Sina Library: Clearing the Rubble
May 3, 2021, 3:30 p.m.
Arx - Lower Boroughs - Visitors Gate
Comments and Log
3 Last Watch Sentries, 2 Redrain Guards, Old Nan, a mostly harmless old woman arrive, following Donella.
"What a wonderful day to get dirty, sweaty, and most likely stinky?!" Raja Culler's voice calls out to the assembled workers and volunteers! The day is indeed beautiful. The sun shines bright in the brilliant blue sky. Fluffy white clouds float lazily by. A nice breeze wafts in from the sea giving moments of respite from the heat and toil. "First of all, on behalf of the Commoner's Council, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming! This is hard work. BUT, it will be fun! I hope at least." She laughs. "Best part is.. we get to FUCK SHIT UP!" The culler pumps one arm. "Also, if you come hearing tales of a hole.. It's true. There is a hole. NO, I don't know what is down there. No, we aren't going in it. I have guards keeping silly people from trying to go in it."
Ian is in what passes, for him, as a good mood, and the reason might be the person he's with. It's clear at a glance that Ian and Aethan are brothers. Same height. Same hair color. Same features. Put a decade on Ian, and you get Aethan. The body language also makes it clear that them being here is 100% his idea as he alternates between leading and encouraging. "... like the time we raised that ship from the harbor, but without sharks." Of course, then they get there just in time for Raja to start talking about the hole, so he adds: "... Probably without sharks."
Kia had heard about the project to build a library in the Lowers, and though she's not shown an interest before now, today it appears that she does. Dressed incredibly inappropriately in white cotton muslin, she drifts into sight like a wind-blown dandelion seed. Dark hair, unpinned and unbound, ripples darkly around her shoulders, and and the charms that hang on the thongs of her bracelet chime along to the cadence of her step. Her steps slow as she nears the crowd that's gathering around Raja, and she slips herself in neatly amongst them, offering a quick nod and a smile to those she bumps shoulders with. "Do we just grab ourselves a shovel?" she asks of one of those she's found herself close to. That'd be Dycard.
Oswyn trots up almost-but-not-quite late, squinting at those present as he joins the group. He's rolling up his sleeves, though he pauses when Raja mentions a hole, looking vaguely worried. 'No, we aren't going in it' seems to relax him somewhat. Even book nerds can do SOME heavy lifting. Books are actually quite heavy.
Vann, a street apothecary arrives, following Tython.
Sir Bhandn came dressed down for this particular occasion. The plan was to work, and he's here in his shirtsleeves and half his weapons as if to show off the fact that he's brawny and that those arms did not come from simply training. He's used to heavy labor as well, and the silver-haired knight folds his arms as Raja declares a welcome to the event. At first, he's quiet, though there's an air of amusement about him over exactly what the plan is for the rubble, but when Raja is done speaking, he calls out a question: "Are you taking donations for the building materials and books for the library?" he asks Raja.
Samira stands on the outskirts of the gathering, ready to be put to work. She's dressed down, but then again, she usually is. Her long unruly hair has been wrestled into a braid, shorter strands escaping to hang about her face. When Raja references 'fucking shit up', she smirks and lets out a small whoop of enthusiasm. Dark eyes study the pair of guards with a measuring glance, sizing them up. "No impromptu hole exploration, got it." There are more important things to focus upon today, anyway.
Raymesin is already there, leaning - lurking - against a wall, with his arms folded over his chest. He's clad all in black, his leathers marked with a spider-and-knife sigil and a skull pin at his throat. "Yer spoilin' all our fun, Raja!"
A small party wearing the bear and blood-drops of the Redrain family arrives, with one lady in much darker colors astride a shaggy pony also pulling a sturdy sort of litter. This latter hops down and hands off the horse, leaving her coat over the saddle. To the rest with her, she indicates, "Listen to the woman," one hand adjusting the ring around her upper arm. Donella has no objection under the circumstances to fucking shite up, as the first step to an act of creation, evidently. Or maybe she just wants to stab the dirt. Who knows.
Pirate, a calico kitten have been dismissed.
Bosun Orrick, a looming Blackshore mariner have been dismissed.
Questions begin to flow her way and Raja glances to each person in turn. She points to Kia, "Grab whatever tool you might need for whatever project you are going to do. We need folk sawing, cutting, digging, chopping, and hauling! Get creative, but make sure not to kill anyone. Last thing this Library needs is an angry ghost.." She looks over to Raymesin, "Especially you! You and your non house dodging self."
Raimon takes his place in the queue. This seemed like a good honest job for folks who were good at lifting heavy things without complaining over-much about it. And Raimon is, indeed, a man who is good at lifting heavy things without complaining over-much about it. 'Swearing' -doesn't- -count- as complaining, see, as any who've been ship - board will tell you. Swearing is just -enthusiasm- . . . going about it's job . . . that's all. Raja's exhortation to 'F--- S--- up!' is *perfect* evidence of this. Raimon meanders over to the rack of 'F'ing Shite Up Equipment' and selects . . . an axe. Yes. Definitely an axe, for sure. Axes are -great- for that sort of thing. Yes. Raimon hefts the heavy axe, contemplating its many merits. He runs a scarred thumb along its notched edge. Raimon pats the hefty axe blade: *pat pat pat*. Yes. this will do nicely. (The axe -does- seems to suit him.) Raimon subsequently pads on over to where the instructions are given out. Time to go to work!
Donella observes, thirteen kinds of a mood, "Big chunks into the carts and litter first, lads. Otherwise we'll have to make twice as many trips to haul the fill away." But that is all she says. Pulling on a rough pair of gloves, she gets to it, picking her way up to the largest piece of rubble she can easily lift.
Aethan's expression is to be expected, when hearing about the comparison to where he's going akin to the incident with the sharks, "I made a poor choice of attire." The din in his tone is quite likely to put blame on Ian for that, without entirely putting blame on Ian for that. He keeps in stride with Ian, his bearing that of a man who has had limited time for the more frivilous things in life. Not that this was frivilous, or, not that he's had the chance to weight if it was or not! He's got some grey in his stubble, showing through these days, so he's certainly the older of the brothers if by that alone, or the one who has let other events put grey hair in his beard. A moment is taken to inspect the situation, "Horses would be better. A team of horses, tying chains to the load bearing struts."
Sleeves rolled, Oswyn gives a shrug and grabs a sack to start picking up various bits of litter and other small things on the way to a pile of cruddy old rusty junk. Which is bad in a setting without tetanus shots but at least he's a healer.
Auda is there! She was leaning off to the side until the work actually picked up, but now she's rolling up her sleeves and slipping on a pair of rough gloves. Not gloves for fine work, these! "I can probably get into some of the awkward spaces to saw out beams, when we get there."
The handsignal Raymesin gives Raja is not fit for polite company - then again, those same words could describe Raymesin himself. Leaning away from his nice comfy wall, Raymesin goes to retrieve himself a shovel. Perhaps it isn't really a surprise that the knifeman knows how to wield one of those.
"It'll be a good idea to whittle the struts down a little bit before pulling them out." Ian is, without question, just jumping into the implementation of Aethan's musings like he's been given orders on a ship. Actually... exactly like that. Because that's probably the dynamic at work here, someone used to being his older brother's first officer, charged with making his orders happen. "Ray!" He's noticed Raymesin just as he gets to the tent where all the destruction stuff is. The fact that he greets Raymesin with what passes as an actual smile is another testament to his version of a good mood. "Grab an ax if you don't want to dig."
A pleased look crosses the darker skinned woman's features. She turns to look to Bhandn, "And Yes! Books. We will need /all/ the books! However, please hold onto them for now! I only have limited space to store things! The Library isn't build yet! You should see the stuff crowding my loft right now.." She sort of has an exasperated look in her features. "It's so cluttered right now!"
Raja hops off her box and calls out, "I suggest grouping up into teams to work on the various buildings!" She grabs an axe herself, hoisting it up onto one shoulder.
Raja winks at Raymesin.
His question answered, Bhandn gives a nod, and for some reason an enigmatic smile towards Raja, before turning and making his way towards the shovels. If there's digging to be done, he'll be one of those doing it! As he walks towards the tools, he's rolling up his sleeves and exposing more of his arms, before seizing the handle to one shovel and making his way towards one of the dig sites to begin working.
Holding onto the lapels of his coat and lounging near Lord and Duke Kennex, Dycard rocks on his heels before the working party begins. He glances at Kia and shrugs, grinning in a sharklike manner. "Well - I assume i'm here to heft a shovel? Why not just grab one?" he asks, offering a nod to Ian before going to claim some kind of working implement to begin helping to clear the rubble. "This is really a rather noble endeavor. I love libraries. If I wouldn't get in trouble for volunteering to work at one i'd probably just sit at a desk and... I don't know. Help people check out books?" he offered in a self-deprecating manner, laughing as he moved to follow someone's direction.
The exchange between Raja and Raymesin earns a widening grin from Samira and a wave of her hand in greeting to the latter. She pauses to peruse the selection of tools before grabbing an axe. "Always did like breaking things," she notes aloud, turning to see how groups are forming.
Raymesin looks up at Ian with a bare hint of a smile, rather than the usual scowl that members of the peerage would be favoured with. "My wife's th'axewoman," the Lowers man points out to the Kennex lord, and then he's eyeing Dycard. "If this is a noble endeavour, maybe we should leave you silks ter get on with it?"
Raymesin nods to Samira, too.
Raimon gets on with it. Raiman takes his place with 'Team Axe - Folk,' wordlessly falling into place behind Raja, the notched edge of his chosen 'Weapon of Mass Demolitions' glinting as the sun rolls out. Raimon spares a moment or two to gaze skyward with a speculative mien. Just as -any- mariner would, he's always keeping a 'Weather Eye' out. Raimon squints a bit, against the sunlight. Looks like 'Partly cloudy, with a chance of sheep' then. OK. So much the better. The occasional cloud might keep them all cool . . .
"It will take time to find a good set of work horses," Aethan declares on the back of Ian's musings, "I'll see about sending for a team, while you whittle." There's a line being drawn, at least in the moment. He regards the other members of the city with an appraising look, watching how each of them move into action like they were pieces on a war board.
"If I'm giving up my sword, you can give up your knives." There's a hint of a tease in Ian's voice when he speaks to Ray. "Lord Dycard." Having picked a building at random as the one to target for pulling down with horses, Ian puts an ax into Dycard's hands. "Prince Raimon." He's a little more respectful to Raimon, because Prince, but he's still making an attempt to assemble a work crew out of these people without really asking anyone for permission to do so, including them.
Kia looks a little uncertain at Raja's directive, but nods to what Dycard says. She's slight of build, and her hands aren't calloused enough to show that she's any real skill with a workman's tools, but she's here and she's willing. Still. She's a determined chin that sets as she drags her hair over one shoulder so nimble fingers can weave its lengths into a braid that she secures with a tightly-wrapped thong. Whilst others rush for axes and tools of destruction, she picks for herself a simple shovel, hefting its weight in her hands and almost dropping it in the process. "This is something that I can be doing..." She notes what Oswyn is about and trails along behind him, the tip of her shovel dragging along the ground behind her in her wake. A snail's trail of her progress. "Hello. I am Kia," she introduces herself to him. Because that... that is /etiquette/.
Donella and her small party fill up a sledge of large chunks of stone and masonry, and the hardy pony tows it up to the carts for removal. "Sina was so neat and tidy when we were girls. She'd have scolded at me for this." The sledge is drawn closer over toward the Kennex party. "Tears in our wake," she murmurs. "Perhaps we could assist your team?"
As people look around to see what they can get into, they will find a series of buildings, five in total that are in need of demolishing. Some are sturdier than others! Raja turns around as there is a large prince behind her. A startled sound comes from her. "Oy! Spooked me." She hears Ian refer to him as Prince and then Raja pauses, a little awkward around the royalty.
Oswyn looks up from stuffing some half-rotted wood into his sack, shoving some of his hair out of his eyes and offering an amiable but close-lipped smile at Kia. "Well met," he says. He offers his hand to her. "A pleasure, Kia. I'm Oswyn, a scholar. I think there's part of a chair or something half stuck in the dirt if you wouldn't mind digging out around it enough that we can grab and pull it?" He gestures to a curved metal piece that may, in fact, be part of a chair.
Raymesin shows his shovel to Ian. "Ain't like I'm usin' knives for this," he points out. But it might be best not to ask why Raymesin's demolition weapon of choice is a shovel. He does at least seem to be willing to stay around Ian and even work with him, which - for anyone who knows him - is something of a departure from his more usual dealings with nobility. He eyes Ian's building of choice and nods, starting to attack a wall with one of the corners of the shovel's blade.
Dycard grins, taking the axe from Ian and rolling his eyes. "Thank you, my lord," he replies, before going to do manual labor things. His eyes dart toward Raymesin as he flashes his typical grin, "Well, I figure the worse comes to worst, it's better I have a bit of a chance to get myself ready, right? Get the blood pumping in case there's some kind of disaster in our efforts?" he jokes with obvious cautiousness, even as he jerks his head toward Kia. "Let me know if you need any help, ok?" he asks plaintively. He sets into trying to help demolish rubble, though obviously rather awkward with the idea of GENUINE manual labor.
Bhandn checks stamina and athletics at normal. Bhandn is successful.
Bhandn, on the other hand, seems to want to work somewhat in solitude. That is, until he's giving out a loud bark of surprise from where he's trying to loosen some rubble for ease of digging out. He's also quite the pack mule, managing the work as though he'd been doing it all his life. Dig free some rocks, carry rocks, repeat. While he does start to sweat from the labor, he does not seem to be tiring quickly. Quite the opposite in fact, even in spite of training earlier before coming here.
Ian leaves Aethan to coordinate horse-related things with Donella, while he drags along whoever he can pick up along the way over to the building. Not that he physically drags anyone; right now one of his hands is holding his cane and the other the haft of an ax. And also one of the people he's picked for metaphorical dragging is a Prince and hauling him around would probably cross some kind of line. "The plan is to whittle the load bearing beams down enough so that when we uses horses to pull a couple of them over, the whole place goes crashing down." NOTHING can go wrong with this plan, clearly.
Aethan regards Donella with her pony and cart, "I think that you could, Your Highness." There's a consideration for the words of Sina, looking back to the work that needs to be done, "Every stone lifted in effort, is an effort not then wasted."
Raimon -assumes- Raymesin's choice of 'shovel' comes from an extensive prior experience in burying bodies. Maybe stabbed ones. But he keeps assumptions to his own self, Raimon does, as a general rule. Raimon nods deeply to Ian and Dycard, wordlessly falling into his own place in the 'ad hoc' work - crew thence being mustered. In Raimon's own (_unexpressed_) opinion, the folks who know best what they're about ought to be the folks in charge. That means Raja and Ian, it looks like. And no one's here to tell him different, so, that's the way it's going to be. Raimon examines the structural integrity of the particular building that they've been assigned. Raimon's eyes squint, just a bit. He hefts the axe. If this were a ship, say, hm . . . . *that* would be where to start chopping at it. If a tree in the forest, hm, well, rightabouts *there* would be 'it.' Having done his best to assay the task, Raimon keeps his assessments private, the better to learn if his guesswork is accurate. If one has gotten the impression that Raimon keeps his mouth shut, chops hard, and keeps any commentary / opinions to himself, well, then, one has gotten the right impression.
"I am a bit of a scholar too," Kia smiles to Oswyn. "Also a bit of an apothecarist, an horticulturist and, as I was often told as a child, a bit of curious cat." She looks at the chair, or what's rumoured to be the remains of a chair, and after pushing up her sleeves to reveal tanned and toned forearms, swings her shovel to the fore; to jab it as best as she can at the rubble that strews the ground around it. Dirt muddies the hem of her skirts, though she's perhaps used to this as she kicks them to one side amd glances across to Dycard with his offer of help. "Please, yes? It would help greatly to remove this chair here so we have a clear path to the building?"
Oswyn offers a smile to Dycard, inclining his head to the man. To Kia, he says, "Good to know someone else who likes books. Any particular area of interest?" Some old rusty nails go into his sack, along with what looks like a particularly battered old knife. He considers it, trying to gauge if it's at all useful still, and puts it aside. It's not useful. He doesn't know shit about knives.
Having decided to trail alongside familiar faces in the crowd, Samira stations herself not far from Ian and Raymesin. She doesn't exactly have much practice in wielding an axe, but seems to be adopting a 'how hard can it be?' philosophy. Swinging it up overhead, she brings it crashing down in an attempt to do some (useful) damage.
Donella clicks her tongue with a hand on the bridle of the equine help, and rubs an arm across her brow. "Plenty of effort to be expended, I think, ere we lose the light," she tells the Duke with an inclination of her head. "We could have used one of the gantries, if we'd been able to move it here. Another day, perhaps, if the project coordinators wish."
Having finished her speech, she turns now for the work. Being the 'leader' is exhausting enough! She sturns her gaze around to see which groups were forming. Then she spies a loner, Bhandn and decides to join him. "Hey." She trots up, watching him clear out an area. "We could work together on this old fire-touched building here." She smirks, "Don't think it would be much to fell it."
Ian chooses a beam in the building he's targeted for Thraxing (with guest appearances by Samira and Ray) to death, and slips his cane into a loop in his belt clearly designed for that purpose. With his left hand, he hangs onto one of the beams to give him a little stability while he aims perfectly targeted ax blows at it with the ax in his right. Turns out all that proficiency with a sword carries over, at least a little bit. The one-handed hits aren't as powerful as two-handed ones would be, but they're placed well enough that it almost doesn't matter.
"A chair? Somebody call my brother - we obviously need a stronger man than me," Dycard jokes, setting to work trying to clear out the discrepancy Kia had pointed out. He offers a wave to Oswyn and then his attention turns to Ian as the man sets to work against a beam. "Lord Kennex! I don't know if the rubble deserves you ire!" he calls, laughing and then running a hand through his brow to wipe some sweat from increasingly messy and wild tufts of hair. "Are all of these buildings just assumed rubble? Or are we building a library on the ruins of a library?
"Lead and I'll follow," is Bhandn's simple response to Raja. He's breathing slightly hard, from the exertion of carrying stone to disposal carts, and his skin glistens with perspiration as well. "I think a shovel is a bit ill-suited for this," he continues saying to her, "so give me a moment to change tools." He won't be long in swapping a shovel for an axe, and soon enough Bhandn is returning with a sharpened blade. "Stay clear," he warns the Culler, and with a mighty swing starts chopping into the fire-touched wood that Raja indicated.
Raimon works away without tiring. Anyone watching closely at all would readily realize that Raimon is clearly no stranger to swinging big heavy axes around. His handiwork even has a note of . . . precision . . . not commonly found in the 'hewing and chopping' set. Over time and as they work, Raimon naturally drifts on over to the Thrax contingent. Not that he's particularly planned that especially. It just sort of naturally happens. Raimon observes them, each in turn, all the while without slowing his efforts. Splinters and kindling are left in his wake, and he periodically stoops down to gather those up. At length, Raimon finds himself working with Dycard. Hearing Dycard's query and judging the question to be a good one, Raimon looks toward Raja for an answer, should Raja wish to be so inclined.
Kia retrieves the knife that Oswyn's discarded, spits on the blade, rubs it with the pad of her thumb and then tucks it into the belt that cinches her waist. "I like folk tales and folklore," she tells Oswyn as she hunkers down close to the chair she's been freeing. She pulls away some stones, tossing them into a cart that someone's brought close. "I have been looking at stories of dragons in particular of late." Eyes, bright and alive, flick up to Oswyn as Dycard lends some much needed muscle and pulls the chair free. She barks a quick laugh at the ease with which he does it, then dusts her hands on her skirts, pitches her shovel onto her shoulder and plods on.
"This is the Lowers," Raymesin points out to Dycard, using his shovel to cut a chain-sized hole in the wall next to an upright. "If it ain't rubble yet, it's just 'cause it's too stubborn ter fall over." He's a guest in a Thraxian tale, though, and hasn't really worked out yet whether this is a good or a bad thing.
"It's a nice change to be using a weapon on a block of wood for once," Ian calls back to Dycard. Similar to someone cutting down a tree, he's creating a narrow spot in the wood to serve as a weak point. When he switches from the first to the second beam he also takes off his coat, draping it over something nearby, to be retrieved before he leaves. This is not the first of his loose fitting linen shirts that some poor soul is going to have to clean of a patina of dirt and sweat.
Aethan agrees with Donella, "If that was postured to the organziers before hand, there would have been time to move the equipment here." He assists with the equine organization, having obtained a few thick strong cart horses, encouraging the driver to prepare them to assist in tearing down a building, while responding to Donella, "We work with what we have."
A grin slowly spreads across her face as Bhandyn returns with the axe. "Alright." She moves to head to a corner of the building and then brings the axe in with a resounding WACK! Whack! Whack whack! There is just something therapeutic about this sort of violence. Finally, the axe chops through and the beam shifts, causing the wall to shiver violently. Alas, it remains in place. As she continues to work, she calls back out to Dycard, "Umm. These are just old buildings that have not been cared for. There was an earlier team of people make sure there weren't any squatters already."
Samira seems to be watching Ian out of the corner of her eye, adopting his technique as she hacks away at a beam. Eventually she loses herself in the repetitive physical work, settling into a rhythm. Heave, thwack, heave, THWACK! "Stubborn's right. How is it some of these buildings look like they'd fall over with a simple gust of wind, but tearing them down actually takes concerted effort?"
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Bhandn is working that axe with a will, determined to get the upper hand in this particular battle. He's content to work in silence, occasionally directing his grey eyes toward where Raja is making some progress at getting the wall to come down. Bhandn himself is aiming for a particularly thick beam, the other side of the aforementioned wall. "I think we're close," his deep voice calls out to Raja as he stops to take a quick breather. "You might want to get clear when I finish this side here." And he begins again. WHACK! WHACK!
Donella murmurs back and forth to Aethan, with a strained expression, and then gets out in front of the pony to urge it up a slope with another load of materials heaved out of the ground. "Gods, I hope the ground is more sound here than it was over there... The muck is like a cake batter."
"'Cause the one as were ready ter go like that fell down when I knocked on th'door," says Raymesin to Samira. With one hole made, he's moved to the wall on the other side of the upright to repeat the process.
Dycard rolls his eyes, "I've been docking The Intrepid in the Lowers?" he asks, laughing in a good natured and self-deprecating fashion as he hammers away at some kind of demolition work with his axe. "These blocks of wood could use with some training, my lord," he calls back over to Ian as he regards those near him. His teeth flash at Oswyn in delight as he regards those working near him. "You know - I think it just speaks to our stubbornness. The world can fall down around us and these buildings will stand up, but then something like the whirlpool happens and all of a sudden we're at each others throats, hm?"
Atli, a Whitehold Mountain Dog, 1 Harlequin jongleur arrive, following Tanith.
Atli, a Whitehold Mountain Dog, 1 Harlequin jongleur leave, following Tanith.
Atli, a Whitehold Mountain Dog, 1 Harlequin jongleur arrive, following Tanith.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Samira before departing.
Raimon watches Raymesin curiously, on the off chance that Raymensin had been part of the 'earlier team of people making sure there weren't any squatters' . . . just a passing glance to silently verify or counter that guess. Raynesin, the man from the beach earlier, did seem to be of the type to do such work. But appearances -can- be misleading of course. Since Raimon's found himself nearby Dycard, he grins just a tad as the man lifts out the stuck chair. A minuscule twitch of musculature, the grin appears and is gone in an instant. Raimon considers Samira's question. Also a good one. For it always -does- seem harder, does it not, to build something that lasts rather than wreck something that -is-. Doubtless Raymesin's right in this instance. Raimon swings a contemplative axe. And, just perhaps, a stubborn one also. Raimon makes a mental note to ask about 'The Whirlpool' at some point.
Aethan for a time looks calculated at the sinkhole, his jaw sets and he turns away to aid Donella and the other horse teams. But then a messenger comes for him and it is something important enough that he abandons the task at hand, "Princess, excuse me." He flags the missive, looks for Ian, but time is of the essence.
Tanith solutes the hired men as she enters the base of operation, recognizes one of them and says, "Eyup, Mizer, how's the new baby?" as she passes. Her eyes scan the area, looking for someone, eyes lighting up when they fall on Raymesin.
"The blocks of wood -are- good training," Ian responds to Dycard, recognizing a teachable moment when he sees one. "Watch your form. Choke back on the handle a bit." He works his way through a couple of load-bearing beams before taking up his cane again and taking a step back. The next step for him will be deciding which ones to have the horses pull down, and which ones to leave to collapse on their own when everything else starts falling. And where the use of bladed weapons of various stripes is his forte, this part of it clearly isn't. He wipes sweat from his brow while he considers and mutters something under his breath about never having Wash around when he needs him.
Raja hears Bhandn's voice and she hops back, scurrying out of the way. "CLEAR!" She calls out a warning to people in the vicinity of said wall. The wall creaks, then it groans, then it sounds as the wood all begins to scream at once as the wall crashes down. Clouds of dust and dirt fly up into the immediate area, causing those nearby to cough until the sea breeze blows it away.
Laughs, snorting wildly at Ian's diction. He almost jumps as the wall comes down, before returning to his task and hacking at some of the wood with some more studied precision. He turns an aside to Kia with a subversive grin. "Lord Kennex has served - intermittently - as my coach in all things physical. It isn't fun," he comments, incisors flashing. Glancing toward Raimon, his eyes light up and he pulls a flask from his coat. "Your Highness - would you care for some marching drink?" he asks, taking a swing from the flask and offering it across to him.
Raymesin gives Ian an odd look at the man's instruction to Dycard. "Choke... the 'andle?" He shakes his head - and then he hears a voice over at the hired men, and he turns with an honest-to-goodness smile. "Tanith! Yer made it! Grab an axe!" And then the wall falls over, and Raymesin's the one doing his level best not to choke.
"So I heard," Samira calls over her shoulder to Raymesin, a smile in her voice even if her expression is serious. "Glad to know even a whole house can't take down Raymesin Ulbran." The Culler turns to send a pensive glance toward Dycard, a subtle furrow creasing her brow. "That's 'cause things like the whirlpool affect certain people disproportionately, I think." Noting Tanith's arrival, she offers a quick grin in lieu of a wave since both hands are busy gripping the handle of her axe.
Ian instinctively turns his back on the wave of dust that comes at him, dipping his head to reduce the amount that he breathes in. It's not enough, of course, but it's something. He emerges from this cloud, looking for Donella. "Aethan took off the moment I turned my back, didn't he?" He asks her with a note of wry amusement.
Tanith wields The Wheel's Justice, a diamondplate one-handed axe.
"What, my ax won't work?" Tanith retorts cheerfully, grinning at her man. "What am I smashing?" she asks, giving Raja a wave and a wink as she goes past. "Hey, Ian-...er. Lord." She winces.
Auda emerges from some out of the way corner, covered in sawdust from sawing some beam or another! "What else needs sawing? I didn't expect this to be quite so much fun.
Bhandn doesn't need told twice to get clear. He scurries out of the way when the wood begins to creak, and a moment later is coughing profusely from the sudden cloud of grime. He's going to need a bath when this all said and done, the dirt clinging to his perspiring skin. "That's one," he comments to Raja, but his respite is brief as he begins work on the next part of the building. The axe is employed once again with a series of frenzied chops.
Donella calls over from where she is trying to unearth a rotten length of timber, "OOy, don't choke the handle too much. I've heard that causes blindness!" But to Ian she says, "I understood there to be some pressing matter ... or else my scary stories of the lowers sent him searching out a privvy. I have that effect on people, sometimes," she says with an equal wryness to her expression. "Can you get something beneath this bit, to wedge it up? I think we need another hand. It's stuck fast, and I have nightmares of disturbing another void space..."
Raimon *salutes* the departing Aethan with a giant upraised axe held aloft. The metronome sound of Raimon's chopping is thus notably absent for a few seconds thereby. Funny, how some things really aren't noticed or appreciated, very much, until they are absent. Some things including: Rafter braces. With their 'tenons' now 'mortised,' the roof timbers creak and lean down. A final few chops and the timbers are loose, ready for sawing. And: Just - in - time! Auda wanders by with . . . a saw. Raimon grins at providence and offers up the new beams for sawing!
Ian snorts. "You have no idea how hard I had to work just to drag him out of his blasted office," he tells Donella, with dry amusement. "He's been holed up in there for months. Well, hand me the lines we're going to use to pull this building down. Just don't attach the other ends to the horses just yet." While collecting the ropes and/or chains needed to pull down the building a bunch of them are working on, he takes note of, and nods to Tanith. "Good to see you again."
Raja coughs and coughs, waving the hand in her face to help disperse the particulates. "Oy.." She follows Bhandn to the next part, gesturing for some culler thugs to come and start toting away the beams and debris to the waiting wagons. "Saw you at the discussion last night." She says to the man she works with while throwing the axe head into some of the wood. "Interesting discussion. I was sad I had to leave early."
Furrows his brow, glancing over toward Samira curiously and smiling, while choosing to bite his tongue before turning back toward Kia and Oswyn, "Gods I miss manual labor. My brother is always trying to tell me that I need to be more proper - I think he means 'more lazy' in so many words..."
"It was interesting, yes," Bhandn calls back fom where he's slamming the axe into the wood once again. "I wanted to learn more or else I normally wouldn't have gone there." He doesn't extrapolate on that particular comment, going silent after speaking. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Bhandn settles into a rhythm of work himself, and then suddenly stumbles when his axe swing splits through a section of rotten wood! It causes his section of the next wall to creak ominously already.
Tanith's hesitant expression becomes a full-blown grin at Ian. "You too! Getting your hands dirty?" She looks around the space, actually standing on her toes a minute to peer over the fuss and the work and the people. "Say, is Austen here?" she asks Raymesin without thinking, the woman looking hopeful. "'d like to watch him swing an ax."
"I have a pet skunk for that," Donella responds, also taking up some metal cleats to help secure the lines... although not yeat to the horse. Stinky's tender attentions do wonders for motivating the hesitant child, or busy prince to go out of doors. ... You! You there! Hey! You're going to bring it down on your head!" she squawks in alarm. But Raimon seems to walk away unscathed. Just then, the particle cloud wooshes by and leaves her coated in a fine layer of creeping dry rot, plaster dust, and what may or may not be webbing. "Well. That happened," she says, blinking.
Ian shows Tanith a calloused, work-hardened hand that is, indeed, dirty, but before he can say anything else, Dycard distracts him. "Lord Romulius? Is telling you to be more proper?" Ian sounds a little bit incredulous and a little bit like maybe Dycard has a brother he doesn't know about. He pulls the heavy ropes one by one through the holes Ray made in the walls, and then, one by one, starts tying them to support beams. Hopefully the right support beams. He's back in his element here, using an encyclopedic knowledge of sailors' knots to secure the ropes with elegant, well balanced knots.
Raimon spares the faintest of grins as the timber crashes to where he'd been standing. Excellent. He had gauged that one perfectly. Once again, though, any emotion is quick to clear itself from his face. Raimon doesn't particularly 'miss' manual labor. Not per se. He kind of . . . just does it. Raimon ponders Dycard's comment, wondering what that perspective might feel like. For sure, it's a new one. Raimon selects the heavier chains, and, nodding to Ian, assembles the linkages to create the turnback loop that goes into the holes Ray had just fininshed. That done, he picks up the axe once more, and turns on back to the next beam that need chopping.
THWACK! Whack. Boom! CRACK! /Clatter./ All these sounds go on about the air, filling the air with a cacophony of sounds. As walls and debris fall, dust and debris lift into the air, making it thicker. Rats. There are rats! The scatter out, screeching and wiggling their whiskery noses at you angrily. They scamper off into some hole somewhere not to be seen again. Howeer as the work progresses, there are fewer rats. As people work, some young folk from the nearby orphanages bring cool, clean water and light alcohols for people to refresh themselves.
Raymesin, with the holes he'd made now being used for their intended purpose, backs away to stand with Tanith. "No, Sir Austen ain't 'ere," he says. "But I'm sure as there's a few folks about you can watch instead." He's got a shovel in hand, an implement he does seem to know the use of.
Tanith is directed to the bits of beam that are too big to go into the carts, smirking at her husband as she passes. "I've only got eyes for so many," she teases, before hefting her ax and dropping it blade-down across the wood she means to shrink. Soon enough, she's lost to the rhythm of it. The rats don't bother her none, and she keeps working, though she does snag a drink after a bit, looking over at Raja across the way. "RAJA!" she calls. "I brought more of those cookies if we needed them." She shrugs. "Can't be too prepared."
Ian waves at the dust a bit as it really starts to get bad. "I'm starting to wish I'd brought my scarf," he mutters to himself, probably the only person in the world to feel that way about said scarf. Then, louder: "Alright, everyone out! We're bringing this building down."
"Lord Romulius is always pressuring me to be more involved, but he's also too good a brother to force me to do it," Dycard calls across to Ian with a grin as he hacks at the rubble.
Donella bends down into a crouch to take a dipper of water from the young folk, and talk to them for a few minutes. "This? This belonged to my friend Sina, who was the Archscholar they are building the library for. Do you want to see how it looks on you?" she can be heard to say to one small girl. "Haha! It's a little big. But it could make you a circlet. The blue is pretty, isn't it-- Whoop, time too move. Lets all get clear of the fall, mm? I'll give you each a silver if you take hands in a chain."
Raymesin pulls a square of unbleached linen from a belt pouch, halves it, and ties it covering his nose and mouth. It's effective, even if it does make him look even dodgier than usual. His shovel is employed as leverage, helping Tanith get to the piece of wood she wants to cut more effectively.
The rats earn a look of disgust and a shake of the head from Sir Bhandn, who is now thoroughly caked in dirt from the collapsing walls of the building he's working on. He doesn't speak on them, but there is a noise that speaks volumes. He'll continue working on the building with that axe, determined to do his part to make this library a successful venture. It's for Sina, after all. Mostly, he just works, ignoring the fact he's now filthy. And on and on time will go for him.
Tanith takes a moment while Raymesin is unable to fight her off to tug down the edge of the linen and kiss his cheek, before putting it back where it was and going back to work.
Samira overhears Donella's mention of Sina, a mixture of grief and fondness flickering acros sher expression. What comes next, however, is a distraction. "OI, Sam, you're gonna want to hear about this," calls a stocky Culler as he approaches the artist. Huffing a breath, she drops her axe back among the pile of unused tools and wipes her hands on her pants. The news murmured in Sam's ear steals the entirety of her attention and finds her turning abruptly toward home. "Gotta go. I'll be back later to help if I can!" Calling this over her shoulder, she hurries away to deal with whatever issue has come up.
When the youngsters arrive from the orphanage, Raimon stops working for the first time today, and the steady sounds of his axe hitting timber are absent for at least a moment or two. As the refreshments make their initial rounds, Raimon's gaze seeks out Dycard -- he of the coat - with - the - flask - within - it. "If your kind offer still stands . . . " Raimon opens, glancing down toward the flask in question, presumably now safely ensconced and 're - pocket - ed?'
"I'm just saying," Ian protests to Dycard. "I've heard him curse." He's careful to make sure everyone's out of the building that they were hacking up before signaling to Donella that they're ready for the horses to pull. As the lines go taut, the beams creak and begin to splinter, and then with a loud groan, the entire structure comes crashing down on itself, creating a giant rolling cloud of dust and a huge pile of rubble that will need to be broken down and cleared up.
Through the combined efforts of our had working people, the resources brought in for the work, and the horses.. progress happens quite rapidly. Wall after wall falls. Then with each wall, a scramble of workers swarm in to collect debris. Wagons come. Wagons go. Before one realizes it, the sun is going down, causing the sky to darken. Lanterns are brought out to shine upon the last bits of work.
Raymesin gets kissed by Tanith. He doesn't seem to mind. The crashing down of the building has him wincing and hunching down against the rolling cloud of dust, the tall man probably quite glad for the hood he's wearing, not to mention the linen square. And then he goes back to work, wielding his shovel with ease. As for grimy and gritty - he doesn't seem to mind that any more than he minds the rats. Some things, in the Lowers, are pretty universal.
Dycard flashes a smile at the orphans, waving a hand about and passing the flask to Raimon as he squats down, "Hey there, kids - " he begins, grinning wide, turning toward Ian. "I've cursed? When?!" he protests, ruffling a kids hair and trying to box with them playfully. "Have you guys been learning how to fight yet?" he asks, his eyes flashing in playful amusement as he regards the orphans.
Auda scrambles with the best of them, putting her wiry strength to good use.She saws, she hauls. She generally helps wherever it's needed. e
The orphan girl by Donella looks up to her wide a pair of wide, sea blue eyes. She takes the gift and smiles warmly. In spite of a difficult start in life, there is still a bit of innocence. A bright smile is offered to Donella that pushes up freckle-dusted cheeks. She murmurs a thanks then latches on for a warm hug. Meanwhile Dycard gets the attention of a few boys and they perk up. The oldest boy laughs, "We fight all the time!"
Raimon has no kids of his own, a fact which causes him great inner pain. Not that you'd know. Internal pains, external pains, none of them tend to show on his face. Raimon watches as orphans swarm to Dycard. The barest hint of a happy-ish smile flickers across his visage . . . then gone. And then it's back to work. And work Raimon does, with a tireless fervor, until the sun has fled the sky. And Raimon then keeps right on working, as the lanterns light the scene. Hour after hour, without slowing down, the steady beats of his axe can be heard. Until, at last, the task is completed.
Now well and truly covered in dust, Ian puts his coat back on, thus making sure said dust isn't gonna to anywhere except the lining of his coat. He brushes at his pants a bit, useless though the gesture might be.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Tanith before departing.
Donella doesn't seem to care if in the action of receiving and returning this hug from a little girl has the potential leave her lighter a few coins. What does she need coins for? And she, too, was an orphan girl that grew in a harsh place. There are different KINDS of needs that go unfulfilled. All that is left of her former handmaid and childhood companion is her love, and so that is what Nell chiefly can give away to honor her memory.
Raja comes out from the recesses of one fell building and coughs a little more. She turns around, pleased with how much has gotten done in one day. The vast majority of the clearing out was completed! Raja moves to get back onto her box. Sweat has combined with dust and dirt, matting to her face and through her hair. "Wow! What a good day of work! Thank you! It shouldn't be much more for the debris is cleared out. I will soon make arrangements for the foundations to begin! This is going to be fantastic!" She beams a smile. "I have arranged for food!" She gestures to a wagon that has parked and is now taking off loads of steaming stew and baskets of bread. "Please, fill your bellies and be proud of a good hard day's work." Her gaze turns to Donella, "Thank you for the donation! I will make sure it gets put into the funds right away. That is very generous of you!"
Wrestles with some of the kids, throwing fake punches and the like as he toys about with the youth and allows them to tackle him to the ground (Possibly like a certain movie person letting hobbits tackle him on a mountain side) and tossing them about and fighting in a playful fashion. "Oh, think you have something to show off?!" he yells, even as his axe falls to the side and he rolls about in the rubble with the orphans.
Ian evades the orphans with the air of someone who's REALLY not comfortable with children, and does this by scrambling into a larger, more precarious pile of rubble, where it's too dangerous for orphans to be, with an ax to help Raimon with finishing up the job they started. It works out well for him, because he seems very comfortable with hard work.
Raimon moves Dycard's axe to one side. Just to be sure that no one gets hurt on it. Especially a carefree and rough - housing kid. Raimon's attention is then diverted by the mention of incoming wagons of foodstuffs. Well, one wagon at least. No doubt that suffices.
Tanith looks up after several more swings to see a messenger run over. She stops to grab a drink and take the letter, nodding to the girl as she skirts on past after her delivery. The missive is read and she frowns at it, folding the paper back over and tucking it in the pocket of her dress. Her cheer is definitely tempered but her work ethic is still there, the Grayhope looking a lot more lost in thought.
Silk, the Seafaring Spider arrives, delivering a message to Tanith before departing.
Raymesin eyes the orphans, who eye him; he stays away from them, they stay away from him, everyone's happier that way. He works on through the afternoon and into the evening, glancing over when Tanith gets her message and going straight back to it. But when food is announced, he straightens with one hand at the small of his back, and looks over towards the wagon.
Donella laughs and wipes her face again with a rag as she and hers load up and prepare to go back to the Northern ward. "What donation?" she says with something bothering her left eye and causing her to wink it out. "I didn't do anything. None of you saw me do it. You can't prove anything! That's slander that is! I'll deny it up and down!" she teases, having just committed something like a reverse robbery for charity. She gives a tired, dirty little wave of her hand.
As the day's work starts to draw to a close, Ian clambers out of the rubble and sits on a large piece of it. He takes his knife from its sheathe and takes a few minutes extracting a giant splinter of wood from his palm.
Laughter peals from Raja in response to Donella. "I gotcha!" She winks at the woman. The pots are then set up. The smell of herbs and cooked meat wafts through the area. Vowls are being ladled out and passed among the workers. "Eat drink!" Raja invites all to come and enjoy themselves. Seems the work day is over and now for a good meal.
Tanith glances at her husband and murmurs something at him, finally dusting off her hands after sheathing her ax. There's a worried, pinched look to her face, but she also shrugs and gestures to the food, or the direction of it.
Eventually fighting his way free of the mob, Dycard laughs and playfully shoves one of the orphans back into their fray of absurd fighting that they had learned from him by the head as he climbs up to sit beside Ian and survey the scene. "My lord. Injure yourself hm?"
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