MOD PLOT ↠ NONE TO RETURN

[faderifting]

WHO: All characters signed up to participate in the Battle of Ghislain
WHAT: The Inquisition regroups and heads home
WHEN: Covers the period immediately post-battle (11.28) through the journey back to Kirkwall (11.29-12.1)
WHERE: North of Montfort, Orlais, and on the road to Val Chevin
NOTES: This is Post #2, covering the immediate aftermath of the battle and the journey back to Kirkwall. It's a free-for-all. Post #1 covers the battle itself. More info on the OOC post.

The Inquisition and Orlesian armies eventually limp to a halt along the Imperial Highway north of Montfort, where wide fields and gentle hills offer clear lines of sight and a sparsely equipped fortress provides some shelter and fortification. It's a soundly strategic location—if Ghislain is lost, Montfort is the last major city between the invaders and Val Royeaux—but among the rank and file there may be too much chaos to appreciate it.

For the remainder of the day and well into the night, the fortress and surrounding land are a frenzy of activity. The wounded who were not left on the field must be triaged and tended to with limited supplies, while many healers and surgeons out of commission themselves and the remainder worked to the bone. Scouts, soldiers, and even support staff in sturdy enough condition to keep working may be tasked with assembling camp from the few remaining supplies, taking reports on known casualties or acquired intelligence, or further fortifying the new location. The Orlesian army sends one of its battered cavalry units toward Ghislain to attempt to provide some warning, and from the Inquisition's number a few patrols are sent back toward the battlefield or toward Ghislain, with stern orders not to re-engage, only to watch for signs of pursuit, and to direct any stragglers.

Those who remain in the fortress are in for a long, miserable night, with meager rations and makeshift bedding, if any of either, while the wind shifts directions and grows colder. By morning a number of the wounded have died, but attempts to build a pyre are hampered by the sudden swell of a storm that starts with freezing rain and then transitions to early and unpredicted thick, heavy snow.

For a few hours that morning the two armies attempt business as normal, but it soon becomes clear that the storm is getting stronger, and they risk being snowed in with more people than they can feed. Many, including the Inquisition's Gallows contingent, are ordered to disperse. Many crowd into wagons, with any transportable wounded receiving further attention en route and neighbors hunching close to preserve heat whether they like one another or not, while those able to do so follow on foot or horseback over the rough, flash-frozen highway toward Montfort and then west toward Val Chevin. The storm doesn't abate until they've nearly reached the city, but once there they're able to stop, eat, and spend a few hours indoors thawing out before proceeding home.

Comments

[hornswoggle]

The flash of anger is worth noting. It's a frustration John had suspected must be held among the more faithful members of the Inquisition. It's not even a wholly foreign train of thought; John can't see the sense in balking when faced with the kind of threat Corypheus presents, and yet people seem to insist on dithering the way around taking the necessary actions. He hums in quiet acknowledgement as Thranduil's voice breaks, but he lets the outburst pass.

Exhausted, injured, men are less careful with their words. The flash of unfettered humanity is something to be considered, but not to be pushed any farther.

Even if what follows is a question that strays closer to more personal matters than John had intended. He runs a hand down the length of his crutch, the pad of his thumb lingering over the deep splinter in the wood.

"I survived. Those who stood before me did not, for the most part. That's something."

Though the moments in which his body failed him linger in his mind, and he frets over the few minor spells he'd fallen back on. It could have gone far worse for him.

"I don't mind admitting that I'd likely be dead if Herian hadn't come along. But overall, I'm in better shape than you so I can't complain."

John pauses for a moment, hesitating, before he presses one final admittance: "I don't disagree with you. Regarding the difficulty some seem to have when it comes to choosing to trust the Inquisition."

[rowancrowned]

"Ambassador Amsel is worthy of a great deal of praise," he says. He lets the hope that none of the Rifters will be among the fallen linger, warmer further from the battlefield, as he spots more faces in the wagon in between the exhausted naps he consigns himself to. Thranduil doesn't bother straining himself with the looking now, and focuses on John's hands instead, at their movement, at John himself.

The wagon is hardly private. But if there is every a time to express strong sentiment, it is now, among those who fought and nearly died for the cause. The ledger of worthwhile Men in Thedas is a short one, but found on it will be nearly everyone who was here today, who came eager or determined or with an ounce of understanding in their hearts.

He says, "It is the easiest choice to make."

He exhales, looks at the sky instead. "Not to fight, because everything fears pain, but to recognize evil and name it as such, behind whatever mask it takes."

Promising glory, riches. Everyone on Corypheus's side had a reason to be there. Some promised thing.

"They cannot deny what he is now without positioning themselves as allies to his cause."

[hornswoggle]

Thranduil cannot know that his words are an indictment of the man John used to be. (The man he still is and can be.) His intentions in coming to this place have not been noble; he does not feel the same allegiance to this cause as many others working within the Inquisition do. It is a means to an end. It is the prelude to a larger conflict, one John knows Madi and Billy work towards on the hostile stretch of island.

The higher elements were never part of John's consideration. He thinks of them now, uneasy with the lofty idea of rebutting evil wherever it's found.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. People are very good at lying to themselves when it becomes necessary."

Who knew better than John about the lies men would believe when they had something to gain?

"I admit, I find myself...out of my element," John tells him. "But if I can be swayed to the cause, there's hope for the rest of Thedas."

Leaving out that John is, at best, noncommittal about the cause itself.