RP:The Mob Rules

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Wandering into Larket to find Bastion being set upon by an unruly mob, Raevyn gets her first taste of the town's irrational fear.

Date: Dec.10th, 2017

Lucy's Crossing

The crossing here is marked by a massive tree, old and gnarled. Underneath the spreading boughs, a small shrine stands, beautifully engraved with the names "Lucy" and "Kelly". A flowerbed surrounds the base of the shrine, kept carefully tended by Mary-Lu, the cousin of the two dead women, who also runs the adjacent merchant stall. Because of the violent history of this place, a pair of guardsmen stand nearby, stationed here to prevent the need for a third name on the shrine. The cobblestone street swirls around the old tree in an orderly manner, the set of the stones drawing attention to the shrine and stall. To the west, a smaller road branches out, while to the east, an ivy-covered wall rises high, with the sounds of exotic animals drifting into the air.

Bastion didn't regret helping Lanara, not in the least... but the action had consequences. In spite of his unceasing aid to the people of Larket since his arrival in the aftermath of Kahran's attack, there were those so hurt by the recent struggles of the city that they couldn't abide anyone accused of sympathizing with the witches thought to be behind every ill the city had suffered. Despite the group of rough and armed men standing all around him, Bastion wasn't cowering the way one might've expected from a dedicated healer, or pacifist. One of the men had asked him precisely what a pacifist was, at some point earlier in their conversation. "It is a dedication to a vow of Peace. I help any who have need of it-" "Boy, you've already admitted to helping the witches of Larket. You never denied it. You know what they've done, the lives they've taken. Others think the good you do, think that 'makes up for it', or some such. Not us. They took my daughter, years ago. She started goin' out at odd times, took up witchcraft. I found things in her room, things no proper lady should have. Strange plants, lil' critters, tallow candles and the like. Then one day, she don't come home. I don't see her for three years, and when's I finally do, she's a whole other person. Like someone possessed. She tried to kill me. Witches are evil, they cursed this whole city. We can't trust them." Another took up his cry, loudly. There were people all around. "And we can't trust no one who helps them kind. WItches fornicate with demons, the undead. They do anything for power, an' use that power to curse good folk." Bastion didn't belittle them. If anything, he sympathized. The boy stood in their midst, hands folded in his sleeves. The level of ignorance he was dealing with though... and they were hefting weapons, and looked prepared to use them, some of them with military experience. But he made no moves against them... and neither did they move against him. No one had said it, yet. But it was coming. The real reason he'd finally been accosted.

Raevyn hadn't been to Larket in some time. In fact, for the most part, she was afraid. She was afraid that dreadful army would return and in this, she would surely taste the sweet kiss of death. In the more recent days however, the girl had seemingly changed in some regard. Sure, she still felt that fear, but it ddi not bother her quite as much. She had a newfound sense of confidence in herself. In part, it was thanks to the magii at the tower that trained with her day and night, and in part, it was because of a certain necromancer that welcomed her with open arms. She was getting on in this new life and because of this, she changed. The gathering in Larket was stopped upon, those pale dead eyes looking upon the backs of the men as she listened to their disturbing accusations. The novice necromancer looked to her undead companion in a questioning manner, only to illicit a grunt and a shrug. This wasn't her business, she first told herself. Don't get involved. And yet, she seemed to ignore her own advice. 'What... what is going on here?" she finally called out, making the effort to push through the crowd. it was now that she saw Bastion- That sweet, selfless boy that had been so hard at work offering charity and aide to the locals of this growing town. It seemed as though none heard her at first, and so, she cleared her throat and called again, "I ask, what is going on? Why are you gathered?" The woman looked from face to face now from beneath that drawn black hood, the ghastly scythe of a fallen wraith that is held in her possession is planted firmly into the ground.

Bastion looked back to Raevyn as she came, and with an undead bodyguard. Uh oh. She couldn't have possibly come at a worse time... necromancy was indistinguishable from any form of witchcraft to these people, just like arcane magic, or druidic magic. Her apparel, her scythe, her undead servant... it was a wonder she'd made it into town untouched, perhaps simply because people feared to accost her on their own. But her presence baited the real accusation out of the people. They turned, they yelled and pointed, and soon all were looking between her and Bastion. "I saw this boy, what he did! He took that man's ability to move, saw it with me own eyes! He uses witchcraft! And look there, a foul witch! She's come to defend him!" It was a gross misinterpretation of what he'd done, and of her, but voices were raising, along with weapons, as fear and mob mentality began to take hold. Bastion could handle himself, but now, Raevyn would be a target... it changed the dynamic of the situation greatly. He could strike no blow until a blow was struck, as per his vow of peace, and he could never kill, could never harm... none of that prevented him from protecting the innocent as he saw it. He exploded into action. There was no apparent tension in his form, no coiling of his muscles... one moment he was still, tranquil, with a placid expression. The next, he was dashing between two men, spinning when one tried to grab him, pink and black whirling around his form, then he was beside Raevyn, and the blow of a club glanced off his horns, with an audible 'thunk' that staggered him for a split second, before he became a dervish between three men who'd surrounded her while she was talking. His open palms were used to deflect a club, and he dodged an axe and swortshord, striking with fingertips into the abdomens of the men, and leaving them crumpled heaps on the ground. He stopped their attacks, but only furthered the rise of the mob's blood. "Ma'am, we need to leave! Now!" He was beside Raevyn, trying to look for a route through the crowd. There were none that were obvious.

The undead by Raevyn's side made some sort of disgusting wretching sound, a word spilt out with a cough. "Run." It was his job to protect the necromancer from harm. It was his only task. Yet this, here and now, might prove more than difficult for the emaciated creature of undeath. "Witch? Are you mad?!" Raevyn cried out. It seemed that these townsfolk were beyond rationality at this point; And in this realization, she reflected upon that very event that lead to her dismissal from where she once called home. There would be no reasoning with these people. It was fight or flight. Time seemed to crawl when Bastion stepped in, the blow coming from one of the brazen attackers gently drifting down as if readied to fell the girl right there. The audible thunk of the weapon hitting Bastion's horn seemed to propel things back into real time, the monk's swift maneuvers appreciated, although she would not say as much. There were more pressing matters at this time. Dead blue was hidden from the world when those eyelids slammed shut, the wielded scythe held out in front of her; Its terrifying malachite blade aimed at the crowd. She was concentrating deeply, a lesson from her required study material was now called to mind- A lesson she had yet to even master fully. Still, there was no time like the present for a field test. It would take a moment, but the earth began to gently rumble and shake, the soil at the mob's feet beginning to lift. There was a fear on their eyes as they began to move away, and in doing do, allowed the first of many to break through the surface. At first it was just one- a rat. A rotted rat. And soon, that rat became two, and two became four, and four became eight. The rats just kept crawling out of the earth, now starting to leap onto the mob to claw and bite at their weapon carrying hands, or their legs. These rats were not meant to maim or kill, but to terrify the mob just enough that they would part from the path, giving Bastion and Raevyn a way out.

Bastion knew the crowd was mad, indeed. They were scared, and witches were a scapegoat. Any magic user was like to be called a witch in this day and age, and a necromancer was about the worst possible magical profession to try to summon up a verbal defence for from such a mob. Bastion was grateful when the rats appeared... he'd thought she'd do something far, far deadlier, and was grateful for her prudence. Larket had limited magical forces since the witch hunts began, but the guard had been outfitted for countering magic. Guards were appearing on the scene, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who'd they turn on. They didn't even try dispersing the crowd, normal guardsmen using cheap trinkets to try and dispel the source of the rat producing magic without knowing anything beyond the basics of how to use the trinkets... point, say a word, hope it works. But while they were doing that, Bastion was clearing a path for Raevyn, pulling her along with one hand, and dropping men and women like flies with soft blows that made them crumple like wet paper bags with the other. The people got out of their way soon enough, though Bastion ignored his own personal safety while they hussled, and when they'd gotten to the edge of the crowd and started moving beyond it, his free hand was instead pressed to his side, where there was blood seeping into his robes. "We've got to get out of here! Run, if you can! The way is clear, south!" It seemed he was ready to make a stand and buy her time... he didn't know if she'd sustained any wounds moving through the crowd, but hopefully she'd be able to run, if off sheer adrenaline alone.

Those eyes opened once more and Raevyn began to grin; Not in a sinister way, but moreso dumbfounded that she had even managed to pull off the unthinkable! She was growing and it was beginning to show. When those guards arrived on the scene, Raevyn knew it was time to get out of there. She had abilities, but they sure as hell weren't developed enough to stave off more advanced countermeasures. The undead companion began to turn toward the crowd, ready to defend to the death the one that he was raised to guard. "Rawr! No! Come on, let's go!" Those milky white eyes looked back almost begrudgingly, but he conceded, and followed as fast as those withered legs would allow him. Sticks and stones would have the woman protecting her head as they ran, a glob of spit landing smack dab in the center of her right cheek as they passed a frail old woman. Raevyn was sure, that after this, she would never again be allowed to come to Larket. That thought alone made the girl tear up, but she could not focus on that now. They had to run before the guard caught up to them. Raevyn pulled her grip free from Bastion's hand for a moment, the whole of her weight dropping down upon her leatherclad knees. "KEEP GOING!" she yelled as she stuck a finger into the dirt and began to etch upon the soil a sigil of sorts- A curse that should activate when her pursuers stepped on it. Raevyn quickly got up just as 'Rawr' caught up to her, and they ran to catch up to the wounded Bastion. Should the monk look back as they ran, he might notice that as any guard set foot upon that sigil, they would begin to sink into the ground about a foot deep, as if the soil had suddenly turn to mud. It would surely slow them down just enough to afford the trio a better lead, and eventually an escape.

Bastion didn't think Raevyn would try again to slow them, with the crowd right behind her, and catching up quickly. She told him to keep going, but even if he wanted to leave her behind, his vows prohibited it. He had to defend her, to the best of his ability... unfortunately, the odds were a little overwhelming at this point. He dashed back and stood before her, still bleeding, and swatted an arrow out of the air. Two arrows. A third one wasn't deflected, but found purchase in his shoulder. A fourth one in his hip. He fell to his knees. The crowd caught up, and rushed over his body at Nasada, trampling him into the dirt. He was barely able to get his hands up to stave off a blow, but they weren't after him, not anymore. His role in all this witchcraft business was ambiguous, but they'd seen more than enough of Nasada's craft. They were out for blood, hers. And what they did to Bastion would be gentle compared to what she'd receive, if they got their hands on her.

Raevyn did not realize how close the remainder of the mob had been, turning then only to see Bastion go down without much of a fight. She was sure he was dead at this point. "NO!" she cried out wanting to stop and help the poor boy. Yet she knew if she tried, she too would suffer whatever fate had befallen him, maybe even worse. She raced through the streets of Larket as fast as she could, the sight of that bridge looming in the distance. She just had to push a little harder, to not look back, and she would make it. However, things are never so simple, are they? The girl didn't see that rock on the path. That one rock that could have been avoided had she been paying attention. The toe of her leather boot caught that rock and she tripped, dust being throw into the air as she fell and hit the ground hard. Raevyn's leather pants tore open at the knee, and beneath that, the flesh parted and began to bleed- nothing exactly life threatening, but it damned well hurt. The girl rolled over onto her back and began to crawl backward, finding herself stuck then against the outer wall of the local eatery as the crowd surrounded her. Tears began to flow freely, and the girl looked panicked and lost, unsure how she were going to get away now. She could not see rawr. Bastion had been trampled. They were going to kill her. The mob screamed and yelled at the woman, their proverbial pitchforks raised in the air. Like a rat, she was caught, and she struggled to think of a way out.

Bastion had taken a stab wound, a blow to the head that caused a concussion, two arrows, and various other more superficial wounds. The trampling had broken bones, bruised muscles... nothing he could quantify right away. It wasn't until ones back was against the wall though, so to speak, that they realized what they may be capable of. Caught in an adrenaline induced haze, Bastion fell into a trance. His mind was clear, enlightened even. Cherry blossom petals fell over the crowd, covering a wider area than he'd ever manifested, falling from the sky, it seemed. The boy had his blindfold on, and people crumpled as he marched his way through them, delicate strikes paralyzing them, but causing no harm. He made sure they were less likely to be trampled than he, laying them out in a row along his path. He danced around them as though in a ballet, a silent affair of acrobatics, a show of how limber and quick one could be, while seemingly never falling out of a state of purest repose. People fell, a dozen, more. The crowd was yelling, their attention finally turning off of the 'witch'. Bastion was before her then, moving like an arrow in flight. He scooped her up into his little arms, cradling her like a babe, though she was taller and heavier than he, and he ran. Blood trickled like tears past his blindfold, but his pace was placid, as though he slumbered, and the petals fell like rain around them. He carried her faster than he'd ever runned in his life, arrows whistling around them, the crowd wailing of curses, someone stuck almost to their waist in what was only a moment ago hard dirt. The guards attempts to curb the rats appearing had only been partially successful, dozen scurried about the people's feet, further adding to the mayhem. Only the guards pursued them, but with Bastion's speed, even that didn't last. Once they'd reached tree's, Bastion stumbled, and fell. He did not rise again. The petals kept falling around him, though fewer and in a smaller area, until he lay in a shower of pink, and they fell no more. He was breathing, shallowly. He would survive, if he was harmed no more.

If it hadn't been for Bastion's iron will and determination, this could have taken such a more tragic turn. Although he might not see it, Raevyn's pallid gaze had shifted, the inky black of the one that slumbered within seeped through momentarily. It was ready to act in defense, yet held off for whatever reason. Those petals that fell held the girl's attention now as Bastion scooped her up, her mind was still processing what exactly had happened. one moment a crowd closing in, the next she was once again on her way to safety whilst much of their pursuers had fallen to both the arcane and the skillful way of the monk. As soon as they had passed into the treeline and Bastion fell, Raevyn tumbled into the dirt, quickly scrambling to check on her pacifist saviour. "B-bastion! Come on! Please, we need to go!" His shallow breathing was a cause for concern- She was certain that he might die if they did not fully get away from the town limits. Surely she could not carry him on her own, as she did not have the strength. "RAWR!" she screamed, looking frantically around for her undead companion. He would emerge from the woods soon after, and as soon as he did, the creature was put to work. 'Please tell me you can lift. Grab his legs, okay? We need to get him to the healer. Come on!" Rawr grunted in response and did as he was tasked, Raevyn putting in the effort ot lift the monk from under his arms. They would work well together, carrying the boy south into the sage forest where she knew he could be helped. It would take some time, but they finally crossed through the mystical aura and into the healer's abode. "Please help me! My friend! He's injured!" As soon as the healer came out to see what the fuss was about, both Raevyn and Rawr were instructed to set the monk down on a nearby bed so that she could tend to his wounds. The pair would then be ushered to move aside and wait while Bastion was looked over.

Bastion would awaken soon after... he was a much hardier little thing than most anyone would give him credit for. The healer that looked him over was still doing so, but they clucked their teeth, and let Raevyn know he was awake. He knew better than to try to rise while under the healer's care, but he did ask to see Raevyn, to make sure with his own eyes that she was ok. He still had a few cherry blossom petals on his clothing... they'd never vanished, like so many spiritual manifestations. In truth, there was nothing arcane about his powers. It was all the application of his Ki, and manifestations of his very soul, like the petals. Any well learned on such lore would find it ludicrously odd that the petals didn't vanish. "Miss Raevyn? You're ok?" His voice was a bit hoarse, but he was making an effort not to sound too weak. A few broken ribs, but none had punctured his lungs, and they'd heal just fine with the aid of a magical healer, after all. Once he saw her, he'd breath a sigh of relief. "Those people... they're all so scared. So scared. I have to go back... and help them. Soon. But you shouldn't... not yet. One day, it'll be safe again. I just have to show them... that witches and magic users aren't their enemies."

Raevyn looks at Bastion like he was insane. "No. You can not. They will kill you, Bastion. What do you think would have happened had I not been there?" Her brow furrowed and she swallowed hard. "I know you think it is your duty to help them- But they can not even help themselves. They care not for rationality, but to place blame on any kind of scapegoat they can find. After today, after what happened when those armies invaded- Do you truly think tht they will suddenly see past the error of their ways? I have lived through this once before, Bastion. I know their fear. Their convictions will not be shaken by your gentle words." The girl folded her arms over her chest, looking the sustained injuries over. "You helped a 'witch' more than once if they are to count today's actions. They will not trust you, now. Your life will be in danger."

Bastion only gave a gentle, cherubic smile to her words. "I do not give up so easily, I'm afraid." He'd have never made it out of that crowd if he did, and would probably be dead already. "No one is beyond redemption, and fear on this level is a disease. Like any disease, it only needs to be treated. Many will not trust me, perhaps. It does not matter. They still need me. My life is nothing next to the lives of so many." His life was one of rigid duty, of vows and devotion to service. Nothing swayed a monk from their chosen path.

Raevyn could not understand what drove him to such absurdity. She did not understand his vows or dedication to his duty. She could only see a foolish boy and a foolish endeavor. "if that's what you wish, then, I can not stop you. I can only hope that you are successful. Personally, until such a day that things calm down, if they ever do, I can not and will not return to that town." There was a frown as the similarities between her own banishment and the vents taking place in Larket were far too close to home. Looking down, Raevyn finally noticed the tear in her pants, and the blood dripping from the wound upon her knee. She stared at the crimson liquid, lost in thought, a deep sigh soon escaping. When those dead eyes set upon Bastion, the woman parted her blackened lips to speak. "At any rate... thank you for saving me. I... I just hope that you will be safe if you plan on going back. For now, please rest and don't do anything stupid." She offered a very brief smile before looking to 'Rawr' and motioning to the door with her chin. "Let us go. I.... need to mend my pants." The undead man grunted and headed out the door, the woman following behind. She stopped and looked over her shoulder, making sure one last time that the monk would be alright. "Take care, Bastion." she said, and soon limped out to start her journey back to the Tower of Mages.