Triya heads into the market place, finding her current minimized, floating status something of a boon as she makes her way through what would be an ever shifting wall of angry metal otherwise. Behind her fall the others, assisted by what seems to be the fickle hand of fate causing some of the angry Clockwork to happen to shift out of the way at just the right time, find something valuable on the street worth picking up, or generally shift out of the way for no particular reason.
Approaching the center of the mass, the acrid smell of smoke fills the air as some of the stalls burn and others are crushed into splinters to fuel the fire. The Clockwork here are a bit more obviously clockwork, many not even bothering to wear cloaks or panchos to cover up their Clockwork...ness, though it's not as horrific or unsettling a sight as some might think- Like Calamity, most have an outer shell protecting their clockwork innards, making them appear as just oddly dressed humans.. And in the mass of them is who could only be Glory.
He's younger than they might expect; older than Calamity but no older than in his mid-teens. He wears his Clockwork as a badge of honor, no pancho or full cloak, though he has large heavy looking epaulets attached to a plush royal blue cloak. His short blonde hair is immaculate, and everything about him seems as if he's taken hours to get it just so. He talks to a number of similarly unashamed Clockwork, talking just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd, and gestures to another set of merchant stalls that have gone thusfar undamaged. Though judging from the movement of his disciples, that's not going to last much longer.