Setting the Stage

Alexandrian Festival Grounds, early afternoon.

not wishing to interrupt the other festivities that had been ongoing in the festival grounds for the harvest season there had been a few days since they had wound down. It had not been for long however, as not long after festivals seemed to have ended the grounds were yet again a flurry of activity. large wagons of lumber, nails, and other construction supplies had been wheeled in to one corner of the grounds, and a large area south of the stands had been roped off, with even more supplies stockpiled there.

There was a small table near one of the wagons for an equally small sith-makar, who was discussing various matters with an elven man before sending them off with a small pouch, where Eztli returned to perusing a concerningly large pile of notes.

While the festivities were winding down, that didn't stop being dragged around to every stall, display, game, and cart; Warrick, in his grey overcoat was being lead by the hand by a teenage girl of his spitting image, her other hand holding a large squishy doll of... an ogre? It has a knit hat on top of it.

Cynthia yanks him all the way up to Eztli's stall. "Hihi whatarewedoing is this fiftypaperpickup??" she babbles quickly."

Warrick doesn't stop her, he's munching on some kind of meat on a stick.

The Goblin walks along at a brisk pace, with a large (for her) woven basket balanced upon her head. Using her hands to keep it steady, her eyes scan back and forth, looking for ... something.

With the festival grounds once more full of people rushing about to get their stalls up, move supplies in, or in some cases, clear out their old displays from the festival previous to this new one, Murder weaves in and out of the crowd. A few times she makes unhappy noises, eliciting surprise gasps, apologies or similar grumbling. She makes an effort to dodge another Goblin in a similar predicament, and manages to run face first into the back of Warrick as they come to a stop at Eztli's stall. The Goblin bounces and topples over with an "OOF!"

There's a large procession approaching the general direction of the stall as well, engaged in a loud discussion. There was plenty of hand waving, gesturing and a... particularly ruddy sith-makar with his shoulder on fire. Particularly, his shoulder pauldron. It didn't seem to bother him too much, even with the flames threatening to over take his red flowing cloak.

"... and it is important to not only think of the innocents, but to drag them in one by one." Aelwyn rumbles and grabs something in the air, before pulling it down towards himself. "Tomorrow for another rehearsal, yes?" He flashes his teeth at the assorted folks, before waving them off. "Spelldancer! One is unable to slay the beast of the paper?" He asks, sauntering over.

Bryn had been out of the city for a day or three, so may have missed the winding down. This is just fine with her, since the timing of things looking to be picking back up makes it as if they never ebbed in the first place! She wanders into the grounds from the north, some simple fur wraps on her limbs keeping her warm enough. A bow is slung on one shoulder and she has a pair of patented Meat-On-A-Sticks in her left hand; at least until a tusky chomp and pull renders them back to just sticks.

She may only have one eye, but it does have a bit of a vantage point. By this, she spies a few familiar faces or forms in the bustle of purveyors, patrons, and passersby. "Ey!" she calls out in greeting to... well, a few folk. She's not biased.

Carver's unwashed face is a mess of road dust and days-old warpaint, hair in a knotty mess on the top of her head. Every effort made to make no effort on her personal appearance, it's likely the most 'wild' she's appeared in some time. Like some horrible spirit warped and forced amongst people in an unshapely bundle of heavy furs and hides that keep the cold off of her but not the shivering.

She chews as she people-gazes from the shelter of a low overhang. A hand wipes clean her chin and lips of crumbs.

"The dimensions are correct, yes? Please let me know if there's anything at all further you need." Eztli responds to a rather gruff looking dwarf who stopped by next, a carpenter or other craftsman by the look of it who gives a word of thanks before sauntering off to where others were setting up several sawhorses and other benches.

Cynthia gets a look, and a tired chuckle. "I wish I could be playing games, but no, this is all paperwork." She answers, peering over to see where the goblin was knocked over. "You alright there? Careful, there's a lot of work going on out here, after all."

Aelwyn gets a tired wave as well. "I wish I just had to focus on the dance, Aelwyn. I'm not used to organizing something on this scale." She answers. "But what about you? Are the rehearsals going well? The orchestra should be ready there for tomorrow, I'm certain."

Carver, even in her unkempt state, gets the small makari to muster a bit more energy into her wave, if only to look a bit less exhausted. It did little for the look of concern they gave, however.

Gobbers may be small, but that doesn't help when getting smacked in the back of the leg when not paying attention. He topples over like a sack of bricks.

Cynthia completely ignores him, focused on Aelwyn's arrival and Eztli's explanation with a grin.

Warrick grunts as he gets back up, reaching over to yank Murder up to their feet without much of a thought. "Careful next time," he jabbers. Lot of time in Goblintown spent, it seems. <Goblin-Talk>

"Booo, paperwork is boring!" Cynthia bemoans. Warrick frowns. Is it about paperwork? No, he's looking at the ground at his half eaten, dirt ridden meat on a stick. He shrugs, over it. There's a wave to those that he knows- which is pretty much everyone gathered. Lingering a bit of concern over Carver.

Murder frowns, and squeaks at being yanked to her feet. Her expression and mouth open showing off as many of her teeth as possible shows she's considering biting. For a long few moments. "Same to you, just ... stopping for no reason.", she jabbers back, a haughty expression on her face as she hefts the basket back onto her head.

The Goblin follows Warrick's gaze to the half eaten meat on a stick. "... you gonna finish that?", she wonders.

"'Ere!" A new Meat-On-Stick appears before Warrick (well, two, actually), offered up by Bryn with a tusky grin. "I grabbed a bunch. They're tasty, and handy!" Speaking of handiness, she then moves her hand to point stick(s) in offering to Carver. "Ye look like shite, but better'n 'fore. Bettin ye could use one o' these, too."

Carver's left hand rises, fingers twitching. A wave, an ugly one for Eztli's benefit. She at least responds to social cues. She's watching from a distant on what the 'Spelldancer' is putting together. Curiosity holds her despite what must be exhaustion that has her eyes quite so sullen.

Murder and Warrick's genial debate does not hold her attention for long, because she gives Cynthia a curious once-over, as if trying to determine their relationship to the older man. From young girl's face to older, more wrinkled, back to younger. Mmm. What was that?

She blinks at Bryn. "Huh, oh.. no, I'm fine." She sounds less than fine. She sounds like she should be singing about her horse and whiskey like a sixty-five year old ranch hand with that husky dulcet tones.

Aelwyn stands with his hand on his hip, looking at Warrick collapsing and then the other gathered parties. "No murder on the streets, Shortie." The Dragoon chides the smaller gobbo, before flashing his teeth at Eztli. "Ah, but one should dance. Leave the papers! Burn them into the embers." Somebody was on a good mood. A part of his neck was starting to smolder. "But, tch." He tilts his head. "They are still hesitant about setting heads on fire."

The draconian then looks across the other people gathered, before settling on Carver. "Huntress! Once come over for the ride?" He calls out, completely unhindered by the near dead look on the other cavalier's face. To him, it probably was just a regular morning. "This one has a question for one!"

Eztli is left staring at everyone who was toppling over and getting back up a moment over, having vacated her seat. She couldn't quite catch what was said, but it wasn't overly necessary. "Where'd you get those skewers from? I haven't had lunch yet, actually." She wonders."I'm not a fan of paperwork, but it's necessary. It _is_ necessary, Aelwyn." She adds to the dragoon. "Without this, there's no dancing at all. And of course, not everyone is naturally fire resistant, Aelwyn. That's why there's so many preparations to make, which will not be burnt to embers."

her attention turned back to Carver, where the makari hopped over to give her a hug. "Pardon my bluntness, but you aren't fine, Carver." She huffs. "Please, take a seat, rest a bit."

"Have at it," Warrick permits Murder, smiling at Bryn as she offers him replacement food. He gives her a clap on the arm and takes one. "Thanks, Bryn."

Between the teenage girl and the older man, the only true difference between them was that her hair was black and a smattering of freckles are splashes across her face, but in the face and the eyes were exactly the same. Save some wrinkles. Speaking of wrinkles, Warrick's brow furrows at Carver's answer, but others are offering respite. "Well, if you get worse, I can take you to the Defense." The Soldier's Defense- the hospital.

Cynthia glances about before looking back up (or, on the level, maybe down a bit) while hugging the ogre plush. "Oooh! A fire dance! That'sprettycool!"

"Thanks!", she says to Warrick cheerfully. The fallen meat-onna-stick is quickly taken and the meat stripped away by the Goblin, disappearing into her maw with a gulping sound. A moment later she bleeeehs, and spits out a bit of dirt. She eyes the unclaimed meat-onna-stick in Bryn's hand, and then Carver. "Can I have it?", she says in a sing-song voice to Bryn, her eyes big like a puppy dog's.

Murder eyes Aelwyn. "What, I'm not allowed on the streets? And your shoulder is onna fire."

Bryn snorts at Carver, agreeing with Eztli. "Ye don' look it... but maybe's nothin a good dunkin 'n nap won't fix?" She looks back to Warrick after he takes up the snack. "No prob-AHG!" The thanks she's fine with, the pat on her fur-wrapped arm (and wrapped up more than the one offering the meat) a bit less so.

The flinch and wince are momentary, though. First is a grin and offering of her last(?) meat+stick to Murder, and her attention quickly shifts from it to Cyn to the familiar Makari. "Fire AND dancin?! Where'd we sign up?"

"Not jus' me what feelin' the fits," Carver says as she sees Bryn visceral response to the armpat. She was somewhat certain she could guess what the cause was, even if the memories all blurred together like an ugly mosaic. Eztli's embrace has her stiffen as well but she does nod, "I will. I just.. wanted to see what your big plan--" Aelwyn's enthusiasm drowns out her response and she directs dead-eyes at him. "What *are* you two doing anyway?" At Cynthia's excitement for self-immolation? Carver adds, "He rode a dragon." She will brag for Aelwyn even if he won't for himself.

"What, am I not allowed to have my shoulder on fire?" Aelwyn asks Murder with a flicker of his teeth. "This one was simply warning one not to kill anyone." He flashes his teeth. The draconian's attention is turned back towards Eztli then. "Tch, it does not even need to be real fire." He gestures dismissively. "Besides, it only serves one to be warmer." There's another face that he makes, almost as if a bad memory. "... this one were once forced to sort papers..." He grumbles, before shaking off the moment.

"Yes!" The draconian greets, arms spread across wide. "Fire and dancing! And here!" The Dragoon slaps the table with all the scrolls, probably knocking off several down to the ground. "Riders priority. This one still needs an entourage."

Carver's statement makes Aelwyn freeze. And then, if at all possible, his grin seems to swallow his face whole. "Now, this one was planning to hold a party where this one made that announcement." There was a visible shiver across his body. "... perhaps Huntress should too, join the celebrations, as one of the heroes."

Eztli winces in Bryn's direction. "Still rough, is it? Let me know if there's anything I can do." The small makari offers. "And that goes for you too, Carver. Don't worry about it Warrick, if she needs to go there, I'll make sure Carver's taken care of, not that she can't manage that herself."

"Yeah, lots of fire, lots of dancing!" She answers Cynthia. "I think it's going to be pretty cool. I think we'll stick with illusory fires for the dancers themselves, just to avoid any accidents, though. After all, lots of people are going to join in as part of it, right?"

"He did, and it was amazing." Eztli nods. "Didn't get much time to focus on it though, I had a lot on my mind."

GAME: Murder refreshes spells.

Warrick blinks at the response from the arm clap. He glances down at the double wrapped arm, and lets his own drop. "Ah, sorry," he quickly apologizes, opting to stuff his face with another bite of the gifted replacement, side eyeing Murder's glad dirt eating. He's unfazed.

Cynthia's face lights up at Carver's explanation, and even further so as Aelwyn expounds. "Yooooooooooo THAT'SSOCOOL!" she bounces.

Even Warrick is impressed. "Oh wow. Can't say I've ever seen that before."

The Goblin is able to get her mouth around all of the meat on the stick, and pulls the whole thing from Bryn's hand gently, pulling the stick away a moment later. The meat is hardly chewed before it is swallowed. She hiccups a few times. "Thanks!", she says to Bryn. Her eyes narrow at the Oruch. "Is there somethin' wrong with yer arm? You should get it looked at iffn yer screaming like that when someone pats it."

"... I mean if you wanna be on fire, okay... but uh, that's going to leave a mark. And under code 5.7.11, no open flames are allowed out here in the festival grounds. Too much hay and other flammable materials. Ask me how I know that code. It ain't 'cause I'm a guardsman...", she says to Aelyn.

Her eyes then shift to Cynthia and Warrick, looking back and forth between the two, her expression quizzical, before she grins toothily. "I get it! Yer taking yer granddad out for a walk to the festival grounds! It's so nice to see the elderly being cared so well. Nice oruch plushy too, by the by."

Her gaze takes in Carver for a moment. "You might want to go to the Soldier's Defense like granddad, there, suggested. They do more than jus' physical healing, they deal with all the trauma after the fight too." Murder sighs then. "And ya all are encouraging Aelwyn to set himself on fiah again."

"Sorry, stole your smoke." Carver does not crack a smile. At Murder's insistence that 'granda' is out for his weekly constitutional, she still does not crack a smile. Not even that long ago she may have insisted upon joining in mocking the elderly with their crickety knees and dumb advice. Now? No spirit for it.

"I did not do anything. I observed. I wasted ammunition. I would have..." She pauses at Cynthia's enthusiasm and does not elaborate further on the truth. "Anyway." She gently polishes Eztli's forehead as a fond gesture. "Maybe you are right. I'll make my way to the Defense. My head hurts. If you need an entourage for your parade, send a bird or a message." She'll quietly withdraw, pulling her furs in tighter.

Aelwyn was not impressed by the amount of enthusiasm. At least Cynthia was excited. He twists his lips for a moment, then flashes his teeth at her. "A real. Dragon. The holiest!" The Dragoon exclaims, once again spreading his arms wide. Then Murder catches his attention. "Ah, it shall be fine." He slaps Warrick on the shoulder. "This one knows that there is no such thing as abundance of caution and fire." Another flash of teeth at Eztli.

But Carver's withdrawal makes him pause, and then slowly take on a more matter of fact look. He walks over and puts his hand on her shoulder. "There were plenty of wrong things in that place." He tells her. "But if one pauses for too long, the music shall be over. Celebrate if not then, then at least now."

Bryn reaches with her left to give Warrick a return clap on his arm or shoulder; whichever is more in reach as her focus is still on Aelwyn. Because fire and dancing... and party! "Sign me up!" Her grin threatens to stretch her tusks as she absorbs further energy from Aelwyn, though there is a flicker at Carver's melancholy. She quickly recovers, trying to project some of that exuberance into Carver's withdrawing form for a moment.

She then helpfully fills some of that absence with a snicker at Warrick. "S'all good, Grandada." To assure him, Eztli, and even Murder, she waggles the wrapped right arm, which is now noticably shorter than her left and has no hand peeking out of the wraps. "Eh, 'sfine. It'll grow back or summin." Bryn is then struck by a sudden thought and she points the sorta-arm at Cynthia. "Yer Da ever tell ye not ta stick yer hand in big, glowin beams o' super magic power?"

"If you think that's cool, wait until you see the giant flaming pumpkin we're building." Eztli grins, more than a bit half heartedly. The small makari sighs, and gives Carver another hug. "You did a lot. You did everything you could and, well, I'm glad you're okay. If I want you to join, which I would if you want to, then I'll tell you myself. I'll stop by the defence after I'm done with the work today and you're still there."

Eztli turns back to the others as Carver moves to leave, stopping to watch her depart as well. "Don't worry about it Warrick, I already made the requests to the city, all fires will be contained to a pre determined event path with several wizards to extinguish any accidental flames on hand, and the area will be swept completely beforehand." She answers. "And the structure for the pumpkin has been triple checked by several architects and carpenters before final approval, which I just received toady."

"Yeah, dealing with magic like that is, dangerous." Eztli sighs.

"No open flames are allowed in the festival grounds- 'without written permission from the city grounds keeper'" Warrick reflexively adds on to Murder's legal reciting. "Subsection A under 5.7.11." A dip of the head towards Eztli; she did her homework.

Cynthia looks up at Warrick as Murder calls him out. A busts out laughing. Full on belly laugh. Warrick just sighs. "I'm not /that/ old...."

This just makes the teen laugh even harder. She falls over.

"Congrats, you broke my daughter," he dryly comments to Murder, even as Aelwyn gives him a shoulder slap. But he can't help but note how withdrawn Carver is. There's a moment where something clicks in his eyes. "I'll meet you there later, I have to go anyways to get a check up, as apparently I am rapidly aging."

Bryn's clap on the shoulder draws his attention back to her and- she wiggles a stump. His slate gaze grows distant, slides over to his daughter, then back to the grinning Bryn, and on towards Carver. "Oh," is all that's really able to come out of him.

"Well duh, of course not, that's kind of obviousososhit..!" Cynthia gasps. It's clear she's shocked, but there's a reflexive, "... that's not what I meant by disarming with smoke bombs..!" "Cinny..."

Carver pauses at the hand on her shoulder, then taps it once. Acknowledge. Be happy. Alive. She can't commit to it, but she will at least try. She slips the weighty paw and by all first's appearances does seem to be heading toward the Defense to get herself looked over, slipping away from the festivities.

Carver has left.

Aelwyn watches Carver move away for a moment. Stare. Then he turns around and spreads his arms once again. "Yes, fire and dance, because let us give the summer the sent of it requires and tell the winter to fuck off!" He grins widely, before moving over and slapping Bryn on the shoulder. "This one knows an artificer that could craft Mirror a gauntlet made out of lava. Imagine, setting the streets on ablaze!" He gestures. No wonder Eztli has so much paperwork. He was also completely ignorant of the fact that there were in factual, bodily injuries sustained.

The Dragoon's eyes then turn towards Murder. "If one is not interested in fire, Shortie seems quite well versed to assist Spelldancer with her arduous task of slaying the bureaucrats of this town." Another flicker of his tongue.

"I know how that feels, Carver.", the Goblin says in reply. "You would have died... but you did not. Whether your friends dipped in to save your hide, or the bad guys screwed up or left you for dead, it doesn't matter. What matters is that yer here. Sometimes a fight is too big. No way to really know for sure til you get into it." She lets out a huff of breath. "Let them tend to your wounds, and let yer friends tend to your hurts. There's a difference."

Murder eyes Bryn a moment. "I think ya should see the healers a bit more, they kin fix it. They kin regrow it, but ya need to get to 'em quick. Do ya got the hand? Makes it faster, I heard."

She giggles and gestures casually with a hand. "Only dangerous to wooden structures, carts, gun powder, hay, haybales, hair... pretty much the whole city." Murder shrugs. Her grin is suddenly wide and toothy, and she snorts at the now-laughing teenager. Her tongue is stuck out at Warrick. "Yeah yeah, subsection A... found the copper!" The Goblin laughs then. "Oh, she's your daughter. You must have had her late in life then..."

A wave is offered to the retreating Carver. "Did she get mauled in a fight recently? She's showin' all the signs. It's hard on the body and mind." She cants her head at Aelwyn.

"Slaying bureaucrats? I haven't filled out the appropriate form in triplicate yet...!"

Eztli finally returns to her seat at the table, and flops over the back of the chair. "Yeah, should get that hand looked after Bryn, sooner rather than later. After all, better to be in good health for the celebrations, right? I could use some help, but if I murder the kill the bureaucrats, there's no doubt all my licenses are going to be revoked and this was a waste of time since there'll be someone left to enforce things."

"It's a log story, Murder. One I don't really feel like reliving at this current moment. It's hard enough to focus on this worrying about Carver, after all." The sorceress sighs.

"I'll figger it out," Bryn offers to all concerned, with Eztli getting her caterpillar brows perking. "Arm o' lava? That sounds fargin amazin!" But she does not appear to decide either way just yet. Instead, she nods with Eztli and thumbs in Carver's former direction. "She's tough. Amazin tough. Jumped right on in 'n-" Right, too much for now. "Anyways... Oh!"

Her train of thought jumps another track and she spins back to Warrick as her left arm shrugs off the bow she had shouldered. "Picked this up! Ain' used one much 'sides a li'l huntin, figured maybe ye could help me get netter't hittin shite?"

"I make no effort to hide that I was in the Watch." Warrick buries his face into a hand. "No, I had her when I was twenty thr- oh I give up."

Cynthia seems easiest on the recovery. "Oooh, a lava gauntlet, that sounds sick!" she enthuses, while her father doesn't have much to add on the whole situation. Seems like a niche sore spot for him. "I'll be there! I like celebrations!" Cynthia makes sure to RSVP!

Warrick's attention pulls back to the now, him looking to the bow. "Oh..! Yeah, I can show you a few things. Used it quite a bit in a pinch, though it' mostly practice. You're...-" He blinks. "-... probably going to have to get that sorted out first before you can use it though." He open and closes a hand in front of him.

Aelwyn watches the exchange between Bryn and Warrick, and then he leans over towards the very tall oruch. "Pull the string by the teeth. It will intimidate one's foes." He suggests. It was not clear if he was joking.

The goblin receives a tap from his tail, as the ruddy sith-makar heads towards the table. "She shall be fine. For a resolve that strong, surely will be." The Dragoon finally returns over Eztli's desk then, leaning over. "This one found out a way for the headless rider." He tells her, "That is the myth here, yes? Of the harvest season?"

Murder raises a hand, something to say on her lips, and the gestures at Warrick. "What he said... you need two hands. I mean, I suppose if you have prep time, you could use one hand and a foot, but since you need feet to walk, it's gonna be awful awkward if yer trying to hunt, yanno? Doubly so if yer trying to use it in combat..." She eyes the bow enviously, it being as long as she is tall, practically. "I have a little short bow I use for huntin'. That one is much more impressive than mine."

Glancing at Eztli. "Well, she's gone now... bad fight?" A laugh is sent Warrick's way. "I am just teasin' ya. I know yer not that old. I mean, yer probably old enough to be /my/ dad, but that's not.. too terrible." Another toothy grin before she looks to Aelwyn.

"Honestly, Aelwyn? She won't be fine, not without help. I seen that look before. I know it well. I seen people almost die, and survive... they can become dead inside here." Murder taps at her temple. "You lot need ta take care of her for a bit. Either guilt or the horrors of combat are gnawing at her, and they will hollow her out without help."

The Goblin hefts the basket up to her head again. "I gotta head to my stall, so I'll see you all later. Should come by and visit later. I have hot pepper treats!" A glance is sent Aelwyn's way. "Iffn you can take a real fire, that is."

Bryn may not have considered the valid point that Warrick brings up (that is expounded on by Murder). "Oh. Uh... right." This also has her reconsidering whether a lava gauntlet would be the best, even if it sounds really, really, awesome. Aelwyn's suggestion also has merit, whether it was serious or not. Bryn's brows knit and her foreheard furrows in thought, but only for a moment. "I'll figger summin out." Later.

"You're right, I think having a healed hand, or a replacement one is best before learning to shoot a bow. Besides, if you're planning to do something about it down the line, that'd just mean relearning anyways after." Eztli muses. "No, I'd be pretty shit if I didn't make sure she was okay after all. I had half a mind to cancel this event after everything that happened, but it means too much to a lot of people, not to mention the people I've already negotiated to pay after the event. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to take every chance I've got to check in."

Aelwyn finally gets her to perk up again, just a bit. "Is that so Aelwyn! Let's hear it, I'll have to let the costume makers know as soon as possible." She replies, before drifting off into more conversation and discussion with the dragoon. "Oh, where's Aryia when you need her? She'd probably kill me, but by the gods if she isn't amazing at making outfits at a last minute's notice."

-End Scene-