"Marjani? You said not in front of crowds!" - Aodien

6/30/2008

Logfile from Tejano.

Two huge fields have been converted to service the Summer Gather. Like a patchwork quilt the colorful array of booths and displays blanket the first field, with long food tables and an open area for dancing off to the side. The second field, farther out, is dotted with larger, plain tents but is mostly occupied by a large oval racetrack. Low grass provides a soft carpet throughout, even where trampled by so many feet. Sprigs of straw have been scattered in others to help reduce mud. For a closer look, 'view' the following:

The promise of a fight brings the crowd to a traffic-clogging stop. Being as tall as he is, Q'luin doesn't have to rise up very high on his toes before spotting what has slowed his progress down to a drastic halt. At first a frown quirks the scarred lips, but then upon realizing just who is about to get punched, the rider wedges himself sidelong through the crowd, growling warnings as he goes. They part like the sea before him, spitting the bronzerider out with a fruitful grin spawning. Where does he stand? Behind the Lord Holder soon-to-be since his side looks a bit lean. "Got your back, Lord Marryn."

Oh! Look. There's Marjani! T'jano marks her spot, so that he can go over there and introduce himself to her, yet again, but for the moment, he is instead heading more toward wherever the final gala is to be. T'jano doesn't just clean up pretty, he's pretty much always pretty, so he is, in fact, immaculately groomed. It's his brother, the slouch-about Weyrleader who tends to have to boot the resident canine off of his clothing before he shakes out what wrinkles motion will chase, and dons those clothes, who /has/ cleaned up pretty. Immaculately shaved, complete with a new eyepatch, dressed in something that his friends will joke that Nomi must have laid out for him, Fort's Weyrleader cuts a striking picture as he trails along behind his younger, slighter sibling. As usual, it's T'jano talking, and Th'deus, not. The tenor'd Barlord continues his prattle, "And besides, N'lon wouldn't take me, and they already have Q'luin over there as a dragon healer and Thera isn't going to like any part of it, Thadd, so that part of your plot falls short as well, of logic as well as reason. Besides," he smiles up at his brother, as he slows enough to do so, "You'll want someone to distract Thera, when Hadamarth flies Sidijith, right?"

While we wait for poses, we will add a short scene update. Marjani and Aodien were conversing with Taini. In the crown Q'luin meandered. Marryn appeared and came up to kiss Taini on the hand. Aodien noticed and has suddenly turned and launched himself towards Marryn, fist aimed towards the Lord of Boll's face. Q'luin has taken up a position at Marryn's back while the Ladies of the Gather, including Misha, are watching with interest. Note her boots.

Distracted by Taini, Marryn is still smiling when a flurry of motion collides with his chest. Dark eyes immediately swing to the man and recognition flares copper-bright. Two seconds too late his reflexes kick in and his own arms raise to ward off his attacker, but not before the smith's fist connects solidly with his jaw. Momentum carries the pair backward in an awkward parody of a dance, the two clutched to each other and holding on tight. Marryn loses his sense of balance for a moment as his head whips to the side and anyone standing behind them is sure to end up as a buffer. A shout is heard from the far end of the aisle as a standing guard notices but it'll take a few moments for him to work his way down the path and through the milling throng.

Marjani relaxes just long enough to show a bit of relief at Taini's words, "Oh, good. As long as it isn't an odd thing to give." Most of this sentence is out before Aodien's outburst takes center stage in her attention. Her voice, concerned, shocked, "Aodien, no!" and Marjani's first reaction is to move forward, raise her arms as if she wants to pull him back, to give Q'luin a shockingly fierce look all the space of the barest moment. But then arms drop, steps are taken back to avoid becoming part of the tangle. Unable, it seems, to speak, her mouth hangs open and she watches, not fretting but still obviously concerned.

Violence attracts the eye of Th'deus Barlord. Call it a congenital failing. But he is sure to spy the erratic movement, the jitter-jog and loss of balance, and isn't that Marryn being tossed backwards by the force of another man's jaw. "Bloody Farenth," Th'deus growls, veering off from T'jano's own path, "Can't that man stay out of trouble for /any/ length of time?" And he, too, will be heading toward where Q'luin has no doubt set up the best defensible position possible. Th'deus, however, will be looking to the attacker, and in trying to weave his own bulk through the press of the crowd, "T'jano. Shut up and help Marryn. And Q'luin."

"Aodien." Taini says, sharply, using the voice she's cultured to command weyrfolk. "Stand down." She sighs, and glances around looking to see where those everpresent guards are. Not everpresent right now, though. However, help does appear to arrive in the personages of two tall dark and ... well, her brothers. "Thank Faranth." She says, watching them come this way. "Thadd!" She calls, noticing his progress toward the mess.

Thera is a ways back in the crowd and has to fight her way through, all elbows and ruffles. She hears the murmurs about fighting, so she naturally thinks T'jano will be somewhere there or near. "Excuse me please, sorry, pardon me," and when she gets to the edge of the crowd she stops and just gawks and then looks rather relieved. Edging her way around she finds future weyrpet no. 12 and moves towards Marjani, "What's going on?"

"Me," Misha taps the round of her wineglass and considers the scene, "I think I'll put my coin in the Lord Elect, but that wouldn't even be a sporting bet. Shall we," she sing-songs the consideration to her companions, "set the next bet as to how many guards it might take, to set this all back to reason?" A nudge to her, from The Brain, as that more perceptive one nods specifically toward the riders that are beginning to converge on the area. And it's the Girl Next Door, who will do the honors of topping off everyone's glass, though this is more difficult that Marryn's sitting unaccosted through some social occassion, evidently. Her friends' glasses weave and the flask stopper bobbles around tapping into them, but she doesn't want to waste a drop, and so it's the opening that gives chase, as she is kept up to date by the merry comments of the other two. The Brain predicts three guards and that Zarl will show up inside of five minutes. Misha thinks that the riders will handle it, without the guards, but doesn't disagree on Zarl.

In the midst of the riot of Boll's Gather, is, evidently, a riot. A conversation between Marjani, Aodien, Taini has erupted into a fight upon the arrival of Marryn. Naturally, Aodien's trying to beat on Marryn has drawn in Q'luin, Th'deus and T'jano into the area... Vtols, honey... And among the many spectators are those vying for the Gather Gal prize; Misha and two others are sharing alcohol and speculations as to the outcome. Thera is heading in, and has paused to question Marjani.

Q'luin arrived just in time to get a tangled clump of thread wriggling in his arms, knocking him off kilter and onto his ass. It's instinct that has him clinging, grasping for anything that will keep him upright, and at the moment this includes the Lord Holder Almost. Watch what you're grabbing! Crimson flushes under the dusky tan as the effort fails and he winds up assbone to dirt.

Aodien just keeps going with Marryn to land in that tangled mass of bodies. His fingers tighten further around the fabric of Marryn's shirt and he growls out loudly, "you filthy bloody bastard. I'll teach you to treat women that way." Which women, well Aodien has a list. The clenched fist continues to aim punches towards Marryn's body, though by now Aodien is a little blinded by his fury and may not really be keeping an accurate account on where and upon whom his blows land.

So it is that T'jano, of slighter frame and deft step, and not on the List of every red-blooded Bollian guard who is old enough to lift a sword, is able to penetrate farther into the thick, than his brother. Another proof positive, why it's better not to be Th'deus. T'jano slips, the same words Thera uses, but with much brighter accent to them, "Pardon me! Hello! Fight going on! You're keeping me from it! I /can/ help." Fight, probably, "And look, it's Aodien, and he's not using redfruit juice. Temper-balm you know," T'jano assures one heavy lady as he oozes in front of her, with a grin, "Excuse me, but if you don't, that's alright too and I can come back this way too, if you want." He's gone before the slap really connects, but there's sound. "Qi!" Warm delight, "And Marryn, why that's no way to conduct a fight. Get up, there, fellow. Here. You get up, and I'll try to punch you down again, and we'll see if I miss." T'jano is not, however, doing any such thing. Instead, he'll take a shot for Aodien's dominant arm, to try to catch it if he might, and redirect that man's energy and violence.

"Stop it!" Marjani finds her voice again, moves forward, catching her skirt on one of the throng of eager watches, and curses. She has no particular love for the Lord, but this attack from Aodien is more than confusing, it's stupid. Her eyes, wide, turn on Thera, and she shakes her head, gesturing, and then wrenches her skirt out from under the offender's foot. "/Stop it/!" is repeated, voice rather harsher than worried, and she actively moves toward the fray, trying to get a grip on Aodien to haul him out. Which, considering she's in a full skirt and considerably shorter, is bound to be futile, especially with T'jano there as well.

Taini was standing near enough to Marryn, and didn't get back in time, so someone's ankle knocks her own, and in the foreign boots she wears, she wobbles some. When Marjani comes around to where she stands, it's enough to throw her back, right on her butt. She sighs, and tries to stand up somewhat gracefully without running into someone else. It takes a few minutes, and but she manages it. She moves out of the way, trying to get the dirt off herself, then turns back toward the group to see what she can do. Doesn't appear to be anything.

Marryn has, thankfully, been provided just such a buffer in the handy form of Q'luin. Groping hands aren't even noticed in the flash of anger and blossoming pain that rush adrenaline instantly to every muscle in Marryn's body. Some blows are warded, some are not. Most are returned to the right person, some are not. Marryn seems lit with a fury excessive for the situation, like a match put to a pile of dry tinder. Even turns of training on proper public behavior for a Lord Holder don't faze him now. The first casualty is yet another one of Marryn's precious crisp white shirts. It's a good thing the Weaver Hall is right next door. Buttons fly and seams rip as dirt and mud are ground into the material by the weight of several grown men. Perfectly groomed obsidian locks are instantly feathering in all directions as they pull loose from the cord behind his neck, and bright red blood has appeared from somewhere to speckle his collar. "YOU are one to talk," he growls as Aodien's face floats near. "How dare you use her! You should be" A loud grunt punctuates his threat, then, "thrown from the craft for what you did!" And that appears to be the end of full sentences as several twists and blows incorporate more limbs than should be accounted for with just two bodies - too many to allow for more than single-worded insults better suited to the stables and entirely inappropriate for public use.

"Oh," The Girl Next Door looked up in time to see the latest blow landed on the Smith, from the Lord-Elect, and the one for which it was traded. She shakes her head and stoppers the skin and slings the thing over her shoulder, reclaiming her glass from Misha, who holds the pair of them. Evidently, the Girl Next Door lays claim to the glass with the most wine, Misha is left with the other, and the Brain points out, "Weyrwoman down. And up again." Misha studies her drink, compares it to the other glass and frowns slightly. "You cheated." That's all, before she'll return to watch the fight once more. "I wonder who 'she' is?"

Finding his arm being constrained by T'jano, Aodien continues to growl and jerk it (and maybe him) forward, and while that effectively blocks any further punching from that arm, he has spent time with pirates. In otherwords, he does not fight fair. Taking blows to the stomach and chest has him gasping, but he manages to wheeze out, "What I did?" The words punctuate the flailing contact with the Lord of Boll. "You filthy perverted ass!" Fury is about to pop a blood vessel, while feet, knees, and the other arm all go towards teaching Marryn a lesson. And somewhere in that frenzy can be heard the words, "Aadi" and "Aeroulyn" and "Marjani" if a little gasped out.

Must be some sort of vendetta of guards against Th'deus, or the man's reputation remains stark in their minds. No sooner has he started to wade his way into the crowd, then those guards who are unable to actually work their way through the throng, turn instead to ensure that the Fortian bronzerider is also not able to make it. No weapons are drawn in this crowd, but instead the nearest set of burly men wearing Bollian colors come barreling through the group to catch ahold of him, to keep Th'deus from reaching the brawl.

A silver-tipped boot wings around at Aodien as Q'luin squirms beneath Marryn, exposing his chin one too many times and getting it in the way of the Smith's fist. Red-faced and pissed, the bronzerider flings a hand in front of Marryn's face, attempting to ward the blows while wrapping a leg about the Lord to pull him out from under the overwrought spitfire with the other hand braced upon the ground. "You wherry-toothed barnacle ass sister sharding caprine testicle! Stop it!"

Thera's head jerks towards T'jano and then her eyebrows are climbing higher with every word that she hears. And while she begins to look rather resigned as she watches T'jano work his way into the fray, it's Marjani that has her looking really worried. "Oh wait, don't Marj," but her warning is cut off by some nicely colourful language coming from them, "Really, your language Marryn!"

There's a fight going on. Aodien has knocked Marryn down. Q'luin was behind him, and attempts to get up again. T'jano grabs one arm of the angry Smith, while Marjani attempts to grab the other. Thera is nearby watching, as was Taini until she got knocked down. Misha and several other of the beauty pageant ladies are watching and betting on the fracas. Thadd's strolling toward the bunch, stopped by the guards.

This is a rather awkward moment to arrive at a Gather isn't it? The little brownrider who appears at the edge of the gathered throng of onlookers can only stare in amazement. A turn of living within the confines of the Weyr save for supervised expeditions makes this quite the spectacle to watch, particularly as a few clutchmates and such are in the thick of it. For all Izara's innocent looks though, the spate of irate swearing doesn't make her do more than blush to match her tunic. Then again, smiths do seem to cuss a lot, she's probably used to it.

"Now --/Now/!" T'jano, suffering his own set of bruises under his dandy clothes, realizes that one-handedly he's not going to handle this wildcat smith. Strength is not his finest attribute, but his absolute dedication to insanity is. T'jano finds some secure footing and it's the last he'll see for a moment; he launches himself into a full frontal embrace of Aodien, using what weight he has, that wiry lean strength of body and will, to try to roll the irate smith away from the furious Lord-elect. And for once, concentration on keeping his grip on Aodien, and trying to determine which direction he should be going, or at least not going, T'jano quits speaking. Forgive him, however, if, when he finds Aodien's ear /right there/, T'jano blows into it.

Awkward? Seems to be the /best/ time to arrive. Garbed in her commissioned finery, Saskia slips in on the fringes, perfectly content to bet among the pageant ladies until she hears a very familiar name called out. Now it seems time to investigate further. With silver-tongued excuses she leaves the ladies and steps into the empty space cleared between the brawlers and the onlookers. Hands on her hips, she shakes her head and moves over towards Taini, reaching down to help the younger woman up off the floor.

The barrage of cursing doesn't seem to phase Marjani as much as hearing her own name, but this it no time to stop and be surprised. She redoubles her efforts to find purchase on Aodien, even with T'jano on the other side, but has to duck back to avoid what is either one of the Smith's elbows or one of the Lord's fists. Then, her eyes narrowing, she lunges forward again, all too aware of her impedied movement and likely to take a hit very soon in her attempts to grab some part --be it limb or torso--of Aodien that will give her purchase to help haul him away.

This isn't where Th'deus wanted to be stopped. In fact, he didn't want to be stopped at all and having all three guards body-slam and crowd him, snaps hte man. A snarl of inarticulate disagreement and flash of an eye gone golden with narrowed pupil immediately precede the movements that were, a Gather ago, displayed in the back alleyways of Boll by a man who looked something like this one, but having several fewer years and a lot less mass to him. Toncho's moves, taught and drilled and drilled and drilled, are what Th'deus resorts to. From the fireheights is the clarion roar, the battlecry of his bronze, as Th'deus goes silent simply drops into a crouch and begins to truly fight the guards. Temper wins, then wanes and punch is followed by step-roll away, dodge, movements that are muscle-memory instinct. Seems his strategy is to not only directly remove the guards from his path, but if he can get ahold of one or another, to use that one against his fellow. No steel weapon on his part, as long as they have none displayed as well.

"I wonder," asks the Girl Next Door to her drinking companions as she watches the testosterone-fest, "If we could bet on bruises and then mark ourselves the judges of such, and do our count with those gentlemen behind closed doors." The innocence in her expression belies the words, but both Misha and The Brain turn to stare at her, a touch wide-eyed.

Taini grabs onto Sass' hand, using the grip to steady herself. "Shardin' dress boots." She says, with a deep sigh. "Hey." She greets her nephew's lover. "How's it going?" She nods toward the mess. "Something about women." Tai knows a little more than that, but doesn't feel so inclined to share. "And of course, the boys are in the thick of it." Or at least Teej is. She spots Thadd, walks over toward where he is, and shakes her head, watching them get rough for no apparent reason. "That's probably uncalled for. He hasn't done anything yet." She says, with a bit of a bite to her voice. And then he starts swinging. "Or hadn't anyway."

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Saskia offers Taini what could almost be construed as a comiserating smile. "Isn't is /always/ about women?" She chuckles to herself, folding her arms over her chest and watching the brawling men with no little amusement, seemingly oblivious to the murmurs and whispers of some of the older Gather-goers. The one guard who /does/ catch her eye is offered an arched brow and a smirk as he quickly looks away. Poor young thing.

Thera is now standing and watching, though her face is following along with the actions. She does spy her fellow Weyrling and will spare her a glance but other then that, about the best she can do is wait to count wounds. The battle from the side though captures her attention and now Th'deus is brawling guards. "Oh faranth," is muttered and the idiot girl will head towards the Weyrleader not before calling out, "Taini, the other one is at it too."

Marryn finds a modicum of clarity amidst the chaos to realize there are body parts in the way of his target that he doesn't want to hit. "You sick little useless piece of shiiiiiiiiit!" Marryn blares over T'jano's shoulder. Seeking to take advantage of the rider's efforts he aims a perfect blow around the man's back toward the smith's ribs, only to have the wind knocked out of him by a belated knee jerk from Aodien. Future generations may be in danger after that one.

Aodien seems to have something on his back and in the force of the greenrider's motion he rolls off of Marryn to follow with T'jano, but not before sustaining a hit from Q'luin's silver boot tip and a couple more hits from Marryn. His other arm reaches out and grabs for whoever is on his other side and that being Marjani, she will be coming down and rolling with him, fingers curling around her own. It is however the blowing in his ear that has him completely confused and his head will jerk around to be looking at his fellow smith, "Marjani? You said not in front of crowds!"

The Fortian Weyrling Izara is spotted by Misha and her companions, and it is the former who gestures to the girl, with her wine-glass, no less. "Dragonrider! You're from Fort, yes? Might you identify these other riders for us? There's a question our friend," Misha sloshes her wine, inside the glass, at The Girl Next Door, "Was wanting to ask of... Which one of them, sweetie?" The Brain, ever the observer, returns to watching, lest she miss something in the unnecessary gabbing and socialization here, but the Girl... She blushes with a smile to Izara.

"Oh darling," T'jano, also the recipient of a boot to the head, will growl into Aodien's ear, "It's the fruit juice in your hair. Drives me /mad/." And he, once he's secured a better grip on Aodien's hair, and his other hand on the other man's shirt, if he needs handles again, will try to unwind himself from the mix of him, Marjani -- Wait! It's Marjani. T'jano twists, awkwardly, to stare at her for a moment. Pale green eyes flick to inspect her dark ones. "Hello. T'jano. Green Mrrth. Fort." And he's loosely trying to get his balance back, with a glance to see how Qi is doing with Marryn.

As the word spreads, more guards arrive from various directions. At first they look to converge on where several guards already have their hands full with the infamous Th'deus, but fortunately at least one ranking guard is among them and splits the new arrivals toward what appears to be two fights - especially the one where their Lord Holder is in the middle! Boots thump and strong hands join the melee as the guards attempt to pull the men apart one by one.

The fighters part, and Q'luin untangles himself from Marryn, gripping the Lord's shirt once briefly as he levers to a stand. Off balance, the bronzerider shuffles on silver wrapped heels, pacing backwards unsteadily and ending up in the arms of the baby ex-smith. The lithe onyx-clad rider has been dusted grey in the tussle, but other than a little disheveled and out of sorts, he's all splash and dash, grinning now that he's out of the fray, "Hello darlin'."

Izara's head turns to see who was addressing her, sage green eyes wide with no little astonishment for this whole fight. The braid at her back goes swinging as she looks, gaze landing on Misha as she nods slowly. "Aye, I am. Who exactly did you want identi-eep!" She breaks off as one of the figures in the midst of the fray staggers back and into her arms. Only a trained reaction in catching deadweight sacks of firestone keeps her from dropping Q'luin on his ass. She stares down at him, blinking down at that grinning mug and raises a brow at him. "Darlin'?" Then she drops him.

It all happens so fast that Marjani will never be able to say exactly how she went from trying to move Aodien to the rolling. The breath is knocked out of her, but her eyes are still wide, and her mouth still open when eyebrows come down in intense confusion, "What?" Some fast breaths, an incredulous look at T'jano as she tries to stand, to sort out her legs from her skirts, which are now somewhat torn. She opens her mouth further, meaning to scold, to question, to yell, but just ends up shaking her head, looking wildly around as the guards draw in. A hand is extended to Aodien, whether he needs assistance standing or just because, but time is like as not going to fast for a bizzare gesture of helpfulness.

With Q'luin out of the scuffle, things are a little more straightforward and Saskia breaks into a wicked, wicked grin. Guards rush by her in a mad dash to the fighting. Turning from that fight to the other, she narrows her eyes, not liking the looks of that fight. Not good odds on the one she's placed to win. Turning on her heel, she stalks up to Taini with all her leonine grace. "You're a goldrider, girl. Use that clout and help me get them settled!" That said, she brings her fingers to her lips and whistles shrilly. Three flits wing up from their various perches, blink between and disappear from sight.

"How about that one." Misha indicates the dropped Istan bronzer. "Who is he? And then those. Other than him." Th'deus is known, already. "And him." That'd be Marryn. Titleholders -- the girls know them. "The others?" Misha sends a smile down at Q'luin. "Must smart, rider. Very noble and brave of you," she sounds like these might not exactly be flattering terms, "To go in it like that." The Brain grins, but indicates the new development: Saskia and Taini. And the Girl Next Door is back to watching the brawl still in progress.

Since Th'deus is doing what he does best, Thera turns back to witness the roll and follows that up with a roll of her own eyes. "Teej!" is offered in exasperated tones. She turns to wander back and catches a glance of Q'luin and Izara, "Oh for faranth sake, get a weyr," and keeps going to come and stand by Taini. Her foot would be tapping except it sets the ruffles to doing odd things.

Taini walks over to where one of the senior guards is, and whispers something to him. It's an idea to get the men all settled down, and she thinks it's a good one. She nods to Sass. "Already on it, hon." She says, nodding toward the guard. The guard nods, and passes the whisper along, going to get a big round drum piece from one of the harpers. The harper comes along with, and nods sagely as she explains her idea. The guard, weyrwoman and harper walk toward the group, and the harper stands on the edge of one of the benches and CLANG!!! Bangs the cymbal really loudly to get everyone's attention. "That's enough!" Basso harper-trained voice gets used to its full effect. "Tonight is a night to celebrate!"

And then there was overkill. Already moving into action when Taini spoke, Sass had moved to a nearby table and grabbed a bucket of snow--cold and melted--used to keep the wine flasks chilled. The glass and skins removed, she grabs the container and strides towards the lordlings, unsurprised when the guards tend to /move/. With a heave of her upper body that tears a seam or two hidden in the gown, she flings the chilly, wet contents on that set of brawlers, cropping the empty bucket to the ground and brushing her hands off with a smug look on her face.

Unceremoniously dumped, Q'luin narrowly misses bruising his tailbone again, fingers splayed on the ground to catch his weight as he bounces back up as if on a spring. Shaking off the dirt, slender inky brow arched, the bronzerider looks Izara over, not missing a stitch or stray chestnut hair. "Nice meeting you too." The swarthy gaze flicks to Misha, and she too is weighed and measured, and the boots leave her wanting.

Actually, turns of frustration are getting laid out now, and Th'deus is grinning, probably having a better time than he's had in turns. The problem is his left side, the patch side, and the defense there is lacking, and so continues to swing away from that direction in a predictable circle as the guards come at him. Numbers will win, eventually, though, and even Th'deus' strength and skill will be subdued. About this time there's a clang, the noise, the words. Th'deus, yet again in the power of the guards, stills, though the nearest to him will hear his threat, and whatever he said is underscored by Xanth's second roar, from the fireheights. Space clears, a touch, around Th'deus.

Marryn rises with only the slightest hitch in his stance, some areas still smarting more than others. What's left of his shirt hangs in huge ragged tears, with red not meant to be decoration in honor of Boll's red/white blossoming in patches. Heat seethes from the dark look he casts about, blurry faces slowly coming into focus. The repeated uniforms of the guards registers quickly and he raises a hand to the pair that move closer as if to assist him. The gesture swings about to swipe the back of his hand across his cheek, deep southern tan already darkening with a lovely bruise. Massaging his jaw, fingers smooth the meticulous goatee adorning his chin. Just when his ears stop ringing like a claxon in his head the cymbals acquired by Taini and entrourage screech through the air, making him cringe and cover both ears. "For Faranth's sharding sake!" he bellows. "Arrest the blazing /smith/!" Jerking his head toward Aodien he turns just in time to be doused by a stream of freezing cold water... and just stands there a moment in shock.

Izara gives her clutchmate a look of exasperation, snapping out a slightly outraged, "Thera!" Then a pause as the weyrling smirks. "Thanks though, got one now." The bouncing bronze rider before her is slightly glared at before she looks back at Misha. "Actually, I don't know this one. I don't think he's Fortian." She never did spend all that much time at Ista Weyr you see. The clang of cymbals and more yelling draws her attention away again, only to cover up a laugh with both hands at the sight of the now soaking wet and cold Lord Holder.

Saskia nods sharply, meeting Marryn's shocked gaze evenly. "That'll teach you to brawl like children. You should know better, /Lord/ Marryn." And with that, she'll turn back towards Taini, only to come face to face with a rather intimidating line of guards.

The /boots/, Q'luin, are /the/ touch. They are the mist upon the waters of the fall, the blue of the dragon's flame, the sheen of a runner's coat in high summer. The boots... It is all about the boots. They are, entirely, what Misha is at this Gather. The mockery of the contest, the stick-in-the-eye of parading women for their appearance alone, the final swallow of the first mug of klah of the day. Misha grins at Q'luin and winks. "You... Can't have them, Rider, sir." Somehow, though diction suggests respect, there's something else in the delivery, that does not. To Izara, Misha grins. "He looks interesting enough." But indeed, the call for arrest, followed by the subsequent flush of water over the orderer is enough to distract Misha from even the devil himself.

Amarik enters the gather field in a rush. Trapped at the hold to deal with the complaints of an old auntie that descended into listening to every ache and pain she'd had since puberty, Amarik is running through the crowds. Someone had informed him on the outskirts of what was going on. Arriving just in time to see Marryn get the full frontal of ice water, he alternates a decision between laughter and concern. "Marry?" The nickname is yelled to the crowds at large. Forgive him for his brotherly concern. "What is going on?" And in his survey of the crowds he spots Taini standing near cymbals of all things. Turning towards her he whispers loudly, "Er love, when I said just act yourself, I didn't really mean..." The dark and bushy eyebrow lifts above the amber gaze and he'll grin at the woman.

Bollian guards are quick and efficient, training harder than ever since the rise in pirate activity the last few turns and under the ever-vigilant hand of Captain Zarl. They peg the trouble-makers and would-be trouble-makers quickly and lay hands on those that need it, restraining any who need even further convincing. Though weapons are obvious on the hip of most of them none are drawn - a testiment to their training in the face of a mob sprinkled with Barlords.

Taini nods, leaning forward to the guard to explain what she saw. She's been there for the whole thing. "Kind of an unprovoked attack. There're..." She whispers something to the guard which remains unfinished. However, in a really strange turn, Amarik's words make her freeze, close her eyes, and step away, crossing her arms across her body. "I told you..." She begins, nodding first to his brother and then to hers. "Something always happens."

As the attention of the crowd swerves toward the soaked Lord, Q'luin too adjusts his vantage point, swiveling while slapping dust from the once pristine attire. A chuckle rumbles and rolls around in his throat, coal-eyes gleaming with amusement. "I got out of there just in time," though really at this point he could use a good washing. Misha is kept in his peripheral vision, his own highly polished black and silver boots lightly dusted, but otherwise Swan to her Ugly Duckling, Cinderella to her Ugly Stepsisters, Prince Charming to her Shrek. You can't top the Devil's boots, no matter how awesomely ugly they are.

Aodien is struggling to get to his feet as T'jano whispers sweet nothings into his ear and Marjani squirms beneath a shredded dress. Any movement is stopped by T'jano's hands in his hair and the whispering causes his eyes to go wide. A quick jerk of his head, no matter how much that hurt, has him looking to his fellow Smith. "Marjani, would you do me the kindness and kiss this man, before I punch him? I'll owe you the rest of my life." There's a smile forming on top of all that fury though the tone of his voice is rather seriouis. He will seek out the bellowing figure and voice of Marryn and try to rise again.

T'jano is likewise curdled with cold water and he'll stagger a few steps with an inarticulate noise of protest, a shudder as the water catches him. But he's still quite aware and he'll lean down to murmur to Aodien, though T'jano's pale catlike regard does touch on Marjani, "I've tried. She's not interested. You are, obviously, the better man. Stupid as a wherry, for attacking a Lord-Elect at his own Gather like you had a right, laddie, but the better man. If you're under control again, I'll let you go. If you punch me," T'jano adds with a glittering grin that touches wicked ice into his eyes, "We'll likely both get skewered before I take you down, but I've fought and killed some very tough men." His fingers loose, however, on both Aodien's shirt and hair, and T'jano tries to get his own feet steady under him, for a quick retreat.

Marryn 's nickname breaks through the shock of cold and his head slowly turns in the direction of his brother. Amarik's slightly amused expression does nothing to alleviate the anger still boiling in his gut and with a growl he takes the few steps needed to swing past his sibling on approach to the ranking guard. "Something that should have been done a long time ago," he hisses to Amarik before turning his attention to the guard. "Throw that smith in the jail. /No/ one is to be allowed in to see him. I will take care of him later." Instructions are given in a tone as cold and harsh as *between*, the guard reacting by snapping a sharp salute and turning to carry out the orders.

Thera directs a stubborn look of 'What" back at Izara. "Don't tell me Vsuviath isn't chasing, because Had is," she snipes back at the other Weyrling with the flaming problem. Turning her attention back towards the fight she moves forward to help T'jano, "Teej, you okay." Concern there yes, but he is standing so he's alive.

Marjani resists the urge to shake some sense into Aodien, possibly just because of Marryn's bellowed order. Her throat constricts, and now Aodien is actively reached for, a harsh, "Stop it." again, but this time quiet. Another incredulous look at T'jano, and if her heart were beating at a proper speed, she might put up a token protest. Quieter, much less harsh, "Aodien." Shoulders begin to droop. "You idiot." Softer still, that. Marjani's wide-eyed look is not exactly helpless, but there's plenty of fear in the smith apprentice's eyes, darting from Aodien to T'jano.

At Misha's comment, the brownrider gives Q'luin the once over before sharing one of those little girl smiles. "I don't know, he looks a little monochrome to me." She might wear something similar, but it's all offset in flaming trim and the eye catching red blouse beneath the jacket. It might be just tad too hot for it, but an Island bred girl herself, this heat is welcome enough. Her amusement is washed away the next moment at the snipe from Thera. "Chasing?" Ah is that it? She rolls her eyes and flicks her braid back over her shoulder. "He will if he wants." she replies with a touch of heat that she's known for, fiery enough to match the humongous brown watching from the heights.

OOC: Izara claims. :P

Swallowing thickly, Saskia works fast to talk her way out of this mess. But look! No need. There's a distraction right there. "Marryn!" she calls out, turning towards him and striding in his direction. Or she would have if one of the guards hadn't caught her arm behind her back, holding her away from their sopping wet Lord. "What /about/ Aadi?" Obviously she isn't up to date on the family gossip. Glaring daggers at him as she sturggles against the guard's hold, she snarls. "If you've hurt her, I /swear/ lordling, I'll make sure there's not enough of you left for the whers to snack on."

"Time for you to go, laddie." T'jano mutters, having also overheard Marryn's orders. "I'll let you go and you throw me into them, and you'll want to know that if you head toward the stables, there's two exits out of there..." Whispered words, quick, instruct the Smith as to the possible escape route, if he can get back into the watching crowds. There's a chance. And there's no chance if he stays here, in T'jano's fingers. "Ready?" Aodien doesn't need to answer. T'jano's glance goes quickly to Marjani, and he'll haul Aodien to his feet only to release him. "Go." Ever-so-soft. "Luck."

Aodien was protected from the brunt of the water by T'jano, something which he would thank the greenrider for except for that look in his eye. He'll match it with his own nonconcern for death and growl back, "your problem friend, I'm dealing with my own." But he'll grin and lean forward and kiss the man on the tip of his nose. And then he turns to Marjani and smiles wide, "On occasion. Still like me? Cause I like you just fine." He will even be so bold as to lean down to kiss her too. But T'jano's whispered instructions have his attention and with the barest of nods he releases Marjani and throws himself into the greenrider.

Always the misunderstood hero, or heroine. Misha, and her boots, tilt her head with an elaborate bow at the Istan rider. "A sin to be accused of garish, don't you think?" Her smile, showcasing runner's teeth, is slow and wide and contains the wisdom of the ages. "But then again, to be remembered for ones boots," Her brow arches at Q'luin's silver-toed ones and she does a little jig with her own, "Cannot be all bad." The Brain steps forward at the newest development, to get a better view. The Girl Next Door, evidently proddy as a green, downs her drink and fumbles with the stopper, to refill her own glass.

Th'deus remains where he is, still and ready and taking some stock of his own injuries as he mostly attends the guards around him, and their demeanor. That Marryn is having someone arrested only merits the mild wish that it might be T'jano and /that/ one and his problems would be out of Th'deus' hair for a few days. In fact, the stray thought occurs, perhaps Marryn could be bribed to keep Th'deus' youngest brother for a good sevenday. Then there's another voice, and Th'deus' attention turns to consider the woman who spoke them.

Black and tan, Q'luin enjoys lingering on the greyscale. During the day you stand out like nobodies' business, while at night you /are/ shadow incarnate. "You're too young for me tiny tot, so no worries," he cattily informs Izara, and then dips a return bow to Misha. "Depends on the type of attention you're seeking." The boots and girl are gazed at again briefly, "In your case, I'd suspect /any/ attention is good." The sharp-dressed man tosses a careless wink at both women before propelling himself around with a shout, "Teej!"

Marryn jerks his arm to straighten a particularly annoying fold of torn shirt that keeps flopping in the breeze and rakes a hand back through long-ish bangs to stop them from drip-dripping cold water into his eyes. The motion brings his gaze about to Th'deus and his personal retinue of guards. With an annoyed gesture he barks, "Leave him be, for the love of Boll! Can't you see he wasn't even in the fight?" Murmuring under his breath for a few more seconds he turns again - just in time to have his sandaled foot squarely stepped on by a guard tangled with T'jano. "What the?!?!" he blares, jerking back several steps even as pain erupts across his foot. Anyone standing closely behind - beware!

Marjani is a fool. She leans up into the kiss, whispers, "Yes,". Eyebrows come down, jaw sets again, as T'jano speaks. She turns toward the advancing guard, breathing hard. "Shards," a whisper, repeated again and again as chest rides and falls with onset of panic. And then she moves forward, with the greenrider, 'accidentally' tripping and throwing out her hand for balance. Desperately, she tries to make it look like Aodien's movement caught her off balance and pull down at least one person with her. It may all be for naught, but she's got it in her head to add to the chaos and so, with all her muster, gives off a 'startled' cry as she tumbles.

Amarik will reach Taini's side when he hears Marryn's bellow and as the sibbling stalks by him, he'll give a resigned sigh of someone who has dealt with these wild cat of emotions for more turns then he can count. Offering Taini a brush of his hand across her cheek, "We'll talk later okay?" he turns and moves towards his brother. "Marryn!" is the pointed call. Reaching his side just in time to have his brother come flying into him. And they both go flying!

Indeed, Teej is thrown into the guards. Propelled! Aodien must have super-human strength, for the greenrider happens to hit with a good velocity that will leave bruises on him, no doubt, and those laid down by his impact. There, while bodies fold over and around him, T'jano is not entirely still. Later, some of the guards might speak that /someone/ grabbed their boot. Their leg. Their -- nevermind.

What is this, nine pins? Watching the two Boll brothers collide and fly backwards to land in a heap at her feet, Saskia for the moment stops struggling, which the guard takes as his cue to let her go. She's just a lady after all, right? Wrong. Free and able to move while the guards deal with T'jano's chaos, she pokes someone's body with the toe of her boot. No idea which brother's. Not too gently either.

Sage-green eyes flare with their own fire at the flippant remark from Q'luin. Thus riding gloves are yanked from Izara's belt and tossed at the back of the bronze rider's head. "Oh really?" she spits back at him, getting a hint of who he is from his particularly dark clothing and quick confirmation in her head with Vsuviath's assistance. "My little cousin wasn't too young was she?" She isn't actually too sure what transpired back then, but certainly her kin should have been entirely off limits. "You're Q'luin aren't you?" He's lucky she didn't slap him instead of just throwing gloves.

Taini understands all too well dealing with brothers with volatile emotions. And hers are heading that way. She moves toward the bench where the harper had stood. It /was/ a good idea, really, and she'll sit, arns and legs crossed until Amarik is thrown, and then she's up like a flash, moving back toward the mess to try to help him up. She fumes quietly, fist clenching open and closed, and gets close enough to see Sass kick one of the boys. "Oh, come on." She says, softly in the other woman's direction. "Time. Place." She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, offering whichever brother can use it a hand up.

With a dark look at those that ring him, Th'deus will take a step toward one of the guards, to see if they'll yield. Another glance toward Saskia, though, and Taini.