faderift | ( closed. ) we are objects of contempt to our neighbours,

Pel's face is impassive. In her opinion, Sina offered too much too quickly, and should have left something on the table for bargaining. But that can't be taken back, and she is not going to compromise Sina's position by trying to do so. And maybe the Keeper will be swayed by the gentleness of the request. Sina's instincts for that sort of thing are likely better than Pel's.

She gives Sina a slight nod, but says nothing, seeing how this will play out.

It is easier to feel calm, be calm, in the face of violence or battle or another's rage. It gives her a point to counter. This calmness when such anger wells in her chest is less comfortable, for all that it remains contained.

She does not dread an outburst or fear it as a possibility; she will not give them the satisfaction.

"May I speak, Sina?"

It is not permission she requires, but she has sense to know that undercutting Sina'z authority will do them no favours.

Sina is thrown by Pel's expression, and is a bit too inexperienced not to show it. Suddenly doubting herself, when Herian speaks up, the young First hesitates for several moments in total indecision, then nods.

"My thanks."

She steps forward, alongside Sina, outsider in this from every perspective. As ever, she sounds very even, as calm as the undisturbed surface of a bond.

"Your fallen initiated the attack, despite us declaring peaceful intent and that our party travelled on Inquisition business. The woman who was murdered was unarmed and retreating to cover. All your fallen were slain self-defense."

"The Inquisition isn't targeting you," Pel adds, just to support the other two. "That's why it sent two of your kin to negotiate. We know how hard it is, staying alive in a world ruled by shemlen. We know hard choices have to be made. But you also know the importance of rule of law, especially in the clan. We don't have any interest in vengeance, only justice for the slain. On both sides."

And now the nausea is coming back. Strong. Pel goes grey-green again, lips tightening. Hopefully this passes soon.

Edited 2016-10-14 02:10 (UTC)

Herian, because let’s pretend I can sneak reference to Herian in these GM tags, deserves an award for not rolling her eyes right out of her head and into another dimension at the mention of how hard life is for the Dalish. Oh, yes, they deserve so many condolences.

Blah blah salt blah blah honour blah blah childhood trauma concealed with calm blah blah Herian is so knightly ooh

Back to more important people:

Aithne and Pryer take no mind of Herian, because who cares about shem scrubs? No one. Kelvyn scrutinises her more harshly, but Neasa retains her small smile. Even so, the Keeper addresses Sina only when next she speaks, though her gaze flickers to Pel.

“I am relieved to hear the thoughts of two Firsts, two commended so highly by separate clans. It is all the more valuable, in the wake of us losing our own. I am very lucky to have so capable a student as Pryderi to take his place.” She lays a gentle hand on her new First’s shoulder, though her gaze remains fixed on Sina.
“And I celebrate the recovering of Clan Dahlasanor. The very spirit of enasal, surely, and all the more that it is a defiant recovery in the face of shem’len interference. What was the greatest act of mien'harel that you recall?”

Aithne looks from the Keeper to Pel and Sina. “The Keeper speaks for all of us. There’s little so great as the survival in the face of shem’len viciousness.” She pauses, and the corner of her mouth flickers. “The seth'lin that joined you must have been worthy of your— high regard.”

And Pryderi takes half a step forward, looking to Pel. "Are you alright?"

( translation notes:

Enasal: joy in triumph over loss.

Mien'harel: rebellion/violent call for justice; “a concept that when humans push the elven population too far they must remind them that even a ‘short blade’ must be respected.” Maybe more a city elf thing but let us pretend.

Seth'lin: thin blood; an insult. )

Edited (html should bite me) 2016-10-15 12:05 (UTC)

"She is," Sina asserts without hesitation; she doesn't personally like Herian, but that's irrelevant to their current situation. "If she is thin of blood, it's only because half of it has spurned her. She is kin, just as our brothers and sisters in the cities are kin."
She's regained some confidence after hearing the other two speak, and she stands straight and focused while addressing the Keeper. "Clan Dahlasanor kills shem who venture too near, who threaten our safety and secrecy. We do not kill our own, nor do we go out of our way to attack travelers. Why invite retaliation? Why declare war on a much larger and better equipped civilization that has already proven they have no problem with wiping us out entirely?" She lowers her head, her own anger building. "Killing innocents only puts all of our people at further risk."

Edited 2016-10-15 16:43 (UTC)

Pel gives a dignified nod to Pryderi, maintaining composure despite being about half a second away from barfing all over these proceedings.

"I am required to step away for a moment," she says with a lump already in her throat. "I assure you it is despite respect for our mutual purpose. I will be back shortly."

She walks, not runs, to the cover of the trees. Even when she can no longer be seen, she forces herself to walk. When out of earshot, she collapses to her hands and knees and takes deep breaths, preparing.

Herian’s gaze flickers to Pel, then to Sina, and then to Pel again as she walks away from the proceedings. She has no small amount of concern over what exactly was going on, but “concerned about everything” basically summarises her response to all of this. In Pel’s absence, Herian stands a little closer to Sina as a gesture of solidarity before the Clan’s representatives. It is not easily done. This is not the moment to hiss a response that they are not kin, to divide their cause, but it feels as an itch under her skin, a relentless aggravation.

At Sina’s words the Keeper’s expression turns cold, and her voice turns steely with her next words. “Our people? You are not our people. You have sold yourselves to a shem’len court. You make jesters of yourselves and our kind. Our people do not follow the orders of their kind, do not mingle with them, do not insult our history by joining with a branch of the Chantry. Do you forget who lead the Exalted Marches?” Neasa, for all her serene countenance before, sneers a little. "Your ilk would see the People on their knees. Never again shall we submit. And look at you, now.”

With an easy motion, Neasa casts a Glyph of Neutralisation below Sina and Herian’s feet, and it is Aithne who smiles, now. Pryderi moves to follow Pel and from the branches of trees more of the Clan begin to defend - rogues armed with blades and arrows.

Edited 2016-10-16 22:00 (UTC)

Sina has enjoyed a sheltered existence, barring the shard and all to do with it. She has, for her part, managed to evade combat or even any form of attack save for being briefly chased up a tree by a bear. She almost can't conceive of being antagonized in real life, to her face, let alone by someone of her own people: someone whose role she has been conditioned her entire life to respect and revere, a role she will herself one day embody. And although she has not been physically attacked, she feels as though all the air has left her lungs, the warmth from her blood.

And in a few long seconds, Sina realizes that what she actually just felt is all magic leaving her, a sudden dulling of sensitivity to the world and the Fade, a tearing off of whatever invisible forces were previously cloaking her terrible vulnerability. She stares uncomprehendingly at Neasa, distracted only when, in her periphery, she becomes aware of the emerging hunters. There are several things she realizes simultaneously: one, they've been had. This clan never intended to make peace. Two, she currently lacks any way of gaining leverage, fighting back, or defending herself. And three:

"PEL!" she shrieks in warning, launching herself away from the Keeper and in the direction she saw her friend go.

She does not need to tell Sina to run: all the better. This is why she carries a blade, this feeling. It carries echoes of the Spire, of a bond to the Fade stolen from mages who were cut down with no means to defend themselves. Her sword is drawn even as Sina runs, and she stands her ground. She may not have her magic in this moment, but she has the learnings of the Champion and she will use them as best she can, though she is no master yet.

"You would betray your own kind come to you in peace," she taunts, swinging the blade around. (She may have practiced that a lot, but Maker it looks cool and dramatic. So cool, Herian. So cool.) "Which of you wishes for the first bite of my blade?"

From a distance, Pel's voice can be heard bellowing, in righteous anger, "YOU WILL NOT DISTURB A PREGNANT WOMAN WHILE SHE IS HORKING IN THE WOODS!"

A moment of silence follows, as if Pryderi and his fellows are unsure what to do.

Neasa watches as the First of Dahlasanor runs to her friend— or endeavours to. The Keeper rests both hands on her staff, and it is Aithne who gives a wordless order to the descending archers with a flick of her wrist. Of the group, three peel off after Sina, two others and Pryderi in the area closer to the vomiting other First. It seemed censure enough, did it not? That the Keepers of two clans had been content to send away their Firsts? She would never have willingly released her own to shem’len.

Sina has three archers moving after her, though none of them come particular close, nor do they move with a great rush. Instead, there is a snap underfoot: a shock trap goes off, though it was the motion of Sina running past it that sparked it, rather than her stepping directly on it. The shock and any burns are not severe, but the could well be rather unpleasant. An arrow falls deliberately near her feet, trying to push her into another trap.

Pel has a glyph of neutralisation beneath her; even if they just do not want to touch someone who’s vomiting, Pryderi and his fellows have no desire to leave an enemy as a risk. They just… they really don’t want to touch someone whose vomiting. Thank the Creators for Glyphs and ranged weapons.

Herian is thinking that in Starkhaven horking is usually done by animals and not people, but it takes less precedence when she is facing down a warrior with a longer reach and greater strength than her own, and has four archers standing by. Their swords clash, and strike and counter strike, and she tries to draw the focus of any others though it is less effective than she’d like with so many of them, and so many of them archers. She does pommel strike him in the face, though. That’s satisfying.

The lead hunter speaks: ”Bring them alive. There is more to be learned.”

When Sina hits the first trap, she collapses with a panicked yip, the charge racing up through her legs and, at least it feels this way, straight to the shard. She falls awkwardly, checks over her shoulder to see that the hunters are pursuing her-- hunters just like Dahlasanor's, like Isen and Sedi and-- it strikes her that she would never want to be on this end of Sedi's bow, and that spurs her out of her brief hesitation.
When the arrow lands at her feet she cries out again, crabbing backwards away from it in an effort to stumble to her feet, though she's hindered once more by a second shock of electricity.
Tears stream from her face as she clumsily brandishes her staff, previously strapped to her back, and uses it to lever her up from the ground so she can face her attackers.
"Harellan," she tearfully accuses, her hands shaking as she grips the weapon, knowing already it will be no match for loosed arrows.

The glyph only makes the nausea worse. The world spins. Pel chokes and gags and retches, and when she has breath again, she screams out Sina's name. Sheer force of will gets her to her feet, and she throws a punch at Pryderi that misses him altogether, thanks to tears in her eyes and the weak, shaky feeling in her limbs. She swings her staff instead, determined to punch her way through this to Sina's side, whatever it takes.

"SINA!" she cries again.

The leader of hunters, Aithne, follows Sina with that confident slowness of one moving after wounded prey. She has a startled sort of smile, before she shakes her head. “No, it is you that is harellan. You turned your back on the People the very day you left your clan to join with the shem’len. Whether or not your Keeper approved only matters in this: either you are disobedient as well as treacherous, or all of Dahlasanor would have better been destroyed by the shem’len, and are fools not to have learned. At best you have tainted yourself with their influence, and the Dalish will not be lead by humans, nor fooled by those who dance to human songs.”

A jerked nod to two of her archers, and they lay down their bows and produce coils of rope. One has a knife at her side, and both go to close the distance between themselves and Sina. The male lunges to rob her of her staff, though the female hangs back just slightly, knife at her side.

Further away, Pryderi stands near Pel. "Come peacefully," he starts, "and the Keeper will look kindly on it. She'll not want to harm an unborn child. It needn't end badly. You've been reckless with your ties to kin and shem'len, but for the sake of your child, don't be foolish."

He stands with one hand reaching to Pel, the other holding a staff with a blue glowing crystal atop it.

"If you tell us all you know of the Inquisition, you may be allowed to live and stay."

Meanwhile, Herian and Kelvyn have been doing some gladiator style antics. Spartacus Xena Musketeer shenanigans. Amazing. Too epic for words to do justice. They're both sweaty and bloody and it's not nearly so dashing as it looks on tv, sadly.

Neasa rolls her eyes slightly. He could lije wear Herian down by virtue of strenth, but it's taking too long. She sighs, nods to an archer, and an arrow strikes Herian's back to pierce her left shoulder. She falters, twists to knock a second arrow from the air, and Kelvyn kicks her feet from under her before striking the back of her head were skull and neck meet, hard. She manages to brace on one foot, but she's still dropped to her knee.

There is a pregnant woman and another, frail almost, in danger of capture. She will not stop. She will not yield to them. She twists to lash at Kelvyn with her sword.

"No," Sina insists in a half-sob, stumbling several steps back and trying to ignore the awful tingling shooting through her. She had to, she had to or she would have died anyway; the only reason Keeper Thalia sent her at all was to give their clan a chance. Of course, she would explain this, at least if she weren't beside herself with fear. One can only do so much.
She tries to grip her staff but finds it easily wrenched away, an odd crackle of her shard sending her back to the ground again with a panicked cry. Clutching her chest, she half-runs, half-falls still in the direction she can hear Pel shouting, but never taking her eyes off her aggressors.

For the sake of your child.

Pryderi just found out how he can make Pel fight even harder.

The sound of blood rushes in her ears at the threat. Not only is Sina in danger, but the boy just threatened her unborn child. She's done. The next jab of her staff hits him square in the teeth. She swings it hard at his head, ready to plow through him to reach Sina's side, but he has stumbled back too far from the blow to his now-bleeding mouth. She starts past him at a sprint.

"SINA I'M COMING!"

Edited 2016-10-18 02:22 (UTC)

The Second (First, now) exclaims with pain as she strikes his teeth and near doubles over with the strike to the side of his head. He is able to block the very worst of it, but when he whirls to look after Pel his mouth is bloody and his cheekbone already red and swollen. Pryderi draws a flask from his belt and throws it hard at her retreating form.

Pel receives the dubious honour of a pitch grenade breaking against her legs. It spills down her legs and across the ground before her. (Pryderi has to spit blood from his mouth. Get him harder next time so he loses teeth, too.)

From further away the two archers draw back their bowstrings, before each looses a shockwave arrow towards Pel - not aiming for her, but just far enough before her that the explosive burst of the arrow can inflict harm, and the shockwave throw her off course. The effect is stacked, though, so extra fun.

Sina’s staff is tossed back towards the lingering archers, and now the two rogues that have been approaching her hasten their pursuit. The woman holding the knife sprints past the other, past Sina, turning sharply to leave her between the two of them, even though there’s a more considerable distance between the woman and Sina - to make it so Sina cannot watch her pursuers, and serve as another line between Pel and Sina. Even with those two moving after Sina, archers remain waiting, and Aithne just watches intently, as a cat watches the desperate and futile efforts of a mouse.

With the woman rounded behind Sina, knife in her hand, the other rogue swings his rope, the end lassoed to try and hook it around Sina’s foot and whip it back to make her stumble further. It hooks around her foot - only just - and he sets his weight against the ground and jerks the rope back to pull her foot from under her.

The good news is that Herian’s strike meets flesh; the tip of her blade slices across the soft flesh of his abdomen. Her fire feels replenished, and she surges to her feet to plunge the point deep into his gut and rend him into pieces, belly to sternum.

The Keeper’s staff meets the point where the arrow still protrudes from her back, and then whips across to batter the side of her skull. The archers that remained close converge, one on each side of Herian to wrench back her arms and take her sword, as the Keeper draws back to see to Kelvyn.

Kelvyn is not dying, but he is badly hurt. From the look the Keeper gives the archers, it seems Herian is to be badly hurt, as well, even as she continues to surge and fight and struggle.

The electricity hurt only for a few moments, but Sina feels as though it's still coursing through her, a familiar tightness in her chest betraying that she won't be able to keep running for long. The hopelessness of it has her near sobbing between breaths, and her total inexperience ensures that she is herded into the trap as easily as a young rabbit pursued by seasoned hounds.
Indeed, anyone listening from afar might think some kind of baby animal is being tormented, her vocalizations as shrill and inarticulate as they are desperate.
Another breathy shriek as the rope loops her foot, and she lands hard on the ground, scrabbling for purchase against the dirt, though her strength is no match for the hunters'. Pel and Herian have been briefly forgotten, but Sina looks up in time to see the former being blasted with pitch as she herself is being dragged away.

The pitch makes Pel's feet stick, and her progress is slowed. But it's taken care of when just enough of a gasp of mana returns that she fade-steps to Sina's side and hacks at the rope entangling her foot with the blade of her staff. It takes two strikes to cut it through. She doesn't even notice the moderately-sized splinters in her left forearm until she reaches down to help Sina up. She didn't feel them go in, but they will certainly have to be cut out if they are to come out.

Edited 2016-10-19 01:21 (UTC)

As Pel reaches for Sina, the hunter curls his hands around Sina's throat and jaw, ready to snap her neck at the slightest motion, smiling up at Pel over Sina's shoulder. Another glyph of neutralisation taps into their mana as it forms beneath them, Pryderi's looking grim beneath the blood trailing from nose to his chin. Another motion and he casts paralyse on Pel; before he had resisted out of some sense of concern for using such a spell on an expectant mother, now he has no such concerns. The other hunter is approaching with knife in hand, reaching for Pel's staff with the other

"Stand down, if you want your friend to live," Aithne calls out. "Dorral is very precise. He could render her unable to walk, or unable to live. Ciara, now, she can make a knife sink in with hardly any feeling at all, or leave you screaming. Her mother is a great healer; they've a talent for reading the body."

Beyond Aithne, two more archers have their arrows aimed at Pel.

Herian's arms are twisted behind her, her head a little foggy from the blows delivered, when the Keeper takes hold of the arrow protruding from her back and forces it forward so the tip bursts out through the other side. Herian's yelll of pain is brief and strangled, surprise letting it tear from her throat before she shuts it down. Neasa breaks off the arrow head and leaves the snapped shaft in the wound. A nod to the archers indicates the shem'len is to be dealt with, as she walks towards Aithne and Pryderi. Herian's is held fast as Kelvyn lurches before her, and strikes her in the gut and and the head one, twice, three times before his hands close around her throat.

"Alive, Kelvyn," she reminds him, not looking over her shoulder. "You can see to retribution once you are healed."

Kelvyn's hands stay closed until Herian loses consciousness. Neasa reaches Aithne's side just as the lead hunter finishes speaking to Pel.

"Are you ready to comply?"

As is suited to one in her particular position, Sina goes still, watching Pel with her eyes large and terrified, still streaming with tears. The only sound she makes is the slight wheeze of her breath, her lungs protesting from their overexertion; and just like that, her shard spits again, causing her to jolt with a gasp of pain and surprise. What's wrong with it? Was it the electricity?
She'll worry about it when she's not about to be paralyzed. Or killed.
Still keeping her eyes on Pel, Sina's hand slowly creeps toward her belt, feeling for the small gardening knife she keeps on her at all times. It's not exactly made for slashing at enemies, but it's a blade, and its job is to cut things. She grips the pommel, playing at holding a stitch in her side.

Pel sees that hand move and meets Sina's eyes. Love swells in her heart when she sees those wide eyes. She sees the fear in them, the desperation, the wildness born in every Dalish. That's when her own wildness stills, damped by the understanding of their situation, the love of this fragile girl, and what must be done now to ensure Sina's survival. For if Sina takes out whatever weapon she has, she might cut someone, it's true. But she wouldn't get far before they would cut her throat for the inconvenience she has been. This way, Sina will live for the next few hours. And during those hours, there will be hope of escape. But not now.

They must surrender.

Still looking at Sina, Pel shakes her head minutely. No. We are taken. We cannot defeat them now. Later, when they do not expect it.

"We will comply," she says breathlessly. "Don't harm her."

Edited 2016-10-20 00:32 (UTC)

A sharp nod, and with efficiency both Neasa and Pryderi cast sleep on Pel and Sina. Herian is unconscious.

Each are blindfolded, bound, with sleep periodically renewed on all three as they are moved to camp, and held with guards. Only once they are secured are blindfolds removed and sleep allowed to expire.

( closed. ) we are objects of contempt to our neighbours,

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Sina'z, Thedas' finest sleeping aid, bought to you by typos

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CW (more intense) violence, threats, ref to torture & deliberate infliction of permanent paralysis

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Onto the next thread!