The Arena Riots ( open, gamewide )

[civilobedience]

Who: The Militia, the city, and you.
What: The Arena Riots.
Where: The Arena, Griss Twist.
When: Newdi, Eliaderen 1. (Monday Oct 1st)
Notes: Companion post for questions and plotting is here.
Warnings: Violence, police brutality, disturbing content and imagery, graphic death.

It's apparent even before dawn that something out of the ordinary is happening. Canton sheriffs are roused from their sleep or pulled away from their work to be told that on no uncertain terms, today will be a day that they do not leave their neat lines on the map. That their individual offices will be responsible for all crime and unrest within their jurisdictions, with no help; the powers that be offer no details, but the creeping feeling in their presence suggests no questions would be tolerated anyway – the implication that they'll all be watched is a strong one. In Mog Hill, Sheriff Norrington proceeds as he always does under such orders. In Mafaton, leadership is stoic but one deputy laughs, sharp and bitter, while the Emissary of the Council merely checks his watch, unseen underground. Sir Hellsing is pulled away from her dinner in the Guild Hall, a Sobek Croix deputy anxiously relaying the news. The sound of shattered glass disturbs the pre-dawn silence in Flyside, a brick hurled by some faceless figure into the front window of Thames – and nothing else.

From the Spire, hooded Militiamen move quietly and uniformly south, to Griss Twist. They are followed by wagons, full of prisoners.

Comments

[gramarye]

A few meters ahead, there's a group of Militia agents who are moving together like they've been synchronized, deadly in tandem, except all of a sudden they stagger or freeze up and their eyes, when they're visible, take on a fuzzy, confused quality. One of them, the one with the gun, starts firing at the wall, where there's nothing but stone. It's just long enough for the prisoner-cum-gladiator they've cornered to lurch to his feet and flee, not questioning what caused them to stumble.

The cause is behind them, but immediately ducks behind the still corpse of a gladiator enormous enough to function as a temporary shield against bullets, trying to stay out of the way. Humanoid bodies actually make really terrible cover from bullets, but there's nothing else close enough to him.

Wolfgang's not a fighter and he's not really trying to be, he's just trying to get out, waiting for an opening because he is not running out there and just hoping for the best, but he might have to. It's not safe here either but he's not that big a target or a threat. At least, not until they figure out he's the one projecting his psychosis on any Militia agent who gets close enough to his makeshift cover, making them fight ghosts instead of real people or lose their grip on reality, unsure how to proceed.

He is not actually doing it on purpose, but...

[caballero]

But it's enough to be getting on with, really. Bruce takes a moment - from where he's already engaged with a particularly violent gladiator intent on taking out as many people as he can before he goes down - to try and piece together what's going on over there with the reality warping over there. He catches sight of Wolfgang before he ducks to hide again, and after ripping his sword out of the throat of the gladiator, he darts over directly into the center of the confused Militia agents.

He doesn't actually think the beaten-down wards and enchantments on his armor are going to last long against this. Still, he stands behind one agent, grabs her weapon (some kind of energy-blaster with one hell of a kick) and uses it - her hand still gripping it - to take out a fair number of the gunners standing on the Arena walls. His vision starts to swim and he steps back, ducking again. Only one or two people are still firing down at them, apparently not exceptionally eager to open fire on their own people.

[gramarye]

He's running out of time, he needs to make a break for it or do something else to protect himself from bullets and arrows, when he sees a figure approaching and — is that Tom? He can't be sure if anything he sees, hears or touches is real, now more than ever, but. Either way, with more of the gunners down, that gives Wolfgang enough of an opening to make a break for it from behind the concealment of the dead gladiator and towards the stone columns supporting the Arena.

Stone this thick will block bullets and arrows, and probably whatever kind of energy blasts they're using considering they haven't ripped a bunch of holes into the structure of the Arena, so while it's not safe he is much less of a sitting duck. There's an exit not far from here, mostly blocked by people still either making their way in or out, but he's hesitating, eyes sweeping over the figures still left in the open arena, obviously looking for someone else.

When he's out of range, the affected Militia agents are slammed back into reality abruptly enough to be just as disconcerting as their sudden yank out of it.

[caballero]

The agents having that unreal moment as Wolfgang's control vanishes is helpful - any of them who are still conscious are abruptly relieved of that status before they can get their wits back about them. This leaves Bruce in the open, and a moment later he's running back under the columns as well, haphazard in his speed, energy beams kicking up dust and dirt in great plumes, barely missing him until he's under the outstretched overhang of the stands.

For a brief moment, even through the clouds of dirt, he sees Wolfgang clearly. A pause.

He might have said hello, or get out, or what the hell are you doing just run, but he doesn't. He can't - even if he was the sort.

So, Hi.

And then he's gone again, taking advantage of the disrupted visibility, and hoping Wolfgang will too, or at least find who he's looking for.