Hydaelyn Role-Players

As Evangeline dashes out the door, she feels something metal hit the back of her head, and skitter down the street.

Curious, she grabs it as she runs, finding a pair of slightly battered, but not broken, spectacles. "Who's are...?" Instinctively she pats her face, finding her own glasses firmly ensconced there. "Huh?"

She stares at them for a moment, then almost turns back, before a small bang echoes through the Quicksand.

"There's my cue!" She slips the glasses into a pocket and dashes off into the alleys of Ul'dah.

Solis and Sakura were covered in the smoke and coughing when Sakura yelped as the Roegadyn hid under their table.

Solis: "What in the seven hells!?"

Solis looked under their table to see the cowering Roe, hearing her mumble in fear.

Solis: "Hey calm down! What's going on here?!"

Slowly Klynzahr forces her left eye open, straining to see the Hyuran man directly above her. Her bruised face twitches uncomfortably, as she snaps back, "T' th'hells if I bloody well know!"

Groping around blindly, she manages to identify the solid table above her head and the smooth floor beneath. "I were jus' comin' in fer a drink" she bemoans the stranger "Next thing there be rebellions an' bombs, an.... an bleedin' Elezen mutineers!" Squinting back up at Solis, she adds urgently "Best ye be gettin' yerself down here too. Might be that was only th'first explosion."

Beckoning the pair down towards her, Klyn peers past their legs into the murky depths of the smoke, barely able to make out a cluster of blurred figures in the center of the room. "...an what's become o'me bleedin' spectacles?"

Solis and Sakura quickly hide under the table after what the Roe said, with Solis bringing Evan's book with him.

Sakura: "That Elezen said something about revolution...what revolution."

Solis: "Whatever it is it can't be good!"

"Thal's balls..." Kestlona shouted, eyes realizing that the door had been rigged.  "Take cover."  Her and Warren's table was upturn, much in the same that Clio had done her's and Nathan.  She curse not for the first time about not paying attention to Alex about deactivating bombs.  She would have to look into that later, if there was a later.  "War..." she began only to widen her eyes at the Miqo'te that had jump the banister.  If the boy didn't get to cover.

Kest's hands jerk to her ears as the bomb went off, smoke filled the room, and what appear to be a flaming body sail over their heads toward the inn.  At that moment, she hear an animistic cry and a brief flash of light.

****
John didn't know who the elezen woman was and the Miqo'te didn't want to know.  He hop the banister, landing on all four.  "Kit," he hissed, trying to find his familiar in the confusion.  He stood up, seeing the carbuncle, moving toward him.  "There you ar..." he was deafen by the sound of the explosion, ears going flat to try and cut out the ring, and fire heading toward their direction.

He drove, catching Kit in his arms, and roll out of the way of the flaming body.  The only problem was that he didn't pay attention the direction he roll, his movement carrying him head first into a table.  Kit's cry bleed into the flash or pain and then their was nothing as he was knock out cold.  Kit cry out as her body disappear into aether now that he wasn't conscious to hold her form.  A pool of blood already forming around his head from the small cut that had form at the back of John's head.

Choking and gasping, Cliodhna swiftly pulled her goggles over her eyes and tore the bandanna from her head to tie it over her mouth and nose, though in the current thickness, it did little help. Her free hand was blindly reaching for Nathan's shoulder to keep track of him in the chaos. "What the fuck is going on?!" She exclaimed.

Though they had been crouching behind the table, she had heard the bomb go off but didn't see the triggering body that was ejected to the middle of the bar. Nor did she see the armored figure quickly move to assist putting out the fires on him.

It was still hard to see, but her goggles at least had keep her eyes from tearing in the smoke. Giving the bard a somewhat hard shake on the shoulder, she leaned in. Are you alright?" Cliodhna asked. She was just about to give instructions on finding the nearest exit when she noticed someone else had been injured.

Not wasting any time, Cliodhna stumbled to her feet and rushed over to the unconscious Miqo'te. Once there, she quickly rolled him over to inspect the cut on his head. Removing the bandanna; she placed it over the wound to scrunch the bleeding. Though the cut had been small, the amount of blood made her suspect it was somewhat deep.

"I've got a head injury over here! Is there a healer nearby?" She yelled, choking in the still thick smoke between words.

With a bleary one eyed frown, Klynzahr turns towards Sakura. "I canna understand why ye keep askin' me." She huffs in exasperation, "The two o'ye watched th'whole thing an' like as not saw a good sight more 'en I did!" 

Blood has trickled into the Roegadyn's mouth and she spits it angrily onto the floor between the three of them. Further comments are cut short by Clio's rather commanding voice cutting through the nearby haze. Something in the highlander's tone or words seems to finally calm the Roegadyn and the frantic note in her voice calms a little.

Reaching out to either side, Klyn fumbles to locate the two hyur beside her, grabbing at Sakura's face and hair before finally settling a hand against the small of the woman's back. Solis is slightly luckier, as Klyn's fingers find the book first, then follow his arm up to his shoulder. "Do ye be a healer lad?" She asks Solis in a controlled tone, before turning her head towards the ruffled Sakura "Are ye?"

She takes a short breath, chokes slightly and presses on. "Ifin th'answer be 'no' it's best we make fer th'fresh air quick as ye two can scuttle."

Kestlona's mind is racing even as she try to hack up a lung.  Guards need to be set up at the door ways, keeping the lurkers out and getting healers and other personal in.  She could hear Momodi's coughing voice, hoping that the Lalla wasn't hurt herself, and that she was using a linkpearl to try to get help to the quicksand.  But the first thing they needed to do was try and clear out the smoke.

"Warren," she said between coughs, "we needa ta get the other doors open."  She slit her eyes trying to peer past the smoke and tears.  "It'd wouldn't do to have healers stumbling around in the dark."

Solis and Sakura nod as they quickly go for the nearest exit, accidentally running into a smaller green-haired bespectacled Hyur along the way.

Max: "OW!"
Sakura: "(In Doman){Shit!} We're terribly sorry, sir!"
Solis: "Jeeze it's so hard to see here."

They pick the Hyur back up and started to wander aimlessly in the smoke, unable to know where they are going.

Max: "I wonder what's causing this uproar."
Solis: "Some crazy Elezen just barged in here sayin' something about 'revolution' and caused this smoke!"
Sakura: "Right now we should focus on getting out of here."

The trio accidentally tripped over a Miqo'te's body and fell next to a blonde Highlander.

Solis, Sakura, and Max: "OW!!!"

Keeping her head low to avoid the worst of the smoke, Klynzahr crawls hastily after the departing Hyur, only to be brought up short as they crash into Max. Frustrated, she opens mouth to explain why they should not be standing, with their heads in the smoke. Unfortunately the only words that come out are "Down... git.... dammit" followed by a long string of coughing.

The sharp taste of blood, smoke, and burnt clothing sends a wave of unpleasant memories over the Klynzahr. For a moment she hesitates, listening to the trio of steps bumble further into the inn, while she struggles to catch her breath in the thick air. Then Kestlona's voice from behind another table, spurs her back into motion.

The layout of the quicksand has changed little in the past year and Klynzahr's memory serves her well. Navigating primarily by instinct and feel, she crawls back around the room to the double doors that she had entered through. Moments later, onlookers in the street would witness the doors of the quicksand thrown open, allowing a billowing curtain of smoke to escape. To the casual eye, it could easily be assumed that the inn was on fire.

Klynzahr staggers out of the smog, still choking for air. Blood from her broken nose has now covered most of her lower face, dripping slowly from her chin to the bronze chain shirt she's wearing. Blindly the Roegadyn fumbles open satchel at her waist, removing out a scrap of cotton and a pair of battered walking sandals. She clamps the cloth over her streaming nose, while the sandals are kicked under each open door to help the smoke dissipate.

Kestlona somehow lost track of Warren as she made her way to the other door.  Stumbling out of it, she drop to her knees coughs racking her body from the smoke she inhale.  Once she got rid of most of the smoke from her lungs, she stood up, and yank the door back open.  Her pack was drop in front of the door, keeping it open, and allowing the faint breeze to blow through the area.  The smoke began to thin and she started to make out the inside of the Quicksand a little better.

She turn turn back to the small crowd that was gathering around.  "DON'T JUST STAND THERE!" she yelled.  "We need healers for those that been injure."  She watch two younglings dash away, calls of Master Waterstrike echoing back to her.  She didn't waste time to see if anyone else was going to get help.  She drove back into the Quicksand, making her way over to Judge and the burnt Brass Blade.

****
Pain, from his head, and the bodies landing on him was the first thing that register.  He try to free one glove hand, groaning in pain from his head.  Ears laid flat, his eyes slit open, just making out several people around him.  John's nose twitch at the coppery smell of blood, trying to figure out through the pain where it was coming from, and the smell of brunt flesh.  He though the blond look like Clio but he didn't know who the others were.  He try to cast his mind back to what happen, his hand coming free to land on Solis's pouch.

John inhale sharply as the energy dance under his glove fingers.  Alive and yet not whole, feeling like what he sense when he would read the energy to heal.  He also was on the verge of asking what was it that he sense but coughs rack his body at that moment.

His hand pull away from the pouch, his whole body curling in on itself as he began to cough.  "Clio...dhna," his words broken up by coughs, "wh...who...hu...rt..."  If someone was hurt, he had to find them and heal....

Solis is a bit creeped and shocked when he faces John, when his blue crystal drops out of his pouch glowing, as if speaking to him.

Niklas (in crystal): "I sense a strange energy."
Solis: "What do you think you're doing?! Get back in there!"

He tries to put the crystal back in his pouch, still glowing, while Sakura and Max recover from their fall.

Max: "There's so much smoke here we can't see an exit!"

Sakura notices that they fell next to the injured Miqo'te and the blonde Highlander.

Sakura: "Oh no he's hurt! Mister can't you do something??"
Max: "Head injury. I can heal him. Let me focus my magic."

Max opens his grimore and holds his palm over the Miqo'te's head, chanting a phrase as it glows a healing glow.

Finding Judge was easy enough for Kestlona, even in the slowly thinning smoke that clung tenaciously to its airspace within the Quicksand. His size and dark-tinted armor made him stand out even in the chaos, a veritable rock in a sea of panic. He had not moved from his spot at Alabaster's side after putting the Blade out, observing all the chaos around him with a strange stillness.

There had been an explosion, so people were panicking. That was a proper chain of events. Some were seeking to escape, some to aerate the establishment, and a handful were crying out for healers. All valid responses to the situation at hand. The bomber herself had fled as well, as such a person is wont to do.

What was bothering him was how long it was taking for the smoke to disperse. When the doors were opened, the smoke was to spill out and dissipate. However, either due to the layout of the establishment itself or lack of air flow, it was lingering for far too long. It was a problem, and therefore needed to be rectified - it was only proper.

With a creak of metal, Jredthys rose to his feet - his visored gaze peering through the gloom. A hand went to the huge blade strapped to his back - its size and the detailing of its cross-guard and fuller making it look vaguely reminiscent of a judge's bench that had been pulled out of a courtroom and sharpened to a deadly point. It slipped from its holster with a clicking of clasps being pulled loose, and he held it out in front of him with surprising ease with one hand.

"DOWN." The single word echoed with a vague power as it rumbled out of the depths of the armor. It was both suggestion and command, hinting what one should do it and implying that one would do it. He waited a beat before grasping onto the hilt with his other hand. If his statement wasn't enough to motivate those still near to get down or move away, even the vaguest sight of towering metal behemoth with a blade as wide as a counter-top out certainly would.

And it was the blade's width that Judge would use here. Circling it once over his head for momentum, he swung the blade flat-wise in a wide horizontal arc in front of him. The resulting pressure wave would carry the recalcitrant smoke towards the doors Klynzahr had propped open. And potentially bowl over anyone not expecting such a powerful swing. And gods help them if they were in the arc of the blade itself.

Then again, if they had failed to heed his warning - then it was only proper they suffer the consequences, no?

Just as she was about to bark orders at the three that had possibly caused more damage to the unconscious Miqo'te, he started to speak in broken words. "John, you're the one hurt right now. Don't try to move till this one here looks at your head."

Thankfully Cliodhna, the injured John and the three that had tripped over him were far enough away when the large armor clad figured drew out the large sword and gave a powerful swing. As the wall of wind hit; Cliodhna could feel the hair whip back from her shoulders and pushed at her almost enough to knock her over. Grabbing the edge of a nearby table John had banged into, she held on to it to help brace herself as she held onto John to keep him steady.

Ah, smoke. It obscures the vision, fills eyes with tears, suffocates the throat, and leaves the body thrashing with cough. Such an easy trick, such a dramatic trick, to invoke the smoke and make an escape.

For the tall bard crouched behind the table, the effect would have been a commendable dash of drama. However, the thick stuff left him too much in coughing to use his voice effectively, and all he could think about was that his lute was somewhere nearby in the thick haze; his eyes were too affected to see clearly.

If it was scratched, or dented, or damaged in any way... or gods help, destroyed... all the Brass Blades in Ul'dah would not be swifter than he in finding new and creative ways to tear out the hair, flay the skin, yank tendon from bone, gouge and stomp eyes, crunch toes beneath bootheels, and render into red paste this so-called revolutionary. A certain bard without a certain lute was a giant of a man who would suddenly and literally have nothing better to do than enjoy cold-blooded...

Oh, there it was. He grasped the neck of it, and was rewarded with the sound of properly tuned strings. It was still too smoky to see if there was any damage, but at least he could now focus...

His other hand fell upon a large...book. Ah, Cliodhna's ledger. He scooped it up to safety as well, and, still bleary-eyed, peered over the table edge towards the sound of Clio's voice, straining to see what was what, of shouts and screams, and a too-familiar sound of whistling air...

He ducked back behind the upturned table, fighting down the uncharacteristic vengeful hate that had momentarily welled up in his heart, and looked back around the table again, this time, instead of over it, trying to make sense of the din, and perhaps find his until-just-recent tablemate, perhaps to assist. No sense taking chances.