[OPEN] Smoke and Mirrors: Perendale

[minrathousian]

WHO: OPEN!
WHAT: The Inquisition's forces fight against the Venatori to prevent Corypheus from seizing power in Perendale.
WHEN: Early November.
WHERE: Perendale, Nevarra
NOTES: Violence.

On the edges of Corypheus' territory, Perendale is the site of a major Venatori offensive--a push by Corypheus' forces to take control of the city and push his influence further across Thedas. The Inquisition's forces have rallied to answer the Nevarran governor's desperate plea for support. The battle for Perendale will decide the fate of hundreds within the city's walls.

Comments

[galvanising]

"I'm fine," Nell replies, using the butt of her staff to lever herself back up off the ground. She scuffs the soles of her boots across a dry scrap of robe, the wide sleeve of a fallen mage spread across the cobbles, its pointed cuff just shy of the spreading puddle of blood. Nell side-steps it and climbs over the bodies of his fellows to meet Wren where she stands.

It would be a stretch to say that Nell is happy to see her in particular, but a familiar face is not altogether unwelcome, and Wren did just save her life. Nell is many things, and believe it or not, team player is actually still one of them. "Thanks," she says, and it's more reflex than anything, but she follows it up with a nod of acknowledgment as she lifts her weapon. The handle is bloody and so is her hand, and she spends another moment wiping both on a dry bit of her pants before re-settling her grip on the staff. She uses it to point down the road.

"I saw a few others head that way as I arrived, retreating back to the city center through the market. It's open, but the other way is through the old city, too many choke points, places for an ambush." She seems to assume Wren will be coming along now, and if the easy way she falls into that assumption and the sense of familiarity that comes with it set her teeth on edge, she doesn't show it.

[limier]

A nod back, glance down the road,

"We will do better out of close quarters," She agrees. The girl’s yet clear-headed, and the assessment’s fair: Swords and spells alike require room to move. One needn't be trying friendly fire in times like these, and flames won’t take stone so easily as shacks. (Smothering to death, what an Orlesian way to go — )

The market's the smart play, it also means they’ll be seen coming. She takes point, doesn’t bother about unnecessary explanations as they start off: One to draw attention, the other to repay it.

If Wren hasn’t recognized who Nell is, the what’s far less a mystery.

[minrathousian]

They are seen coming.

The Spellcaster has secured the square, but perhaps got a bit cocky in the process. While she maintains a small contingent of zealots at her disposal, she appears to have over-estimated the security of her position.

When Wren and Nell are seen, she's quick to cast a barrier across herself and four of her sword-wielding zealots, who all charge forward to accost the interlopers. She lays fire and ice mines to protect herself.

[galvanising]

Nell falls into formation, a few paces back on Wren's flank, ranging as wide as the street allows, the better to keep a clear line of sight to any enemies ahead. It would be a shame for Wren to get caught in her crossfire, after all. At least right now.

When their enemy appears, Nell's not as quick to cast a barrier as their foe, instead firing off a barrage of energy bolts and flinging a hail of stones and debris at the mage opposite, pummeling her shield with projectiles. It's only at the last second, once the soldiers are nearly within reach, that Nell throws a barrier into place around Wren and steps near enough to put herself within its cover as well, spirit blade suddenly glowing to life on the flat end of her staff as she prepares to engage from closer quarters.

[limier]

Here they go —

It's been too long since she was in the field before today. Nerves grind, heart slams a rapid pace beneath plate and bone. But it always does: What the body doesn't learn, the mind doesn't listen to. Fear's a funny thing,

And you learn to tune it out.

The first of them, the fastest, meets shield with blade — with an opening low and stupid, to step into and shove him down. Stomp on his face (once, twice) to find the second’s already cut within her guard. Turn the blade, step aside (a third now) only to catch another across chain and that’ll leave a mark but not one written in her arteries, so it'll do; gives her a wide slash, a feint. Gives someone else a reason to fall on rent on hamstrings.

Spit and hiss the whole while in a bid to look the fucking madwoman, to keep them off the true threat behind. The girl's shown herself more than capable, still, better not to be swarmed.

Wren jams a blow, pushes ahead with stubborn insistence. Pale light gleams to collect about each swing. It’s not enough to keep them all (one, two) from slipping aside her, bearing down towards Nell.