faderift | [Closed] Whoops.

Entry tags:

[Closed] Whoops.

WHO: Beleth & friends
WHAT: A confusion grenade goes awry and Beleth immediately realizes the Gallows is full of ENEMIES who need to be STABBED
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Training room
NOTES: Closed to the people I already talked to about this, basically my excuse for putting Beleth on hiatus. Warning for trying to stab people??

The day starts out fairly normally, Beleth in the training room, a grenade in her hands, that she's inspecting closely. "Confusion grenades are so important," She's explaining, "Because they cut out a lot of work for us. With our enemies attacking each other, we can wait on the sidelines and let them wear themselves down on one another, before we risk any of our own." But this one is different, new, and she needs to make sure that it actually functions like a grenade, before going trying it in the field.

So, without further ado, she lights the fuse, and starts to toss it. But the grenade has barely left her hands before it goes off, a fantastic explosion that knocks Beleth off her feet.

Rising to her feet, the Scoutmaster seems to be none the worse for wear, save a quick round of wheezing coughs. A few moments of silence follows, Beleth staring at the ground as she gets her bearings, and then slowly turns to look around.

It's hard to think, mind wrapped in a hazy fog that offers little room for thoughts, aside from one.

--Enemies. She's surrounded by enemies. How did they get here? Is this an assassination attempt? How--? It doesn't matter. All that matters is that she deals with them before they hurt anyone else.

A dagger appears in her hand, and without warning, she darts at whoever is closest, slicing at their face as soon as she's within range.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Enough."

She doesn't realise she's said it, that the intention of it is there until it has passed her lips, crisp and commanding. Herian stands with the unyielding resilience of a warrior, a champion, as magic starts to crackle around her hand. Moving forward a pace, she reaches out with her right hand, and golden spirit magic forms in a long strand that thickens, splits, weaves together into something like a whip. Honour's reach, some part of her knows instinctually, as she snaps the magic forward and it reaches out, coils around Loki to bind him, harnessing his arms to his side, the other end wrapped about her hand. With each struggle against it, the whip binds tighter.

"I said stand down." As she speaks, she draws her spirit blade, and magic takes the shape of the blade. "Do you better understand me, now?"

And to Nahariel, then, "Dahlasanor, he acted in reflexive anger. Still your blade and see to Harimann."

Edited 2018-05-10 08:03 (UTC)

“At least one mage, the other—" Beleth’s words are cut off by the loud, piercing shriek that immediately follows a dagger suddenly slashing across her leg. The gash isn’t life threatening, but it’s bloody and painful, dark red already starting to blossom across her pant leg.

While the chaos rages on in front of her, Beleth kneels, hands gripping the wound. There’s a smell in her blood, the way the wound tingles in more pain than it should—she’s been poisoned. Poison being one of Beleth’s primary areas of expertise, she can recognize the signs, and if she were in her right mind, might have been able to identify it.

But time hasn’t stopped with her wound. Much to her dismay, another enemy has been drawn into the fray. Had she heard Beleth’s call for help—? It doesn’t matter. The one who had the daggers is being held back by the first one to grab Beleth, and they can deal with each other for now. The newest opponent is currently the biggest threat.

At the very least, Loki has given Beleth a weapon, and she grabs for it, wiping her blood off onto the pants that are already heavy with it. Then, ignoring the throbbing pain, she takes a run at Nari, aiming to slam into her. No fancy legwork with that wound, but this opponent is, mercifully, close enough to Beleth’s size that she can hopefully knock her off balance, and then make use of the dagger.

Which ... is right about the time James comes in, kicking open the door as only a Templar really can, sword and shield in hand with only chainmail to protect him and no helm at all. Like he needs it - he's got the Maker.

He is about to shoot off a Dispel Magic, but sees that it is the Knight Enchanter who is currently casting spells, and not the ... person on the ground. Shooting Herian an apologetic look, he points his sword at whom he assumes is the attacker. He can at least support her there, and give everyone a little more resistance against his attacks with 'There Is No Darkness'.

Glancing over at Beleth who is ... heading for Nari and the bleeding ... mage? He's not sure yet. He shifts to intercept her, calling out, "Beleth, we have this one! Where are the others?"

So far he only sees this shady looking fellow right here - but she mentioned at least two more...

Edited 2018-05-10 13:54 (UTC)

Light whips past faster that she is to wind around the man she’s leapt at, and then Herian yells for hold.

Wait. What? Had she read this wrong? Shit.

Nari wrenches around so that she only slams a shoulder into him rather than completing her intended gut slash, then rights herself to duck swiftly under the... rope (?) to follow the second command, having a strong flash of deja vu in the two long strides it takes her to get to the prostrate Cade as she yanks the belt from her waist to use as a makeshift tourniquet... only to be knocked off her feet by a vicious bodyslam from the side. She turns into it to face her attacker.

“Beleth?!” Nari yelps, pulling up a knee to turn her backwards fall into a roll to her very confused feet.

Sorrel hears the uproar and skids into the training room at a run. He's not soon enough to see the start of it, but he sees enough: a human, shouting for order, shouting orders. Cade, blood, more humans, and Nari doing her damndest to make ribbons of them all. Beleth, at the center of it all, lashing out. Magic flows, bright golden, and everyone is on the ground or pointing weapons at everyone else. Everyone is shouting. The whole of the room is absolute bedlam

Sorrel takes a deep breath, lifts both hands, and drops as great a load of frost into the room as he can muster. And then he puts two fingers into his mouth and issues the loudest, most piercing whistle he can manage. In the open air, it can carry a long way; in this enclosed cavern of a room, it rings the air like a bell.

"Everybody shut up!" He says into the ensuing silence, using his absolute best 'disappointed Keeper' voice, the one he learned at his mother's knee, though usually by having it pointed at him.

"Scoutmaster Ashara was struck when she went to demonstrate a confusion grenade and it malfunctioned," she replies cooly, though her gaze remains trained on the Tevinter, maintaining the focus of the magic. Her breath fogs the air.

"The rest can be seen to if her confusion can be quelled or some means to contain her taken."

Loki is snared by the whip as the sphere of time distortion fades and, at once, he is ready to bite and kick and stab. Were he less invested in tearing Beleth a new one, he might've gone for magic as his first resort--surely he could have broken his way out of this--but the thought doesn't cross his mind. In fact, all that does cross his mind is anger until he takes an elf shoulder to the gut and his bindings tighten around him. He's left wheezing for a moment, glowering at the woman in front of him, when it hits him--

Damn, he almost killed someone in front of witnesses. That would have been terribly inconvenient.

A cavalcade of new idiots join the fracas and, rather than winding it down, proceed to wind it up considerably. A man hefting a sword charges in, kicking down the door as he takes credit for Loki's submission. The elf who slammed into him rolls to the side and tries to tourniquet off the blonde moron's forearm--good luck with that--and then yet another knife-eared fool sprints over the threshold, drops a frost spell of middling competence on them all, and starts whistling for order.

Meanwhile Beleth has decided to murder the elf who drove her shoulder into Loki's gut, so that's at least, but he's still staring down this irritating knight enchanter, which is less than ideal.

Loki takes a deep breath and debates for a moment whether he should actually use magic to break free of his current conundrum. Seeing how it would probably have to be blood magic for him to manage it, he makes the wisest choice he has made in recent minutes, and opts to remain under the mystical rope.

"She attacked me!" He shouts and would gesture to the side of his face and neck that are brilliant crimson but his hands are bound. "And now she's doing it to someone else. Perhaps those of you with free hands should get on that!"

Oh good grief. James casts a look to the man bleeding on the ground, to Herian to confirm. He shakes off the shivers of Sorrel's spell - because it has chilled him out considerably - before he decides to do the thing that everyone seems to have problems doing. He's wearing chainmail, and he's hoping by touching Beleth - ahem - she'll recognize him.

Especially since he is going to do something he only does in private - come up behind her and lift her up, bear-hugging her off of Nari so he can talk softly into Beleth's ear. "Beleth, my fire dragon, it's all right. You're all right. I've got you. You're safe."

Even if she keeps fighting him, he'll keep whispering low enough for her to hear him, but no one else.

He is going to look over at Cade pointedly - Great Maker someone call a Healer! - before the poor young man bled out.

"She's confused," Cade says faintly, his hand twitching as he struggles to keep his arm still. He ultimately decided not to remove the knife, at least not until there's a bandage readily on-hand (no pun intended?), and he watches helplessly as Nari tries to assist only to be knocked off her feet. It hasn't even been a month since they were last in this position, is it him or the universe making it so?

"...help," he adds after a moment, to whomever will listen, "please." He's shivering.

"Oh, stop whining, you haven't lost that much blood," Loki snaps at Cade, over his shoulder and, in twisting to reply, inspires his bonds to draw tighter. He wheezes and glowers at the enchanter who has him held.

"Release me and I will see to him, assuming I needn't defend myself against her."

He jerks his head at Beleth. Tighter winds the strand. Wheeze.

Before Beleth can do any of the things the look in her eyes is promising, the Scoutmaster is gripped and bodily pulled back by the tall armored fellow, which frees Nari to lunge into a slide on the frost-covered floor that ends next to Cade. She couldn't see before, but luckily the blood's just pooling rather than spurting. With a tight apologetic smile she steadies his arm with knee and off-hand to yank the dagger free from both floor and wrist in a single motion, letting it clatter down as she whips off her scarf to bind the wound as tightly as she can, and clamping both hands around that for good measure.

It's quick and deft and almost certainly agonizing and probably could have been avoided entirely if she'd waited long enough to hear the light-wrangled mage volunteer his healing services to make up for the previously volunteered stabbing services.

But, you know. Nah.

Several people attempt to take control of the rapidly spiraling situation, and all fail. Beleth pays none of them any heed, too focused on her attempt to embed Loki's dagger in some particularly squishy part of Nari. Focused enough that she doesn't even notice James, until he's got her in a tight grip. That gets her attention.

Fear is the first emotion to grip her, dread sneaking up right behind it. Her call for aid has only brought her more enemies, putting her back into being outnumbered. This time, however, her disadvantage is far more significant--and now one of them is holding her, whispering in her ear. This is probably worse than being killed.

With the situation growing more and more helpless, Beleth's mind switches to defense, as she struggles like a very angry cat in James' arms. She leans away from him, as far forward as she can go, and then uses his pull on her against him, throwing herself back. The aim is to headbutt him in the face, since it worked well enough last time.

"Din'an i'vearla!" It's hissed out like a threat, death before captivity. A threat, and a promise.

It seems clear. They need to calm the Scoutmaster, to avoid further injuries, whether to herself or others. Calming, though, does not seem effective - containing might be the better option, and there is only so much that can be done at once.

"See to your own injuries, and do whatever you can to help him." she replies to the Tevinter, releasing him of the spell, whatever strange new magic it had been. Her tone makes her words a warning, as much as anything else. Any moves to harm Beleth or the others would be met with stern consequences. She has a spell she could cast to attempt to assist Cade, but the reality is that she's drained at best, presently, and has cast a few spells in quick succession, one new and strange that has wearied her. She will need time before she can attempt to cast something like resurgence. Nari is wrapping the wound, but that does not mean further aid would not benefit it, and better the man be granted a chance to redeem himself from the burst of temper and allowed a chance to heal himself if he is able.

Given how the Scoutmaster is thrashing and hissing, she moves quickly, gathering up some lengths of rope, as she dismisses her spirit blade. "We need to contain her, for a time, until we can secure an antidote or the confusion has passed." A look to the other Dalish present, even as she approaches the Knight-Commander holding onto the struggling Scoutmaster. "Do either of you object?"

A human Knight-Enchanter and Knight-Commander moving to tie up a Dalish division head against protestations certainly sounded terrible, no matter the practicality. Maker, someone needs to contact the other Division heads.

Edited 2018-05-12 02:20 (UTC)

"Fuck you," Is Sorrel's first opinion on that subject as he crosses towards his sister. And then he takes a breath, visibly calming himself, "Sorry, what I meant to say was, No. And shut up."

That's... technically more polite than his first try. But he doesn't have time for anyone but Beleth right now. Nari's handling the bleeding problem, and Norrington is giving Sorrel an opening. He skids slightly on the ice, misses his grab due to her flailing, and then grasps Beleth by two fistfulls of hair and ear and forces her to look at him.

"Beleth. Emma sa'aasha, melana sahlin. Breathe. It's alright. There's nothing to hurt you, vhenan," Slowly, he lets go until he's only touching, not holding, both hands cupping her face, more and more gently, "You're only confused. Something has happened, but I'm going to see that it gets fixed, alright? You trust me?"

A very brief but emphatic wail emanates from the downed Cade as Nari removes the dagger, which possibly interrupts any actual sensible conversations currently transpiring. He's immediately ashamed of his ridiculous outburst when it's wrapped, but of course there's still a possibility he'll bleed out, and that would just be really horrendously awkward. He'd be on the floor in front of all these people and--

"She recognized me," he says faintly to anyone who will listen, which is probably no one, "she knows who I am." His woozy point being, if they need someone to vouch for reality, he might be a good pick. Even if he is Cade.

"If you're going to test that do it before I heal you," Loki snaps at Cade where he lies on the floor. As he's glowering, his hand, wreathed in a whitish green light, smooths over the damaged side of his face. The bleeding slows as the wound begins to knit itself. Normally he'd let it go with one pass and move on to Cade, but this is his face and he's taking his time.

Once he's done two passes across his own face, carefully minded and slow, he finally turns his attention to Cade. He's keeping the Beleth situation in his peripheral, but ignores her (mostly) as he kneels by the blonde man. He pointedly ignores Nari--wrapping a forearm wound, honestly what was the point?

"Arm," he demands and holds out a hand, waiting for Cade to submit his own. In the meanwhile he scoops up the dagger he'd embedded in the fellow and wipes the blood off on his own pants. His outfit is already ruined, no sense it letting it ruin his dagger.

Ah, the violent ambivalence of simultaneously wanting to resume your attempted murder and finding the target an ally of necessity. "< Yes, keep your skin pristine. Nicer boots for Halesta's baby, >" she says in pleasant elven with a frosty smile as the mage turns to his own superficial injury before the ones he'd caused Cade, perhaps not having strayed as far from her roots as she'd thought. Nevertheless, the requested arm is furnished to the man, sans the bloodied scarf.

When Sorrel first approaches, she lunges at him, only stopped by James' arms tight around her. Then he grabs her, and Beleth all but snarls at him. Anger burns bright in her eyes, and at that moment, she's every bit the dangerous, wild thing that humans fear.

But Sorrel keeps talking, and Beleth has no choice but to listen. Slowly, the words stop blurring in her fogged mind, sharpening into meaning. Sorrel's words, then Cade's, and she spares a glance for the man she already recognized, before turning her eyes back to Sorrel. There's a long moment, the atmosphere as still and tense as someone holding their breath, before there's a marked change in her expression, and the breath is let loose.

"...Sorrel?" Blazing fury is replaced with baffled confusion, as her situation slowly sinks in, and her memories of the last few minutes attempt to match up against her knowledge. "Sorrel, what's going on?"

There are arms around her. Why are there arms around her. She attempts to nudge herself away from whoever is getting grabby, still confused, but at least she's stopped trying to stab everyone.

James had spent the better part of the last five minutes being very grateful that Beleth made him go through this sort of training specifically so he woulld not get a Broken Nose every time he tried to grab someone. He only shifted his attention to Loki to give him a baleful look, before focusing again to keep Beleth still as Sorrel approached.

When she finally said her twin's name, and then Cade's, he exhaled in relief, before he smirked as she squirmed.

"I take it my hugs need some work?" He intoned dryly over her shoulder. "I am going to put you down on your feet - please do not make me tackle you."

Which he does, putting her into Sorrel's hands, and stepping back. He heaves out a breath, then winces as he looks around.

"Herian - ah - are there more grenades like that one?"

Sorrel doesn't dignify that assessment with a response. Hugs? Forget hugs, he hates every one of you equally, with possible exceptions for Nari, Adalia, and of course Beleth. Cade notwithstanding, as usual.

"Easy, Bel," He reassures her as he accepts Beleth's release with two hands to steady her balance, "Something got you good, but it's going to wear off. You stay with me, we'll wait it out, okay? We'll wait it out."

Creators, please, let it wear off now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Closed] Whoops.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sneakily slides in

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