Open The Rising Dawn (CITY WIDE QUEST)

[Antar]

Inside the Temple... When amidst any form of celebration you don't completely agree to the reasons behind, it's best to just try to do what the rest are doing. That is what he'd been doing this last season and a half. Moving slowly was the key to the cautious, and would allow one to be lower then the notice of those you did not wish to be too nosey into one's own affairs. That was the importance of him being here today, screaming, yelling, and singing like it was the best thing he ever experienced even if he internally viewed it as a waste. When trying to keep one's purposes for being in a city of your own, there was only one real choice to blend into the screaming crowd. Scream back, go loud, go strong, go proud , go hard; go harder, or go home. Yell like being here was everything you wanted in life. If the sychophants wanted you to scream for their Voice, then let them hear you scream. But under no circumstances would one in his position ever rock the boat, not unless something provoked him. The uplifted faces of the crowd gazing on the Voice , responding to her proselytizing, to her word given to her peoples was not enough to provoke him. All Antar did was smile, and if he even came upon the unfortunate circumstances to meet her then he would still be as graceful and polite as could be. He didn't necessarily hate Rhysol or his Voice. It was just that long ago he realized in his birth city that they didn't always seem to be on the up and up. Call it skepticism, but even so, that skepticism would not wake him up to become even triflely annoyed. He had already sat here like a member of the city in piety, waiting for the longest time amongst the thralls before being calmly ushered into a small alcove near the back of the circular chambers. The place, rebuilt as it was was very impressive to him. All garnered with a carpenter's eye for detail, and the altar at the Shard was most impressive, seeming as if to flow from the very stone itself. All in all, he was content. He was acting a part today. That was all he was doing. Why should there be any reason for deviating from his plans? Even the turbulent war cries outside were not that impetus to make him stand up and begin. He couldn't hear it from inside the walls of the central worship chamber, hear the reverberating splendor of the Voice's lilting tune. Sure, Antar even agreed with what Ulric had said, that the Voice, the black sun, and Rhysol were good for this city, even if it was the greatest farce to be played upon the world to call it peaceful. For he knew, just how 'peaceful' this blood caked city was. It wasn't Sunberth, at least there it was open about bloodshed and bodies, no here in Ravok the blood was behind closed doors. In the midst of basements stretching below the rim of the lake, slowly drained into the city's canals. The odor of the city of his youth was everpresent to his mind, cloying to his nostrils. But on the surface, Rhysol's great city of the Ravok under the Voice was a most impressive edifice. This he wouldn't even deny. Even this would not gainsway him from simply being the observer, clad in his robes, his armaments hidden as in his hands a set of unmarked prayer beads ran through his fingers. Each time for a new bead an uttered whisper of penitence to Rhysol, and the voice accompanied a silent prayer to Akajia to keep his presence in the shadows, and to Tanroa for wishing him to be here at this time and place, asking both for guidance on what he was to do in the days to come. Out of the corner of his eye, the rogue took a glance towards some of the closest guards, many of them not seeming to notice his presence at all. Just looking at the crowd with a rabid intensity only true fervor for their god could bring. No... what really spurned him to act was the beginnings of what was sure to be a really bad day for him. It was something instinctive that he knew from the moment he began to see fire bound from glyphs upon the walls begin to pulse with energy before releasing their burning rage upon the crowds. He had fallen to the ground, pulling his waterskin from his belt to soak the top layer of his shadowsilk robes. Around him, people and furnishings began to burn and the cries of a child could be heard under its dying mother close by. The heat was cloying in the air, painfully making his skin seem heated under the soaked cloth as he began to crawl towards the nearest guard. Within his veins, a cold fury began to set itself in. Not that he cared particularly for the pain of others. Just that he hated the fact this would make his day ten times as difficult. A mage had done this, he recognized the hallmarks of glyphing, and in the barest moment his mind began to analyze the situation as he stayed close to the ground, wondering if above in the balconies people were already expiring from the smoke. The survivors began to rush the doors, probably seeking egress out into the courtyards, or perhaps down the great steps to the channel where the docks were. He immediately discounted following them, for such avenues of escape would lead to bottlenecks where panicked sheep trampled others in their path. Noth had to get out, that much was true. Anywhere but here was the best place to be, but he had a different idea of how to do things. Crawling towards the closest guards, he began to check if any of them were alive. It was foolish to believe there were only two ways out of the central chamber, perhaps if he found one injured he could aid he could move the man along to find another exit. Perhaps through a side door the guards used? Keeping his head down below the smoke, Noth was startled by a groaning man, a guard with burns on his back, and a scorched body. The signs of melted armor from an apparent direct blast of reimantical fire. The man would probably not live the week, for such burns were likely to become infected. But he would live today if he was moved, no matter how painful such a thing was. Perfect, it always gave him some small measure of hope to find someone useful. Especially when planning to flee through some of the Temple areas that the populace was normally barred from. Hoisting the injured man to his feet, Antar hauled the man's arm around his neck and began shouting into his ear, relishing the answer of a single pointed arm as the injured guard motioned to another way out...

[Volinir Orchid]

Volinir's head jerked in the direction of the shout. So that was Sevris. He'd have to remember him. His upper lip twisted into a snarl. He and Renalee had been separated, Valerius was still alive, and there was an Ebonstryfe after Velvet. Everything was going wrong, and it would only get worse if neglected. As such, he had no intention of waiting for Velvet to make up her mind. His nails dug into her skin, and he yanked roughly on her collar with his other hand. "I said move it, azo!" he barked, "No time to dawdle!" The Symenestra started dragging her towards the nearest wall, one of the rebels stepping in front of them and raising an axe. The two of them froze for a moment, before the man gave Volinir a curt nod and stalked off. A few ticks later, they had reached a blood spattered wooden fixture that was sheer save for some old windows with jutting panes. Volinir tried to yank the girl's arms forward so her wrists were in front of his throat, "Grab on." he ordered before laying his hands flat against the wall. Microscopic hooks extended from his skin, and, when and if Velvet complied, he slowly began to ascend the surface. In about a chime, he'd be at the top. Starving slave girls tended to be lightweight, but it was still more of a burden than going with nothing but his skin. Meanwhile the brawl continued below.

[Cassidy Finch]

The next few moments seemed like an eternity. Velvet just couldn't decide which way to go. Following either Sevris or Volinir held major risks, and both were just as dangerous in their own ways. With Volinir there was freedom at great risk, while Sevris' way was slavery and chains, with the promise of freedom in the dim, distant future. At the last, it was Volinir who won out, not because of logic or reason but merely because he was the closer of the two. The man reached out one clawed hand and snagged the woman by the arm, dragging her back in the direction he came from. After an instant's hesitation the slave followed eagerly. She cast only a single glance back at Sevris, her former master, before being pulled forward again. Now that the pressure of the decision was no longer there, she could finally think clearly again. Yes, this was the best way. Even if it meant death, she suddenly couldn't bear the thought of serving against her will for one tick longer. The small taste of freedom that the festival had afforded her was enough to whet her appetite for more. She clutched her dagger tightly in her right hand while she was being led by her left. The man's black, hard fingernails dug into her flesh and caused her a bit of discomfort, but the adrenaline coursing through the woman's veins was more than sufficient to dampen the pain to a light, pulsing throb that held a place in the very back of Velvet's mind. The slave's features melted into pure, undiluted terror as a large, axe-wielding man suddenly appeared above her. His axe was raised, primed to strike both her and Volinir down in a single, violent stroke of the wicked weapon. Velvet nearly dropped her dagger, so afraid was she. Thankfully, the man nodded to Volinir(in approval?) before vanishing into the melee once more. It was only when the danger was past that Velvet realized that she had never even thought of the dagger as an offensive weapon. She didn't even consider using it! Shaking her head at her foolishness, she resolved to use it if the need arose, no matter how foreign it seemed to her. The tall man continued pulling her along for a few more moments before they came to a wooden fixture of some kind that was painted here and there with splashes of blood. The sight made Velvet vaguely uneasy, but she had seen more than enough blood in her time to be used to it. Volinir jerked Velvet's arms in front of his neck and curtly ordered, "Grab on." For a tick or two, the slave hesitated. She was unsure what he was planning to do. He had his palms placed on the relatively smooth, wooden walls. What was he doing? It wasn't like he could climb it... The woman wrapped her arms around Volinir anyway. She had trusted him thus far, hadn't she? Besides, if she went back to Sevris, he'd surely have her head for trying to escape. This thought hardened her resolve as she clung tightly to the man, still not quite sure what he was doing. Suddenly, he started climbing up the wall! Somehow his fingers and toes found purchase in the wood and they began ascending slowly. Velvet's grip tightened around Volinir as they rose; she had a fair head for heights, but she was hanging onto a man who looked too scrawny to climb up something like this himself, much less do it with her on his back! Her dagger was scraping lightly against the wood, as she still grasped it tightly in her right hand. Velvet carefully kept it away from the man's throat so she wouldn't hurt him. Ten or so ticks later, the woman squeezed her eyes shut and started praying that Volinir wouldn't fall.

[Inoadar]

Cautiously, Inoadar kept his eyes out for anyone approaching him with obvious hostility as he scanned the scene for something he could use to bind his wounds. There were, of course, numerous sleeves or cloaks he could tear strips from, but they were all bloody or filthy, and he didn't care to exchange a clean, bleeding wound for staunched, infected one.

Eventually, amidst numerous dodgings of random swings, he found a bundle of linen. He could only assume someone was on the way to the docks or market and instead dropped them to contribute to a hasty exit from the temple area. He wrapped his arm and shoulder firmly. He was glad it was his left hand, the one he was always willing to sacrifice while getting in close enough to someone to gut them. He had long since picked up a long dagger. It was a fair compromise for him. He was more skilled with a more quickly wielded shorter one, but against a sword, reach was a concern.

No more of this recklessness, it was time to find a dark niche to assess which side was winning this seeming free-for-all, so he'd know which side to claim he'd always supported. This reminded him to check the wallet he'd pocketed. If he was to stumble upon a citizen's verification of some sort, he'd have a hard time convincing a rebel he was not a supporter of Rhysol and the Ebonstryfe.

[Sevris]

In almost quick succession as Sevris Lazarin finally grabbed hold of the situation at hand. After quickly dispatching an enemy he had seen his slave Velvet, whom he had been trying to reach during the ensuing chaos. But another individual showed up out of the mix, and literally stole her away from him. Anger instantly sprang in his eye's. The situation with the attack and the burning temple had to be dealt with in that very instant. There was still fighting going on in front of him which was blocking him, a Dawn member and a temple guard fighting. He dove forward and rolled by the enemy soldier, he was busy combating the other guard. Sevris rolled to his feet as he drew within range of the fighter and in a single stroke decapitated him. He kept in motion and bustled throw the crowd in fierce determination to catch the person to flew the coup with Velvet. He got within sight to see them trying to scale a wall, but that was all he got to make out as two more Dawn members noticed he was Ebonstryfe and fell upon them with their mace and sword. He parried them at the same time, as one went high and one went low. With the one lowest to the ground he kicked out with his foot hard and caught the man in the chin, sending him into a half-circle backflip. This still allowed him to swing his sword to block another oncoming attack. His opponent was much more attentive than his comrade who had been trampled on the floor by the terrified crowd. While he stood off with his opponent, he looked up and had enough time to yell, "Velvet, you will die if you go further!" before the man charged forward and they locked blades.

[Volinir Orchid]

Apparently, Sevris' charge wasn't ignored. A crossbow bolt buried itself with a loud thud inches away from Volinir's head, causing him to flinch violently. An instant later, his eyes widened, and he looked back at Velvet, ready to grab her should she be unseated. "You okay?" When he was sure she was still securely attached to him, he continued up, soon clearing the roof as the rebels continued to fight the Lazarin. With a groan and a heave, Volinir flopped onto the roof, another bolt whizzing over his and Velvet's shoulders. The instant he was back on solid ground again, he rose to a crouch, and tried to help the freshly freed slave to her feet. With a soft tug on her hand, he started to run along the roof, away from the brawl. A few gaps separated them and safety, the ground almost twenty feet below them. At that height, lanterns started to look a little like candles. Volinir leaped them with little trouble, and helped Velvet cross should she be nervous. Once they were about seven houses away from the melee, and he was certain they weren't followed, he motioned for her to crouch again, sinking to one knee. "Lie down flat on this roof, and don't rise until I get back, okay?" It wasn't impossible to ascend the building, as long as one had the right equipment, but without foreknowledge that Velvet was up there, it was too much work for most, and with her form prone on the high roof, gaining that knowledge from the ground would be difficult indeed. Once she complied, he patted her once on the shoulder and raced back to the battle, his face lined with worry. There was still someone else to find. Valerius had completely left his mind at that point; he simply wasn't important. A certain Kelvic, on the other hand, was. He stood on the shaky ground, sweat coating his brow, both from the climb and the run. His amethyst eyes darted frantically across the writhing orgy of people, trying to find some flash of yellow, or sandy fur, something. After about two chimes of scouring the battlefield, he finally caught a glimpse of Renalee. The Symenestra soon squatted and skittered down the wall, trying to keep his eyes locked on her. Once he fell back to earth with a faint puff, however, she vanished. Volinir stumbled and ducked and wove through the tangle of arms and steel, occasionally catching a snatch of blonde hair, or the glimmer of emerald eyes, but always losing it an instant after it appeared. Still, he struck out a rough path in Ren's direction, desperately calling out her name the whole time.

[Renalee]

Renalee was making slow progress through the panicked crowd. She had tried running at some point, swept by all of the rushing a crashing bodies, but gave up soon. It was easier to maneuver at a slower pace using a knee, an elbow or even her dagger to help her cut through the masses. It was hard to determine what was going on exactly past her immediate surroundings. Ren had gone past a couple of Ebonstryfe fighting a small group of the rebels and had hurried to lose them in the crowd. Unsure of the intentions of the rogue group the Kelvic tried to stay away from any major fights breaking out, having no particular side to join.

You would think that finding the exit of the temple's courtyard would be easy enough with so many people around, trying to do the same. Unfortunately the blind fear that had taken over the Ravokians was resulting in disorientation and at some point Ren fund herself being swept back towards the temple. She was quick to veer around, delivering a swift hit with her elbow in the gut of a man who tried to grab on to her. The man coughed and staggered backwards, but was quick to leave her alone and head in another direction.

Ren's eyes never rested on a single spot or face for more than a tick, looking around for familiar silver hair or the little thief's short frame. If there was anyone in real danger of getting trampled it was the young human who was small enough to be pushed around with more ease than even Ren was. She doubted she would be able to find either of the men she knew in the crowd where everyone was shouting names of loved ones and scrambling to find people they had been separated from, but she was still searching.

The blonde was passing by an abandoned stall that had been tipped over, fruits spilled and crushed on the ground, when a woman with feverish eyes, clutching a dagger much like Ren's own stopped in front of her. She didn't appear to belong to either of the sides, but from her stance it was obvious that she was looking for a fight. Ren's eyebrows knitted as she tried to position the cart between her and the human. "Get out of my way." Her warning wasn't heeded and the woman rushed forward, waving her blade through the air, obviously inexperienced, but with surprising efficiency.

The dagger cut through the Kelvic's tunic, managing to get to the soft skin just under her shoulder. Ren hissed and jumped sideways at the last minute, managing to avoid a deep wound. As she was moving, the hand that wasn't holding her weapon delivered a hit meant for the woman's head, but ending up at her neck. She choked for a moment before managing to turn around and land a hit just above Renalee's knee. That caused her to lose her balance, however, which the now crouching Kelvic took advantage of. Her hand pulled at the leg that was supporting the woman and despite a bit of a struggle she managed to get her to stumble forward and fall to the ground. A loud thud was heard from her head colliding with the wood of the tipped cart and without looking back to see if her opponent had lost consciousness Ren ran the few steps that would get her lost in the crowd.

She had just found a relatively cut off spot to stop and evaluate the damage to her shoulder when she heard it. It was a familiar voice coming not too far away from where she was right now. It was the boy! And was he calling for a 'Kel...' "Kelvic, where the petch are you!" Yes he was. Ren whirled around, trying to locate where the thief was exactly, a frown marring her face. She found him a few people away, making his way loudly toward the direction she had just come from. The girl quickly elbowed her way towards him, swiftly placing a blood-stained left hand over his mouth once she was close enough. "Shout it louder, why won't you!" The Kelvic growled in his ear before pulling him towards the edge of the crowd.

When she was sure nobody would crash into them from somewhere Ren released the boy and gave him a quick check over. "You alright?" She was a little bit surprised that he was not only still standing (something she had had serious doubts about), but had even been out looking for her. She would have expected him to rush to safety at the first sign on danger. "We'll need to get out of here." The blonde's eyes were on the crowd again. If this boy had looked for her would Volinir be doing the same thing somewhere in this sea of people? "The name's Ren, by the way." Her hand fell on the thief's shoulder as she tried to turn him around and guide him back into the crowd in the direction she thought the courtyard's exit would be. "Just in case we get separated again. I'd prefer it you didn't scream what I am for the whole of Ravok to hear."

The girl sped up a little bit - now that she had a companion to look out for as well she wanted to make it out of what was quickly turning into a blood bath as soon as possible. They passed by the body of a dead member of the Ebonstryfe, Ren only pausing for a minute to pick up the bloodied sword that had fallen out of his hand. "Do you have a weapon?" She thrust it in the boy's direction a little doubtful that he'd be able to use it. Still a useless blade was a blade nonetheless and she would prefer it if she knew that someone with something sharp at hand was watching her back. She was just looking up to see if someone would fight them for their acquisition when she caught a glimpse of silver. "This way," she urged quickly, diving in for the familiar sight. The Symenestra was quite far away, but if they managed to push their way quickly enough they might be able to catch up to him.

[Cassidy Finch]

"Velvet, you will die if you go further!" The words made Velvet freeze for an instant. What was she doing? She hadn't tried to actually run away from a master in several years. It was never worth the retribution... But this time was different. She had help! The slave pressed onward, not sparing a backward glance at Sevris. If she looked back, Velvet was sure she'd lose her courage and retreat back to her master and her life of slavery. She couldn't live with that anymore. She just couldn't. Velvet would rather die than spend another day forced to serve someone against her will. After being deposited on the rooftop, Velvet hurried after Volinir. She didn't dare get left behind; she had nowhere to go if she got lost. The woman had some trouble crossing the rooftops, and accepted the Symenestra's assistance gratefully. She wanted to know how he could climb up a sheer surface like that, but it just wasn't important right then. She needed to get as far away from Sevris as fast as she could. Once they got several rooftops away from the fighting, Volinir crouched and motioned for Velvet to do the same, "Lie down flat on this roof, and don't rise until I get back, okay?" He was leaving her? What if Sevris was following them? She couldn't very well ask him to stay because she was afraid, so she merely nodded and lay prone on the rough surface of the wooden rooftop. Volinir sprinted off after giving Velvet a pat on the shoulder, leaving her and hastening back towards the fray. The slave had no idea what he was doing, but it was obviously important. Had he left something in the middle of the battle? If so, she pitied him. There was no chance he would find it in that mess. After a few chimes, the woman couldn't help herself and propped herself up on one elbow to get a good look at the battle. To think, moments ago that had been a party of merry revelers... And she had been a slave. Now, she was free. The revelation brought tears to the woman's eyes; she wouldn't ever have to endure another beating! She'd never be woken in the middle of the night and taken to her master's chambers, and she'd never need to do anything she didn't want to. If she could keep her freedom. That thought scared her; what if she were caught again? She would either be killed out of hand or forced to serve once again. Velvet resolved then that, if it came down to it, she would rather die than be subjected to that humiliation again. The woman almost felt guilty. Sevris had been kind to her, and he hadn't done much in the way of punishment. He'd trusted her and she'd betrayed it at the first real opportunity. No, she thought, pushing away the idea that she had done something wrong, kind or not, he still kept me as a slave. I was nothing but property. He was in the wrong, not her. She hated everyone who had anything to do with the slave trade, including him. The slave continued to watch the fighting with a sense of hope and determination that she'd never felt before; if it was at all possible, she would escape. If she had to die trying, she would.

[Inoadar]

At first, it seemed fortune favored Inoadar when a pair of the Rising Dawn rebels rescued him from a sword wielding Ebonstryfer. His arm and shoulder were tightly bound, but still bleeding some. What's more, the binding hindered his use of that arm as a source of distraction, leverage and dirty brawling techniques.

He had been backed up against one of the walls of the temple, parrying sword and fist with nothing but his long knife, while taking numerous bruises. It was only the fact of the space to keep backing up that had saved him thus far. As his back hit the wall, he knew he had but moments to live. The hateful sneer on the face of the soldier made it plain HE knew it as well.

That sneer transformed suddenly into a wide eyed slack-jawed, silent gasp as the tip of sword sprouted from his chest to splatter blood across Inoadar's chest. The sword slipped back out of his body as his own sword slipped from his hand and he slumped to the ground to reveal a pair of rebels. Inoadar recognized one of them as the soldier he had aided chimes earlier.

"We are even. Go now, leave this place. With the goodly gods' blessing, it's time is at an end." He suddenly locked eyes with him as Inoadar's eyes grew wide with anxious focus beyond him. The rebel spun to deflect the sword hissing through the air towards his neck. His partner leapt to the fray as a half dozen of Rhysols goons, citizens led by a single soldier, converged upon them from both sides.

Hampered by his injury, as well as his lack of conviction either way, Inoadar was mostly reduced to ducking and dodging, trying to avoid errant swings of swords wielded by either side. He could see, though, the eyes of the Ebonstryfers judging him a rebel and knew that if they prevailed he would be cut down immediately.

One of the rebels fell, along with two of the 'Stryfers'. Even if the other rebel could give such an accounting, there would still be two of the enemy left to disembowel him. "RUN! I will hold them off!" The rebel shouted.

Inoadar knew this was futile. One of them would simply give chase and dispatch him while the rebel would still face three foes. No, there was only one thing to do...

"DEATH TO THE ENEMIES OF RHYSOL!" he shouted, driving his long dagger into the neck of the remaining rebel. The rebel stiffened in shock and was instantly impaled by four blades. The rebel tried to turn as his mouth muttered something remotely resembling "bastard", but fell limp just short of completing his turn to face Inoadar.

Two citizens shoved Inoadar against the wall as the third stood watch while the soldier put a sword to his throat. "I don't think you've fully decided just whose side you are on, sir." he spoke the word with loathing. "A convenient betrayal, but it proves nothing. I still think you a rebel! What have you got to say?"

Inoadar needed no aid to feign fear as he fumbled, shaking, for the wallet he had liberated from the first victim. He handed it to the soldier wordlessly. the soldier thumbed through it and his expression softened. "My pardon, sir. It is difficult to tell friend from foe here. You are wounded, you have done your part. Go now to the tent beyond the perimeter barrier there." he motioned down one of the nearby streets. "There is a medic's tent. They are busy, but you should last a while yet." He handed back the wallet, motioned to the three others and they ran off to join against other enemies.

Inoadar looked at the wallet a moment, then lifted to his lips and kissed it.

[Sevris]

It was to late. The unknown man who had taken Velvet had foolishly scaled the wall with a Symenestra from the looks, seeing as not to many living beings care capable of that. Glyphs that wore place on the walls of the temples were sotred with magic, the fire magic of Reimancy covered the walls and had the flames rushing upward. If Velvet had gone to the roof, then she was in mortal danger and he couldn't figure out why they decided to flee upwards, when smoke and fire rises when it catches. It was obviously to late for him to do anything else but defend his life and kill the Rising Dawn attackers. His attacker tried to push him back but he wouldn't budge. So they they exchanged blows, trying desperately to finish the other before it was to late. The man however couldn't hold out against Sevris, whom had been fighting diligently over the past few weeks to remain undefeated. And it wouldn't stop now. He swung high, a parry met his blow. Lazarin switched up tactics and feinted with the other end of his blade towards the Dawn's midsection. His face screwed up into fear and went to block the attack, but Sevris continued with the top blade and struck down again. The blade cut deep into the neck of his enemy. He fell to the floor, not dead but clearly was going to die in a few seconds as he struggled deeply to breath. Sevris would not be fooled, he would help dispatch the Rising Dawn, then he would find Velvet and the person who fled with her. Kill him, and punish her. The Ebonstryfe was infamous for finding out information, especially two people in the city in which they operated. They would not get far.