faderift | OPEN: Cloudreach Event

OPEN: Cloudreach Event

WHO: Anyone at Skyhold
WHAT: Cloudreach showers bring weird shit.
WHEN: Cloudreach 15 onward
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: For information about the illness, its effects, and its cure, please make sure to also read the OOC Post.

This high in the mountains, snowstorms are to be expected. But this one is large and lingering, hanging over the valley and the fortress for days. In Skyhold, with its eternal spring, the snow becomes rain before it hits the ground, leaving inhabitants and visitors to wade through puddles and mud in the courtyards. In the valley, snow and ice accumulate under cloud cover—and worse, when the clouds finally thin, a whole winter's accumulation of snow begins to melt in the sunlight.

Within a day, the ground is sodden and mucky enough to give the survivors of the Fallow Mire (or Ferelden in general) unpleasant flashbacks, and those who live in tents are issued additional hastily-constructed wooden pallets to raise their floors above the mud. It is worse outside the fortress: streams and rivers have overflowed their banks, rapids run twice as fast as normal, and flash flooding has made even road travel treacherous.

On Cloudreach 17 a mudslide buries the pass into Skyhold from the west, and on the 19th a sheet of snow loosened from a mountainside collapses into the shadowed passage from the east. An Inquisition supply caravan is caught in the latter, scattering wagons and goods across the hillside and leaving a dozen people and horses in need of rescue and medical care.

Healers may find themselves stretched thin, as in addition to the usual rash of blisters and sniffles that come from days of rain and flooding, an illness begins to sweep through Skyhold's ranks from around the 16th onward. It's marked first by climbing fever, then by flashes at the edges of vision—green light and jagged formations that aren't there, beings of light and shadow gathering around people or clustering in corners—and distant voices, coherent for brief moments if you're quiet and still and not trying too hard to listen.

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"All right ... then you should consider some rest ... " He trails off, before his eyes widen at her statement. Then he shakes his head, and he has to fight the urge to put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"No, not a hint of fever. So I cannot see what you see." He has a feeling though, that something is on the other side of the Veil. Merrill would not look so scared, if she did not know something was after her.

He looks down at her, searching her face. Whatever it was, she did not want to give into it. She wanted his help - his protection. And he would give it to her, for so many reasons but the most important one - it was his sacred duty to do so.

"There is a spirit following you, and you need my help to make it leave." He stated simply. "I can disperse the area -- that should rid us of the creature -- but we can't do it in here."

There's a quick nod, and then one thing Merrill thought she would never feel in the presence of a Templar: relief. He's going to help her. She's going to be okay.

"I don't- they shouldn't be able to come through, the Veil isn't thin, but if it's here now and I fall asleep..."

She doesn't want it there. She is already dreaming too much of the death of her Keeper, her clan, and the desire to change that is exactly the sort of thing a spirit would latch onto. Not a pride demon, perhaps, but-

"It's Pride," she blurts out, before clapping a hand over her mouth. No need to scare the patrons by letting them all know that one of the most difficult demons to face is following her around. She takes a breath, and continues in a lower voice. "And I don't think I should use magic like this, so if it did find a way through, I'm not sure what I could do against it. So. I came to find you."

Now, James is going to let himself feel uneasy, and that flashes through his gaze at Merrill's words. Pride - of course it would have to be Pride. The most monstrous of demons, coming to prey on her. Why? He had no idea. She seemed to have as much pride as a fluffed up kitten.

He looked to the ground for a moment, frowning, thinking, before he mentally sighed. Steeled himself, steeled his resolve. There was only one way to take care of a demon this size -- and it would need more power than a regular lyrium draught.

He looked at her, green eyes solemn. "Merrill, I'm going to have to ask a lot of you, in the next hour or so, but I will be able to help you. You're going to have to trust me, though."

"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have come." She'll likely be tested as to how true that is, but nevertheless, it is a fact. Merrill would have tried to ignore it, or perhaps take up Bethany on the offer to take care of it when they go to the Fade, or even asked Justice to deal with it. Instead, here she is.

It does help that she knows Varric would shove his crossbow up James' ass if he did anything wrong.

"Just tell me what to do. And where to go. And, uh, how to get there."

"Good. That will make all of this easier." He held out his hand to her, palm up, a sign of trust that a templar was going to take a mage by the hand instead of dragging her by the elbow. Trust was going to be the bond that allowed him to do what he needed to do - without hurting her in the process.

The fact that somewhere out there, Varric's ears are now turning red and he's petting Bianca suspiciously, really should have worried James more.

But not about what he was about to do.

"We are going to go to the open space beyond the healing tents - so we are close by but not so close that I will be interrupting healing magic. And ... and we are going to need to get a specific kind of lyrium potion from the Quartermaster."

The details of the gesture are perhaps a bit lost, but Merrill places her had in his. If nothing else, it's a friendly gesture.

"Perhaps we should- try to be somewhat out of sight? I wouldn't want to worry anyone. Close enough that they can still hear if something goes wrong." Like a Pride demon breaking out of the Fade and starting to destroy everything. "And- ah, I may need to lean on you."

The fever has her about as unsteady as a newborn halla.

He nodded his head at that, before he frowned as she asked to be somewhere out of sight. He nodded though, shifting so she could take his arm instead. He made sure she had a good grip, so she wouldn't fall over.

He nodded his head slightly, "Yes, but not in Skyhold - we've had a few too many demons popping inside the walls. At least if we attempt this outside the walls, the others will be safe, but on hand to come and get assistance as needed.

He started to lead the way across the rainy pathway to the quartermaster.

She nods and then is quiet, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. She leans in to James a bit more, both for balance and for comfort. She has a fever but with the weather she feels hot and cold all at once, and he's a consistent temperature and a solid weight against her side.

Once they're outside the quartermaster's post, she pipes up.

"James? I am sorry, if- something happens. Just in case. I want you to know that I don't want to hurt you, or- anyone. I just want that... on the record, I guess."

He frowns, resisting the urge to carry her in his arms, as if she was a damsel in distress. He might need to do so later, but for now he was just going to be that solid support she needed to keep going. He didn't want anyone to get any ideas.

He stops, and looks down at her, his green eyes firm.

"Nothing is going to happen, Merrill. I'm going to protect you from that thing. You just need to hold on, for a little longer." A pause, "But for what it's worth ... I forgive you. I know you never intended on this, and I admire your bravery, coming to me. Stay here, please."

He leaned her against the wall, out of the rain, while he hurried inside the quartermaster's office. There was a short discussion, with James's tones becoming firm - then stern as he demanded the potent version of lyrium. Right now. A mage was in danger and he was fulfilling his sacred duty, so unless the quartermaster wanted James to feed him to the Seekers -

He returned a moment later, a larger, darker bottle of lyrium in his hand, as he moved next to Merrill, letting her tuck against his body for warmth and balance. "Can you make it outside?"

Brave, not foolish. Forgiveness, not condemnation. Not all Templars are the horror stories she grew up with, and James is proof of it. Merrill nods, flashing him a tight smile -- she appreciates it, but there is still fear. Not of him, but of the thing that is dogging her steps and of what it could mean.

She waits. When he returns, she is back at his side without prompting, trying to hide her little shiver. It's cold out and she's still sick, but this needs to be taken care of.

"Yes. And I'm sure I'll sleep very well tonight, fever dreams or not."

The lyrium bottle gets a curious look, but for now, Merrill doesn't ask. Perhaps that's the real sign that she is truly scared of what is happening, what might happen, even more than coming to James in the first place.

He sighs out quietly, because he is praying that it is so. That he will be able to save her and her soul - from the demon that was following her around. He knew quite a few mages who feared Pride most of all.

"I shall see you tucked into bed myself." He tried to give her an encouraging smile, as they moved towards the gates.

"Can you make the walk down?"

There's a quiet laugh at the comment about tucking her in, Merrill ducking her head.

"You'd never escape; my dog would insist on you petting him for as long as possible."

It's so much easier to think about Barkley than about Pride.

"Yes," she says again, and this is part of why Pride follows her, because- she's not actually certain if she can. But she'll do her best.

She is still able to laugh, that is good. He will have to get her to the healing tents immediately after this, though. She is burning up against his side.

"I shall be happy to do so - but it might be considered improper for me to be curled up with your dog in the morning."

He gave her a long, hard look, before he nods, and they move out of the fortress proper. The healing tents are luckily, just off the bridge and down the slope, so it will not be too far to go.

"That clearing, there. I believe that will be good enough for this." He paused, "You aren't using magic to stay awake, are you?"

"Only if you're not wearing trousers," Merrill points out, feeling like it's an extremely sensible sort of thing to say.

The question about magic has her blinking, and then she hastily nods. "Oh, no- no, I really felt it would be better not to do any magic unless I had to while I was sick, since this is so clearly related to the Fade."

Based on the question, she has a feeling it was the right choice, from a Templar perspective. She hopes so.

"What will you need me to do for this?"

"That is a fair point. I shall keep my trousers on." He stated with a completely straight face, because if he laughs now he might also choke.

He sighed with relief, before he explained, "I am removing all magic from the area, thus banishing the spirit from having any hold on you. What will happen is that, hopefully, the pride demon will lose it's grip on this part of the Fade and disappear. However, it will strip you of all of your powers for at least an hour. It is a through cleansing."

And he's doing it by himself - so - yeah.

"I need you to stay awake." He turns her towards him, his expression serious. "You must not enter the Fade any time during this, no matter how drained you feel. Do you understand?"

Now she swallows, nerves kicking up a notch. She hasn't been entirely without her magic since it first manifested. But if it will make the demon go away...

And she trusts him. He will keep her safe, even if Venatori and Red Templars attack immediately after he does this. As long as he doesn't overextend and reach the healing tents, they'll be fine. She'll be fine.

"I may- need your help with that, as well."

Especially if she's going to feel weak afterward.

"Should I sit, stand...? Hand you my staff?"

Without a connection, the demons, or spirits, or whatever they just happen to be -- have no reason to hold onto a mage. This he knows from long practice. He searches her face, then nods.

"I will keep you awake, at least until we get to the healing tents."

He looks around, and then leads her over to a fallen log. "Sit here, and put your staff beside you. You'll probably need it to stand."

He sucked in a breath, "And now ... I have to prepare. I'll need complete silence while I commune with the Maker, all right?"

Commune with the Maker... Merrill wonders, idly, if Dalish could learn such abilities. It seems so much like magic, but of course the Templars would frown on it being called that. Still, if their Maker is involved in the process...

It's all very confusing, and Merrill sits on the log with a bit of a 'thud'.

"Yes, of course! Um, I'll just- braid some grass together?"

That way she can stay awake.

And also hopefully not hum while she does it.

Well, if the Dalish can connect with their Creator like templars did with the Maker -- maybe.

It is, after all, personal faith and will overcoming the very wall of magic.

He unsheaths his sword, and puts it to the ground, folding his hands over the pommel. Through the ring that Vivienne had gifted him, the blade itself coats over with ice - that enchantment will also fail the moment he activates his powers.

There is a stillness in the air, and a pulling in of resolve, of strength. He begins to glow faintly blue as his prayers continue, as he centers himself more in the moment, in the field and through the Veil itself, where the Pride demon hungers. He can feel it pulling towards him, and away from Merrill, which was his plan, and he opened his eyes and looked at Merrill.

"Look at me, don't look away, and do not fall asleep, Merrill." He states to her, as he takes the dark blue lyrium potion from his side. He uncorks it, and without a second thought, downs the entire thing.

Blue flares from him, as magic begins to wan in the area. He pulls himself up, holding his blade aloft as he chants Transfigurations just loud enough to be heard -- before he slams the blade into the ground, and it ripples out in a pure blue wave, washing over the area and blanking out all magic and magical intent in the area around them, within a thirty meter radius.
It flashes white, and pure, as if the Maker Himself touched the ground and cleansed it....

And then it fades, back into the grey stormy weather. Yet the area is clear of any demons in Fade.

James lurches to the side, gasping, his eyes staring and wide, still feeling the punch of the lyrium in his veins - like fire, righteous fire, all the way through him.

As long as it doesn't require the Creators to connect back.

She's seen Templars use their powers before, but never this close. It makes her gasp, though she keeps her fingers hooked into the bark of the fallen log and her eyes on James, just as she's told to. Truthfully, she doesn't think she could look away from this.

At least, not until she's suddenly severed from her magic. Then all she wants to do is close her eyes, shrink in on herself; it feels like she's naked, not just physically -- like she's been bared of what makes her her, that everyone can see past and into the very depths of her heart. Her fingertips aren't gripping the bark anymore; instead, her nails have sunk into her palms, not deep or sharp enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark. She shakes, like a leaf in a storm or a newborn halla.

"Creators," she all but whimpers, not trusting herself to move even to check on James, not just yet.

Well, there they might run into a problem.

James felt the ringing through his entire body, a vibration that he could barely control. He sucked in a few breaths, feeling the rage of lyrium inside his blood, and he looked over to Merrill to make sure she herself was ... well. Breathing.

She was. Excellent. He needed ... he needed to get them to the healing tents. He promised. He used his sword to lurch to his feet, but the world swam and he stumbled next to her, trying not to fall over.

A startled squeak escapes her before she can stop it, one leg rapidly drawn up and out of the way of James as he stumbles. Luckily he doesn't land on either herself or the log, because there's no way Merrill can get him to the tents if he breaks something. Not right now.

"Perhaps we should catch our breath?"

Even talking feels taxing right now.

James manages to balance himself, barely, on his feet, but a near-by tree looks like it might be good to lean against. Just ... for awhile.

"Yes ... yes that might be a good idea." He stated slowly, as his eyes spun. Or was that the world around them.

"...are you ... all right?" He had to ensure her safety, before anything else. Especially before passing out.

James, don't try and walk. Merrill squeaks again in protest and now it's her turn to try and stand when it's horribly advised, using her staff as leverage and immediately almost falling over.

"Tired- weak. I'm not used to... to this."

To being without magic, to being severed from the Fade.

"Sit."

She says, while standing.

James made a noise as Merrill moved - no, no, don't try to walk, and almost lurched towards her.

"... Agreed." Except he didn't feel tired or weak - he felt ... drunk. Delirious. Like he was running a fever and wasn't sure what from.

He glowered helplessly at her.

"You first."

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