faderift | Phylactery Shenanigans

WHO: Inessa (and Garahel), open to anyone else
WHAT: Suffering various spells, some with area of effect consequences.
WHEN: Over the next several days
WHERE: All over the Gallows
NOTES: OOC notes, CW for mage torture.

Library

Inessa is at her usual spot, books piled up around her table and Garahel curled up on the floor as she reads. It's a typical day, all things considered...at least until a certain point mid-afternoon. She had just stood up, deciding it was time for tea break in her office, when a wave of fatigue overcomes her and she abruptly slumps to the ground. Garahel, in the process of awakening when he heard her stand, falls back into slumber before he can so much as bark. Anyone nearby? Potentially have a sudden nap, as well.

Communal baths

A weary Inessa sinks into the water of the Templar tower baths, feeling the need for such relaxation more than ever. She leans back against the edge and closes her eyes, letting out a sign of contentment as she soaks up to her chin in the heated water. All is quiet for a while, but peace is abruptly shattered when a cone of lightning rips through the area, the water serving as an excellent means to conduct it throughout the bath. Inessa's eyes snap open as she screams, and for a moment nothing exists in her world but pain.

Central Chapel

Checking to see that it's unoccupied, Inessa quietly enters the chapel and takes a seat. That she does so mid-day is unusual; the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning are more likely to find her there, when she's unable to sleep. However, that need for solace has grown recently. Maybe a few moments here will give her the courage to face the rest of the day, whatever it brings.

She tries to clear her mind, on the verge of succeeding when a cloud of dark energy suddenly expands, blanketing the area. Garahel, seated on the floor by her side, barks in alarm but she barely hears him, overcome by the oppressive weight of the cloud and how it seems to sap the strength right out of her. It takes more than her own strength to fight it and she finds herself unable to move.

Rifts and the Veil office

The day is nearly done and Inessa is collecting her things, nudging Garahel with her foot. It's time to head downstairs for a meal before returning to her quarters, or at least that's the plan. When she hears a knock on her door, the Warden mage perks up and glances over the the door, raising her voice as she lifts her satchel from the back of her desk chair. "Enter." She can certainly take a minute, if it's important.

The moment the door opens, a deafening explosion rips through the office. Inessa is thrown clear off her feet, narrowly missing the chair but slamming against a bookcase as she rolls to avert it. Garahel, reacting quickly, yelps in pain as he tries to shield her from the flames. The singed mabari barks for help; maybe the person who opened the door is better off, or someone down the hall heard them?

Courtyard

Given the incidents that have been occuring, Inessa has tried her best to avoid the courtyard, especially during the busier hours. The magic leveled at her has become increasingly dangerous, after all, and getting others caught up in another blast of whatever isn't something she wants on her conscience. Nevertheless, it's not completely avoidable and during those times she's still not free from what plagues her.

At one point, she's passing through when a violent quake ripples through the area. Crying out, she slips and falls to the ground while Garahel likewise loses his footing. He growls, but that doesn't stop the ground from trembling and knocking them prone when she tries to move again. Deciding to stay put and hope it passes soon, Inessa crouches and glances around desperately just in case someone else is caught up in this as well.

At least at one point, it's not magic that can harm anyone else. She's the sole target, though that's little comfort when she's suddenly trapped in a collapsing cage of telekinetic force, unable to scream or even move as the pressure creates waves of pain throughout her body. Garahel whines loudly, hoping to draw the attention of anyone who can help.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Just when Carver thinks everything's finally calming down.

He's walking back from an entirely different office, releasing himself from the temporary duties he'd taken on in the Forces division during the illness that spread about the Rifters and templars. Relaxed and off guard, he regrets that stance when the explosion hits and he nearly jumps out of skin in surprise. He immediately gets down on the floor, hands braced and ready. As he looks around, he slowly begins to get up and move, hand drifting towards his sword as he searches for the source.

When he comes upon Inessa's office door, smelling the acrid stench of smoke and something burning, he starts for it. Garahel's worried barks spur him on quicker as he steps inside. "Inessa?" He fans the smoke away from his face, coughing as he avoids the flames. "Shit - you all right? Garahel?"

Garahel whines, a bit singed in places and rather tense besides. That fireball didn't just catch Carver off-guard. Inessa doesn't immediately respond, laying on the ground near the bookcase that she'd just slammed against. She winces and coughing, trying to wave away the smoke as she struggles to get up.

"...Carver?" She squints, trying to focus her eyes, then she catches sight of the flames on the carpet and books. Her eyes widen as she moves to stand, swaying in the process. Her ears are still bringing from the blast, but that's less important to her than the fact that her office is on fire in places.

With both of them having responded, Carver moves, grabbing a nearby blanket/towel/whatever the heck she has in her office and uses it to smother one of the fires. "Yeah, it's me. Maker's blood, what happened?"

"It wasn't me! Not exactly--"

The rest can wait. Inessa gestures for Garahel to stay back, and begins summoning a blizzard. The forming clouds, cold winds and ice ought to put out most of flames, whatever Carver's not reaching. It's a dramatic response, but an effective one. She'll dwell on how to fix the utter mess later on.

Edited 2018-02-15 04:25 (UTC)

It's rather painful, going from blazing hot to icy cold in such a short span of time. Carver grimaces, but endures as the blizzard spell puts out the rest of the fires. Once they're out, he tosses what he was using down and gives her a puzzled look. "Not you, exactly? Care to explain?"

Inessa flops back against a chair, Garahel resting his head in her lap. She sighs deeply, shoulders sagging. "Someone has my phylactery...and the phylacteries of other Circle mages. They're using them to torment us, via casting spells on them. We were trying to keep the matter amongst ourselves, but as you can see, it's gone beyond that now. Everyone is in danger, through proximity."

As if the recent illness wasn't bad enough, now this. Can they ever catch a break? "How did someone get their hands on that many phylacteries? And how do you even know that?" If it sounds accusatory, it's not meant to be, but Carver's a bit worried about this, to say the least. That's a lot of power over mages someone(s) has. Thank the Maker Beth didn't have one.

"It's a logical conclusion. None of those affected are apostate mages, and the defining difference between us and them is our phylactery. Many have become unaccounted for, in the chaos of the war and the Breach. Someone -perhaps rogue Templars but definitely including at least one mage- decided to take advantage of that. Though why now...." She shrugs helplessly; there's only so much she can speculate, given the lack of solid information.

"Not everyone here is from the same Circle. It'd have taken time to gather up all those phylacteries." Thedas isn't exactly small. What also worries him is how many other phylacteries they have, for people not in the Inquisition. "But... it's strange. So they're messing with them, but how do they know if anything is being done?"

"Templars and Circle mages would understand how phylacteries work, especially the former. They know it's not a matter of distance, not when they have a mage's own blood. With that, they can do anything." She steels herself not to shudder, but looks rather disturbed, nonetheless. "There's also the possibility that they have informants in Kirkwall, if not the Gallows itself."

"So... just every unaccounted for templar and Circle mage. Not exactly a small suspect pool." Maker's balls, this is a nightmare. "It's likely. Or they just grabbed a bunch of phylacteries. It's not like we can find some local apostates and casually ask them if they've been losing control of their magic."

"If only...but our information is sadly scarce, and it's difficult to plan when every day is now as you've seen. The only piece of good news is that the evening brings no attacks, or at least it hasn't so far. I suppose even torturers have to rest sometime." Bitter? Yeah, just a little. She pats Garahel as he growls, the large mabari looking anything but friendly for a moment. If he was near the people who'd harmed his mistress, he would show them how devastating a war dog could truly be.

Maker help the fools when they find them and have to see Garahel charging at them. "Have the Inquisition scouts and spies turned up anything? This is something they need to be involved with." Normally Carver doesn't like to leap to them for help, but given the scope of this and those being affected, there might be little choice in the matter.

She shakes her head wearily. "When they do, I hope we'll all hear of it. For now, it's just waiting, and more waiting. And in the meantime, I'm a risk to everyone around me." At least another earthquake hasn't erupted while they're talking, but she doesn't trust that all will be peaceful again until the sun sets.

Phylactery Shenanigans

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