OPEN: We couldn't bring the columns down

[faderifting]

WHO: Samson vs. Inquisition, in particular the Iron Bull, Ciri, Bruce, and Norrington
WHAT: BOSS FIGHT
WHEN: Harvestmere 20
WHERE: The Dales
NOTES:There is an open portion of this log for people who want to fight Red Templars or help with the clean-up at their leisure—you'll be NPCing your own fights for that, but team up and have at it—and a closed portion for the team that will capture Samson.

Sources say the Red Templars number twenty, maybe thirty; that they've slipped south through eastern Orlais using the Civil War and the wilderness to obscure their movements; and that they are moving with an unknown purpose to an unknown place. There's a brief window of time where their path may be predicted, funneled through the only viable road in this area of the rocky foothills of the Frostbacks. If they aren't stopped before they enter the southernmost wilds then they may never be found.

The Inquisition's force--a small unit of forty, dispatched quickly and quietly--arrives a day ahead of the force it means to intercept. That's time to blow a bridge, place archers and mages, and tuck reinforcements into the gorges.

In summary, an ambush.

It's nice to occasionally be the springer rather than the sprung-upon.

Comments

OPEN: Red Templar Battle

[faderifting]

The guttural bellow of the Red Templar Behemoth rumbles several decibels above the chaos of battle, snapping the eerie, wintry silence that had filled the rocky forest hallway. Their wagons, with contents disguised beneath burlap, rope, bundles of timber, have drawn to a halt. Horses whicker in panic.

Standing twice as tall as any of its comrades, the monstrous, craggy silhouette lurches for where the fighting is thickest, dragging arms heavy with spiked red lyrium claws. Around it, the earth, lightly frosted with snowfall, trembles beneath each step, cracking when jagged pillars of red lyrium erupt up and outwards, the fall of Inquisition arrows fired from tree cover shattering uselessly against it. The Behemoth seems immune to pain as he fights, but then, if what remains of his human face is anything to go by, he is already consumed with agony. And rage, of course, as he brings up one massively oversized arm like a warhammer and sends it crashing down upon the enemy.

Upwards of twenty more Red Templar soldiers bristle with sword and shield. Red eyed and pale-skinned, they fight with a semblance of their prior Templar training. Shields defend against magic and arrow, and swords cleave powerfully, efficiently. Traces of red lyrium magic seem to glimmer over their armor, their weapons, and every now and then, a wind of dispelling magic sweeps through the battle to steal away any mage's link to the Fade. None of them retreat, or surrender. They fight tirelessly, only stopping when something finally cuts them down.

That oppressive silence of the forest floods back in when the last man falls. A horse, loose from its reins, goes wandering alone through the carnage, picking around the still corpses of Red Templars. The taste of red lyrium in the air is bitter, with those massive spikes in need of collection or destruction where they've tumbled off wagons to knife up from the earth and hum with corrupt energy, throwing off a glow of evil scarlet.

[thesteelwolf]

A hell of a location for a field test- but if there's ever a group that needs to be struck down efficiently and effectively? It's these red templars. Issa has chosen speed over accuracy as she's only able to haul around one cannon at a time- the multi chambered beast slung to her back until she's found a suitable position from which to take aim. It won't be a battle at a distance for long- they know the Inquisition is coming. There is no element of surprise-

Well.

The attack comes as no surprise. The manner in which they will be attacked- with the sheer variety of techniques Issa has observed in her time in Skyhold so far? Will probably be quite surprising, even without counting herself among them. "Tell me when they are near that white stone-"

Small but easy to see at this distance- when the first line reaches she'll take the first shot- for the moment she swings her cannon off her back and takes a moment to attach a long, serrated sword blade to the underside of the barrel should any of the Templars get too close mid shot.

[aceso]

Christine doesn't know how she managed to end up next to the Qunari with the cannon, but as long as it doesn't explode in their faces, she can handle it. And seeing how the woman looks confident in what she's doing, odds are that this weapon will work. Christine rolls her shoulders and watches the enemy come towards them, watching out for any archers among their number. She's not going to give them a free shot.

"Approaching now," she says, taking up a stance to get ready to attack.

[thesteelwolf]

"Stay behind me." Mages wanting to fight- another southern strangeness. They are not forced to, they wish to risk the dangers it will bring themselves to do so without the tempering presence of an Avaraad? At least this woman seems careful. Solid. And has excellent eyesight.

The moment the word comes she adjusts her aim two degrees eastward before pulling the trigger- a massive crackling shot reverberates through the air as a spinning shell of sparks arcs to hit the first in a shower of consuming fire and shrapnel.

[aceso]

Christine scurries back behind the imposing woman, wondering exactly what this will look like when the projectile is fired, but when that moment comes she feels her heart practically leap into her throat at the sound it makes. Well, that's certainly one way to do things.

"Perfect shot." She gives credit where it's due, and Christine follows up with a fire mine glyph laid down in the path of the enemy. With any luck, the panic and pain from Issa's shot will mean they don't take note of it and walk over after it's primed.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Kain is more than ready for this battle. He's been ready, eager to get out into combat and prove his worth to the Inquisition. It helps that he intensely loathes what red lyrium does to those it influences... To lose one's mind like that is unthinkable. To him, it's a mercy to kill these affected Templars. No one should exist like this. Even if they presumably did do this on purpose.

He doesn't waver when those red templars attack, raising his two-handed sword in preparation. This part of the battleground here is his, marked with his ring of pain... Let them come at him. Let them hit him, they'll see soon enough what it'll get them in return. It's in his fighting style to take a few hits, and he purposefully avoids blocking some. But he's attacking fiercely as well. He moves with surprising swiftness for someone wielding a heavy blade, like a whirlwind as his sword clashes with the enemy's.

[circleprodigy]

Inessa is not directly at Kain's side, but she lends her support nonetheless. The strongest Red Templar focusing on him gets smacked with a Misdirection Hex, thus preventing most of his blows from landing and buying Kain some additional time. She refrains from including him in her Barrier spell more often than not, knowing he needs to be at least a little wounded for his fighting style to be effective. However, if he takes too much, a Heal spell will be sent his way.

Garahel is participating as well, of course. The mabari enthusiastically launches himself at his opponents, knocking them down maul or letting Kain finish them off. Either way, it's one less enemy before moving on to the next.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Kain slices through enemies, his sword moving fast as wind as he slashes out at them. He cuts down the misdirected Templar only to have a second one right there, coming at him with twice the strength as the previous one. The Red Templar comes on steadily, driving Kain back for a moment, on the defensive... But that's when Garahel's help comes into play. After the mabari strikes, Kain finds an opening to cut through and turn the battle against the Templar. Kain nods quickly to Garahel in thanks, knowing Inessa must be close by if he's here.

As opponents, they're brutal, among the most stubborn he's ever seen. He's appalled by the mindless way they just come on, as they're driven by the lyrium infused in them. That red glow is straight out of a nightmare, too.

The one he's currently up against is still coming on strong, hitting Kain with a heavy blow. He growls under his breath, but counters immediately, letting that new pain power him on.

[circleprodigy]

The red glow sharpens Inessa's focus, even as it twists her stomach. Where it not for her gloves, her knuckles would be white for how tightly they hold onto her staff, and her entire body is rigid with tension. The only reason she's not melting down, she suspects, is due to the lack of abominations present. That red glow is a glaring reminder of her time in the caves, seeing that lyrium farm, and its gruesome end. Not wanting to see anything like that ever again, Inessa fights back with an intensity that startles even her. She casts Winter's Grasp on Kain's opponent, encasing him in ice, then unleases Blizzard to slow down the rest. Garahel will take full advantage of that, covered as he is in cold-resistant kaddis.

[in_death_sacrifice]

The glow is eerie, hellish, and it likewise sends Kain into a rage. He keeps on with the two-handed whirlwinds, slashing furiously at his opponent, daring him to counter. He feels a familiar frenzy rising in his blood, that powerful sensation that only hits him in the midst of battle... he's getting stronger. With every fallen enemy or any bloodshed on either side, his blade is even steadier, each blow harder than ever. Sure, he'll pay the price later. But right now he'll revel in the fight, in the confidence he only feels in battle.

The ice engulfs the enemy and the surrounding area with a bitter chill. It gives Kain just the edge he needs to take down the one Templar that's been putting up such a tough fight. Another comes at him right after, still half-iced, and Kain blocks the unsteady blow. He comes at the Templar with a crushing strike in return. One of the others is more warmed up, and comes at Kain with a hit that sends him falling, the wind knocked out of him. He groans as he rolls to get back to his feet. Pain... this is good pain... At least he can count on Garahel and Inessa to have his back while he regains his footing...

[circleprodigy]

The groan gets a sharp frown from Inessa, who's doing her best to keep track of Kain's state without healing him too much in the process. That's a delicate balance to manage on top of fighting Red Templars as well. Garahel moves to intercept the Red Templar attacking Kain, buying his Warden buddy some time as he bares his fangs. To aid him, Inessa casts Stonefist, sending it smashing into her target to send him flying back. After that, the mabari leaps and pounces him. He barks at Kain to finish him off.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Garahel's help is much needed at the moment. As Kain gets back into the swing of things, grimacing and regaining footing fully, he's glad to see the magic and the mabari knocking over that enemy. That gives him exactly the opening he's looking for.

He comes leaping in, stabbing straight downward at the immobilized enemy. Good. That's another fully down. Between them and Inessa's magic, and the others out here fighting as well, they're really making a good dent in the enemy's forces. Even these Red Templars, as powerful as they are, aren't invincible... not even close. Kain goes for his next target, swords clashing as they start to battle it out.

[circleprodigy]

Naturally, just when things are looking up, matters change. Inessa stiffens as she hears heavy footfalls, heavier than any normal person or even half-transformed Red Templar. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of a lumbering form, consumed by red lyrium crystals. A Behemoth.

"Kain!" Whether he likes it or not, he's getting a Barrier now before she casts another spell at the creature. A ring of ice sprouts up, quickly encasing it but Inessa knows that thanks to the monstrosity's strength that it won't last that long. Garahel lets out a low growl, tense and ready to act the moment it breaks free.

[in_death_sacrifice]

With a gasp, Kain watches as the new enemy approaches. Of course, it couldn't be too easy. His expression hardens and he tightens grip on his weapon, preparing himself. He's got his Ring of Pain renewed, and he feels that battle fury reigniting, the Dragon-Rage roaring inside him deep down, ready to be unleashed.

"Hmmph. I've been waiting for a real challenge." Ok, they've all been a challenge so far, but this... this is definitely on a whole other level. As the Behemoth is starting to twitch into motion, Kain rushes in for his first attack. His sword slices into crystal, shattering it with a hard clatter. Red fragments break off and fall all over. He keeps on the attack, letting his own rage power him as he continues, strengthened considerably by his reaver-skills. But the Behemoth lashes out at Kain in return, the Barrier absorbing some of that, but what does strike him is hard and heavy.

[circleprodigy]

There are challenges and then there are red lyrium-tainted monstrosities. Having seen what that substance can do -has done- Inessa would almost rather face anything else. But, as they don't have that option, she stands firm as Garahel charges to help Kain, casting a hex to make it further vulnerable to her ice spells and following that up with Blizzard, calling it now while she still has the strength.

Between the chill winds and Kain's relentless blows, the Behemoth staggers back, though it's not one of the most feared Red Templar encounters for nothing. Recovering, it strikes the ground, causing the red lyrium sown into the soil to burst upward and create a barricade to trap them all. Nearly bumping into it, Inessa recoils and grits her teeth. She's not a close-quarters combatant, but it seems she has no choice now.

CLOSED: Samson

[faderifting]

The Inquisition had no forewarning that he would be here, but he is--Samson, their commander, encased in his impenetrable armor. If anyone wouldn't recognize his importance on sight, one of the archers who was there at Haven is quick to announce it with an outraged shout and an equally outraged arrow that zips past him, emotionally and therefore poorly aimed, to embed in the side of a wagon.

Other arrows miss, too, and by the time the Inquisition's swordsmen reach the Red Templars, Samson is gone, cargo in tow, leaving behind orders to hold them off and a wagon trail through the snow. Some of his men follow. It's a strategic retreat that might have worked, if not for the wrecked bridge further along the road leaving a steep drop and an icy, shoulder-deep river in his way.

[ In addition to the NPC Red Templars with Samson, the Inquisition team may have four NPC soldiers with them as well (one per player) to control and/or kill off as desired. ]

[redinside]

Aah, bollocks. Samson growls his frustration aloud, breath steaming in the wind.

"Wystan!"

A knight comes to his side at once, heavy with armour but still agile compared to his mutated brethren, his luminous eyes set in a face marbled with veins of red.

"Take the wagon upstream. Should be a shallows not far from here. Press on ahead, don't stop for bloody anything. I'm counting on you to get him there. Now! You three, and you, with him! Go!"

Wystan's already swinging himself up on the side of the wagon when he answers, Yes Ser! The young templar shouts a further command, and the wagon turns off road as bidden with the rest of the detail right behind, ploughing through snow and over unsteady ground as quickly as they dare. It's a comparatively small contingent, but these are Samson's best templars, so the cargo is in good hands—they'll just need time to find a way across. The land's not as rough as it could be, either. They might make it yet...

"Right," Samson declares, and draws Certainty as he turns, the wicked greatsword sliding free with a long and jagged scraping of metal. The snow melts where it touches his skin, his hair, black strands on his neck like veins. The glow of his armour, its power freshly awoken. His blood screaming inside.

With the point of his blade, he directs these few monstrous men back toward the fray they left behind. "C'mon, lads! Let's show em how it's done!"

[qunari]

Breath escapes from his nostrils in a chilly fog, rising up as he strides forward through the snow, the weight of his axe comfortably familiar in his hands. He'd been expecting a good fight.

He hadn't thought they'd get this lucky.

Samson will defend the retreat of that wagon until he's dealt with, and the less people tied up in fighting him? The better. Bull's not the quickest they've got, but he can take a hit and keep going. Long enough to give the others a shot. He doesn't think about who these men are, who they might have been before that poison in their veins turned them into these monsters. There's no room for that.

They have their goal. And these templars aren't going to terrorize anyone ever again.

Lowering his head, Bull hefts the axe and charges forward at a surprisingly swift gait, rushing the field and leaving wide swaths of trodden snow behind him, before wheeling back and bringing the axe around in a heavy-headed swing that sweeps in front of him in a wide arc.

[amygdalae]

Samson.

The name hits him like a bolt of lightning, shocking and terrifying at the same time. The name only makes him recall what had happened at Haven, the chaos there, and with what had happened to the Inquisitor--

Bruce grits his teeth, grip tight on the staff he had with him, Rage burning inside of him - and this time he keeps it burning. Samson, commander of the Red Templars. All the suffering he had caused, the pain he brought upon countless, the deaths of so many innocents - he needed to answer for everything he had done.

The Iron Bull charges forth for a first strike, and Bruce does his best to help however he can along with the others who are with them. He quickly throws up barriers for everyone (or renews them, if they already had them) first before he summons out a couple of fireballs that move to his command, zipping through the battlefield to strike at the other soldiers that lie between them and Samson.

[ichaer]

It was taking every bit of her self control to keep a lid on her anger. She looks at the Red Templars and the color begins to blur together, reminding her of that cave deep within Emprise du Lion where so many had to die for these bastards.

Nessa and her had made a promise to kill every single one of them so there is hardly an ounce of hesitation as she draws her sword and rushes to meet the line. Unlike Bull, Ciri does not have a lot of strength behind her blows or the endurance to take hits but she has the speed to keep hitting her targets and avoid attacks leveled in her direction.

She rushes forward, aiming for the edge of the line out of Bull's wide arc and lashes out toward any noticeable weak points in the armor. Twisting and flipping, she dodges blows before bringing a bottle of bright red liquid up from her belt. There is only the briefest sound of the flask breaking before fire roars alive, engulfing her and spurs her into action with faster strikes.

[judgemewhole]

"Commander, it's - "

Norrington lifted his hand to silence Gillette, his eyes boring down into Samson. Samson, who had led so many of their brothers and sisters astray. Samson, who rose up a new God just so he could get his fix. Samson, whose actions had killed the Herald of Andraste herself.

He gestured to Gilette. "Take to the woods. Take down that wagon, any way you can. I will stand here with the others."

He let the others move forward, closing his eyes briefly as the veil of protection came over him from the mage Bruce. He looked over at the other man, nodded, before he slapped his sword against his shield and yelled out to Samson himself, as both Ciri and Bull bore down on the man.

"Good afternoon... Brother. By the order of the Inquisition, we are bringing you in for acts of treason against Thedas. It would be better for you not to resist arrest." He slapped his sword against his shield again the Templar colors clear in green and gold, "But Maker forgive me, I rather hope you're going to say 'No'."

For now he is going to pull Samson's attention, while he gathers up his will to force an attack on any opening the other two left him.

[redinside]

These few red templars have rallied ahead of their general by the time these oncomers are near enough to strike: one tower shield bearer on either side and two big monsters coming up the middle.

The sight of a charging Qunari is impressive enough to give Samson himself a moment of pause—but the lyrium-encrusted horror in front meets it with a bellow of defiance and agony, both, as red energy shimmers around it. It twists against Bull's first swing, exposing its back to the blade. Red crystals shear off, shards flying, and pulverized lyrium sours the air. The horror screams.

Its return swing of wicked talons meets Ciri almost by accident, or perhaps the space where Ciri was only a moment before. Her rapid movements don't draw its attention away from the Iron Bull's greater threat, even as she becomes a whirlwind of unnatural flames. But there's another one ready for her—another monstrosity of lyrium and grotesquely distended flesh. It shows her its palm, bristling with red crystals, and fires them at her in bursts.

The first shimmer of a barrier provokes an alarm— "Mage!" —and the red templar who called it hoists his tall shield an instant too late to fully block the oncoming fireball. He curses aloud as the mistake costs him his footing. The other guard, however, was luckier. He stomps the ground aggressively, sending forth a burst of nullifying power to choke Bruce's abilities before he can do any more damage. Whether or not it succeeds, the guard charges the mage directly after, shield still aflame, thundering over the snow-dusted mud with a ferocious cry.

And then there's this asshole.

"Here we go," Samson says to himself, the verbal equivalent of rolling his eyes at Norrington's overtures, and lifts something from his belt to his mouth. From a distance it looks like he spits a cork aside—yes, now he's tossing his head back while he takes the bottle's contents in one go like a shot of liquor. Oh, if only it were that. Bottle tossed aside, he looks to the knight-commander across the battlefield, points at him with one armoured finger, jagged knobs of crystal glowing on his knuckles, then draws that same finger across his throat.

He then thumps his chest with his fist just beside the great horn of red lyrium in its center, shakes his head once and barks a sound to psych himself up, the bitter burn bursting into brilliant flame, pure power, and here comes General Samson himself, striding into the skirmish with the unhurried finality of a natural disaster. He takes a massive swing at the first enemy body he happens to meet.

As for Gilette—there are five red templars waiting for him alongside that passenger wagon, including two eagle-eyed marksmen, ready to defend their charge to the death. Good luck to him.

[qunari]

Oh, this fight's gonna be a good one after all.

Bull's foot swings up to catch against the monstrous creature, yanking the axe free in a shower of red shards. It takes all of a second for him to swing back again, bringing enough momentum into the movement to bring it around once in full rotation, before aiming it now for the creature's gut.

Though his good eye shifts towards Bruce at the noisy charge. Shit. Need to get him back behind someone's shield before that templar decided to cut loose. Or before Samson got too close. Whatever was radiating off of him -- and he's willing to bet it was a super-dose of the red lyrium -- it's got his skin crawling instinctively.

[amygdalae]

"Ugh--" Despite the fact that he's up against Red Templar its still a fact that his opponent was still a Templar, and that part of the equation certainly hasn't changed despite everything else about them. Bruce can feel the nullification washing over him, cutting off his mana access for the moment. It's going to take a bit before that wears off but until then, it seems like he can't cast spells any time soon.

Not that he has a lot of time to mull over that though. The templar is already charging at him, flaming shield up and right towards him. With the need to act fast Bruce drops the staff for now - he'll pick it back up later, it was on loan anyway - and draws out the dagger that he keeps on him, keeping it on hand now in case he had to defend himself. He sidesteps the templar charging at him, doing a false strike to distract them before quickly trying to put distance between him and his opponent. Not to mention whatever it was that Samson had drunk - his body was not responding well to whatever he was radiating right now, the lyrium within him almost trying to rebel. It almost felt like that time out in Emprise du Lion--which wasn't good, considering what happened to him then. So the more distance now, the better.

Without his magic all Bruce can do now is to rely on his wits and whatever lies around him - in this case, a stray arrow that had missed its mark earlier. Bruce tugs it out from the ground and throws it at the Templar while he continues to run, buying whatever time he could until his magic returned to him.

[ichaer]

The grotesque talons slice through the air with a whistle. It acts as Ciri's only warning before they enter her line of sight and forces a reaction as they swing past her with deadly accuracy. There wasn't even a moment to rest before she finds herself caught up in another attack from nearby enemies. Her eyes narrow the monstrous Templar that raises his palm to her, raising her sword as red crystals blooming from flesh and blood are sent toward her as deadly projectiles.

She takes off leaving trails of fire in her wake as the burst of projectiles keeps her at a distance. The roar of another templar charging Bruce grabs her focus and she curses silently, unable to get through the barrage that she is currently trying to deflect. The fires of her elixir begin to flicker and she twists, rapidly charging her direction in order to push close to her attacker. There is a noticeable heat the closer she approaches the warrior, breathing in deep and pulling her stance low.

With as much power as she can muster and with the last of her elixir, she pulls her sword up in a wide arch aiming for the templar's raised arm.