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closed: untimely demise.
WHO: Anders, Bastien, Darras, Gwenaëlle, Ilias, Iorveth, John Silver, Kain, Kitty, Loki, Magni, Merrill, Sidony, Sorrell, Teren, and Wysteria.
WHAT: This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 18-27.
WHERE: Orlais, Tevinter, and the Deep Roads.
NOTES: There's an OOC post with a lot of info over here! This log covers everything up to the day before they return. There will be a separate log for actually returning, so don't jump the gun.
WHAT: This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 18-27.
WHERE: Orlais, Tevinter, and the Deep Roads.
NOTES: There's an OOC post with a lot of info over here! This log covers everything up to the day before they return. There will be a separate log for actually returning, so don't jump the gun.
Baron Deshaies is a gracious host, who graciously shows everyone the entrance to the elven ruins on his property when they arrive, and graciously enlists his serfs to help them set up camp nearby to beat the sunset, and graciously invites them to dine with him in his gardens—the only part of his fairly humble estate large enough to host so many people—before they retire for the night. It's a nice dinner, albeit one that's apparently stretched the capabilities of his meager household staff to a breaking point, judging by their harried manners and how hard one of them is sweating.
They're midway through the main course (and his detailed retelling of how he found and chased away a few suspicious characters who were snooping around the ruins before, heard them speaking in some funny old language, might have been Vints) when the first head droops. Then another. If anyone realizes they've been drugged, it won't be fast enough; weapons are out of reach, the food has been laced with magebane—among other things—and it's only a matter of seconds before everything goes dark.
And that's how everyone died.
No, okay—everyone does eventually wake up. But it isn't a pleasant experience. There are headaches, first of all, and dehydration, altogether similar to a horrific hangover, and it's hot and humid, and they're in the back of one of several possible carts, hidden from view by heavy canvas and packed in close to their fellow captives, being jostled unrelentingly by the stones the carts are driving over. They're also bound—everyone in magic-dampening manacles, mage or not, just to be safe—and gagged. They stay that way for a very long time, until the sun has set, and the captors who have been complaining and gossiping and telling one another to shut up for the last few hours shed their fake Orlesian and Fereldan accents. A border has been crossed, and after a few more miles they feel secure enough to take a break.
They aren't being paid to deliver dead people. So they also strip the canvas back and remove the gags, to try to get everyone to drink some water, and then let them stay ungagged. They're in the middle of Nowhere, Tevinter; even if someone heard them scream, it wouldn't be anyone inclined to risk helping them.
I. ESCAPE! The first and only good opportunity comes on the second day, when they pass within sight of a village on the outskirts of the Silent Plains, and all but three of their captors load into one of the carts—the one containing everyone's accumulated belongings—and head off to see if they can make some extra coin on the side. The three left behind are a nervous young mage who seems to think he's in charge, an armored archer who's having none of that, and a sleepy man with an enormous war hammer. The odds aren't great. But they aren't going to get better.
II. NOW WHAT? After daringly and successfully escaping into the blighted desert with only the provisions they could scavenge and from their captors and carry on their backs, everyone finds themselves in the desert with only the provisions they could scavenge from their captors and carry on their backs. So that's cool.
III. THE SILENT PLAINS. The Silent Plains are as much of a wasteland as they sound, but not really completely silent. Some animal and plant life has returned, with stretches of the desert even verging on becoming grasslands, in the ages since the Blight destroyed the ecosystem. It isn't impossible to find water or the occasional speck of civilization. There are decent odds that those civilized specks contain people who would happily report a bunch of wandering foreigners, however, so forays into villages and farms need to be done carefully and rarely—but it isn't impossible to pull off a trade here and there, or to sneak into buildings at night to permanently borrow supplies.
But that's rare. The majority of the journey is just a camping trip from hell, consisting of days of walking without shelter from the sun and nights spent in total darkness to avoid creating beacons for whoever may be trying to pursue them. Sometimes there are darkspawn.
The landscape improves just in time for another problem to arise: the border is much more heavily populated with enemy forces, and reconnaissance efforts might make clear that they're all on alert, going so far as to make neutral merchants at border crossings remove their gloves. Fortunately—as implied by the darkspawn—there's another way South.
IV. THE DEEP ROADS. In hindsight, a terrible idea. But by the time they realize that the intended path out of the Deep Roads—one that would have taken them to the surface outside of Cumberland, where they could yet find allies to help them get back to Kirkwall more quickly and comfortably—has caved in, they're already a day and a half deep into the journey.
In some places Blight crawls up the walls like black mold. Those not lucky enough to be immune to it have to cover their mouths while traveling and be careful not to leave any wounds open and exposed. Here and there the path forward gives way to chasms that have to be circumvented or crossed using improvised rope bridges. And there are more darkspawn, more frequently, but perhaps not so many as there should be.
If the provisions from the surface run out, then dinner will be roast nug.
V. THE MOUNTAINS. The last stretch of tunnel gives way to sky on the northern side of the Vinmarks. Not the southern side. Not even the top. Being able to walk the last stretch of the journey downhill instead of first climbing some mountains would be too easy.
no subject
And then Kitty acts. "Trickery" is, most certainly, overstating what she has to offer. What she has is simply this: hurling herself bodily at the man and using her weight and her pointy elbows and her fingers gouged into his eyes to bear him to the ground. It's usually a poor idea to leap upon a mage, of course, but here's her unique talent: when the mage gets over his surprise and acts, sending a bolt of magical lightning lancing through her, she simply grunts and shakes her head and digs her fingers in harder so that he shouts in pain. ]
Go on!
[ It is not a good plan. Not really. But she's at least evened the odds a bit - the mage simply doesn't have the mobility to cast spells at anyone else. And here's one better, too: she grabs at the keys at the mage's waist - hisses in pain as he scorches that hand with a fire spell, but keeps going - and she tosses the keys at Magni. ]
cw gore gore gore
Even unarmed, Magni is fearsome strong. And now, without the manacles binding her, the spirits she had been fruitlessly reaching for seem to rush about her, rallying to the faithful. It is a shroud of protection, and she falls upon the mage - one foot anchored at his shoulder, as she braces herself with both hands gripping under his jaw as she starts to pull his head upwards.
The wet tear of skin and sinew tearing is overwhelmed by the screaming, but at least it makes it more difficult for him to cast. )
i suppose more gore
John finds himself abruptly in the middle of a struggle when he'd expected—
Well, something a bit more final rather than this much less certain approach. But there's about nothing to be done now that all is in motion. (Had John known Lakshmi was where all this stemmed from, it probably would have made more sense to him.) The shackles come off, and John breaks his thumb in the same motion, quick and deliberate before he can think better of it. (The barrier spell comes from the sharp pain, rises surreptitiously like a ward from beneath them all, up beneath the boards of the wagon.) The manacles clunk to the floor. ]
I thought you were going to kill him!
[ Which is a protest that certainly isn't serving anyone now. Though John needs to do something visibly productive, so he shoves himself upright, lurches forward and swings the manacles around the neck of the mage's war hammer-wielding compatriot; the links sink into the soft skin of his neck, and John hears the hammer thunk back to the floor as he reaches up to grapple with the chain. John isn't of much use in a fight without his sword or his crutch, but at the least he can be an obstacle to this fellow. ]
continued
[ Don't worry about the mage, Kitty was going to say; I've got him; which wasn't entirely a lie, because she had him inasmuch as she could keep taking hits from his magic, her resilience carrying her through. And so she isn't quite prepared for Magni's help. And she's certainly not prepared for the form that help takes, the hot spray of blood spattering Kitty's neck and jaw, the gruesome sight of the mouth hanging loose -
She scrambles back from it, shaking her head in a vain attempt to rid her mind of the image. But - no time for that now. Only time to act.
The hammer guy is off-balance. She takes advantage of that fact by launching herself directly at his knees, slamming into them, so he falls. As he does, he twists to the side, and the chains bite deeper into his neck; he starts to struggle for breath. ]
let's just assume forever gore
It matters not: she hauls up the mage's lifeless body easily with one hand, bringing it around to shield Kitty and Silver as the archer readies another arrow. In her other hand she holds the mage's head by his hair. )
there's only so much gore available to us tho
He thinks of watching Flint bash Singleton's head in, rising covered in blood. From this vantage point, John can see where the chains dig deep into the flesh of the man's neck, and from this vantage, John remains out of reach of his flailing hands. ]
Get the archer!
[ Though even as John says this, he considers that Magni might be able to perform a similar fear in a few minutes.
(Magni's holding a severed head and a corpse. This is turning out to be a more familiar affair than he would have guessed.)
Kitty has done him a service, in either respect. It's a short moment of deliberation before John decides to follow Flint's example and swings the bulk of his target entirely out the side of the cart. Better to land on top of him and finish choking him in relative peace, John thinks. It's worth the gamble. ]
truth
No time for that. No time.
Her eyes squeeze shut. She lunges to the side, to where the other man's ankle is caught on the side of the cart. There's a dagger there, strapped to the side of his leg - not one that's good for throwing, but it'll do.
Kitty grabs the knife, and takes aim, and hurls at the archer. It twists end over end and then, miraculously, lands point-first in the archer's shoulder. The archer hisses, flinches, goes down on one knee - perhaps it's an opening. ]
forever young with the new lyrics, forever gore
And then there's a mountain of a woman charging for him, and a brief, terrified shout as Magni slams bodily into the archer. She is not so quick and deft as some, not one to elegantly dance in battle, but she is big and strong.
Magni slams into the archer as he's drawing back to take another shot, and though the arrow is still loosed it shoots over Silver's head - though it may still be in danger of catching his ear, if he's unlucky )