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! ]

II. INFILTRATION

[exequy]

Surveillance suggests that the mages reside apart from the others, presumably to avoid infecting them with magical cooties, or whatever. It's ridiculous, but convenient, offering an opportunity for a small team to infiltrate the fortress and neutralize them, leaving the Inquisition's mages safe to attack without worrying about spells being cast on their phylacteries when they do.

It's a small antechamber on the side of the ruin that's both more run-down and less refurbished, boards haphazardly plugging holes between jagged chunks of stonework, canvas still stretched across half the roof. The problem isn't getting in, it's getting there to begin with: given the guard rotation patterns, by far the best approach is to creep up from the beach, navigating a narrow goat path up the cliffside. In the dark. In the rain.

[ ooc | one log for nell, malcolm, ciri, nathaniel, and teren. it will be gmed! ]

III. FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

[exequy]

A. DIVERSION

It has been a long day of waiting, and the stress has only increased since the infiltration team left to get into position. Finally there's a signal from the team, a brief flare of flame, waved back and forth three times: the sign that indicates that they are in position. It's time to create a diversion to draw out the forces in the fortress, ensuring they don't get a chance to run to the aid of their mages before the infiltrators can neutralize them, and clearing a path for the team to get back out.

So go on. Divert.

B. BATTLE

It's pitch black outside except for the torches borne by the fighters who come streaming out of the fortress to see what's happening, and the occasional glimpse of moonlight finally sneaking through the persistent cloud-cover. Few of those present are competent enough to fight with one hand while holding a torch with the other, and the majority of them end up on the ground within moments after the battle is joined, dropped in favor of swords, axes, clubs, even a couple polearms. Of course once they're left on the damp ground to be rained on, the torches go out in moments, leaving the battlefield extraordinarily dark, lit only provided by the fire and flashes of lightning the Inquisition's mages provide themselves. It makes distinguishing friend from foe difficult, so it's helpful that so many of the enemy seems to enjoy spouting verses from the Chant or shouting insults at the mages.

The mob consists primarily of a half-trained civilian militia in homemade armor, as well as a few of their dogs. Many of their swords are edged with magebane. It's not enough to incapacitate anyone for more than a few second, but enough to cause problems if you're caught by a blade. And among them, too, are people wielding the same abilities as Templars, albeit with little of the discipline or finesse one might expect from the Order. They're all impassioned—one might even say fanatical—and won't go down without being forced to.

[ ooc | you can make your own adventures fighting the general mob as new replies to this comment, and/or tag into the specific named enemies in the comments below. the fortress and its occupants can both be wrecked without repercussions, as they're isolated and there aren't any innocent bystanders present, so have at 'em. ]

IV. RECOVERY

[exequy]

After the last fireball is thrown and the last sword is dropped, when any enemy survivors are bound and guarded, there's still much to do: bodies to identify, if possible, and see to with ideally some amount of respect for the dead; wounds to ensure won't be mortal; and the ruins of the fortress to search through. Pamphlets and a few unsent letters home will confirm that the group intended to stand against the perceived threat of free mages, beginning with opposing the Inquisition's reliance upon them and the apparent free rein they were given in the war against Corypheus. Most of the identifiable soldiers were from the Hinterlands.

In the back rooms, they will find several crates of phylacteries organized neatly around the edges of an empty room, with a stone table in the center where spells had been cast. Each has a label on it indicating the circle(s) it contains. There are scores of vials within, perhaps even hundreds, some clearly labeled, others damaged by age or careless handling. Orders from on high are to collect them and return them to Kirkwall (and perhaps ultimately to Skyhold) and they will be under careful guard from the moment they're recovered, to prevent both use and destruction, but those who are quick and determined may manage to steal a moment to paw through a box and if lucky, find and pocket the phylactery with their name on it. The rest will be loaded up onto a wagon found in the fortress stables and transported back down to the waiting ship.

[ ooc | threads for feelings! you're also welcome to do other things set after the fight or during the journey back to kirkwall. ]