Welcome to Gaia! ::

Doctor Severin Oddssen placed his hands on his hips and arched his back as much as his old bones could handle. He let out a pleased grunt when it resulted in a few pops, and exhaled noisily. The tall Norwegian was decked out in a full length apron, and that apron was decorated with stains. for the sake of keeping his day clothes clean, he had stripped to the waist to avoid any messy explanations of why he got covered in blood so often. Truth be told, he was a pacifistic man, just one who worked as a black market butcher.

While Severin went about tidying himself up from a busy day of hacking and chopping, two large metallic eyes observed. The eyes belonged to a young, ashen face, which all belonged to a baby. His given name was Ankou, though his adoptive father insisted on referring to him as Nicodemus. The baby didn't much like that, but who was he to argue? For the moment he was entertaining himself by teething on a rather humanoid femur.

When the doctor had finished cleaning his workspace and putting some last hunks of meat into packaging, he emitted a final heavy sigh. "Well, Nicodemus," he rasped, "I believe it is time for lunch. Perhaps a walk would do these old bones well."

Nico responded by ceasing his bone-gnawing and staring quietly. He wasn't much for conversation, disregarding the fact he was a baby. Instead he dropped the femur and stretched his arms out, making little grabby hand motions. Severin scooped him up awkwardly, and wrapped his lanky arms around the strange little boy he had found in the Boneyard.

“It certainly is not!” came an indignant voice not far from the window.

Feyd had meant to go help the others board up the lower windows, but he had been distracted or rather, Syrin had been distracted. Now he sat with Syrin on a low crate, pulling things from the neat piles around him and giving them to the babe to examine. There was the golden goblet of a pirate king, the glittering brooch of an esteemed lady and, Syrin’s favorite, the little jeweled dagger of… well, Feyd couldn’t remember what performance it was from. They were all fake of course. But this came to a very abrupt end when the quite moment was invaded by intruders from the window. Leaping to his feet Feyd had gathered his little Self, still holding the blunted dagger, into his arms and answered the cloaked male’s question hotly.

How could they think the Raither Theater was abandoned? It would never be abandoned! Feyd conveniently forgot that a good half or so of the theater was out at the riot and that many of the window’s were now boarded, giving the otherwise handsome theater a slightly derelict look. Still, they gave performances several nights a week. Didn’t these people know that?

Feyd was really more offended by the remark about his precious home than the fact that it had been broken into, but he remember that quickly enough and tightened his hold around Syrin (who squirmed in response). “What are you two doing in here?” Had they escaped the riot? Was it really that close now? His voice had become more curious than angry. He didn’t feel threatened, yet. There plenty of people about the theater, and Feyd knew which barrel held the real swords.

Now Feyd felt a bit threatened and, despite his little Self’s squirming protest, he pulled the babe close, half turning to hide him. He was usually very good at keeping Syrin at a fair distance from curious people, or at least he was good at stealing attention away and monopolizing it, as he did in Marsalles, but these newcomers didn’t seem so easily led. Their attention was worrying Feyd and it showed in his voice, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you should leave…”

Syrin wasn’t swaddled now in the drab cloths that had kept him warm (and inconspicuous) as Feyd walked the streets. He had shed those things to play, though now he seemed to have forgotten the little dagger in his hands and struggled to peer about Feyd’s arms at the newly arrived pair. The room was too well lit to pass the babe’s eyes off as anything but red.

Kaley was not flagging, although it was starting to look hopeless for the guards at this point. She continued to slash, punch and kick as needs be. She was keeping with the line and now she was hoping the advanced guard would be able to drive off those that were overwhelming the mercenaries.

They were after all no where near as well trained, armed or armored as Sekhet's guards, nor did the have the numbers necessary to slaughter the majority of the city's populace which was now packed into a meat grinder effect.

Another body falls and Kaley steps back more to keep in line as the remaining caravans fall away to safety of the Marsalle district. She sighed deeply and would run a hand through her hair if she was not in the middle of a battle at the moment.

Fae watched, struck with momentary horror as the crowd whirled and surged around her. Her throw had struck true, and she felt sick down to the very core of her being. The crowd jostled around her, pushing her backward as they all tried to rush the cart. She let herself be pushed this way and that until she found herself standing alone, wide eyed and panting as the throng overwhelmed the convoy like a human river...

...then she turned and ran.

Grondax looked ahead of him in disgust as a cart a few in front of his was flipped over by the throng of people. He was lucky enough that his shipments were situated farther back in the convoy and so far the guards had repelled most of the people so far, but Grondax knew it would not last.

He took the reins from the driver and pulled them abruptly causing his cart to stop harshly. As the back end of the caravan came to a stop he gave the signals to his men to push the carts through at full speed towards Marsalle Estates.

It was the people or his shipments of goods, and Grondax was not one to let a few vermin stand in the way of his assignment. He jumped from his cart and slapped his carts horse causing it to jolt off with the rest of his carts following close behind trampling anyone unlucky enough not to get out of the way.

He then made his way towards the nearest ally to avoid needlessly wasting his energy. His city was getting restless, and he could spend no more time cutting down these people that were beneath his effort. After all he still had matters to attend to.

Ayira rubbed her eyes and stretched out her now sore and locking mussels. She had been leaning over her desk all night going over the books for The Red Rat, trying to find ways to cut a little extra money here and there. It was honestly no use, in their world today the likelihood of living in the lower districts and actually having any extra money was laughable. In fact if it wasn't for her rich clientele and benefactors, along with the occasional miss-doings, The Red Rat would be out of business.

As she pushed the books away from her and leaned back in her chair she gazed out the window of her office, located in the building connected to the tavern. "Is it that late already?!" she said quickly getting up from her chair and slamming her knee into the desk in the process. "POX?!" she screamed as she rubbed her knee in the core spot. It was well past time for her to be out and looking for a new security guard or two, since the last two had to be "let go" since they took their pay out of her girls, and left them beaten and bruised in the process.

It wasn't that they weren't allowed to take their pay in the sins of the flesh, it was just that Ayira had a strict no damaging policy with her girls, and that went for the wealthier men who came to her place for the night. No one was allowed to force one of her girls to bed and no one was allowed to harm them in anyway. Those two rules are what kept her in working order with her girls, in fact more and more girls came to her each day looking for work since Ayira was one of the few that actually cared for their well-being and not just the profit they turned.

As she gazed down at her knee and noticed there was no permanent damage done she pushed the chair back into place and walked out of the office heading towards her bed chambers, to changing into something more fitting for looking for employees. She didn't think walking around in leather jerkins and a red tunic would do the trick, but who knows she might have been wrong. Instead she donned a more feminine looking attire, a black skirt with soft lace accents, a blood red corset, a black caplet, and black lace gloves along with heels. Her hair she left down to frame her face, mostly due to the fact it was late and she had no desire to wrestle with it at the moment.

Making sure her face was in perfect condition she grabbed her money pouch, hid it between her cleavage, strapped a switch blade knife to her thigh that was easily accessible through a slit concealed in her skirt, and headed out of her home into the streets looking for a few good men or women to be her new security guards.

Despite a few carts falling into the hands of beggars, other carts in the train surged forward, a fresh group of soldiers standing ready near the entrance of the Marsalles Estates. The number of bodies in the street continued to escalate, here and there a hired soldier joining the civillian corpses. Suddenly, the locks of the University gates began turning again, and a unit of Peace Enforcement officers rushed into the streets, their weapons drawn and ready for blood.

At the sight of Sehket's fearsome police force, the riot became even more chaotic and dangerous. Peace Enforcement soldiers penetrated the crowd easily, dispersing civillians, and cutting down anyone not fast enough to escape.

Among the casualties was a young woman, easily overlooked as she was surrounded by the bodies of many other Wynander citizens. Nothing was especially remarkable about her, except a heart-shaped locket around her neck. As her body was revealed, it was obvious the girl had already been laying quite still for several minutes.