At first? There was chaos.
“It’s the Naught!”
“The Naught!”
“The Naught’s on fire-!”
“Get out, you fools, the roof will collapse!”
After all, there is little so desperate in its depravity than man, and his primordial lust for life.
Even as they clamoured and scrambled for their escape, voices battled in the sudden uproar of the moment, every one screeching in attempt to drown out the rest.
“Get away from there, away!”
“Quickly-”
“Hurry!”
“FLEE-!”
For a few, sparse minutes, order prevailed. Those trapped within made their escapes. A crowd gathered. Word spread. Those bold enough leapt to the rooftops, stamping at flames now lashing hungrily at the rafters. Curses rose and became lost in the gathering smoke.
But the beast was winning; the eaves of the inn blackened and withered like leaves.
A voice below shrieked in dismay- “The roof!”
“Get to the ground!” Came the shout from the ranger, and then another bellowed a warning, “Everyone off the roof; it’s going to collapse!”
“THE LOWER WARD IS ON FIRE.” Naelwyn, the Magus, barked above the rest. In the brevity of a few seconds, the crowd stilled. “NOT JUST THE NAUGHT.” It took no longer than that for realisation to give way to understanding. “GET MOVING.” …And understanding, to terror.
“Buckets,” cried an elven woman, from the forefront of the crowd. “We need buckets!” Almost immediately, the assembled erupted with further shouts and suggestions, names called out in panic, each and every one now faced with the brutal truth of the rapidly encroaching flames; failure to act would mean their doom. “Aye, water!” A voice echoed from nearby, and soon buckets of sea water were hauled from the docks, men, women and children alike running back and forth with in frenzied determination.
“Take that tree down!”
“Free the livestock!”
“Save the grain!”
“Get to the docks!”
“Sand, use sand!”
“The horses are free!”
“Help pull the building down!”
The flames seethed with renewed anger as they were attacked on all sides with sand and water, the steam chased hissing from the heart of the inferno with every bucket.
As the ranks of the people weakened, chaos began to claw its way back into their hearts - thirsty for fear, hungry for despair. The first deserters made clear their intent; most thieves and rogues fleeing abandoned homes, sacks stuffed with stolen silver or lace. When the smoke was seen at the far end of the city, the battle seemed lost.
“Port Silver is lost!” Cried a man. “If you value your lives, get to the boats!”
The smoke was everywhere now, a murderous shadow that threatened to engulf any who dared remain - and still the flames leered on, coiling and beckoning and rearing to the screams like a snake to its charmer’s music. Many of the boldest began to suffer by their proximity to the flames, leaving some among their number coughing and wheezing.
“We need to get to the rooftops!” Bellowed Ced hoarsely, hacking tar from his lungs. “The Naught has roof access!” Naelwyn supplied brusquely, and so the group climbed, the heat of the fires beaten back only by the steadfast tenacity of those fighting it.
“It’s out!”
“It’s gone, we have the Naught!”
“To the Naught!”
The Naught was safe, to be sure, and the area, at least, secured.
...And yet, like a cruel spectre of japery, smoke continued to rise from the rest of the city. Homes… Boats… Taverns… Markets… All lay ablaze below them, a picture of sheer destruction. The living tapestry of a single event, and all those to follow.
“ORGANISE BUCKET LINES! ATTEND THE WOUNDED!” A voice called from another rooftop, while the concerned shouts of the physician, Einthe, rang out through the streets. “Cover your faces as best you can! Don’t inhale too much smoke!”
But alas, just as it seemed the scales of harmony might again be righted, the sly hand of disorder revealed the next card that was to play. As the city stood gathered in collective horror on the rooftops, a great blast resonated from the docks, and the powder casks lined inside the Hammer of Heaven’s reach ignited, sending blazing debris into the city.
Screams pierced the air once more as those on the rooftops covered their faces and clung to their perch. In the moments after the blast, the fires began to eat at the docks, where already there had been swarms of people fighting to escape the bay. Crowds flooded back into the city, trampling over stalls and through homes as they went.
“Oh, gods, the ships…” Came a horrified voice, but another soon objected harshly- “Leave the ships! You won’t save them!”, and as a group of the fighters rounded a corner, the blacksmith was suddenly consumed by leaping flames.
“EXTINGUISH ANY AND ALL OPEN FLAMES, SPREADING OR NOT.” Bellowed a voice and, in the terror of the ash and the smoke, they did, scrambling through streets once familiar havens to slow the rapid encroachment of the scorching menace.
They were too slow. In mere minutes, the powder kegs beneath the Sunk’n Norwiegan ignited, sending screeching red sparks high into the air. The ovens of the bakery were reached only moments later, only moments in time, and a party was quickly assembled to douse the remaining powder cellars in the city.
After that, it seemed that both sides were losing. The fire, so long battered and besieged by the desperate defenders began to prowl reluctantly back to a controllable glare, only very occasionally rearing out of hand.
And so began the repairs - the wounded carried this way and that, the Silver Serpent teeming with desperate patients, coughing, crying, pleading, bleeding, begging for help as physicians and healers scurried in their haste to assist.
Indeed, the whole city was alive with desperation - the people scrambling as one, each with the intention to help or hinder, aid or injure… And injure?
Well, some did.
For, alas, when it seemed that all might be saved, smoke began to loom over the upper city; another building was ablaze.
“It’s too fast!”
“We’ll never hold it back!”
Despair clawed forth, and the flames seethed, the fire’s rage evidently redoubled from the few moments of restraint. With this, began the people's defeat. Prayers were heard in the streets, even as the screams and squeals of burning horses echoed over the cobbles. The great mass of flame and smoke raged onward, and soon it became clear that the hospital lay clear in its path.
“We need to get somewhere stone!” Frantic cries sounded across the building, and there began a frenzied rush to extinguish the ovens, torches and candles inside. “Silverpeak, Silverpeak!” Called a voice from the doorway, ushering all who were able to flee the place, while a dwarf’s shout rang over the ruckus. “We’ve got tae get everyone out of here!”
With the hospital under threat, teams of men, mothers, children, thieves, merchants and lords alike were seen heaving bucket after bucket of water from the fountain, the Lord Barroes limping, determinedly filling, emptying and refilling a bucket. But before long, their efforts were once more thwarted, as another fire cackled into existence at the other side of the district.
In the confusion that followed, the flames finally began their assault on the hospital, while around the rest of the city, more fires followed, each new source as furious and deadly as the last. A few, hopeless souls simply lay down beside the fountain, or else sat quietly in the square, smiling sadly with friends they would soon lose. News soon spread of a moor elf by the name of Alphos having leapt from the top of the Palace.
Others bandied threats and accusations - “This is no accident!” A voice proclaimed, while enraged echoes leapt at the opportunity. “No accident indeed, there is someone trying to stop us!”
“The fire wouldn’t have spread from the lower district to here… No chance.”
“I think I know who did it!”
“Well, who is it?”
“Whom?!”
But as their fury ascended, so too did the blaze, and fires leapt from the alleyways beside the courthouse. Smoke roiled and twisted into the air... And shouts turned suddenly to silence as the city beheld the sight before them.
Small, spiralling columns of flame had begun to dance in the square, floating through the air like cinders… And yet the flames did not die.
“What are they?!”
“Kill them!!”
“No! Keep away!”
“Can’t be demons… Can’t be…!”
And at once, they were gone. The rain started as suddenly as the fires themselves, and with it, hope blossomed once more amongst the weary defenders.
“Rain!”
“Rain!”
“Rahas is good!”
“We’re saved!”
“The city is saved!”
-
“It’s the Naught!”
“The Naught!”
“The Naught’s on fire-!”
“Get out, you fools, the roof will collapse!”
After all, there is little so desperate in its depravity than man, and his primordial lust for life.
Even as they clamoured and scrambled for their escape, voices battled in the sudden uproar of the moment, every one screeching in attempt to drown out the rest.
“Get away from there, away!”
“Quickly-”
“Hurry!”
“FLEE-!”
For a few, sparse minutes, order prevailed. Those trapped within made their escapes. A crowd gathered. Word spread. Those bold enough leapt to the rooftops, stamping at flames now lashing hungrily at the rafters. Curses rose and became lost in the gathering smoke.
But the beast was winning; the eaves of the inn blackened and withered like leaves.
A voice below shrieked in dismay- “The roof!”
“Get to the ground!” Came the shout from the ranger, and then another bellowed a warning, “Everyone off the roof; it’s going to collapse!”
“THE LOWER WARD IS ON FIRE.” Naelwyn, the Magus, barked above the rest. In the brevity of a few seconds, the crowd stilled. “NOT JUST THE NAUGHT.” It took no longer than that for realisation to give way to understanding. “GET MOVING.” …And understanding, to terror.
“Buckets,” cried an elven woman, from the forefront of the crowd. “We need buckets!” Almost immediately, the assembled erupted with further shouts and suggestions, names called out in panic, each and every one now faced with the brutal truth of the rapidly encroaching flames; failure to act would mean their doom. “Aye, water!” A voice echoed from nearby, and soon buckets of sea water were hauled from the docks, men, women and children alike running back and forth with in frenzied determination.
“Take that tree down!”
“Free the livestock!”
“Save the grain!”
“Get to the docks!”
“Sand, use sand!”
“The horses are free!”
“Help pull the building down!”
The flames seethed with renewed anger as they were attacked on all sides with sand and water, the steam chased hissing from the heart of the inferno with every bucket.
As the ranks of the people weakened, chaos began to claw its way back into their hearts - thirsty for fear, hungry for despair. The first deserters made clear their intent; most thieves and rogues fleeing abandoned homes, sacks stuffed with stolen silver or lace. When the smoke was seen at the far end of the city, the battle seemed lost.
“Port Silver is lost!” Cried a man. “If you value your lives, get to the boats!”
The smoke was everywhere now, a murderous shadow that threatened to engulf any who dared remain - and still the flames leered on, coiling and beckoning and rearing to the screams like a snake to its charmer’s music. Many of the boldest began to suffer by their proximity to the flames, leaving some among their number coughing and wheezing.
“We need to get to the rooftops!” Bellowed Ced hoarsely, hacking tar from his lungs. “The Naught has roof access!” Naelwyn supplied brusquely, and so the group climbed, the heat of the fires beaten back only by the steadfast tenacity of those fighting it.
“It’s out!”
“It’s gone, we have the Naught!”
“To the Naught!”
The Naught was safe, to be sure, and the area, at least, secured.
...And yet, like a cruel spectre of japery, smoke continued to rise from the rest of the city. Homes… Boats… Taverns… Markets… All lay ablaze below them, a picture of sheer destruction. The living tapestry of a single event, and all those to follow.
“ORGANISE BUCKET LINES! ATTEND THE WOUNDED!” A voice called from another rooftop, while the concerned shouts of the physician, Einthe, rang out through the streets. “Cover your faces as best you can! Don’t inhale too much smoke!”
But alas, just as it seemed the scales of harmony might again be righted, the sly hand of disorder revealed the next card that was to play. As the city stood gathered in collective horror on the rooftops, a great blast resonated from the docks, and the powder casks lined inside the Hammer of Heaven’s reach ignited, sending blazing debris into the city.
Screams pierced the air once more as those on the rooftops covered their faces and clung to their perch. In the moments after the blast, the fires began to eat at the docks, where already there had been swarms of people fighting to escape the bay. Crowds flooded back into the city, trampling over stalls and through homes as they went.
“Oh, gods, the ships…” Came a horrified voice, but another soon objected harshly- “Leave the ships! You won’t save them!”, and as a group of the fighters rounded a corner, the blacksmith was suddenly consumed by leaping flames.
“EXTINGUISH ANY AND ALL OPEN FLAMES, SPREADING OR NOT.” Bellowed a voice and, in the terror of the ash and the smoke, they did, scrambling through streets once familiar havens to slow the rapid encroachment of the scorching menace.
They were too slow. In mere minutes, the powder kegs beneath the Sunk’n Norwiegan ignited, sending screeching red sparks high into the air. The ovens of the bakery were reached only moments later, only moments in time, and a party was quickly assembled to douse the remaining powder cellars in the city.
After that, it seemed that both sides were losing. The fire, so long battered and besieged by the desperate defenders began to prowl reluctantly back to a controllable glare, only very occasionally rearing out of hand.
And so began the repairs - the wounded carried this way and that, the Silver Serpent teeming with desperate patients, coughing, crying, pleading, bleeding, begging for help as physicians and healers scurried in their haste to assist.
Indeed, the whole city was alive with desperation - the people scrambling as one, each with the intention to help or hinder, aid or injure… And injure?
Well, some did.
For, alas, when it seemed that all might be saved, smoke began to loom over the upper city; another building was ablaze.
“It’s too fast!”
“We’ll never hold it back!”
Despair clawed forth, and the flames seethed, the fire’s rage evidently redoubled from the few moments of restraint. With this, began the people's defeat. Prayers were heard in the streets, even as the screams and squeals of burning horses echoed over the cobbles. The great mass of flame and smoke raged onward, and soon it became clear that the hospital lay clear in its path.
“We need to get somewhere stone!” Frantic cries sounded across the building, and there began a frenzied rush to extinguish the ovens, torches and candles inside. “Silverpeak, Silverpeak!” Called a voice from the doorway, ushering all who were able to flee the place, while a dwarf’s shout rang over the ruckus. “We’ve got tae get everyone out of here!”
With the hospital under threat, teams of men, mothers, children, thieves, merchants and lords alike were seen heaving bucket after bucket of water from the fountain, the Lord Barroes limping, determinedly filling, emptying and refilling a bucket. But before long, their efforts were once more thwarted, as another fire cackled into existence at the other side of the district.
In the confusion that followed, the flames finally began their assault on the hospital, while around the rest of the city, more fires followed, each new source as furious and deadly as the last. A few, hopeless souls simply lay down beside the fountain, or else sat quietly in the square, smiling sadly with friends they would soon lose. News soon spread of a moor elf by the name of Alphos having leapt from the top of the Palace.
Others bandied threats and accusations - “This is no accident!” A voice proclaimed, while enraged echoes leapt at the opportunity. “No accident indeed, there is someone trying to stop us!”
“The fire wouldn’t have spread from the lower district to here… No chance.”
“I think I know who did it!”
“Well, who is it?”
“Whom?!”
But as their fury ascended, so too did the blaze, and fires leapt from the alleyways beside the courthouse. Smoke roiled and twisted into the air... And shouts turned suddenly to silence as the city beheld the sight before them.
Small, spiralling columns of flame had begun to dance in the square, floating through the air like cinders… And yet the flames did not die.
“What are they?!”
“Kill them!!”
“No! Keep away!”
“Can’t be demons… Can’t be…!”
And at once, they were gone. The rain started as suddenly as the fires themselves, and with it, hope blossomed once more amongst the weary defenders.
“Rain!”
“Rain!”
“Rahas is good!”
“We’re saved!”
“The city is saved!”
-
