Thieves in the Dark [Open!]

[Maddyn]

Timestamp: Just after Midnight, Late Summer. Era XI.

It was a nice and relatively peaceful evening. Throughout Riparia there was a pleasant lull occupied primarily by the fact it was several candlemarks after midnight and so very few people actually occupied the streets. Naturally, this was all just a farce for what was going on in the very heart of the city given that as good as any city watch or military was there was always someone with less than honourable intentions just felt inclined, duty-bound to make the world a much more interesting place. If it happened to involve several alchemic concoctions and failing that several bottles of alcohol, some rags and a tinder and flint - then so much the better. Which was to say that for all it being a nice and peaceful evening - that was a very short lived ideal.

"You finished there?" came a gruff voice, well into it's late fourties and pushing fifty at the least. The kind of voice associated with someone who'd gone through life shouting at people as only a Drill Sergeant could.
Which prompted the response from the second voice. Serene, composed and dignified, the owner had cast all this aside to cast his companion a rather irritated glance as his eyes were rolled to the heavens as if to ask for just a moments respite. "You're five minutes late already, just get on with it Lorian." Definetely an Elf.
This naturally only prompted an undignified grunt of dissapproval at pointing out that singular fact the one known as Lorian could've well done without.

Two figures outside the Co7, illuminated by the burning rags the pair held. The one on the right was slender though perhaps just a little more wide at the shoulders than a Medonian Elf which was perfectly fine given that he was one of the Nimalni. Grey leggings, grey boots and a swathe of grey cloaks wrapped about his body. About five foot five in height. Khalonderial 'Nightingale' Tindomerel. The other figure was decidedly more round though generally in the way that muscle tended to turn to fat when they got older. Five foot was perhaps pushing it, though there was a certain impression that the man was almost wider than he was tall. A simple guardsman's uniform for this man with a travelling cloak and hood obscuring his face. Vincent Lorian Heldenhammer.

The taller of the pair dropped the rag, negligently casting it to the ground before turning and sprinting. A word inappropriate for general conversation was uttered by the shorter of the duo before he too spun and dropped the rag.

Two trails of flame dancing across the ground, the two soldiers making a hasty withdrawl.

And then the night decidedly decided that it'd had quite enough of peaceful and would like to have a go at exciting or mind numbingly dangerous as several well placed kegs of an exotic powder from Midpoint, stored in Alleria Prime and then used in the demolition processes regarding certain aspects of Frigid River before finding it's way to Riparia and being put to good use. It was a safe assumption that both the soldiers knew what honourable meant. They just tended to think of it as rules that other people could obey if it made them feel better. Each powder ignited, a deafening roar filling the entire city as the foundations of the Co7 found themselves all but destroyed in seconds. Strategically placed within the Institute - the roof itself started to come down first before the walls decided to go and join the rest of the establishment.

Within minutes the Co7 would be little more than debris but in the meantime that didn't prevent the reality that now there was a fire within the heart of Riparia itself.

[Xanta'Kun]

It was late night, or early morning depending on how one looked at it, and Xanta was still up. The last few stragglers were still finishing their drinks or lay passed out on the bar or their respective tables. Xanta stood at the counter, wiping out a tankard with a cloth. He smiled to another patron as they staggered out the door, then put the tankard on its rack, and picked up another dirty one. All in all it was a very quiet night, the kind of night that seemed to be stilled by the stifling heat of late summer.

Very suddenly and unexpectedly, the night was interrupted by a massive flame, quickly followed by a boom that was undeniably ominous. Xanta had only heard one such explosion before, and he prayed to the gods that this hadn't happened in Riparia. The three remaining patrons were abruptly awake and somewhat sobered, and they all scurried out without a coherent word. With all his customers gone, Xanta took off, locking the Inn up behind him.

It didn't take any supernatural abilities to see where the explosion had originated. Even with his poor Thelyri eyesight he could make out the smoldering remains of the Circle of Seven in the distance. His heart sank. He had made friends with a few of the teachers there. He sincerely hoped they had made it out alive. He supposed this also put a hiatus on his dual swords lessons. Cursing to himself, he took off at a dead run, hoping there was something he could do. Somehow he didn't think there was, but he'd help however he could.

As he rounded a corner into the plaza that used to contain the Circle, he stopped in shock. Nothing stood, not even the magnificent statues that used to ring the great hall. Huge flames leapt up to the night sky, clearly illuminating everything in the plaza. Since there was no hope of saving the building, Xanta supposed his first priority would be to put this fire out. But how? Several possibilities flitted through his mind, none of them too plausible. Then one stuck. The RMC would undoubtedly have several tons of dirt and rock lying about. If they could haul some up, it would be faster than trying to use water.

Whatever his course of action would be, he needed help. Xanta turned from the ruined building and started looking for help.

[Hsin]

Explosions in general occurred only rarely in the life of Hsin Zhou. The short Kemite ambling without direction through the darkened streets of Riparia was well versed in the spells and theories of Mysticism; a sphere very much antithetical to the destruction-causing, explosion happy Sphere of Elementalism. His only experience in the field of arcanic explosions occurred during his apprenticeship in Demios, when his master had taken him on a field trip to watch a Journeyman Elementalist practice. Nor did he indulge himself in the idle (and oftimes dangerous) hobbies of the rich and the noble. Alchemy, with its endless stream of lab equipment and tardy results, hardly caught his fancy. Though lighting a keg of gunpowder underneath the offices of a certain few officials was sometime awfully tempting. Nor did the young journeyman indulge in proverbial explosions. He had no formal training in the usage and pitfalls of the Articles of the Imperium, though as Exquecher he could create untold agony with an audit or a sudden local jump in taxes. Though he practiced the martial arts frequently, the young man was hardly capable of exploding into a whirlwind of action. After all, it usually wasn’t worth the trouble. As for music, he had learned long ago to leave that family of skills to his younger sisters. Maybe some day in the far future, when he grew grey and old, he would learn to play the violin and force the nearest elementalist to drop a meteor on his head for the sake of humanity. Explosions in particular, or at least this particular explosion, disagreed very much with Hsin’s temperament. The young human had traveled hard from the capitol of Primus Gaudeo, slipping through the gates of the city shortly before they closed for the evening. His purpose in the city was largely a mission of curiosity, a desire to see the sights and examine the economy of the province’s second largest economy. Now that Zerdagria had been laid to waste, at any rate.

Sequestering his luggage safely in the upper room of an inn, the Kemite found himself with little to do save reading his notes or spending the next four odd candlemarks meditating before falling asleep. Instead of remaining cooped up in the room, Hsin elected to pursue a third object and eschew arcanic study for a day. Donning a light grey coat and lacing up a pair of carefully shined black boots, the Kemite locked the door and ambled out through the kitchen door. In all things Hsin tried to maintain a sort of anonymity, an invisibility derived from no one quite knowing who he was or what he did. His posture and stance was very much like that of a rising young merchant who had only recently tasted the sweet wine of success. Soft black eyes seemed to gaze at the world with curious interest, taking in the sights of the afternoon crowds and beautiful architecture in equal stride. Of course there was more than met the eye, more than any ordinary observer would notice without some sort of arcanic intervention. A pair of steel knuckle rings sporting a quartet of claws sat at the bottom of the deep pockets in his coat, insurance that a mugger of some sort would find Hsin somewhat less of a cash cow than the average tourist. Two daggers sat securely in sheaths fastened to his thighs by leather straps. The left dagger was of a simple design, purchased mere days before deserting Tirisfal. The dagger on the right, however, bore a special importance. Its pink-shrouded hilt had been wielded by a certain Esh’lahier the Kemite would dearly love to meet again. Surely this was not the normal kit for a traveling merchant, though with the rise in crime and lawlessness one could never be too sure. At least Hsin had left his naginata in Primus Gaudeo. Explaining to a guard why he needed a polearm for self defense was not something Hsin looked forward too.

He couldn’t exactly claim he was celebrating Primeheims early, now could he?

The late afternoon had been a pleasant, meandering affair followed by a quick dinner purchased from a street vender. On a whim the new journeyman had slipped out of a small postern gate and walked through the Empire-famous Riparian Falls. It was a beautiful example of what human genius could produce when worked upon natural beauty. For some hours the Kemite meditated and floated listlessly through the Astral Plane, though he never did quite get around to casting. Time seemed to flow at an odd pace when one was lost in thought, and the Kemite quickly found himself picking himself through the streets in the darkness of the night. In Vortex, such an excursion brought with it a significant possibility of robbery and death, though the few residents the Kemite did meet were more than happy to give the nice young man directions back to the tavern. By some trick of fate or through the hand of one of the conniving Gods, the Kemite was only a few blocks away when a bone rattling and glass shaking explosion broke the peaceful calm of the night. Blinking and pinching himself to ensure it wasn’t merely a strange dream, Hsin turned and trotted toward the epicenter of the explosion; a massive building turned into a blazing mass of rubble in a matter of moments. Surely there would be some sort of warning bell nearby, or a local well for members of the local fire brigade (or simply concerned citizens) to lend a helping hand? A spark of life burned in the Kemite’s eyes, searching the darkness for some sort of way of summoning assistance or lending aid. As cold hearted as he sometimes was, Hsin was not beyond concern and caring. Tirisfal, with its rickety shacks, would be enveloped in a firestorm if a similar event had happened. And, in a small corner of his mind, Hsin wondered exactly how someone had blown up such a large building.

[Bahama Turner]

The young Dracon had turned in for the night, he had long disposed of the habits of staying up till all hours, preferring to make an early start in the morning was currently more convenient for his current lifestyle. That lifestyle currently involved his training at the circle of seven battle institute.

Suddenly his sleep was cut short, the disorientation sitting him up, unaware of what had stirred him his blurred eyes couldn’t identify any reason to be awake, he didn’t recall a nightmare or something of the like that could of stirred him and that rumbling noise ringing in his ears was not helping his train of thought at all.

And suddenly the noise of an explosion broke the rhythm of the rumbling, a surge of concern quickly followed by an inrush of adrenalin, he had a bad feeling he knew what it was and he was off his bed throwing on a pair of pants and his cloak and grabbing his scabbard and short sword as he exited the warehouse, his eyes aimed at the peak of Aslan’s Forge.

The mountain was not stirring, no sign of volcanic ash or lava could be seen cascading down the mountain as he had feared, initially his fear was subdued somewhat until another sound, this time not an explosion but the sound of supports giving way, cracking like giant whips, followed by the sound of masonry smashing its way to the ground, breaking threw anything that tried to stop it. Spinning on his talons, he could see smoke billowing into the air, flames licking at its underbelly and embers floating through the plumes of smoke. And it was all coming from very close to where the circle of seven should be.

Running towards the billowing smoke a gap between buildings showed for a glimpse that it was the circle of seven on fire, totally engulfed, another one of its walls collapsing into centre of the fire, he continued his run towards what was left of the building, unsure how he could help, but that little detail could be worked out when he got there.

[Id'est Meridium]

OOC: had to edit, I forgot to re-read Xanta's post, that should teach me to dally a few days.

Noise and confusion awoke Id'est from his sleep upon a comfortable bed in the new Green Goblin, stumbling around in the dark the young elfs ears heard the word fire repeated by the raised voices in and around the goblin. With his eyes finally revealing the room’s details he pushed off his sheets and made for the shuttered window, surely the Inn hadn't been set alight again. Thinking of the panic that resulted the last time the merchant cursed the fact that he now was on a higher floor, there would be no dropping out of the window this time, clenching the latch on the wooden shutters he pulled it across and drew them back to gain a view of the streets. Instantly noticing the un-natural brightness of the sky, not to mention it's colour, hearing the shouted name 'Circle of Seven' from someone on a higher floor the young elf's orientation of the city layout came back to him and he realized what resided under that great glow in the sky.

Curious as to what might have done this damage and aware that the guards would soon be moving to halt the progression of citizens wishing to view the evident destruction, with these thoughts in mind Id'est quickly donned a garment he didn't mind getting dirty, armed himself and deciding not to fetch his guard moved out into the hallway intent on quickly reaching the scene. With the echoes of heavy footfalls on wooden flooring and stairs drowning out the commotion from outside the elfs world changed from the open space and confusion of the city, to the predictable pattern of the masses moving towards the bar. Many where the mutterings about a good drink to chaise away the noise confusion from outside, there was only a minimum of cursing raised as a result of the elf cutting across the paths of these tired patrons. With the ground floor reached the customers of the Green Goblin could be seen to be acting in one of three ways, two men where badgering the stressed Owner, now filling in for his late night barman, for something to dull there nerves, a group was forming around the cinders of the fire conferring about what might be occurring out in the city. The rest, like Id'est where heading out the door, in search of answers, leaving it and it's broken latch behind.

As it appeared, this would be a long night for the people of Riparia.

[Maddyn]

Xanta'Kun, Id'est & Bahama:

Arriving at the scene of the destruction, very few people had actually shown up thus far as the roof of the Co7 looked like someone had decided to douse a birthday cake in very expensive spirits and then light the candles. Walls were missing great big sections, and unfortunately always it seemed at the crucial points of the building's foundations. Like someone had very calculatedly went out of their way to make sure that the place would go down eventually even if the fires had been put out.
"Sweet feth?!" an elderly man mused, grinning as he survayed the damage as the three collected themselves at varying points. Dark haired though it seemed shot with silver along the temples; the red and orange flames glow washing over weathered skin as he leaned forwards on a short cane with both hands. A simple garb, nothing fancy and definetely commoner with brown britches and a faded grey tunic and worn boots.

"Never in my life seen a dandy Elf run that fethin' fast like old Jorel was snapping at his heels... " he mused, grinning wickedly and showing a mouthful of rotting teeth. Frowning after a few moments before looking at the trio... and a few others who were starting to wander forwards. A few Dwarves more curious about what was being destroyed and making a casual assessment on how much extra work ths might mean in the mines, a few Humans of the same profession and opinion. Then there was the inevitability of children coming to gape at the flames and considering this a high light indeed in Riparia. Like moths to the flame, people really weren't all that better.
"Well... so where's this dang-nabbed bucket-chain and who's going to catch that rowdy Elf eh? eesh, lot of you stand around slack jawed like a bunch o' Orcs and let ye homes be burnt to cinders... bah, fethin' gits."

Hsin

Slipping into a Meditative state of Clarity easily, Hsin's position while indeed able to hear absolutely everything going on with the old man had a rather odd little encounter given his arcanic state of mind. Watching from an aclove opposite the burning Co7 was a stout man in his middle patterns wearing Riparia's uniform and going to light a battered cigar that'd seen better brightenings. Beside him a Nimalni Elf garbed primarily in grey holding a little Elfin girl in his arms of about 40 patterns of age. It was the little girl however who's appearance was the marked one, petite though witha definete Nimalni cast to her features, the child had long dark brown hair and grey eyes; smiling pleasantly until she saw Hsin.

Frowning, a few words unheard by the Mysticist appeared uttered before both the Human and elder Nimalni spun about to look at the Kemite... and then they completely vanished from sight in the blink of an eye...
The arcanic residue though was definetely profound, washing over the area with the strength of a Journeyman or a Mistress and one who certainly knew what they were doing. Dalla was after all one of the Empire's most prominent Mysticists and being 'beaten' by Hsin would've been embaressing given the situation to state the least.

To rub this in the Kemite's face though, without words a thought in a musical Elfin voice resoubded through Hsin's skull. "Thbtsss!"

OOC:
No more people please, don't mean to sound rude but there's only so many I can handle in a single thread You'll simply have to wait until the next adventure I run.

Edit: *damnit* >< Thanks...*looks sheepish*

Cheers, Maddyn

[Xanta'Kun]

OOC: Ha, I think you mean britches, Maddyn.

A simple garb, nothing fancy and definetely commoner with brown b*tches and a faded grey tunic and worn boots.

IC:Xanta continued around the building, looking for anyone who looked strong enough to help haul some dirt and told them to head to the RMC to get shovels and dirt. A few people looked at him skeptically, but reluctantly headed off. As of yet, he hadn't seen any sort of damage control provided by the city which further encouraged him to get things a little organized.

Most people still left in the plaza were children and those too old or too young to work, so Xanta decided to head off to the stables, where he could hopefully get somebody to rig up some teams to haul wagonloads of dirt up from the mines.

Walking fast, Xanta rounded a corner into an alley on his way to the stables and nearly ran headlong into a dracon (Bahama). Xanta said, "Come with me, we need to get dirt to put the fire out before it burns down the rest of the city." Without waiting to see if it followed, Xanta broke into a dead run towards the stables.

By the time he got to the stables, his lungs burned from breathing so hard. He burst into the huge building, and started looking for someone to talk to. "We need several teams to haul dirt, immediately," he shouted, hoping someone was still here. "The Circle of Seven is on fire!"

[Bahama Turner]

The disaster didn’t wait for him to unfold, by the time he arrived the building was beyond any help he could deliver, the new proximity of the yellow and orange flames radiated heat into the surrounding air. Again he looked upon the inferno that was the circle of seven, chunks of the walls were now on the ground fuelling the centre of the intensely hot centre of the fire, the foundations and major supports that still remained had flames running up their facades, they were now the highest points of the building, the ceiling was with those bits of walls that had fallen to the ground. To his eyes more or less a few parts of the outside structure remained, everything else was a pile of red and white hot ruin engulfed in flames. Billowing smoke with a liberal amount rubble coated the general area, the inrush of air from the flames caused a constant low roar, cracking of more wood preparing to give way, rubble falling \ to the ground were all chaotic noises, all far from comforting.

Detaching his senses from the fire he realised their was nothing to oppose that ensuing chaos, no-one calling for order, simply onlookers, people who seemed so detached and impartial to the world around them that they could not make the connection that if this fire was not put to heel that the rest of the city would share the fate of the lost the Co7BI. The young Dracon considered himself a cynical creature, but to not be able to comprehend how a giant inferno might affect the workload tomorrow and not their life now was simply difficult to comprehend.

However at least one was trying to oppose this trend, attempting to rally people to help, this was a good start, almost bowling over the Dracon in his attempts to summon as much help as possible, speaking directly to the Dracon, Bahama was about to heed his word and help directly with the fire when he overhead something.

Surveying the group a voice cut his concentration, looking over to an old man, the man in his eyes looked gaunt, weathered and street dirty, nothing particularly impressive. Nevertheless something had attracted his attention to the old man, perhaps the colourful musings, or possibly it was the tones that broke him above the others. Far more importantly however his attention stuck when the old man mentioned someone fleeing the scene, by the impression the man was giving off, that elf wasn’t running to fetch help, looking again at the building a deep disappointment ran through his body, his current way of life was destroyed with those collapsing foundations and he idea of catching the culprit sounded like something that might make him feel better.

“Which way did he go?!” he spoke directly to the old commoner who had made the allegation, if he was to have any chance to catch this elf he needed all the information he could get, he just hoped this old man would give off some decent clues. But Bahama was not in a mood for games or riddles, he was after nothing much short of direct answers, anything else would be too much bother to not assist in helping the surrounding buildings from destruction, but he wasn’t going to make a call either way until the man replied to him.

[Hsin]

Solitude and loneliness followed in his footsteps like a pair of unkempt and unwanted dogs. They disappeared out of sight when anger welled and danger threatened, only to reappear a matter of moments after the dust settled. Each time somebody took pity and fed them scraps, they only returned to their pursuit stronger, healthier, and far more ravenous. Circumstances, oppressions, emotions, and feelings might push them out of mind and out of sight for days and cycles, but when the dark clouds covered the moons and the wind grew cold Hsin could hear their preverbal howling. An overly dramatic comparison? Perhaps, but like all analogies its existence was carefully tailored to prove a point. Hsin Zhou did not choose to remain alone and aloof out of arrogance or a love for solitude, but instead out necessity. Nor did he believe solitude meant an annoying and impolite distain for and rejection of human contact. His three odd month tenure as the Exquecher of Centripax had given ample evidence of his ability to glide smoothly through social circles. His service also demonstrated his admirable patience. Three months had passed without a single murder or a clerk turning up in the office dead. Not in Primus Gaudeo, at any rate. But even when his lips smiled and his eyes seemed to twinkle with joy, a sort of hazy detachment seemed to linger between Hsin and his colleagues. On his part there was no willingness to form deep and lasting bonds, especially with the knowledge that each passing season only increased the chance Hsin would drop his abacus and move on to a new city. On their part, there were few who seemed interesting in as boring and bland a clerk as Hsin.

And so Hsin wandered through the fringes and edges of society. He stood slightly apart from the growing crowd, seemingly engrossed in the flickering crimson and golden flames consuming the once proud building. Regardless of outward appearance, his is ears heard every word the old man spoke. An odd elf running away from the building? Mere proximity to a crime hardly constituted guilt, but certainly raised enough doubts to ensure the poor citizen a suitably uncomfortable vacation to the local goal. One part of Hsin silently gave thanks that his own path had taken him away from the building before its spectacular implosion. Another part wondered exactly what part the elf had played in the unfolding disaster. Curiosity fought a loosing battle against logic as Hsin gathered his grit and determination. Surely a small peak would do him no harm, and perhaps find a poor unfortunate soul trapped in the pile of burning rubble. Not that Hsin entertained thoughts of diving into the blazing inferno. Just one peak. What could hurt? Slowly he Meditated and pushed away the thoughts and emotions that stirred the waters of his mind. The Kemite’s breathing became slow and steady as the colorful auras of the Astral Plane began to manifest and overlay his vision. His head turned to the side, gazing into the dark roads near the former building when he saw them.

It to be particular, for the first sign of the odd trio was the dull red flame of the Guard’s cigar. A guard, an elf, and a little girl? The last two seemed closely related, a conclusion that merely demonstrated the ignorance of the Kemite when it came to the biology of elves. But what was a guard doing standing still and watching a structure burn to the ground? The girl seemed to spot him first, followed quickly by her two companions. And then they simply disappeared, departing from his sight in a flash of arcanic energy. Hsin stiffened and his muscles tensed, deep seated suspicions and worries suddenly bubbling to the surface. The residue reminded the Kemite of his most recent Master, in particular a Vysstichi Mistress of Mysticism who had nearly orchestrated his death. Invisibility implied the Mystic spell with the same name, though the Kemite vaguely remembered a few other spheres that could emulate such behavior. Focusing on the Essence Plane of the Mind, he Channeled just enough mana to form a simple Divination. Awareness would enhance his senses and, perhaps, give him a small edge over his prey. Masters of any sort were enough to give small villages nightmares, and Hsin did not intend to poke his nose into the business of one alone. He focused on the nearby environs of the small alcove before offering his own observation to the growing crowd of citizens. ”I saw an elf in the shadows over there,” he said in a decently loud voice before pointing to where the three figures had mysteriously disappeared.

Hopefully it would be enough to pique public interest, and disguise the human’s own presence as he slowly began to walk toward the alcove. Invisibility and illusions were tricky things, and the smallest oversight could foul even a master’s day. Maybe, just maybe, the master had left enough of a trace for Hsin to follow.

Besides the rather rude parting “Thbtsss.”

[Id'est Meridium]

After arriving at the scene Id'est stared for a while, the scale of the destruction before him was impressive, flames reaching high into the night and little remaining structure, it was a thing of beauty. Entranced though he was by the spectacle it was inevitable that the pain of his eyes became too much for the elf after all, he valued his sight. Turning away and blinking profusely Id'est took in the starkly lit crowd which had formed around the tolerable perimeter of the blaze, one rather loud elf barely a few good paces from him was seemingly trying to organise a part of the crowd into action, fighting the fire seemed to be his aim.

Id'est wasn't too bothered about the hole event, he'd most probably still be able to arrange for some sword training when he got around to it, and although he had intended to ask in that place now most difficult to reach the elf had no stake in the building. Noting that a dracon who had been manhandled by the mad elf had chosen not to assist the merchant considered that the wise decision, so long as the fire didn't reach the Green Goblin, or Hawkmoons the merchant in Id'est could only be better off. Buying and selling needed to be looked into, and quickly, he probably wouldn't be able to corner some decent construction goods as they where all local, some thought would have to be put into the matter come morning, however for now there was a show to observe.

Through his musing Id'est noticed that the dracon was now perusing a quick conversation with an old man whose brain seemed as addled as that of many an individual about this night. As the elf put his ears to work he was able to make out what they where saying he therefore made ready to move off in whatever direction the dracon chose to pursue, he had had enough of this fire for now, as it was still interfering with his vision, he would return in the morning to see the destruction left once it was out.

[Maddyn]

Frowning as he glanced about, the somewhat senile old man scanned about the area after being questioned by Bahama in regards to which direction the culprits ran off in. At which during this time Hsin began to cast Awareness and found himself staring at something which while surpassing Hsin's own ability to break through and see was definetely found as an arcanic disturbance. It was a shimmering of psionic mana in the air given a rather more tangiable nature to Hsin's vision, rather like if someone fashioned an Animation. Combined though with the glare amd the shimmering heat radiating from the burning Co7 it was mostly a case of picking up the shimmering purple distance from the shimmering red and the almost perfect darkness.

"Hmm... well he had slanty eyes and looked a bit off colour; not like y... well... me. You're a biy freaky there Mister what with the scales and stuff - should go see a healer about that, must be a nasty case o' fungus!" the old man droned on, glancing about before someone caught his eye. Someone he decided, through a cataract obscured gaze was definetely fitting the profile of suspicious and looking generally Elvish in the dark. "Hoy there! That's the sneaky bugger that set fire to te place! See, him, know the gimp anywhere I would what with the shifty look he's wearing!" he called out above the din, grinning maniacally at Hsin as he pointed to the Kemite.

Faces swirled about to look at Hsin right as his Awareness spell gave the fledgling Mysticist enough knowledge to know where abouts the real perpetrators of the crimes were standing.

Another few words filling Hsin's mind an filled with that same girl-child's voice that couldn't help but contain the usual Elvish arrogance. "No peeking Mister, is terribly rude you know but don't worry... I'm sure the mob will understand when they catch up to you mhmm!" Dallandra yet again, and more than a little bit smug at being able to stand there right out in the open.... even if guised by Invisibility... and watch the scene unfold right how she wanted it to. It was no small irony that she was Duncan Sythe's Mysticism teacher during his Mastery; the Elfin girl really did enjoy The Game and manipulation in general... so long as it meant a lap to claim or generally getting her own way.

"Damn pansy Elves the lot of em!" he called out, uncaring about the racial mistake really when Hsin was definetely the person the old man was after as the focus of attention.

The Xanta'kun though this really wasn't the brightening for enabling a large rescue party to prevent the burning of the Co7. A few followers tagged along behind him as someone who generally appeared to know what he was doing. But the stables were all but devoid of life that wasn't inclined to actually live in the stalls themselves given the time of brightening the fire was taking place. But shovels and some work tools like wheelbarrows and pails of water were about and even a small pump for watering down the horses after a long ride. Mobilisation and direction was completely in the Thelyri's hands for the meantime with his eight Human helpers of varying age.

[Hsin]

Every scholar with an inkling of sense could walk into a university library and uncover the existence of the Inner Planes and, therefore, the Planetars. Hsin himself had stumbled across the general layout of the universe entirely by accident while digging through his Vysstichi Master’s notes. He’d studied the yellowed parchments with a growing interested. Who wouldn’t want to know about the universe? When his eager eyes finally reached the Inner Planes, the Kemite had noted offhand the catalyst for the creation of a Planetar: worship. On an entirely different tangent, many people had often railed (or praised) Fate as if it possessed a spark of sentience. Many of his clerks had muttered about “tempting fate” while computing the tax revenues from a certain city. If ‘Fate’ indeed described some sort of guiding hand behind every occurrence in the Material Plane, why would it change its purpose based upon the actions or thoughts of a single person? But supposed that there was indeed a personification of Fate, not unlike Rak personified the principle of Power. The Kemite journeyman suspected in such a case that Fate also personified the merely mortal concept of ‘fickle’. Everything could and did change at the drop of a feather. One moment the ledgers seemed to balance, and the next the province seemed stuck in the quicksand of debt. Sunny skies became covered in clouds only moments after a family set out for a picnic. In the space of a single night Hsin’s own life had made a hundred eighty degree turn. And yet there seemed to be some evil, malign intent behind Fate and seemingly random occurrences. Each time Hsin ventured neared an anxious group of his fellow citizens, bad things seemed to happen. A three-way conflict in the streets of Zinn’sunn, for example. Or the frenzied shouting of citizens in Tirisfal protesting the specter of trade with Ire. By now the Kemite should very well have learned bite his lip and keep his head down.

Curiosity may not have killed the cat, but it had nearly claimed Hsin’s life in the not-so-distant past. Any mage with an inkling of experience would have recognized the work of a master in the shimmering aura of mana pervading the immediate surroundings of the still-burning Circle of Seven Battles Institute. But to what purpose had the mysterious (and childish) master cast the spell? The sound of an old man’s voice crying over the crackling of the fire brought the Kemite violently back into the present. Somehow he had made the miraculous connection between Hsin’s thin frame and the elf responsible from the explosion. His teeth ground together as, once again, the mocking elvish voice appeared in his mind. From her brief sentence, Hsin gathered quickly that she had no intention of allowing the Kemite to reveal her positions. And, after a moment’s reflection, it became painfully clear that the mysterious mystic also had few qualms about controlling the situation. Now his curiosity about the fire quickly disappeared, replaced by a burning sense of self-preservation. Hiding in the open amongst the mob had proved a foolish decision. Again Hsin drew the Ara of the material plane into his own Vis and created a thin strand linking the Material and Astral Planes. He quickly Focused on the Psionic Plane and Channeled enough Psionic Essence into his frame for an apprentice spell. His master during his Apprentice training had emphasized the need for quick and decisive manipulations, enforcing her words with the swing of a three sectioned staff. Hsin wasted no time Altering the Mana over his body and crafting an illusion with Divination. Illusions were tricky things, and required unbroken concentration to truly perfect. Hsin had no such time for artistic merit. Instead he crafted the thing he was most familiar with: his own body. He reshaped the spell with an Abjuration to remain anchored to the present location of his body.

It made little sense to create an illusion of yourself. Unless the situation called for a pair of twins, most would call it counter productive. But Hsin did not pause a moment longer than it took to manifest the first illusion. Once again his mind reached out through the gateway to Focus and Channel. In particular the young mage drew upon the facets of misdirection and unwariness, using Alteration to create one illusion inside another. The Illusion spell and the Invisibility spell lay nestled within each other like a set of Russian Dolls. Hopefully the conjugation of arcanic fields wouldn’t cause any unforeseen reactions. In a moment, Hsin turned his attention back into the events rapidly unfolding in the Material Plane. Before the mob could come too close to the illusion, the Kemite stepped away and began to sprint toward the dubious safety afforded by the burning Circle of Seven Battles Institute. With any luck, the dancing flames would mask his presence from the Master’s arcanic sight. And if not, hopefully it would give him enough time to make a hasty exit. A number of problems cropped up immediately, chief among them the very real possibility that the Master would simply dispel his illusions and reveal him to the seething crowd. Every few steps Hsin turned to cast his dark eyes over the crowd, noting their advance and carefully searching for signs that the childish voice had also been playing with the minds of the crowd.

[Bahama Turner]

Everyone had different needs for different things for different times, while a simple truth, some people expected that at certain moments in time all people would have the same mindset, running into this disaster the young Dracon had expected just that, his self preservation for his way of life revolved on the city he lived in not burning to the ground, he had assumed that the rest of the town would have had that foresight of self preservation. But how could children have such foresight? And for the miners; they knew in their minds that the city overall would be spared, their houses were likely near the mines, away from the Co7BI, by standing there they actually came out better, more sales meant more money, they would be lucky to see one silver per 1000 crowns but obviously they didn’t see the world from Bahama’s cynical mood.

And he just remembered why he was suddenly in his cynical mood, discovering that being a dracon was a slang term describing a “Severe skin rash, inflicted by a severe fungal infection.” This old mans current need (and probably been so for some time) was attention. Any other brightening of the cycle people probably steeped over this man on their business, ignored his grasps at attention, and now he claimed to have something a whole mob of people wanted, Bahama had been part of that mob but now he had lapsed into brooding for his expected stupidity.

As the man pointed, grabbing at his last straws of attention, the young Dracon looked over but the image didn’t seem right. The ash, heat and light must have finally been too much for his eyes, what did it matter anyway? The guy had probably been one of the many accessing the damage, he doubted an arsonist would stand and watch his handy work like that. He had only seen one other arsonist at work before and that halfling had left quicker than the flames had burned, ok that particular halfling had a mob chasing him with swords and crossbows. Trying to burn a tavern full of people for no real reason was defiantly not considered smart in his book.

Now that the initial rush of getting here had worn off, his mind was asking questions, too many pointless questions and observation, his disappointment of watching one of his favourite places collapse and burn, maybe the miners were right, most of Riparia was made of stone, true most roofs were wood, but they would be controlled, people would care more if their house caught fire. Wouldn’t they?

The fire had gotten too much for him, he was flustered angry and suddenly washed over with a feeling of fatigue, reminding him where he had been only moments before. He searched around to see if there was any source of water to splash over his face, he doubted such a luxury wouldn’t be crowded by people who were trying to do something helpful about the situation, but even getting away from the flame might clear his mind.

And just like that he temporally become one of the crowd, every time he tried to draw his eyes from the flame he would always end up looking back at it, unfortunately letting the situation feel too big for him to handle.