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

[goodsoldier]

The blockade goes up, invisible in itself but not in its effects, and then it cuts low across their legs, at which point Jason is already moving. He's still pretty fast considering his size and the sustained level of activity, but as before, he's more concerned about proper timing and strategy, both of which can compensate or prepare him for combatants that are physically faster. Some of the agents are almost certainly like that, but they aren't ready for him even if they didn't lose their feet.

Closing the distance between them is what takes the most time. Once he's there, it's one-two-three-four strikes to as many agents in just under two seconds. Those agents go down, one with a cut throat, one with a crushed throat, one kicked into the still standing group, the last stabbed under the armpit where the armor doesn't cover. Jason wrenches the machete back out, ready to deal with the others who only got knocked over.