[color=gold][h2]Abigail Harlow [/h2][/color]
[B]Location:[/b] Harrow's Keep Townstead, Artisan Market
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[color=gold]"As it stands, there is [i][b]no[/b][/i] mission as important as the wellbeing of the citizens. They’re dead in the streets!"[/color] Abigail snapped back, her pony shuffling in response to the sharpness of her tone. [color=gold]"You and you -”[/color] she pointed at two of the guards closest to her - [color=gold]"Spread out across the district and redirect anyone in need of medical assistance towards the market. You two over there - find anyone who even [i]claims[/i] to be able to perform first aid and send them here as well. I’ll need a few hands to help me move what’s left of the stalls. I’m sure you can use the remainder for your important mission.”[/color] Abigail tugged on the reins and dug her heels into Munchkin’s sides as the ones she picked out clutched to the orders and marched into the residential areas, turning the beast around to trot towards the marketplace and hide her expression of sheer terror. Good Goddess. What had she done? Who [i]was[/i] that man? She doubled down and scowled. Victor can cover the damages, surely. He’d have to.

[color=gold]"Bring the unresponsive to the eastern side of the plaza!”[/color] Abigail hollered, using her sword to make a sweeping gesture eastwards where there was some, though not a lot, of empty space. She turned her attention to some of the merchants who, stunned, were stood amongst the wreckage of their livelihoods. A few guards had followed her, which was heartening to see, but around half remained with the stranger. [color=gold]"Any of you gentlemen have a cart handy?”[/color]

One of the vendors was stirred out of his shock and, at length, pulled out a cart from underneath an impossibly spiked tarpaulin sheet. One of the wheels had turned a very funny shape. [color=gold]"Good enough for me! Come on then, let’s get this cleared up.”[/color] She dismounted and helped hitch Munchkin to the harness whilst a guard and the vendor gathered the detritus of what once was a ceramics stall and throw it on the back. She gazed around the befuddled faces. How come she, running entirely on adrenaline and sheer bullshitting of some semblance of an authority, could function better than men with ten years on her and a decent life making trinkets? [color=gold]"Get your thumbs out your arses and MOVE, people! We need to clear space!”[/color] she yelled again, nearly making herself hoarse. She was scared and angry. She didn’t know what she was doing. But she desperately needed help to do it while there were still a few people left to save.

[color=#d8cfbe]”Shall I take these sheets to the wounded, ma’am?”[/color] a person rushed up to her with one of the tarps that were used to cover the stalls. Abigail was bemused at the ‘ma’am’, as she was young enough to be his daughter, but didn’t let it get to her. There were a lot of people looking her way and following her example as the silhouette of a sturdy yet small Balauran stallion hauling wreckage had created a chain reaction of clean-up duty.

 [color=gold]"Excellent idea. See if you can get the others to follow suit.”[/color] Abigail lead Munchkin by the reins as more people tossed what could only be described as ‘material’ into the wagon. It made a horrible rough noise on the cobbles as the busted wheel had locked the back axle. Munchkin was undeterred from this and was rivalled only by the mageborn in terms of his sheer pent-up stores of energy, built gradually with the aftermath of the crisis and finally finding an outlet in the form of dragging a very heavy load from one end of the plaza to the other. Abigail didn’t care what happened to it. She just needed to make a heap that took up less space than it did currently. Once she got to the western edge she hopped up onto the cart and used both legs to kick all the crap onto the floor. Empty cart. Still a lot of marketplace waste to clear out, and in the distance she could see a trickle of shambling, mana-sick civilians starting to gather on a large space of colourful tarp.

 [color=gold]"One thing at a time...Come on. There’s going to be more people soon.”[/color] Abigail talked both to herself and the small entourage she had unintentionally gathered, tugged on Munchkin’s reins, and made another pass through the ruins of the market.