OPEN ↠ THE WINTER PALACE, PART II

[faderifting]

WHO: Open to all.
WHAT: The War of the Lions comes to a head with tense peace negotiations scheduled for a grand Winter Palace ball
WHEN: This is forward dated to Firstfall 30 Wintermarch 15. Set following the events of Part I, located here.
WHERE: The Winter Palace, Halamshiral, Orlais.
NOTES: Please make sure to read the OOC post for more info!

It is a wonderful night, isn’t it? A beautiful party. The Empress has outdone herself. The entire evening has been remarkable, whether from the perspective of one enjoying the spectacles provided by the Inquisition, or the nuances of the Game, or even the more superficial entertainments of the evening - the music, the food, the dancing. All of it is wound together into an evening that will surely be memorable for some time to come.

And then everything begins to become rather more complicated, although admittedly still very memorable.

The first sign that things might not be as they should be comes when the doors to the main hall slam shut, and are rapidly sealed. The realization that all is not well might not spread through all areas of the Palace with equal speed, but it cannot be said that the element of surprise is neglected throughout. The Freemen of the Dales have come, and the Freemen will see to it that they finally claim what is theirs.


THE MAIN HALL.

Two things become rapidly apparent. First, the evening is not going how Celene had intended. Equally apparent is that this is not what Gaspard planned, either.

They both of them find themselves in close quarters with men and women that are armed - human, elf and dwarf alike, though the latter are in small numbers and the humans dominate the group. There are a good many elves, though, more than one might expect to find in the company of former chevaliers. Some of the invading party have slipped from the guise of servants, others are more obviously marked as Freemen of the Dales who have only just arrived.

In terms of numbers, armor and weapons, the arrival is alarming, and nervousness is palpable in the hall. Worse still, they are not alone. The apparent leader of the Freemen, a man with mustachios that would make a walrus weep, stands shoulder to shoulder with Red Templars, the red lyrium glow seeming all the more strange in the ambient light of the party. There are cries of panic from some, the gasps and outrage of many as they realize what is unfolding, and the sickening realization that despite there being a good many skilled warriors in the room in the form of noble men and woman from across Orlais, they have no weapons to retaliate with, as per the rules of entering the Winter Palace. The atmosphere is one of sickening dread. (And at least one noble is stress eating every lemon tart in sight. Can you really blame them?)

Celene, for her part, issues an order for her people to remain calm, before an elven man turns to hold the point of his sword to her throat. She does not speak further, but continues to hold her head high.

Walrusface - or, more correctly, Charles Walthier, a man of some sixty years and considerable reputation before he departed for the Freemen, steps forward. There is a ripple of chatter, and one of Gaspard’s men approaches in indignant protest, an outburst in Orlesian about conduct not befitting a chevalier. The man is cut down by a red templar before he can draw breath to continue his tirade.

Before any further heroics or speeches can be attempted, Celene and Gaspard are both swept out of the ballroom. It may be tempting to follow. But most of the doors are now barred, and the last four Freemen to leave behind the Empress and Pretender turn to fire flaming arrows at high draperies scattered throughout the hall. The only open doors lead to balconies with drop-offs that range from dangerous to suicidal, but they're nonetheless swarmed by the best-dressed frantic mob you've ever seen.


SERVANT QUARTERS.

From further away, a regular chant can be heard from the main hall: Freemen, Freemen, Freemen. At a signal, some servants are casting aside their disguises, and clusters of armed men and Red Templars are entering, some from rooms, others from hidden passages. They're ready to fight those who try to get between them and the nobility. Some of them are also willing to talk to those who seem willing to listen - about casting off the yoke of the Orlesian nobility, about reclaiming the Dales for the common man and elf alike. But none are particularly willing to let the servants and guests in the common room mount a rescue of the screaming nobility in the ballroom and gardens. If you want to try, you'll have to sneak out.

Or you can barricade yourself in a room and let the nobility look out for themselves. No one will know.


THE GARDENS.

The scents of jasmine and roses fill the air. So do screams. Evidently the Freemen and their corrupted Templar assistants have no concern about lawn preservation, hedge maintenance, or making sure exquisite fountains aren't ruined. What isn't trampled might be torn down or lit on fire. And in the midst of the chaos, an elf climbs up onto a pedestal alongside a statue of embracing lovers - lovers with oddly familiar noses - and holds a marble should for balance while he interrupts the common rallying cries of Freemen! with For Calpernia!

Comments

[circleprodigy]

It might seem ironic that the presence of Templars would bring a mage some relief, but nonetheless Inessa's spirits perk up as she hears Ser Norrington's voice. Against the Freemen, their presence is very welcome. There's no time to express her gratitude, though; that will just have to wait until they're fortunate enough to be the ones still standing afterward.

Glancing around to keep her allies' status and positions in mind, the young Warden mage gets ready to cast anew. Using the essence of the Fade, she smashes the nearest Freemen to the ground. More pickings for Garahel.

[bouclier]

Geneviève had been torn when the chaos had broken out. She's nowhere near the inner halls, but she knows that the Empress is in danger, as are the members of her family who are in attendance. The explosion at the gate had of course changed any thoughts she'd had of fighting her way inside. The green ballgown she wears likely makes her one of the more peculiar combatants, but that gives her an advantage, as the first Freeman she cuts down with the dagger she'd strapped to her thigh barely sees her as a threat until she's slit his throat and relieved him of his sword.

She follows the chaos to the gate, spotting her countrymen, Inquisition agents, Wardens, and the Templars alike, though her focus is on the portcullis. Open, it's just letting in more Freemen. She catches some of the angry yelling, knowing at least it's being addressed as a Freeman comes at her and she parries his sword with her own, driving the dagger held in her off hand into his side. Once he's down she turns, looking for her next quarry.

"Maker damned fucking traitors," she hisses, to no one in particular. "We cannot let any more get into the Palace!" Hopefully the chevalier inside are equipped to deal with whatever's happening in there.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Reinforcements are good. They need all the help they can get at the moment, given how many Freemen are charging in. As Templars come surging in for the defense, Kain feels confident they'll get the upper hand. There are an odd assortment of other fighters, which given the Inquisition, is pretty much standard these days. They've got a lot of strength on their side.

Kain throws himself into the fight full force. The more enemies that fall, the more blood shed, the stronger he gets. He lets them get a few hits on him, fueling his Dragon-Rage attack... It's a good thing he's got that barrier on him as he holds nothing back. His borrowed sword slices through enemies, one by one, cutting them down. There's no time to question what's happened, why this has happened... that will come later. For now, he fights.

[circleprodigy]

Reinforcements are definitely welcome, even as Inessa can't afford to take her attention away from Garahel's targets. One in particular doesn't looked too badly injured and as he stands to draw his weapon on her mabari, she glares, responding by encasing him in ice. When said ice shatters, this time he doesn't move.

As Garahel returns to her side once more, she gestures for other allies nearest her to back away from the cluster of Freement closest to her. "Out of range, now!" Why? Because a Blizzard spell is going to take effect shortly afterward, that's why. Dark clouds gather above, bringing icy winds with them to slow and freeze those unfortunate enough to be within its path.

[ichaer]

Reinforcements are great especially with Norrington at the charge. After their battle against Samson, Ciri knows that the templar can handle himself and lead his charges. She falls back as the Templars rush in, twisting her sword in hand before striking forward as the Templars throw the Freemen off balance with their shields.

She takes aim at weak points and exposed body parts until she hears Nessa's voice call out. A grin breaks out across her face as she twists, kicking out and striking another in the back to throw him off balance. He takes down two more with him as he falls into the cluster just as the magic comes alive, icy winds kicking up and chilling the attackers to their bone.

With a flick of her wrist, Ciri pulls her fire grenade free and lights it before throwing it into the cluster of Freemen. They wouldn't be getting out of this ill mounted attack on the Palace easily.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Even as reckless as he gets, Kain knows better than to be in the path of that icy cold blast. He does manage to give a brutal stab toward an enemy's leg, leaving the other fighter helplessly awaiting the Blizzard as he himself moves swiftly away. So far, so good. Maybe they'll be able to hold this off better than he'd thought initially.

After the ice, there's the fire from Ciri's blast to avoid, taking out another group. Who would have guessed that this evening at the Winter Palace would end in so much destruction? He heads into his rampage attack next, becoming a wild, unrelenting force as he heads straight in the middle of a bunch of the Freemen. He lets them hit him at this point... it's all according to plan for a reaver. As it is, the more devastation, the more enemies that fall... the more he's spurred on to attack all the harder. Seeing their blood spilled gives him power. Kain's sword clashes with the Freemen, continuing to cut them down.

[judgemewhole]

Beside Gaharal, there is an answering howl, as Interceptor goes to knock down their opponents by slamming his heavy head into their knees, driving them to the ground. A sharp whistle from James pulls him back while the mages level their attacks -- and then the Templars follow in after Kain, to block anything coming back out towards the mages, and get in a few slices of their own.

[rowancrowned]

The flood of soldiers rushing in is a welcome sight, but that they're Templars negates some of that delight. He's far too aware of what will happen should any of them do-- whatever it is they do that threatens to pull him apart each time. The feeling of relief spreads despite this-- every Freeman he cuts down is one less, and the flood is no longer so overwhelming.

Thranduil minds their faces when he can, the armor of the Wardens sticking in his mind. He must find them later, must thank them-- because this may well have gone the other way, with more Freemen flooding in.