Riot in Castle Town

[[Woohoo! Ready to get started, Oreknar? I have no idea how this'll go; it'll depend entirely on what our characters do. Personally, I'm less concerned with the riot than about what our characters are doing, which is why I focused this post on Marcus.]]

Marcus walked down the streets of Hyrule Castle town, wondering. It was a quiet sort of day. Nothing had really happened yet; he had spend most of his time in the library. He hadn't really been studying anything in particular. He had just whiled away the hours sitting in various aisles, reading any book that caught his eye. There had been a really good one about a amputee who had lost his leg in the first Invasion of Ganon. Not only did he have to adjust to coming back from war with only one leg, but he also had PTSD! How intriguing! Horrible, but so interesting!

It started as a dull buzz, a low vibration. He paid it no mind at first, too busy thinking about the attitudes of society concerning a returning soldier. Was it true, he wondered, that they looked down on them? Or was that only during that one war, and more recent times have changed the public's view? The sound grew louder, loud enough to be comprehensible. He looked up. The sky had an orange tint to his left, and the sound was coming from there. Was there a fire? He slung his pack over both shoulders and began to run.

The sun was setting in the skies of Hyrule Castle Town as Orek'nar sat down in his hovel after a hard day of training and lifting. His stony body ached with the burn of the strain he placed himself under. He rolled shoulders, which cracked like pebbles striking each other, as he set himself down for some rest.

Before long though, a dull roar begin to echo through the streets of the Goron Slums. Shouting and bellowing from what sounded like crowds of Hylians clashed with deep, resonating calls of Gorons. Orek'nar knew these sounds well, for they were not the first of the rallies of unrest the Hylians of the town had thrown at the Goron refugees. He grunted deeply in frustration, slamming his palm down upon the cobbled street to lift himself up before thundering off down the allies to face the mob.
The disrespect of the town's denizens had gone on for long enough. Orek'nar was going to make an example of them all.

((Ooh, what's Orek'nar going to do? I'm not sure how our characters will meet up in the riot, but let's keep going and see what happens.))

Marcus skidded to a halt. The street underneath his feet sloped sharply downwards, and at the bottom lay the burning fires from almost a hundred torches. It gave the unpleasing feeling that the road descended downwards into hell. The anger emanating from the assembled men did nothing to assuage this feeling of doom and trepidation that curdled in his stomach. He wanted dearly to turn and head the other way, to pretend that he hadn't seen, hadn't heard, hadn't realized what was going on. He could leave and go back to his inn, eat a nice dinner, and wake to the news that... that whatever was happening had happened. He could turn a blind eye.

But he couldn't. Not really. Farore's Pendant seemed to lose heat against his chest at the very thought of running away. Whether this was from some sign from his Goddess or from his late sister, in who's honor the pendant had been given, he wasn't sure. He gripped the cold necklace tightly and reminded himself of the oaths he had taken when he had become a Healer. He couldn't turn a blind eye, couldn't just walk away. It wasn't... it wasn't who he wanted to be.

He began to run down the street, descending into whatever hell the Goddesses had in store for him. He didn't know what awaited him at its bottom, but he would do whatever he could when he arrived.

((Hey. Sorry about my lack of activity lately. Been ultra hectic here. I promise I'll get to posting as soon as I have a chance! <3))

((Terribly sorry about the wait! D=))

At last, Orek'nar stomped onto the scene, following the ever-growing light from the torches of the rioters. His presence alone did nothing to alter the ruckus of violent exchanges that he had stormed in to. Before him where no less than a hundred Hylians, with the odd Zora, occasional outlander and a rather conspicuous young, dark-haired boy scattered in amongst them. With their flaming torches and burning pyres flickering violently in the evening breeze, spitting embers down the street, the Hylians raised their fists and lights in violent thrusts, loud accusations and arrogant pointing.

Facing off against these rowdy citizens were the Gorons of the slums. Pot-bellied and underfed, scarred and toothless from years of fighting, these beaten but proud Gorons still towered over the Hylians, bellowing loudy and growling threateningly at any who'd dare to come to close. For all their size and power though, the Gorons were horribly outnumbered.

Orek'nar's rage grew and grew. In him, he could feel the fires of insult, worry and betrayal firing up. As the flames of the pyres rose and rose, so too did the flames in his heart until at last, it erupted.

"QUIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!" he roared wrathfully.

The crowd on both sides slowly begin to lull for a moment, drawn suddenly to this loudmouth.

Orek'nar's onyx eyes darted across the crowds eagerly, his expression growing more and more enraged as he did so.

"Which one of you ingrates is leadin' this mob, huh?! Which one of you little runts thinks our pact means nothin'?! Bring me the traitor that turned his back on his Goron brothers! Bring his 'ead here!"

Orek'nar's words were met for a moment with silence. All eyes were on him, all torches raised and fires crackling.

Marcus shivered at the large Goron's roar. It thundered across the crowds like a thousand avalanches rumbling all around them, and it was enough to make the young Healer quake in his boots. He looked angry, very angry, and this wouldn't help. No, not at all! The two crowds were separated by race, Goron vs. Hylian, and Marcus knew that there was something important behind their universal looks of hatred. He just wished he knew what that something was! Unfortunately, he hadn't been staying long enough in Hyrule Castle Town (or, indeed, Northern Hyrule at large) to understand the conflict that all the others so obviously considered a part of life.

A man stepped forward, out of the ranks of burning Hylians. He did not advance so far as to leave the safety of his kinsmen, but his eyes were defiant and he glared up at the larger Hyrulean. "We don't want your stinking kind here anymore," he shouted, "taking up our streets, ruining our city, stealing our jobs!" With every statement, the crowd behind him roared in approval. Marcus wished he wasn't standing in the midst of them, wished he could be anywhere else. This wasn't right, and he felt as alienated and afraid as a small mouse quaking in a nest of rats. "Get outta here," the man screamed, brandishing his torch at the Gorons, "before we break every one of your stony heads!"

((Right, not sure how combat works on these forums so bare with me.))

The irate little Hylian edged forward carefully, not coming too close to Orek'nar as to leave the safety of his fellow rioters. With every statement he called, his comrades jeered. Their torches shone high in the sky, burning brighter with each thrust they made towards the Gorons.
"Get outta here, before we break every one of your stony heads!" the man shouted.
Insulted to the brink by this threat, Orek'nar could contain his rage no more.

He slammed his fists together, unleashing a deafening crack before flexing his broad fingers.
"Try it then traitor! Yeh'll taste the stone an' fire of the mountain tonight!" Orek'nar bellowed. He bolted forward and unleashed an almighty roar right in to the face of the mob leader. Retracting quickly, he swung his mighty fist back and launched it forward. His knuckles seemingly left a blazing trail behind them as the mountaineer hammered forth a mighty [Goron Punch] towards the Hylian rebel.

[[Very flexible and low-key. Basically, you just fight as you would if there were no system present, keeping in mind what your character is capable of doing. Both in terms of "well duh of course he can flip and kick and throw and punch and stuff" and in terms of "I have these treasures." Treasures give the ability to do special things, like throwing fireballs and stuff. Just don't god-mod, break the rules of a treasure, and don't go beyond what's possible, and everything's fine. I'll put some examples in spoilers.

Loft (open) Loft (close)

Loft threw a knife in the direction of the mage, diving to the side to avoid a gigantic thunderbolt that was ripping the air all around it as it hurled towards him. He brought up his shield to block the bodyguard's sword and ripped his sword up to cleave into his head. With him gone, Loft was free to concentrate on the mage, who was already charging up another blast.

Lancelot (open) Lancelot (close)

((Lancelot has the Fire Enchantment treasure.))

Lancelot dove to the side, barely avoiding the flock of festering Kargoroks. These wretched creatures were attempting to spoil the noblest of competitions, the great cook-off that was taking place in a mere half-mile away! Lancelot would not allow this to go unpunished! In the midst of the feathery swarm of red-eyed demonic birds, Lancelot closed his eyes. He called upon his patron Goddess, the great Din, mother of the earth and the flame that resided in the heart of every man, to aid him with Her divine power. He felt magic pour through him and into his sword, causing it to glow red with the flames of his Goddess. He struck at the nearest bird, and it was quickly consumed in righteous fire. Yes! Cleanse the unclean of Ganon's dark taint! Spread the divine fire of Din to every corner of the earth, purifying the righteous and incinerating the wicked from the earth!

Rayna (open) Rayna (close)

((Rayna has Ice Bolt and Blizzard.))

Rayna breathed deeply. Her enemies were approaching from the left and the right in an attempt to surround her. They were trying to flank her and cut off all escape routes. Fools. Rayna had no intention of escaping. She swirled her hands in the air, calling to the moisture within and weaving it into a corporeal form. Mist began to appear all around her hands, and she directed it towards her feet. A bolt of ice began to form, and when it was sufficiently solid she kicked it towards the triangle formation of enemies to her left. She turned to focus on her right. They were getting closer, the glint of steel was flashing far too close- Rayna's arm snapped up, and icy winds burst forth from the tips of her fingers. She froze them in their tracks, encasing them in solid ice. Alone in the cavern, Rayna smiled with victory and moved on. Her treasure awaited her.

Does that help?]]

The man's eyes barely had time to widen. A fiery fist was being launched towards him, and he froze. Marcus watched in horror as the fist impacted with the man's head, smashing it in and- well, it was enough to make him lose his lunch right there. He was a Healer, yes; it was his job, his duty, to fix people who needed fixing. He was trained to see severe injuries and react calmly, but... seeing a person on a table or resting behind a boulder was very different than watching someone's head get smashed like an overripe grape. There was a crumpling sound as the man's body fell to the floor. A moment of silence as shock rippled through the Hyrulean crowds.

With an almighty scream, the Hylians tore forward, murder in their eyes and hatred in their hearts as they rushed forward to avenge their fallen brethren. The Goron had confirmed their fears that the rocky race was malevolent, and beyond that, leaving the realm of rational thought and venturing into the lands of irrational, primal rage, the Hylians were angry. Fire heated their every vein as they rushed forward with torches and pitchforks and the occasional sword to fight the Gorons who had killed one of their own.

Marcus could do nothing but puke, shudder, and watch helplessly as men screamed and ran by him. He wished there was something he could do for the man, but he had seen the blow's impact. He was dead. No magic could bring back the dead; there was nothing he could do. Nothing but run and get the guards. Marcus turned to stumble away.

Orek'nar's fist connected with a deafening wallop. The gang-leader's face erupted like a cracked egg with blood as his broken body flew back with a crumpling ruffle of clothes against cobble. The young lad in the crowd instantly vomited, perhaps more at the sound than at the sight of the man's death.
There was a moment's shock as Orek'nar withdrew his fist. He felt no guilt in his action. Men and women died every day in combat, his died in droves defending Hyrule and this was all the thanks his kind got. This broken corpse was an example, an example as to how hard one of Hyrule's own could bite.

Orek'nar stood firm a moment, his eyes narrowed as he foresaw what was to come.
Sure enough, the mob charged at the Goron refugees. Most tried to calm the attackers or hold them back but a few stood and fought them head on, Orek'nar being among them. The shorter Hylians tried to grab Orek'nar and bring him down but he could not be bested through strength alone. He managed to throw off his assailants, literally throwing one back in to the crowd, who caught him.

Swords, rocks and rakes struck against the mountainfolk but their skin of stone made them practically impenetrable to attack from such meager weapons. Though cuts and bumps and bruises began to appear on the Goron fighters, none seemed too intent on going down easily.

"Come on yeh rats!' Orek'nar roared, backhanding a Hylian attacker out of the way 'I'll take you all!"

At that moment, a loud, deafening set of whistles blew from beyond the crowds. Many among the rabble, both Hylian and Goron alike, fled the scene quickly while Orek'nar at the majority of the mob remained, startled. Beyond the rising embers and thick smoke, the shimmering plate armour of the Hyrule City Guard reflected brightly. Their spears were held aloft and their eyes occluded by their tall, steepled helmets. The head of the company stepped forward, his plate greaves rattling on the stone streets.
"What is the meaning of this?!' he roared 'Who's responsible for this uproar?!"

Marcus staggered to a halt and pressed himself up against a nearby wall as the Guard marched past. The lead guard stepped forward, drawing the crowd's attention to him as he lifted up his voice and roared over the quickly quieting din.

The Hylians in the crowd screamed back their answer. The Goron had killed a Hylian; he had murdered him in cold blood. The aliens had to be thrown out of the city, purged from Hyrule Castle Town and sent back to where they belonged.

If the guardsman's expression changed at all during the screams, it wasn't visible through the shadows cast by the helmet. He clanged his spear against the ground, calling for order. Order fell like death over the crowd as they watched and waited for him to speak.

"Murdered, you say?" The guardsman said. He pointed his spear-less hand over at the Goron leader. "Is this true?"

Orek'nar stopped suddenly. He starred down at the stern guardsmen a moment before nodding slowly.

"I deny nothing brother...' he started '... we Gorons, who fought and died for this kingdom, were granted refuge in this city an' now these people try and cut us down like dogs in the street. Look at these men an' women, Hylian. They come with torches, swords, axes, spears and for what? They come t' drive us out like vermin. I defended myself, soldier, and I defended my people... I have no regrets... do with me what you will.."

Orek'nar's Goron kin looked at him a moment. He closed his eyes and hung his head as the weight of what had happened bore down on him. As the smoke cleared in his mind, his fiery heart quelled and his thoughts returned. It was clear now that he and his kind could not stay here any longer... they needed to move on... they needed to go.

He stepped forward through the crowds who, in the wake of silence, parted like water against the rock Goron. The guardsmen raised their spears anxiously, ready to dispatch him swiftly. Orek'nar said nothing however. He frowned down at them in anger and sorrow before raising his hands together, ready to be bound..

[[Sorry for the delay. Last week of school kept me busy :P ]]

The guardsman was not a foolish man. He was a good captain, and a rather efficient law-enforcer. He knew how to track down criminals and throw them behind bars just fine. He liked to believe that he was rather good at it. This, however, went entirely above his head. This left the realms of criminality and entered into interracial politics, something in which he was both unskilled and unknowledgeable.

He decided to focus on one thing. The Goron had killed someone. This meant that he needed to go to jail. He clasped monocles around the Goron's wrists. Someone who actually knew about these things could handle the situation later.

Through the shadows of the helmet, he looked around at the massed Hylians and Gorons watching him. Should he arrest them all? He wasn't sure what to do, and this rankled him. Were they guilty of a crime? He didn't know. He knew that someone would know, someone who was trained in handling this sort of thing, so he decided to do a guard's ultimate stall.

"Right," he announced to the crowd, motioning the soldiers forward, "you're all going to be held in cells until we sort this mess out. Anyone who runs," he said, lifting his voice above the angry uproar building from both races, "or resists will be tried for resisting the law. Come along!"

Orek'nar stared the guardsman down as he approached, baring a pair of rather large and thick iron shackles in his hands. He remained silent and after a moment's pause, slowly extended his wrists together so that they could be bound. The soldier hesitated a moment, cautious of what should happen if the Goron made another attempt at a Hylian life.
After a moment's tension between the guardsman and the Goron, he clapped the iron bindings around Orek'nar's wrists.
Though he fidgeted slightly in them, not at all liking the sensation of being bound, he did not protest.

The soldier motioned his fellow warriors forward. "Right,' he announced, 'you're all going to be held in cells until we sort this mess out. Anyone who runs or resists will be tried for resisting the law. Come along!"

The mob began to growl and jeer in uproar at this notion.

"Be silent, you runts!' Orek'nar boomed silently 'Yer shouldn't have come here bearin' hate if yer weren't prepared to be tried for it!"

The guardsmen infront of him attempted to slam him in the stomach with his spear to silence him but to no avail. The solid stomach of the towering Goron was too tough for a measly stick to knock the wind out of him. He growled angrily at being struck none-the-less, for the insult was there.

"So what's to become of me then, Hylian?! What justice is there to be for my brothers, hrmm?! Answer!" He barked.

Behind him, he could hear the crowds hobbling along angrily as they made their way toward the castle.

[[That feel when you don't know anything about law enforcement or criminal justice. I'll do my best, though.]]

Marcus felt like his heart was going to stop. The guardsmen were ringing them in like cattle, and he was stuck on the wrong side of the ring! No, no, this wasn't right! He hadn't done anything wrong; he'd just happened to walk across the scene. Surely, they wouldn't punish him for crimes he hadn't committed. Marcus felt his breath hitch and he stumbled along with the pack, trying desperately to avoid panicking. There was no sentence yet. He hadn't done anything illegal. If they were questioned, he would just explain: he had been walking home when he had heard some angry noises, and (being a Healer) he had seen it as his duty to intervene somehow. Yes, he would be fine. Right?

The Goron's voice drifted over the pack, loud and clear as a rumbling mountain. Marcus felt his heart surge angrily at the sound of his voice, and he found himself irrationally blaming the rock warrior for his predicament. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It wasn't the Goron's fault; if anything, he should be thanked for stopping the conflict. Even if he had- Marcus felt his stomach roil a little at the thought.

He saw a guard strike the Goron with the butt of his spear. It didn't seem to have any effect, but it still rankled the stone giant. Marcus could understand why. Through the crowd, he managed to spot the guard's captain gesture angrily to the offending soldier. A few seconds later, he saw the aggressor march away to join the perimeter.

His ears pricked up at the sound of the captain's voice. He had to strain them to make out the exact words, and, wanting to hear what was happening, he began to make his way towards them.

"That's for the court to decide," he said. Marcus jostled his way closer to the Goron and guardsman so he could hear better. "Off record, they'll probably be treated leniently as victims of a riot. You, on the other hand... well, it'll depend on what happened. Anything from justifiable manslaughter to first degree murder, I reckon."