faderift | [closed] outrun, outlast

Entry tags:

[closed] outrun, outlast

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!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

“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.”

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."

Edited 2018-08-31 00:19 (UTC)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Easy, easy," he says, fumbling his waterskin out to hold it to Nate's lips. He isn't looking at Teren just yet. He can't. Being on the run, being hunted, is brutal. He knows it. But she hurt his Nate and he's angry.

"We're going to need to help him out of here, because we can't stay. The army will find its dead men soon enough and come in force." He takes a breath, works on being... not impartial, but at least overcoming the worst of his emotions. "Does she need to be assisted too?"

"And are the people who you thought we were, how far ahead of them are we? I have to assume that you wouldn't strike blindly unless you were damn sure you were about to be attacked." Jang listens to the woods, the green flame above her casting a odd glow over people.

"If you have...additional wounded, I can help. And if we're about to be attacked, well...I can help there too." She gives a grin that looks odd in the flickering light. "Been a while since I had a target rich envrioment."

It's easy enough to transition from holding Teren back to holding Teren up, only a change in the strength of his grip, in the direction the force is aimed, and Alistair does transition, quickly, as soon as it's obvious she isn't going to keep fighting them all like a frightened cat.

You shouldn't have come, she says, and at first Alistair only smiles a little, more of a twitch than anything, because Nathaniel might be dead on the ground behind them—nope. There he is.

Alistair doesn't look back, but he does smile again, this time wider. "Yes, well. I need help fixing some trousers," he says, which is a lie. First of all because he can fix his own damn trousers.

He rearranges his hand on her shoulders when he turns back to the rest of them, arm behind her back to hold the opposite shoulder, and frowns at Jang through the dark.

Howe falls. Anders charges. What else is there to do, but get the fuck out of the way? To keep a cautious eye to the trail ahead —

No. Not when that means half-blindness to the threat (to the friend) behind. Comprehension comes slow, as though watching from a great distance. Time muddles, ebbs and flows. The air tangs of iron. She can’t say how much of it’s imagined, but then the magic’s upon him; the Fade fusing flesh. Knitting muscle. A mortal wound unmade.

Alistair has her shoulder, that shadow within shadow. The gloom murmurs something that Wren can’t catch, and,

(He's trying to stand. The thrashing stupidity of life renewed.)

"Put it out," To Jang, colder than the light deserves. Not now. Teren, who spooks at ghosts. "Your camp, Teren."

Half a bet whether she even has one. Cat or mouse, a home's a hard thing to keep. Low:

"Allow me." If she notices her slip from Wardens, she gives no sign, just an arm to Nathaniel. Wren watches Anders, wary; doesn’t chance a step closer just yet. Their options are limited, but this would be a fraught offer even under lighter circumstance.

Edited 2018-09-07 08:21 (UTC)

See? He's fine. What a drama queen.
Teren stumbles when Alistair moves, and it's becoming clearer how weak she is now that she has something to lean on. Not only that, but she's burning up, the telltale scent of infection tainting the air between them, visible in the lack of focus in her eyes when she squints them at Coupe.
"No other wounded," she says faintly to Jang, no doubt wondering who she is, but too tired to care overmuch. "It's just me. And now you. Until they come." Her head lolls back toward the forest from whence she came, and she tugs Alistair to indicate he should follow, her legs brittle and shaky as she leads them into the brush.

"I've gotten a good number," she rasps, picking her way in the darkness but having a decent enough memory of it, "and... as it would seem, they've gotten me too." She's not dead, clearly, but the lightless woods are no doubt hiding the reason some thought she was.

An afterthought: "sorry, Howe."

Nathaniel growls under his breath at Teren's apology, but takes Wren's offered support and offers no commentary. Instead, he sips water from Anders' waterskin and starts to work on easing into a sitting position against one of the trees. Once seated, he drops his head back and focuses on the sky overhead, broken apart by the branches of trees.

And now he's quiet. If there's to be a fight, he is hardly fit for it. If there's to be talk, he has nothing worth saying to Teren besides a stream of expletives. If not for Anders, he would have died tonight for no reason. He's going to avoid thinking too hard on that for now. For a summer night, he's suddenly feeling chilly and he doesn't know why. Morbid thoughts would only make him feel colder.

"And what about you? Anders seems busy but if you need healing I can cover that." Anyone with eyes could see how hurt or exhausted she was. "I can also set up some traps if we have a defensive point. What's the plan for the next step? I have to assume we don't have much time..."

Jang gives Howe a quick glance before looking at Teren again. Running is not an option with these two, we may be stuck defending. Fair enough, she thinks. If we have time she can turn these woods into a meatgrinder.

Terror spikes in his heart as Wren reaches for Nate, his hand tightens around Nate's arm... and then he lets go. Funny how someone he'd faith in is the one who nearly killed his husband, and the Templar is offering support.

"Not just busy." Wounds that serious, that life-threatening, need a lot of magic fast and there's a very clear reason he'd asked for help with helping his husband as he stands up, pale and a little shaky on his feet. He's got this, he can move quickly, can still handle a little, but there's no denying that took something out of him.

"Teren's camp is the plan for the next step; I've little doubt she's some traps there already but there's always a need for more." It's spoken to Jang as he looks over at Wren and steps back, giving physical room for her to help Nate. "Teren? Can you make it a little further before we stop to help you, or do you need healing now? I'm expecting an honest assessment."

His tone is a little cold, but he's attempting to be above all of what he's feeling.

"Whoa, wait," Alistair says to Teren, when she tries to start moving through the brush, because Nathaniel isn't on his feet yet, because there's currently no guarantee Teren will stay on hers, and Alistair can either support her or walk through dark woods without tripping but he definitely can't do both. "Can he walk?"

If not, Jang might be the best bet for his other side, unless Howe and Coupe are both prepared for the thought of her carrying him. As for Anders—

"I have lyrium," Alistair says, which is possibly a bad idea, with how concentrated Templars' version of the stuff comes, "but you'd have to be careful."

Wren shakes her head as Nathaniel slumps. He shouldn't be walking — whether he cares to or not — but it isn't as though they've a great deal of choice. The threat can less be called paranoia when they've left a dozen bodies behind, and Teren's half-there.

"Lost a lot of blood." Wouldn't move him at all, under better circumstance. These aren't those. "One of you,"

Not Teren, obviously.

"With me."

She jerks her head to Nathaniel. Probably, this isn't a great time to be slinging him over her shoulder, either.

"Made it this long," Teren grunts to Anders, suggesting that she can make it to the camp and he needn't worry about anyone but Nate until then. She regains enough strength to pull from Alistair and remain standing, beckoning quickly off the path and looking quite impatient.
"Patrols come through every hour or so," she hisses, "get a move on." Because, you know, it's their fault she almost killed one of them.

Looking intrigued by Jang's offer, Teren nonetheless doesn't take her up on it quite yet as she leads them through the darkness to her camp. It's almost imperceptible, and she whispers "tripwire," to the others before stepping over, stopping then to make sure everyone makes it over without getting stuck with poison-laced darts.
Her fire is out and there's not much to look at, just a sad and tattered little tent surrounded by thornbushes, and she seems to crumple to the ground as she moves to a sitting position so she can light a fire. "There are traps," she grumbles, "let me know if you're going to have a piss so I can point them out." No need to chop any dicks off today.

"Yes," Alistair says, which is just short of yes ma'am, because he is her boss, technically. And she did just nearly kill her other technical boss. Technically. If they're being technical. You know. But no one here is dead yet, and she's at least warned them of the other potential causes of mortal injury, so they're making some progress.

He looks at Teren, then around the camp.

Then he rips off what he hopes is not a very painful bandage.

"Where's your mother?"

He'd waved off the offer of lyrium... for then. He'll have to see what he's working with once they've got Nate and Teren settled, and weigh that against his recent promise to not overwork himself to the point he needed it.

"You can answer that while you sit down, Teren," he says. "And you're going to. Promptly, please." That's pointed, because he knows she hates healing, hates magic, seems to hate being still for any prolonged period of time, but he's not going to leave her injured and there's a lot to the way she's acting that says it's serious.

"And if you can set Nate down next to her, please," he adds, more gently. Wren's not going to scoop him up and bolt into the woods. Teren might make a break for it if she could. Which he's wagering she can't.

Well, she’s not going to scoop him up and bolt into the woods while there are dick-chopping traps.

"Easy,"

Murmured in the effort. Hardly knows Howe from Who, but there’s a certain sympathy born of the wound. An eye to Jang — best to know what everyone’s doing, particularly stab-happy rifters. Anders has been plenty eager to the blade today, but he’s a known quantity.

If she’d her way, she’d ask after the remaining snares now, should they need to make an exit. But Alistair’s question hangs in the air like so much rotten meat.

"If this is where we're gonna be attacked, if it's alright with you, I'd like to start planting the mines now. I can't do a ton, but I can do enough, and I can add some effects that may scare off the weak willed of them. Just tell me where you'd like them, and I'll get to work. Won't take long."

Jang has her rifle in her hands now, looking through the dark woods. A gunshot will also scare most of them off, but ammo is precious. Exploding cards are cheap. Best to save that for a last resort and a surprise.

Teren is already on the ground and quite content to be there, holding her side in a half-recline and gazing at the fire pit as though willing it to come to life. The light is fading, and they'll need it soon, though they have a bit more time yet.

"With Loghain," she sighs, clearly feeling the pain a little more now that she's relaxed, "he's taken her... well. I don't know where. It's better that way." For now, at least, until they can sort things out.

Jang's offer brings a little smirk to Teren's lips, and she nods her head at the girl, as if to say 'I like this one'. "The camp's all right," she says, "but save them for the roads. Give them a nice surprise next time another unit moves in."
The woman looks like she's about to fall over dead any second, but her smile is strangely warm. Ahh... murder.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed] outrun, outlast

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject