Open The Rising Dawn (CITY WIDE QUEST)

[Inoadar]

Inoadar found that being wounded had benefits. That soldier, whether he had been on the level about the medical tent or not, had spoken the truth about "having done his part". As he made his way to the city's center, he saw many healthy looking males, looking anywhere from 15 to 50, being pressed into service, if not volunteering. Often, official looking, quasi-military types locked eyes and began to approach him, only to pause when they saw his wounds. He even got respectful nods from some of them, which he returned with as much feigned sincerity as he could muster. He couldn't give two nuggets of shyke about Rhysol or his followers, but 'When in Ravok...'

He passed groups of enthusiastic young men hurrying to the embattled area around the temple, showing actual disappointment that there were rumors that the rebels were pulling out in a retreating action. Swinging their weapons and going through mock thrusts and parries, Inoadar would have loved to see these junior heroes leave a wet trail behind them as they ran screaming from their first five chimes of actual life-and-death swordplay. Or maybe stare wide eyed in mute horror as a crossbow bolt sprouted suddenly from their chest.

After ten or twenty chimes, he saw the C.E.B. building ahead, complete with arches and columns. Ornamental gargoyles looked down without sympathy at the hurried citizens rushing to or from the conflict. Inoadar looked at the door, decided not to go in. Recalling how the temple had been gutted inside, if that old man was coming here, he thought it might be best he remained outside.

He walked around the building, checking for other points of entry. If there WAS cause to enter, he didn't want it to be where everyone was expecting. He cursed his unpreparedness once again. If he had his grapple and rope, he could take his choice of any one of a hundred decorative stone flanges or spikes, though they might not have been made to support much weight. Well, there were always windows.

He continued to walk around the building, occasionally stopping to act as though overcome by blood-loss fatigue. No one approached him to render aid. He did not think anyone would. Nor did he want any. All he wanted was an unremarkable reason to loiter around the area as he waited for the old man to arrive.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

While the slaves were scared and prayed that it would be over soon, Valerius walked between them with his head held high, his stolen sword in hand, acting as if nothing could happen to him. He didn’t know why, but the Rising Dawn’s attacks were half hearted at best. It was almost as if they didn’t want to harm his slaves. If he hadn’t already had a low opinion of them to begin with, that would have convinced him that they were utter fools. Had they really expected to succeed? More and more Ebonstryfe arrived at the temple. Here and there members of the Rising Dawn were already retreating, running for their lives. The fire would probably be extinguished soon, if everything was going the way Valerius hoped it would. As for the few unfortunate souls that were still trapped inside? He didn’t particularly care about those, as long as the Voice was safe. Rhysol would honor their sacrifice. As he got further away from the temple, he could see that the Rising Dawn weren’t simply trying to get away, they were all running in the same direction. Were they meeting somewhere? Valerius looked in the direction where the Nitrozian Estate and safety were and then at the running rebels, and then he shrugged his shoulders. The day was already ruined. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about the attack, so he might as well find out where they were going. „There’s been a change of plans“, he curtly remarked to the slaves. „We’ll go this way.“

[Tanjun Vorot]

The girl, walking through the city, wondered what all the fuss was about. Large groups of men and women, all carrying the symbol of the Rising Dawn, came rushing by. Of course, she had heard of this group, but she never saw someone carrying that symbol out in the open. This reeked of trouble. Grinning, Tanjun set chase. The people didn't really notice it. A few did wonder why a young girl, carrying a weapon much larger then herself, was running with them, but as with most brainless followers, they had to follow orders and get to the Slave Market. The girl didn't really think about where they were heading, she justed wanted a piece of the action, if there was going to be any. "What in Rhysol's name is going on here? Well, who cares. If there's trouble, it'll surely be fun.", she thought to herself. She might even get to torture if she could get her hands on some unconscious guy and be able to drag him off. Her hands were itching to hurt someone again, especially if they were against Rhysol. If they were with him, well... then the victim was just unlucky. Either way, she wouldn't think twice about stopping so that he'd survive. Only after she reached the Slave Market, she stopped running. She was standing near the edge of the mass of people. Because of this, she couldn't even see what was going on further ahead. The backs of the men and women, much larger then her, were blocking her view. To make matters worse for her was that she couldn't even find a spot where she could get a better view. All she could do was wander around behind the mass and hope to catch a glimpse of what was about to happen.

oocV, if this isn't acceptable, just PM me and I'll make adjustments.

[Crismento Miren]

The voices Cris heard did not bring him back from his brief meditation immediately, but the name “Siriana” did. His eyes shot open as if waking up from a disturbing dream. So this was the Rising Dawn's doing after all. The conspiracy that was promised by the Ebonstryfe to fail emerged again, more powerful and threatening, it seemed. Still lying in the ravosala, Crismento focused on the two people arguing inside. The older man who dared to undermine the leader of these kind-hearted terrorists had to be high up on the hierarchy ladder as well. If it was his magic that burned the temple, then he must have been this Ervanis or Ervis. The one, who, according to the imprisoned slave, drew magic from the bones. The one who seemed to lack the kind heart of his fellows. Once the two rebels split their ways, the con artist carefully got up in the boat. Siriana’s and her lover’s battle for the slaves didn’t interest him much. There was bound to be more fighting than he liked. However this wizard, scary as he might be, appeared to be much more like Cris in some way. If what con artist knew and suspected was true, the man was in it for himself and not for the poor bastards in chains or the ideals of Priskil lovers. A moment passed while Crismento questioned himself whether he was really going to do that. He recalled that the last time Rising Dawn’s affairs lead him to dungeon cells and burning strange vials into whores. But along with that, his coin pouch had also increased in weight. With some effort Cris unwrapped the dead pilot out of his blood-soiled coat and rolled the body over the edge into the water. The ravosala rocked menacingly for a moment before agreeing to calm down. The man donned the newly acquired clothes over his wet attire and picked up a pole from the floor. He had seen the pilots use it many times, but now that it was in his hands the procedure suddenly appeared much more complicated. Cris poked a wall nearby and the front of his boat lazily turned to that direction. He reached for the wall on the other side with his stick, but now the whole ravosala moved closer to the shore. The swindler tried to shove off the bottom of the canal, but even though he had submerged the pole two thirds into the water, it found nothing to push against. Eventually Crismento managed to send his boat forward and despite that it was still not moving straight it at least felt like progress. Hitting one wall, brushing against another, he felt like a child playing with something only an adult was supposed to use. He found it a surprisingly frustrating way to travel and was glad that the journey would not have been too long. Once he saw the CEB building he gave one last unexpectedly successful push towards it and let the boat slowly approach on its own. Cris pulled over the hood over his head while his eyes remained vigilant from underneath. The events at the temple either drew people towards it or pushed them away from the centre entirely; it was difficult to tell in the commotion. He thought he noticed a man examining the CEB, but he appeared much younger than he expected this wizard to be. Without moving his head to much he looked around again, his hands nervously gripping the pole, waiting.

[Inoadar]

It took a supreme effort to stifle the double-take Inoadar nearly made as the ravosala coasted oddly near the C.E.B. building. His mind raced through possibilities, most centering on the unresolved nature of the bounty the Ebonstryfe had put on his head. Even with his connections, he didn't know if the boatmen were still making that detail available. He had meant to confront them about it, but hadn't yet. Now that he had two more names of Rising Dawn members, his reasons to visit with them were even more pressing. But this boatman's odd behavior gave him pause.

He had gone to a lot of trouble to fake his death and rid himself of the burden of having a 1000gm bounty on his head, but he did not really know if it had succeeded. The bounty hunter, Bojovnik, had played along, as Inoadar anticipated he would. He may have even actually collected the reward. But that didn't really prove anything, and Inoadar could not help but notice this boatman.

He knew it was naive to think that the ravosalamen would feel any obligation to protect him from the results of any information they chose to sell to inquirers. But he thought, with the quasi-partnership he had with them, they might have warned him. 'Live and learn.' he thought to himself. Obviously, he had misjudged his relationship with the boatmen. 'Oh well, business is business.' But he was beginning to suspect he was about to have "business" with this particular boatman.

He had a hood over his head, for one thing. He had not ever seen another ravosalaman wearing a hood. He supposed it had to do with the hidden face aspect. Passengers probably are turned off by the inherently creepy look of a man hiding his face in the shadow of a hood. It gave a him a decidedly sinister appearance.

Then, there was what could be blood stains. Now, with the chaos going on in an area the boatmen did pass regularly, it stood to reason one or more of them might have had a wounded charter or two. But wouldn't they want to change their outfit? He also noted now how the man hovered around the area. It wasn't that they never picked up passengers away from the docks,where they were based. But they didn't stop at a spot like this and just hang around. There was no line of potential passengers waiting. Inoadar himself was certainly not behaving in any way indicating he wanted a ride.

'Yeah...that should bring things out in the open.' he thought to himself as he stood up and faced the man in the boat. The man looked uncomfortable. 'A boatman? uncomfortable? in a boat?' Inoadar approached him, using his wounded status as a means to conceal his long dagger while he reached across himself to hold his wounded left shoulder.

Inoadar hobbled up to the canal edge, looking directly at the boat. He waited for the boatman to offer his services. Inoadar looked around to see if there was anyone that this man might be operating as a "spotter" for, in case the bounty was still active. He saw no one. He looked back at the "boatman", his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

OOCYes, that's you, Cris.

[Crismento Miren]

Looking from under a corner of his hood Cris cursed in his thoughts when the man, who had been inspecting the CBE building, came in an apparent need of transportation. He seemed injured but that was none of the swindler’s concerns as he had no intentions of leaving the area. Not that he could have offered much of a service. This unwanted attention was best to be dealt with quickly so as not to miss the wizard. ”Tough luck with that cursed battle, eh?” he spoke without looking up at the stranger. His voice sounded slightly deeper and much hoarser than usual. ”I’d offer to take you someplace, mate, but in this mess one cannot tell who is who.” Crismento pulled the pole out of water and bumped the stick against the shore with some force, but the boat drifted away without much haste. ”Not to insult your honour and what not, but I just had some scum invite himself on to the deck. Tried to pay his fair with my blood. Didn’t end that well for him,” he casually pointed at the crimson stains on his coat. A small smiled twisted on his lips, though it was probably not seen from under the dark hood. ”Bastard didn’t even have the manners to say which god he was slitting throats for.” The ravosala remained floating not too far from where the man stood and someone fit and healthy could probably overcome the distance with an accurate jump. Cris wasn’t sure if anyone was that desperate for a boat to risk them both end up in the canal with the ravosala upside down. Just in case held the pole tightly in his hands ready to swat at any invaders, however much good that would do. If the dark-haired fool was not satisfied with the play, he would probably need to come back there another way, from around the building perhaps, but the swindler was reluctant to do so, lest he would risk missing that old rebel arrive.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar didn't believe for a moment that this guy was one of the real ravosalamen, but figured to each his own. He'd obviously found his niche to avoid trouble. He would have shrugged if his shoulder wasn't looking for an excuse to open up and start bleeding again. He removed his right hand from the wound and held it out, displaying the bloody palm. "Yes, I've had a few similar offers today myself. I was forced to make change for them." he grinned.

His grin faded as another thought occurred to him. "So...if I may ask, which god would you have wanted them to be slitting throats for?" Best to be asking such a question than receiving it. Any hesitation would undermine any credibility in declaring for Rhysol. Was he waiting for the old man as well? To help? To assassinate? To signal someone? Would he leave if he thought Inoadar was one of Rhysol's faithful, playing a hunch that the C.E.B. was being targeted?

If the old man showed up like he was supposed to, Inoadar determined to keep as much attention on this "boatman" as he did on the target. His motivation was entirely selfish. He cared for neither Rhysol nor whichever deity these rebels were devoted to, probably some aspect of light and justice and righteousness, or some crap like that.

But his aims were currently directly in line with the old man, and he didn't want some witness selling him out as a rebel sympathizer. If this "boatman" came across as a diehard Rhysol worshiper, he would have to do something about it.

[Verilian]

Many of the Ebonstryfe pursued the Rising Dawn as they retreated from the courtyard, but the pursuit stopped when a small group remained to fight and cover the other's retreat. With all the chaos, an nobody really calling the shots, the Stryfe just flocked to the nearest foe, rather than make any sort of organized effort. It was mostly just apprentices and a few soldiers in the courtyard, those of higher rank had broken off from the fighting to investigate the damage in the temple. Everyone, especially the members of the Rising Dawn, had been surprised when the flames in the temple were suddenly sucked out. Those who weren't crying out in pain cheered praises to Rhysol, assuming that he had stepped in. Aislin noticed none of it. The throes of magic had her completely enthralled. Her gnosis, the mark where Rhysol's blood had touched her skin, burned like white fire. It was pain and pleasure combined as one. Aislin had not the power to hypnotize an entire crowd, but she wasn't in control of herself anymore. Her djed was pouring out in waves, sapping her strength, and infused with it was the power of Chaon. Those near her who felt the djed felt the command to fight, but beyond that, they lost all semblance of who was friend or foe. The Chaon infused magic made them believe that everyone was their enemy, but it was worse than that. Even when one had fallen to another, the carnage continued. Ebonstryfe were tearing flesh from the bodies of their own brethren, consuming it in a chaotic rage. Members of the Rising Dawn were cutting each other down with wild abandon. The scene around Aislin was one of pure horror, and all the while, she languished in the pain and pleasure of it, writhing on the ground, until the last of her strength sapped and her world went black. It was only the slow rise and fall of her chest that would signal to anyone that she was still alive. As for Sevris, he would likely be caught up in the fighting with those Rising Dawn members who remained behind. It was unavoidable, to get to those retreating, he would have to go through those who remained. There were only a handful of them, but they were determined to give their friends a fighting chance at escape, even if it meant giving up their lives. It was that sort of determination that made a person dangerous, and the fight they put up was a ferocious one. By the time they all fell, the rest of the Dawn was long gone, but by then the Ebonstryfe's attentions had turned to the carnage taking place around Aislin. Any who approached quickly lost their minds and joined in the fighting, not caring who it was they killed, ignoring all their injuries, and fighting until their last breath. After a quick discussion between a few soldiers and apprentices, crossbows were passed around, and they were ordered to end the chaos. From his vantage atop the building, Giph and the others would see it all. The fire suddenly going out, the Rising Dawn retreating save for just a few, and the carnage that was taking place just outside the temple's door. Giph, if he stayed to watch, would witness members of each faction commit atrocities upon one another, caring not for which side they fought. He would see regular citizens of Ravok, members of neither side of the fight, join in because they came too near the range of Aislin's wild magic. And he would see them all shot down in the end, crossbow bolts piercing each and every one of them save for the woman lying in the center of it all, who in the end, appeared to be sleeping calmly. Inside the temple things were a mess, but the fires were gone, and the glassbeak was dead. People were still making sense of things, and there were Ebonstryfe and Black Sun rushing all about. The guard who was with Antar tried to drag him down the hall, but his own wounds made him weak. Eventually a pair of Ebonstryfe, high ranking ones from the looks of it though the guard couldn't tell just how high, appeared. "Is this the one," one of them asked, "The one who put out the fire?" The guard nodded weakly, and stepped back when the two Stryfe grabbed Antar and carried him away. Away from all the fighting, Velvet made her way through the streets, getting in front of Siriana. When she stepped out to confront her, the leader of the Rising Dawn quickly went for her weapon, but when she saw the slave mark on Velvet's hand she stayed her blade. The two conversed for a few moments, and whatever they talked about, it ended with Siriana inviting the kelvic along. "If you help us, we can offer you protection. We will help ensure you keep your freedom." Valerius would witness the arrival of Siriana and the Cassidy, and if he drew close enough, he would overhear their plans. "Ervis has gone to take out the CEB," Siriana declared, "And it is our job to free the slaves. The others will secure the boats at the shipyard and we will meet them there. We may have to fight our way there, but if we're lucky, Ervis will have distracted them by then." That was all he was able to overhear before the group moved out again. If he followed them, he would find that they headed for the slave market, though there was also the bit of information about the Shipyard. Were there members of the Rising Dawn already there, trying to procure a boat? The group moved fast, and none of them noticed when Tanjun joined with them. When they reached the slave market fighting erupted again, not between Rising Dawn and Ebonstryfe, but between the slave's guards and those who would free them. In the middle of it all Siriana glowed, and any who looked upon her as a friend felt themselves invigorated and without fear. Beside her fought the large akalak, and together they easily dispatched any foe who approached them, but there was still much fighting to be had for everyone else. Those who didn't fight went to work breaking open the locks to the slave cages, and shouting words of encouragement and direction to the freed slaves. Those that listened would either join in the fight, or head for the shipyard. While the rest of Ravok seemed to be engulfed in chaos, the scene at the C.E.B. was much calmer. There was no fighting, and the only people present were Crismento and Inoadar. Luck wasn't on their side though, and while they were busy going back and forth with one another, they apparently missed the old man's arrival, and his subsequent entrance into the C.E.B. It wasn't until they heard a scream that either of them would turn and look to see the front door of the building wide open, and a man falling to his knees staring wide-eyed at the skewer of earth penetrating through his chest from behind. The wizard was inside, and apparently had dispatched the lone staff member who had been so unlucky as to miss out on the festival. If the two of them dared peer inside, they would not see the man right away, though they would see a door in the back of the room which was left ajar. It was one of the offices that belonged to the high ranking Ebonstryfe that was normally present at the C.E.B. They were there mostly for show, as the job rarely required them to do anything, but the wizard seemed to be rummaging through the drawers and files hidden away in that office. Back in the courtyard things had grown calm, though there was much loot to be had by those who were quick and of an industrious mind. The Ebonstryfe had already begun piling the bodies, and Aislin would wake to the pressure of a pair of corpses already piled in the cart on top of her. Apparently they hadn't checked to see if she was still alive, and though she was weak, she still had a voice to call out with, if she could fight through the headache and confusion caused by the overuse of djed. Giph might even find himself a small fortune, if he was quick enough to loot the bodies, more so if he offered to help pile them up. It was possible he might even be the only one who would notice Aislin was still alive. Inside the temple, Antar was carried far from the chaos of those recovering from the fire. He was taken to private chambers, undressed, cleaned, his wounds treated, and new clothes given to him. None of this registered to him, for his mind was black, but eventually he would be roused. The guard who helped him was nowhere to be seen, and it was to the soft voice and the gentle glow of a woman's hands as healing energy coursed through him that he awoke. It was a Konti, if he knew of such beings, and the mark on her hand showed her as a slave, but her power was what woke him. She couldn't heal any damage his djed might have done, but she could certainly bring him back from the brink. Antar wouldn't have time to ask questions, she would shush him immediately, and force him to drink water and eat warm bread. "Be still and quiet. Rest while you can, my mistress will be here to see you soon." OOCIf I left anybody out, or if you have questions, feel free to PM me

[Inoadar]

Inoadar's scrutiny of the hooded man in the ravosala was broken by a man's scream from the C.E.B. building. He spun around, the centrifugal force bringing a sharp pain to his shoulder. He made his way with increasing haste towards the structure, his gaze alternating between the boatman and the building. The boatman looked like he wanted to take some action, but was waiting for something. 'Probably waiting for me to stop watching him.' he thought.

When he saw what had stricken the staffer down he realized that the old man must have gotten inside without him seeing. He didn't know whether the man in the boat had or not. He had already assumed the old man had to have command of magic. 'How else could an old guy like that be effective in a pitched battle like this?'

And now, the old guy had gotten in ahead of him. Inoadar cursed silently. HE had wanted to be there when the old man arrived. It was all because of that phony boatman! Distracting him like that...behaving oddly...He was probably in on it, whatever 'it' was. He knew it was truly no one's fault but his own for not minding his own business while he waited, but it made him feel better to delegate blame.

He crept up to the door and dared a quick look, pulling back quickly. 'Damn it! He was out of sight. Probably through the slightly open door in the back, but that could be bait for an ambush.' He stood mulling over his predicament for what seemed like minutes. Shadows Take It! There was no reason for there to be any hostility between them. What he wanted may not help the Rising Dawn, but neither did it hurt them. And it WAS contrary to Ebonstryfe rule. He decided to take the direct approach.

Normally, he'd hoist the dead body of the man on the steps before him as he went in, but his wounded shoulder prevented this. He swallowed hard. "Er...Sir?...I'm speaking to the elderly gentleman inside..." Silence answered him. His heart raced...He had almost called the old guy by his name! That would have been a certain death sentence.

"Sir? I am not your enemy...I am coming inside...I don't want to have to speak so loudly...This is to your benefit as well...Sir?...Please, sir. I am wounded...I am no threat to you...I have seen enough of today's events to know you stand against the Ebonstryfe...I ALSO stand against them. I don't know what YOU want here, but I have a death warrant on record by these bastards, and am hoping you will let me come in and destroy it. If you're just going to fire the whole building, that works just as well for me and I will leave...Sir?..."

[Aislin]

She could vaguely make out the sound of wheels turning, unoiled, screeching as they wobbled over wooden boards. Creaking beneath their weight; crunching against debris; grown imbedded in narrow fissures between blackened material. Sense the cart's sway as it circled dismembered bodies, rolled over broken limbs, strewn haphazardly across the docks. Splashed through the last of blood's puddles, a browning crimson, which splattered. Speckling stained darks. Aislin's ears prickled as they cupped to the sound; seeking to absorb it alongside any other discernible stimuli, which seemed little save for a weight across her chest. One that pushed her stomach against her kidneys, causing the lightly curved to flatten as muddied cottons slipped between her ribs. Filling her with a sickly hollow sensation, as the back of her eyes continued to sting, and her temples pulse. The skin rippling as though it were a blanket of water, into which a pebble had recently been tossed. Raven colored drapery hung limply from splayed bodies. Appendages cascading over the side of a metal rim. The scent of their rotting forms filling the Chaon's nostrils, caused them to flare, as her tongue's buds sizzled with the taste of freshly spilled blood. Wha- The Chaon groaned as single finger pointed. Motioning the wheels to cease their turning as a lone bead of red trickled off the tip of her nail; blood, although not her own. The air seemed to keep it suspended for a time, as it glided between ethereal currents, stilled but momentarily. As though they wished the stench of the newly dead to gather, before it was all swept away. But finally it fell between the cracks, into the dark depths that lay beneath. Where it was suctioned into the deep, to sway against the canal's confines. She could hear that too now. The gentle lap of water against worn wood. The way it licked its lips hungrily, before receding into the mouth. Aislin groaned again as her raven colored lockes trickled between the bodies. Tickled her neck, serving to lightly rouse. Gingerly, the woman opened her eyes, although the lids felt heavy, and it appeared more a deliberate flutter. But even so, she felt just as blind. Not sensing yet that she lay beneath, that the sun had been blotted out by the deceased, she saw only the black. Like a night devoid of stars. "Wha-" she whispered, her voice sounding far off, and strained. Near impossible to hear over the churning of wheels, despite their having slowed to a near stop. Presumably, to pile on another body for fire's consumption. Or, perhaps even, the lake's. "Why so dark?" There was a long silence, despite all that surrounded. All that continued to go on. All that was simply commencing. "Am I dead? No... Can't be." "Dead..." A gentle breeze swept through. Caressing Aislin's hands. Holding them lightly, as if to rejoice. Weaving between her fingers to further rouse, to guide her upwards. Back into the life that still had not fled. Yet, still, she was forced to lay as it died. Leaving as easily, and as quickly as it had come. Unburden. Carry. Pull... OOCSomehow... I feel like my pc is the safest in the lot. Watch me be sadly mistaken...