faderift | Phylactery Shenanigans

Entry tags:

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

"I too have been left waiting and wondering what the next attack will be, and when it will occur." Christine sighs, leaning back from the dog and giving him a soft pat on the head. But she really shouldn't be getting too close anymore. It feels like these events are only happening once a day, but she doesn't want to count on it and risk hurting someone.

"I have not felt so vulnerable since the Circle."

Having similar thoughts, Inessa eases back from Garahel and moves to stand, taking in the disaster that her office has become. And just when she'd gotten it exactly as she'd wanted, too. That annoyance is minor compared to what could have happened, but it remains on her mind nonetheless. She sighs deeply.

"...first that quarantine so we can't leave, and now it's risky even to stay. I wonder if this is what 'they' have planned? Lure us out when we decide not to risk others? But I can't think of a better option, at the moment." When her mind is clearer, ideas might come, but it's difficult to gain that moment when always expecting another fresh disaster to happen.

Taking to her feet as well, Christine looks around the space, deciding to offer Inessa any help she might want in cleaning it up and redecorating. But the young Warden's words leave her thoughtful.

"I had assumed whoever was responsible for this was hiding far away, but it might be possible they are in Kirkwall, and have used the recent quarantine to their advantage." Perhaps they even walked among them, delighting in the chaos they've created. However, it's only a theory.

She sighs, shoulders sagging. Being helpless is upsetting to her, but she must try to overcome it.

"I can help you clean up, whenever you wish to do so."

"I would appreciate that, thanks. Perhaps this office is best left closed or left in another's hands, for now. If I stay, any attempts at restoration could be undone in a moment." Garahel sniffs at the smoke and charred rug, but there's no apparent danger now and no injuries left, so he'll just glance back to them, waiting.

"Perhaps someone can investigate Kirkwall for us, but I fear the harm we might bring by doing it ourselves. I...I just know we can't go on like this, not much longer."

She can imagine this being a blow to Inessa, since Christine enjoys being a mage who has gained some amount of influence within the Inquisition and has her own office from which to run things.

"We will sort this out, and soon your office, as well as everything else, will be back to normal." Taking a moment to consider things, Christine sighs and winces slightly. "I did not even wish to bring this up, but I trust you, Inessa. I was thinking how we can find out where our phylacteries are, and I am afraid the only thing I could think of was tracking them with more blood magic. Believe me, I wish for any other option first. Do you know if the others have come up with any other solutions yet?"

The situation is indeed becoming dire when Inessa hears about blood magic and doesn't give it more than a brief wince. As much as she detests the thought, desperation is mounting. She sighs and shakes her head, knowing they're running out of time and options. "No, not yet. Perhaps now that the rifter illness is subsiding, the Inquisition leadership is in more of a position to help us. With random fireballs and Maker knows what else, we won't have a choice. This can't be hidden anymore."

"Especially since our fellow mages at Skyhold are also suffering. The advisors will want this sorted before the whole place goes up in flames." Crossing her arms over her chest, Christine considers what this means. There will no doubt be a clash with their attackers, and though imprisonment is always an option, chances are they won't come quietly. So it looks like blood magic is needed to lead them to their phylacteries, and then...? Some kind of encounter will ensue.

Garahel whines at that, and Inessa rests a hand on him. "The advisors at least are in a state to discuss this as a team once more, that's something. We certainly can't do it alone. Between sleeping and fireballs and...." She shakes her head, so damn weary of all of it with no real end in sight.

"I suppose I should see one of them in person, before something else happens." She so damned weary, just wanting to curl up in her own room, but for all she knows that could blow up as well. There won't be any easily-gained rest for some time.

"And then we will know how they want us to proceed. This cannot be allowed to reflect poorly on the Inquisition." Since apparently Nevarra already has their knickers in a twist about the Inquisition defiling the Necropolis or some such nonsense.

"It is a good next step, and we need a direction to take on this."

"Right." She pauses, looking back at Christine. That fear has declined, with a plan of action to fall back on, but it's not entirely gone. It won't be until she's certain of not triggering a fireball just by existing. "...it has only happened during the daytime, I believe? Has it been the same for you, as well?"

"Yes, while here at the Gallows. By the time the workday is done, whatever attack I suffer has already occurred." At least it means Church and Ponce are safe at home. But everyone at the Gallows could potentially be swept up in this too.

"We can expect that pattern to continue...which means we cannot effectively manage our work during normal hours." So much for losing themselves in work as a means to cope, though that's effectively been destroyed for her now, anyway. She shakes her head, glancing over to Christine. "Should you require assistance with the red lyrium outside that time, I'll gladly assist. I don't dare approach it when I can expect incidents like this to happen."

"I have not been in my laboratory since the incidents started coming daily," she admits, and that's the true sign that this is serious. Christine doesn't give up her work for anything.

"My team can handle things in my absence. I would prefer it if I was there to supervise, but one cannot always get what one wants."

Ah, so Christine's ahead of her in that. Sensible, and yet the fact that Christine has stepped back from lab work altogether is a worrying sign. She nods, shoulders sagging. "If Myr remains unaffected, he will manage effectively. I'm certain of that. If not, there are others who can step into the role for the time being." A frustrated noise escapes her, nonetheless. "Between this and that recent plague, we're severely behind on our goals. Likely it's just as they wanted."

"Yes. I am not one to sit idly by either." Christine is a workaholic and she knows it. Talk about a frustrating experience! Disrupting her work is one of the worst things someone could do.

But something must happen soon. They have theories, ideas, and they'll be put into action soon enough.

"I should go, before I end up blowing holes in your walls." She gives the walls of Inessa's office a critical eye.

"It will need to be renovated, regardless, but as you wish. I'll look the door behind us and make my report, then set about to not carrying the scent of smoke with me. You, too." She looks to Garahel at that, who whines. He's been good, why does he need a bath??

"Think of it this way, Garahel," Christine says. "The sooner you have a bath, the sooner you can get dry and cozy warm under a blanket with Inessa." That should appeal to the loyal boy.

That seems to mollify the mabari, and Inessa manages the faintest of smiles just for him. "She's absolutely right. I'll try to keep it short, but I'm not having my blankets smell of smoke, if it can at all be helped.

Thank you, Christine. If you need me in turn...?"

"Then I will contact you on the crystal," Christine finishes with a nod before heading towards the door. "Do you have anything else to sort out here first?"

"No, I believe we're done here." Inessa doesn't dare touch anything still intact and unscorched, instead planning to delegate as need be. With Garahel at her side, she reaches the door and pauses to cast one last mournful glance at the mess, then waits for Christine to exit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Phylactery Shenanigans

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject