RP:A Very Peaceful Protest At Witch All Went As Planned

From HollowWiki

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc


Summary: Witches and pro-democracy sympathizers gather at the witch labor camp site just outside of Larket to stage a protest. As the protest had been a planned event, Larket monarchy supporters seize the opportunity to stage a counter-protest. Guards are present on the site to keep the peace, and, at first, both sides appear to behave. However, rowdy attendees among the witches test the guards' patience, and incite violence with the counter-protesters. Overrun, guards begin to fire arrows into the pro-witch protesters. Chaos erupts, and many flee while others are killed in the fray.


Labor Camp in the Forest, Larket

Usually, when the sun sank low enough that it's golden rays turned to dusky blues and purples, the camp would be filled with the soft sounds of the working and their families settling into the meager living space they'd been provided. Tonight however, was different. There was no meandering shuffle of tired feet, cooking fires being stirred to life, and not a single sound of a woman nagging her man for his laundry. There was a nervous energy twitching around the people who had gathered in the open center of the dirty camp. It had started that morning with just the people who lived and worked here but slowly it had grown into a full, active protest. They were all dressed in various shades of black, some dark blue if it was all they'd had handy. Some even had their faces covered. Witches, those who worked here, made the bulk of the crowd but they were surrounded by other Larketians as well. Some held signs that displayed a basic, straightforward message. (Justice for Hanna, Witch Lives Matter, Forced Labor is Slavery) Others were more vague. (An oddly attractive group of non-witches had gathered earlier that day, had even brought a harpsichord with them for a few to stand on, and they were brandishing signs with the peace symbol, hearts and others that called for people to 'Join the Conversation') More still were a little joking. (Two older women holding a larger sign that read 'These HAGS wont HAGgle for human rights!') Valrae was in the heart of things, par for the political discourse (;D), and weaving through the crowd to make sure things remained steady and calm. Her golden hair was braided back, tucked into the hood of her tunic style shirt. Her laced boots were over tight cotton pants and it was all the standard, protest chosen color of black. A crimson bandana was tied around her face, leaving free only her wide, dark lined eyes and golden brows. She was trying to hush a group of rowdy adolecent boys as they tossed slurs and curses back and forth with the agitated camp guards.


Meri was a face amongst the crowd. Her attire today was slightly different from the norm, that burgundy corset that she is prone to wearing abandoned in favor of a long sleeved shirt and black gloves to mask her tattoo. Much like Valrae, Meri had the consideration to cover her own face and shield it from view, but she is sticking with the theme of black for her entire outfit. And so Meri was present (thanks to a little assistance from Valrae), dressed from head to toe in all black with her own sign in hand. The design of her own sign was amongst the 'more straight forward' signs, Meri opting to go with a message along the lines of 'forced labor is slavery'. It was her understanding that the want was for this to be a peaceful protest and for all of Meri's part in this, that would be what she was trying to deliver. A peaceful stand in of the message with no obnoxious shouting, hooting, or hollering that might rile up anyone in her immediate vicinity. So far, at least.


Pilar was in an odd position. Here she was, protesting the poor working conditions and bad treatment of the witches building the outpost that SHE (or rather, the organization she represented) was paying for. They were working on other public works projects, too, but she should have at least fixed the problem at the outpost. Damned red tape. At any rate, she's here in her mourning dress (the only black clothes she owned) and her brown leather boots, holding one of the aforementioned Justice for Hanna signs. Her hair was tied back in a white ribbon and a white handkerchief masked most of her face. She was standing right in the thick of it, right next to the cheeky old ladies. She told them she liked their sign and they smiled.


It bears noting that the protest crowd here is sizable. That's because the resistance had used funding - from an anonymous source (Hudson) - to transport protesters in from other cities. Big crowd, monarchy has to pay attention, right? But these 'extras' have no skin in the game, so to speak, insofar as the peace in Larket is concerned. Maybe they're here because they're sympathetic to witches - that's the idea, after all - maybe they're here for a publicity stunt - yeah, Tychus isn't sure who invited the Join the Conversation women but it's very strange when one of them breaks rank to give one of the guards what appears to be some kind of refreshment - or maybe they're here because they're spoiling for a fight more generally (angry at "the system," perhaps not necessarily the treatment of witches) and this seems as good an opportunity as any. This particular, more bellicose population makes up the fringe of the protest, and some of them have been drinking. Since that's started, they've been talking loudly amongst themselves about the guards facing off against them. "Pig fascists," they're saying repeatedly, with the intention of being overheard. "I bet these PIG FASCISTS were losers growing up and this is how they feel big now." "When's the last time we think these PIG FASCISTS got laid." "Hey PIG FASCIST, how'd you like that refreshment earlier? Gonna Join The Conversation or is it not PIG FASCIST enough for you?" And so on and so forth. Tychus, who had worked tirelessly to get these people to show up, has been attempting to weave through the crowd to do damage control to respect co-organizer Valrae's wishes of a peaceful gathering. "Come on, guys," he tells the men when he finally manages to get through the dense middle section of the protest to where these outliers are holding court. A man with a shaved head and many tattoos, drunk, by the redness of his face, puts his hands on his head as if Tychus were trying to arrest him. "Not doing anything, maaaaan." This show of docility lasts just a moment. Just as quickly, he cups his mouth with his hands, shouting in a sing-song way: "PIG FAAAAAAASCISTS." And then: "Screw the corrupt monarchy! Lock them up!" These last three words are out there like a blast, and immediately carried by the belligerent group around him, a chant developing: "Lock them up! Lock them up!"


Macon, or rather Larket, has not placed the most level headed guards on duty here at the camp, which is essentially a government owned construction company that uses very cheap labor (thus the anti-slavery slogans). The guard towers that the drow who originally built this outpost had in place are still here, with one even being rebuilt after the skirmish that cleared the encampment of the dark elves left it in ruin. On each of them (four in total) are two bowman, arrows not yet nocked, but they seem ready to do so at the drop of a hat as they look on below. Word has gotten out that this protest would be going on, maybe even on purpose given that chanting at just the guards here might not get that much press. Thank goodness a reporter for The Herald is on site. This knowledge has spawned a counter-protest, much smaller than the pro-witch one given the limited time to organize and the fact that it takes a special kind of Larketian to get involved in such a thing. When they are in place they shout things back at the protesters like, “How dare you!?” and “Did my husband’s life matter before you killed him with your earthquake!?” Some of their signs don't make much sense, ‘Go Home’ in particular, but whatever. They too egg on the guards, asking a few of them, ‘Are you going to take that from those filthy Witches?’ compounding the threat of violence from the guards, some of whom shout back at the insults with some of their own, while the rest try, mostly in vain to have the protesters to “Disperse now!” And “Get back inside immediately.”


Valrae finds Tychus helpfully by her side while she tries to dial back the aggression. The witch is giving him some serious side-eye over her bold bandana. Where did he even find these people? The aggressive chant is suddenly taken up by the people, because of it's confusing message some of the counter protesters have joined, and Val can practically feel the sound of voices echoing in her chest. A spark of worry courses though her, first for Meri and what was surely a temporary fix for her strange magical condition, second for this protests life expectancy for peace. The line between the opposing sides is shrinking, the aggravated and biased guards seem to be doing little to stop it, and fear spikes in her chest. The witch wiggles through the motion filled crowd as quickly as she can, her shouting for people to step back lost in the chanting and stomping, and tries to make it toward the front. Irenic is towering somewhere in the crowd, looking handsome and a little bored but standing in support of the witches. Valrae plants herself in the no-man's space between the crowds and is shouting, waving her hands for space. Some people listen, others are too busy shouting, spitting, gesturing angrily. Someone tosses a beer bottle and it hits squarely on the side of a guards head.


Meri knew it, this 'peaceful' protest was already getting out of hand, all it took was a few bad seeds on either side and things could escalate quickly. Here we are, tensions rising. It was impossible to see but there would be a frown weighting at her lips, the gesture was hidden by the black cloth that masks the lower portion of her facade. It was hard to keep track of who was here in the crowd and who was not, the faces were numerous and it was easy to lose track of friends as commotion began. A lot of faces go unnoticed: Pilar, for example. There were just too many people, but there was one person in particular that Meri was keen on trying to have eyes on. It's that flash of red that alerts Meri to Valrae's presence, almost missed as the witch weaves her way to the front-lines to try and calm the scene. It's a position that Meri too seeks in an effort to keep track of and close to Valrae. It seems that the concern was equal on both sides for these two blondes and Meri was intent on keeping relatively close, just in case. As just like Valrae, Meri had a bad feeling. The woman would do her part for what she could to try and lend a hand in calming the pro-witch side of things, probably too late by now though...That beer, the guards head. Ugh.


Pilar tensed as things started to get heated. The drunken troublemakers drew a grimace from her, while the counter-protesters were ignored (by her. Shouts of “we ARE home!” and “we didn't do anything, you cow!” could be heard). Her attention was mostly on the guards; she'd had trouble with authority figures in the past, and while the likes of Hildegarde and Reginae had her respect, the dogs of the Larketian monarchy did not. The shouting and stomping and cursing had spread to her vicinity, and she joined in the effort to calm the crowd. Unfortunately, no one seemed to eager to listen to reason, and even the old ladies had started yelling some... colorful things to the guards. If her heart could still beat, it would have been pounding. This was quickly spiraling out of control, and the moment she saw that bottle, she knew things were about to explode.


Tychus knows that Valrae is thinking some pointed questions but not saying them in the hopes that just maybe things will de-escalate. Just maybe both sides will stop shouting "lock them up!" Maybe not, though. Tychus is looking around them, taking stock of how the aggression is spreading through the crowd. ...Had that old lady just called a guard the c-word? It's hard to move around now. They're being crushed in a sea of bodies, that begins to roil like a tempestuous sea as soon as that bottle arcs through the air. It breaks the seal: immediately more bottles begin to follow, launched anonymously out of the mass of protesters. Some of them break well in advance of the guard line, but some make it toward the guards. Almost always the sound of shattering glass is followed by the words "Pig fascists!" Some of the protesters - there's no way Tychus can move to stop these guys, he's practically crushing the old lady with the colorful vocabulary - have advanced toward the guards and are now in their faces, shouting and redfaced, intentionally banging with their fists on their shields. "Pig fascists! Are you just going to stand there and do nothing? What will it take before you realize what's happening to our democracy! Pig fascists!" The guards have been remarkably holding the line together thus far - maybe because this hostility is all happening very fast - but the counter-protesters are not. They break their own protest line, tackling the hecklers. The crowd heaves violently as both sides of civilians suddenly erupt to protect their own.


One of the foremen for the construction of the Eyrie outpost shows up on his way home from that work site and shouts in a booming voice that one would expect from a guy with a beard as thick and prodigious as the one he is sporting, reminding the pro-witch crowd, the camp residents in particular, that they are not being forced to live and work here. This is true, the camp is at capacity, and there are surely other blacklisted Larketian ‘witches’ in need of work. The beer bottle flies, lands, and draws both blood from the guard and an ‘ooooohhh’ from parts of the crowd. The struck ‘peacekeeper’ shakes his head free of the stars spinning around it while his partner stomps towards the protesters, “Who threw that!?” while throwing slurs and curses in the direction the bottle flew from. It is not long before the guards standing between the two crowds are caught being pressed together while the counter-protesters fire back, hucking a bottle of their own followed by one of the ‘go home’ picket signs flying end over end, dangerously into the ‘witches are aight’ crowd. The two lines clash together with several guards in the middle. It hasn't taken long for this to descend into chaos. Thanks, fear, hatred, and alcohol. Above, on the towers, arrows are pulled back in bows, at the ready, warnings being shouted down. Guards on the ground try to peel the two sides back apart, but they are outnumbered, though not outgunned, so to speak. One of them drags a counter-protester off of a protester and gets a punch to the cheek in return. “Son of a-” that offender is knocked over with the front of a shield and gets a swift boot to the chest. It gets louder and louder, and messier and messier before an arrow gets loosed, maybe by accident, a nervous twitch, and zips down into the crowd. It catches a man, standing nearest Valrae and Meri, in the chest and he drops. First to his knees then face down in the dirt and mud of the trampled forest floor turned campground, snapping the shaft of the projectile. Silence washes over most everyone for a brief moment before chaos reigns supreme more than ever. Screams, roars of triumph from some of the counter-protesters, while others flee in a panic, not wanting to be the next victim of the rangers on the tower. Madness.


Irenic senses the tension and it causes a line of it to form along his jawline. Someone is going to get hurt here and that won't be good for their purpose and he notices some familiar faces in the crowd in having a clearer mind now, but Valrae is one he doesn't notice in the least. Not even her aura for he sports an eyepatch over his brown colored eye now a days and he wasn't here for her or for Artia, but because this was just something he didn't agree with. He was about to open his mouth right before the chaos starts that reacting this way will only cement their preconceived notions on witches, but too late. He starts protecting the peaceful protesters against the onslaught of guards and pulling brawlers apart and shooting the protesters to flee while they can. All of this done with pretty much no emotion left on his expression and easily using his own body like a shield to block blows and protect the weaker ones. Maybe one guard goes at it a little too hard and cocks Irenic one good one on the nose causing him to bleed…. And just maybe he pulled a guard back away from Valrae before he got a chance at that witch wearing a bandanna and a double take at her mossy green eyes, but on to the next protester to save. He probably moves on to see if Meri needed help.


Valrae spies Meri near her side and though the moment was short lived, she felt a moment of reassurance. As the crowds explode into movement she tries to keep the other woman close, a single fixture of surety in the madness. The little ground Meri and Val managed to take vanished as bottles and bodies closed rank around them. Suddenly, there was a shriek and a man fell to the left of her. Valrae's eyes travel down to the arrow sticking oddly out of the man's body and suddenly the sound crashing around her is buried under the sound of the blood pounding in her ears. The witches is being crushed with Meri between the line and suddenly they're pushed into standing on the dying man's body. A strangled sound escapes her throat, lost in the deafening chaos. Her hand reaches for Meri, still afraid of losing her despite the forced closeness, and her dark eyes desperately search for a path out. A bottle is thrown upward, toward the archers, and arcs wildly before falling back into the crowd. It lands on Valrae's shoulder and shatters. The witch yelps in pain and surprise as glass bounces off of her hood and bandana. More arrows fly by. Some find the dirt, others find flesh. The push of the crowd has herded them toward the trampled harpsichord the odd young people brought, closer to where the crowd has thinned and begun to flee. If Meri hasn't been pulled away, Valrae would head with her toward the nearest exit. So much for peace. In the chaos Valrae is unaware that she has a certain tall, brooding avian to thank for the escape route that appeared before her and Meri. Maybe she catches the fleeting scent of salt and sand through the stronger stench of blood, sweat, beer and fear.


Meri was not too put off by the fact that a man took an arrow right in front of her and her gaze immediately sought out the woman whose face was shrouded with that vibrant, red bandana. Meri was not great at this whole 'keeping up with people in crowds' thing, as history shows but she was working hard on changing that track record today. As far as needing help? It did not seem that she was in need of it for she and Valrae seemed to have each other's backs, neither woman willing to stay stationary in this madness. If anyone is pulling Meri away anywhere at this point in time it would be Valrae and by Meri's gloved hand (for care was taken to hide identifiable features down to her tattoos) toward the nearest exit. In the chaos of everything, it is hard for the psionically inclined woman to keep a beat on every motion going on around her, but the woman does do her best to afford she and Valrae as much cover as she possibly can during their escape of this establishment. Arrows, bottles, any other debris that may be thrown will be harmlessly suspended in mid-air before dropping uselessly to the ground. That's not to say that Meri is able to catch every object, as evidenced by the yelp of pain that Valrae looses during the escape. So much for peace indeed, but at least the two women, one wearing a red bandana to cover her face and the other a black bandana, will be able to make their escape. They arrived together, more or less, and so it seemed fitting they leave together.


Pilar grunted as she was jostled about before being crushed. It was a damn good thing she didn't need to breathe. She gasped when the first arrow flew, and tried to shove her way through the crowd to aid him,. But even her vampire strength was no match for so many bodies, and she was too late to save him. She cringed as he was trampled; if he hadn't already been dead, he was now. But now there were more people being shot, beaten, and she looked around wildly, trying not to panic. This was her family's slaughter all over again. Her instinct to flee fought with her instinct to help, but none of it mattered when an arrow caught her in the throat. She gagged, hands going to her neck, eyes widening. If she wasn't a vampire, she would have been dead. But vampire or no, she could still bleed out. She stumbled towards the nearest exit, leaving the arrow in to staunch the flow of blood. Anyone who saw her would get quite a fright, but she didn't care. She had to get out of there. Had to get home. Had to feed.


Irenic watched the two women make their escape and by now people were avoiding him as it was easy to since he was nearly seven foot tall. A grimace as he saw a woman with an arrow through her neck! What, even. On is way over to her he helped those who tripped and fell to their feet and pushed them in the direction of escape. He came up on Pilar, “point me to where you are going.” He wiped the blood on his nose with the back of his hand. He would help her any way he could.


Tychus has been cleaved from co-conspirator Valrae, but sees the arrow find its mark in the man beside her. It's hopeless to try to reach her, the situation right now is one of those push-and-pull crowd stampede situations. Everyone is trying to disperse, can't disperse fast enough. For his part, he's moving against the crowd and takes a shoulder to the face, it's a bit like trying to swim upstream. He helps people to their feet, narrowly preventing some of them from being mowed down in the fracas. He's a believer, wants to do what he can to keep the more vulnerable of their number from being trampled. Many of course are still fighting a losing battle against the guards and the counter-protesters. He watches the melee, feeling a terrible despair take root in his chest. This hadn't been the plan. It's like watching a carriage accident in slow motion. He watches a witch throw herself into a crowd of guards, her arm sweeping the air in an arc to summon a ring of fire. You think you know a woman, you make small talk and protest signs with her and eat casseroles that she's made, and then you see her set four men on fire like it's nothing. History has its eyes on all of them. It's then that an arrow grazes his ear, and he is stunned by it, the world is a deafening roar, a wetness (blood) soaks his shirt, surprising even him. He sags against someone, his hand feeling the side of his face, which is cool and slippery. "Come on!" says a woman, beside him, the words warped like Charlie Brown schoolteacher's. He is numbly propelled forward, not by his own initiative, by the tide of fleeing people.


Pilar was too much in shock to register that there was a guy talking to her like she didn't have an arrow in the throat. It had gone in from the left, towards the front. She looked up at him, at the blood all over his face. Blood... she needed blood... She tried to speak, tried to say anything, but all that came out was blood. Maybe he caught a glimpse of those fangs?


Irenic had already suspected as much and knew she shouldn't try and talk. His smart ass frown showed he asked her to point - right? He gingerly picked her up so she was draped over his arms and commanded once more, “point.” A calm to his voice even though there was a quickness to his step. He was able to cover more ground than her and she shouldn't be using her powers to run fast anyway in her condition. Yeah, he isn't a fan of vampires, but they seemed to be on the same cause here.


Pilar was starting to grow faint. No way she could direct him to Chartsend at that moment. Instead, she pointed towards the House of Ara.


Valrae, through the chaos, numbly notices the suspension of the projectiles around them. Huh. She would have to remember to ask Meri about that one. She tries to glance over her shoulder, to find Tychus in the thick of the madness behind them. She manages to see a flash of fire but before she can spot Tychus she stumbles on some protest/riot debris and her eyes are pulled back toward the way out.


If one thing becomes clear in all of this sudden madness, it is that way more arrows are flying towards the pro-witchers than towards the other side. The Larketians up on the towers know who their enemies are. They are not thinking of this in the heat of the moment, but surely a few witch corpses will send a clear message that will end up making their jobs as watchmen easier in the future if this is the standard with which they deal with uprising. Lack of hard hats, and low wages aren't such a big deal now while people are being shot, are they?! Meri’s momentum robbing magic saves a few lives while Irenic appears to do the same. Spells and witchcraft start flying and guards and counter-protesters fall. It isn't long before the anti-mage brilliantly stationed here is called in to put a stop to all that. Even while the arrows are flying from their compatriots, the guards on the ground are doing their best to use non-leathal means against their fellow Larketians, at least most of them are. One guy who played a round of golf with The Fury King, and was exposed to the Rage Aura for 18 holes had brandished his sword and was hacking and slashing, but he was one of the four dudes caught in that burning ring of fire, and he went down (down down). Tychus ushers more to safety before being forced to safety himself. Darn, would have been pretty good for the monarchy if one of those arrows found that guy. The cacophony and the crowd flees into the surrounding forest in all directions and the arrows eventually stop raining down once there are more guards than protesters and the fighting has ceased. Those that stick around after the chaos ends, or return within the hour will be treated to a curious sight. The dead that little the campground are being loaded into a large wagon, though only those dressed in black. The few fallen counter-protesters and guards are not taken. Following the covered wagon, should one be so bold, would see it winding through the streets of The Hard City and winding up at the gates of Fort Freedom. Strange.