Listen to the Viscera

In which a Seventen bleeds in the streets, and an inventor finds a way

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 13
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Iz

Mon Oct 29, 2018 8:12 pm

28 Yaris 2718
Third night of the riot
The Dives

Fellix Malanastre part of a battalion of six Seventen pressed on chrove-back through the narrow, rutted streets of the Dives. The air was thick with smoke and the roads littered with debris, pocked with pits, and soiled with the sad remains of the melee. Both Seventen and mounts were ran ragged and nerves frayed. There'd been near to no rest and their abilities stretched beyond their limits. The orders, unfathomable in the escalation, was restrait. Clocking restraint! The violent, senseless wicks were going to burn down the entire city and they were supposed to bite Monite?

But the guidelines couldn't survive the streets, not if the Seventen wanted to stay alive not if they wanted to keep the body count low. For many of the younger officers, this was their first true test of their mettle after their recruitment from Brunnhold. Even those who'd performed valiantly at the start were beginning to crack. Fellix Malanastre had held his own, but three days with only a few hours sleep during the hottest hours of the day, and riding an unfamiliar chrove, he was running on the blessing of the Mona alone. There wasn't time to question orders, there wasn't a shred of his reckless optimism left in him. It was three days in and no end in sight; he could only see the ticks just in front of his face. Just keep moving, just get through it. The only things he felt were the need to get through it. And anger.

The riot was senseless. The wicks were behaving like barbarians. And the commanders were tying their hands. Fellix wasn't a savage person, but the riot needed to be put down and peace-keeping wasn't working.

As Fellix and the battalion approached the edges of the burning quarter, the chroves began bellowing in protest. The setting of the sun had brought only the slightest reprieve from the heat; the streets of the Dive held the hot air in her chest and now it was choked with ash. The wick had created blockades adorned cleverly with broken wagon wheels, the spokes make-shift deterrent spikes. As they approached the blockade, a barrage of stones began to rain down from the upper stories of the ramshackle buildings. At the same time, a band of wicks emerged with pikes and flooded between them.

An ambush.

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Boston Brilliant
Posts: 21
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2018 10:04 am
Topics: 4
Race: Human
Character Sheet: https://anaxasdiaries.com/viewtopic.php?f=79&t=228
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Nate
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]

Sun Nov 11, 2018 6:34 am

28 Yaris 2718
Flames and smoke.
In the first day of the riot Boston had first took in the scent of burning wood and thought one of his inventions had gone array. The momentary comfort of finding it wasn’t that was quickly displaced as he found the originating source of them. The riots. He didn’t see rioters in the first day, but he heard the shouts and the sounds of violence. It wasn’t until the second day that he actually saw a few of the rioters, though he was fortunate enough that they didn’t bother coming down his alleyway. They looked like mad dogs, beasts full of rage. Then, the Galdori who worked to put them down, there were many who looked the same, but more desperate to do so.
It was all chaos.
It was now the third night and Boston had boarded up the shop. He did his best to keep the outside chaos from reaching his doors, or at least, tried to deter those from coming to his shop. He had been lucky. He had no negative interactions as of yet and it was nothing less of a miracle. Though, it was something that couldn’t last.
He needed to leave the safety of his home and venture out. It was not something that he had any desire for, but it was something that was needed.
He still had some water, but it was beginning to run low. If this riot was to go on any longer he’d be dry by the following night. He had been low before the riots, but he thought he could get through the next three days without. With the riot, the option to go out had staggered and forced Boston to remain in his home. Now that he was running low he had to take a risk and leave. There was a well a few blocks down and the streets had been relatively quiet for the last few hours. This would be the best time to go out and try.
He was far from fool and knew better than to go out unarmed. He also knew that if any Galdori saw him armed that they would probably attack him. He had taken a small hammer with, something he tucked away in his boot, a few fireworks that he may be able to ward away someone, a few matches to start that, some rope, and a piece of metal he had bent into a makeshift brass knuckle. He, of course, also had a small keg that he could fill. It could be carried with one hand via a strap. It was light set of stuff, but it would probably do the trick.
As he exited the door and safety of his shop he could feel the heat in the air and in the distance he heard the sounds of screams and shouts. The relative quiet he had thought had touched the street had only been muffled. The sounds still sounded distant, so he may be safe. He would get to the end of the street and then judge the situation from there.
The journey to the corner of the street was a slow and cautious one. Upon reaching it, he took a peak around the corner and then instantly pulled back. There was a situation brewing. A group of men at the wall and it looked as though another group was crowding them.
Rioters against the Seventen.
The streets were worse than Boston had hoped for. Though, as he tried to move back…he couldn’t. His legs abandoned rational thought and went numb. All Boston could do was lean against the wall of the house and hope the fight would not come to him. Fear had taken him, but still…he slowly moved to peak around the corner and see how everything was fairing.

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Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 13
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Iz

Sun Nov 11, 2018 9:43 pm

Ensign Malanastre cast out in shouts to repel the attack, which seemed to come from every direction. His chrove heaved below him, lashing, clawing, and snapping at the wicks who knew exactly what they were doing. The battalion of Seventen worked to return to formation, parried and countered and trampled to get back on a good strategic foot. A trio of rioters suddenly covered their ears, dropped their pikes, and clawed their way out of the alley - a bit of Terror specially delivered from the Commander. Three out of dozens who’d seemingly just appeared and were systematically penning them in closer to the arson.

Fellix didn’t have time to feel anything. His chrove took a nasty stab from a pike and jerked in the wrong direction and separated them from the line. The fires, the smoke, the noise! A scream! Fellix turned to see a Seventen pulled from his chrove. Then he felt something. That was fear. How fun.

Boom!

A deafening sound and Fellix was on the ground, stars in his eyes and ears ringing. All sense of his bearings were lost, but he tried to get to his feet anyway. The air was choked with smoke, shouting, and the bellows of angry chroves. Dazed and still trying to get wind, he lurched towards where he thought he saw another green uniform in the fray.

Crack! A wick rioter swung a club at his chest, a hasty glancing blow. Fellix lashed out with a hoarse ‘Push’ and the wick was thrown a dozen feet into a smoldering cart.

He almost laughed. Nothing was funny, but just something about - ow! He winced and held his chest. Broken rib? He’d need to find -

Squish.

Fellix hadn’t seen it coming. Something had come at him from his left and he’d stumbled. A bizzare feeling of pressure … he looked and a wick kid was staring at him totally ashen. Fellix looked down.

“Um.”

There was a knife in him. Sticking out of his uniform. Shouldn’t there be blood? Oh. There it was. As his body began to make sense of the impalement, Fellix tried to remember his Healing training. Funny. He’d never considered it in a first-person perspective…

“Kettie! What did you do!” As if from a distance, Fellix watched as the young wick who’d stabbed him was found by his father. The father held the boy back protectively and brandished an iron poker. Fellix, still on his feet somehow, began backing away with as much haste as he could muster.

His hands hovering over the half-sunk knife in his side. Then ‘bump’. He’d backed all the way into a wall. And something squishier.
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