The mob in the shanties part one - RPLOG
Participants
Date
6/10/480
Log
The east gate of Firmament is closed, with a far larger than usual group of guards turning down any who wish to step outside of the city on this side. Occasionally the small door in the gate opens to let in the odd farmer from the farms surrounding the city. Right now a large cart is parked in front of the gate, the horses in front of it hoofing at the ground while the merchant owning it tries to talk the guard in charge, a heavy clan horse, to open the gate properly so he can get his wares to safety.
Fenris limps out to the east gate in the guise of Amos Longtooth. The tattered old tom cat frowns at the guards as he comes to a stop. "What's all this about boys?" he asks, slipping through the nearly closed gate, a lithe, golem otter frolicing around his feet.
Corin trundles out behind the tomcat with a heavy canvas bandana around his neck. "What's gone wrong this time?" The large bear asks in a hoarse voice. A small crossbow has joined the rest of his weaponry, slung across the small of his back.
A maned wolf, who's uniform marks him as an officer, turns to address Amos, and, by proxy, the bear behind him. "Riots have formed in the Shanties. Nobody is leaving through this gate, for their own safety. The situation is under control." The small door in the gate opens up, causing a couple heads to turn towards it as a family of peasants ducks into the city.
"If folks are running from our own people in the shanties, I'd have to say that things are NOT under control," Amos rasps, baring his teeth at the officer, "What exactly are you doing? And what are we rioting about?"
Corin doesn't seem to have anything to add, or detract, in any case, andjust tilts his head at the officer with a half-smile.
"The Shanties are surrounded by our men and nobody is getting in or out. There is no city property they could damage and the people of the city are safe." Behind the officer, the merchant seems to have finally convinced the guards to let his cart through, as the gate opens halfway and the cart starts moving.
"The Shanty-towners ARE the people of the city," Amos rasps, turning his back on the officer and limping off down the road toward the shanties, "Good thing someone competent showed up before you oafs bungled it all up." For having such a pronounced limp, the old cat moves at a surprising pace.
"He's right, you know." Corin says, cheerfully, following the old cat, "With how you lot are acting, I can't FATHOM why the shanty towners might be upset enough to riot!" He calls out over his shoulder, his smile never leaving his face. Of course, with his voice sounding like he tried to swallow a wad of sandpaper, whether or not anyone heard that is up in the air.
The gate is already closing behind the cart and rattle snake in uniform steps in front of Amos and Corin. "We can't let you out of the city while the riots are going on, it is too dangerous."
Amos raises an eyebrow at the snake guard. "Do you know who I am, kid?" the scarred tom cat asks, turning his milky, blind eye on the soldier, his hands jammed deep in his pockets.
Corin doesn't even bother arguing. It takes him half a moment to think before his eyes screw up in focus. His fur quickly begins to weave together as his body elongates, a pair of giant leathery wings sprouting from between his shoulderblades. A series of cracks sounds as his muzzle elongates into a proud looking snout. Somehow, despite him doubling in size, his clothing seems to fit just as well on dragon-Corin as it does on bear-Corin. Go figure. Either way, he launches into the air.
"I do not kno- HEY!" The snake flaps his arms wildly as his attention is drawn to the dragon who is obviously trying to get past the wall. Several other guards are also watching the not-bear ascend, but non seem to care enough about enforcing the blockade to do something about it.
"Then you won't know who to report," Amos says, limping on while everyone is distracted by the bear-turned-dragon. He moves surprisingly fast for an old cat.
The dragon sticks his tongue out at the guard as he flies overhead. Apparently he's feeling cheeky today.
The snakes drops his arms and sighs. He is not getting paid enough to deal with dragons and witty cats. On the other side of the wall the scene is not dissimilar. Several guards are standing in front of the gate, and easily to see from Corin's point of view, they do indeed have the Shanties surrounded, but should any sort of mob actually try to leave the slum, the meager guard postings would surely get overrun.
Amos limps quickly to the guard barricade, and past them, assuming no one challenges him again, keeping an out out for Corin. The grizzled old tom cat ignores the glittering golem that walks along beside him, eyes out for these mobs he has been warned about. Most importantly, he is looking out for any of the many familiar faces he knows from Shanty Town.
A giant dragon lands neatly on the other side of th e barricade, folding his wings behind himself and transforming back to regular ol' bear Corin. Because it's harder to pull a crossbow trigger with a giant dragon talon. He runs his fingertips through the fur on top of his head (Corin lacking actual hair), "I'm so glad I learned that little trick..." Corin murmurs to himself.
There is not much to see from the outskirts of the shanties, where the guards have positioned themselves. However, the rioting masses are easily heard, although what exactly they are shouting is a bit hard to make out and seems to come from deeper in the slum.
Amos catches up to Corin, but gives no more acknowledgment than a nod as he limps past and deeper into the shanties. The old tom cat whistles occasionally. Some kind of signal maybe? Or possibly just a nervous habit. His hands stay jammed in his pockets as he works his way toward the sound of the commotion.
Corin follows Amos quietly, keeping his giant mitts off his weapons. Probably not a good idea to show up looking like you're going to hurt people, after all.
Sure enough the voices become clearer as the duo marches onwards, calls for better treatment and welfare seeming to be the most common. As they get into view of the mob of easily 400 beings, something odd becomes clear. They are marching in the direction of the wall of all places, away from the guards.
Amos limps quickly along, hurrying to join the mob, and keeping an eye out for any of his many contacts in the shanties. It is always best to be where the action is, after all.
Corin stays well back of the mob, keeping an eye on it, and apparently trusting the old cat to do whatever it is. He stays within earshot, however, in case anyone actually NEEDS his help.
Now close and even in the mob respectively, it is, somewhat, easy to realize that there is pair of beings who are clearly leading the masses. A cloaked being, dressed entirely in black, of which only a spotted feline tail can be seen and a towering bull, who is both leading the chants and carrying a flag in one of his large hands, a flag neither Amos nor Corin have seen before.
Amos is disappointed that none of his network of informants seems to be present. But then, most of them probably aren't part of any crew of malcontents. Probably.
The tattered old tom cat works his way through the crowd toward the front, where he can get a good look at the ringleaders, and maybe hear a thing or two.
Corin continues to keep to the outskirts of the crowd. It pays to be able to book it if something goes wrong after all, though he does strain his hearing a bit more than usual.
The pair of leaders does not seem to talk to each other, although there would be little chance for it anyway, with the bull leading the chanting. It does not take the mob much longer to reach the city wall, coming to stop under one of the watch towers overlooking the shanties. The guards manning it glance down at the gathering, but it is hard to make out anything else. The bull turns around and addresses the crowd with booming voice. "Too long we have been treated like waste by those in charge! What gives them the right to rule over us?" There is agreeing shouting coming from the mob, many of the beings raising weapons and torches into the air.
Amos is more than a little displeased to see weapons in the crowd. He had really hoped that this would be a peaceful protest. Even if that had never happened yet.
The scarred old feline makes his way quietly through the crowd to stand in front of the bull, frowning and watching the leading duo, separating himself from the crowd. "Who, exactly are we talking about, kid?" he rasps, "You mean the King? Or the slum gangs? Money collectors? Loan sharks? If you're going to be rabble rousing, might as well be specific."
The bear has, instead, decided to duck behind a shanty wall, and watch the sparks fly for the moment, "Every time I try talking to people, I make things worse..." Corin mumbles, (Rasps, really) to himself, "Let the professional wordsmith handle it, I suppose, and be here in case things go wrong..."
The bull's eyes wander down to Amos, his eyes narrowing. "The so called king and the nobility of course! And the clans! All of them divide the people! What right does the king have to rule us? Why should we let the clans divide us? It has to stop! It will stop."
"Okay, kid," the tattered old cat says to the bull, "The monarchy is gone. Clans are abolished. There are no nobles. What now?" Amos stands still, his hands still jammed deep in his pockets and looks out at the crowd. "What comes next?" he asks and jerks his head toward the bull, "Is he in charge now? Or maybe all of you are in charge? Who is going to make sure that everyone gets what they need?"
Corin continues to be the sidekick, as is his wont, and waits for the waste to hit the oscillating ventilation device.
"We will pick our own leaders! People of the People. People who know what it is like to have nothing! People who were not born with a silver spoon in their mouth!" The bull raises his fist to the sky. "We will make a show of force today! Show them that we are more than words and chants!" Once more cheers of agreement are emitting from the mob.
"And that will solve the problem," Amos says in his rasping voice, shaking his head. "You're full of fire, and I respect that. You're angry, and you have every right to be angry. But there must be a better way than this. Have you all forgotten the last time we tried this way? Have you already forgotten Gregor?"
Corin racks his, decidedly foreign brain for memories of "Gregor", before settling on the Longtail coup attempt, "Was that his motive?" Corin mumbles to himself.
