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Post by Nadia on Oct 10, 2019 12:56:28 GMT -6
Nadia would have been intimidated by the harshness of the woman's voice in any other scenario, but it was dampened by the chaos going on around them. At first, it continued to be lost on her as she glanced around, trying to discern the source of the problem - and then, like a nightmare, it materialised. The noise, the motion, and-- blood. She could see blood, on the fangs of that Estharne. Those people prone on the ground, were they...?
Her whole body was rigid with tension. It took enormous effort to even uncurl her fingers from her hood, and the joints were stiff, aching with how hard she'd gripped the fabric.
"How...?" She didn't expect an answer. "Oh, no..."
That was it. In terror, she turned and ran; what a coward she was, what a child, but oh, she couldn't bear it. Had she not come to the city to be away from those things? The mammalian and the Faeron and everything else was forgotten in an instant in favour of getting away. All she could do was her best not to slam into anyone or get thrown by the escaping masses. There was no guarantee of that, though, almost blinded as she was by panicked tears - and an errant foot in the wrong place had her tumbling to the ground.
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Post by Jack on Oct 10, 2019 13:07:18 GMT -6
Jack stared at the retreating undulate for a moment, briefly considering following her, but she looked down at her bag full of items and her pouch of nodes and charged into the area where the screams were coming from. She snarled a little and held her hand out, light emitting from it for a moment or two at the Estharne, not enough to knock it out, but enough to make it think twice, or at least she hoped that was going to be true. "Who's Estharne??" she barked as she skidded to a stop next to an unconscious figure. The woman checked for a pulse, faint and thready, but there, and started to pull bottles and bandages out of her bag. This was what she had trained for, this kind of thing entirely, it was what she wanted to be good at she knew, and she was going to be damned if she wasn't going to live up to her expectations of herself. The rest could run, she would stay if she was needed.
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Post by Flare on Oct 10, 2019 13:57:23 GMT -6
Not be here. That was enough. Flare backs up as the bird-person talks to the four legged bird and they ride away. Just their tail and cloak to be seen as they disappear. But the ssashirk isn't stupid enough to stick around a panicking crowd. His soldier training tells him he should stay and assist, but his brain violently kicks into the thought {by how?!} True enough, he had no power, no protective creatures guarding his self, and no weaponry. It was time to leave. He backed off further as the... horse-person with stripes riding a tall bird on two legs with no wings came screaming down the alley. Move was a word he did understand in common. Especially when shouted. He might run into others along the way, but once the riders were through, the drake continued on his way to the library, joining the throng but he would have a hard time avoiding being knocked flat. At least three people stomped on his tail in process of getting to the library steps. Screaming about 'essstharne', whatever that was. Hissing audibly with tears edging his eyes, Flare chose to stay in the library the rest of the day. Assumingly, alarmed people would be fleeing out into here. 4.20
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Post by Civil War NPC on Oct 12, 2019 15:41:37 GMT -6
General: The crowd is torn apart, pieces fleeing every which way possible until only a few remain. Now the extent of the damage can be seen, pools and puddles and streaks of blood to be stepped in as the folks who chose to stay move through them. A few last fights end, a ssashirk holding two felusine by the throat as she apologizes to a lop mammalian, their white hide speckled with bits of blood and tiny wounds, a humanish with blood seeping through a holed pant leg pulling an improvised stake from a vulticus as a human yells at them for "hurting my Will!"
A gray furred wolf organizing those who stayed to assist with taking the seriously injured to a cart as a one armed ssashirk kicks the signs left within it to the ground as the first make it there. Those able to be treated and move on their own would be, those who could not would lay in the cart and be driven to the healer. A heavily scarred avian, patches of feathers missing but the faded color of the wounds suggesting they were caused long before the protest, tears apart any clothing they get their hands on to bind wounds and shout down anyone trying to force their way to their feet or pull out something sticking out of an arm or leg. They talk to everyone in Common, keeping up a steady stream of insults and profanities relating to the protestors as they do so.
Flare:
Not a huge amount of folks swarmed into the library after the events outside the Hunting Lodge, but the few that had would quickly spread news of the panic and what it meant in their opinion. In manly languages, though Common naturally was the most common, word of what happened spread, events twisting and rumors born as individuals came up with theories and false memories on what occurred. A rare few glare at Flare, one wondering aloud if he was a ssashirk or some custom or crossbreed, but none directly confront him. Most instead take steps to avoid him, as if afraid he might suddenly turn feral, making the library into a repeat of the violence outside.
Jack: Many that could flee did, some limping away with injuries they were trying to ignore as others who suffered barely the slightest scratch fled screaming with all the haste they could manage. A rare few stayed as Jack did, attending to those pets and owners that were scattered around the grounds. The estharne flinched from the bright light, eyes narrowing, but did not flee. The form beneath it stirred, mumbling something and patting the paw of the big cat. At that, the estharne took a few steps away from the thickly furred individual with glacial slowness. watching as they pushed themselves up on their elbows to admit, "G-gif's mine." Their slitted eyes seems unfocused as they speak, head nodding as if holding up an extreme weight as they say, "It's okay, Giffy" before slumping back down to the ground. There is no response from them as the estharne mews, but makes no move to move back on top of them. Though it might hiss if someone approached the peron it had guarded, it would now do nothing more threatening than that.
Jack would find most of those left more than willing to help or be helped, one or two trying to shrug off any help even as they struggled to move around on their own. The angry avian would not find much fault with her work, and would mostly leave her alone.
Haix: No one attempts to stop Haix as she makes her attempt to escape the scattered individuals that could no longer be rightfully called a crowd. Few pay any attention to another person fleeing the emptying street, and no one directly calls out to her as she passes.
Nadia: Unfortunately, falling to the ground as a mob attempts to flee is not merely risky but a near guarantee that the one who fell will be trampled. Fortunately, what remains of the crowd is little enough the most would make an effort to avoid those fallen. What was a slynk that happens to be laying nearby her was not so lucky, it's grey furred body intact while where it's head should have been there was a mess that looked like nothing more than a smashed melon. An elderly humanish, feathers sprouting from his gray temples and sides of his jaw, wearing a black suit that wouldn't have looked much better if it was not torn and covered in dirt and flecks of blood, pauses in his less than speedy stroll after the others to ask, "Are you alright?"
He would offer to help if she would need it, else he would wander over to the slynk and take it back to the cart instead.
((Thread is done. Feel free to post one more time for general closure within three days if you would like, but no penalty shall be applied if you do not.))
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Post by Alma on Oct 12, 2019 17:13:46 GMT -6
Battered and bruised, Haix breaks free of where the crowd used to be with a quiet chirp. Her foot ached, a result of some idiot wearing a foot-covering stepping on it, said idiot escaping any retaliation by going back towards what was left of the crowd. With no individuals, soft-skin or otherwise, within a few feet of her and no more pets to dodge around and risk more visible injury than the limp she was suppressing, she was rather happy to just be out of it.
She briefly paused to watch from a safer distance away, watching the soft-skins and the like helping their kind that had fallen, considering whether or not she could get away with snagging one of the fallen creatures for a snack. She was rather hungry after being thrown around in the swarm. Deciding against it, she shook her head and briskly left for her kennel. She had more important things to do than watch some soft-skins get healed.
((Level counted.))
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Post by Nadia on Oct 13, 2019 12:29:05 GMT -6
Nadia shouldn't have turned her head.
Hitting the ground with a thump knocked the wind from her, and catching her head on a paving stone sent a shock of pain racing through her skull, but the adrenaline and fear seemed to be numbing her senses - she could hardly focus on it. It was nothing. No, what mattered was getting away, as quickly as she could, she needed to get away from there--
Then, she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye, the body of a creature, and her impulse was to look, to see if she could help. To find that it was beyond all semblance of salvation cut her to her core. Its head... what had happened to its head?!
Even when the gentleman spoke to her and offered help, which she accepted to get her to her feet, her gaze was glued to it. The lifeless, grey body. Did she even pardon herself before darting away? No; no words would come out, not even a sound.
When she reached the next block over, she stopped at the corner, and retched.
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Post by Flare on Oct 13, 2019 13:10:25 GMT -6
The ssashirk spent his afternoon in the library, picking books almost absent-mindedly. He'd located a few in Tumai, so every one he could carry sat on the desk he'd made his own for the time being. A few on types of birds and 'aveeean'? And one on ssashirk. The glowers and glares and heated comments told behind hands. He did look different from every other ssashirk that he'd seen. None had wings as he did, useless as they were. This book, written in Common, but accented in Ssakash, mentioned once or twice of a mutation of very small wings every few generations of cliff dwelling ssa. Never big enough to fly with, and those foolish enough to try did not live long. There was a book on winged lizards, and he picked that one too. There. It was under a strange species genre, but... He had to repeat the name back to himself at least twice. He'd heard it before. Lashak. Where had he heard it... the dragon in the canyon, with the fascination of staring into glass marbles. He repeatedly called him a lashak. But Flare was not a lashak. He didn't look like the picture. For one thing these things had the wings to fly, and a different build of the face then his long slender snout. More then a bit confused, Flare closed the book on winged lizards and picked up the book about birds and bird...not bird people. He could hear the muffled whispers and gossips; sound carries well in a library. 8.20
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