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

definitely did it on purpose

[exequy]

It is a wound that actually required immediate attention. It's his face, and his entire face by the feel of it, does he even have a face anymore—

but to whatever limited extent he is still in possession of a face, he uses it to twitch his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth furthest from the damage, a flash of humor peeking through his otherwise furious and blood-streaked expression, like fuck is an offer to be considered, or maybe like he's proud of himself. (He isn't. His face. Fuck.) It isn't the time or the place, but it's even less the time and place for him to complain. No one will be able to tell after the Mortalitasi reconstruct his corpse from elephant-trampled pulp.

The trampler in question has its ears spread wide, showing off tears and tatters that magic could have helped if they weren't intended to send a message, and swings its head to knock aside a soldier in its path. An Ander. It doesn't know the difference. And its frontmost rider is too busy yowling to give much direction.

Kostos steps back and throws up a barrier at once. It isn't a retreat. He just needs to see Nell's back better, the movement of her arms and the angle of her head, in order to know when to move without having to be told.

[galvanising]

Nell barks a laugh at that facial-tic of a joke, but it doesn't slow her turning to face down the charging elephant. Maybe they ought to get out of its path (they definitely should get out of its path) but it's not the only one, let alone the only danger. Cut off as they are there's nothing but dangers on all sides. At least this one can't sneak up on them. Or so Nell will rationalize it, if forced. The truth's a quicker, more instinctive calculation, heavily waited by something alarmingly close to exhilaration. Here's a challenge.

Her skin prickles as Kostos's barrier goes up. He's ready; she doesn't need any other signal to be sure of that. The question is how to go about attacking an elephant anyway. She raises her staff quickly, no hesitation to wait for Kostos to boost her spellpower--and pushes at the elephant, a wave of telekinetic force that's powerful but less than their full combined capacity, attempting to knock it off its stride.