Major Thread Fortuna Vitrea Est

Tal'Rakan spent the party as someone of his position would. Even if he didn't liked the idea behind it, the ability to boast, drink, converse and enjoy food were tickling his hedonistic soul. More importantly, he was a novelty. His outfit, accent and his stories brought a lot of attention to him for the whole time and he loved it.

That being said, he did try to act as a diplomat would... as long as he was somewhat sober. After the alcohol hit his head, he needed a moment on one of the balconies. That is why he missed the chandelier incident totally.

But explosion bought him back into the reality, rapidly sobering him. He stood up, leaving two shocked vixens behind, as he looked down over the barrier to notice a massive hole where the scene was.

Not thinking much, he rushed downstairs. Explosions were known to him, but to make them inside the building? That suggested someone wished to cull the crowd.

And getting down he spotted a group that was readying themselves to fight. Luckily they didn't notice him so he waited in the shadows, knowing that without armour he would most likely die should he appear. Soon after they rushed into the main hall, screaming some sort of a battlecry and attacking beasts around them.

He did notice the "Priestess" he spoke with in that tavern that was planning a rebellion, running away with other vixen. That meant they weren't behind that. He also spotted as the High Priestess Dusk, avoiding the shots coming at her with some other foxes around. Those were neither the forces of the Imperium, Kitsune or rebellion he endorsed. So in his tipsy mind, they were all against the order the Phoenixes represented

Only a loud sound, one between the hiss and the roar, could be heard, as the Lynx threw himself at the backs of the assailants. Expertly shredding through them with claws, forcing their crossbowbeasts into unfair melee considering his size and skill, saving many from meeting a bolt in his semi-drunken rage.
 
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The Duke’s voice rang sharp and commanding over the din, his warning cutting through the ringing in Swift’s ears. Obvious exits could be traps, more bolts or fire waiting in the atrium. Swift’s chest tightened. Gates! He’d nearly bolted blind with Silvie right into certain death! Talinn’s words made sense. Survival here wasn’t about speed, it was about caution.

Then Kaii’s voice cracked through, firmer than Swift had heard it since back on Urk, authority hardening each word. Doors for shields. Protect Mina. The urgency in it left no room for doubt.

Swift’s paws moved before his thoughts fully caught up. He wrenched one of the splintered doors free from where it leaned against the stairwell, staggering under its weight before steadying. Silvertongue’s grip stayed locked on him, still wielding his lute. Swift shifted with him, planting himself beside Kaii, shouldering the crude shield into place.

“Got it, mate! Silvie, keep close 'n' we’ll cover ‘em!” he barked, ears flat, tail bristled.

Smoke curled thick around them, bolts clattering from the kitchen doors as the Vulpinists poured into the hall. Swift dug his paws into the marble floor, pressing the door’s edge to the ground, every muscle screaming to flee but he held.

His eyes cut to Mina, pale and trembling in Kaii’s arms, and to the Duchess, dagger bared, her mask of ice fractured by a protectiveness he still was confused by. Swift’s heart hammered, but his stance firmed. Whatever was the case, he unexpectedly was in the thick of battle again to his utter dismay. Worst. Date. Ever.

@Kaii Nashirou @Silvertongue Songfox @Talinn Ryalor @Dusk Rainblade @Mina Rose Brewer
 
@Kal Goldtail @Izakis

Skillblade Adept Ciara, a well-built vixen with warm brown eyes, dashed up the stairs of the catwalk. She could see some beasts moving about through the smoke, and other immobile forms. Flames licked the stage below, and she tried not to think about the charred remains of bodies visible in the wreckage. The Minister was somewhere in there, she knew.

She checked the pulse of a Rangeblade draped at the top of the stairs. Judging by the piece of stage impaling their chest, she knew there was small chance they lived. Indeed, no flicker of life met her searching paw.

"Sorry, mate," she muttered to her fallen comrade as she shifted the body to clear the stairway. A trio of beasts approached. Two she did not recognize. The third, being carried by the lizard, she knew.

"Liza!" To Ciara's relief, the Rangeblade's eyes fluttered open and Liza gave a halfhearted wave. The mouse wouldn't make it long without medical attention, though, based on the piece of metal jutting from her torso. Ciara helped the other vixen up onto her footpaws and slung her arm around her to take some of the weight from her footpaws.

"We need to get down, quickly. There are Longblades backstage who can stabilize her and get you out of the building." The four beasts carefully made their way down the stairs. There was thankfully less smoke backstage, though rubble and debris covered the floor, and if the flames nearby were not extinguished soon, it would not be long before that portion of the theater would begin to burn as well.

Liza felt herself being conveyed, though she flickered in and out of consciousness every few moments, existing in a pained, dream-like state. Then she felt something hard beneath her, the ground she realized, and saw the face of an otter hovering over her. Blinking, she recognized him.

"Oh hey, Rory," she said weakly to the Longblade as he carefully pulled off her light armor and cut away her shirt to begin packing bandages around the piece of metal protruding from her.

"Hey Liza." The big sea otter offered a kind smile to the mouse. "Crazy party, aye?"

She snorted. "Aye, jus' wild."

They had arrived backstage where two Longblades were treating three critically injured beasts for their wounds while several Skillblades ushered others towards the exit at the rear of the building. There was a loud yell from the door and a crossbow bolt whistled between Kal and Izakis to thunk into the wall above Rory's head. The body of a Bladedancer was shoved through the doorway as a shield to block arrows loosed by a Rangeblade standing guard. Behind the body came at least a dozen armed foxes wielding crossbows and blades. They poured into the building, shouting war cries and falling upon the unarmed, terrified party-goers.
 
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Orina was nearly to the doors leading from the theater to the atrium when she first heard somebeast begin playing the flute from somewhere in the smoke, then came the shout ahead of her.

"FOR MAR'KAN!"

The squirrel swore again. Vulpine Supremacists. Her paws itched for a bow as she heard fighting break out in the atrium. She knew it was probably wiser to get away from the conflict and stay alive, but by 'Gates she had been an Unsmudgable before she was a politician, and the squirrel could not let herself leave when she knew unarmed, innocent beasts were in harm's way simply because they had decided to attend this stupid, opulent party. Well, she did not mind so much if several of those beasts were her opposition.

With the hope that the other vice ministers found their convenient end on the blade or bolt of a supremacist, Orina was climbing once more, this time up a support column to the first balcony. She was up and over the railing and sprinting towards the exit that would lead to the balcony that ran above the atrium, hoping the two Rangeblades positioned there had kept to their posts.

It was chaos in the atrium. Though MAUL and Unsmudgables were beginning to coalesce into something of a formation against the onslaught, and a massive wildcat in exotic, feathered attire was laying into the supremacists, there were too many unarmed, unprepared beasts in the room. Orina saw the Rangeblades on the other side of the balcony. They had thrown down a table and door for a barrier from projectiles and were taking aim around their barricade, but with the crowd of non-combatants she knew it would be difficult to sight down the supremacists without hitting another beast. Staying low, the squirrel ran to the pair of Smudgies and slid to a stop behind their makeshift barrier.

"I need your bow," she said flatly to the ferret beside her. He nodded without hesitation and pawed the weapon off to her. She plucked an arrow from his quiver and set it to the string, peering around the edge of the barricade. There were Dusk and Talinn and their cohort, and only several layers of beasts beyond them very quickly being slaughtered was the front line of attackers. Orina leaned out from around the side of the barricade, aiming through the railing balusters. Arrow loosed, she did not need to watch its trajectory as it found the head of one of the attackers. She was already nocking a second arrow and aiming. That one flew into the chest of another fox. He fell into one of his allies, a vixen, blood spouting from his mouth as he died.

@Dusk Rainblade @Talinn Ryalor @Silvertongue Songfox @Kaii Nashirou @SwifttailTheFox @Lily Lesse @Tal'Rakan
 
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@Daniil Ryalor

Somehow Daniil's voice cut through Asta's panic. She knew she would not be able to push through the armored beasts, and she allowed herself to be pressed back towards the todd as he began barking orders. Clutching the lute to her chest, shoulders quivering with adrenaline, she wished there was something, anything she could do. The feeling of helplessness, of being protected and unable to be anything aside from a liability was all-too-familiar. She hated it. She hated how her body shook and how she could not think and did not know what to do aside from follow the orders of more competent, experienced beasts around her. Shame at being nothing but a helpless victim settled deep into her bones, and Asta felt as though she were hollowed out with it, eyes glazing as she followed inside the formation of Guardsbeasts.
 
At first, Jeshal had been somewhat reassured that his escort would die before he would. It sounded fair enough. Combat was her job, after all. Then again, if she died, it might not bode well for him and this Cricket. Wish I'd brought me sword now, or better yet my secret weapon.

That wish only heightened as a cry rang out through the auditorium.

FOR MAR'KAN!

Gates, he hadn't caught up with the politics fully yet. At a guess, this was an attack with anti-woodlander sentiment, not yet having heard of the supremacists. He wasn't exactly sure where that placed his reptilian companion. All too quickly beasts were being slain, bolts and arrows skimming overhead. Loathing that he felt so vulnerable, he kept himself and Cricket behind Minerva.

A pair of foxes rushed at their group, hungry for blood in the part of the crowd seeking the exit. Jeshal narrowed his eyes at them, gauging whether they were going to attack fellow 'vermin' species. He hoped his body was blocking the lizard.

"Stand down, fools!" he snarled toward them. "What are ye doin'?"

@Cricket @Minerva
 
Minerva did not hesitated at all as soon as she saw other beasts with weapons without any symbols she was told were allies. The first shot went clean through the eyesocket of a fox who tried to use their crossbow in their general direction, making them dead instantly.

It wasn't a hunt, it was survival. She imagined how she was dealing in such scenarios back in the tundra. Where she was sometimes fighting bears who tried to hunt her and her mother. It was never easy and heavily relied on the cooperation.

And while she knew nothing of the beast she was now protecting, other than their sharp tongue and affinity for orphans, Minerva could tell they were not like the most so called nobles around who were now just panicking. Especially after his snarl.

The two coming foxes made a mistake assuming Minerva would fold, she shot again within a second, the arrow this time didn't kill, only stuck into the shoulder. Suboptimal, but it did slow them down. The other one was still rushing so she pulled another arrow and shoot it. This time it went into the chest. Much better. But the beast who got shot in the shoulder recovered and was too close to risk pulling the bow again.

But Minerva was very fast in her movements. Speed was how predators and prey alike won in the hunts. She managed to pull out her duelling spear and pounce while doing so, sticking it into the stomach of the other attacker.

She turned it in her paws, making sure they won't recover now and then pulled it back, offering it to Jeshal. She was better at bow, he could manage the spear, it was a simple weapon in her eyes. She then started taking more shots without any words.

@Jeshal the Ironclaw @Cricket
 
No time for continuing to play the fop. Though Yaro could not simply display his faction's badge to ordinary people, it did not mean he couldn't defend himself. Half of Bully had secrets about who they were, and being a lord held no bearing on whether he was good in a scrap or not. The supremacists would regret this idiocy.

As a patch of smoke cleared he caught sight of where his employer was. His own injuries did not matter, they only fuelled his new mission. Help ensure no one got to Dusk.

Yaro drew his daggers from his coat and pounced at the supremacist flanks.​
 
@Izakis @Liza Fairpaw

Kal was doing her best to not throw up as the world was still spinning around her. She was glad her temporary companions were fine, and that her efforts to communicate with another vixen had worked. She tried to pull her weight as they moved, and seemed to be slowly getting better, concussion or whatever had happened to her. That being said, when the attack started, she was both too sick and too dizzy to even comprehend what was going on for a good while. In the end, she didn't know who were they, but she knew it was bad. She drew her daggers, but was clearly in no position to fight. Hell, she had no chance even in full health.

"'tis bad. Let's try going deeper. I snuck through side entrance somewhere 'ere." She mumbled, watching for weather or not they can try to make a run, or if it was too late. She glanced at Liza, finally acknowledging her state. Then at the lizardfolk, and the vixen. Smudgies wouldn't leave each other, and the escort seemed to have high morals. She gulped, swallowing both the nausea and a part of her pride, while starting to consider if she was better off trying to run alone, or staying here.
 
The Duke’s voice rang sharp and commanding over the din, his warning cutting through the ringing in Swift’s ears. Obvious exits could be traps, more bolts or fire waiting in the atrium. Swift’s chest tightened. Gates! He’d nearly bolted blind with Silvie right into certain death! Talinn’s words made sense. Survival here wasn’t about speed, it was about caution.

Then Kaii’s voice cracked through, firmer than Swift had heard it since back on Urk, authority hardening each word. Doors for shields. Protect Mina. The urgency in it left no room for doubt.

Swift’s paws moved before his thoughts fully caught up. He wrenched one of the splintered doors free from where it leaned against the stairwell, staggering under its weight before steadying. Silvertongue’s grip stayed locked on him, still wielding his lute. Swift shifted with him, planting himself beside Kaii, shouldering the crude shield into place.

“Got it, mate! Silvie, keep close 'n' we’ll cover ‘em!” he barked, ears flat, tail bristled.

Smoke curled thick around them, bolts clattering from the kitchen doors as the Vulpinists poured into the hall. Swift dug his paws into the marble floor, pressing the door’s edge to the ground, every muscle screaming to flee but he held.

His eyes cut to Mina, pale and trembling in Kaii’s arms, and to the Duchess, dagger bared, her mask of ice fractured by a protectiveness he still was confused by. Swift’s heart hammered, but his stance firmed. Whatever was the case, he unexpectedly was in the thick of battle again to his utter dismay. Worst. Date. Ever.

@Kaii Nashirou @Silvertongue Songfox @Talinn Ryalor @Dusk Rainblade @Mina Rose Brewer
It was too much. It was all too much. It had taken so much of his strength, his courage, to make this date... this confession... possible. And it was all being RUINED.

"Stay here." Silvertongue said with a grimace. Wielding his lute, he charged out from behind the safety of their makeshift shield, launching himself into the air and flipping over the chaos of the crowded floor. He landed in front of one of the Vulpinists and bashed him over the head with his lute, sending that one crumbling to the floor before turning to face the others. He didn't even say anything, he just rushed forward with his weapon at the ready to engage them.
 
Grey eyes had raised to the array of balconies and boxes when Dusk gave her instruction to find Orina, wondering in the back of his mind where the squirrel had disappeared to: he had been distracted during her departure when the commotion had first begun. The sable did not particularly relish the thought of having to track her down but supposed it would be a necessary task to complete.

Such a task fell to the wayside almost at once as a crossbow bolt very nearly took out his Minister. Whipping his head to the outpouring of beasts from the kitchens, Matisse curled his lip, feeling his hackles rise at once. There would be little chance of getting to the Vice-Minister in the crush on his own and, as far as could be seen, she was not in the atrium itself: his duty, then, would be to Dusk.

Besides, this attack had made mockery of M.A.U.L and, most egregiously, his intelligence service. There would come little mercy from him.

“I’ll seek Orina if you need, ma’am,” he replied as the vixen readied her own weapon, “but if you’ll permit me, I think I should like to see you and your husband out safe, first.” There was no time to reflect on the nature of her command to the marble fox, nor to praise his inventive decision to make use of the door. Smart lad: he seemed like one who would go far in a Ministry with a brain that nimble. Ducking behind it he motioned with a paw towards the guards Talinn had ordered they join, to re-orient those with vision now blocked by the makeshift barrier. “Guards are that way; I’ll try and thin some numbers and keep your footpaws clear.”

Drawing his swords, Matisse ducked out again and met the front-runners alongside Silvertongue, albeit with more economical movement: he was not built for acrobatics these days. Shedding his cloak, the cold-eyed sable let one blade move low, catching the unfortunate fox off guard as they were hooked about the ankle and pulled flat; the second blade skewered them through the chest. He stared for a moment at the prone figure, discerning what he could of them. No time. Turning, he slashed across the face of another, taking a nick to his own muzzle before retreating back towards the door. He divided his attention between hastening to kick or pull bodies out of the way of the group before they could be slowed further and making the occasional hit-and-run on an assailant getting in too close, retreating often behind the barrier to avoid being shot.

As the only mustelid in the small group, he began to feel increasingly uneasy.


@Kaii Nashirou @Silvertongue Songfox @SwifttailTheFox @Talinn Ryalor @Dusk Rainblade @Mina Rose Brewer
 
Tchaah, I hardly touched the scum! It’s what he deserves, the slimy crook. Why don’t you see-…

Whatever Darragh wanted the Unsmudgeable to see, however eloquently he was about to get himself arrested, face-to-pavement and all, was utterly lost forever in a colossal, entirely unmetaphorical explosion from within the opera house.

Darragh gawped in shock and a mounting sense of dread as smoke poured from shattered windows, beasts ran screaming from the doors, and the guards disappeared within, weapons drawn. The chaos only grew worse with every passing moment that Darragh remained stunned, there was more shouting, and that second-rate street performer was dancing about like a lunatic.

Then, it hit Darragh. A big event like this… he knew Captain- that is, Minister Ryalor must have been in attendance. Perhaps a gentlebeast like Kaii too… even Silvertongue, as Talinn’s former Aide-de-Camp, and an accomplished bard himself. It did not occur to Darragh that perhaps someone as high-ranked as Minister Ryalor might already have perfectly competent guards seeing to his wellbeing. It did not occur to Darragh that such protection might be extended to loyal crewbeasts like Kaii or Silvertongue. It certainly did not occur to the poet, his head so full of stories of daring rescues and heroic deeds, that he might be flinging himself into danger for no good reason.

He was Darragh Harper, Poet, Combat Veteran, Loyal and True to his Friends, and it had taken a lot of work to put Talinn back together again.

Ignoring the mad dancing fox, the stoat sprinted into the opera house. It smelled strange inside, the genteel scents of perfumes and colognes, expensive wines and delicate appetizers mingled with smoke, the distinctive bad-egg smell of exploded powder, and the musk of fearful creatures. Darragh darted between gaps in the crowd attempting to flee in the other direction, and sidestepped overturned furniture and debris. A lot of lanterns had been smashed and blown out by the shockwave, so the great space of the main hall was dark and cavernous. Darragh stumbled over something in the murk. Fearing it was a body, he looked down to see the fallen bust of Miles Mistofelees, which stared up at him morosely.

Don’t give me that look. It’s not my fault I’m so late!” Darragh groused. He squinted, but there was too much…

FOR MAR’KAN!

Something struck Darragh in the back of the head, knocking off his fancy hat and sending the stoat sprawling beside the bust. He stared blankly at the marble face of the weasel, unable to move, pain swirling around his head, and cold trickling down the back of his neck. How long he lay there, in between waking and blacking out, he did not know.

It’s usually like this, you know.

Darragh blinked. The bust… Minister Mistofelees was looking at him.

W-what…?” Darragh asked, his voice sounding to him like it was echoing down a mile-long pipe.

Stuff blowing up. You’ve got red on you, by the way. You should probably get up, before one of these fat opera enthusiasts steps on you.

What’s goin’ on? Who’s Mar’kan?” Darragh asked.

The bust shrugged, an impressive motion given its lack of shoulders. “Poncy git with a fan club. Go punch a few of ‘em. Before they cut you into little pieces.

Darragh got on all fours, and felt behind his head, his paw coming away red and sticky. He tightened it into a balled fist, and gritted his teeth.

Hey.

The young poet looked down at the bust again, which regarded him somberly. “Don’t forget your nice hat.

Thanks,” Darragh murmured, spotting his feathered cap on the floor. Perching it once again over one ear, he looked at the bust one final time, but it was blank, unmoving stone.

Darragh ran back into the atrium, fists raised. A battle had broken out, with the Unsmudgeables, MAUL Agents and opera-goers on one side, and some rag-tag bunch of foxes that Darragh quickly identified as the Mar’kan Fan Club on the other. The somewhat politically uninitiated stoat was still not really sure what all this was about, but there was a fight, and he knew which side he was on.

And there, for a moment framed in smoky silhouette, was Silvertongue, his lips drawn into a snarl as he swung his beautiful lute by its neck straight onto a fox’s head.

Bonk.

His enemy plopped down to his knees, tongue lolling from his muzzle for a moment before he collapsed. Darragh grinned - what a fighting style! He wondered if Silvertongue had learned that from dealing with unruly crowds during his performances. He also wondered how many lutes the bard must have gone through before perfecting the art of cracking a skull without damaging the instrument’s acoustics. The stoat could have sworn he could hear a melodic hum from the lute every time it came into contact with the foe. Darragh rushed forward to his friend’s aid.

Silvertongue! Silvertongue! I’ve got your back! I-… EEP!” Darragh yelped, as an elegantly-clad sable cut across his vision, a hooked sword in each paw, deftly tripping foxes, carving off paws and cutting bellies open to spill their guts with the well-practiced ease of a fishmonger. The young poet had to take a second to marvel at the efficiency, the style, the finesse. Darragh was reminded he was in the company of the elite, and that meant all the elite assassins, bodyguards and warriors as well. He needed a real weapon, if he was to hold his ground beside them.

Picking up a simple straight sword from a fallen foe, Darragh rushed to Silvertongue’s side. He had not quite had as much practice with swords as he would have liked, but he had enough of the basics to fend off the wild swinging of foxes that seemed more guts and glory than skill and strategy.

Golden Hiiiiide!!” Darragh yelled, his blood pumping with the thrill of battle!

@Silvertongue Songfox @Matisse Dubois
 
Izakis was happy to get the assistance and to get down from the catwalk. She was still pulling Liza with her tail and entering the room below with other Smudgies caused for at least few confused looks at her. Bringing the mouse to the others allowed her to finally stand up properly. She didn't care for looks and glances she was given. Instead she was happy that her effort did help for the group to be together at least. Potentially saving life too...

And then the supremacists came in.

Izakis was still heated up, she reacted quickly to the bolt, dashing behind the nearby cover. Knowing she had no chance to win a fight, nor that she could manage the situation with honeyed words, there was not much she could do but hide. Luckily, Kal who was with her, took daggers out and mumbled a solution... one that was however unfair to the Smudgies who were now fighting for likes of herself.

"Think where that exit it. I will... try something and then we can maybe escape." She said to the vixen before moving out.

Thinking of Smudgies did bring images from a before the explosion. The chandelier incident... Izakis had one plan and one hope only.
She dashed to the wall. Sadly making enough of a target for herself to feel a bolt hitting her arm. She screamed and stumbled but rushed further reaching her target. The collection of ropes connected to pegs.

She took a moment while constantly moving, dancing even, making herself much harder of a target for the crossbows. Following the ropes, the skink had deducted which one led to the small chandelier in the room that was above the attackers.

And she hit it with her talons, causing it to collapse onto the group. However she only heard her own scream as that happened.

One fox with an axe cut off a good chunk of her tail. Her blue lines paled from fear as she stumbled down onto the floor from pain. The knowledge, that it would fully grow back, was not helping her now at all.

@Liza Fairpaw @Kal Goldtail
 
Sergeant Oscar

Oscar cooly scanned the crowd as Theo dragged Finnian back towards the wall, which, incidentally, was near the buffet table that had been knocked further back by the piece of shrapnel. There were many dead, and soon to be dead, but their job was to secure their asset, not assist everyone, which they could not do even if they wanted to. The area was not even secure yet. There could still be more-

More screams, from his right.

Oscar turned to see a large group of foxes pouring out from the kitchens with crossbows, firing wildly into the dazed crowd and many of the unprepared, and he was glad he and Theo were right in moving the young foxkit to relative safety. He was about to call out orders to the arctic fox, the older male todd who seemed fine, and Theo and Finnian to get back behind the knocked over buffet table, as it would give them at least some cover and would limit the area of the enemy’s approach, but then, there was a loud slam to his left as a side door was kicked open and a smaller group of their opponents appeared, perhaps around a squad or so. Unlike their other opponents, who loudly announced their presence with a battle cry, these ones were much more focused.

“That’s him! The kit! The one the Stoaties were guardin’! Get em, he has to be worth something with that much protection. We will be able to use him for leverage.”

Oh, no.

Oscar only had time to shout, not seeing Minerva take down the two foxes who approached from the other side, as he began to run towards them, desperately trying to make his movements erratic and unpredictable as they lined up their crossbows to fire at the group.

“THEO! OLD TODD! VIXEN, DOWN!”

Hoping his warning was in time, the foxes fired off their volley of crossbow bolts, multiple of which struck the stoat directly in the breastplate despite his evasive maneuvers, knocking him to the ground, while another knocked off his plumed morion helmet, sending it scattering across the floor. The remainder flew towards the other four beasts who had been near the buffet table.

“Half of you, reload, then focus on keeping that vixen pinned. The rest of you, with me. We have the numbers and she will have to pick between us and them.”

The black fox who appeared to be the leader barked, drawing his cutlass, with the rest of his group with a variety of weapons moving forward. They stepped over the corpses of dead party-goers as if they were nothing, and, soon, approached the fallen Stoatorian Guard Sergeant. Only giving him a passing glance, the leader stepped over him, and his beasts began to follow. One of them then proceeded to make a snarky comment.

“Hammer of the Empress, eh? Went down pretty easily. Guess they aren’t as good as-” A silver fox laughed.

His words were off as both of his legs were yanked from beneath him, sending him to the ground. Another fox in the middle of the formation began to react, when a broadsword stabbed upward, directly through his heart, and he was kicked into the two at the back of the formation, dead before he hit the ground. A vengeful stoat, his breastplate pockmarked with dents and with one or two bolts still in them, the lighter hand crossbows unable to meaningfully penetrate the thicker plate of the breastplate and helm and padded linen underneath even at this distance, rose from the ground, his blade covered in fresh blood, then stabbed it down into the other fox who made that remark, dispatching them as he did so.

“I am still alive, ye friggen amateurs! FOR THE EMPRESS!”

Oscar threw himself at the three foxes in front of him, hoping to take them down in detail before the other two foxes behind him could recover. He was not entirely uninjured, however, though the bolts had not penetrated, they had deeply bruised and pain flared through his body, and made it harder for him to breath, and he counted himself lucky he had not been struck in the face or in the lighter plate of his arms or legs. The odds were still poor for him as well, and he doubted he would make it out alive as he was fighting them in the open-no way to limit avenues of attack.

He hoped little Finnian would lead a good life.

@Minerva @FinnianBrightfur @Jeshal the Ironclaw @Cricket
 
Theo

“Finnian, listen, Oscar will go get Cricket if she wants to stay with us, we just need to make sure we are not in a bad position-” The pine marten was cut off as the Vulpine Supremacists roared and stormed forth from the kitchen firing crossbows into the crowd, and, instinctively, he shoved Finn behind him. Even if some of the bolts came towards them, the young kit would be safe. Fortunately for them, most of the initial salvo seemed to go into random party-goers, and, as two of them approached from the right, the arctic fox took one out with a shot, and then another with a spear. He sighed in relief-keeping a tab on his charge alone was hard enough as is-he hoped Oscar would join him soon. They always-

Suddenly, a loud slamming could be heard to his left, and he instantly turned, shielding Finnian from that direction as he did so-a full squad of the Supremacists with crossbows ready, and Oscar…

No time, follow your orders.

Turning and grabbing Finnian in both arms, dropping his sword as he had no time, he flung them both towards the overturned buffet table, as he heard crossbow bolts hit metal, and winced in pain as he felt two powerful blows strike him in the back. Skittering across the floor, the pine marten gasped for breath for a few moments, his back aching in sharp pain, but he had long ago learned to suppress pain in the heat of battle. He glanced down at the young Finnian, terrified, then shoved him behind the table. Crawling forward, he dragged it over a bit to angle it towards the new attackers, so that he, the kit, and if the old fox and arctic fox were still alive, they would have some cover.

“Finnian…” he managed as he risked a glance over the top of the table “...check the back of my armor...see if there was any penetration…I need...Oscar…”.

To his horror, he saw his Sergeant down on the ground, peppered with crossbow bolts, and his helmet missing. Their quality armor should have protected him, at least from piercing injuries, but the blunt force would still hurt, and he could not see his face...if he was dead…

Then, there was a disturbance in the middle of the group, and Oscar sprung into action like the best of them, but even then, Theo knew the chances for his survival were low to none with the odds and the positioning. He yearned to go out there, despite only having his backup knife now, and reeling from the impact of the bolts, to give his Sergeant more of a chance, but it would be suicide. Oscar was buying them precious time.

He turned, praying that the arctic fox and the older fox had managed to make it all right, and that the Lieutenant saw what was happening. He did not relish his chances alone, with just a knife, versus that many beasts.

@FinnianBrightfur @Cricket @Jeshal the Ironclaw @Minerva
 
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@Kal Goldtail @Liza Fairpaw

Ciara grabbed Kal and pulled her away from the attackers, shoving her in the direction the other vixen had indicated. "Aye, good idea, you and the others run!"

The Skillblade grunted as she took a crossbow bolt in the arm, but she kept in front of the unarmed beasts as they dashed away from the fight. In another moment two more bolts took her and she went down.

On the ground, Rory had grabbed Liza and the other injured beast and started dragging them towards where the stage used to be, trying to find some semblance of cover in the debris. The other Longblade, a rat, grabbed a broken piece of stage as a shield and charged towards the supremacists. She skittered to a halt as the chandelier above dropped onto the back of the group. Hot, fiery wax sputtered onto the beasts knocked down by the heavy chandelier. Several of the foxes wore bulky packs. The other members of the group shouted and began to run at the Longblade, though in a panic rather than direct attack.

An explosion roared out backstage as the packs worn by the foxes trapped beneath the burning chandelier ignited. It was not as large as the initial blast, but it was enough to knock the running supremacists to the ground and blast the backstage door off its hinges along with a portion of the wall.

In the alley behind the Opera House, Michel swore and ducked as debris flew out towards the loaded cart he was pushing. "Put out those fires!" he shouted to the other foxes with him as they dashed about trying to tamp down the bits of flame getting too close to the cart of explosives. "I told you idiots not to go in with the packs until it was clear."
 
Fighting the backlines was a strategically sound idea. It made the ranged units much less useful as they had to scramble in melee. With element of surprise, it could spell disasters for entire armies.

But Tal'Rakan was a lone beast. Unarmoured, using his claws to kill and a picked up sword to parry. Most importantly? He was still somewhat drunk.

That is why he had to fallback after wrecking chaos. His arms were covered in blood he spilled, crimson painted his plumed cloak and fur alike. His claws and fangs dripped with the essence of life he spilled. Still, he was smart enough to know he could win one versus few dozens.

That is when he spotted a fellow feline doing now the same as he did before. Throwing themselves with a dagger at the enemy flank just after he left it, continuing the pressure and keeping the shooters at bay. That couldn't last long, even in this state Rakan knew that it was future for one beast to do so.

But not so much for two.

Tired and somewhat battered after first round, Tal'Rakan still threw himself into the fray once more with equal ferocity. This time pouncing to the side of the other wildcat so that the two could cover for their flanks.

He needn't say a word, he fought after all for his own survival too.

And of course for the glory that would came from such a brawl including all important officials of the Imperium he was sent to. Such a weird place it was.

@Lord Yaro Ashpaw
 
Kal heard the scream from probably the escort lizard that has disappeared in the fray, but was shoved at the same time. She was no hero. She looked at her weapon, and mismatched pieces of armor in quite some distaste for herself, and half-jogged away into the corridors. The walls were useful at keeping her straight as she moved forward, faster or slower, trying to tune out the screams echoing through the building. Truth was she could not recollect the way she went in, neither could she recognize it now that pieces of building were burned or otherwise destroyed.

She stumbled into a slightly more open space and barely caught herself. To her left, she could hear screams and fighting. To the right, she heard cackling of fire and occasional whines. She looked around, risking her head spinning even more, and as few stray bolts hit the walls from the left, she turned sharply to the right, towards auditorium. Her body was not reacting well to the heat and light, but it would've reacted worse to bolts and swords, that much she was sure of.

Determined to get away in one piece, she whispered to herself over and over "just a little more", trying to ignore the stares of dead beasts as she entered the hellscape.

((anyone in auditorium in need of help? 👀))
 
This was chaos, every moment going from bad to worse. Jeshal had taken the spear from the vixen, hardly thinking, but it wasn't his weapon of choice. Of course he was in a situation like this right when he left his new toy on his ketch. New attackers burst in and the Stoaties called out in alarm, pressing Finn back toward the small group. There wasn't even time to be pissed off at being called an old todd. The burnt table was shifted as he was encouraged to take cover behind it, squeezed in with the youngsters, the pine marten, and possibly the warrior vixen.

I'm not dying like this. Not to a useless rabble. This be no different to a raid. Ignore the fire, you old idiot, and move.

"Take this," he said to Cricket, not really caring whether she took the spear or dropped it on the floor. A quick glance around the floor presented what he was looking for. One of the many metal serving trays that had been spilled from the table. He snatched it up with his gauntlet and held it up as a shield, then he rushed at the beasts surrounding Oscar. On the way he snatched up Theo's sword. Now this be more my style.

Half a creamcake sliding off his novelty buckler, Jeshal rushed to get at them at close quarters, yelling like a madbeast.

"Have at ye, ye festerin' bilgeclots! RARRRRRRRGH!"

@Cricket @Minerva @Alwyn Ryalor (Oscar & Theo) @FinnianBrightfur

((You can probably see this happening, Kal, if you wanted to help the poor beasts pinned down XD))​
 
(Cricket) “It’s fine, Finn, go with ‘em and I’ll meet you outside!”

Finn's heart ached. He couldn't put to words why, but having put the gecko in so much peril... gates. Why couldn't they just have a moment to talk? She was still out living on the streets, and... and he didn't even know how to find her if they were separated again. But whatever he did, he just seemed to cause problems -- for Cricket, Alwyn, Theo, Oscar... Gates, had the idol cursed him?

At any rate, he was caught by the scruff, and felt that he would be in terrible trouble with Alwyn once they got home. Putting up any more antics would only make everything worse. "Cricket! I'll find you!" he called in return, higher pitched voice cutting above the din.

@Cricket

(VS/NPC) “That’s him! The kit! The one the Stoaties were guardin’! Get em, he has to be worth something with that much protection. We will be able to use him for leverage.”

Finn still didn't understand why the stage exploded. It had to be an accident -- or perhaps carelessness, much like his incident in the Slups. Vulpine Supremacists were the last thing on his mind. Finn wasn't even quite sure what they were, much less what motives they might have for taking such action!

As the foxes with crossbows came in and began to fire into the crowd, Finn was still in denial. He was in shock, and simply couldn't believe what was happening, even when good beasts fell around him. It only started to click when one of the beasts pointed him out, and the foxes with crossbows began to blade themselves towards him, and fired a volley towards where Jeshal and Cricket were standing. Worse yet, Oscar was hit, and went down.

Finn's heart leapt into his throat -- but before he could get to his feet or even cry out, Theo threw him behind cover. Crossbow bolts skipped and whizzed by, and the blood in his veins turned to ice. They were trying to kill him.

(Theo) “Finnian…” he managed as he risked a glance over the top of the table “...check the back of my armor...see if there was any penetration…I need...Oscar…”

Finn tumbled as he hit the ground, knees and elbows bashing into the floor. They ached, but the adrenaline rushing through his system dulled the pain. As Theo called out to him, a surge of courage rushed through the foxkit. Finally, he could be of use! Without a moment's delay, the foxkit hastily crawled over to Theo, and set his paws on the back of the marten's armor. Fingers touched each dimple in quick succession, before he began a brisk trauma pat down over the exposed areas. "No, no... nothing through. Yer ok!" he hissed.

Fishing around his waistband, the kit pulled his father's knife out. "I got a knife, but that's all! There's... ...there's three of 'em! I think they're coming this way!"
 
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