RP:Vandals
Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc
Summary: In the dead of night, three young political activists (who want democracy in Larket) set off an arcane bomb at the construction site of Augusta Jauzon’s future estate (the King’s mother). They graffiti the walls with a crude drawing on Macon and Josleen beheaded, crowns on the ground and bloody. They distribute democratic propaganda.
Reinhardt appears on the scene ahead of the King and Queen. The King’s fury agitates the crowd to turn on the vandals, and provokes Reinhardt to track down one of the vandals and rough him up excessively. Macon orders the vandal be thrown into the furious crowd to be beaten to death, but Josleen stops the order and whispers to the King her reasons why. The King, displeased with the Queen and disagreeing with her logic, still stops the beating and has the vandal arrested, supplying logic of his own.
Tychus (NPC), the current leader of the political gang, remains at large.
Western Quadrant, Construction Site of an Estate
Two days without major catastrophe have passed since Lady Artia and Lady Brennia's charity ball. Since the wedding, that's a Larketian record. This evening, the King and Queen retired to their chambers at a reasonable hour. Despite August Jauzon's best efforts to exhaust and divide them, they still had enough energy spare to enjoy each other's company. Macon's decision that they share one bedroom has been a boon to their bond. Josleen's infatuation with him grows, and as it grows, his words seem wiser and his flaws less troubling. Together they triumph over crisis and with each subsequent win she withdraws into just the two of them. Their private universe of secrets, lies, and agendas, unique to all couples, quickens into something palpable and increasingly complex--and automatic. The Queen reflects on none of this. It simply is, and she dreams of pleasant nothings as she sleeps nude against the king. Across the city, three young men in masks advance on Augusta Jauzon's future home. The estate, still under construction, has been prioritized over the rebuilding of low and middle income homes. This has drawn some criticism, most of it vocal. But hot-headed young men nursing grudges against the crown, with no job and no outlet for their testosterone-fueled need for violence, prefer action over words. They wait until the skeletal estate is empty of laborers, then vandalize the walls in paint and scatter propaganda leaflets they wrote themselves. Having cloaked the building in their politics and hatred of the crown, they set off a low-grade arcane bomb in the heart of the estate. The blast knocks out a support beam and partially caves in the sunroom's glass and scaffolding. No one is hurt, but the explosion is just loud enough to wake many residents in the Western Quadrant. A crowd gathers outside the estate and absorbs the vandalism and propagandist's message before the Crown can respond. In the castle, Roald bangs urgently on King Macon's bedroom door. "Your majesty! Sir!" Josleen sits up with a gasp. Her service in past wars has made her a light sleeper in recent years. She covers her breast with the bedsheet and looks to Macon, and beyond him, the door.
Macon stirs at the urgent knocking, but isn't truly awake until Josleen sits up and gasps. The Queen of Larket earns half a groggy growl before he fully processes the knocks at their door and the shouts coming from behind it. While he rises to answer the call, the king cannot help himself but to make a grab at whatever parts of the Queen he can reach. To prevent Roald from fainting, The Fury Knight climbs into a pair of loose pants before making the remainder of the short trip to answer the door. Josleen has covered herself, but Macon doesn't give her the opportunity of more time to make herself decent further before he opens the door, instead he'll just headbutt Roald should he give any fresh looks inside the king and Queen’s chamber. The young Kingsguard member is greeted with an eye-full of chest hair and a “Wha’ is it, Ro-?” the Rage Knight’s voice is cut off as he steps out of the room and shuts the door behind him. Outside, Macon is briefed on the situation and inside Josleen can perhaps sense the slight pulse of Furious aura that flows out from the king when he is told what happened to his mother’s future home. After a minute, he is back inside the room with Josleen and preparing himself to set out. He fills her in on the situation while he gets dressed, foregoing armor in favor of haste here. It is not necessary that she accompanies him on this, but he probably prefers that she does. A few poignant uses of the word ‘we’ in his explanation of the incident serve as subtle hints at such a preference. The royal pairing will leave with Roald as quickly as the Queen’s preparation allows.
Reinhardt rides hard and fast on to the scene of an eruption near the nearly completed estate of Lady Augusta, the mother or King Macon. Into the night does the noble larketian and four others ride, bearing down upon the estate as a crowd gathers to witness the destruction. The palomino stallion that the Deveruex heir rides is brought to a slow trot, then a stop, by the back end of the growing crowd. The knights dismount, and led by Reinhardt they start to take order of the scene. Rein walks through the mob, a mix of loyalists and those who disfavor the crown in various levels. Word has spread of the messages painted into the walls. Propaganda to spread hate is displayed like a mural in a chapel upon the largest wall, concealed by the rising smoke of the flames that rise into the night air as they devour the wooden skeletal structure of the nearly finished grand estate. This destruction is primal, though one can easily tell planning went into it. The knight has seen engineers in battle, and how wickedly they can carve destruction, but this… this was something else. Knowing how turbulent these times are, Reinhardt orders his men to zone off the area and take guard, for both the safety of the townsfolk, and to maintain order. The flames must be dealt with quickly, if there was to be anything salvaged from this wreckage. Luckily, Lady Augusta was far from here, for the knight swears he can almost feel the palpable rage of the king near.
Josleen darts off the bed as soon as Macon closes the door behind him. She slips into a silk robe and paces just behind the door, arms crossed, one hand lifted to rub at her collar in that nervous tic of hers. Her ears strain to make out words, but the door is thick and Roald doesn’t speak very loudly at this hour. She feels the rage pulse, and is suddenly angry herself, though she isn’t yet sure what the target it. The fury makes her sharp. Her hand drops away from her neck as Macon enters the room to dress. Immediately she understands that she should go with him, and she slips into the quickest dress and boots at the front of her closet. Floral, simple, like when they first met, before money was no object for her. She follows Roald quickly into a waiting carriage. Inside, her hand slips into Macon’s and squeezes. Her gaze is focused out the window, westward. In the west, the smoke dissipates, helped by the wind which sends a leaflet tumbling against Reinhardt’s boot. The leaflet reads ‘Larketians for Democracy!’ and lists the reasons why the monarchy should fall. On the estate wall, the words ‘Larketians for Democracy!’ and ‘Down with the Crown!’ are written several times around a crude painting of Macon and Josleen, both beheaded, their crowns on the ground, their blood on the jagged peaks of their fallen crowns. Macon’s nose is extra long to denote him as a liar. His puffed up armor is transparent and there is a fermin inside (though it is unclear if this is an accusation, or simply the representation of the common Larketian slur, ‘Fermin!’). Josleen is drawn naked and on her knees. The portraits lack detail and talent. Graffiti not from artists, but from first time vandals. The Royals arrive, but are only allowed to approach once Reinhardt’s men have secured the area. As soon as Josleen sees the graffiti, she looks away. If the nudity was meant to humiliate her, it worked. If the beheading was meant to frighten her, it did not. Her face flushes red and her own rage spikes, further amplifying whatever fury the King himself must be feeling.
Macon looks down at Josleen’s hand on his while they are inside the carriage after he has spotted the rising smoke from their destination out the window. Recent events have him now making an honest effort to quell his Fury, lest another outbreak occur, as it did at the charity brawl only a few days ago. The Queen’s squeeze of his hand serves as a reminder of this resolution to remain calm whether she meant it to do that or not. Macon and the rest of Larket (maybe Lithrydel) have been shown that mages are well suited for fighting fires over the past few weeks. A team of three members from the Academy of Magics are on the scene shortly after Reinhardt and his group arrive and soon the flames are extinguished with a practiced mix of wind, earth, and water wizardry. So by the time Roald and the royal couple arrive, the flames are out and the skeleton of the lavish home is smouldering. As soon as The King exits the carriage he is able to pluck one of the fluttering leaflets off the ground, the content earning a low growl. This is a minority that perpetrated this vandalism, but obviously they have become a vocal one since the quake. When the half-elf looks away from the crude depiction of herself, Macon reaches out to touch her arm and loses that cool he had been fighting to keep, thanks in no small part to his wife unconsciously egging the effect on. Another, slightly muffled pulse of the Rage aura bursts forth and one of the guards tears up the paper he is holding (one of the down with the crown ones). The king looks to Reinhardt to address him directly, “I will ‘ave order!” he growls while the infection from The Rage Stone seeks to contradict him. “I do not care wha’ you ‘ave t’do. Find the ones responsible for this and bring them t’me.” While he speaks he is angrily pointing from the Knight to the vandalized home and to himself when appropriate.
Reinhardt watches as the Queen is shamed publically, and feels the anger of the King in more than a metaphorical sense of the word as he orders him to find those responsible. The wave of anger that pulsates from the Rage Knight washes over the crowd, all of whom answer in slightly different ways. As stated earlier, there are loyalist whom love the royal couple, and they start shouting slurs and curses upon any who dare act in such ways against the crown! "The "ueen is a beut! You lot 're jus' a buncha ******!" WHich seems to stir up the rage building within others, not so loyal to the crown. "Oi ! I ain' vote to 'ave us a new King so quick like, nor a Queen from Frostmaw to rule over us!" This starts quite a bit of back and forth, which seems to feed into the residual effects of the lingering taint of the rage stone that plagues Macon, unbeknownst to anyone. Reinhardt, try as he does, even feels anger swell within him. But luckily for him, his knights, and surely the townsfolk, his King orders him and his men to find those responsible. This comes at a great time, because with the crowd growing more rowdy, Reinhardt and his men may have reacted with more force than required. But a king's orders seem to reach them even through the fog of hate that swells within them due to the aura's radiation. A nod towards Macon first, to signify his understanding, followed by a bow, before he heads to his horse to fetch his weapons. A blade is always on his hip, it comes with the armor, but Reinhardt's true blade was latched upon the side of his horse. The hand and a half sword, bastard sword, longsword or whatever you wish to call it, is fitted upon his person over his left shoulder. His helm is taken from its holder, and placed upon his head. Him and five more knights head off, following a trail of fresh footprints that lead away from the wreckage that was to be Lady Augusta's estate, into the eternal forest. A bit of luck, it seems, strikes for the knights, as a small trail of blood is found. It seems one of the vandals has cut themselves in their hurry to escape the scene. Its not much, but it’s enough for them to track at least a general direction. The men are off, just as several more guards show up on foot, ready and able to deal with a crowd. At least this lot isn't tainted by the aura permeating off of King Macon... yet.
Josleen‘s furious stare meets Macon’s when he touches her arm, though her fury isn’t directed at him but at these vandals. It’s a stare hungry too see these scum punished, ideally publicly to shame them as they have shamed her. And for what? What exactly has she done wrong? Love her husband, the King? And what has he done wrong? Rule Larket with a just hand? Love his mother? Josleen, a bard, thinks in theatrical terms at all times, and while Macon’s instinct is to whip, hers is to discredit with counter spin. She’s a propagandist too, as thus these vandals’ message is acutely felt and understood. Good news for Augusta, however, as she is suddenly promoted to just a ‘mother’, from her heretofore position of decrepit, miserable hag. As Macon barks orders to Reinhardt, Josleen reads the crowd. The majority is on their side still; this is promising. A few agree with the vandals. A third group has come to gawk at the bomb blast and Royal distress like spectators at a horse-and-buggy crash. One man in particular stares a little too long at Josleen. The nude line-drawing has given him the balls to openly give her the once-over, wondering how accurate the drawing may be, and if the vandals knew first hand. She glares at him behind Macon’s back then shouts at Roald, “See to it this filth is scrubbed from the walls! NOW!” Roald, who has never been shouted at by Josleen, blinks in surprise, but gets right to it, enlisting the mages to help, if they can, or if not, sends for laborers to come scrub. Reinhardt’s tracking will lead him to a shallow cave in with a 19 year old youth nurses a cut on his forearm. He has telltale paint on his shirt and hands, and when he sees Reinhardt enters the cave, he knows his fate. He spits at the ground before Reinhardt’s feet. “Damned royal lap dog.”
Reinhardt slaps the mouthy child with the backhand of his plated gauntlet, the force a little harder than needed, but fully implemented by choice. The impact has a sickening sound, as bone meets metal, and the once cocky child is brought to the floor by the stunning blow that now has him bleeding from both his nose, as well as a busted lip thats already begining to swell. In the light cast by the moon, over the canopy of the Eternal forest and into the mouth of this small cave, Reinhardt towers over the youth like a demon from one's worst nightmares. His tall stature seems impossibly taller, his armor darkend by the shadows of the cave, hiding even his face save for those eyes. Eyes that shine with an unatural rage. The child tries to get up, but Reinhardt's boot catches him halfway, and forces him back down into the dirt hard. Moving his boot up from his back to the side of his face, against the cheek, the Larketian noble rubs the vandal's face into the dirt, while saying in a tone thats far darker than usual. "Trash like you should remember its place." He rubs harder, and the teen cries out in pain, but dares not move out of fear for his life. "Remember your place, filth. Right here, under the heel of my boot." The scrapping of metal can be heard, and the disgruntled youth's eyes flash open wide. A sword was drawn! A flash of steel and the blade is embedded deep into the earth just a mere inch away from the kid's face, close enough he can see the tears welling up from fear in his own eyes. He pisses himself, unable to control it, as he was sure death had come for him. Here, Reinhardt reaches down and grabs the skinny teen by the back of his neck, hoisting him up with ease to face him. Reinhardt seems more like a demon this night than human, and it terrifies the kid beyond the use of even words. The knight clutches the back of the kid's neck with such force you can hear the leather of his gauntlet cracking. Here, the Deveruex heir says to the vandal. "By the time this night is over, you'll be begging to kiss the King and Queen's feet, boy." After these words escape him, Reinhardt tosses the kid like the trash he considers him aside. The child smashes into the cave wall and crumples. He whimpers and shakes uncontrollably as the other knights move in to collect him. Reinhardt looks about, disgusted by the acts of these filty peasants, his rage still holding strong as he looks for clues leading to the arrest of the others involved. Moving out of the cave, Reinhardt says to the other knights. " There are more. This scum doesn't have the capacity to pull such a feat off alone. Find them." Looking to the kid, who is now bound and ready for transport, Reinhardt says to his men. " I'll deliver this one personally." Taking the captive with him, Reinhardt heads out, the teen bound and gagged but able to walk. It wasn't long before he was back, standing before King Macon and Queen Josleen. The teen can see his work being scrapped off, see the estate stands for the most part. But most off all he sees King Macon, and again he pisses himself out of fear. Reinhardt walks him up, and dump him in an unceremonious fashion upon the ground before his Lord and Lady. " One down." Is all he says, as he awaits his next command.
Macon watches Josleen go off on Roald and quickly calms himself, and thus calms that looping rage aura as a result. He's seen fury from her before, even directed at him, but back then it was colder. Lately though he finds it to be hot, in multiple senses of the word. While he is concerned that this change in demeanor is something he and the Rage Stone infection can be blamed for, he also takes some pride in seeing the queen he selected taking to her position of power so well. Macon glances into the crowd in the direction Josleen was looking previously, but that one bold starer is no longer bold enough to keep eying the queen while the king is searching the mob for him. Now that they've seen this for themselves and the situation is mostly under control, Macon looks to lead his wife back to their carriage, but thinks better of it and steps towards the crowd of looky-loos, his voice booming out a moment later, “There are those in this city…” he points towards the vandalism, “Tha’ seek t’kick Larket while we are down. The ones tha’ did this do not care about -justice-. They are not looking out for you. They wan’ t’control you through fear, as the fallen Paladin did before them. Show them you cannot be bent t’their will. You are hard stone. Bring them t’me and we will show them justice.” He glares into the crowd and huffs. The Rage Aura manipulates most of them, riling them up and focusing their anger at those responsible for the vandalism. They roar, mostly collectively, and now Macon thinks that they can leave. Reinhardt returns though, just in time to stop the royals from leaving the scene. The King growls, looks from Reinhardt, to Josleen, to the vandal, to the angry mob he has created, and back to Reinhardt again. “Leave him t’Larket.” Macon gives his simple judgement and it is fairly clear given the next roar from the crowd what will happen if that order is followed and justice is left in the hand of The Larketians.
Josleen listens to her King’s speech with approval. Curiously, connected as she is to him through the rage aura, she can feel how it manipulates the crowd. Is this how Kelovath controlled the fermin? Using Kelovath’s tactics to control the crowd disturbs her. Kelovath is, in her estimation, the greatest villain of her life. If Macon imitates Kelovath’s fiendish ways, how is he any different? [PAUSE HERE FOR IRONY] Reinhardt delivers the boy before she comes to an answer. The Queen cannot believe the swiftness with which Reinhardt delivers. She nods approvingly at him with a smile, before she looks at the youth. Wince. With her fury gone, Josleen cannot appreciate the gore. Although she’s planned war strategies and lobbied for tougher punishments and advocated for trials by combat, she’s always done so as a civilian or politician far removed from the bodies on which those policies are wrought. As a healer, she’s only seen those bloodied bodies from the convenient position of savior. As Thane and Queen, no one has dared ask her to connect her role in creating the supply of broken bodies to the medical ward where she plays at being a saint. In a way she and Macon are perfectly suited. In truth, he created the plague from which he saved Larket. In truth, she’s created the war from which she’s saved soldiers. Never once when faced with a bloodied body has she been asked to weigh in on how to bloody that body further, until now. Macon feeds the boy to the wolves, and Josleen protests, “Wait!” She isn’t sure how to oppose him, in private or public, but feels that she must. “Macon,” she coos more softly as she draws in close to him and whispers so only he can hear: Is this you or the rage? This won’t look good in the papers. Think of the optics, my love. Take him to the prison.
Reinhardt was just about to do as ordered, and hefts the kid up to be thrown into the foaming maws of the angry crowd ready to see blood spilt, but stops. Two things happen in a matter of moments. One, the rage aura wears off suddenly and abruptly, like a bad pain in the chest, recovering the knight from its vile influence to suddenly come to terms of how he nearly beat this kid to death and was about to hand him over to a crowd to be slaughtered. Second, Queen Josleen's voice, pleading to wait, travels across the expanse of the roaring crowd to reach him. He stops in his tracks, and pulls the kid back in. The whimpering teen just stares, knowing he was moments, a heartbeat, a breath away from being beaten to death by an angry mob. The gallows looks more promising and swift. More just, than being tossed to such barbaric people. The murder in their eyes, the hatred for someone who speaks out against a King. Did they love him? Was he so wrong in his judgement? The teen questions everything in life right now, and feels absolute shame as it is Queen Josleen who seems to be the one advocating for his life at the moment. Reinhardt, looking down at the boy, catches his gaze. The two stare long and hard at one another, and Reinhardt simply repeats. " I told you, boy. You'd be wanting to kiss her feet."
Macon tilts his head when Josleen ceases his order. She earns a cool, slate stare until she closes the distance between them. The argument of public opinion taking a hit seems neutral to him as perhaps those present will believe that he has gone soft. After such a furious speech, that won't look very good in the papers either. She's put him in a corner that he does not like initially. He grits his teeth, keeps the Rage Aura in check somehow and lets out a growl that she should recognize as a sign that she has convinced him to take her advice. “Take ‘im t’the prison.” He commands Reinhardt through still clenched teeth. He then calls out to the crowd to cover his tracks, “This man will face justice for his crimes against Larket. But first he will ‘elp us find his accomplices!” The vandal gets one last glare from The Rage Knight and now Macon heads into his carriage for sure.
Josleen can feel, and see, that Macon is displeased with her. She knew he would be when she contradicted him in public. Still, she is grateful he listened. She smiles weakly at Reinhardt and Roald before following Macon into the carriage where she expects he’ll make his displeasure known.
Reinhardt hears his order from his King, and nods. It will be so. The knight moves with the vandal still bound and gagged, tosses him upon the back of his horse and mounts it as well. Within moments, the knight is off towards the fort, where a jailor would be roused from his sleep to see that a cell is prepared for this foolish youth. Justice shall have the day, and the papers shall speak of a King who enforces the law fairly, while a page shall speak of a merciful Queen who finds pity even for the most lost and wicked people in her kingdom.