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Desperate Measures: Dockside Riot

The trade docks of Arx are almost always busy. But since the whirlpool's arrival, all sea traffic has slowed to a crawl. There are still boats and barges arriving along the river, but there are too many landlocked sailors and not enough work to keep the porters, steveadores and dockworkers busy and out of trouble. Idle hands and empty pockets mean rising tempers and a whole lot of nothing to distract from empty bellies. Tempers start to fray and the Iron Guard are repeatedly called to break up fights that have sparked off along the wharfs. It seems like the minute they break up one, three more have broken out. Something has got to give.

The fights continue to rage, and suddenly begin to merge. More and more people get involved until the Docks as a whole begin to riot, forcing the Iron Guard out as the peace is thoroughly broken and mob rule takes over.

Date

May 16, 2020, 7:30 p.m.

Hosted By

Fabulist

GM'd By

Fabulist

Participants

Fortunato Dycard Matteo Mayir Felicia Jyri Nanette Lucene Rukhnis Sydney Rodica Ailith Thea Drake Rosalie Merek Samira Rinel Auda Valdemar Poppy Shard Sunaia Amund Ras Acacia Silas Ezra Joslyn Magpie Vanora Torian

Organizations

Location

Arx - Lower Boroughs - Dockyard

Largesse Level

Small

Comments and Log


Marchande, Junebug, the endearing and enthusiastic Graypeak Mountain Dog, Snortlepuff, a stout Oakhaven spotted piglet arrive, following Rosalie.

Snortlepuff, a stout Oakhaven spotted piglet have been dismissed.

Ugarte arrives, following Fortunato.

Axelle, a personal valet, Bonehilda, the prettiest-colored spider arrive, following Felicia.

Pete, a Grayhope account manager arrives, following Mayir.

Princess Sally Acorn, an acorn toting red squirrel, Princess Muffin, the fluffiest white mountain dog arrive, following Kenna.

Alena Sparks, unamused first mate, Silk, the Seafaring Spider arrive, following Evaristo.

Evaristo puts black steelsilk cloak with purple knot pattern in a hybrid between a bandolier and a satchel in the colors of a mockingbird's wings.

Dame Marra, a limping fennec fox, Disciple Ismay, 3 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Ailith.

Mistress Dahlia Hall, the silent watcher arrives, following Nanette.

Bosun Orrick, a looming Blackshore mariner, Nanette, Rodica arrive, following Dycard.

The docks are burning. Figuratively, thankfully, for the time being, but there are plenty of barrels of pitch and a few makeshift torches in the works. So the stage is set for that to become a literal issue. As it is, there are hundreds of Lowers folk gathered, shouting themselves hoarse as they hammer away on the doors of warehouses, stand on the edges of the piers and hurl threats to those aboard the nearest ships. Those gathered are clearly beyond simply *angry*, this is a fullscale riot. Overwhelmed Iron Guard lurk at the mouth of the dockyards, waiting for reinforcements, or someone to tell them how to handle this.

Princess Sally Acorn, an acorn toting red squirrel, Princess Muffin, the fluffiest white mountain dog arrive, following Kenna.

Fortunato is /decidedly/ not being helpful here. He stands on the sidelines of the chaos, his long, thin hands clasped, his eyes bright with what looks suspiciously like delight.

Alena Sparks, unamused first mate, Silk, the Seafaring Spider leave, following Evaristo.

"Oh, shit," Dycard mutters as he skids to a halt, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Burning pitch and wooden ships do /not/ mix." Scanning the crowd for familiar faces, he tries to push his way toward the overwhelmed Iron Guard. "Any of you in charge here?"

The dockyard isn't far from the new lower bridge that leads to Pravus' ward in the city. The sound of fists on wood and jeers draws a Pravus prince away from the path towards the ward of the Compact and towards the docks themselves. It likely isn't the best place for him to be, with silks of his station and a little quirked brow that seems almost amused. He starts to push through the crowds, curious, when two angry, large sailors turn on him and spit at him. "Sorry, sorry! I was just seeing what all the fuss was about," he offers, suddenly a lot less humored.

And who is there, lurking around the edges of things? That would be Mayir Grayhope, a certain Prince of the Lowers. He is surely not on the side of the Iron Guard, but neither is he among those pounding on the doors. He sidles up next to his cousin Fortunato and flashes a little smirk.

Matteo claims that Pravus prince pose.

Onida, a boglands wolf-hound, Outi the Iron Hound, Gene Erique, Guardsman, 3 Iron Guardsmen, Tero the Iron Hound, Buckley arrive, following Jyri.

Fortunato raises his hand to Mayir, then gestures in. A light invitation. "Cousin! The people are hungry."

Princess Sally Acorn, an acorn toting red squirrel, Princess Muffin, the fluffiest white mountain dog leave, following Kenna.

From Crows Lane, the shouts and hammering took a while to seep into Felicia's subconscious... but she's been around the block enough times to recognize the beginnings of a riot in the Lowers. She doesn't stop to throw on her armor, but snatches up her sword just in case and beats feet over towards the swelling sound of discontent. A quick scan of assessment and the eldest Harrow is bustling her indelicate way towards the Iron Guard contingent.

Backup is arriving to the Iron Guard, at least marginally - Jyri Whitehawk with a small retinue of guards and his three dogs come jogging in, moving to talk to the guards hovering nearby to get a sense of what is going on - even if it's pretty damn clear. But he doesn't intend to rush in without getting some updates and information.

Nanette follows Lord Dycard Blackshore and Admiral Rodica to the dockyard at such speed that she's had to hike up her skirt to be able to keep up. -The horror-, one might even be able to see a stocking-covered ankle! There's a certain glimmer in her eyes at the sight - excitement? Horror? It is always so hard to tell with the Scholar. Either way, she comes to a halt next to the Blackshore Lord, near the Iron Guard and keen to offer up her services, should they be needed. Surely, someone will need to carry buckets of water if a fire breaks?

Peeking out of the deck of The Gambit, Lucene grumbles at all the noise preventing her from getting some well earned rest. She casts a glance around, moving closer to Dycard as she stops him among the crowd, "Cousin." She greets him, keeping both of her swords at hand, "What the hell is going on?"

Scratchers the red-tailed hawk, Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes arrive, following Thea.

Rukhnis has likely heard the commotion all the way from the Commons Clinic -- it's hard to miss, when this many people are rushing about in noisy fury and fear. Stalking down the street at a swift but quiet pace, the Eurusi physician stops at the edge of the crowd to look on with a growing expression of horror on her face.

It's hard not to notice the frenzy of activity. Even if one was previously enjoying a subdued drink at the Murder of Crows, the building of tension isn't something that was easy to just shrug away. The fever pitch is something that is practically in the air, and it didn't take much for Sydney to end up at the Docks, the pugilist shoving her way through the crowds just like many of the other residents of the city. Simple curiosity has railroaded her into a swarm of discontent. And then things are suddenly worse. Much worse. "Oh, for fuck's..."

Rodica arrives not far after Dycard, though perhaps less confused. It is odd to see her not stumbling, and instead straight backed, flat faced, and probably about as angry as the peasantry. She at least is getting right into action, after all, /her/ ships will not burn. Already she is calling out in a loud, gravelly voice. "Corvini! Wai-hai! Get those damn ships cast off and anchored out of shot easy reach." Granted, she may not be hearable yet but well, no time to start yelling than /right now/.

"I am sure the Iron Guard will handle the matter with their customary restraint, Cousin," says Mayir to Fortunato as he joins him, remarking on the scene before them. "So we needn't fear they will make matters worse." That is sarcasm.

Those surge of news of rising panic and anger across the city alerted even as far as the Rectory. Concern furrows her brow as the Legate of Concepts arrives with as many Solace knights that can be mustarded on short notice. Quickly, Ailith finds the Iron Guard leader to inform him the knights are here to provide support -- to heed their call. "More are arriving but I'd rather we find a way to answer the mob's want to avoid further violence." She notices where Fortunato is located and tries to slip her way over to the Grayhope artist.

Fortunato raises his hand again, then lowers it. "Cousin," he tells Mayir. "If the Iron Guard are to raise a hand to these who have every /reason/ to riot, and are expressing a completely reasonable spleen, I will have to interfere." Two beats. "And being not a martial man, I do not know how." He glances over to Ailith's approach. "Ah. Please no violence, Legate. These are /our/ people."

Thea actually a message telling her to get her ass down here. People were going--well--yeah. So she basically ran down here quick as her long legs could go. She pauses, uses her hand as visor for a brief moment, looking for someone she may know before she sees Rukhnis. Thea hurries over that way, calling for her,"Rukhnis! What the hells is going on,"the youngest Malvici asks."

Drake often goes to the Lowers to get leatherwork, and the sound of a riot building up on the dockside is reaching his ears. As a knight, he feels some duty to support the guard in keeping the peace here. It seems as if quite a crowd has built up already. Drake hesitates to go right for the blade; maybe there is some way to keep the crowds more under control first.

Thea takes Skystrike, the finely crafted diamondplate kopis from a physician's medicine satchel.

Atreke, a severe-looking scribe, Chunk, a Maelstrom Forest Cat, Morgan, a sturdy discreet man following Rinel arrive, following Rinel.

The sentiment of the crowd grows darker as the nobles begin to arrive. Those two sailors that spit on Matteo loom, snarling, "You sure you want to be here, your *highness*?" One hisses at him, his mouth missing several notable teeth. They inch closer, clearly looking Matteo over for valuables, and spying the decanter of Limerance's Kiss, one reaches for it, "Oh, looks like he brought us a drink, Fred."

Leporis, the silent handmaiden, 2 Rivenshari Clansman, Vel'quul'alim, a mirrormasked manservant arrive, following Joslyn.

Lamora arrives, following Auda.

With the rising noise and row going on, Rosalie can't help but be drawn from the ship she had been on, making her way onto the docks. Concern writ across her face, she starts to move amongst those still on the docks themselves. Speaking quietly but sincerely to those she can, trying to urge people to leave the torces, to step away from the barrels of pitch. A drop in the bucket.

Dycard spots Lucene. "Thank the Gods - you've got the voice for this - we need to clear a path to those pitch barrels before some idiot sets the whole Lowers aflame." He shoots the Grayhopes a glare, catching the tone of their discussion if not the actual words themselves. Anger building, he pushes his way over to them. "If these are /your people,/ Grayhopes, do what you can to /stop this./ This is going to boil over any second, and fire spreads fast."

Ailith nods her head softly at Fortunato. "That is precisely what I wish to be avoided -- any violence. Remember, I've know what this is like." Starving. That fear. That pain. "How do you think we can calm them for the immediate?" She glances about.

Merek has on his vest of leather along his attire, while he rides on a horse into the place. Eventually, he comes up to the side, and steps away from the horse. He doesn't wear his Iron Badge, him being Admiral of the Iron Fleet though, many ships are about. He does look to the nobles, in complete perplexion as some begin to arrive. His hair tied back into a ponytail, while he dismounts. "This is boiling over because half the city is arriving to give their input."

Rukhnis is so busy staring at the building riot with an appalled expression painted across her face that she doesn't notice Thea's approach until her fellow physician is shouting at her. "Lady Thea," she replies, glancing distractedly towards her. "Tensions have been building down here for some time, with the lack of supplies and everyone going hungry. And now.. this is the result, it seems." As she looks around the crowd again she catches sight of a familiar tall redhead standing out in the crowd, and she stares towards Sydney as if she could compel the other woman's attention with her gaze alone.

"Hey! That was a gift," Matteo explains, his brows raising. He looks around, as if he might be looking for help, and then shrugs his shoulders helplessly. He then pivots and swings a fist towards the reaching sailor's face. (He's definitely helping the riot situation.)

Jyri keeps a hand on top of one of the dogs' head, as if restraining it somewhat or working to keep it calm. He listens to his men and then looks around with a critical eye - one eye only in fact, the other is covered by a patch. The visor of his helmet is raised and he homes in on some familiar faces, in this case Fortunato and Mayir and he starts a quick march over to them. "Grayhopes," he calls out. "You got a plan for any of this? If things get ugly, we're gonna have to step in."

The leader of the Iron Guard patrol is a woman named Marta, sporting a cut through one eyebrow. When Legate Ailith arrives with her quartet of Knights she looks visibly relieved. "They just stopped listening, I mean, these curs are never easy to control, but they are out of *hand*. They have one of my men and are holding him hostage. We've got another guard trapped near one of the warehouses, where he was trying to protect the owner of the warehouse... I was only put in charge *yesterday*!"

Word travels fast in the Lowers, Samira arriving after hearing of the general unrest down by the docks. Dark eyes scan the crowd for familiar faces as she uses her small size to her advantage, ducking and weaving through the throng of people as she tries to find a better vantage point. She finds herself standing not far from Thea and Rukhnis and moves to join them. "This isn't looking good." Obvious understatement.

"Oh, good, nobles are here," says Mayir, the Statler to Fortunato's Waldorf. "That will make things better." He turns to Ailith and Dycard and Drake as they draw near. "How about you let them in to the warehouses to take the food? Surely the merchants' property is not more valuable than lives."

"/Some/ of us are attempting to heal wounds," Rinel snaps at Merek. "Keep the silks away--Gods save us from the nobility, I swear." She limps to Rukhnis. "What do we do?" she asks. "This is going to require triage." She notices Shard, and gives the woman a sharp nod of attention and something like understanding.

5 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor, Vladimir, a shaggy brindle Grim Wolfhound arrive, following Valdemar.

Merek checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 5 higher.

Auda checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 16 higher.

Jyri checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 29 higher.

Fortunato glances at Dycard coolly. "I can do my best, but I'm an artist. In the end, I can mostly be extremely angry at anyone who hurts the Lowers and paint mean pictures of the culprits. I will paint the nastiest picture of you, my lord." He takes a deep breath and inclines his head to Mayir, "They need /food/. Without the very food they're trying to loot here, my words are like to be insufficient."

Rinel checked wits at difficulty 10, rolling 26 higher. Rinel rolled a critical!

Mayir checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 26 higher.

Thea checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 6 higher.

Dycard checked wits at difficulty 10, rolling 5 higher.

Nanette checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 13 higher.

Fortunato checked wits at difficulty 10, rolling 12 higher.

Sydney checked dexterity at difficulty 15, rolling 9 higher.

Mr Snuffles the bumbling hedgehog, Barnacle, a young silver hound arrive, following Poppy.

Matteo checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 13 higher.

Lucene checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 7 higher.

Rosalie checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 2 lower.

Rukhnis checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 23 higher.

Felicia checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 15 higher.

Joslyn checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 8 higher.

Samira checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 9 higher.

"If we just open the doors, the front two or three ranks will be crushed to death in seconds," Dycard says, exasperation in his voice in reply to Mayir. "Is that what either of you want?"

Ailith checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 10 higher.

Rodica checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 87 higher.

Sydney is in the absolute thick of things, but at least her tall stature and recognizable frame affords her the ability to both see over some of the crowd and also be recognized. Unfortunately, Rukhnis and her silent vie for attention is lost in the chaos and noise as she's shuffled about by the sea of irritation.

Drake checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 20 higher.

It's probably hard to be in the Lowers and -not- have heard of this by now. Auda trots down the road from the North, weaving between the buildings and popping out of an alley. She's moving with an understandable wariness, glancing at the nobles with a hint of confusion but apparently deciding not to comment just yet. Instead? "Fffffuuuuuuck, fuck fuck fuck."

Rukhnis shifts her gaze sidelong to Samira, agreeing, "No," in a tone of dread. Giving her head a sharp shake, she tells both Thea and Rinel, "We must be prepared to deal with.. whatever may come." It's clear that by this she means, with the great number and variety of injured people that could very well result from this, and soon. "Word must be sent to the clinic, that we are going to need supplies and additional help down here, as well as people to help carry others to the clinic itself if necessary."

Zavi arrives, following Magpie.

"One way or another, the contents of that warehouse are going to end up a loss. I recommend sending a runner to the owners to negotiate compensation and get someone up front who can get them to calm until things can be parcelled out." Felicia calls for the beleagured Iron Guard in charge.

Thea stares over at Matteo,"Did he seriously just throw a punch over a bottle--,"Thea asks with a tone of--well. WHAT THE FUCK?! She meanwhile nods to Rukhnis,"Yes. Of course. That was why I came down--Broken bottles to the face and such. Sign me up."

Izanagi, an Imperial Guard, Ami, an Imperial bureaucrat arrive, following Jadara.

"Dycard." Rodica snaps her head over to the man, brow raising. "You want to not get to far please?" Then a look around, hey there is Drake. Her hand raises to wave to him, motioning him over. "I am going to need some strapping lads most likely."

"I can coordinate with the Iron guard if needed be." Lucene declares, nodding firmly to Dycard, "If they lend me a few men, we can start containing them." The Gilden frowns at the mention of a hostage, "But that will make things more complicated. Damn, dishonorable rascals."

Ailith nods solemnly at Marta. "Hold your ground as best as possible. I brought knights who've accompanied over the years into the Lowers. They're familiar. They know their families. We don't want to incite everyone further by violence." Her eyes glisten when hearing the cries and the fury spoken by the rioters. "Which merchant owns that warehouse?" she asks Marta while whispering directly into her ear.

Izanagi, an Imperial Guard, Ami, an Imperial bureaucrat leave, following Jadara.

a nondescript assistant, 1 Culler Boatswain arrive, following Acacia.

Magpie checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 3 higher.

Poppy checked wits at difficulty 10, rolling 3 lower.

Amund checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 20 higher.

Acacia checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 8 higher.

Valdemar checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 31 higher.

Dash the Guard Corgi, 2 Iron Guardsmen arrive, following Silas.

Valdemar checked command + leadership at difficulty 50, rolling 23 higher.

Rodica is really not messing around, and for all the others may know of her, this is different. When she speaks, it /carrys/ not a yell, but still her voice cuts through the crowd in a way that only years of shouting over heavy seas can do. Hand reaching out to point at the nearest docks. "I said cast those ships off /now/! Get the damn boats moored out past the docks and bowshot you bloody scavs!" And well, to her credit, the nearest ships start to move.

Kessen, a white-tailed eagle arrives, following Ezra.

Valdemar arrives after events are already in motion; no doubt it took some time after news reached him of the trouble here for him to put on the heavy armor he is wearing when he gets there. With wide eyes, he looks about the dockyard, first seeking his own ship the Song of Sorrows, and then trying to get a sense for what, exactly, is happening to assess how he can best help pacify things. Once he sees the state that the crowd is in, he steps toward them and raises his currently empty hands, "This is no way to express your grievances! These fires are going to hurt you as much as they will those you are angry at! Help us put them out, for your own sakes if not ours!" Fortunately for him, they don't just roll over him, but actually do stop a moment, with a small crowd of them, no more than twenty, giving the Duke their attention.

Jyri checked command + leadership at difficulty 45, rolling 13 higher.

Ezra checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 4 higher.

Silas checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 17 higher.

Poppy had rush down to the docks via first the orphanage and then the clinic. Stocking her shoulder bag full of supplies she pushes through the crowd to Rukhnis's side. Breathless and with fear in her eyes she tells the Physcian "This isn't really the way I wanted to start today."

"ALright!" Jyri calls out to Marta and her group, moving back to them with determined steps. "Form up, after me. We're going to push - calmly - towards our trapped fellow soldier and get him out of there. Keep your weapons low, no aggressive actions, stick close and watch each other's backs. If someone attacks, use flat sides of swords and woood part of spears or what have you." He whistles and pats his leg, the three dogs moving in behind him as he starts moving, the phalanx moving right behind him as they get orders on what to do - moving like an army, trained for things like this. Jyri slams the visor down over his face and glances around, and calls out to the calmer crowd nearby as Valdemar's words really helped, just explaining their business and asking people to remain calm and they will be too.

Seryna, a charming Lycene handmaiden, 6 Grimhall House Guards arrive, following Vanora.

Thea sees Poppy rushing over to Rukhnis' other side and nods her head,"Lady Poppy." She watches the mob like state from the edge of crowd, basically prepared for about at this point.

Mayir checked charm + propaganda at difficulty 40, rolling 5 higher.

Atreke, a severe-looking scribe, Chunk, a Maelstrom Forest Cat, Morgan, a sturdy discreet man following Rinel leave, following Rinel.

Rukhnis checked command + medicine at difficulty 30, rolling 27 higher.

"Hold my hat," says Mayir to Fortunato, as he goes to look around for some boxes. He doesn't have a hat on at the moment, so it is apparently metaphorical.

"FRIENDS!" he calls out, trying to be heard above the crowd, but clashing with many other voices. "I think the solution is clear here! With so many /nobles/ ..." Mayir looks over at those who have gathered, including a Duke. "... And a /Legate of the Faith/ here, it is plain that they and their massive wealth can simply /buy/ the food in there warehouses and make the merchants whole! And when they do, the Lowers will see everyone gets their fair share! Remember Mae Grayhope's soup kitchen? We look out for our own! But we cannot expect that the Lowers will simply disperse and go home while their children go home!"

In the din, the Grayhope gets drowned out a bit, but soon the chant goes up from five of the rioters near him. "SILKS BY US FOOD! SILKS BY US FOOD!"

Conall, a huge, friendly, sable Wolfhound dog with bright platinum eyes, Ylva, an impressively-large, silvery Wolfhound with bright gold eyes, 3 Armed Confessors, Atanas Pandev, a wry, stalwart escort, Colm Teague, the stolid adjunct of ice-blue eyes, Ash, a fearless grey fuzzball of cuteness with butter-yellow eyes arrive, following Sunaia.

Drake checked stamina + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 6 higher.

"Why have all these nobles even bothered coming down here," Rukhnis asks in a low angry voice. "Unless they have brought sufficient food with which to feed people and their families," she goes on in unconscious echo of what Fortunato on the other side of the crowd said earlier, "they can hardly do anything but makes things worse." She's probably forgotten in the moment to think of Thea as another noble rather than a healer colleague.

But with a sharp shake of her head, she seems to dismiss all that, and redirects her thoughts to more immediately pragmatic matters, such as bossing people around in the name of helping them. Her voice may not be very loud, but apparently she /can/ whistle rather sharply, which makes a number of the less angry looking bystanders -- particularly a small scattering of impressionable youngsters -- glance over at her in startlement. And now that they've made the mistake of looking her, she beckons them over urgently, telling them, "You must run to the clinic -- you know where it is, just off the Commons Square -- and fetch back supplies to help heal people. Bandages, sinew and thread, fresh water, and other things. You do not need to remember that. Just tell the people at the clinic that healing supplies are needed at the docks, immediately, and that you will bring them here. They will give them to you, and you must carry them back here without delay. Be swift," she admonishes them. "Many lives may depend upon it." And with this (quite possibly true) statement to puff them up, Rukhnis watches them bolt down the street in the direction of the clinic.

Amund checked stamina + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 17 lower.

110 inflicted and Amund is harmed for moderate damage.

"Is that what this is about?" Drake asks Mayir. "Food?" He's not always that quick on the uptake, or maybe... well, it's just a lot to process here. He looks at Rodica who gives him instruction. He's good at following instruction. He comes over to her, and nods. "I can back you up." He looks around. "...What are we, ah, doing." She's yelling. Oh. He's ... not very good at that, really. So he'll take a different tactic, trying to prevent other people from being hurt, as much as possible. He sees people are rushing Jyri down and runs in to interpose, and... honestly, just wants to hold them off as much as possible, rather than hurt any of the commonfolk badly in the process. He takes the advice to stick with the flat of his blade, behaving defensively, not aggressively. The crush of the crowd is claustrophobic, but he manages to at least push a few back and tank some of their incoming rage.

A few small, dark insects skitter away from where a crate has been smashed. They've got too many legs, it's gross. It's also all but impossible to notice in all the chaos.

Auda checked charm + streetwise at difficulty 30, rolling 21 higher.

Very likely, word has reached Sunaia Ashford's ears of the riots both in the City Center and in the docks; she gathers up The Lads and Colm, her two, huge Wolfhounds and ...well, no one really stops the brave little cat, Ash, from going wherever he wants, so he proudly struts alongside Sunaia and the hounds. The six humans and three animals make their way down to the Docks, Sunaia sporting her crimson-and-ebony Inquisitor's coat and readies herself with her alaricite shotel to find out what this mess is all about.

She stops, surveying the scene, just beyond the docks and peers at the crowd, the nobility, the commoners.... Things... don't look very good.

Well, he's a knight, right? And knights have to do knightly things somehow. He already arrived late to the proverbial party, as it were, and it just so happens that Amund is trying to maneuver past the crowd and winds up coming right along the right flank of Jyri's Iron Guardsmen. When he spots what seems to be a rioting mob, he reaches for a coin purse and slips the string off, before hurling it at that mob.

Instead of them scattering, it seems to further inflame their tempers and they swarm Amund, kicking the knight several times; for his part, Amund feels a kick here and there, but he's managing well. But his hand has reached for the hilt of his sword, and his eyes flash with a dangerous glint of intent.

Ras checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 9 higher.

A rioting mob approaching the Guardsmen, that is. Just a slight correction.

Having heard the clamor from nearby, Ras comes skulking warily through an increasingly-chaotic alley to study the commotion at the dockyards. His expression is a peculiar and inexplicable mix of hope and dread, and his gaze sweeps searchingly through the crowds.

Thea lifts her eyebrow at Rukhnis for a brief moment, looking at her fellow physicians. Her gold-flecked green eyes narrow for a brief moment, but there MAY be touch of understanding there and her physician side takes over before anything else. She does manage to say,"Right. Silly nobles being here--"her tone even.

Sunaia checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 1 higher.

Matteo checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 14 higher.

Joslyn checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.

Valdemar checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 7 lower.

Ezra checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 2 higher.

Thea checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 5 lower.

Silas checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 1 lower.

Drake checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Dycard checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 11 lower.

Rodica checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Jyri checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

Poppy checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 1 higher.

Lucene checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 5 lower.

Sunaia checked wits at difficulty 10, rolling 8 higher.

Mayir checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Silas checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 26 higher.

Vanora checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 1 lower.

"Axelle, go, bring back what food you can." Felicia orders her valet, sending her off running and turning her attention to some of the milling Guard,"You lot... start moving those barrels off the docks... we've got to avoid someone starting a fire here!" unfortunately, whether because she's a civilian or just not yelling loud enough, doesn't look like any of them seem moved to help her. Some of the rioters, however, might have just been inspired with new ideas however.

It abruptly seems to dawn on Rukhnis why Thea is looking at her in that ominous squinty-eyed way, and the Eurusi woman has the grace to look ashamed and give her a faintly apologetic look. "I am sorry," she mutters, "but still, the nobles being the object of their anger, the presence of so many cannot be anything but incendiary, whatever their intentions. It can only be hoped that they will see some of you as people who are here to help, and not just as faceless oppressors."

Jyri keeps talking to the Iron Guards moving with him, and making sure the dogs stay calm as well. They do nothing threatening per se, but moving like a phalanx, in armor, with purposeful steps - it might deter from attacks.

News spreads faster than pox at a party. With long purposeful strides and a swing in her hips, Acacia dips and ducks her way through the rioting crowd. Big honey brown eyes crackle to life as she takes in the scene, her brows furrowing darkly. Instinctively reaching down, the curvy redhead in fitted dark leathers checks on the blades slug low on her hips. "Gild's golden fucking balls! What the ever-loving fuck?" Acacia grows out with a sharp look that is interrupted by an incoming fist.

Bouncing back, she readies to fight back but another ploughs into the man.This does little to impress the curvy Culler redhead. Even less so the mention fire. A glint of something finds her eyes as Mayir speaks out, her brow furrow. "Fuck me," she whispers to herself before filling her lungs to call out sharply. "Stand down! Cullers to me!" she calls out with flash look that leaves no room for question before starting to issue orders to those wild and brave few that run and ride with the Cullers.

Poppy looks between Thea and Rukhnis. "This doesn't help matters now." She hauls her golden hair into a bun and pulls the sleeves of modest gown up. "Lets focus on the task and make sure that all receive good care."

A small, dark insect that is far too long with far too many legs wiggles right up the leg of one of Sunaia's hounds, over its back, and down the other side.

Silas is here, nearby, but not in the thick of it - yet. He arrives on horseback, with a small contingent of similarly mounted guardsmen behind him - and even more fully-armored footsoldiers behind them. Instead of confronting the rioters directly, though, he begins to bark out commands to his men and they begin their effort to try to -contain- the riot, to stop it from spilling further into the city streets. They surround, and provide a protective barrier for anyone who needs to quickly retreat.

Richard Culler, 1 Culler Boatswain, 2 Culler Brutes arrive, following Torian.

Thea nods her head in understanding to Rukhins,"No. In that regard you are correct,"obviously not at all upset. Looking over at Poppy, the Malvici asks her now,"What? We're fine and keeping an eye on things just fine,"resuming her watch on the scene before. "I don't think I could yell loud enough for anyone to even hear me.."

Marchande, Junebug, the endearing and enthusiastic Graypeak Mountain Dog leave, following Rosalie.

Ezra has remained silent, looking as much like the masses of commoners and dock workers as anyone. He's not overly filthy but he does look like he's had a good day's work. His clothes are plain and well worn with his cloak even having some sections that are a bit threadbare. He's not really trying to move into the crowd but he's not fully at liberty to move as freely as a normal day. He has a sour expression but that probably blends him in as much as anything. As he walks along he's noticing the insects more than anything else and has a slightly disgusted look as he watches it wiggling along the leg of Sunaia's dog. Mostly though, he's just a silent part of the mass of people.

Auda stands in the mouth of the alley for a good few moments before she starts to act. She skirts along the edges of the crowded docks, talking quietly in the ears of certain Lowers residents. Quiet words and little nudges get people moving, though it's probably not clear -what- they're doing.

The small, grey cat with Sunaia hisses as her silvery-grey Wolfhound, Ylva scratches her hind quarters. Sunaia looks down at Ash, curious about why the cat is hissing, her silver-moon gaze flicking downward, then looks to Ylva. She notes a long, dark, multi-legged insect and the woman's silver-moon gaze goes wide. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck..." she mutters. "COLM. Get me out of her NOW," she orders the taller, dark-haired man.

There are hundreds, if not thousands of commoners packed into the docks, raging and angry. As the nobles continue to arrive and try to talk them down; while some near by do stop to listen, the rest see them (unable to hear the words over the roar of the crowd) and they seethe. Several stevedores pick up barrels of pitch, cracking them open with axes and hurling them towards the gathered nobility, sending pitch, splinters and heavy barrels, well, barreling at them. Dycard suffers a direct blow, taking the barrel in the hip, the weight of it, bearing him down to the ground. Valdemar, Jyri and Rodica are heavily splashed as well, pitch darkening their clothes and armor. Thea, Lucene and Vanora are targeted as well, having crates hurled towards them, followed by clods of horse dung scooped up off the cobbles.

Torian checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 10 higher.

20 inflicted and Dycard is harmed for moderate damage.

Matteo checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 17 higher.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Torian before departing.

Dycard had been staring up at Fortunato, apparently considering how best to intervene, meaning he turns too late to see the barrel hurtling toward him. There is a sickening /crack/ that is hopefully the barrel breaking, rather than something else as it crashes into his side, slamming the man to the ground with a wordless cry of pain.

Fortunato checked wits + propaganda at difficulty 30, rolling 5 higher.

"No one wants anyone to be crushed," Fortunato says, with a tense kind of blandness to Dycard. "Clearly that is not the case. I'm only noting that they need the food. I can try to whip up some propagandistic phrase to calm them down, but then we /must/ come through. Words will not be sufficient." He stands apart, then, and raises his hands. "EVERYONE with RESOURCES will contribute to tending your needs. I have been fortunate in my wages! I will contribute of my largesse here and NOW to your hungers." He glances to Amund. He glances to the guard. The nobles. His lips tighten. "But you must settle. Ere you are harmed." He adds, "I don't give two shits about the warehouses, but you know the people who think they are strong will hurt you at the first excuse. I won't have you harmed."

Fortunato is, once he speaks, immediately swarmed by 20 people. He hastily drops as much silver as he can, but is badly jostled.

Knife-Fingers - the asshole jackrabbit arrives, delivering a message to Torian before departing.

Sydney weaves through the crowd to get towards where most of the conflict is roiling, about to bubble over, not above squirming, squeezing and sidestepping through the mass of bodies to do so. She's already in the middle of things. Better to be closer to the front. This doesn't have 'peaceful resolution' written all over it, as far as she can tell, and she wants to be in a place to be able to intercede - namely, where those seeking to quell the crowd are beginning to clash with them.

The People's Choice Champion's voice can be heard loudly striking about the din in reproach - not of the rioters, but of those who are forming ranks to start to shove their way through, "Have you gone mad!? Don't bring weapons into this! These people are trying to feed their families, nothing more! If you add steel to this, you're throwing oil on the fire, whatever your intent!"

Ill-timed words, given the burning pitch that begins to take flight. "Oh gods /damn/ it!" She hisses.

Torian gets Dark Leather Long Coat from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Dark Leather Gloves from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Dark Umber Left Spat from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Dark Umber Right Spat from a wooden armor stand.

The faked turn around and the swing back of his fist accomplishes what Matteo was trying to accomplish: he clocks the sailor reaching for his fine bottle of rum good. The sailor staggers back, surprised that a noble would punch him, especially considering, well. Now the sailors are mad, and there are two of them (and more, around) and only one of Matteo.

Torian gets Black Pearl Leather Boots from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Black Pearl Leather Bracers from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Black Pearl Leather Hooded Gorget from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Black Ear Cuffs from a wooden armor stand.

Torian gets Leather Vest from a wooden armor stand.

Dycard glares up at the Grayhope, though the gritted teeth is likely more due to the pain than the man's words. If anything, he gives a small, almost imperceptible nod before crawling to his feet, doing his best to avoid being stomped on by the horde descending on Fortunato.

Down by where a number of boats are moored, two long, little crawly things zip down a mooring line to the docks.

Sunaia mutters, "... he's HERE. He's ... Ezra... ... those bugs, ... are too many people and he's ..."

Ailith checked charm + propaganda at difficulty 30, rolling 22 higher.

Ras checked perception + investigation at difficulty 45, rolling 27 higher.

Sunaia checked composure + survival at difficulty 35, rolling 6 higher.

With a sharp *STAMP* of her foot on something - maybe nothing - near her foot, Sunaia flicks her eyes around, left-to-right and right-to-left, muttering to Ezra, who stands somewhat nearby, then mutters again to Colm. For those who might be close enough to see her, Sunaia hands off her shotel to Colm, apparently disarming herself; she mutters again and the four Confessors tightly surround her. "Soon. SOON, as SOON as possible, Colm," she orders quietly.

Ezra stands, jostled here and there but mostly seems to keep in among the crowd. His expression remains somewhat gruff but not exactly mean. He looks over towards where Sunaia is and there's a slight nod of his head to her, "Get outta here woman. Your dog has bugs." Again, not a mean tone just slightly blunt and to the point. He goes back to looking over the little bugs that Sunaia is squishing.

Joslyn checked charm + intimidation at difficulty 40, rolling 24 lower.

Lucene checked command + leadership at difficulty 35, rolling 49 higher.

Sunaia puts Moonsilver, an alaricite shotel with wolf and lily motif in Crownlands-style pouched adventuring belts.

Lucene starts rounding up those members of the Iron Guard closest to her and Dycard. "Hold your line, everyone! Don't provoke them any further, but let no harm go unpunished." She shouts out, trying to motivate the soldiers into doing their best to defend the area so that Jyri and the soldiers gathered after him can advance to the rescue of the hostage, "Your help has arrived, now let's get this situation straight so that everyone can go home safely." She continues, brandishing her diamondplate sword in case things go awry.

Instead, she's greeted by both splints of wood, pitch and finally horse dung. This seems to be the last straw for her, "Alright, that's it. You want food? Then come here and get flesh!"

Lucene wields Lightbringer.

a nondescript assistant, 1 Culler Boatswain leave, following Acacia.

=There are so many people packed so close together, all shouting and yelling and throwing things, that it takes a little bit to realize some of them are screaming. And then more. And then...there are crawling things flooding out from under doors. From under the docks. Down walls and out of crates and warehouses and from behind where the Iron Guard has stationed themselves. It's a flood of insects and it seems to be coming from absolutely everwhere.

a nondescript assistant, 1 Culler Boatswain arrive, following Acacia.

As things are starting to get thrown, Joslyn has only just arrived, but she holds herself with that calm composure of somebody that has definitely seen a few things. "You take things too far!" Joslyn shouts out, striding along with her eyes squinting over the rioters, tugging at the dangerously sharp hairpins tucked behind her head. "You are only burying yourselves more as you inflict violence to get your way. Stop being foolish," she says as she subtly arms herself, those points on the jewelry she wears everywhere are dangerously sharp. "Stand down and we might all forget this ever happened!" she insists. "We can fix what troubles you, but you are out of line! Stand. Down!"

Unfortunately for her, it does not look like they are much in the mood for listening to her and so Joslyn takes a breath, spreading her feet apart to prepare for an oncoming onslaught. Though... perhaps it's not the people she needs to be worrying about.

Ras notes the positions of Rukhnis and Sydney in the fray, and bites his lip, but a gloomy furrow creases his brow shortly afterwards and he slips through the commotion, still searching intently for -- something. He sees the insects, but doesn't notice anything strange about them. Jostled in the crowds, he doesn't appear to find what he's looking for, if the contrite frustration upon his features is any indication. As he lifts his gaze to now scan the desperate milling of the people rather than seek between bodies in violent motion, a glint of something almost angry shines in his eyes. Then, the insects are flooding the place, and his anger fades again to confusion.

Magpie checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 17 lower.

Sunaia checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 8 lower.

Jyri checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 4 lower.

Drake checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 11 lower.

Rukhnis checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 20 lower.

Nanette checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 18 lower.

Poppy checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 8 higher.

Silas checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 4 higher.

Matteo checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 6 lower.

Sydney checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 12 lower.

Mayir checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 18 lower.

Felicia checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 1 higher.

Valdemar checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 4 lower.

Lucene checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 21 lower.

Fortunato checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 7 lower.

Rodica checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 3 lower.

Dycard checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 7 lower.

Acacia checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 13 lower.

Joslyn checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 4 lower.

Vanora checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 0 higher.

Thea checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 9 lower.

Ras checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 11 lower.

Auda checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 17 lower.

Torian checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 1 lower.

Amund checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 20 lower.

Merek checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 17 lower.

Ezra checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 6 higher. Ezra rolled a critical!

Fortunato seems about to return Dycard's nod, best as he can trying to gently (weakly) fend off a good crowd, but then there are insects. Everywhere. "Aaaah!" he aaahs. "Quick! Everyone do some -- anti-insect things. Fuck you, bugs. And your many-armed -- tugs."

Torian wields Vendetta, an alaricite hand ax.

Poppy glances at the stream of bugs flooding the place.Not at all concerned about them, she encourages the children, "You know, those taste just like candy if you toast them up. Trust me. We eat them during the winter." She glances around to try and find the source as the kids begin killing bugs left, right and center."

Staggering to his feet, Dycard clutches his side where the barrel impacted. With a hiss of pain, he considers making for the healers, but grits his teeth and forces himself to straighten up as best he can. With a wistful glance at the Gambit - his own vessel, still moored next to the jetty - Dycard instead pushes toward one of the warehouses. If this draws attention away from Jyri's efforts to rescue his man, well and good. With his bosun at his heels, he grabs a few sailors he recognises - some from his own vessel, in fact - and shoves and elbows his way through, getting to the front of the warehouse and putting his back to its door. "/Back!/" He orders, voice a clarion, stern and martial. "Show some /fucking discipline!/ If I were your Captain I'd be ashamed to sail anything rougher than a bloody /pond/ with you lot. There'll be food, for free and for all, but not if you burn down the whole sodding Borough. Now STEP BACK!"

Its impact on the overall horde is minor, but he does clear an island of calm in the seething maelstrom of pressing bodies and - mercifully - get some of those blazing torches away from the dry timbers of the warehouse and the guards trapped inside.

Unfortunately, this cleared space on the ground reveals the tide of insects, and Dycard almost backs onto one of the makeshift spears being wielded by a guard jabbing out of the damaged doorway, recoiling in horror.

...Bugs? What... bugs? Drake starts to hear some mutterings about bugs. And then ... there are, aren't there, crawling everywhere and flooding the streets in a sudden and horrific wave. Unlike the crowd, which he doesn't want to harm in this panic, this is something concrete, monsterous, which he can strike at with impunity and without any reservation. And so he does, immediately pulling out, not just any weapon, but Love's Sorrow, the sword with bloodwood thorns that bite into his hand on the draw. Beings this otherworldly and monsterous means no holding back. Drake does strike out of panic, not controlled or reserved in his response.

Drake wields Love's Sorrow, a Thorn-twined Blade.

"I am not saying that it is necessarily a helpful thing for anyone here to feel, given how badly it is all likely to end," Rukhnis says to Poppy. "But nevertheless they have good reason for their anger. And regardless of that, I am grateful for Thea's help, and for yours." She glances back in the direction of the clinic, her hands rubbing together in a tell of anxiety -- probably she's looking for the return of her youthful helpers. And then it turns out that, in fact, many of the silks evidently /are/ seen as faceless oppressors worthy of having crates, pitch, dung, and other debris flung at them. Rukhnis hisses a soft curse under her breath in Eurusi. "And now, having come down here and been struck out at, the nobles are going to get angrier themselves, and we will see where this all goes. Why must they all be so /arrogant/!"

The fingers of her right hand curl tightly up under palm -- but now there are bugs everywhere. Incredibly creepy, crawly, bizarre, unnatural bugs. Rukhnis actually lets out a yelp and jumps as the dark seething mass seems abruptly to be coming from everywhere at once, though if the sharp flicking of her eyes around the crowd is any indication, she's still more concerned about the effect of the insects on the crowd than she is about the insects themselves.

While Ras might -wish- to try to understand the source of this confusing issue, he can't focus on anything other than the swarming insects across the dockyard, and starts abruptly stamping and stomping in some sort of half-scared, half-angry tantrum.

Magpie checked charm + manipulation at difficulty 30, rolling 0 higher.

Fighting disgust with anger probably isn't the best choice while acting like a leader. Just after shouting out her orders, Lucene is surprised by some of the insects climbing and starts stomping around, thrusting at whatever insects come her way, but not enough to get others from approaching, "Dycard! Give me one of those torches, we need to burn the whole thing down!"

Matteo's attention can't dart far, from the two angry sailors near him. He barely notices the bugs, but then they are pouring out of everywhere. He nods to one of the sailors, gesturing to the man's shoulder. "You got a little something there," he tells him jovially enough, but disgusted. "A bug."

Jyri is covered in tar - but he's still marching on, determined to save the hostage and the other Iron Guard, the phalanx having moved about a third of the way to that warehouse where the first one would be. But that's about when the bugs appear - and he starts stomping his feet and waving his arms around, and he's not alone in the area. "Waht in the flyin' fuck!" he exclaims, startled and not a little ill at ease. This is about when he shifts his glaive from his back to hold in one hand as the other tries to brush tar and insects away from him - even if he still moves forward. "Gild, help us all - let Civilization win," he says in a small prayer.

"Oh by Mangata's perfect tits." Rodica gets a glance of the bugs, and her voice lowers, away from the souting she had been doing, taking a step back. "As it the eater wasn't bloody enough... sing a song of sixpence...bucket full of.."

Poppy checked composure + empathy at difficulty 15, rolling 45 higher.

"Okay..." Joslyn takes a deep breath and steps back from the crowd, her eyes on all the creepy crawlies. "You know... I think you have bigger problems than what you're gonna eat at the moment..." she murmurs, partially to herself but also loud enough to hopefully alert the rest to the increasingly dire situation.

"What?" Dycard roars over the din at Lucene, glancing at his shoulder to see one of the /things/ snaking down over it. With a disgusted cry he grabs it and flings its writhing form into the shadows. "No - Lucene - /no fire,/ you hear me!?"

Thea is reaching for her dagger, because ew! "Poppy. NO!" She eyes them shaking her head,"Where did these even COME from?!" What is a dagger going to THEA! Bugs, things thrown at her..She simply sighs, somehow her temper in check right now, but her body is now crawling with bugs.

Magpie Grayhope, the current owner of the Murder of Crows is weaving and pushing his way along, with a stressed expression on his face while grousing at people around him. "What did you expect? They never feed the Lowers. Same shit, different day. Go to the-... ah! Get your hands away from me! I don't have food on me!" He gives a woman a startled look and checks his coin purse, then looks around sharply, "Anyone goes near my boat I'm going to make them regret it... Mayir!!" Magpie bellows over the crowds, muttering immediately after, "I heard you were down here -- damnit where are you?" Is that fire? FIRE. The sailor looks in horror. "DON'T BURN THINGS-... Fuuuuuck. MAYIR!!"
Magpie spots his cousin calling out the nobles from the boxes, then flails first at him, and then in the direction of the docks. When he picks up on what the younger Grayhope is saying, however, he nods with inspiration, "YES! Yeeeeeess! Listen! GRAYHOPE looks out for the Lowers! There's the soup kitchen! There is FOOD at the Murder. Pickles! The Murder has pickles from the Saffron Chain! Grayhope has been here, for as long as Arx has stood. We've always... kept... people f-.." He trails off as he sees bugs. More bugs than even the filthy Lowers population can justify. So. Many. His face pales and the man just reaches for the knife at his side as he starts backing up. "...that's not good. Fuck this."

The Wolfhounds with Sunaia start to bark as she becomes clearly agitated, the four Confessors and Colm pressing her back towards the exit of the crowd, despite the white woman's whimpering and heavy shaking. "Colm, Colm, get me OUT!!" Sunaia demands, pushing her hands to the sides. "I can't breathe!!!"

The frenzy around, such familiar cries and rage, the voices from the mob . . . Ailith's brow furrows as her fingers curl inward toward her palm, lowered at her sides. The tall visage of the Legate faintly trembles before she strides forth and steps up to be seen and heard.

"I'm sorry."

The fury of the mob's voices cry over hers. She takes a short breath, calling forth, "I'm sorry!"

She waits. Patient while her eyes glisten and her gaze lowers to the familiar faces in the crowd. People she's known for years. Families she's cared over. Their pain is her own. And she loudly speaks with a voice full of fervor and empathy, "I AM SORRY!"

Steady, the Legate continues. "I was too slow. The increased food supplies to our charities in the Lowers, to the soup kitchens like Mae Grayhope's, the personally visits I have made, the community gardens, the resources and my staff supporting the Iron Guard to locate the fiends responsible for the counterfeit coins -- it is not enough. Coin alone cannot solve the long term issues. I know." Her nails dig deep, a bit of blood broken at her palm. A cry. "I know the pain in your bellies. The fear of what's next. The anger and fury when you look upon the very noble who is supposed to care, to lend you aid, turns away and leaves you with nothing." There's a bitter tone to her words. "Season after seasons, blights left my own with only dirt or a stone in a soup bowl for a meal. No work. No coin. We all suffered. Somehow we struggled our way through. We bonded together to find means to rebuild and feed our families. The Faith lent support. And nobility found long term solutions than tossing coin for what is silver without the food?"

She lifts her chin to fix her gaze on the people. "I hear you. Tonight, the Crown Council convenes. I've put forth ideas directly to His Majesty, my patron, to have the Great Houses and Crown coordinate -- to find your jobs, to find means to afford food, to provide solutions to this travesty we are suffering. The Council will help for the suffering is not to be ignored. The Lowers, each of you, are made of sterner stuff." She glances over her shoulder then back to the crowd. "Food is coming. The baskets I had the faith provide are on their way."

A hundred people react, listening and they answer, "We're HUNGRY! They have EVERTHING and we have NOTHING. It's not FAIR."

Sunaia checked perception + survival at difficulty 35, rolling 12 higher.

Poppy can no longer stand still as things continue to escalate, there's children present! She breaks away from the group of medics, her hands shoving into her purse and silver coins quickly handed to the children. "Here. Take this and go home. Get away from here."

Unfortunately the naive young noble didn't expect the children to swarm her. Grabbing for more and more coins. They scramble and shout and she is being swallowed by the hoard of people. She shouts her protests but is useless to stop the swell.

The bugs put something of a damper on Sydney's ability to stay calm. Her eyes widen and she freezes in place for all of a moment before immediately shoving her hands stamping violently around her, shaking in revulsion as she tries to dislodge some of the insects that have decided to be suddenly be /everywhere/. "Gyah!"

The woman in the Inquisitor's coat pushes forward, past Colm, past the crowds, weaving in-and-out between people, desperate for her life with a look of utter terror on her face. She RUNS - and when she finds her way out of the crowd, the pair of hounds, the yowling cat, the four Confessors AND Colm push their way through narrowly -- but several paces behind her. Colm yells after her, "SUNAIA!!"

But the woman is gone.

Conall, a huge, friendly, sable Wolfhound dog with bright platinum eyes, Ylva, an impressively-large, silvery Wolfhound with bright gold eyes, 3 Armed Confessors, Atanas Pandev, a wry, stalwart escort, Colm Teague, the stolid adjunct of ice-blue eyes, Ash, a fearless grey fuzzball of cuteness with butter-yellow eyes leave, following Sunaia.

Orders issued, the curvy redhead makes for higher ground, pulling her self up on to a lower room to get a catseye view of the scene. "Aye, hold your ire! No sense losing what little we have!" she calls out with a flash of fire in her eyes. "There's promises to offer more aid. Stand down and see what they say. And if not, Culler and the rest Lowers will take care of their own. But we won't do it biting our own assets. Stand the fuck d..." She blinks at the bugs and a look of horror spreads across her face. "Fuck this shite! Magnata's big beautiful ice cold tits! Crush those fucking bugs down! Dance them back to the abyss under your fucking heel, my lads and lasses!" she shouts out her Lower's accent thickening with urgency.

Torian checked command + streetwise at difficulty 30, rolling 29 higher.

Silas seems unmoved by the multitude of cries attempting to appeal to the rioting crowd's currently non-existent sense of reason, and continues to command his men to and fro. Shields are banged - but likely just as easily unheeded - as the shieldwall continues to hold... for now. He searches the masses of body for Jyri while he attempts his colleague rescue, hoping to spot an opening to assist, but opting to keep at crowd control for now. The sudden onslaught of BUGS, however, does move him - there were a lot of creepy crawlies in the Lowers, but they don't typically descend on you all at once. "Shields, hold!" Silas shouts out. "Horsemen, stomp on as many those fuckers as you can! The rest of you, get the fuck behind us if you're unwilling to fight!"

After almost getting hit by a barrel of pitch, Vanora Grimhall's expression turns not angered, but saddened. She walks closer to her husband, close enough that the angry mob gathered around him is now close to her as well. Possibly not the direction she ought have been moving in, but nonetheless. Her head shakes slightly, and she murmurs, "This is so distressing. Such anger and rage, aimed towards those who only want to help and protect the common people. It reminds me of something I heard once..." And then her voice rises into a song, one that sounds similar to a hymn save for the sadness in her voice. One that is contagious, for the nearby crowd begins to look confused, and lower their torches. Suddenly the anger has become melancholy.

Nanette is -not- coping. She -was- coping, an angry mob? A riot? Threat of fire, chaos and mayhem? She was a complete rock. And then came the bugs.. one after the other till an entire a sea of critters with entirely too many legs is all that she can pay any attention to. She lets out a strangled, undignified cry and her entire body stiffens. Did she just feel something crawl up her back? Did something just skitter across her leg? She does not move a muscle. Maybe if she stands completely still, they'll leave her alone.

Bugs? BUGS. Oh by all the Gods... Felicia can't help the shudder she gives... full bodied and full of disgust. A whole body twitch like for one second she absolutely wants to do the heebie dance and run for the hills. The desire is gut-checked with a brief squeezing of her eyes closed before she draws herself up to her full height and blows out a breathe. Freak out later, deal with more immediate problems now.

Torian is well known as a completely honest artisan merchant, but his wealth is likewise well known. With a riot loudly underway he's not the first to arrive, but when he shows up he brings another riot's worth of people with him. His people aren't rioting though, they arrive in a some-what organized group, men and woman of all ages dressed in everything from rags to the finer clothes associated with the more well off commoners of the Lowers. To a person, they have black sashes on their waists, or around their arms, or even as scarves.

The Cullers haven't turned out in force like this since the siege of the city during the silent war. Many appera to be armed with sticks and things of that sort, and if one were to believe the totally unfounded rumors criminal activities they might assume they're all armed even if you can't see it. Torian stops the flow of them with a raised fist, shouts some things, and then dozens upon dozens of Cullers start pushing into the crowd. They spread the word of charity backed with Torian's wealth to those who will listen, and those that are out for blood and won't listen to reason? They get bonks on the head as groups of Cullers try to drag them away. Those that aren't violent enough for head-bonking, but demanding more immediate compenation than the promise of charity start getting pushed / led / herded towards the Pravus Ward, away from their own neighborhood.

That is until the bugs show up. Then who the hell knows, and it's every man, woman, and child for themselves.

Merek checked command + medicine at difficulty 30, rolling 1 lower.

Ailith peers incredulously as the bugs swarm around her feet. She flicks open a satchel at her hip, drawing forth a vial of holy water. A muttered prayer while she converses with the mob, at least the hundred listening, and she dumps the water upon the vile fiends. Splish! Splash! With unheard shrieks, if a bug could, the swarm moves around the growing puddle!

Merek looks like he is about to speak, then all things seem to go crazy. He doesn't know what to do besides to try and assist with medical things, then even while he begins to do all that, centipedes come onto the equipment while he accidentally knocks a bit to the floor. He frowns a bit, then he mounts up onto the horse, "Physicians, I am going to set up triage in the hospital for when people are brought in from triage here," he says. Perhaps within this is just too much for him to focus on, whatever it is the man will do far more away from here than he could while in the place. Then he's off to set up with the hospital.

Chaos reigns. 300 Iron guard come marching down to the docks, setting the rioters into a panic of rage. "THEYS KILLING US!" Chants rise and fall, and several men move nearer the pitch barrels, but their rage seems to drain from them abruptly, heads bowing. "It's not fair. It just aint fair. We got nutthin'. The King does nothin'. We're starving." One looks to another and puts a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "This can all be over. Just drop your torch..." "Over?" "Yeah."

A massive army of Cullers arrive, and begin trying to herd the angriest of the rioters over towards the Low bridge, leading to the Ward of House Pravus. Several of them take heed, sending a group of forty or so that way, making themselves the problem of House Pravus. Poppy, due to her largess is being dragged off, deft hands attempting to relieve her of more than just the silver she is handing out. Acacia's efforts earn her a group of 10 or so that are paying attention, rather than fighting.

Mayir and Magpie's group of forty or so are milling about, and those listening to Valdemar are shaken out of doing so, as the pitch starts flying. Several of their brethern shout insults at them for "Bein' seduced by a fuckin' silk!" and they sheepishly shuffle their feet. They aren't fighting, but they are feeling ashamed for listening to the Grimhall Duke. As if to further widen the gap, more and more of the rioters are picking up horse dung and taking aim at the nobles, specifically. The only source of actual calm is building around Ailith, and even then, the people are genuinely distraught, wailing their pain to the Legate.

Jyri and his men get to the trapped IG who is roughed up and bleeding, but alive. Drake has been taking blow after blow, trying to protect Jyri's guards as best he can. Amund is still getting dogpiled and kicked while he's down.

Dycard is standing by the warehouse, the door nearly broken through, the frightened guards inside still trying to keep folks back. The combined efforts, however, are starting to splinter the mob-mentality. Too many things to focus on, too many distractions.

Jyri checked command + leadership at difficulty 25, rolling 31 higher.

Nanette checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 25, rolling 2 lower.

Matteo checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 25, rolling 8 lower.

Matteo checked charm + manipulation at difficulty 45, rolling 12 lower.

Rodica checked command + leadership at difficulty 25, rolling 27 higher.

Poppy checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 23 lower.

Thea checked command + leadership at difficulty 25, rolling 33 higher.

Rukhnis checked composure + empathy at difficulty 40, rolling 5 higher.

Silas checked command + ride at difficulty 30, rolling 1 lower.

Thea checked command + leadership at difficulty 30, rolling 14 higher.

Fortunato checked charm + propaganda at difficulty 30, rolling 5 higher.

Ezra checked perception + occult at difficulty 15, rolling 6 higher.

Amund checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.

Lucene checked command + leadership at difficulty 30, rolling 34 higher.

Drake checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 20, rolling 45 higher.

Ailith checked charm + empathy at difficulty 15, rolling 40 higher.

Poppy checked charm + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 60 higher. Poppy rolled a critical!

Reaching the trapped Iron Guard, the phalanx is quick to get him into the center - he's bruised and dizzy but will survive. "Alright, let's move to get our hostaged man out!" he commands his troup with determination and focus. He spots some people fighting, realising they're literally helping him and his phalanx so he steers their way, calling out; "Hey! You two, join in with us!" The soldiers move as one, covering each others, weapons drawn but not used to attack anyone - there's some shoving and warnings, and a lot of bug crunching, but they're managing to stay calm and not make things worse.

Having done his part to rile up the masses, Mayir hops down off of his boxes and just shakes his head. "Gods dammit," he mutters to Magpie. "I /told/ them we needed to ..." But then the creepy crawlies emerge and his eyes go wide, shouting at his diligent account manager, Pete, to come with him. "I /told/ them ..." What else he says is drowned out by the crowd and his departure.

Pete, a Grayhope account manager leaves, following Mayir.

Valdemar checked perception + war at difficulty 30, rolling 36 higher. Valdemar rolled a critical!

Poppy is being pulled away with the crowd. It's fine. Totally fine. Just breathe. Nope. The panic is setting in and Poppy shouts, the fear clear in her voice. "Stop! I have no more. Please stop." The tears spring to her eyes as more and more people tug at her.

Poppy twists in an effort to get free and all she manages to do is get further entrapped as she's hauled deeper into the warehouse district. She screams as loud as her little prodigal lungs let her. She screams so loud that the ones closest to her cover their ears and she's released for just a moment.

Fabulist GM Roll checked dexterity(4) + brawl(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.

Fabulist GM Roll checked dexterity(4) + brawl(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 15 higher.

Fabulist GM Roll checked dexterity(4) + brawl(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 33 higher.

Torian checked perception + streetwise at difficulty 25, rolling 30 higher.

24 inflicted and Matteo is harmed for serious damage.

The horsemen follow their Lord Commander's instructions well enough, smashing no small amount of invading bugs underneath the hooves of their steeds. Unfortunately, a few rioters proceed to surge forward against them and hooves meet soft peasant body parts as well. Not intentionally, but that doesn't really matter, does it? Silas grunts in frustration and wheels his horse around to join them and assist with herding personally. Not the brightest idea even by his own estimation, but he's compelled to try.

Fortunato calls out over the crowd. Bereft of coin, he must resort to other kinds of bribery. "I will -- uh! Convert Imperial Innovations to a soup -- kitchen?" Good gods, does he know what soup is? "It is also a bar? There are drinks?" The mention of bars and drinks draws him a new crowd. 30-worth. Asking for directions. And alcohol. Overwhelmed, the artist calls out, "Common ward, some lane or the other. Gods. Follow me!" And he disperses so that others may disperse with him.

Ugarte leaves, following Fortunato.

With all the chaos, and the fact that he is soaked with pitch himself, Valdemar begins a steady, tactical withdrawal, moving away from any sources of flame as best he can without exposing himself to attack, shuddering at the sight of the swarm of bugs all the while. Doing his best to focus through his revulsion, he looks around as he moves, seeking some way to deal with the masses of centipedes: a sources they are coming from, a place where they are massing together, anything that might give those fighting against them some advantage. As he finds his footing and takes up a defensive stance, he seems to focus in a particular direction.

15 inflicted and Matteo is harmed for moderate damage.

Thea straightens now, lifting her fingers to her lips, Thea blows out a sharp whistle, hoping to grab the attention of all those gathered, mostly the medics. Lifting her voice, the Malvici lifts her voice about the in a commanding voice,"Hey! Excuse me! If we could start getting those injured and bleeding over this way, it'd be appreciated! Thanks!"

Drake checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 40, rolling 3 higher.

Matteo's fight over his rum bottle with the sailors ends abruptly as his gaze slides towards the rioters being directed towards the Ward of House Pravus. He doesn't even say goodbye, as he turns abruptly and starts pushing and running where he can, just to barely catch up to the rioters as they reach Low Bridge. He's winded, but he puts on a charming smile as he calls out, "Look. Look, people. You do not want to go there." He gestures towards the ward. "They're just going to kill you, the Pravus don't take insults lightly. How about you take this bottle of rum instead?" He offers out the rum he was fighting over just a moment ago. The men closest to him look at each other, look at him. Then, they fall on him. It is fists and then feet as the Pravus prince falls to the ground. To add insult to injury, they take the bottle of rum even after leaving him a bloody mess, turning back to cross into Pravus' ward.

The swarm stops. As quickly as they appeared, the insects suddenly disperse. In a thousand different directions, to a thousand different places, they all go. They all crawl away. They all vanish. There's not really the sense of retreat about it. Simply a ceasing. The settling of a storm. Or the eye of one.

Drake, on orders, starts moving into the phalanx properly to regroup with Jyri. He's good at following orders when they're given, and gets himself into position standing back to back with a member of the guard. His sword blows are concentrating on the bugs now... and he's not pulling them for a second, striking as many as he can with the blood-red edge of his rubicund sword... though there may be too many for simple blade chops to strike. Fighting a wave of insects is not like fighting a man - they are small, wily, small targets that are difficult to stab with a long blade. But Drake slices through a few, killing some of the wave and slashing a larger insect straight in half, its ichor on his blade. Then... something disperses them.

Drake, his sword still held out and gripped tightly, very much doubts he had anything to do with it. But at least the guard seems to be in fighting form still.

Despite the fact that the situation has devolved swiftly into still more chaos than at the start, and also despite the fact of having been swarmed by disgusting bugs from out of nowhere, Rukhnis somehow manages not only to regain her calm, but to impart a fraction of it to some of those in crowd suddenly stricken by melancholy. Turning her attention to them, she passes her dark eyes across each one in turn, however many of them her gaze can reach, and speaks to them in a low tone of empathy that somehow manages to carry.

"Please," she tells them. "You know that this is not going to change anything, except for the worse. I know you are suffering. I /know/." She clearly does know: despite the calm she's managed to draw around herself, her voice has the depth of a terrible understanding sorrow in it. "Omer," she goes on, looking at one man in particular who must be familiar to the Eurusi woman. "You know me. You should not be here, you know that. What will your son do if something should happen to you here, and you cannot even work? I will do whatever for you that I can -- all of you -- though I know it is not enough, there is never enough that I can do -- but please. You must go home. You must end all this, and then we must try something new tomorrow. But not this. Never this. Please."

Whether the men and women she's speaking to are truly listening to each word that she says, perhaps there's something simply in the sound of her voice itself that convinces them. The man with the torch begins to lower it, to let it drop -- and Rukhnis catches it, taking it from his hand.

Ailith focuses on those closest and are listening in order to continue the semblance of calm in the thick of such rioting. Her eyes meet every face, nodding and greeting by name those known, even if it does get lost in the din. "It is not fair when a blight struck me. And now a whirlpool has cut-off even your livelihoods and means to afford the care needed for your families. It IS not fair." She tries to mentally recall those around. "It is never fair when you're hungry and poor. I will speak to His Majesty. I will use the Faith resources to lend aid. I need your help to do this before the rioting causes more to be hurt." Her eyes and chin gesture at those already being harmed by the scuffle and being run over. "Food is coming. I will find you jobs, even if it's at another port temporarily. The Guildmasters are finding ways to make things more affordable, too. By the gods, I will find a way. Please help me." She looks worriedly at the people she's cared over the years, her old parishioners. "Help your friends and family. I will see that you're fed tonight."

Joslyn checked strength + athletics at difficulty 30, rolling 13 higher.

"Good Gods. Matteo. This is not Setarco. Don't threaten angry mobs." Vanora shouts at her brother over the crowd, but then he vanishes beneath it.

10 inflicted and Nanette is unharmed.

Sydney checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 30, rolling 34 higher.

Ras checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 30, rolling 107 higher. Ras rolled a critical!

At this point, Amund has scant few options but join up with the Iron Guardsmen phalanx, this time drawing his sword to fend off any attacks that may yet break through the shield wall. The blade itself is a bit of an oddity, but it's what he has on hand. That besides, he's making his way to the warehouse with the Guardsmen, setting his jaw. Stomping a dead bug just a little more as he locks into step with them. "Thank you," he says, to Jyri, a sliver of blood running down his brow.

When she finally regains her composure, Sydney grits her teeth and notes the swath of jumpy guardsman starting to move into action. There's not much she can do in order to ensure that everyone stays /calm/, but what she sure as hell can do is start making sure that no one decides to directly confront them. The situation hasn't fully calmed, and people are a still a bit punchy about being marched through, and Sydney is there every step of the way, tugging an arm here, unbalancing someone there, hissing, "It's not worth dying over, sister!"

"Clear the way! You'll get trampled! Move, move!" Keeping the peace as best she can while remaining on the side of the common man.

The arrival of Torian and a large group of the Culler Crew in force bring a grin to the redhead's face and she is suddenly bolstered. A kiss is blown Torian's way and she grins all the more. "Now we have it ye! Get the wee bastards," Acacia grins as one bug and then another meets it's death with a satisfying crunch under her tall leather boots. "Aye, that's it. Crush them all! Rori! Jack! Someone one play us a godddess lovin' tune," Acacia shouts out with wild delight as her compose apparently gives way to a perhaps an overly impassioned embrace of bug slaying. "Play us a fucking jig so we can dance with them ALL and send them home to the Abyss!" Most of the crowd may not listen and not help, but fuck it, the redhead looks like she's having fun at least.

Ezra pushes through the crowds as the bugs just skitter and scurry. He leaves his arms mainly to his side and makes himself as narrow as possible, ever pushing towards the docks themselves. It's not an immediate process to get through this many people and when he reaches there, he stops to look over the water slowly, looking this way and that. His eyes narrow and he seems like he's processing something, maybe a touch too slowly.

Auda checked dexterity + small wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 41 higher.

Torian isn't as far down hill as the bulk of the bugs and rioters but there's bugs everywhere so he clambers up onto crate or a barrel or something that lets him get his eyes over the crowed. He holds his ax up to his brow, blocking light to help him focus on the crowd. Even in the chaos of bugs and brawling, he's able to spot out a little nest of vipers in the form of some unreasonable rabble rousers. He points this group out and starts making irregular hand gestures while shouting things at the Cullers closest to him. They push into the crowd and spread word to other black-sash wearing Cullers, though bug stomping seems to be primary in everybody's mind. The bugs retreat, if bugs do such things, and the little group of Cullers snowballs and starts to try to encircle the area Torian's pointing out.

Auda checked dexterity + small wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 31 higher.

Felicia checked command + leadership at difficulty 30, rolling 6 lower.

Nanette seems to snap out of the shock - or rather, the horrible swarm of bugs starts to disperse and rather than taking a moment to compose herself, the young Scholar turns around on her heels and dashes for the nearest exit, moving north. She, unfortunately, does not get far - apparently she's not the only one who's decided to go that way in a panic, and she doesn't exactly have the brawn to shove her way through the crowds. So, it's perhaps no surprise when she yelps out and crashes to the ground.

Hey, at least the ground is not filled with bugs to get her face full of anymore? Must. Remain. Optimistic.

Once the Duchess Grimhall's brief interlude of screaming at her blood kin, she returns her focus to the crowd. Pale green eyes note Valdemar's tactical withdrawal, but she doesn't follow him just yet. Instead her voice rises in song once more. This one isn't quite as sorrowful, but rather calming. Perhaps even inspiring, and if it is aimed to inspire anything it is independent thought. Why follow the chaos of the mob, when one can be so much better? The tune is haunting and beautiful, and the crowd within hearing distance stop shouting to hear more. Then stop shouting at all. They grow quiet, calm, pensive. And more put down their torches.

Fabulist GM Roll checked dexterity(4) + brawl(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 22 higher.

44 inflicted and Felicia is harmed for minor damage.

Dycard checked perception at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

Matteo's breathless, pained groan is likely unheard over the crowd. Even if it were, it comes out more of a guttural noise than any actual words as he tries to defend, "I wasn't threatening, I was warning."

Dycard does not look the part of the noble, clutching his hip with sticky pitch staining the man's clothes and a clod of dried horse dung clinging to his cloak. Nevertheless, he sets himself to work, firstly ordering the terrified guards in the warehouse to pile up and start handing out food parcels. As they prepare to do this, he strides up to one of the sailors six inches taller than him, collects the burning torch from the man's hands, and instructs him to /help./

"Right. You, you and you - with me. There's enough food for all, but only if it's handed out orderly-like, alright? Do this right, and nobody gets hurt and everyone gets full bellies. Now come on - lend me a hand, and keep people away from the doors."

Somehow, his calm, calculated tone and aura of command /works,/ for the sailors transition from angry, to sullen, to dumbfounded - and then obedient. Within a few minutes, Dycard has several pairs of hands helping hand out parcels to the starving commoners, with the bigger and tougher ones keeping something resembling a queue running. More or less. The corsair does glance up sharply as he hears a woman's scream on the opposite side of the crowd, but his gaze scans the crowd and to his clear consternation, can't find the source.

Magpie checked charm + occult at difficulty 40, rolling 11 lower.

The ships are safe, the others will catch on soon enough. And the shock of the cenipdes is over. And so Rodica takes a look around, gazing over with a passive face at what is happening. The fights, the anger, the words. She has been here all before, seen it all. And so the words come from her mouth.

"Iasu starves..."

These people will not. And Rodica solves her problems now in the same way she always has. Her hand raises, pointing at one of the near rioters. "Wich warehouses have the food?" A moments waiting to get a response, then a nod.

"Lord Drake! Lord Dycarc! I need a gods damned security detail and a half orderly fucking queue. Absent merchants can take it up with /me/ later."

Fabulist GM Roll checked perception(2) + streetwise(4) at difficulty 30, rolling 13 higher.

Once his initial rage-horror at the bug stampede is past, Ras returns focus to the rioting - his boots still crunching insects here and there are he darts and dodges around. He sees the hooves hitting soft peasant bodies and runs that way, seemingly with the same intention as Sydney, and manages to drag and shove a few people to safety with swift and dramatic efficiency.

"Go here, speak with Axelle, she will see you fed!" Felicia's endeavouring to call to those closest to her, trying to encourage people to disperse from the docks. Shoo. Shoo here. Those closest to her don't appear to be listening given the way that one of the ones she's trying to get moving decides to turn around and clock her one square across the face.

Moving alongside the rest of the Iron Guard, Joslyn begins to push through the crowd. Really it's a simple matter and Joslyn is a lot stronger than she looks, her glance is filled with venom and determination, which is a bit offset by her face every time she spots a bug that gets just a little too close, as she grimaces. No, she just keeps moving forward, there is more going on that she has to try to fix. The pins are in hand and she's ready to fight if need be, but so far... so far she's managed to avoid any direct violence, but for how long she wonders.

Magpie sees Mayir and Fortunato are both retreating and the people around them are at least putting their trust in the words of the Grayhope family. "Just.. get out of here." The man says in a hiss to the people around him, a near-panicked expression on his face. Even as the bugs suddenly recede, the man looks rattled and has lost all of his nerve and bluster he usually shows, and sinks back against a wall while muttering under his breath. He looks around with a sudden sharpness, grimacing as a shiver runs through him.

Auda moves quickly at the mouth of the alley, now that she's shaken off her horror. Blue rose hairpins are pulled form her sandy brown hair, and the slender alchemist stabs at any bugs near her. She manages to skewer about a dozen, perhaps a few more, before they all start to scatter. She's silent as she works at extermination, but she is definitely concerned.

Thea has been leading those wounded and broken toward the Clinic,"Yes. This way. Don't make me have to yell some more. Oh-yes. That's a nice black eye you'll have,"she notes. Gods above--

As the food warehouse is opened, and parcels are being passed out, that gets attention. Several clusters have already been dispersed, some running from the bugs, others being directed elsewhere, like the Pravus Ward, or Fortunato's shop. The Grayhope contingent is talking about silks buying food and it looks like it's actually happening. Felicia's aide comes back with a handcart filled with meatpies and rolls from the Murder of Crows, and the poor girl is instantly swarmed by grabby hands trying to take as much as they can. The Iron Guard do a lot of bug stomping, but a couple of them accidentally stomp on some of the people, rising angry and pained cries and dirty looks as if they think it was done on purpose. Silas gets pelted with some hot horse dung. It's pretty gross. Poppy manages to get away from that cluster of child-nappers, and Nanette is not trampled, when one of the burly steveadores sees her huddled on the ground and picks her up.

Rukhnis' words seem to calm the solem men, and she is able to collect their torches to keep the pitch from being lit. There are still some angry people, glowering and glaring, but with the bugs doing their vanishing act as the final distraction, the riot -- for now -- seems to have calmed. But this is one night of food. How long til this happens again?


"Aye, my Lady," Drake says, standing straight up right and keeping in order with the guards. "Form an orderly--!" Well, no, they're doing it all right, the riot is more or less over. But Drake is trying. He sheathes his sword.


Poppy is finally free of the crowd. Her trinkets and money gone, her dress torn and marks across her face and arms which will blossom into glorious bruises over the next few days. Seeing that it's calming, she slips out past the hungry crowds and makes her way for the clinic. Ready for the next wave that will be coming.

Felicia gets 10000 silver from Dance of Skulls cincture and sword belt.

With the chaos now seeming to come under control, Valdemar shakes his head and leaves the dockyard.

5 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor, Vladimir, a shaggy brindle Grim Wolfhound leave, following Valdemar.

Dycard yells over the crowd at Rodica, "I can't exactly bring the warehouse to you, my Lady - you sort out the-- oi, no shoving-- you sort out the security!" In the front lines, the man is all but buried by eager commoners, but he manages to keep upright, passing parcels of food out, forcing people back if they try to grab seconds, and so on.

With the torch-bearers and some of their companions at least dispersing, and others among the crowd calming into subdued sullenness, Rukhnis continues to try to shepherd people out of the area as gently and convincingly as possible, as well as joining Thea in directing to the clinic those who have sustained any kind of injury. Thankfully most of these seem to have been fairly minor, but it's still going to be a very busy night -- another one -- at the clinic.

With the insects coming out of the way, Lucene is able to focus again. First she takes a look at the 'battlefield', glancing around to see the crowd is also going away. The Gilden sighs, rolls her shoulders and is on her way back to The Gambit, time for another nap.

Matteo remains curled up near the Low Bridge. He has managed to push himself into a seated position, teeth gritted against the effort and his arms wrapped around himself. He's not going anywhere quickly, but at least the danger to further injury has passed.

Jyri isn't done here - him and the other guards stays to help in the aftermath, protect those that start handing out food and help get wounded moved to the nearest hospitals. Covered in pitch, Jyri doesn't let this stop him, but he seeks out the Lord Commander Silas after awhile.

Sydney is in the habit of distributing dirty looks to some of the nobility who she clearly seems to think acted overzealously, eyes narrowed. Still, she doesn't escalate past the point of stink-eyeing. "That could have been so, so much worse than it was, but for the grace of the gods."

The crowd disperses, and Vanora can no longer locate her husband within it. She /can/ locate her brother, and walks over to him, holding out an arm to help him up. "Come with me, I'll patch you up. I cannot believe you were almost trampled to death on your fifth day in the city." A pause. "Actually I can, which is an issue."

Silas checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 3 higher.

As the riot calms, Ras steps back and glances at Silas with a glower (apparently he's one of those that think maybe the hoof-stomping was on purpose), and then shifts to find Sydney again. He bumps her with a shoulder and then looks over at Rukhnis to wave. There's insect ichor all over his boots but the Eurusi woman gets a relieved smile nonetheless.

Oh thank the Gods for Axelle. Felicia presses the heel of her hand to her head with a glare at the one who struck her but rather than retaliate goes to join her valet and hand out food to help at least solve one of the current problems. Her green eyes flickering over their surrounds looking for further evidence of bugs, but focused for now on at least getting people fed and dispersed for the moment.

Ailith releases an unsteady breath as she notices the crowds are lightening and the people around her share, listen, and cooperate. "The shrine of Gild and all our charities in the Lowers are open. Bring your families. Eat for the night. The godsworn will listen and I will carry your word direct to the King." She carefully uses her holy water drenched kerchief to sweep up a bug, then tucks away for disposal. Her evening is filled and there's a council to tend to.

Nanette mutters a sheepish 'thank you' to the kind stevedore that helps her back on her feet and out of the way of the rapidly dispersing crowds, where she takes a moment to just.. breathe and collect her rattled nerves while taking stock of the damages. There doesn't seem to be much attention paid to objects so much as people.. where-- where. Ah! Spotting Rodica and Dycard shouting at each other, the Scholar wraps her arms around her midriff and makes her way over.

Magpie slowly calms down, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he lingers for a while, watching over the people, the guards, the boats at the dock, making sure the bugs aren't coming back. The things. Then he remembers he sent a lot of folks towards the Murder and should probably make sure the place doesn't get ransacked. He slinks off deeper into the Lowers to return to the inn.

Silas slowly exhales as he senses the chaos slowly dissipating. "Dismount, assist with transporting the injured to the Commons," he commands the bug-stomping guardsmen. He wheels around once again, back to the footmen. "Shields down. Assist where needed." He fails to notice the incoming hot poo due to Jyri's approach, and it splatters over his rubicund armor. His irritation clearly grows, but remains composed. As composed as a poo-covered man can be. "You alright?" He directs Jyri's way. "It looks like we might need to do some bug collecting..."

Ezra turns away from looking at the whirlpool and then scans around the area as the people slowly gather in their food and he makes a lask scan for any bugs, anything squished not too badly or alive but, with this mass it is highly unlikely.

Zavi leaves, following Magpie.

Dame Marra, a limping fennec fox, Disciple Ismay, 3 Templar Knight guards leave, following Ailith.

"I don't expect things like it being impossible to stop you Lord Dycard!" Rodica responds, and without the jest that normally accompanies her voice. It is given as an order, a command, before her eyes turn to Nanette. "Mistress Nanette, you are good with numbers are you not? I need an inventory and a fair market price on the food in this entire district. Then bloody halve it." A nod. "Lord Drake, thank you."

Something about Ras's wave manages to catch Rukhnis's attention despite the size and confusion of the crowd, and she blinks in surprise -- evidently she hadn't even realized the street rat was there. She looks back at him for a long moment, lets out a long slow exhalation, and nods back to him before shooing a few more limping people off in the direction of the clinic.

"Even worse, I lost your friend's, Marquessa Iseulet's, gift that she sent me, welcoming me to the city," breathes Matteo out in a pained laugh as he looks up to his sister with a crooked, forced smile. He accepts her help to his feet, little yelps of pain and quiet 'fuck's punctuating his movement. He will let himself get directed towards some medical care.



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