MOD PLOT ↠ BLAZING LIKE STAR-SHINE

[faderifting]

WHO: All characters signed up to participate in the Battle of Ghislain
WHAT: The Inquisition faces off against the armies of Corypheus
WHEN: Covers most of the day on 11.28 (forward-dated)
WHERE: The Fields of Ghislain, Orlais
NOTES: This is Post #1, covering the battle itself and the retreat. It contains top-levels for each of the teams and an open prompt for the retreat. The OOC post with more information/explanation is HERE. If you're not sure which team your character is on, there's a LIST. POST #2 covers the aftermath of the battle.

Scouts accurately report the enemy's movements: after a slight slow-down believed to indicate that word reached the of the Allies' sudden appearance in their path, they have elected to remain on-course, and arrive almost precisely when and where they were expected. By sunset the night before they are making camp just over the rise to the northeast, easily visible from the hill, and as night falls their fires can be seen winking along the horizon, a close-packed glow.

The mood in the camp is tense, openly jittery rather than the tightly-wound nerves of the past month, but with a sense almost of relief that after so much preparation and so many weeks of anticipation, the day has finally arrived. Some corners of the camp, particularly the greener recruits and the Antivan veterans, are raucous around their campfires, singing and drinking, playful brawls breaking out, but commanders are strict about the wine rations, and even those who choose to take the edge of this way make an early night of it. A scattered handful of men attempt to quietly slip away during the night, mostly Orlesian conscripts, but a few Inquisition agents as well. Some succeed, but others are caught and imprisoned--the Inquisition's few held to be returned to Skyhold where it can be determined if they are traitors or merely cowards, the Orlesians only as long as it takes to find a tree and an audience to watch them hang and spread the cautionary tale.

It is expected that the enemy, hoping to make up for its surprise at finding the Allies prepared for their arrival, will attempt to catch them off-guard by attacking before dawn instead of waiting, as is traditional, for first light. They are all roused from their beds to form up in the dim grey as quietly as possible, moving into formation in the wet grass, a heavy morning fog lingering on the field ahead. It's cool and raw, the air still. But the ground moves: the shudder and rumble of hooves striking earth, felt before it is heard. The Orlesians raise their pikes, the front line braces, and it begins.

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TEAMS 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • RETREAT
Team members can break off into smaller groups within their top-level prompts—it doesn’t need to be one 13-character thread—and the retreat is an open free-for-all.

Comments

[mythalenaste]

Pel probably will not see her daughter again.

As the fight rages, she sees people cut down left and right beside her. She sees soldiers falling left and right. She is lucky--she can step halfway into the Fade, existing in both worlds, as her sword flashes toward every enemy. The blood runs like a river. Don't die first, she thinks every time she encounters someone new. I am already dead, she tells herself when seeking out the next. Every kill in this battle makes Sina safer.

Vidal falls. Pel shouts, as many others do, raising her sword in tribute to those who died for this moment. More than the loss they are to others, they were her family as well. Everyone who made this happen is her family. She advances, slicing through the enemy like ham. Blood runs down one side of her face, but she's fine.

She's fine. For now.

[dashing]

Battle is not a glorious thing. The songs were lies, but this was something they had all known a long while. Battle was an unhappy necessity in war, and death was its outcome no matter if you were victorious or defeated. Pel stands, though, and that is a comfort. They have seen terrible things together before, and perhaps they will withstand this as well.

First, though: she appears at Pel's back, to see to a soldier attempting to flank and cut her down from above. Herian roughly pulls him from his horse (takes a knock from the horse in the process, but she'll live) as her blade sinks into his gut.

Hey, buddy. Fancy meeting you here.

[mythalenaste]

Good.

This is how it was meant to be, Pel and Herian fighting back-to-back. Pel can't fuss too much over the soldier who might have killed her. This is the front line, and there is always someone new to focus on. She will thank Herian later. Her sword slashes across the next, followed by a blast of fire that finishes him off. Blood splatters against her helmet. Smoke, and with it the smell of burnt hair and flesh, brushes away the metallic tang.

And now for elephants.

Pel's gaze immediately seeks out the knees. She finds Herian's eyes and jerks her chin toward the beast.

"What I freeze, can you force?" A question that may not make sense--she wants to make the joints brittle, while Herian uses force or earth magic to shatter them.

[dashing]

She can imagine Cosima's horror, to think that they were attacking the creatures themselves for the simply fact of who they bore towards them. As much as she would love to protest it, this is the unhappy reality. A further unhappily reality was that her magical talents leaned more to elements that would unfreeze than force, and she grits her teeth with frustration.

(Honour is the foundation that keeps you steady.)

Her gaze snaps back to Pel. "I doubt it," she admits, quickly, and rushes on because time is not in their favour, "but I might be able to scare them into running the other way."

She has what may be a stupid idea about a spell she's never used before. That surely couldn't go wrong.