyalists. "If this gets out of hand, you'll have no one to blame but yourselves for getting beat down. The man you idolize so much wouldn't piss on you if you were all on fire. Do yourselves a favour and clear off before you get trampled."
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Having been recognized, Jessibel makes fleeting eye contact with the barrister and repeats her nod, this time adding a quick but graceful curtsy. "Lady Talbot...."
Then the pretty teen falls silent, though her eyes light up briefly with amusement when Aisling zings the Vashnarstill scion. Then a sort of controlled panic is reflected in them as Jessi realizes that Lady Talbot asked her a question and likely expects an answer...an answer she doesn't have.
I can't very well tell her I came here hoping to perform and earn some spare coin like some lowly street entertainer! And I can't say I'm here at the behest of my new boss at the dance hall I'm working part-time at because my allowance has been cut off! Will she buy that I'm just out for a walk--a bit of exercise? Not in this weather....
Jessibel forgets the first rule of being a good liar--answering quickly. Being referred to as 'a representative of a Great House' flummoxes her briefly; it's as if the girl is only now realizing that her antics reflect back on her family's reputation.
"I...um, I just figured I'd stop by and listen to what the people have to say, and, uh, anything our new lord-mayor might happen to announce. If you'll excuse me...."
The flustered noblewoman breaks away to closely examine the statue in the center of a nearby fountain and pool. As time passes, she regains her poise and decides to try to do what Giveni Henge and her friend Carli expected of her by casually eavesdropping on conversations of nearby protesters.
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Vantine notices Jessibel's eyes trace back to the guy she came with. When she doesn't see any spark of recognition, Vantine helps her out as best she can.
"His name is Alexius... Um, he mentioned the rest last night but it escapes me right now. One of the families from The Greens."
There's a bored tone to Vantine's voice.
"Nice enough body, but he's bruised all to hell. Said he'd been 'pushed down a flight of stairs by Thrune's thugs'. I think it more likely he got kicked around badly while being robbed, but pride you know? Not much happening between his ears I'm afraid."
Then Vantine gets to the good news.
"I came along with him because he said he knows someone who's having an after-the protest party. Would you like to come along?"
As she's explaining things to Jessibel, Vantine notices a couple of tall women, an elf and an Iomedaen stalking about saying mean things to loud people, seemingly trying to keep order. The Iomedaen woman stops to talk with Alexius, apparently knowing him. Vantine thinks it amusing.
She must not know him well at all. Or maybe she does, all that pent up whatever it is must have to get released somehow eventually, and I really doubt Alexius is much use for talking philosophy.
Vantine doesn't stray too far from Jessibel for the moment, hoping she'll decide to come along to the party. As she waits for word from Alexius that they can move on from the dreary protest to better things, she chats a little here and there with the people in the crowd.
Nyxra's initial targets are a group of haughty, if poorly dressed, young humans, who had been shouting their support for the new Lord-Mayor, and harassing the other protesters with crude remarks and threats. Their leader is turned away from her initially, and reacts to her words before seeing her.
"You dare malign Lord-Mayo- uh..." The young human woman trails off as she turns and sees the armed and armored elf. Going pale (moreso than she already had been), she stumbles over her words, before turning back to her cronies. "Let's go. This isn't a place for loyal Chelaxians." The youths turn and filter away from the protest.
Nyxra manages to turn her intimidating prowess to bear on every Thrune loyalist she can find, and soon the shouts in support of Barzillai are silenced - none dare speak in his favor, at any rate, though Nyxra doesn't browbeat all of them into leaving.
One particularly garrulous half-elf, however, has something more interesting to say. "You know, despite all the claims that those morons," he nods at a group of loyalists that an elf woman in armor is confronting, "are making about the new law and order, you really have to be careful at night in Redroof or Temple Hill. The Red Jills are getting really aggressive - all the gangs are, really, but the Jills' leader is getting especially vicious. A friend of a friend got beaten to a pulp just walking home from his workplace!" He looks to Jessibel, as though seeking commiseration at the terrible state of affairs in Kintargo these days.
As the hour wears on and she continues watching the crowds, however, she begins to notice unusual movements amongst the people in the park. There's some sort of subcurrent driving certain protesters to move in certain patterns - like there's some sort of organizational structure to their movements. She can't identify the people who are following those plans, but there is clearly something amiss here.
Contrary to popular belief about Iomedae believers, Aisling does have a sense of humour - although it's at a slight angle to what most people would consider funny. She watches with some amusement as Jessibel flounders around for an answer. "I'm glad you did better than that when you were in court, or we'd have lost the case for sure." Beneath the exterior, she's actually quite glad to know that there's someone else at this gathering who isn't entirely sure why they're here. "Just try not to paint anything this time." She gives a small smile. "Even I can only do so much if there's this many witnesses."
Later on, as she is talking with Alexius, she gets a strong feeling of being watched. Turning round for a moment, she spots a tall, grey-eyed young woman looking at her. Returning the gaze, Aisling notes the black hair with its white stripe. A distinctive look. She doesn't recognise her, but she spots the look of amusement on the young woman's face.
In reply, she holds the stare for a moment, raising one eyebrow slightly. Yes? Something you'd care to share with the rest of the class?
Nyxra's hands are starting to shake by the time she chases off the worst of the Thrune loyalist elements. Her eyes dart around, looking for something else to do--
--and they land on the nearby holy symbol of Iomedae.
Wait--one of Iomedae's faithful is here? ...huh. Alright, you've got my attention.
She starts to make her way over to the Iomedaean, if only to make introductions.
Vantine isn't sure what exactly what the posh looking Iomedaen women is getting at with her expressive stare-back. Maybe she's trying to mark her territory, maybe she's just looking around for the next person to nag.
Regardless, Vantine wants none of it. She moves on to other things.
Jessibel flushes, wilting under Lady Talbot's gentle chiding.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll be on my best behavior," Jessi hears herself say. Her lips twitch to form a brief frown.
'Ma'am?' Really? She's only a few years older than me....
Aisling makes Jessibel uncomfortable, so it's a relief when the woman wanders off to make other protesters squirm. It's also a relief when Vantine takes her place...although the Varisian beauty makes Jessi uncomfortable at times as well. As is so often the case, though, Vantine says the magic word that whisks away all of Jessibel's troubles: Party!
"Sounds like fun!" the bard gushes. "Getting inside out of the cold--and maybe with a drink or three to warm us up further--sounds delightful!"
Jessibel doesn't have to feign understanding or empathy when the half-elf speaks: Her best friend Carlissa has to walk past Temple Hill and through much of Redroof every night she walks Jessi home from her new job at the Three-Legged Devil. And most of the day, come to think of it, when Carli's doing...whatever it is she does.
I'll have to remember to warn her about these Red Jills! Jessi decides. Though Carli's street-smart and probably already knows all about them. Maybe that's why she insisted that I get this armor and a few weapons...just in case the worst happens and I actually have to defend myself.
Red Jills...Red Jills.... Why does that name sound so familiar? Maybe.... Oh! A squirrel!! Cuuuuute!!!
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”I!” Alexius almost shouts. ”Am a Vashnarstill! We Vashnarstill’s drink what we want when we want! My tastebuds will not be censored!” Uncle Sendi certainly drinks what he wants when he wants. Alexius thinks bitterly. ”Which is why I’m here, of course! These ruffians need direction and I am just the intelligent leader for the job.”
Alexius bangs his cane on the brazier several more times, once again sending sparks into the air. ”Good people of Kintargo!” He shouts in a commanding, noble voice. Need to unify some of these people into a single front. He continues his shouting and banging until he has attracted enough attention. ”Ahem.” He clears his throat. ”These past weeks will go down in history as some of the most unjust in the history of... history! The oppression we have faced is unlike any before faced by... anyone! Think of it! No tea after sunset?! Who gave Thrune the right to dictate what I, uh, WE consume in our own free time!? Think, peasants, ! If they take our casual evening tea from us, what other minutiae of our lives will they seek to control? No coffee before noon, perhaps? There is a lovely barista here... somewhere.” He gestures in the vague direction of the Talbot. ”Uhm. One of these strumpets over here. Think of how her life would be effected if coffee was banned! I say NO! Let Thrune take our tongues and they will take... our teeth!” He hoped some semblance of his message made it through. Alexius was not known for his coherent rants, but then again, he never expected he would be trying to incite revolution.
"Hear hear!"
"Well said!"
"Let them come!"
"Listen to us, Thrune!"
Alexius rallies the crowd, many of whom shout in agreement with his words, despite their slight incoherence. Somehow, he manages to make the message clear enough that passions are roused, and he sees many looking at him with a measure of awe. Perhaps he shouldn't have almost shouted his name before...
Despite the somewhat classist statements, it seems as though the hour that Alexius spends firing up the crowd pays great dividends - not only are the remaining protesters much more unified in their shouts, their unmitigated approval has given Alexius a confidence boost.
Time passes surprisingly swiftly, however, and soon the bells throughout the city toll the hour once more, ringing out a single note. Naturally, the (eternal) exceptions are the bells in the Cathedral of Asmodeus, which remain ominously silent.
The crowd, directed by Alexius' passion and removed of both bootlickers and unpredictable firebrands, is nonetheless growing more restive as more people arrive. The plaza grows almost tolerably warm - at least on the inside of the crowds - as the flock of protesters expands, filling the square slowly but steadily.
Still, the dottari stand stoically at the door of the Opera House, Nox at their backs. Observant individuals note that more of the dottari are showing signs of being cold, with bluish lips and rosy cheeks.
Aisling looks briefly puzzled as the young woman who attracted her attention moves away without even a word, but someone who looks that distinctive should be easy to find later on if she's still around. She doesn't have time to consider the matter further however as she is immediately approached by a tall elf with dark skin and darker hair who seems to be staring at her Iomedaean symbol. (Well, either that or her chest, but since that is underneath both a cloak and a suit of armour, it seems unlikely.)
Her first thought is to be defensive - it's not illegal to wear this, I'm within my rights - before she remembers that this stranger has spent much of the last hour scaring off the Thrune loyalists. Whatever her feelings about Iomedae, she's very unlikely to be a devil-worshipper. She gives the tall elf a courteous greeting. "Hello. That was nice work clearing out those lackeys." Her gaze falls to the elf's sword, before she remembers her manners. "Oh, sorry. I'm Aisling, of House Talbot. Lady Aisling if you like, but I'm not going to insist on it."
At a more formal occasion, like a ball or dinner, Aisling would stand on ceremony. But here, in this setting, it would just make her look ridiculous.
As she listens to Alexius speaking, Aisling almost starts to regret driving away the more violently-inclined members of the crowd. It’s an undignified thought, unworthy of her status as a priestess of Iomedae, but watching someone take offence at being called a “peasant” and re-enacting the Galtan revolution to separate his head from his spoiled, arrogant noble body would be at least slightly amusing. (As previously stated, her sense of humour runs at a slight angle to most peoples).
She dismisses the thought. Some common sense is needed here. She steps forward and continues where Alexius left off. Her tone is markedly different from his: her skills lie in the careful, forensic dissection of facts - although any barrister worth her pay knows that facts mean nothing if people aren't paying attention. A touch of showmanship in the delivery is important.
She points at Alexius, drawing the attention he has gained onto herself.
“He’s not wrong." She doesn't start by contradicting someone who is popular. She just redirects the line of thought. "The Thrunes will take your tongues. And your teeth. And those of everyone you love." She pauses to let that sink in. "We are here to show our disapproval. But we're not here to do anything foolish. Those Dottari mean business, and they have the weapons, armour and training. But we aren't going to fall for that, are we? We are not fools."
She lets the crowd bask in the praise. Everyone likes to think they're not a fool. Especially the foolish. She gives a smile. "So, we're not going to give them a reason to use those weapons, are we? That would be foolish, and we are not fools." Another pause, to let the crowd congratulate themselves again.
But she knows that she can't win on a negative, telling people what they're not. She needs to think of a positive thing for them to be for. "We’re here on a peaceful protest. We aren't going to let someone send us into trouble while he stands safely out the way." She gives Alexius a meaningful look. "We are not fools.”
Nyxra listens to the Vashnarstill's slightly incoherent speech, and can't help but agree with him on his main point. If anything, it stops her from approaching the Iomedaean.
It's good... but the execution could be improved.
She finds a nearby planter, away from the brazier's warmth, and climbs on top of it, making it into a makeshift platform.
"You know what this is, people? Everything Thrune's done since arriving here? It's all a ploy to see just how far along we're willing to go with his ludicrous proclamations. I mean, really, banning tea after dark? Banning MINT, of all things? What's next?!"
The dark-skinned elf starts to pace back and forth on the planter, fully addressing the crowd. "I'll tell you what's next--it's already happened! It's not enough for them to control what you eat or drink--they want to control what you THINK next! And we've seen the PERFECT example of that goal just last week--the NIGHT OF ASHES!"
"How many innocent people died for the crime of not praising a petty tyrant with an ego?! How many families were torn apart for the sake of licking Hell's boots?!" She roars, her dark eyes burning with barely-restrained anger. "TOO MANY!"
"And NONE OF US, from the lowliest beggar to the highest noble, shall tolerate it! Not now, not EVER!"
"Name's Nyxra. Good job keeping the other guys from getting out of hand." She nods.
"Banning MINT, of all things? What's next?!"
"Not chocolate, I hope!" Jessibel whispers to Vantine with a grin. As the minutes pass, her features grow more concerned. "Should they be directing the crowd like that?" she asks her friend. "I mean, if the eyeballs of the dottari haven't frozen yet, they might identify Alexius and that elf lady as insurrectionists."
As the afternoon rolls on, Jessibel decides to do some more rumor-hunting. Moving away from the folks Alexius and the elf seem to have sweet-talked, the bard listens in to the conversations of more groups of protestors.
That bit about the Red Jills was helpful, but maybe I can do even better! Giveni and Carli would be so proud of me if I learned something important, like Thrune's next proclamation or where the folks who vanished on the Night of Ashes are...if they're still alive. Or at least maybe I can hear something juicy, like if Barzillai and that Nox lady have a secret mongrelfolk love-child!
”Hmph. Well. Easier than I thought.” Alexius murmurs under his breath as the crowd quickly turns to a more unified mass. He allows the young women working up the crowd to take the spotlight and slinks off into the masses. Talbot I can understand. I wonder what angle this mwangi elf is working? ”Well, that’s my civic duty done. Wherever did my grey-eyed escort bounce off to?” He says loudly, as if to excuse himself. Taller than most, he glances out across the sea of heads at the dottari assembled on the opera house steps to gauge their reactions. Being tall had its uses, but combined with the utterly ridiculous hat he wore, he knew he would stand out in the crowd, though the people of Kintargo had gotten used to him showing up to fan the flames of anything remotely interesting happening within limping distance.
Vantine is completely astonished by Alexius's off the cuff speech, not because she was roused by it, but because anyone was. She thought his performance almost buffoonish, and she would not have described Alexius as having a commanding presence to put it gently. But apparently there was something about it she had missed.
At the end of it Vantine claps because something so wondrously improbable has happened. She even adds a loud call to "free the tea!" After all, if Alexius had managed to push things this far, so might as well add a little push of approval to move it along farther.
The Iomedean and the elf both say things that make sense in the usual fashion of public speaking, so Vantine finds them less interesting. However a second, longer look at the elf convinces Vantine she's seen her somewhere before.
When the speeches are finished, Vantine doubles back to the thing she had been thinking about before they began. There was something odd about the crowd she couldn't get a clear bead on. It was an almost pattern that shouldn't be there. Of course there are many small patterns in the movements of people in crowds. Most of them are minor though, or the aggregated result of minor things. Whatever she thought she could perceive was different than those.
It was more like the bells of the temple of Asmodeus. Most people considered the ringing of its bells strange and random. Vantine is convinced they are not. She finds the ringing of those bells unnerving whenever she hears them because she sense there a grand pattern to them. A pattern so complex and extended in its form any given small part of it is easily mistaken for randomness.
What Vantine senses about the throng at Aria Park feels the same to her, something apparent but still just out of sight.
She leans over to speak privately to Jessibel about it.
"I know this will sound weird, but there's something not right with the crowd. I can't put my finger on it, but there are organized movements happening within it, like a plan unfolding. I'm going to look around some more. Stay aware of what's happening around you. I think something is coming."
Vantine moves off to try to see move clearly what she senses. She decides to go to the outer fringe of the crowd and circumnavigate it, thinking a change in perspective from the center to the edge might help.
Once she out she steps away long enough to discreetly perform a small cantrip, giving her some extra Guidance from her patron.
For the next hour, Aisling and Nyxra reinforce the message that Alexius began to spread. Aisling's words bring about muttered agreement - though many seem enthusiastic about her words, it's harder to show passionate restraint than it is to show passionate enthusiasm.
"We'll show them we're better than them!" Comes one shout.
"We're in the right!" Calls another protester.
"Inheritor bless you, priestess!"
Nyxra's message, meanwhile, is just as enthusiastically embraced, if not moreso. The people begin to stir restively once more, though with more restraint than they had the hour before.
"She's right! Kintargo is our home!"
"We don't need a Thrune watching us!"
"My mother was fined for spilling grain!"
"Thrune, come out and answer for the Night of Ashes!"
Unfortunately, Jessibel's efforts to get more interesting information are squandered for this hour, as everyone seems to be more passionate about protesting than they are about talking to her about other subjects. She does hear quite a few times about how tyrannical the new government is, and how the Glorious Reclamation is on the other side of Cheliax, so there's no point to martial law here in Kintargo, though.
Alexius busily looks through the crowd, but sees very little, despite the fact that the crowd parts quite willingly before him - clearly his impressive (if somewhat meandering) speech made an impression. There's a bunch of people. Lots of people. Plus, the scent of so many bodies packed together is beginning to become slightly rank. No one seems terribly interesting, and he sees no sign of Vantine whatsoever. Maybe she's over by the central fountain?
Despite her best efforts, Vantine has lost sight of the patterns she saw in the previous hour. Even the guidance of her patron (she sees several people move very swiftly away as she begins chanting and gesturing to summon the spell) does not seem to help her much. Protesters seem to get in the way every time she thinks she sees something of interest, which means she swiftly loses track of those potentially interesting sights. She does notice that except for Nox, the dottari are becoming slightly on edge, though. Clearly, they don't like the way things are going now.
About three-fourths of the way through the second hour of the protest, the bells ring out again, across the city - striking twice now. As the second hour comes to a close, even more people filter into the square, pushing those already present closer and closer together. It is becoming increasingly difficult to move around the square, as one must push and shove to get anywhere.
Maybe we’ve been a little too effective.[/ooc] Alexius thinks as the crowd thickens and stirs, people jostling him instead of keeping their usual out-of-cane-reach distance. [i]There are far too many people here. He makes for the fountain at the center of the square. If nothing else, it represented stable ground in the increasingly turbulent square.
Having stoked a fire in the protest, Nyxra remains on her planter, watching the crowd.
Losing the trail is frustrating, and doesn't do anything to allay Vantine's apprehension. It could have been nothing, her head does tend to get crowded with voices and impulses sometimes, but in this case caution seems best.
While she doesn't hurry, Vantine starts making her way to Alexius. She's been out in the cold for a couple of hours now and she's more than ready to move on to more entertaining things. While working her way through the throng of people, she keeps her ears open for what's being said around her.
"Hey Alexius, I want to go now. It's cold and this is boring. Besides the dottari are getting edgy. What about that party you promised? I have a friend who wants to come as well."
The growing crowds take the less-than-perceptive Jessibel by surprise, and she finds herself alone and isolated from Vantine and the other interesting folks she met earlier. She decides to make her way back to the fountain near the warm brazier, still listening to what others are saying as she gently eases herself through the throng.
On his way to the fountain that is the center of the crowd, Alexius finds his path just as easy as before as people nudge one another out of his way to let him pass by. Perhaps because of this flattering fact, he notices that the crowd's attitude is increasingly agitated and discontented, but there's no real threat of it bursting out into a riot - especially since Aisling took the anarchists in hand. There are also a few dottari that are looking increasingly wary - though that might just be the cold. Nox seems totally unaffected, however, standing in the same position she has been in since Alexius arrived.
"No outsiders to rule Kintargo!"
"Let one of her own oversee her!"
"We never wanted you here!"
"You're so lawful, disregarding the laws here!"
The shouts continue to rise as the crowd grows more passionate. They've truly begun to hit their stride.
Then she sees a young woman brush past an distinguished older gentleman with a soul patch. The woman's hands are quick, but not quite quick enough to evade Nyxra's notice. She is about to cut his purse from his belt, seizing the chance to work in the crowd. The man himself doesn't notice, and Nyxra has the chance to alert him before the crime is committed - but only if she acts now.
Many more protesters - especially the majority of the young men she speaks to - seem eager to impress her with how anti-Thrune they are, but only one of them - a tiefling with a thick, heavy tail that is a far cry from the ones such beings are usually seen with - has anything unusual to say.
"You know, I've heard things are getting strange at the old livery again - haunts and stuff. Ghosts, even, if you can believe that. If Barzillai really is interested in making order in Kintargo, maybe he'll get the government to tear the place down finally." After a moment, he spits contemptuously on the ground (narrowly missing another protester, who curses at him). "But no, he's just interested in getting as much ego-stroking in as he can."
Jessibel, having lost her friend (well, associate) Vantine in the increasingly dense (and tense) crowds, makes her way to the center, though it is very slow going as she's forced to shove, shout, and push her way through the sweaty mass of people. At this rate, she won't even need to get to the brazier to keep warm!
Perhaps because she is frustrated at her slow going, or maybe because she is in a particularly crowded part of the Park, Jessibel does not hear anything of interest - mostly just continued slogans and the like. No one seems to find her attempts to communicate important enough to warrant more than a few words in response!
Three quarters through the third hour of the protest sees the bells across the city ring out thrice, calling out the hour of the day. Only from the Cathedral of the Prince of Darkness do no bells toll...
Aisling smiles, returning the elf's greeting. "Good to meet you, Nyxra." It's an unfamiliar name, and she struggles with it slightly but she's confident she'll get it in time. "What brings you to this place?"
Aisling tries not to show it but she practically glows with pride as the crowd offer her their blessings. I KNEW I could do some good here. Having chased off the troublemakers and preached the virtues of moderation, she is now hopeful that any trouble or bloodshed has been averted. That hope starts to dwindle slightly as the crowd starts to grow, and the press of numbers around her makes moving aroudn the square more difficult. All it would take is one moment of panic, and there would be a stampede. She tries to stay alert, watching the crowd as she tries to gauge the mood.
Sadly, reading the intentions of a group is a lot more difficult than asessing one person. And it's also possible, just maybe, that a bit of her is more occupied with thinking about the told-you-so that she'll offer her family when she gets back (I helped stop a riot today, and the crowd cheered me for it. What did YOU do?) than she is with the immediate present.
Aisling spends the hour watching the crowd and getting a sense of its general mood. She quickly comes to the realization that although the protesters are growing more discontented and agitated, there's no real risk of it breaking into violence at the moment. They seem to have taken her words to heart - they're demonstrating, not giving Barzillai an excuse to unleash his guards on them.
Nyxra's eyes darken and she shoots a brief glare at the opera house before turning back to Aisling. "What else would bring so many people together here? I'm here because Barzillai's a terrible governor and needs to be removed from an office he never earned."
"And he especially needs to answer for the Night of Ashes."
--------------------
Nyxra promptly points at the gentleman. "Sir! Mind your belt!"
”There you are!” Alexius shouts, wrapping his left arm around Vantine’s waist and leaning against her to take some weight off of his bad leg. His costume offered some protection from the cold, but not much, and the warmth of her was comforting. ”We can leave soon, but I have a feeling things are juuust about to get good. Some of those scrawnier Thrune goons look like they’re about to pass out from the cold. Wouldn’t that be a sight?” Despite a feeling of something being off with the continually growing crowd, Alexius can’t identify anything specifically threatening. Maybe everything’s going to be alright? No answer from Thrune is about the best we could hope for. A coward hiding in his room. He lets his hand slide down to Vantine’s backside and gives a playful squeeze, leaning close and murmuring ”Once these jesters have made fools of themselves for all Kintargo to see, we can go. Maybe your friend can help me warm you up before we get to the party.”
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Vantine isn't happy with any of Alexius's replies.
With a deft THWACK she slaps his hand away and wiggles free of him.
"Ten minutes of attention from the crowd and now double the ego and triple the insufferableness. It better be a good party. Vantine purrs the comment, but it's clearly meant to cut.
"You can come find me when you're ready to leave" she informs him as she goes to find Jessibel.
Nyxra's warning comes just in time, and the elderly man looks around sharply. Though he isn't actually looking in the direction of the young female thief, his sudden motion, combined with the elf's shout, makes the thief jerk away and dash into the crowd, shoving her way away from the man. One of the dottari rushes towards her, but she manages to make her escape nevertheless.
The gentleman approaches Nyxra with an appreciative smile. "Many thanks, young - well, I suppose you're not that young, are you? You're probably older than I! Nevertheless, you have my sincerest gratitude. I am Demibaron Iusus Vargo. Please," he fishes into his recently-saved money purse and fishes out five gold coins, "take this as a token of my appreciation. No, no, I insist." He refuses to take no for an answer, gently, but firmly pushing the gold into Nyxra's hands.
"Outsiders out!"
"Kintargo belongs to the Kintargans!"
As the third hour of the protest wears to a close, the atmosphere of the protest becomes increasingly charged - now everyone is aware of a definite air of outright hostility towards the dottari and the Opera House behind them.
Suddenly, three bells ring from the Temple of Asmodeus, for no immediately discernible reason. Before anyone has a chance to react to this random event, the curtains of one of the front windows the Opera House are thrown open, as is the window itself.
From within the window, the crowd sees the Lord-Mayor of Kintargo, Barzillai Thrune himself. His lips are twisted in a condescending sneer at the protesters, who swiftly fall quiet at the sight of him. He opens his mouth, and speaks in a dissonantly high-pitched voice. His accent has the distinct marks of Egorian about it, including several harsher tones that are more akin to Infernal than traditional Taldane.
"Ah, my darling little chickadees. I'm sorry to say that I have not yet adapted to your... quaint country ways, accustomed as I am to the sophistication and learning of Egorian. Nonetheless, know that I have heard your concerns, and that I appreciate the feedback. I know that we shall eventually find mutual understanding in the fullness of time. I take pride in updating Kintargo's quaint, outdated traditions and laws to the rigorous modern standards of the Empire, and strengthening its ties to the capital in these truly dark times." His tone is almost melodramatic in its mournfulness.
"Obviously, however, I have been too aggressive in my pursuit of these goals. You all say that you chafe at the presence of nonnatives in positions of power? That they ought not have any authority over you? That you will not be oppressed by outsiders? Your lord-mayor hears you, and thus it is with a heavy heart I issue this proclamation, in response to your demands:
"All ship's captains are hereby forbidden from leaving their vessels and setting foot on Kintargo's docks or streets, under pain of... Let's say..." He pauses, looking thoughtful for a moment before brightening. "Ah, of course! Squassation!"
The crowd's silence reigns for a few moments before dark mutterings begin, and within moments there are shouts of disgust and dismay from the majority of the protesters.
Alexius makes a show of shaking his bitten hand for any onlookers but frankly his hands were too numb to feel anything. The leather gloves he wore brought little in the way of insulation but they were fashionable and did not restrict his hands if he needed to use the sword hidden in his cane. His advance rebuked, he suppresses a smile. As classist as he outwardly appeared, he preferred the company of those who were unwilling to submit to a man purely because of who his father is.
——
”The only thing outdated here is you, old man!” Alexius adds to the cacophony of calls. It was unlikely his shout of protest would carry more than a few meters from his position at the central fountain but, as the largest shipwrights in town, the people would expect a Vashnarstill to be infuriated by this proclamation from the insurgent leader. You think cutting the purses of the people will help your cause, old man? Captains were kings on their vessels. They would not suffer such an indignation and would take their business and their gold elsewhere. And with their gold goes the loyalty of the noble houses.
Indeed, no one seems to pay Alexius' shouts much mind, except those closest to him, who shouted their agreement.
"You're just another Asmodean noble come to oppress and steal from us!"
"Don't be absurd, Thrune! The people will not tolerate this!"
And so on.
'My darling little chickadees??!!' Who in their right mind talks that way?
As the new lord-mayor prattles on, Jessibel realizes the man's enjoying taunting her and the other protestors in the park. She also realizes, a bit disturbingly, that Barzillai Thrune may not be of sound mind to begin with.
Squassation??!! That won't go over well!
Jessibel's actually surprised that she recalls what that word even means--apparently she had been paying attention during one of her civics or history lessons. She'd also briefly considered using some form of squassation to mete out some much-needed justice to her grandmother's loud, aggressive, and just plain uncouth pet poodle, Harcule.
This could turn ugly...fast! the young noblewoman realizes. And I don't have Carli here to protect me!
Realizing there's safety in numbers, Jessi rededicates herself to pushing her way through the crowd toward the fountain, where she hopes Vantine and her Vashnarstill conquest might still be.
I'd even welcome the presence of Lady Talbot, Jessibel notes, to her own surprise. She's scary...but she's got that sword!
Aisling can tell from Nyxra's tone that the Night of Ashes impacted her in some personal way. "I'm sorry if I've intruded on your grief. That night was a blow to all of us, but it fell harder on some than others." She bows her head, feeling once again the knowledge that her station in life has protected her from the worst of things.
She clears her throat. "If it would help to talk about it..." she trails off, leaving the invitation to be picked up, or not.
Aisling shudders at the Lord Mayor's obvious glee when he talks about squassation. She's seen the after-effects of "enhanced interrogation" in more than one of her clients during her time in the courtroom, and it outrages her every time. She realises her hand is on the hilt of her sword, and makes a point of taking it away. After her speech to the locals about not being a fool, she'd be doubly foolish to give in to her outrage now. It seems taht there is - again - nothing to be done but bide her time. The sense of powerlessness is a bitter, burning feeling in her stomach.
Maybe my parents are right. Maybe nothign's going to change. They have all the power, and the law on their side. Goddess, what's the POINT?
The anger that brought her here has burned away, and after 3 hours outside, Aisling is cold and miserable. But going home is admitting defeat, and her pride keeps her from doing that. Instead she drifts back through the crowd, pressing towards the fountain. If the crowd can't take their anger out on Thrune, they might look for other high-born nobles to take their anger out on. She has little to nothing in common with Vashnarstill or Aulamaxa, but she'd hate to see either of them hurt just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She keeps an eye out for both of them.
Vantine is surprised Barzillai Thrune is putting in a personal appearance, but she doesn't pay all that much attention to what he's saying. Short of "I rescind everything!" or "Leave now or die!" she expects the same old same old. There are some oddities, like possibly torturing ship captains, which she can find no sense in. But she expects little sense in politics to be the status quo.
Vantine has never really been a political person. Her view has always been that things tend to revert to the mean. Some weird new rules have been announced by Barzillai Thrune, but of course he's new in the city and needs to show everyone who's who. It's not so different from a dog pissing on a post. If the rule is bothersome there will be workarounds soon enough, that's what black markets are for. If it's too much trouble, everyone will begin to ignore the rule after a little while, and enforcement will seep away to nothing. Or, if it does stick for some reason, everyone will begin requesting exemptions and exceptions for this or that reason until the rule no longer applies to hardly anyone.
Without too much searching Vantine finds Jessibel in the crowd.
"Alexius wants to hang around longer to see what happens" she sighs to Jessi. "He's being really annoying. I'm freezing."
Vantine resolves to not make this mistake in the future. If she had gotten the location of the party out of Alexius first thing in the morning, she wouldn't have needed to depend on him to get there, and could have had a far more pleasant morning.
Nyxra shakes her head. "I'll manage. But thanks for your concern."
"Mom wouldn't want me to wallow in grief, anyway."
---------------------
Barzillai's appearance does little to help Nyxra's mood--and his subsequent proclamation (and barely-veiled glee at the prospect of a new form of torture) infuriates her even more.
Her hand flies to the bow she carries, but when she touches it, the part of her mind that's still (passably) calm forces her to stop.
That's what he wants. Shoot him and that will start a riot. Hit him elsewhere.
"I'm surprised you could stop licking your Master's boots long enough to come out here, Thrune! You and the rest of your wretched family have only ever been Hell's slaves, and you're not going to drag us down with you!" She roars back.
It seems that the crowd agrees with the sentiments that Nyxra and Alexius have expressed, as curses and shouting become louder and louder.
"Barzillai, you bastard! You want us to starve?"
"Down with Thrune! Kintargo forever!"
"Don't play dumb, Lord-Mayor, we want you out!"
The crowd's fury is rising to a fever pitch, and danger fills the air. Unfortunately, it seems as though not everyone shares Nyxra's caution when it comes to attacking the Lord-Mayor, as something flies at him from within the crowd - a handful of manure.
The world seems to go still for several long moments as the putrid missile lazily arcs through the air. Barzillai evades it with a contemptuous frown, but in so doing, he reveals a silver goblet of wine that he'd been holding... and promptly splashes it on his clothing.
Fury darkens his face, which flushes a dark red (almost the same color as his wine), and he shrieks. "Enough of this! Nox, run them off, arrest them, or kill them! I don't care which!" As he slams shut the window, Nox swiftly mobilizes the dottari, who draw their maces with grim expressions.
In the crowd, however, a dozen odd "protesters" pull back their cloaks to reveal identical armbands, light truncheons, and sadistic grins. The CCG has revealed itself.
Even as the protest turns into a full riot, someone throws a knife at Nox, scoring a direct and lucky hit - the blade pierces her neck cleanly. However, she looks more annoyed than anything, and rips the blade out before tossing it aside in disgust. The flesh that was cut open heals so swiftly that there is barely any time for the wound to bleed. With that, she swiftly ducks into the Opera House, closing the door behind her.
Noticing that an attacker is right next to her, Nyxra draws her sword and swings it at the man's head!
"Oh, dear." Aisling gives a little sigh, the sort you might make when an otherwise well-behaved toddler suddenly decides they're going to throw their food on the floor instead of eating it. "And it was all going so well."
She has ended up at the fountain, next to Alexius, who is with someone she doesn't know but immediately recognises - the girl with the white stripe in her hair who was giving her a curious look earlier. She nods at them both. "Unless either of you knows how to fight, I suggest you work on getting people to safety. Try to stop them from panicking." She briefly prays to her godess and is surrounded by a shimmering field of magic.
She then steps forward to engage the three members of the CCG who have revealed themselves, placing herself in front of Alexius and the unknown woman to try and shield them. She puts her hand on the hilt of her sword, but doesn't draw it - yet. Aisling has nothing but contempt for these thugs who have allied themselves to the Thrunes, but equally she'd prefer to avoid a fight. "I'm more trouble than you want to handle, little men. I suggest you run along and let us leave in peace."