[closed] outrun, outlast

[doneisdone]

WHO: Teren, Anders, Nate, Alistair, Wren, Jang
WHAT: seeking an errant Wardenmom (again), fighting the whole Anderfels
WHEN: on the way back from Tevinter
WHERE: southwestern Nevarra/the front line of the invasion
NOTES: probable violence

Several months ago, Teren took off at a gallop from the Grand Tourney in Wycome and has not been seen or heard from since. At least, that is, until a strange misfired crystal message erupted into the Inquisition's ears in the middle of one night, a familiar cry that was abruptly cut off and silent again. She has been otherwise unreachable, and it has most likely been intentional. Those who know Teren know how she can be.

The last people with whom she spoke were Alistair and Anders, not long after leaving. Perhaps it's fortunate that they know the most of her history, and know what reasons she might have had for bearing west upon news of the invasion. For this reason, on the way back from their intrepid Tevinter rescues, the party splits to move south of Perendale and check up on a little fishing village called Pike.

Predictably, the signs of Anderfel occupation are everywhere. Flags, camps posted around the town, and the ramshackle buildings themselves full to the brim with soldiers and civilians trying to keep up with the explosion of activity, working themselves to the bone to keep themselves and their families safe.
Those who have been here before will notice a conspicuous change: the Skraedder's hovel, while still there, bears no sign of its elderly elven resident. The sign is broken on its hinges, and the place seems to have been overrun by soldiers, one of whom gives the party a funny look as he stumbles drunkenly out the front door and takes a piss on the wall. At least it's outside.

Finding out what happened to Teren's mother is likely the key to finding Teren, if either of them are still alive.

[one thread please!]

Comments

[limier]

About as conspicuously Orlesian as a screaming baguette, Wren hasn’t been speaking a great deal thus far.

But large and surly does as much to head off unwelcome conversation as ever — there are mercenaries enough of late, and the lot of them must look more or less the part.

Pike’s sodden squalor might belong to any of the half-dozen occupied villages they’ve passed by, unremarkable save that they’ve stopped. Wren isn’t here to seek Teren (puts little enough value on a shriek in the night), but the Wardens have the lead; herself but tagalong company to put an eye to the lines.

To know where Teren might have gone is to claim to know anything much of the woman. She’ll concede, as they approach the broken little shack, that it’s not difficult to beat her score. Start somewhere between 'prison', and 'anything at all'.

She glances to her nearest companion, brows raised: What are we looking for?

In fairness, mimes are pretty Orlesian too.

[byblow]

“Her mother’s house.”

It’s strange to think of Teren having a mother. If Alistair hadn’t met her before he might not have believed it, when she seems so much more likely to have originated as a possessed strip of leather with claws—

which he means in the best possible way

—and he focuses on that oddness now, because it’s better than focusing on fear. Outwardly, though, he’s serious enough, quiet and gesturing toward the house (to be generous) in question with only the slightest tilt of his head.

Louder, to their new pissing friend, he says, “Have any to share?”

Ander soldiers are renowned for their fierceness, hardened by their country and dedicated to survival—but maybe that’s all the more reason to get shitfaced in Nevarra. Compared to the desert it might be a holiday.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel lifts an eyebrow, but turns his eyes away from the drunk soldier toward the house. Did Teren live there, or did her mother move in after Teren left? Contrary to some, Nathaniel has imagined nearly every possible origin story for that impossible woman. What he saw in the Fade couldn't be the whole of the story.

While Alistair hopefully distracts the soldier, Nathaniel steps into an angle at which he can give a glance into the quote-unquote-house and bends to tie his bootlace. The looks he gives inside are brief and discreet, and he counts both voices and pairs of boots. They need to know what they're up against.

[whiskeyandbrimstone]

Jang follows behind the group, looking at the burned out houses and the many soldiers. Her gloves cover her rift mark, but the fact that she's got a rifle strapped to her back may out her to the locals in any case. Reaching a hand into the pocket of her duster, she pulls out a deck of cards and starts shuffling them one-handed, looking at the other buildings. The people here seem...well like any other war zone she's seen. There are common feelings, no matter the time and place.

'At least we're not out of place...' she thinks to herself as she tries to look inconspicuous, scanning the crowd. 'There are a lot of soldiers here...lets not go looking for a fight.'

[justice_is_blond]

"We'd take stories of your victories if you're all out of things to drink." Teren's mother wouldn't have left easily. There was nothing about her that suggested she was the cut and run sort. ...other than the way her daughter cut and ran, but in theory that was to come protect her mother. Anders can't hold that against her.

"We missed all the fun." He has the look to be convincing, even with the Fereldan accent. As far as body language, Anders is standing the same way the Templars did when they'd dragged him back to the Circle yet again. It had taken practice, but he's fairly confident in it. He has to be. Teren might need them.

[doneisdone]

The soldier currently emptying his bladder furrows his brow at Alistair's question-- perhaps he's too drunk to take his meaning-- but Anders' posturing has its effect, even if temporary. "Not all of it," he chuckles, buttoning back up and turning toward them, "you're awfully clean, just getting here?"

Nathaniel, in his glance toward the door, will see that several men have passed out on their bedrolls, no doubt from a night of heavy drinking. There's the sound of retching somewhere upstairs, and as they converse with the first man, a second tromps out with the cork of a new bottle between his teeth. He spits it out on the ground and takes a swig, belching loudly after the fact.

[limier]

A house full of the drunk and hungover, and the five of them sober, with a mage in tow.

It isn’t bad odds. Still better not to chance them, if it can be avoided. This lot will have friends up and down the countryside.

She considers caution; dashes it. A step forward, a friendly hand to Two's shoulder — keeps it away from her blade — before making to move past and inside. If she’s stopped, she’ll let others do the talking.

They’re deep in the cups, even for soldiers. Pay can’t be that good, can it?

(Or she’s just used to thinking of the Anderfels as shit broke. To be considered later. Shit broke or not, they’re in her bloody country now.)

[byblow]

They're disgusting, from the cavalier attitudes to the belching, worse than the Wardens at even their most boisterous, and Alistair's capacity for faking anything is limited at the best of times, so he'll leave answering their questions to Anders and his cocky villain swagger and instead do his best to follow Coupe inside.

[justice_is_blond]

His expression falters briefly at the suggestion that there's more fun to be had. It's the sort of fun he'd like to put an immediate stop to, but there go Alistair and the Templar into danger and they don't want everyone on alert.

"Are you going to tease us with something left and not tell us what? It's been a long trip and little in the way of fun, save his piss-poor attempts at singing." That's delivered with a jerk of his thumb at Nate; his husband will forgive him and it will distract from the pair going in. Hopefully.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel does forgive him. Coupe and Alistair get no warning about whatever is inside because no matter how many men are inside, they couldn't muster the power to stand up between them, let alone fight. Don't alert the rest of the army to us sort of goes without saying. He remains standing at the angle that allows a vantage point inside the house and simply keeps an eye out. Advantage of having a ranged weapon, and all.

[whiskeyandbrimstone]

Jang moves over by Nathaniel, keeping an eye on the soldiers and the civilians. At least paid soldiers wouldn't kill you without a reason, even if the reason is 'Someone paid me to". With the rabble, well, they were unpredictable.

Jang leads towards Nathaniel, quietly talking. "So...what's the plan here, anyway? I mean, I'll follow ya'll's lead here, but seems like we don't have a lot to go on."

[doneisdone]

The man who walked out with the new bottle has barely time to laugh before he pauses, a funny look on his face, and gives a cough. A second. Then, without further warning, he vomits on the feet of the nearest person, stumbling to his knees with a look of bewilderment and fear on his bulging eyes. His companion stumbles back in alarm, either too drunk or too disgusted to help him. Comrades in arms, perhaps, but sometimes it's every man for himself.

This is around the same time that the pair who went inside will make an unpleasant observation: what they, and perhaps the denizens, thought was a drunken party house has, over a fairly short period of time, in fact become a morgue. The sounds of retching from upstairs grow feebler, accompanied by at least one thump as a body gives up the ghost. Those on their bedrolls, ostensibly passed out? The flies have already begun to investigate. Impossibly, everyone was too drunk-- too sick-- to sound a proper alarm.

On the floor by the fireplace is the crate of bottles, only a few left, distinct from the others strewn about the place by their visible improvement in quality. These spirits are no soldier's fare: they were a gift, from someone with means or, perhaps more tellingly, someone who knows their way around a bargain.

[justice_is_blond]

He stares as the man dies in front of him, making no move to save this countryman. They'd messed with Teren's mother's house if not Teren and her mother as well, and he's not really inclined to help people who he might have had to fight in a few minutes anyway.

"I think the plan is keep moving." At least his boots aren't covered in sick. He carefully steps in and around the mess, eyes falling on the bottles.

"...Do you think that was her?" Maybe it's wishful thinking to say that Teren would be behind poisoning the assholes messing with her mother's house.

the woods

[doneisdone]

The Witch was last seen dying on the edge of the woods. Why her body wasn't dragged back into town and buried, no one seems to know; if they knew it happened, the townspeople and soldiers alike have conflicting stories. She vanished into the shadows, say some; she fell to the ground and became a puff of smoke, say others; she transformed into a thousand rats who ran off in different directions and resurfaced later in the larders and barrels of the occupying army.
One thing they can all agree on is that there was-- is-- a curse involved, and according to the townsfolk, it's likely the same curse that has always plagued the home of Radegund Skraedder: a lifetime of loose morals resulting in poverty, disease, a malformed child who grew to bring only shame and disgrace upon their township. Now that the house was occupied by invaders, and its owner conspicuously missing, the resulting turn of events was all but obvious.

But that's neither here nor there.

The only lead the party has directs them to the woods, a dark expanse of pine forest and thorny undergrowth with only one path leading through it northward to Perendale. If Teren is still alive, she may be in here.

[justice_is_blond]

"Good. I like walking into the woods in the front of a group," Anders says lightly, completely ignoring anything that he might be feeling if he stops walking and starts thinking. There's a wisp in front of him, dancing around a little and lighting the way, which is the logical reason as to why he's in front instead of someone in nice, bulky armor with a nice, bulky shield.

"On the right, you'll see some trees. On the left, you'll see some other trees." He's the perfect tour guide. "There's the eyeballs of something glowing in that tree, but I don't think it's going to try to eat us today. Not while we're awake."

Blathering is the safest way to ignore everything, really. "This is incredibly narrow, someone assure me that it doesn't end in a cliff that we'd all bumble over, please." Or be shoved over. Wren is right behind him and he's very aware of that. "As a note, if I get pushed I grab. Random note. To anyone. Certainly not meant for someone in particular." Ignoring the way it feels to not see a break in the bushes, to not see any sort of trail he can follow, to not see Teren standing up ahead glaring at him for using magic to try to find her, ignoring it all. She will be here and she will be fine and he's not going to think about anything else thank you very much.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel loves his husband, thinks he is brilliant and funny, but the man needs to shut up. It’s bad enough to have a clearly supernatural light at the fore, even without a chattering mage. But not everyone here is accustomed to walking through the woods in the dark. Nathaniel forgot how badly he missed the wild. He’ll have to take Anders camping and teach him a few things.

“Shh,” he says quietly, knowing the sound will carry.

[whiskeyandbrimstone]

"Unless you want everyone to hear you coming. Which, maybe you do." There is a greenish light above Jang, a ball of St. Elmo's fire above her, lighting up as much as it can in these woods. "It'd how you deal with grizzlies. They only attack if you surprise em, so you put bells on your backpack so they'll know you're there. Course, that also tells other things that you ARE there...kinda gotya comin' and goin'."

After a few more moments of walking and eyeing the shapes in the dark woods, she says "I also have a few tricks to help us move quietly, if that's what you're after."

[byblow]

“What about tricks for being louder,” Alistair says from the rear of the party, not particularly quietly, and also not particularly interested in any tricks being done on him for anything. He’s with Anders on this one. “So we can call her. Teeeeeren.”

That isn’t a call. Only an illustration. No voice-raising. He doesn’t really want to wake anything up or alert anyone else to their presence, even if there probably isn’t anything in the woods as dangerous as the woman they’re looking for. Unless there’s, like, a dragon. There better not be a dragon.

“Oh! I know. We could tie Howe to a tree, for bait.”

[limier]

It takes work to be disliked more than an invading army.

Or rather: It takes no work at all, and that's always been the trouble. There’s some bitter irony in Teren attracting talk of curses, Teren who jumps at ghosts, and scowls for sight of a stick or gown. But fear blends easy targets, bleeds the edges.

(Bleeds more than that by the fucking look of it.)

Someone in nice, bulky armor with a nice, bulky shield examines the back of Anders’ head with thoughts of stuffing it in a nice, bulky soundproofed bag. Who needs the cliff.

But she’s inclined to agree. Mildly:

"Have you known the Warden to react well to silent surprises?" That’s rhetorical. A grand show of consideration, "I did not bring rope."

[doneisdone]

Someone is prattling, and it sounds vaguely familiar above the roaring in her ears to strike now, now.

The last person in line-- Nate-- has a talon-like hand clapped over his mouth from within the shadowy brush, a blade drawn with ruthless efficiency across his throat. Only then does one of the voices really register: calling her name. Or rather, whining it.

"Shit," comes the hiss, where normally Teren would let the victim's death gurgle announce her presence-- oh shit, oh shit. It's--

"DAMN IT, HOWE," follows a snarl, as frantic as it is exasperated, though the subject of her ire has a little under thirty seconds to live without intervention. Good thing his husband is here.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel had just opened his mouth to make a remark when he is seized from behind and cold steel digs into his throat. His breath chokes out in a gurgle and he drops to his knees. Then he hears Teren.

And this is going to be how it happens. He’s going to die in a few seconds, hot blood pulsing out of severed arteries, because of a mistaken identity. Where is Anders? He tries to call for him, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is blood.

[justice_is_blond]

He's half-turned, mouth open to joke about tying Nate to the tree being counterproductive, and then the shadows move. Move, and grab Nate. And slit his throat. For one awful years-long moment Anders is frozen, but then he's casting haste and darting forward, shoving everyone out of the way and ignoring the threat because Nate.

His husband is all he can see. Rather, it's the blood spilling from his throat, illuminated by a dutiful wisp, that is all he can see as he's casting and healing.

"You can't, don't, you owe me three years, you're not dying here," is part of an even worse babble than earlier, words with no thought behind them, just emotion.

[byblow]

This is all quite a lot of everything to be happening at once, with so many overlapping emotions that it seems best not to feel any one of them in particular, and not to do much of anything, either. Nathaniel will probably be fine, right? That's what spirit healers are for, that's—

In the meantime, Alistair moves to grab Teren's shoulder, in case she might. something. attack him again. She would not do that, but again, this is all quite a lot of everything.

[doneisdone]

It is quite a lot of everything. Teren flinches and seems like she might resist when Alistair grabs her, but then the fight goes out of her and she steps back with him, very nearly collapsing herself. In the darkness she's difficult to see, but her breathing is somewhat labored, her stance weak, her hair out of its bun and trailing down her back in an uncharacteristically messy braid.

She watches Nate and Anders silently, clearly tense but allowing Alistair to hold onto her. That took all her energy, and it was a waste, a mistake.
"You shouldn't have come," she says quietly, possibly only for Alistair to hear.

[pinprick]

The wound seals. A very stunned Nathaniel lies on the ground for a moment, scarcely daring to breathe until it really sinks in that he’s not dying. There’s blood everywhere, but he’s fine. The little blood left in him rises to his face. He seizes a nearby tree, drags himself to his feet, and points a finger at Teren.

“Teren von Skraedder, you—“

And that’s when he sways and falls like a tree, barely managing to grab hold of Anders before hitting the ground again.

“Never mind,” he grunts, head spinning.