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

[amberdrake]

By the time Amberdrake reaches the top, his vision has grayed out in that familiar way that means that he really shouldn't be climbing any more stairs or extending his Gift anymore tonight if he doesn't want to end up face-down in a ditch somewhere.

And face-down in a ditch would be mildly inconvenient, to say the least.

He waits until they're inside the house before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder and producing the thermos in question, which he'll hand over with a minimum of swaying in place. The tea inside is low, but the herbs are blessedly potent and can stand to have more hot water added to let them steep again.

And they smell like they could melt a fork.

"If you can just add to that, it would be quite helpful," Drake says with a very weary smile.

[obscuredvision]

"I'll see to it." She waves him toward a table in the dining area just beyond. "Please, go sit. I'll be out when this is ready."

He needn't stay there to supervise--and honestly, he needn't stay on his feet at all, the sooner he sits, to her thinking, the better.