[ CLOSED ] THE ANTIVAN CROWS SEND THEIR REGARDS

[ombranera]

WHO: Alistair, Araceli Bonaventura, Beleth Ashara, Anders Detlef, Korrin Ataash, Taashath, The Iron Bull, Twisted Fate, an Zevran Arainai. Guest Starring: Samouel, Cyril, and Merrick, Super Special Guest Star: Leliana.
WHAT: The Crows come for the Ombra Nera.
WHEN: Begins Guardian 6
WHERE: Skyhold/Antivan Border/The Road
NOTES: CW/TW FOR: Flesh hommonculi, violent/gruesome content, torture, blood magic, non-consensual drug use, adult content, adult language, reader discretion is advised. Sign up post, original plotting post, hit me on PM or @ thesouthernbelle if you have questions.

It's a normal morning in Thedas until, abruptly, it isn't. The Crows come calling; they are swift, they are certain, they are silent and leave behind but one witness that won't be alive for much longer (or so they assume). Prize in hand they ride North for Antiva.

Subthreads for portions of the plot are yours to tag around in as you like!

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The Remnants of The Ambush

[ombranera]

There is, at first glance, little left to see in the clearing just beyond the gates of Skyhold where Zevran and Merrick had been walking. Zevran himself? Was gone. Merrick had been unceremoniously dumped at the base of a boulder, bundled in a cloak to hide the awkward sprawl of his limbs and the puncture wound at his neck. Between snow and wind and hard stone there is little to show for what happened unless one knows what it is they are looking for.

[el_tybs]

It was sighting the odd gathering of ravens while he took a walk on the battlements that had gotten his attention and drew him out into the field. Knowing what he did about the ravens it seemed likely that they were gathering around a dead or dying animal and as such he had expected to see just that. So it is with a decent amount of surprise when he finds a pile of cloth at the base of the boulder instead, and has the mage hesitating for a moment.

Only when he's moved closer and notices boots sticking out of the pile does Sam move quicker, concern moving him, that another traveler had fallen to the cold. "Hey-!" The words are quick to die in his throat as he yanks carefully around the cloth, immediately recognizing Merrick when the elf's head lolls out.

There's a small curse from Sam then, working quicker to roll Merrick over, noting that his skin was extremely cold and not responding at all to any of his words or being moved around. It's only when he moves to press his fingers against Merrick's throat to feel for a pulse that he notices the wound, which doesn't look all that fresh. It's small, and there's also very little blood pooling from it, which leads him to believe that the wound isn't for bleeding out, but rather that Merrick has been injected with something. The only thing that stops him from panicking further is the faint, slow drum of a beat under his quickly chilling fingers.

Sam's first reaction is to yell out, hoping guards would hear him, but with the wind it's clear that they won't. His next action is to grab his crystal and call for Zevran - if anyone knew about trying to sneakily get rid of someone it would be him. There's no answer. Cursing again Sam then starts to wrap Merrick back up so that carrying him would be easier, hefting the Elf against his chest in hopes in getting him warmer before making his way towards the gates.

Awkwardly with his arms full and trying to rush through snow, he uses the crystal again, hoping to get someone this time.

"Cyril! Maker- Are you in Skyhold?!"

[samahl]

Cyril can hear the panic in Sam's voice when he's reached and that makes him think something is wrong with the mage. He feels his heart drop as he grabs at his own crystal to respond. He's thinking that Sam has been targeted by some wayward mage hate, or that he's in trouble in some other way.

The thought that it's Merrick that Sam is calling about doesn't even cross his mind.

"I'm here. What's wrong?" And there's urgency. He wants to get to Sam right away if he needs help.

[arlathvhen]

Beleth moved into Skyhold's gate, lingering to the side. Tasked by Cyril to contact members of the Inquisition who could help with trying to figure out just what in the damned void happened, she formed a short list of necessary people.

Iron Bull, Leliana, and Alistair would all be contacted via sending crystal. There were probably more people she should get, but time and her thoughts were in short supply.

"Hello, um--This is is Scout Beleth Ashara. Please meet me by the main gate as quickly as possible." Pause. Should she spell out what happened? That was one doozy of a message to give a rock. "There's been, ah...There's been a very serious... breach, I think?" Dear Creators, she had to do better than that. Deep breath, think of what you need to say. Cyril trusted her

"We have reason to suspect there has been a serious breach in security by an unknown and hostile group, with one confirmed injury." Whew. "Please, um-- I'll explain. At the gate. Thank you." Good enough. She shut the sending crystal off before she had a chance to make things worse, leaning heavily against the stone wall.

If all else failed, she could always start screaming about blood mages and get the Templars to help when they materialized.

[fightingale]

Leliana does not take long to arrive. Indeed, she takes an almost alarmingly short time, and when she arrives she moves towards the scout with long strides, quiver full of arrows at her back and a bow in hand, and Maker only knows how many knives could be found on her person.

"What is it?" Quiet and stern in the same moment, urgency not yet dominating her tone. This is a harsher Leliana than the one Beleth saw in the gardens. This is the Nightingale, she who moves swiftly and silently, and whose machinations could make nations shudder. "What has happened here?"

More scouts would be on the way, more beginning the search, many poised awaiting her orders via crystal. How had she missed this? How had they been so infiltrated?

The Trail North

[ombranera]

A series of spartan camps, fire long gone cold, the barest spattering of blood where one might hold someone prisoner, and the odd curl of half burnt paper with writing in Antivan directing whoever they were following to the next safe location. The further from Skyhold? The more careless they are with the burning, the more scraps left available-

The more blood pooled in rusty spatters next to a hook set into a wall, driven into the ground, or the cut length of rope.

It is a long ride North, but they are gaining ground.

[qunari]

The Iron Bull observes the pools of blood in stony silence before taking to a knee. The scent is still thick in the air, the lingering smells of a camp, of leather, and the smoldering remains of the notes that someone else is looking over at the moment.

He's checking the consistency. How long has it sat here? Might give them a clue how far they have to go, how much ground they have to cover.

Might even catch up to him before they do more than let him bleed out.

[ombranera]

Hours, perhaps half a day at most, six hours at the least. The oddest thing was the lack of blood on the ropes, or hook, or ring used to hold their supposed captive; but rather the blood was alongside said implements, always in neat arcs.

The Stronghold

[ombranera]

From the outside it does not seem like much. Stone walls set into a series of caves, parapets and portcullis worn from age. An old smuggler's den reinforced during the old Exalted Marches into some manner of fort; the exterior pitted with haphazard craters and debris that did as much to hide what the structure actually was as it did to reinforce what walls were left. To one side there were caves, a scattering of rough buildings in front- trees offering fine cover for a quiet approach. Near the stables, the gate, and visible on the ramparts are figures minding the horizon. A Crow's Nest, to be certain.

Team Mayhem

[qunari]

"Yeah. This might not be a trap, but that doesn't mean the place isn't loaded with them," Bull grumbles, surveying the half-ruined fortress. There might be a few spots worthy of infiltrating, but they'd have to choose them carefully. No hold like this wouldn't have surprises stowed for uninvited guests, likely enough to rouse their attention in short order. The 'secret' entrance most likely to bring about the Crows attention?

That'd be the best option for those intending to bring the noise.

He glances back at the others, his expression grim. He'd rather have his boys for a mission like this, but every single one of them want Zevran back. They're working together on this, like it or not. So. Time to weigh in.

"Thoughts?"

[quietblade]

"There's no way this place isn't full of boobytraps and sneaky fuckers at every turn, no matter if they set a specific trap for us or not." Taas says bitterly, eyes flickering from the fortress to Bull's lips. He's not looking forward to fighting by this man's side, but frankly he'd team up with fucking Corypheus to get Zevran back.

In one piece. Please.

His hand tighten a bit around his axe, and he gives a shrug. "Make a lot of noise, kill a bunch of Crows, be an excellent distraction? I'm sure the rest of them can sneak better than guys our size." It's nothing more than a suggestion, though. Taas does better with orders; he was Karasaad, not even a Sten.

Team Stealth

[justice_is_blond]

"There's paranoia, and then there's this." His voice is low, though. It's not paranoia to be cautious when you're infiltrating an enemy stronghold. Or any stronghold, really. Infiltration didn't seem to be looked upon well.

"Let's give them a few more minutes to be a distraction before we head in?" Anders isn't a leader. He's not the type, and he's never wanted to be. But he's also not good at being silent. All his life it's been hard, but the year in solitary had reinforced his need for people and words.

[byblow]

Speaking of people who aren't leaders, Alistair is standing forward toward the fortress, as near as he can without going too far, and bouncing the heel of one foot. It's a childish motion. A pointless position. There's nothing to see, and when they do move forward, he won't be able to do his usual crashing-ahead-into-danger-and-dealing-with-the-cuts-and-bruises-and-burns-later thing. He'll have to follow people who are actually capable of creeping.

It's killing him. Maybe literally. Days shaved off his lifespan for every minute they stand here.

So at Detlef's suggestion he looks back over his shoulder at him with something close to a glare. But he doesn't disagree. It probably is smarter. Alistair just resents that it is.

The Golem of Flesh

[ombranera]

From deep within the Fortress there is an inhuman roar- discordant and unnatural as it rumbles through stone and wood and iron; those closest may be overcome with a wave of nausea or an icy chill in their core. From the depths of the caverns there is the hot wash of air moist with the scent of rot; of curdled blood. Wet, fleshy footsteps lumber to the cave's entrance, shades crackling with ash and vicious glee spill from the caverns like so much blood; loosed from their confines to clear the field of any that are not of the Crows.

Or.

Anyone that is moving.

Behind comes the shape of a golem Twice as tall as a man and thrice as thick, swinging meaty, dripping hands into whatever blocks it's path. At the first sign of movement it bellows once more- and charges.

[justice_is_blond]

"Fuck that." Most of his attention is on Zevran, but it doesn't take a lot to know there's something huge, ugly, and smelly coming at them.

"Can we run? Because I don't know how much healing I can do for the rest of you while I'm helping him." The question happens to primarily be directed at the qunari. They've always struck him as a rather fight-happy people.

The Aftermath and Ride Back

[ombranera]

Stronghold

When the dust has settled and the battle ended- through death or fire or flight- if there are any prisoners to interrogate or time to better examine the scraps of scrolls and ciphers left behind by the Crows, now is the time to do so. None shall come till dawn and by then it is best to be back on the road, returning home.

The Ride Back

While on the road Zevran is quiet, withdrawn. It takes the better part of a day for the worst of it to clear out of his system and even then? He seems as though he is in a daze, nodding along with conversation well enough; though sudden movement and sound causes him to go sharply still, an antithesis of a flinch. By the third day on the road scraps of his humor return, even if they are forced.

The Aftermath: The leftover Crows

[arlathvhen]

"I say we kill them." Just in case anyone thought Beleth might be joking about the fate of their current prisoners, she had her bow drawn, arrow pointed right at the face of one of them. One slip of her hand, and there would be an arrow impeded in his skull. It was pretty tempting to just go ahead and do it. They deserved it.

And she'd promised that she'd kill everyone responsible.

"Crows aren't able to be interrogated. They're trained to withstand torture. You saw--" She faltered, and suddenly it was a lot harder to not let that arrow fly. "I'd rather not have them die feeling smug about our failure. We can just do it quick and painless and head out." And who said she wasn't merciful?

The Ride Back

[arlathvhen]

Beleth is not usually someone that inspires a great deal of intimidation, and when she goes over next to Zevran, she channels as much meekness as she can. Her movements are slow, and careful, as nonthreatening as possible. She doesn't want Zevran to feel that she's any danger to him.

For a while, she doesn't say anything, letting silence settle between them. She's not even sure what there is to say, really. It's going to be alright? You're safe now? Would those help at all?

In the end, she leans her shoulder against his, a solid weight to let him know that she's there, that she'll always be there for him. She holds out to him a flower she picked while they were traveling--a silly little thing, but it couldn't hurt. Hopefully.

The Ride Back

[qunari]

He leaves Zevran to more tender hands for the first few days, though he stays within line of sight. Keep an eye on their backs, making sure no one gets the drop on them on the return journey. He doesn't need to verbally affirm with Zevran that he's there. He just is, persistently.

It's not until the third day rolls around that he sees slivers of the elf starting to surface, even if they're just scraps of another mask. He pauses beside him as they're packing up, eye resting quietly on Zevran where he rests.

"Still here?"

He doesn't ask if he's alright. He isn't. That's plain enough for anyone to see, and he won't insult him by asking.

Ride Back

[justice_is_blond]

They've made their second camp since leaving the Crow's base, which means it's time to trade the tiring act of riding for something far more satisfying but also far more draining. Anders sits down next to Zevran slowly, carefully.

"It's me." His voice is quiet. He knows the Elf likely already knows who it is, and that doesn't matter. Experience being hunted, dragged, beaten, all of it, helps Anders here, even though he's never been actually tortured. "I'm going to get back to work on healing you. Is there anywhere that's bothering you more than the rest?"

He can cast and find the worst injuries, but it won't tell him exactly what Zevran's feeling. If Anders can alleviate some of the pain first he'll be happier. Less suffering, less trauma. Less guilt. Not like he could have stopped the Crows, but after what Zevran's done for him, he wishes there'd been a way.

The Ride Back

[quietblade]

Taas remains near the elf at all times, but gives him a bit of space, instead focusing on things like food, bedding and tea for him rather than talking. He's not good at talking, he's a soldier, not a Tamassran or Ben-Hassrath. He's not sure what to say, what he could do to ease the turmoil that had to be going on inside Zevran.

Instead he cares for the little things, the vital things that could be glossed over.

Zevran, someone he would call 'kadan' as a friend... fuck, he couldn't think of a word to use for a lover that meant the same, but it was close enough. Maybe it worked? Damn good in bed, but also someone who always made him feel like a good person, who affirmed that he had made a good choice that day a long time ago.

So when he finally sits down next to the elf, he's quiet; just being strong, big and warm next to that battered body, ready for anything.

Ride Back

[wickedchase]

"And what distraction can I provide you with today?"

In the past, the words have been used playfully, a knowing smile as his gaze might have wandered over Zevran, unabashed. It was a game, and it was fun.

He knows the line, and right here when Twisted Fate speaks, it's softer with patient eyes. There are few who will really understand, and he's far from claiming to assume he'd know how Zevran feels right now. Far from okay, and eventually he expects Zevran will pretend otherwise.

It's what he would do.

Ride Back

[byblow]

"Zev."

Alistair is still outside the tent flap when he speaks, ducked down to look inside. There are a few things he does know better than to rush into head-first without regard for the danger, and one of them is a recently traumatized ex-Crow.

But it's only a warning, and it's me, not a request for permission. He's coming in either way. He's sitting down on the ground next to Zevran's pillbug form; he's stretching his legs out ahead of them and twisting one sideways just enough to give him a very gentle nudge with his knee. He can't sleep, personally, now that he's been relieved of guard duty for the captives and finally has a chance to. But if Zevran can, or wants to ignore him, that's fine. Alistair will just sit here.

The Ride Back (open to Araceli as well?)

[gatheringstorm]

It's a while before Korrin seeks Zevran out. He has plenty of people checking in on him and she doesn't want to overwhelm, after all. Besides, she has no idea what might help him, at this point. Her expertise is in battle, not the aftermath. Not like this.

Still, whenever there's a chance as they stop and Zevran isn't surrounded, she'll approach. There's no intent to surprise him, not that she can; Vashoth aren't built for stealth. Giving him a decent amount of personal space, Korrin sits down where he can see her, and takes out a bottle from her travel bag. Her expression is neutral or as much as she can make it, knowing she wouldn't want pity or dramatics were their roles reversed. "More orzata, if you want it. Detlef's probably stuffed you with all the healing you can handle, so have something different."

She's out of healing potions anyway, thanks to that last, brutal fight.

Ride Back pt 2 bungaloo

[arlathvhen]

Once everything is said and done, and they're heading home, Beleth feels bone tired. Worn and frayed, like one of her scarves before she has to toss it (this current one, after everything, is will due for that). She doesn't even have any clanmates to lean on. It's as bad as when she was first separated from her brother, she has a missing limb and she has to carry on even with this missing limb.

It's not surprising that eventually, she sees Taas sitting alone by the fire, and decides to approach. She doesn't want to be selfish enough to break down on him, but surely it couldn't hurt to just...offer some comfort, and get it in return? So she maneuvers so Taas can see her approach, and flops next to him.

"How are--" An issue presents itself. Sitting next to Taas makes it awkward for them to turn to face each other so he can read her lips. She has to think on this, but an idea comes to her, from when she and Sorrel wanted to talk in the Aravel, when they didn't want their parents to overhear. Gently, she reaches for his hand, and if he lets her, will use her finger to write letters slowly and carefully on his hand, occasionally looking up to make sure he understood.

'Are you doing ok?'