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( closed. ) we are objects of contempt to our neighbours,
WHO: Herian, Pel & Sina.
WHAT: Following the death of Gwen's mother during a Dalish ambush on their party, the Inquisition sends a diplomatic party to the Clan to open dialogue. Everything is a bit terrible.
WHEN: Shortly after the events of this log, so the beginning of Harvestmere. Gently timey wimey for flexibility.
WHERE: somewhere suitably Dalishy and foresty, Orlais.
NOTES: Reference to violence, torture and murder; this diplomatic mission is going to badly, specific warnings to be updated as necessary.
WHAT: Following the death of Gwen's mother during a Dalish ambush on their party, the Inquisition sends a diplomatic party to the Clan to open dialogue. Everything is a bit terrible.
WHEN: Shortly after the events of this log, so the beginning of Harvestmere. Gently timey wimey for flexibility.
WHERE: somewhere suitably Dalishy and foresty, Orlais.
NOTES: Reference to violence, torture and murder; this diplomatic mission is going to badly, specific warnings to be updated as necessary.
cw: this thread is made of terrible but EXTRA TERRIBLE
“No shemlen ever approaches our Clan and leaves. That is our way. That is the way it should be for all the People.” Neasa looks to Sina, then, appraising. “I believe, though, you said something of her being kin? Aithne, what do you say?”
Herian is trying her utmost to focus her magic on the bindings around her wrist, to burn through them, to turn to magic she has not used so precisely without a staff for a long time. Her is a moment where she seems a little vacant, as if she is not aware she is being spoken of.
Her attention is demanded at a sudden lance of heat and stinging pain, as two quick cuts are performed; an upwards slash that leaves a mark on her neck and carves diagonally from the lobe to the outer shell of her ear, and another that hacks across the top of her ear to carve it into a crude point. There is no sound of pain, only a near deafening awareness as the pain seem to burst outwards. The careful focus is disrupted for all the automatic control in her, and the small point of heat to burn though rope becomes a massive burst of flame further away, as a group of trees blocking between their holding point and camp proper goes up in flames. (She remembers her father, and his body, and his ears hung about her neck, and the fire grows more vicious.)
Beyond there flames? There are urgent yells for the Keeper.
It draws Pryderi’s attention, so he misses the glyph of neutralisation fading away beneath Pel and Sina. Neasa’s attention is pulled away as well, so she grips her staff and begins in that direction, barking an order to Aithne that the prisoners remains closely watched. Neasa draws away, moving swiftly.
Herian looks to Sina and Pel, pupils blown and blood streaming down the side of their face, and makes eye contact with them both. Ready?
tw GROSS
Sina feels like her mind is going in and out of awareness, caught between trying to shut itself down from the pain and terror, and stay awake and alert to get her out. It seems like she'll never stop crying, and she's not even aware of it anymore.
But as the magic flows back into her she finds that her senses are sharpened, and with them her mind. She feebly wills her hands to heal, the process slower than normal for dual reasons: she tends more toward herbal and not magical healing, so her skill isn't great, and also it's difficult to concentrate under such duress. As the skin renews, the angry blisters pop, draining pus all down her fingers, peeling and sensitive and excruciating and slow. So slow.
She looks at Herian with weary dread; perhaps there's a part of her that has already given up.
tw blud
She meets Herian's eyes, breathing labored from fear, but entirely ready to take the human's lead here. They need to be coordinated, and Herian has the most experience and training for battle.
cw dismemberment
The hunter lands on the floor in separate pieces, and for a moment those left to restrain Pel and Sina are utterly still, their grips slightly loosened with shock.
Blood and entrails and all the rest are part of this, but there is no time to focus on that now. What there is time for?
Her hand outstretched, as she casts disruption field to slow and weaken their enemies. This was what she could do, this might have made the difference if not for the constant onslaught of mana draining glyphs cast at them before.
no subject
All attempts to heal herself are cut off in the wake of this new horror, and rather than be of use to anyone at all, Sina just stands there and stares disbelievingly at the remains of the person who was just standing in front of her.
She only moves to look at the sky again, her movements sluggish and dazed.
no subject
no subject
There is a great roaring crack on the other side of camp. Green light seems to condense, as if the air itself it being forced apart to make way for crystal-like shards pushing through from the Fade. A rift is opening above the camp.
It is enough to make the hunter holding one of Sina's arms take a step backwards, even as Pryderi holds fast, gripping her arm all the harder - enough to bruise. "Stop it! " he all but yells, verging on hysterical, staff gripped in hand and raised to try and subdue the flames that are spreading outwards from the fire.
And let's just pretend Herian is fighting some random other NPC, keeping busy, being helpful, whatever. Demons? There's probably demons. Sparta kick, etc.
no subject
She crumples like a doll, just conscious enough to gasp pitifully for breath, and lies almost limp on the ground by the permanently fallen.
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She can't wait for the world to stop spinning, so she flips and shoves to her feet, stumbles to stand over the prone Sina, and casts. A nearby tree snatches up two of the hunters with its branches and holds them dangling in the air. Pryderi is not near enough to the tree, so she must deal with him on her own, and she will play no games. He is holding Sina.
Pel's left hand thrusts toward him, an enormous spike of ice forming in her palm like a sword, impaling him through the heart before he even knows it's there.
no subject
"Your staves," she says, with a jerk of her head towards the camp. If they cannot properly defend themselves, this may be for naught, and perhaps now the chaos is such that they might be able to steal away unnoticed. It goes against every instinct in her, when she can see demons drifting across the clearing, when her first urge is to run to battle rather than away from it, but Pel and Sina are in her care and they must be set first. Duty first, always.
Are you alright, are you harmed both seem to be pointless questions for the moment. They are neither of those things.
no subject
Her eyes, clear and bright through the blood on her face, meet Herian's.
"The horses are this way. I'm going to get them. You take Sina and run as fast as you can and I will meet you on my way back."