• Open • The Meat of the Problem

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The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.

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• Open • The Meat of the Problem

Postby Val Valencia » Mon Apr 23, 2018 3:27 pm

53rd of Ashan, 718
*Common*

From the dirt, to the wooden walls, the cobbled floors and streets it was impossible to smell anything except rain. It keeps the air chilled, forcing people to pull out their heavier clothes from the previous season to avoid the chill or any illness it could bring and makes it hard to believe there were ever warm days. But it doesn’t stop the mid-town stores from running as if the sun were shinning and there wasn’t a crowd of disgruntled customers that Vals eyes curiously. They’re in her way but it doesn't make her pause even as the conversation filters passed her ears, the cries of frustration coming from both worker and consumer.

“Well what do you expect us to do?”

“We’ll starve with these prices!”

“How are we supposed to feed out family?”

“Would you have us eat vermin?!”

“Rat isn’t so bad.”
Val chimes in offhand with a shrug, ignoring the look of utter disgust shot her way as she finally halts in her trek through the crowd, “It isn’t, promise! The fat ones could almost be like—“

The rest of the words are drown out by the shriek of utter rage that silences everyone for the moment, complete calm before a rock is thrown and complete chaos breaks out. As if they’d been waiting for a sign the crowd rushes up like a tidal wave, crashing down on anything and everything, the shouting rising about the quiet clamor of the rain until it drowns it out entirely. The fighting begins just as swiftly, Val finding herself yanked down into the muck by the back of her cloak, unable to escape the fray. The dancer isn’t entirely sure she wants to be a part of this and barely understands what its for--and she nearly takes an elbow to the eye when she tries to stand, only to duck down as a larger rock goes sailing over her head--but clearly the group is intent on causing as much havoc as possible.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Doran Cooney » Sat Apr 28, 2018 12:31 am



The rain was cold, and while Doran had just recently gotten used to the pleasant, growing heat of trials prior, all that he had learned in the particularly chilly beginnings of the early Ashan was not forgotten. Unable to don his woolen cloak in such pluvial weather, he had taken to carrying around an old board, roughly square in shape, under which he was able to avoid the brunt of the deluge when held aloft. The lower half of his legs - his boots especially - were soaked through and through. It seemed an unavoidable situation, as long as he was outside, and outside he needed to be.

It hadn't been anything quite so awful as a premonition, but he had seen an unusual flow of traffic along the streets of the mid-town. In which, that which was not usual was the lack of the space to move. A crowd had gathered, and where there were crowds there tended to be a draw. Doran, curious as always, upon realizing that there was something worth investigating, in spite of the rain, had set out into the downpour. The air itself was wet and had a delicious, earthy quality to it. With everything in the city so closely packed together, smells that never would have existed in the open lands of Venora or her sprawling forests tended to mix and merge with one another into an overall stench - not one that was impossible to grow accustomed to, but it was pungent enough to notice its absence in cold or rain. It had been one of the few things the sunshine had brought with it he hadn't found quite to his liking, thus the rain wasn't necessarily so undesirable. An exchange of dry boots and the pervasive scent of human feces for wet boots and clean air: acceptable enough.

Those gathered didn't seem concerned about the weather, the smell, or their boots. Though Doran couldn't make out exactly what it was the stalls around them were meant to be selling, as the sheer mass of bodies proved to be an effective wall, especially when so many of them were at least a couple inches his taller if not more, he was able to gather well enough that it was a matter of meat. Those around him were all arguing at once, though there was a young woman with a pragmatic evaluation, however distasteful. A slim, ragged looking boy stood next to him, his eyes sharp and calculating. Taking a moment to gaze over at him, Doran noticed, even with the shifting mass of the bodies around them, the boy held a rock tightly in his grip. "Excuse me, why-?"

But his question was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek from someone further ahead. Without hesitation, the body leaped onto the back of a larger man in front of him and released the rock from his hand with alarming accuracy. It was like a match had been dropped onto a haystack. Pandemonium erupted around him, seemingly sweeping up everything all at once. There was surge of motion, bodies knocking against bodies. More prepared than the rest, with his slight advantage of having seen the instigation first hand, Doran was able to twist himself about enough to avoid being trampled, but when the fighting began, he stumbled. In an attempt to avoid a wild, sweeping fist, he stepped back; his foot unsure in the wet, and hands still preoccupied with the the thin, wooden board above his heat. Tripping over the odd jut of a stone below, the board fell out of his hands, bouncing off of the incoming arm at an angle and disappearing into the crowd as his aggressor let out a surprised shout.

Hands flailing out for both balance and anything that might right him, he felt wet fabric in his left and instinctively pulled down, hard, to keep himself from landing on the ground, where his chances of being stomped to death were uncomfortably high. The ploy proved effective, and he turned to thank his savior, only to find that his actions had instead sent a young, dark haired woman down into the muddy mire in his stead. "Oh! So sorry, I-" In the noise of the fray, his gentle voice hardly carried. She took no notice of him, and he tried to stoop down to assist her, but was forced to duck out of the way as another woman, frantically shouting, took a swipe at a nearby man, her arms all angles, one of her elbows finding its way into Doran's chest. He let out a surprised, "Oof." but didn't have much time before he was set upon by a larger, much more muscular man.

The dark-haired woman forgotten for the moment, Doran held his hands up on either side of his face, palms toward the man in a gesture of surrender. "You don't really want to hit me though, do you?" His response was a frustrated shout followed by a quick jab towards his face. While he knew it was best not to take a punch directly to the jaw, especially from someone who was clearly his superior in strength, Doran was only fast enough to turn his body so that, when the fist did arrive, it more glanced off of his chin as he pushed the intruding arm away with his hands to knock the man off balance. The pain of the hit, even as a graze, left a couple stars in his vision, but he hopped back, trying to avoid any further confrontation. His hands, in spite of his intentions, were at the ready to parry another strike should it come.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the dark-haired woman again, and as the muscular man had taken a step back, fists ready but eyes hesitating, Doran took the opportunity to shout a bit louder, "Miss, are you alright? I'm so terribly sorry for dragging you down."
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Val Valencia » Mon Apr 30, 2018 1:04 am

*Common*
If Val has expected anything else after the initial mayhem, she was unpleasantly surprised with more mayhem. Theres hardly time to even sling the mud off her cheeks before a brawl was ready to break out in front of her, shouts growing into louder and louder chants that almost rose above one of the mans questions, realizing he was the one who soiled her clothes.

“I’m fine, it’s just mud, but what in the fark are you doing?!” The dancer slipped between the two men, stumbling in the mud and over her sagging cloak, “You don’t hit each other, the meat is over there! Whats hitting him going to give you? None of you even have meat!”

Her arms waved as she grew more agitated, the situation clearly not one Val was used too, her whole face tight as her gaze flicked between the two. Her interference meant nothing when two kids bowled her down to her knees in front of both men, the children cackling as they threw small chunks of meat at people when they ran by.

It was the last straw for Val at that moment, a yelp of surprise leaving her as her eyes watered as her knees hit the ground again. She was cold, people kept trying to hit her, she was muddy, and she was pretty sure there was meat guts in her hair. Awkwardly she struggled to her feet, reaching out for help and struggling for composure, “Why can’t you people just eat a rat?!”

As if laughing at her the person she reached for was not the kinder of the two, the hard shove her chest sending her stumbling back while allowing her to catch sight of the the spark of fire. The pungent smell of burning out torch burning her nostrils.

“Cassions balls.” Val inhaled sharply with wide eyes, her voice cracked horribly at the end, “Is that fire?! Oh fates, and guards!”

Her voice rose several octaves as she watched the chaos seem to be ready to grow even worse as none of the protestors turn rioters seemed inclined to care that someone was there to stop them voicing their displeasure.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Doran Cooney » Mon Apr 30, 2018 5:59 am



To his astonishment, the women positioned herself between them, her body an unexpected but not unwelcome bulwark. Around them, the crowd had devolved into a mess of shouting; many had begun trying to fling those in front of them to the ground to get closer to the stalls while others, like the man one the other side of the peace-keeping, dark haired woman before him, seemed more keen upon blowing off some steam in the form of trading blows with whoever was nearby. As she scolded the two of them, Doran offered a offered an apologetic smile, his jaw still smarting. "Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, it would seem." Though he chuckled, there was a hint of nervousness to it. He hadn't expected things to devolve so quickly into violence.

Whatever the woman's good intentions, they were thwarted by a pair of gleeful children. As they knocked her back to the ground, theirs meaty projectiles were launched by their little, bloody hands in a haphazard manner. Taking a step back, Doran avoided what looked to be a hunk of some organ he'd never had the pleasure of ingesting before. It splattered into the mud with a wet squelch as the little ones disappeared into the legs of their crowd, their gleeful laughter quickly fading in the rising cacophony of the chaos. Glancing down at the woman, Doran saw she had not been nearly as fortunate, as there was a thin crown of entrails that hung in an awkward slant off of where they had landed, sticking to the woman's sodden hair like some horrific circlet. "Erm... miss?" It seemed the woman was at her wit's end, and he nodded sympathetically at her rhetorical question. "Why can't they indeed."

As she rose, seeking aid from the larger, much more intimidating man, Doran raised a surprised brow by her choice. True to the character he'd shown thus far, the man unceremoniously shoved her away with a sneer. Closing the gap between them, Doran helped steady her with gentle hands on her back and shoulders. When he was sure she wouldn't, for a third time, find herself in the company of the muck and mud, he blinked in surprise as she brought attention to just how far things had escalated. Even the large man turned his head to stare, the three of them observing the rising flames of one of the meat sellers' stalls. Both Doran and the man's heads turned in unison as she pointed out the armored men and woman who had begun to join into the fry, their commanding voices rising up over the din but clashing with one another in an unintelligible mess of shouting.

"Fek this." The man pushed his way past the two of them, smashing an elbow into the face of another, scrawnier man who ran up to him, though it was uncertain whether the action had been one of aggression or not. Whatever the case, he soon found himself rolling in the mud, groaning and clutching at his face.

Left as alone as one might be in a rioting crowd of malcontents, Doran glanced over at his muddied companion. "Shall we depart then? I doubt the knights will have much patience for either of us, intentions aside." Though the sentence itself was a bit grim, he chuckled his words out in an easy, airy manner. After all, those that had joined were a good distance off.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Val Valencia » Wed May 02, 2018 12:35 am

*Common*
“If we run we make ourselves a target, wouldn’t they chase us first?” Val whispered out, truthfully it was the sight of flames that locked her legs. A flame in a hearth? Fine. A flame in a campsite? Not her favorite, but fine. A flame licking at the edges of things it shouldn’t, looking like an untamed charcoal beast of her nightmares ready to swallow everything whole? That was less fine for the dancer. “We look like criminals, if we’ve done nothing we shouldn’t run…but we should leave, this isn’t our fight. Least, its not my fight. I’ve got no life or death need for meat. Who even has a life or death need for meat?”

There was a note of hysteria creeping into her voice, making it clear Val did not do well in high pressure situations. Around her everyone seemed to grow more wild, as if the guards were an audience they were desperate to please. Almost without thought her fingers rakes through the grossness in her hair then flicked it to the floor, around her feet were the “spoils” of the growing riot. She wondered if the newcomers about even knew what was going on. All this waste of the very thing they wanted.

Slowly Val nodded her head, focusing on the ground rather than the terror going on around her, “Where do we go? The whole place is going to be filled soon, and its not like we can hide where we’ve been. My hairs going to smell like innards for weeks.”

A running woman, shrieking about nels, elbowed Val roughly in the side as she ran by, sending a sharp spike of pain and making her stumble. It was the final straw to spur her into action, she turned on heel sharply, nearly falling back into the mud and made several quick strides away.

“Where do we go? I…need a bath, so do you I think.” Her foot stepped in something with more squish than mud and Val looked down, “If we washed it…you think we could cook it? Free dinner, I mean.”

She had no idea what she was talking about, just babbling and trying to hustle away from the anarchy behind them. Unconsciously her hand reached out like a childs searching for a parents, something to ground her as she tried to avoid the new people rushing to join the mayhem.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Doran Cooney » Wed May 02, 2018 5:51 am



Blinking in response, Doran frowned slightly as he considered the woman's worry. "In that case, let's abstain from running." She seemed preoccupied with the fire, and her speech had sped to a point where Doran wasn't sure which questions were rhetorical and which she sought real answers to. The chaos, it seemed, had seeped into her as well, and as he felt somewhat responsible for her current state, he found it difficult to corral her away from the mess of shouting, limbs, and meat. Not truly free to merely disappear on the increasingly hysterical woman, Doran did his best to humor her. "Starving people, I imagine." Though very few of those gathered fit the description; most of them seemed to just be very angry and equally destructive.

Having been raised in Venora, meat had been plentiful enough he'd never had to worry about it - that and most of their meals had subsisted of vegetables, fruits, and grains. He'd never considered mean to be a staple - though it had been a tasty treat. That people were so riled over the price hikes wasn't surprised; that they had seemed to lose, or more aptly misplace, their minds over the inflation was alarming to say the least. The whole city was on edge, and it seemed meat had tipped some over the precarious line between disgruntled and riotous. And fire, it seemed, had tipped the woman.

"Somewhere with a bath, perhaps?" Doran doubted any of the guards would be to worried about the two of them, as long as they didn't garner any undue attention. They weren't the only ones who had been unwittingly caught up in the fray, and while many had yet to escape, their faces ranged from perturbed to panicked, most of the guards had started with the most violent of the agitators. "Wherever we go, we should leave s-" Interrupted by a frantic woman who barreled past them, her voice hoarse and an empty leather coin purse clenched in one of her fists, Doran took a step back in surprise.

Staring after the woman's retreating figure, when Doran returned his attentions to his temporary companion, he noticed that she had already started off on her own, her lips moving though too far for him to make out what it was she was saying. Carefully but quickly picking his way through the mud, Doran's feet hit the ground at awkward angles to avoid stepping on the slick deposits of guts and entrails that had been flung about earlier. Though he stumbled once or twice, he was able to rejoin the dark haired without without too much trouble, and in time to catch her final question.

Calmly but firmly catching her wandering hand, Doran gently pat her on the back of her shoulders. "And a free break or two on your chamberpot." He pushed her along, keeping with the direction she's presumably chosen at random. Anywhere was better than the chaos, and they had yet to be noticed by any of the guards, of whom most were busy subduing those who had, in turn, attacked them, and unfortunate choice that would land all of them in prison for sometime, where there would certainly be no meat to speak of.

Leaving through the west end of the market's square, the road before them branched, and Doran slowed their pace. "Left, right, or straight on?" Though his voice remained relatively calm, given the circumstances, there was some urgency. A guard had caught sight of them and was making her way towards their direction. If at all possible, Doran wanted to avoid any contact, but he also had no idea which way to go and didn't want to make the choice for his companion, wits frayed as they were. Making the choice himself risked her doing something unpredictable in protest, and Doran didn't really have time for that.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Val Valencia » Fri May 04, 2018 11:52 am

*Common*
“I starve, thats what the poor do, we starve. Doesn’t mean we have to act like animals!” She hissed out indignant, the confusion whirling her emotions around her like an uncontrollable storm. And it was like meat was the only thing one could eat, there was fish or vermin. Out of the corner of her she could see the flames hiss in the rain and shut her eyes for a moment, the charred remains of a different building flicker beneath her eye lids. This was something she didn’t need today. But it was hard to even focus her mind back on the riot, she didn’t want to be apart of that either still it all seemed to close around them with dooming certainty.

Unable to tear her own mind away, his crack earned him a warbly smile as they eased themselves away from the fray. Giving her a distraction and almost prompting a giggle as he pressed them forward. It was only a brief respite though, as his question was enough to prompt the last rush of relief at help, confusion and fear at the wreck around them spilling over.

“I don’t know!” Hiccuping sobs that did not suit her age escaped while she squeezed the hand in hers like a lifeline. her disgruntled face turning to meet met his, minor recognition finally flashing across it but outweighed by the terror, “I don’t like this! I’ve no idea what I’m doing!”

If they had hoped to not attract the guards attention they had now, her cries acting like a beacon for the guard who now zeroed in on them with purpose. Their strides quickened into a half jog to catch up to the duo.

“You two! You both to stop where you are.”

Val locked up with breakneck speed, head whipping to face the approaching guard and sobs growing quieter as she struggled to remember how to breathe at the sight looming towards them. The dancer moved closer to her lifeline and squeezed her other hand around their joined ones, jaw clenching just as tight as her fingers. “Wh—what do we—I can’t—we didn’t—the fire—“

If the words were supposed to make sense they didn’t, a jumble of thoughts, excuses, pleads to the guard and Doran, to try and make sense of all the chaos in her head and around her. Logically she knew it wasn’t even that bad, even if it smelled that bad but it just seemed like one thing on top of the other until she couldn’t take anymore. With a stuttered apology Val shoved away from them both, dropped to her knees and heaved in the muck, desperately wishing to just pass out.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Doran Cooney » Fri May 04, 2018 10:31 pm



It seemed his question knocked what little confidence the woman had gained right out of her shaking hands. Frowning in his own incompetence, Doran tried not to glance over his shoulder as the woman began to shout out just exactly how she felt. He didn't disagree with what she was saying, after all, it wasn't as if the situation lent itself well to thinking clearly. Deciding it was better to make a choice than to continue deliberating - as it was clear the woman wasn't going to be able to do so any time soon -, he opted for the path to their left, gently tugging on the woman's hand to set her into motion.

Before he could take much more than a step, a commanding voice ordered them stop. Chewing on his bottom lip, he obliged, though he did not turn around immediately. The woman by his side, already having proven to be beyond hysterics and in some tentative realm of half-delusion, began to babble, clinging to his arm and painting the pair of them all the more suspicious. Clearly he'd made a mistake getting involved, but as he was already committed, he took a slow breath, doing what he could to steady the now rapid beat of his heart. They hadn't done anything that was, necessarily, all that bad. He just had to explain the same to the guard.

As he turned, a polite smile on his face, the woman dashed to the side, causing the guard who had only just reached the pair of them to draw her sword and sink down into a ready stance. To both of their surprise, the dark haired woman didn't make it far before she slumped down into the muck, rain beating down against her back and running through her messy locks as she heaved up what little still remained of her breakfast. Fortunately, the sound of the rain masked much of the splatter, though her retching was loud enough for Doran to take a small step away and clear his throat, glancing uncertainly towards the guard who seemed to be of much the same mind.

"Erm..." The guard raised her head as Doran politely tried for her attention, dark green eyes flickering, seeming to remember that Doran was even there. Though her sword was still brandished, much of the steam with which she'd initially stopped them seemed to have been lost along with the contents of the other woman's stomach. "Can we help you, Ser?"

She frowned, eyeing the dark haired woman with a mix of disgust and pity. "Did either of you have anything to do with the skitch back there?" The question was phrased more so as an accusation, but Doran took it literally, shaking his head.

"We were only passing by and got caught up in the fray, I'm afraid." The truth usually tended to serve him well enough. "My friend here... she couldn't stomach all the violence. We were lucky to stumble our way out without too much trouble and didn't want to get pulled back in, you see."



Player's Note: please feel free to control the NPC's response as well! (Seeing as Val is a little worse for wear right now haha)
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Val Valencia » Mon May 07, 2018 9:49 am

*Common*
Val thought she was finished but it was impossible to stop once she started, the heaves pulling up things she didn’t recall eating and deafening her to world around her. The only thoughts in her head being that the glinting sword would slice right through her neck if the riot didn’t leave them all corpses in the muck first. A part of her was aware of how quickly her mind was spiraling but each thought piled against each other then emptied via her stomach.

“Is that so? Because I have market seller who says this woman helped start it by shouting something about rats and that you helped her fight her way out. And until this mess is all cleared, you and—” The guard looked down at the dancer with a shake of her head, “her can wait here.”

If she could have protested, Val would have but as it stood she only had the energy to groan and shake her head, words gargling out between a heave, “No—“ she pressed her head to the dirt and tried to link away spots, the guards words setting panic in her gut that she hadn’t thought could get worse, “—rock—someone threw rock—oh fa—“

The words didn’t come, Vals final heaving sob rolling her eyes back and leaving her half passed out and sprawled in the muck, her mind having officially given up on the situation as a whole. But it seemed to do the trick of making the guard sheath her sword finally, looking like she was entirely done with the situation if not for the slight bit of worry in her expression, especially when there was shouts from guards for more help in the growing scuffle of guards vs rioters.

“Get her on her back!” She barked to Doran, seeming to decide where she was most needed, “But do not run, you understand?”

With that the guard turned away and charged into the crowd, words ringing off around the shouts and leaving Doran with a useless lump of dancer in the dirt.
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The Meat of the Problem

Postby Doran Cooney » Tue May 08, 2018 1:37 am



The biggest problem with telling the truth was if it wasn't the first thing someone heard, it often sounded much like a lie. Though Doran didn't seem particularly bothered by the guard's assertions, he did find it a bit unfortunate that the woman heaving up what was, essentially, the entire contents of her stomach - and perhaps a little bit more -, had indeed said some rather peculiar words about rats. Doubly unfortunate was the fact that it was correct to say he fought to help both her and himself break free of the mob. Fortunately, Doran was confident that reason would prevail, as neither of them had been the one to throw the rock, and both of their courses of action had been reactionary not instigative.

He nodded politely, keeping his mouth shut for the time being, as the guard commanded he stay. Though had she not, he would have had no qualms gathering up the dark haired woman and heading on their way. The woman, however, seemed to still be wresting with panic and fear even in her current state, and he glanced with a surprised raise of his brows at her protestations. To his astonishment, she seemed lucid enough to recount the correct manner of incitement, though it was garbled and quickly followed by a near-faint.

Moving even before the guard ordered, Doran carefully shifted the woman's body so that she would still be able to breath. The mix of rain, bile, and mud was pungent and acidic as he knelt down to make certain she would be alright, but when he stood to once more nod his understanding to guard, the rain seemed to wash the smell away, contained to the poor half-conscious mess of quiet sobs and other unintelligible noises. He waved the guard off as she turned to rejoin the fray, eyeing the growing plume of flame and listening to the rising shouts of violence. It seemed they had chosen an opportune time to extricate themselves.

Turning his attention to the woman at his feet, Doran politely ventured a question, eyes soft with concern and voice equally so. "Miss, are you quite finished? The guard has left, if that helps any."
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