faderift | [ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

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[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

WHO: Herian, Anders, Issana, Velanna, Pam, Malcolm
WHAT: A series of disappearances in the Orlesian countryside has culminated in the vanishment of some of the Inquisition's own scouts. A team has been sent to investigate the estate of one Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney.
WHEN: Over the span of 4 days in the 2nd week of Harvestmere.
WHERE: Estate of Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney
NOTES: Trauma, gore, dark themes, homicide, pretentious wine usage, other things not labeled as to avoid spoilers.

Welcome to the Estate

It is a terrible misfortune, all these disappearances- but with a civil war on and all this strange Venatori and Red Templar activity- with the rifts in the countryside? People simply not appearing where they ought is a sad reality. Nothing to be done for it. That such an esteemed noblewoman has found herself unjustly accused simply due to her wealth and prosperity? Cannot stand. Comtesse de Veloney invited the Inquisition herself to investigate her manor and put the matter to rest- they are to be afforded all the cooperation and respect imaginable.

Even the mages. Even the elves.

They are met at the gate by a veritable delegation of footmen led by the Gardener and Tanner to see them inside and out of the stormy, dreary weather. Packs are secreted off to rooms (a lovely set of suites in the east wing if the Steward does say so herself), baths drawn (The Comtesse insists, it's been just dreadful and they've come all this way), and a lavish banquet prepared.

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"I can't. I'm sorry." He can't stay down here in the dark because of his past, he can't stay put instead of helping because of his past; Anders is all wounds and they all drive him forward, sorry Ignatia. And sorry Narcisse, as well. If he'd any skill in entropy he'd make it easier on the man, but then again, anyone left asleep could be in danger.

The noise is sickening, now that he can hear it. And it means he needs to get through the door. Anders casts ice again, wedging it in, prying the doorway open as quickly as he can. Once possible, he's going in magic blazing, because there's nothing else he can do. Too many ghosts from his past are down here and being entirely calm and measured is beyond him.

the door is old, locked, and barred- but the more it wedges open the greater the smell of blood, the sound of skin being stripped from flesh. Of course something like a wall crackling open when it ought not does attract attention and the moment he is through- the hulking figure in a Bear's mask makes a gesture with a gloved fist-

Light fills the room, will focused and shaped to a fine point as Bear Mask calls down a Holy Smite upon the mage.

Once the light fades there's a body on the hook- fat and half stripped of flesh- a wide table with several more stripped of their skin and awaiting a cleaver. Below the dripping carcass is a tub with a tube that connects to bottles that look much like wine- like the special vintages Narcisse shattered in the room beyond.

"Told you we should've done the mages the first night-" Bear growls, hauling the cleaver from the side table while Hawk continues calmly stripping skin from the carcass.

Fuck Templars.

It's the first thought in his mind once he can think again, familiar pain searing through all his joints, not helped by the wall he'd been flung into. For what might be the very first time, Anders misses being possessed because he could have continued anyway and torn apart these two. Instead everything is pain... but there's something nice about the familiarity. It means he can work with it, unlike the first dozen or so times he's been smited, and he can grab for his crystal.

"Velanna, dungeons, help. Templar, templars, shit." The last word comes as the Seeker's dog joins the fray, leaping over Anders and flanking the Bear. Anders is glad of the added protection, but he can't help fight yet. It's the dog versus someone with a cleaver and Anders is still trying to get upright and back to his feet.

"Narcisse, please!" What the Butler can do Anders doesn't know, but Anders really doesn't want to die here. He's still holding the crystal, though, which means Velanna should wind up hearing anything that goes on. If she's listening. Maker, please let her be listening.

"NON!" Hitched around a sob and for a moment there is only a low, whimpered string of apologies that culminates in a final, resounding 'fuck it' before a bottle comes hurtling through the darkness and shatters over the head of the Bear.

Between the blood soaked cloak, the glass, and the solid blow to the head- Milady's flanking has Bear staggering in place, cleaver swinging wide of the hound but catching Anders' ribs in a sharp slice.

"SER ANDERS!" Another volley- bottle after bottle thrown- if it weren't already a bloody mess in the room, it is now. "Je ne te laisserai faire cela plus, je ne peux pas le supporter, pourquoi devez-vous être un monstre?"

Someone is listening, at least, and Anders hadn't expected it to be Narcisse. He's not sure he'll ever be able to express how grateful he is for the butler's response when he winds up merely cut by the cleaver and not incapacitated. Anders finds his feet, finally, arm pressed to his side as he tries to breathe shallowly, to ignore what he can of the increasing-by-the-moment pain. He can't do anything about that just yet. Smites are pains in the ass. But he can yank his dagger out of his boot and slash at the Bear's throat, flanking Bear on the opposite side of Milady as the dog goes for another bite.

"Thank you," he groans. It had been meant to be a yell, but he can't manage it. Hopefully Narcisse hears him as well as the dog. Later Anders will make sure, if there's a later. For now the mage needs to pull it together and fight. And kill, again, but at least this is no innocent.

Teeth and dagger and the cloak catches. Drags. Something of a gorget under thick wool spares the throat as the cloak and robe tear. Milady twists and out stumbles the broad, meaty figure of the Butcher, clad in dark mail and a bear's mask- behind the Hawk finishes skinning the last bit of flesh from the corpse on a hook and sets the skin carefully aside before taking one of the four knives resting on the table and diving in, slashing at both man and hound.

Narcisse remains in the room beyond, hurtling bottles, swearing violently in Orlesian.

Velanna is outdoors, walking the grounds. This is deliberate, she's been using earth magic for most of the evening, probing the ground under the estate, looking for spots where the rock is missing or root cellars. It's inexact, and to the outside observer it just looks like any other elf enjoying a night walk. But when Anders calls, she's only been able to find one place that's dirt, but it'll get her closer to where Anders is than running there will. She disappears from where she stands in a shower of roots and dirt, and she tunnels through the earth, dragged in a cocoon of roots, erupting in the wine cellar.

She sees Narcisse first, and without waiting for him to adjust to her presence she growls

"Move," pushing past him, glad she'd made the right call on location. She starts throwing fireballs as soon as she has a visual on Anders and his attackers, hopefully not giving them time to react to her presence.

There's something something something irony to him being cut by the butcher in a hawk(e) mask, something something ridiculously annoying about the bear now coming in to help finish him (how he hates bears, seriously,) and then, then, there's something glorious about the sound of Velanna's growl and the sight of fireballs streaking through the air.

"He saved my life too, don't hurt him," Anders manages to strain out while swinging with the dagger for the butcher's stomach. Milady, on the other hand, starts to circle around the Bear, whom Anders is betting is really the tanner. Maker, he wants his magic back.

"She's the Templar," he adds. That's important.

While prowling the grounds and probing there are 12 distinct disturbances under the hedges- caskets, old and half rotted, hiding bodies most likely.

When she springs forth from the earth Narcisse looses a magnificent shriek, scrabbling backwards and holding a bottle high in self defense. Move? He doesn't need to be told twice! Inside with Anders Bear's head swings round and the Butcher Bellows - "KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!"

Distracted and shocked by the sudden appearance of another mage Bear struggles to get another smite off, Anders' dagger skating along her ribs, glancing off her mail.

Behind the scuffle Hawk dives out of the way of the oncoming fireballs, a low, guttural voice swearing as he snaps a hand out, hurling a dagger that...misses the lot of them by a mile.

Velanna didn't intend to hurt Narcisse, she'd heard enough from the crystal when Anders had left it on to know that he wasn't a threat, at least at the moment. When Anders indicates the Bear she directs her attention to them, casting a paralysis spell.

He is accomplishing absolutely nothing with his knife. Which isn't really that surprising; an arm pressed to his side means he can't stab very well, and it's not even really meant to be anything more than a last resort. The knife goes back into his boot, and he grabs a lyrium vial from his belt pouch, scooting back quickly and downing the whole thing. It tastes as awful as usual, but maybe he can help soon. In the meantime, he flings the empty vial at the obnoxious Butcher while Milady dances around the Hawk.

Pamelia somehow ends up in front of the party heading Anders' and Velanna's way, and what she sees is best summed up as...

"Shit."

So, first. Casting a barrier spell on Anders. The air shimmers, and now there's something to keep either the Hawk or the Butcher from attacking him further (something is going on with his arm, obviously). Secondly...

Actually, what about a group barrier, hmm?

Not so much.

Malcolm, the scouts, the Chevalier, everyone in the cells with weapons who decided to come charging in with the Inquisition, are right there with Pamelia. A quick look takes in the situation--the butler out of the immediate way, Anders hurt, Milady being a good girl, Velanna doing what Velanna does best.

Those captured are not in the best of shape, might be in danger, but the two masked people--the beasts more like--are vastly outnumbered. (And if one is a Templar? Well then. Seekers aren't just for putting the fear of the Maker in mages, after all.)

He charges, a short sword on him, giving a Rally cry. "CUT THE BASTARDS DOWN!"

Look, it might not be the best last second cry, but it sure does the rallying trick.

He joins Milady in the fray, the dog dancing around on one side of the Hawk going for the legs, him on the other, going in for a quick flurry of strikes about the arms.

Bear twists against the paralysis, failing to struggle free before the brief encounter became quite so crowded. Bottlenecked at the doorway there's a moment of that shout echoing while a vial shatters over Bear's mask and Milady dances about Hawke.

Two knives are thrown- one spinning with vicious accuracy into the mess of bodies trying to enter the fray- past Pam and thudding into the shoulder of the Chevalier- downing him. The second spins end over end only for the pommel to knock one of the Inquisition scouts in the forehead, stunning them momentarily. A low sworn word in Orlesian has him fumbling with a grenade, staggering at the sudden attack of both hound and master, the glass shattering at his own feet- Antivan Fire flaring to life at their feet. Charred bodies crackle with cooking fat as both Bear and Hawk cry out in pain.

From behind Velanna a bottle whips through the air to crack Bear in the face, breaking them free of the paralysis- and toppling over backward onto Hawke.

The sudden appearance of so many extra bodies is a surprise, and for a second Velanna thinks that it'll be easy to take two targets down now, but then a thought occurs to her.

"Don't kill them! We need to find out who they're working with, these fools aren't bright enough to do this on their own!" She follows that up with a sleep spell at them both, hoping to bring a quick end to the fight. "Someone get those flames out!"

They might be bright enough, but he's nearly certain these two aren't all who were involved. Thankfully, Anders has some of his mana restored by now and he can cast a few thin sheets of ice over the fire, trying to contain it and put it out.

They sputter and subside, drowned by the melting water, and Anders glances at their new arrivals as he leans back against the wall and pretends he's totally not bleeding, nope, he's fine.

Edited 2016-10-23 03:05 (UTC)

Now that things have calmed, somewhat...or at least the two major enemy combatants are down, Pamelia takes a moment to deal with Anders' arm; Narcisse looks like he is in the middle of a verifiable crisis (understandable...poor man needs a drink and Pamelia has decided she is firmly in the "fish is the only meat I'll eat" category from now on, fine foods be damned) and the chevalier took a dagger to the shoulder but appears otherwise fine.

She gives Anders' shoulder a squeeze once his arm is better, and then envelopes him in a hug because. Hugs are necessary. And everyone in the room probably needs one, but she's starting with the person she knows the best.

He gives Pam a grateful look for healing his side; even with the lyrium potion, he's still not fully back to normal after the smite. There's pain in the whole of his everything and his magic is trickling back in. The squeeze turns the look into a smile, though the hug has him startled for a moment before he's returning it.

"Thank you. And I'm glad for the timing that all of you have." Narcisse, Velanna, Pam, and Mal. He hadn't counted on someone at the estate having templar training, and that could have been the end of things for him.

"We should..." Anders breaks off, looking back at Narcisse. The butcher meant something to him. He gets up to go over to Narcisse and sit down, putting an arm around the butler. "Thank you," he repeats quietly. The butler had known at least some of it, but despite his relationship with Gabrielle, he's a large part of the reason Anders is still drawing breath.

He can let the rest recover and celebrate, but Malcolm's still at work. For his Rally cry, he has to hold back some of the scouts with a motion, because as much as they deserve to die, they need to be interrogated first. He's sure the Valet is part of this yet. And they need to know why.

He has witnessed some pretty horrible things from Templars and mages alike, but this is something horrible and new.

So naturally, he'll ignore the horrible for now and rip some of the chains from where they hang. Many are still slick with blood or caked in it. Hooks glisten on the ends, a few still with scraps of skin, hair, skull, meat that he hesitates to touch before picking off and setting down with care. The masks are torn away and thrown at the nearest wall. And then he gets to work on tying the offenders up in their own chains. Milady circles, still wound up from the fight, all the people and the smell of meat and death, her fur flecked with blood from shattered bottles, and despite all of that she is a comfort.

They'll need to gather the bodies, or what's left of them, and burn them. But one step at a time.

Bear and Hawke go limp under the Sleep spell, leaving the bloody room oddly silent. The saved Inquisition agents (plus wounded chevalier) huddle just outside and Narcisse-

Covered in blood, eyes locked to the prone figure of the Butcher, shudders. Oddly silent and somber for the first time since their arrival, likely sober for the first time in years, he jerks a little at Anders' approach. Tilts into the embrace, pushing his face into his shoulders as the trembling settles in. "I couldn't-"

Let her kill you. Couldn't say anything. Couldn't do anything to stop it.

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[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

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