Who

Ryott, Silounas, Divale, Liavhah

What

Something fishy is going on at the Race Track, which leads to a chase into the bazaar.

When

It is sunset of the twenty-eighth day of the second month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr - Race Track and Central Bazaar

OOC Date 06 Jun 2018 05:00

 

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"So nice evening isn't it?"


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Race Track and Central Bazaar

The Racetrack has been a fixture of Igen Weyr for several centuries, though it's situated a little walk from the Weyr proper towards the steppe. The great sweep of the oval course is overseen at one end by a wooden structure of tiered seating. Races take place on a regular basis and the annual championship draws crowds from as far away as Keroon Sea Hold. The desert track is famous for providing a demanding and treacherous race, and seeing runners and riders risk their necks is all part of the appeal. This doesn't stop people bringing their children along, and race days are a curious split between a family day out for some and a chance for others to seriously misbehave. Gambling, drinking and whoring are all encouraged in the few adobe buildings that cluster at one end of the track — and the guards are far enough away that it's usually privately hired Akzhan muscle that keeps the peace.

Behind the Racetrack are the training grounds, used to prepare both jockeys and the runners bred by the family. Akzhan stock is famous across the northern continent for its speed and stamina.

AND

All roads in the weyr ultimately lead here, to this center of commerce. Canvas awnings jut out over time worn, sandy cobblestone, sheltering customers and wares alike from the majority of Igen's elements, and funnel scents both mouthwatering and vomit inducing through the thin streets. Almost all store fronts are open air, delineated by sandstone arches with intricately carved facades. The insides of these stone-shingled buildings act as an amplifier for the salesmens' bawled enticements, and are held up by the chipped swirls of marble pillars.


With sunset fast approaching, the last of the races have just finished and the crowd is slowly trickling back towards the Bazaar. The crowds, comprised almost entriely of various bazaar and weyrfolk, move at an ambling pace while interweaving their way through the crowds, various jockeys, trainers and owners are trying to wrap up their day at the races. One jockey in particular, dressed in a pair of dark leather pants, fit like a second skin, and a loose shirt of dark emerald green trimmed in gold, with a wide brimmed herder's hat pulled down over their nose is forging through the crowd against the general flow of traffic. Hoisted in their arms is a racing saddle, and they seem to be having some problem with it, weaving about among the crowds, bumping into people left and right, always with a muffled apology. Most people are giving the short individual a dirty look or two but nothing else. Which is fine by Ryott, her newest disguise working perfectly to shield her quick fingers as they dip in people pockets all the way through the crowd until she ducks out of sight behind one of the adobe buildings.

Wherever there is a crowd, there will be never do wells lurking some where! It's practically a fact of life, especially in a place like Igen. Given the recent increase in theft reports that have been flooding the guard captain's desk, patrols are out in full force this evening. Silounas just so happened to draw one of the short straws to deal with the more mucky section of the bazaar. The muckiest outside of the midden perhaps. The man is currently pacing a bit of a route between two of the buildings that serve as stables for the track itself. Right before he's getting ready to turn around and begin pacing the other way, suddenly someone appears. A quick flick of his eyes and the guard gives a bit of snort. "I knew they said jockeys were short, but shards. How do you even get in the saddle?"

Ryott doesn't quite freeze when she hears the voice, she's trained herself better than that, but she does subtly lower her head so her wide-brimmed hat obscures most of her face. Shifting the saddle in her grip, she makes like she's adjusting her grip, but really, she tucking the last handful of marks she'd pilphered into a secret pocket inside her shirt, thank goodness the pernese use wooden marks. She answers his query in a gruff voice, putting on a thick Bitran accent, pitched low and hopefuly masculine, "Oh aye, nary a problem," she says succintly but with good humour as she brushes past as if she's in a hurry. Which she most definitely is, because she recognized the guards voice without even looking up.

Silounas didn't immediately get cursed out, which was probably what he was half expecting from the question, but the accent has him tilting his head to give the 'man' a bit of a closer inspection while a hand taps on the side of his baton. "Nary a problem doesn't exactly answer the question. Do you use a ladder? Jump and scramble?" Logistics, he's after them. Or maybe just trying to get the jockey to talk a bit more. The guard's voice is still light as he turns to trail closely behind the newcomer.

Ryott would be silently cursing herself if she didn't feel the guard's presence so keenly. She'd fumbled the question because she was busy trying not to be obvious about hiding marks about her person under someone else's scrutiny. But she won't make that mistake again as she picks up the pace a little bit, chuckling under her breath, "No need for a ladder. Just lower the stirrups enough, grab hold it's mane and up ya go," she replies in the same thick accent that does sound authentic Bitran to anyone familiar with folk from there, still keeping the pitch low as well. She doesn't stop her quick steps though, and she definitely does not look up, playing as if 'he' really is running behind.

Silounas is Igenite through and through. His familiarity with Bitran accents is questionable at best, but to give up on this conversation would mean having to go back to his patrol and another pass right by the giant muck pile. It's a good thing it's not summer. The smell is bad enough when the cold winter wind picks up and blows the stench this way. "Uhh-huh." He'll give a nod at that explanation. "So, which runner are you heading towards?" At least with his relatively long legs, the guard isn't having much difficulty keeping up the brisk pace

Which runner indeed. Ryott hadn't worked that hard on her cover story, it being on the first time she's taken this particular disguise for a spin. But she's trained to think on her feet, so lifting her head up just enough to get a quick look around her, she grunts softly and indicates a kind of A-frame apparatus over by one of the stables, nearby are a couple of buckets of sudsy water, "Groom's takin' care of the runner, I takes care of the tack," she replies, never once breaking character. Maybe washing a saddle will be boring enough to encourage him to go back to his work.

Silounas looks over his shoulder at the frame the 'man' points to, but turns out buckets don't just spring out of thin air. The actual stablehands who set out the original two buckets are coming just around the other corner, one with a runner and a curry brush and the other with the briddle and saddle slung over his shoulder. "Looks like the other 'hands didn't quite get the memo…" Idle distraction still better than manure for the moment!

Of all the rotten luck…Ryott is now gritting her teeth, expression still hidden under the brim of her hat. Think, girl, THINK! "Ooops, wrong one, I think we're set up o'er here." she says as she shrugs her shoudlers heavily, "Just came in for the races, not from 'round the parts," she explains before sliping around the next corner and surepticiously peeking around her for something, anything, she can use to lose this guy. The longer he follows her, the more likely he'll cotton on to the fact that she doesn't have a particular destination in mind. She'll try to stall a bit by putting the saddle down and stretching slightly, giving her a chance to stake out the immediate area before making her next move.

Unfortunately, Silounas doesn't have any spidey-sense, but something is telling him that something is a bit fishy. "You traveled all the way from Bitra in the middle of winter?" He might not be 100% fluent on accents, but Bitran is at least one that he had a reasonable chance of identifying. Not like… Lemos or something. When the saddle is set down, he'll just nudge it a little further away from the 'man' and give a bit of an eyebrow raise. "Also… I don't think we've gotten any caravans in from Bitra for a while… Not since beginning of autumn. And they left pretty quick."

"Didn't come with a caravan, just the four of us, me, the groom, our trainer and of course the owner of the runner," Ryott answers, thinking on her feet as she desperately seeks an escape route before the guard can think of any more leading questions, "We've been travelling the circuit for the season, just came from Lemos way," she remarks easily while her stomach drops as he nudges the saddle away from her. "Well, I shouldn't be keepin' ya. I'm sure I'll find 'em here right quick," she offers with a bob of her head touching the brim of her hat in a subtle gesture of 'good-bye' before reaching again for her saddle. Unfortunately, she must not have secured her secret pocket inside her shirt when she got flustered by running into him, and three seperate marks fall out of her collar and onto the dust at her feet. In one quick motion she stands on two of them, the third rolls too far away for her to reach. But surely with the long shadows sunset brings, he won't see it…right?

The two Ryott is standing on may have escaped the guard's notice, but the third that rolls out of the shirt and nearly to his own foot, that one Silounas notices and nudges that with his shiny black boot as well. "And let me guess. That's just your lucky mark that you always tuck down your shirt. I think we'll need to be taking this saddle here and the mark and going to check with the stablemaster. Seeing as there's been a rash of thefts about lately…" The guard isn't bending down to pick up either the coin or the saddle. All eyes are firmly on the 'man' with the slipping disguise. There's also a subtle shift in stance as he readies himself to bolt if it turns out he's about to have a runner of the two legged kind on his hands.

And the gig is up! But that doesn't mean Ryott is going to go quietly. She's still bent over, reaching for the saddle and keeps doing just that, as if not completely rattled by the way the guard seems to be talking to her, "Hey, I ain't looking for trouble mate.." she trails as she stands back up with the saddle in hand and as soon as she's upright, she throws it in the guard's direction, and doesn't even wait to see if she's made contact before she turns and runs in the opposite direction. Thanks to her rigorous spyling PT routine, her small legs and arms pump furiously as she sprints full out in the direction of the now thinning crowd heading in the direction of the bazaar.

Silounas was half expecting… well maybe not a saddle to the face, but something! He is able to at least duck mostly out of the way and deflect the rest with his arm. She's got a good head start, but he's got the longer legs. The guard lets out a piercingly loud whistle and his little brown firelizard appears from one of the rooftops to help give some winged tracking assistance as they weave through the small crowd. At least most bazaarites are smart enough to head to the side when they hear the sound of running foot steps, especially down some of those twisting alleyways. "Funny… sure looks like you found trouble!" He should probably save his air for running, but he's smug enough to not be able to resist a chance for a barb.

Cut to the Bazaar

Darkness has fallen over the centre of commerce and trade, the glory of Igen's bazaar dimmed to sandstone and subterfuge in the waning light of Belior. Beneath the sliver of a single silver moon, a Healer draws a veil over her hair and walks the broad concourse of the main market, her dark eyes shadowed, her steps unhurried. Quartz-studded and fine, the veil gives lie to the attempt of modesty, more adept at drawing the limited light to her than repulsing it. The night is quiet and full of dangers, but so the woman walks, with unhurried stride, her attire otherwise warm in deference to the temperature. Liavhah walks the night, risking much for this stolen moment of solitude under the wheeling stars.

The night is, indeed, full of dangers! Even in the quiet and the cold. When darkness falls, not all folks venture inside for the security and warmth. Others do skulk about, on business often gone “unseen” or unheard. A modest woman may not make the loudest statement at a time like this. But one wandering alone? Unchaperoned? Well. Some may see that as an invitation! In which case it’s two older men, no doubt drunk or well on their way, as they cross paths with Liavhah just a touch ahead of them. One makes a leering call, while the other tries to “sweet” talk. “Hello, beautiful! Where’s a pretty thing like you going ’n all alone?” Already they’re moving to approach her, though have not quite got close enough to set the snare and trap. Removed from this and some distance away, another pair of eyes observe in a cold, dark gaze from a side street, the figure cloaked in shadow.

"Somewhere alone," Liavhah replies, her voice lofty with Fort's lyric embedded in her soft soprano, frigid in tonality. The diminutive Healer knows better than to show weakness to two obvious predators, moving instead with purpose to skirt the pair closing in but not turning around. A brazen gesture from a brazen soul; the move takes her closer to that dark gaze and hidden feature, though more than moonlight separates them.

Undaunted by her attempt to evade them, the two men continue to hound after her. Predators they are and are further made bold and brazen by the amount of alcohol in their systems. Liavhah's reply only brings gruff laughter from both men, while the one who spoke earlier picks up his "charm" once more. "Aww, come on now! Don't be shy. Me and my buddy here… we don't bite! Where you off too, huh?" Pushy pushy! The other starts to get touchy touchy too. "We can escort you!" From the way they grin and leer, that's the least thing on their minds. Divale sighs where she lurks in the shadows, about to step out and put an end to the hunt when a piercing sound has her attention snapping in the opposite direction. The two men balk and startle at it too, glancing every which way, dumbfounded but already set off from the 'chase' (and probably in the way of the ACTUAL one)!

From the direction of the sidestreet, and the commotion coming from there, dressed not unlike a jockey, Ryott comes barelling around the corner, arm out to grip the post of a stall and use it to tighten her radius before pushing off and bolting in the general direction of the Caravan Grounds, bobbing and weaving expertly through the crowd, even grabbing random people and pulling them in the path of the guard following her. Her hat is in the herder style, with a wide brim that she was using to cover her face, but now is being blown back from her face, revealing, to those ahead of her anyway, the girl's darkly hooded eyes and the soft brush of her closely cropped hair. Not really paying attention to the tableau ahead of her, Ryott's obvious goal is escape, and she isn't giving that up without a fight. Or at least some less than sportsmanlike moves.

And there in the middle of the endless expanse of empty marketplace corridor, Liavhah, paced by two creeps. Completely sensibly, with the woman out here in a bangled head-scarf and no escort, walking unfettered and free under Belior's light as if this is Fort's grand streets. She's in the midst of pulling herself away from reaching hands, distaste visible in the elegant lines of her face, when abruptly… Ryott. Liavhah takes a hasty step backward when the girl appears to be barelling right at her, but is it a step enough? She's a small woman, with correspondingly small steps.

Barreling a few measures behind the fleeing girl (but slowly gaining) comes Silounas! The guard is cursing a little bit under his breath in regards to at least one of those unsportsmanlike moves that he's already witnessed first hand face as one of his cheeks is a bit redder than the other. Those drunks do get in the way, but he's not going to let him slow down much, just pushing on through. The brown firelizard is still doing his job of tailing after Ryott. Once free of the two men, the guard does spot that possible impending collision and yells out "WHATCHIT!!!" Whether that's for his quarry or for the poor innocent bystander of Liavhah is debatable. One thing is for sure though, he's lunging towards Ryott. He might not be able to tackle her in the midsection, but her knee or ankle might be within his reach.

There will be more cursing coming from the Drunken Duo over there, as Ryott comes barreling through. "? what's lit a fire under that one's ass…" One begins to question, only to be cut off by Silounas' shout of warning. A Guard now? Just like that, those men are going to do a vanishing act of their own and NOPE right on out of that mess. Just like that, Liavhah is off the hook too. Divale clicks her tongue in disgust as her quarry get away but has little time to reflect on that now. She's stepping out of the shadows now, dressed in warm and sturdy weather proofed clothing; perfect for the patrolling she was in the middle of. With the speed in which Ryott tore by, she hasn't recognized the girl and will call out to the one now attempting to tackle and take her down. "I can summon the canines." Which is her way of saying: need backup? Her current path has her veering more towards the Healer.

Confronted with an imminent collision with the woman who is even smaller than her own 5'2" frame, Ryott suddenly twists and tries to grab at the healer and toss her in Silounas' direction, hardly missing a step as she spins back and alters her trajectory for a narrow, and therefore almost hidden, alley she knows is nearby with easy access to the rooftops. If she can just get there, the spyling knows several good hiding spots, one of which is where she has stashed a change of clothes. Getting there isn't going to be easy though with the guard hot on her heels and did she just heard something about canines? That can't be good. Breathing heavily, Ryott is pushing her endurance keeping up this sprint for this long. But she's so close now.

What? "What?" Liavhah demands, giving into instinct to clutch and cling to Ryott, lowering her center of gravity — not though she has much weight to back the move — in clear rebuttal of the attempt to grab her. Though she be tiny, she be fierce af. (Especially with her attempted… suitors… disengaged.)

"Yes!" Silounas is no fool and at this very moment, he's not too proud to accept offers of reinforcements, even the four legged type. "And stick another firelizard on her if you got one." His little brown is following closely, but two pairs of eyes are always better. He's not going to make it to Ryott's ankle now that the healer decided to cling towards the girl instead of running. It's hard to completely redirect a lunge and may actually just end up pushing Liavhah closer to the fleeing spyling.

Sorry Ryott, it's just not your night! Divale's already working through relaying the commands for a trained canine and its handler (also Guard), to be deployed. Does someone hear barking in the distance? "Of course," is her dry response to Silounas' passing request and in the next heartbeat, her pale brown, Eidolon, is joining his in pursuit. Another beat and a gold appears as well, arrowing in a steep dive towards the chaos. She has a whole fair at her disposal, but only calls the two she can rely on. Blinking as Liavhah is absorbed into the chaos, Divale exhales heavily and abandons all hope at merely standing back. Darting forwards, she'll sprint to catch up with the mayhem unfolding but has some distance to close.

Grasping hands, canines and guard…oh my! Ryott is in top shape due to her rigorous spyling training, but even she knows that her chances of escape are getting mightly slim. That won't stop her from giving it her all. That is until two more very familiar firelizards join the fray, catching them in the corner of her eye, she suddenly realizes who the other person Silounas has been conversing with back and forth. Hmmm…this makes things a mite bit trickier, she can't even count on her blues since the new brown and gold arrivals know her little trick. The barking of the canine does make her blood run cold. There's a bold move to be had here, she knows it, but does she have the nerve to pull it off? Suddenly putting on the breaks she turns on her heels, putting up her hands after dropping her hat to her back, she offers a sheepish smile in the direction of her pursuers, "So nice evening isn't it?" she remarks in her deadpan manner even as she pants for breath. Her dark eyes sweep past Silounas to look significantly in the brownrider's direction, hoping she hasn't forgotten that this spyling has knows things.

Make no mistake, Liavhah is not a pursuer, she is a barely-avoided-being-a-trampled-victim. The Healer frowns mightily, switching her attention between the three of them, and then takes the wise choise of shaking her head and moving back toward the crafter abodes. Her voice carries as she leaves: "It was nice," and then she's rounding a corner and moving out of sight.

Silounas stops dead in his tracks when Ryott just turns around and lets out that greeting. His jaw only hangs open in astonishment for a couple seconds. "Sure, nice evening for theft and attempting to assault a guard and then running from said guard and trampling over innocent bystanders in the process…" There's a brief look towards the fleeing healer, but she's gone and Ryott is here. "So sounds like a perfect end to the night is a visit to the brig, right, wingsecond?" Silounas will glance back at Divale while also trying to position himself so that the girl would either need to run directly past him or the brownrider in order to get out of the alley.

Divale scoffs for the carried call from Liavhah and she almost tosses a salty comment about not wandering alone… but then Ryott's turning and her attention is dragged back to that new development. Still, Eidolon will break off pursuit and soar down the same corner the Healer disappeared. Not quite so alone, now! Since Dumb and Dumber may be prowling still. Best avoid Round 2, right? As for Parhelion's Wingsecond, the moment recognition strikes, things definitely DO take an awkward and risky turn. Only she betrays none of that conflict, despite inwardly screaming a string of curses and oaths. "That is quite the list of charges," she agrees, brows furrowed as she feigns never having seen the girl before this. "One night in the brig is often enough." Her gaze hardens a moment as she regards Ryott coldly, only to turn an impassive look to Silounas. "I can take it from here," she remarks decisively. "You'd be better off following that woman." She nods sharply to where Liavhah disappeared. "Or at least making sure those men don't circle back around."

First instinct is probably yelling at Silounas to object to being sent away from his arrest, but well, there were those two drunk deliquents roaming around. Plus, even if Ryott were to decide to run again, the canine handler is on his way and the barks are getting closer. The guard gives a salute towards Divale. "I'll give my full report after." Such a lovely way to start of an evening shift! But off he goes.

Staying wisely silent through Silounas' list of her infractions, Ryott schools her expression to one at least the brownrider is very famliar with, complete and utter neutrality, mouth pulled in a taught line and hooded eyes narrowed slightly. She says nothing still when Divale order the other guard after that healer woman. She'll wait until he's well out of earshot before taking a couple of steps in the brownrider's direction, hands still in the air, but almost mockingly so, "So you really going to make me spend a night in the brig?" she asks in her usual deadpan manner but with an inflection that it might not be the best of ideas. If the woman insists, there's not much Ryott can do about it, but she will be reminding the brownrider of a certain deal they struck next time she gets her alone.

"Understood." Divale keeps her exchange with Silounas brief and to the point; they've both got a job to do right now. As he heads off (and he's welcome to voice his displeasure later) to follow her instructions, she turns her gaze back to Ryott. Her expression is unreadable, mouth set to a grim, tight line. "Unfortunately. Now," Her tone takes on an edge that hints that the girl best behave and follow orders. "Follow me." Divale will enjoy reminding the girl later too, that she had warned her that she cannot always overlook transgressions. No time for that chat at the moment! The canine will be called off before it reaches them and no doubt rerouted back to their patrol. Never fear, however! Divale will make sure Ryott gets a cell all to herself and well away from any currently holding men — not that that will keep all the verbal exchange from occurring. Yet? The Wingsecond is never far away for the rest of the night; it'll be played off as 'sentimental' (and maybe fodder for more unpleasant rumours).

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