A Storm to Remember (Closed)

[Carina]

Carina didn't even bat and eye when Cade ended the life of one of his whores for laughing at him when hot food spilled over him. She was about to join the group of people when all at once the room erupted into a state of urgency. Hail ripping through the roof and scattering over the floor. Everybody eyes were darting about in an attempt to understand what was happening, when Cade bellowed for the group to follow him. Eliminating what chance she might have had to greet and meet some of the people inside the tavern room. But she wouldn't hurry off just yet; waiting for Mok to stand and follow as well. But then when he rose, carrying the weight of a girl she didn't recognize, he hurried past her without so much as a glance. While the situation was indeed very dire, she still thought it was odd that he would, essentially, ignore her. It was just something he didn't do. She couldn't worry about it right now though; first the group needed to find somewhere safe to take cover. Following after Cade, she would make sure Mok was ok once they were safe.

[Saber]

Saber stood to her feet, looking around the house once more. She just noticed that the house was flooding.
'Wh... what...?! Water?! The house... It's flooding!'
Panicked thoughts rushed through her mind. Just as she turned to find a way to higher ground, something struck her shoulder. Saber cried out in pain and then she realized what hit her. It was an enormous ball of ice.
"Wh-what the he--"
Her cry of frustration was cut off as another chunk of ice broke through the roof. Saber covered her head and raced toward a table and hid under it, despite the fact that her clothes were getting soaked from the water.
And it was rising.
Saber panicked, feeling the urge to scream out for help, even though, deep down, that it would be turned on deaf ears. Still, right now... she didn't even care who helped her, just as long as she got help.
So, with that, Saber took a deep breath...
...And...
"HEEEEEEELLLLLLP!!!!!!"

[Ink]

5 Chimes after the 15th Bell Gradually as the storm continued the hail returned to more natural proportions, but the thunder increased in equal amounts to hail’s decrease. On the coast, the seas began to roil with waves of height usually reserved for open sea. If there had been more warning the ships could have been taken out to see, but now they had to weather the storm which meant battering against the docks, already holes were being punched into the hulls of several ships. In the southern half of the city the lightning struck hardest. The metal spikes atop the Gated Community’s fortress walls which were usually utilized for displaying the terminally punished had begun to attract the strikes. The Temple of the Unknown- Wrenmae and Ana As the two had left down the hidden stairway, the man which had bumped Wrenmae let out a hacking wheeze. The descent continued long beyond natural light’s reach. The ceiling in the stair well had gradually lowered with them eventually diminishing the passageway to no more than seven feet high. The stairs never switched back or curved. In fact, the only indication of progress made was a measured steepening gradient. During the trek Ana would begin to notice a shortness of breath and tightness in her chest, symptoms of a minor cold. Just as the stair’s degree of descent was broaching on ridiculous, which to a critical mind might indicate that the stairwell was not intended for general use as the rest of the temple had been appropriate proportioned and planned out, it ended in an open stone threshold to a circular chamber. As the first foot past beyond the opening, a dozen candles perched upon a table in the center of the room sputtered to life; crackling as the dusty wicks burned. The room itself could not be considered expansive the space that was available was efficiently utilized with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Each shelf was crammed to capacity with scholarly paraphernalia; dried out inkwells, brittle naked quills, age-yellowed bones, books with title, and grime-coated corked vials. Around the central table four chairs were positioned and amid the illuminating tapers lay a large, closed manual; any discerning features obscured by dust. The Tunnels- Roka and Xavior As the tunnel opened up into a wider cavern and their eyes adjusted to the sudden light they would find a group of highly armed rogues; all staring directly at the pair. The girl they had seen earlier had fled beyond the men and joined a cadre of mangy looking street beggars huddled around a fire pit. Of the armed group, one man stepped forward; his only prominent feature worth note was his spectacularly unnoteworthy facial features. Such a man could disappear into a crowd without ever being missed. From his sleeves slide a handful of blades which slide neatly out from the crevices between his fingers, all but the fine tips were obscured by dusky vestments. “Neither of you are ours.” Came the bold and self-assured statement and was compounded by the certainty behind hazel eyes which fell upon Xavior. “Suppose you have a good reason for us to not end your miserable existences; if so, speak it now.” All of the dirty faces at the fire-pit turned to watch the commotion. Darian The flower’s mysterious wind suddenly ceased though the suffocating scent failed to dissipate. The bloom had opened in Darian’s direction. If the man had been admirer of flowers it might have seemed a miraculous experience. As it was, it probably seemed like more of a threat. For once, a Sunberther’s superstitious suspicions were spot on. After a moment of facing him, the flower grew heavy and drooped only moments before spewing seeds hundreds of miniscule seeds onto Darian’s pants and boots. After the seeds had left the flower it continued to droop and follow a normal life cycle at impossible speed. Wilting before Darian’s eyes the luminous flower faded before drying out and crumbling into dust. The dust settled over the corpses face and only then did the humidity and aroma dissipate. In the absence of the bizarre everything seemed starkly normal for Sunberth, including the screams erupting from the lower floors of the tavern. Daniel The rain water pooled in the low floor but it was not more than an inch, simple run off from the streets outside. Water was a common problem for the smithy with its swinging saloon-style doors. The smiths’ apprentices had pulled brooms from the back room and were busy pushing the water out and for a time it seemed to work. The general smithing staff returned to filling orders all the shop’s patronage was beginning to look uncharacteristically scant. It was after the water had mostly been removed and the apprentices’ time was taken up by sweeping hail stones out that an elusive man entered the front room. Short with not a sliver more than five feet in height the man still seemed to fill the room with tawny girth. Marking him as the unmistakable enigma was the hereditary emerald arm of the Colgias clan. Karos Fistreaver Colgias had left his anvil and forge and where he walked people cleared space, both the smiths and patrons alike. The smiths made way out of respect and the patrons out of curiosity. The isur stomped over to the main doors, by this time the hail was making such racket that it was nearly impossible to think. The isur propped open the door only to have the well-oiled hinges swing back at the sheer force an isur could generate which such a simple touch. As the door neared the man’s face, without hesitated he cut the wood near its struts, the majority of the door fell away and left a chunk swinging helplessly from the wall mounts. He gave not a glance more than was necessary for the demolished door, instead the Isur was watching something. That something, was the lightning storm striking repeatedly at the tops of the fortress just across the square. While the Isur observed in silence the shop followed suit, finally after two solid chimes he yelled without warning, “Out! Get them out of here. Secure the goods.” The frenzy was instantaneous, brooms were dropped without ceremony and even smiths began pulling goods from the walls. The Isur turned and found himself staring right at Daniel. The smiths were all busy and even though every grown man in Sunberth could fight to some extent it didn’t mean they were good at it. Karos noted the way Daniel’s swords hung, he didn’t look about to trip or lose his balance, which was more than most could manage with such blades. He nodded, “Sellsword you stay, you’ll be coming with me.” The stalky man turned and pulled a solid wooden shield from the wall. Rapidly the items were disappearing from the smith storefront, every worker was carrying everything they could and disappearing behind a rarely opened door to the back. “Sellsword take what you need, when we leave we’re not returning.” The Isur stood by the door for a nearly imperceptible moment before tromping outside the shield held above his head for cover from the diminishing hail. Karos had paused only long enough for Daniel to takeone itemyou may pick one unmagecrafted item of iron, steel, wood,leather or cold iron from the weapons or armor price list. It will not be customized and it will not have any additional pieces such as a sheathe. , and one item alone. By the time the swordsman had exited with his item, the Isur was half way across the courtyard making a beeline for the fortress gates. As Daniel caught up he would encounter an argument between the Isur and a cocky looking young knight. “Your hammers never touched our arms Isur.” “Oh, aye. Not yours, your skinny little couldn’t bare a proper sword! But your father, he bears my weapons… and these gates you bar before me. I forged them boy, after your father ripped the old ones from these walls. You will let me pass or I will be reforging them again!” The Isur voice roared at the brazen youth, taking no care for the thunder’s call rattle against his words. The youth, Jaren for those who know him, hesitated before a steeling glint took up residence in his eyes. “You’ll make a sword, Isur. You will consent and I will open the gates for you.” The isur glared but grunted his consent, “Aye, I’ll do it.” It had been a long standing rumor that the smith had refused to work for Jardeg’s son but apparently something in this situation forced the emerald hand. “You’ll be the downfall of your father if you don’t watch yourself.” He remarked as the gate lifted up four feet off the ground, enough to duck under. The isur hurried under and the gate was held up just long enough for Daniel to follow if he so chose before slamming back into its locks. Saber The abandoned house where ice had begun to break through each rotten broad, the water was pooling on the floor; no more than a puddle truthfully leaking in from above. Adrenalin could make things seem so much worse than reality. But the Saber’s scream had been real and it hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. The door creaked open and eyes peeked in through the crack. Seeing only Saber in the room the door swung fully open to reveal a drenched but still scantily glad woman, likely of ill-repute. “Ach it’s just a girl. Can’t leave ya can I?” The harlot snatched at Saber’s arm to pull her away, “Com’on, Brega’ll find a place for ya. Even a whore’s heart knows warmth in a storm like this.” If Saber went with her, she would find herself led through back alleys and dark corners dodging lightning and hail both with a woman who knew the darkest corners of the city. They would arrive at Brega’s to be ushered into the whorehouse where the occupants were ushering people down into the basement and securing windows and doors. If Saber kept quiet there might not be any questions asked about another young pretty face in the brothel. The Pig’s Foot The water rose and the women screamed. Merv had pulled his old carcass up onto his bar to survey the scene. A dour look took over his face, he couldn’t very well charge the damn sky for the damages. The water had risen to such a height now that tables began to float. Finally someone was willing to risk the hail and ripped open the tavern’s door and fled. To the horror of the occupants the water didn’t follow, it didn’t usher forth from the new opening it stayed inside the room. A barmaid fled outside only to scream back in, “It’s magic! Merv the water is staying inside like it’s a cup!” And it indeed the water seemed corralled by some unseen and untouchable wall. And the water continued to rise. The chunks of ice filtering down the stairs from the second story storm were floating up top the tavern-pond. As soon as the first two fled the tavern soon it was a race to struggle through the door way and out into the streets. As the rabble hit the streets they scattered running all different directions seeking their own shelter.

[Mok]

oocInk, next time please pester me for a post! I am very forgetful...@_@ sorry for not moving the plot along before

Mok was absolutely loaded out of his mind. The great djed storm was raging and the myrian wasn't in the best possible state of mind. You would think that the hallucinations of being high would cancel out with all the weird magical things going on, but they didn't. Fighting high on pulp was one thing, but trying to navigate through a world erupting in chaotic djed was something else entirely. The gangster would have to use every damn instinct in his body to survive this.

Rushing down the stairs first, Mok was greeted by a pool of water. He was tripping hard now. The details of the common room were amplified to the extreme. The tables were spinning in circles shooting magical rainbows all throughout the room. The water was even more intense. It surged back and forth. Which each wave that covered the wall changed the color. First it was pink, then blue, now it was bright green.

"I'm way too petched up right now! I'm ready to get out of this bitch! These bitch ass motherpetchers... these sorry ass pieces of shit... get out of the petching way!!" the high myrian barked and surged forward. Waist deep in the water Mok had to dodge flying plates, floating forks, and zooming mugs. Whether or not these were actually happening was irrelevant. The myrian couldn't take a chance and dodged anything his mind told him was coming.

Looking over his shoulder, Mok accounted for Cade, Zandelia, and Lessira. That’s when he spotted Carina. This surprised him but he continued forward anyways. Some barmaid opened the front door in vain. The water did not rush out, but remained inside the room. Mok's mind began to spin, his heart sunk into his stomach. Was this real or was he tripping? This was definitely the craziest pulp trip ever. On his way out, Mok grabbed one of the floating tables and reminded the barkeep he would pay for the table, "I gotchou Merv, I'll bring it back, that I will!"

Now Mok and company were outside and using the table as cover from the hail, which in the gangster's eyes were huge glops of green acid. The table was a medium sized table and would protect the four as they navigated through the city. Although it looked really wack to be running with a table over their heads it was better than dyeing.

"Lhex's balls, Myri's thumb, and Inou's asshole!!! THIS IS BUNK!!!" Mok yelled in paranoia. Nothing made any sense to him at all. His mind was literally getting tortured right now, "Let's go!!" Mok screamed.

As the myrian began to jog through the Castle Commons, he tried to call upon the darkness in his heart. Mok was fully terrified now and he needed to dig deep to find some courage. Alas, he could not concentrate at all. He could not summon the hatred that fueled him normally. Nope. The effects of the pulp and the djed storm were petching with him way too much. He needed to figure out some new motivation. That's when the Knight's Armory caught his eye. That’s when it hit him like a ton of bricks and he found his courage. This was the perfect opportunity to come up big. Everything was so messed up in Sunberth right now; no body would care for looters! If he was quick he could make some quick money. This was true gangster courage; the fearlessness of a true soldier of fortune. Mok had found his inspiration now. The hatred and blackness of his heart began to flow now. His heart began to race. His spine shivered. It was time to make some cash!

Mok burst into laughter, "CADE! It's time! LETS check the armory right quick! We can come up brother! Everything is out of whack now, let’s do it! QUICK!!"

If the others obliged, the half-blood would jog with them to the entrance, which was only ten yards away now. If not, he would sprint there as fast as he possibly could. Bounding the ten yards in two or three steps. Mok would take point, but would not open the door right away. He would look inside first before acting though. If shit was flying around and looked bad, he would abandon the idea. But if the coast was clear then he would try to do it.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Wrenmae]

Silence was their harbinger, only the wheezing breath of Ana to keep Shroud rooted in the real. Darkness was quick to set upon them in the staircase, enclosing and absolute. Above them, somewhere, people panicked...but Shroud was beyond caring for the concerns of the petulant and the wretched, he had more to consider. The storm had faded from their world, the beating of hail on roof tiles distant...somehow removed. It was only Ana and the murderer trekking ever deeper into the heart of the unknown. Ana was the first to step into the chamber, the candles flaring up a guttural growl of hissing dust and stagnant years. No one lit them, they simply came to life when the two of them entered. Shroud hissed, pushing Ana aside and striding forward. The place was not exactly small, but the space was utilized effectively with stacked shelves, home to dust and forgotten memories. A closed manuel lay open on a table ringed by four chairs, but Shroud's attention was drawn to the books along the walls. "A niche beyond the looter's gaze," he murmured, a hand on Ana's shoulder, "Marvelous." Stepping to the shelves, he ran a finger along the spines of the various books, noting the lack of titles to direct his search among the book-wormed pages. He reached up to pull one from the shelf, settling on a black bound cover and pulling it forward. It collapsed in his hands, nothing but dust and and powdered knowledge lost. Shroud withdrew his hand and hissed under his breath, wiping the residue on his cloak. These were useless to him, relics so old they had lost their value. Instead he pilfered a bottle or two, trying to wipe the grime from the vials and peer into their depths. The glass was a cold green, opaque save for the hint of moisture beyond, something else peering back, but otherwise inscrutable beneath the layered dust and shyke. Possibly useless, but one could never know without proper research. He turned to Ana and nodded at some of the other bottles on the shelves, "Grab a few of these and look for an exit," he crossed the room to the leather bound book on the table, taking a seat on one of the chairs and pulling the book up to him. "Between the hail and the rioting, we're better off hoping the architects were paranoid enough to leave a back door." He blew dust off the covers, turning to the first page and pausing, staring. It was a glyph...followed by another glyph, followed by another glyph. The pages were filled with intricate inked glyphs, silently waiting spells or rivers that held Djed from some ancient past...or at least were the mudras designs for one. It made no sense, the entire book was ludicrous...nothing was spelled with glyphs, nothing. And yet this book sat at central importance, alone weathering the ages, and offered nothing but inked designs and the whispers of magic. "Yes," Shroud whispered to himself, then louder for Ana, "This book was created by someone who knew magic...a paranoid lot, went through quite the effort to hide this room." He drew a finger across one of the designs faintly, feeling the texture of the old pages, before closing the book and picking it up. "Let's hope a study full of books, bones, and vials was not all they wanted to hide down here."

[Daniel Alecson]

Daniel had still been frozen when the Isur had thrown open the doors, only the sound of the now broken door clattering to the floor finally snapping him out of his frozen reveire. The Isur's command to follow after him almost tempted Daniel to rebel. Then again by the sound of it this was gonna be a job and Daniel could use one. The offer of letting Daniel take anything from the shop was quite tempting as well and was what truly sealed the deal. Daniel did a quick inventory of the rapidly vanishing supplies, Daniel was half tempted to grab a sheild or armor but with the dwindling size of the hail he was begining to think otherwise. Outside of this situation he really wouldn't need a sheild and he didn't see any decent leather armor out.

What did catch his eye was a large spear-like weapon, he'd seen a similar weapon before on one of his father's old mercenary buddies, Daniel was pretty sure it was called a Naginata. The naginata would be useful both in and outside of this situation, one of Daniel's biggest combat flaws was the lack of range his wakizashi lent him. Plus a weapon would be useful because in this kind of chaos odds are good shelter would need to be earned in blood. Daniel quickly grabbed the naginata looking for sheath he didn't see one and opted to get one later, as he ran out the door after the Isur. Daniel ran with the spear in his right hand, since he had no way to strap it to his back. Daniel was impressed by the short Isur's speed and only managed to catch up in time to hear the implied threat of tearing the gates down.

Daniel stood with the spear in a slightly ready position should the situation turn violent. All the while Daniel was being pelted by the hail, thankfully it was now reduced in size or else he'd likely have been battered to death by now. Daniel was almost begining to regret not having grabbed a shield though, the hail was hardly more then a nuisance but things could turn ugly quick for him should the hail really pick up again. When the Isur struck the deal with the guard a thought popped into Daniel's head but held his tounge till after he'd followed the Isur under the gate and it slammed shut behind them.

"That fellow isn't too bright is he. You agreed to make him a sword but nowhere in your agreement did either of you state it'd go to him", Daniel stated in an almost questioning tone. Daniel couldn't be sure if the Isur had picked up on that little loophole or not but felt if the Isur hadn't then he might enjoy that thought.

"My name is Daniel by the way", Daniel stated simply, just now realizing he hadn't introduced himself yet. Daniel didn't know the Isur's name either not having picked it up in his breif hearings about the knights armoury. Daniel half-expected the Isur to not really care, only the gods knew if they'd survive long enough in this storm for names to even matter.

[Andalusia]

Her eyes widened in horror as the chaos ensuing only heightened to the extreme. The hail had died down quite a bit, though unfortunately it had already dealt significant damage to the precious tavern. No words or sounds could even escape her petrified mouth as she held Dante close to her, cradling him quite like a newborn child. Her eyes landed on Merv, who looked just as terrified and stricken as she was, horrified with the mess. As the waters rose, so did the level of panic, as people scrambled to find the peace that had long left the building. One particularly brave soul had effectively recollected his thoughts long enough to barge the front door open, only to find that the water refused to drain. Instead, it remained, and while for a moment the crowd paused to revel at the sorcery, others scrambled to exit.

Andalusia's jaw slackened at the horrible sight, as most of the denizens pressed and heaved against one another to get to the exit. It was pitiful to watch as they reached for the light that burst through the door's opening and into the dampened, darkened tavern. They starved for freedom. "I won't make it if I go through there," she bit her lip as her mind raced to question her next course of action. She gazed down upon Dante, who was calm, warm, and silent as he rested his curled up body against his master. "Can you walk?" she mouthed, to which the dog replied with a tilt of his head. "Looks like a yes to me," she mused with a hopeful smile, but remained still. She gently rose up and gently let Dante step onto the staircase. The dog limped for a moment, and then stood tall. As she refastened the cloak around her, her eyes scanned the room for another exit. "A window?" she thought, but immediately dismissed it as she turned to the Luvanor, who wagged his tail at her expectantly. "The back?" she peered past the staircase and at the kitchen doors. Silent, closed, and left alone, the doors hadn't had much attention since the mess had begun. Quickly, she made a whistling noise and made a run for the kitchen doors, with Dante following suit.

She maneuvered past the rubble that had the kitchen in its own mess, dodging the few mounds of hail that ripped through the ceiling in loud cracks. As she found herself in front of the back door, she put on her cloak's hood and turned to Dante, who remained silent still. "Stay close," she warned, her eyes meeting with the dog's deep brown ones, "I don't want you gone... ever." On an impulse, she quickly bent down and gave the dog a tight, warm hug. "Stay close," she repeated, as tears suddenly threatened to escape her eyes. Dante replied with a whimper and a yip, his eyes remaining on his master even as she let him go. "Run," she ordered, as she grabbed at the door handle and pushed it open. Together they ran through the hail, their bodies shivering from the unusually cold atmosphere, and flinching at the constant cracks of thunder. "But where to go?" she furrowed her brows, immediately regretting her decision to leave without even deciding her next destination. Dante maintained his position alongside of her, his tail behind his legs as he trembled in fear. She couldn't pause or falter, she had to decide as she ran aimlessly down the streets. "The whorehouse?" she bit at her lip once more as she turned to Dante, as if the dog could hear her thoughts. "Can't think of any place else," she chuckled, as she made her way towards it.

As she closed in on the shambled, worn building, her body was sore from the few pelts she had taken. Some due to carelessness, and others in order to protect Dante. She had never been in a brothel before, but "Helga's House of Happy Endings" did sound very comforting. Without missing a beat, she latched onto the doors and heaved it open to find the building's interior wrapped in an entirely different kind of theme and fashion than it's exterior. It was peculiar, to say the least, yet it catered to every man's taste. As she stepped inside with Dante, she wondered what she could benefit from the scantily-clad men and women who ran amok within the building.

[Lusa]

The water in the tavern was now much too deep for Lusa to continue hiding beneath her chosen table; it was nearing her waist now, and since it seemed that the hail was no longer quite so fierce, she decided to take her chances and leave the crowded building; it was becoming too dangerous for her, small as she was, and she was likely to get trampled to death or drowned beneath a panicked patron's feet. However, as she squeezed through the throng of people at the door (which was not letting the water flow out, for whatever reason) she thought better of going out unprotected; hail could be deadly, were it to strike her upon the head. Thinking quickly, a rare occurrence for Lusa, she placed her iron pot upon her head, acting as a makeshift helmet, and sprinted out into the stormy streets. She held her pack above her pot-clad head for extra protection; no need in taking unnecessary risks. Lusa ran as fast as she was able through the hail, receiving several painful thwacks upon her exposed shoulders and feet. She needed to get inside somewhere, somewhere that wasn't crowded with people to squash her. She ended up running through Stumble Alley, a place that would have been deadly for Lusa on any other day; as it was, no thief was crazy enough to brave the weather to accost her. Finally, her feet and shoulders battered from the hail, she burst into a dilapidated building that she at first assumed was abandoned; it was several minutes after Lusa caught her breath that she noticed the books. She had only ever seen one or two books in her short life, and could only barely recognize the letters and remember the sounds they represented. This place, at least, seemed devoid of panicked citizens.

[Kit]

Kit almost lost his balance when the table he was standing on started floating. He was still trying to cling to the surface when the press of people went for the door. He doubted he would be able to make it outside without being trampled, squashed, or drowned. Besides, it didn't sound any safer outside. The noisy rumbles were getting louder and louder. Kit had to find a way to stay in shelter without getting trapped where he would drown.

Which meant he had to keep going up. The stairs hadn't been flooded completely yet, and it seemed like the huge chunks of ice had stopped coming down, so maybe it was safe up there now. Well, safer than anywhere else at the moment. Kit doubted that any place would stay safe for long. He just had to keep moving, but be smart about it.

He launched himself off the table, thinking to jump across the floating pieces of ice toward the stairs. Immediately, he slipped and fell into the freezing water. The shock was too much for him, and instinctively shifted back to his natural form, which at least had fur. Desperately kicking his paws, the skunk managed to find his way to the surface. With the water still rising, he swam as best he could toward the stairs. He barely made it in time before the doorway was completely submerged. He kicked his paws even harder, trying to get to something dry before he wore himself out.

Only then did he remember to think about his human. Had Kreig made it to safety? The water was dampening Kit's sense of smell, and he couldn't tell where the human was. But there was nothing Kit could do for him now, except just try to survive. He had to survive.

[Saber]

Saber, after being rescued by this person, realized where she was being taken... and it wasn't a cheery thought.
She turned to her "rescuer" once they reached shelter.
"Look, don't get me wrong. I appreciate you helping me, but... I'm not... what you think I am. Please understand. I don't belong here..." Saber said quietly.
"Well, where DO you belong? A girl with looks like yours can only be a whore in Sunberth. If you aren't, then what are you doing here?"
"...I-I... I don't know... I don't have any memories... I... I don't even know..."
Saber broke down into tears before she could finish. She didn't even know why she was telling all this, or even if her rescuer cared or not, for that matter. She only felt confused and scared, and... she just wanted someone to LISTEN.
Saber continued to cry, and talked about the numerous problems she dealt with during the time in between her sobs.
A voice snapped her out of her despair.
"Aww, lookit... You made her cry. Way to go."
That remark was quickly answered by Saber's rescuer.
"Shut up. I didn't do anything."
...
"...Can I leave?" Saber squeaked.
"Not while this storm is going on. You'd better stay here until it passes."
"B-but, I--"
...Yet again she was cut off. Saber was yanked inside by the other girl, unable to do anything.
"Oh, come now! Don't be shy!"
"W-Wait! I-I--"
"Don't worry! I'll make sure the boys don't lay a finger on you! You just stick with me, 'kay?"
The whore spoke cheerfully, smiling as if she were dealing with a child... And that ticked Saber off a little.
"Urrgh... don't you dare! That's IT!! Let go!! I'd rather deal with the storm than letting go of what I stand for!"
Saber let out that frustrated cry and stormed out of the whorehouse and ran to shelter once again.