The Overturned Cart
Chardev (Darshan): Had a lot of fun with this scene. It's just another reminder of what great folks we had here. :3 The scene opens with Myrana, Svarshan, and a run-away donkey. The card had toppled in the rain, sending the barrels of precious alcohol out into the the street. It was a time for heroes.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* Castle District - Feren Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- The Noble District of Alexandria is a mixed bag as many of the nobles are nobility in name and title only and exert little influence over the politics of the city with the exception of a rare few. When Altima descended upon the city most nobles fled or were killed and during the Myrrish Occupation Era, only a few retained or regained any semblance of their title. Now with the new parliment in place, the remaining noble families wield most of their power where commerce is concerned and the ports of Alexandria have rewarded them well. Famous estates such as The Estates of House Telenil and House Alexandros can be seen here. Tall and graceful trees have been planted regularly along the well-kept sidewalks here, throwing shade on the lovingly tended lawns and pristine flowerbeds that bloom with exuberant color. The entire area screams wealth and sophistication, though the current economic boom has enriched more than a few tradesmen and guildmasters, allowing these commoners to move into certain vacant estates. Local rumor has it that this trend of the nouveau riche does not please the remnants of the old nobility. The bustle of air traffic has been kept to a minimum although it's hard to go anywhere in Alexandria and not see at least one or two Airships. Part of the Noble District is built into the Inner City Walls now with bridges and openings connecting the district with the upper class atmosphere of Theater Row. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 0s 2d -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Lady Sandiel's Manor <LS> Theater Row <W> Mountain Road <E> Feren Road <S> -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's Tariday, Callem 07 22:18:20 1014. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and slack.
Soft rain falls from a grey-black sky without moon or stars. A warm gentle wind blows from the southeast.
Emir has arrived.
Donk has arrived.
Constantin has arrived.
Trank has arrived.
CRAKA-A-BOOM! Thunder snaps across the sky like a circuismaster unfurling his whip.
CRACKA-BOOM!
And in the midst of the cheerful...light...gray...drizzly...downpour, a wagon sits to the side. Only recently laden with GENEROUS BARRELS OF MUCH RUM, it now lies on its side. On the side. Of the road. And nearby, a swift, a horse, and a human woman stand, covered in mud as a small donkey runs away. And, slower than the donkey, much slower than the donkey, the mud-covered reptile is spitting well, mud from his muzzle.
"..." he says to Myrana.
Because Svarshan is good with words like that. Excellent, in fact.
Kalkorth has arrived.
From down the road is a beacon, like stars glittering in the rain. No...not stars. An umbrella. A sparkly umbrella? It shimmers and glitters, and wavers as its bearer continues in his graceful yet unsteady gait.
"Oh /no/!" gasps the man, as he comes into view, a hand flying up to his mouth in astonishment. "My stars and garters! Whatever happened to your /cart/? Please, allow me to assist!" Emir, leaning on his cane but more than a little squeamish about the mud, hurries toward them with a squish-splut of cane-step cadence.
Kalkorth comes down from the mountain road and he doesn't seem to mind the weather. The huge gaintborn ignores the rain as it beads down his skin and he spots the wagon that's stopped. He eyes the barrels and moves over, "Hello there, need a hand?"
Rainwater drips in sincere, icy little rivers down the young woman's face, plastering her black hair into it's braids and falling in fat droplets from her lashes. A droplet hangs precarious on the end of her nose... only to fly upward against the downpour as Myrana blows a breath up through her teeth in a huff of mist.
"We do not roar at donkeys," she says with forced patience in Svarshan's direction, her sodden skirts dragging in the back through the mud and water. "Yes?"
People approach through the rain, and Myrana peers off in the direction of unfamiliar faces and...umbrellas? Yes that is an umbrella. She blinks water from her eyes but doesn't push her bangs out of her face just now. "Help would be most appreciated! Does anyone see my donkey?" Behind her to the side of the overturned cart, a huge grey and black horse snorts miserably in his harness.
Constantin saunters down the street, hair slicked down by the rain. He's still smiling though, grinning as he sees the swif-- "Princess!"
Svarshan is covered in mud. His mount, in her shiny, shiny armor, is covered in mud. The former is taking this better than the latter.
Srassha shakes her head, sending mud flinging everywhere. It splats, sticking to the side of the cart, to her rider. And at the side to the approaching heroes (and heroes they must be!) she stands up straighter, and then looks at Myrana.
Looks at Heroes.
And then steps forward, blocking the view of Myrana with her own generously-sized reptilian bum, and proceeds to look as Pitiful as Possible. As Sad is Possible.
Woe.
Woe is me.
And nearby, Svarshan spits out more mud. "It...would be...AUGH!" and there goes more mud. He doesn't even get to answer Kalkorth's question. But he does sort of 'huff' at Myrana. Ahem.
"Oh, Raptor Queen!" Emir beams, as Srassha takes fore (as usual). "Oh my, what a long face you have. Let us help you, hmm?" He reaches out to pet the swiftclaw's muddy face, before looking over at Constantin's and Kalkorth's respective arrivals. "Oh thank goodness. More hands would be just fabulous, darlings. Perhaps I should go and find the lost mule?"
Eira has arrived.
<Meet> Eira joins Constantin.
Benthus looks up to the heavens, seeking for the sun. Instead, it is rain that greets his face. Forlorn at the clouds covering of his beloved orb of light, he lets out a sigh as he draws his cloak closer around himself. His tattered cloak, although still serviceable, seems to provide little comfort to the half-elf. He shivers slightly, although whether it is because of the cold could only be guessed upon. He draws himself to the present and looks around, extending his view to the people who are milling about. He notices the fallen cart, and at the concerned people who have gathered about those who were visited by misfortune. He remains to the side for now. What is the old proverbial line that said about too many cooks can spoil a cooking? Thinking he would be a burden to those around, he observes for now, but ready to assist if ever it is ask of him. Again, he lifts his head to look at the sky, and mourns silently, hoping for the sun to appear.
Kalkorth looks to Emir, "You go ahead and do that." He looks over towards the wagon, "Did the wheel break or did you snap an axel?" He asks looking over the wagon and hmms before he gets hit with the mud. He merely wipes it off as he continues to study the wagon.
Constantin smiles affably towards Emir, "Isn't she pretty? And muddy, the poor thing!" He smiles sadly at Sraasha, "You must be so put-up." He glances up at Svarshan, and asides, "G'day." Then he goes back to lavishing attention on the swiftclaw. There's a pause, and he nods to Emir. "That sounds like a capital idea!"
A figure appears from the direction in which the donkey had fled, but unfortunately it's alone. Trank ambles down the street, his thin robe already plastered to his shoulders even from the light rain, muddy spatters decorating the lower half, like something had kicked it up on him. He looks back over his shoulder as he approaches the scene, then his broad face turns sheepish as he looks back to Myrana. "That was your donkey? ...Oops."
Myrana makes her way around Ssrasha's sad so sadly waving tail (of magnificence), her skirts dragging about her legs and the mud sucking at her shoes. It's not something she's good at, for she clearly wasn't expecting this weather, and her nice bustled dress is hardly suited to sloshing. "I can't see but I think it was the wheel," she says to Kalkorth, her braids dripping down her back and heavy as black pendulums. "There was a cr--agh!" Myrana steps unwittingly over a curb or some sort of uneven surface hidden by the mud and nearly stumbles onto her face.
Siiiiigh. Adoration. Admiration! Srassha leans forward to accept this as her due, Princess that she is. Sad, sad mud drips from her pretty, pretty armor. What can be seen glitters sadly, as though to say, woe, woe is me for I am covered in all this mud.
She looks very sad. And looks at Constantin as though he is the Only One in the World Who Understands.
Hero, that says. Hero!
Svarshan eyes her a moment, and then looks towards Emir. And he opens his muzzle. ... ... ...
...and closes it. Slowly. To Kalk, distracted, "Lightning," he says. And then, some part of him realizing that needs clarification, he adds: "Scared the...donkey." And then he reaches for his flask, and takes a hefty drink from it.
And eyes Srassha again. And then Myrana.
And takes another drink.
Kalkorth ahs a little bit, "Well that's not good, but donkeys are never very smart animals. He arm shoots out to grab Myrana before she falls, "Careful there Miss it's awfully slippery out." He nods, "Looks like the wheel, so we need a new one or just someone to lift up the wagon to get it back on?"
Having antipated the rain, Eira moves through the street carrying aloft some rather fancy looking parasol that seems to do the job to keep the rain off of her. Alas her travel companion, one of the tall pair of Stormgarders that often join her seems to be not quite as fortunate, but a little rain doesn't seem to dampen his spirits. He's talking at her back as she moves a few paces in front of her, until an escaped mule goes barreling by..
Overhead, the clouds shift slightly, and rain continues to drizzle. It isn't a harsh rain, just a constant one. And overhead, the skies are gray.
And with a grandiose salute, Emir beams at Srassha and turns on his heel to fetch the donkey. And on his way he bumps into Trank, blinking owlishly at the fellow. "Why, hello there, sir! Would you be so kind as to help me catch that wayward equine?"
BRAAAAGH! The donkey can be heard to say from somewhere down the way.
Benthus squares his shoulders as if he has made a decision. He shifts his attention from the few people who have gathered to find out what is going on, to something that is of some concern to him. A frightened donkey on the loose. He begins to shift some of his gears to prevent it from impeding his legs and proceeds to walk towards the direction where the donkey is heading. He gathers momentum and speed as he moves more urgently towards where the donkey may be. His thoughts shift through the layout of the district to the people who may be using the road this day. Hopefully women and children are wise enough to stay clear of the animal. If not... the thought made him burst into a sprint... (Benthus sets off in hot pursuit of the donkey)
Constantin pets Sraasha's snout, then says sagely. "You're going to have to make sure your rider makes it home safely tonight." Don't drink and swiftclaw! Then he looks back, and sighs. "There's work to do." He ambles towards Myrana, and drawls, maybe a little too casually. "You need some help with that rum?"
As they talk and just as Benthus takes off, the cart gives a sudden shudder. The remains of the one wheel begin to slide in the mud, and not long after?
Not long after, the wood rasps, creaks, and then cracks. The side railing gives way, and the barrels of precious, precious rum begin to roll into the mud and muck.
Myrana catches Kalkorth's arm and uses it to right herself again, clearing her throat in mild embarrassment. "Hrm. Thank you-- yes, thunder." She glares back over her shoulder at Svarshan before looking at the broken wheel again. Thunder. Not drunk lizards. "We had a spare, but we chucked it to fit another barr-- Oh no! The stock!!"
Kalkorth nods to Myrana, "You are welcome." He looks as the barrels fall in the muck, "It's all right they are water tight right?" He asks as he goes to pick up the barrels to get them out of the mud.
"Oh.." Eira cants her head at the mess, the tipped over wagon. Her umbrella falls somewhat askimbo, letting some of the rain fall upon her head, "What a mess? Has anyone alerted the watch about the.." She points the direction the donkey travelled, "animal loose.." After all this is the noble district.
Constantin wipes the rain from his forehead. "I think, perhaps, I'll stop asking questions." He steps back, as Kalkorth goes reaching, and looks towards Eira. Oh look, umbrellas! "I think some kind folk have gone to assist. I'm sure their fabulous help will mean the watch find nothing but a repaired and functional wagon." His broad smile is etched with faint traceries of sarcasm.
Srassha follows the swordsman with a sigh, and then preens a bit. I am the prettiest that says. I am a Princess, that says. And then a barrel comes along and clonks her smartly on the foot!
And then there is a silent sort of silence. The sort of silence just before a breaking storm.
...and then the sith's grabbed her mecate, and pulled down.
Distraction.
"Not in thisss storm," he says, words slow. And seems to think a while, after that. Looks over towards Kalkorth, who seems to be organizing things. "I can lift the wagon," he says after a time. "Could you get sssomething...underneath it?"
Benthus goes OOC.
Benthus has left.
Kalkorth laughs a little bit, "No offense, but let me lift the wagon, we need a rock or something. I'd say use the barrels, but the wagon might crush them. Maybe some logs if you can't find a rock. Or someone can go get another wheel and cotterpin we can put on it."
Well nevertheless! Emir trudges on! Doggedly so, after the distantly braying mule. "Heeere donkey, donkey! Come to Uncle Emir, hmm? Get out out of the nasty nasty rain."
As the small group heads after the donkey, the animal looks back at its chasers, and picks up speed. You can't catch me coppers! I'm free! FREE!! AHAHAHA! ... AUGH!
Halfway down the road, the donkey freezes in place for a moment, before turning and bolting back the way he came, braying loudly as he careens directly towards the chasing group. Save me save me!!
A familiar (to some) figure trots around the bend in the road, sitting astride his terrifying wolf steed. Donk rides tall, lance in the air and muttering loud praises to himself. "The Great and Powerful Donk fought valiantly! No... magnificently! ... No, stuPENdously! Yes, yes, that's good..." Behind him, he's dragging... well, something is attached by a rope to Destroyer's flank, and it's being drug through the dirt road.
"Truely, they should be alerted." Eira rights her umbrella so no other rain falls upon her. "Go, fetch the watch.." She dismisses her companion and steps towards the group and the wagon, "We really need to do something to keep the rain off you folk while you right this.." She gets the sort of look on her face that is dangerous when you dabble in magics. Suddenly she whispers some words in draconic and waves her arm sort of as if to spread something across the sky above the wagon.
Myrana sloshes worriedly through the mud from one barrel to the other, checking them for cracks and chasing one down in an akward wadeing hobble as it splorshes down the street.
Svarshan takes another drink, and tilts his head at the man. And after a while, looks at the wagon. "I will--" he starts to say, and then the Donk barrels into the scene. And his hand twitches, as though he very well would take another drink from the flask.
And he lets go a slow breath, with a slow smile starting along one side of his muzzle as he heads to help Myrana. Srassha, however, continues to look offended. It rains on me, that seems to say, and she gives Svarshan a look of sadness. Of pity.
And then the rain ceases, and she looks about with amazement and wonder!
Constantin pauses, sarcasm draining from his face. "Ah, shi--." The wonders of the big city, come to rest on his fabulous shoulders.
"Here donkey donk--oof!!" Well, he's half-right there. The donkey plows right into him, setting him spinning on his good leg and falling on his butt in the mud. "My /pants/," he whines unhappily, looking over to spy Donk, and.../something/. "It's the tiny hero!"
Kalkorth finishes stacking the barrels that fell and he looks up, "Well that's nice." He looks over in Donk's direction. "Never mind there is something that's just the right height to hold the wagon while we get the wheel."
The rain seems to suddenly be halted, atleast in one area of the city, the rain sort of seems to hit something up there and roll off like it would if there was a tent hanging overhead, "There, that should make things a touch easier." Eira's eyes sparkle with her own self indulged, albeit temporary solutions, "Someone with some muscles should get to work before the effect wears off."
Someone says the H-E-R-O word, and Donk's head snaps up, a grin on his face. "THE DONK HAS ARRIVED!" he calls, spreading out his arms. Ta-daLahar But as the pair gets close enough, he frowns deeply at the sight. "Great Kor's Kast-off Undies. What happened here?"
When he gets close enough, many others will notice what he's dragging behind him. It's... a spider carcass. No, three of them. No... five. Five giant spider carcasses, each on their back and curled up tightly in that spidery hug of death. Each is sporting a huge hole in its body somewhere, the greenish viscera leaking out to mix with the mud of the road.
"Sa," Svarshan says, as he nudges Myrana, much as someone else, anyone else, would say, 'Hey. You there.' He nudges her with his arm, and then hands her the flask. A pause, and then in a lower voice, "Donk isss. Here." He nods towards Eira then, and Kalk, and heads back towards the wagon.
And near the wagon, Srassha continues to look up in amazement. It. Is. Not. Raining! that says, as clear as the light of day. And the look of amazement shines forth as the true, golden light it is...
Until...
That is, until...she realizes. She is still. Quite muddy.
Well. This just will not do. Emir levers himself up and with a swift Presti, he cleans himself of mud. ... And then as an after-thought, he turns and does the same for all involved. "There! Must stay clean, after all!"
Myrana pushes and shoves at the barrel that rolled down the street, huffing like a wheezy engine. It rolls, but only out of a sort of unsentient embarrassment on behalf of the sodden, muddy half-elf laboring away behind the thing. "Wh-what!" She wheezes when Svarshan nudges her. "Wh-- what was... what was that?" WHEEZE. Then it's not raining. And then the mud is gone. Well, except for the mud that she's still stuck in, skirt and boot. But still.
Constantin favours Emir with a beaming smile. "Why, thank /you/ good sir!" He considers Donk, then Kalkorth, nods sagely.
Having only heard rumours and never seen the Donk face to face, Eira casts a suspicious glance the direction of the spider carcass hauling figure, Only taking a moment to look at the entire picture before she narrows in on the green goo the spiders seem to be expelling, "You might wish to get those off your back, they appear to be...." She considers the words, "fizzing? Bubbling! Some rather viscious looking fluid."
Kalkorth hmms as he sees the oozing spiders, "So what did you do to them pour acid on them?" He asks as he looks at the wagon, "So who's going to get a wheel for this before the whole thing sinks into the mud?" He looks towards Myrana and Svarshan.
Leaning on the barrel, Myra only waves an arm atSvarshan, as if to say: Him.
"Eh?" Donk glances back to the carcasses dragging in the mud. "Bubbling? Oh, they do that after they get a stab from Donk's Mighty Lance of Smiting!" he bellows, thrusting his lance in the air majestically. How does he speak in caps like that? Still, he looks sideways at the cart suspiciously, then at the people surrounding it. "Who thought this cart would make a good kill? Even The Donk can see that this won't get you any glory." He thwacks at the other wheel with his lance. "See? It's on the verge of falling apart right where it stands."
The spiders, behind Donk's back, seem to start shaking.
The cart groans.
Groooaaaaann....
"That...looks unsavory, darling," Emir says to Donk, frowning a little. Eeegh. "They're not going to explode, are they?"
Princesses should not be muddy. Srassha's expression says as much as her rider walks...right...past her. And then as he crouches in the mud. He eyes the fallen wagon a while, and then...is about to say a thing. He really is. The muzzle opens, a sound comes out...and then the lance thwacks! into the side of the cart.
THWAK!
For a moment, he crouches there, dumbfounded. And then he half-lunges, reaching out and grabbing the lance.
Nearby, Srassha SNIFFS. She is IGNORED.
That's when the cart collapses. Not onto it's side, since that happened already. But in on itself.
Myrana just stares at her destroyed cart, her face fallen.
Constantin steps back, again. "Oh, fan-tastic." He looks at Kalkorth, hides a grin, then just shakes his head at Donk.
Svarshan looks from the cart to the lance. To Donk.
And continues holding the lance.
And says. Not. A. Word.
Myrana says, "I...I...my... my cart."
Myrana says, "How am I going to get all of this rum back to the Ox?"
Kalkorth looks over at Donk and he frowns, "Don't do that we are trying to fix the wagon, unless you'd like to be the wheel, of so I can arrange that."
"You might be a bit.. " Eira really is trying to be polite to Donk, "overestimating your lance." She takes a careful step back from what she can only presume with be an impending explosion, "I might step away from your trophies there for just a moment."
"Hey, leggo! The Donk's lance is not to be grabbed by random men!" Donk tugs on his lance, giving an annoyed glance to Emir. "What? Explode? Why would they--"
The cart lands with a loud THUMP, followed quickly by five CRACK-SQUISHes all in a row. The spider carcasses DO suddenly explode in a burst of greenish gore like firecrackers in a watermelon. Instead of people being splattered with spider guts, though, swarms of baby spider, each the size of a man's fist, begin to pour out in thick clouds into the mud, spreading out quickly. In search of flesh.
Myrana goes pale as a sheet. And suddenly where she was, Myrana -isn't-. Instead she's vanishing quickly upward, hopped on a broom that she produced out of what can only be a magicked bag and into the sky with a BLART of sparkles from the bristles.
Somewhere nearby, a little girl is shrieking. No wait, that's Emir. "AAAIIIIGGHH, GET THEM AWAY, OH, OH HORRENDOUS BEASTS, GET THEM AWAY!!!" In a spectacular tap, hop, shuffle, flail, the bard is up and away, FLEEING. FLEEING for his LIFE.
The glittery umbrella flails about, vanishing into the distance...
Svarshan eyes Donk. And then he starts to say a thing, but as is often the case, the sith'makar is slow-moving, slow-speaking. And then, well, there are spiders everywhere. Crawling, creeping...and there's a cart, and left property. A donkey.
A screaming, flailing, fluttering Emir.
Head swimming, he leans back, and opens his muzzle--fire shoots out, roiling and billowing over some of the spiders.
Some? But by no means all. But it does create that crispy, spider-bbq feeling so late on a weekday evening.
Myrana goes OOC.
Myrana has left.
Svarshan goes OOC.