[CLOSED] Smoke & Mirrors: Kirkwall

[minrathousian]

WHO: CLOSED to those who signed up.
WHAT: Inquisition personnel work to identify Venatori agents who have infiltrated the Inquisition in Kirkwall.
WHEN: Early November.
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Violence, murder.

In Kirkwall, the threat to the Inquisition is more covert:  four Venatori agents have infiltrated the Inquisition's base of operations in the Free Marches, and have insinuated themselves well into the workings of the organization. Perhaps they have made befriended you, or established themselves as a quiet loner who prefers only to focus on their work, with little interest in socializing. Actionable intelligence suggests that they will take advantage of the Inquisition's reduced numbers in Kirkwall to attempt to seize valuable information. The trouble now is identifying just who the infiltrators are--and stopping them before they access vital information, or create further havoc.

Comments

[paladingus]

As far as Simon has present reason to believe, having only caught a glimpse of that flash of blade and surge of blood before his gaze locked onto the fleeing infiltrator, Benedict is a lost cause. He would have few regrets about this even had he time for them, but he's already taken off after 'Hendon' before Myr can tell him to give chase, with strides as long as his armor will allow--

Were it not for the last remaining glyph, he couldn't have been completely sure of overtaking her. But she stops short without warning, and even his vague awareness of the glyph's presence doesn't keep him from nearly overbalancing as he halts with her.

"Drop the knife," he commands, unsheathing his sword again. What magic she might bring to bear, he isn't sure, and he waits with coiled muscles and pounding blood to silence her at a moment's notice--but she certainly hadn't needed magic to lay the prisoner out, and Simon's not about to risk a blade in the eye.

[minrathousian]

The look that 'Hendon' fires at Simon out of the corner of her eyes is full of loathing, but also fear; whoever this infiltrator is, she knows to dread the approach of a Southern Templar. But now, whatever her fate may be, she is incapable of escaping from it. She closes her eyes and swallows, unable to move without great difficulty, but forces her fingers to uncurl from around her knife.

It drops to the ground, blade red with Benedict's blood.

[altusimperius]

Too distraught to do anything but obey, Benedict does exactly as Myr instructs, lying down, pressing against the wound, taking the cloth; and already he's starting to feel dizzy, cold, like the world is swimming and the only thing keeping him where he is is the sharp flare of pain at his neck.

[faithlikeaseed]

Shock has its uses.

Keeping one hand on the cloth--what he's learned of Benedict doesn't lead him to believe the younger man's much used to major trauma--Myr takes up the phial with the other, popping the cork and downing the contents in one practiced motion. (He hasn't practiced; adrenaline makes everything keener.)

Ordinarily he'd use a diagnostic spell first--but that's a waste of time with the burn of lyrium in his veins and the certain knowledge the wound's well beyond his meager ability to heal, and they haven't time to waste. Raw power will have to do where finesse and natural talent are lacking; there's little grace in the way he reaches into the Fade now, wrenching at creation's energies to force blood to clot and a scab to form. It isn't clean or elegant or complete--and itches like hell as damaged nerves reach for their severed ends--but it stops the bleeding. At least it stops the bleeding.

(Getting bits of cloth out of that pretty new scab can be a better healer's problem.)