the days that bind us

[exequy]

WHO: Lots of people
WHAT: Recovering lost phylacteries
WHEN: Guardian 23, 9:44
WHERE: The Storm Coast
NOTES: Violence! OOC post over here.

All signs point to the Storm Coast, and once scouts have narrowed down the location it's only a short journey across the Waking Sea to move a small force onto the rocky coast. They row ashore just after dawn in driving rain, and follow the beach for at least a mile before finding a path that actually reaches the top of the cliff. The rain fades to a drizzle but the day remains relentlessly overcast as they hike toward their goal, grey and dim even at noon, with a raw breeze off the water.

Comments

I. WAITING & WATCHING

[exequy]

They reach the spot around noon: the ruins of an old fort on the cliff's edge, stone half-crumbled but repaired with new wood, and a shocking amount of activity compared with how empty the rest of the region is. They spend the rest of the daylight hours surveilling the place from a safe distance, hunkered down behind rock formations, peering down from a hillside, observing and counting their enemies, biting their tongues and thanking the Maker for the rain when two of them burst into flames in unison.

For the most part, those inhabiting the fortress go about the usual business of maintaining a stronghold: cleaning, eating, and training with swords and shields. A keen eye might note that, while the men and women in the courtyard are of varying age and obviously limited combat experience, they're being instructed in strategies for standing against magic. At one point a mage even emerges to demonstrate, throwing fire at their angled shields on command, then ducking back out of sight as soon as she's told she can leave. And when the wind briefly stops howling and it's quiet, it isn't impossible to hear voices floating out from the fortress, and snatches of conversation—along with an invigorating pre-supper sermon from a Chantry Sister about the righteousness of their cause, the dangers of magic and the corruption of the Inquisition that's using it so freely—confirm what was already easy to suspect.

However nice it would be to go argue directly, the team has to lie low and wait until several hours after sunset to strike under cover of darkness, when the camp is quiet and the mages are (experience so far suggests) safe from phylactery attacks.

[ ooc | you can rp amongst yourselves here if you want to rp any part of the wait! ]

Inessa, OTA

[circleprodigy]

Before battle, Inessa spends her time secluded as much as possible. During the day is when she's vulnerable to magic, and she doesn't want anyone else caught in what could be a very literal blast. Garahel would be included in this, but no matter what she says and does, the stubborn mabari remains at her side. So she sits and waits quietly, a little on edge with nothing productive to do and her tormentors nearby. Lost in thought, she'll glance over only slightly upon hearing footsteps.

"Keep your distance." It's not spoken coldly, but with underlying tension. As one of the afflicted mages, she can't guarantee anyone's safety.

[ichaer]

"Or what?" Speaking of stubborn mabari.

Ciri might as well be one considering the amount of time she has kept to Inessa's side during this entire debacle. It would be hard pressed to see her anywhere else but close by and that hasn't changed since their arrival on the Storm Coast. Yet she knows that'll be changing soon once she heads off with the others to get inside and take care of whomever (or whatever) is standing guard over the missing phylacteries.

Stepping closer, she pushes strands of wet hair back and presses a kiss to her friend's forehead.

"All of this is almost over." She says as she pulls back, brushing strands of her own wet hair out of her face. "Just trust in me, okay?"

[circleprodigy]

Ciri's voice snaps her out of that mental fog, at least for the moment. That she can manage even the faintest of smiles feels like a minor miracle, even as it doesn't reach her eyes. The tension has her too wound up to truly relax, though the promise of an end -of some kind- is enough to get her to nod.

"I do, with my life. Always. That's the only way I survived Weisshaupt, and that's the only way I'll survive this. Without you -or this bottomless pit- I don't know if I would have lasted this far." Said bottomless pit wags his tail and leans into his mistress, prompting an ear scratch before he settles down on the ground. It's okay, he's not expecting to be the center of attention right now, not when Inessa's in pain.

"But I also don't want your hurt or worse, because of me. I couldn't bear that." She straightens a little and casts a Barrier over them. It won't last long, but she'll keep doing it as much as need be, if it means her companions are safe from a fireball or entropic cloud.

Re: Inessa, OTA

[judgemewhole]

"Oh please. Considering what I was doing when I was near death from the 'bleeding lyrium' disease, do you honestly think I am going to listen to that?" James stated tartly, as he wandered over with Interceptor, his horse, Dauntless, following behind him just as obediently as the mabari.

"I've brought you some water. You look pale, and I know Garahel could use it."

[circleprodigy]

Garahel perks up at that and Inessa straightens a little, sighing. "He could, yes. Thank you. I would rather none of you be caught in the spells plaguing me, but.." She casts Barrier over them, just in case it happens anytime soon. It won't last long, but she'll keep renewing it as long as she's able.

"...at least with all the rain, any flames from a fireball won't last."

[judgemewhole]

James took a seat near her, letting Interceptor go and give Garahal a friendly lick to the side of his face, and settling beside the older dog comfortably. "You do recall that I am, and have been, a Templar for quite some time. I'll dispel your little magical accidents with a wave of your hand."

[circleprodigy]

Inessa would pet Interceptor but fear of accidentally shocking or burning keeps her from usual displays of affection. She nods, and there's a faint twitch of her lips. "I never thought I would be grateful for its use on myself, but here we are.

At least you're back to your normal self, that's good to see. You weren't that much of a hassle before, you know. I'm rather glad you found my office, rather than end up Maker knows where."

[judgemewhole]

"We are in a strange new place, my friend." James had no fear in petting Garahael, and he gave both mabaris more attention because poor Inessa had to be careful.

"Back to my normal self, and feeling stronger for it. I am also pleased I came to your office - Maker knows I wandered off in dangerous enough directions. To wander in yours was a relief." He gave his friend a quiet smile, tipping his head, "So as you were there for me, I am now here for you."

[circleprodigy]

Garahel rumbles happily at the attention, as Inessa draws up her knees to her chin. She sighs, staring outward at the gloomy landscape and the fortress in sight. Her gaze rarely tears away from it, wanting every detail of that accursed place.

"Want to know the ironic part? I had a rune made, to specifically ward against blood magic. I guess it's not strong enough to overcome direct phylactery use, though."

For Nate

[justice_is_blond]

"It's another day when it's a good thing I'm not possessed," he says quietly in a light voice that doesn't reflect how he's feeling. Justice would have had him down there already, and Anders wouldn't have tried to fight it because he wants to lay waste to these people.

Anders is laying against rocks near the top of a hill, watching through a crack in them, figuring that he'll be hidden when attacked again. Not if. But Maker is he looking forward to returning the favor.

"I've decided lightning is the worst. So I'm mostly going to use lightning."

[pinprick]

Nathaniel is squinting at the fortress, trying to size it up like a puzzle he's about to put together. "Yes, love. Do you think it's possible the mages casting these spells are under duress? It's all set up a bit...prison-ish."

[justice_is_blond]

For several moments he's quiet. The mage they've seen was only there briefly, and it's clear that the Chant and Chantry are the main inspiration behind this. He's angry, he's hurting from the last attack still because he doesn't want to use too much magic when he may be in combat shortly here, but at the end of the day they could be prisoners like so many mages before them.

"Yes," he says finally. "They're either willing hostages, believing everything that's been forced on them about mages being dangers and needing to be controlled, or unwilling and they're aware that they're being used and hurt. Even now the power between a mage and a templar or a mage and a seeker is imbalanced."

[pinprick]

Dammit. Nathaniel wanted to hate these people. He hates the rest of them, these mad fanatics, but he can't hate prisoners. His arm winds around Anders' waist and he kisses his sun-warmed hair.

"If they surrender, we will take them prisoner. Considering the specific hours of the day that they hurt you, they probably don't have full access to the phylacteries. They must have been escorted and supervised. So long as we can keep them separate from the phylacteries, there's no need to hurt them more."

[justice_is_blond]

He leans into the hold, anger fading for the moment. It's impossible to stay mad when Nate is kissing him and about to fight for him.

"Taking them prisoner might be a mess." Anders swallows, looking back toward the fortress. "We take them to the Inquisition and then what? They're put under Templar authority again? Not like I think we should kill them, they've had enough of a time over it but... If there's evidence that they were coerced and forced, what happens if the guard... slips up? And a few mages escape?"

It isn't a mercy to free them from a cage for them to be caught in another for them to be put in yet another.

[pinprick]

"One thing at a time," Nathaniel says gently. "But they won't be under Templar authority either way. If they are being forced to do this, they could be considered refugees. Given the same status as any mage of the Inquisition."

A beat.

"And I'm not conscripting them," he adds, not that he thinks Anders would suggest it.

[justice_is_blond]

He nods. The mages have to turn out to be prisoners first, and taken alive second. But he'll certainly do what he can to make sure they don't have to deal with the constant guards Benedict does.

"I know. I wouldn't ask that, anyway, unless their lives were in direct danger and they were clearly not to blame. We've good reason for not recruiting right now. And... I appreciate what the Wardens have done for me greatly, but the risks," of Joining, he means, and he figures Nate understands the unspoken words, "are only worth it if we've lost and the Circles come back."

Anders takes a breath, jerking his thumb toward where there's more shouting about the Chant. "If this sort wins. The sort so many are trying to pretend don't exist."

[exequy]

a. ota

Kostos doesn’t often show off, but at the moment there’s a decent excuse. Wisps are curious and excitable, and they’ll be better behaved later if they first have some time to get over their excitement about the physical world first. Somewhat, anyway.

So he’s sitting with his back to a rock that provides a little bit of overhanging shelter from the rain, with seven wisps wandering around his extended legs, examing the scraggly wet grass and stone, making quiet and pleased whirring noises that grow briefly louder and more delighted after a roll of thunder. There’s an eighth hovering above his head, dimmer than the moon through the clouds. It’s watching the fortress below, so Kostos can watch through it.

That’s where most of his attention is, and his gaze is unfocused on an empty point ahead of him, but if one of the other seven wisps begins to wander he’ll snap out of it and click his tongue to bring it back.

b. nell

When the sky starts to darken from grey to black, Kostos ducks his way through the rocks, a line of wisps streaming unevenly but obediently behind him like ducklings, and around the curve of their hill, until he can stand straight without fear of being seen.

He finds Nell where the infiltrators are preparing to leave—not yet, but soon—and catches one of the wisps in a cupped hand to deposit it in the air near her shoulder. He’s already told it what to do. And that’s as close as he’ll come to stay safe.

Instead: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says, in Nevarran. It’s not fully a joke.

[galvanising]

Nell snorts. She has spent the day off at a safe distance in case of fire or lightning, making occasional conversation by crystal when not taking a thoroughly un-restful forced magical nap. She's been more than eager to get on with it, but as always she approaches the looming battle with a professional's methodical calm, checking gear, reviewing diagrams, rehearsing the plan in her mind.

"What even is there that you wouldn't do, exactly?" That's also only half a joke, but the wrong half, for his purposes.

[exequy]

For a moment he almost smiles, mostly around the eyes. Just a moment. Then he slides easily back into concern. "Today? Something defiant," he says, eyes sliding in the direction of the Seeker so quickly it could just be nervous shifting, "that couldn't arguably be an accident."

The wisps without other instructions flit around in search of anything interesting. One of them takes a liking to Nell's club. The other likes her hair.

[galvanising]

Nell glances at the wisps as they hover around her, lips quirking, distracted just for a moment. She reaches down to the one at her belt, cupping a hand to encourage it out of a likely path for accidental swatting. She looks back up at Kostos, jaw working.

"Anything could be an accident if we all agree it was." She glances sidelong at the Seeker, who has volunteered for this mission to assist them. Probably. She is perhaps not in the most generous mood. "Anyone who wouldn't...would be basically indistinguishable from the enemy, wouldn't they?"

[exequy]

Kostos is fairly sure no one else here at the moment, except perhaps the older Warden, speaks Nevarran, but he lowers his voice further anyway.

"And anyone who disagrees with that? Them too?"

[galvanising]

Nell looks around, tongue sucked up against the back of her teeth as her jaw shifts, side to side, chewing on nothing. She lifts one shoulder in a dismissive shrug and half a nod.

"Probably not necessary. It will be very dark. Who's to say what happened?"

[exequy]

"Nell."

The word's an argument in itself, nearly, with the disappointment and warning he packs into it, but he knows perfectly well that Nell doesn't make decisions based on what would or would not make him feel bad. And he wouldn't genuinely want her to.

"They can round us up without them, if they believe they should," he tries instead. "They have before."

Gareth | OTA

[foundmyselfagain]

He's been described as 'twitchy' at the best of times, when he's on top of things, in a good mental place. This is not the best of times, and Gareth is neither. Currently, he's a mess of agitated nerves, pacing and glancing down at the fortress, wanting so badly to just go down there and deal with the problem. Raze the fortress to the ground and be done with it.

But it's not that easy, even he has to acknowledge that, so he's left with too much anxious energy and not enough ways to deal with it.

He does calm down enough to watch when the mage shows up, eyes intent and solemn. "Maybe they're being held against their will," He offers to anyone who wants to hear it. "Maybe they're prisoners who're being forced to help them." Even to himself, he doesn't sound confident in it. He knows there are mages out there who are self-loathing (if he glances at Kostos during this thought, perhaps it's just a coincidence), and who would be willing to help people bringing other mages down. It could even not be philosophical for them--maybe they're just being paid.

But it grinds on his frayed nerves, and he slides a hand through his damp, matted hair. Weather like this is even worse for his hair than usual, and he looks about as scruffy and miserable as he feels.