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

[indissection]

It does not mean much to her, but that is only because her wording was gentle, formal and polite. It was not intended to be anything to inspire warmth or contentment, not in the way that he might think, and Sidony is mostly focussed on her own work. Her concern is making sure this man can move and use his arm once she is done, that his burns do not scar him for life. Her own injuries come second.

It does not take her too long after that to manage his arm, to sort that before anything else. With that done she can turn to the burning, the flesh that needs salve and bandages without fearing what might happen from blood loss or something else. Infection is certainly going to be something to be wary of here. With such a deep wound and so many layers to stitch and care for the risks are even higher and higher.

"You are very kind." It's said absently, distracted as she works on what is in front of her. She doesn't want to end up stabbing here where she doesn't want her needle to be. That'll just end with more damage in the end, which is the last thing that she needs. Her fingers brush over the stitches as soon as she's sure they're done, nodding her head and breathing out a noise of utter relief.

The sound she makes when she can feel his magic settle her wounds. Her ribs feel better and she can breathe a bit better, suddenly, her eyes widening for a moment as one palm presses flat against her abdomen. It's not a proper repair - she thinks if she presses she might still feel the breaks there - but it means she can move around better, tend to people better. It's more than she could ask for, considering her own inclination to avoid magical healing.

"... Thank you."