[hr]The gypsy spurned the query of the inebriated man with a glaring directive, as he rode past, heading for the tavern. 

[color=598527]“To the Blood of the Vine.”[/color] 

Jaundiced heavens persisted in its vile retching upon the riders. Tinges of belched bile haphazardly desecrated the unified host of galloping maggots. The mutiny below every jockey’s saddle promised inevitable insubordination, in rebellious compliance to the rainy erosion. Further riot and sedition befell the corporation of insects and larvae, with each disturbing hurtle. Abruptly, the trickster and his young passenger bit the ersatz tarmac, consequences of the puked disassembly of the once adherent steed.

Zaerith beckoned Anala. 

[color=maroon]“Take the boy!”[/color]
[hr][center][@Hekazu] [color=tan]The Unnamable[/color][/center][hr]When the supposed corpse came to life the rapidly disassembling horse was the more startled one of the two approaching figures, the rider taking the scene with relative calmness. After all, when one is already panicked regarding the harmful white stuff touching down, what would another odd event add to it, if anything? Indeed, as the mass of insects crumbled under the now streetbound individual once again, they now turned to focus on getting away from the scene. Standing here like an idiot was not going to do anyone any good, George needn't tell that separately.

The drunk who had been roused by the approach took his sweet time before speaking, the puppet wielding man already having taken off after the Vistani that had been leading them thus far. [color=tan]"Shelter is all that matters at this time!"[/color] would come the shout over the man's shoulder. There was no time to gawk at the drunk. Were he to melt, so be it. It had been foolish to even diverge in the first place, and George was already scolding his puppeteer for such a decision. [color=tan]"I know George, I know",[/color] came the answer as the speaker's shoeless feet rushed along the still not thankfully white street. It was not something one particularly wanted to experience, walking on acid.

The promise of safety in the form of the drinking hole along the street was all that was needed to propel one onward, faux horses or not. One foot in front of the other, let those better equipped deal with whatever else there was. Dying would be awfully inconvenient to say the least, so avoiding that was now the priority. For what good was the wealth of the knowledge stored within one's head if there was no way to utilize it?
[hr][center][@Zverda] [color=thistle]Anala Attor[/color][/center][hr]Anala looked at the newcomer with relatively bored interest before her eyes went back to where the old woman had been and she frowned, [color=thistle]"A Hag indeed it seems,"[/color] she muttered to herself as she tilted her head to the side in contemplation. When the man had asked if there was anything that he could do for them, she bit her tongue and said nothing, as the first thing she thought was that he needed to bathe, the man reeked of alcohol and the smell was unpleasant to her. Sure she was known to enjoy a drink or two, but she was never so indulgent in the desire as to smell like she had jumped into a lake of the stuff like this man seemed to be. [color=thistle]"You smell like a brewery,"[/color] she finally said, unable to help herself much before she let out a sigh and shook her head, [color=thistle]"What I want to know is what made you ask if there was anything you could do for us when you are the one that fell of the roof. That does not seem a proper question for a man who seemed to potentially dislocate his arm."[/color] Sure, the strange man with the puppet had approached him, but it was such a strange question to ask when he was the one who had landed so eloquently on his face.

As she spoke, she mounted her horse and looked for a place where they could shelter their steeds as well as their mounts, the feel of the rain on her skin was not pleasant, acid was an awful thing was it not? She looked up and made a rather displeased look towards the heavens, whoever was up there was clearly not a happy God if he deemed it necessary to dump this atrocity on them after they had stopped a boy from being taken against his will.  After a moment, she saw the smoke that was being pointed out by Markus and headed for it, stopping by the male and staring at him. He stank, she really did not want that on her saddle, [color=thistle]"You should follow us least the rain decide that it wishes you dead, that is what you can do for us now.[/color]

Soon, everyone else's mounts began to fall apart, though not Anala's as hers was the only of flesh and bones and it soon fell to her to give the boy a lift. Of course, Sebastian had offered to do it himself but even she knew a pony would be slowed far too much to even consider it and she did not mind a child riding upon Rogath's back. They would have to move quickly and if they were lucky, maybe she would go back for them once she dropped the boy off... if they were too far behind. For now, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to even risk going back out into that retched abomination of acid, rain was supposed to be refreshing, not deadly.[hr]
>All lose their horse save Anala. Everyone, roll another 1d2 for acid rain damage.