RP:A Brawl, An Assassination, and a Lack of Donation!

Part of the Law and Oreder Arc

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary

RED OGRE INN

Lycidas hosts a Charity Brawl for the people of Larket, for all to come and show their spirit towards the city.

The Brawl begins without a hitch, many arriving to watch many people bash in each others heads!

King Macon joins the fray within the tavern, his Rage inducing aura inciting a riot among the spectators!

Josleen becomes enraged, as she screams at friends, causing Sabrina to nearly kill her an unfortunate maiden that joined Josleen.

As the battle comes to a close, Valen being the winner after a beam nearly kills Kreekitaka, Josleen collapses.

The queen appears to be poisoned! Carried off for her protection!

With a building collapsing around Valen, the victor, Lycidas rushes in to save the vampire, only to have the building collapse around him. None saw him escape the burning wreckage of Red Ogre Inn, though many saw him enter.

Josleen was brought back to her castle, cared for by many healers, Artia among them, in an attempt to see to her well being.. As of now, the thought is she's stable.

The Roleplay!

Lycidas /had been slaving away at the tavern all morning, the charred insides of the once proud structure gave some hesitation about entering yet the vampire was more than certain it would stand. Log beams had been placed about to keep any portions of the ceiling that looked as they might collapse from doing just that. The massive knight had placed all sorts of things from within the tavern about on tables, bottles, plates, piles of charred food, pieces of broken marble, silverware and chairs, all remained, even a fire poker or two was present. The final touch for the vampire had been the front wall, his main focus was here. He had spent a long portion of the morning focusing upon removing the entrance so that people might be able to sit outside of the tavern and watch the spectacle inside. After having thoroughly checked if the wall itself was that which supported the weight of the construct and finally deciding, it had not, he cleared everyone out.. Except himself. The outsides of the wall were hacked away at, easily enough considering the frailty of the remaining structure, and once at a point where he felt it could be easily pushed, the man awaited his crown to arrive.. Grand entrances and all that. He watched through a window, waiting for them to gather outside, informed by the owner and bouncer alike of where to stand and watch him. And then, it was time, Lycidas had upon his face a look that could only be classified as, Hold my beer and watch this! Feet were planted firmly upon the ground, hands pressed against the entrance wall, and with all the strength the vampiric knight could muster, he shoved into the building. At first it creaked, groaned, and resisted the collapse, and then, without the structural integrity it once had, the man forced the wall to fall forward towards the crowd. Through the cloud of dust and debris, a voice could be heard booming from obscurity, “Welcome! To the Charity Brawl.” He paused for a moment, allowing the dust to settle before he continued, “One and all, we have chairs that will be brought out shortly from within,” He gestured to some of the individuals to go inside and grab the reserve chairs from the back for the spectators, “As you can see, inside this once beautiful establishment, today we shall conduct a brawl for all to break this apart even further than I have! And, within a few weeks, we shall be working upon a remodeling event with all the gold brought in by those who participate! There is a small fee to watch, five gold per individual, and to join in the fray itself, is fifty gold pieces. Betting will be permitted for those attending as spectators, unless you’re to bet upon yourself as a contestant.. And only yourself.” He paused, giving people a moment to soak in the information before he continued, “As for the rules for those who enter this sacred house of booze, beer, and sleep, no magic, no outside weaponry, inside there is bottles, chairs, marble, and whatever else you might find.. But, no outside weaponry is allowed, you may leave your swords, lances, arrows, bows, and whatever else you have brought with the giant who shall return it at the end. As for the rest of it, have fun, and if you should be injured in anyway, we have, I believe the lovely lady Artia attending to mend your wounds.” He’d point her out in the crowd, should she be there and able to be found. “And, last but not least, special guests!” Which would be listed after they joined in with their posts, along with fighter announcements.

Eleanor is gettin' her drank on and watching. No guarantee she won't try to pick some pockets when people aren't paying attention to the other spectators, at the very least.

Artia had set up the nanny for the benefit brawl, grabbing a bag and stocked it full of items. Moving to the inn, and immediately got pointed out by Lycidas, nodding her head. Wasn't hard to find the red head, moving to the bar, ordering a glass of wine while she waits for anyone that needs her assistance. Once the wine was delivered, the healer for the brawl moved outside. But where she could look inside, wanting to see the fight that went on here shortly. Placing the bag by her feet, running a finger along the top of the wine glass giving off a soft sound.

Valen would enter the Tavern, wearing a dress. He relished the idea that if he even managed to knock out or whatever one person, he could claim that they got their ass handed to them by a man in a dress...and te thought made him giggle. The dress was not one of Kreekitaka's, nor was it lavish in design. It was simply black, tight fitting, and easily maneuverable in as it hugged his form. Looking around, he would take note of peoples and things before he listened to the rules. Simple enough, though no magic would mean he would have to solely rely on his Vampirc strength...maybe his speed, and nothing else. It would be good to cause a few bruises with that combination. His hair was tied back, nails manicured...and painted red, and his eyes spoke of only wanting....a good time.

Sabrina was running out of places to be, this place seemed good as any except when she arrived there seemed to be a lot more people than the norm. She pulls the loose hood over her head and claims a chair at a table that was already occupied whether she was welcome to it or not. The chair is pulled to the back wall where she would sit and watch quietly.

Josleen arrives on Macon’s arm, perhaps overdressed, but that is what is expected of the Queen: an expensive dress, a fur coat, perfectly coiffed hair, and her non-marble crown (she hasn’t the neck muscles for a marble crown!), though pieces of marble are set among the gems smartly. Gigi, Prince Pooch, also graces the Red Ogre with his royal presence, donning a blue-and-crystal collar. The poodle wastes no time sniffing through the debris for salvageable food, though anything covered with dust won’t do. Mold is acceptable, of course. Several kingsguard accompany the king and queen at strategic distances (ooc: including Reinhardt? your call, Rein) in order to best survey the crowd. Queen Josleen is not permitted to enter the unstable structure under any circumstances. Drinks will be fetched for her. She waits for a servant to bring her a seat just beyond the tumbled wall. She smiles uneasily up at her husband. She doesn’t want him to brawl, but men will be men. He feels he needs to, and she won’t argument the point more than she already has, which was brief. There’s no use arguing with Macon, ever, about anything. “Good luck,” she says as she squeezes his hand and sneaks a peck on his cheek.

Reinhardt has heard the buzzing of news about an event at the Red Ogre for a few days, and after his rounds and making sure that the defenses of the city-state as well as the guard were doing their job, the knight heads over to the inn to check up on the event. Walking through the door, the knight's armor clad form grabs some attention by nearby pateons, before he moves over to stand near the door. Even still, he acts as a guard for all those present while pretending to be here to enjoy himself. The man just never fully stops working.

Jarith had kept his ear to the ground for the past few days and thankfully he had friends in the town. This brawl was something that he could not simply avoid attending in his newfound state. The Northern borne looked much younger than the corrupted male who’d been held by the king and queen, still he came in armor with a mask set in place and hood concealing the raven-wing black of his hair. Atop Hux, the knight slowed and held the stallion in place as he gazed upon the ‘stage’. Listening for the few moments those arctic, pupil-less eyes shifted beneath the mask for a moment before he swung himself down and tied his beast to a post. Fingers reached into pouch and with a deft flick he added his coinage to attend the event. “Harken Tulle, Brawler.” An alias and added accent helped to keep that identity, but for any who drew too close would notice a strange chill from the knight. No magic however pushed from his form, the purge having cleansed him of all but the cheapest parlor trick in such regards. His blade was left with the stallion, only the armor, piwafwi, and mask would remain.

Mythayus walked into the bar. He had known about the event but was still trying to decide if he want to brawl or not. He was wearing his typical spiked black spoked full-plate. Sword on his hip and shield on his back. It wasn’t like this was a serious brawl but was to benefit Larket. He was excited for the even and wanted to fight. So why not. He’d do as the Vampire said and hand over his sword and shield, then pay his fifty gold.

Macon and Josleen, as much as anyone, are the faces of the Larketian recovery effort. Save for a single day where their whereabouts went unaccounted for, the royal pairing has been on the front lines doling out relief assistance and face time where necessary, and on the back lines funding and organizing. The Rage Knight gets his waves and finger points in towards a mostly favorable crowd as the King and Queen make their way to the Ogre. Is dressed for the occasion in so much that he is outside of his usual silver armor and in attire more suited for brawling. He has brought the Rage Axe and his marble crown, but those are handed off to waiting Kingsguard when he is preparing to step into where the fray will be. Josleen, when she wishes him luck, is given a smirk, tilt of the head, and is that a wink? As if to say no luck necessary, don’t worry. Macon has a Kingsguard, Roald, deliver his entry fee to Lycidas for him. The young, lightly armored man makes it clear that this is for the king and not his own entry.

Kreekitaka heard about this brawl as a sort of last-minute thing from one of his underlings, and hurried over as quickly as he could. His kilt was simple--a dark red color, padded, reinforced. He'd left his potions and belt and jawblade back at the store, but of course he had to bring his claws with him. He shoved his way into the crowd--maybe even pushed a few people out of his way--and dropped a bag of gold into the organiser's hands, or wherever the pile of gold was that the donations were being received. "KreekiTAH!ka, an' I'm fighTAH!ing."

Josleen grins and shakes her head at Macon’s confidence, clearly smitten, like ‘oh you.’ She signals for the bookie and places a bet of 3,000 gold on the King (which is really the King’s money but it’s about the gesture). “Good, you better win,” she says to her husband as she waves her betting slip flirtatiously like a fan, seeing him off as he joins the brawlers.

Reinhardt moves from his position to make his way towards the one collecting the fee for the brawl. Looking about, the man hands him the entrance fee and heads down.

Josleen grows nervous when Kreekitaka arrives. As much as she believes her King to be invincible, that's a giant space crab who doesn't have fists but claws and an exoskeleton for skin.

Lycidas /signals Gumorn, as people attempt to pass him and enter into the tavern, his redirection pointing them to the chairs being placed throughout the field and pathway outside. His rough speech simple, “No enter, sit dere, food drink be brought to you. Fighter? Stay here, leave weapon wiff me, grab a ticket, place one on weapon, other go wiff you.” Lycidas ushered in the rest of the staff so they might grab their previously prepared food and drink, bringing it outside and setting it on a table to the side of where the spectators were sitting, each of them able to grab anything they’d like. Commoners, feasting like kings, some might state as the meals were elaborate and delicious. “Today, we have honored guests, the queen and king of Larket, blessing us with their presence. The kingsguard Reinhardt, Mythayus of the Kingsguard, Sabrina, leader of the healer’s guild, Valen, Educator of Larket’s magics, and the illustrious weaver of clothing, Creeky-Taco! If I said it wrong, I apologize!” Each of them was given a moment to stand and bow as they saw fit, then the man continued, announcing the brawlers for the evening, “Those of you watching shall hear some of those names called again, for in their generosity, they have decided to conduct battle and tear down these shattered walls in the name of Charity! Our first contender is the King himself! Sacrificing his body so that this town will live on! Secondly, we have Mythayus, Kreekitaka, as someone pointed out, a new name, Hork-un Tuhl-ley?, I may of said that wrong, if it sounds similar, you’re in. Valen, and Reinhardt!” With that he motioned back towards the giant with a wave of his hand, “Fighters, leave your weapons and armor with him, he’ll tag it for you, you’ll receive it at the end. As for the rest of you, enjoy the spectacle. Fighters, if you’ll follow me inside!” The man would have the remaining staff exit the establishment, leaving only the fighters within. Each fighter was placed on the edge of the tavern, along the wall, equally spaced from one another. “Alright fighters, as the great announcers once said an eternity ago,” Lycidas edged further and further away from the mayham about to ensue, exiting the tavern itself but standing between spectator and fighter, “FIGHT!”

Artia The witch watched the King and Queen appear, dropping to her knees, bowing her head deeply once Macon went inside, Artia moved over to Josleen. Giving her a big smile, “Been a while m’queen, congratulations on the marriage and finding love.” Pulling a bag of gold out, she would donate it to the efforts of fixing the inn back to how it was or even better. But she would give it out after the event, not wanting to get into anyone’s way for now. She would remain outside, unless needed inside. Looking back to Josleen, “Come over sometime, I miss having you around.”

Gigi resents not being listed with the other dignitaries. No one seems to understand he's -the- prince!

Sabrina pulls the hood further over her face as she is mentioned. She shrinks down into her chair and pretends she heard nothing.

Josleen moves through the crowd as the fighters get themselves ready. She greets Artia first, air-cheek kiss. "Lady Artia! You're glowing. Motherhood suits you. Congratulations again." A little more chit-chat, then she moves on to Sabrina, who she approaches more carefully as the elfess seems withdrawn from the spectacle. "Lady Sabrina." The queen attempts an air-cheek kiss, despite knowing it'll likely be rejected. "How are you feeling after what happened?" Meaning Carlisle's attack. She takes a seat next to Sabrina. There is a spare seat on the Queen's other side of Artia would like to join her. Josleen's attention remains on Sabrina's answer until Macon enters the 'arena'.

Macon has no sooner entered the crumbling, charred remains of his city’s Red Ogre than he is told to ‘FIGHT!’ He has been measuring the other combatants as they made their way in and has decided for now that he will stay away from the giant space crab (source: Larketian Herald.) Reinhardt’s proximity to the king is noted and at the moment he perceives no threat from his kingsguard. Sometimes he wants to punch Valen for tattling about his uncontrollable furious aura (a lingering effect from possessing the Rage Stone) to Lionel O’Connor, but the vampire too is safe at the beginning of the brawl from a royal pummeling. This only leaves The Fury Knight with another kingsguard and a stranger to select as targets, One of them is not a dragon so, sorry Harken Tulle, brawler. Macon slams his right fist into his open left palm before hopping in place once to hype himself up and immediately grabbing hold of a charred up remnant of a barstool, spinning in place once and sending the seat hurtling towards Jarith in disguise. That guy is supposed to be exiled!

Artia smiled, “Thank you, being a Queen fits you. You look stunning!” They talked somemore, and a air-kiss was returned when it was given of course. Once the queen left her side, to go by Sabrina. She give them a few minutes to speak, before she moved. Taking her bag with her, taking the seat beside the queen. She would remain silent until anyone spoke to her, awaiting for her to be called for.

Jarith didn’t expect the massive crab/lobster creature, in fact he’d never seen one until this point. Either way, Jarith made his own conscious decision to keep himself as far from Kreekitaka as he can for the near foreseeable future. Macon however is a treat, and some part, not the alias sparks interest in placing the King’s head through a portion of the walls. That eerie seemingly blind gaze of ‘Harken Tulle’ twists to flow over the motley collection with further intrigue, this was going to get messy, and yet that was perhaps the plan. Lycidas talks on and introduces them all as they settle against that wall. Macon was opposite him and that was well enough. Those eyes shifted to the remains of the tavern. Weapons, chairs were light and sturdy, the tables could be useful. The knight focused on the podium at the entrance, top-heavy, but more sturdy, the perfect club. “Fight!” – The word rings out and the purged Frostmawian’s heartbeat seems to steady, almost beating at a human pace rather than the dreadfully slow thump it had been. Even in armor the knight is fast, comfort in the weight of such a thing allows him to create a bit of distance betwixt the nearest competitor and himself. Until at least the stool comes hurtling at him, no feet of agility by the male as he is hit, trips and with a feral growl twists the charred legs that remain from under him and launch it not at Macon who tossed it, but Reinhardt. The kingsguard had the misfortune of being the fastest option for what remained of the item. His hood and mask remain, and Jarith refuses to be denied his weapon when it lay so close. Grumpily he latches to the base of the podium, a hand running along the marble-topped implement before giving up unsing the implement as a mace. Macon was the culprit, and the lobster thing he still will keep far from him, the guard and the King are his goals. Kreek and Valen for the time are safe. Those gloved hand clench the awkward square of the post before like an olympic shot-putter, the northern born turns and releases the podium, the brief shout of an exertion the only warning given as the weapon is send a spinting twisting, marble-ended boomerang back at his original assailant; the King.

Lycidas loudly booms for the crowd to hear, "A chair! A Podium! The rivalry has already begun between king and new guy!"

Valen would waste no time and no concern for his own life and limb in this sanctified and glorious battle. Calling upon the dark-...dammit no magic. Well...This would take getting used to. As of now he would wait for the opportune moment to burst into action, or wait for that one moment of being open by an opponent. At the word FIGHT he would already be taking a defensive stance, hearing heart-rates and using his superior vision to catch wind of any imminent attack's upon his person. Kreekitaka worried him, Mythayus...a dragon, -certainly- worried him, Macon...he actually felt confident against believe it or not, Reinhardt was an unknown...potentially dangerous, but this newcomer with the mask was a bit unnerving as well. Mind made up, he would mainly focus on defending against Reinhardt and The Mask. Seeing Macon launch on an all out sizzling assault of greased up courage towards the Man in a Mask, that would at least take him out of the equation and now his focus is mainly on Reinhardt. Focus off of Harken for now, half of his every being thought that perhaps now would be the best time to aim for the King? No no, that would be bad...would it? Damnit all to hell. With a sudden change in plans and a spring in his step, tapping into that Vampiric speed, he would rush towards the wall, run -up- said wall, do a back flip and handspring off, hands brought up and together over his head, muscles tensing, and as he fell would go to bring them down right atop of Macon's head if his aim was true. Vampiric strength, regardless of how feminine Valen looked, would certainly be a force to be reckoned with. It was not that he had no love of his king, he did...tremendously so, but he was in it to win it and as a certain Kitsune had said so very long ago...It's just business. That, and Macon's attention would already be on one opponent, so by his logic...he had the upper hand.

Lycidas moves towards the kitchen staff that seems rather bored, with none requesting drinks. The large man grasps a tray in his hand, placing drinks and food atop it and begins to make rounds, first approaching the queen. "My lady, would you care for something alcoholic? Water? Juice? Or perhaps a nice mutton?" He knelt down before her, perfectly balancing the tray so she might sample.

Josleen 's attention is glued to the fight. She leans forward in her seat and her gasps and cheers are in tune with Macon's fate. To Artia and Sabrina she asks, "Do either of you ladies know who that is?" She's pointing at the masked brawler, 'Harken Tulle.'

Sabrina looks over at Josleen with a shake of her head and a raise of her arms, suggesting she didn't know. In all this noise the Elfess was hard pressed to raise her voice above it.

Josleen thanks Lycidas and takes only non-alcoholic drinks--just in case. She and the King are hoping for a baby, and while there's no good news yet, what if? She turns down the food for now. With her husband in the fight and her nerves on edge, food is a risk she may not stomach.

Mythayus would leave his armor as well with a roll of his eyes. Myth would size up the other combatants. He couldn’t bring himself to go after the King. He wasn’t to concerned, at the moment about Reinhardt nor Valen, however the apparent space crab was something all new to him. Like really, what in the world was it… A carb… a lobster…whatever it is. Following his king’s example would also go for a wooden chair, swinging it towards a segmented section of Kreetitaka. He figured he’ll face off with the crab. He aimed for a segmented potion cause he figured the exoskeleton would be like armor and a wood chair isn’t going to do much there. He hoped in that aiming for an area where two parts of the exoskeleton connected to optimize his damage.

Lycidas /stood from Josleen and approached Sabrina, “Lady Sabrina, care for some water? Alcohol? Food?” He continued in this trend, next approaching Artia, “Artia, how about you? Water? Food? Alcohol?” And then with little hesitation moved back towards the kitchen staff, “And that, is how you offer food to people. Get out there, don’t make them come to you.” His lecture was quiet but obvious, as suddenly they were abustle amongst the guests attempting to offer them food, drink, wine, whatever they had.

Josleen cheers on Mythayus as he handles the space crab! A good choice! Good dragon guard, much appreciated.

Sabrina waves of Lycidas' offer and her voice strains to thank him appropriately.

Lycidas /shouts once again, “Oh the tables have turned! No longer is the king such a focused member amongst the fighters, though who doesn’t want a chance to punch royalty just once! NO! Now it’s the fashionista, Krack, Kreek, KAy!” Could anyone truly pronounce his name?

Kreekitaka glanced around the room at the combatants. There were none among this crowd that he didn't feel comfortable fighting--they all seemed smaller than he, and certainly none of them had his hide. This would be great fun. The first few seemed quite interested in staying away from him, but then--oh! A challenger! Wonderful, that meant he wouldn't need to try pursuing someone. The man rushed forward, Kree's claws snapped open and his body turned sideways for a more defensive stance. First step: defend. A claw swept up and around, a rotating motion to redirect the momentum of the weapon. Five smallish manipulator tendrils flicked out of the center of his claw and attempted to lash themselves around Mythayus' wrist as the claw itself went to close down on his arm--not to break it, but to hold it firmly. Second step: attack. Regardless of how solidly he managed to lock the dragon down with his first claw, his second lashed out in a vicious punch aimed to connect squarely with the man's jaw should he find himself unable to do anything about it.

Gigi barks at the brawl incessantly, mostly the space crab. {What is that thing?! MUST BARK.}

Lycidas approached Eleanor with a kind look on his face, "Enjoying the event, I hope?" He handed her a mug, filled with ale, "Hopefully this will help keep you further entertained, as I noticed your prior drink seems to be disappearing." And with that the man turned on his heels to go entertain some other guests!

Lycidas said, "Taking bets still! Only going till the first round is complete! So far we have Reinhardt and Macon as the only contested winners!"

Josleen , in appreciation for Mythayus's decision to take on the crab, decides to kindly bet on Mythayus too, albeit in a smaller amount then she bid on her husband. She signals for the bookie and bets 1,000 gold on Myth.

Reinhardt enters the large area that serves as an arena for this charity brawl with a stoic and settled expression upon his rugged features. With his left hand, he unclasps the buckle that holds his sword-belt upon his waist, and hands the blade off to the giant before moving towards his own position close to the left side of Macon, his King and charge. This event was highly unorthodox, and very random indeed, but at the heart of it all was a good cause. A quick look to the Queen, Josleen, informs the larketian knight of what his duty is here this day. Two out of the group seem to target Macon directly, and as such spurs the Deveruex nobleman into action to do what he does best: Protect his King. As a masked man sends forth a projectile, Reinhardt reacts with more than able reflexes to respond in time, deflecting the wooden implement with a well-timed parry with the armored sleeve of his left arm while he reaches down to grab the only things in reach: A large, three-inch-thick serving platter and a rod-iron fire-poker. The knight has his sword and shield! And not a moment too soon, as two immediate threats upon his king -must- be addressed! The masked man charges in with a mace like object, while Valen assaults from upon high with a diving strike. Quick judgement is made, and Reinhardt bursts into motion like the highly trained Larketian warrior he is. A quick movement places him in-between the masked man and his king, with Reinhardt’s back facing the assailant with the thick serving plate expertly placed to parry the impromptu mace’s blow, causing a resounding “clang!” to reverberate outwards and echo throughout the Red Ogre. If the impact was of serious threat, it doesn’t show upon Reinhardt’s face, as he looks to his Lord and shouts towards the Rage Knight. “Above you, m’lord!” Before the knight tosses the fire-poker to Macon to have a weapon, while the knight leaps forth to use that serving plate in a more offensive manner now upon the treacherous bastard Valen, whom dares attack their king! Reinhardt’s leap sends him in a crash course with the free-falling vampire just moments before he would find his intended mark, the knight using the serving plate as a shield in which he tries to bash the vampire with enough force to cause him to not only miss his intended target, but seriously rethink his life now. I mean, come on man! Attacking the king? Not cool!

Josleen also bets on Reinhardt for having the King's back. Another cool 1,000. What is money anyway when you're royalty?

Gigi whines when he realizes that his dad ('the king' to you plebs) is paying attention to something other than him, the prince.

Mythayus just smirked as the crab thing firmly closed down on his arm. He twisted trying to get free, and trying to avoid the claw coming for his jaw. He ripped open his preexisting wound on his abdomen. Causing a spurt of pain and him temporally paralyzed enough to take the claw directly and beautifully to his jaw. Landing in the perfact spot to knock the poor knight out.

Lycidas shouted loudly, with vast enthusiasm booming forth from within, "Down goes our first contestant as the honorable Knight Mythayus has been crushed by, Crab-Man!" The man cheered forth, "Who will win in this battle royal of charity and fists! The clubbing of caring has not yet ended! Chairs have been thrown, fists have landed, fire pokers have been hurled and podiums crashed! But in the end, what might champion of donation will stand victorious upon the heaping bodies of the fallen?!"

Josleen gasps when Mythayus is K.O.'d. She was right to fear the space crab; look how easily he knocked out a dragon! Her heart races and she's practically off her seat as she watches the King fight.

Macon really enjoys seeing that thrown seat find its mark. He grins and does a little fist pump in the moments he has before he becomes a target of a double sided attack from Harken and Valen. The King feels a subtle twinge of fury (where did that come from?) directed towards the descending vampire and he growls, inadvertently forcing forth some of the infuriating aura he believes he has managed to suppress over the past few weeks. While not matching the original effects of The Rage Stone itself, this ambient fury will tug on the hearts of the combatants (and spectators) supplying some added fire to the brawl for sure. Reinhardt protects his king and maybe the Rage Knight would protest such favoritism in a situation like this if it weren’t for the mage in a dress bearing down on him, so for now the kingsguard just gets a grunt of approval. The knight tosses him a fire poker and Macon catches it deftly, but in his left hand. The King of Larket really is not spared the time to switch the impromptu weapon to his dominant hand and decides to just deal with the oncoming vampire with his right fist. He turns his body ever so slightly so that Valen’s own hands come down onto The Fury Knight’s shoulder, but at the same time, Macon springs upward. His knuckles are directed straight for the bridge of the dress-wearing vampire’s nose in a rising uppercut. Valen’s fists connect with Macon’s shoulder whether or not the vicious blow from The King connects and immediately his left arm is seen to slump unnaturally. Dislocated maybe? Whatever the diagnosis, that arm is infinitely more useless now than it was from just being on his nondominant side. The Rage Knight finally finds time to switch the fire poker into his right hand and is very quickly moving past Reinhardt towards Harken Tulle, thrusting the stoker towards that mysterious brawler’s facemask. A quick look towards his protector on the way by implies that he’s leaving Valen to him now.

Artia stood up, with her bag in hand ready to help assist the one who was down and done for the brawl. Moving beside Lycidas, it was optional if those wanted to be looked at. She would not force it for them, looking to Lycidas, and back out to those inside the inn.

Lycidas turned to face the small female, smile upon his face, "Sorry, Lady Artia, but you can not enter until this ends. If they come out, you may help them but none are allowed inside to mend those who remain.. The dragon knight is on his own for the moment being."

Josleen gasps even louder when Valen dislocates Macon’s shoulder. The King’s rage aura reaches her. While the aura enrages and maddens most people, the Queen has a unique reaction which Headmaster Percival identified some time ago. She behaves like an amplifier, so that those around the Queen are enraged even more acutely. Granted, her boost is weaker than the King’s initial burst of fury. Still, a servant near Josleen suddenly slaps a drink out of their neighbor’s hand and says “Stop breathing like that! You’re driving me crazy!” The slapped-man slaps the servant back. Watch out, there may soon be a brawl in the stands. As for Josleen, she too is infuriated, but her focus in on Valen (her focus the same as the King’s as they share the same rage). She grips her own glass and ponders chucking it at the vampire’s head.

Sabrina makes no effort to rise for the fallen Mythayus. She does however pass by a well stocked platter and swipe a leg of lamb before making her way to sit by the Queen. The lamb is surrendered to the plush prince before she takes up a recently emptied seat next to the Queen. “You let him put himself in danger?” A half smile can barely be noted from under her hood as she runs her hands along her pants to rid that greasy feel. Josleen || Gigi also becomes enraged! He sees a squirrel and guns for it. {Death to the squirrel!} The rodent runs up a tree and Gigi, snarling and wild-eyed, jumps up over and over, barking at the branch.

Josleen || Gigi forgets about the squirrel and runs to Sabrina when the lamb is offered. He tears into it viciously, however, on account of all that rage. Die, mutton!

Sabrina is offput by Josleen’s sudden outrage and she plucks the glass from her hands. “Are you alright?” The rage had not yet hit her, but then, she just sat down.

Josleen eyes Sabrina sidelong as she asks after Macon's decision to fight. Under normal circumstances, Josleen could handle the mild criticism with grace, but under Macon's fury, she responds curtly. "The King needs no one's permission."

Artia The witch didn't want to go in, she didn't want to get an accidental fist to land upon her. "That is perfectly fine with me, I didn't want to go inside anyways." She kept watching, "I'm grab a drink, you want anything?" A small glass of wine would be good for her, as the glass of wine she wanted earlier was left inside. Somewhere she left out of fast to avoid getting mixed in, "I think a small glass of wine would be good, and to watch people throw fist around." Seeing Valen injury Macon, caused a soft laugh, "The King will get him for that I am sure." Forgetting to remain silent, especially when picked up on the rage from Josleen, "Break his face for that!" Realizing what she said, she shook her head. "Definitely getting some wine now, that was odd."

Josleen doesn't fight Sabrina for the glass either. Fine. Probably wise, actually, as Josleen was seconds away from chucking that glass into the 'ring'.

Jarith didn’t stop moving. From that spinning throw, his sliding halt upon the floor boards would bring him, ‘Harken’ to face the battling Dragon and Crab-thing Reinhardt had impeded that thrown item but there would be more attempts. Gone are the goals of avoiding the crustacean, with size and strength on the other’s side the Northern Born would shift focus from evasion to true battle. The tug of the rage stone no doubt playing part in the nudge from simple bar-brawl to battle in his mind. Searching for weaponry in the hectic fray was easier done in fast pace; no thought, just action. A broken table-top is grabbed by the leather straps which used to hold it to wooden framework, followed by grabbing a charred stave; the remains of a stool in his right hand. Shield and sword were his prevalent training and these would do best as he seized the opportunity Mythayus’ trapped and apparently unconscious body offered. The knight charged the aft end of the chittering and clacking Kreek, holding tight to the ‘shield’ broken table top’s straps and punching the jagged edge at the connecting segments between carapace and joint. Successful or not ‘Harken’ would retract the shield and holding the stave like a quarterstaff rotate counter-clockwise to bring the fire-hardened and broken stave against those hind limbs, smacking it against the armored bits, once! Twice!! Thrice!!! No doubt the goal is to crumple a side of Kreekitaka’s body, and yet the singular focus on the crab pays the Lord of the Northern Reach in hiding a boon. That broken marble table lofted to shield his left side, torso and skull, glancing the danger of that fire poker along the marble with a screech of iron on hard stone before it carves a jagged line, possible a crack against the mask. The bow pulling Tulle back from the ‘crab-man’ as the faintest hint of crimson shows on the edge of his shield. The blow apparently having caught on the exposed wielding arm of that shield-hand and torn through the runic band, tissue and muscle, weakening his hold on the heavy marble implement. The Knight’s turned focus allows for the strike of his ‘staff’ which in the attack on Kreek has snapped; thus turning a strike into the angry throw of broken wood again at the Rage Knight.

Josleen grins at Artia's comment about Macon getting revenge and breaking faces. "He will."

Sabrina turns fully towards Josleen, one brow arched as the words are taken in. “I beg your pardon?” The hood falls slightly back to reveal an already beaten visage with her right eye still swollen near shut. A bright red cut along her cheek is clearly visible and she is slightly angered at the tone.

Hux seems midly intrigued by the 'prince' Gigi, of course, the stallion seems to soon grow weary of the creature what seems as spastic as his owners and returns to munching on a tuft of grass by the hitching post.

Gigi finishes the mutton then notices Hux looking at him. He trots over and carefully sniffs the stallion's hooves. Friend or foe?

Lycidas /had changed his tone as well, feeling the anger of the queen and the king as he stood between them. His years of training in proper conduct and control didn’t seem relevant at the moment for the large knight began to chant, “Break them! Crush them! USE THE CHAIR!” ANd as Jarith attempted to smash the carapace of the crab, Lycidas showed a most sinister grin.. Almost as if he was pleased with the mayhem. Several moments passed, the man at first moving towards the fray as if to enter himself when he heard a voice behind him.. Calm, small, feminine, bring him back away from the rage filled coma. “I..”He fought for several moments to control himself before he nodded without further words and moved back to get his own drink with Artia.

Josleen would normally soothe over the social chafe with Sabrina, but she’s a little too furious and overwhelmed to keep her head. There’s the unnatural rage aura affecting her mood, yes, but also natural irritation and worry brought on by watching her beloved sustain an injury. Without taking her eyes off Macon, she responds to Sabrina, “I said the King doesn’t need permission. No one tells him what to do. No one.”

Valen had known that this man was going to be a wild card, and thus far he had been proven right, as it -all- seemed to be about business today. Geeze dont these Kingsguard folks take a break even during a charitable event? But then again perhaps the Vampire -did- get overexcited, and perhaps think too tactfully. Finding his mark to hit the king had succeeded, he barely had time to register that. Promptly a bash would be given to himself, as it rendered his senses definately whackered, which would end up allowing for the strike to his nose to connect in a sickening crunch. Putting all of his reservations to the side, and feeling the effect of Macon's aura seep into his own pores...Macon, would get a nice bath of Vampire blood to his face, while Valen would cry out in a highly pitched whine of pain. Using his feet to backflip, pushing back the pain, and fly backwards in another somersault to land upon said feet, he would grab an entire circular marble table top (one of the ones meant for a group of six or more) hefting it now with all his might. Raising it up with both hands, and bringing it down upon his -knee-, breaking it in half, he would swing them around once. One piece would be in each hand, and would frisbee them with force and agility heading straight for Rein as they whiz through the air...one stomach high, and the other knee-low. Blood was pouring from his nose now, and after tossing those articles he would grab smaller and sharper items...knives. Three in fact. Coating them in his own blood that poured from his nose, rage finally having taken hold of him fully, he would throw those blood stained knives at the kinsguard as well. It would do little against him should they strike, more than likely with that little amount just make him sick or debilitated at the least.

Hux's head lifts, he adresses the poodle, a sniff of larger nostrils before snorting and giving a rather amused whinny. Friend perhaps.

Sabrina is more than offended by the once friend turned snob under the crown of power. “Right.” She nods and rises, ready to leave… but it is Sabrina and she is not without her own quarrels of self control. “You’ll be needing this then.” And the glass procured from Josleen’s hand was turned with a precise pitch, directing the contents all over her shine and pretties. The empty glass is then held to the side and dropped to the floor.

At fist fight breaks out at the back of the spectator's crowd. The slap-fight has escalated to spitting and insults. Two kingsguard rush forward to protect the Queen's exposed back and whisper that perhaps she should leave. "I'm not leaving without him," she snaps for no apparent reason. The guards, already enraged thanks to Macon's magic, don't take the snap kindly. One of them manages to keep his wits about him, however, but the other abandons his post, muttering at the Queen, "Screw this. Watch your own back." You see, he was one of the Larketians who didn't agree that the King should marry the Thane, and his true colors show the moment he's tested with a little arcane rage magic.

Josleen is forced to look away from Macon when Sabrina splashes her with her drink. She stands and slaps the elfess! Or tries to. The kingsguard who remained tries to intervene, forcing himself between the women saying, “Hey! Hey!”

Kreekitaka was a difficult being to take by surprise. Globular eyes providing near-omnidirectional vision made it easy for him to catch a new attack coming from the side--and as it happened, he already had his own weapon locked in a claw. He shifted his grip on the limp body of Mythayus, holding him more around the torso than by the arm. He lifted his free arm and spun to face the charging man now armed with shield and staff, though the moment he took to shift his grip on Mythayus meant he had little time to redirect the blow and instead had to take it full on his arm. His arm was, fortunately, one of the hardest parts of his armor, but the heavy table still -hurt- and it was that annoyance that sparked it--he'd been riding high on the fun of a fight, but now the Rage Aura was starting to seep into his bloodstream. With a roar, Kree swung his claw wildly in an attempt to connect with Jarith's head, and also to hopefully keep him from bringing that staff to bear--but the true attack came a moment later, when Kree's other claw came down, attempting to smash the full weight of the dragon into Jarith. A moment later, the body would be flung ragdoll-style at the battling Reinhardt and Valen, hoping to hit them both.

Sabrina succumbs, despite years of practice on self-control the presence of that magic is not a thing she could defend against. She saw it happening in her head, and seemed to have lost all power when it came to controlling her limbs. She raised her hand to Josleen, not to hit, but to inflict something far worse. Her one good eye sunk into a deep black sclera and the words of the Guard hit her. The slap to the face did nothing but reopen an existing wound, making it appear as though she was crying blood. Finally the sting would set in and she closes her open hand to a tight fist. She was seething, but order had not completely failed her. She grits her teeth and purses her lips before taking brisk steps towards the exit. “Hail to the (expletive) Queen.” With that she shoves open the door and disappears into the night.

Lycidas /was on his way over, yelling loudly, “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” At the two women, rage filled eyes overtaking any sense of sanity the man usually had, plus, chick fight? As the man approached however, one stormed off and his chance at two new contenders had ended.

Artia winked to Josleen at her reply to his comment, "I think you are enjoying this." She teased at Josleen, "I feel the king is just getting started." She turned to get a drink from the makeshift outside kitchen, grabbing a glass of strawberry wine. Picking out a pastry, having a worker take it over to the Queen Josleen. Maybe that would help calm her down some? Looking to Lycidas, "This is a good idea, and more fun to watch then I thought would be." Grabbing the drink, moving back to where they were before she wanted a drink. Large eyes turned to where the queen and sabrina were, the knight moved inbetween. "Lycidas, hold my drink please." Moving she grabbed a hand towel, heading to Josleen. The feeling of rage comes back, pulling out her moonstone pendant gripping it tightly to help the rage not over come her. "Josleen, Queen Josleen. You might need this."

Josleen flinches when Sabrina bleeds. Yes, she is enraged, but not so much so that she wants blood. The slap was meant to deliver a message, not break skin, and yet she did do that, didn’t she? Belatedly she realizes she must be under the influence of Macon’s rage aura. Dammit. She tries to take a breath to gather her wits, but it comes out like a snarl. Not trusting herself in this state, she lets Sabrina go. Josleen’s most loyal handmaid, Floria, a gentle woman who never shouts, cups both hands around her mouth and shouts after Sabrina, “GOOD RIDDANCE YA FRIGID BITCH!” Floria then turns towards Josleen and helps her clean her dress. The poor kingsguard, is at loss for what to do. He resumes his post. When at a loss, do the job. Josleen sits down again and watches the fight, trying her best to keep her rage in check, and feeling herself fail. And she will continue to fail so long as Macon keeps unwittingly pumping the fury into her [I know, pumping jokes, I know]. She focuses on Macon to keep herself from acting out. Refocusing all that raw emotion onto the object of her desire makes her breath shallow. He’s sweaty and strong and in control of himself, and she’s getting hot under the collar. Furious Queen is losing her damn mind. Someone turn off the rage faucet.

Josleen accepts Artia's towel and pat dries her dress. "I think seeing King Macon injured like that has put me in quite an embarrassing state." Rage aura? What rage aura? She denies its existence by not even discussing it.

Sabrina made it barely past the door when the bitch comment hits her. She comes running back in through the backswing of that door and grabbing the back of Floria’s head, running it into the ground. Josleen she held some respect for, that little servant, she did not. She didn’t know what was going on, just that she was so-so very angry. Favorite or not the Elfess took up the girl’s head with both hands and began beating a new path into the flooring.

Josleen starts screaming as Sabrina pummels Floria’s face into the ground. She starts slapping Sabrina’s back and screaming for the elf to let Floria go! When that doesn’t work, she yanks on Sabrina’s hair. Josleen isn’t physically strong, and doesn’t even know how to throw a proper punch. She fights like a, ahem, girl. The kingsguard helps the Queen pry Sabrina off of Floria, physically picking her up if he has to, though he doesn’t hit Sabrina.

Gigi abandons Hux and runs to join his screaming mother. {Mother! What! What is it!} He sees Sabrina as the perp and barks and growls at the elf.

Eleanor had, up until this point, been content to remain on the sidelines, watching the brawl, then cat-fight, then all out fiasco escalate quite quickly. The rogue rose to a stand, letting loose a long, mildly irritated sigh. She could feel the rage aura building up as more and more people fell prey to its allure. El, however, was less inclined to be affected in quite such an obvious way; her diadem, on the other hand, was glowing. "Lest nicht, an' 'en thes?" her pale glassgreen eyes swiveled this way and that to take in the scene, still uncertain if she should intervene or just ... quietly slip away. The latter was a tempting offer. "Has a' fowk jist gain completely radge?"

Artia removed her spare rainbow moonstone pendant, "Put this on Josleen, it will help you Balance your emotions. Please quickly before.." And what she worried about hit the fan, Sabrina was attacking an innocent. Sighing, she moved over to Sabrina. A hand lifted as she began mumbling, chanting trying to place a calm about Sabrina. If that did not work, she would run to the kitchen grabbing a cup of water. Tossing the water on Sabrina's head, "Sabrina! Sabrina! Stop!" If the pendent to calm Josleen down was not around her neck yet, Artia would scream at her too. "Put the damn pendent on now Josleen! I took an oath to not harm anyone. Don't make me have to do this." She did not want to break her oath, and it was getting close to that. Another thought came to her mind, "Sabrina gather your emotions! Please!" If Sabrina did not stop. she would grab at the servant to try to pull her from Sabrina's attack if at all possible.

Sabrina weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet, with Josleen hand full of lengthy tresses and a guard prying her up around her middle she is still trying to kick poor Floria with militaristic boots and wild flails. “Who’s the bitch now!” Josleen is regarded with a feral kind of scream and with a jerk of the elfess’ head she both leaves the Queen with a handful of hair and knocks the guard in the face with the back of her head. “Let me go!” Subsequently she is dropped from her near horizontal perch to land on her hands and knees, near Floria once more.

Reinhardt ‘s valiant leap is met with success as the metallic platter finds it mark and aids in his King landing a successful blow upon his vampiric servant. The knight lands some several feet away, moments before Valen rebounds and Macon follows through his attack by charging the masked man fighting the crab-monster. It is here though, that the overwhelming aura that seeps out from Macon reaches him, causing the very controlled and grounded warrior to fly into a ferocious rage just as Valen breaks a large marble table in half with the simplest motion! Caught amid a clash of monsters, with the dragon already taken out, a vampire now trying to kill him, rage magic running rampant and a crab monster flinging a full-grown man’s body clear across the tavern towards him, it seems Reinhardt is severely outmatched. But what he lacks in supernatural ability, he more than makes up for in sheer cunning, the likes of which is now used with a malicious intent to see the foes of his Lord be brought to their knees in what was a charity event turned all out kill or be killed. The incoming assaults from each side, Myth’s body and the flying shards of the marble table, are meant to be the end of the Larketian Knight, but instead quick thinking and even quicker reflexes have the Deveruex heir dashing to the left, tucking and rolling so he avoids what would be a painful death. This result bears interesting fruit for the man, as one marble table chunk collides with Mythayus’ body (sorry bud), shattering it and sending debris to fall about the tavern-turned-arena’s floor like a mock snowfall. The second slab, that follows close behind the first, continues its forward course. But with Reinhardt having barely managed to evade it, Valen’s attack now heads straight for the large crab monster. Where the masked man’s attacks may have caused some harm, Valen’s vampiric strength coupled with the sheer weight and momentum of the marble slab may have more of a serious impact and allow an opening in that almost flawless defense the creature’s hide offers. Reinhardt goes to rise, but finds himself racked with pain. In his quick action, he seems to have missed himself being stabbed by a wooden shard in the side. In his rage, the pain didn’t even register properly, but as he tries to move he finds himself ravaged by excruciating pain. But, seeing his King still in combat drives him to soldier on. In the destruction caused by the earthquake, the fireplace’s mantle has been destroyed, and hanging next to him is a metal rod of considerable length. Again, the knight finds himself a sword, and pushing through the pain by using both sure grit as well as the fiery-rage built up by Macon’s aura, Reinhardt charges forth to aid his king once more, flanking the masked man from the opposite side and trying to land a crucial blow with his new weapon upon the exposed side of the brawler. Diving in with the martial prowess expected of a knight, Reinhardt reigns down a series of blows meant to open the masked man’s defenses, so that either he or King Macon can land a crucial blow. Rage magic now fueling his action, each of these thrusts and slashes comes with more power each time, meaning if they are not parried properly, they can cause quite the extensive harm with each successful blow.

Lycidas /fought for control against the rage aura, bringing forth whatever he might muster to combat it’s progressing fury. The man was built out of control, every chosen word, every action taken, he had practiced and honed carefully sculpted phrases and motions with years of time.. And yet, now this madness had a grip upon his soul, tugging and toying with his emotions, dragging the massive male towards these women who dare interrupt his event! The large male spoke above the chaos between them, “I WILL PUT YOU ALL IN TIME OUT.” Eyes darted between Josleen, Sabrina, and Floria, daring the next to take action and test his words.

Reinhardt is a bit more wounded then he thought, especially since the rage aura's grip upon him starts to wane. This is when the pain and bloodloss starts to hit hard, so the knight catches himself mid swing and halts his assault, and removes himself from the brawl turned chaos to seek a healer.

Josleen holds the necklace but doesn’t have the wits to put it on as she kneels over poor Floria’s bloody face. “Floria. Floria. Are you alright?” Her hands are trembling as she turns her maid over and picks twigs, pebbles, and hair off the bloody patches. As a nurse, Josleen has seen worse, but still, to see her friend and confidante so bloodied wrenches her heart and angers her. She no longer simply amplifies the King’s fury, but now produces rage of her own which pumps into the King and uses him as an amplifier. The pair are a potent, terrible feedback loop of fury. Once Floria groans and sits up, Josleen shouts for water (for Floria), and clean cloth, and only then does she put on the necklace. She’s still trembling and tending to her maid when she hears an especially loud blow in the inn and looks up to see who the victim was, hoping it wasn’t her beau. That’s when Lycidas approaches to reprimand them, and she glares at him hard. She rises and meets his gaze unwaveringly. “You don’t talk to me like that. Who the hell do you think you are.” One more glare, then she looks away, back at the fight.

Macon growls and spits out the stolen blood Valen has splattered onto his face while the king makes his way towards Tulle. The Furious King has only the thrown length of wood from Jarith to contend with in this moment after dealing a blow of his own to the masked brawler. The Rage Knight doesn’t really manage to deal with that attack though, the improvised projectile impacting with his face at his cheekbone with no effort expended to avoid it. Luckily it is not a sharpened end, but a blunt one that makes contact and he is simply left staggered for a moment and with a nice sized red mark on his face that will surely turn to a bruise soon enough. Actually, he should be worried about one other thing; the half of a marble table top that Valen flung and now sails just past Macon and the disguised Jarith en route towards Kreekitaka. Then the king hears his queen screaming. Any strike he was winding up for towards the northerner or the crab is quickly abandoned and The Rage Knight is left standing and staring towards Josleen, Sabrina and the remainder of the aftermath of the clash outside the brawl. What happened out there? Floria is down, hmm… It then hits The King of Larket hard that the escalating fight inside the Ogre and the new brawl incited outside are both very likely his fault. Without even a second thought he is abandoning the fight in front of him, though still flicking the fire poker towards Kreekitaka as he sprints towards the open wall that was once the entrance to the inn. He’s trying to focus on quelling the rage aura he is pushing out, somewhat putting a stop to that maddening loop of fury he and Josleen have going, though there is one last pulse of rage sent out when he growls towards the nearest kingsguard for not being able to keep the peace around The Queen of Larket. She is his true focus once he can escape the fray, asking her if she is harmed and examining for himself.

Lycidas /watched as the queen challenged him, eyes burned into hers as she defied his words, yet when her focus fixated back upon the fight, the maid seemingly was done being beaten and Sabrina no longer barred her fists, the man’s attention shifted. One more outbreak, he waited, no longer near the inn itself watching the fight, instead his position changed towards that of Gigi.. Standing by the small pup, ready to snatch the royal chew toy, should anyone act out again..

Artia and Sabrina have had big problems between each other in the past. She knew she shouldn't be so close to sabrina, but there she was. If no one grabbed the servant, Artia would work on dragging her away. "s***..s***...s***." Was the only words she could think to say now, looking to Josleen moving quickly to her side. "Lycidas, get the female out of Sabrina's sights." Then to Josleen, daring to take her hand. "My queen, let's get you a distance from here. Let's try to calm you, and figure out what just happened yes?" She almost begged for her to come with her, moving away from Sabrina. Sighing content that Josleen put on the pendent that would help her control her emotions, even if a little but in hopes to control her head better. If Josleen denied her, she would move from the group, stand by the road. Wait there until the fight is over.

Sabrina stands up against Artia, threatening that oath that Sabrina never made. Her hand comes up around the witches throat and she presses her forehead against Artia’s, pushing to bully the much taller and larger woman from her post of peace. Her eyes, if both could have been seen beyond the swelling, were cold. The fellow councilmember would see only the reflection of her own eyes when she looked upon the elfess. She utters a string of Elvish words, a promise in a threat, wrapped in the worst kind of insult and topped with a race card. Chances are the dead language would be picked up by very few, but the sentiment was thick and obvious. She’d let Artia go for now, abruptly. Taking in the guards, Floria, and those few that turned to look she again seeks passage for that door, lest she kill a witch in these joyous and charitable times. To Lycidas she spits. “I was leaving anyway.” She snaps the hood back over her head and walks slow and deliberate towards the door. Her place would soon be taken up by the Rage Knight but the damage was already done. Artia would be forced to stay at the Queen’s side, protector of the fallen pledge and restorer of humanity in the Healer’s wake.

Jarith lost the shield, marble was sturdy and even with his sword-arm to help the injured shield hand holding those straps. A table, was still a table, and thus not meant for deflecting the long-crab-arm of Kreek, or the Mythayus body that was cracked, much like a walnut, against it before being hurled like a lump of clay at the other two combatants across the room. The broken marble-top adds to a minute weapon-pool and the knight via onslaught of Kreek using the dragon’s limp frame send’s the exile in hiding backwards over one of the few remaining structures of the inn, the bar. Jarith’s armored body impacts into the burned mirror on the wall, and he gasps, a cracked rib for his trouble no doubt before dropping beneath the cover of the marble topped glory. The half a table thrown by Valen, miraculously left for the crab. ‘Harken Tulle’ searches for an implement from the crevice behind the bar. Something, anything, and then as he gazed upon the bottles of booze it dawned on the knight. This was the perfect place, rags in a box were hastily wrapped at the top of bottles he uncorked and lit with the dim offerings of a whale oil lamp. That final pulse of rage hitting him as Macon makes a beeline for the exit, and it completely does the purged male in. The northern borne grimaces beneath his mask only as he stands. “Time for a drink lads!” A pained shout that is followed by the hurling of the previously mentioned homemade bombs. There isn’t a solitary target, the masked male’s vivid pupil-less blue eyes pick each of the remaining combatants in rapid-fire turn. Valen so far opposite, Macon’s retreat, and the more decidedly dangerous Kreek-it-whatever his name is. Once the flaming bottles were gone Jarith would proceed to launching the rest of his armaments, hoping to stoke the flames and perhaps ignite the whole damn Inn, combatants and king included.

Josleen turns towards the King as he runs towards her, arms outstretched to receive him. When he isn’t around, she is tough enough to face most challenges and make decisions on the fly, but when he is here, she gives up all strength and defers to his. Macon’s here now; he can handle it. It isn’t a choice the Queen makes, but a habit and telling of the power dynamic between the royal couple. She holds his arms and blinks back tears. The fight, Sabrina and Lycidas’s disrespect, the rage, Floria’s face, she’s overwhelmed and upset in all the flavors that one can be upset. She draws his attention to Floria, then nods her head towards Sabrina accusingly. Her dress is also wet, another nod, though she seems less fussed about that. She stares at Macon knowingly, silently acknowledging that this is the effect of the rage aura, and it’s getting worse. Josleen throws in there that Josleen won't leave with Artia, not so long as Macon is here, and especially not after Macon left the fight to be with her, but she appreciates Artia's intentions and efforts.

Valen was scarcely unable to register anything that was happening for now. Gods be damned he was losing blood out of his schnozz, he was starting to get thirsty, he hated feeling cranky but this was a whole new level. It was a good thing that before the fight he had imbibed a nice little cocktail of his own devising, and that was seriously all he had in his stomach as of right now. The heartbeats beat stronger, more fiercely...all except, for one. Turning his attention now to Heckel...or whatever the hell his name was, he realized just who it was. Rage towards that male filled him for the very first time. He was supposed to be keeping himself safe, not risking his life! His thoughts were cut off as the body of Mythayus slammed into him and sent him careening with his ex lover into the wall, closer to the combatants with a loud crash, cracking part of the structure no doubt. Mythayus was not a hefty man, but he was sure as hell built a brick...house. A groan would come from the Vampire as he was sure that something was sticking into him, and when he looked down he could see that it was actually a table leg, sticking out of his right calf. Fortunately, Valen was all but prepared for circumstances such as this, his dress was ruined but he was not. Giving the dead weighted dragon a shove, he would pull himself up and look up at the wall and notices burning candles that helped light the area. Perfect. With a sickening grin, he would claw his way up, actually digging his hands into the wall to keep his balance and take the candle, just as Macon flees the scene, Well...at least there were only three now. "Its guna be a hot time, in the old town...tonight." And just as Harken seems to get the same idea, Valen would rip the leg from his leg, and hurl it at Harken's head, hoping to at the least cause a severe headache. Limping now, using whatever he could as the flames rose around them he would move in range, he would glare at Kreekitaka before gagging...and projectile vomit the alcohol in his system right towards the Uyeer...while holding the candle up...turning himself into a human flame-thrower as those flames would reach out at the giant crab guy. Vision was starting to get blurry though, fight be damned he was so pissed.

Reinhardt rises as much as he can, driven by a determination that only a knight can possess. Then he sees it, an attack upon the King and Queen! Rushing forth, wholly ignoring his own wound that has yet to be addressed, the Larketian rushes past and retrieves his weapon, drawing it out the leather sheath in which the blade slumbers, and in one smooth motion leaps up to bat away the flaming "bomb" with the flat of his sword, sending the thick liquor bottle crashing into the remnants of the stone centerpiece that was the fireplace. Here, the knight covers both King and Queen as best as he can, and ushers them from this place. " Please, lets us go outside." He asks in a manner which is a bit pleading as well as heavy handed request, before he looks back to the men fighting, a fire now burning in his eyes. This was supposed to be a brawl for charity, and here this masked man was trying to kill everyone! The first priority of the knight is his king and queen's safety though, and he waits to see how they will respond.

Artia raised her hands up, and took the grip to her throat, she would close her eyes to remember the oath. The enchanted vines on Artia's arms twist and raise up an inch want into to grip around Sabrina's throat. But she did her best to keep her calm, she would not let herself slip back into the dark being she was. The witch waited to pass out at any given second, her face changing colors as no air was allowed. Once Sabrina released her throat, Artia would bend over gasping for air. A sadistic smile grew on those ruby lips, lifting her head up. the smile quickly gone, gripping to the person she worked hard to become. 'Don't chase after her. stay.' She thought over and over in her head. Nodding to Josleen and Macon, she moved to her bag pulling out a green bottle. Dipping her finger in, and applied to her now swollen neck. Sabrina had a nice grip, but Artia refused to attack anyone.

Josleen gently presses a hand to Macon’s left arm, just beneath his dislocated shoulder, and touches his red check with her other hand. With a look she asks if he is alright, just as she sees the flaming bombs behind him and Reinhardt come into view behind him. She nods to Reinhardt, more than happy to go, but it’s ultimately the King’s decision. Still, surely they are escorted away from the bombs?

Josleen misses when Sabrina choked Artia, as he focus was on Macon and the bombs, but the Kingsguard saw it, and it will soon be reported to the royals. What is happening? How did this happen? As the rage dissipates, there's confusion in its wake.

Hux is rather tenderly, avoiding the madness around him, he's a horse after all and would move as far away as he could from the altercations.

Kreekitaka was not the most fortunate person in the world right now. A flying chunk of marble that was half a table could only be half-avoided at best if he wanted to stay on his feet, and if it struck him there's no telling what harm it might do to his water tanks. Deciding it'd be better to keep those from smashing, given the distance with which his opponents had retreated, he dove forward, crashing to the floor in a heap. Not all the bombs were swatted out of the air by Reinhardt, however, and one of them happened to intersect directly with the jet of fire. The resulting explosion knocked the crab backward, raining flaming chemicals all over him. This was a very painful experience, and one that required immediate attention, and it made the impact of the iron poker almost negligible. He reached behind himself and lifted his tanks, upending their water supply over himself--not completely emptying them, but making them lighter, and dousing the flames on and immediately around him. This made climbing to his feet much easier, as he was lighter--and this made him faster. First, a claw snapped up and snagged a tossed-by-Jarith flaming item out of the air, then hurled it back at Valen. The two were too far apart to grab both, so he elected for the one who seemed less likely to be able to escape--Valen. A wounded leg would make him an easy catch. Kree barreled forward, armored head lowered, claws outstretched, intending to rugby-tackle the mage like some kind of colossal linebacker.

Macon nods in time with Josleen’s multiple silent accusations. He believes himself to be responsible for how this whole scene deteriorated, and so he will be as lenient as possible where the bard and public opinion allow it. Reinhardt is seen deflecting a firebomb away from the royal family and he has certainly earned himself yet more favor from the King and Queen. Macon and Josleen are led slightly away from what might be considered the splash zone of the brawl and the pair appraise each other’s ‘injuries’. The Fury Knight shake his head and dismisses his pain as superficial. He matches her knowing stare with a concerned one of his own. He had thought himself free of The Rage Stone’s lingering effect, but this proves exactly the opposite. It is -definitely- getting worse.

Lycidas watched as the tavern began to go up in flames, a lingering look on his face. He moved on, away from Gigi and back towards Artia, "Perhaps you can tend to those injured?"

Reinhardt stands by his King and Queen's side, even as the size-able wooden splinter in his side remains. He is a stalwart sentinel, and does not allow for any outward sign of pain or fatigue to show as he assumes guard, along with the others, over his Lord and Lady.

Josleen winces as she examines Macon’s shoulder in better light. “We should go home. I’m done here.” She’s reset many shoulders during her time as an army nurse, and can reset this herself. “May I?” she asks. She signals for a nearby medic, or Artia, to give the King a painkiller for the reset, or trip home, whichever he prefers. If he’ll allow her to reset this here, she has him take a seat far from the brawl arena.

Josleen looks at Reinhardt as she waits for the painkillers. "Sir Reinhardt, your side!" The Queen only just noticed it now. She'd been distracted with a brawl of her own. "Let Lady Artia have a look."

Valen finally looked around him as the rage subsided though that explosion had been unprecedented, and had been what caused him to cease his regurgitation and shield his eyes, just in time to get hit with a flaming object. Going to put out whatever flame may be on him by hitting it viciously, he was then bum-rushed by the Uyeer with a gasp of pain as he was brought down to the floor of the tavern, head giving a sickening crack upon the Tavern floor. His leg may have been useless, but his arms were not though his vision and judgement were much worse....as evidenced by Valen reaching forward to grab ahold of the Uyeer's mandibles, and try to use all his might to cause enough pain to het this male to submit! His good leg would thrash, wildly to try and find at least one good spot to injure. He was starting to even wonder just what Uyeer blood would taste like..What was going on? Lights...lights were flickering, he knew it was fire but he had no clue where it was coming from anymore. He was even starting to look slightly more pale. What had been a Brawl, was now turning into a very dire situation for all those still inside. "Get. Off. Me!" He would growl out, eyes turning that dangerous red color. The black on the scar on his right shoulder would start to flicker, as blood itself started to slowly seep from it.

Artia coughed, her throat irritated from being choked. Looking up at Lycidas as he spoke, a glare even playful at him. Her voice gruff for the moment, "Of course, it's why I am here." Looking to Josleen,she would service them first. Grabbing her back, moving over to them, her eyes of course went to the splinter in the Knights side. Kneeling she put the bag down, pulling out two vials. "Pain killers, these are stronger then the normal powders and last longer this way. He might feel drunk." Looking to Reinhardt, "You need healing, sir."

Jarith was not prepared for Kreekitaka’s water-tank delivery, or much less to be left out of the rest of the fray. The explosion of a bottle mid-air shot shards of molten glass at Harken Tulle and he out of habit recoiled, an armored arm lifting to protect the eye-slits on his mask. The clearing of his immediate vicinity despite the fire he and Valen had both begun was expected, needed even. It was however, a sobering prospect as well. Jarith had come with the intent to help the city rebuild a bit, and to offer a bit of fun for spectators in the process. What in the world had happened, confusion flushed over features beneath the battered mask. This could not go on. He was bleeding, and in this state the building would burn down around them keeping them prisoner. Harken Tulle stripped the cloak from him, using it to beat stubbornly at the fire as clarity of mind seemed to reach the male. It ended with a sooty male, cracked ribs, bleeding from his left arm stalking through some smoldering remains towards a very unconscious dragon. “ A’h Yield.” A shout, this was not what he’d come for, and gamely, on weaker legs the male dragged the dragon to the open wall of the inn and the spectators beyond. Once there, the exile in hiding would stand up, the crinkle of his blue eyes behind the mask the only hint of emotion. At least until the crack Macon had made gave way and revealed Jarith’s jawline and mouth. The stranger known as Harken would stump to his horse only when Mythayus was tended to and stubborn as his want hook himself up and over the gray stallion, Hux with a gasp, a grunt, the puff of a frigid cold breath like frost as he settled into the saddle and watched the finish, bleeding, tired and only partially hidden. Lycidas would find more gold offered by the male in a small pile. “Ne’er meant t’near kill anyone.” That accent and remaining mask would be all that helped him maintain a semblance of anonymity.

Jarith give lycidas 1200 gold

Kreekitaka was probably causing just as much pain with his facial crushers as Valen was dishing out--clenching them, digging their chitinous blades into his hands, the man would likely soon find his hands bleeding profusely. Kree shifted his weight a little to one side, trying to pin that flailing leg underneath his body, then brought his claw out from under Valen and made an attempt to strike the man in the head with a series of brutal closed-claw punches, to try and end this fight swiftly before the flames overcame both of them. The sooner Valen was knocked out, the sooner Kree could sling him up over his shoulder and get them both out of the burning husk of a building.

Reinhardt looks down to his side, where the wooden shard was protruding. He looks to Josleen, and assures her. " I am fine for now." Dude wasn't going to abandon his post. He also adds. " I shall ensure the safety of those present, then tend to myself, m'lady." The offer of the vials is noted, and he takes them but places them in his pocket for now. " Thank you." Is his reply.

Macon wants to see the end of this mess he has made of a charity event and allows Josleen to take him as far away as she’d like while still granting a clear view of the remaining fighters and the fire. She can reset his shoulder here.

Josleen asks Macon to take the painkillers, please. If he refuses, she’ll insist only once more, employing all her charm and wiles. If he still refuses to take them, then so be it. She positions his arm. “Ready?” Pull, pop, reset, yowch! She winces with him and places her warm hand over the joint and kisses it once. She looks for a spare chair, only a pace away, and decides to fetch it herself. Just as she reaches for it, bending sideways at the waist, she grimaces hard and doubles over in pain. Her hand presses against her midsection. Her face loses its color and she looks like she’s about to vomit, but does not. A little wobbly on her feet, her arm shoots out to grab at whoever can help her stay upright—it’s Reinhardt—and she squeeze’s that person’s hand until both hands blanche, communicating the acute, stabbing pain she is in. She stays doubled over for a good half minute, breathing deeply before she’s able to stand upright again. Her head is spinning from the pain. Her pupils are slightly dilated.

Reinhardt allows the Queen to squeeze as hard as she desires, but also moves to catch her and keep her on her feet. He looks to Macon on how to proceed with such a situation, and without thought, the knight calls for the Kingsguard to collapse and surround the Queen, hiding her from public eye behind a wall of impenetrable shields and able bodies.

Jarith would nod his support of his vampiric friend, tugging the reins and turning his mount to a route home. He’d stop in sage for a healing, the wounds weren’t too bad, and frankly at the sign of Josleen’s sudden spat of agony he didn’t want to be here, the knights surrounded her just as fast of course, but there was knowledge in the pale, pupil-less gaze. That was something Jarith himself was almost dangerously intimate with. His married life when good had even had tragedies. A gentle nudge of the ribs, and Hux would trot the cold knight out of Larket, if in a roundabout fashion. Valen would safely be tended too, no doubt, there were plenty of healers.

Kreekitaka || Rafty was having a mostly pleasant day, or at least he had been until a few minutes ago. The long, heavy wooden support was having a grand old time being a rafter inside a building that, while it had sustained some damage in the recent earthquake, was still standing, and it was partially because Rafty was the one supporting it. He was doing his job very well. But then!! Chaos! Calamity! And worst of all worsts, fire! It spread up the wallpaper, spread up--and onto Rafty himself! The beam could feel his structural powers waning as the fire burned through his body. He tried to warn those below with small crackles and popping noises, but alas, they remained--a huge crab, pummeling a small vampire. Rafty wanted to yell at them, tell them to flee this place he could no longer maintain--but it was useless. He had no mouth, and yet he must scream. And scream he finally did, as with a loud CRACK he split down the middle. One side of the rafter swung down--and down--in an arc very much like that of a golf club. And in the last moment before Rafty's consciousness faded into oblivion, he felt that end of himself slam into the crab and launch it all the way to the green. Miraculously, he skimmed just high enough over the ground to leave Valen entirely untouched. "I suppose there's that," he thought to himself, as reality disappeared into blackness.

Artia nods to the male, "I respect that, you are a noble sir with a wonderful heart. Thank you for serving the king and queen." She then took spare vials out, then she heard the sound of popping a shoulder in place. A smile at the sound, confident it was Josleen at work. But the corner of her eye, she noticed Josleen color changing. Then the sounds of pain, stepping in close. A hand pressed to her head, popping her thumb that summons a light to see how her pupils react. In a long voice so Macon, Josleen and Reinhardt can only hear, "Josleen stay awake, try to stay awake. " Her hand went to pressure in her neck checking for the heart, "Her heart is evaluated. Pupils dilated, she been poisoned. These are all signs, when she Bent over that was from pain not being light headed. I advice we get her somewhere more private just incase the one that did it could be near."

Macon takes the painkiller the first time prompted by the queen and basically just blinks when his shoulder is popped back into place. Either that vial did its job really well or he is just putting on a strong mask, or some combination of both. Josleen leaves him and then doubles over. The King rises to his full height again and starts towards the bard. His first few steps are certainly wobbly (this stuff is great, Artia) and it takes him a bit longer than it usually would for him to reach Reinhardt and the queen. Kingsguard part to let him through and allow him to view the agony on her face. He is quick to call out for the nearest healer, who happens to be, “Artia!” and waves her over. Jarith is likely lucky that Macon is too busy with this to see the bottom half of the exiled man’s face. There is some genuine concern in the stone stare of The Fury Knight when he asks Josleen, “Wha’ is this?” Once someone comes over to examine her they will get the same type of question shot at them with a bit more of a growl backing it, “Wha’ is happening!?”

Valen 's hands were a bloody mess by this point, as was the rest of him no doubt. Just as he had almost decided to let instinct take over, and see just how well Uyeer shell stood up to a Vampire bite, the weight that was on top of him was suddenly tossed as a board swept the male away and off of him. He laid there, unable to move at this point really and figured there could easily be better ways to go. Go? Go where? "Did.." he would cough out, blissfully unaware of just how dangerous the situation was as he was also a bit punch drunk at this point, face looking none too good after the pummeling he took. "Did I win...?" Well, it seemed no one was going to try and help him -or- Kreekitaka, so he would have to handle this himself. Army crawling now with severely injured hands and gods know what else, he would make his way trying to see where the Uyeer had landed. If he was still in the tavern, he would try to help him be roused. If not, he would try to simply make his way to the exit.

Josleen ‘s breathing grows ragged. Her mouth salivates and she gulps it down like someone nauseous who is trying their best not to vomit. Black clouds encroach on her vision and she’s feeling faint. Her one hand doesn’t release Reinhardt. The other reaches for Macon. If he moves to support her on his own, then she will release Reinhardt, otherwise she stands propped up by both. She can’t bring herself to speak. The pain comes in waves. Just as she begins to straighten and retain some color, another way hits her.

Reinhardt stays for as long as the Queen needs, but looks to the King to lead here. The men are all in place, but he isn't Kingsguard yet. Thus he is out of his own element here. The man just does the best a knight can, and even though he knows he earns the ire of the actual kingsguard, he orders them to move. "To the fort. Protect the King and Queen and get the physicians ready." Looking back to Artia, and knowing Sabrina is predisposed, the knight says. " You too. Come, now." It wasn't a request. Moving back, allowing Macon to take the lead, Reinhardt sees to the safety of the people, as well as the supervision of the Red Ogre as remnants of flames still linger in an attempt to devour the establishment yet. Damage control, is what the knight is about at the moment, and he stays behind so that he can control any possible chaos that may spring up from what supposed to be a simple charity event.

Macon does move to take in Josleen and support her on his own, but he probably looks like he could still do with Reinhardt’s help in that department given that The King is fairly numb and loopy. Artia’s posits that the Queen has been poisoned and this serious accusation earns one more, slightly dulled thanks to the painkillers, pulse of infuriating aura to spread through the crowd outward from the king. Macon growls and jerks his head back and forth looking for someone, anyone to pin this on and sick the dogs on. (Not you, Gigi.) “Who did this!?” He’s shouting for a few kingsguard to remain behind and find out who has the huevos to do such a thing even as he and Josleen are being ushered back towards the fort. Lycidas served the drinks, but the Rage Knight is too loopy and in too much of a fury to put that simple accusation together, lucky Lycidas.

Lycidas /had noticed the trouble with the queen, yet his focus had been on the remaining contestants and their troubles inside! The man dashed into the fire, uncertain if injury or death may befall him, uncaring about the damages that had overcome the structure and searched for the body of Valen, the fallen vampire. Kreekitaka had been knocked free by Rafty and yet, Valen had remained and when the building was still coming down.. Lycidas grabbed the man and threw him for the outside world, for safety. As Lycidas seemed to approach the exit, following the other man, the building began to collapse around him, blocking his escape.. The man searched for other exits, other avenues of safety.. And as the building threatened to entrap him forever, fire catching his clothing, engulfing parts of his body, the man found a window in the back. He shrieked in horrible agonizing pain as he rushed for the glass exit, arms and limbs torching his vampiric body, scarring him, the flames disfiguring face and limb alike, yet he pressed on. He torched form leapt through the exit, shattering the glass as the building crumbled, leaving many to question if he was engulfed within or not.. And the vampire began to roll upon the ground to remove whatever flames he could. He now had a choice, return, hopeful he wouldn’t be blamed for the poisoning of the queen or flee and hope people thought him dead.

Artia bent down into her bag, looking up to Macon. "We need to get her to swallow Charcoal, this works to stop the poison from entering more into the blood stream. I will mix it with nausea medicine, as she looks to yak at any minute. After she takes this, we will work on if her body should handle a pain relief. I don't want to add more to her system at the moment if I don't want to." Standing up she begins grinding charcoal into a fine dust, looking to Reinhardt . "Need to ask the kitchen staff who is new, what the queen ate. If the cup she didn't drink of is still dirty I will need it to research what type was used. Any remaining foods as well, please hurry." If they would leave, Artia would have one of the guards carry her bag. "The charcoal is ready, please let me give it to her now. This is important to keep it from spreading." If was able to give to her now, she would pour the large amount into a cup then add the nausea medicine which smell strong of mint. Placing the cup to Josleen mouth, "Drink fast."

Reinhardt feels the stabbing pain in his side, knows his wound is a bit worse than he let on, and thus excuses himself as he knows now the King and the Kingsguard have proper protection of the Queen, and an active healer is presently attending to her. With this in mind, Reinhardt slinks off to go see Sabrina, the one person he allows himself to openly admit he is hurt. He was going to need his strength, it seems he will be busy soon trying to find out who tried to kill the Queen.

Valen would find himself thrown out into the open and rolled over onto his back with a wince of pain, eyes wide as he was almost certain that he had never felt anything more excrutiating in his life as his leg, with a giant gaping hole, was rolled over top of a she tumbled. Not only that but the scar was once more bleeding albeit not as much as remnants of Sabrina's magic from before were even still holding effect, though after so much time it was certainly slower. He would have to remember to thank her again some day. The world swam, his own head a bouy in the tumuluos chaos...as he simply gazed up at the sky as he heard shrieking, people worried. Something was wrong with Josleen? Worry flashed across his own face, not for the fact that he knew she was more important and would receive attention first...but just that something was wrong with her....and then he would lose consciousness, eyes closing.

The Kingsguard, realizing the Queen can’t get very far on her feet (and maybe neither can the King), temporarily commandeer a private citizen’s carriage. The King and Queen had decided to stroll here, taking their time and, in Macon’s case, waving and pointing at the people (Josleen waved too, but no one can point like Macon). The Larketian gives up his carriage for a few hours, trusting it will be returned to them (it will). Josleen does as Artia says and drinks the concoction, but only after turning away from Macon in case she can’t keep the medicine down. And she can’t. She vomits it into nearby, burnt bushes, once decorative plants outside the Red Ogre Inn. She vomits once more until there is nothing left, then holds out a hand for water and a napkin. She rinses out her mouth, dabs at her lips, then drinks water. She leans forward over the bare bushes until she feels confident she won’t retch again. Bleary eyed and weak, she turns towards Macon and buries her face against his chest. When the carriage arrives, she needs to be helped into it. Artia is welcome to join them. Some guard stay behind with Reinhardt to gather evidence and question staff and spectators alike. The Queen rests on Macon weakly for the entire ride.

Lycidas /was burned and crumbling, his body hardly sustaining itself except from the sheer will to push on. The man stood, leaning against a nearby tree, as he debated his next course of action. He could leave the city, though there was only two choices for that.. The first an air ship, the second the bridge. He could try and speak with those who were concerned about the poisoning.. But regardless, he’d be taken prisoner for questioning till it was sorted out.. ANd, most likely, all evidence currently pointed at Lycidas. The man knew this king wasn’t prone to rational reasoning. He had choices to make and currently, hoping people thought him dead was perhaps the best.. COnsidering the last image they had was a building collapsing on top of him.

Macon really likes Josleen a lot. He must, because ‘buries her face against his chest’ reads a lot like a veiled attempt at wiping her vomit mouth on his shirt. We see you, Josleen. The King of Larket does not react like someone is trying to wipe remainder barf on him though, and instead comforts the half-elf bard by rubbing her back for the duration of the short carriage ride to Fort Freedom. The Royal couple is really a mess, huh? The King’s mere presence incites acts of brutality from his citizens, and who even really knows what is up with that Queen? Has she really earned enough ire that someone would try and poison her?

The witch’s heart broke when her friends, and her Queen began to vomit, once more into her bag to crush up more charcoal. But then she saw it, the building crumbling with Lycidas inside, she wanted to scream and run forward. Alas, Artia was needed with those still alive. Once the carriage arrives, she looked to a young Larket girl watching the scene play out. She knew the young girl as Mary, worked as a messenger for Artia on many different times. “Mary run as fast as you can to the sickbay, tell Ikked she and any spare healers need to come here as fast as possible. Then please, find Sabrina to come here. I have to go with the King and Queen.” She moved into the carriage, taking her large bag with her. Waiting for the queen and the king to climb in first of course, once inside the carriage. She looked down, “Please forgive me for not staying here King Macon, I can’t…” She teared up, clearing her throat. “I cannot just stay behind and leave her uncared for. I have sent for healers I work with in the sickbay to come here and help those in need.” Her knuckles white from pushing on the charcoal so hard, once again another night she had to be away from her daughter. But in hopes once Josleen settles down she could send for her daughter, Artia would not leave unless told too.

Josleen || Artia won’t have to be away from her daughter for long. In the fort, Josleen refuses to go to the sickbay, preferring to recuperate in the bed she shares with the King. Within the hour, and with the help of medicine and fluids, she’ll be stable and in need of a bath and rest, which she prefers to do with just the King.