faderift | Open: Waking Nightmares in Skyhold (reaction log)

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Open: Waking Nightmares in Skyhold (reaction log)

WHO: Characters in Skyhold
WHAT: Before, during, and after the eruption and attack of an Abomination in Skyhold.
WHEN: Haring 11
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Please note that the actual subduing of the Abomination is being completed by mission volunteers. Use this log as a means to react to this event otherwise. You are welcome to be attacked by or attempt to attack the monster yourself, but please refrain from doing anything that would permanently affect it or interfere with the volunteers' plans.

It's so late that it's early when the Abomination begins its path of terror between the gardens and the main hall. It seems intent on heading for Skyhold's heart itself, a continual slow drag weighted down by the way it, for whatever reason, drags the body of a young made woman behind it, by the ankle. Seven foot tall, a twisted monstrousity of human and monster, made of tattered mage robes, bony protrusions, claws, and teeth. Behind it, it leaves a trail of smearing blood and gore over dirt, grass, rock, as well as blackened scorch marks.

It can be distracted, diverted, whether by mere movement or direct attack. It wields magical fire in inelegant gusts of flame, but is just as likely to lash out physically, impossibly strong, fingers twisted into giant claws, or make grabs and attempt to sink fangs into flesh. Always, it will return to where it last dropped the corpse, and make for the main hall.

Eventually, an explosion of flame and broken stone will destroy the connecting entryway between the gardens and the hall, under the onslaught of the Abomination's magic. A deep roar reverberates through the bones of the castle, inviting one and all to join in.

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Two decades.

Two decades later, she would still know the smell anywhere. That's what strikes first, what wakes her before the noise, what chills her blood before before the sight of the moonlight reflecting off wet bone, before the taste of smoke on the air. The foetid contents of torn intestines, the sharp and metallic smell of fresh blood, the unmistakable reek of burning flesh-

-She's a girl again, staring down her fallen keeper, as if no time has passed at all.

"With me!" She shouts, loud as she dares. The abomination pays her no heed, focussed upon its slow, deliberate journey toward Skyhold's heart, and this gives her the courage to shout louder, hoping to attract the attention of anyone who, like her, isn't keen to fight the thing. "With me! To the stables! Bring the injured!"

[Once could call it luck, or perhaps one could say it was fate instead. But whatever it was, Bruce just so happened to be in the right place and at the right time - or the wrong place at the wrong time.

It happens without warning; one moment Bruce had been passing by the garden towards the stairs that led up to the battlements, and in the next chaos broke loose. The abomination begins its task of wrecking everything apart and causing havoc. The screams and shout erupt almost instantly and Bruce is only frozen in place as he watches the abomination lumber clumsily down its path, the broken body of a woman dragged behind it like a doll.

In that instant he doesn't see the abomination that everyone is currently running from, doesn't see the poor soul that had been lose. All he sees is himself, right there, right at the spot where the abomination is now.

He moves without thinking, going against the crowd, running towards the abomination rather than away from it. He can feel the magic aching to crackle at his fingertips, the need to do something, anything--

From the corner of his vision he sees some of the younger mages attempting to try and pull the woman's body out from the abomination's grip. Their attempts are enough to get its attention, and Bruce sees it starting to use its other hand to strike them down.

He pushes himself to dash the last few meters and lunges forward, shoving the mages out of the way. He feels them falling down right before a crushing force hits him at his side, and then Bruce is flying across the courtyard and landing in a painful tumble across the ground, face first. He doesn't lose consciousness, but its a close thing, and Bruce struggles to try and move even with the pain as he hears it seemingly lumbering away.

No. No, he couldn't stop here, he needed to--he had to--

Maker, everything hurt.]

Ellana rushes down the stairs from the battlements and into the garden, her staff held in one hand and ready to fight. But there's such a panic going on with only firelight to see by, and she quickly throws a barrier over the nearest mages who are running for their lives. Hearing Chaya's shout, Ellana quickly Fade Steps to a group of cowering apprentices and starts pulling one to his feet.

"You can't stay here! Follow her! Come on!" The teenagers gets to his feet, but is rigid with fear as Ellana pulls up another by her arm. "Go, now!" She checks on the situation, seeing three mages -- all on the council with her -- and the Commander attacking the abomination. The sight of it makes her stomach churn. She's seen demons and corpses, but never an abomination. Never the demon coming through and holding on to the mage's body.

Her gaze shifts to Chaya and she tries to grab her attention. She doesn't know her, so she shouts out "Lethallan!" since that should grab the woman's notice. "Lead them! I'll take the rear."

It had been another night of limited sleep for Sina, and she was in her usual haunt, sitting in the gazebo with a blanket around her shoulders and a cup of tea between her thin hands as she meditated and waited for the sun to rise. She had done this many times now, and probably would many more, but she was jolted out of her reverie by a sound unlike any she'd ever heard.

Staring in mute horror, she watched the thing form, out of-- who was that, did she know them?. Her steaming mug crashed to the stone ground as the creature twist and writhe and glow from its host, the shard in her chest seeming to pull uncomfortably in the abomination's direction. She struggled to pull breath into her lungs, one hand clutched to herself in abject panic. Then it looked at her.

She shrieked.

[It would presumably not be too long after that the volunteers arrive and do their thing. Sina remains in the gardens throughout, though she hides behind one of the gazebo pillars and casts a barrier around herself so she won't get hit with their business.

She is still there long after it's over, curled up and petrified.]

Edited 2015-12-12 22:12 (UTC)

Nahariel snapped awake, rolled from her bedding, and scrambled to her feet at a run. She was halfway to the garden before she realized she was only wearing thin breeches and an undershirt, and she'd only grabbed one knife.

That high, shrill sound of terror. She'd know it anywhere.

Sina!

Bare feet pounded on the ground, her strides like a halla fleeing flames. A stray rock bit into her careless feet on the stairs, caused a snarling stumble; the huntress half slammed into the wall at the top of them, turned for the garden and then the stench, like hitting another wall. Death.

She'd smelled it enough times, but not like this. The sickly sweet of rot, and the acrid tang of magic overlaying it, the combination enough to make her gag. Bile rose in her throat, and she spat, not caring that she was inside. Something was very wrong.

That something was standing in the hall, staring through to the garden. Nahariel had never seen one before, but she knew what it was immediately.

Era'harel. An Abomination. A demon of the Fade made flesh. No, not made. Had taken. The tower of twisted flesh and bone had once been a mortal soul. A mage, lost, through grief, or rage, or desire, had lost control. Had taken the tainted gifts of some twisted spirit from beyond the veil. She suddenly knew why Keeper Thalia had been so careful, so dilligent, with Sina's tutelage.

And then she saw the body it dragged, and her ears filled with noise, the metal taste of fear blossoming in her mouth. No, was it--but it was different, bigger. Not her clan-sister. The sudden wash of relief gave the hunter enough clarity to think. She couldn't kill it, but perhaps...

She was readying her only knife to throw, when it turned and began to lumber away from the garden, toward the hall. She entertained the notion of heroics, fully knowing it would kill if anything got between it and whatever goal the demon had, but dismissed it with a brief pang of guilt. There were others. Soldiers. Her clan had only one First. And so she slunk past behind it, picking up speed once her feet hit grass, darting looks over her shoulder and whispering urgently.

"Sina? Sina!"

Harding is not on duty.

She wakes to the sound of screaming, and shouting, and the distant but close smell of smoke. She has no idea what's happening, and that's cumbersome, even as she pulls on her boots and moves, making plans to move to the barracks or the armoury or to find Cassandra and Cullen, but it doesn't take her long to pinpoint what's in the air.

Fear.

It's Haven all over again, struck by Corypheus in what should have been a celebration. Only this time was no celebration, and there was no Corypheus in sight. No, as she made from her bedroll and into the courtyard everything is louder and hectic and out of control, there are scouts asking her what to do, what they should do, what's happening and the screams - those screams are inhuman, those screams are-

Whatever that thing is in the gardens, it came from them. That made it an abomination.

Her heart sinks.

"What do we do, Lead Scout?" one of the group asks, clutching her knife in her hands close to her chest to hide the tremors.

Harding snaps out of it, no delay. "Find the advisers!" she barks to the nearest scout that had followed after, or gathered. "Get them out of here! Be prepared to fortify wherever you choose. Be prepared for the worst."

[He felt it from almost the other side of the battlements: the rending of the Veil, a violent tearing, like flesh being split open. For a moment, Cole wavers and doubles over, his stomach and head churning as if he's going to be sick. As if he could be.

When that fades back, there's the anger. The rage. White-hot and pounding through him like a heartbeat, threatening to overwhelm --

Breathe. Taste the air. Feel the stone. Focus. As soon as he remembers himself, he's up and running toward the source of the trouble. There are people in its path. Help them. Save them.

Bruce will feel hands at his shoulders, pulling, dragging him away. Cole is stronger than his frame suggests, but his strength isn't limitless. If Bruce struggles against his grip, it's going to be difficult.]

Sina didn't shout back to her, but her remaining presence in the garden after the creature's departure was indicated by the eerie flickering of green light against the wall of the dark courtyard. She was slumped against the gazebo, unconscious but alive, her mark spitting with a faint electrical sound. A tangle of roots and branches surrounded her in a protective shield, undoubtedly her own effort, and perhaps the reason she hadn't been able to calm the shard in time.

Were she anyone else, the stable would be a poor choice. Wood. Hay. The thing that had once been a mage was spewing out flames, and the stables were a a pile of tinder waiting to be lit. But luck was with her, and the abomination had headed away from them. Besides, that was where Saeli was, and she would sooner leave men to the monster than her dear halla. That was where she was best-equipped to defend herself and others if need be.

The walk there is a matter of minutes by daylight. Now, with the sky choked out by smoke and embers, weighed down by the injured and with that monster at their backs, it seems like days. Eventually they make it. The horses complain but remain mercifully calm as they burst in to the stables, as the injured are laid on the hay for treatment. As the last of the people they could gather file in, Chaya lets out a breath and nods to her fellow elf in appreciation.

"Elgar'nan's bollocks!" She says, and then falls silent for a while - what more, after all, is there to say about this? "...At least we'll see it if it comes back our way. Hard to miss something that bright - should be safe to tend the wounded for now."

There haven't been too many times he's run into an Abomination during his life. They have been rare and few indeed, and the one time he'd had with his partner, he'd looked on grimly and knew the possibilities down his life but never considered himself weak. It was good fortunate then that his partner said he didn't think so either.

You're not weak, just a pain in my ass, Graves had said, mostly jovially, and at the time the elf had smiled.

Today, right now, in the night, he watches the Abomination from a distance, feeling hollow and uncertain.

When matters didn't involve him personally, running from a fight was always an option. Turning his back on something that he couldn't make a gain from just made sense, and he has no partner now to fear for. That ended what feels like a lifetime ago. Instead, Twisted Fate can see the Abomination go, leaving behind the stink of copper and terror.

For a brief moment, he seriously considers walking away. He knows what he's in the Inquisition for, and it isn't this.

Instead, Fate sighs to himself and goes to follow the trail warily. He isn't going to take on the damned thing himself, but he knows he should try to get people out if they're in danger.

Cyril had meant for this just to be a quick trip to drop off supplies needed when the attack had started. Then his desire had been to rush by upstairs and do what he could to help, but that had been foolish. He wouldn't be of use to any one if he was dead.

He wanted updates, to know what was happening, but instead he was stuck down here as the thing crashed around and seemed to shake the entire undercroft.

"I'm all for re-decorating, but not when it's on top of my head." He said, to no one in particular. His coping mechanism probably wasn't the best.

Sherlock had been down there all night, mixing up grenades. He had just been finishing up for the morning when the crashes and roars started above.

Given the option, he would prefer to stay out of the Abomination's path. Still... trapped underneath the castle would not have been his first choice. He reached for the sending stone to send out a message. People needed to know there were others down here, in case Skyhold came crashing down on them.

"Get it out of here!" he finished, abruptly ending the broadcast.

As far as things falling on their head... "If it breaks through the foundation, we're more likely to be blown up than crushed. If that's any consolation."

DURING.
Yuna had been out of bed with a start around the first few screams. She was used to this sort of thing, actually. Tumbling out of bed, she grabbed for her cloak and burst out into the open sky from her lodgings, searching for the source of the panic. She had to remind herself that it wasn't Sin attacking in the middle of the night, not in this world -- but maybe even something worse.

She hurried towards the nearest person, searching the area as she approached. "Wh... what's going on? Did something happen?"

AFTERMATH.
What had they called it? An Abomination... and yet that brought up more questions than answers, anyway. Huddled close to a fire somewhere on the grounds, she watched the flames absently, her thoughts a million miles away.

Yuna had seen some of the grisly details for herself, the trail of blood left behind, the smell of it, burnt and sour in her nostrils. It had been dragging a young woman behind it... what a frightening thing. Is that truly what mages could become?

Pulling a blanket tighter around her shoulders, she thought to herself how it was particularly hard to get warm today.

"We'll have no mercy of a swift, painless death. Life's too much a bastard for that."

Bernard had been pointedly ignoring all the people and things going on in the Undercroft all evening, alternating between napping at his work station or drinking from his wine skin. But now there was all this talk of death and damnation and he was forced to at least look up at the noise makers.

"This is what dreaming gets you."

"You look a bit out of sorts."

Not that one could really blame her, considering what had happened. Some would say it was inevitable, what with the freedoms the mages are given here. Others will argue against that, beginning anew the whole debate of freedoms and restraint.

Politics. Almost as messy as an Abomination.

In any case, Twisted Fate offers his mug of tea to her absently. He looks more drained and thoughtful than he does upset.

"Coin for your thoughts?" Fate asks.

The voice startled her, making her realize she had been staring longer than intended, and she looked up with a start. Her eyes flicked down to the mug, where she seemed to relax a little, reaching for it. "Thank you," she wrapped her fingers around the shape of it before taking a small sip.

Yuna picked her words carefully when she finally spoke, realizing now more than ever just how delicate the situation was. "I... that was my first time seeing an Abomination," uh oh, was that too revealing? "Up so close, I mean."

It wasn't really a lie. She wasn't very good at those, anyway.

For a moment, he gazes at her. Her eyes catch him a bit off guard; it's not something he's seen very commonly, the slightly different coloration for each iris. It's fascinating.

A smile forms on his face, faintly.

"It doesn't really get that much easier." Fate crouches down by her. "Are you a mage yourself?" He pauses, then curiously asks, "Or something else?"

Nahariel had been grateful for the shard in her clan-sister's chest precisely once: now, as the glow led her to the cluster of vegetation curled protectively around the young woman. She reached out, touched her, but got no reaction.

"Sina! Siuona!" she hissed, reaching out again to check for a pulse beneath her chin. She was rewarded with a faint beat--just unconscious then. A quick glance showed no blood, or char. She'd gotten away safely. Nari breathed a sigh of relief, then narrowed her eyes as the shard crackled like an open Rift.

Fenedhis.

Was it safer for the two of them to stay here? What if the shard called the abomination back? It hadn't attacked before, so perhaps it had some other purpose in mind. Or should she try to move her, carry her back to the healer's tents... but that would take them past the creature again. Perhaps Nari could scale the garden walls, but she wasn't sure she could with Sina on her back--slight as the First was.

No, they'd stay here.

She moved across the gazebo, crouched on the balls of her feet with her back against the pillar directly opposite Sina's. This way, she could see everything, and if Sina woke up, she'd see she wasn't alone.

And then she waited.

[It takes a moment for Bruce to register that somebody is moving him, but instead of closer its away and no, no, he can't let that happen. He has to be there, needs to be there--

His entire body is still wracked with pain but Bruce tries to struggle against whoever it is that's pulling him away. His mind is stuck only on the thought of getting there, to stop the abomination before its too late.

Or maybe its already too late, but Bruce doesn't care. Unless they're him then nobody else if too far gone. There still has to be something that can be done for the mage that's caught in that nightmare.]

"Is... it that obvious?" she should have known, but all the same offered up an soft 'hn,' at her own inability to blend in, looking down again. There's another drink of the tea, the steaming goodness of it warming her a little more.

Passing the mug back to him, she nods in thanks again, fearing that she'd down the whole cup unless he took it back. "A mage, yes. But... something else -- maybe not anymore." She wondered why her connection to the aeons had severed after her trip through the Fade, but still knew too little about it all to draw any conclusions. Wherever they were, she could only hope that they were safe.

When she glanced over this time, her head tilted just slightly, curious. "Have you... seen many of them?"

"Not so much as you might think, but I suppose as a mage it's a bit easier for me to tell than others. I'm curious how many of you have fallen out of the Fade."

The mug is accepted, and Twisted Fate finishes it off himself. He'll be certain to get more for himself, and maybe a spare cup for her. Twisted Fate pauses at her question, then he looks up out into Skyhold itself, and the remains of the Abomination's stampede.

"A few," Twisted Fate murmurs. "Hard not to. I've traveled across most of Thedas and I've seen a lot of things. A few states of possession and Abominations included. Always a little reminder if what could be."

He shrugs. "Such is the way of being a mage. I hope you don't have to worry about that."

[Bruce squirms, and Cole wraps his arms around the man's chest — which probably hurts. But getting him to safety is more important than avoiding temporary pain. It's a short distance to the next door, where they can half-hide just beyond the threshold. Cole sets Bruce down then, on his back, angled so he can still see out the door if he turns his head.

One hand on his chest. Not pressing, but suggesting. Stay. At the same time, Cole looks out. The Abomination is moving on. The mages that Bruce saved are scattering. Some in pursuit, some to shelter.]

Unscathed. Safe. Look, see. You saved them.

[It does indeed hurt, and Bruce makes a pained sound as he feels it shooting through his nerves. Distantly his mind is cataloging the injuries - fractured ribs, internal bleeding, going to need to heal - but most of his focus is on the now, on what's happening. There's an abomination on the loose and people are going after it and he can't just--just stay here and do nothing.

The moment he's set down Bruce tries to move again, but there's a hand on his chest and Bruce finally looks to see who had been the one to pull him away, only momentarily startled to see that it's the strange boy--Cole. The one who could--

That doesn't matter now.]

Not--not all of them. [His voice comes out in a rasp, his throat dry.] There's still one. One who needs help.

[The image of the abomination is stuck in Bruce's head, that warped creature who had once been human. A lost soul, now crying for help in his mind, wanting somebody to understand its pain. And who can better understand a monster than a monster himself?]

Ellana is stone-faced as their group flees out of the stronghold and down to the lower courtyard. The screams and shrieks pierce the night air and she grits her teeth, denying the urge inside her to run back into the fray to try and bring it down. These mages are hurt and frightened, and she needs to look after them. Chaya keeps up a steady pace and in the back, Ellana guards the group in case the abomination breaks past the fighters and heads for them. Luckily that doesn't happen and once they're safely inside the barn, Ellana keeps close to the open doors in case the creature comes their way.

"Yes. It's possible they may try to drive it out into the open, in which case we can retreat back through the kitchens. This barn won't hold long against it." She leans against the door frame and sighs. "This is going to make things much worse for mages here."

Taas didn't hear the screams or the roars, so it takes him a moment to even react at all.

...but then there's the explosion vibrating under his feet, the sound loud enough to whisper in his less stone-deaf ear. He freezes in his steps, heart hammering hard against his chest, memories from the explosion in Seheron rushing through his body in a bout of hooror that he didn't even think he was able to feel.

He always fought without fear. Anything from men to monsters. He was a berserker, he didn't know terror like this.

Yet he's still frozen in place, face paling and eyes slightly clouded. He could see it all again. His karataam, nothing but flesh and limbs. The silence even though their Ashaad was howling in agony, blood flowing from his torn body and onto Taas' face.

Congratulations, that was pretty much the only thing that would fuck up the fearless warrior. Wake up from the PTSD nightmare at your own risk.

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Open: Waking Nightmares in Skyhold (reaction log)

(Gathering non-fighters to safety)

CLOSED.

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ota.

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OTA

for those stuck in the undercroft.

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aftermath

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OTA / cw: gore (remembered, not current)