The midday sun, never particularly warming during these cold winter months, is fully obscured by the thick clouds, preventing the normally beautiful Aria Park from being quite so welcoming as it often is. Of course, the weather is not the only disruption to the air of the park, as raised voices echo through the air, all directed at the large building that sits before the Park.
Once a place of culture, art, and delight, the Kintargo Opera House's 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, even when performances weren't taking place. 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 by the Queen herself, the people of Kintargo have become increasingly upset at the martial law and his frankly bizarre proclamations.
It is for this reason that, despite the chill in the air, dozens have assembled outside the facade of the Opera House in protest of the recently arrived Lord-Mayor and his policies.
”Open the Opera House again!”
”Free Kintargo!”
”Stability from unity, order from strength!”
”Kintargo belongs to her people! We have the right to elect our own mayor!”
”Let us drink tea!”
”Where’s Lord-Mayor Bainilus? We demand to hear from her!”
”The guilds demand a return to the taxes they’ve always paid!”
”Greedy bastard, taking our Opera House as a home!”
”We’re true Cheliaxians here! Hail to the Queen!”
”This stupid war is in the southeast! The Revolution isn’t an excuse to oppress us!”
”Go back to Egorian!”
Of course, not all of those assembled are here to protest against Thrune's heavy-handedness in this new imposition of martial law, however - a handful are present to counter-protest against the first group, though whether they do so because of true belief or in the hopes of being spared any punishment that is forthcoming is a difficult question to answer.
Fortunately, thanks to some industrious protesters, there are six or so bright-burning braziers, keeping the chill from the crowd - or at least mitigating the worst of it. Each one is the center of a cluster of densely packed Kintargans, though many more are forced to huddle in between the much-needed heat.
Even they, however, aren't as misfortunate as the dottari - the city guards - who are guarding the Opera House’s doors and perimeter, all dressed in their signature black-and-red armor... and nowhere near enough layers to fully protect them from the cold air. Despite their best efforts to remain disciplined, a great many take the occasional chance to rub their gauntleted hands together, or to otherwise try to move and keep their blood flowing.
By contrast, an unfortunately ugly woman who stands at the doors, a polearm firmly gripped in one hand, shows no signs of feeling even slightly cold, simply gazing disdainfully at the crowd. She clearly does not want to be here... or perhaps she would just rather the protesters not be here. Whatever the case, she remains completely still, showing no signs of movement other than the occasional sweep of the crowd with her gaze - there is something almost unearthly about that disregard for the weather. Perhaps that is why no one seems to be wiling to harangue her directly, despite the fact that she's the most obvious face of Thrune's new regime.
Despite all these signs of governmental authority, the Lord-Mayor himself is nowhere to be seen, and hasn't been all day, despite the fact that the outcry on what no Kintargan wants to admit is now effectively his front lawn. Moreover, although the doors to the Opera remain tightly shut, more and more people are already drifting into the protest as bells across the city - save for the infamous bells atop the Temple of Asmodeus - ring out the hour of noon. Surely Barzillai can’t ignore the protest for much longer…
Ginetta had debated long and hard about whether to show up at the protest at all, much less who she should show up as. But after much soul-searching, she had decided that the desire to find out more about the Silver Ravens and what had happened to Vivia outweighed any potential troubles that the protest might cause her. In a sense of compromise, she wore her leathers under a heavy cloak and stowed her rapier on her back. She hadn't donned Rose's fiery red hair, but she hid her lower face with a thick scarf - not out of place in the cold weather - rather than the carved mask that was Rose's trademark.
Hoping to find her contact before the crowd grew too unruly, Ginetta kept her eyes out for the man she was looking for. He was said to be wearing a black leather glove on his right hand and none on his left. He shouldn't be too hard to find.
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That's Nox then. Hmm... Adolina muses, her hands tucked deeply into the pockets of her fur-lined pelisse. The long garment is serving double duty by keeping her warm and also concealing the rapier at her side. She wouldn't have worn it at all, but her mother insisted and after the near incident some two weeks prior Adolina had been taking her own safety rather more seriously.
That was a very strange woman. The vision of rich green eyes tug Adolina's attention away from the crowds. I wonder if she'll ever come for her favor. That would be... nice.
What is not nice are the small, but extremely noisy group of Chelaxian loyalists, spouting the kind of nonsense Adolina is sadly familiar with from too many dinners with the Sarinis and the Tanessens. They've been lingering near brazier where she found warmth for over an hour and Adolina finds herself tired of their parrot-like protests of loyalty. Fortunately this has also given her ample time to plan a withering put-down or two.
When she finally does step over to the group though she finds herself shying away from the confrontation she'd planned and simply murmurs in a soft voice. "There are at least three hundred people here sirs, and only a dozen of you. H-have you thought about what might happen if the hooligans in the crowd stir up tensions?"
Screaming, yelling, chanting...the noises of the outraged masses filled the air. Somewhere, deep within the crowd stood a dwarf. On her were all of her worldly possessions, for the "Lord-Mayor" had taken all else that she owned. Her house, her business, her best tools, and especially her savings, all had been devoured by the legal system. She had come to attend the protest out of pure anger, for what else could she do? She felt angry and powerless, and that was a horrible combination. And yet, at the moment, she wasn't making any noise. Instead, a look of cold hatred was etched onto her face, as she tried to see what was going on. Her strained her neck, stood up on her toes, went left and right...but it turned out that being shorter that everyone around you made watching a crowd you were part of very difficult. Trying to push her way through the crowd, all she could see were the dottari failing to remain professional in the cold, and little else.
"Oof. Excuse you! Hey, watch where you're going!" Celi scowls as she tries to make her way through the mostly human crowd. She might have underestimated how many people would be here. And overestimated how much attention they would pay to people significantly shorter than them. Her rainbow-striped knitted scarf and bobble hat should be bright enough to let the other protesters know she's there, but that's humans for you. How is she supposed to find a male human with one black glove in this mess?
The crowd parts briefly, enough that the gnome can get a good look at the person standing in front of the opera house doors. Ah, ol' Barzie has his favorite thug on guard duty. That explains why nobody has tried to rush the door. Yet.
Well. It's a good thing Celi brought her crossbow, bolts, and backpack. From the looks of it, this could get ugly in short order.
That's Lady Jhaltera.
The presence of her patroness distracts Ginetta from her search for her contact. Indecision again plagues her. The whole idea was for no one to recognize her here. But it just felt rude not to at least say 'Hello'. There wasn't anything compromising about her appearance so it should be okay.
Moving closer to where the young noblewoman was engaged in conversation with ... the pro-Chelaxian faction? ... she approached the group carefully.
"Lady Jhaltera," she offers by way of greetings. "I didn't expect to see you here." She glances nervously around before she continues. "I'm kind of glad to see someone here I know. It doesn't feel like the safest crowd."
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"Miss Cicerdos, h-how nice to see you." Adolina replies, rather gratefully taking the conversational exit that has just been offered. She leads the singer back towards the brazier, grateful for the increased warmth. "There was t-talk that the Opera House might be reopening. So I wanted to be here if things go well. I have a protege whose future I am investing in. She is quite talented and I want to see her p-perform at the Opera one day."
She manages a smile, hoping that the young woman gets the joke. Is it a joke though? You probably just sound odd. Stop staring! The smile fades quickly.
As they walk, Ginetta takes the small risk of lowering her scarf slightly. Conversation feels so natural with Adolina, but Ginetta knows that she needs to keep up the facade of the 'simple' singer. To reinforce that image, she lets confusion play over her face.
"Another protégé?" she questions, her voice filled with worry. She waits just a beat. Then another beat.
"Oh!" she declares with a bubbly laugh. Giving Adolina a nudge with her shoulder, she continues in a happier tone, "You almost had me going there. You are a naughty one, aren't you?"
The nudge brings her closer and she remains there as she looks around at the crowd again.
"Father was going to come with me," she lies, "But he had a last minute engagement. I'm so glad you're here. I would feel so nervous with this crowd all by myself." She leans in closer. "I don't think some of them have the best intentions."
As she spends time watching the crowd - looking in vain for her contact - however, Ginetta does spot something about the crowd’s mood - although the people are discontent and agitated, it looks like the more inflammatory words are just that - words - at the moment. There’s no chance of this spiraling into a riot, at least as things stand now... but there's definitely more and more Chelish loyalists coming in.
Adolina takes some time wandering through the crowds, looking for information and gossiping with some strangers - most of whom are focused primarily on the protest itself, or on bemoaning the state of Kintargo and Cheliax. Eventually, however, she comes across a particularly loquacious halfling, who smiles a greeting up at her.
"Have you heard? Despite all this nonsense," she nods at the Opera House and its resident, "about martial law and restoring order, did you know that the Thrashing Badger burned down recently? Nobody in power even did a thing! Not the dottari, and certainly not his high and mighty paracount." She gets on her tip-toes to whisper something. "Now, supposedly it was a drunken brawl, but the clientele there was always just a bunch of old professors and barristers, so I have my doubts."
Dropping back to the flats of her feet, she spreads her hands. "Seems like an awful lot of fires happened recently - the Badger, the Silver Star, and even the Victocora estate. All within one night. They're calling it the Night of Ashes. If I were a suspicious sort, I might think it was arson."
Even as Adolina and Ginetta take the chance to chat in between their respective work, things grow increasingly heated - more and more people arrive as the hour stretches on, and the cries grow louder.
"No Asmodean ruler!"
"Down with Thrune!"
"Cheliax forever!"
"Our city, our ruler!"
"No more martial law!"
"To our new Lord-Mayor!"
"Your Proclamations are as moronic as you are!"
"Liberate our trades!"
The bells across Temple Hill ring out once each - save for the ominously silent bells of the Temple of Asmodeus as Aria Park becomes increasingly packed with people, some of whom are beginning to hawk their wares - heavy coats to keep out the cold. This is probably somewhat illegal, but not even the dottari seem interested in stopping it, let alone the demonstrators - some of whom are already buying them. In fact, the dottari are looking increasingly cold - stomping their feet or huddling closer to one another than they're probably supposed to.
Her conversation with the Lady Jhaltera occupies her enough that she doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary. What it doesn't do, however, is prevent her from keeping an eye out for her quarry.
Still straining to see, Ghorza elbowed her way through the crowd. The shouting and jeering was a chaotic noise that seemed to all merge together. She grimaced, feeling completely out of place. Lost within the throng of people, she desperately looked around for anything that could offer some stability.
Within the sea of people, she found it. The hilt of a rapier. For a moment she froze, and it wasn't due to the freezing weather. A sense of familiarity washed over. "Rose?" She said, despite herself, as she walked over. "'Scuse me, miss. But that be your name, aye? I'd recognize that blade anywhere." She said, motioning to the rapier at her side.
The cold feeling sinking down her chest and into her stomach couldn't have been more real if someone had shoved a steel blade into her mid-section. Her immediate response is to clamp down on the rising sense of panic just as she did before taking the stage. Breath. Breath. Center. Play the part.
"I'm sorry?" she says turning to the dwarf addressing her in innocent confusion. It's only then that she notices that the hilt of her rapier has slipped free from under her heavy cloak. With a practiced movement, she shifts it back into hiding.
"You must have me confused with someone else, Miss ...?" she declares in the most conciliatory voice she can muster. "My name is Ginetta. Ginetta Cicerdos. This is my friend and patroness, the Lady Jhaltera. You have me confused with someone else."
”Oh.” The dwarf said, her face dropping. ”Caught a glimpse of the hilt there. Recognized it. It was commissioned by…” Feeling incredibly foolish, her face was flushed and not just because of the cold. ”It’s your business, of course, how the blade got to your hands. Was just…eh. Anyways. Ye alright? Lost someone in this fookin’ mess of a crowd?” She asked, noticing the way the half-elf was looking for her quarry. She was willing to keep an eye out, especially if it gave her a way to change the nature of the conversation so she could extricate herself from it in a way that was less embarrassing.
Happy to move the attention away from her weapon, Ginetta debates for a moment before nodding.
"Yes, a friend of my father's," she says, justifying the lie to herself as just one more to be dropped into her mental bag of 'Necessary Falsehoods'. "He's supposed to be wearing a single dark glove."
Besides, she continues internally, one more set of eyes searching out for her contact can only remove her from this potential hotbed faster.
She does notice that the armored woman hasn't provided her name, but decides not to press the issue.
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Adolina was just starting to relax into conversation with Ginetta, who is always so reassuringly chatty, when a dwarven woman nearly barges her over. Adolina's anxiety immediately kicks itself up to eleven and she looks awkwardly around to try and not intrude as the two women fall into conversation.
Her attention focused on anywhere but here she catches sight of odd movement in the opera house windows.
That must be the Lord Mayor. This is the chance to make him see!"
With a new goal in mind Adolina continues sweeping her gaze across the crowd, trying to figure out how she is going to make an impact on a crowd this large.
It takes some time but Adolina eventually picks out some key figures and, bidding a temporary farewell to Ginetta, sets off to awkwardly try and convince people she doesn't know that they should do what she says.
It's terrible
Grateful that she wouldn't have to skulk away in shame, Ghorza turned from her new aquaintance. "Ginneta? Ginneta." She said to herself, committing the name, and face, to memory, lest she forget and confuse the woman for someone else again. The embarrassment of doing so would likely kill her. "Name's Ghorza. If I see someone with a single dark glove, in this weather, I'll let ye know." She felt somewhat bad that her interruption seemed to have driven away Adolina, but given the chaos that was the gathering, it was natural enough.
Celi decides to make a circuit of the park, slowly spiraling inward toward the opera house. Hopefully she'll get close enough to One-Glove Man to spot him this way. But in looking for the mystery man, she isn't paying as much attention to where she's going. The gnome manages to bump into a young human woman in a long fur coat. "Whoops! Excuse me." She looks up at the human, long purple braids sticking out of her bobble hat and framing her face. Huh, she looks familiar somehow. Where have I seen her before?
As Ginetta continues scouring the ever-growing crowds for the man she was told to look for, she notices a strange series of movements - a subcurrent of people moving through the crowds in an organized way. Though the half-elf spots a few different people moving in those patterns, all of them are dressed in heavier clothing and hoods, making it hard to identify them, and her conversation with Adolina makes it equally difficult to follow up on pursuing them.
”Really, I’d think that his bullies would’ve come to burn it or the like.”
Ghorza tries to pay attention to the rumors, but between the cold, the crush of the crowd, and the incredibly loud chanting of slogans and hurling of invectives, she only catches incredibly mundane stories.
”Damn, why’d they have to pick today to come out in force?” She hears a man mumble to his neighbor. It seems like she’s not the only one to have noticed the darkening skies. ”It looks like it might start snowing at any moment.”
”Nah, my ma used to be a sailor, worked the coast up to Korvosa and down to Westcrown. She taught me a thing or two - it’s not gonna snow or rain today. Just… be overcast.” The second man replies.
”You sure about that?” The first man sounds dubious, but his friend repeatedly assures him that he is.
To her surprise, she’s able to get more and more people to focus on objecting to the government and Thrune - the voices seem more focused now than ever.
A few people even thank her for helping out and giving them something more to stand on.
The wind begins picking up, tearing heat from bone and causing the protesters to huddle closer. Still, it doesn’t seem to have put a damper on their activities, as their voices raise even higher.
”Kintargo doesn’t need outsiders’ interference!”
”We demand our own leadership!”
”Let us drink tea!”
”Fines for grain spills are absurd, you f$$*ers!”
”Thank you, Lord-Mayor!”
”Let us wear what we want!”
”Cheliax needs your strength!”
”Give us our Opera House back!”
”The guilds demand compensation for your ridiculous taxes!”
”Ingrates, demanding more when the Empire’s in chaos!”
”Go back to Hell, Asmodean!”
”Tyrant! Get out of our city!”
Distant tolling punctuates another round of slogans and shouts, but no one is willing to get any closer to the Opera House’s facade. The dottari have been closing ranks for the past hour, and while it’s likely due to the cold, it’s also possible they’re expecting trouble.
The icy chill of the air drains the four women's stamina. Celi and Ghorza feel their fingers going numb, the heat leaving their lips, and their ears growing colder and colder. Ginetta, meanwhile, feels the frost seep into her fingers, leaving her a little less able to act than usual.
Resolute: Whenever she is required to make a Fortitude or Will save, he can spend one use of his resolve as an immediate action to roll twice and take the better result. He must decide to use this ability before he rolls the saving throw.
Usually this wouldn’t be allowed as I should say it first. But these cold rules are brutal enough that maybe allowing it would be alright?
If allowed then she avoids the brutal damage. If not, then I suppose I’ll use it to remove fatigued.
Feeling frozen, Ghorza couldn’t focus on much of anything besides getting feeling back into her fingers. Pulling her fingers up into her gloves she made her hands into fists as she stomped her feet. Determination was written on her face. She had lost far too much to sneak off now due to the weather. She had come here to make her voice heard!
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With the chill starting to truly bite Adolina gratefully puts aside her attempts at 'organisation' and heads for the edges of the park where some enterprising fellows have set up stalls. A few minutes after that Ginetta finds a familiar face next to her with a truly heaven sent gift - a mug of a steaming, hot chocolatey beverage.
"You look f-frozen." Adolina says, offering the clay beaker. "Drink this. You'll feel better." She seems to have purchased a large flask of the stuff, along with a couple of crude clay cups to drink it from and Ginetta can feel the warmth of the drink seep all the way to her toes.
"If you're feeling better," Adolina says, leaning in closer. "C-could you talk to those men over there? Try and persuade them to..." She makes a vague shoo-ing gesture in the direction of the Chelish loyalists.
She, rather than talking to anyone else for a while, sets off through the crowd, keeping her ears open for any interesting rumors or gossip as she goes.
Since she's actually paying attention this time Adolina manages not to knock over the purple haired gnome this time as their paths cross - perhaps because the gnome is huddled near a brazier and shaking like a leaf in a storm.
"Here." Adolina says, managing not to stutter as she pours another drink for the warm flask she still has stashed under her pelisse. "Drink this. You'll feel much better."
Socialising isn't her strong suit, but she's done enough charitable visits with her mother that moving through a crowd and handing out warm drinks isn't the worst thing in the world.
Gratefully receiving the warm beverage, Ginetta nods and tries to keep her teeth from chattering.
"I'll see what I can do," she replies, lowering her scarf to take a careful sip. She remains there a moment, warming herself, before heading off to attempt casual conversation with the loyalists.
Since she's actually paying attention this time Adolina manages not to knock over the purple haired gnome this time as their paths cross - perhaps because the gnome is huddled near a brazier and shaking like a leaf in a storm.
"Here." Adolina says, managing not to stutter as she pours another drink for the warm flask she still has stashed under her pelisse. "Drink this. You'll feel much better."
Socialising isn't her strong suit, but she's done enough charitable visits with her mother that moving through a crowd and handing out warm drinks isn't the worst thing in the world.
Celi gratefully accepts the cup from the fur-clad woman she encountered earlier. Gnomes are tougher than they look, but they don't have a lot of body mass to keep them warm in this kind of weather. Maybe I should have splurged on a fur coat myself... but the colors were so boring! Quilted wool should have been warm enough. "Oh, thank you so much!" She takes a long sip of the hot drink. "Nice to meet you, I'm Celi." The gnome reaches up to offer a handshake.
The older woman shoots a glare at the dottari, Nox, and the Opera House where Thrune has made his home. ”But despite their insistence on martial law, they’ve done absolutely nothing to stop the gangs there from getting… violent. I’ve heard the Jills’ boss in particular’s gone crazy.” She smiles at Adolina. ”So you’d best be careful if you’re out and about in Redroof after dark - or even in Temple Hill!”
The noblewoman knows that the Red Jills are a violent gang of tiefling women who haunt - as the merchant says - Redroof. They typically do muggings and protection rackets, but the escalation that the woman’s implying… that could be bad, especially if they’re getting bold enough to attack people - even individuals - in the open.
The smile fades and she spits. ”Just don’t get caught outside after curfew, ‘cause then the dottari’ll get all aggressive about good honest citizens wandering around!”
She doesn’t threaten them - she doesn’t need to. Instead, she simply indicates that the rest of the crowd is getting increasingly violent - the loyalists should probably escape to serve the Queen and Lord-Mayor another day, rather than risking sticking around and getting hurt by the rioters here - or, at the very least, keep themselves quiet so as not to paint targets on their backs.
Most of the loyalists hastily look around, thank Ginetta for her concern, and make good their escape. The rest, though unwilling to leave behind the protest, at least fall silent for the time being.
As the clocks strike three across the city, the shouts get more focused now, clamoring for attention and - more than that - justice. Even the clouds above seem darker as the protesters’ voices grow louder.
”Thrune, come out and answer us!”
”You coward, hiding away from the people of the city you’re supposed to oversee!”
”Give us our own leadership!”
”Your demands are outrageous! Give us our rightful place and trade!”
”Martial law is only going to hurt everyone here, Thrune! Give it up!”
”Kintargo belongs first to her people, then to Cheliax, and only then to Thrune!”
”Free the tea!”
”Release Kintargo!”
There is yet no sign of any response from the Opera House, save the increased huddling of the dottari, but nine minutes after the hour, the bells of the Temple of Asmodeus ring out thrice. A moment later, a window is thrown wide open, its curtains following suit, and the Lord-Mayor of Kintargo deigns to look out upon “his” people for the first time today. He is an imposing man dressed in red, orange, and black clothing emblazoned with the pentagram of Asmodeus and the cross of Cheliax. Middle-aged, with short, dark hair and a wine glass delicately gripped in one hand, the lord-mayor of Kintargo addresses the crowd with a condescending sneer and a surprisingly high-pitched voice.
”Ah, my darling little chickadees. I am quite sorry to say that I have yet to adapt to your… quaint, country ways. I am, as you might imagine, quite accustomed to Egorian’s sophistication and learning.” He takes a sip of his wine as though to illustrate the point. ”Nevertheless, know that I have heard your concerns, and that I deeply appreciate your valued feedback. Indeed, 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 that your - nay, our,” there is a definite note of smug mockery in his voice in that word, ”beautiful city deserves. However, it seems I have obviously approached my duties too aggressively.
”You say you chafe at the presence of nonnatives in positions of power? That the authorities of this city have no place as its leaders? That you will not be yoked by intruders?” He smiles patronizingly. ”Your lord-mayor hears you. And so it is with a heavy heart that I issue this proclamation, in response to your demands. Henceforth, all ships’ captains are barred from leaving their vessels and setting foot on Kintargo docks or streets under pain of… let’s say…” Barzillai considers for a few moments. ”Ah! Squassation!”
There’s a long moment of silence before the crowd explodes in fury.
”You know what we want, Thrune! Don’t think this will pacify us!”
”We want you out, not honest ships’ captains!”
”They never had authority in the first place! You’re the problem!”
”Don’t play dumb!”
”You and your cronies should be the ones facing squassation!”
”Get out of our city, you damned bastard!”
”Are you collecting dogs for your harem, a#@~#~!?!”
"We don't need your Hell here, Thrune!"
The cold bit sharper than a blade, and for the second time that day Ghorza thought that she was going to lose her fingers. While she truly hated to spend coin that she couldn't spare, she knew that losing her extremities, or getting sick, would cost her even more. Seeing that there were (of course) people seeking to make some coin off of the spectacle, she bought herself a cup of coffee. It was, as far as she could tell, bitter bean juice. But it was hot. Even holding it seemed to bring feeling back, and drinking it (as vile as it was) warmed her inside. Warm enough that she got her voice back, and raised it with her fellow citizens in decrying the Govenor's proclamation. She didn't know what squassation meant, but it sounded *bad* and she was tired of bad things happening to innocent people. People like her. "Fook off back to the pits ye came from!" She yelled out, her breath misting, as if though her words hung in the air.
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"Adolina." The noblewoman replies, offering her gloved hand in return. "M-m-miserably cold isn't it?" That seems to rather exhaust her conversational abilities and she falls silent, before refilling the gnome's mug with more deliciously warm drink.
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Having cut off a conversation with the purple-haired gnome when Thrune appeared, Adolina winces at the Lord Mayor's proclamations. She knows exactly what squassation is and it is not going to make anyone happy.
It's almost as though he wants a riot to break out.
That thought sends a chill down her spine that even hot chocolate and a warm fur coat can't fix and she turns to her new conversation partner.
"We should leave. Now." She says, words surprisingly clear. "I think the Lord Mayor wants to provoke everyone. We'll have a riot soon and then he'll respond with force. We should leave."
She rises up on tiptoes, craning to try and see Ginetta. The young singer is perfectly capable but in this kind of crowd any warning is helpful.
Having seen to the task that Adolina set for her, but, at the same time, having failed in her own, Ginetta's annoyance is visible for a moment or two on her face before it vanishes beneath a scarf pulled back up against the cold.
She has no idea what 'squassation' is, but is sure that it's something horrible.
A moment later as Adolina gazing about looking for her, Ginetta takes a measure of pride approaching unseen from behind the young noble-woman to tap her on the shoulder.
"I don't think everyone here has as good of intentions as we do," she offers. "I need to find my father's friend and then we should probably leave."
Though she tries to escape the Park, Adolina finds that she is unable to force her way through the crowds at all effectively. They are simply too furious to listen to her, and her strength isn’t sufficient to get more than a few feet out. Ginetta, meanwhile, can't spot any sign of her "father's friend," either - the people are far too restive.
Amidst all the screaming and fist-shaking, someone - it’s impossible to tell whom - hurls a clod of hardened dung at Barzillai. For a moment, the whole crowd seems to go silent as it arcs gracelessly through the air… and splatters on the wall next to him. However, it is a close enough call that Barzillai flinches away from the putrid projectile - and spills his wine across his clothing. The smug amusement on his face vanishes, replaced with a dark fury. ”Enough of this! Nox, run them off, arrest them, or kill them. I don’t care which!” With that shriek, he slams the window shut.
At the front of the Opera House, Nox slams her the butt of her glaive against the cobblestones. ”You heard the Lord-Mayor!” She growls, lifting her weapon. ”Move!” The dottari hastily draw weapons, beginning to move through the crowd dispensing brutal “justice” via their maces.
More pressingly, dozens of people throughout the crowd pull back their cloaks, revealing lightweight maces, matching armbands, studded leather armor, and malicious grins. They swiftly wade in and begin administering beatings to anyone within arm’s reach.
Screams erupt as the crowd of protesters swiftly begins scattering as quickly as they can. However, with the sheer numbers packed into the area in front of the Opera House makes it incredibly difficult for anyone to make good their escape. People crash into one another, shoving and cursing, children bawl, and chaos erupts throughout the area as four thugs bring out their clubs nearby, eyes on the four women.
A dagger whirls out of the crowd towards Nox, and catches her dead in the throat. However, rather than falling in a bleeding heap as one would expect, she tears it out with a snarl and tosses it aside. The injury swiftly heals, but rather than taking vengeance, she throws the doors behind her open and steps in, slamming them shut behind her.
As the thugs press through the crowd towards them, Ginetta makes a quick decision; Their lives are more valuable than her secret. With a twisting step, she spins away and steps to flank the arm-band wearing enemy. At the same time, her left hand slips under her cloak and returns with her rapier.
She then stabs at the thug that threatens Adolina.
"We need to leave!" she shouts at the others.
Well, this is going more or less as Celi expected. Barzillai Thrune is too proud for a public protest in front of the building he's claimed as his home to go any other way. He's a textbook Villainous Overlord, and this is what Villainous Overlords do. "Agreed! Let's get out of here!" The gnome pulls out her crossbow (already loaded, thank you Past Celi) and starts squeezing through the panicked crowd.
”Fooking hell!” Ghorza cursed, even as she swung her pick at the militiaman facing her. She knew that the man wasn’t personally responsible for what had happened to her, but his armband showed that he was at least on that side. And that angered her to no end. She *knew* that she had to flee. But she wanted to spill some blood first.
Ginetta easily dodges out of the way of one of the thugs' - a woman with a craggy face and short black hair - way, then thrusts viciously at the bearded man with her rapier. Unfortunately, his armor catches the point of her blade and deflects it from his more vital areas.
"Th-this one's getting violent! She tried stabbing me! Kill 'er!" The man manages through chattering teeth.
Celi swiftly attempts to get away through the crowd, dodging and ducking around the legs of terrified adults, and has to avoid more than a few heavy-footed humans as she does so.
Ghorza whirls her pick and tears through the man's armor, stabbing him deep in the stomach. He gapes at her, and she sees that he's barely more than a teenager as he topples to the ground, blood flowing rapidly out of his deep wound. Almost immediately, several people stomp and rush over him with visceral crunches.
"Halleck! The dwarf's just killed him!" The woman near the fountain cries out. "I'll kill you for that, you b&&%&!"
Adolina draws her rapier trying to remain calm, and the CCG take their chance to attack.
"Asmodea, f-focus!" The bearded man says, whirling and swinging a heavy blow at Ginetta's head. He puts his whole body behind the swing, likely hoping to adjust for the tremors the cold has left him with. Although she manages to deflect the worst of the blow away from her fragile skull, it lands painfully on the half-elf's shoulder instead, cracking bone and sending pain burning down her arm.
"You're in for so much more than a beating, rebels!" The craggy-faced thug says, shoving aside an elderly woman with a shoulder as she attacks Ghorza with a flurry of heavy blows. "Remember when you lie bleeding out, you made this deadly." Despite her bold words, however, the smith doesn't even need dodge her hapless flailing.
Her counterpart, Asmodea steps forwards, hurling herself through the crowd with reckless abandon as she swings relentlessly at Ghorza. "D-die! Die, damn you!" The dwarf woman proves more than adept enough to evade and parry the oncoming blows, leaving the woman gasping and frustrated.
"Ravius, get over here!" The first woman calls, looking into the crowd. "This one just killed Halleck!"
Screams, wails, and the sounds of heavy strikes fill Aria Park. A finely-dressed woman staggers away from her attacker, clutching her head, as he follows after her, chuckling. The woman Ghorza's first attacker shoved aside has been trampled thoroughly by the panicked crowd, while a young man nearby watches in horror. "Grandma!"
A thug near Ginetta stops to tear a valuable-looking necklace - is that real gold? - from a fallen man's neck before rushing off to attack a halfling with a battle cry. "For His Glory!"
Meanwhile, the dottari at the front of the crowd are cracking skulls, breaking limbs, and generally making a mess of the protesters unlucky enough to not get out of their way. Are they even interested in accepting any surrenders?
Asmodea threw herself wildly at Ghorza with the reckless abandon of a true fanatic. Unfortunately for her, Ghorza turned and swung her pick with both hands. The woman’s leap met the momentum of Ghorza’s weapon, and the result was explosive. She didn’t have time to rethink her life choices, as Ghorza’s pick went through her face. Blood and bits of brain froze on the ground, even as shards of bone cracked underneath the feet of the crowd. Vengeance. Ghorza told herself. That this was justified and it was what they deserved. Regardless of whether they were old enough to grow a beard. Everyone with an armband had brought this on themselves.
Noting that Adolina has a weapon and the gnome doesn't, Ginetta moves again to put Adolina's attacker between them
She then stabs again.
Celi shoves her way forward, out of reach of the thug fighting Mystery Rapier Lady (not Adolina, who is also a Rapier Lady but not as much of a Mystery). The crowd is too thick for her to get a clear shot from a sensible distance. Which means that she'll have to shoot from a distance that is not at all sensible for a wizard, which means she needs magical protection. The gnome pulls a tiny piece of leather out of her belt pouch, chanting the ancient words of gnomish wizards. A layer of magical force shimmers into being around her body.
Ghorza whirls on Asmodea, striking her down in a visceral blow that sprays the dwarf with hot blood. The remaining woman gasps, then growls. "You'll pay for that, murderer!"
Ginetta attempts to dodge through the crowd, but in so doing allows her enemy the chance to lash out at her with his mace again. This time, he's not nearly so lucky, and she's easily able to avoid the heavy swing, responding with a fearsome thrust that catches him in his flank.
He gasps, agony writ clearly on his face as he stumbles, just in time for Adolina to stab him again, this time in the back. He topples gracelessly to the ground, and the nearby protesters shriek, shrinking back from this new burst of violence.
"Aspex!" The woman shouts. "Dammit, everyone, we've got resistance - murderers!"
Celi moves through the panicked crowd, shoving and dodging as best she can, and then summons a suit of force-created armor around herself.
The remaining thug launches another series of swings at Ghorza, aiming at her torso, then at her head. The dwarf woman doesn't even need to dodge or parry, simply letting the mace pass her by.
Another few thugs begin moving towards the melee, though only one is close enough to be a threat - for now.
Two dottari also take note of the actual fight, and smash aside the intervening individuals. "Surrender now and you will be given the justice of the court!" One, a woman declares as she arrives next to Adolina, swinging her heavy mace. The noblewoman isn't able to get her guard up in time, and she takes a crushing blow to her shoulder. The collarbone snaps under the sheer force of the attack, and pain nearly blinds her.
Another dottari joins up with her, smashing at Ginetta with his own weapon. The half-elf is much better able to defend herself, and she dodges out of the way of the oncoming mace - albeit with the intimate awareness that that blow could've easily knocked her down and out.
With her back turned to the last of the militia, Ghorza spun on her heel and brought her pick down low. It sailed through the air, coming up as the dwarf turned. The woman’s mace was raised to attack as the pick came up, hitting her under the jaw. The weapon went in, stopping within the woman’s head. Her eyes rolled back and the mace fell to the ground, followed by the body as Ghorza ripped the pick free. ”Right!” She declared. ”Time to leave!” It seemed like there was no end to the dottari. She had no illusions that if she stayed then she would be overwhelmed.
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He's dead, he's dead, he's dead. he's dead.
Adolina has never killed anyone before. She's never even hurt anyone really, aside from the panicked moments a few weeks before and her mind just shuts down as her blade skewers the man.
The distraction costs her dearly and the next thing she actually realises is blinding pain as her collarbone snaps under a heavy mace. It's a minor miracle (and extremely fortunate) that it's her off-shoulder that is broken so she keeps hold of her rapiers and reels away into the crowd - head spinning with pain, adrenaline and a desperate desire to vomit.
"Madam Gnome," Ginetta calls out not having heard the woman's name in the confusion, "It would be best if made our exit."
With that said, she pirouettes between the two dottari and then skips through the crowd, following after Adolina and Ghorza.
"Yes indeed!" Celi is doing her best to get through the crowd. Unfortunately, her legs are a lot shorter than those of the tallfolk, and there are Thrune thugs between her and the edge of the park. Oh gods, please don't let them hit me.
Ghorza slashes down her last attacker, leaving her bleeding out onto the ground for as long as it takes for her to be trampled by the panicked crowd, and begins rapidly retreating - as rapidly, at any rate, as she is able.
Adolina falls back, shoving through the terrified masses as she ensures she doesn't leave herself open to retaliation from the brutal dottari, and Ginetata attempts the same, dodging out of the way of both dottari. At the last moment, she slips up just enough to allow the second of the two dottari a swing at her, but the half-elf is too swift, and dodges away.
Celi rushes towards the west end of the park as she's able, but the dottari is able to take advantage of her rush, and swings his mace at her, but between her small size, the armor of force surrounding her, and the shoving mass of people, he does little more than cause her hair to flutter in the aftermath of his strike.
The CCG thug that had been called over by his compatriots pauses upon seeing the fleeing women and their dottari pursuers, and then turns his attention to punishing other 'rebels.'
Bodies crash to the ground as the dottari and their thuggish compatriots begin seizing prisoners. Brokenhearted wailing and hysterical cries of surrender echo over what was once a peaceful protest. No one wants to be here any more.
The dottari shoulders a heavyset man aside and brings her mace down on Ginetta again, swinging a brutal staccato of strokes towards the half-elf. However, she steps wrong on the cobblestones of the park, and her attack goes extremely wide, nearly shattering the ribs of another protester instead.
The dottari pursues her as well. "Surrender, and this won't go any worse than it has to!" He declares, but rather than giving her any chance to do that, he attacks himself. This time, a half-orc passing by shoves the dottari aside, sending him staggering and the blow far from its target.
Celi ignores the dottari's calls to surrender. She's not stupid, she has a pretty good idea of what Barzillai Thrune will do to anyone who takes them up on that offer. Instead she does her best to lose herself in the crowd, squeezing between panicking tallfolk as she makes her way to the western edge of the park.
The singer is sorely tempted to turn and give the dottari a lesson in weapon handling, but she hasn't survived this long by ignoring that inner voice that knows when it's time to leave a party.
Slipping between other fleeing demonstrators, she continues moving through the crowd.
Part of Ghorza wanted to stay and fight. So much anger and resentment was bubbling up and this was the release. She had been wronged! The grudge stood unavenged! But…she was not stupid. She could see that the dottari were not wasting time arresting people. This was a massacre, and the longer she stood her ground the sooner she would be overwhelmed. With a heavy heart she retreated, following the only people in the crowd who had done anything to put up a fight.