[h1][b][center][color=00a99d]D A V O R   D E L ' T R E U S E[/color][/center][/b][/h1][hr]
The continuous stares between both the citizens and Davor's retinue were just about enough to get Davor uncomfortable. They strolled through the streets, hoping to find some official to answer to, particularly of the Estalan crest. As they made their ever slow gait throughout the Port, Davor noticed the increasing amount of attention the Laguz were paying to their group. [color=00746b]"Perhaps it may be due to the whole 'slave trade' problem we've got going on,"[/color] Davor's guard whispered. He pondered the thought. Man, it really [i]was[/i] a bad situation.

Then again, some Laguz are bad people, too. [color=00a99d]"Stay vigilant, boys. We've got to find--"[/color] Davor falters, the familiar "DING, DING, DING" of an emergency bell. The group watched as the citizens ran away from an apparent conflict, and guards shouted [b][i]"PIRATES AND ANARCANS!"[/i][/b] repeatedly. 

[color=00a99d]"...trouble."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Here we go! Everyone, stay close! Our main goal is to assess the situation! If you find trouble, notify me immediately!"[/color] Davor barked, and the group set off for the rising stack of smoke, horses running at a careful speed, weaving through crowds of people on their way to the center of town. This seemed to be it, this was what they were sent here to do. Davon rode ahead, leading the charge.

It took him a minute, but Davor was eventually able to get to the center of town. He looked around, and his crew began their search for anybody, friend or foe. A few of the squad made their way through rubble and broken facade, helping the Estalan guardsmen herd the people to safety. Davor facilitated the steady extraction of possible hostages in the area, while flames licked the sides of buildings destroyed. [color=00a99d]"Hello! Anyone there?"[/color] he continued to call out, in hopes of a response.

[h1][b][center][color=6ecff6]C Y L O  R E I S S A R[/color][/center][/b][/h1][hr]
Equipped with her most rugged dress and donned with her most protecting hood, Cylo makes her way into Port Sesta, with a curious feeling of familiarity to this place. She took in the fresh, salty air, and shielded her eyes at the brightness of the sun. She decided to simply hold her scarf, it wouldn't do her much good in this weather. This was where it all began for her. A celebrity, an advocate of Beorc-Laguz peace, stepping out into the fray. All she had to do now was look for a job to accomplish.

A couple of looks were thrown her way as she walked the street, looks of disbelief, no doubt. She stuck out like a sore thumb; while everyone was dressed in their workman's clothing usually shades of brown and gray, here strolls a random woman, dressed in the finest of white garments, with a face familiar to most as a sort of celebrity among the masses. "You're Miss Cyrei!" a child no older than six exclaimed, in his schoolboy outfit. She could only smile and nod. She really was doing a good thing, she believed.

The serene sounds of the working morning were soon defiled by the sound of a heavy bell. Moments, later, crowds rushing out of the center of town. Wide-eyed, Cylo made an immediate dash for the center of town. Rumors had been spreading of a possible pirate war, and from the guards' exclamations, they seemed to be true. She ran as quickly as her robe could take her, before being abruptly stopped by a guard, holding a line of civilians, a ways away from the trouble.

"I'm sorry, Miss... Cyrei?" The guard stood, obviously shocked, "...But I don't believe it's safe for civilians to be around this area! Please vacate the premises immediately!" Cylo knew that the guard was just doing his job, yet she knew that she could do something. She struggled her way closer to the action, obviously being held back by the guard, when she managed to utter a soft, whispered sliver of a message, [color=6ecff6]"...I can help."[/color]

"You can?" The guard asked. She nodded. She knew something was off about her singing. It seemed to do more than entertain, it seemed to have some other property to it that she hadn't figured out, like a bard's musings in fairy tales, or a siren in ghost stories. She had a difference, and she felt in her gut that this, indeed, was where it would be applicable. She stared the guard deep into his eyes with determination. With a reluctant "...suit yourself," she began her way into trouble.