CLOSED ↠ FALSE GODS, GREAT DEMONS (GET DORIAN)

[liberalum]

WHO: Benevenuta Thevenet, Corvo Attano, Dorian Pavus, Hermione Granger, Iron Bull, Teren von Skraedder, The Outsider
WHAT: A covert operation to retrieve one time magic expert and his keeper.
WHEN: ALTERNATE FUTURE, Early Cloudreach 9:48
WHERE: Nevarra
NOTES: Canon level violence, Tranquil stuff.

It is through an intricate flurry of carefully worded letters that Teren von Skraedder and those who volunteered to accompany her on the diversion to Nevarra learn where they would be meeting Lady Thevenet and spiriting her away, and that she would not be alone. Dorian Pavus, her Lord husband, would be coming with her.

There is a lot of coastline to work with, more carefully patrolled the closer one nears to Cumberland. When they set their anchor down and row out to the grey, wintry shores, it's within a hidden cove. One evening's camping and plotting stretches into the next day, and one day's travel on foot takes them into the city proper.

The political state of affars is immediately clear. Imperial soldiers roam the streets, funnel down forest roads, and wholly possess the Imperial Highway. Nevarra is not at war, but Tevinter crawls over her like ants. The white marble, the black glass, the grey stone of Cumberland shows traces of red lyrium growth, and when Teren and Corvo enter the city in search of the agreed upon location, the deep night has taken on an uneasy red tinge. It carries on the wind and reaches, too, where Iron Bull, Hermione, and the Outsider hang back, awaiting cue to fend off danger should it snap at the heels of those leaving the city.

And lets face it. It probably will.

Comments

[qunari]

"Focus. We got a bigger game to win," Bull rumbles from nearby, hunched to allow the shadows to accommodate his substantially larger mass.

It's not as though he wouldn't find satisfaction in watching that guy tip over the edge and out of sight to a cold, watery grave. Not that at all. But they've got a mission to see to, and it's the worst kind. The kind that's personal, that itches at the back of his brain, and he's got to hold that shit in check. No room for it now.

No way he wasn't coming on this mission, either. And it's clear he's restless himself, snorting once in the cool evening dark.

[bookish_lioness]

The only bit of extra clothing Hermione has bothered securing herself has been a few scraps of rags that she's carefully tied across her shard palm, as she doesn't need the soft glow of green light to catch any unwanted attention. Of course, the insects that try to make a meal of her exposed skin are making her wish she had a heavy jumper on, but she's not quite jumpy enough to scream anytime something lands on her. Not at first, anyway.

But as time passes and a guard gets just a little too close to where they're hidden for her liking, Hermione feels more and more on edge, wishing she'd done the smart thing and had gone with the Doctor. Even if he isn't what she'd expected given Jamie's earlier descriptions of him, at least it had been easy to feel safe with the Doctor. As it is, she edges closer to Bull out of instinct; it isn't that she doesn't have any faith in the Outsider's skills or her own, but let's be honest: if it's safety she's craving, the Iron Bull makes for a rather steady shield against most physical dangers.

"He could scream and bring others running this way," she whispers thinly, not daring to get too loud. "We're here as back-up, not to set up a diversion."

[extramural]

He's bored. That's the problem. The Outsider is well used to having to sit and watch and wait; he's done it for four thousand years. In Thedas, though, he's been over stimulated -- there are so many things that are new, mysteries to solve. Now that he has to sit and wait, there is worry gnawing at his mind - worry that he is trying to ignore; Corvo is his, Marked, but his Marked die. That should be nothing new. Still...

The twitching turns into a brief spasm, and then stills, fingers flat against his legs. After a moment, his arms lift, crossing over his chest.

"I'm focused," he murmurs, settling a little against the wall. "But I don't like this."

[qunari]

"Not a whole lot to like about it. Way too many Vints for my liking."

When Hermione shifts inward, Bull hums, and one strong hand places itself at her back in reassurance. She's fine. She's going to be fine, and damn right he'll step in front of anything nasty that comes her way. That's what he's here for, be the muscle and the draw for fire while the other two do what they do.

Which is going to be short-lived if they start poking the hornet's nest. So. Someone's gotta play the voice of reason here while they wait, miserable and anxious.

[bookish_lioness]

If she were less worried, Hermione would be looking at the Outsider with no small amount of sympathy. She doesn't much like waiting, either, and that much is obvious when she tenses for a moment at the hand to her back before she realizes that it's Bull's. She doesn't calm down after that realization so much as she settles back, grateful for his presence and for the fact that the Outsider doesn't seem like he's about to go off and do something dangerously stupid.

"We haven't been waiting so long, have we?" she asks, more as a way to try and convince them that drastic measures need not be taken yet than as a way to try and keep track of how long they've been waiting. "If there were something wrong, we'd know. A flurry of guards, some shouting, something. Let's save our energy for the worst case scenario and hope we don't have to use it."

[liberalum]

The thing with tempting fate is that it so often takes the bait.

The pissing man has moved on at a lazy saunter, and it's quiet once more. Quiet enough that when the worst case scenario does arrive, it's easy enough to pick up -- the sudden influx of footsteps. Three men. Swishing garb and the hiss of light armor rather than the heavy clank of guardsmen or night watchmen.

"There's nothing," is a quiet mutter. "Should we--?"

"If they come this way, we'll cut them off."

"But if we drive them into the city, we'll lose them."

"The wilderness is no better. Come, we'll ward the area."

Three voices, all men, and then: the glimmering of magic, the white-blue of ice. With a little manoeuvring, it's possible to see the three Venatori men casting their spells -- glyphs on the ground, humming with energy, fading into near invisibility like traps.

And one of them headed for the shadows, inevitably, without really watching where he goes.

[extramural]

Three men, three mages, could be a common enough sight. It's what the three men say, speaking of they and them, that has the Outsider immediately moving one hand to his sword. There are a number of people they could be speaking of, of course -- but there are the ones they are here for, and the timing is just too close for them to take chances, to hope they're talking about somebody else.

He makes a note of where the glyphs are placed, though he's not entirely certain what he can do about it. The man heading for the shadows, however, he can do something about.

There is a glance toward the others -- the Iron Bull, tall in the shadows, and Hermione, shivering in the cold. There is a bit of a shrug as he draws his sword.

And then the Outsider turns back toward the man and lets a tendril of magic shoot out to yank the man toward him, hopefully right into his waiting blade.