506-05-16 Phantom TP: The Burning of Coibran Chandlery

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The Springing of a Trap
RL Date	18 Nov 2008
Players	Phantom, Imani Paggion, Linette Barca, Cynara Dhaval, Khalani Paggion, Zoe Rye, Phineas Ashlan, Lyolf Godfrey, Tobias Branridge, Redlue Violet, Briony Marchora, Timothy Crestwood, Aithne Corbaine, Mathis Cardiff, Leon Maritus, Ambrose Maritus
Location	Keeper Center - Coibran Chandlery
Crossroads Time and Weather
IC Date	16 May 506
Season	Spring

Contents 1 Act 1; A Plan Revealed 2 Act 2; Girl Power 3 Act 3; A Trap Sprung 4 Act 4; Rescuing the Rescuers 5 Act 5; Damage Control 6 Act 6; Infirmary Blues

Act 1; A Plan Revealed

Coibran Chandlery - Keeper Center - Village

A small quaint candle-making shop.

Normally, a place like this would be a thing of beauty. Such floral scents all around, where the candles are dipped and played, and created. But not for Imani Paggion. Tied securely to a chair in the center to the room, she's been ungagged at least, the walls thick to prevent fires also muffle screams well. Whistling a merry little tune, Erik is currently packing his belongings as he walks over to her and leans down to kiss her forehead. "It is such a shame, m'dear. Under different circumstances, a seduction would have been terribly enjoyable." Tilting the large urn over the woman, a bit of molten wax falls, and caresses her cheek, burning for but a moment before hardening into place. "You will make an exquisite piece of art. And so fragrant. I chose vanilla. It reminds me of her." Another drop splashes down.

When she woke up, this began. Warm almonds gave way to heady perfumes. And then this.

The kiss upon her forehead causes Imani to softly close her eyes, trying to brace for whatever might be coming. When he pulls away, however, she throws her body into another desperate and violent attempt to free herself. This effort only becomes more frantic as she opens her eyes to see the urn. Alas, the endeavor is in vain; the rope holds her tight. The wax is hot, scorching as it drips down her face in two waves, and the momentary pain causes her whole body to go taut against the ropes in protest. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut again, and screams as it sets tender nerves ablaze, but the muffling, dampening affect of the straw insulation and thick, thick wood is unmistakable. Her piercing cry doesn't even resonate in the room.

Once the wax cools into cracking streams upon her skin, the woman can't help but to free a couple of the tears from the cool pools of blue that are her eyes. "Please," she offers quietly. "Please do not do this. This is madness."

"Madness? What do you know of madness, gentle healer?" Erik asks, glancing over with his dead blue eyes. "Is it madness to believe in that which does not exist? Tell me, as I prepare - if there truly was a Providence, would you be here at the moment? Bound to a chair, at the command of my very whim." Another drip onto her face. "What would you have offer me that is not proof of your own madness?"

"It could well be Providence's will that I am," Imani offers slowly. It's the truth, so far as she's concerned, but it sinks into the pit of her gut like an icy dagger. "Better I than someone else." Then her head leans towards him, forehead creased. "But this will not be allowed to stand. You... There is hope. You could be someone better than this. There is no forgiveness for the soul without remorse. Surely, surely, there is some part of you that does not want to do this. A part that knows that this is wrong."

"You ask me as if I wish for remorse or forgiveness." Walking over to her, he captures her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye as a wax droplet falls on that pretty little crease as Erik pulls his lips into a thin line. "And what lesson is she teaching you? If I were to lift your skirts and force my seed into your womb, would that be her will?" he asks her with a sneer. "What you call wrong... I call merely doing business, Imani Paggion."

The next drop of wax draws a shuddering, halting breath out of the healer, but she prevents herself from screaming this time. A lesser amount of wax, admittedly, is helpful in that endeavor. Imani just watches him back, even as she feels her blood seem to freeze in its veins in response to the poison that drips from his tongue as though he were an adder. She considers him carefully for a moment and then finds words, her mezzo voice soft but without hesitation once it begins. "Then perhaps my destiny would be to teach your child mercy and compassion, to pour freely and abundantly into the world the gentleness and innocence you have sought to steal from it, past all measure of what your pain has wrought. The plan of Providence, I must trust, will serve to tenderly and lovingly repair what the heavy hand of man carelessly and selfishly destroys. This darkness is not the business with which man should concern himself."

Reaching down, Erik calmly, casually, takes out a knife, cutting her skirts up to the knees. Rubbing a hand against her knee, he grins up at her dangerously. "So exquisitely smooth, my dear Imani. You will make an excellent mother."

Gentle reader, do you remember that part where Imani doesn't have anything in her mouth? Well, it would seem that she has a mind to change that. As the man cuts her white robes and dark gown away, exposing pale, sun-deprived legs, the woman bucks again against the ropes to try to move her knees, tightly pressed against each other, away. Another strand of red hair is loosed from her pinned arrangement, and it falls over one of her glowering eyes. "Get your hand off of me," she hisses. Then she strains her torso to lean forward, teeth bared to try to find his skin between them with enough force to snap audibly shut should she miss.

Feeling over her knee and against her thigh, Erik purrs to look up at her. "Virgin territory, dear girl? You should be flattered to get someone so experienced." And with this, Imani is able to find purchase in Erik's shoulder. He snarls for a moment and after he yanks away painfully, rending flesh and cloth, a heavy backhand embraces Imani's cheek a reward for her insolence. "It is not my hand you should fear, child." he spits, before turning away from her, ripping her skirt further as he goes to write a missive to someone. The wax continues to fall on her at intervals of a few seconds each.

For the moment, Imani just hangs slumped against her ropes, face hidden behind a veil of auburn hair rapidly becoming matted in white wax.

And with that, he starts to pack a bag. "The cavalry will be here for you soon, m'dear. Hopefully.. soon enough to save you. If not.. I hope Providence has mercy on thee." And with a laugh, he heads on his way, leaving Imani to her fate.

Act 2; Girl Power

The Coibran Chandlery with its wooden double walls, tightly packed and insulated between with straw, and its nearly as thick, iron-latched doors is silent from the outside, as silent as the grave. Inside, there is the barest murmur of sound.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The lights burned out long ago, and their dripped remains are cold and hard on the tables and floors that holds their wilted corpses. The shop with its dust-covered floor and hundred heady and intoxicating perfumes is dark, save for one flicker in the darkness in the back room. It is a tiny flame, careful and slow, that is ever so surely melting away at an enormous block of wax, beautifully scented with vanilla. That smell, above all others, dominates the room.

Hand on sword, edging protectively in front of Cynara, Linette steps through the door, eyes narrowing to peer warily through the darkness. Her nose twitches at the heavy vanilla smell that overwhelms all other scents as the darkness overwhelms sight - but Linette isn't looking or sniffing, but _listening_. Her head cocks and her eyes close for a second, silent and intent.

"There," Linette states, with absolute certainty, pointing straight at the block of wax at the back of the room. "There's somebody _in there_." She shakes her head as if to clear it, a quick smile flashing to her face at her own success.

After the first rush of triumph has passed, though, Linette has to swallow hard, a faintly queasy look rising to her face as the reality of the situation sets in. "_Inside_ that giant block of wax. Still alive, thanks be to Providence!" There's just as much certainty in that statement as in her declaration of the location - and, at least for now, no indication that Linette realizes how strange her little speech sounded.

And there's a burly guardsman who in his silent way is up with Linette. He's not protesting standing side by side with a Guardian baroness, but there's no chance that Hammel is letting a trio of young women in there first. The locked doors were only momentarily a problem. Between a guard and three inventive young women, it's not so much a problem. Khalani squints into the dimness and she blinks then at Linette. "In.. in there? There's a person in there? How.. how do you know?" She takes a step or two closer, the hamfist of Hammel blocking her path.

The scent of vanilla dominates the room. Cynara hears the dripping noise, and she blocks out the words at the moment to survey where they are. When Linette moves in front of her, she lets her. Even with a limp, Linette can trump her fighting prowess any day of the week. "....only one way to find out, Your Excellency," the would-be advocate says softly. "Lead the way, Linette. Sir." The last to the large guard that dwarfed the tiny Khalani. And when they start moving, she follows, Cynara moving towards the light. And whenever they reach the back room, she looks around for the source of the smell, and.... someone?

"I. Um." Linette gives her head another quick shake, and pulls her attention back to the others. Who are now staring at her in confusion. "Where else could she be?" she says hastily, eyes darting swiftly from Khalani to Cynara and then away. "What else is big enough to hide a person? That has to be Imani in there, right?" Linette hurries into the darkened front room, not looking at either of the other women, still chattering away, a little too fast and a little too bright - but not too loud, for she still has that oddly intent listening look. "It's got to be some kind of a trap? The candle melts away the wax and then...something?" She stops at the door to the back room, though, hand held warily up to halt the others from rushing in as well. "How can she still be alive in there?" Linette murmurs then, more to herself than to the others.

"It has to be a trap." Khalani agrees, just pushing past the oddity of how the other baroness knows things to come closer to the wax block, the dripping wax. "Ugh.. I usually love this smell, but it's so strong... so sickly sweet." She has a Hammel close with her as she roams around the block, trying to see the exact details of how it's all put together.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It's difficult to see in the dim back room, no windows are cut into the walls, no sunlight chances in. Shelves upon shelves are stocked with old blocks of unshaped wax and bottles of essence. Tongs hang, unused, on the wall. Everything is so orderly and so... so neat.

Everything except for one thing. In the center of the room, underneath a large block of creamy white wax -- the scented item, lit and melting, that sends its curls of aroma into the air -- hanging from a beam in the ceiling. Broken pieces of melted wax are scattered about the floor, but even they is not the largest 'What Does Not Belong'. No, it is that pile of wax in the center of the room that looks so very out of place. At first glance, the edge closes to the door may appear smooth, three and a half feet tall. As Khalani draws closer, that is when the bumpiness of its surface is revealed. Every hot drop of wax from above has dribbled a little further, dripping on something and continuing downward until it's started to fall onto the floor. More difficult to notice in the dark may be the barest edges of fingertips that poke through that first wall, looking like mere discolorations in the wax. Soot, perhaps?

That vertical bumpy surface breaks as Khalani rounds an edge of it, revealing that it has legs, bare up to the thigh, sticking out of it, but already starting to be covered by the tiny stream of wax that's starting to burn its path down. Broken chips of wax dot the floor nearby, but otherwise, the only sign of life is a small twitch those exposed, pale knees and a broken, hoarse whimper that chances out a single cavern in that mountainous pile, some three and a half feet tall.

That's how it's put together.

"Oh Providence!"

That was it. There was no holding her back now. Judging by the sound, Cynara knows what's in that pile of wax on the floor. Dragging the dagger that Linette had given her earlier that morning, she moves forward to get on her knees. The legs are over there, which means the head should be around the opposite end. And once she gets there, she'll try to chip away, carefully, at the hardened wax.

"We have to start with the head," she tells the other women. "If we don't she'll suffocate. And we need to snuff out that candle." It's still dripping, after all. But it's pretty much set on high and she's the tallest woman there. No way she'll reach it, but maybe Hammel can.

"Wait! Are there any poisons that smell like vanilla? Cynara, you said this - person used poison a lot..." Linette spits out the word 'person' with such venom that it might have been any number of epithets instead.

Linette's flood of ideas stops short once she catches sight of the pile of wax - and the legs and fingers desperately trying to struggle free. "Oh Providence," Linette echoes - and the words are a true prayer, spoken in a whisper with wide, horrified eyes. But her moment of frozen revulsion is over almost before it begins - she snaps back into action. "Right," she declares, nodding to Cynara's instructions. Linette's hand hovers around the hilt of her sword - but no, she needs precision for this. She reaches instead for the dagger at her waist and joins Cynara at the spot where the prisoner's head must be. Instead of going from the top down, though, Linette leans over to start boring at a spot on the side of the mound of wax - if there's an air pocket in there, she's going to give it another opening to the outside world while they work.

"Not that comes to mind right away." Khalani assures softly. "I'll double check when we get back to the castle." Trust the Draughtian baroness to be able to speak confidently on the nature of poisons. Hammel reaches up to try and get to the lit candle, but even he isn't quite tall enough. Khalani comes over to where Hammel's reaching, speaking quietly to her guard before he settles his hands at her waist and hefts her up, over his head. She's tiny, she's light.. it's more like hefting a child than a young woman. That gives the height to be able to reach, to put out the candle above her. "It might be aiming to mask another odor though.. or to mask a future odor."

Eventually, one of those handy deft little daggers finds its way into a thin spot, and the air rushes into the tiny little bubble that Imani has managed to keep for herself in the heart of the pile and there's a sharp gasping sound as cool air comes rushing in to replace the hot, stale air that had been there previously. The knee moves again, and there's a less muffled cry. Help? Is this help?

Once the candle is snuffed, the only light that chances in is that which comes from the still open front door in the front of the shop. Though, for the curious, there is only wax -- some soft and other parts cold and hard -- and essence in that would-be tomb. Thick, nauseatingly strong vanilla essence that cloys to fingers and knives.

"That would be deviating from his signature, and so far it's remained consistent," Cynara tells Linette softly, working hard and fast to try and free Imani's head, or at least get some air to breath through the mound of wax that's mostly covered the Healer.

She looks over at Linette, who has something against poisoners these days, and smiles at Khalani's ingenuity about taking the flame off the block of wax. "And he seems to be a fan of fast-acting agents. If he's introduced poison into the air....we'd be feeling it already."

She continues chipping away, resting just plunging her hands into the wax and start tearing away strips. She didn't want to hurt Imani in the process of rescuing her. "The set-up is elaborate and deliberate because Healer Paggion was set up as a distraction. His main target remains intact, I think he's hoping we pay Healer Paggion more attention than Lady Maia. He was hoping we would choose one or another. Or be so distracted with the one he intended to kill first that we'd forget about the other."

The tiny baroness is carefully lowered back to her feet by Hammel, having been hefted up to be used as a candle snufter. "Perhaps he just likes the scent.. which I expect Imani never will again. I'm starting not to be over fond of it myself." She takes a dagger from Hammel, the guard staying watchful against others who might be joining the women, like the ner-do-well in question and comes to start help chipping out. "He'll know we've gotten her soon enough, I dont think two baronesses doing anything is subtle. Half of Crossroads should know in a moment or two."

Linette feels the wax give way under her dagger, and her breath rushes out in a gasp of relief as the air rushes through into the hole that she has punched in the candle-prison. There's another sound, too - is that from inside the mound of wax? "Mistress Imani?" Linette calls softly. "We're here to help you. Don't worry. It's going to be all right." The light is dimmer now that the flame has gone out, but Linette keeps working away. She's tapping at the wall of wax now, listening and feeling carefully to find another one of those thin spots - if she can punch another hole, she'll give Imani more air, but also weaken the structure enough that they might be able to join the two holes, making a bigger opening and getting the prisoner out more easily.

Linette lifts her head, exchanging a quick look with Cynara and Khalani through the sickeningly vanilla-scented gloom. "Should we send someone back to the castle, then, to make sure Lady Maia's all right?"

[ROLL] Squall rolls privately: 72 [ROLL] Cynara rolls 1d100: 67 [ROLL] Linette rolls 1d100: 67 [ROLL] Imani rolls 1d100: 86 (-15 modifier - 71) [ROLL] Khalani rolls 1d100: 74

Bit by suffocating bit, Imani starts to find her freedom. The drips are harder to crack apart in some places than in others. And then? Then she can hear again as the top is lifted off of her perfumed prison. Inside the wax, her hunched form breathes the tiniest sigh of relief. "Oh, thank Providence," comes the reverent offering to the goddess. Okay, excuse her, she's just gonna try not to cry in relief.

Her hanging head -- with hair caked in wax that clings and refuses to let the 'lid' be easily removed -- finds it's way into the cold air soon enough, and the healer breathes in as large a set of breaths as she can with her lower torso still encased in wax. "I... I was so afraid you..." Halfway through the admission, her mezzo voice breaks into an exhausted and halting sob.

Act 3; A Trap Sprung

As Khalani is prodding around, looking for a way to get Imani free, there's a small snapping noise as she cuts through a cable, it snaps and the door slams shut violently, latching locked from the outside. With the force of the door slamming, several glass globes filled with scented oils break, spreading into the fire and alighting along the walls, sending up dark black smoke and the thickness of lavender, rose, jasmine, orchids...

Khalani freezes when she hears that snapping noise and then there's fire and oils and a slammed door. The muttered words out of that tiny baroness really belong on the lips of a sailor at the docks, but it seems unlikely that many in the room are going to begrudge her the slip in propriety. "I think, in a word, that would be Bad." Hammel is already headed for the door, to check on the lock and the potential of breaking it entirely. She bends back to what she was doing, even if she just sprung the trap.

"Healer Paggion, it's me. We're going to get you out of here, alright? Just...just hang on for a moment." Cynara looks at the rest of the pile, and switches tactics. Now that some holes and gashes were carved into the wax, she could see where Imani's body began, and where the wax starts up. So she curls up her legs, braces her heels on the rest of the mound, and with a grunt, uses the extra, skeletal leverage on the bones of her legs, and her hands bracing securely on the floor to try and plow her bootheels through the mess and shove a good enough chunk off Imani so her torso can be freed.

This is when she hears the click. And the bang.

And glass dropping and threatening to turn the entire place into a giant conflagration.

"Oh #$&$^&^&$." Cynara is a Purist, so any cursing from here on in will be censored by alphanumerics. "Windows! The smoke will kill us first before the fire!"

"Abyssal blight!" Linette curses, shock and anger bursting out of her - along with some other, more vivid curses to match the others' - as the sickening floral scents burst from the globes and flare alight. She tugs her tunic up and tucks her chin down, trying to shield her mouth and nose from the smoke.

"Imani. Don't worry. We'll get you out." Linette raps out the words with swift urgency, even muffled as they are by the cloth over her face. "Is everyone all right?" She glances behind her - good, the guard is at the door. But Linette might be able to offer something besides breaking...

Linette casts one last look down at the healer - Cynara does have this one in hand, it seems. Or foot. Either way, Linette is free to hurry across the room back to the door, dagger out for a new purpose now. "Let me try the latch."

[ROLL] Linette rolls 1d100: 3 [ROLL] Cynara rolls 1d100: 40 [ROLL] Khalani rolls 1d100: 56

Yeah, Linette. You need more training in that Thief Dual-Class. Fortunately for you all, Hammel slams his shoulder into the door and it creaks and groans in protest loudly, but it's a start, even as he is coughing against the smoke as the large man prepares to slam his shoulder into the door again. It'll be bruised, but Mat and Lani will make sure he gets ice.

[ROLL] Linette rolls 1d100: 17

In the meantime, smoke, fragrant to the point of pungency continues to boil into the room from the burning oils as the flames start to catch on wooden slats.

A few more colorful curses escape from Linette as her dagger slips away from the door. Twice.

All right. Clearly, Linette's attempt at finesse isn't working - perhaps this is a brute-force job after all. With one last resentful glare at the door, Linette turns away - to see another burst of flames rise up. Her eyes widen, and she hurries back to the others, intending to rejoin the effort to free the imperiled healer.

Khalani's eyes are stinging and burning from the fragrant oils turning to smoke as she continues with chipping Imani out of the wax. She's too tiny to do much with the door, or to reach windows, but she does have a deft hand in prying wax off of a healer. "It's alright Imani, we've nearly got you out. And Hammel and Linette.. er.. Hammel.. is going to get the door open in just a moment and then all of us will get out of this horrible stink."

"This. Is. Getting. RIDICULOUS." This is one of those moments where Cynara feels she should renounce her faith just so she could be free to give someone their just desserts....if she lived through this. "We can't die here. Both of you are going to be married, Imani has to become master healer, and I-- I-- I have to pay my rent!" Perhaps the one, or the only bad thing of not having a man of her own, she can't make any dramatic professions of love mentally while she was in a dangerous situation, so she'll have to settle for unintentionally sounding ridiculous because of panic.

It's hard...but the growing heat inside would hopefully soften the rest of the wax. She's outright kicking onto the mound now, in an effort to try and topple it. It's not budging, but she's not giving up either. She just found Imani. She promised she'd bring her back and a Purist's word was her bond!

Sobs give way to coughs as the entire place sets to flame, and Imani really just stays put as she starts feeling the reverberations through her would-be coffin as Cynara starts to work and her cousin moves to assist. "Cousin, you should not have come," she finally allows between choking breaths. Her gaze moves to regard Khalani, a cheek bruised. "This is no place for any of you." It's no place for any of them, do you hear?! Two baronesses and one potential baroness. It's... It's just not right.

But hey. She starts to feel the handiwork of those IN THE WRONG PLACE women, as her form, bound to a chair, begins to find its way into the flame-warmed air.

Hammel's shoulder slams into the door again, and the wooden bar holding it in place starts to give way. One more time should be able to do the trick as the guard gives a concerned look to his charge and sets to ram it one more time.

The fire spreads, growing closer to the other bottles of oil, and if they go up before they get out.. there can be a search for quite a few new positions in the noble houses.

"Waiting seemed entirely like a stupid idea." Khalani comments to Imani as she too starts to cough, still chipping away at the wax, trying desperately to hurry without catching the dagger on anything important. Like Imani. "Can you wriggle at all? Not too much, I don't want to catch you." She coughs a few more times, and then glances over to see how Hammel's doing on the door. The room is getting warm and stuffy and with a cloying scent that's enough to turn anyone's stomach. "We're not going to die here." She's just matter of fact upon it all. It's not going to happen. She's a baroness, dammit! She gets her way!

"We are not going to die!" Linette chokes, with all of the force of her desperate determination. But the other women's protests have brought the first flicker of real fear to her eyes. Did she really not consider the possibility of death until now, even trapped in a burning room?

Linette is back to chipping away at the wax - three knives are faster than two, and time is of the essence. "And it's less of a place for _you_ to be, Healer! But we're going to have you out soon." Now that the form of the chair is becoming visible - well, as visible as anything is in the smoky dark - Linette starts to concentrate on that. If she can get Imani's bonds uncovered and cut, that will add a little more speed to the process.

"You can blame the pit-damned bastard who did this to you, he pushed your timetable up two days, so waiting was out of the question." Cynara tears a strip off her skirt, binding her nose and mouth and tying it - but the momentary filter will only go so far. She coughs, her eyes, especially, are tearing up. Partly because of the smoke, and partly because the Coffee and Tea Shop just fell under new management and Jasil promised that there was going to be a new menu and she hasn't eaten anything from it yet. With a grunt, she slams her boot heels over the wax mound again as the heat gets to it, in hopes to shove it off Imani and let it free.

Her coughing gets more frequent. She could feel the painful stabs of it in her lungs, but she gives up on kicking, momentarily, to just plunge her hands into the cracks in the wax that she finds and just tears at them. Patience was gone. The light at the end of the tunnel was so close.

"I can," Imani allows in response to her cousin's question, and she does her part to help. And then Linette finds cord and slices through it. As soon as the rope about her is cut free, the gasping Imani is pulling her arms free of what pits remain. The advantage of being properly proportioned: things taper like they darn well should. A crack is all she needs -- one so kindly provided by Cynara -- and the healer manages to get just enough strength behind her to push up and forward to break through the rest, and spilling onto the wax-covered floor. Wax that is melting down all around them, hot to the touch as it pours from the shelves and ceiling.

Hammel growls. A rare noise from the guard. His baroness has ordered it, her will be done. Lowering himself, he builds up his reserves and charges, slamming into the door one more time. Dust flies as the hinges give way, and the latch breaks, the door giving way as Hammel tumbles into the empty shop beyond, black, oily smoke following after him as he does so. Rising slowly to his feet, the large guard starts to move back in to carry off his petite charge if she doesn't leave herself.

Linette can't help Cynara much with the kicking, as Imani knows all too well, but she cuts with ever-increasing speed, interrupted only by violent bursts of coughing - the thin layer of cloth over her mouth can only do so much to block out the billowing black smoke, especially when the sudden shocks of hot wax dropping onto her make her gasp in more smoke.

Triumph flashes into Linette's eyes as she feels her blade slice through the ropes - and then again when the door crashes open. The anxiety that had touched her expression a moment before vanishes, lost in a flood of hope and adrenaline. Linette reaches down to Imani, wrapping a hand firmly around the healer's arm to offer her support. "Come on." As if she needs to _encourage_ anyone to leave the fragrant inferno.

Khalani yelps softly as she ends up with her hands covered in molten wax, starting to stand and stumbling a little. "Carry Imani.. her legs are going to be cramped up beyond thought." She directs the guard, in around her own coughing and sputtering. Her eyes are watering profusely, and there's probably some tears at the feel of hot wax mixed in with the tears that are vainly trying to clear the irritants from her eyes. "I can walk." She nearly can't, she's the smallest of the group and the smoke is making her dizzy at best, stumbling a bit. She can hold her wine, she can keep up on drugs, but over purfumed smoke is nearly making her fall over.

Act 4; Rescuing the Rescuers

The Chandlery never really got off the ground, with the store front being empty, except for a few small camera. In the back, where the candles are made, thick black smoke is billowing out with some shots of flame as Linette and Cynara are starting on their way out.

Phineas is handing a cloth to Zoe after tying one about his face, heading into the smoke. There's a line of buckets from the Isle of Alea set up and preparing to start lobbing water in when the fire's found.

"Linette, do you have her?" Cynara asks breathlessly, her voice thick and hurting with all the coughing, but when the other, hardy baroness assists Imani, she moves, both hands reaching to grasp Khalani and support her. "Come on, Your Excellency. Let's get out of here." She'll let Linette go first after the guard grabs Imani like the baroness ordered. Baroness Amphorae was -tiny-, the smoke will incapacitate her faster. She tears off her coat, and if she's allowed, she'll drape it over the smaller girl's head and shoulders to try and keep the noxious fumes and lung-damaging air away. And when they all move, they move. But she's not leaving anyone behind.

Zoe accepts the cloth from Phineas and without a word ties it over her nose and face so that she can then follow Phineas into the smoked filled room. The young woman squints her eyes against the smoke and covers her cloth covered mouth with a hand. She keeps her knees bent and stoops low into the room. "Hello?!" she calls out as she follows the man in, trying to see into the smoked filled room as her eyes tear up.

Hammel nods, lifting his charge's cousin, and puts her over one shoulder and then he lifts up Khalani, tucking her under one arm like a football as he coughs and hacks, carrying the two women with him.

What door? There was a door that led in and out of the chandlery. It was made of wood, kept the heat in, and kept the cold out. But one quickly-charged shoulder ram turns it into nothing more than a board with a handle. Now standing beside torn hinges is the Sheriff along with city guards Stockton and Orley. All three of them have handkerchiefs tied around their faces, but seem more interested in finding people indoors and getting them out.

"Hello!" Linette calls back, the word coming in a thick, choked cough. She might be a bit hardier than Khalani, but she's not much bigger, and she's quickly starting to be overwhelmed by the struggle to breathe in the cloud of sickeningly scented smoke. Still, she waits to see that Khalani and Imani are on their way out, securely held by Hammel's, before she reaches out to grab hold of Cynara's arm. Half leaning on Cynara and half pulling her along, Linette limps with desperate speed towards the outside world.

Imani's long-fingered hand finds Linette's, and she is trying to get back onto her feet... when she gets lifted up. Her gown and robe hacked far shorter than she would ever deem appropriate and hair all askew, the woman gasps at the proposition of being lifted, and then her bare, pale legs cross at the ankles, wound about each other to preserve what's left of her modesty. ...There are people bursting in. They are going to see her. If the healer wasn't flushed from not being able to breathe and from wax burns, she would be entirely crimson from embarrassment.

Khalani isn't that little! Alright, so she nearly is, but there's at least the attempts at a protest at how her guard is picking her up. Protests that are entirely lost as she just coughs and coughs and coughs. Her declaration of being able to walk was probably premature, she's fading fast on the whole consciousness thing.

Phineas grunts as he sees the situation, as much as he can at least, and backs to the side of the room. "OVER HERE," he yells toward those in the smoke. "FOLLOW THE VOICE, THIS WAY. DOOR's..." he looks back as it splinters and crashes, shrugs, and adds, "DOOR'S OPEN. GET OUT."

The folks from the isle of ale are outside with the buckets of water, and rather than trying to come in, they'll be soaking the walls outside, and soaking the building next to this one.

Voices. PEOPLE. Cynara grips the other baroness tightly as they move together.

"Should've...practiced....three-legged racing more....back then," she coughs at Linette. But with a firm grip and that same, almost crazy stubbornness she homes in on Phineas's voice, and she staggers out with the rest of her party towards the door where rescuers and good Samaritans are waiting for them. But air...it's so close. Oh precious, precious air.

Zoe steps to the side as Phineas starts shouting, not wanting to stumble back and trip into Godfrey and the others and cause even more problems. She crouches and peers into the room. Catching sight of Cynara and Linette following close behind the man carrying two others, she steps forward to try to assist the other two women and guide them out of the room and possibly be there for if one may collapse.

Stockton and Orley stand by the door, squinting into the darkness and preparing to help escort people out of the building. Or to at least give them a hearty slap on the back to ensure that they fly out and away from the fire. Godfrey steps through the scant pieces of the door as he calls out, "OUT THE DOOR, OUT THE DOOR!" Not as eloquent as the Duke, but he is loud.

A grunt from Hammel. The man has never been known to speak, and he is not starting now as he hears the voice of the Duke and hands Imani off to him. Why Imani? Because he just felt his priority go limp, and if he loses her, then he loses the best job he's had. Despite the trouble she gets into, and the whole turning away when her and Mat get frisky and that time she nearly got him drowned and and and...

The fire in the back is oil based and coating and kindling the wood. Water may not be the best idea for those heading back in that direction.

As Zoe approaches the two women, she catches sight of the fire and being familiar with fire and the various ways it may look, she shouts, "Hold the water! It's an oil fire! Bring dirt to smother it!"

Despite everything, Linette can still laugh at Cynara - or, at least she can still try to, for it ends up a cough, just like everything else. Her eyes are bright with relief, though, even though the smoke has made them stream with tears, for she can hear the familiar thundering voices of Phineas and Godfrey. Yes. Help is here. Linette reaches out to take the arm that Zoe offers - she'll take any help she can, so long as it gets her away from the fire faster.

Imani is still very light-sensitive, and as they draw near the door, the white hot sunlight is blinding. Coupled with her desire to not really look up, she's curled on her cousin's guard's shoulder for a good part of the trip. She's starting to grow comfortable with this situation, when suddenly she feels herself being handed off. She doesn't do much, save curl up as much as she possibly can. And cough. There's lots of choking, gasping, and coughing.

Yes, that was her. She laughs at the face of danger...and runs and hides until it goes away. Alright, maybe not in this case but she has done that on occasion. Cynara wasn't like Linette, after all, who can take people down much bigger than her. But once Linette grabs on Zoe, and with her latched onto Linette, they make a chain and their party reaches the outside world safely. Somewhere along the way, she finally lets herself drop on her knees in the dirt, hands bracing her upwards, inhaling huge, deep gulps of air...and coughing and hacking at the remains of the oily smoke lodged in her lungs. The air outside still smelled sweet, almost sickeningly so...but it's AIR.

She's also getting rid of every single damned scented candle she has in her flat first chance she gets.

"She's right..." she gurgles at what Zoe yells out. "Oil...need..." She takes another deep breath, doing her best to expel the smoke from her lungs by coughing more.

Not to mention Imani seems to be coated in places.. with wax.

Phineas isn't in the mood to go much further in the fire unless it's needed, so he shouts, "WHAT OTHER PEOPLE ARE IN HERE? THIS EVERYONE?" while staying by the door.

"That's it," she wheezes to the Duke, Cynara gulping more air into her body. "Just...us...didn't see...anyone else."

Zoe supports Linette sturdily with her arm and quickly but careful that no tripping occurs, she helps lead them to the door. It is hard for her to see with her eyes teared up as they are. She has started to cough despite the cloth over her mouth and nose. Zoe leads Linette and Cynara past the others and through the door out into the clear air of the Keeper Center.

"YOUR GRACE, GET OUT OF THE FIRE!" bellows the red-faced Godfrey as he twists away from the roaring fire fueled by candles. He makes his way toward the door, just as both Orley and Stockton reach for the Duke in order to help him out of the candle shop proper.

Godfrey may have passed gas sometime during the ordeal, but no one will ever know.

When Phineas hears there's nobody else inside, he's no more trouble in the process of getting out. He smirks at Orly and Stockton and slips back out the door, having never moved far from it to begin with.

At least the youngest baroness is still coughing, because if she's still coughing that means she's still breathing, even if she's limp in Hammel's grip. She too has tears streaming down her face, her eyes closed but fluttering as the fresh air starts to invade her senses, helping to pull her out of her faint.

Once his charge is outside and safe, finally, Hammel sits on the ground, and chuffs a few times as he reaches up to run at his shoulder after setting Khalani down on the air and poking her stomach a few times to force her small frame to draw in fresh air. He continues to watch, concerned for his charge.

Linette can only shake her head mutely to Phineas at first, grabbing onto Zoe with both hands once Cynara drops away. She is bent over, gasping, caught in the same cycle of gasping in clean air and choking out coughs from lungs still clogged with smoke. And then she too collapses, dropping to the ground next to Cynara in a coughing heap. "Is she - are they - all right?" Linette manages to choke out to Hammel.

Godfrey makes his way toward the door, following after the two guards that have been helping some of the escapees. The moment that they are outside, the handkerchiefs are hurriedly torn off and stuffed into pockets beneath the tabard. He, along with Orley and Stockton, help gather the buckets of dirt and lend hands in trying to put out the sweet, sweet-smelling fire.

Act 5; Damage Control

Plaza of the Keeper Center - Village

Wealth speaks volumes at the village center. Cobblestone streets extend in all directions forming a true crossroads that is marked in the center with a large fountain. The village buildings are all two story side-by-side structures with most containing shops on the bottom half with occasional breaks between blocks for delivery alleys. All of the buildings on this street proclaim the success of the merchants that have made it to the high enough status to operate shops in the prestigious Plaza of the Keeper. Many shop windows have flower boxes that add a quaint charm for all that visit or live in the area. The area closest to the center boasts a tavern and other food establishments that often carry scents of fresh bread, sweets or other impressive meals to draw patrons to their shops. Guards are a constant presence with their main duty being the safety of the wealthy that chose to spend a day in the village.

Once everyone is tumbling out of the shop, Phineas looks over the girls who have come out, a swift measure of their probable health and life. His hand reaches for Cynara's arm and, in the confusion of the situation, he does his best to haul her off along with him, toward the Isle of Ale. His work is done here.

Once outside Zoe immediately removes the cloth and just leaves it around her neck. She coughs a little but recovers quickly. Her face is rather dusty with soot as is everyone else's most likely. She stands nearby to Linette who is doubled over and watches her with concern, but seeing that the woman is coughing and recovering, she just gives her space. Noticing Phineas pulling Cynara away, Zoe does not try and stop the Duke from doing as he wishes.

Out of the shop and set down far enough away from the fire to not be in the way of harm or people, the slender Imani just sits, folds her arms over herself and hunches over her bare legs, closes her eyes beneath the wax-matted strings of red hair that fall down about her face, and tries to ...just pretend the world away. Need calm back. World needs to disappear for a little bit for that to happen.

Duke Phineas hauls Cynara off with brisk paces, his voice low as he goes. He mutters to Cynara, "... are... without... some guard or... a... fer..." He shakes his head as he yanks her into the Isle of Ale and out of sight.

Catching sight of little Imani, Zoe moves over to kneel beside her and but before she touches her, the young woman observes the other in silence, gauging what Imani needs most at the moment, comfort, or solitude. As she watches her, she also searches for possible burns.

Greasy soot covered and coughing up a lung, Khalani's at least mostly awake as she alternates her coughs with the same desperate heaving of breaths as the other girls. She's curled up where Hammel put her, not yet having regained enough of her senses to do much beyond breathe. She steals enough breath to barely whisper something to Hammel, gaining a nod back from the burly guard in reply.

Orley, Stockton, and Godfrey move in a mechanical fashion to ensure that the line of buckets are efficiently carried to the fire that is consuming the candle shop. Other guards and good samaritans begin to approach at this time, offering to help escort folks to the infirmary or carry more buckets of dirt for the fire.

Hammel looks at Khalani. A look that says 'I don't care if you are the baroness, you are going to the infirmary.' When she agrees via whisper, he stands up to walk with her, carrying if neccessary, coughing himself on occasion.

Briony walks on through on her way to somewhere, and seeing all the commotion, drops whatever she is doing to come on over and help... though the fire looks to have sent a couple baronesses to the infirmary already.. will there be a trifecta?

The fire continues to rage, through the wetting of the surrounding shops has kept it from spreading as a dirt bucket line is working on the shop itself.

"Baroness!" shouts one of the guards as Briony comes over to assist. This causes the Sheriff to turn his head so that he can see /which/ Baroness that they refer to. As his gloved fingers grip another bucketful of dirt, the man shouts, "Keep your distance, Baroness! The fire will make you ill!" She probably won't listen. But the warning's obligatory.

As Zoe comes close, Imani visibly tenses into a more tight ball moments before her blue eyes open and look at the other woman with a inherently suspicious and distrusting look. It's a look that's perhaps forgivable given the appearance that she's been through a time of it. A large bruise on her cheek, the lighter, blistered burns from wax not flame. She doesn't know anyone left. She's suddenly feeling very alone. "I... That... Inf--" Oh, to hell with this talking nonsense. Shaking, the woman tries to summon her pride about her as a mantle about her shaking and abused form, and then tries to push herself back onto her feet.

Briony scowls at all these women putting themselves in danger and being overcome by flames. "Oh hell," she scoffs, and turns towards the head of the bucket brigade. At least she can help fill buckets. The Baroness swings into line, somewhere towards the front, slinging buckets towards the fire. "We need a mage!"

Zoe keeps her distance, seeing the suspicious, distrusting look that the young woman gives her. However when she starts to try to rise to her feet, Zoe steps a bit closer and gently says, "It's alright, dear. Take it slow and easy. Would you allow me to help you to the infirmary, miss?" She stands close but does not attempt to touch. "Your companions are already on their way there. They are alright and everything will be alright."

Arriving with the reserves, Tobias was working on grading some mid-term work as the call for assistance went out. Taking stock of the situation, the Earth Mage frowns, looking at Godfrey. "Sheriff!" he calls out. "Want me drop the building or churn up the earth?"

Godfrey snaps his head in the direction of the shouting mage. A familiar, and decidedly welcome opportunity has presented itself. "Churn up the earth!" he calls out to Tobias. "Dropping the building's a last resort!"

Briony never thought she'd ever be happy to see a mage, but smiles as one arrives. She eyes the Sheriff, since he's the one in charge here, it being his town and all. She just helps with the buckets. Lift and give to the next, lift and give to the next...

[ROLL] Squall rolls 1d100: 51

"On it!" Tobias says. Closing his eyes, he starts to mutter in his arcane tongue as the ground starts to churn and tremble, the ground itself breaking up and rising as the Earth Mage works his spell, making it easier for the brigade to fill the buckets with dirt to douse on the fire.

Imani shakes her head at Zoe's offer, though she's starting to blink a bunch as the last of her adrenal reserves empty themselves. No, she's alright. She's just... falling and kinda fainted. Guess she wasn't so alright, after all.

It is almost as if Zoe expected Imani to suddenly collapse she is there by her side so quickly. With the woman perfectly limp in a faint, she quickly slips her arms underneath her body, one arm under the back of her knees and the other holding her back, and holding her like this she starts to carry her off in the direction of the Infirmary.

From the Gateway Center, Redlue sprints for a short time as he sees a fire from the distance. He blinks a moment with surprise and shock, but keeps his distance until he can find someone nearby to tell him what is going on.

"Double-time!" shouts Godfrey as he whips more dirt into the flames. The assistance provided by Tobias doubles the amount of dirt in the air, possibly creating a choking and tearing dust that rivals the fire. Or... increases the odds that the fire will be put out with success.

Briony 's eyes go wide at the churning of the earth. Sure, she has seen the mages work the soil back home, but this seems oddly out of context. The momntary pause has the baroness bumped by the previous person in line, her sync thrown off. Quick apologies and she is back on track.

"Clear out the smoke!" Tobias growls, "Where's a Wind when we need one!" And than as if Providence answered a prayer, there's one. "Master Redule, start clearing this damnable smoke and dust!" he calls out, moving the earth in waves to make it easier for the bucket users.

[ROLL] Squall rolls 1d100: 18

Redlue steps forward quickly, "Master Tobias! I'll do what I can immediately. I do not think I can affect the fire directly, but I can clear the smoke and push flames to help everyone get closer to the source." With that he begins concentrating as he eyes the fire, squinting to begin his spell and begin having a strong wind blow away smoke.

Briony coughs a bunch as the smoke and dust flies. Off to the baths for her after this, she imagines. She makes sure to keep the rhythm going with the buckets this time as she gawks at the mages at work, and the cloud of dust and smoke that seems determined to befoul everything.

Soon, the flames and smoke die down, and the wreck of the building is left smoldering.

As the efforts of the wind and earth mages work the fire with Briony's fire brigade, the fire finally starts to be put out, the Chandlery soom reduced to smouldering ruins as Tobias sits on the ground, rubbing his temples. "Shit, that hurts." he rumbles, Fielder accent poking out.

Redlue does not have to do much, his wind magic seeming to affect the fire much more than he had predicted, especially with the combined effect with Tobias. He stops concentrating as he watches the fire die, taking a deep breath, "I wish I had come sooner..." He muses audibly.

Briony puts her bucket down and shakes her arms off of any stray water and dirt. Of course she is covered in both. "Whew! That is one stinky fire!" she muses with a grin, flashing bright. "Thanks, you two. That was some smart work." She directs the comments mage-wards.

"Thanks, lass." Tobias says, still massaging his temples. "Ya did fine, lad." he says simply towards Redlue. "Ya okay, Your Excellency? Need to be checked in the infirmary?"

Redlue looks to the man that speaks to him, then to the one that he addresses as excellency, causing Redlue to bow down towards her, "What had happened, anyway?"

Briony looks to the mage who talks funny, just like her. "Heya... naww. I'm fine. Nothing a bath won't fix," she smiles to the man and brushes some curls from her face. "what set off the blaze? Does anyone know?"

Redlue watches the man lift himself off the ground, putting a hand on his hip at hearing that, "I see... It is a pity to see the building become destroyed..."

"Ah," the Baroness responds, though no real closer to the truth. "Well... I guess I should be off." She smiles to both the mages. "Thank you both for coming to the rescue. I'll give your Island and kin a favorable mark today in my brain. Can't say that everyday."

"I'll keep that in mind, lass, though I may not be able to call Mists home much longer.. could only half-way anyway, Pops was a Fielder." After rising, he offers a tip on a bow, and then his hand. "Tobias Branridge, Professor of Pratical Theories and Lord Consort to Lady Moria." Yes, he's the one betrothed to Solphin.

Redlue looks to the man now, asking in a bit of surprise, "Lord Consort to Lady Moria? I never would have thought she would cave in."

"Ahhhh...." she smiles to the man who bows before her. "Well. I guess I will have to retract my good thoughts then, since you're half of the Good People of the world, after all," she winks to the man. "That is a good match. It will be an interesting wedding, no doubt."

"She had to at some point. This here is Master Redlue, he's all Mistian, so keep that point, if ya don't mind?" Tobias winks. "I should get on my way back to the university, now that everyone is okay."

Having taken Imani to the Infirmary, Zoe returns down from the castle, on her way home to get cleaned up as her clothes and face are rather dirty after so much oily smoke. She glances briefly in the direction of all the people still gathered near the burned shop but doesn't stop to really look.

Redlue scratches his cheek at the comments he makes, before looking back to Briony, "I hope that you won't hold grudge towards Mists as a whole, your excellency."

"I have a grudge as deep as the sea, sir Mage, but that's okay. Mists is not alone in that feeling," she winks to the man, and with a wave, heads off towards the baths.

For a moment, Tobias considers going with Briony to the baths. Really, who wouldn't want to follow that? But instead, he heads on his way.

Act 6; Infirmary Blues

Infirmary - Staff Wing - Gateway Castle

The infirmary itself is even larger than the waiting room, but done in a very similar style. All is white washed, giving a consistent glow to the floor, walls, and shelves. The walls are lined with counters and shelves, each filled with all the necessary items it takes to run a proper infirmary: clean cloths, fresh water, and various bottles of potions, powders, roots, and dried leaves. Three rows of five cots are lined up neatly in the center of the room, each spaced so that healers may go where necessary without having to bump into anything or anyone. Four beds are set against the wall at the far side, on the wall with the door leading into the morgue. Each bed is surrounded by curtains, apparently for emergency surgeries and the like. And there was always a constant, silent bustle. White garbed healers moving about, caring for patients or seeing to inventory.

"It's crossed others." Aithne retorts with a half-hearted laugh, though as the Lord launches into explanation, she can't help but laugh more- covering her mouth to stifle such as to keep herself under control, or perhaps its not to wake the patient? "How does only having spoken three times have to do with it?" That, is a true curiosity, though the conspiratorial stage whisper is met with a faint smirk.

"Never would have guessed." Straightening, she arches a slender eyebrow. "Are you here on business, do you need a healer's services, or did Her Excellency send you here to try and drag me into a social situation?" Can't put it past Isolde... Aithne is standing near Ambrose's bed with Timothy standing before her, the pair carrying on a conversation, though voices toned down due to the sleeping, ill Lord.

The infirmary isn't so long to be quiet, as some of those from the fire going on in the village start getting brought in. The youngest baroness is in the arms of a big burly guard type. Both are sooty, smeared with streaks of greasy smoke and coughing up lungs still. Reddened eyes, and the sickly sweet scene of perfumed smoke clings to them both, with Khalani only partially roused from her faint as they arrive only a few moments ahead of the others to the infirmary.

Smiling, Timothy continues to speak with Aithne in whispers: "It's true.. count next time you speak with one, see how long it takes." Then he turns to regard the procession entering. His expression becomes distinctly somber then, and while he'd like to step over there and check on Khalani, his limbs tremble against that desire, doubtless knowing well that the Healers need to see her. He gestures towards Khalani then. "Her Excellency," he tells Aithne with a concerned sideways glance, "has far more to worry about, it appears, than your social situations." He steps back and over, towards one of Khalani's guards - preferably the one needing least medical assistance.

Lo! Another patient arrives! Zoe steps into the Infirmary carrying the unconcious Imani in her arms, the last of the four women who would have been brought into the Infirmary after a fire in town. Zoe's face is rather smudged with soot. Imani's condition is probably the most dramatic of the women. Her red hair is matted with wax and there are blisters on her skin from where the hot molten wax touched her. There is a large bruise on the poor creature's cheek as well.

As Zoe enters the room with this girl in her arms, she carries her strait over to the first empty bed she finds and lays her gently upon it.

"Wrong Baroness." Aithne quips faintly to Timothy, looking less than amused. "Put her down on the open bed, there.." She gestures to an open cot, and as more people start to filter in, she directs them to the open beds, giving orders for the healers to each take a patient. For whatever reason, Aithne stays by Ambrose's bedside, though it is that to which takes her attention rather abruptly as something catches her attention. She moves quickly to his side and leans to put her ear above his mouth. A curse rises from her lips and she takes his pulse, and immediately proceeds to start CPR. It seems the infirmary just went into hell in a hand basket.

There is only one guard that comes along with Khalani, and he's valiantly trying not to cough too much, although it's clear that he's been in the midst of it as well. Hammel doesn't get to get away without being fussed at by a healer, getting pushed down to seated at least on the cot next to where Khalani has been placed. She's mostly awake, or at least is further waking up as she spends more time breathing fresh air rather than smoke filled air.

Filling the role as a Healer's aide, apparently a position he has fulfilled often in his past, Timothy forgets about Khalani's guard and steps over to assist with Imani, leaving the more experienced staff to Khalani. "Wrong Baroness," he muses, gathering up tools and a bowl and a blanket and kneeling beside the healer there to hand them implements as requested. His focus becomes the Healer, the patient, and making sure the care goes smoothly. Water and cleaning towel are plied against the wax, so that the extent of the wounds might be uncovered first, though the Healer is watching for signs and other clues to start her treatment immediately.

The trained staff of the infirmary would ask Timothy to step away and let them do their duties. There are enough present without him being 'underfoot' as one of the snippy Healers would put it.

Leaving the tools there, Timothy withdraws as requested, concern still etched on his features.

Once upon a time, Mathis would have run down here in a panic. But after finding out that Khalani is here, the young man moves briskly, but not at a panic as he flags down one of the duty healers to get a fuller update on Khalani's condition. Only then does he approach where his best beloved is being attended to, if allowed. "Hey, Captain." Mathis says as he gets close to Timothy, not passing him by, then asks in a quieter voice. "How is she?"

Aithne seems to be focused solely on Ambrose, trying to get him breathing again... pressing on his chest before blowing in his mouth. This goes on for a good few moments before she puts her head down to listen to any signs of breathing, and then ear to his chest, her fingers deft on his wrist as she tests for pulse again. "We're losing him! Stimulant!" She barks towards one of the nearby healers, though the Master Healer continues to do all she can to save him, in spite of the situation. She knows he's terminal, but that doesn't kill her urge as a Healer to still try and save him.

With Imani being taken care of by a healer, Zoe moves to find an out of the way chair and sit or a bit. She wipes her brow with the back of her fore arm and sighs softly as her own part in the drama comes to a close.

"Hey, love." Khalani is awake enough to whisper to Mathis, reaching a hand up to him. She's got some splatters of wax on herself, but nothing like what Imani's got. She's sooty and still coughing, but conscious is a good start, even if anything more than a whisper is too much for smoke ravaged throat and lungs.

Timothy is frowning. "Mathis," he says, glancing over at the man, "I have no idea. She.. just got here, but I'd say she was at least conscious. Got a lungful of smoke though." He leans up against a wall, watching the Healers at work. "Not sure about the other girl. She seems in a bad way, but I couldn't really tell before I was shooed away. Rank means nothing to these people you know?" He turns a faint smile towards the man. "But they are quite right.. I should let them get on with it."

"You're getting such a spanking when we get home." Spoken fondly to Khalani, Mathis winks. "Really, I'm the one that ends up here, and you end up fretting over me." Glancing up, he nods slowly. "I'm sure she'll pull through." he offers to Timothy, then adds. "She's a Paggion, after all. Imani, Lani's cousin." Then he considers, and adds. "She's single, and usually looks a lot better."

One of the healers manages to get Aithne a syringe of stimulant as ordered, but the hand on Ambrose's wrist keeping to the pulse makes her simply set the syringe aside, her eyes closing for a moment. Letting out a breath, she rests the Lord's hands on his stomach and closes his eyes. Aloud, she announces: "Let it be known that this day, Sunday, May 16th, 506, Lord Ambrose Maritus of Guardian has passed into the light." There is a silent hush that falls over the healers, as they give the respect of a quiet moment to the Lord, before Aithne moves away from the bedside.

As one of the healers suddenly announces the death of Lord Ambrose, Zoe who had been sitting not too far away, looks over in solemn surprise. Gazing then over at the face of the recently passed lord she sends up a silent prayer as she watches him.

Timothy lowers his head, his clenched right fist coming up to his chest for a moment. His expression is quite somber. Then he looks up, over at Khalani, her guard, and the gentleman by her side. He shakes his head and looks away, his eyes returning to Aithne once again. Quietly, he scrutinises her for just a second, as if assessing her condition. He steps over towards her, reaching out with his right hand to touch her arm lightly; a physical presence in the company of death. "You did all you could," he tells her in a quiet tone.

After giving the dead man a moment of silence, Zoe finally rises and looking around, decides there is no reason for her to stay, and so off she goes, proceeding silently out of the busy Infirmary.

Typically, Aithne would find some graceful way to avoid contact that doesn't have to do with healing, but the touch to her arm she allows. Her hand offers a feather light touch of her fingertips to the back of his hand, a silent nod given before she moves past him and into the mass of healers working on the sudden influx of patients. "Come get me if you need aid. I have some things I must attend." She offers to one of the older healers, before she departs the infirmary and moves to her office. Much to be done.

Once again, Timothy withdraws to not obfuscate the important business of Healing. He leans up against a wall at the back there, watching Khalani, Mathis and the healing staff about her. He seems more than willing to wait until things quiet down, and less than willing to do so out of sight of the tiny Baroness.

There's a collective moment of silence at the passing of the Lord Ambrose in the infirmary, even while the other patients are being sat up and helped to breath. There's little to be done for smoke in the lungs, save for plenty of fresh air and close observation. Eyes can be washed out, burns treated and poor Imani's wax encusted self has healer's working on detangling her from more wax.

There's chaos in the infirmary really with patients from the fire having been brought in and the death of Lord Ambrose. Healers are coping with still coughing people, although it would seem Baroness Caerdach managed to escape getting dragged to the infirmary somehow, instead having slipped off to her own suite to recover.

The steps that approach the infirmary are slow and measured: they're owned not by one but four individuals, three of whom wear the crimson and yellow seahorses of Gwencalon. The fourth? That lord's youngest son, with features set as still as stone, who seeks out a healer. They share soft words as the others approach Lord Ambrose's bedside.

Timothy stands watch over the bed containing the Baroness Amphorae with the young man Mathis beside her. His expression is somber, but he gives the procession a bow, leaving his head lowered. His clenched right fist comes up and is placed over his heart, a gesture of respect for those who have passed.

Mathis has fallen quiet, the teases between the two loves lost in the somber moment, instead, he quietly holds the Baroness's hand.

Khalani sits up a little more, the change in position helping her breathing, holding tight to Mathis' hand. "Leon." She can't manage more than a hoarse whisper, it isn't enough to carry anywhere.

The infirmary's a bit chaotic, what with the fire victims and the dying lord and the healers managing the lot of it. Three men in Gwencalon colors stand by Lord Ambrose's cot as Leon finishes a brief conversation with a healer. He glances up, glances back at the other beds as someone speaks his name, but he doesn't seem quite to see from whom it came.

Head lowered in respect, Timothy has his clenched right fist placed over his heart. A silent salute to the one who has passed. He is standing by the back wall, out of the way, though he watches over the cot that contains the Baroness Amphorae beside which stands Mathis.

Linette Barca has spent all day putting out fires. She's barely finished cleaning up from the last, literal fire - her hair is still wet from a fresh wash, her eyes are red from smoke, a few coughs still escape, and she's limping with painful exhaustion. But she is not here for herself. Linette shakes off the hand of a healer who tries to detain her, and hurries as quickly as she can towards the corner. The Gwencalon guards. Lord Ambrose. And Leon. Tears are already starting to spill out and streak down her face as she runs, arms out to catch Leon in an embrace.

"You'll come to hate the word." Khalani is the one speaking, pausing occiasionally to cough and try to clear her throat, still whispery hoarse. "I'm sorry for the loss. Anything I can do to help, even just to hide you a while.. ask." Her attention turning to include Linette in her words. Unlike the other baroness, she fainted and got captured by the healers and plunked into a bed in the infirmary, propped up to sitting by pillows to help her breathing.

Leon is caught in the embrace, but this is one he does not entirely return: an awkward arm finds its way around Linette's shoulders, and he murmurs a few soft words to her even as his eyes finally find Khalani. "Thank you, Excellency," comes his answer, soft enough to bely the stern set of his features. "I -- thank you. But this isn't any time for hiding."