Food riots - RPLOG
Participants
Date
4/9/476
Log
A grim evening in the edges of the shanties, where the soup kitchen has been set up - close enough to the poor to effect its humanitarian efforts, far enough from the worst of the slums to be defensible from crime. However, it seems like if the kitchen won't go to the rabble, the rabble will go to the kitchen anyway - a large ragtag group of beings has amassed in front of the walled entrance to the kitchen proper, numbering about a hundred and fifty beings or so, give or take a handful. They're being held back by two lines of guards with shields across the entrance and no actual violence has erupted yet, but names have been called and things are noticably tense.
Zevran wanders up to the mob of folk outside the soup kitchen from the direction of the center of Shanty Town, his interest piqued by the large gathering and noticeably tense situation. He stops at the back of the crowd, curious as to the cause of the unrest. He takes a few moments to try and look over the heads of the shorter folks to try and understand what is going on, but after a while he decides it might be better to just ask. "Did something happen?" He asks, tapping one of the folk in front of him in order to try to get their attention.
"Phew!" A somewhat tall and scar covered lion wipes the tip of his brow, standing behind the serving area as he dutifully provides wonderful servings of soup to those who come up and ask. Having been up on his feet all day serving soup and attending to other various duties within the kitchen, though probably not directly interacting with the cooking for certain reasons, Dio was somewhat spent. He was rather surprised something hadn't broken out earlier, but the siren song of a squabble outside caught his attention. Hopping over the counter, the lion heads towards the entrance and peeks around, curious as to what's cooking up all the ruckus. "What's goin' on 'ere, lads? Folks want a fifth servin' or somethin'?"
Eleni moves along the path to the kitchen and flipping down the visor of her helmet at the sight of the rabble - already looking the part of a guard, as it were. "Wrong place, wrong time..." the fennec grumbles to herself, trying to look over the crowd. "Rhino an' Lion are on the right track. This ta do with the recent freak weather or somethin'?" She asks, trying to get a view of the kitchen itself again and muttering to herself; "...S'pose this is her day off a' work. Bloody figures."
"There's food in there, OUR food! And they're not letting us have it while we starve to death out here!" This reply is met by echoes of agreement from within the mob, as even more trickle in from the huts and hovels to join them.
"Return to your homes, folk," a voice blares out from behind the shieldwall, carried over the crowd by a smidge of air magic. "We'll be serving breakfast as per normal tomorrow, so those of you who were unfortunate enough as to be late -"
"Ain't no good showing up tomorrow if everything's been 'et already by the time I come! Been that way for the last three days!"
"Return to your homes. We simply cannot accommodate everyone. That is an unfortunate fact, especially since supplies have been stretched thin. Even so, food prices -"
"Have you see the price of wheat of late?"
"The crown has guaranteed -"
"For you, maybe! Not for us!"
The mood is definitely souring now - emboldened by their increasing numbers, the mob begins pushing against the shieldwall, which returns in kind in order to hold their ground.
Zevran listens quietly to the crowd, remaining behind them and assessing the situation as they start to push forward. "Food's always been scarce around here. I can understand their concerns. Still, this isn't the way to go about fixing the problem." He mutters to himself, trying to decide what he should do. Trying to force his way through the crowd could lead to more confusion and might start a riot if the crowd overreacted. He started moving to the side, trying to determine whether or not he could move around the crowd to get to the front.
It didn't take long to get the gist of the people's complaints. Working in the kitchen and having to hold to certain distribution levels, Dio knew it was only a matter of time before something of this sort happened. Angry mobs were one thing, but HUNGRY angry mobs were on a level on their own. Not too far behind the shield wall, the lion peers out over the group, recognizing the cannon ball rhino from but a few weeks ago. "I can understand why yer all upset," he shouts out to the group. "I used to go days without eatin' thanks to certain lulls in occupation. We're tryin' 'r very best over 'ere, an a bit o' violence won't be good fer anyone."
Eleni sighs, glancing over the crowd again. "Ain't that what everyone wanted ta hear..." She grumbles, moving over to the rabble proper and carefully putting a hand on a being's shoulder - ideally to grab their attention. "Hey. Ain't meanin' ta cause trouble, but have any a' you lot heard 'bout the recent weather out over the farmlands? Reason there's been a bit less food lately's because the crop was damaged. Some more severely than others." She explains calmly - though whether the intended response is garnered or not is another story. "If the kitchen gets shut down over a riot, then ya won't even have that liberty. Ain't a pleasent reality, but 'm pretty sure none of ya want ta see this go ta hell."
Looking around, it's clear that the mob has formed a semicircle about the gates, barring anyone from getting close. The stone wall that rings the soup kitchen's compound looks climbable, though - for someone who isn't undernourished or scruffy like the majority of the shanties' population. Eleni's words give some part of the crowd pause as the more sensible of individuals in the mob digest her words, but unfortunately, the average intelligence of a mob is often defined as that of its stupidest member divided by the number of beings that make it up.
"'T ain't just about today," someone from within the mob shouts. "I'm already spendin' a whole crown a day on nowt but flour. Y' can't ask us t' pay that much."
"I knows in the marketplace prices haven't gone up, but that kinda place is only for fancy folk only. We ain't allowed in high society like that. Y'r Good King's guarantee only applies to fancy folk, seems like. Trying to starve us out so we ain't a problem anymore."
The voice from behind the shieldwall resounds once again, and on closer inspection, it appears to be a bureaucrat of some sort - a salamander, to be precise, her voice amplified by the help of a mage at her side. "Return to your homes, folk. Rest assured that we will look into the matter of your welfare soon, and profiteering will be severely punished. No good can come of any violence."
Zevran continues to listen as he moves towards the wall surrounding the kitchen. He glances towards the top, noticing he might be able to climb it, but he glances warily back towards the crowd, trying to decide whether any of them would try to follow him. Eventually, he decides against it and remains listening. "It seems like the merchants are the ones you should be talking to instead of the folks trying to help you by running this soup kitchen. They're doing their best with what they have. If they wanted to starve you out, they wouldn't have built this establishment in the first place." He responds to the cries from one of the members of the crowd, raising his voice to be heard.
A crown just on flour? Prices certainly have been rising, but the mention of the marketplace prices does bring about a bit of curiously for the feline. Walking up to the side of the salamander, Dio looks her over as he listens to the conversation from both sides. "I know things at the farms haven't been the best, but what's the hold up lass," he asks the bureaucratic salamander. "Can we really not feed this many people? This can't go on fer much longer I imagine. Eventually the mob's emotions 're gonna hit their peak."
Eleni groans audibly when the salamander speaks up, shaking her head. "Ya ain't helpin', sweetheart." the fennec mutters under her breath - a slightly acidic tone to say the least. Zevran's comment, however, is met with an emphatic nod. "An' hear him out; It ain't right ta try an' bleed ya drier than ya already are. I know ya aren't all theives an' killers out here. Makin' other beings see that ain't going ta be easy with this kinda confrontation. Ya are right, it ain't about today alone. It's about tomorrow an the days after as well - Friend a' mine once told me if ya speak in anger, only the anger is remembered." That said, she carefully moves through the crowd to the shield wall - pushing a little if need be but going no further if it would displace a being too much; the end goal being the salamander much like the Lion.
The salamander notices Dio's approach and considers him a moment before motioning for the guards nearest to her to stand down. "No, we simply can't. We didn't have the resources before, and we don't have them now. Especially now, in fact. It was always meant as a way to get by, and now it appears they think it's a right. That's the problem - you give them something for free, and they come to expect it. If I were in charge, I'd have made them work a little for their meal, but I'm not, and it's too late now. Don't you feel it? They're irrational now - force may be required, if it comes to that."
Out over the crowd, things are better, although that's not saying much. A few of the beings have departed, presumably to follow up on Zevran's suggestion, but at least they're more standing around than actively trying to cause trouble now.
"It's just a cover! Boiling frogs in pots an' all," a voice rings out from the crowd, but at least this doesn't gather as much of a response as it might have.
Zevran shakes his head as he listens to yet another voice from the crowd. That last comment didn't even make sense. "A cover for what? Trying to help you out and give you free food? You act like it's a right. At this rate, you'll end up in the same situation you were in before they opened this place. Do you want to go back to that?" Zevran shouts again in response, raising his voice over the crowd.
"When this place was built," Dio returns, crossing his arms across his ornate coat, "I'm sure it brough a lot o' hope fer the people 'round 'ere." Out of the corner of his eye, the lion catches glimpse of a curious fennec, her face scarred much like his. Perhaps she was quite the fighter as well? Regardless, he seems to pass Eleni a warm and friendly smile before turning his attention back to the salamander. "Ya think there's anythin' we can do? I'm guessin' transportin' and escortin' all the materials fer this stuff can't be light on the coin purse. Maybe we could help fund it a little more an' talk to the merchants?" The lion thinks back to his days in the 'band' so to speak, remembering a few things that hopefully might apply to the situation. "When I was a mercenary, they couldn't just say meal time 'n' everyone run in like mad. Feed everyone section by section with what little we 'ad. Perhaps we could use a little organization in the feedin' process. Though, I ain't sure how receptive they're gonna be."
Eleni shakes her head, drumming her armored fingers against her gauntlets and adressing the salamander over the shieldbearers; "The problem ain't as simple, girl. They rely on gettin' that food because there ain't reasonable alternatives. Ya say profiteerin' will be punished? Sure. How about ya arrange for an escort so ya can bring a merchant down here proper an' sell their wares here? Ya can't tell me there ain't space, an' ya have enough guards ta cover the outside. Ya can't solve problems out here with words alone. The Lion's damn right there, too. Short on rations during the war an' if ya unit wasn't bloody foolish ya would split 'em up evenly an' make 'em last for better or worse. Have ya gone through house Ironsoul or their group, since ya happen ta be complainin' about it? Fundin' this kinda thing is right up their alley, ain't it?" The Rhino's loud outburst is met with a slight cringe - "Oi, Rhino - ya learn ta ignore that kinda bull. Damn good point, but it ain't necessary ta lash out over it. Ain't here ta fight." She cautions, looking over the crowd. Were it not for her helmet, it'd be a little more apparent there's a look of trepidation on her face at the chance of things going pear-shaped.
"Those who arrive first are served first, and that's about the long and short of what can be reasonably done. If we gave out chits for admission at a later date, they'd trade or steal them. If we asked for their names, they'd use false ones. I didn't even want to be assigned here...no one does, to be honest. These beings aren't just bad, they're depraved, and the few amongst them who try to build up anything get their efforts torn down in no time." The salamander sighs. "The Good King has opened the granaries, so it's not a matter of it not being there, this isn't the kind of problem you can throw money at and make disappear. There's no reasonable way we can make sure everything's evenly distributed. The first week we were open, we were willing to allow food to be taken away from the premises. Then it turned out that some of them were taking three, four helpings and reselling the lot in the shanties."
Eleni's suggestion, though, is met with a sneer - not surprising, coming from a petty bureaucrat. "You find a guard or merchant willing to go into that den of inquity of their own free will, girl, and then you get back to me - and Lady Ironsoul has been absent from Firmament for quite some time now. This place is already a miniature fortress, and we'd still get robbed blind in no time flat if we were any closer to the shanties proper. Frankly, I'm sick of this.
"Attention, subjects. This is your last chance to disperse peacefully. If you must, leave your names and some sort of identification here with us, and you'll be first in line for breakfast tomorrow. That is as much as I can promise."
Zevran looks towards Eleni after hearing her comment. He doesn't have a response for her, so he merely shrugs. He listens to the announcement from the bureaucrat and waits to see how the mob will respond, although he starts to move closer to the edge of the mob in case he needs to force his way into the mob.
"That kinda thinkin'... Callin' 'em all theives an' what 'ave you. Things certainly 'ave been bad fer the town fer a long time now, but just castin' 'em off as the dammned after we've done so much in a short amount of time will only throw 'em further into the pit they're in. I belive there's still hope fer the city, else I wouldn't be 'ere to day. An' I know there are other people too. It doesn't 'ave to be this way ferever." Dio throws a nod of appreciation over to the Fennec as she backs up his ideas, smiling once more. Perhaps he'll have to buy her a drink later after all is said and done. "I suppose we can try 'n' test 'r luck with a few guards 'n' merchants. I certianly ain't gonan sit aroun' an' hope things improve."
Eleni meets the beuraucrat's sneer with a glare of her own. "Good, ya just found ya guard. If you're sick a' the work, how 'bout ya ask for a transfer an' be on ya merry way? Word's that Kilsa's been around town lately as well. Ain't easy getting a hold of her, but since ya have the legal end a' the stick ta wave at 'er, ya might have some luck if ya try. That too much ta suggest, hm?" Seems there's some difficulty keeping her voice even though whether for the tone taken or the 'Can't do' attitude is unclear. "Frankly, turtledove, I suggest ya take the former option before ya snap at someone here an' make things worse. All it takes is a job request at the freeswords an' you'll get more applicants than ya know what ta do with. Ain't too hard to send out a few pieces of paper. One thing I ain't going ta put up with is hearin' someone complain about conditions of their work. Would ya rather be beggin' ta eat? An' if ya want me ta call ya somethin' less insultin', I'm sure ya have a name. Eleni's mine, so ya can feel free ta report me for slander or whatever ya have later. Courts ain't my strong point." ...Lovely way of giving an introduction, to be sure.
"Oh, I will get that transfer, one way or another. Running this place is used as a punishment, not a job." Waving off the rest of Eleni's comments with a dismissive flick of her hand, the salamander peers out over the crowd once more. "Get those who want in tomorrow in line, and we'll -"
That train of thought is shattered, though, when a few rocks and bricks are thrown at the shield wall from the mob. These bounce harmlessly off the shields, but then a bottle stuffed with lit rags is tossed at the entrance. Shattering upon impact, the glass mixes with the bottle's oily contents to produce a flaming pool that drives both guards and ruffians alike away from the heat.
"That's crossed the line," the salamander says to her mage. "I won't tolerate violence in earnest against my men. Open fire on them."
"But lady..."
"Make it nonlethal, but open fire on them!"
"Y-yes, lady!"
The next few moments are a bit of a blur - pressurised torrents of water arc over the shieldwall and flames alike, barrelling into the mob. More improvised firebombs are thrown in return - a suspiciously large number, for what appears to have been a spontanteous mob, but any agent provocateurs within stay well-hidden. Drenched, the more weak-willed of the mobsters begin to peel off, although it's clear now that the conflict has spiralled way out of control, and the best thing to do, perhaps, would be to beat a retreat.
Zevran watches the riot break out in front of him, unable to tell who threw the first stone or firebottle. Still, he knew he had to sop, and there was only one way he knew to stop if. He took a moment to internalize the power of his Earth Magics, making it much harder to harm or move him. He started to wade into the mob, depending on his abilities as an Earthshaker to keep his footing and not be trampled underfoot. He stops once he reaches the area that he approximates as the center of the mob. "Enough!" He shouts, slamming his foot into the ground and sending out a seismic wave that should knock down those around him in a large radius. "I won't tolerate this attack on these folk. If you have a problem, you can take it up with me." He roared, greatly angered. He looked around, trying to see what would happen when the mob tried to regain their feet.
Eleni scoffs, simply shaking her head before the molotov cocktails are suddenly thrown. "Buttercup, ya best tell ya damn superiors not ta send beings out here as punishment. Ya need beings that can do their job out here, take that how ya will." She mutters, pulling her shield off of her back and readying it in front of her, some glass shards from one of the bottles rebounding from its surface before moving back through the crowd. "All right, what a' you wise guys are crashin' the party?" She calls angrily, not too bothered by the pressurized water courtesy of her armor and moving towards the place the bottles had been thrown from - ideally to the throwers themselves for a little 'interview'. "Thank, Rhino. Never got ya name either, care ta pass it about?" She asks over her shoulder, a little too preoccupied looking over the crowd for bottles of flammable stuff and for any fleeing the scene for the usual niceties.
"I'm sure we'll think o' somethin'. Perhaps we'll fin-" The pitter patter of blunt objects bouncing off shields causes Dio to swiftly turn around and gaze upon the growing commotion, growing heavily concerned after the flames were dropped down. From his back, he takes out his trusty iron buckler and holds it out in front of him, pushing his way through the back of the wall with a scowl after the Rhino's slam. "We gotta find who threw somethin' like that," he murmurs, reaching the fennec and Rhino moments later. "Perhaps we can find a few witnesses. Ah! And..." He turns towards Eleni. "The name's Dio the traveler. Yer an interestin' one, if ya don't mind me sayin'."
Slowly, painfully, the mob disperses under the blasts of water. Some throw themselves against the shieldwall, but the guards are hardened and well-trained, and push back with equal vigour. The entire conflict lasts about the larger part of an hour, and even so, there're probably going to be aftershocks to this event throughout the shanties soon enough.
At least the square - or what passes for a square in these parts - is empty now, leaving behind sodden ground, broken glass, half-bricks and all sorts of other trash the mob must've dropped upon being scattered. There's the definite feeling, that the place is still being watched by many pairs of eyes from the darkness and relative safety of the shanties, but at least it seems things are quiet now.
