The leviathan skull crashed around the man and woman, splintering wood, the serrated teeth nearly scything through their skin had they not both clung together in surprising urgency. Beyond the danger, Will was intently aware of how nice her lush form felt against his, but he shoved that thought aside as they both looked up, making certain the jawbone was not toppling one way or another. Satisfied, they were about to pull apart from each other, unfamiliar as they were to one another, before there was a shout and a crash. The scattered gypsies had left the doorway unguarded, and out of the light stepped two goats, with their pig iron breastplates and haughty eyes. One was bearded, and the other had a mustache that looked like a scruffy rodent clinging to his upper lip. 

Each held a sword out, but the bearded one sported a pistol cocked and ready. Will reflexively pulled the gypsy woman tighter in an embrace to cover her with his body as he raised his own pistol. By all accounts, the Grand Army soldier and the mercenary raised at the same time. The gypsy woman's eyes widened, and she ducked behind Will's shoulder like a mouse scurrying under a hole. What happened next was so quick, it wasn't until hours later that Will could fully appreciate it. 

Will's pistol ignited a split second sooner, striking the armsman in the chest. However, he hit the thickest area of the breastplate, and so it protected the man from harm. However, the pistol ball ricocheted and pierced the temple of his companion in the same brutal instant, and simultaneously the force of Will's shot staggered the arsman. His own shot went wild as a result, missing Will's head by scant inches. As the mustachioed guard fell to the floor, blood spurting from his skull, the other guardsman was bewildered as whisps of smoke lazily wafted between he and the two ne'er-do-wells. 

"Gods above..." Will remarked breathlessly, and the beautiful woman poked her head up once more. Her eyes flicked to Will, who glanced at her in turn. "You always this lucky?" She shrugged in answer. "Right," he said, as what gypsy men there were tackled the remaining goat, wresting his sword and trying to overwhelm him. 

"What now?" She asked, greater worries spilling into her mind. 

"Come with me if you want to live," He said, taking her by the hand. Either because she believed his story, or felt she had little choice, she did not fight him as he led her past the tussling men into the festival proper. She gasped at the sight, and even Will was surprised at the pandemonium that had erupted during their brief meeting within. A multitude of squads of the Grand Army tore down banners and festive decorations, burning shops and putting anyone who resisted to the sword. It was like stepping into the very heart of a riot.

"[i]Pomana Priskasa[/i]!" She exclaimed under her breath. "What do they want?" 

"If I had to guess, you." He said, but realized how callous that was. He was unsure how much she truly knew, or if she even [i]was[/i] an instrument of the darkness. But until he knew, he wouldn't treat her as such. "But don't blame yourself fully, the bastards were looking for a reason." He pulled her to the south, through the back 'streets' which were simply a hodgepodge collection of crates, tents, and makeshift shelters behind the booths and lines of shops. Men and women scrambled, a plump woman rushed across their path with two clucking chickens under each arm, but a few more carnival-dwellers were cleaning bloody knives or loading flintlocks as the violence escalated. Will passed by a knickknack shop just to get blocked by a trio of goats, one pulling his blade out of the back of a merchant who had the audacity to protest their demand for his expulsion. 

"You! Stop right there!" The leading one demanded, but they could tell by the way Will moved he was not going to comply. Two men who had experienced enough fights did not need to be informed of intent. Will's sword met his blade in a flash of sparks, the other two men trying to maneuver themselves over crates and an overturned chair to get around them. The gypsy woman produced a plump tomato from her bodice and struck the right one square in the face, causing him to sputter and gag, and Will finished off the first man, piercing him in the throat before turning to handle the leftmost one. 

In the tussle, Will and the woman got separated.    

As Will had to sidestep a thrust, someone grabbed the gypsy from behind. With impressive alacrity, she slipped out of her shawl and danced away. The goat groaned in annoyance and threw the piece of fabric to the ground, only to see the woman had another shawl on her shoulders as if by magic. In her tanned hands, she held a jingling purse of coins, a lowland family crest etched upon it. 

The soldier gave a start, then felt for his own purse as realization dawned on him. "You!" He growled, unsheathing his sword. "We'll add thievery to your many crimes, witch." 

"You're the one who smells so poorly it's a crime," she replied, pinching her nose with her free hand and retching. Her smile bloomed upon her face swiftly, however. "And I'm not the one who can't pay their bail." She teased smugly. As the man advanced on her, she blinked, patting herself just above her chest as if she was about to belch. As he was right atop her, she couldn't hold it any longer, and a gout of flame burst out of her mouth from seemingly no source. The soldier screamed in fright, the loose hairs beneath his helm now alight. Will dispatched his opponent with a counter riposte, getting a bad cut on his calf for the trouble. At the edge of his vision, he did a double take in amazement as the gypsy woman spun, lifting her shawl to obscure their assorted vision for the briefest moment, before the fabric finished its spinning and fell to the ground, the woman having simply vanished.  

"'Ave I goon dafty?" Will muttered incredulously, his accent spilling out in full at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

Somewhere beyond, there was an immense whistling, accompanied by a booming. Sparks and lights ignited from somewhere to the north, someone having evidently set off the collective fireworks. The goats around them cried out "find the gypsy woman!," and as a few turned in his direction, they found he had already begun to retreat in the madhouse of a crowd. Will kept himself moving, desperately searching for the woman. Carnival goers shoulder past him, wild eyed and screaming. If he had lost her, this was all for naught! As he stepped past a mob of strong men throwing shorter fellows aside, he saw a goat pulling a small, crying child from a weeping mother, an unconscious man in similar garb on the floor. Memories flashed in his mind, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he leaped in the midst of them and pommeled the guard in face with his sword, shattering his nose and sending him to the floor. The little girl, pigtails matted, ran to her mother who caught her in an embrace. 

"Get out of here!" Will cried at them, and as they did so, his sharp eyes caught a familiar sight across the street. He noticed green eyes gazing at him from underneath a cowl, watching him with uncertainty in her gaze. She stood beside an abandoned stall, lingering as if deciding something. The woman! He was about to try and wade through the street, but iron hands sprang out from behind the stall! She squealed, but more men swarmed her, one man going so far as placing a knife to her throat as another tore the cowl off to reveal her exotic heritage and raven hair. Before she could scream, they gagged her with a cloth, and the crowd surged as Will tried to reach them, only to be too late. They were gone five heartbeats before he could reach them. 

"Bastards!" He yelled in frustration. He cursed himself, cursed the devil, and cursed the bloody regime. The only saving grace was that he had a good idea of where they would take her. However, it made him no more comfortable to have that knowledge. Not many left that place whole...