Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

On the evening after the final day of the Summer Festival, three separate fires broke out across the city of Edoras. Thanks to the quick actions of both residents and visitors they were all extinguished before they could ravage the city too badly and a sudden summer storm bringing a quick downpour of rain ensured that no embers remained. A number of homes have been lost, significant damage done, a few sustained injuries and there has been one confirmed fatality.

Now the denizens of Edoras face another equally difficult task; recovering and rebuilding after the blaze swept so indiscriminately across the city. For many, the long day and longer night has taken its toll and a number of people will need rest for their weariness. Some are left without a place to do so and must be provided temporary accommodation, but Thali has kindly offered bed and board at the Edoras Infirmary to any who may be in need of sanctuary and refuge. Many will seek out loved ones and be relieved and delighted at the reunions. For a small number, it is now a time to grieve. No matter each person's personal experience, one thing is for certain; Rohirric songs and tales will be told of this night for many years to come.[/center][/center]

Rules:-

1) This is an IC thread, ideally role-play posts should be 200 characters or more
2) No godmodding without express prior permission from the relevant player
3) This thread is open to any kingdom, and from the Final Update onwards will be open, free RP without any further TR updates or interventions.
4) No more fires, please! (At least for now)
5) If you wish to roleplay a particular story without being interrupted or others joining in, please mark your post as 'private RP' or 'Invite only'
6) During any investigative actions or clean-up process, please remember the previous rule 6, that absolutely no animals were harmed in this fire, and please refrain from any graphic depictions of people being who were hurt or lost in the flames. The Rohir responded extremely quickly and many of the places that were set alight were evacuated swiftly. So far there is only one confirmed casualty; Gléonild, Beda's mother. If people wish for other characters to have been lost in the fire then that is their choice, however as previously specified no children, horses or animals of any kind were harmed or killed in the fires.
7) Locations of extinguished fires have been listed below and colour-co-ordinated to help differentiate locations but you need not honour these in your posts if you do not want to.

*She had been at the Horse and Rider In, looking for Bereth when the bells were starting to ring. She had seen her friend, sitting near another (Wamba), yet before she had been able to say a word, the sound had filled the air that heralded fire. And no matter any hesitation she may have felt towards meeting people after the festival, she knew what those bells meant. And she knew what to do. It did not take long for her to have arrived at the festival tent, not knowing what in the mean time was developing at the inn. She might not hold much rank, but by BEMA, she knew how to organize people. A calm voice in the midst of things.*

Water! Get buckets and jugs from any house you can get!! Let's form a chain. Is everyone out?

Smoke rose up from the collapsed tent, a mixture of cloth and wood that only needed the barest hint of wind or more fuel to reignite. And if sparks jumped from here to the next building the thatch would go up swiftly.*

Soak it till it's no longer smoking..


@Bereth @Wamba_the_Fool

Laewyn

Startled into wakefulness by the ringing of bells, Laewyn hurriedly pulled on some slacks with button braces and a shirt, shoving her feet into heavy boots. What was going on?

She smelt the smoke as soon as she left her tent. The wind was heading west - toward her - and she whistled for Honey Butter as she reached back inside for her saddle, putting it on in the dark with easy familiarity and swinging herself onto the horse to go see what was going on since the sky was glowing orange over the cavalry muster field where the after-party tent had been. She cantered over, pretty confident of the terrain, but not quite ready to gallop ventre à terre in the dark.

A few folks were trying to douse the flames in the field, but the wind was trying to take it further towards the settlement. Encouraging Honey onwards, she headed for the settlement and liberated a scythe before rushing back unto the potential path of the fire. She slipped off the horse and sent her running with a smack to her rump, and then she began scything the long dry grasses in a thick swathe so that the fire would have less opportunity to sweep right up to the houses without a fuel source.

At an inn in Old Town

Calimir woke up to the sound of bells. He frowned as he sat up, surely it was not morning yet? There was no daylight coming in his bedroom window. But wait a minute, there was light - bright red and orange! He sniffed the air and his eyes grew large. FIRE!

The lad from Gondor jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. He knew people should get out of doors as soon as they heard fire alarms, but he wasn't about to go running about Edoras in the nip. Out his room he ran, down the steps and out on into the street.

The inn up the road was on fire with flames shooting up into the night sky, people were rushing about the street like mad things. Cal' noticed two people at the entrance of this inn - "Horse and Rider" he read on the sign before it was gobbled by flame. He ran over to them (@Bereth &@Wamba_the_Fool ) "What can I do to help? I have no idea where you Rohir keep water barrels and stuff!"

OOC: @Allafyrefleorhtlig I hope its ok for folk from other Kingdoms to rp in your thread?

@Calimir OOC (Any and all are welcome to help us stop our home from burning, but thanks for checking; I have amended the Opening Post to clarify this.)

Copy/pasting a few a couple of relevant post excerpts here, for ease of reference.

The Aethelmund Tavern

Taethowen wrote: ↑Mon Aug 10, 2020 11:00 pm

Taethowen
human, she/her

...she noticed Cavalry soldiers (NPCs) appearing from the south. She moved to intercept them, pulling out her pæthfindian insignia, as she stepped between the nearest soldier and where [others] were. "It's an alcohol fire," Taeth said. "It'll be better to wait it out rather than dousing the flames with water, but we need to keep it from spreading, especially after the other fires we've had already tonight. There's one injured, and potentially one person trapped in the building."

...the Cavalry troops, meager as they were after being spread thin through Edoras tonight, surrounded the pub. Taeth checked the surroundings, noting the direction of the wind, and wishing that it had rained recently. The midst of summer was always a bad time for a fire.

The Horse and Rider Inn

Eldrith wrote: ↑Mon Aug 17, 2020 8:42 pm The bells had been ringing for several minutes calling most patrons out of their seats, to see where they could lend a hand. Only a few lingered, trying to make some hasty arrangements for future meetings or plans postponed before they would join in the firefighting efforts.
No one would be able to say how in Bema's name the fire started here, with most patrons gone, and the new tavern keeper careful to start dousing candles. Smoke was the first thing to be noticed, rising from the cellar. And the cellar was here ale and liquor was kept stocked. Within bare minutes after the smoke was noticed flames started to lick through the floorboards, the ladder to descend into the location of the fire already eaten away. There was nothing to do but evacuate immediately and see what could be done from the outside. Unfortunately, with the way the old wood burned and the liquor added as an accelerator, containment was the first order of business.

---

When the bells started ringing, Grimthain - seated alone at the bar of the little pub - instinctively reached for a weapon that was not hanging at his side, before remembering that he was off duty. He stood, listening to them keenly to try and pinpoint the location in the city as he headed for the tavern door. As he stepped outside, wondering whether they heralded an unexpected attack on the city and about to start in a mad sprint up the hill towards the cavalry courtyard to fetch weapon and armour, his eyes caught sight of the strange orange glow in the sky and heard the distant cries of "Fire! Fire!"

He could see clearest of all the flames rising in the higher rises of the city, somewhere behind the Golden Hall, and immediately started in a gentle jog up the hill to investigate, his mind immediately thinking of his comrades and, most of all, his sword-brother-son who might be resting close to that location... and then someone ran past him laden with brimming buckets, running in the complete opposite direction. "What are you doing, the fire is over..." his words petered off as he turned to call after them, his arm half lifted to point up the hill, when he caught sight of the scorched ground outside the city walls and the milling figures around it. Of course - the After-Party; his found-nephew had probably headed to the After-Party, which was taking place in the tent outside the city grounds on the old cavalry muster grounds. What had happened? He glanced up the hill to the fires rising into the sky behind the mead-hall, then down towards the muster-field again in disbelief. Two fires?!

Then his heart clenched in panic as his eyes distinguished the scene far below; it looked like the tent itself had been completely dessimated! "Éomund!" he said to no-one in particular as he started back down the hill, desperate to confirm that his ward had not perished in the inferno that had taken over the party below.

He was in the process of running back past the Horse and Rider Inn when he was suddenly overwhelmed by the strong scent of smoke. He stumbled to a halt - how could smoke have travelled so fast and so thickly to here. He glanced at the Inn then, and realised that the smoke was coming from that building, billowing out of a small latch that led to the cellar below, promising imminent danger to any who might be caught within its walls. His eyes widened in horror at the revelation that three fires could not possibly be co-incidence, and then recalled the people who had been within the building earlier.

"Sigrid! Éo!!" he shouted aloud, recalling the two young people he had met only earlier that night in this very Inn, entirely unaware that they had left some time ago and were already safely tucked away in their respective beds. As Wamba and Bereth came running outside and began co-ordinating people to fight the fire, he took a deep breath and pulled his sleeve over his mouth, diving bodily back within with a level of protectiveness that might be deemed heroic, if there were actually anyone left in the room to save. He quickly rushed to the table he had left the young pair at earlier and discovered that neither of them were there; even their glasses had been cleared away while he wasn’t looking. He searched the room, only then discovering his folly as he saw that everyone had already safely exited the room in his absence. He still hesitated himself before leaving, bending down low to try and find clearer air as the flames began spreading up the cellar stairs and along the bar, checking to make sure no-one has fallen beneath the tables or was trying to hide, glancing around in the murky smoke for signs of anyone else who might still be within. He thought he could recall seeing the First Marshal seated at a table earlier in the night, but he could not remember clearly in that moment of adrenaline fuelled (likely unneeded) heroism whether she had also left earlier or might still be within. On inspection, it seemed that she had also exited the pub safely and the building was apparently empty.

He stumbled back out onto the street, coughing and spluttering and feeling a bit like a twerp.

@Winddancer @Éolath (I Edited because it has kindly been pointed out to me that you both left the pub a while ago; oops!)
@Shivased (I wasn't sure whether your character was still inside or if she had left for the night, so Grimthain is lurking for a moment ready to rescue her heroically if necessary, or spot the empty table as evidence she had already left if you prefer to have not been around by the time the fire started.)

((OOC @Allafyrefleorhtlig : Winddy's chara is in a room in the Inn; Eolath's is in a hay loft. ))

@Wamba_the_Fool (Oopsie; naughty me not reading all the posts. Thanks for pointing it out for me; I’ve edited my post to reflect that Grimthain doesn’t find them, but I think both @Eldrith and I might have forgotten this particular pub has rooms. Looks like it’s a good job so many people are here to help out put the fire and rescue people in the rooms

Follow-Up Edit Shiva has confirmed via discord that her PC left earlier in the night and both Éolath and Sigrid are apparently already a day's ride away from the city in Life in the Mark so I guess Grimthain's heroism was uncalled for Remind me never to do anything this complicated ever again )

Timeline info, because I don't feel like doing several different posts right now: THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE IC TAETH IS SECOND MARSHAL. She is an Eastmark pæthfindian at this point, having just been reinstated in the Cavalry. However, as such, she is still of greater rank than the NPC sperewigends/dryhtgumas who will be making fire-fighting efforts throughout the city.

Prior Events: Taethowen shoved Frost out of the tent at the After-Party when it caught fire, then helped with the fire-fighting efforts there until it was under control. Then she had to respond to the HCMA's summons to convene at the old Æthelmund pub for the events that are currently wrapping up in the Fields & Forests thread, and are intersecting with this current thread for the fire fighting efforts. Presumably, the minion contingent has scattered into hiding, and Frost has been hauled off by Thali for treatment.

---

The Old Æthelmund Pub

Dread filled Taethowen as she watched the swirling flames consume the old Æthelmund. It had burned down once before in her previous time in the Cavalry, she recalled, but she hadn't been there when it happened. At least now any material directly in danger of catching around the pub had been thoroughly soaked with water, or removed entirely. The Meduseld guard was already mitigating any chances of fire overtaking the Golden Hall, and so Taeth focused mainly on the pub itself and its direct surroundings.

The alcohol in the pub was still catching, though thankfully there wasn't as much inside as there would have been if the pub was in use, but it would be a waste of water to have the soldiers start trying to douse the flames yet. Then Taeth swore as the wind picked up again, and her eyes traced embers flying from the Æthelmund toward the Campian and the Cavalry grounds.

"'wigends!" She hollered over the inferno. "Start assembling a bucket line. We need to make sure the fire doesn't spread to the Campian or to the Cavalry buildings!"

If it spread to the Campian, then the Riddermarket might soon be in danger as well.

---

OOC: Any Cavalry members who wish to join in fighting the fire at the old Æthelmund, please feel free to do so!

Laewyn

The fields between the After-Party Tent and Edoras

It could be back-breaking work if you were unused to wielding a scythe, but in the sweeping grasslands of the Riddermark, who didn't know how to swing one? Probably every Rohirrim had learned on the old homestead.

Laewyn had gotten going immediately, starting at a far point and heading directly perpendicular to the fire's potential route toward the city. She had cleared maybe a three foot path behind her in about ten minutes and now turned and made her way back across the field, scything the grass with an easy rhythm to create an even wider path. She could hear shouts and calls for water in the distance, and hoped they would put out the fire, but in case the wind was too strong she kept going - she wanted a wide stretch without the easy kindling tinder of dry grass enticing the fire onward.

The beautiful smell of fire was now becoming acrid as tendrils of heavy smoke began to descend upon her. She did not speed up, that would ruin her technique and flow, but she paused enough to pull her shirt collar up and cover her mouth - anything to stop breathing it in.

As she finished the second row, leaving a six-foot gap, she began another row. She thought maybe two or three more would be an effective barrier perhaps. Although maybe she would need to get some help, someone with a rake or a pitchfork would be good, to clear all this dry grass she'd cut and move it out of the way. Or perhaps it just needed soaking with water? She rolled her eyes at the thought; where would she get enough water so quickly? It wasn't like the weather was going to be kind and rain plentifully anytime soon. The pitchfork it'd have to be - once the grass was cut, of course. She kept going.

NPC: Malachite Copperstick (escaping the Horse and Rider Inn)

Mal’s worst fear had come to pass; a roaring inferno, not on the Mountainside or in Dale, but beneath his feet and overhead. The fierce heat drove the Dwarf from his bed, blinded by acrid smoke he blundered toward the room's open window. The clamour of bells and screams filled his ears as he thrust his head over the sill and drank in the night air greedily. Mal's eyes cleared and he saw, twelve feet below, a line of folk (Wamba, Eldrith and Calimir) hurrying buckets and containers towards the stricken inn.

The Dwarf took a moment to consider his predicament: he was half-dressed and vulnerable; his wares and samples were stowed in their cases beneath the bed. He took in another large lungful of air, dropped to the floor and scooted towards the bed. His hands found the case handles as burning ceiling boards began to drop around him. He scurried back across the room, leapt onto the sill and sprang out into the night. He struck the cobbles awkwardly, skinning his knees as he sprawled upon the street. Thank Mahal he was in the open, praise the Smith he’d managed to save his precious cargo!

The Dwarf took a quick look at the chaos surrounding him. A fellow with ridiculous hair apparel (Wamba) marshalled a bucket line with shouts that verged between comedy and hysteria. Mal’ was no coward, he was a Dwarf after all, but he was not about to engage in any fire-fighting heroics. Too well he knew the terrible destruction fire wrought (the charred victims of Smaug, housed in the hallow-hall of the Lonely Mountain, had haunted him since he was a wee lad). And there were his valuables to consider, a panic-swept street was no place to leave them unattended.

He stood and made his way to what seemed a relative place of safety, an open space bounded by hitching posts and drinking troughs. He dunked his head and shoulders into the nearest trough and, with clothing and beard suitably drenched, began yelling encouragement and directions to the folk rushing up to fight the blaze.

There was no chance of saving the inn, it was blazing savagely, and now flames leapt from the seared thatch and took hold of an adjoining rooftop. Within seconds the roofs of a row of rickety houses along the street were also aflame. Above the wildly ringing bells and confused shouts Mal heard a new sound.

He swung his gaze down the street and saw a woman (Beda's Mam?) cowering in a doorway; she held a squalling baby - a gaggle of wide eyed bairns clung to her night dress screaming in terror. Shamed by his own fear, the Dwarf tossed his precious cases into the horse trough and rushed across the street to the terrified family’s aid.

But he was already too late; a ball of flame erupted from the doorway, the woman shrieked and the babe spilled from her arms. Mal swept off his soaked coat and threw it over the woman. He reached for the baby, but a pair of hands snatched the child away. Mal looked up and beheld the woman’s terrified bairns; a young lad held the bawling baby, his siblings howled and wept.

“Hold steady, children. Everything’s going to be all right – Mal is here!” Another belch of fire gave lie to his reassurance. Mal was flung across the road, his head bounced off the cobblestones, white stars joined the flaming motes that dotted the sky. He scrambled to his knees and cursed as the panicked bairns vanished into the jostling throng that filled the street.

--
@Eléowyn * @Calimir * @Eldrith * @Wamba_the_Fool

From her spot in the trees behind the derelict Aethelmund, Gwai was still reeling a bit, between the smoke inhalation and the conversation she had just overheard. Nobody knew she was in the trees, and she continued coughing, trying to find the energy to get to her feet.

She had some assistance, however, when she felt a velvety nose nudge her. It was a horse (Beaducyrm), but clearly the smoke inhalation was causing some sort of hallucination, as she could see through parts of the horse. He seemed friendly, however, and possibly a bit familiar. She grasped his mane, surprised to find her hand was not simply passing through him, and with his help she scrambled to her feet.

"Thank you, freond min," she told him, eyes still streaming tears from the smoke. "Your help was most welcome," she told him. He still did not look quite solid, and Gwai worried if she tried him she would fall right through. She had a feeling he could understand her, so she said, "Why don't you go to the stables, be prepared to let the horses out if the fire spreads!" she suggested to the Ghost Horse, worried about Brightfyr, although so far the flames were not close to where he was stabled behind her house.

---

Gwai picked up her bag and stumbled toward the other side of the Aethelmund, where she could hear Taeth calling orders to the wigends who were responding. "Taeth!" Gwai tried calling, but her voice was raw from the smoke. She instead waited until she had stumbled closer. "I'm so glad you got out!" she gasped. "What do you need me to do?" she asked hoarsely. "I can take some of the wigends to the other side to try to stop it from two fronts," she suggested. They were so close to the cavalry buildings. If the wind picked up more, it could spread easily through the Campian, and then to the Courtyard.

Thali still smelled of smoke herself after narrowly escaping the old Aethelmund Tavern. She'd managed to get Frost down to the Infirmary outside the city walls by...borrowing...someone's pony. But she'd only stayed long enough to see Frost settled and to reassure herself there was nothing more she could do on his behalf. Either he'd mend or worsen, it was just a matter of waiting now.

No sooner had she finished looking him over than she'd left him in her assistant, Alwin's, care. Then she'd snatched up everything handy for burns or breathing troubles, stuffed it all into a pair of saddlebags, and taken the borrowed pony back up to the city. Leading him to the open space between the Riddermarket and the Golden Hall, she took a stack of blankets from the pony's broad back and spread them neatly in rows upon the ground. A frightened passerby had informed her it wasn't only the Aethelmund in flames--the After-Party Tent and the Horse and Rider Inn had gone up too. With fires in multiple locations throughout Edoras, this was the most central place for Thali to assist anyone injured. And that was how she might help best, she knew. Not in hauling water or passing buckets, but in plying the trade she always fell back on.

Swiftly taking bandages, small pots of honey, and assorted herbs from her saddlebags, Thali left everything unattended for a moment as she hurried through the Riddermarket and into her own shop, to snatch up a bucket of fresh water she set out there every evening. Hauling it back to her makeshift haelend's station, she straightened up and cupped her hands around her mouth.

"HELP FOR ALL HERE!" Thali shouted. "HAELEND ON HAND, AND HELP FOR ALL HERE!"

As she continued to call out, Thalionwen cast a doubtful eye over her hastily-assembled provisions. They weren't much, but they'd have to do. Anyone truly badly off could be sent out of the city and down to the Infirmary, for her to deal with once the fires had been put out.

(OOC @Allafyrefleorhtlig: I've just posted in black as Thali's not at one of the assigned locations--is that alright, or would you prefer for me to use a different font color?)

Éomund
The Aethelmund Tavern

Éomund was roused from his sleep by the sounds of ringing bells. "Whas going on?" he mumbled, before the smell of smoke entered his nostrils. Immediately he sat up, wide awake. There was a fire somewhere in the city! He knew how bad fires could be, especially in the summer. This wouldn't be his first time involved with putting out a fire, having done it before in his childhood town. He stumbled out of bed, pulled on some clothes, stuffed his feet into his boots, and dashed out of his room, grabbing a nearby bucket on his way out.

Blinking, he arrived in the courtyard and saw a red glow in not one, but three places! "Oh Bema help us!" he cried, running for the nearest set of flames. Arriving at the inferno, he saw a few individuals (Taeth and Gawi) who looked like they might be in charge. One of them was shouting something about drenching the Campain roof. "C…Can you use my help?" he stuttered, holding up the bucket.

(Edited to fix an inconsistency)

New Rule - As dramatic as we all love to be, try to refrain from spreading the fire in your roleplay descriptions; the updates will describe when and how the fires are spreading, and we don’t want to accidentally burn the whole city down because people got carried away.

OOC @Aodh Hammerhelm ('Twas fine on this occasion as the fire was already going to spread, but I'm sure you appreciate why I don't want everyone posting about the fire spreading in case the fire gets out of control )

OOC @Thalionwen Hunigfolm (Not a problem, keep posting in black and I'll add your location to the map and list; I'll count your posts towards whichever fire location is closest to meeting its target, to ensure they are included in the most effective manner.)

Gwai was about to agree with Taeth that the Æthelmund was likely beyond saving, when the front wall of the tavern collapsed, sending sparks high into the air, and intensifying the blaze.

Forced backwards a bit more from the heat, Gwai nodded at Taeth’s suggestion. “I’ll head over to the Campian!” she called over the roar of the flames. A clap of thunder sounded, and Gwai added nervously, “Hopefully we’ll get some rain, and not just lightning!” she shouted, before picking up a discarded bucket, afraid she was too late, as she could already see an ominous glow coming from that direction.

A young man approached (Éomund) asking if he could help, holding up a bucket. “If you want to come to the Campian with me, I’m going to try to keep it from spreading any further!” she said hoarsely, coughing, as she stumbled toward the Campian.

She went as fast as she could, but the amount of smoke she had inhaled earlier inside the Æthelmund when the fire first started slowed her down as she couldn’t stop coughing.

The Campian roof had already burst into flames when Gwai reached it. “We need buckets over here!” she called hoarsely to several wigends who had followed the fire. “Water or sand, whatever you can find! And some of you start evacuating the horses out of the stables,” she ordered, concerned with how close they were, wincing as a flying ember landed briefly on her arm.

She desperately hoped the Campian had been empty. It seemed likely it was, since it was late and almost everyone had been at the After Party, but if someone had been inside, she was afraid they were likely beyond aid.

OOC @Allafyrefleorhtlig (If you want Campian to be pink, the code you put is actually for blue )

BY THE NORTH GATE AND PERIMETER WALL: NPC: Fællon Dughlaich (that was) / Rustbucket Dooley (that is)

Rustbucket Dooley lay propped against an ale keg on the edge of darkness. The inviting light of the After Party Pavilion, and the warm laughter that spilled out into the night tempted him, but there was no way he could enter the festivities in his current state.

He’d gotten terribly drunk at the last Rohirric shindig, the party that wound up the summer Tub Race, and woken to find Silæs, crew and cart long gone. It had taken the crusty mariner six gruelling days on foot to reach Edoras with only the Wildman's fiery liquor to sustain him. He’d intended to stay in the city for a short while only - long enough to find Silæs, secure a change of clothing and a loan of cash - before setting off on his annual trip south to work on the fishing-fleets of Pelargir.

He’d not made it through the North Gate, nor even to the winding path that led from the Barrowfeld to the gatehouse. A gang of urchins had set upon him as he crossed the ford of the Snowbourn, filling his ears with taunts and slurs: Away old stinky vagabond-man! * Fly from the Mark, we don’t want your kind in Edoras! His witty retorts (not to be repeated here!) had turned their hurled insults into a hail of pebbles and sticks.

Taking stock of himself in the reflection of a pool downriver, he saw he'd no chance of making it past the sentries either. He was clad only in a shredded set of manky trousers, woad and boar-fat carapaced his naked body in a shade of sickly-blue. To top it all, he stank like a village midden. So here he sat, all alone and lonely, supping mightily on another replenished tankard as he sought to obliterate the bitter memories that always found him around midsummer.

Nadene, Nadene, how I love to love Nade… A bloom of amber dragged his rheumy eyes towards the city, bright light and roiling cloud filled the sky above the Cav' Courtyard. Before his groggy head could compute what he beheld, gouts of flame sprang up over Auld Town.

The old sea-dog leapt afoot and began trotting across the muster-field, oblivious at first to a third conflagration at his back. He had no intention of fighting fires, was driven only by the need to rescue the few precious possessions left to his name. If Silæs’s house succumbed to the fire-storm, the last vestiges of his life with Nadene would be gone forever.

As he jogged towards the road that led to the North Gate he noticed a strange thing: his shadow scampered ahead of him rather than behind. He threw a look over his shoulder and yapped in terror: the long grasses of the muster-field were aflame; the flapping canvas of the After Party tent cruised overhead like some fiery creature out of legend.

“Fyre-Wyrm! Fyre-Wyrm!” Rusty hollered, breaking into a desperate sprint. A stream of panicked citizenry poured out of the North Gate; the flaming pavilion settled on a section of the city wall, and the stampeding crowd bore the crusty mariner away from the gate and on down the slope towards the Snowbourn.

Rusty tripped and rolled into a tight ball as the flying feet of the crowd trampled over him. When he found his feet he was several yards behind the fleeing throng. He drew a deep breath and stretched his aching limbs.

“Hi! Wait up!” he hollered, as a gaggle of children (Almod and siblings) raced up beside him. “Wait up, the river’s mighty fierce over that way!”

--
@Eléowyn
@Allafyrefleorhtlig (Sorry-sai )

The cavalry courtyard

She had left the After-party tent working hard not to show too much of her feelings, of her confusion and anger towards Eldrith, her friend Eldrith, the peaceful pub mistress who avoided weapons at all cost. The woman who always stayed behind. Who had never once in the past alluded to being trained in the use of weaponry. She breathed deeply, reminded herself to control her emotions, bring it all her training as a hælend to hide any thoughts from those watching her face. But it was harder in the nice dress, the one that always made her feel pretty. She marched along the darkened streets of Edoras, didn't take the right turn to enter her house. This was not a night she was ready to return to the bed of her husband, no, she needed to sort herself out first.

With swift, light feet she instead headed for the cavalry baracks, she had extra clothes there and could change there. Even as she walked she got angrier, as if every step repeated the words of the Gondorian Arnyn 'your friend did not fight like a Ranger. Not in code, not in spirit, not in style', 'Eldrith used to run with the Rangers – as a Ranger Cook.', 'She was never trained in our ways'. The answers, as they repeated themself in her head made her angry. Angry that Eldrith had never trusted her enough to say it, or just casually mentioned it. She had known about Ama's devotion to the cavalry, had she not also known about her brief marriage with the Gondorian Tomassar and his subsequent disapearance? Had she not told of her visits to Gondor, to search for him and then later, as a member of the cavalry. How could she never find it to mention this around her?!

She wanted to fling the door to the barack open to let off some steam, but she did not, there were probably people sleeping and she didn't want to talk to anyone. Silently she made her way through the barrack and found her spare bed among those of the hælends. She knew were her clothes were, the tunic and breacher always there in case she needed it. Swiftly she changed into the everyday clothes and stole her way out again.

Ama snuck herself into the campian hall. Any thoughts on what the marshals would say if they found her here, in the middle of the night, she pushed to the back of her head. Only the disapointment and frustration and confusion muddled their ways into her brain, making it ache. It was the only way she could think of, to let out the steam building inside, restore calm into her body. She lighted a few of the torches inside, enough to let her see her way around the floor. Then she finds a blunt training sword, taking a moment to feel the familiar weight of a weapon in her hand. And she felt a calm return to her, a calm focus slowly replacing her mixed feelings.

The sword glints in the dim light from the torches as she begins to move around. She slashes and thrusts the sword, moving her legs in a quick dance, mimicking in a way the movements of the campian participants of the day. As her breath quickens, her face gradually turning red from the efforts of a workout, and her body starts to perspirate, her mind returns to her movements and her breath. Her focus sharpens as the thoughts of the hidden past of Eldrith are forced out of her mind.

Her workout, hidden in the night, is brought to an abrupt halt at the first ring of the bell. She stops, hesitating for only a moment as the sound of the alarm bells seem to come from all around her. The torches are put out and the sword put back in no time. Outside she can hear cries and orders, horses and animals, the sound of flames. FIRE! She is out of the campian hall without even really knowing how she got out.

For a moment the wall of flames and smoke seemed to come straight at the hælend, stopping her in her tracks. It barely lasted a moment, before she was back moving. Her hands quickly removed the headscarf and tied it over her nose and mouth, all the while her eyes quickly looked around for a way to escape the flames. The wind was picking up, and she could feel the fire heading her way, her back was towards the campian hall and the Æthelmund in front of her fully ablaze, a barrel of whiskey exploding. As swift as she could she ran along the wall of the campian, keeping her head as far down as she could.

She barely reaches the safer area no longer in the direction of the wind, when the walls of the Æthelmund collapses, sending a flurry of flames in the direction of the Campian Arena. Ama screams out, a feeling of panic rushing through her body as the building she just exited from catches fire.

Campian arena

As Gwai rushed past her, Ama was returned to her senses again. «COVER YOUR NOSE AND MOUTH!» She yelled as she passed Gwai and Eomund, finding her spot in the bucket line. All the time, her eyes scanned the area she could see for any better use of her hælend skills.

Residential District of Edoras

The collapsing inn drove Cal' and the others backward. The lad from Gondor had a quick look about to see if there was anything else he could do to help. There was so much going on he didn't realise a lady @Bereth in the bucket line had soaked him

"What?!" he said, as Mr Bells (@Wamba_the_Fool) the crazy guy, who was obviously some mighty leader in Rohan, told him to lead a bunch of lads to with axes and pikes. Cal' looked at his gang of firemen and took an axe from the nearest lad.

"Come men of Rohan!" he called, hoping he sounded as much of a leader as the Mr Bells. "Brave deeds await you! Fire and Water! Forth Eorlingas!"

The lads of Rohan charged shoulder to shoulder with Cal'. They showed no fear and a bright light was in their eyes - maybe it was just firelight, but Cal' thought it was battle lust. The gangs axes began bashing on the building walls, some lads used their pikes on the roof as more folk ran up to help.


Sorry @Bereth - this is a really wild rp. I'm new to it and miss a few things.

OOC @Gwai and @Amadhrill (Thanks for spotting that Gwai, I have amended the post to quote the correct Campian colour of #FF40BF. Also, I love Ama's midnight trip to Campian to burn off some steam; I now have very dramatic images in my head of her working through sword forms under the moonlight!)

The Residential District (NPC Beda)

Beda had been dutifully stamping out or shoveling dirt where embers fell from the sky. She was too small to help much with toting water buckets, nor could she toss them very high onto burning thatch roofs, so at least she felt useful with this task.

She was so engrossed in her job that at first she had not noticed that some of the houses were now ablaze. When at last she took stock of her surroundings, a sudden rush of fear coursed through her. Mam and the children! Were they safe? She wanted to rush home to check on them, but bits of burning thatch and wood kept swirling and falling at her feet. She could not quit now, or the entire town might go up! Besides, Mam would know how to take care of the bairns and get them to safety. The ritual of stomp and shovel continued, with each falling spark taking her closer to her own home.

Near the Party Tent (NPC Almod)

The younger children were starting to panic; for that matter, so was Almod. It turned out there was a fire outside the walls as well. For the moment, at least, they were far enough away to be safe; but if the wind set the grassy plain afire, it could spread quickly.

A sudden flash of lightning coming from the north was the final straw. The two toddlers screamed in terror and buried their faces in Almod's legs. Guthdred was trying hard not to cry, while the baby was cycling his legs frantically in terror, fueled more by the hysteria of the others than by the fire and storm.

Where in Arda is Beda? Or Mam? Almod said, mainly to himself. Another thundrous clap was all it took to send the bairns flying. Leoflida and Saewyn took off running, and Guthdred followed suit. Almod had no choice but to go after them, Leohere grasped firmly in his arms.

There was already a crowd of people pouring out from the walls and from the nearby tent, and Almod was having trouble keeping an eye on the children as they scattered. Hopefully they would at least stay together; if they scattered in different directions, he would have a devil of a time gathering them up. The baby in his arms slowed his pace, but for the moment he could still see all of them. He heard someone (Rusty) shout something about the river. The river! Yes, hopefully they could head that direction; maybe it would protect them from the fire!

@Aodh Hammerhelm

The Horse and Rider Inn

He joined the bucket-line, grimly passing the sloshing water-filled containers forward and passing the empty ones back. After a surprisingly short time before the Inn collapsed and he wondered at what state it must have been in under the paint and varnish to have succumbed so quickly. As the fire dampened down a moment he breathed a small sign of relief that he was confident the building was empty as the collapsed second floor helped smother the fire and noticed many others had also grown inert. "Keep the buckets moving, don't hold up; we need to soak it down between the gaps before it can burn its way through" he said aloud, breaking the line a moment to grab a few dallying people who had stopped fleeing to simply ogle, pushing them into the line and staring at them sternly until they stopped gawking and started contributing.

His lungs protested at the shouting coupled with the exercise, and he had to pause and move away into clearer air to hack and cough; clearly his antics running in and out of burning buildings had not left him unscathed. A little distance away from the fire he spotted that the flames were spreading to nearby buildings and was caught for a moment in indecision about what to do now; return to the bucket-line or start fighting these new fires. The overheard exchange between a man who apparently adorned his clothes with bells (Wamba) and a gentleman dressed in Gondorian garb (Calimir) decided him, and as the two lead separate groups into the residential district to put axe to home and clear a fire-break.

The Residential District

He sprinted after them, but his focus was at the houses positioned between the fire and where they laid their axe. He burst in through a door - not bothering to knock - to find a mother trying to settle her small child within, oblivious to the danger she was in; she must not have realised a third fire was so close to her lodgings. She screamed at the sight of him booting his way through her front door, but he had no time for politeness. "Ma'am, you have to take the bairn and get out of here. There is a fire but two buildings away from here and the wind is blowing it this way. Grab only what you can carry and get you and the baby clear; tell others the same as you go." He hesitated long enough to see her nod, her face pale, and start snatching up at a blanket and supplies with a swiftness that told him his message had been heard.

He moved then from door to door, commanding and demanding in the calm tone of a military patrol-commander who was used to having his orders heeded, and for the most part the shocked and frightened citizens responded positively to his authoritative tone. In one house he found a pair of teen twins, strapping and gangly but fit enough, trying to move furniture out their rear door, stammering excuses about their ma always saying she would kill them if anything happened to the treasured side-board. He berated them for putting a few planks of wood above the value of their vulnerable neighbours lives and they immediately were remorseful. Then he commanded them in no uncertain terms to go see to their neighbours and make sure every house between the fire and the break being cut by the axe-men was well clear of people before they were allowed to even *consider* coming back for the furniture, and stated that he would drag them before Eomer himself if they did not comply. With his stern to spur them on, they ran away with such speed that it seemed they were more afraid of Grimthain that their ma or the fires combined.

He moved to the last of the houses yet to be cleared and there came upon a frail old lady who had tripped and injured herself trying to hastily get out of her bed when the fire bells had started and was struggling to rise, clearly in some pain and gripping her right ankle and shielding her left hand. She made not a noise of speech the whole time he was there, and Grimthain suspected she might be a mute and thus had been unable to cry for help. She was almost crying with relief when he came into her bedroom and approached her, and he had to swallow the anger that her young teenage neighbours hadn't thought to check on such a vulnerable neighbour before trying to rescue a damn glorified-desk! "Auntie, deor, its alright, you are going to be fine. I'm here, I'll look after you, don't panic. Up we come back onto the bed, there we are." He seated her back on the bed and assessed her; beyond the signs of injury to hand and ankle, and her general frailty and being a little underweight, she seemed well enough to move. He pulled at the crocheted blanket and wrapped it about her while he spoke soothingly. "I'm going to have to take you out of your home, it may get caught in the fire so it isn't safe for you to stay here right now. Here, let's grab this blanket for you so you aren't being carried around the capital in only your night-shift, cover yourself with that, there we are".

He saw her lean to reach for something at her bedside, and he stepped over to pass her a well-loved pipe from beside her bedside lantern. "This, is this what you want?" He said, and she grabbed it and hugged it to her. "Ok good. A blanket and a pipe; the most essential things in life, methinks. Is there anything else you want; we have a little time, but we cannot tarry long." He asked her. She looked around her with watery eyes and considered her measly belongings; Grimthain's heart went out to her that she lived so frugally, but he waited patiently, knowing that his own most prized personal possessions others might easily dismiss as rubbish. She gestured a little at one of the drawers, and he went across to open it, finding inside a number of items but most notable among them a small buckler. As he lifted it out, her face lit up. "Of course, we cannot have the fiercest shield-maid of Edoras without her shield now, can we?" He said with a smile as he passed it to her, and she drew it against her, wrapping it and the pipe in the crocheted blanket about her. She glanced about one last time, clearly thinking for a moment, or perhaps saying goodbye, and then turned to Grimthain and nodded. There was wisdom and courage in her eyes, he saw, and for a moment he wondered who this woman was.

He heard shouts from close outside, and stepped up to her. "Ok, I'm going to pick you up and carry you somewhere safe. I'm sorry but it might hurt a little with your ankle and wrist, but I'll try and be as gentle as possible. You keep a firm arm around those treasures of yours, and no throwing the blanket off just to flash me, hear?" He said, and she laughed silently and he carefully bought his arms around her, waiting until she nodded to indicate she was ready. "One, two three, hup! There you go, Grimthain has you. My word, you are light as a feather! I bet you were quite the beauty in your time..," as he stepped outside and the firelight made her eyes shine more as they widened in surprise at how close he had strayed, he distracted her once more. "Deor auntie, I dare say your still quite the beauty now; the glow makes you look younger than I!" She returned her gaze to him and made an attempt to wave away his compliments, blushing a little. It heartened him, terrified or seriously injured people did not blush. "Ok, here we go, let's get you somewhere safe" He glanced about, spotted the young twins a house or two over leading a group of laden citizens uphill away from the city, nodding to him as they spotted and re-assuring him earnestly that all the houses between Wamba and Calimir's work forces and the encroaching fire were now clear. He turned to follow them upwards away from the fire and towards the Golden Hall; not entirely sure where he was going to get help for his lovely, old patient, but not letting his face show an inkling of his concern. "Look at that auntie, the whole neighbourhood is headed off together, like a holiday or a festival, but you're the only one with a cavalry Aethelwigend to herself. I dare say you win this one, Auntie. Ok, let's go; Grimthain has got you, let's see if we can't find you someone to look at that ankle of yours"

Elarith, with buckets

Bucket after bucket was filled and passed up towards the Æthelmund, but it was pretty evident that all they were doing was trying to contain the flames. Elarith looked up as the walls groaned and cracked and sagged in on themselves, then took a couple of steps back and put her arm up to shield her face as a gout of heat and flame belched out, and smoke began to curl from the top of the Campian Arena. This was hellish, she thought, despite the rather beautiful light show going on in the remains of the pub. A few wigends - was that Gwai with them? And that young lad (Éomund) looked a bit familiar - broke off to start tackling the spreading sparks.

As she passed another bucket forward, Elarith looked round to find Taeth, whom she'd heard giving orders. "Can we get some long hooks, pull the roof down on itself? It's coming down anyway and might help smother the flames," she shouted over, unsure if her idea would actually work or not.

Amethyst Copperpick, with blood

Orange is not my colour, Amethyst thought as she lay on the grass, watching sparks dance against the dark blue sky above. Gold, however... She shut her eyes for a moment but could still see the fiery glow through her eyelids. There was a wet feeling at the back of her head. She hoped she wasn't lying in anything unpleasant. Hesitantly she reached up and touched her hair. It felt damp and slightly sticky. Yuck!

The dwarf sat up. Her handbag was beside her, and she was a short distance away from the After Party tent, which was now a raging inferno. Was this usually the way After Parties ended in Rohan? Saved on the washing up, she supposed. Her head hurt, and she realised her magnificent golden head dress was hanging off and the weight was pulling at one side of her scalp. She pulled it back on as best she could. Her head still hurt, but at the back. She gingerly touched it again, and her fingers came back with blood on them. Oh, that explains it, she thought, and passed out again.

When Amethyst woke up again, her face was full of pony. She lifted her head away from the horse, which made her head swim again, so she slumped back. Everything looked upside down, but there was a woman (Thali) and a load of blankets on the cobbled ceiling, and she could hear a voice she didn't recognise saying, "Found her by the Party Tent, looks like she's taken a blow to the head."

Laewyn

The fields between the After-Party Tent and Edoras

She was almost done creating an effective channel, and with Shadowfox helping, the fire would have no purchase on the grasses nearer to the city at all. Then she heard a rough snap, like a whip as the wind picked up, and someone yelled.

"Look out!"

Laewyn did indeed look out, and there - avoiding her safety measures entirely - was a bit of burning canvas flying haphazardly toward the dry grasses over the gap she'd made.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered, hearing the wind come back round for a second try. Clearly she was not alone in that thought, for the lone figure of the shouter [Lailorn] emptied a bucket of water over the flapping canvas. Laewyn was already running toward it, scythe in hand. As she got close she swept the scythe the wrong way - handle uppermost - and dragged the canvas down, it would be easy to stamp it out if they could wrest it to the ground. More buckets were coming, if they could just hold it down.

"Shadowfox!" she yelled. She felt like that would be eloquent enough. She hoped, anyway.

Amhran had not gone to the After-Party. Her husband and children had been waiting on the banks at the conclusion of the tub-race, and, wet and tired, they had gotten a snack at one of the pubs and started for home in their wagon. They had gone slowly, following the Snowbourne to where it connected with the Onedlo, chatting about the events of the Summer Festival; Amhran relating her MacGyver escapades with mangel-wurzels and spatulas to the laughing Athelstan and her oldest two, the middle son and daughter entertaining each other with toys they had won at a ring-toss, the toddler almost asleep. Dusk had fallen and they were several miles from Edoras when the cool evening air was cut with a sudden, hot breeze from the southwest.
"Father," piped up one of the girls, "that wind has a funny smell. It's like... something's burning."
As one, the two adults turned to look back toward Edoras. An orange glow suffused the horizon, haloed by a dark, menacing, acrid cloud of smoke. Without a word, Athelstan turned the horses toward the river and whipped them into a gallop.

The horses' hooves splashed into the swift-running Snowbourne and the driver and passengers alighted next to them. The toddler was awake and crying. Amhran held him close, comforting and shushing him, then handed him to the oldest daughter Magda and helped her husband to empty the back of the wagon. A couple buckets were always in readiness under the front seat for watering the horses; these she passed one to her husband and one to her oldest son, Artos. Man and boy set to work filling the buckets and throwing the contents into the back of the wagon. It was not entirely watertight, but with some rags and spare odds and ends thrust into the larger cracks it would do well enough.

Sweat.
Blisters.
Breath coming in rough gasps as they bent and straightened, throwing load after load into the wagon. Amhran tossed the horses' blankets into the swimming wagon bed to soak.

At last the wagon was as full as it could hold. Athelstan turned and looked his wife in the eye. "There's a farm just up the road here, the owner is a friend of my father's. Take the children and go to him, he will put you up and I will come for you when I can."

Amhran shook her head. "You will need all the hands you can get in Edoras; an extra arm to swing a bucket could make all the difference. Artos can take them." The boy opened his mouth to protest, but his mother shushed him. "You would indeed be a great help to us, Artos, but you would be an even greater help guarding your sisters. You are the only one able to wield a brand and they need your protection." He nodded, shepherded his siblings around him, and set off up the road, taking turns with his sister to carry little Athwulf. Amhran gulped back a sob and climbed up onto the wagon next to Athelstan, who shouted to the horses as they raced pell-mell for the burning city.


The Residential District

The inn had collapsed as the flames roared skyward, small explosions and brilliant flashes of bizarre colors punctuating the thunder as the barrels of liquor in the basement ignited. Though the inn was down, the vacuum created by the fall of the building and the bursting of the liquor barrels was sending sparks and bits of flaming wood flying into the air to settle on the nearby homes. The air was dark and smokey; the breath caught in the lungs and made one cough, and visibility was low. Thus it was that they were audible before they were visible: a thunder of hooves and a creaking of over-strained axles, then two enormous feather-footed horses loomed out of the dusk and flames, sweating, snorting and stamping as they were drawn to a breathless halt. There was a sloshing sound from the back of the wagon as pair of figures carrying buckets leapt from the seat and bellowed to the surrounding laborers,
"WATER HO!"

Thali’s Infirmary (NPCs—two unnamed lads)

(OOC: @Thalionwen Hunigfolm –The woman being brought to you is my NPC Beda’s mother. Unfortunately, she is beyond help. A blast of heat energy threw her to the ground, and whether it was the blast itself, hitting her head upon being thrown to the ground, or burns that cause her demise I leave up to you. Or even whether she is dead upon arrival or you strive valiantly to save her to no avail.)

The young lad recruited by Malachite to carry the woman (Gléonild) to the infirmary called to one of his friends to take her legs while he slipped his hands under her armpits. A litter, or even a blanket to carry her in, would have made the job easier, but there was no time to tarry.

They wound their way through the now-crowded narrow streets until at last they reached the tent of the healers. “Hello!” one of them called out as they entered the tent. They spied an empty cot and laid the woman on it. “We dinnae know who she is or what happened,” they called out, obviously anxious to get back to their duties in the streets. “We were directed to bring her here by a dwarf who was assisting in the firefighting.”

Without waiting for an answer, they rushed back to their posts.

The Field near the Party Tent (NPC Almod)

Almod had only run a short distance when he was stopped by a woman (Bereth) with outstretched arms. He instinctively drew Léohere closer, but there was something in the woman’s eyes that spoke of kindness and empathy, despite her bedraggled look. He wavered for a moment, almost offered the baby over to her, but another sharp lightning bolt elicited a shrill cry from one of the girls. Almod turned and ran in that direction, without so much as thanking the woman for her kindness.

The younger children had not gone that far after all, for Almod was able to catch up with all of them as they stood huddled together, shaking with fright. “Now listen to me,” he scolded. “You must not leave me again. We have to stay together. Beda or Mam will find us when they can, but until then, I am in charge. Now hold hands again, just like before, and watch your step!”

And so they disappeared into the night, Almod carrying Léohere, followed by Saewyn, Leoflida, and Guthdred. A small sewn doll was tucked snugly into a pocket of Saewyn’s loose shift.

@Bereth @Aodh Hammerhelm

Residential District of Edoras

Cal' and his brave lads' axes and pikes whirled and flashed. The buildings were stronger than they looked and even though they were made of wood, the lad from Gondor saw they would need more help if they were going to make a firebreak.

"Hi, sir!" Cal's shouted in the direction of Mr Bells (@Wamba_the_Fool). "We need some more folk over here!" Cal' wasn't sure if the fellow would hear him above all the noise so he carried on hacking at the wall in front of him. He heard a loud shout in a strange language and looked down the line. A small fellow with a huge beard (Malachaite Copperstick) was battering away like a mad thing at the next building.

"Get over there and help that little chap!" Cal' ordered two of his lads. "The rest of us will tackle this building while you bring down the one he's busy with." When Cal' was sure the two lads had obeyed his orders, he wiped sweat and soot from his face and began chopping again.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

The Residential District: NPC Malachite Copperstick:

The axe Mal wielded may not have been the twin bladed beauty forged by his grandfather, but the stocky Dwarf's strength and technique made short work of two of the wooden cottages.

He rested the Rohirric axe shaft against his broad chest, wiped his brow and wrung the sweat from his beard. With the help of several Rohir a span of thirty yards had been cleared. The way was open to the west wall of the city, lightning flared in the middle distance.

Rain! Ah, wouldn’t that be a blessing! Mal thought, as he gazed up and down the street. The tall fellow (@Calimir ) and his gang of lads were still hard at work, the space between the burning buildings and those untouched was widening. They’d done enough, it seemed, to save the town, but Mahal it had been touch and go.

The Dwarf's thoughts turned to the injured woman, and her gaggle of fleeing children. Were they safe? How many folk had perished or been injured in the blaze?

“Amethyst!” he bawled as a terrible realisation fell upon him. His sister! Where was she? Not in the city, surely? Please let it not be so…

---

The Party Field below the City: NPC Rustbucket Dooley:

The children (Almod et al) outpaced Rustbucket Dooley, flying downhill toward the river. The sea-dog hobbled along behind them, casting anxious looks over his shoulder to mark the fire’s progress. Just when he was about to give up hope a woman (@Bereth) corralled the panicked bairns. The crusty mariner broke into a shambling trot. He’d made up half the distance when a sheet of white light filled the sky. The children broke and ran again.

Cursing his bare feet, and ill-luck, Rusty drew on the last of his strength. Down the hill he raced his matted hair flying in his wake. Mist rolled across the plain toward him, at knee height and then all enveloping. The roar of Snowbourn filled his ears as he clattered into something tall and unyielding.

His hands scrabbled over a wooden post and onto the crude sign tied about its girth. Well I’ll be! He had his bearings now, even if he was blinded. The starting point of the Tub Race was not far off, a half mile or so south-west - the river that way was perilous for those not skilled in water-craft.

“Hi, children! Hile, children, to me!” he called out, as he made his way up river through the fog, seeking a crossing that would take him to the far bank, and place him out of reach of the fire’s hungry grasp.

---
@Eléowyn * @Calimir

“Fyre-Wyrm! Fyre-Wyrm!" someone was shouting while a rumble sounded through the sky, and a second later they caught sight of a spark of fire in the air above them in the corner of their eye. With a scream of terror they threw themselves instinctively to the ground, their mind suddenly filled with an image out of books, or great winged lizards swooping down from the sky to breath fire down upon people. Is that how the fires had started? A few seconds of lying still while the crowd continued to mill about around them, shouts and calls erupting out but not nearly the level of panic they would have expected had a Fyre-wyrm suddenly dived down on the city. They rolled over in their place, glancing up into the sky, and at that point spotted the loose burning canvas that had been carried overhead by the wind and had caught against the city wall even as Laewyn caught it with the spike of her scythe and dragged it down to the ground, calling their name.

Feeling both relieved that there apparently was no dragon, and ashamed at their cowardice, they leapt to their feet and arrived just in time to see their friend Lail dump a bucket onto the burning canvas, which smoked and hissed as though in objection. Hesitating not a moment longer, Shadowfox ran onto the significantly less aflame canvas, so that their weight would hold it down, and began stamping out any remnant flames. As the last of the fire was stomped into ashy embers by their treading feet, the heat began to seep through Shadowfox's thin slippers. In and odd response, muscle-memory kicked in and they reflexively broke into a high-kicking hobbit dance they had learned many years ago as part of a circus routine, simultaneously bringing their feet down on the remnant embers while keeping their poor soles from suffering the heat too long, every now and then making an "Ooh! Ah! Oh-ho!" as the heat threatened to burn.

Right about then someone appeared with a second bucket and emptied the contents over the last of the canvas and Shadowfox's feet and lower legs simultaneously. As the last glowing orange light faded to black and the cool waters soaked through scorched slippers, Shadowfox let out a sigh of relief, then turned to Lail and Leawyn with a triumphant smile.

---

He carried the old woman, who must have easily been a decade over 50 if not more, easily in his arms as he followed the crowd uphill away from the fire. She had calmed down by the time he reached the area in front of the Throne Room that Thali had claimed for her make-shift medic-centre. He could see a number of people being brought in and laid on the blankets, but the woman in his arms gestured at the wall to the steps and so he carried her that way and lay her carefully down. "Here we are, a spot fit for a Queen. Gently now, gently, and there! Hope that didn't hurt you too much, let's just tuck this blanket back around you; still have your pipe and buckler? Good stuff." She had winced as she was put down and had laid her precious belongings to one side and was now carefully examining her own wrist, but true to character made no noise. He glanced around hurriedly then and saw a pile of bags and pouches that Thali and others had places close at hand. He went to fetch one of them, one he recognised as a cavalry hæland satchel and brought it back to the lady, continuing his calming monologue while he rooted through the supplies looking for something familiar. "I'm fairly certain I would recognise willow bark if there's any in here; I was had some tea from the stuff to help with pain, and in my experience the cavalry normally keeps a good supply. Yes, yes, I know, I'm going as fast as I can!" She was tugging on his sleeve, but he was so focussed on his task that he was not paying her much heed, despite the tugs becoming more and more insistent. His head remained tucked down focussed on the satchel right up until... she slapped him!

He was so astounded at the unexpected slap that he simply sat back on his heels in surprise. It had not been hard - merely a light hit - but it had been enough to get his attention, which was apparently the intention. Now he regarded her with wide eyes, he could see she was frowning with frustration and regarding him with pursed lips. On realising he was now paying heeding her again, she gestured animatedly over his shoulder with a pointed, insistent look. He turned, and could see two men carefully laying down a limp body on a litter, a woman (Gléonild) who seemed unresponsive as they turned to leave. "Oh bema!" he uttered reflexively as he witnessed the two lads running away and abandoning the poor woman alone. He immediately dashed to her side; instinctively going to roll her onto her back so she would not be smothered only to halt and recoil as he reached her and caught sight of the mess of her back. "Medic! Hæland! Help, quick!" he shouted, knowing that these injuries were well beyond his capacity to deal with as he started to clear the woman's hair from her unresponsive face and check to see if she was still breathing.

While he was gone, the mute old widower calmly pulled the satchel to her side, reached into one of its pockets and pulled out a piece of bark which she casually tucked into her mouth and started chewing with her few remaining teeth. Then she pulled out a bandage and, with confident movements, began wrapping it with her one good hand around her injured ankle. Her aged muscles and weak fingers were not quite able to do as good a job as a younger hæland might, but the calm motions of her movements clearly implied that she knew exactly what she was doing, and would do her best to see to herself so that other more serious injuries could be tended first.

OOC @Thalionwen Hunigfolm @Eléowyn (Aethelwigend Grimthain is there to help you with Beda's ill-fated mother, though he lacks any real expertise beyond applying bandages or putting pressure on a bleeding wound. Additionally, the mute old lady will likely be able to offer some minimal assistance, once she has finished administering to her own broken wrist and sprained ankle.)

*She had left the Horse and Rider Inn when the bells were starting, ready to help fight one fire, and unaware that another had been started or would be started at the place she just left. Working where she was, trying to organize those who were leaving the tent into forming a human chain, she was relieved when a woman (Laewyn) she did not know started scything away the long grass. Laylin appeared from the tent, joining the bucket brigade and thank Bema Shivased arrived and helped order people into an organized whole.

Fuel was taken away from the fire by the scything and the grasses that had been lowered Eldrith, simply moved a bucket through the chain, looking around to see if there was anything else that needed doing. This. This was her family here at work, and she would do her part.

Oh Bema... *she muttered, as the wind came into play and lifted part of the canvas, the conflagration visible. Laewyn springing into action, she blessed her swift reactions in silence, looking on hopefully to see if she managed to drag it down.*

Buckets to the wall!!! Get that out! Split the chain!!

((OOC: I think I unintentionally caused some confusion. While Eldrith was at the Horse and Rider Inn, when the fire bells started, she rushed out to help, not knowing the inn would soon be the scene of a new fire, so she's at the after party tent.))

OOC @Eldrith (It made sense to me so I counted your post against the correct tally, but I appreciate this is a bit of a confusing RPG; between this and Campian I think I may be in danger of getting a reputation for myself)

OOC @Calimir (Don't fret about missing a post among this busy mess; perfectly understandable given how manic it is. I'm loving your contributions thus far and personally thought it was quite amusing the idea Calimir missed someone spilling a bucket of water on him; maybe he assumed it was just a new approach to protecting the really *important* people from the fire.)