[Winter SQ] Confusion

[Abstract]

Winter 4th, 513 AV The Execution had begun. Hundreds of Ravokians crowded Nitrozian Plaza, stretching until the buildings at the edges. Far from where they were gathered, in the center of this great swarm, lay a wooden platform where the prisoners – important members of the Rising Dawn – stood. However, from that distance they looked small, and faces were hard to make out… they stood at the far edge of the crowd, with the floating buildings and canals close enough to nearly touch. A pair of soldiers stood by, leaning on the high walls, half watching the people around them, half watching the spectacle ahead. They were there to keep an eye on things, on the people, and make sure no mischief arose. With such an important execution… trouble was sure to come. An Ebonstryfe PaladinSevris was also placed nearby, though in charge of a slightly larger area. Considering this was near the edge of the crowd, the space was thinly packed, compared to the stuffy interior. It was also quieter, with those less prone to yelling at the traitors. Because of this, the Stryfe were relaxed… they had little vision impairment, and few trouble makers to deal with… if any. They’d drawn the lucky spots, and were making the most of it. Of the pair, one was holding a large tankard of ale in his right hand, and was joking with his female companion. One of the citizens joined in on a few occasions, though there weren’t any raised voices. It was mostly a break for them… a holiday, really. Important! : So this is the big SQ part… I haven’t started anything important yet, so just come in, chat, and introduce your characters if needed. One post only, though. There isn’t a strict posting order, and feel free to skip the person ahead of you if they take longer than a day to reply. I’ll wait 4 days between posts… if there’s no replies, then I’ll post. Let’s try and keep this running, ok? PM me with any questions. It’s highly recommended that you read the prompt, for extra information, though because of the quest you can’t participate with the full execution The members are: 1. Verin 2. Sevris 3. Crypt 4. Rayage 5. Miro 6. Lessomm Get posting! EDIT: Sorry Lessomm! Forgot to add you to the list v.v

[Rayage]

The nuit hadn’t planned on attending the event. Rayage had seen this kind of thing before, plenty of times, and it was always the same old thing. However, it provided a little excursion from his research which was welcome. The plants would fare well enough without him there twenty four seven. They were not as delicate as other things, and if failed, easily replaced. The Alchemist hadn’t got too far into the research to be at a critical stage in advancement anyways. Things like this took time. Time and effort along with a bit or patience and brains were used to mold his creations to his liking.

Rayage had got one of the better spots, that was for sure. Even though he was to the back of the crowd he could see the people to be executed, and he did not have to ‘fight the crowd’ to get a good view, nor was he caught up in too much of the ruckus seen in the other areas. It was an easy spot, and where he saw the Stryfe members look tense in attempt of crowd control, the overseers in this area were more laid back. There was a cause and effect, he noticed, between the laid back of the people and of the Stryfe. The ‘quieter’ the area the more everyone else could relax and ‘enjoy the show’.

A great, deep purple cloak was probably the most prominent thing the Alchemist wore. The symbol of the Ouroboros was stitched carefully onto the right sleeve. The purple fabric was a rich color, and it was a product which Rayage was rather fond of. Although heavier than a normal cloak it provided extra protection against sharp pointy things such as cold steel blades. For all the ages the nuit lived, he knew that he was far too mortal and so designed the armor to give him the maximum amount of protection while still being versatile. A single ring was present on the nuits finger which granted the undead the illusion of looking alive. It was quite the marvel to behold, and allowed him to retract suspicion of the common people.

The man in the cloak was bigger, taller, and almost brutish looking. Head shaved completely bald, the nuit almost looked like a thug of sorts. Someone that is expected to be in the Stryfe, and not some magical researcher who is just working for the organization. They pay him well, and if he makes advancements like no others could, he thought that he would be getting a raise. Not anytime soon, but it was in his head already. Prospects of even more money flowing in would be fantastic, but he would have to earn it.

However, he forced such thoughts on his mind as he stared, arms crossed, face looking less than amused, up at the prisoners. This is what happens to those who defy the social norms. This is what happens to those who are daring enough to defy Rhysol in his own city. They were fools if they thought they could bring the fight to Ravok and win. Fools deserved to die. The nuit was judging every one of them up there. In fact, he was glad they were dying, but not for the reasons which most Ravokians were.

[Verin Rush]

The sight was something that always left Verin in awe, though he had trained his features to appear apathetic and withdrawn from the situation, preferring to keep back from the main crowd, where he suspected that there would be unrest among the rabble in front. As such, he found himself standing alone. Idly, he glances around at the people in the vicinity, most of whom were spread out like him. One in particular catches his eye, a man curious only because of his attire, as far as Verin could tell, who was standing a little way off. It was not necessarily unusual to find a Ravokian wearing such vibrant colours, but it was at an event like this.Further to the contradiction of the situation, the apparently bald man looked.. out of place, almost, in his robes, and Verin wondered whether the man should be dressed in black and up on near the platform with other Ebonstryfe soldiers Verin himself was adorned in dark greys and blacks: nothing formal or particularly fine, as he had come straight from work to attend the event. The young man averted his eyes from the other before he was caught staring and crossed his arms as he leant against the wall the two were standing next to. Once comfortable, he returned to his musings. He was lucky, he thought, that the tavern owner had let him come today; it seemed like a few people were avoiding the event, and the tavern had been relatively full as he had left. By all rights, he should have stayed and continued his work, but Verin wanted to make a point of attending the event, and he especially wanted to make a point of being seen attending the event. The corners of his lips curled upwards as hi internally congratulated himself on being one of the last to enter the square; he had no choice but to be situated near the back of the crowd, and the result was an almost perfect view for himself, and an almost perfect view of himself. The Ravokian, in private, was a devout follower of the city’s God, unlike his father had been. It seemed, however, that public displays of loyalty to Rhysol must also take place if he was to attract attention from the right sort of people. And it was this attention which he, along with so many others, so desperately sought. Verin was lucky enough to have received an education, and his pride would not allow him to remain a bartender forever. He had shared his dream with no one, not even his own twin brother, but he wished to join the ranks of the Black Sun; something that was turning out to be no easy feat. As such, the elder Rush twin found himself frequenting events like this one in an effort to be noticed, as well as actively seeking out other opportunities to prove his worth. Despite the fact that his original pretence for attending the execution today was entirely superficial, Verin couldn’t help but feel the same loathing and judgement that everyone else in the crowd was feeling. The men and woman on the raised platform were enemies of the city, of his God, and he was proud of the work of the Ebonstryfe and the Black Sun in finding and apprehending these traitors. I only wish I was part of it… came the bitter thought that latched onto the end of his musings. The faces on the platform were too far away for the blond to recognise, so he turned his eyes to the crowd, curious to see if his brother would show his face at the execution. But his eyes catch two Ebon soldiers, only a few feet away from him, seemingly enjoying themselves. They were clearly on duty and the Rush scion raised a brow in mild surprise. Do they really expect no trouble to come of today? As he turned away, once again to face the waiting traitors, he spoke to no one in particular, the incredulity of the situation escaping in the tone of his voice. “It seems the Ebonstryfe are taking advantage of the situation.”

[Miro]

Miro had found himself attending the Rising Dawn execution. Apparently such threats did exist, if they could be called that, and were dealt with as they should. Though there was hardly concern or doubt for such things, for the Chained One was not credited with dealing with them. Instead he would have to ensure that his never ending duty as an Ebonstryfe Apprentice was upheld. He had brought along his servant however, who was much more the type for such public displays.

Lessomm at times seemed to shift in and out of memories, which was odd, but admittedly not something the wizard questioned all that much. The one thing he always retained was his duty and stern loyalty to his master, which was all that was asked of him. Though in all honesty, Miro was concerned with naught but the protection of his city. To see that his kin under Rhysol in the Black Sun and the residents in the street were protected by him. They were a strange combination of dissonance and unity. One where every citizen knew just where they stood, and without communication, could stand together.

And such things as seeing Rhysol's justice dealt, if such a thing did exist, was one of the few times it was entirely apparent. Ravokians of all classes, races, even those without citizenship, all of them here united. Not all united under the same goal, as there were undoubtedly those who wished to see the traitors live, but united still. All sought what they believed to be retribution. Of course, as the laws of the world were, the one who decided if justice was upheld was the last man standing. The one left alive was the one left to tell the history.

And it was for this reason that Miro would be sure to be the one to tell the history of today. So that all might praise him for his deeds. For long now he felt himself deserving of shedding his tittle as apprentice, but saw little attention. Though he would admit to earning little attention as well. Today was as good a day as any for excitement, and unlike the rest of the apprentices, he broke away from any command. His unit was insistent on drifting into a crowd too near the platform, a place where the undead would be blind. His eyes did not identify things so well up close. And he was not the most observant of people either. Luckily what he lacked his partner made up for.

Ender was separated from Miro entirely, in his natural form, as rare as it was. The large icy orb waited near to the event perched up high, able to view the entire area with ease. Details such as individuals in the crowd were lost to him even, but as a whole, the entire event was visible. This left his undead master and manservant in the tail end of the crowd, where freedom was not as restricted. Also one of the few places that Ender could readily watch his master. The bright red robe worn was one of the easier things to spot. However Lessomm was not so easily watched.

Though the Irylid could spot another familiar garment not far away. A purple cloak this time, on a man so large he towered above nearby citizens. Obviously there was only one man in the city who this could be, the Alchemist Rayage. However such information was not pertinent or in any way relevant. While his master was more focused on the crowd and Ebonstryfe strewn about, the Familiar was indeed focused on the execution itself. He did understand the plight of the Dawn, but as well the consequences of choosing the losing side. There was no activity to speak of from the citizens, so he was free to enjoy a nice public execution. Watching the necks of mortals snap was quite the curious sight.

Miro scanned the crowd around him and turned away from Lessomm. After assuring there was nothing to miss, he closed his eyes and focused on the telepathic bond he shared with his partner. "Ender, hey, you are able to see everything, right?" A laugh transmitted back to Miro followed by a snark-toned response. "Yeah, I see a lot. Do you expect I would stand where I am blinded?" The Chained One smirked. "Question of rhetoric, and I know you know that. Do you see anything interesting." The amusement in Ender could be easily registered. "Answer of sarcasm, and I know you know that. I see naught but Rayage. And he hasn't any idea that I am watching him. His every movement."

Again Ender rang out with laughter, and his enjoyment of the situation seemed to be escalating. Miro assumed it was a perceived notion of power, watching over the city from above. But while the master was not interested in the execution itself, the Familiar very much was. He enjoyed seeing the people gathered together, to observe them, and to witness the death of the claimed traitor. To be able to witness the death of the mortal races, watch their neck snap and break, it was enjoyable no matter the distance away. Though closer would be better, for hearing it would be a treat as well.

However that was not of any concern to the wizard. He was interested in something he had heard, that there was a Paladin nearby watching things over. A soldier had pointed him out. And though Rayage was important, he was not as important. Though this Paladin was priority, lucky for Rayage, he would not be forgotten. Since Ender was occupied on his perch, the Nuit would be dealt with by Lessomm. But first directions would need to be given. "Where exactly is the professor?" The Irylid scanned the crowd for a few moments and replied. "The Nuit you seek is to the right of Lessomm. The purple cloak you are familiar with should stand out."

Miro turned back to the man who was not only his servant, but friend and apprentice as well, and readied to speak to him. He had to raise his voice to be heard clearly, but did it did not become frantic or strained. Instead his voice boomed out loudly enough for the Lessomm, and indeed those nearby, to hear very clearly. "Lessomm, to your right, a ways away, is Rayage. Somewhere out there, in his typical purple cloak, tall as ever, is the professor. I need you to locate him, and then bring him back to me. I have my duty to the city to attend to as Ebonstryfe." The undead pointed to a nearby building. "Wait for me there."

And with that resolved, there was only Miro. Though he was alone, never without support. The man the Chained One was looking for was quite easy to pick out. This Paladin wore a rather unusual set of brigandine armor. It was made of what appeared to be pure gold, and quite impressive looking. Though the man himself did not appear too impressive apart from rank or armor. The apprentice approached his superior and knew that he was to give respect and earn favor. Though how to properly do either thing was a bit difficult. It was not often that he was genuine in his treatment of people as a superior.

Miro stood before the man and struggled to lower himself to kneel before the man. His lame leg fighting against him, but relenting nonetheless. And though he only had but one arm, he crossed it against his chest and bowed his head. "Sir Paladin, I am but an apprentice of the Ebonstryfe, but great in my magical capacity. I am here to assist you however you deem fit. As we speak I am watching the entire crowd, and I have subordinates in the area. Use them as you will." However Ender was not watching the crowd very closely. He was eager to see an an execution. Not that it had to be traitors, any death would do. It had just been far too long since he had witnessed the crimson glory that was bloodshed.

[Lessomm]

The servant had never like gatherings of this size, especially not when he was a visitor as well, instead of a servant. He followed close behind his master, wondering if he was doing alright. Miro seemed to be suffering more from his physical state than he had done at the start of their professional relationship. Lessomm wondered if, perhaps, his master was overdoing things with his magic. The eypharian shook his head. If it was supposed to be his duty to help, his master would mention it or otherwise inform Lessomm of it. He had yet to do so. Through the crowd, Lessomm followed Miro, never even looking in the direction of the hanging. It wasn't in his interest to do so. His eyes were locked on Miro's back. As they walked through groups of people, Lessomm apologized every time he bumped into someone and hit them with one of his many elbows. By the time his master found a good spot, Lessomm could feel his elbows hurting. As usual, he was dressed in his professional outfit, the long black sleeves covering two of his six arms, the other four arms hidden underneath his clothing, away from prying eyes. With but a single glance, the Eypharian looked human enough to not be bothered in Ravok. And Miro's presence kept them away from trying to get to the bottom of Lessomm's seemingly oddly shaped body. The rest of his outfit was as black as his sleeves. Black pants disappeared in black boots. Only his hands were hidden under white cloth gloves, making them very prominent as he used them to work his way through the crowd to his master. As they stopped, Lessomm took a breath and immediately felt the thumping in his head. It felt like his heart was beating against the inside of his skull. For a moment he squeezed his eyes shut and brought one hand up to the side of face, rubbing against his forehead. He'd been suffering from the same headache for days now and it still hadn't gone away. When he heard his name, Lessom's eyes shot open and he turned to look at his master. As he listened to the instructions he started to scan the crowd for the giant "professor". It was not a very well kept secret that he disliked the man but not so much that he would ignore a command from his master. He turned back to his master and looked in the direction of the building his master was pointing at. "Of course, master. I will return in but a moment with the professor." He turned deftly on his feet and headed back into the crowd, passing a single glance back to see his master moving over to a very shining man. "Pardon me... Excuse me... Sorry... My apologies..." Lessomm continued to apologize as he worked his way through the crowd. For a moment he thought he saw the flash of purple to his left but before he could make his way over to it he saw a little girl with a purple headband following her mother. His search continued on for a short moment only until he spotted the giant professor behind him. He doubled back through the crowd as he wondered how he had missed him before. The man stood a head taller than the people around him and the flashy purple of his cloak stood in contrast with just about everything else around him. Lessomm elbowed his way through the last Ravokian obstacle and emerged next to the giant man, stepping into the corner of his sight. "Master Rayage? My master would like to invite you to join us for this event. He found a quieter spot in the shade for you." He wondered if "quieter" existed in this crowd of people as he bowed deeply towards the purple giant after finishing the message, his right arm crossed over his chest and his fingertips lightly touching against his left shoulder.

[Crypt]

OOC Note to Miro :

Miro! Hey there, Uldr-marked/mortal enemy I don't know yet! I'm going to assume that Crypt is close enough to Miro that both of them can feel the presence of a marked nearby, but far enough that they don't know who exactly it is.

Once again, Crypt lamented the lack of exactness in his job description. True, he was hired by a Nitrozian to protect the Nitrozians, but did protection cover escorting one who requested him to follow him on an impromptu shopping trip and carry all the purchases?

He thought not.

And now he was forced to escort him to the execution of the captured members of the Rising Dawn which, thankfully, was in Nitrozian Plaza, near the NHC, meaning that there would be no need for him and the Nitrozian to squeeze into the crowd; they could simply alight at a waterside entrance to the NHC and move to an excellent vantage point from a suitably-located window.

Ennui. But I may as well watch the show.

The Nitrozian dismissed him with a wave of his hand; making a short bow, Crypt moved away from the slightly corpulent human before slipping into the crowd outside the NHC's main entrance.

An uncomfortable feeling made itself present, a constant pressure on his mind as he stepped towards the execution ground. There was a nasty taste in his mouth, almost as if something distasteful was near him.

Crypt scanned the crowd, noting nothing out of order. Obviously, the presence of the Ebonstryfe helped prevent anything from going too out of hand. He had expected something to happen during the execution, since important members of the Rising Dawn were being hanged, but nothing so far. Nothing remarkable caught his eye, except a few flamboyant outfits here and there (A purple cloak? A bright red robe? What madness has descended upon them?).

Still, it was best to be cautious. If the Rising Dawn could survive in Ravok for so long (it was a mystery as to why Rhysol didn't simply just crush all opposition in his city, but who knows His thoughts?), they could possibly do something about this execution. Maybe an exciting rescue of the prisoners? Would one of Rhysol's own Druvin personally step in? Would he see some conflict, some shedding of blood? So many possibilities, and only one could happen. Such a pity.

Underneath his ink-stained cloak, he placed one hand on the pommel of his sword. The disagreeable sensation was still there, but he did not know the source.

[Sevris]

When. It was the question that repeatedly crossed his mind. A mass of Ravokians crowded together to see the execution of the people that had been terrorizing them for so long. A long part of that Sevris had a helping hand in. Giving most of his days and nights to unearthing any Rising Dawn plots, he was adamant about destroying these heretics. They even gave him oversight of the entire execution, though he had to concentrate his efforts to the masses. A source of his irritation as he assumed the Rising Dawn was still out there. Biding their time. For whatever reason he didn't believe they would let the pretty one die. Not without a fight. Caution was better than getting your throat cut. Standing up on top of a small platform along with few of his Soldiers and Apprentices. He was easy to spot because of his golden attire, brilliantly crafted Brigandine armor, a mouth mask and his double-bladed sword. With his special black helmet, he stood out. Word around the barracks was that he had obsession with gold, it was starting to become obvious. The Apprentices were keeping guard around the platform when one of them stepped towards him, coming close he struggled to kneel before the Lazarin. Speaking he said, "Sir Paladin, I am but an apprentice of the Ebonstryfe, but great in my magical capacity. I am here to assist you however you deem fit. As we speak I am watching the entire crowd, and I have subordinates in the area. Use them as you will." Lazarin stared down the unusual apprentice. His mask that he wore was crafted by some sort of magic. He could tell because of his own helmet which allowed him to see magecrafted items or direct uses of Djed. This was no ordinary man, his claim to know magic would not be overlooked. He gestured for the Apprentice to rise as he stepped towards him and in a voice deeper than may be expected, "You certainly aim to impress. And I am. The name is Sir Sevris 'The Shade' Lazarin. I would have use of your subordinates, as they will help aid with mine." He walked towards the edge and pointed to the crowd. "Some of the Soldiers have been implanted in the crowd and dressed with civilian clothing. Keeping an eye on things. Make sure yours can do the same." Turning back around he eyed him, "Plus your magical expertise will be put to the test. Possibly sooner than expected." Sevris noted that something could be amiss at any moment.

[Miro]

Miro could sense a presence among the crowd that unsettled him. It was not something that Ender himself could see, but instead had access to his master's feelings. It was apparent there was something bothering him. "What is it that has you on edge?" The Chained One knew well what the sense meant, though it was not as it was before. He had a rival about, one who might try to end his unlife. That was if they were fools who wished returned to their goddess. "There is someone out here who wishes me harm. You must watch me and the crowd. I do not know who they are, but they may know me."

However the wizard would not let himself be distracted from the task at hand. He was to impress his superior, and to assist the man to the best of his ability. He rose at the will of his superior and stood attentively. The Paladin, Sir Sevris Lazarin, had admitted he was impressed. His instructions were simple, and only furthered already existing goals. Though it seemed that perhaps the man knew something the undead did not. It seemed almost as if he was expecting something to go wrong. Such a turn of events would certainly be a treat.

Miro wished to further impress Sevris however. He telepathically inferred with his partner watching from above. "The Paladin is impressed, but I can do better. He tells me to keep my subordinates watching the crowd. To assist his Stryfe he has dressed as civilians and strewn about. And to keep an eye on things. Of course I will do that, but I need your help to prove I already am. Tell me some things around me to describe to him. Make it seem as if I am able to see everything without looking." The Familiar looked around trying to find something convincing. It was a bit of trouble, and it took a moment, but he would find something worthwhile.

Though there was more to an impression than simply providing information. There was also how one went about presenting it that decided its impact. The Hypnotist expanded his aura of influence and attuned it to Sevris. He began to gather his Djed and expel it through his voice as a spell. His words would carry conviction and a heavy tone. Their magic would manifest by inspiring a series of emotional responses. Sevris would feel the Hypnotist's words furthering his sense of being impressed, charmed, and even a sense of respect too. These spells being channeled through the mere act of speaking.

"It is truly a great honor to meet you Sir Sevris Lazarin. You may certainly count on me to offer you any assistance you may need. I see everything, and I can deal with anything. My people are ready to be issued orders and act on a moments notice. And as for me, well, I have my eye on things." Just then the Irylid began to relay the details as he saw, and Miro translated them as they were spoken to him. "A tall man behind you was just shoved, and is about to retaliate by throwing a punch. But he is going to be interrupted by what I assume to be a Stryfe in plainclothes."

"Behind me a man has just been angered by another man shoving him. Now he is going to retaliate with his fists. Or I should say he wishes to do so. He is instead going to be stopped by one of your men, and that should be the end of it." Miro spoke to Sevris in a sly tone, and as the wizard had claimed, the event happened behind him. It was more or less how Ender had described it. The dispute was settled by an Ebonstryfe soldier with an issued warning, and not a single punch was thrown. The entire time Miro did not break eye contact or even blink. It was fortunate that Sevris was indeed close to the Familiar's perch and his surroundings could be so easily perceived.

The Hypnotist prepared another spell for Sevris, this time suggestions, subconscious messages. He strengthened his aura of influence further and prepared to cast a stronger set of conditionings. His words were charged with Djed to become suggestions, and would linger in the Paladin's mind for a chime before fading away. "The strongest asset you possess stands before you, and for that reason shall stay close. You do not wish to be left without my protection if trouble is about. And there is definitely reason to expect trouble, but no harm shall come to you as long as I am nearby."

Miro began to grin and walk forward, for he wanted to be as near to his target for the next spell. It was one of the new ones, much more difficult than a simple suggestion. It was a sudden thought, the ability to inspire an trick of the mind. The target would hear a suggested thought in their mind as if it had thought of it on their own. It would come into the mind of the Paladin quite naturally, but if it seemed unnatural, then there would surely be trouble. The Hypnotist prepared his final push as he drew near to the edge of the platform. He crossed his arm across his chest and closed his eyes in focus. "I exist only to serve Rhysol's will!" Though the spell was quite draining mentally, and it caused a few moments of confusion and dizziness. However the words exclaimed would instill the thought, "He shows great potential."

[Abstract]

Read Me!Tsk Miro. What did I say about double posting?

Also, try not to come up with too many facts outside of what I mentioned.... like the disguised soldiers, and the fighting.. as there wasn't much in this area (this is a general comment)

Sevris, I'm leaving a lot of this to you to help sort out

Up at the platform, things were beginning to move. A member of the Black Sun, dressed in impressive black robes, waved his hands to the general crowd. This the Ebonstryfe took as a signal to quiet everyone down, by force or simply by instructions. Luckily, in this quieter area, it was the latter. Once the entire mass of people was silenced, the first man was moved forward.

Just before the lever was pulled, he shouted out against Rhysol, before dropping like a stone. This caused an uproar from the Ravokians, most yelling in defiance. One of the soldiers had to silence an angry woman with a harsh glare, but she stopped once she was noticed. As before, the edge was relatively calm and quiet. Soon enough the silence had returned, and the next woman was forced forward.

She fought and screamed in the Ebonstryfe's hold, writhing, and actually managing to hit one on the nose. However, just after the noose was slipped over her head, an odd thing happened. An arrow came soaring from the rim of the crowd to slam into her chest, sending her staggering back, before collapsing. A collective breath from the watchers could be heard, and everyone started talking at once.

Most people watched the bleeding woman in shock, but a number of the smarter residents stared at where the arrow had come from... a small area near the edge, right where the group was. It took the two Ebonstryfe soldiers nearby a few moments to realize this, before they barged into the collection of people, demanding to see papers and weapons. The man looked a little freaked out, but both were determined to find the murderer.

The attacker would go unseen by all but one. Verin, from a place by the far wall, would be able to glimpse a man dressed in a long dark cloak slip through a doorway. If he looked to the passage behind where the soldiers had been standing, he would spot the same man go out another doorway, large bundle in hands. The fleeing man would leap over the small canal ahead of him and deeper into the city. However, if he tried to bring this to anyone's attention, the soldiers would simply yell at him to shut up.

[Verin Rush]

Others around him moved about and, for the most part, he ignored others around him. Dimly, however, he was aware of various invitations for people to join friends and acquaintances to watch the execution. He found such a sentiment odd; Verin had come alone, and intended to watch the proceedings in such a manner. He viewed the occasion as a sombre matter, rather than a social event, and he would rather stand alone, than talk to another whilst lives were lost. He was broken from this reverie when the first prisoner, a man, is brought forth to the platform. The Rush scion did not delight in watching others die, as many of the Ravokian crowd seemed to. The cheers and jeers from the rabble in front of him was actually more sickening than the events that were taking place before his eyes and, despite the fact that he agreed that the traitors had to die, he found the loss of life somewhat regrettable, to some extent. As he watched the first man approach the noose, he was silently glad that he was not the one to deliver the metaphorical final blow. The man was not infallible, however, and his hypocritical nature was inwardly revealed once again to himself, however, when the noosed man wasted his final words in blasphemy against Rhysol. Verin’s hands tightened into fists inside his crossed arms and his eyes narrowed in disgust as he watched the man being hanged. For a moment, he imagined that he had been the one ordered to execute the man. And, whilst he probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it, is might have found a grim sort of satisfaction in his task. The jeering began anew and Verin did not move from his position against the wall as he watched a few Ebonstryfe soldiers calm the crowd. His gaze momentarily flickered over to the two soldiers he had noticed earlier, the two who had appeared to view the execution as a break of sorts. They had stirred, and seemed a little more wary, but for the most part they appeared as relaxed as before. He rolled his eyes, irritated at their lax attitude, given the honour they had at being in the position they had. The second Rising Dawn member was being led up to the platform now, Verin saw when he turned back. From his position, he couldn’t actually tell the gender but, from the fighting and desperation… must be a woman,. No man would be so weak willed as to fight against his fate in such a manner, Verin thought. She was brought forward, still apparently pleading, and the noose was fitted to her. The woman fell as if the ground had been removed from below her. But it hadn’t. The executioner was not ready. Yet the woman was apparently dead, and something was protruding from her chest. He heard screaming and shouting. The Ebonstrife leapt into action, even the two soldiers near him, rushing past, just as blind as everyone else. Whilst the woman had been condemned to die, and Verin agreed with the verdict, whoever had fired the arrow was clearly not sanctioned to execute her, that much was clear. Pale blue eyes scanned left and right, assuming the arrow had to have been fired from the back, somewhere near where he was standing. In time, he spotted a man in a black cloak. In a split second decision, he attempted to grab the arm of a man passing him; the man he had spotted earlier in the purple cloak, and he knocked into another man in the process. “There.” He hissed, pointing at the fleeing figure. Whoever he was, the purple cloaked man looked official enough, and he was not off dealing with the rabble below. Verin was dedicated to his God, and he would die in his service, but it was suicide to go after an armed man alone. His brother was not present, and he could see no other familiar faces in the vicinity. If he was known by any, he would be lucky to be recognised as a devoted follower of Rhysol – most might know him either as a lowly bartender, or the son of a wealthy, yet distrusted, Syliran merchant. Given the circumstances though, Verin was not particularly worried about how others would view him; at this point, he prayed to the Gods - all the Gods - that either someone else had seen what he had seen, or someone would extent enough trust in him to follow. He did not wait for a response, however. The shooter might likely be a follower of Rhysol, to kill a member of the Rising Dawn. What concerned Verin was the nature: to disrupt such a public event as this bowman had done… Verin saw that as a sign of rebellion against the Black Sun’s work. Whether others were following or not, Verin forced his way through the crowd, weaving as carefully as possible, so as not to draw attention to himself from the ignorant soldiers, to get through and give chase. As he did so, he prayed that his God would protect him.