Night fell over a weary, mostly-broken Kremston, torches lighting the roads and lashed to carts as they continued to travel in and out of the town's gates. The bodies and cleanup needed to continue through the night, with the folk working in shifts, before proper rotting set in and disease began to truly fester. Folk were worn from the stresses and lack of sleep of the days past, numbed by the tragedy of loss. It's no surprise that a few more figures dressed in blood-drenched rags shuffling along through the crowd went mostly without notice. These five figures seemed to belong to particularly hard workers, likely coming in from tending to the pyres. After all, why else were their clothes singed and reeking of smoke more than the rest of the workers?

The group of Crowforged marched right in through Kremston's wide-sprawled gates in their disguise, their short stature making it easier to not stand out from the masses, all gleam of metal concealed beneath tattered, stolen cloth. Keeping their heads tipped downward in the flitting, intermittent light to avoid revealing the pronounced bump outward in their masks from their beaks. Fortunately, the gruesome work seemed to have all the other workers similarly trying to cover every bit of exposed skin, and covering a mask with a hand was far from uncommon. No one paid close enough attention to catch the group's discrepancies. Once inside, they all separated from one another, slipping into crowded side-alleys and narrow passages between structures. These had become the main highways for people walking through the town, as the fewer occupants during the attack had meant less of a mess for folk to have to trudge through now.

Lensed eyes watched the main group of people returning heading straight to the center of town, lining up to receive their portion of food for their labor of the day. A large number of armored men stood guard over carts laden with food, strolling up and down the line with scowls, trying to project authority and confidence to put off any problems before they could begin. Not a good place for a Crowforged to try and infiltrate, but the fact that food was being so carefully restrained indicated a weakness to be taken advantage of. Minutes passed as the group wandered and listened, merely letting the comments and complaints of the populace provide some of the sought-after information. What they discovered was savagery as to be expected from Outsiders. The longer they lingered, the greater the risk, as well as the greater distaste they felt for the chaos and lack of cohesion found in the Outsider settlement. Warring against one another for materials, for space, for achievement. Bribery. Theft. Violence. Inefficiency. Disgusting. Where was their sense of unity? Did they hold no value to the ideal of striving together for the betterment of a whole?

These people are those who are wholly lost. They are no longer anything but a shallow layer of civilization poorly concealing utter chaos. Could these lost ones be brought back into the fold of unity? Is it possible for those Outside to find adjustment to the light that comes from Within? More importantly, would it be worth the effort of their Lord to spend his grace upon those so far lost? "There is naught worth saving, here. If our Lord seeks to know what resides within these lands, it is naught but a primitive group of savages, and we shall ensure we emphasize them as such. There will only be value here if the Lord claims it, and makes it through his own means. But before our Lord can extend his reach, we must cleanse this place of the taint that yet dwells. The one thing the savages have gotten mostly correct, though they lack the appropriate scale, are the pyres. However, they should include this entire hive of filth."

Sending off one of their number to the gates to head outside as an insurance to be able to report what they have discovered thus far should their following efforts fail, the remaining four spread through the town once again. This time, however, each carried a torch taken from the supplies left amassed for the pyres. These supplies were left almost entirely unguarded, as who would expect anyone to steal wood, lamp oil, or straw? It was much more important to have a show of force where the food was being dispensed, of course. Two bored men standing at the entrance to a warehouse all but half-asleep were dealt with by a single swipe of metal talons across either throat, quieting any disruptive noises they might have made. After each of the Crowforged had amassed a small bundle of flammable material, the stockpile and the warehouse that held it were lit ablaze, the foursome scattering in cardinal directions.

The next few moments before anyone realized what was really happening were where the greatest opportunity for chaos lay. As the figures ran down the streets, every torch they passed was ripped from its lashings and thrown haphazardly around. Some were pitched through open windows, while others were flung at carts half-laden with bodies where they lingered on the roadside. While the first shouts of 'Fire!' were still ringing out from the direction of the nearby warehouse, and the guards were making a move toward the torch-flinging arsonists sprinting down the road, a multitude of small fires had already begun. Many might be put out by the quick-witted who caught them in the early stages, but many more would spread to the point of no return before anyone could address them.

Guards rushed toward the chaos, demanding passerby form fire brigades and draw buckets of water from wells. Others tried to sprint toward the mage's tower in order to try and find a magical solution to the issue. Yet none commanded, it was merely a group of confused figures of small authorities trying to work around each other rather than with one another. People were pulled from running messages and strong-armed into bucket brigades, only to have a full bucket spilt when another demanded they drop what they were doing for some other task. With all the guards rushing toward the chaos, it was obvious that many would spot the Crowforged and attempt to bar their path. Most didn't even bother with an attempt to capture, as for the crime of arson during such a time, there could be only one punishment given. Drawn blades swung in lethal arcs, before battering in deafening clangs off the metal bodies of the Crowforged. Metal dented as blades bent, but their bodies continued on heedless. Talons extended to slash long lines of wounds across any body part they could reach on the offending guards, adding screams of pain to the confusion as arms dangled limply and weapons fell from shattered hands to the stones below.

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Forcing through the guards, the bundles of oil-slicked materials the infiltrators had stolen from the stockpiles before setting them ablaze came into use. They were hurled into the various storehouses and granaries, before a torch followed them in to try and destroy as much of the food supplies as the small band of Crowforged could manage. Without sticking around to try and encourage the burn or prevent it from being extinguished, some of the food might be saved, but much of the supplies almost immediately went up in smoke. Dried grain, or rather the dust involved with it, was particularly flammable, and one of the storage facilities actually burst in a cascading fireball with an explosion that reverberated through the night. Rather than head toward the gates, the Crowforged merely leapt upward onto the rooftops of intact houses as they headed for the palisade wall, dropping their torches atop the last thatched roof inside the boundaries for good measure, and leapt from the wall to dash off into the night, leaving the town ablaze behind them.

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"How much longer is the preparation going to take, Tiar? It's a message ritual, surely you've done this a thousand times, if not ten times that!" Pacing through the room, a figure in blue-tinged armor waved a hand aggressively through the air, gesticulating wildly. In fact, the captain of the town's guard was gesturing with more than merely his hand, as he still held an opened, half-emptied bottle of wine as he ranted at the mage. "In case you've not realized that there's about a dozen tasks that require my near-immediate attention, it's rather important I get this done with quickly." A dour-faced elf continued to carefully drag an ink-bearing brush across the surface of a mirror, tracing delicate, intricate patterns upon the surface with a steady hand. "Sir Vayne, if you know of a mirror that is already bearing the appropriate enhancements to cast a long-distance scrying link while simultaneously transmitting sound, please fetch it to hasten the process. Failing that, it would be the utmost delight if you would keep your mouth closed lest you risk annoying me enough my hand slips. Might I suggest going out to do one of the many tasks that urgently await you, rather than hovering over my shoulder whilst I work?"

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until that mirror is ready and my message is sent. Don't think I'm not aware you sent some of your followers to prepare supplies for a journey, against the direct standing orders of the Lord." A sloshing sound accompanied another swig of the bottle, the hulking man's face reddening slightly from his drinking. Mage Tiar's brow quirked as he spared a moment to glance toward the bottle, noticing the delicate engraving and the fine-quality crystal that it was composed of. 'And the man is swigging fine elven wine like cheap mead.' Tiar's expression grew more exasperated, carefully dabbing the brush into the mana-infused ink, coating it evenly and wiping the excess carefully on the rim of the inkwell. "And yet, as a member of the Mage's Circle, those orders restrain me far less than your brutish presence. And I will be voicing an extremely in-depth complaint about your forceful attitude on this matter. This town will be lucky if it sees a mage of any measure in the future!"

"This town will be lucky if it still exists in the future, mages or no. I couldn't care less about your complaints, I'll ensure the Circle has a trunk-load of coin delivered and they'll be happy to keep doing business. Shut up and paint." Vayne hefted the bottle and tipped both it and his head backward, long swallows of the wine trying to drown the man's fears, sorrows, or whatever other demons he felt it would keep at bay. When the glass ran empty, he carelessly tossed the fine crystal container aside, a delicate clattering of shattering resounding as it burst into countless pieces upon the hardwood floor. "Mithril armor or not, this is as far as I will be pushed. You will maintain at least a pretense of respect, or there will be consequences-" Mage Tiar was not a particularly patient elf, and under the continual prodding, he was already trying to weigh the pros and cons of forcing his way from the Lord's manor and leaving town immediately.

His thoughts were jarringly interrupted by an armored figure bursting through the doors of the dining room with unseemly haste. Lumbering forward, they only came to a halt when they hit the end of the dining room table, gasping for breath. The entire table shifted ever-so-slightly and the motion of a fraction of an inch was enough to foul Mage Tiar's painting. The bumbling dolt who ruined his work seemed unaware, merely shouting "Arson! Sir Vayne, it's arson! Crazed folk set the warehouses ablaze! We've lost many of the stocks, but the worst part is-" A deep rumble burst in the distance, as well as a flare of light, the moment when the town's grainary exploded. "-they... also set fire to the food stores." The man finished, lamely. With a moment's consideration, Mage Tiar took in the miniscule flaw in his nearly-completed work, and with a few quick swipes hastily closed the last of the connection he had been painting on the mirror, making no mention of it. 'Strong-arm me, will you? I hope it explodes in your face.' Tiar mused to himself, "Then I had better see what I can do to try and control the fires. Don't worry, Vayne, I'll find my apprentices on my own." 'And then I'll leave this town the moment I find enough food to jam into a pack, even if I have to fry what's left of the town guard to leave. Just try and stop me when you aren't hovering over my shoulder!' Without waiting for a response, Mage Tiar headed out the door, leaving a shell-shocked, half-drunk giant of a man gaping out the window at the rising light of many, many fires.