(1867-09-04) Recovery and Cleanup
Recovery and Cleanup
Summary: The day after the tornado hits Ostvor, the search for survivors continues as does cleanup begin.
Date: 1867-09-04
Related: Ostvor Tourney: Awards Ball
Alina  Amara  Corvin  Elrick  Esyld  Vorian  

Noble Tier - Ostvor - Couviere
Right off the lowlands gate to Ostvor is the Noble Tier of the City. The highest level of the city other than the gates that link it to the rest of Couviere goes through one long winding central street that goes down in a curve throughout Ostvor. From the lowlands to the mountains, the city is laid out like a twisted hedge then, a cork and a stopper of a glass bottle that wine flows out of. The nobles of the city live in the highest district as befits their class and their caste. Houses here are prosperous, as the nobles, their personal retinues, and the ruling class of the city and those who are staying with them stay. Large houses made of stone painted with the heraldry of the houses staying within them are common, most of them several stories tall. The ruling nobles of the city have the largest complex in Ostvor…a literal castle, with accompanying keep, nestled on the exact center of the hill, the castle itself the highest point of the city. It is apparent that the castle is directly in line between the only two gates to the city…and that it was fully intentional by design. Small gardens for each of the estates are common, though many of the houses are smaller in comparison to the general richness of the city. The layout of it and a long, curving path towards the mountains means there is less space available for larger houses compared to other large cities of similar richness. This is balanced somewhat by the opulence present. Many of the houses, for their size, are very richly decorated, particularly with stonework and statues around them. Many are also walled off with heavy metal gates separating them.

The noble tier is bustling with l'Faust guards mixed with men from the various houses that keep their holdings in Ostvor. Several of the manses in the noble tier have collapsed, stone scattered across the roads and causeways, mixed with parchment and torn clothing and shattered knick knacks. Many people are working at the various semi-collapsed buildings, attempting to rescue those trapped within.

Alina l'Saigner stands outside the manse the l'Saigner had rented for the tournament. She and her mother had been staying the castle proper until last night when their rooms had been destroyed with the tornado, and to help relieve some of the pressure on the l'Fausts trying to house whom they can in their damaged castle. The manse the l'Saigner had rented for their servants and the few vassals that had come to the tournament had taken some damage (a chunk of the roof is missing, and there is broken stone and debris in the yard) but not as much as other places. At least it was still liveable… compared to other buildings.

Re-emerging from within the manse and skirting the rubble occupying the courtyard, Esyld moves back toward the Duchess and her daughter, this having been the first time she's left their side since the destruction began. A swift stock-taking of their rented property has apparently met with her approval, so far as their safety and comfort can be assured.. and she's even found the time to change out of that damned dress and back into her leathers. Much better.

With Vorian busily organising his men to clear the worst of the debris from the manse's exterior, and the remainder of the household seeing to menial tasks such as hurriedly preparing rooms for additional guests, the mercenary has apparently elected to keep herself in the usual routine. If nothing else, it keeps her from worrying over the wellbeing of a certain Wraith…

Once they were released from the safe but dreadful servant cells that the nobles fled to with equally dreadful temporary roomates, and after had seen that his younger sister Amara was placed in their older sister's care, Elrick had returned to high class tier where he had rented a suite for himself. The t'Tremaine Heir knows that it would be too extravagent an expense to rent a Manse but a classy inn will do just fine. After making sure his men were not badly injured and his personal effects were secured, Elrick has brought his men to the noble tier to see what kind of assistance can be offered. The damage is certainly immense and this is the first time he has seen such a nature created catastrophe. No longer dressed in noble finery, the t'Tremaine is in his hardened leathers that is more suited for work, though how much he will actually personally contribute remains to be seen. The first manse he and his men come to is the l'Saigner's, spotting the familiar faces of Alina and Esyld, whom he approaches, "Lady Alina, I am glad that you and Sir Gabriel are both all right. I assume my cousin is with the Duke? Is his father doing better?"

Alina lifts her head as Elrick greets them. She, too, is "dressed down", her long blonde hair pulled back into a bun and wearing a dress less ostentatious that she usually would: a dress of plain black, more short-length like a servant's dress, and well-made leather boots that look more meant for work or combat than the fine slippers she usually wears.

In fact, from the ill-fit to the dress, it doesn't look made for Alina at all! It… actually might be a serving woman's dress… and the boots look like they might actually be a spare pair of Esyld's. All of Alina and Gabriel's clothing had been destroyed in the tornado when the whirlwind wrecked the suites at the Ostvor castle, as a matter of fact…

"Yes, my husband is up at the castle checking on his father," she replies with a nod. "I don't know how the Duke is doing, but Gabriel should be able to let us know when he returns."

Fortunately for Esyld, the plainer barracks, rooms and offices set aside for the likes of herself and the household guard managed tokeep traveling chests and trunks intact. Not that it helps. The sum total of her worldly belongings likely wouldn't equal the cost of one of the Lady's fine gowns. Well, maybe, if you threw her destrier in there. Arriving beside Alina, she silently offers out a forearm, across which is draped a plain but warm cloak of lined worsted wool, trimmed with a black fur collar. Her old Fox cloak, as a matter of fact. And there's another, this one of a midnight blue cloth, for Mina if she so desires.

"M'Lord." A stark contrast to her 'off-duty' persona, the mercenary is all grim propriety as she addresses the t'Tremaine heir. And she remains otherwise quiet, leaving the nobles to their chatter.

Hearing that Duke Cesare's condition is still unknown certainly worries Elrick, having hoped to hear that it wasn't a bad wound that that he is on his way to full recovery. He is the Liege Lord of the t'Tremaines. At the moment, the Heir to the Barony of Hartswood have not noticed that Alina is not her same fashionable self today, though he has noticed that something is out of place, besides the damage and debris strewn about. When Esyld approaches with cloaks to offer for her lady and a greeting for him, Elrick inclines his head to the former Fox Company Captain, "Mistress Draven." Then to both, he also offers, "I have brought my men with me to lend some assistance if needed, just let me know where they would be best suited to help." Though this isn't exactly a battle to be fought, the t'Tremaine is still ready to take charge of his men and do what he can. The scope of the damage that the natural disaster has brought perhaps not fully registering on the knight just yet.

Alina takes the cloak, if for no other reason than it might help cover up the dull servants garb she wears. She glances over the men Elrick has brought with him, and nods. "We were lucky— the manse we rented only took minor damage. There's a couple rooms on the third floor without a roof, but much of the building remains intact. The t'Cordova across the street were not so lucky…" Alina gestures across the way, where a manse looks like a giant has stepped on it.

Men in the black-and-purple of l'Saigner and a couple of other men with the black armband of the Wraiths around the upper arms are working side-by-side with a handful of men in the colours of the t'Cordova and the t'Russuex to remove stone. "Some of the t'Cordova, including their heir, are trapped in the manse there. OUr men are trying to help dig them out— we'd appreciate the help."

Vorian t'Maren has been working since the storm lifted, leading his men by both example and exhortation. "Heave!" And in unison, he and three of his men heave a massive stone to their shoulder, advancing underneath the load with Vorian in the lead. He's pouring with sweat as the group manages to toss the stone into a newly-formed pile of rubble. "Well done, lads. A few more hours, and then the first drink's on me. Get some water."

Patting a few shoulders, the t'Maren knight turns and approaches the small cluster, standing alongside Esyld as he inclines his head to Alina, then Elrick. "M'lady. Sir Elrick." His voice is unreasonably cheerful for a man who is gray with stone-dust, particularly one whose jerkin is also stained with some suspicious dark spots. "We think we're near to opening a small airway for them," he adds, apparently speaking of the t'Cordova. "Can hear them banging."

Lingering near Alina, Esyld flits a guilty look toward Vorian, and the exhausted men who pass by. She ought to be helping, in her opinion. But, in the absence of Corvin and Gabriel.. more pressingly, in her mind, it falls to her to keep a watchful eye over the l'Saigner heiress.

The approach of a harried looking servant doesn't unduly concern the woman at first. Everyone looks fairly harried, in the grey, dusty aftermath of such horrendous, wanton destruction. But as the footman leans in, muttering something in her ear, the mercenary's features turn graver still. "How badly is it blocked..?" Her words are soft spoken, but with an authoritative edge to them, those eerie eyes settled firmly on the unfortunate soul. "And there's no other way out?" He hesitates, then shakes his head in negation. The t'Maren bastard dismisses him back to his task with a simple gesture, a wave of fingertips through the air. Indecision plagues her expression as she glances between the nobles here gathered. "..m'Lord." Eventually she addresses Vorian, in a hushed aside, venturing a look toward a corner of the rubble-strewn courtyard. "..if you've any hands to spare.. the entrance to the wine-cellar is blocked." A pause follows, during which she realises how that must sound. Her gaze flits between he and Alina, accompanying an explanation. "..the servants claim to have heard voices from inside." There's a pointed question in the seemingly simple statement, likely directed to her Lady. Can she go?

When attention is directed at the t'Cordova manse, Elrick can't help but wince and immediately motions for his men, mainly guards that were assigned to protect their Heir, to move out and assist with whatever they can with the rescue operation. There is much respect to the t'Cordovas, a House that fought hard against the Southerners during the Thirty Years War. "Even siege engines would not even come close to doing this amount of damage in such a short period of time." The t'Tremaine makes the idle comment to no one in particular as he visually takes in the severe damage of that manse. When Vorian joins the group from moving the heavy block of stone, Elrick greets the other knight with a nod of his head, "Sir Vorian, if they are banging, then it should be a good sign. I have a feeling this isn't the only manse that suffered such damage, is it." The t'Tremaine hasn't taken a close look at the castle done to the l'Faust castle either, not yet.
When Esyld receives more grave news, Elrick's eyes narrows slightly as the information is shared about more trapped survivors. His men have already been dispatched to assist the t'Cordovas and he won't be calling them back, since an heir is at risk. But surprisingly, the t'Tremaine himself offers his own help, "If more hands are needed, I can lend a pair."

Alina frowns, then gestures towards the wine cellar, "Go." She allows to Esyld.

Mina nods at her daughter, remaining silent and watching the men work at the Cordova manse. She is still in the gown she had worn the previous night, though the sleeves have been removed and the skirts tucked up for easier movement.

Alina folds her arms across her chest, biting her lower lip. She had made plans to leave today, but with the chaos in the city, it looks like no one is leaving Ostvor for several days…

Vorian has noted, of course, the absense of a certain Wraith. There is a wooden look on his face as he considers Esyld, just for a moment, and then he smiles. It is the too-broad smile of a man in the grips of exhaustion, entirely false and yet unwilling to admit his own failing strength. "Of course." And he raises his voice, shouting across to the t'Cordova Manse in a voice that could be heard across a battlefield, or a roaring gale, "Fallon! Talbot! On me." Two of his men finish carrying their loads and come at a trot, unconsciously falling into step with one another.

Vorian looks up at Elrick, considering the other nobleman. "I could use you," he admits. The young t'Maren seems to be in his element here amidst the chaos, and indeed, even his men look downright cheerful. This may not be a battlefield, but there's some similar feeling to it — wanton destruction and mayhem. "Right." He addresses the small group, his two scarred men-at-arms joining them. "We've got people in the wine cellar," he reiterates for the newcomers. "Let's go and fetch them. Lady Alina, if you would, could you have some water brought over?" A pause, and he adds, looking between Esyld and Elrick, "This sounds stupid, but watch your fingers under the shifting rocks. A broken hand may be nothing much in the long run, but it still renders you useless for the day." Vorian turns and makes his way toward the wreckage. He's whistling a rather naughty tune.

Even with the permission granted, Esyld looks one last time toward Alina and her mother. Well.. so long as they're still within her sight, maybe it'll be alright. She nods her gratitude toward the heiress, before offering in a gentle undertone, "..the servants have managed to salvage some fare for luncheon, m'Lady, if you're in need of refreshment." Yes. Sit where she can see you and nibble on pastries. That's better than her having to choose to leave the woman unprotected. The mercenary nods to a shady arbor, still perfectly intact, at one end of the covered walkway overlooking the main area of the yard. See? Shade. View. Everything.

Either not noticing or simply dismissing that look from Vorian, the ebon-maned woman heads without further ado in the direction the footman had indicated. A steep pile of rubble occupies a corner near the inner wall, obscuring entirely the few stone steps down to the cellar door, as well as the door itself. A clever place to seek shelter, true. Just not the best. Surveying the mess, bracing her hands on her hips as she draws to a halt, Esyld frowns up at the uppermost boulders. Visibly, she's ready to go clawing at the rocks willy-nilly.. but she defers to Vorian's temporary leadership. To Elrick and the two men who join the effort, she offers a weary, wan smile.

Since Vorian appears to have much more experience in disasters like this, Elrick does appear to listen to the other knight and his suggestions and warnings as he moves with the small group. Not a structural engineer himself, the t'Tremaine will most likely just be a pair of hands helping carry and move what is needed, smart enough to know that this is not his forte and will be giving no orders. His hardened leathers may protect him from scrapes and cuts on the body and arms, but the fingers are certainly another matter, something he had not considered but realizing that they can indeed be crushed or bent if something goes wrong here. Elrick does look to Vorian, Esyld, and two men of Vorian's that is with them, "Well, we've beaten back the northern barbarians. A few pieces of stone shouldn't stop us."

A good amount of time passes as both sets of groups continue to clear rubble. The door to the wine cellar is cleared, and across at the t'Cordova manse, shouts go up. The t'Cordova are stll trapped, but enough of a hole has been made that the heir was able to stick his hand through to grasp one of the t'Tremaine men-at-arms's hand, and there is talk about how the trapped folk are doing and how many are injured— several, unfortunately.

One of the Wraiths, under Mina's order, leaves to run to the castle and find one of the healers that have all gathered there to come back for when the rubble is further removed and they can get the t'Cordova out.

As the wine cellar door is cleared, there is a knocking on it from within, though it's relatively measured and doesn't seem like panicked banging. And after a few moments there's a sound of heavy items being shifted…perhaps having braced the doors from within. And finally the door opens up, and Corvin Fremont steps out, looking a little dirty and disheveled, but still with his usual cocky smirk, "Well, and here we were just about to start on the wine. For survival purposes, of course."

He moves to step out of the cellar, and after a moment it becomes clear there's several other people down there, as the remainder of the l'Saigner Wraiths and nearly all the household servants and guests that had been present start to file out…again, many looking disheveled but otherwise not too worse for wear.

The heat of such labor has everyone dripping with sweat, parched and breathless. Esyld stops only now and then when Vorian nags at her to sip from a waterskin, then she's right back to work. Her cropped riding jacket and weighty belt were abandoned some time ago, set down in the shade having only hindered her.. and the mercenary ulls her weight just as one would expect; picking her way up onto the more precarios footing as needed, given that she's the lightest, and hefting stones downward to waiting hands.

By the time the door is cleared, she's bedraggled and exhausted, strands of ebon hair clinging about her features, muscles burning though not beyond use. You don't last long in this sort of family if you're frail. Anyway. When the door grinds open, some scattered little rocks and dust forcing it to scrape and move in a jerky manner, her usually stoic features give way to blatant relief.. and a nigh unheard-of gesture of affection as she slings an arm around Corvin's neck in a brief, but firm, embrace. Dirt be damned. Though, it's likely only a matter of time before the notion of wine demands her attention..

"I don't suppose you could bring up a few bottles? Good to see you well."

Vorian's voice is sapped of strength, but he manages a smile for the l'Saigner bastard. His knuckles and fingertips are rubbed bloody, despite his own warnings, and he is gray with stone-dust. He glances over at Fallon and Talbot, his two men-at-arms. "Five minutes rest, then back to the t'Cordovas. I'll be joining you in a moment."

He flashes a quick, bright, smile toward Esyld as she embraces Corvin and jerks his chin in a brief, upward nod. "Sober, see? Saved you all the strongwine." And then, to Elrick, he says more seriously, "I appreciate the assistance, m'Lord. My lads are beginning to tire out." And so is Vorian, from the looks of it, the way his shoulders round in despite his best efforts. "It's been a long night."

Once the rubble clearing began, Elrick immediately realized that having the hardened leathers may offer protection, it also restrictions movements, not to mention it get's hotter quicker. So the protective jacket is shed, and left to the side, out of the way before the t'Tremaine resumes with his assistance. Finally the last pieces are cleared and the door is accessable, a breath of accomplishment released from the young noble knight.
When the door is shoved open from the inside and Corvin appears, Elrick looks relieved and even manages a light chuckle at Esyld's response. "If the wine is all gone, we may barricade you back inside, Master Corvin. Good to see you and the others were able to find safety and shelter." Then the t'Tremaine looks back to Vorian and nods, "Perhaps you and your men should take a longer break, fatigue can cause injuries. I'll head over to the t'Cordova manse, my men are already there. You've done more than enough, Sir Vorian."

Corvin briefly slips an arm around Esyld's waist, giving her a brief squeeze, but his smile does fade after he gets a moment to glance around. "Looks like there's work to be done." He calls back to those able-bodied servants and Wraiths, "All right…start rotating out with those that have already been working, and if you're not clearing, then start fetching water and food for those that are." And not surprisingly those Wraiths and servants "hop to" rather quickly. Corvin turns his attention back to Esyld, "Alina is all right?" Because he kind of imagines Esyld wouldn't be here if she wasn't.

"She's fine." Stepping back from Corvin once she's satisfied he's all in one piece, the mercenary offers him a wry smirk, only reluctantly letting her hand drift from his arm. "..do not laugh at what she's wearing." This warning is added in an aside, a soft murmur. Returning to her normal tone, she follows the Wraith's gaze about, offering a smile that's unusually warm with gratitude to those who helped clear the cellar door. "Gabriel's father was hurt, so he's at the castle.. the manse has survived well enough to house us all for the time being, but.." Trailing off, the woman shakes her head and rakes a hand back through her dark tresses with a sudden heartfelt sigh.

Alina and Mina do not quite make it over to the opened wine cellar, as the duchess and the heir are both at the edge of the t'Cordova property line looking on with concern. They both look relieved that contact has been made with that household, and seem to be waiting on the hole to widen enough to start bringing people through.

"I'd love to," admits Vorian to Elrick. "But my lads and I will just.. grab a bite. And then it'll be back to it." He seems grateful for the other knight's 'suggestion,' looking as though he's emerging from some sort of trance. Certainly he's been awake and aware, but his attention has been wholly focused, since the first ebbing of the storm, on the rescue efforts. He makes his way over to a boulder and sits down hard, just as a servant — following Corvin's instruction — brings him a flagon of water. The t'Maren breathes out hard before he takes a drink. Meanwhile, his small contingent of men are likewise taking rests, looking as though Elrick's suggestion has saved them from collapse.

Seeing that Vorian is at least willing to take a respite, whether short or long, Elrick nods his head to the other man, "Take your time, who knows, by the time you arrive where the t'Cordova are, we will have already freed them. Then the healers will just shoo us away like they usually do." A grin is flashed before the t'Tremaine begins to trek through the rubble away from the wine cellar and then towards where the rescue operations of the t'Cordova are still on going, looking to find one of his men for a quick update before joining the rescue effort as well.

"Quite a mess." Corvin doesn't seem quite as…emotional about the whole affair, but that's probably little surprise. Despite all that, he's already rolling up his sleeves, "So where do they need another pair of arms? Aside from apparently the entire noble quarter?" He queries of Esyld, then pauses, "On second thought, give me a moment so speak with Alina to make sure they don't have other tasks for me. Then we'll see. Can you take me to her?"

Well, Corvin didn't get to see people being sucked out of windows or castles threatening to split in half. Or have to spend the entire previous night and day in a damned gown. But Esyld doesn't point any of this out. With a glance in Vorian's direction, her expression perhaps betraying just a touch of approval now that he's finally seated and taking sustenance, the mercenary then simply dips a nod and heads off across the rubble-strewn courtyard. She doesn't look back to ensure Corvin's following. He will be.

Out on the street itself, the true scale of the destruction becomes more apparent, even to the most jaded and cynical of eyes. The t'Cordova manse across the way has been reduced to little more than ash and rock, though the clamour of activity over at one particular area implies that perhaps some have at least been found unscathed. If so, they're lucky. Esyld leads the Wraith toward his beloved half-sister in silence; punctuating her arrival with the offer of her waterskin toward the blonde heiress. Hang on.. is that Esyld's old cloak she's wrapped in?

Speaking of healers….Whlie Amara had been remitted to the care of her older sister, it had given her time to clean up and get her nerves more settled. Enough to remember she wasn't entirely useless, not really. With the storm past and a call for more help, Amara had volunteered when there was a call for more help to tend to those in the city. While she was not as skilled as some of the healers who had stepped up the night before, Amara did have a fair bit of skill for her age. Lack of experience during a crisis, had certainly shown the previous evening. But she was trying to help now, even if still a bit rattles. The storm tried to eat them all!

It is thus that the younger t'Tremaine is seen with a small group heading towards the rather squished and flattened manse. Her clothing a bit dirty as is she, signs of this not being the first place they'd gone to. Amara gives the manse a rather wide eyed look, murmuring to one of the more experienced in the group,"Is it really possible sommeone survived…in that?" It seems an impossiblity to her.

The t'Tremaine Heir is already with those at the t'Cordova manse with his men-at-arms assisting the men of the l'Saigner trying to clear the debris so that the t'Cordova heir and other wounded may be rescued safely. He does not notice his younger sister arriving with the healers that have been requested, busy either carrying debris himself or working with the other men, moving the bigger pieces.

Alone, apart from a few servants, Vorian lets his head drop down into his hands. It's fatigue, not despair, and he doesn't let it last long. Straightening, the young knight empties the remains of his water tankard over his head and shakes himself vigorously, sending dirty water flying around him. His face looks as though he's been weeping, tracks cut into the deep layers of filth on his face.

He pushes off his boulder with a soft grunt, gazing around before plodding out of the l'Saigner manse and across the street, joining the others. As he walks into view, a subtle transformation comes over him; he straightens his shoulders as best he can and adopts an approximation of his usual swagger, chin lifting. With a nod to the others, he settles right back into work. Until Fallon turns on him, the grizzled man-at-arms placing his hands on his hips. "Sir. Really?" The accusation is heavy in his tone. "Go sit down. We've got this."

Vorian seems about to argue, then casts a glance over to where the healers are working with the wounded, and then to Alina and the others. "I.." He sighs. "I'd rather work, Fallon." And he settles back in, grunting as he shoulders a rock. "I'll go and see the healers soon. Let them tend to my hands. Stop fussing."

Amara does take notice fo her brother, but with him knee deep in debris and hepling those who work to recuse others that may yet be trapped within the t'Cordova manse, she does not make to interupt him or the work at hand. She continues on with the small group of healers to help tend to the few who have already been found amongst the debris. And to those who have taken injury during the rescue efforts.

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