Cahal wields Cloudspite, a rubicund waraxe.

The Western Gate is a horror of a different flavor than what they glimpse of the rest of the city on the way from the cathedral. There are men and women fighting in the streets, buildings are collapsed, on fire, or both, and in the dark they can spot worse things. The effect of it all is predictable: people are fleeing toward the most likely escape; thousands of people, and the situation is not helped by just where the fighting seems to be breaking out. The gates are wide, and thrown open by those trying to escape, but they aren't wide enough. People have to slow. Stop. Struggle to get through. Once on the other side, however, it's bizarrely...quiet. Oh, there's still screaming, still fire, and the utter chaos of the city behind them, but there doesn't appear to have been any attack from this end.

Near the walls, the city stables stand intact, full to the brim with horses, many of whom are starting to panic. One or two of those hitched outside have already broken free and bolted into the dark. All along the road, carts, wagons, and carriages are lined up, empty, and lacking animals to pull them. But then, of course, there /are/ a lot of steeds about.

Cahal checks perception at daunting. Cahal fails.

Marzio checks perception at daunting. Marzio marginally fails.

Valdemar checks perception at daunting. Valdemar fails.

Harlex checks perception at daunting. Harlex fails.

Running through the city, Marzio had elected to leave friend and family alike and to angle toward the place where the citizens seemed to be rushing in hopes of escape. Naturally, he spies the bottle neck of citizens at the gate and then the lines of wagons and carts. "Maybe if we can get the horses calmed and hitched to the wagons we can get more people out at once?" he yells over the din to any who might listen before he begins to run toward the stables, intent on trying to calm the horses.

Approaching the chaos at the gate Cahal half turns to look at the other three who have come this way along with them. "Looks like we'd better get this crowd under control." He squints a little as he looks to the crowd and gives an absent nod to Marzio. "I'm not sure who's the best at talking them down. Might be me."

Harlex hadn't felt much desire to attend a gala. But as Sword of Lenosia he wasn't exactly going to let the Archduchess visit a city and /not/ keep some tabs. Mostly he sulked around for a while. Probably had a drink. However it seems his quiet night of hoping nothing bad happens is inexplicably ruined. So it goes. In the chaos, he headed for the gates. Whatever wanted to get in, or had gotten in, would come from this point after all. A few able bodied soldier-types, maybe partly familiar to him, were also present. He looks past, toward that growing mass of frightened cattle -- people, ahem -- and then toward Marzio. "Out to where?" He wonders. The back of his neck tingling with something ill in the air. "Better than letting them crush one another, I suppose. Ought to get control of the mob, while some of us get these horses set up."

Valdemar ends up following a small group that includes a couple of somewhat familiar faces, Harlex and Marzio. When the latter makes a suggestion about getting the horses under control, however, the Duke shrugs and answers, "That's possible. I'm alright with animals, but horses that freaked out are likely beyond my ability. If someone else wants to try, though, I can watch their backs."

Marzio checks command and animal ken at normal. Marzio is successful.

Harlex checks composure and animal ken at normal. Harlex is successful.

Cahal checks charm and empathy at hard. Cahal is successful.

Valdemar checks command and leadership at hard. Valdemar marginally fails.

Marzio looks over his shoulder and offers a nod while running to the others. "Calming the citizens would be a good idea," Marzio calls out as he rushes up to the stable and then begins to attempt and soothe the riles animals inside. The Marshal of Ostria once commanded the cities cavalry, and as such horses are more his speed than dealing with people in some ways. "Shhhh, there we go. It's okay. Caaaaalm, easy there!" he says to the horses he comes to, mostly working down one side of the stable and hoping someone else sees to the other side.

"Calm!" Valdemar raises his voice in an attempt to be heard over the din of the crowd, "You'll all get where you're going much quicker if you do it in an orderly fashion!" In spite of his stature and booming voice, however, no one seems to be paying the Duke much mind for whatever reason. This prompts him to shake his head and continue to look around, keeping his eyes peeled for any other trouble that might come their direction.

Valdemar checks perception at hard. Valdemar is successful.

"Guess its me then." Cahal murmurs as the others go off to work on the horses. He looks about for a moment, looking for a wagon to hop up on and then hauls himself up onto it. "People. I know you are scared" He calls just after Valdemar's gained attention with his call. "but you need to get into orderly lines so that we can get you out of the city. My friends include the Sword of Lenosia and the Duke of Grimhall. They will ensure that you are safe. And we are arranging transport for you right now. If you form lines, with children at the front, we will ensure that everyone that wishes to leave can." he gestures over to the wagons. "If you have experience as a teamster please gather over here so that we might assign you a team to work."

Viviana goes to provide much needed help at the Western Gate.

People keep flowing out of the gate like a half dammed river. At least a thousand, and far more behind. A large group, easily a hundred, are already running as fast as they can down the road, away from the burning city. Quite a number are out and don't entirely seem to know where to go, although they're starting to drift after the first group. Others, with a little more ability to think past the panic, are attempting to grab horses for themselves. A few, even, are attempting to help each other, but it's a mad rush. There are guards out here though, what few have managed to get through, and a few others that push their way out along with the rest. Not...many. Fifty and a little more, perhaps. A few more can be spotted running, but those nearest the gates are directionless, weapons drawn, but uncertain what to do beyond stay near the people and watch for danger.

In this mess, any direction they can pick up on seems to motivate them at least a little. Quite a few of the guards begin trying to usher people toward the wagons, and a few of those people who have experience attempt to begin freeing horses. Marzio's work with the horses is enough to calm down those nearest, though they still seem a little jittery.

Harlex soothes one of the steeds, getting it to stop fretting about in its stable pen with a composed presence. He clicks, guiding it toward one of the wagons to begin hooking it into its straps and then moves on to another. "Steady," he murmurs to the beast. They seem to be pulling things under control, though occasionally he glances toward the open gates. "We better get any kids and old folks loaded up first. Rest can follow on foot if need be. How many wagons we got?"

Cahal seems reassured when the crowd start getting a little less chaotic and he gives Valdemar a quick, and relieved, smile. "I'm not much of a military commander. Do you think someone should go outside and organise that rabble?"

Marzio checks command and animal ken at normal. Marzio is successful.

Harlex checks composure and animal ken at normal. Harlex fails.

When the little voice at the back of one's head says - nah, don't do that - it's generally wise to follow it. Don't do it. Do something else. It's how the Sword of Setarco winds up at the Western gates, having following the flood of people from the palace of Grayhold to here. Her good eye widened with panic, shaking off locusts that are likely no longer swarming around her, but. "Bugs. Too many bugs. Gross - horrible - terrible bugs."

Cahal checks charm and empathy at hard. Cahal is successful.

Viviana checks charm and empathy at hard. Viviana is successful.

Marzio continues to move down one side of the stables, concentrating on just that line of horses in their stalls. As people from the gates begin to move over to try and help get horses, Marzio calls out to them, "Those of you who know how to handle the horses and the wagons, get the reigns and tack from the hooks and start hooking horses to the wagons! DO NOT LEAVE without seeing to the children, elderly, and women! NO EMPTY WAGONS!" With that, he turns back to the steeds, trying to settle them and passing them off to those coming to help.

Valdemar checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Valdemar fails completely.

Since he was ineffective getting the panicked crowd to listen, Valdemar is watching, and eventually his attention catches, focused down the road a way. When Cahal addresses him, it shakes the Duke out of it, and he nods at the man's suggestion. "Guys, I think we have a source of trouble, down the road. Tall woman with brown hair that doesn't seem to be affected by the crowd," he tells the men that he came here with, before taking a step toward the shiftless guards and raising his voice again, "You there! Fall in line! Get over here and assist!"

Harlex leads a horse toward another wagon but an anxious guard with a spear bumps him. The horse startles and the black-clad swordsman shoves the guard away with a foul cuss. "Get useful or get gone!" He barks. It doesn't help. Luckily Marzio seems to have things under control. He spies Viviana and gestures her way. "We're getting folks out of here quick as we can, you and me best guard their exit."

Cahal moves to another knot of people that Cahal feels is struggling after Valdemar departs and starts to repeat his message. "I know you're scared.."

Indeed, the woman Valdemar points out becomes more visible as more and more panicking people move past her. She's perhaps four hundred feet away, and she's just standing there, staring blankly at those that have halted around the gates. Most of the crowd has passed her by now, though there are others heading her way, those who aren't stopping to assist at the gates. Too frightened to listen, or perhaps to even register the voices calling to them. Many of the guards have moved to assist now, though a few respond opposite to Valdemar's attempt to get them in line - they break, dashing off after those who aren't stopping.

Horses are being brought out. They spook a little, but none of them bolt, and a few are already being hooked up. There aren't enough, however. So many people are pouring out of the gates. There aren't nearly /enough/.

"More than pleased to keep an eye on their backs. You'll be safe," the Pravus princess sniffs her disdain, offering that one useless guard a charming half-smile, "Do step aside - thank you, darlings." Viviana's words are light and careless, her steps are not. Her good eye is not, narrowed, as she starts to quietly encourage civilians that are just as afraid as she is - just as panicked, but carefully. So careful. "This way -- yes, those wagons. It'll be all right soon."

Harlex checks command and intimidation at daunting. Harlex fails.

Marzio checks command and animal ken at normal. Marzio is successful.

"Can you tell if she's one of the attackers?" Marzio calls from the stable back to Valdemar, not stopping to chance a look at the woman himself as he continues to calm horses and try to get them out to people to hitch to wagons. "Someone can get those soldiers to mount up and run as a guard along with the wagons to keep them safe! More can be mounted and sent through the city to help the others under attack!" he yells out, hoping someone will take command of organizing the soldiers.

Cahal checks charm and empathy at hard. Cahal marginally fails.

"Gods, what the Abyss is /wrong/ with people?" Valdemar growls when he sees the soldiers dash away, though not at anyone in particular. He then looks down the road again, doing his best to keep an eye on the tall woman. Shaking his head, he answers Marzio, "I'm not sure. She's not fighting, doesn't even appear to have any weapons or armor. But she's awfully calm considering what she's in the middle of. It is a bit...suspicious." He begins to make his way toward her slowly, calling out to the panicked crowd along the way. "Calm down and move toward the gates in an orderly fashion! Mobbing the gates will keep anyone from getting through!" he urges them.

Valdemar checks command and leadership at hard. Valdemar is successful.

All throughout the city of Bastion, the skies are full of swarming locusts. Oddly, the swarm seems to be mostly centered around the castle of Grayhold.

Aconite arrives to help, and away from the bugs at Grayhold. So many bugs. So very many.

Harlex's indelicate hand is really showing itself as the Sword attempts to move some of the guards into action but its difficult to coerce people when they're already in a fit of fright. The sudden, blackened hell of a locusts swarm doesn't help. He has to give up the effort, he has to stare upward for just a moment. Brows furrow. His hand goes down to the hilt of his sword, but it isn't quite time for that yet. Instead, he hastens from the stables and through the mob. The others have this, so for now he'll move his way toward the gate itself; helping anyone who might be swept up in the human-tide.

From the direction of the harbor, a full sized boat soars through the air, dropping debris and providing a view of the hull as it soars overhead clear across the city and lands somewhere in the noble district of the city.

"Well -- look at that, hmm, that's not something we see everyday. Is it. A ship. No, we're still moving." Viviana murmurs, then hearing aught else, speaks up to her cohorts. "If it looks suspicious, it probably is, but we'll deal with that. Won't we." She does not glance up, because then she will shiver and her skin will feel like it's crawling all over again. She bites back a remark, grins fiercely, and helping others until that very ominous individual decides to join their escape party.

Cahal frowns at the woman standing dumb in the middle of the crowd and starts making his way towards her. "Excuse me." He says to one group before slipping through. Another takes much more convincing. Another has to be diverted around. But he thinks he's making progress even if he's not managing to calm those around him all that much on the way.

Aconite is clutching a hairpin that looks like it's already got blood on it and with her other hand she's digging locusts out of the scarf that covers her head and throwing them to the ground. She looks like she's about to be ill. Must be some bad bugs. She takes just a moment to look around though, taking in her surroundings, she frowns and starts to move to help people running from the fighting and the flying seacraft.

They're grouping up. More and more people keep fleeing past them, but a majority have begun to mill around. They've noticed the severe lack of wagons as well, and there's frightened murmuring, but so far, they're staying. The guards that remain are rushing to help now, and several start mounting up as directed. Civilians are ushering children and older people toward the wagons, which have begun filling, and at least a fourth of them have had horses hitched. With effort, those horses are staying put too. Things are starting to organize, as much as they can be.

The woman tips her head to the side. She /does/ blink, apparently, but it's slow. Unbothered. She may as well be standing in a calm meadow in springtime.

That's when a very large black wolf slinks out from the trees to stand at her side. ...And another behind that. And another to her other side. Very large wolves, in fact, particularly when one of them stands upright, if slightly hunched. Easily man-sized, that. There are others, more and more, filling the road between the first fleeing group, and those approaching. Five, six, seven, eight...

Eleven of them. Eleven of them and the woman. Her shoulders hunch as well, before she says, with twelve voices that were once thirteen:

"The Horned God says /feed/."

And in an instant, five Mor'ral turn and dash after the group that has passed them. /Seven/ lunge toward the oncoming crowd. /Everything/ erupts into pandemonium.

Harlex wields the whisperer of names.

From the direction of the southern streets of Bastion, an unholy shockwave of tremors emits from the ground. Then a massive centipede, taller than many of the buildings peeks its head up as it tosses several human beings into the sky and screeches before descending again.

Marzio checks dexterity and ride at hard. Marzio marginally fails.

Looking overhead when the ship goes flying, Valdemar frowns deeply. "I didn't think the Phantasm was here," he comments. Once it seems clear that the ship is not going to fall on them, though, his attention is back on the tall woman who is entirely too calm. As he marches down the road, he holds his sword in a guard stance, but then he stops when the wolves appear, muttering, "Thank the Gods she didn't come with me." His attention then turns back to the guards. "Stand your ground! Guard the retreat of the civilians! Do you want to be remembered as cowards for all time?" he yells at them before his gaze returns to the woman and her wolves.

Valdemar checks command and leadership at daunting. Valdemar fails.

Increased screaming erupts in the direction of the western gate, as those who have managed to get out are suddenly attempting to get back /in/. Above the screams, wolf howls are suddenly heard, horrible and wrong to the ears.

Seeing the number of horses that have made it to the wagons, Marzio listens as whatever is happening on down the road erupts into pandemonium. "Fuck," he curses as he rushes to grab a horse for himself and to climb atop it. Just then, the horse whinnies and rears inside the stable and Marzio leaps back. "Easy, easy! We have to get out there and help them!" he says to the horse as if it would understand him. "Don't be an asshole!"

Harlex has slowly been making his way to the gate. Whether this was the wise thing to do, one could suppose that will depend. He only sees the woman /after/ the wolves begin to appear. People are in his way, he's far from the stables now. Those wolves will likely see them fleeing back the other way. He manages to get his sword free, setting himself between the civilians he can and those black beasts. Oh the bitter ironies. He can't look back, even at the tremors.

The wolves turn up and the woman speaks and Cahal mouths an 'oh shit'. He seems almost stunned until he hears Valdemar's order. At that point he shifts his axe into his hand more properly and starts backing up until he reaches the nearest knot of the crowd. "If you can fight." he says "Form a line with me." He keeps slowly easing backwards rather than standing his ground though.

"Oh. Least it's not locusts," that's all Viviana has to say before she transitions from defensive to offensive. She flicks her rapier, drawn, walking forward - especially at the call. Especially after wolves are less wolves and more beasts. Her good eye slit, her mouth set into a thin line.

Cahal checks charm and empathy at daunting. Cahal fails.

Aconite stares the direction of the Mor'al and she blanches at the screams. But the tall Whisper gets back about her job of ensuring that people who can't fight are still being gotten away from the fight. Armed, yes, but Aconite makes no move to join the front line of defenses. She concentrates her attention and efforts on trying to keep animals and people focused but prepared to be a last-ditch defense if needed.

People run in every direction. There are so many, many of them, thousands of people outside the gates, that it's difficult to keep track of the Mor'ral. Those who ran toward the first group reach it in moments and tear a horrible gash of people away from the rear, something which causes that group to scatter in all directions. Three of the five stop, and, in a horribly literal interpretation of what the woman said, begin feasting right then and there. The other two dash after those fleeing into the forest. There are more screams, but those deaths aren't visible. Hundreds more continue to run in every direction.

At the gate, the oncoming wolves inspire ultimate panic, as all those who were so desperate to squeeze out suddenly turn and start clawing to get back /in/. The seven running at the group tear through those civilians that are in the way. A few dozen guards panic and run, though those remaining, shaky and horrified, attempt to cluster into some form of defense wall. /Four/ guards apparently think they'll do one better, and they rush the oncoming Mor'ral with shouts of defiance.

Those shouts end in gurgling before they can even finish. The wolves tear through them, heedless of any amount of armor, or any strikes with weapons. Instead of plunging on toward the gates, however, they split, three to one side, four to another, and circle back, snapping and snarling at those fleeing in that direction. /Herding/ them toward the defenders, and the now people blocked gate.

Somehow, the work at the wagons doesn't entirely shatter. There are still people there, trying to get horses hooked up (quite a few bolt before this is possible), trying to fill the wagons.

"There's no helping them like this," Harlex says almost to himself but anyone near enough to hear the swordsman would likely pick up on his pessimistic realization. He does, however, know the one way he /could/ be of help. His hands tighten on the hilt of the unusual single-edged sword. It's blade catching the faint light of the winter and almost gleaming a red hue. Suddenly, in Sylv'alfar he shouts, "You fucking slave-hounds!" Maybe he can get at least one of them to lay off the people trying to run.

Aconite heads for the horses that seem to be panicing, trying to make sure that enough stay to get hitched to as many wagons as possible. Aco looks over her shoulder but tries to keep her cool while she attempts to get animals handled.

Marzio checks command and war at hard. Marzio is successful.

Valdemar checks command and war at hard. Valdemar fails.

Aconite checks command and animal ken at hard. Aconite fails.

Cahal realises that nobody in the crowd is paying the slightest bit of attention to him, which is bad, but also that non of the mor'ral have noticed him yet, which is good. All in all.. That would be a good day. He bows his head briefly in what looks like prayer, glances back to see if the crowd looks saveable, and then starts jogging over towards the stables. When he reaches one of the others he admits to them. "I think we've lost the crowd. I think we should focus on the wagons." What he hopes is a reassuring look is thrown in the direction of one of the wagon masters. Then he looks to where Valdemar is, since he seems to have decided he's the military leader here. "Do you think I should ride ahead? I've experience scouting."

Harlex checks command and war at hard. Harlex fails.

Viviana checks command and leadership at hard. Viviana marginally fails.

Climbing up onto one of the wagons, Valdemar barks orders a the guards who remain, "You there! Everyone who can ride, get on a horse and ride escort for the wagons!" This is when he notices what Harlex is doing, but it is too late to stop him. Shaking his head, he begins to help people up onto the wagon he has chosen, though he keeps his sword in one hand. "Yes, once we get clear of them, that is a good idea. Until then, it won't matter much what is waiting for us beyond these beasts," he answers Cahal between helping whomever needs it up.

Cahal checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Cahal fails completely.

Marzio finally manages to get out of the stable atop his horse and he takes one look at the wolves that are now literally feeding on villagers and soldiers alike. Standing in the stirrups of his horse, Marzio yells out to the hundred soldiers they have left, "Men! Quickly! Grab a mount! We have to get everyone that we can on these wagons and and get them away from the city! Bust through the enemy and make away! Guard the wagons, guard those you can! We have to get away from this city!" He tries to rally the men and the citizens alike, but it is clear that they will not be able to save everyone.

Harlex unfortunately cannot leave the Archduchess of the Lyceum. She's still in the city as far as he knows. But he can at least help them in their initial escape. That'll have to be at the edge of a sword, however, as he fails to bolster any cooperation with the guardsmen at their disposal.

Viviana's on guard, torn between wanting to flee - and wanting to stand her ground. Sword remains in hand, continuing to usher people onward and onto the wagons that can still fit a civilian or two. She remains, because it's unfortunately part of her personal code of honor. "Fuck scruples," she swears beneath her breath.

Aconitecannot seem to get the wnomals to calm down and her lips set into a thin line. She looks back the direction of the palace and then limbs up into one of the wagons shaking her head. She takes up a position on one of the last wagons near the back.

Cahal goes back to trying to get the people to behave sensibly around the wagons but might be making it worse.

Most of the guards that still have their heads are all too eager to go for the horses. Two go for horses and...then keep going, desperately trying to keep the beasts from throwing them. One succeeds, even as Six and Seven tear after him. One...does not. He barely gets out a scream before the two Mor'ral are tearing him to pieces.

Two, Three, and Four circle again, continuing to spook those trying to flee back toward the gates, though now they're tearing at the edges, taking people down as pleases them. Five drags one of the guards attempting to get close to the wagon for help to the ground, and then he keeps dragging him, like a dog with a new toy...but one he isn't killing for the moment.

In the distance, Ten, Eleven, Thirteen, Eight, and Nine are still scattering and killing the first group. There are more bodies on the road than living at this point, though many, many, many people have fled into the forest, and those Mor'ral there split at the same time - two to the right, three to the left - to run those people down. ...For a moment, the road beyond the mess near the gates is clear.

Desperate, even more people break and run, some from near the wagons, most from further back. A significant crowd forces its way into the stables; thankfully most of the horses are out now. The wagons, though. There are still people at the wagons, filling them up, trying to get them ready. Tears and screaming, but they haven't run yet. Three fourths of the wagons are full now, and quite a few guards are mounted.

One stops, her muzzle dripping blood, and turns to look toward Harlex. She looks. She stares. Her head tilts, as if considering the man.

Harlex can be fairly certain it's not because of One. Fairly certain. She's just crouched there, looking at him, but all of a sudden her ears lift, and she looks past him. Past and up. Up. Two seconds later it becomes /horribly/ clear why. There's a crack. A creak of stone and wood. The gates shiver and then the watchtowers are /falling/, crumbling inward even as a blast throws stone in all directions. There's screaming, and dust, and before they can see again, it's clear what's happened.

The western gate has fallen, taking everyone crushed under it with it. There's no way in /or/ out of Bastion on this side now.

Looking toward the first wagon, Marzio cups a hand beside his mouth and calls out to Valdemar, "Go! If we don't leave soon we are going to lose all of our men able to defend!" Then back to the soldiers already mounted, Marzio yells out, "Guard the wagons! Keep the wolves away from the women and children! For Bastion! For the Compact! Keep your courage and steady your heart!" Marzio is mounted on his own horse and he lingers, trying to keep hope for the last wagons in the line to fill with more soldiers, ready to strike at any wolf that comes for the rear wagon.

Harlex checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Critical Success! Harlex is spectacularly successful.

Marzio checks command and war at hard. Marzio is successful.

Valdemar checks command and war at hard. Valdemar fails.

Glancing back at the city for a moment, Valdemar winces when he sees the towers fall. But only for a split second before his attention returns to the task at hand. "That's it! On the horses! Defensive positions!" he yells at the guards, encouraging the ones who have kept their heads about them well enough to follow the hasty escape plan. For his part, the Duke takes up position on the side of the wagon likely to see the most danger from the Mor'ral, remaining in a guarded stance. Once in position, he yells at the driver of the wagon he's on, "Go!"

It's strange, the way a whole upheaval of sound can just -- quiet to nothing. When that beast looks at him, the screams sound almost muffled in the backdrop. Harlex shifts his left foot, the angle of his sword moving slow but not hesitant. He's far too confident in his handling of the weapon. He just stares back at her, fixed to that point. Considering her, perhaps. Despite the calmness of his posture, the strange and almost deceptive glint of that sword -- then he sees where her gaze is set and like a second sight, he pivots. He pushes one woman back and snags a child to pull them back just a split second before stones break against the ground. When the smoke clears, he sees another couple who were savvy enough to take his que and get clear just in time. Then he looks back, where he had seen the beast-woman. Not the enemy one wants to take their eyes off of for long.

Rather than continuing to talk to the people Cahal moves to claim one of the horses and climb up onto its back. This at least seems to be something he's comfortable with and as he nudges the horse into a position alongside the frontmost wagon he clearly starts to calms himself down. "Your Grace? Do you think its worth the risk of riding ahead?"

Aconite helps the past few people on, keeping her poition at the rear of the wagon even though all she's got is a hairpin. All she can do is watch in horror at the terror overtaking the city and her brows draw down and she shivers.

Viviana swings herself up onto a wagon, sticking to the back of it in a loose-limbed crouch, hand cramping up on the hilt of the rapier in her hand. She'll stay here, half-hanging off the back, readied to strike out at any threats that might come a-chasing at their heels.

One is looking at Harlex once more, even as he looks back to her. Her bloody jaws part. Her ears flick just once. She looks him directly in the eye, and then twists, turns, and leaps at the nearest person behind her, an old man whose bones crunch even as she brings him down. It's deliberate. /Mocking/. She still has the man's neck in her jaws when she looks back to him, looks him in the eyes.

Abruptly, the wagons move. There are crying children in peasant's garb huddled in a carriage of silks and the finest wood. There are nobles in tattered dress trying desperately to urge rickety carts onward. The guards form up, though the formation is ragged, barely disciplined, on either side as the train starts up. It's agonizingly slow to get started, but the horses need absolutely /no/ encouragement. They paw furiously at the ground, and all of a sudden the train is racing down the road. Howls go up from all sides. Six and Seven return from the forest; the latter is dragging the other guard that fled - apparently that horse he stole wasn't fast enough - though she drops the body as she eyes up the wagons.

Marzio checks command and war at normal. Marzio is successful.

Valdemar checks command and war at normal. Valdemar marginally fails.

Viviana checks charm and empathy at normal. Viviana is successful.

From the direction of the docks, thunderous sounds of destruction are heard again along with roars of what sounds very much like pain, loud enough to shake the remaining buildings of the city.

As the wagons lurch and begin to move, Marzio digs his heels into the side of his steed and begins to trot up and down along the line, calling out to the soldiers, "Keep your formations tight! Don't let the beasts get through you and into the wagons! Keep the citizens safe at all costs!" Marzio has his alaricite spear in hand and he holds it aloft, hoping to instill some mettle in the guards and get them to remember their training.

Cahal checks perception and survival at normal. Critical Success! Cahal is spectacularly successful.

Valdemar opens his mouth to shout commands at the guards who are riding escort, but he has been doing a /lot/ of yelling. Enough that he has gone hoarse, at least for the moment, causing no discernable sound to come from him. Visible frustration makes its way across his face as he keeps his eyes as best he can on the wolves.

Cahal urges his horse into a gallop as the wagons lurch into a run. He urges the horse to get in front of the front wagon and yells back "Follow me" to the driver as he passes. His head is on a swivel as he tries to pick out the best route. The best going that comes with the least mor'ral. After a few moments he realises that he's doing better than he had expected in his wildest dreams, whispers in his horses ears, and ups his pace a little more.

Harlex narrows his eyes as the beast lunges away and snatches the old man. "Enjoy your scraps," he spits back in that foreign tongue and already is moving with the woman and her child that he saved, escorting them toward one of the wagons and moving to secure a ride for himself. Maybe someone got pulled off a convenient horse.

Harlex checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Harlex is successful.

Viviana calls out, clarion-clear, "We're together in this, right now, and we'll continue to be. Steel yourselves. Pray for fleet-footed horses and smooth paths to see us safe." She is aware, painfully so, that there are beasts howling in the forests - the sound causes a ripple of thrill-tinged fear to race through her. Despite her own suggestion, she does not pray, she watches the path behind them.

The lunge is so fast that Harlex reacts to it almost before he's consciously aware of it, One's jaws have snapped just clear of his throat and she's already landing. Luck, instinct, whatever it is, he's alive, and the back of the wagon train is just ahead. Just ahead, just ahead. /Run/. One stares at him, then tips her head back and howls. Her pack answers. Two, Three, Four, and Six rally to her side. Seven lunges forward, snapping at horse legs. Those who all but massacred the first group emerge from the trees, /all/ of them, all five, and with accompanying snarls the rest spring after the train as well.

Eight makes a lunge at one of the mounted guards, and catches the horse instead. They go tumbling, and then both Eight and Thirteen clamp jaws on the guard - but they don't kill him. Instead, they drag him, screaming in terror, back toward the city. Nine closes in near Valdemar, eyeing the man with a hunger that seems more than physical.

Cahal checks perception and survival at hard. Cahal is successful.

Marzio checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Marzio is successful.

Harlex checks composure at hard. Harlex fails.

Valdemar checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Critical Success! Valdemar is spectacularly successful.

Viviana checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Viviana marginally fails.

Marzio winces as the werewolves howl and then begin to rally to give chase to the wagons. He leans low over his horse, holding his alaricite spear as one might a lance as he rushes along to keep pace with the fast moving wagon train. Watching as Nine closes in near Valdemar and eyes the man, Marzio rushes his horse up and on the side of the wolf that Valdemar isn't on and aims a jab at the beast's exposed side, aiming for rib and lung.

Aconite checks charm and empathy at hard. Aconite fails.

Aco's wide inky eyes follow as the guard is taken off his horse and her face tigthtens as she watches them drag the guard off alive. There's not much she can do to help at the other end of the wagon other than keep an eye out, stay out of the way and reassure the others in the wagon and maybe herself a little. Not to much avail though..

"No, /you/ made the wrong choice! All of you! At least if I die, I die myself!" Valdemar growls harshly at the Mor'ral who is closing in on him and his wagon. He is watching the beast closely now, and he waits for what seems like the right time to swing Widow's Lament in a horizontal arc at it, the long alaricite blade glinting as it races toward the wolf-like being.

Cahal looks forward, backward, and side to side in his efforts to make sure that the wagons are kept to a pace and route that they can actually traverse. He glances back towards Valdemar's wolf once, twice, grimaces and then looks back to the declining quality of the route ahead before slowing up on his, and hopefully the wagons, hairneck pace just a little.

Harlex isn't a stranger to near misses. It's part of the work. Those nasty fangs, that putrid breath; its wretched enough that he doesn't think twice about distancing himself. More are coming. They are leaving. Nothing to be done about it, hurling the woman and her child into the wagon. Climbing onto the back. He grips at the side, pauses. His gauntleted fingers clutch the wood, fasten to it, looking back and watching. His other hand holds his sword, now half in its scabbard, by the blade. Gripping that tight too. Tight enough to dig into his gloved palm, let a little blood out. Madness, after all, is as much his shield as anything else.

Marzio checks strength at hard. Marzio marginally fails.

Viviana's cramped hand finally spasms, and the Edge of Twilight in her grasp loosens - but - she doesn't drop the blade. She sheathes it. Rubbing her hand against her side, fingers flexing, she tries very hard not to scream.

From the harbor, a shrill, piercing, unearthly scream is heard, "NOOO! MY BABY!"

Nine snarls in response and lunges full on at Valdemar. Marzio's spear comes in, and takes the Mor'ral through the side, but the beast doesn't even seem to feel it when her flesh is ripped to the bone, and Marzio feels the spear being yanked out of his hands. He only /just/ catches it before it vanishes under hoof and wheel with the very tips of his fingers, but the spear blade is /twisted/, as if it had caught on steel instead of bone.

Valdemar's sword catches Nine, however. It slices downward, fur to flesh to artery, and with a gurgling yelp the Mor'ral tumbles into the dirt, spraying blood.

And then Nine staggers back up, unsteady but alive. They can see her side closing up, fresh skin forming over her neck, the unnatural stare returning to her eyes.

But they're /moving/ now, with the Mor'ral behind them, falling back and then fanning out behind One as she charges forward. Running, running. One lunges at one of the rear guards, bringing down horse and rider and sharply cracking into one of the wagon wheels in the same movement. The wagon skids to the side, somehow remaining upright, but threatening lose the wheel now. Two and Three race past her, going for more of the guards, attempting to get past them to get at the wagons.

There's screaming behind them. The crowd, so many, many, many people that couldn't fit on the wagons, are trying to chase them anyway. For the moment, they're being ignored, but that won't, and can't, last.

Cahal checks perception and survival at hard. Cahal fails.

Valdemar checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Valdemar is successful.

Howls go up again from the west, but they're moving away quickly now. The screaming from that direction is...much diminished, but still so very, very present.

Harlex checks composure at normal. Harlex marginally fails.

Viviana checks charm and leadership at hard. Viviana is successful.

Marzio checks command and war at hard. Marzio is successful.

Marzio growls and tightens his hand on his spear and tugs it back, unwilling to lose the alaricite weapon. Slinging it over his horse, he looks to the guards and shouts, "Rally! Defend the wagons! Don't let them through! We can still pull away from them!"

Aco's free hand is ribbing the fingers of the hand clenched around her hairpin. She couldn't steady herself or anyone else right now. She seems a bit dazed by everything and the fact that the color hasn't returned to her cheeks at all. She's poised to stab any fuzzy faces or paws that get too close to the part of the wagon she can reach but she's more determined than confident.

With a deep breath, Viviana steadies herself mentally, hears Marzio's growl - shouting to the guards to rally, and she repeats: "Rally, keep pressing onward. We're so - so close. We can do this."

Valdemar grins madly for a moment when he sends the beast tumbling into the dirt in a spray of blood. That grin turns to wide-eyed anger, however, when the Mor'ral rises, and the wounds can already be seen closing. "Fuck!" the Duke snarls, swinging Widow's Lament again and again as needed if any of the bests get close enough.

Cahal's horse stumbles and loses ground until it is running only a half-length ahead of the front wagon team. He looks back to the situation as he regathers his reins in preparation to move ahead once more.

Harlex is still holding on to the side of the wagon, his other hand is blood slick and he grips his hair with it, frustrated to the point his teeth hurt from clenching. "If you're going to make me /suffer/ for this /shit/ then /do something!/" He snaps, at someone. No one. But he loosens his sword and slaps the flat side on the lip of the wagon. Screaming back, not at the wolves, but something else. He's fine.

The frightened, exhausted guards tighten their formation, and keep their horses in line. The wagon drivers, mostly civilians, keep between them without running into each other, or their protectors. The train solidifies, against all odds, moving as fast as it can away from the burning Bastion, onward and onward toward the Great Road.

Valdemar strikes out again and again as Two and Three draw level; he doesn't manage to hit them, they're far too fast, maddeningly so, but every attempt they make at the guards he's riding with is rebuffed. Jaws snap at empty air. Claws grasp for armor and horse tack but find no true purchase.

Onward. ...But that damaged wagon wheel hits a small rut, something that shouldn't be a problem for a wagon moving at a brisk speed, even with a splintered wheel; but they're racing as fast as they can. The wagon veers, by some miracle avoiding collision with the others, and then One and those still with her are on top of it. She snaps the wheel. The wagon tips, its occupants screaming. There's no helping them.

But Bastion is out of sight now, only the plumes of smoke visible. The Mor'ral drop back, slow, stop. They howl, all as one, and it is a horrible sound, peeling at the ears, twisting at thoughts. ...But then they turn back toward the city, and vanish into the darkness. The screaming, at least, does eventually fade with distance.

Aconitecloses her eyes and looks away finally. She can't watch any more. Instead she settles in amongst the others who were saved and glances around to everyone in eyeshot.

Abruptly, all the locusts have flown off, most buzzing off into the sky. Just as sudden as their arrival, they are gone, save for entirely too many bug corpses from swatted bugs lingering anywhere and everywhere.