An Unremarkable Associate arrives, following Acacia.

In the evening, the commons Square is partly bathed in a warm glow by various candles housed in lanterns arranged strategically to keep things properly lit. Umay is knelt down by some baskets filled with some small loaves of bread. Once she is finished checking her supplies, her gaze travels over the people gathered and she offers them a friendly smile while allowing them a few last minutes to talk amongst themselves. She does seem to look around her with some uncertainty, searching for a particular face that she can not seem to find. Nervousness touches her eyes, but she holds her head high and tries her best to not let it show in how she carries herself.

Acacia crept through the crowds when she'd arrived, always careful that each step was laid with circumspect wariness that she doesn't knock over any of those lanterns. Her eyes had narrowed too a bit upon the surrounding square, before she ventured closer towards Umay with a casual sort of swagger. "... Chances are he got caught up, love, but imagine he'll be here sooner rather than later." She skims the crowds, before offering lightheartedly, "Can't imagine anyone will do anything off-base. People need the Faith right now after all, aye?"

Aureth strides into the commons square, his hair bound in a loose tail at the nape of his neck. He's armed, and trailed by the shadow that is his assistant, his arms a loose fold across his chest as he approaches Umay. He doesn't immediately say anything, but he does -- turn about, plant himself, and stand there as though flanking her. He's the most unlikely bodyguard in the entire lower boroughs, and yet there he is. The scruffiest weasel Disciple in the Faith.

Mae Culler is the tiny messenger woman in the drag wool cloak. Same as she always is. She's heading right for Umay, only to find Acacia already there. There's a faint smile to Acacia - though if either Umay or Acacia pay much attention, they will surely note Mae looks miserable soon as that smile fades - and then she looks to Umay. "We can help. Whatever... needs doing, Sister," she says. Her voice is a bit raw. Has she been crying...?

Aureth checked perception + empathy against difficulty 15, resulting in 28, 13 higher than the difficulty.

Khloe emerges from the crowded interior of the commons clinic, its building front lit with candles and lanterns as youths linger outside it doors, watching the gathering of bodies ready to engage in the walk waiting to begin. She tugs her cloak tighter around herself, slowly working her way deeper into the crowd with unhurried steps of booted feet, gray eyes catching upon familiar faces here and there.

Acacia checked perception + empathy against difficulty 15, resulting in 54, 39 higher than the difficulty.

Khloe checked perception + empathy against difficulty 20, resulting in 35, 15 higher than the difficulty.

Driskell makes his way down to the Commons Square, and given the weather his linen crimson cloak is over both the shoulders although it probably is doing nothing more than looks warm. Hands clasped behind his back underneath the cloak, he does wear a half mask that shows he's representing the Thirteenth here in unity with the rest.

Umay checked perception + empathy against difficulty 15, resulting in 33, 18 higher than the difficulty.

3 Culler Lackeys arrives, following Orathy.

Umay looks to Acacia and nods at her in understanding, "I agree, I hope to share some with people tonight. Thank you very much for coming. I am Sister Umay if we have yet to meet. If we have, then my apologies, my mind is frazzled from the preperations today." When Aureth walks over to stand by her side, it is enough to help her relax and help her smile brighten up. "Thank you, Brother." She tells him softly, looking to Mae. She blinks in surprise at the woman's state and her lips curve to frown gently in concern. "Are you okay, Mae? If you would like, you can help me in passing these out. But only if it is not a bother. Let me address everyone and we can get started..." Since enough time has been spared, she attempts to lift her hand to gather people's attention. "Good evening." Umay greets the others pleasantly, trying to let her voice carry to be heard by all, "Thank you very much for joining me. I understand that it is late, but it brings me great joy to see people drawn to be there for one another and offer strength." She gestures down by her feet where baskets have been rested and tells everyone, "As part of my thanks, I have brought some food that I will be sharing with you. You can all enjoy it together while we pray. After our prayers have been offered, you are free to stay for as long as you'd like and I will remain here. To answer questions or to just listen. Do not be afraid of speaking up, for nothing is so small that I would turn away from you my fellow brothers and sisters." She hooks two of the basket on both of her arms, and nodding to Mae to let her know that she is ready for her assistance for what is left. She starts to walk around the crowd and lets people take one or two loaves for themselves.

"Acacia Culler. Well met. I imagine you'll have a lot with you tonight and formalities certainly aren't the important thing, love." After the introduction towards Umay, Acacia's dark eyes cut from where she'd been loitering towards Mae at her words, visually surveying her for silent moment or two. "Aye, what she said," she abruptly agrees with her cousin, teeth flashing for a bit with her affable grin towards Umay. With a rustle of her leather cloak tossed back over her shoulder, she strafes towards Mae to attempt to toss a crooked arm about her shoulders to coerce her for an almost aggressively tight hug. Her personal flask appears in that same grasp-trying arm, shaken suggestively when she simultaneously tries to steal a kiss to dark locks, "Drink for sanity, love? Always doing your best, aye?" Aureth is provided a pleasant enough nod with his proximity and the same is offered thereafter to Khloe.


Frederik Steelhart does not belong in the Lower Boroughs, but then again, he doesn't belong in the Wards or the capital either. He's cut from a different cloth, a military man who'd be better served in some tent or keep, but he's here anyway, perhaps due to the fact the Godsworn was at one point a Princess and old habits die hard. He tries to remain as discreet as he can, sticking to the crowd in an effort to remain unseen.

3 Culler Lackeys have been dismissed.

Driskell gives a tilt of his head in a bow towards a few of the highborn before he makes his way more towards the denizens of the Lowers to listen and watch Umay.

"What?" Mae answers Umay, and looks quickly worried. Her hand shoots out, and she rubs at her nose with her sleeve. Did she not wipe off the snot and tears? She draws that sleeve back to check. No... clean. "I... I'm fine," she says, contrary to what just happened. Then Acacia squeezes her. "Ah!" she squeaks. "I... 'Cacia, I'm fine," she says, again. Lying, surely. Though she does eye that flask, then sigh, and take it. She uncaps, lifts, swigs, then hands it back over. "Got to help," she tells Acacia. And then she steps away form her cousin, uncharacteristically not seeking more affection, and picks up one of the bread baskets.

Orathy was here the entire time. Really, sometimes he's just hard to spot in the mix of people. In actual fact, the direction of travel where he came from wasn't as important as he was seeking Umay out, looking around at the gathering with a stoic approach to the way his eyes sweep across each face.

Calaudrin finds his way down here, milling in with the crowd and keeping to himself. This isn't exactly a social call for him. His eyes track the masses, keeping an idle watch on the people immediately around him. He doesn't attach himself to any one group, instead drifting through.

Once she has finished making her rounds to divy out the offerings of food, Umay returns to stand center as she draws in a deep breath. "As much as I would love to stand here and get to know each and every one of you for more pleasant reasons, I am afraid that we are all aware of the troubles looming just outside of our city." She frowns gently to herself and goes on to say, "Many of the people who lived here have already been evacuated to the Upper Boroughs for concerns of safety, but as I see, there are still those of you who choose to stay. And I in no way blame you nor do I wish to try to change your minds about your decision." As she lets her eyes sweep over the buildings, she eventually notices Orathy and smiles brightly, eventually letting her eyes roam again. "For many of you, this is your home and it can rend even the strongest of hearts apart when we are told that we must leave it behind."

Acacia's focus is retained upon Mae, even as she retucks that flask inside the interior of her cloak. It leaves her perhaps a bit more distracted than usual, tongue dragging along her lower lip when she seems to idly forge through the crowds. She gingerly picks up a pair of those baskets of bread that are being distributed, not to be consumed, but apparently to shove them at people to help. Frederik would be nearly forced upon with one without so much as a bow as his station might dictate and she'd soon be seeking to shove a second at Calaudrin at the same time. The latter receives a bit more of her attention, chin uptilting as she notes simply, "... Mmh. I remember you. Refills, aye?" But her attention rivets back upon Umay at her works, jaw ticking just a bit.

A bit late, Sparte shows up dressed in his peasant's tunic, trousers, and some sandals. Not a lick of the Iron Guard gear he usually wears is present. Staying off and out of the way, he watches on with some concern and uncertainty.

Mae silently goes about her work, handing out bread to anyone that wants it. She pauses, to look back to Umay, when the woman speaks again.

Driskell looks and spies Mae and he says, "Ahh, don't I know you? The post girl, right?" as she makes her way handing out bread to those nearby. "I hope there's a letter coming soon, never a good thing with letters go walk-about."

Calaudrin is quiet, listening attentively as Umay begins to speak. Whatever he might be thinking of her speech is unclear, his expression is rather passive, if tense. He spots Sparte's quiet entrance and lifts a hand to greet the other guard, discreetly of course. He oofs quietly when a basket is shoved into his arms, one that he reflexively grabs. He lifts his eyebrows and stares down at Acacia speculatively, it takes him a moment. "Ah, yes. Refills. That's my name alright." A flicker to the basket. "I guess this is like that." Refills of bread. Sure, why not? He begins handing them out to people. He wasn't busy doing anything else.

Orathy seperates himself from the crowd to march on over to stand beside Umay, a nod given to her as his hands clasp before him. To some, seeing this Culler in particular by a sister of faith may come as a surprise. Let them be surprised. His chin jerks upward at the words of the looming troubles beyond the city walls, the matter of attempts at evacuation for the people of the Boroughs where some may have listed and some may not have. His eyes slide to Acacia and Mae, spotting them out of the crowd, but also to others he may have become familiar with over time, or in some manner of brief meeting. He picks out Frederik, and Driskell, his brow twitching at the sight of Sparte. Outwardly he is solemn, his attention returning to Umay as she leads the prayer and words of faith and hope.

"It may not be forever, though the damage that we may return to..." Umay murmers, closing her eyes for a somber moment, "It may not be something that we wish to see. But it will not last forever either." When she opens her eyes to look over the people once more, she tells them. "Despite this, I know that none of you are going to cower or feel resigned in accepting a fate for the worst. Several hard working people have already been working on the preparations necessary to fortify these buildings and streets and I know that there are those who would lift a weapon to fight, should our aggressors break through the gates. But they do not have to act alone and those of us who cannot or do not fight do not have to feel as if there is nothing that we can do." She gestures out over the crowd, "Together we can call upon the blessings of the Pantheon to ask them as their humble children for help to keep our defenders' blades and minds sharp, to protect us in our hour of need, and to help us in finding comfort and certainty. We do not have to fear or doubt, and we will all stand strong together. Now, if I may ask that we take a moment now to bow our heads and pray to all of the Pantheon. Feel free to just listen or if you would like, break away from the prayers that I lead to offer your own in your thoughts so that the Pantheon may hear them."

"... It's a great name." Acacia's quip towards Calaudrin was ushered from one corner of her mouth. She'd stepped aside in order to not hinder his view of Umay, but her expression progressively grew more skeptical up until the explanation of the prayer was intoned. She brandishes a light wink towards Orathy at the short catch of his eyes, still tracking after Mae otherwise. It isn't until the dictation to bow their heads that she fluidly clasps her her left hand about her right wrist, keeping her arms at a casual dangle before her. She doesn't quite close her eyes, but she does tuck her chin respectfully.


When the bread is pushed to Frederik, he gives it a blank look, as if unsure what to do with it. He passes it on to a common boy nearby, then looks back towards where Umay is, though Orathy catches his gaze and he lifts his chin in a nod. He stays with the crowd, a hand on the scabbard of his sword as if it's a security blanket, though every now and then his hand gives a violent tremor and his jaw clenches.

Mae offers a whisp of a smile to Driskell, as she passes him. It's a sad sort of thing, despite her effort to make it happy. "That's right," she says. "Forgive me, don't think I remember... where we met?" she offers. Then offers him a piece of bread. "Hungry?" Then she looks back to Umay, and quiets again.

Acacia checked perception + streetwise against difficulty 15, resulting in 30, 15 higher than the difficulty.

Calaudrin is going think long and hard about his after work hobbies later. Once he's passed out all the bread to the people around him, he looks down at the empty basket sort of awkwardly. "Now what?" He mutters, mostly to himself. Thankfully there's a crate or something nearby and he just puts it down over there out of the way. Bowing is head, he quietly lends himself to the prayer. His eyes aren't closed however, they're just mostly lowered.

Sparte makes his way over to near Calaudrin, giving the man a small smile before looking over the others present thoughtfully. He doesn't seem scared, but certainly troubled on some level.


As Gregor comes into the area, hand resting on the pommel of his sword, he notices the crowd around Umay. He stops to stare and possibly listen for a moment to all that is going around him but his eyes are soon to search and scan the crowd for someone and something. That's when he spots Frederik, and starts trying to move through the crowd without trying to draw attention. He closes his eyes every few steps, and it's not hard to piece together it's from the limp of his left leg.

Driskell takes the bread offered with a thanks, "That's fine, I just remembered seeing you before. Thanks for the bread." as he breaks a bit off and chews on it thoughtfully while turning his attention back to Umay.

Aureth has been standing quietly throughout since he first got here. He slants a sidelong, thoughtful look over Umay, and seems inclined to maybe take a lesson from the much younger priest in how public prayers work, something that he has historically not been super attentive to.

Umay lowers her head, closing her eyes as she keeps her hands clasped in front of her to keep her stance peaceful and relaxed. She starts to lead in the mentioned the prayer, "Lagoma, we are all gathered to pray to you on this night, to ask that you help in guiding your children to grow and be prepared for the change that is in store after our fight is said and done. We ask that you let the fire of your passion burn in our hearts, so that it may help all of your children here survive to feel the warmth of Spring when it comes. We are here to pray to you, Mangata, that when the last drop of blood has been spilled, that you will help the sun to rise as it always has and bring light on a brand new day. One that we can all live in without fear as we work to rebuild if we must. Petrichor, we all ask that you help us in not letting the Bringers taint your glorious lands. May the soil beneath our feet remain ever fertile for our farmers, may the forests stand proudly through the tests of time, and the mountains hold as strong as all of our faith combined for the Pantheon itself."

Acacia periodically makes some vague rumbling noise at the prayers as they're spoken, one echoed often in practiced harmony by a nondescript associate who has positioned himself on the opposite side of where she currently stands. He seems more interested in shadowing Mae at the moment. She keeps her quiet still, or relative quiet, with only the occasional murmur spared, buried beneath breath.

Orathy up nods to Frederik, before the call to prayer. That is when he makes a point to sweep his chin down and tuck it close to his chest, his eyes falling shy of all the way closed but for viewers, they appeared sealed. He even does some head nodding at various stages of the prayer and looks to murmur a repetition of them that goes little further than his lips.

"You're welcome," Mae says, to Driskell, her tone quite soft. Mae looks wholly content to keep her hood up, her eyes down, and her mouth shut. She seems to be actively avoiding drawing attention, and talking. The prayers make it just so very easy to do that.


After a good moment and some shoving of commoners, Gregor finally makes it to Frederik. His hand moves to his chest and he dips his head to Frederik, "My Lord," the words following the gesture and then his head turns over to watch Umay again, "I was summoned to listen to prayers?" The tone seems cold, but so does every other word that comes out of his mouth.

"Vellichor, we all pray to you in hopes that you will help us to know what to do in this uncertain time. Help us in casting the doubt away from our minds. We pray to you in hopes that the days to come will be marked forever in our history, so that we will never forget the sacrifices that people will be making in yours and our names. That we may never forget that no matter what challenges we may face, that it is with our resolve and trust in the Pantheon's gracious guidance, that we will survive and endure." Umay says, continuing her prayers that carry strongly on the sound of her voice, "Glora, we pray to you in hopes that your spirit will be standing beside of our defenders. That your hand rests overtop theirs on the hilts of their weapons to help them strike true. It is with your blessings that we all hope to find honor in our struggle, it is with your strength that we know that we will win in the end. Jayus, we pray to you to ask that you cast a hammer down with our smiths. To strengthen the blades and fortify the armor that is made in the name of this fight. And we ask of you, when the fighting is done, to help us never lose our joy. Help us by giving your artists wonderous ideas and beautiful songs to say out of the merriment that you help to bring to our lives. Help us in staving away the nightmares, by granting us soft and sweet dreams of the memories that we hope to make."

Acacia's general poise remains largely unchanged, though a small smile has crept onto her downturned features. She steals a peek through partially unruly curls towards Orathy and Aureth both, but it doesn't last for long. Only a modest adjustment of her legs, ensuring they're bent a bit, alters her position.

Kodo and Podo - The Ferret Twins arrives, following Haati.

Calaudrin is still there, praying and largely unmoving. He does tip his head to the side when Sparte nears him, acknowledging the man's prescence once he's come close. His expression remains the same, not overtly concerned but not all that happy. Somehow he manages to not look terribly impressed, but that's probably his default face.

The prayer goes on, and even Mae's sullen state seems to preven tall the Mae-ness from being contained. She lifts her head, just barely. Her eyes dart about. Then she quickly tears off a piece of one of the bread rolls and shoves it into her mouth. Then eyes closed again!

Haati walks down the street, he had heard there would be something happening in the lower boroughs, something the Cullers might be involved with. It sounded like a good thing, something to begin hope to others. he notes around the streets and nods to those he knows.

It doesn't look like Aureth is visibly praying. He's watching. And ... frowning. Hm.

Umay tries to focus on her breathing to keep her nervousness quelledd as she remains focused, "Limerance, we pray to you to help us in never losing the love in our hearts, no matter the atrocities that we may see. Help our brothers and sisters be able to see the dawn so that they do not have to think of giving up any promises they have made, no matter how big or small. Sentinal, we pray to you to ask of your help in making sure that justice is wrought upon the enemies that are deserving of it and that you help us in shielding the innocent from unjust harm. May your ever watchful eyes survey these lands and remember every hero and heroine that will be out there serving. Gild, we pray that you help us find it in our hearts to not withold in our generosity to our fellow man. We ask that you help us in showing mercy on us, that we may find safety in the city that you have helped build. We pray to you that you help all of the people fighting out on the front lines find their way back to us. That their travels are safe after a job well done..."

Mae chews and swallows her bread. She opens her eyes again. Another look around, and this time, she spots Aureth. With those big, big dark eyes of hers, she just stares at the man. Then mouths, 'How many Gods are there again?' Clearly, she's lost count of the prayer.

Acacia's gaze slowly rises towards Umay after her words, a distant study placed. There's still some general murmurs occasionally coming from her direction, but many of the louder ones only demonstrate signs of assent. The low ones have no obviously visible target, but it's relatively consistent at this point.

Haati spots Orathy and heads over that way, nodding to the large man once he nears. He doesn't speak at first, but then there is a gap, "Grace with you Orathy." Softly said as he listens to what Umay prays for and nods several times, not as religious as some, but he does observe more than others.

Aureth mouths 'Thirteen' back at Mae, and then gives her a wink. He's super subtle about it. Super subtle.

Orathy was a sentinel beside Umay, though he may not speak the words himself, he does glance up when he hears some murmurs in the crowd. When Haati nears enough to speak to him, Orathy inclines his head. But he doesn't speak, probably because his heavy drawn accent would take away from the poetic nature of the faithful sister.

Acacia squints in Aureth's general direction, her previously clasped hands unfolding to splay a bit apart and then hold up three more fingers. There's a tick of her head to the side and then she's back to her original position, with only that divided look between the two of them.

As the prayers start to draw to a close, there is a pause of hesitation from Umay. Still, she continues on, "Tehom, though it is with your help that we are all able to see how flawed we truly are...it is also with your aid that we know what we must fight against, the reflections of ourselves that we must never let ourselves give into and become. Please, help your children here by protecting us from ourselves. From our own demons that hide inside of us while we must stay strong and true." She gathers a deep breath and murmers, "We pray to you, the Lost ones. Not only to seek forgiveness for having lost sight of you, but to ask that you help to guide us too. Queen of Endings, please, if the time comes for our own, stand with them so that they need not fear and can move on to better things and new beginnings...may the First Choice gives us the opportunity to choose to never give up and to remind us to never feel that we are ever without a Choice. That we may never feel helpless again. Aion, we pray to thank you for all you have given us. Without you, none of this would have ever been. We will all look forward to seeing what you have in store for us." She finally lifts her head and her green eyes look out on the crowd. "Thank you again, for joining me. I turn now to offer Orathy Culler the chance to offer some words of his own, to help instill the hope that I sincerely hope was brought tonight as someone who has lived here with many of you for his entire life." She turns to Orathy and offers him a reassuring smile as she steps back to help in giving him the people's attention.

Driskell looks with interest at Orathy to see what will be said. He munches a bit of the bread.

Acacia's silence had persevered, aside from her less subtle hand signs. Upon the completion of the prayer, she rocked a bit in place with a moderate adjustment to her posture. But her brows arched a tiny bit when Orathy was referenced, the corner of her mouth curling a touch as she dug into the interior of her cloak once more to steal her flask out again and casually partake in another sip.

Orathy checked command + leadership against difficulty 15, resulting in 21, 6 higher than the difficulty.

"Thank the Gods," Mae says, in a quiet little voice. A voice that was meant to be in her head, but obviously escaped. Her eyes go wide, and then she clears her throat. "Thank the Gods!" she says again, in a louder voice. Yes, drive that one home! Sell it! She quiets again, and attempts to make herself just a bit smaller. Then she looks aside, to spy Acacia, to see if the redhead is still watching.

Ugarte have been dismissed.

Calaudrin murmurs the completion of his prayers before lifting his head. He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows drawing together into a tight furrow.

Haati nods his head and gives the prayer an end, something of the sea to add to it.

Sparte continues to quietly watch people through the ritual. Whether he knows it or not isn't clear, and he tries to nod his head respectfully when that is the general mood.

Orathy lifts his brow a little when Umay finished the prayer and ended on the note that he should take the stage to offer the good people of the Lowers some heartening words. Life couldn't be stranger sometimes. Orathy steps forward, looking around at the people gathered, considering the words of prayers that have already been called down. He glances back once to Umay, before he solidifies some thought, or so one would hope that's what that look means and he isn't about to tangle over his tongue. "We be givin a chance, ta know, ta view our fortune befer it befalls upon us. By those who be closer ta the gods than many of us be at times, we be hearin of wha' sort of fate thar be fer us. While it may be frightenin' 'n troublin, jist be knowing tha even if we don't be seein the gods or feelin' their presence as much, the Families of the Lowers will always be fightin fer us. We be Real. We be 'ere. We be the ones ready ta defend these streets. The Cullers be askin' people ta evacuate ta higher ground if at all be possible 'n while some have listened, we do know the pull of our hearts be 'ere, in the very place we 'ave borrowed. We ain't going ta be handin it over easy, not to anyone who ain't born 'ere, aye?! I will be stayin ta fight, to protect those who stay, ta stand with those of the Families who will stay on ta do the same. We ain't be knowin wha will be happenin, but we will be ready fer the worst, for, tha is wha we always do. We be survivors. And this, aye, t'will be no different!" He looks out across the faces and smirks, "Iffin youse want ta fight fer us and with us, should it come to tha, I be gatherin folk who can see to it. Aye, others, be doin wha they can to help as well, where they can. Seek hope in the Gods aye, but secondly, seek help in the Families!" And that, seems to be his speech. It isn't long and seems to be over with a simple lift of fist in the air.

Despite the evacuation being something Mae herself was spearheading, and despite this being her uncle, Mae just fidgets. She can't wait for it be done. Can't wait to run off, before someone tries to talk to her. In fact, she's already moving, as Orathy speaks, to set down the bread basket, and whisper quickly to Umay.

Driskell lifts a brow up at the speech given and the instructions, but he does the polite thing by giving his piece of bread to a nearby person before starting to clap.

Driskell is overheard praising Orathy for: Whilst the pronunciation didn't help with the elucidation of the given speech, the conviction of Goodman Orathy does give a persuasive and compelling point for the fine people of the Lowers to look to themselves and be the heroes that they need rather than look elsewhere. Good point.

Acacia has imparted quiet words aside, her gaze lifting briefly towards Frederik and then touching upon Gregor. But her focus snapped back at Orathy's words, chin uptilting just enough to provide that visual she was listening attentively. There's a small smile spared, before she lifts her fist to mimic and then hooks two curved fingers into her mouth to loose an approving whistle. It's only then that she initiates a bolder applause, carelessly loud when she adds her vocal approval to the mix, "Well bloody said, you two."

Umay 's smile is warm as her eyes remain on Orathy, having listened attentively to every word that he had to offer in the speech. She steps forward and gives the man a chaste, thankful hug, "Thank you, Orathy." She releases him from the hug and turns to the others, "And before I let everyone go to do as they will, I extend one last invitation for any of you who wish to. To stand here with us, and say what you'd like to the crowd. Anything that you think may help us all. Because I know that I could have done so much different, there was so much that was left unsaid, and I know that I could have been better." She smiles and tells the crowd, "But if not, then that is alright too. I hope each of you have found something to hold onto tonight. True to my word, I will stay here if you would like more privacy for what any of you may have to say." She listens to Mae whisper to her and smiles as she reaches out to hug Mae if she does not refute it. "No, thank you, Mae." She says, her words sounding almost shaken in the sincerity of the thanks that she has given the smaller girl.

Mae hugs Umay quickly, and then she turns, without another word, and heads off to the south.

HUG. Orathy ... bear hugs in return. Because what's the fun of not being able to bear hug people time to time! It also lets him smirk as he hoists the woman up for a moment then sets her back down on the ground proper. It's a motion that affirms Umay's acceptance from the Culler family, if not just the big brute himself. Once that's done, he gives her shoulder a squeeze as he sets off behind her and to the side, should anyone wish to speak with him about ... preparing the Lowers for combat.

Driskell heads off to the north once the service is finished.

Haati nods to Orathy as it seems to have ended now, "It was a rousing speech... I hope you and yours will fair well with all that is upon us these days... I couldn't not come out to support this."

Calaudrin's expression takes a turn to look troubled by the end of the speech. However he doesn't speak what's on his mind, instead, with lips pursed together he'll take to the streets and wander back in the direction of the barracks. He'll wave to Sparte when he goes.

Orathy turns to Haati as the man approaches, extending his forearm to Haati in a well deserved greeting, "Ain't much fer speeches. Tha be me brother's thing, aye. ER, well, maybe not even so. Hah. Jist, be fightin' the good fight eh, 'n someone best be doin it after all." He claps his other hand to Haati's shoulder, "Thanks fer your support Master Haati. Tis much appreciatin. We's be hopin nothin be happenin down 'ere, but supposin none of us be hopin' fer much of the lives we be gettin either. Iffin it comes to unfold a way, we be dealin with it." Seeing Haati and once he's dropped from the forearm greeting, does he smack his palm against the neatly made daggers at his side, "These babies slice well. Thraxian rope well."

Umay lightly squeaks as Orathy is much stronger with the hug he returns than she was, but she still grins despite having to put breathing on hold for the duration of the hug at least. When she is sat down, she giggles as she brushes herself off, "Well, if that is everyone, then I hope that you all have a wonderful night!" She waves at everyone who goes, but stays as she lingers nearby Orathy and Haati. "Thank you." She tells Haati, "I know it was somewhat short notice..but I'm still glad to have had the chance to do it."