Meetup: Bardic Concert

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It's nearing sundown, and the Colosseum has been alive with activity since first light. The doors have remained closed, mind, but there's been far more in and out activity than usual, by back doors and front doors, small people and huge people and small boxes and huge boxes and everything in between.Two burly oruch stand guard before the massive main doors to the Colosseum, barring entry to seemingly all.

The crowd has been collecting outside since midafternoon, and by now a good-sized throng of people has gathered, peering around one another and chatting among themselves in the way of folks waiting -- that is, a not-so-dull roar.

"Oh, helloooooo! Performance, tonight! Free concert from the BARDS OF ALEXANDRIA!" the small round figure sings the words. He looks roughly middle-aged, with auburn hair and twinkling eyes. He holds up sheafs of papers, and waves them in front of the crowd, as he waddles through! "Get your programs here! Pictures of performers!" he says.

Silmeria has been looking forward to this concert for a goodly amount of time... more or less since her personal favorite bard had taken over its helming, to be honest. And currently she's trying very hard not to be impatient, but it is *cold* outside and a cloak only helpes with so much. "Master Abrahil," she murmurs as she approaches to take a program, "I do think if the people don't get let in soon, there's like to be a riot."

Having been here for a couple of hours already, Arisha has been looking things over...not like she really needs to with dwarven engineering. She walks her way over towards Silmeria and waves her right hand to her...purposefully keeping her left arm out of view.

Stirling is not much of a music lover or cares all that much for concerts when it comes down to it. Now military parades, thats what he goes wild for but someone suggesting that may not work all that well here. Instead he is here to keep an eye on things and provide a chrome arm in case trouble breaks out.

The roundish gnome waves the papers about--each depicts the performers for tonight, contains a summary of songs, an outline and set. They look dressed, outfitted as though they could appear on calendars or well--tonight, the stage! There's something about the eyes, something subtly...

Brooding? Powerful? With perhaps a little too much mascara at the edges, and dark-toned clothing.

Arcane-esque symbols decorate the edges in a 'subtle' manor, otherwise worked into the bordering and style. A TRUE arcanist would recognize them--well, their INSPIRATION. The rest looks like a teenager's dream of what "true magick" would look like! "There are thirteen programs in all! Collectable!" sings out the gnome, as he waves the sheafs about! "Each has unique features! A unique design!" he may as well have said: 'magickal secrets!' "Collect them here before the show!" he says, his expression twinkling and conspiratorial. that khol outlining his eyes? It just MIGHT be. 'Subtle' is the word.

...yeah. He beams upwards to Silmeria, and--"Oh! My dear, I saved this one for you!" he says happily, and passes her one of the flyers from the bottom of the stack. "It's scratch'n'sniff," he whispers, eyes twinkling behind rose-tinted lenses. With his other hand, he works a set of protections, and sparkles appear, then fade, over the hunter's shoulders. And then Arisha's, too!

"Hello, Huntress!" Silmeria says, waving at her fellow Inquisitor, and blinking down at the pamphlet shoved into her hands. For a moment her cheeks go red, and she tilts her head to one side, then another, peering down at the paper. "....Arisha this is kind of well done, but they missed that scar on his belly," she murmurs, wandering towards the doors, raising an eyebrow at the picture of a shirtless Aldean draping across her program. "...Whose idea was it about the eyes, I wonder?"

The flyers dwindle in number fairly quickly, as the curious, the smitten, the dared, and the friends and relatives of the smitten partake of the gnome's offerings. More than a few take two or three copies; some roll them up and others carefully preserve theirs. Still others hold them out, examining them with expressions ranging from girlish adoration to skepticism.

Over the walls of the Colosseum, a few sparkles are visible, tumbling off the wall over the main gates. The oruchs look up, grunt, and in a way that suggests that the whole affair is a mighty affront to their sensibilities, each grab a rope and haul open the main doors that lead into the Colosseum.

The roundish and auburn-haired hawker smiles, and reaches up to pat Silmeria on the wrist as she goes. "Oh, just leave everything to your gnomefather!" Abrahil whispers to her, and beams rainbows and sparkles her way, like a tiny, two-legged unicorn. Then he looks to Arisha, and gives her a DON'T WE HAVE SECRETS look, before laying a finger alongside his gnose. Another small wave to Stirling, and he waves the sheaf of papers the man's way! "Collectable! Get your collectable programs for tonight!" he calls out! The conspiritorial smile stays, Tarien-take-it-all! ...the illusionist really is having the time of his life. It isn't long before he follows his own way in, producing more of the pamphlets from, well. SOMEWHERE!

Stirling is as shiny as always and for once may actually hit in... a little bit. Snatching a flier from Abrahil he examines it, piercing red eye traveling down the page. "Your illusion work is inpecable as always. Have you seen any trouble makers yet?" he asks in a hished tone.

Silmeria chuckles, carefully rolling up her program and tucking it up the sleeve of her coat. "Everyone's worked so hard, Abrahil," she says, bobbing a greeting to Stirling as the Artificer joins the illusionists. "Have the seats nearest the stage been sold out? Only I did promise Aldean I'd get as close as I could."

"Oh--oh, dear. Just interest so far!" says the gnome at a pause along the route, eyes sparkling as he looks up to the artificer. He wriggles his fingers, and grayish sparkles settle over the man's shoulders, and then fade. "Oh, but so MUCH interest! Why, we sent out invitations to just about everyone--well, everyone who MATTERED," he says, conspiratorially to the three of them... before passing Stirling a bit of khol liner. "For the erm--" he says, and gestures to his own eyes. They're pretending there's 'magick' to be found tonight, beneath the auspices of the concert. IF you know where to look. Of course. They're hunting people who had been desperate enough to fall for this to begin with--or the demon-possessed who might get territorial at a 'rival cult' sparking up.

Inside ... it looks rather like a gnome's mind and a mana lamp factory had a baby and forgot to name it. The entire place has been transformed from its grim, dour ancient architecture into a veritable fairyland of floating, colored lights. THe edges of key pieces are clearly delineated, mind, the lights constrained to line walls in red and blue and, of course, the edge of the stage in yellows and golds. Fair from being the freezing cold that grips the rest of the city, some magic has made the Colosseum cool but comfortable. Rather than extra seating close to the stage on the floor, a massive space on the floor of the Colosseum has been left open and hung with garlands of more lights that would seem to be intended as a dance floor.

Kailin makes his way in late after everything has started, his rucksack carried in his hand. His attention is drawn back and forth as he makes his way in and he has to struggle to make sure he doesn't run into anyone below him. He creeps in towards the back and finds a temporary seat removed from everyone else and sets the bag down. Opening the top, a puppy's head pokes out almost immediately and Kailin pets it gently as his eyes turn back to view the gathering. He was most curious to see the performances and seeing how much interest would pull him towards joining the group that might be otherwise wanting.

Silmeria's breath catches at the layout of the coliseum, the myriad lights managing to be more pleasing than the lack of chill inside. Tugging her cloak off her shoulders, she loops it over one arm, picking her way to the balcony to get an uninterrupted view of the stage, and the performers soon to be upon it.

People begin flooding in, and those present will soon find themselves among a chattering throng as people push for seats. More importantly, though, food vendors seem to be in place and hawking their wares, from sausages on sticks to dried meat to nuts and fruits and sweets. There's also a stand off to one side where bartenders are quickly finding themselves buried under queues of people looking to slake thirst -- both in the alcoholic and non-alcoholic style, mostly the former. Children weave among the crowd as well -- it's not all adults by any stretch.

"Oh, how WONDERFUL!" the gnome breathes at the spectacle. Indeed, he seems quite entranced--enough that he becomes a trip hazard for concert-goers. That and his size (and shape!) turn him into a sort of unfortunate speed bump! It isn't long before he goes tumbling--"Excuse meeeee---!" and rolling end over end! It takes him just past Kailin, with some of the programs and invitations scattering everywhere and anywhere! Images of the performers stare upwards, catching the eye in a brooding and mysterious way...

Stirling finds a shadowy corner from where he can watch the crowds go by, his artifice eye carefully and quickly scanning each face and person, to see if they are alive, dead or otherwise as well as looking for any signs of strange magic or behavior. Of course that to say stranger magic than is always happening in this place.

Silmeria blinks as the kohl is handed out, and clears her throat. Drawing a stick from a pouch by her pistol's holster, she takes a moment to apply -- yes, really -- proper ceremonial Vardaman eye makeup. THough, as this isn't particularly a ceremonial time, the Inquisitor sees fit to add a few curls at the corners of her eyes. As Arisha passes by her spot on the balcony, Silmeria peers, a puzzled frown touching her face for a moment.

Kailin smiles faintly at the gathering, his mind automatically comparing it to the largest gatherings of the lodges in the mead halls of the northern tribes. It was definitely not nearly as raucous or rowdy and with a much lower tone about it. He pets his new puppy as he watches the crowds filter in and takes in the sight of how things are down in Alexandria. He was still new to the place despite the growth he had made in such a short time. Each new experience reminded him of the fact that the ways of the city were still mostly foreign to him.

As Abrahil goes tumbling down, a clutch of other gnomes rush past Kailin to aid him, one absently patting the bardbarian on the hip as he squeezes just a little too close. It's clear the little worker didn't actually look up at him, because like his brethren, all festooned in lights and colorful sparkles amid working gear and boots, rush to help pull Abrahil to his feet.

"Oh dear--oh my," whispers the Abrahil. There's a touch of blood on his knee, and Abrahil wobbles as he tries to stand. Unsuccessful as he is with the endeavor (it involved much rocking back and forth, but some boats, once capsized, aren't ones to float again!), he reaches for his wand--and grayish sparkles lift him up and to a sort of stand again, with the help of one of his fellows. "There!" he says, and pauses for a moment to catch his breath, to puff and hruff and all of that. Whew! He smiles up at them all, his features a touch puffy, his face a little flushed. "Oh, my. I wasn't expecting to go down, you know! And oh! I still have to deliver a package to the stage!" he says, sounding suddenly fretful! He looks as though he could wring his hands.

"Well, go on then, why are you lingering about here?" One of them, a girl, chirps in a high voice at Abrahil as the wizard is helped to his feet. Most of them run off, but one or two linger a moment or two more ...

Abrahil sets the pamphlets underneath an arm--then, a finger alongside his gnose, he nods once, and winks to the other gnomes there, just before he vanishes from sight! He does it in front of everyone, a clear display of MAGICK! disappearing into a whirling cloud of MYSTEROUS BLAYCK. "I'll be right back!" he whispers!

Paf-paf-paf are the near-invisible sounds of feet making their way towards the stage! And then the tumble-clamber of someone climbing onto it! "Hellooooo!" he calls out. "Hellooo, the stage! You have a delivery, m'dears!"

Stirling nudges Aldean "I plan to drop the nethecite after everyone is settled and before the performance starts, may mess with some magic a bit but I will try and keep it from the stage." he says looking around.

As Abrahil vanishes from sight, he may or may not notice that his shoes are suddenly nearly as big as he is and a bright scarlet ... and may or may not notice that the two left behind are snickering as he vanishes.

Up on the stage, a black clad human girl pops her head up from behind the curtains. "Wot? Delivery for who?"

Backstage, Aldean looks up from where he's fiddling with a long-nosed wooden instrument of some kind, with a bell-shaped end. "Aye. Don't sweat the lights, got a cover fer ye." He goes back to fiddling with the instrument.

"Oh! Why--oh! How wonderful!" says the invisible, bobbing voice at the sight of the shoes. So entranced is he that he starts at the response. ...and the gnome reappears, in a cloud of swirling BLACK and gray sparkles. For effect, Abrahil appears as a shadowy outline, and holds up a ...a box. "Tell the Mystical Bard that it's from his 'gnomefather!'" he whispers, before handing it up, before turning back around to the shoes. "Oh, my! I'd always wanted a pair of enchanted slippers, you know," he says. He beams at the girl, and does his best to make the shoes wriggle.

It should be noted that the area is full. Full of people. Not just the citizens, packing into the colosseum in huge numbers, but a large number of people from all the churches as well, including a number of Myrrish Daeusites who've been conferencing with the locals, and nobles from all of Alexandria's noble houses...not to mention every Council member and their retinue.

There are vendors and equipment folk and workers aplenty roaming the floor and balconies alike of the massive, transformed Colosseum, festooned with floating, twinkling lights that makes it look like either a gnome's magical practice sesh or a fairyland. Take your pick. Key pieces, including the edges of balconies and the edges of the stage, are lined with neater rows of more of these lights, and a dance floor has been set aside with plenty of hanging strings of the same lights.

The human girl, eyes the gnome suspiciously, takes the box, eyes Abrahil again, and nods. "I'll see he gets it." With that, she turns and disappears behind the curtains backstage.

The lights are low on the stage, but there are figures moving around the stage, settling in, and the sounds indicate tuning up. Looks like it's showtime or close to it.

Kailin gets up from his seat and tries to work his way through the crowd to get closer to the stage as the show goes on, interested in the procedings and wondering if it all was normal form for such and event. He is forced to stop partway there, not wanting to push through other people and not quite comfortable enough to be able to slip through. He's tall enough to watch from the middle of the crowd and so he does, looking in the direction of the invisible voice and the antics of the gnomes. He ducks to avoid the decorations but just pushes some aside when he stops in his decidedly final place to watch the show.

Abrahil wriggles his toes again, and then waves to the stage before bounding down. He looks like a middle-aged, round gnome today, with auburn hair and khol-marked eyes. Subtly...GOTHIC, that is, as he goes back about to his job! "Programs! Collectable programs! 13 unique designs!" he calls out! If his GOTHIC, MYSTIKAL POWER outfit was not enough to notice him, the great, red shoes MAY BE.

With a wriggle of the fingers, they transform into super-stompers, an artificer's wet dream or nightmare, depending, with cogs and spikes and everything nice! "Once in a lifetime opportunity!" he calls out! He waves some of the pamphlets towards Miruan! "Citizens, behold!" Booms the voice of Jibbom, descending from above in typically loud and needlessly attention-grabbing style. "It is I! Your hero! King Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the Night!" He flexes unimpressively after landing, spreading his golden wings out wide. "And I have come to party!" He begins distributing Steel Von Ironbrews' brand liquor left and right. How did he carry all of that with him? Does it matter?

Miruan is a little overwhelmed. This is the exact opposite of the monestary. It is not quiet, zen or full of people gently doing quiet things. And indeed, she is - handed some pamphlets. "Um. Sure, thanks." A polite smile. "I'll give it a read." She even step aside and does so. She can be very literal sometimes.

All in all, there are 13 different, collectable 'designs' that are handed out that evening! They each show tonight's performers in different, composed styles, and give a rundown of the event schedule. The performers have brooding, mysterious eyes, that due to short-term illusion seem to 'follow' the viewer. Along the border are 'arcane-esque' symbols, inspired by the real thing, but are totally not. They're something a teenager, pretending to be a cultist, would dream up. "Collectable programs!" calls out the roundish figure, and Abrahil brandishes the papers to varied and different groups, people!

The arrival of Jibbom is heralded by groans from many segments of the crowd.

Suddenly, the stage lights up in a dazzling riot of lights and color, to reveal a dozen or more musicians. Most wear black or close to it; the bards are easily identifiable by colorful and in some cases glittering clothing. One of these sits before a massive set of drums, and they strike up a lively dance tune liable to leave many clapping along. IT's a spectacle designed to draw attention to itself, and only to itself.

Looking about, Arisha simply keeps an eye open for anything strange, but she makes no real motion anywhere........mostly to watch people.

Abrahil pauses to APPLAUD! his small hands coming together in a whirlwind of applause and claps! He gives a cheerful whistle to the stage, and begins the final attempts to unload the last of the pamphlets in earnest! "Collectable, m'dears! Oh, you'll only find them here--!"

Jibbom joins in those applauding the arrival of the musicians. As usual, he takes advantage of the situation to shamelessly self-promote. "This moment of joy and wonderment brought to you by Steel Von Ironbrews. When you think drunken revelry, think Steel Von Ironbrews."

Silmeria looses a loud cheer, raising her arms over her head to clap furiously... even as the kohl-eyed Inquisitor searches the crowd of musicians for a particular one of their number, a short-haired piper.

Verna does enjoy reading, and peruses an invitation in hand. When more are spoken of, and offered, she claims another and examines it comparatively.

Miruan is reading, though she isn't quite brave enough to collect them all. If Pokemon existed, she'd be content taking the ones she likes and playing them about. She is apparently watching and keeping an eye out in the audience. There's a polite smile, and an amused look at Jibbom. Leave it to Jibbom.

There's appropriate 'ooohs' and 'ahhs' from the crowd as the musicians begin to make their appearance under claoks of magic, so to speak, and glitter.

The crowd is definitely getting into the show. It's been far too long since ALexandria had something quite this spectacular. Then again, with all that's been going on and all the rumors and fear, the wars and the coups, it's not really surprising, is it?

Kailin moves to collect the pamphlets, trying to ensure he collects one of each. He watches with a smile, enjoying the show, but learning from the performance what the citizens of Alexandria's tastes are. He gives a hearty cheer at each, but doesn't clap. Instead he simply raises a fist into the air, a celebration of a more visceral sort that he is used to. Usually there would be a very large mug of alcohol that he would be holding in that fist and it would slosh and spill. But here in the colosseum, it seems a bit too aggressive for the playful and delicate populace to splash alcohol around. He simply watches and enjoys with his sack over his shoulder, an excited puppy head peeking out of it occasionally.

"Once in a lifetime, m'dears!" the roundish hawker calls out!

"...Is this one scratch-n-sniff?" asks one of the men he hands one to.

"It's one of the 13 different designs! Only availble to--"

"The hair moves on mine!" says another.

"So BROODING," sighs a third. "Look, Ryan!" she says, and points between the pamphlet and the stage! "He's my faaaaaavorite..." Ryan just scowls. Though he glances towards the stage, himself.

After several lively dance tunes that leave the dance floro with not a few people trying their steps, things quiet down somewhat, and another bard joins the stage, this one dressed just as outlandishly as the others, including a glittery sleeveless vest and trousers that leaves a solid physique very visible beneath. After greeting a number of the musicians, he turns to the crowd, baritone raised and (probably with the aid of magic) easily heard across the entire Colosseum. In fact, hearing the music anywhere has not been a problem.

"Oy, Alexandria!" he shouts, eyes fixating on the very-visible Jibbom. Who wouldn't? "I'd have you join me in welcoming the Bardic College to Alexandria! Let's hope they stay a long, long time, aye?"

Jibbom beams brightly and waves to the bard when he catches his attention. "Woo! Yeah! Bardic College!" He shouts out with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Abrahil erupts in applause at the announcement, and tosses some of the 'limited edition, only available today!' pamphlets into the air! "Oh, how wonderful!" he says, and looks to the person nearby, "Oh, that's WONDERFUL news!" then, "Oh, I'm so glad I didn't take the time to get dressed this morning--there's just so much to do, so much to EXPERIENCE today, for a silly thing like that!" says the little illusionist. He gives a little wave to Verna! "Hellooo! How do you like the designs!" he calls out!

Frivolity. If anything could be said to be anathema to Serene, it would probably be this. Well, this and demons. And yet the paladin has come, if grudgingly, to keep an eye on things. After all, with half the city seeming in attendance this evening, it seems like it would be an ideal time for Asumit's minions cause mischief.

Verna is uncertain what is so different or collectible about the invitations. While colorful, some of the artistry is not wholly to scale nor anatomically correct, and the symbols along the periphery are completely wrong. She looks up in time to spy Abrahil's wave and realize the question is directed at her. That might explain a few things. She approaches Abrahil so that she does not need to call out. "Good evening. The designs are sufficient."

Miruan will eventually move to collect more as she reads them. "... huh, scratch-n-sniff runes." Snifft. Wince. She tries not to giggle at some of the excitement and exchanges. Still, the music is cheery and there are many people. The pamphlets might draw out more souls, perhaps. For her part, she is watching, trying not to be climbed like a monkian moshpit starter. "Interesting." Why, even Lady Rawyn Telenil is amongst the seated! Of course, she and other council members are a little separated from the crowd at this point. That's not surprising, though, given their stature.

Silmeria puts her fingers to her lips, and blows a piercing whistle over the Coliseum noise as Aldean strides on stage. Grinning widely, the Inquisitor waves a black-gloved hand, kohl making her already intense blue eyes stand out sharply against her tanned face.

"Oh, hello, m'dear! Oh, it's good to see another ARCANYIST out here," the gnome says, sounding for all the world like it's a Great Conspiracy. He winks at her, looking only middle-aged today. And round. Very round. "Why...anything might happen, you know!" he whispers. He looks excited, eyes bright and cheerful. He puts a finger alongside of his gnose!

Up above, airships occasionally patrol the sky. Small ones.

"Some of ye might know me. I be Bard Aldean, and I'll be around this lot as long as they can stand me. But ye didn't come to listen to me talk, aye?" Aldean flashes a big, easy, winning grin at the crowd. "Let's have more music, then." He raises a hand to the crowd, then seats himself in a free chair towards the edge of the stage.

With that, the group launches into another set of music, this one a little quieter to begin with.

"Oh!" says the gnome! "Oh my...well, I'd better get into costume, I suppose. ..." he says. He unloads the pamphlets, placing them on the earth. Then, brushes his hands together, something, some mischief no doubt, on his mind!

Pamphlets are being read. Miruan is just being an alert sentinel within the crowd. She gets a few odd looks, but past that, she is totes mcgoats jiving with the crowd. That's how kids these days do it, right?

More airships can be seen above the city, actually, interestingly enough. Perhaps they're part of the show. But there's a goodly number of them.

Meanwhile, in the colosseum, various figures from the Artificer's Guild can be seen moving about the edges.

Abrahil touches the side of his mouth, and a goatee blossoms there. Then his head, which sprouts, growing dark, lustruous hair that hangs past his shoulders, and is gathered at the nape in a leather thong. Each temple, and raven's white marks appear there. ...he then grows to a height, human sized. "Ahhhh!" he says. "Freed at last from my mortal coil!" and he begins among the crowd again, with spectacle!

The music on stage seems to ignore the goings-on in the crowd. The bards seem to be switching off who leads what, with tales from all over the world, some sung and some simply told. Some are love tales, some tales of derring-do, some epic stories from far flung lands. One or two even "illustrate" their stories with ephemeral illusions, simple images of people and places and things. It's like watching a storybook unfold.

...explosions of glitter happen through out the colloseum, being vented into the audience and steered away from the stage by gusts of wind. It's getting everywher. All over everything. More over, some fo the airships above are /also/ leaking glitter, interestingly enough!

<OOC> Whirlpool says, "If you've got it, knowledge/arcana!"
GAME: Abrahil rolls knowledge/arcana: (8)+15: 23
GAME: Arisha rolls knowledge/arcana: (20)+7: 27
GAME: Stirling rolls knowledge/arcana: (12)+17: 29
GAME: Aldean rolls knowledge/arcana: (17)+21: 38
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Those of you with magical enchantmnets going in the crowd, or with magical equipment, will begin to feel 
             their effects fade."

It isn't long after the dust drops that the image of the mighty, mighty mage flickers... flickers, then vanishes entirely, leaving... A very, very naked gnome, in silk, see-through pajamas. "Oh dear," he says. And, "Oh DEAR!" He looks to be in his eighties, were he human, or perhaps seventies, and is as round as he is tall, nearly a balloon in countenance. He stands near the stage, looking...well, quite tragic as he blinks large, luminous eyes a few times. "Oh dear..." he whispers.

"Hur. Funny music show." Jibbom says with a dopey smile between swigs of powerful ale.

Stirling grins, having lit up a cigar in his dark corner of the building as he watches, sure he can feel the strength and fortitude of his equipment fade, even the sensors on his eye but the core functions remain, his armor armor still functions. Artifice, something he is glad for.

Glitter. With Abrahil involved, Serene should have guessed. She sneezes, once, then puts a gloved hand up to her mouth as if to wipe away any glitter that she might have accidentally inhaled. Yet all the while her eyes remain sharp, watching the crowd.

Thankfully, Serene is too far away from the Naked Gnome to be subject to a saving throw.

Arisha blinks as she feels.....strange on her left arm. "Well that's unsettling." She says as her arm hangs there.

This is - odd. And there's a naked mage. Her eyes widen a bit. Miruan moves to uh, give the poor gnome one of her sweaters beneath her robe. "... here you go." The monk is sympathetic. "This might be warmer, gentlesir." She really is that stealthy. And/or that tall. It's all monky business, really. Although, does he really want a monksweater?

"Oh dear..." says the gnome a few more times. Abrahil looks up and around, and--"Ooh, my!" he says, and as a sweater settles over his shoulders! It nearly engulfs him, leaving none of the little gnome exposed...except his belly, which wobbles proudly through the sweater, bobbling and wobbling like a great, ocean wave! "Oh, that is much warmer, m'dear! Thank you!" he says, and reaches up to clasp the monk's hand, before giving a little wave to Serene. "Oh! Hello, m'dear! I'm so glad to see you!" he says, and then looks to Miruan, "Oh, so many people here! Isn't it wonderful?" he says, chins wobbling and bobbling atop one another, like a frog's jelly-sacs!

As the glitter descends over the crowd, the floating lights begin to fade, leaving the Colosseum to dim and the air to chill. Thankfully, the worst of the glitter seems to be drifting away from the stage thus far, although some of the lights around it begin to fade as well. A number of the musicians pause, and gradually the music fades off entirely as the musicians and bards start looking around, startled and nervous.

Aldean stands up, looking around the Colosseum, and pauses for a moment.

The sudden discorporation of all enchantments in the coliseum is... something of a cause for consternation, to Silmeria. The fact that it's simply a knock-on effect of the real attack, however, is something of a comfort. Still, from her place at the balcony, she lifts a hand when Aldean's eyes turn her way, flashing a thumbs-up to the bard should he see it.

Miruan smiles a little at the poor gnome. "There you go. Don't catch cold, and you are welcome." She accepts the hand clasp, duly mannerful. That means she's full of manners, not bull-- headed rudeness.

"It really is quite a sight." It's a bit much for the monk, who is doing her best not to run and hide or find quieter grounds. "... glitter?" And welcome to the last horse across the finish line.

Several people immediately collapse to the ground. More follow. Dozens, actually. People are screaming about it, others are rushing in to clear space from those who've fallen. Those figures start to shake and thrash wildly on the ground.

"This is the most rocking concert I've ever been to!" Jibbom shouts in response to all the collapsing and screaming folks.

Up on the stage, there's a muttered discussion going on. Aldean touches fingers to lips and acknowledges Silmeria in the crowd with a twinkle of dark eyes before turning back to what appears to be a huddled conference. Finally, Aldean says something. to which the other bards and musicians nod and turn back towards their instruments as if sorting out where they are. Whatever is going on, the show must go on.

Abrahil stands there shivering, next to Miruan. "Oh dear," he whispers, and hugs the sweater closer. Of course, given his roundness, it really only covers the top half of him--but that's well enough for an old gentleman of a gnome! He smiles up to the monk, and then points to the stage. "Oh, my! Why, the show must go on, you know! How brave!"

Miruan nods, and frowns faintly at what is going on. "I um, I'm not really a performer," She admits. "But their dedication is impressive." She seems serene, slow and steady in speech. She smiles down to the gnome, and looks around to the audience as much as the show.

"Oh--why, it's wonderful... Oh, the performance, the stage...oh! The cheer of the crowd!" the elderly man sounds wistful, and turns a misty-eyed look up to the monk. He has his hands folded comfortably atop his sweatered paunch, and his naked, wrinkly behind wags unconsciously at the crowd below it. "It was wonderful...oh, there I go, being all misty-eyed...but it was!"

Silmeria pushes her way through the crowd, seeking out the closest arcanists she can spot to hand. Weaving her way through the crowd, she rests a hand on Abrahil's shoulder. "We need to get word to the Temples," she murmurs quietly. "Those who've collapsed are the possessed. They need to be freed."

"Oh!" says the round little gnome, and raises his ha--"Oh," Abrahil says, and his shoulders slump. For..."Well!" he says, and squares his shoulders as best he can! "Why, just let me clear out of this area, douse myself in a bit of a wash, and we'll see what we can do!" he says, then. "Where are the Myrrish priests, m'dear?" he asks, in low-tones. Fear shows around his eyes as he looks from Silmeria to Miruan. And look up he does, as the elderly fellow is not much tall, at all.

Serene's attention is, naturally, drawn to several of the people having seisures. Her sword hand twitches, then clenches tightly at her belt as if to keep it from doing anything rash. She picks a clump of them, relatively close, then starts navigating through the crowd towards them.

Arisha lightly nudges Miruan with her right arm. "Go....get to the temple district and tell the clergy what Silmeria just said. go!"

The clergy know, in many cases. They're here.

Indeed, as noted earlir, a great many of the Myrrish contingent that's been visiting Alexandria's temple are swooping in, gathering the seizing individuals. Indeed, they're hefting them up, and grabbing help from the crowd to do so.

"I can fetch the - yes'm." Miruan is hearing words. She nods and will sprint easily off to the priests. While she does not have a ki-fueled speed, she will outpace nearly any non-monk or non-mount runner (have you SEEN a hungry goat go? We thought so). She navigates through the crowd easily, having to step or jump over or around people.

Abrahil clasps his hands together, looking concerned as he does. "...I'll go work on a teleport! Oooh, some of them may need to travel very fast!" he whispers, and scurries off beneath the stage. Running, really, at least as fast as the little man can!

"Serene!" Svarshan runs to catch up with her. It's then into the rescue, lifting bodies and shouldering forms. Given the number of drops, it keeps him busy for a while! He throws a grim smile towards the stage as he goes, and falls in line with a number of the Myrrish priests and faithful.

Stjepan was there all along, really. It's easy to overlook a quiet giantborn, sitting peacefully and not calling any attention to himself. Fades right into the background. As bodies fall, he rises, and starts carrying them -- grouping them together. He doesn't stack them like cordwood, though.

It's going to take some serious time and effort from the bards to draw the audience's attention back to the stage ... although thank goodness that the rescue is largely happening in darkness. It's getting colder, too, in the Colosseum -- whatever was keeping it warm is replaced now by only the body warmth of many tightly packed bodies. It helps, but it's still cold.

Arisha is not she down one arm, so she can't really help in moving the bodies.

"Musst be an essperiment gone. Wrong," the sith says to the other paladin. He keeps his tone low, though easy enough to be overheard. "Mages," he says. And let the word explain everything. Anything. His teeth chatter against the cold. SO MUCH. Miruan is glad to see Stjepan. But it is repressed and quiet, helping carry victims.

"Man." Jibbom frowns. "Some people just can not handle their booze."

Serene shakes her head at Svarshan as she deposits another of the 'victims' at a... collection site. "Not this time, I think," she tells him, though ordinarily she'd be more than quick to agree.

The sith sends a quiet look, to show he knows. Louder though, "Possibly. I ssaw ssome of them running passt, earlier," he says. "They carried a number of sscrolls with them."

Stjepan keeps a-haulin people, warming up as he moves. A grunt, as he puts down another one. "It's always them, isn't it." Mages. Indeed.

Priests are gathering them up and aiming to take the fallen back to the temples. There's dozens of them, it seems, and they're all knocked silly at the same time. It seems they were prepared for it, or then again, perhaps priests are ALWAYS prepared for disaster.

Either way, they are busy. One of htem grabs Jibbom and says, "Teleport these to the temple." Miruan is being kept busy gathering people, alongside Stjepan. Everyone else is scared, but trying to stay focused on the music.

"It's an effect of the lights and flashes," explains one of the priests.

"Lightss and flasshes," Svarshan agrees, taking the order from the shaman. He hoists another, and just keeps at it. "We are taking them to. Medical care. Jusst lightss and flasshes," he says as he passes people. Keep the quiet, don't start a stampede, and get the Possessed to safety, and out of the crowd.

Arisha actually drags one to the 'circle'. "Here's one for the blocks." Her left arm is hanging limply at her side.

Miruan can at least give water, provide damp rags and lug people over. She looks sympathetic, but does her best. Serene winces slightly, but keeps her tongue this time. Clearly dishonesty doesn't come easy to her, no matter its necessity, but she manages. Well, manages lying by omission anyways.

Down on the stage, some more of the lights are starting to fade, and it's not easy to see some of the performers at the edge of the stage. Finally, though, Aldean strides up to the front of the stage. "Can't see a thing on here," he says, loudly and clearly, looking out at the darkened Colosseum. "Have ye got a lantern back there? Naw, oil'll do." There's some movement along the periphery, and he goes on. "Sometimes things ain't go as planned ... an' sometimes ye've got a mess on yer hands, aye?

"Well, when that happens, ye've got two choices. Ye can lie down, or ye can rise again. Alexandria's pretty damned good at that last, aye? That phoenix on yer flag ain't no accident. Let me tell ye a story o' what can happen when ye ain't let misfortune get ye down or stop ye." He's losing some of the polished accent he had earlier, sounding much more like his usual self, but he nods at the musicians, who launch a lively tune.

She went down last Rhaltaas in a pouring driving rain The skipper he'd been drinking an' the mate he felt no pain Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt 'er mortal blow, An' the Mary Ellen Carter settled low...

It goes on to tell the story of a ship that was wrecked by carelessness and left abandoned out of greed, and the few men who loved her enough to dive below, fix her, and bring her back up. The last verse, though, takes a bit of a different tone, an inspirational one.

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow With smilin' bastards lyin' to you everywhere you go Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again He picks up the final chorus, and this time, a couple of the other bards join in as well. Rise again, rise again Though your heart it be broken or life about to end No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again!

Silmeria stands by, alternately looking from the team on the balcony to the bards on the stage. As she sees eddies of worry ripple through the crowds, she decides that perhaps now is the best time to sow a little... distraction. Moving to the nearest knot of not-quite-adult girls, she widens her eyes, as though in horror and surprise. "Hey!" she hisses, "I can't believe I've just heard this, but... did you know Bard Aldean has a lover?!"

Quickly, the priests are getting things under control. ELsewhere, teh city has gone oddly dark, and in a few places, some fires seem to've started. You can all see smoke rising in the distance.

Stjepan ends up humming along as he works, and wonders why he keeps singing "Rise again" under his breath (and will for the next three days). He wipes his brow from all the lifting, then looks up at the sky. "Angoron's brass balls."

Svarshan clasps Serene's shoulder. It's an understanding clasp. "We each sserve in different way," he tells her. Then, "I am going to sspeak with the priessts, and ssee where elsse they need. Me. Thosse firess look. Bad." He'd negotiated the contract to get them the help, after all.

A pause, and a blink. Rise again? She frowns, nodding at Stjepan. "... something like that," She agrees with a frown. "I guess I'll be on water bucket duty soon." She looks to Stjepan.

That would be Miruan, who left her name tag in her other magic pants.

Eventually, though, the panic can't be held back forever, and more and more, parents usher heir kids home, security details remove their charges, and things fade off rather quicker than no doubt had been initially intended, and people file home largely in silence. Especially when they find the fires outside.