The Tides of Change

[Sephira]

Max was as unpredictable as a thunderstorm, but she bore a tenacious resolve that Sephira had admired in the past. She was no coward, unlike her compatriot Mercedes. It had not been lost on the Element that the Defier was part of this. She had seen him before the night of the collapse at the docks , carrying Max from the scene, and they had met earlier in Sweetwine Woods. Evidently they had both been drawn into this plot against the Elements. It was strange that he sought to aid the forces that had led to Max’s maiming. Could they both be so blind that they didn’t see which side of this conflict they were on? Destabilizing the Elements would only lead to chaos in Scalvoris, not peace.

The Rusalka closed the distance between them and a pressure grew at the back of the mage’s throat. In the past season they had all been allies. All the women that had been captured had fought together for their freedom. Now a divisive wedge had been driven between them all, with surgical precision. Was it happening again? Were the forces that led to the formation of the cult and the events of that Cylus night somehow forcing the women apart? They had been so strong that night. Together they had been a formidable force, destroying the Elements’ cult and freeing the prisoners. To-trial they were divided and made all the weaker for it.

Sephira’s eyes swirled with a kaleidoscope of green, silver and black as she met Max’s gaze. There was regret and turmoil reflected there.

Please don’t make me do this Max

The words echoed in her thoughts, but she did not speak them. Neither of them wanted this, but fate had led them here and placed them on opposite sides of the battlefield. Max had been led by her fear and Sephira by her duty.

What Max had done was wrong, without a doubt. She had killed an Element and set the people of Scalvoris against the military, and likely her list of crimes extended far beyond that, but still Sephira’s blade felt heavy in her hands. They had fought together; the woman had defended Element’s Hall with the mage, even though Max despised them. All because she would never allow a cowardly man hiding beneath a mask to threaten her friends and allies again.

Ether swam into the mage’s grasp and her spark reveled in the energy. Rain poured down her face, her hair clinging to her shoulders. Sephira snatched open a Blink portal, and vanished in a swell of crimson tinged with indigo. The boom of the portal shook the ground. Her reappearance behind Maxine was heralded by Kura arriving. The Element brought her saber down with methodical precision to rest near the back of Max’s neck, perhaps only a few inches away. The maneuver could be easily dodged as there was no intent of harm. Kura’s timing was fortuitous, with her there they had a much better chance of ending this without spilling a drop of blood.

“Disarm and stand down, you are outnumbered. ” Sephira uttered softly, her voice was strained with a barely contained grief. She didn’t care about the councilwoman’s words concerning Lavana’s murder of Sylvia Macklin. Killing was a choice, no matter the circumstances. It was a debt that much be repaid, in some form or another. Perhaps Lavana had been forced to do so, but she had made the choice to keep these secrets from her. Sephira’s trust was not given easily, and it had been betrayed, more than once by the mortalborn. It would not be won back with ease.

"I have orders to bring her in." The Element said flatly to the councilwoman, her eyes never leaving Maxine. Hopefully Kura had no intention of intervening with the arrest.

Should Max remain stationary the mage would attempt to place the cuffs on her. If not, then she would respond in kind.

Dialogue|Thoughts

[Padraig]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=4018[/img]

What might have begun as a fairly isolated and legitimate series of complaints, had somehow turned into chaos, and then again shifted to absolute and bloody mayhem. And the source of the spark could be traced back to just two or three individuals. And they continued to fan the flames until eventually they tried to do what cowards of this sort tended to do. They attempted to flee for their own lives while leaving countless innocents to pay the price in their stead. It couldn't be allowed to happen, so far as Padraig was concerned.

Then Kura and her enormowl followers came along and there by Faith's side, once he'd clapped his hands over his ears to block out the screeching, he grinned a little and agreed. "Showoff," he said dryly. Then again, when Faith did what he knew she was capable of but had never truly understood how, he added, "Both of you." There were people showing up at Faith's side that he didn't recognize, and now wasn't the time for polite introductions, but he could only conclude and feel fairly confident that they didn't mean any harm.

But the ones trying to escape justice? The city's forces that had turned up hadn't seemed able to contain them yet. And somehow each of them had managed to escape any sort of justice born on the wings of an enormowl. In fact one of them, Mercedes, was halfway into being swallowed up by the ground itself. Magic no doubt. There seemed to be quite a lot of it flying around. But he had to be stopped and looking up, Padraig noted that one of the owls had turned in that direction. But if the thing didn't get there quickly enough or if the man somehow managed a second time to thwart the creature's efforts? There was more that would need doing so leaving Faith's side, Pad quickly made his way there.

He had his sword and his bow, but Padraig wasn't the killing sort unless it was the only option left available to him. At this point there was another. The man was a sitting duck after all. Reaching out his hand into the trial's bright light, he brought a shield made of the sun's rays into being and clutched it tight in his hand. Perhaps he might reach Mercedes before the owl descended, or might have to wait for a moment when the owl might conceivably lose its grip and pull back. But whichever it was, as soon as he'd a clear shot between him and the man's cranium, Padraig would bring the thing down crashing on the troublemaker's head. Hopefully not hard enough to kill. It wasn't his intention. But hard enough to knock him out cold or at least daze him enough so he'd lose his focus and connection to whatever spell he was weaving, and stop his escape, aid in his capture.

[Faith Augustin]

65th Ashan 718

This place was chaos, and it wasn't getting easier, in fairness. However, her actions with the instigators magic seemed to be appropriately timed and he didn't escape. Then, Padraig moved and she smiled, although there was no mirth in it. Faith was, in many things, dauntless and utterly fanatical and this was an example of just that. But, she was confident that Padraig would deal with what he was going to. She nodded to Patrick and her response to "what now" was simple. "Stop them from hurting anyone else." She wanted to stop and speak to Lord Venora, to ask him how he was and what had happened to him, but this was far from over and Faith glanced and she saw an Enormowl fall and she turned her gaze around, seeking what caused it.

And then, next to Amaris she saw it.

A corpse, visible and standing. Amaris was there and Amaris was her friend, but more than that? Faith was a servant of Famula, of Moseke and of Vri and there was no way that she was allowing this. Initially, looking at the appearance of it, she assumed it was undead. But whatever it was, Faith moved, and quickly. Drawing her masterwork sword, Faith moved. She was aware of those around her, but she knew that she had done what she could in order to stop the coward from fleeing, that there were others, including Kura, at the other side of things with the woman who was involved in this, Max. Faith knew her, though not well. Not well at all and, in this moment Faith had the kind of drive and focus which was absolute.

She moved and she did not have far to move, in the scheme of things. Amaris, after all, had been close by just a few trill ago and was trying to tend to the injured. Which were the people right here, so Faith moved with all haste and she put every bit of strength she had into a single blow. Swinging the sword upwards in a graceful slice, she aimed to take off the head of the creature there. It was an abomination, an offense to Famula and the fanatical young woman would not allow that to continue.

Her aim was to kill it, once again, by separating it's head from it's shoulders. As it was physically there, then she felt the blow connect and at that point, Faith would not stop until such time as it was decapitated. She did not know that it was a Harvester she fought, but she did not care - although knowing that it was unable to see her would have assisted her considerably. Still, her aim was simple.

It was an affront to Famula, Vri and Moseke and she would not allow it to continue. And so, she attempted to kill it with the most efficient blow. Close up, Amaris might notice that the air around Faith seemed to be blowing and shimmering.

Off Topic

Have conferred with Plague to make sure that this is appropriate etc. Obviously, the consequence of it needs to be left up to Aegis, so I've stopped there.

[Mercedes]

The pain and discomfort brought about by the “Trickery” he pulled on the elements made him feel guilty. He had been half-way submerged in the earth before something mysteriously severed the connection between mage and spark. A sigh exited his lips, and whilst owl, and man charged him; the sorcerer simply gave up. Max had been in danger of dying as of this very moment, and no longer could he be a witness to the destruction that he caused. Single handedly; he did all of this, and put several lives in danger. Mercedes no longer had the desire to fight, and thus the moment that his spark finished its rampage; he gathered a large amount of ether whilst faith had been distracted with the beast. The sorcerer called upon the wind beneath his breath. In a split-trill a gale powerful enough to force foes off of their feet expanded from him in all directions.

“Fuck this.. I don't care anymore.. Just fucking kill me.” The sorcerer yelled at the top of his lungs, and made an attempt to distract everyone on the field of combat. He could fight no longer, and suffer no more; he was defeated. The elements were a corrupt people, and wished to silence the truth; that one of their own had been responsible for the deaths of so many. The justice system was simply a hammer to be brought down upon the truth, and crush it mercilessly. Hopefully padriag had been forced back for a long enough period of time for Mercedes to finish his speech.

With raised arms, the sorcerer reached toward the heavens only to speak a few short words. “You fucks from the council are nothing but a bunch of spineless fools with no opinions of your own. You fucking elements are nothing but idiots who wish to silence the truth. However, one trial all of you will see exactly what I talked about. Remember my name, and this trial as I, an innocent man will die for speaking in public." The sorcerer spoke as he gathered more ether in his fingertips, and brought down his right hand only to place an index finger at his temple. A small rock formation overtook his finger, and he prepared to kill himself before the enemies could do so.

“Fuck, All of you. I'll take my own life before you get the satisfaction of doing so for yourselves."

[Lavana Tharn]

Tharn

There was something about the way that Sephira acted towards Lavana that had enacted a particular bitterness in her and pushing sympathy towards Maxine. And as the flame element kicked dirt in her plea with her friend, Lavana had been left with her extremely volatile nature starting to boil over into something of a frenzied aggression. Sephiras transgression was an affront to her gesture to retrieve the Rusalka peacefully, and the destruction of her minor bond had made things go from bad to worse.

With the fact that she did not take responsibility and hid behind her orders like a stone wall, it was pushing her past her limit. The flame element was quick to point fingers, when the death of over a hundred was on her shoulders. It had caused enough of an offense for Lavana to seek retribution.

She saw the color in the Biqaqs eyes, it had given the mortal born hope before it had been snatched away and Maxs eyes reverted back to black. The mortal born felt shed almost had her friend out of harms way, or so she thought. Before she coldly dismantled her attempt to try things differently peacefully; maybe a transaction of violence would get her what she wanted then.

Maxine charged, and Lavana had taken a step back as her other foot swung to the side to build momentum and distance to put a serious cleave on her claymore the kind of force to knock a shin asunder; Sephiras argument wouldn't have a leg to stand on! Lavanas aim was to drive steel with force into the elements exposed knee or shin while Sephiras Saber was held high perched on her shoulder. Last second however the mortal born pulled back on the original intent of her movement as Kuras Enorma Owl came blasting through with its talons raking across the ground.

Her sword never made a full movement as she expertly handled her swords rotation to halt and maneuvered it's tip into the cobblestone with an experts flare to make it look like fancy etiquette as Sephira had flashed out of harms way long before anyhow.

As the rain pitter pattered across her steel drenched form. Hand balled into a fist pressed firmly against her chest plate while she held her head low in submission to Kura as she had arrived; her mother's chosen. Her requests were taken as nothing short of direct orders. Ad Lavana fell into basic imperial legion protocol when confronted by a higher ranking officer in the field. The chain of command, Lavana could be pissed and throw all the temper tantrums she wanted In the privacy of her room, break her toys and even be hold petty grudges over stupid shit but when push came to shove Lavana respected the chain of command. Raskalarns Daughter had enough discipline, to understand who her friends were as Sephira was showing her true colors.

It was painful but it was done. Lavana could only be given time to reapply her blessing as she directed it at the Rusalka. The mortal born wanted the ex mercenary to at least feel her out, at least know shed do whatever she could to get her out of this mess.

But there was something else she heard Kuras words and the mortal born was in agreement with Karems daughter. Lavana knew better and stood down, she was not an adversary of the eternal empire. But as she did, she only saw Sephiras thirst for blood again. She rejected the concept of fault in herself and pursued her orders, Kura the Councilor Of Foreign Affairs a Member Of The Governing Body of Scalvoris told her to stop, cease and desist to stand down and Sephira still pursued her orders as if the elements were above the council. Is that how she tucked herself in at night? Even Kura admited fault, yet the Flame Element was driven by madness that might kill one of the few that knew her for who she was.

And the only thing Lavana could fucking do was discipline herself behind her sword and watch like a bitch, she felt like a coward. As shed attempted to bond with the Rusalka, but not in battle she wanted her to know the pain this was causing her if Maxine allowed it shed be bound with her to the end.

But she still had to try, still had to do something.

"Really Kura? Sephiras ignoring a direct order from the governing body of Scalvoris? When does this madness, end? She thinks the elements are above the council! And takes no responsibility for her actions."

Off Topic

Celarion Abilities;
Bond Minor. To Sephira Broken
Bond Minor. To Maxine if accepted

[Alistair]

Patrick had declared his protection over them, which resulted in a smirk from the bewildered mage. So much happened around them, but the small group of people standing here tried to keep it all contained. I got your back, whatever the case, his lover told him, and Alistair nodded and winked. "We'll see what our young former student wants, before anything," he grinned, referring to Faith.

She moved.

The Champion marched towards an anomaly within the crowd, lost within the wildness and commotion. Alistair watched the woman, and even followed behind her, keeping his eyes peeled as he both guarded and watched her to see how she would operate. The former slave had come far... she'd come an immensely long way, and a part of him felt pride as well as kinship. He didn't want to leave her side, because this was the realization of his beliefs. She had such power, such greatness to her, it literally glowed off of her skin. In some ways she was the same as before - but in so many things, she had fully outshined her former self, and most of all she'd outshined the master.

But as they grew close, Alistair recognized what she was hunting. A wispy-like creature, at least from his original view, that quickly came into his vision as the apparition he'd met inside of the fracture that had constructed the Jagged Heart. His name was Oor - and he was the spirit tethered to Volker, a Harvester. The mage reached his hand out to attempt to grab Faith's shoulder, but she moved too certainly, and after only a brief period she swung her blade and attempted to rend the creature's head from its neck. Alistair reacted immediately, splintering her sword, effectively removing it - temporarily - from fabric of Idalos, switching it with a variable thread of space. The blade appeared as a collection of cracked indigo tears, and even if she swung through her own body, nothing would happen. It would merely fly right through.

"Faith, wait," the mage beckoned, his gaze intensifying. "Don't kill that creature, Faith - I know it. You don't know what killing that spirit will do to the one who holds it," Alistair advised her, attempting to force her weapon aside. He believed himself to be the protector of mage-kind, wherever they were. Some death was unavoidable, but Volker's death was certainly not a necessity, and it would ensue if the woman slayed this creature. Harvesters... he didn't know everything about them himself, but he knew of their importance. They kept an Aberrant alive, they controlled... the ether. The chaos that mangled their minds. Volker would go mad, flay as many as he could, and then wither into nothing. Killing the Harvester now was not the way. She was ignorant on the lives of mages, and he couldn't allow her to ruin Volker's life without thought.

"It's just a spirit, Faith. Like any other. It's not bad or good, and its master has been nothing but good... to me. And Damien," he whispered, thinking back to his broken, despondent Lich. She followed Famula - she wouldn't understand outsiders such as him. Damien would likely be the greatest abomination of all, to her - not only a Lich, but a corrupted one. Twisted.

Alistair didn't have that zealous right to expunge. Mages were so often reviled, and their unique challenges - such as the Harvester's bond - were disregarded like nothing. A mere swing of her blade, and Volker's fate would be sealed.

He couldn't let that happen. Faith needed to know. Just as slaves were held back by the chains of law and tradition, mages were controlled, culled and subjugated by fear and miseducation. This was his mission, his piety - and nothing was worth losing it.

Off Topic

This thread has kind of become a huge fustercluck, yay open threads, so I'm just responding to Faith and Oor's interaction - sorry people!

[Volker]

Date

Volker had little problem finding the wounded for Amaris. The Elements were cutting through them like a hot knife through soft cheese. Slaughtering innocent citizens like it was their right to destroy everything that made the city what it was. It was hard not to stare at the violence that was taking place. Armored and trained soldiers destroying unarmored and untrained citizens. Many of whom were simply carrying what they could pick up and little else. Even Volker didn't hunt like this; with so much waste. Such a show of force that the other had no choice but to cower down in terror or be destroyed. No, Volker hunted honestly and he despised those who wasted lives like this. He only took what he needed to keep his belly full and the Harvester appeased.

The senselessness of it enraged him. Not only that, but the main military forces seemed to be focused on slaughtering citizens and attacking a man who had done nothing. Max, Volker thought, deserved prison for drawing her blade. She had turned a demonstration into a riot. But Merces had done little but use his words and had not touched a single citizen or Element. In all of this, his hands were clean, and yet he was treated as the criminal. Volker found someone not dying enough yet to be considered a total loss, and threw the man over his shoulder. He had a significant wound to the shoulder, probably done by an Element's flying blade.

The roar that resounded in his head was sudden and furious. Volker dropped the injured man and recoiled from it, shaking his head and growling. The scream had caused black spots on the edge of his vision from the pure intensity of it, and all of it in his head. Oor. He looked for his Harvester, and saw Faith lunging toward him. For the first time in Volker's life, pure hatred welled up. Faith, not content with standing idly by while soldiers massacred citizens who once loved her, was attempting to kill the only creature helping the true healer.

He couldn't reach Oor in time, but another man could. Alistair shattered her sword, and it passed harmlessly through his Harvester's withered neck. Pure hatred and rage bubbled up in his heart. Oor might have been a heckler, but he had done nothing. He was even helping Amaris, possibly the only kind thing Volker had ever seen him do. Faith was attacking people attempting to help those cut down by her marauders. Volker filled his lungs and roared.

'I'm alright.' Oor reassured him. The Harvester vanished, but instead of his trademark wisps of ash, a new sign appeared. Ashes coalesced in the sky right before Faith, harmless fragments of dust. They swirled together, and in a few seconds Volker could make out what Oor had made. A gigantic hand, with the middle finger poised upright and staring right at Faith. The Harvester was gone, and not likely to appear again with an enemy around.

'Memorize her scent. Her face. We're going to kill her one of these days. We're going to kill her. Piece by piece. Over weeks. And we're going to do it with her husband's paralyzed eyes watching every second.'

Volker hung back, out of range of any repercussions from Faith. He did not trust her not to have a backup weapon of some sort. Instead, he circled her, and attempted to approach Amaris. Even if Oor was alright, he was concerned about how close the magic had been to her. "Are you alright?" he questioned the giant. He instinctively moved to step over the injured man Amaris was currently tending to, protectively. He couldn't do much. Faith was a powerful entity. But enough was enough. "Arrest me for whatever crimes you believe I have committed. But leave the dying to the healer. She is not a part of this. We attempted to stop it; you and your kind insisted on blood. Arrest me, but the death stops here." Volker told Faith and Alistair. "None of this needed to happen. None of this..." he glanced at the dying. "...waste."

[Aegis]

Date

An eloquent speech is able to catch the hearts and minds of the common man. But when spoken from inside the mouth of an Enormowl, those rousing words go unheard. And so, Merces rant never fell upon curious ears, as the bird's maw encapsulated his form. And there it held as the man yelled, ranted, and screamed about his beliefs and opinions.

And while the people around the streets didn't hear his words, the elements, the powers that worked with the defier heard them loud and clear. Particularly earth. Earth was insulted that this defier had called upon it, and it had answered, only for the man to trick it. Even more so now that the man seemed intent on killing himself, giving up, running away; a coward. It was intolerable. And so, in an act of defiance against a defier that had forsaken the very elements that had given him life, given him a family, and friends, and comfort, and power, and everything one could dream of, earth simply crumbled. The small rock formation at Mercedes' finger tip crumbled to dust. Earth abandoned the man. And in these moments, he could not hear it, nor feel it, nor sense it. To him, earth was gone.

Air wished to soar, to whip around, to dance, to lift up and to sing. Air wished to be whimsical and playful, and if called upon, would fight. To be a brother in arms with the defier. To throw his enemies as far as it could, to make their lungs burst. It wished to destroy them, for him. But this defier only wished to use air to talk. And the words he spoke were those that air could not tolerate. These were the words of one who had no pride. No faith. Not the words of a leader or a friend. And so, just as earth crumbled away, air departed as well. And Mercedes' would no longer feel air's cool caress, nor hear its beautiful song. To him, air was gone.

Fire rampaged within the man, his hidden pupils dancing feverishly. Fire wished to be unleashed upon those that threatened their defier. To burn this bird from the inside out, to char the flesh of those who spoke out against Fire's kin. But fire hadn't even been called to this fight. Fire never had a chance to show how strong it was to the defier. Instead, the defier showed how weak he was. To douse his own coals. This defier wanted to take the easy way out. But nothing about fire was easy. Fire worked hard to destroy, to burn, to utterly change anything it touched. But now, fire realized it had been forsaken. And so, the lights left Mercedes' eyes. Mercedes' would never know the rage and power that fire knew. To him, fire was gone.

Water, calm and clear, wished to help. To find a way to help their master escape, to retreat to a safe haven, where they could strike back, where they had the advantage. The harbor wasn't far away, with the world's oceans at the touch. There was a well nearby too, they could've called on that. Even Maxine was nearby, water, and air for that matter, liked her. She was the growing storm. Why wasn't he asking his friends, his family for help? Was her that scared? So scared of the depths, that he drowns from panic in the shallows? Water didn't understand it. And so, the dampness left Mercedes' hair. To him, water was gone.

And all the while, the enormowl tired of keeping its maw open in such a position. And a few flecks of dust, possibly from the crumbled stone, floated up into its throat, tickling it. And the bird coughed and hacked, and soon after, a spew of foul smelling liquid was shot forth, showering the mage in filth. Followed by that, an owl pellet thumped him lightly in the head, containing the bones and fur of the bird's most recent meal. The owl pulled its head away to recover, and that was when Mercedes' was brained by Padraig's shield.

Unconsciousness found the abandoned mage, his body slumping forward, his nose cracking as it broke against the stones of the walkway.
Meanwhile, nearby in the crowd, a sword held by one of Famula's followers whistled lightly as it slashed toward an apparition. The strike was one of beauty, perfectly aimed, and timed. The blade bit into the Harvester's "flesh" at the neck, beginning it's fatal stroke through. However, in that moment, the blade disappeared, and the hilt was swung heavily. Both Faith and Alistair had struck true. But the Harvester hid its pain from Volker, telling him it was alright. The damage had been dealt. It would take a good while for Oor to recover, and for the next several tentrials, Oor would be weaker, less talkative, short tempered, and more ravenous during this healing phase.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Mercedes - You're done in the thread, your Prophet Notes are being updated. PM sent. Kura, Padraig, Faith, Alistair, and Volker - Your results are there. The rest of you - Continue onward As per how this thread is gone, I will only hop in again if it is deemed necessary to determine the results of actions/PVP/etc.

[Patrick]

Patrick's question had been a combination of whimsical rhetoric and of course genuine curiosity, but at the simplistic terms of 'stop them' being mentioned he could only grin slightly. Which them? The rioters that still lingered hoping to sate the appetite for blood? The mercenaries present that wanted to fuel the violence further? Or the two leaders that seemed to be the ones that caused this uprising? There were a lot of people to stop in this fight, and while he hadn't any inclination which to start with one thing remained true; he was there to back up and protect Alistair indefinitely.

That meant Faith too of course and own companion she was there with, albeit Patrick had all but briefly noticed that Padraig was there also. The man had already closed in on the mage that manipulated the earth, and therefore assailed him with a shield that he manifested from light. "I'll be damned." The Rharnian remarked when he saw the event unfold from afar, just long enough for both Faith and Alistair to storm off just as quickly. "Shit!" He cursed under his breath with the crossbow held firmly, his line of sight on the target that Faith seemed to attack first. It appeared to be some otherworldly spectral thing, some sort of entity that he had never really seen before in his life.

Scalvoris. The epitome of mages and all their wily magics it seems! Not that Patrick could complain since, he too, was a Rupturer in the midst as well. But even when he picked out his first target to provide fire support against, Alistair already had immediately Blinked in to intervene on act. "Sodding hell?! What' is it now?!" According to Alistair it was a spirit of some sort, and both it and his master were apparently 'good' towards him. But were they really? Pat wasn't officially there so there was no way he could vouch for this, and though Alistair seemed most assured of his own words... Patrick didn't feel so easily swayed. Faith probably didn't either.

She had a gift that one. In the recent trials Patrick himself visited her he learned much, enough to ascertain that the name was more than just it's own. Faith. The girl who had once been a slave now a servant of the Immortals, and quite the very dedicated woman in regards to her beliefs. She wasn't just the name at all, she was the living embodiment of what the name truly meant. Maybe Patrick had grown to admire that about her too much, maybe he just spent too long contemplating the concept at all honestly. Even so they were still in the middle of a bloody bout that was on the verge of dying down, all that remained was to quell the remaining forces of those who fought against the peace bringers. Patrick had remained several feet back to be able to provide his support, and just in the nick of time too considering one of the rioter's proceeded to assail his companions.

"Not today Sap!" He growled with the crossbow aimed at the man's waist area rather than the torso, since the goal here was to bring order to this fold of rampant chaos. Imagine! Patrick Barnell of Rharne wrangling rioters for the sake of peace! Both Syroa and Illaren would piss their pants right now, if they knew just how ironic this moment truly was. With a bite of his lower lip Patrick angled his head some and pressed the butt of his bow into the shoulder, the aim of the bolt's trajectory aligned just a little higher than the waist line of the assailant. With such a small amount of Trills only left to act, Patrick inhaled deeply and squeezed the trigger of his crossbow to shoot the man. Immediately upon the firing shot he tapped into the reserves of his ether, as his Spark eagerly responded to the intent of magic at play.

Patrick utilized his Blinking to cover the ground between him and the two he sought to protect, so in the event he wasn't successful in stopping the rioter; he'd ultimately be the one to stand between the both of them.

Off Topic

So Patrick tried to immobilize the rioter that went for Faith/Alistair, but I left that open to interpret for the mod in terms of success. Also:

Sap:
Although this term refers to the internal, sticky material found in trees, in Rharne it is considered a derogatory term when in reference to a person. Sap does not conduct lightning well. When a tree is struck, the sap with heat up and expand, causing the plant to combust. A person who is considered a sap does not absorb Ilaren's way of life well. They are either incapable of holding their booze, afraid of a lightning storm, or incapable of holding their own in a brawl. Inevitably, the inability to adapt to Rharne's ways causes internal turmoil.

[Freya DuCarinos]

○ Common ○ Rakahi ○ Pailtic ○ Hussian ○

The trial was dismal, dreary, dark… gloom clung to the atmosphere of the day as fog overtook the surface of the sea and there, a schooner with red flags sailed with a drenched Biqaj at the wheel. Rain poured down upon her from the skies above, as if pleading for the woman to stop her wicked ways and turn towards righteousness, but she would not… Her time in this life blessed her with no fortune, no family, no happiness to call her own therefore, it was her duty to claim that which she could not have any other way.
She sailed on.
Her heart didn’t ache for what it had committed, yet it still raged against her chest from the thrill potential danger as it lurked ever present even though she was league away from the coast now. Freya had taken the ship out, had let down the sails in her haste to leave and during that rush, had found the boat to be fast— faster than any she’d steered before. Testing the wheel, the woman turned sharp one way, than other as the ship sought to balance itself on the waves, riding close to the curve of the tide. Laughing against the wail of wind and rain, she cried out at the sea with adrenaline spurring joy, pushing strength into the wheel as it fought to twist on her with the rage of current it followed. This day, while filled with bloodshed and anger, found hope and resurrection where there was loss. Such turmoil, she felt, could not find her out on the seas.
After she sailed out far enough that the shore was a line on the horizon, Freya turned back and made sure to move far away from the portion of coast she’d left from, ensuring she couldn’t be followed by the previous owners of the ship. As luck would have it, however, her voice was not the only one to carry on the wind. Sickening green eyes peered down at the deck where the sight of a body leaned against the mast, stared up at her with a questioning, angry gaze.
Freya gripped the wheel, knowing she’d checked all compartments and found them to be empty— even the hammocks. Yet somehow, there was what appeared to be a man here and he looked displeased to find her as the new captain of the ship. The waves pushed against the boat as Freya leveled the wheel out, watching as the stowaway fought against the water, wind, and tilt of the ship to make his way to her. Grabbing onto the railing, he yelled out, “Who the sard are you?!”
Thinking of her option, the biqaj understood that she only had one small dagger that she could kill a man with, but did she have to go to such length? Was it the blood in her ears that was so loud right now or the wind and why was her heart starting to hurt?
“T-There was a riot!” She yelled back.
“So you stole my Captain’s Ship?!” He asked, nearing her.
“I hardly consider it stealing when you’re running for your life from an angry mob!”
“Turn this fucking ship around, now!” Within arms reach, he attempted to grab her but failed when the Biqaj sent the wheel sharply to the left, causing him to slide back from her. “The elements will throw you away for this!” He hissed.
“If they catch me!” Freya retorted before taking one hand off of the wheel to unsheath the dagger on her hip. “You have two options!” She cried out over the noise of the sea, pointing the blade his way. “You can either jump off this ship and hope that the sea doesn’t claim you or you can fight me for this scrap of a boat and die for it! Which will it be?!”
“This boat is my life!” He admitted, climbing towards her. “I die either way!”
Freya’s features hardened as she came to a single realization that filled her with more dread than she cared to admit… ‘Death it is then.’
Her mind tried to reason with the outcome, tried to explain ways she could avoid such a burden, tried to convince her that this wasn’t a necessary actions— but it all led back to the conclusion that he was now a loose end that needed to die because there was no way she could remain in Scalvoris if he knew of her face.
Body stiff to act, Freya forced her hand to move the wheel once more only this time, she pushed it towards the right so that he was made to slide towards her. The man was expecting it and grabbed for the hand with the dagger as Freya swung towards his chest, missing purposely.
‘You don’t want to kill him!’ Her mind screamed, ‘You’re going down a path you were never made to!’
‘Maybe I was…’ The darker part of her answered as she took her other hand from the wheel and thus, began to truly fight. The boat spun as she fell into the man, the two having been knocked from their feet and rolled along the helm of the ship as waves crashed into the side of the boat. Freya swung again, though this time, the intention was truly aimed to hurt the sailor and that’s exactly what she did. Rolling up against the side of the ship, Freya cried out as she shoved the blade past his arms and allowed it to sink deep within his chest. One hand on his shoulder while the other held the blade, Freya gasped as she watched blood spurt from his mouth trills later, only to crawl backwards in haste. Gripping the blade, he pulled it from his chest, staring at her with accusing eyes.
“It’s just…” Holding a hand to the puncture wound, he tried to stop the bleeding as the ship rolled again. “It’s just a ship.” He finished, leaning over as blood rushed from his wound like a waterfall, mixing with seawater and rain. Freya remained where she was, blue-green eyes wide as hands fell over her mouth in exasperation. What was she so shocked for? She wanted this to happen. Yet, there was a difference between killing a man out of self defense and killing a man because you wanted his things…
Truly, in this moment, she felt dirtied.
“I..I…” Moving towards him, she pushed her hands against his own, trying to stall the bleeding of his heart. “I told you— I said—” The glint of the blade lashing out towards her caused her body to spur into action as she leaned away, only for him to throw the blade aside and cast his bloodied hand towards her neck, meaning to choke her while he still had strength. The ship rolled, the blade slide, bodies tangled in a heap until the sailor hovered above Freya as she kicked and thrashed, face red.
The sailor paled, growing weak and with it, sagged forward only to crush the woman beneath him as she gasped out, shoving him off of her with everything she could muster. Scrambling away, another knock of the ship sent them reeling again and hastily, the biqaj clambered for the wheel, straightening it out while turning eyes to the dead man that lay several feet from her. A gasp ran past her lips, then another and another. Green eyes turned down to look at herself. She was drenched in blood… Even the deck was beginning to stain with such color and surly enough, her face contorted with a sorrow that she hadn’t felt for some time. Freya wanted to cry, but as suddenly as the fear and pain rose up in her chest, tightening her lungs, she squashed it back down beneath the surface. This had been her choice.
She would live with it now.