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The Great Cathedral: Restoration

It starts with clearing rubble. Lots of rubble.


Nov. 18, 2020, 9 p.m.

Hosted By



Bree Drake Filshiar Reve Monique Piccola Ripley Azova Sina Mirk Rowenova Esme Caprice Giorgio Lisebet Eirene Sorrel Rane



Arx - Ward of the Compact - The Great Cathedral of the Pantheon

Largesse Level


Comments and Log


I was afraid to look upon the Cathedral when I heard of what had befallen it, and the awful deeds done there. As I helped break and clear the rubble, I tried to dwell upon what still stood. The bell tower, much of the walls, and many hands willing to tend to it. Even if it won't be again what it was, I've faith something good will be rebuilt around the bones of it.

Several days ago, many burly members of the Faith were able to clear the biggest chunks of rubble away from the doors of the Cathedral. What they revealed upon doing was utter destruction. Not a thing remains of what was once the building's former glory. Altar destroyed, pews destroyed, relics and other decorations reduced to ash and indistinguishable clumps of metal. The stained glass windows have been blown out and glass has managed to get inside /too/. The floor is still littered with charred and burnt wood and the collapsed ceiling of the Cathdral. Even though clean up efforts have been steadily underway since that moment there is still a lot, so much. The destruction can not be understated.

And yet, the walls stand. The shell of the building intact. And if a person stands just right, they can see that the bell tower still seems to be intact, though that's quite the miracle and there's no way to reach it yet. The path to it too unstable.

Sir Porter Kennex has ben here near constantly since he was 'dischargd', read: Bree took him home. He's looking much healthier than he has in days and is clearly well on his way toward healing, even if occasionally he moves a bit awkwardly and slowly. He's here tonight, assisting in carrying out some large chunk of ceiling. In one of the corners a long plain table has been set up to serve volunteers a simple fare of food and drink.

Bree, the one who took him home and didn't at all disobey Mercy orders, arrives ready to work. Armor has been discarded, simple leggings, shirt, boots, hair tied back. She's come to get some serious cleaning in, and she moves through the crowd of those looking to do the same in search of the man organizing. She has been in the Cathedral since its destruction, so she knows the path to cut to avoid the debris and fallen beams and bits of glass. "Hey!" she calls to the man in charge, moving to sweep her arms under the piece of ceiling, to add a little bit more muscle. "Let me help."

Drake was not harmed in the attack on the cathedral, since he spent some of his time defending the civilians and had solid armor. When he heard there was a concentrated effort to aid in rebuilding, he came out to see if he could lend a hand. He's good at lifting heavy things, and that's about all that's required here. This work reminds him a bit of the work he put into the Highhill restoration, so he's used to it.

Drake is accompanied today by a small but eager mastiff puppy, which is in training. Sometimes he forgets about the puppy, but the puppy knows enough to catch up to him periodically, and is enjoying the out doors. As long as nothing is dropped on her head, she'll probably be just fine.

Filshiar has pried himself away from standing grimly in the halls of the palace to...grimly approach the mess of the Cathedral. He pauses upon the sight of it to just stand still. Taking it all in. As if fixing the image of it in his mind. Then, he approaches Porter. "Sir Porter. I would say it is well to see you again, but these are far from good circumstances. What needs to be done most?"

Sigh, Reve. He comes escorting Azova on the arm as if this was some grandiose function to attend rather then taking a moment to actually work with ones hands. Still, he is here, and so surely his intentions must be good. Right? Hints of that come forth with his greeting of Porter with an actual, "Sir Porter," and a nod rather than his typical battle cry of 'Diego.' "Dame Bree." Ah, but there is that large chunk of ceiling that is currently in transit. He cuts a sidelong look to Azova and, grimly, steps in as though to assist. They have that handled however so it is another large piece that he begins to work on removing.

Monique arrives in a lovely lavender silk gown. It's not the sort of gown that one might expect would go well with manual labor. But it's not the only think the Greenmarch arrived with. In tow are her attendants, Primus, Secundus, Tertius and Quartus, and it's those fine gentlemen who wear leathers and look as though they've been tasked to help this evening. The Minx has flasks, many of them, it seems, judging by the slosh and clank of the backpack she hefts in the crook of one elbow. But there's a pause as she catches sight of the ruined Cathedral for the first time, her breath stolen by the terrible destruction, rendering her immobile at the entrance.

The enigmatic General of House Tessere arrives by herself, as usual.

Even under the blazing sun, Piccola insists on wearing her black cloak over leather and steel. Even though the mission requires labor, she carries the weapons she's so used to having on her. And rather than sweeping in and lining up to take orders from Sir Kennex, she instead hangs back towards the entrance until Reve passes by with Azova. Knowing both of them, she moves herself to assist the Halfshav noble to pick up the large piece of debris.

She does say 'hello', though: "Cousin; let me give you a hand."

Ripley's present and accounted for, sleeves of his shirt rolled up and has been working here instead of his forge, seeing to pieces that he can handle being moved out and doing the part of the Thornburn clan to help out. Scraggly beard, hair falling over into his face, he's worked up a good sweat as he moves pieces that can be moved.

Azova is not a forgiving Mercy... okay, she is. But when she arrives with Reve to help volunteer her first stop is going to be Bree and Porter. "I'm going to leave these with your things. Use them." It's her sternest possible voice really, so no doubt the bag has medicines she foists on the unwilling or unsuspecting. She even adds a far more pitiful. "Pleeeeease. Friends don't let friends hurt." Can they resist that entreaty? Shortly after that, however, she sets to work alongside others that are helping with the smaller debris perhaps. She will leave the ceiling pieces to the stronger amongst them. Including, "Lady Piccola. Nice to see you."

Hearing of the effort to restore Arx's beloved cathedral, Archscholar Sina arrives with her three Templars in tow, and her two assistance, Jacinthe and Arindais. Sina wears her armor, just in case, and seems ready to get to work. She pauses, however, just within, staring at the devastation with a melancholy expression, which slowly gives way to anger brimming beneath the surface of her pale gray eyes. She glances around, taking note of everything, trying to assess where she can best be of help. Heavy lifting is definitely out of the question for the slender Archscholar, and her Templars seem more intent on watching everything with vigilant eyes for any potential dangers, rather than helping. Jacinthe has her writing case in hand, and she finds a place off to the side to set up and take extensive and copious notes for anyone who might wish to share any knowledge of what happened for the Archives. Arindais, meanwhile, begins purposefully cataloguing any relics that remain that might need to be stored away in the Rectory for safekeeping for now. That leaves Sina to figure out what to do. She inclines her head toward those already there, her expression solemn, and finally moves to take up a broom and begin sweeping up broken glass, dust and small debris in places where rubble has already been cleared away.

"Oh, okay!" Porter shifts where he is, making room for Bree to join in on carrying the piece of rubble. "I'm not anywhere near my daily limit yet today, Dame Harthall. So I think maybe you're falling behind." There's a definite tease in his voice and he flashes her a broad smile as they begin moving the piece. Wait. "Sir Filshiar! It /is/ good to see you. We're both here and healthy! Help us with this chunk?" he offers to the man. He's in good spirits for someone who has been claning up rampant destruction all week. How much of it is forced and how much is genuine is probably up to determination. Azova and Reve would be given waves, but has no hands. And the rubble is moving closer to the door. He nods to the various others entering, "Hello. Hello. Help yourselves to you, uh, cleaning. And snacks?"

"Now?" Bree looks at Porter, blinking. "But you're carrying the ceiling!" Whatever they're talking about is set aside as many faces appear, some even greeting her, "Lord Reve. Lady Azova. Hello," she greets them both, a smile at her lips, but there's a subdued quality to the normally bright knight. She understands the task they do is not a happy one, but she cannot dim her natural exuberance for life completely. She shuffles along with the large piece, helping. "As soon as we put this down," is murmured to Porter at her side, and then she's nodding to others as the move past. "Be careful. Some of the ground is unstable as you pick around."

"Cousin," responds Reve with a nod of his head toward the shorter woman when she steps in to assist. "Thank you." His responses are more tempered this day, no mistake about it. It could be due to the heat of the sun down upon them, or simply the solemn recognition of the cathedral in its current state. "I hope that you have been well? The others of House Tessere as well? When we spend the night, it is most oft late and we miss others." You see? He finally got his way and acquired an extra room. To Porter he calls, "I hope you have the good stuff available!" He deliberates a moment, looking back and forth between his progress of moving that chunk of ceiling with Piccola compared to Bree and Porter's own progress. A pointed look is given to his cousin with a gesture before he picks up the pace. Even though this is clearly not a competition. Not at all.

1 Crimson Blades Sergeant, Rurik, a prodigal assistant, Aegis, a large red Oakhaven bloodhound arrive, following Mirk.

Filshiar reaches for the indicated chunk, to place his hands under it and help Porter and Bree move it away. Bree is given a respectful dip of his chin and grunted, "Hello" in greeting, as he gets to hauling. "I'm relieved to see the bell tower still whole. I had heard it survived, but dared not hope until I saw it with my own eyes."

"Thank you for the warning." Azova looks gratefully to Bree for that, and for all that she is trying to clear some smaller hunks of rubble out of the way... her gaze is following the path of the ceiling chunk bearers the whole time. "Careful! It looks a little weighted towards the back. Don't get hurt! Back strain is terrible." Fortunately, she sees no competition signals. Reve. She's going to mother hen everyone the whole time, yes. That's part of why she's here right?

Piccola can't help but wince at Azova's greeting.

"Lady Darkwater." Maybe it's because she has to heft the large chunk onto her shoulder in order to bring it to a comfortable height to carry. Reve is taller than she is, and he makes her look like a miniature. "The family is well, I think, cousin. Madrien has returned from his trip; Elysio is as salacious as ever; and Lady Lauretta's son, Yuri, has recently joined us." Her tone is polite, but a little clipped. Yours would be too if you had to carry a chunk of ceiling. "So I would say that you are not missing much, except that I do miss the company of Lazy Azova."

"There's a great many things I'd actually like to talk to her about."

Sir Floppington the Soulful Hound arrives, following Rowenova.

Ramona - A Guard in Ashford House Colours, Bigsby - A Thoughtful Looking Young Man in Nondescript Clothing, 2 Ashford Archer, 1 Ashford Scout arrive, following Lisebet.

Joy, the advisor of roses, Rowenova, Lisebet arrive, following Esme.

Joy, the advisor of roses have been dismissed.

"I had to do a lot of this work at Highhill too, so I know the shape of restoring a cathedral. If you need someone else to delegate things, that is," Drake pipes up. Though judging from how good he is at just lifting stuff, he seems to be best suited to the manual part of things. He looks at Bree. "Think we'll find anything interesting under all the rubble?"

Mirk strides into the wreckage, late but not too late to help out with the rubble, and rolls up his sleeves in preparation for work, passing his cloak to his assistant to hold, though he still wears his gloves. "Cousin," he says in a low, rumbling voice to Reve. "Good to see you out and about. Especially helping with something like this." He turns his attention to the interior with a slight grimace, as if looking for where to begin.

Monique sets her attendants to work, and they move with a steady focus, helping one another to clear the rubble as if they function better together. The Minx settles somewhere more or less out of the way, opening the backpack and setting out the small silver flasks filled with whiskey. There must be at least ten of them, one of which she claims for herself as she gazes around the devastation, eyes landing on the familiar and unfamiliar faces alike.

On the way here, Nova follows along after Esme and Lisebet but also Halfshavs, since it seems that they all converge together on the way to the Cathedral.

"After we put the ceiling down!" Porter clarifies mid-ceiling carrying and then his smile brightens when Bree has the same idea. Is this a RACE, REVE? He catches that look and then he glances to Bree and over to Filshiar. "I won't get hurt! But I need to beat Lord Reve!"

*** Porter has called for an opposing check with Reve. ***
Porter checks dexterity and athletics at easy. Porter is successful.
Reve checks dexterity and athletics at easy. Reve is marginally successful.
*** Porter is the winner. ***

Esme seems to be walking her event here now. Inspiration draws to help clean up the The Great Cathedral of the Pantheon. She chats a bit there but as she walks in, Esme stops. Her eyes slide over the building for a few moments as it's the first time she's seen it in person. Her smile leaves her lips for those few moments too. Sadness filling her emerald eyes.

Ripley drags over a piece of stone that seems a little too big for what he's looking for and so he drags it past Monique to add to the pile that will be dragged further out. "Brought enough for everyone?" He chirps to the Greenmarch noble, seeming to be in a good mood. He's moving just past her again, digging through the rubble, searching for something but also helping clean in the process.

Trouble, the waddling raccoon arrives, delivering a message to Porter before departing.

"Well now I feel as though I've been quite remiss. I shall make an extra effort to seek you out, Lady Piccola." Azova promises. "It has been understandably busy the past while, but your cousin always sees to it that I am hauled away for rest when necessary." She may in fact be literal there, while setting another chunk of a column on the wheelbarrow. When she spies Mirk, a nod is given him in greeting. But before she can /say/ hello, Porter and Reve are being Porter and Reve and she has to level her most disapproving stare at them both. So very disapproving. "Dame Bree, please tell me you're not going to participate too. You are, aren't you." Sigh.

Caprice arrives without fanfare, long moments spent taking in the scene - the soot, the jagged panes, the rubble but also the collection of individuals working with one another - or at least next to each other, competitively - to clean the space. Her attention shifts, seeking out whoever may be in charge of directing newer arrivals. "Where to?"

Late to arrive at the effort underway at the Cathedral, Giorgio Pontelaeus makes his way toward the ruins with a somewhat somber expression that is quite uncommon on the merchant's features. He is not exactly dressed in a way that suggests he is used to the work meant to be going on this evening, but he is here which says something. His eyes are raised toward the wreckage of what was the ceiling and then they shift to the charred walls, heedless of anyone present who he may know.

"If we do, Lord Drake, it will be a blessing," Bree calls to the man when he asks if they might find anything in the rubble. She's immediately distracted because now Porter is racing Reve, and she's forced to race right along with him, her feet thankfully moving with a swiftness to keep up the pace. To Azova she looks helplessly from her ceiling-carrying-position. "I have to. I can't let Porter go it alone."

Drake isn't getting very much help from the puppy, but at least she's keeping busy smelling a great deal many new things. Eventually Drake finds a busted bit of wood, and throws it. The puppy dutifully makes an attempt, but then it's a bit large for her and she ends up dragging it, rather than doing a proper fetch. "...We'll work on that," Drake says. When things start becoming a race... he doesn't participate, but looks over at Caprice. "How are you at heavy lifting? If you're not up for that, sweeping all the small rubble's just as important. It's all ashes over on the back wall-" He gestures with a point.

"We" Filshiar looks to Bree with puzzlement. He //does// try to haul faster, though, as he grabs the rubble. He's a team player. And has accidentally found himself in a team activity. "Is there much of the ceiling left to clear? Do you think today's effort shall be enough, to get it in...well..." It's not going to be /fixed/ anytime soon. " make it better."

Sina continues to sweep, keeping out of the way of those who are carrying the larger pieces of rubble, her broom making swishing noises as she creates clouds of dust, pushing the rubble into large dust pans, and then moving off to dump them into the larger bins for such. There's an angry determination in the way she works, keeping mostly to herself, her features tight every time she pauses to look at the devastation all around. She takes that anger out on piles of dust and glass, moving methodically after those clearing away the larger rubble. She does spot Monique on a chance glance around, and she lifts a hand in greeting. Mirk, too, is given an inclination of the head when she sees him. Rowenova, too, gets a nod of recognition. Most of the faces, however, are unfamiliar to her. Still, she continues to help where she can, with the mapper debris. Occasionally, she sniffles, as if the dust is getting to her nose, but she keeps on working.

Reve keeps an eye on Lady Azova, despite - or maybe because of - that mother henning. "Oh?" he asks of Piccola. "We might stay later, or I suppose arrive earlier, for breakfast sometime." Reve, slightly distracted, in competition and also greeting the Voice of Halfshav. "Cousin Mirk," he says to the other man with a nod of his head to the words. Yes, he is remaining more solemn than not, given the givens, and maybe especially due to the fact that he is currently getting thwarted by Sir Porter and Dame Bree over there. What does he say, in the end? "Well," and his chin lifts. "At least I *am* prettier. Then Sir Porter anyway."

"As it happens," Monique's eyes fall on Ripley, "I've brought enough for nine others. Would you like a flask of whiskey to fortify you, Master Ripley?" the Minx asks of the jeweller, lips twitching ever so slightly up at the corners. "Might keep you in these high spirits." As she glances back to the entrance she spies Giorgio and the Greenmarch lifts a hand in greeting to the merchant, lips curving even further. And that hand is extended once more to Sina, in return. "It's good to see you, Archscholar," she calls out. "I hope you've been as well as can be?"

Carissa, a Southport bodyguard, Planchet the Lycene maggiordome arrive, following Eirene.

The look on Piccola's face when she realizes that Reve is trying to race Porter is that of a cat with a stepped-on tail.

Not that she says anything about it immediately. Nay, she simply races along with him, as best she can. Maybe she's the reason he loses: she's not exactly built to carry things and little legs do not do well in foot races. But after the competition is over, she rewards her cousin with a swift kick in the shins, and then stomps off to go and snatch up one of Monique's whiskey flasks, her eyes flashing with wildcat annoyance.

She takes her first sip of whiskey with annoyance.

Esme shakes her auburn head a moment and then looks around. She starts to ask where to, but then waits to see where everyone else is directed and she moves there.

Spotting Sina, Nova smiles. "Archscholar, so good to see you." says she before scanning the area and all the damage to assess what might need to be done and mayhaps the most efficient/effective way to potentially apply herself.

Reve, kicked, is swiftly responding with, "OW." His chin lifts just a little bit more. "We will best them next time, Piccola!" The only question is if he purposefully misunderstood the source of her ire.

Bree looks to Filishiar with equal puzzlement, but she's here for Porter's sudden competitive streak, so she gets swept along with it. When Reve comments on his small victory of good looks, she calls back to him, "And than me." She sets down the ceiling wherever they are setting it down (a pile, presumably?) and dusts off her hands. Then, she turns to loop her arms around Porter and give him a quick squeeze. Whatever dust and ash from the movement that was on her shirt is now on his shirt, which probably already had some anyways, and she says, "One."

After beating(?) Reve at this endeavour and setting the piece of the ceiling down in some place that will later be carted off, Porter grins broadly over at the other man. Until he says that he's prettier than him. "I would argue on that point but I haven't properly trimmed my beard in days..." he sounds mournful. You win this one, Reve. Then he turns to Filshiar and answers. "I think that after this we can start working on steadying that staircase and interior that leads to the bell tower. I'd really like to have it ringing again as soon as possible. The city almost seems too silent without it." He stares around the room then and shrugs a bit, is smile slightly dimmer. "There was a lot of ceiling. That's now on the floor. But it's getting there!" While they're speaking, a raccoon turns up and delivers a letter to him. And then it starts to pat down his leather pants. "AH. BREE. HELP."

Caprice does appear to be seriously considering Drake's question, while glancing over herself and her distinct lack of musculature. "Right, to the brooms," she decides on a crisp nod, venturing further within. Picking her way past others, over sturdy debris, her gaze pulls skyward thoughtfully. "The bells," she asks, of nobody in particular. "Are they still up there?" Oh- maybe there's her answer anyway.

Mirk makes a disappointed sound at Reve's defeat in his little competition. He doesn't say anything, but he looks at Reve with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask, Really? Then he turns his attention to the rubble, moving a few smaller pieces himself, not attempting to show off in the least. He nods his head aside to Sina and says, "Archscholar. It's been quite some time. Does the Archives have any accurate paintings or schematics of the Cathedral that can be used to help restore it, by chance?""

And while Bree is hugging Porter, a racoon is suddenly there? The Butterfly Knight jumps back and looks down, shaking her head. "You're on your own! Just take the letter," she lets out a huffed laugh of disbelief, casting Filishiar /another/ puzzled look, as if he's her chosen accomplice in puzzled looks tonight.

Ripley looks to the flasks, one hand running his fingers through hsi shaggy hair and seems to be deciding if he wants to or not. But he decides in the affirmative because the jeweler is moving forward then to lean over and pluck up a flask. "Not going to move things?"

Lisebet arrives with Nova and company, but the petite duchess pauses to take in the activity first.

Eirene turns up late. But she turned up. And as Mirk asks his question she answers him, "There's a small model in Triumph Plaza in the Grayson Ward." Shen claps her hands together, leather slapping and making a noise. "So. Where do I start?"

Azova isn't going to say anything to Piccola about the shin kicking, because Reve absolutely deserved it. "I vote earlier, for breakfast." she decides, of the actual conversation that was happening, her steps taking her back and forth from rubble to wheelbarrow until it's full enough that it's worth her taking up the handles to begin hauling it outside. "Is that what's been missing?" she suddenly wonders, stopping in her tracks when Porter mentions fixing the bell next, looking upward. "It is. That's what's felt so eerie and empty. I think that's a great idea for what to fix next." Pause. "Not that you actually need my input. At all.

Sina gives a weary inclination of her head to Monqiue at her query, her sweeping taking her momentarily closer to the Minx. "As well as can be expected," she says in reply. "I hope you have been well. It's been a while since we have had one of our chats." But her heart just isn't in the socializing right now. She gives Monique the faintest whisper of an attempt at a smile, before she turns her attention to Mirk. "Elder Mirk," she greets. "It has been quite some time," she says, as she continues to sweep. She pauses, then, looking thoughtful. "I am certain there must be schematics and blueprints, as well as paintings that can help with the rebuilding," she says with a nod. "I will have the Scholars start digging for them."

After a careful study of the whole scene, Nova momentarily departs. Since her own back yard is not far from here (incredibly close, really), she shows up within short order with not only herself and Sir Flop but also with many of the Bibacious Assistants and Teetotalling Gardeners from the Defense Lab along with gardening tools: shovels, rakes, hoes, knives, and wheelbarrows.

Lady Teonia Redreef, Aryka Wyrmfang, 3 Thrax Guards, Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog, 2 Thrax Elite Guards arrive, following Sorrel.

Catching sight of Monique's greeting, Giorgio lifts a hand in return before he moves over in the Greenmarch lady's direction. Offering a nod of greeting to those around Monique, Giorgio looks toward her before he says, "I had heard of the destruction here, but I hadn't made it by to see it for myself before now."

Filshiar can't help but smile, just some, as Porter celebrates his victory. If he's /still/ a little puzzled? And by the racoon, too, which prompts another of those looks to Bree? He goes with it. To Reve, "You carried very well, too, my lord. A fine effort." It seems the polite thing to say. To Bree, properly, "It is Dame Bree, isn't it? I feel as if I promised you a sparring match long ago, but duty swallows one. And grows heavier all the time, it seems." The Cathedral rubble gets a long look.

Overhearing Sina, Drake makes a bit of a joke. "Are you sure we can't just make it up as we go along?" He leans over, and, lifting with his back, gets a shattered pew that that he starts to haul to the scrap wood pile.

"Next time, cousin, I might be victorious," Reve says as an aside to Mirk with a grand nod to go along with it because he is on a roll tonight. He inspects Porter afterward though and the poor disheveled state of his beard. "One might argue that it is Diego that bests me, but..." trailing off, as he does not actually press his luck. Instead he behaves, moving behind Azova and placing his hands over hers to assist with the wheelburrow. He also, of course, weighs it down a'plenty by taking this and that larger piece to add to the pile. "Ah!" he says, to Filshiar when he is thus recognized. "Very well met, you have a fine sense of things." Yes, he grins with that return compliment before introducing himself and the Lady he is with, "Lord Reve Halfshav and Lady Azova Darkwater."

Monique watches as Piccola snags a flask in her anger and she does her best to not smile at the pique. "General. I hope you're doing well, aside from this moment currently?" There's a lift of a single brow before her eyes slide over to Ripley, watching him snag a flask. "Two down, seven to go. I'm moving flasks. And," she adds to the jeweller, "I brought four attendants to move things. I'm slightly indisposed at the moment myself, I'm afraid. But I thought I would show for moral support. Cheering you on," she adds with an innocent smile which turns into a concerned smile to Sina. "We ought to remedy that, Archscholar, soon." She makes space for Giorgio, offering, "Nor had I, I'll admit. I think I was too nervous to see how bad it was. As if not seeing it would make it not real. What do you think, Director?"

Eirene has a spider crawl up her arm with a note tied around its abdomen. She pauses to read it and rushes out, no words said.

Carissa, a Southport bodyguard, Planchet the Lycene maggiordome leave, following Eirene.

"You're a knight! Help!" So is Porter, so is Filshiar. But he demands Bree rescue him. He looks down in bafflement as the raccoon starts getting his keys out of one of his utility pocket. "THAT'S MINE." He leans over and tugs his keys back from the animal, turning to answer Caprice, "Yes, the bell is intact!" The raccoon is still touching him, he's ignoring it now. This is fine. "We just can't get up there. So it's going to be the tower and then getting the ceiling and windows in order. House Stahlben is offering to send us some stonemasons to help with the work. We're very appreciative."

Losing stinks, but Piccola doesn't wallow in it.

Not when she has whiskey. //Monique's// whiskey, to be precise. "I'm alive," she tells the Lady Greenmarch non-committally, her tone friendly and casual. "And able to serve. That's the important part. At least, when I'm not being dragged along." Sour note there. She then looks to Giorgio, and nods her head to him with unfamiliarity.

The condition of the cathedral apparently doesn't seem to bother her much.

Mirk nods his head to Sina, accepting that answer with a thoughtful look. "I see. It might certainly help. As would that model," he adds as an afterthought. "I didn't realize there was such a thing, truthfully." He raises an eyebrow at Monique. "You're offering moral support? Oh dear." With that slightly dry response, he moves a small piece of rubble, hefting the broken piece of a stone with some difficulty.

When the 'Defense Lab' (as per embroidered patches) chips in to help out with the ongoing work, one might get the inkling that these people work together (doing so on a regular basis). They do not really have to talk much before taking action, and they also have a sign language that they picked up from the Halfshav Scout (Rowenova) who works in tandem with them. Though, there are a couple times when her hired help tries to address Rowenova by her name, and there seem to be moments during the physical work where she does not register that they were talking to her all that much until they give her a nudge, and then she is all... Huh? Oh.

"Who's that?" Ripley gestures with his flask discreetly toward Sina, unsure and then spots Caprice and lights up with a smile.

Esme lifts up some of the rubble and offers it to Lisebet's hands. "Do you know everyone?" She speaks to the woman in a lower tone as she looks around and tries to place them all. "Lady Piccola Tessere, she's not as mean as she looks and normally lets me hug her. Lady Azova Darkwater, I don't know her well, but she use to hang with the Kennex when I did. She's a mercy and I hear a great one. I um.." She indicated Reve. "I'm not sure on that one. So I'll figure it out and let you know. "Sir Porter Kennex.. he's gone Godsworn too. Has a great sense of humor, you'll like him." Filshiar gets that same look as Reve did. "I feel like I should but don't... That's Lord Drake Wyvernheart, he's great. Just ask him." There is a tease there. "Dame Bree Harthall, she's..." Pause. ".. happy and sweet. You will like her a lot too. She's a Knight of Solace." Ripley is given a look and then back to Lisebet. "I'm not sure. I think I've been around, but I don't know the name. Archscholar Sina, the Archscholar of Vellichor. Lady Monique Greenmarch, the Minx of the Marches. She's just amazing overall. She even breathes amazingly. Caprice Artiglio, talented seamstress and is amazing with fashion. She's going to help me with redhead coloring. Lord Mirk Halfshav, probably ask Nova more about him than me. I just know who he is really because of Arik telling me he's got skills." There is a headshake about Giorgio as well. "Lady Eirene Riven, she had a baby she has yet to let me snuggle and adores whisky and rainbow murals of glitter. Don't believe her if she says different."

Bree watches the racoon saga play out, very much NOT helping Porter, even shaking her head when he demands rescue. "You've got this! You're also a knight! I believe in you!" To Filishiar she tilts her head, answering his question, "Yes. And you're Sir Filishiar. The one who will spar me someday, when we both aren't so overwhelmed." She looks back to Porter, siiiiighs, and trots off quickly to grab a snack from the table. When she comes back, she crouches to offer it to the little thief. "Here you go. Off with you."

Giorgio looks to Piccola and offers a dip of his head in greeting. "Good evening. I am Giorgio Pontelaeus, of Tremorus," Giorgio says in introduction to her. Then he glances back toward the cathedral, considering it for a few moments before he says to Monique, "I suppose that is part of the truth of things. That and being so new to the city, I just have not really gotten beyond the few places I spend the majority of my time in... I haven't branched out."

A roll of the eyes first for Reve, and then for the touchy feely Raccoon. "It's okay, I've g.. okay well now it's too heavy, thank you for the help." Azova quips, when Reve comes up behind her to help her move the wheelbarrow and also weighs it down by a lot more. "Well met, Sir Filshiar. Did I say that right? I think that is what Porter said." Hearing her name from elsewhere, she also peeks around the Halfshav Lord's arm and then waves. "Lord Reve Halfshav." she indicates, pointing towards one of those that Esme wasn't quite able to name. Reve's totally got this wheelbarrow thing right?

Lisebet spies a bunch of faces she recognizes, and a few folks she doesn't. She blinks though as Esme starts introducing her. There's a moment of mischief showing on her face, and then she says, "Thank you for the information about everyone, My Lady. It's very much appreciated to Esme. Very calm and serene as she does so. She take the rubble offered, and glances around, finding a wheelbarrow to drop it into. Hopefully she doesn't stumble over her own feet.

Drake was here when it fell, so he knew what to expect. He seems to be working diligently and without complaint, flanked by a mastiff puppy who is more eager than helpful. He puts down the bit of wood he was hauling in a pile of scraps, and dusts off his gloved hands. Then he smiles at Esme's introduction. A nod to Lisebet, who was introduced, and he asks, breezily, "Here to sweep up, or to supervise?" He wipes some sweat off his brow, though the action accidentally leaves behind a streak of back dust. "Oh! Sweep up, good. The more the better."

"I try, my lord. And well-met, my lady." Filshiar bows his shoulders to Reve and Azova both. "I am called Sir Filshiar Shieldbourne, for my part. You have it quite correct, my good lady." Give or take the Northern accent with which he pronounces his own name. He takes a step back. And back again. From the racoon. Another of those very slight smiles to Bree. "I fear that day may never come, Dame. But I shall try to make time for the training fields. I take pleasure in it, at least."

Sina glances over to Drake, and gives him a half-hearted smile, then a thoughtful glance to Eirine. "Yes, no doubt the model will come in handy as well. I suspect the Crafters may have schematics hidden away somewhere as well. Brother Felix would know." She continues her sweeping, following along after the rubble-carriers where she can. She glances over toward Esme as she overhears her name, and dips her head in that direction, giving a brief glance to Ripley as well. Normally, she would be all smiles, but her features remain solemn today as she gives a polite nod in that direction. Then she's back to the endless sweeping up of debris, her hands gripping the broomstick tightly. Meanwhile, her three Templars remain positioned in locations where they can easily reach her in case of any dangers, their eyes watching the activities with stoic expressions. Jacinthe discreetly takes notes regarding the need for schematics and drawings or paintings of the cathedral.

Reve does indeed have the wheelbarrow and since he has Azova trapped she's likely coming along with him. Or there is going to be a potential accident. "Lord Reve Halfshav," he says, louder, in echo of Azova for Esme's benefit. His step does slow after a few more paces so that he can give Filshair some ample consideration. "Sir Shieldbourne," he says, repeating it, and nodding more boldly at the name and by way of greeting.

Making her way into the shell of the cathedral, Sorrel looks around thoughtfully at those already present, slipping through quietly without saying anything just yet. Perhaps she's looking for the right project to throw in on.

At some point, Sir Floppington helps Rowenova dig as she works with an axe, busting up some of a wooden beam which is too burnt to really see use again. Should people need tools or carts, the hired help she brought along provides.

Monique's laughter at Mirk's quip is highly appreciative. "The worst has clearly happened, Lord Halfshav. What more could my morals do?" The question is almost like a challenge, but her attention slips to Ripley before long. "Ah, the Archscholar. A woman who knows more than almost any other in this City, I would wager." Is there a note of envy? There is. But it's banished by overhearing Esme's praise. Monique preens, her ego inflating as if it could restore the roof of the Cathedral all on its own. But it's to Piccola that her emerald gaze turns. "Lady Piccola Tessere, a General without peer, as this handsome merchant says, he is Giorgio Pontelaeus, and he has recently taken the position of Director in my latest project." She leans in to murmur something to Giorgio, casting him a quizzical look.

"A pleasure, Lord Drake," Lisebet says, as he speaks up. "Lisebet Ashford. And yes, we are here to help." She definitely puts herself to work, not worrying about the dust or the rubble.

While the raccoon drama plays out, Porter hears his name uttered from across the way and he looks up now. "Oh hello!" he waves over to Esme and Lisebet as the introductions seem to being made. There's a sigh of appreciation when he looks back at and Bree is bribing the raccoon and shooing it away. It seems satisfied and trundles off through the rubble.


Piccola eyes Giorgio for a moment or two. "Yes. I remember meeting the Voice and the Sword of Tremorus. Impressive women." She looks to Monique for a moment before responding to her introduction. "I think you flatter me too much," she tells the former in a low tone, but she does not seem to disagree with the assessment. "And I hope some night you will tell me of this project for which Signore Pontelaeus is Director." But that's all she says about that, looking after to Ripley, Mirk, and then away to Sina.

She remains silent otherwise, sipping her whiskey.

A general. Ripley takes a pull of the alcohol in the flask before suddenly becoming aware of how many people are present. He reaches up, scratching at his chin before putting it back down with the rest and slinking off, shoulders hunched, to pick up a piece of cracked and damaged marble and heading for the door.

Esme hip check towards Lisebet. "You might want to accept the horrid fate your hands are going to get dirty. If you want, you can see if you can fill more of the wheel thingie than I can." There is a pause as she lifts her hand to wave towards all that look her way or acknowledge. "Now, I want a .. um.." SHe looks at the raccoon. "Um.. dog cat.. fat cat with stripes.. masked cat.. one of those."

Yep! One step, two step... no red or blue step. Azova is trapped in a Reve cage and finds that she has no choice but to travel along with the currently filled wheelbarrow to it's end destination. "I could be filling another one of these by now, you know." An amused glance is cast upwards, before another pleasant nod is offered to Filshiar at the conclusion of introductions. "It's nice to be helping somehow, but it doesn't quite seem enough. Perhaps I should look for any of the colored glass shards, and see if a crafter might make something new out of it to place in the rebuilt Cathedral."

Bree pops up from her rescuing of Porter, and wraps her arms around him again. A squeeze, quick and sudden. "Two." He greets others, and she likewise lifts a hand to wave. "Lady Esme, hello," she smiles to the woman, and then nods to Lisebet. "Thank you for your help in this." And then she's moving off from him to go help with some more rubble movement.

Sina glances to Azova, and gestures to the bins she has been sweeping the glass and debris into. "I'm putting the glass shards in that bin, and the other debris in that one," she notes. "I imagine the shards could indeed be used to create something lovely," she agrees, seeming to take to the notion at once.

One person who helps Nova provides another wheelbarrow for Esme and Lisebet, eager to see the challenge between the nobles and who can fill one faster. Meanwhile, Nova smirks faintly about the name Tremorus, not really knowing exactly what that is, but it seems to amuse her a bit as she swings her axe, bringing it down until that beam she has been working on finally splits the whole way with a *CRACK*.

There is a slight smile from Giorgio for Piccola before he nods his head and says, "Yes, yes. Lady Andromeda is a skilled combatant, and quite the fitting Sword to serve Leporidae. She certainly brings honor to Tremorus." He listens to the rest, but for the moment seems to be more intent on watching those many people around him who he does not know work at the cathedral.

Drake listens in a bit, looking over at Giorgio, and then at Piccola. "The Sword of Tremorus. Tell me more. I'm always interested in the house swords and their stories."

Reve behaves, with that lovely thought. He halts and moves an arm to allow for Azova to slip out from that little makeshift trap that he had kept her in. "Good idea," he says, a gentle smile going along with the words spoken. When Sina offers her addition, he nods to her by way of gratitude, and works on unloading the wheelbarrow. He'll get another round soon enough.

Broom in hand, Caprice stakes out a claim to a square of space not yet attended near the back. A few desultory sweeps shift the color on the floor near her feet as the ash is moved about but her focus isn't really on the task at hand. Not yet. She's still contemplating those others here, taking in faces and factions and...there's Ripley! Her hand lifts from the broom in a wave his way, cheerful against the somber backdrop of sooty walls.

After hearing about the system that Sina set up with the separate bins, then some of the people with Nova begin to adopt the same, gathering glass within gloved hands before stashing it in the bin that was the indicated one.

"There's always something that can go wrong," Mirk observes to Monique in his driest tone. "I'm not sure what could go wrong here, but sometimes it surprises you. Certainly has surprised me, once or twice." There's a slight grimace, some incident clearly in mind, but he doesn't comment on it. "Next time," he says to Reve. "And a pleasure to see you as well, Lady Azova," he adds as a belated afterthought.

The sound of something cracking has Porter bunching up his shoulders briefly, then looking up. Then around. He eventually spots Rowenova with her axe and relaxes somewhat. It's then that he feels Bree's arms slip around him and he returns the gesture, leaning into it and catching her hand before she can move away completely. He steps along after her, content to sift through the rubble in her general vicinty apparently. He pauss to say something to her quietly, then he picks up a piece of burnt timber and rests it over one shoulder.

"Next time, cousin!" Reve responds swiftly. If one pays attention they might note the fact that the nod of his head is actually respectful to Mirk.

Azova leans in for just a moment to murmur something quietly to Reve as she's let out of wheelbarrowing prison, turning with a bright smile towards Sina and the bin of glass. "A mosaic, do you think? Or perhaps a sculpture of glass. Something riding from rubble." is suggested thoughtfully, while she searches for a broom to help her ferret out more shards to gather. "Are you leaving already Lord Mirk? I hope to see you again soon." she adds politely.

"Aye, I know the feeling, my lady," Filshiar says, as he gets to work on the rubble. Loading smaller pieces of it into one of the wheelbarrows. "I was guarding the castle the night of this great destruction, which was my duty, but I wish I could've defended it somehow. Even if perhaps that would have been futile. There were many fine warriors and hands and...well. There is something of it left and we shall do what we can to put it right today, if small." The CRACK /does/ make him tense though, seeing the work of it, he makes an approving "Hmmm" sound at Rowenova. "I should find a hammer, perhaps, if things need breaking up. My mother taught me how to swing one in her smithy, and I'm not so poor at it still I hope."

Caprice is waved at or more accurately, the piece of marble is wavef in Caprice's general direction before the jeweler is slipping out.

Piccola's attention shifts to Drake, and she draws in a breath slowly.

"The Sword of Tremorus is a remarkable woman. She is tall, fierce, and absolutely confident in her abilities. She invited me to cross swords with her, and one day I will do so. And when that day comes, I will have learned something." There's a note of admiration in the General's tone.

Maybe something more.

Sina fills another dustpan full of debris, and deposits it in said bins, careful to pick out the shards of colorful stained glass for later use. After all, glass expesive, and shouldn't go to waste. Some, of course, has been pulverized to dust due to the collapse of stone on top of it, but there are many pieces to be salvaged. Hundreds. Meanwhile, Arindais continues searching for any relics in the midst of the rubble, setting aside any that might be salvaged, to store in the Rectory vault. He catalogues each one carefully before adding it carefully and reverently to the small collection. The three Templars continue their vigil. Sina is thoughtful as Azova offers suggestions, then Sina smiles. "Or perhaps a grand, tinkling chandelier of many colored shards?"

As her attendants work, Monique's attention is focused on those around her. To Piccola, she shakes her crimson head firmly. "If anything, I give you too little credit, General. You've risen swift and high in the ranks of the city's military, and one only has to look at your White's to know that you're a woman of conviction." There's a glance over at Mirk's words, and she lifts a silver flask of whiskey in his direction in offering. "With that fatalistic attitude, Lord Halfshav, this is the only recourse."

Lisebet inclines her head to Porter. "Of course," she says simply. "Dame Bree." The two have met a time or two before, what with Lisebet being a Farshaw before her marriage. It has been some time, though. There's a wave to Mirk and Monique over there, and then Lisebet laughs. "A challenge? Oh very well, I don't mind at all looking like an idiot for a good cause. Let's see which of us can fill a wheelbarrow faster, Lady Esme? Shall we start? on three?" And there we have it, the race is on.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Bree before departing.

Drake picks up another large stone, hefting it into a wheelbarrow to be hauled off. He is long past flirting with Piccola, since he's come to assume it's unlikely to get him anywhere, but he does continue his current line of conversation. "This Sword, does she have a name? I need to get more practice in myself as always. At least I'm getting some exercise here and now."

Shouldering her axe, Rowenova beckons for a hammer which is handed to her before offering it over toward Filshiar. Seeing Porter help with the timber brings a smile to the scout who says. "Thank you for bringing us together."

Trouble, the waddling raccoon arrives, delivering a message to Porter before departing.

EEEERCH. If one has air breaks, that is what would happen as Lisebet's words stop Esme in her tracks. "Wait.. looking like an idiot?" The sparkel in her emerald eyes is a bad one. It's not good. It's not good at all. "Reaaaally?" She smiles vibrantly at Bree at her greeting. "Hello sword twin." Then back towards Lisebet. "I mean, it would be easy to just lift them up and add it to the cart, but what if you had to hop on one foot?" So innocent that smile.

Lisebet pauses at that, and then she laughs outright, "My lady, have you actually looked at me? You give me far too much credit if you think I can even lift most of this rubble let alone while hopping on one foot." She's half laughing but at the same time, Lisebet is perhaps one of the daintiest women to scrape five foot tall.

"I'm glad I've my gloves on for this." Azova admits, now helping pick through much smaller debris so that she can help Sina rather than struggle with larger chunks of wood and marble. "I like the idea of a chandelier. Casting colored light on everyone as they walk in, perhaps. Very symbolic." is decided, as she focuses so intently.

Rowenova says, "That would be an inefficient system, is what it would be."

Piccola seems the sort that's immune or blind to flirting.

"Lady Andromeda," the General tells Drake. "She's hard to miss. She's about six-and-a-half-feet tall and built as if she could take apart a knight in armor with her hands." She takes a swig from her flask. "If you'd like, I'll pass your name to her as a challenger? I would want to see what happens, of course." She then looks to Monique, and then shrugs her shoulders lazily. "I wonder if people read what I write, but it's good to know that at least someone does."

Then she resumes surveying the work being done.

"Not yet, I merely realized I'd been rather rude by addressing my Cousin only and not you as well," Mirk says with a shake of his head at Azova. "And so I rectified that." He accepts the flask from Monique, glances inside it, and then nods his head in approval. He takes a pull before holding the flask out to her again. "A good enough recourse for most situations," he admits with a shrug of a shoulder. "Duchess. Good to see you again. It's been too long." After those pleasantries, he returns to moving a few smaller pieces of debris, cleaning up as best as he can.

Esme wrinkles up her nose to Lisebet. "Darling, you are only as capable or not capable of doing something that you believe yourself to be." There is a look of guilt to her face. "I am not trying to make this less solemn, it's just.." It's too much sad for the happy Devotion. Then she brightens greatly. "Fine another way to get through it." As she's talking, she's so /subtly/ filling a wheelbarrow. Distraction is not /cheating/. "You could tell me something interesting about you each time you add to your so very empty wheeled thingie."

Sina smiles at Azova. "From darkness, Light," she murmurs. "Or... perhaps new stained glass windows. The possibilties are endless, really," she muses thoughtfully. "I like all of the ideas. Perhaps we should write them all down, to present for consideration." She glances to her tawny-haired assistant, who nods, and scribbles more notes. She returns to sweeping up as more rubble is carted away in the wheel barrows, seeming content to have a companion in the chore now.

"Ah, that's a name I've heard," Drake says to Piccola. "I believe she's signed up as a prospect with the Champions." He hefts the edge of the barrow with both hands, rolls it off to one side... dumps it empty and returns to the spot to get another rock. He's got a bit more dust on him than before, but is high enough in spirits. "Yes, do send word. Not often I face a woman taller than I am. Would like to see if she's worth the climb."

Giorgio chuckles at Piccola's description of Andromeda, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he looks toward Drake and shrugs before he says, "She's not wrong..."

Filshiar checks Strength at normal. Filshiar marginally fails.

Humming a jaunty little tune, Sorrel finds herself a broom with which to start chasing some of the smaller rubble that's been left behind by the larger rubble being moved and carted away. It's perhaps a never-ending task, for large things will reveal more medium to small rubble. And yet it starts to make a path, cutting through the mess slowly and patiently.

Filshiar checks strength at normal. Filshiar is successful.

"Can you smith at all, Sir Filshiar? I've been spending time with Dame Ida at hers. She's been teaching me the fundamentals. I've found it to be very soothing work in my time that's not been spent--" Porter's expression falls briefly as he looks around him and then he sports the smile again, less to the eyes this time. "Doing my duties."

"Oh." Filshiar is surprised, if the pleasant, by the hammer. It's taken in his sturdy hands, Rowenova offered one of those bow-like nods that moves both chin and shoulders. "My thanks. You know that axe well, if I may say it." He's less immediately assured with a hammer. He even looks like he might miss, on his first wind-up at a larger piece of rubble. But he gets there, and is soon swinging. Making it three smaller and more manageable for the wheelbarrow pieces of rubble.

"Are we molding into the same person in your mind somewhere, Lord Mirk?" Azova jokes, a wry smile appearing, as she knows just how often she's seen walking the Halfshav Halls. "It is truly no worry. But it /is/ nice to see you." she confirms, glancing up to acknowledge but then casting her eyes back down at what she is doing so that she doesn't risk any lacerations from the sharp glass edges. "I think at least a small sculpture for Sir Porter out of the glass and marble though, for all of his hard work in organizing this restoration and working on it while recovering, too. It will have been a monumental achievement that deserves recognition."

Lisebet returns to filling her wheelbarrow, even while listening to Esme. "Oh you are no doubt right, but that does not change that we all have our own strengths, and mine have never been that of - you know, lifting things. Or hitting things with swords." She is picking up smaller bits, but then, some of the bigger bits are bigger than she is. And as she does so, she continues to speak with Esme and whoever else is around. "Why don't you tell me such stories, my Lady? It seems you've a far more exciting life."

In Bree's path to some rubble over there, she is interrupted by a messenger, who hands her a rather lengthy note. Her gaze drops to the signature, and she looks up to Porter for a moment, folding it and stashing it away for later. She cuts a path back to him, briefly interrupting his duties to murmur something, and then with another quick hug, "Three," she really rushes off. This time to help move a beam that she sees some struggling with. "Here. It takes a few people," she tells them. "Unless you're Grandmaster Jeffeth, who was lifting these things the other night like they were nothing."

Sina glances to Azova, and nods in agreement. "Yes... it is a marvelous effort. He's been working tirelessly," she says, with a smile and a glance toward Porter. Her spirits seem to be lightening as she works, the effort of doing /something/ about this mess lifting her heart a little. Her shoulders straighten a little as she works, and she moves with a little more zest and purpose.

About to respond, the Lady Monique receives a messenger and her brows furrow together. "Ah, I'm afraid I've got to attend to something. But I'll leave Primus and the others to continue their efforts on my behalf." Poor attendants. She leans in to murmurs something to Giorgio before she slips away.

Drake looks to Giorgio, hearing that he's amused. "You're from the Tremorus house as well then. I think I heard that in the introductions. Are you new to the city, then?" He looks around, and sees Bree might be struggling a bit, so he lingers for the answer but then heads over to try to lend his back to that.

A look of appreciation is given by Rowenova to Filshiar, as well as a dip of her wolf-framed/shaded countenance. "Although I do not look like it without being 'in action' now, I grew up doing physical labor all the live long day." And, sounds like she seems to be esteemed about that fact, too. "My Halfshavs over there can certainly vouch for this." She jerks her chin a bit toward Mirk who would know best about 'all that', and then she gets back to using the axe and doing so without any indication of tiring too soon.

"Well, I suppose I'm not helping here."

Piccola slips the flask of Monique's whiskey into a pocket on her utility belt. That's right: she has a utility belt. She nods her head to Giorgio, and then to Monique, and then pushes away so that she can resume the labor that she came to perform. A large piece of debris looks like the right thing to lift and move out of the cathedral.

So she goes and does just that -- on her own.

"I'll put it on my shelf with all of my other treasures and view it fondly," Porter remarks to Azova from where he hauls his burnt timber away to be carted off. "And another small sculpture for Lady Azova for needing to fix my popped stitches." What. He pauses in teasing the Mercy long enough to hear Bree murmur something to him pre-hug. An eyebrow lofts and he nods, "Okay."

Esme shakes her head to that as she bounces around with a bit more speed to attempt to get this done faster. "My stories are all boring. My life is not that interesting. I am just a Lady and a Devotion. See? Nothing to really write home about." Her lips curve up a bit to that. "You though.. a /Duchess/. So many stories. And Porter.. he has stories. I'm not sure they are all true. OH! I do have a pet octopus that might one day eat me if it keeps getting bigger. It's name is Gary. I tried to rename it, but it won't respond." It doesn't really respond to Gary either.

Azova looks satisfied, having been able to make suggestions for the new cathedral, as well as doing her part to assure that a friend gets their due. And she is far more suited to this minute work as slow and painstaking as it is rather than the heavy lifting others are doing. "It helps to have someone to share the work, doesn't it." is noted, a brief smile appearing. "Next, we can try sorting it into colors I think. That will help decide what can be made of it." Pardon her while she makes an outraged face at Porter for having -popped his st...- oh wait, he didn't. So she looks exasperated and amused instead.

Looking to Drake, Giorgio offers the man a bow before he says, "You could say that I am from the Tremorus House. I am not Leporidae, but I do serve on their behalf. I am Giorgio Pontelaeus, Minister of Economic Development of Tremorus. It is a pleasure to meet you, I am sure. I look forward to hearing Lady Andromeda's reaction to your challenge."

"Nah," Filshiar answers Porter with a shake of his head. He sounds a little sorry for it. "My mother wished to apprentice me but it was plain my eyes were for the warrior's life young, and she was well-liked enough in Farhaven to gain me a spot as a page, then squire. She made me aid in some of the chores at keeping the forge, though. I think she hoped it might grow on me. It is a good sort of life. Not where my heart was as a boy, though." He hauls one of his rubble pieces into a wheelbarrow. "I know Dame Ida though and greatly admire her work. I'd say it even if she wasn't Sir Austen's sister, though it helps." To Rowenova, "You work for the Halfshavs, then? I'm called Sir Filshiar Shieldbourne, if I didn't say it before. I'm sworn to the King's Own, when I am not cleaning."

Kit, the grey fox, Primus, First of Monique's Assistants, 1 Greenmarch Guard, Tertius, Third of Monique's Assistants leave, following Monique.

"Drake Wyvernheart, in case you missed it." Drake smiles. "...And of course it's merely a friendly challenge, not an official Champions grievance," Drake is quick to point out. He smirks a bit. "But it seems interesting. Normally with a female opponent I can take advantage of superior reach." One more nod to the merchant. "Do you fight, or only handle the economic duties? I'm honestly terrible with money myself, but I've had to do a lot of stewardship because it's a smaller house."

Mirk nods his head to Rowenova in confirmation of the point, and replies to Azova, "Not quite. With other things on my mind, it become easy to be distracted and only spare thought to my kin and those who address me first." He shrugs a shoulder. "But it's amended, all the same." He wipes a little sweat from his brow with the back of a hand. He might not be the most impressive athlete here, but he's pulling his weight, at least.

"My stories are ALL true! One hundred percent!" Porter calls across the room to Esme as he goes back to the place he was working to pick up more rubble and begin dragging it off. They're all so true, that's why he shoots that broad, terrible, smile in Azova's direction for lying about his stitches popping. "Stitches made by the world's greatest healer in the entire world would never pop." He swings his attention around to Filshiar once again. "Ah, that's good though! It's nice that she found you a spot. And now here you are! In the King's Own! With Sir Austen. Who isn't here." He steps over to the other man an claps him on the back. "We need to all go drinking. Some festivities. Did I write about this once already? I forget."

Sina smiles faintly at Porter's comment, peering at the Knight a moment, as if noting he's been patched up for the first time. The smile fades just a little, and then she's back to sweeping. She continues to work steadily, with a surprising amount of stamina, if not strength, her work done efficiently and professionally now, rather than angrily. Purpose flows in her movements as she sweeps and sweeps, deposits debris, goes back for more. It's an enormous task, and she keeps at it for quite some time, before she finally allows herself a break. She sets the broom aside, and moves over to the refreshment table for a drink of water.

With over a decade and a half of practice with an axe as Mirk just confirmed, Rowenova knows how to meter her breathing so she can speak as she chops. "Greetings, Sir Filshiar Shieldbourne of the King's Own. I am Scout Rowenova, of the Ranging Wolves, which is a special unit of military scouts within the Halfshav Military under the direct command of our War Minister Lord Arik who also holds title as Sword. Meanwhile, I am his personal retainer as well as Trusted House Servant. Esteemed Protege of Baroness Lucita Saik as well as Esteemed Patron of Brewmaster Sven who runs Whitehold Brews on Shaman Walk. Meanwhile, Freelance Alchemist currently operating the Defense Lab, and then, Last But Not Least: Future Morien to be! Over there digging through debris: that is Sir Floppington. He is a Very Good Boy Indeed. Goodest of Boys and... The Bestest Boy Ever Born." Hearing his name, the hound looks up and over to where Nova is before he goes back to digging as the hired help needs him to.

Giorgio smiles before he says, "Only financial duties, thus far. Trade routes and the like. I am afraid that I would be no use if they put a sword in my hands, but perhaps one day. In fact, I must return to the Tremorus manor now to tend to some work I have yet to do. It was good meeting the two of you." He offers a slight bow toward Piccola and Drake before he turns to head back toward the Pravus Ward.

Reve actually knows how to behave! In fact, the more that he works picking up this and that piece of rubble to tidy up the area, the harder that he actually concentrates on his task. Less chit chat, no boisterous yells, and far more doing.

It's very obvious that Esme is winning this challenge, but Lisebet continues to do her fair share, apparently not too worried about this volunteer work thing. She even has a bit more stamina than one might expect to look at her. "See, that's a story," she says to Esme, with a laugh. "As for me, I grew up in Westrock Reach, which is an island off the coast quite a ways from Arx. Our home there is called Lightsend Keep."

The baron had made his from from a rather lovely ceremony and seemed to be in high spirits. The carnage was lesser than it was this morning. And lesser still than the day before. That brought a faint smile to his lips as wordlessly, aside from greeting those that he may have caught the gaze of, Rane went to the largest pile of debris and began moving rocks as he had since the day he arrived back from Acorn Hill.

When Drake trots over to help Bree move the beam, she smiles a brilliant, "Thank you," in his direction, and they heft and shift, revealing the debris of pews beneath, burnt and destroyed by the force of the rioters. She looks to them, her breath catches, and she nods, "Come on. Over there." When the beam is place, she lifts a hand to wipe her forehead, turning back to look at the broken pew. She sighs.

"Drake, you'd better watch out. I'll teach you something about reach," Sorrel calls over to her cousin with a measure of amusement, laughing good-naturedly as she waves her broom at him, then resumes making a pile of rocks.

Ilyse, a potentially reformed troublemaker have been dismissed.

Esme shakes her head and mouths to Lisebet with a shake of her head when Porter yells, "They aren't true." Surely, he's too busy to read her lips. Her eyes do dance in humor though. "Oh the octopus? Rorik. We went to the Kennex eating thing. It was so cute and little, I couldn't eat it. So he put it in a bucket because I pardoneed it. He forgot to tell me it gets bigger. The worst was when I woke up and it was hanging from the top of my bed looking at me. So I had to get him a new home. You should never come to my room, there are some odd things in there."

"Perhaps you missed my greeting, then." Azova smiles easily (unless Porter threatens to pop his stitches again). "You just remember to take that bag of medicines with you when you go, Sir Porter." she admonishes, sticking her tongue out at him when she figures the least number of people are looking. "Oh, hello Princess Sorrel!" She's finally paying attention to her surroundings again.

Drake gives Giorgio a farewell nod, and walks over toward the beam finally, putting it on his back a bit. Sorrel sweeps a bit at him, and he chuckles. "Ah, I'll spar with you too. My skills have improved a little since spring came around and I can get out of doors again and out to the fields."

"We spoke of a night for...knights, aye?" Filshiar asks Porter. "I would like that, when time allows. Or even if it doesn't. As I was telling Dame Bree, I fear I must make time for bits of happiness as things are." He gets back to hammering. More confidence in his strokes now, he gets to knocking some rubble away from piles, to make them easier to pick up. "You sound most busy, Rowenova. Sign of good service. I admire the life of a scout some. I'm not in the woods as often as I'd like." Her hound gets a broad smile, which warms his eyes. "I am sure he is a dog of the highest esteem. I have never met one who was not a good boy."

Piccola also gives Giorgio a nod of farewell, although she's busy hefting some chunk of rock out of the cathedral.

And once she's done that, she doesn't return. Perhaps she's made it up to do just a little work, and then be off. Or perhaps she received a message outside regarding something that she had to attend to. Either way, she departs with the rock, and simply does not return to the interior.

Gone, just like that.

"What bag of medicines?" Porter asks of Azova. And in that question he seems /genuinely/ confused and begins to look around the Cathedral. "I'm sure that I'll find it eventually," he relays to the woman in optimistic tones. One of these days, he'll find the medicine for his healing injuries. "Yes, we did. Lets do that soon. I'll reach out again in the coming weeks, we'll make a night of it at one of the taverns. The Sleepless Knights, maybe!"

Sina is overheard praising Porter: Exemplary work on the cathedral effort.

Bree is overheard praising Porter: A true knight.

Lisebet sort of blinks and shakes her head. "Okay, that definitely beats any story I have," she says, with a laugh. "You win, my lady." A gracious concession, but there's a twinkling of Lisebet's eyes as she eventually does run out of steam.

Slowly but surely, Caprice gets the upper hand on sweeping and sorting, and there's a definite visible improvement to her square by the time she opts to take a break, likely to return for another shift later.

"The one I... you know what, I know where I set it down. I'll get it for you and make sure it is in your hands on my way out. Which, I need to clean up before I start my shift at the House of Solace. So..." She looks around, waving down Reve until she gets his attention. And then, finds medicine bag, and makes sure if Porter doesn't take it then someone who will make sure he gets it does, before she and Lord Reve start the trek back to another part of the city.

Drake has almost forgotten about Calluna, as he's not used to having her around, but fortunately, the Highhill puppy still has plenty of interesting things to smell here, including a few other dogs. Drake dusts his hands off, and gives a whistle. The puppy doesn't come right away. "...Okay, we're working on that, too," he says, finally just collecting her up manually.

Esme is overheard praising Porter: Tall, Dark, and Carries things.

Azova is overheard praising Porter: Thankfully, he did not pop his stitches.

A very good boy indeed, Sir Floppington digs wherever he is requested to, and Rowenova carries on with her own work, making some headway. "I wish I was in the woods more often, too. Also, I liked how you said that about good boys. Were you a sell sword at one point, Sir Shieldbourne?"

Bree turns away from the broken pews and walks over to Porter, who is making plans for the Sleepless Knights, and she squeezes him again. "Four. Five? What number? I lost count." Apparently they've set some sort of weird hug goal that she's chasing, and failing to really keep track of. Another quiet word, and then to Filishiar and him both she agrees, "The Sleepless Knights. All the knights."

Orion, a healer's surly Assistant, 2 Redoubt Buccaneers leave, following Azova.

Sina finishes her water, goes back to work for a bit longer, and then she starts getting antsy looks and stares from her Templars. She doesn't notice them right away, but after a time, she does look over and happen to see one of them staring at her pointedly. Clearing her throat, she sets her broom aside, and then dusts her hands on her pants. Soon she is making her way out, followed by three Templars, with Jacinthe hurring to catch up. Arindais remains, to catalogue the relics that are found, any that can be salvaged.

Porter does not turn down any of the hugs (unless they are from raccoons and Bree is not a raccoon). "That's okay. I'll say it was four, this way, you know." Extra hugs. He tips his head down to catch that word and then leans over, kissing her on the top of her head before pulling back to squeeze her fingers. "So are you. Will you walk with me over there? I want to get a better look at the steps up while there's some decent light left."

Rane checks strength and athletics at hard. Botch! Rane is simply outclassed. This is monumentally beyond them and the result is ruinous.

Sebastian, an adorable gray and white tabby, Jacinthe, Arindais, a dour-looking Scholar, 3 Templar Knight guards leave, following Sina.

"The Sleepless Knights seems appropriate. For a knight night." Is Filshiar making a joke? Or at least a pun? It's /very/ hard to tell. He has a most literal sort of face and cadence. His eyes spark with something that might be humor, though. Just might. He works in silence after that. Eventually giving Rowenova back her hammer, though not for a bit. He seems to enjoy getting into the rhythm of banging at things with it. When he's worked his muscles tired and done as much breaking and moving as he can, he gets some water and then finds his way out.

"I'll walk with you anywhere," Bree says too seriously, a fierceness to her reply that seems too much for his simple request to look at the steps up. "But yes, over there right now," she adds with a laugh, letting him lead the way to take a look at another crumbling part of the Cathedral. That doesn't mean she doesn't hear Filishiar's joke, which earns a wide grin. "A knight night. Perfect."

There was a charred timber that needed hoisting and Rane stepped through a pile of rubble to find his footing. Hands reached down to wrap around and started to lift with his feet. But those boots were on top of glass that slid against another piece of stone, setting his footing awry. The baron fell to a knee, but that timber crashed down onto his hands. A bark of pain spilled from his chest and he struggled instinctively to pull his pinned hands free. He groaned in pain and his right hand was successfully released, but his left was almost invisible beneath the beam and crushed into the debris below.

"If there's anything that can be done," Mirk says to Porter, letting the rest of the thought remain unsaid, as he goes to move one last piece of the rubble before sitting down for a much earned break, lingering for a time to watch and consider what had become of the place.

Rane checks composure at hard. Rane fails.

Mirk checks strength and athletics at normal. Mirk is marginally successful.

Bree checks strength and athletics at hard. Bree is successful.

Hearing Filshiar say 'knight night' brings out a hearty laugh from Rowenova, which exhales most of the air she has and helps her chop come down mightily! Though, her grip does not falter and nor does her aim as she keeps working. Someone from the Defense Lab notices the hammer being handed toward Nova and takes that from Filshiar with a thank you to him for returning their tools, since Nova is in the zone and not about to stop her axe-work just yet. "Farewell, Sir Shieldbourne. I hope that we meet again one day."

Rowenova checks stamina and athletics at normal. Critical Success! Rowenova is inhumanly successful in a way that defies expectations.

Lisebet checks strength and athletics at hard. Lisebet fails.

Lisebet checks strength and athletics at normal. Lisebet is successful.

Drake looks over with a start as Rane drops a bit onto his hand. "... Should we be calling a mercy for that?"

Bree /was/ going to help Porter with the steps over there, but then the crash sounds, and her blue eyes dart to Rane and his hands and immediately she changes course. No warning to her fellow knight, no apologies for abandoning him so suddenly, and she's skidding to her knees, hands gripping beneath the beam, and she lifts it enough for the Baron to remove his injured hand. "There. Pull it back," she tells him. "Are you okay?" she grunts, moving the beam aside and letting it crash to the ground. "There are Mercies somewhere," she tells him, looking up and around for any of them, and flagging one over.

Esme spins around at the sound of her cousin in pain. She moves over in that direction but so is everyone else. "Rane.. are you okay?" Because cries of pain mean happiness?

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