faderift | Not Quite Damsels, Definite Distress

MAGES

Teren prevents herself from getting too aggravated by staring at Anders in the cell, the lock on which clicks open and allows her to slip inside. Of course, this is at the exact moment that one of them casts fucking earthquake, so she promptly ends up on the ground beside Anders, remarking rather impolitely and under her breath. She withdraws from her belt pouch a small, roundish object, which she lobs into the fracas: a smoke bomb, for the purpose of both confusing everyone long enough to let her pass, and to prevent them from seeing what she's doing. Who knows if it'll work, if mages even have to see before they shoot their bloody spells around?
She stoops to hook her arms under Anders' and straightens, utilizing the majority of her limited strength to now pull him backward, out of the cell and toward Alistair's. When they reach the second door, she props Anders against the bars, behind her, and begins to work on Alistair's lock.
"Don't suppose you can make us a barrier," she murmurs to Anders, whom she knows is there despite the dissipating smoke, though she isn't sure of his level of consciousness.

He's no sooner landed on his ass than he has Teren there, and while he tries to help her move most of his attention is on trying to figure out when exactly Nate left and when she showed up. It doesn't happen. His mind's in too much of a haze to figure out the whole sequence of events, and he's too tired from the stress of being in a cell all over again to do more than slump against the bars.

At least he can figure out that Teren's talking to him. "I can't." There's apology in his weary voice. "Magebane. It's been in the water they've given me." Which means he's useless, and he feels it too.

"Unless you brought a lyrium potion?" It's unlikely, but at least there's a small chance he can help out somehow.

Throughout all of this Jamie is simply doing his best to avoid getting hit, the mess of spells and arrows and smoke bombs making it so he's not entirely sure who's throwing what at any given time - except for two things.

One is the earthquake, which he sees Javion cast a few seconds before it knocks him down. He's near to the back of the room, his original intention stay mostly out of the way of everyone else, and it's when he's on the ground that he catches sight of the second thing - Aleigh, glimpsed through the door as he gestures and casts...something.

The last thing the group needs is to have attacks coming from both sides, and right now until their men on the outside are able to get to them, Jamie thinks he's got the best chance of stopping that. He rolls to one side, using his momentum to try and get out of the way of anything else headed in his direction. As he does so, however, he yanks the glove from his shard hand, a glint of green coming from it before it winks out again, hidden temporarily by the floor as he uses it to give him some leverage while getting to his feet.

The whole thing's slower than he'd like, but he's nothing if not stubborn - and lucky enough to have missed getting forced up against the bars by Aleigh's spell. With a bit of luck he'll be able to make it to the door before the other man has any notions about following up that first spell of his.

Velanna tries to get clear of the ice as it shoots towards her, but she doesn't make it, spikes hitting her in the side and knocking her from her feet. She lets out a growl, more anger than pain, and pushes herself back up, ignoring the ice sticking out of her hip. She slams her staff into the floor, this time all the tapping earlier becomes more or less apparent as roots rip up from the cracks in the stones, creating a path of destruction on their way towards Ashton.

Aleigh frowns as he sees Jamie headed out; of course it's the guy with the sword. What even happened? One minute everyone was being civil enough, and now it's chaos. Maker's breath. A swirl of ice and snow surrounds him.

"I hate people," he mutters, before looking directly at Jamie. "Want a truce? We both walk away? I'll leave if you promise not to pursue." It probably won't work, but what are his options?

Inside things are spiraling out of control. Nathaniel's arrow goes deep into Ashton's chest, making her stagger back. A bloody mist stretches from the wound to her hand as if she can do something with an arrow there, but the roots put an end to it as they drag her down and finish her.

"No. No, no, no." Javion looks beyond distressed as she falls; he can't see much in the smoke but he can see her being dragged down. Kian's squeezed his eyes shut by now, curling up fairly uselessly as he drops where Nate's hauled him away from Ciri. A pair of stone fists sprout up for the earth, grabbing for Teren and Velanna this time, while a hailstorm of rocks are launched at Vidal's swarm, knocking the whole group back a little.

MAGES!!

With a click, Alistair's lock gives as well, and Teren's plan is going fine. She nudges the door open with her foot and has Anders under his arms again, dragging him into the cell so they can stake out all together. She gets him into the corner farthest from the giant stupid mage fight, and is about to approach Alistair with a similar plan, but she's barely got her arms under his when suddenly a big stupid fist emerges from the fucking ground and catches her straight around her skinny middle.
"BOLLOCKS," she barks, though the second syllable is a bit strangled as she finds herself rapidly running out of breathable-- or speakable-- air. She's either forgotten to let go of Alistair or is using him as a weight to keep herself from getting pulled back and gripped more tightly. There's an audible crunching sound as one of her hipbones gives way, and she mashes her forehead against Alistair's shoulder, grinding her teeth in silent distress.
But it's all right, she has healing potions. Fool her twice, and so forth-- that and she figured she'd need them for the boys, which fortunately it seems she doesn't, at least yet. She just has to... not... be getting crushed before she can use one.

Meanwhile, outside of the room...

"You know I can't do that." There's a touch of regret underlying the words on Jamie's end, even so. Aleigh may be a jerk, but that doesn't mean that Jamie wants to kill him, and right now it shows. "But I don't want to fight you, either."

Granted, his hand is right by his sword, but he hasn't actually drawn it yet. If there's still a chance, small as though it may be, to get Aleigh to see some sort of reason, he knows he's got to try that first. Maybe it won't work, but there's been more than enough killing since he's come here. Maybe this time he can avoid having there having to be more - at least, any more than's already happened.

"You could always stand down. Or-" Someone cries out from the other room, although he can't tell if it's someone from his side or not, thanks to the noise from the fight. The voice is female, though, and if he can tell that, he reckons Aleigh can tell that too. "You could help us stop this before your friends wind up dying. Maybe you don't like most people, but you must like someone here, or you'd have left a long time ago."

Alistair is jostled and rearranged and lost-looking, blinking at the chaos and periodically twisting up his face like he's on the verge of some helpful thought but not quite able to reach it because he's just. Very tired. But he's not depleted. He's still holding himself up, for what it's worth, when Teren is wrenched away and crushed by a fist of stone—and what it's worth is one single burst of Templary Templarness, apparently, because the snapping sound of her hip makes him snap, too, and instinctively cleanse what is hopefully not too much space. Not all of the mages in the room are awful.

But that was it. That's all he had left. Now he's depleted, and no longer holding himself up. He sinks down to the ground and can't quite manage to feel sorry for it. He tried. Good luck. Good night.

"You didn't have to," Merrill says, mournful. This is exactly what Merrill didn't want to happen. It could be worse, of course -- it could be all of them versus all of the mages. As it is, it's not good. She can hear that snap too -- but Velanna isn't the only one who can use the roots, and several more lash out. Some curl protectively between Javion and Vidal's swarm, but most attempt to wrap around Javion's ankles to yank him down.

Teren crumples to the ground when Alistair frees her and proceeds to cough up a mouthful of blood, her eyes veined and her bearing on the whole Not Okay. But she came prepared! Feebly pawing at her belt pouch, she manages to spill out a couple of small bottles (because let's be real, motor control isn't great right now) and pull a red one towards herself. She can feel the wrongness, the ruptured organs and internal bleeding in her body, and knows that she's dying, but her sensibility prevails: that, and her refusal to fail. ...and shock, which has its uses. She manages to tug the cork from a vial with her teeth and suck out its contents, distantly hoping she can still swallow.
That done, she rests her head by Alistair's leg, exhausted. And waits.

The fires of Ciri's mixture burn out as the barrier cracks under the weight of her sword. As soon as it gives way, she jumps back as more magic ignites and hailstorm of rocks begin to rain down. One catches her in her movement back and there is a harsh snap from her left shoulder, a harsh sound of pain getting caught up in her throat.

For a moment, her vision blurs in pain as her left arm hangs rather uselessly at her side. They need to need this before he buried them all alive. Awkwardly, she grabs another flask from her belt as Merrill's roots whip up and attempt to wrap around Javion's ankles.

Downing it, time seems to slow and she pushes off despite the pain in her body from the raining rocks. She dodges past rocks, hopping over roots and moving through Vidal's swarm. Putting all of her strength into her run, time begins to speed up as she closes in on Javion. Just as everything snaps back into focus, she yells and throws herself at the mage with her sword aimed upwards in hopes of finding his chest.

Aleigh backs up, watching Jamie. "What if I just walk away? You can walk back in there or do anything that isn't stabbing me. I don't feel like dying, and I don't feel like being imprisoned again, so..." Every step away is slow as he watches Jamie, waiting to see what the reaction is.

Alistair's Cleanse gets another horrified noise out of Javion as he's backed into a corner. There's nothing he can do; he's too old to do the fancy staff-twirling and swinging of someone younger. As the vines twirl around his ankles and yank, Javion tries to catch himself with his staff, which means that he doesn't have the time to block Ciri's blade. It drives through him; he's dead before he hits the ground.

The Cleanse also hit Vidal; the swarm drops from the air to become her again and she scoots backward.

"Sh-sh-she's dead, isn't she." Kian's refusing to look at Ashton's body or even anyone, for that matter, head in his hands.

"No one's screaming," Vidal says as a sort of answer. She's keeping her own head down, but mostly because she has no idea what happens now.

"Creators," Merrill whispers, one hand coming up to rub over her face. This is definitely not how she wanted this to go. Still, she pulls two lyrium potions out from the pouches on her hip. One is passed to Anders, and one stays in Merrill's hand as she carefully approaches Vidal, crouching down to offer it to her.

"Here. So you don't feel so defenseless." It's a clear gesture of trust, of goodwill. "Aleigh must still be outside, but I don't hear any shouting. What do you think?"

It's meant for her, but she won't ignore any input from Kian -- or anyone else, for that matter.

Nathaniel looks at Vidal, then Kian. His eyes hold the boy, though the boy won't look back.

"You see now?" he asks gruffly. "It's all harmless when it's only ideals, talk of hypothetical sacrifices made for an elusive greater good, but now people are dead who didn't want to be. When you play this game, you pay for your mistakes in lives. This one cost you two lives, and believe me, you got a bargain. Are you ready to help instead?"

Velanna had almost managed to escape from Javion's stone hands, although they grazed her leg and tripped her. She fell unfortunately on the side where she already had ice sticking out from under her rib cage and lodged it deeper, incapacitating her long enough that she missed the rest of the fight.

She pushes herself up as they're surveying the dead, Dalish curses being muttered in a steady stream under her breath as she leans back against the wall in a sitting position, not really feeling like she wants to stand right this second.

"We can kill the rest of them if we have to. But that isn't an ideal solution to this situation."

Out in the hall, Jamie still doesn't make a move to draw his sword. He does take a few steps of his own, enough to put him in view of the door and the people inside - and possibly in earshot as well, now that things've gone quiet. After all, Aleigh did say that that he could do anything other than stab him.

"Are you that certain that you'll be locked up again, then? That there's nothing for you here but that or death? Look, taking our friends wasn't the best way to start off, I'll admit that. But it doesn't necessarily mean that we're going to throw you in a dungeon or turn you over to some Circle or whatever you think we're going to do."

Maybe that's not everyone's opinion - he doesn't know. But as far as he's concerned, unless Aleigh does something more direct, he's not as culpable as the mages that were fighting against them. Maybe there's some compromise to be had here.

"There's other options...and not just running away, either. If you'd be willing to help, I think the others would be willing to talk, see if we couldn't come to some sort of agreement."

"By the sounds of it, we've just had a decisive leadership change. I don't know who made it or didn't, but I'm guessing your friends won because I'm not hearing anyone yelling for me to get in there and help clean up." Aleigh shrugs, still taking steps backward. He's nearly to the treeline now, balancing on the balls of his feet and ready to bolt. That doesn't keep him from chuckling, though. "I'm not much of a talker, and since I doubt I'll be keeping my position here, it's best if I go."

Inside, Vidal takes the potion from Merrill slowly, stopping with it just short of her lips when Velanna talks... for a moment. Then she's gulping it down quickly, eyes still on Velanna. "We, I helped you. I distracted him and he's, he was deadly when he could focus. You won't..." She trails off as her eyes dart around the room at everyone else. "You won't?"

Kian's glance at Velanna is tired. He doesn't say anything in his defense or try to pick his staff back up. Instead, he looks at Nate with defeat in his eyes. "There are always mages who are dead who didn't want to be. I've paid for mistakes and for doing the right thing. It always goes the same way. This was a mistake, so kill me or don't. But choose and don't drag it out. Please."

There's a pause between them. Nathaniel's look of anger cracks. He's a kid. It's hard not to see Thomas in him. As soon as that name gets associated with this face, Nathaniel won't have a chance.

He takes out a flask, opens it, and drinks to prove it isn't poisoned. Then he offers it to the lad.

"Fereldan whisky. You can have the rest." Whether it's taken from his hand or not, he is headed to Anders' side, crouching beside him. An arm goes around his waist.

"Can you stand, love?"

For a few foggy blissful moments, Anders is out of the cells. The bars aren't keeping him back and he can take a full breath. And then he's hauled back in and still useless as people are being hurt, and the guilt and fear spike high enough that he almost wishes the crossfire was hitting him instead.

He's still stuck in that frame of mind when Merrill suddenly appears in front of him and hands over a potion like some sort of fairy of lyrium and blood magic. That brings more guilt due to their past and it's almost crushing. Almost. There's still enough presence of mind left to him to drink it down and summon a healing mist before Nate's then in front of him instead.

"I..." He needs to get out of the cell, but more importantly he needs to help the people who have helped him. Teren's closest. Velanna's stabbed. And triage is too complicated to get his mind around right now. "Help me to," Teren's closest, his mind helpfully resupplies. Less work for Nate. "Teren. She's right there."

The potion is still working its way through Teren's system when she notices that someone is entering the cell, and instinctively jolts upward because that's the opposite of what she wants. Her dagger is out and held at the ready, her eyes narrow and every damaged muscle poised to ruin the shit out of anyone who tries to mess with the cell's other two occupants.
But then Nate just kind of walks right by her, and she recognizes that it's him, and realizes she feels like garbage, and sinks back down to rest on one elbow. Breathing as deeply as she can, she angles her head to see Alistair behind her, and notes that he looks no worse for wear. Perhaps they'll be all right.

As if to confirm he, for his part, is in fact all right, Alistair briefly snore-sniffles and twitches one foot. Like a puppy having a dream, only less cute and more on a dungeon floor.

Teren isn't the only one feeling like garbage. Ciri is aware there is a lot going on around her, many serious and super extra serious things. Instead she simply sniffs though, pulls her sword free and promptly slides down a nearby wall with closed eyes. Her shoulder hurts, broken perhaps but nap time calls.

"We won't," Merrill confirms to Vidal, taking a moment to look around the rest of the room, eyes flashing. The message is fairly clear: if you want to get to her, you have to get through me.

Jamie's presence outside the door, however, has her attention pulled there. She steps over, leaning on her staff, and peers past him toward Aleigh. She's missed most of the conversation, but she calls out nonetheless. "There's money to be made and Red Templars to kill, if you work for the Inquisition."

She thinks that might be about the only thing to convince him to stay, and she's not sure it'll be enough. Either way, there are injuries to tend to; another potion is dug out of her pouch, this one for healing, and offered to Velanna, along with a murmured "lethallan".

Aleigh pauses, considering. That speaks to him far more than she knows; he likes killing Templars. After a moment he shrugs. "I'll think about it and be in touch." With a waggle of his fingers goodbye, he summons ice and fire and creates a mist right around him that he slips away in.

Kian takes the flask, sniffs it, and his eyes water. After a tentative sniff, he's coughing as well... but that doesn't mean he's not trying it a second time because he's had an abysmal day. The second is enough, though. He closes the flask.

Vidal breathes out, nodding. There's the noise of people gathering outside and she takes another breath, steeling herself. "They don't... They don't know what's going on. They know we had prisoners, but they trusted that we had reasons for it. They didn't know who. I'll... I'll talk to anyone gathering out there? Unless one of you," she looks down, "thought you would be better talking to them." The village isn't large, but it doesn't have to be when you've got mages who can put up with crowding if it means being outside of the Circles.

Not Quite Damsels, Definite Distress

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