Chapter One: Outbreak

Wynn took a moment to catch his breath. While it was a simple spell, this place seemed to suck the magic from the air and he felt drained. His bright eyes flicked from face to face in the crowd, realizing that he had just ruined all of his hard work at keeping a low profile.

How is it he remains unconscious? His very life is in danger.

Elendin was torn between anger and joy. She'd just seen a pale man in vaguely foreign-looking clothes appear to create a rainstorm out of thin air. Well, she hadn't exactly seen it; she'd been obliquely aware of someone singing weirdly in a foreign tongue, and when the cloud suddenly formed overhead and began pouring water directly onto the fire, she'd heard the gasps and frantic muttering about how a man had just conjured rain. She'd followed the fearful gazes and pointing fingers to find the pale fellow looking chagrined and apprehensive.

She was angry, because her first thought was that maybe this person was in some way responsible for the curse that afflicted her. That made no sense, of course, but it was just the way her emotions were running lately - all hot, all the time. Being angry brought both comfort and a sense of agency, so she had a tendency to lean into it.

But there was also that flicker of joy. She'd found someone who, like her, could command unnatural power. She wanted to know more about him, to hear how the curse had come upon him and, more importantly, if he knew what had caused it and how to cure it.

That was a conversation that they'd never get to have,however, if the stranger was attacked by what looked to be an angry mob forming. Elendin made a quick decision; this time, she'd let joy take the lead.

Pushing through the crowd with a bubbling laugh, Elendin pretended to be oblivious to the prevailing mood. She flung her arms around the neck of the stranger and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Oh, you were right! It was every bit as marvelous as you claimed it would be. Absolutely the best conjuring trick I have ever seen, or even heard of!"

Threading her arm through his and clasping his hand, she gave it two quick squeezes, hoping to convey that he should follow her lead. "Wasn't that the most wonderful trick you ever saw?" she said to the nearest person in the crowd, flashing her most infectious smile. "He's been telling me for weeks that he had something truly spectacular to show me, and I'm ashamed to say that I was positively patronizing. But not anymore. You've certainly proven yourself to me. To everyone here!" She swept an arm in a generous, inclusive gesture.

"And now you simply must tell me all about how it was done. I know, you're not supposed to tell people your secrets, but I'm not just anyone, so you can tell me. But we're late now, so we really need to be going. Shall we?" She tugged the stranger's arm and began to lead him away.

Looking into the face of this elaborately turned out individual, Elendin felt a flurry of panic - never in her life had anyone threatened her with weapons, and suddenly she was the centerpiece of a table set with muskets, swords, and rather foppish red feather.

It occurred to Elendin that her stranger had yet to say anything. Perhaps he was mute. No, he'd been singing earlier. What was he waiting for? Why was he making her do all the work?

Ruthlessly, she smothered any outward sign of her fear and instead, offered her most charming pout. "Oh, I do hope you're not going to be too hard on my friend for revealing his new trick on an unsuspecting public. I mean, I'll admit that it was a trifle arrogant - no, dear, don't protest, you know it was - but, well, you have to admit that it couldn't possibly have been better timed, from a public safety perspective. The fire, you know. It's out now, which is really a much better outcome than we had any reason to expect."

She smiled up at her hapless new friend, injecting it with as much unvarnished besottedness as she could muster, then turned the smile onto the authoritarian fashion icon before them. Please, she silently bade him. We're just two slightly foolish artsy folk. Please let us go.

Wynn had a couple of choices before him. He had not expected this reaction from the populace, but he had prepared for it. He could run now, but the city guard and whoever this man was knew his face, and any chance of getting an audience with the human's leaders would be close to nothing. Plus, if he ran now, he would leave this woman behind. He had no idea why she had stuck her neck out for him. It was a sweet gesture, but it might get both of them killed.
Feigning exhaustion from his "performance", he bowed his head respectfully to whom he assumed was a minor lord.
"Sorry, m'Lord." he replied in a voice that he hoped sounded to be raspy from the smoke he had stood so close to. "I did not mean to frighten anyone. I was just trying to help as best I could."
He feigned a cough to help the illusion that it was just a trick.

It's...beautiful. Strange symbols, creating a masterpiece of information. Did the humans create this? Balara seems totally enamored with these strange runes and finds herself slowly walking toward them, everything else shifting out of focus.

That is, until a waft of burnt bread mixed with the smoke hits her nostrils, bringing her back to her immediate circumstances. Rescue this round man first, run back down to study afterwards. It takes considerable mental discipline for her to prioritize the victum. With a course set Balara grasps the man by his shirt, tapping his face. "Awaken you sleeping fool, lest the flames consume you!" She says with urgency.

Conner notices several other bucket brigades had been organized and a single doorway had been cleared of fire but there was so much more burning. He focused his group on the buildings to the right of center and joined the line.

Hallion stands gob-smacked by the display, a fierce joy beginning to burn within his heart. As surely as he knows anything, he suddenly knows that he was sent to shepherd Wynn and Elendin. Stepping forward slightly from the crowd, he bows deeply to them both.

As he rights himself, Hallion spreads his hands wide. "Peace, good sirs! But for the valiant efforts of these two heroes, many lives would have been lost. They were invaluable in organizing the bucket brigades and dousing the flames that nearly consumed this neighborhood."

After loosing track of themselves for a moment Venture cursed quite loudly in Gnomish for their exuberance. The stairs are no more and those above cannot be saved. Somewhat dejected he turns and starts back towards the door.

Finding no purchase, Balara takes one last glance at the tantalizing runes before deciding the life of an innocent is of more importance. Before doubt enters her mind she sprints up the stairs, formulating a plan. Ensuring her hood is secured she rushes out the front door, to the growing sounds of yelling individuals. "A man is trapped below! He will suffocate!" She waves her arms to grab anyone's attention, knowing she might be mistaken for a hysteric child.