Closed Let's Start a Riot, pt2

Madeira Craven

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Herein lies Xyna's Outpost, and her gift to Mizahar's people. It is a magical place full of potential and possibility where all can gather and exchange ideas and commerce.

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Let's Start a Riot, pt2

Postby Yomila on November 15th, 2020, 4:41 am

40th of Fall 520 AV

Yomila was lost.

It should not come as a surprise. The Open Bazaar was a maze of linked stalls that drew unsuspecting visitors deep into the belly of the Outpost. Each seemed more eye-catching than the next, luring and coaxing. It was a monster. A beautiful beast. A living thing and Xyna's own servant and pet. It fed off the coin that passed hands between merchants and customers. The place pulsed with life and the Ethaefal was helpless to ignore its siren call.

She got sucked within.

The sky had still been painted in vivid shades from Syna and Leth's dance on the horizon when she had arrived. Now it was inky and strewn with unknown stars. The change was dizzying; she had not noticed the passage of time while she had curiously wormed her way further, deeper into the Open Bazaar, but now, casting her silver eyes up to see it, she felt a pang of anxiety.

How long had she been here?

Stalls were closing up, items being stored away for next day's trade, decorative display cloths and boxes folded and tucked away. It was a strange sensation, as if being left behind. Of being trapped within the belly of this place.

She had at least gotten what she had come for.. and then some.

A leathersmith had helped her chose a thin snake of a belt, the black leather long enough to wrap around her waist twice. The man had upsold her a pouch to hang off it and she had obliged without hesitation, finding it a brilliant suggestion. Both were now on her person, along with two new knives she had purchased from an earlier stall.

The stall and merchant that had sold her the knives had been far more exotic, the display surface dotted with big, thick, sharp-looking teeth belonging to something the Ethaefal suspected was a big cat - like the Night Lions of the Sea of Grass. Claws, too, bits of smooth, shimmery bone and the odd vine and leaf from an unfamiliar plant. They sat upon an animal skin and ringed the weapons on display, each wildly different. Some looked simple, crude and cruel while others were elegant and slight. The variety had been what initially snagged her attention, but the merchant had been what kept it. Small, rail-thing and leathery, he was the opposite of what she would expect a weaponsmith to be, but he knew the items and explained each in turn.

"Myrian wares from Taloba, the city of warrior-women and their Goddess, Myri!" he had cried, voice thin. His stare was piercing.

She was intrigued.

He explained that the ivory hilt of a hunting knife she had eyed was carved and crafted from Tskanna tusk, huge pachyderm used as beasts of burden with six tusks and one long prehensile nose. Despite his elaborate description, The Ethaefal struggled to get a clear picture of such an unusual beast. She was charmed by the idea and the design carved into the off-white bone. It was a bit more than the simple hunting knife she was after, but something more indulgent, more unique and exotic did sit well with her. She purchased it and a wrist-knife that the merchant had told her could fit in her boot, along with their cases.

Bells had past since then.

Her silver eyes tried to locate these stalls again, searched in earnest for anything that looked familiar. Landmarks, odd looking merchants, a specific shade of cloth that she had seen earlier. Anything. Nothing stuck out, the slide in time and depth of the night had washed all the color away, muting her surroundings.

Yells rang out. Hollers. Strange, guttural and animal-like noises ricocheted off the stalls and tiled walls of the thoroughfares. Her head snapped in the direction they came from, body growing cold. These were not normal noises for this place. These were a swansong of chaos.

Despite the possible danger, the Ethaefal opportunistically used the noise to help her find her way out, following the heated sounds as they bounced through the maze of the Open Bazaar. It was not easy, the many throughways and alleys twisted the sound, contorted it and played with her senses, leading her down a number of wrong paths.

Her persistence paid off.

A disorienting amount of chimes later, she broke free of the Bazaar and was instantly engulfed in the twisted discord that spewed out from the Habub. Her staggering height lent her a distinct advantage here, allowing her to peer over most. It helped her find her bearings. It helped her orient herself to the melee that was unfolding in front of her eyes.

The rest of her celestial form left her at a disadvantage. She was a tempting sight, attractive as a glittering bauble as she glimmered and pulsed powerfully beneath Leth's moonlit caress. It drew unwanted attention; mob-crazed bodies flew towards her like flies to a corpse. She fended some away, shoving flay palms into chests and cheeks. When this did not stop the pressing bodies, she used her own to shoulder into one then another. She needed to get out.

The black, leather-clad members of the Kiess pressed in on all sides of the present anarchy and the maddening drone of shouts and wails hitched and surged again, louder. The mob was alive. It lurched. It spread. It did not care who is fought against.

Yomila's silver eyes cut through the crowd that pressed against her, catching on a pale slip of a woman, dress ruined and ripped, face bloodied. Most were bloodied now, those without weapons resorting to nails, to teeth, but she appeared dazed unlike the frenzied faces around her.

The Ethaefal drew the hunting knife and thrust it threateningly towards a man on her right. "Back," she hissed. To her horror, he threw himself at the blade. The Ethaefal balked, tried to back up but met resistance as another pressed to her back, gripping, grappling at her shirt. A whine shot from her nose.

She thrust the small hunting knife forward, desperate. The man groaned. Pulling back, she did her best to spin out of the other person's tenuous grasp, feeling the linen of her shirt give as it tore beneath the person's grip. She yanked herself away, body pulsing with adrenaline, legs tense with it, and propelled herself towards the bedraggled woman, ignoring the fate of the man she had just stabbed.

"Are you armed?" Her words were still a heated hiss, breath growing labored. Her eyes snuck over her shoulder to the woman, Yomila's back to her as she held the knife out before her, pointed at the swirl of crazed bodies. "What the petch is going on," she asked through gritted teeth.

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Last edited by Yomila on November 19th, 2020, 2:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Let's Start a Riot, pt2

Postby Madeira Dusk on November 17th, 2020, 6:35 am

Madeira lost sight of Spooks as the riot bubbled up from the Habūb. The former Avalad thrived in chaos, but this wasn’t the type of chaos she knew. Her withered left hand throbbed as she scrambled to get out of the way of the violence. The golden fetish wrapped so innocently around her index finger seeming to purr with satisfaction. She had never used the Riot Ring before this. She had no idea that the single spark it lit in the people around her could burn so completely out of her control.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see an Ethaefal standing head and shoulders above the crowd. Madeira had seen more than one Eth in her life, but every time she did, even in a situation like this, it struck something in her. The woman was being mobbed, dirty hands grasping at something heartbreakingly divine. From flashes seen through the press of bodies Madeira saw a wicked blade being pulled out from the woman’s waist before being sheathed in an attacker’s chest. The Eth’s face cracked with desperation as she stabbed again, and between the fissures the creature looked a little less holy.

Then, to her shock, the woman turned and stalked across the street straight towards her. Her gait was pure adrenaline, every tendon pushing out the back of her alabaster hands. Madeira instinctively pulled back, arms pressed defensively to her chest. But before she could even formulate the words that could stop this woman from stabbing her, the woman turned her back to her.

Was the Eth protecting her? Why? Boggled by the sudden change in gears but more than willing to take this unexpected gift, she turned so they stood back-to-back with each other. There was something about the woman, about her presence at her back, that felt strangely charged. It wasn't repulsive, it wasn't attractive, but some strange combination of the two. It was two orbiting stars, fitting together but never touching. Who even was she?

"Are you armed?" the woman hissed. From the corner of her eye Madeira could see a bloodstain spreading on her sleeve.

The Spiritist’s eyes flicked to the pressing crowed as the man the woman stabbed finally died. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him, bleeding from the belly and crushed under trampling bodies.

"Not adequately", Madeira replied, tearing her eyes away. She was wearing the Dead Hand bracer crossbow, and she was an okay shot, in that she typically hit what she was aiming for, but in a shoulder-to-shoulder brawl the thing might as well be a pretty accessory. If Madeira fought at all she preferred to do so from as far away as possible. “But my companion might be.”

She spat a glob of blood and saliva onto the cobblestone, stuck her gloved fingers in her mouth, and whistled.

In moments Spooks materialized like a ghost in a whirl of licorice scented soulmist. Unlike his master, the large, armored, almost-cat looked built for war. There was a knick in his back plates and blood crusted around his mouth, but his fur was too dark to see if he was injured. His eyes flashed to the statuesque creature at Madeira's back but flicked away as he recognized her defensive body language. Instead he circled the two women with his back arched and tail anxiously straight, making gravel out of the crumbly cobblestone under his claws.

"I have no idea what's happening", Madeira lied. All around then the Kiess were surging into the riot, beating people with the blunt ends of their weapons to disperse and subdue them, and then the deadly end when they met resistance. This was not the place to be.

But where was the place to be? She licked her bared teeth as she ran through the options. The Dovecote was the easy answer, but the building was probably in its own kind of chaos as people tried to flee the riot before it spread. Hiding and waiting for the madness to sort itself out was the second best option, but the ever changing, desert nature of the Outpost favoured wide open spaces and fabric partitions over closed buildings.

As she was franticly trying to come up with a plan, the bodies pressed closer and slipped past Spook's whirling claws. Madeira lashed out instinctively. Raising her crossbow, it burst into illusionary, goulish green flame that seemed to suck the life out of the arm that held it. She struck the nearest woman weakly with her fist at the same time that she pulled the trigger, and the spring loaded souldart sunk deep into the flesh of the woman’s side.

The sudden ignition was alarming enough for the rest to pull back before they even realized that the fire was not even warm. Spooks was able to get between them then, and a man had a sizable chunk taken from his leg before they scattered. The woman Madeira struck ran away with her hands wrapped around the bolt in her side and collapsed against a tiled wall.

The wall! It seemed to ring a private property. A Riad, presumably. The thing was at least twelve feet tall, but the woman at Madeira’s back was at least seven. They could climb over it. Then they could wait the riot out in someone else’s front yard, with a sturdy stone wall between them and the violence.

“Hey”, she tried to get the attention of the woman behind her without taking her eyes off the chaos. “Do you think you could boost me up that wall?”
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Let's Start a Riot, pt2

Postby Gossamer on November 19th, 2020, 2:26 am

Hi Ladies.

I Nulled the Riot Thread. I suggest you two meet under different circumstances in a bit of a rewrite of your two posts here. Let me know when you do so. A Riot would not have broken out in The Outpost with The Keiss on duty.


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