tushanshu_logs | [EVENT|4TH WALL] THE NEWCOMERS’ ARRIVAL

[EVENT|4TH WALL] THE NEWCOMERS’ ARRIVAL | APRIL 15-22

Characters: ALL and plus ones.
Date: April 15-22 2015 (2016 in-game)
Location: Farmlands outside the city walls, but this log can also be used for locations within the city.
Situation: Spring planting - fourth wall event, week one!
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

The days for the festival dawn sunny if a bit chilly, but the air is clear and the soggy ground has dried enough that there isn’t too much mud in the lanes between fields and homesteads. The broad dirt path to the Woodsmen’s land leads past the tram-line construction, lined with waving ribbons on sticks along the sides. The Woodsmen’s territory circles the city, separated from the city’s walls by five hundred yards of neutral land.

The festival’s central area is Liangken’s Clearing, and this is where the festival will begin and end each day. Liangken is an ancient tree, among the oldest on the turtle’s back. Though it doesn’t flower or bear much in the way of leaves anymore, the kedan have cultivated it carefully and now it’s an excellent representation for the revitalisation of old wisdom.

The lanes between the fields and homesteads will house the stalls, contests and walking areas. The Woodsmen will be keeping an eye on these to prevent anyone from walking off the marked paths. The homesteads provide ‘hotspots’ in among the lanes and fields, with Woodsmen families lending their yards to the comfort and entertainment of their guests.

In general, the Woodsmen are a taciturn, soft-spoken lot who nevertheless take great pride in their work. Their lands are all but sacred -- they accept no attitude, no trespassing, no attempts to thwart their authority. This causes some noticeable tension with the Snakes, who are accustomed to being the sole enforcers within the city; but though there may be some ill tempers and raised voices, at no point will anyone come to blows. It’s hard to argue with someone built like a brick wall and carrying sharp farm implements.

The Woodsmen are a touch anxious about having strangers on their land and this shows in them being overly officious or bossy, but at the same time their pride shows clearly and they are eager to show off the state of their lands, their greenhouses, and their farming processes -- practically without being asked. The residents of Keeliai tend to think of the Woodsmen as ‘cowards’, and the Woodsmen are taking this opportunity to prove themselves otherwise with feats of strength and tall tales.

Due to the farmers’ hours of “early to bed and early to rise”, the festival ends in the early evening at sundown, but begins again before dawn -- usually by greeting the sun with a song.

LINKS
Heojin, Ran and Lin | Liangken’s Clearing | Stalls and Lanes | OOC Information post | 4th Wall Character Check In

OOC
While Heojin and his bodyguards are open to everyone (including fourth-wall characters!), they are not available for small talk and general directionless CR. For the integrity of the mod’s inbox, please only request a thread with him if you already have an idea of what you’d like your character to ask/do. Other NPCs can be requested by sending a PM to the appropriate journals directly, with the same guidelines.

The top-level comments are for the festival, but fourth-wall characters should feel free to use the rest of the post for anything within the city of Keeliai itself! Just remember to label the top-level comment for location and date.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

The leader of the Woodsmen is a man named Heojin, tall and sturdy and soft-spoken, with a quiet, inexorable demeanour and an ingrained sense of dignity. Any kedan will say that he isn’t a man to make rash judgements, but while kedan from the city tend to view him with barely concealed disdain the Woodsmen speak of him with something not unlike veneration. The city kedan call him a coward; the Woodsmen call him a saviour.

Regardless, all kedan alike have a tendency to give way where Heojin treads, if only out of respect for the fact the farmlands are unequivocally his domain. As a result he tends to stand out, and even more so for the spring-green colours he wears, accompanied by a grown of woven bamboo leaves. He travels in a counter-clockwise motion around the city, moving from homestead to homestead to give his blessing to those living there and spending each night in an offered bed, until he finally returns to his starting-point at the close of the seventh day. He can be seen judging contests, sampling products and counselling farmers in particular need of the help, though he tends not to linger in conversations in order to spread his attention as far as possible.

Heojin’s right- and left-hand men can also been seen throughout the festival, both wearing neutral-coloured uniforms and blossoms in their hair (shifted long and braided specifically for this occasion).

Ran, stocky, perpetually apathetic and day-dreaming, wears a sickle at his belt and olive blossoms as a representation of reconciliation, purification and fruitfulness. Any Woodsmen will inform newcomers that this is a symbol of authority; that during this week, Ran has the authority of justice throughout the Woodsmen’s territory. Anywhere there is a particularly tense moment, he has a tendency to appear. Anyone who has a dispute -- regarding anything, but most especially sales or contest resolutions -- can request mediation by approaching a member of his honour guard, recognisable by their olive-blossom badges.

Lin, tall, scrawny and purple-haired, carries no weapons but wears apple blossoms for youth, happiness and health. During the week he acts in a pseudo-administration capacity by sponsoring stalls, games and activities -- sometimes even inventing games on the fly for kedan who’d like to contribute but have no ideas of their own. During this time, Lin is the spirit of youthfulness and can be seen anywhere there is fun to be had, from leading the dances for Liangken to encouraging contestants during races. Except for one day -- on the 20th, Lin will be oddly absent, and none of the Woodsmen will seem to know where he’s gone.

The Woodsmen will encourage Keeliai's residents to help them tend it by giving it 'gifts' -- usually garlands of leaves and flowers, real and fake. Here the kedan will exhibit that ‘boundless youthful energy' in the way of dances, games and tricks. Characters can expect to be playfully challenged to riddles, pun wars, shell games, and other standard street fair activities. A few of them will come across a little scammy, but their managers will be quick and easygoing to back down if called. It's nothing personal, they'll say. Just in the spirit of the lighthearted prank.

By and large, this is where the younger generations of the kedanfolk gather, and there are games and contests organized by these minors, the oldest of whom seem only around 16. Shapeshifting duels are common, with two or more facing off to see who can change their features fastest, or whose colour scheme is more outrageous. Footraces, games of coordination and motor skill, and even a few eating contests run throughout the days.

Underneath the branches of the Liangken is also where the supposed story of its origin can most easily be heard, although no kedan will refuse to relay at least the basic summary of it, if asked.

The legend of the Liangken (and sibling trees, they will explain, though they do not know where the others are or if they still exist) goes back to before the kedan came to Tu Vishan-- which does beg the question, where they heard it from, and why it has become so internalized. But the tale goes thus: some great time ago, Tu Vishan and the other Great Turtles were not the only world creatures. A terrible red bird called the Xaxosi, with wings that could spread wide enough to block out the sun, patrolled the skies. Its talons were so sharp, that it could land on a Great Turtle and rip away part of its shell. For the peoples who lived on the backs of the Great Turtles, there was no defense they could mount against such a creature.

The Great Turtles, Tu Vishan among them, formulated a plan. Nine seeds were gathered together, each the size of a person, and planted one by one across the backs of nine Great Turtles. Once they grew into tall trees rooted deep into the shells, the Turtles began to sink into the sea, deeper and deeper, until all the land on their backs was submerged and only the branches of these nine trees remained above the surface of the water, the only safe havens in Konryu. The Xaxosi, unable to find anywhere else to land and unable to fly indefinitely, was forced to settle on these trees, where it could be attacked and its bright red feathers ripped away. It moved from treetop to treetop, but each time it set down, it was attacked.

Finally, barely able to fly, the Xaxosi flew straight up into the sun and disappeared, leaving Konryu in peace. The Great Turtles raised themselves above the water level once again, and the nine trees were cut down. But seeds from them remained, and were said to have spread, and the Liangken is said to be sprouted from one of them.

There is one other part of the tale, the kedan will laugh, although it wasn't part of the original version but added some time afterward. It will tell of the Xaxosi being so enraged by having nowhere to nest, that it laid its egg into the ocean, where it was swept away into the currents and tides, and lost. The Xaxosi flying high into the sun was its final attempt to spot the egg from the air, but nothing ever came of it.

The lanes between the fields stretch from homestead to homestead in a great web. Ordinarily used so the Woodsmen can haul produce and equipment between farms, now they are lined in ribbons, with four different colours marking out the different bearings and a fifth colour representing a lane leading back into the city of Keeliai. Many lanes spread out into a kind of clearing to overlook the fields running along side, and all eventually come out at a homestead.

Though the houses themselves are barred from trespassers, the Woodsmen will delight in showing off their outbuildings and processes -- accompanied, of course. This is an opportunity to prove how important their work is, and they’re not going to let it pass by. They will answer any and all questions about farming, soil, crops, even give tips on homemade recipes. The greenhouses are a particular point of pride for the Woodsmen, though only a handful of them will be open for supervised tours. These are the crops which saw the Woodsmen through the winter, and many have small square flower beds flanking the entrance to accompany the crops inside.

The food stalls will lean toward rice dishes, candied and fresh fruits, popcorn, freshly made bread, smoothies -- the sorts of things the Woodsmen will have made themselves in their own houses with their own produce. Other stalls sell subpar crops for very cheap prices, seedlings, even houseplants. There are also, of course, the requisite farmers’ contests, which usually take place near the homesteads, where there is the most space; these take the form of anything from ‘best produce’ type competitions to ‘fastest performance of duty’ races.

It's customary for greetings and exchanges to include some wishing of luck -- it's meant to be a lucky event, after all!

One of the most popular items for sale are small potted plants that look surprisingly like pussy-willows, except that their stems are an iridescent purple colour and the puffs are pale blue that emit a faint glow in the dark, much like the bioluminescent glow from the turtle’s shell once did. The kedan will call them what loosely translates to ‘Sea Wisps’, as they're harvested in small clusters at the shell's shoreline in the spring, in accordance with a legend that good luck spirits are said to be attracted to the glow. Due to their rarity, they must be purchased (as opposed to being given away) for 5 juulan each, or the equivalent of about $25, making them the most expensive souvenir of the festival.

Rita, for what it's worth, is idly sitting a decent ways away, listening to the story of Liangken. And while she's technically listening, she's practically muttering to herself the entire time about how ridiculous it all is. Probably the words "fairy tale" or "giant turtle, ha" could be heard if one is close enough. For the most part, she's entirely keeping to herself, not really going out of her way to interact with people. The few kedan who do approach her are practically shooed away. Youthful energy? She'll spend that doing research and jotting down notes and mathematical equations in a notebook, thank you very much. There's so much time for that.

She will be glancing up from time to time, looking at the shapeshifter competitions going on. And she'll frequently be making rather distasteful expressions at this. Everything has gone extremely strange and weird, and she's not a fan of this at all.

"There had better be some damned good explanation for what the hell is going on here," she'll probably mutter more than once.

A wish of luck will be sorely needed for one hapless kedan, who's suddenly found his little stall of sweets and popcorn besieged by a thirteen year old girl toting a bundle of dynamite on her hip.

"Hey. Hey. Hey hey hey hey hey." Tina is practically halfway over the counter, leaning forward and standing on the tippiest of toes. "Heeeeeeey. What's goin' on? Is this a party? I looooove parties, but I dunno how I got here, and I gots places to be, girl, yaknowwhatimean?"

She's got a wild look on her face, but that's normal. Tiny Tina always looks off-kilter. It's part of her charm, a carefully cultivated charm of Pandora's leading expert on blowing up everything and looking cute as a button while doing so.

"Is that candy? Candy is one of the most important food groups, right behind chocolate chip cookies in creatin' supreme BADASSES. I want one!" The stallkeeper is starting to look rather hassled; the girl is quite clearly off her rocker and he's not appreciating how her presence is causing other potential customers to give the booth a wide berth. Not to mention she's doing a fantastic job of distracting him from keeping a close watch on the next batch of popcorn.

Tina leans even further forward. "What's up with those tiny tree things? They're all glowy and shizz." She hasn't given him a chance to answer even one of her questions, and doesn't seem to be inclined to do so any time soon.

Mia is horribly, horribly confused. Apparently she accidentally wandered into a festival of some sort. That part wasn't quite so strange. Really it wasn't. That she was suddenly in the middle of a great field surrounded by farmlands was a little more strange. She had been in a village the night before, and suddenly she was out in the country? Granted, there was country all surrounding the village, but she hadn't been quite there.

What was strange is that all of the people were unlike anything she'd seen before: shapeshifters, people with exotic clothing and appearance. And the food they were selling wasn't quite identical to that of her home, even if there were vague parallels. But even more strangely is that her money... wasn't quite good enough. There was that word of "Foreigner" dallied about, which wasn't entirely untrue since this clearly wasn't Imil, though she hardly remembered any of the places she'd visited being quite so uncooperative as these.

"Sorry, I can't buy anything," she says apologetically. This despite that she has a rather rumbling stomach, much to her embarrassment. "I'm afraid I don't have any of your coin..."

"I am sure there is, leibchen~"

It shouldn't be surprising to find the sharklike man just... happily wandering about. Well, perhaps it should, because he seems to be redoing his cravat and there's a couple spots of red on the yellow cloth, but, well.

"But, you know, thinking to hard will just cause so much steam, you won't be able to see your scribblings clearly~"

Yeager leans cheerfully over in a chiding way, but he is definitely ready to jump out of the way of fist or fire. He remembers the red mage, and she hits to hurt.

Well, he most certainly hadn't been expecting this. Or, well, anything at all. But, the merchant in him won't sit still, and so while Yeager walks, he pins a hard looking case to his side, and sets to fixing his shirt - retying the cravat so that no spots of red are visible, and pinning it in place.

These stalls hold only most of his attention - he is very aware of those wandering past him, but that was what one does when you should be dead.

That voice. That accent. There could be no mistaking it. (At least from the world she was familiar with.)

Rita doesn't even respond with words immediately. Her first reaction? Definitely her fist. Thankfully (for him), he's prepared and easily dodges it, but that doesn't mean he's in the clear yet. She immediately reaches for her scroll and unfurls it from her side pocket, wielding it in a threatening fashion.

"Great, this day has already gone from bad to worse. How in the world are you still even alive?!"

Yeah, this isn't going to cause a scene at all. In fact, there are already going to be stares, especially from the direction of the tree where the tale is being told.

Azami is... torn. On one hand, these people weren't acting like humans usually did - or at least, she thought they were humans for a moment, but then she watched one change and well. Clearing eyes did nothing to change what she saw - even though she had all her snakes, so it shouldn't have changed anything regardless.

On the other hand, her daughter and granddaughter weren't here. As she had been trying to reach them, this is fairly upsetting.

So there's a tiny woman - she's half a foot shy of five feet - frowning at the storytellers and tapping one sandal clad foot in an impatient way. Her hair shifting just a little when there isn't wind isn't a trick of the light, and neither are the scales on her cheeks.

Why couldn't she have found these people, who didn't treat her as a monster, instead of humans? Ah, but if she had found them, she wouldn't have found Tsukihiko.

Lyn blinked. Hard.

This wasn't Ostia. In fact, this was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. A city made with so much metal instead of stone. It was completely surreal. To be honest, she didn't entirely know what to make of it. It was just... odd. It felt so much like that moment of vertigo when she had been told that she was the Marquis Caelin's granddaughter, the technical heiress of an entire city-state, to speak of, after being just a carefree wanderer amongst the nobad tribe of Sacae. And suddenly, here, surrounded by a world that is as alien as once Caelin was to her, the world was so much bigger. And she didn't know what to think of it.

The girl just stares with confusion as so many people—a large street utterly filled with people—pass her by. She walks slowly, attempting to absorb the strange new surroundings. But she can't. She doesn't really know how to even deal with this sort of place. All the while, there's a hand on the hilt of her blade, the Mani Katti. It's not that she necessarily distrusts the people or this strange new world, but there definitely is no level of trust that she can have, completely alone, in a strange new world. After all, even she knew the power that bandits travelling along the road could have.

Ah, there can be no other!

He is quite happy with his reflexes.

"Darling girl, even I don't have all the answers." Yeager will take another step or two back - he has a hard case that looks a little worse for wear as it thumps against his legs while he backs a little out of that scarf's range. "I am flattered you think so highly of my knowledge, yes I am~"

Good. He feels properly threatened. The last thing she needs right now is to have to deal with this scumbag right after getting teleported to who knows where in some random backwater little town. Surrounded by all of these strange people.

"Darling!?" Rita shouts out, clearly provoked by familiarity that Yeager is addressing her with. "What are you, some sort of creep as well? Besides, exactly how dumb do you think I am? Start answering questions, Yeager, or else."

Joke's on her, he has called her darling twice in this conversation. Yeager notes never to use a possessive with darling, that would definitely move Rita's temper from angry to explosive. His grin widens for a bit, before he looks extra hurt.

"Leibchen, if I knew the answers, I would apply them to save myself from any further tailor fees!" And now it's three times. "And don't you think that I would have used this trick in my poor watery grave, if it was something of my doing? Tsk, tsk, I had thought you quite the intelligent girl~"

     "Whoa-ho-ho! When did you go all hi-def, Nomicon? This is so bruce..!"

     The teenager walked along, gawking rather openly at everything. So he couldn't remember shlooping, but given how easy it was to distract him, Randy hadn't lingered in wondering just what had happened, not with so many things going on around him.

     "This is just like being in the real deal! What's the occasion?" he wondered aloud, still seeming to talk to himself, although it appeared that he was expecting an answer.

Edited 2015-04-15 20:04 (UTC)

There seems to be some trouble on one of the farmsteads. Some woman pistol-whipped a woodsman in the face then fled into a storage shed, which she has barricaded and is now yelling at people to get back, shooting at them if they get close. Well, that's if you believe what all those other people are saying, and not listening to the real story, which is that the man made a face at Patricia Tannis, a face with intentions of a malicious intent, probably? He had a boorish, flat face and really anyone with a face like that can't have any kind of redeeming characteristics and a pistol butt to the face was probably doing whatever world this was a favor.

There were too many people around. Too many people. People everywhere. And colors. And smells. And joy. Oh god the joy, it made her sick to her stomach. Why couldn't all of these strange imaginary people express their enjoyment by deeply repressing every outward expression until the veins in their brains swelled up and burst like normal people? But no, they just have to be everywhere, walking, talking, breathing. She had had to get away.

The storage room had been perfect for this purpose. It was cramped and smelled of dirt and nature (some of Tannis' least favorite things, right before people, and also being alone), but it put a significant barrier between her and the outside world. If only all these brutes would just leave? She'd fired a few warning shots (at least that's what she'd decided after she missed) but they were still shouting at her.

"No, this place is mine now!" she yelled at Greg. Greg was from the looks of it a grain thresher of some sort. Crank powered? Who knows, who cared. More importantly he was so annoying. He kept insisting that she open up the door and meet people. Maybe some of them were nice? They might know where she was, or how she got here?

"Be quiet, or I'm exiling you from the storage shed!" Who knows what horrors these barbarians would unleash upon a defenseless farming implement without her ingenuity and genius to protect him. That would shut him up for awhile.

There was more movement outside!

"I said get back!" she said, firing off a few more 'warning shots' at the silhouette moving between the cracks of the shed.

"Does there seem to be a problem here?"

Javert had no clue where he was, or what these people were. Everything was a mystery, and he found himself lost. Whenever Javert was lost, he always found that it was best to narrow your focus. Cut out the extraneous. Drown the competing voices out, the niggling thoughts, and concentrate on the more important thing that can exist: the law.

Javert had a nose for disruption. He could smell discord on the wind like a shark could smell blood on the water. He appeared next to the stall, chest puffed out like a proper man of the law, hand on the hilt of his saber.

"Observation: you walk as if lost. Indicative of unfamiliarity with the surroundings, yes?"

Morden Solus kept his distance from the woman. He had not missed the hand on the hilt of the blade. Metal weapons were relics where he was from, but he had no desire to test the efficacy of this stranger's weapon all the same.

Okay, this was definitely one of the stranger things that Pascal had experienced. Granted, as an Amarcian, she'd grown up with a lot of what most Elympians would consider pretty crazy, but this was a whole new level.

She remembered falling asleep at an inn in Strahta, but she'd woken up under a tree near some farmland. Considering that Strahta was about 90% desert, that was already pretty weird, but apparently there was a festival here, too! Not one to dawdle, Pascal will immediately set about exploring the various stalls and lanes, with a look of childlike curiosity on her face.

What really catches her eye, though, are the people. They look to be a kind of shapeshifters, coming in various shapes and sizes. They seem to be saying something about a foreigner as she passes by, but she's too enthralled taking in the new scenery to pay it any mind.

Of course, the people can only hold her attention for so long, and eventually a stand selling candied bananas catches her eye. She rushes up, only to realize that she doesn't have whatever currency this place uses on her. Whatever, still worth a shot.

"Hey, ya wouldn't happen to take glad, would ya?"

When met with the expected 'no', her expression drops noticeably. Someone help a poor girl out?

So, trees. That was new.

Farmland. That was really new.

Tim sat uselessly on the grass for a lot longer than was probably safe, staring at the greenery like he'd never seen anything growing before - and honestly, he probably hadn't. Greenery was hard to come by on the borderlands planets. Guns weren't. Guns were practically a staple, a stated requirement for any sort of contract work, easy to use and easy to find. If they made guns which could double as food, scavs would be blowing themselves up all over the place.

- Crap. He didn't have his gun. He didn't have any of his guns. Didn't look like it was going to be an issue, though. No one brandished weapons at each other. No one wore oz kits. No one hopped in grand arcs across the landscape like overworked and overexcited rabbits.

"Uh, guys?" Tim got slowly to his feet, looking around properly for the first time. "Jack? What just happened?"

Edited 2015-04-15 09:42 (UTC)

The sun setting was one of those facts of life. Nice and reliable, and a major reason Diego was as good at tracking as he was. Different animals did different things after the sun set. Some slept. Some ate. Some hunted. The really important thing was that the sun was supposed to set, and when Diego stepped from lazy afternoon sunlight into dark night, the change was sharp enough that he bumped into something painful before his eyes had a chance to adjust.

He stepped backwards quickly, nose scrunched against the pain. "What the - ?"

His claws clacked against the hard ground, unmuffled by ice or snow. He was hemmed in by tall cliffs, or what he thought were cliffs, but which were unnaturally square. There were trees up ahead, at least. That was something familiar.

"Manny?" he called out. "Sid?"

A quick whiff of the air brought a plethora of strange smells, two of which were almost strong enough to make him choke. Nose still scrunched and glowing eyes narrowed, Diego padded forward towards the large trees, keeping a sharp ear out for predators.

Predators. And he was supposed to be at the top of the food chain, for crying out loud.

There's at least one Foreigner who's taken to the festival with gusto, even though he's really not dressed for the occasion. He's scruffy, for one--beard and outgrown hair galore. Clad in black leather armour, he's nevertheless put an impressive amount of effort into making it look more appropriate to the occasion. He's loosened some buttons and bedecked himself in an eye-searing array of coloured ribbons, even to the point of plaiting some in his hair, and is freely bestowing hugs and cheerful good luck on anyone who says so much as an "Er ..." in his direction.

At any given time on the first two days he can be found in Liangken's Clearing, bouncing from game to game and challenging anyone who looks like they need a slapdown--and, a lot of the time, winning. And cheating. Frequently. (Hey, slight-of-hand is totally utilising all the skills at your disposal!) If he's ever caught out he quite cheerfully refunds whatever he 'won' or bounces into the crowd and vanishes with alarming skill.

At some point he gets a puppet from somewhere and stalks the area, tapping on shoulders using Igor's felt paws and making loud remarks at contestants, passersby, even the Woodsmen on guard. Anytime someone calls him out, he reacts with wide-eyed 'who, me?' innocence.

At another point he takes off his boots and shanghais together an energetic dance around the tree which the kedan join with bemusement fading into enjoyment and laughter.

At yet another point--on the second day--he can be found in the middle of a shrieking and laughing crowd while they watch him juggle fireballs and fire-breathe with no apparent injury. On a separate occasion he's seen showing off his tumbling skills with some truly impressive and impossible flips, somersaults and mid-air spins.

It really isn't long before, or surprising that, he winds up with a hood jingling with coins thrown down in appreciation of his theatre.

Now this is what Larrikin calls an after-death party! Is he in heaven? He must be in heaven. All in all, it's really not so bad. Yanno. In spite of the way he went out.

[ooc: Larrikin is pretty invasive of personal space and compulsively talks in innuendo, so don't hesitate to toss me a note or PM if he gets to be too much and I'll tone him down.]

Skulduggery avoided the festival on the first day. The sheer wave of curiosity crashing over the dirt lanes from Keeliai to the farmsteads put him off, and he'd had more important things to do. The second day, things had already begun quieting down, and in the early hours of the morning the crowds were sparse enough that a short stroll through the proceedings provided a welcome break from his investigations in the city.

He still wore his disguise. With all the new Foreigners scattered about, the last thing Skulduggery wanted to do was ruin a Woodsman's day with someone's panicked complaint.

Because the crowds were thinner, it was easy to spot where an abnormally large group of people clustered near the sacred tree's clearing. It was less easy to see why they were clustered, though it didn't particularly matter; when Skulduggery got close enough to glimpse the performer, he couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.

And he didn't.

To the outside observer, he'd become one of the more rapt members of Larrikin's audience, watching the fire-juggling antics with a strange melancholy expression marring an otherwise young and angled face.

Ah, street theatre. How utterly ... charming. It was so very filled with ... gaity. And music. And people. And sweat.

Looking at the musicians puffing and blowing and coating their instruments with juices far more ... palatable ... on the inside than the out made Havelock shudder delicately, so he moved away, walking easily through the crowd in that manner of a man so dignified he parted the crowd before him without the crowd being aware of the person for whom it was parting. It was something in the bearing and the faint limp and the way he relied, ever so slightly on the right side of 'injured veteran', on his cane with every step.

It wasn't that Havelock disliked parties. He enjoyed parties, as a matter of fact. It was so very ... illuminating, the things one could hear at a party. Particularly once the wine had begun to flow. But this wasn't a party; it was a festival, where people weren't so much interested in politicking as they were in having fun.

It was a problem. Not much of one, but even so; and only so because at times like this people had no concept whatsoever of 'personal space'. Or 'hygiene'.

But that was alright. Not for nothing was Havelock the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork; there were very few things which could take him off guard.

"Hey, Mister! We need another for the dance! Wanna come?"

--Children, every so often, were one of them.*

Havelock turned to lift his eyebrow at the group of seven hopeful pre-pubescent and barely pubescent locals. Some of them looked like perfectly ordinary humans. One had long scaly ears. Another had a feathered tail. A third had claws she was quietly trying to shrink down to nubs--so she didn't, presumably, trip or accidentally lacerate her companion. They wouldn't have looked out of place in Ankh-Morpork.

They wilted slightly under his impassive gaze, even though Havelock knew--by now--that no one here had the slightest idea who he was. It was, after a fashion, quite as invigorating as riding the steam train high in the avalanche-prone mountains while it was being attacked by regressive and repressive dwarves.

Havelock broke into an abrupt bright smile and bowed. "It would be my pleasure."

He handed his cane off to one of the bemused local guards and let the grinning children take his hands and tug him into the circle. It was an unexpectedly complicated dance--consisting of eight people, quite a bit of clapping, spinning and an awful lot of weaving in and out with other circles. Still, Havelock had been an assassin, one of the best, and the dance was repetitive--it wasn't long at all before he was clapping, spinning and weaving with as much skill as the energetic children who'd been doing it all their lives.

When the music ended Havelock stepped out of the circle, his face slightly more coloured than it had been--though by no means enough to call it 'flushed'. Excusing himself from the disappointed children, he smoothed his faded black clothes back into place and took back his cane with a nod.

[*People frequently said that children were born innocent. Havelock knew this was not so. Children were born psychopathic, and that made them difficult to predict even for him.]

For an event that was so very large and with so many different factions present, it was remarkably well enforced. Everyone seemed to be aware of who the authorities were, even the Snakes who begrudged ordinary Woodsmen the right to exercise authority on their own land. It was ... calming.

Anton didn't get much time off, so he was making the best of it, and it was soothing to be able to do so in a locale that he could trust was well in hand.

Until he heard the gunshots. And the shouts.

It wasn't so much a decision as a habit, an ingrained sort of duty, that made him join the crowd around the shed. There was a small huddle around a Woodsman bleeding from the face, and the crowd in general seemed reticent to approach the building. Which was, apparently, cursing.

One of the kedan spotted him and thumbed back at the shed. "It's one of yours--Mr Shudder."

Ah. Repressing a sigh, Anton stepped forward and the kedan stepped back. His shadow stretched forward and someone shrieked from inside, and Anton instinctively ducked at the sound of gunshots zinging overhead. The kedan backed up a bit more.

"I beg your pardon," he said to the person in the shed, falling into parade rest, his hands behind his back. "My name is Anton Shudder. How may I help you?"

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[EVENT|4TH WALL] THE NEWCOMERS’ ARRIVAL | APRIL 15-22

HEOJIN, RAN AND LIN

LIANGKEN’S CLEARING

STALLS AND LANES

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Someone please save the kedan

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[Open] - Metal Sector

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OTA; 15th

i swear you are worse than my ex (and you can't even record my journals)

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For Jack!

[Open] - Wood Sector, late on April 15th

OPEN; 15-16 APRIL

16th!

OPEN;

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