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.
