faderift | But despite what you've been told

Entry tags:

But despite what you've been told

WHO: Cecil, Kevin, Sherlock, Maxwell, Korrin, Lenneth
WHAT: Four brave Inquisition members go to rescue a group of very odd people
WHEN: the next few days
WHERE: on the edge of Emprise
NOTES: Rescuers feel free to use the ooc post here to plot out how you want the rescue to go down. Feel free to make up camp details/NPC actions. Action will be split into three main threads: Captive chatter, rescue, and travelling (both coming and going). Rescue will be a group log, but for the others feel free to do one-on-one threads.

The report’s directions are clear, at least, which is good - how else would the scouts be able to find the camp in this cold, desolate landscape. Snow as far as the eye can see, but there are great red shards of lyrium breaking through the ground. The only sounds are the grunting noise of red Templars stalking their way through the construction site echos along the frozen grounds, and the freezing wind that bites through skin and fur alike.

Scattered among these fearsome foes are cages. They look almost like caravans - giant cages on wheels, with cowering, shivering figures within. A few elves, primarily humans, all cold and hungry and uncertain about their fate.

Within one of these cages, a tattoo-covered human is conducting interviews.

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Close enough to have a view of the cages but far enough away that whispering won't be overheard, Korrin grips her staff and glances to the others with her. After all the watching and heartache, it feels good to finally be doing something about the cruel conditions imposed on the captive villagers. She's itching to go, but has worked as a group long enough not to just rush ahead without consultation.

"I'm ready to draw some attention, if those who can pick locks are likewise ready to make use of that. If there's anything else to say, now's the time." She's typically not long on patience, but also wants to give the captives their best chance for freedom. Should there be any last-minute notions that will turn the tide, she'll listen.

"And I am ready to ensure that the attention you draw has little effect on you," Lenneth replied, her quiet words accompanied by the soft hiss of a well-oiled blade coming free from its sheath. She checked the blade with her thumb, nodded grimly. "If we are able, we should kill them all in this attack. They cannot be saved from corruption now... only returned to the cycle. And it would not do to leave any able to pass along information about our capabilities." The Valkyrie thinned her lips, eyes flickering across the cages. "Or to follow us later."

"Agreed?"

This is the second time Sherlock and Korrin have been sent on assignment together, and Sherlock is finding he doesn't half mind working alongside the mercenary. She's practical, direct, confident in her abilities but all business when it comes down to it. None of this is anything he would have said to her face — but as a show of appreciation, he's been happy to pay her the same courtesy in return.

He's less sure about the rifter. Can't be sure about any of them, really, and that's the broader problem. But here she is talking about taking on the whole camp herself. No matter how sturdy that armor looks, he has his doubts.

"So long as they're not looking my way when you lop off their heads."

Maxwell had never met any of the group before they'd been teamed up together for this rescue mission, but he settled readily in with them just the same. They were of the same mind - if not the same world - and that's what mattered to him.

Helping these people.

Pulling an arrow, he nodded as he shifted, readying his weight.

"Once we've got the cages open, I can provide cover for the villagers and make sure they get well out of the way."

Aside from Sherlock, Korrin hasn't spoken or worked with the others before, something which she now laments. It's always easier to function as a group knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses, and this mission must succeed. But it's also true for her that the best way to learn about someone is to fight alongside them, and she'll see their mettle soon enough.

Nodding to all that's said, Korrin manages a small, grim smile. "Then we're as ready as we'll ever be. Good luck, everyone." She nods to Lenneth, thoroughly agreeing about the Red Templars and ready to channel her rage about what they had done.

Seeing no reason to delay, Korrin then quietly moves away from Sherlock and Maxwell, not wanting to have them anywhere near her when she abandons stealth. That moment comes as soon as she's in position, casting Barrier over herself before straightening and drawing attention with her Chain Lightning spell. She needs to take out as many as possible, and has a few more spells in mind to affect that end.

The burnt ozone smell of Korrin's lightning hit Lenneth's nose around the same time the screams began. She closed her eyes briefly and flexed her fingers in the cold air, let a calm dispassion settle over her like a cloak. This may be another world, but there was still battle. And she was still a Battle-Maiden.

She vaulted over the low wall they had been using for cover, and surveyed the camp quickly.

Three cages; two close, one on the other side of camp. Two tents, flanking the far cage. Table. Documents. One jutting spire of Red Lyrium large enough for cover. Three visible Templar: one sword, one sword and shield, one marksman... and...

Lenneth frowned at a space nearby the others. Ostensibly empty air, yet still crackling with the vestiges of the Chain Lightning. Another one, then. Invisible.

"Four!" she called, voice ringing in the frigid air, "One ranged, one assassin! The lightning still catches it, Korrin!"

That was the first target, then. An unseen enemy could do irreparable harm to the rear. And the innocents. The warrior set her feet, then charged toward the flashes of electricity that still lingered in the air.

And they're off. The crackle in the air and the smell of the lightning is enough signal for Sherlock to move, still low among the snow and rocks, one hand on the hilt of his knife. He pauses, as close to the cages as he can get without being spotted got the moment — Lenneth's shout is loud enough to hear from there. Useful.

He glances upward. The marksman is just visible... until he moves to get a better vantage point. Then Sherlock's off again, making for the first cage.

Korrin and Lenneth leaped forward, directly into the midst of the camp. Sherlock moved aside, low and fast, skirting around the edge. Maxwell moved back, taking a couple trees for a bit of cover as he began to fire. His arrows slipping past the mage and the rifter, to strike at the Templars.

He heard Lenneth's shout and shifted his aim from the enemy archer to the seemingly empty space he'd moved the tip of his arrowhead over. They might not see it now for the net of energy, but if he could get an arrow in it, even if he didn't take it down....

He aimed fast, but true, and let loose.

Ugh, assassins. Korrin isn't close enough to initially notice what Lenneth did, but now that it's pointed out, she can see the empty space affected by her lightning. As Lenneth charges and Maxwell fires, she blurs away at a different angle with Fade Step, forcing the Red Templars to divide their attention. That done, she sets about to making more use of her talent with Storm magic.

If there's one thing Korrin's learned in her time as a Valo-Kas mage, it's how to place her spells so that they reach her foes, not inundate allies with friendly fire. She manages a few ordinary blasts with her staff before the perfect moment arrives. Placing her spell at an angle to catch both the warriors and hopefully the assassin, though not the marksman, Korrin smirks as the electricity field she creates takes effect. The moment those Red Templars try to leave, they'll be paralyzed. Not only that, but as they're injured a lightning bolt will strike them as well, causing additional pain.

The lingering sparks that had outed their invisible foe faded away quickly. Lenneth grimaced, tried to push forward faster. By the time she got to it, she wouldn't be able to -- A dark sliver whizzed past in her peripheral, and Maxwell's arrow struck. The Valkyrie smiled. The smile widened as the assassin, staggering slightly from the archer's hit, got caught in the edge of Korrin's field as it came to life with a crackle across the ground. By the time she set her feet to swing her sword, it was a full grin.

The shock of blade biting deep into flesh was doubled as lightning streaked from the field, ran along the metal, and grounded in the body of the twice-unfortunate Templar. It let out an unearthly shriek and slumped sizzling into the snow. The Valkyrie shoved it clean of her blade with her foot, shook out her left arm to relieve the buzzing feeling being so close to the lighting had left.

"Assassin down! Well done, both!" she called out, then raised her head to search out the marksman... who gave his position away with an arrow that punched through the pauldron protecting her right shoulder. She felt the barest prick of it, pulled the shaft free with a snap, and pointed along the trajectory.

"Up there!"

Another one whizzed past in answer, screeching off the edge of her already damaged shoulder-guard.

Well, they were certainly loud enough to keep attracting attention. But Sherlock's eyes were drawn to the door of the cage as he approached. The hinges were sturdy, but not exactly made to be opened quietly. The creak as they opened could give away his position much earlier than he'd like.

Knowing what the mission entailed, he'd come prepared for this. Nothing more than a vial of oil, which he pulled from the pouch where it was concealed as he reached the cage. With one nimble hop — and a slightly sweep of his coat — he was standing on the rim of the wheeled cage, holding a finger to his lips to signal silence to those inside, his eyes mostly hidden under his hood.

Oil was applied to the hinges before he climbed down, lowered his hood, and began to pick the lock, always listening and watching the periphery of his vision for danger.

Maxwell took Lenneth's direction - more from her gesture than the shout, the words themselves lost under the din of the fight - but as he drew another arrow, he glanced quickly aside toward the cages, monitoring Sherlock's progress. Trying to keep an eye out for the rogue as he slipped to the door and crouched.

As soon as he freed the prisoners within, they'd become his responsibility. And he was determined that they make it away from the camp in one piece.

Gaze swiveling back on Lenneth, he loosed, and was rewarded with a dead shot on the marksman as he had crouched, preparing for a full, deadly draw.

Well, that takes care of the marksman. Freed from that issue and ready to continue attracting attention with as much noise as possible, Korrin focuses instead on helping finish off the pair trapped in her magic. Taking advantage of that temporary paralysis before the static cage fades away, she triggers a glyph and unleashes a massive explosion underneath them both.

Naturally, the sound of battle attracts more Red Templars in the area. Hearing the clank of armor approaching, Korrin takes advantage of the moment to put more distance between herself and them before glancing over to assess the backup. She's not done flinging lightning around, and as soon as they're in range, another Chain Lightning will go off.

No more arrows came after Maxwell's shot flew. Lenneth nodded approvingly and turned her gaze to the two trapped in Korrin's lightning field... just as the ground beneath them exploded with a loud whoomph, filling the air with dirt, chunks of ice, and snow. A strong mage, to be sure.

Movement from the tents caught her eye. Two more Red Templar emerged; one held a massive shield, the other reaching for a greatsword strapped across his back. The Valkyrie ran for them, dropping into a slide across the icy ground that knocked the greatsword wielder off his feet before he could draw. She hopped up nimbly and maneuvered around, hoping the tower shield wielder would turn to face her. He did.

Despite having cornered herself, she smiled fiercely: with the shield towards her, he'd left his back exposed to the tender mercies of Korrin and Maxwell.

The lock was heavy, but the mechanism inside was crude. He would have it open in seconds --

He spotted the movement in the tents, then, and stopped. The moment the door was opened and the captives took off, the chances of one of those templars catching him out would start to rise. And there were still two to go. Sherlock looked past the cages toward the tents, or rather, the patterns of impressions in the soil nearby. How many more were currently concealed?

One of the people in the first cage, a woman, noticed his hesitation and started to speak in a loud, panicked whisper. "Come on, quickly!"

"Shut up," Sherlock hissed at her. He had only seconds to make a decision - but that was all he needed.

"Run towards the arrows," he instructed them all, as he finished undoing the lock. "Try not to get hit." The lock sprang free, and Sherlock was already moving on. Surely they could reach through the bars, pull off the lock, and open the door themselves. That would buy him another moment of time, and every little bit helped.

Cecil had been watching with what was, bluntly, wide eyed amazement, sometimes saying "hah!" under his breath even though Sherlock had specifically told them to be quiet. Once the lock sprang free the other prisoners started piling out and therefore so did Cecil - but rather than follow instructions, he was, oddly, following Sherlock instead.

Not really to help so much as to watch, and be able to report accurately on it later.

"Thank you!" He did say, however, with a smile, his actual eyes crinkling though his tattooed one did not. "Can I assume that you're from the Inquisition? Do you have any comment to make on the current situation?"

Maxwell had seen the cage door swing open out of the corner of his eye, bright Emprise sunlight flashing off the steel, and he'd taken a daring step out from his cover to gesture toward the captives.... But paused, surprised and confused, one of them broke off from the group and - was he purple? - tailed after Sherlock like a long-lost pet.

What was he--

The reinforcements came tearing suddenly into the field, and Maxwell jumped back just in time to miss the knife meant for him as it thunked thickly into the tree trunk. Drawing quickly, he started firing again, catching the templar that turned on the cornered Lenneth just as he was making a convenient target of himself.

Taking advantage of that exposed back, Korrin grins as she aims her staff at the Red Templar, launching a salvo of lightning blasts from her staff to home in on the target ahead. That they strike at the same time as Maxwell's arrows might be overkill, but she's not about to start feeling sorry for Red Templars. They brought this upon themselves, for what they did to the villagers.

The cages are noted, but she doesn't dare draw attention to them by glancing their way, trusting in Sherlock to handle that end. For her part, she blurs ahead again to reach Lenneth. As soon as she's within range, Korrin renews her Barrier spell so it can encompass her companion as well. That greatsword wielder is getting back on his feet, and she's not about to have Lenneth face him alone.

Just as she'd hoped, her trapped position reversed quickly. She couldn't see much of what had downed her foe from the other side of the massive shield, but she assumed it had somewhat to do with well-placed arrows and the lightning striking snake-like from the sky.

Lenneth landed a boot in the center of the shield, knocking the wielder to the ground, and thrust her blade into the now exposed place beneath its helmet. Redundant, perhaps, but these were not men anymore, and she did not know what the Red Templar were truly capable of.

As she yanked the sword free, Korrin blurred into existance beside her and made some movement. Lenneth felt an odd sensation in the air around her, as if it were moving to form a sort of shield. No, not the air. Something else. She furrowed her brow, reminded of the wall between her and her powers. Perhaps it wasn't a wall at all, perhaps it was more...

The Valkyrie's face went blank with concentration, and instead of yanking on the power, she reached. Her free hand moved forward. Light tinged with blue danced along her fingers, collected, and then shot forward in a thin scintillating beam to impact the Red Templar's arm as it lifted the massive sword into a ready stance. It crystallized, encased in ice, and Lenneth let out a wild cry of exultation, sprinting forward with sword already swinging to shatter both crystal and arm.

His steps didn't slow, but Sherlock cast a bewildered look over his shoulder at the prisoner following him. And asking questions. Questions whose contents Sherlock pointedly ignored as he strode on to the next cage, because really, if there were ever a time for such things, this was not it.

"Hush," he instructed, having listened just enough to know the man was still talking by the time he started on the second cage. At the same time: movement on the cliffs above. Another archer, this one with the correct vantage to see the one empty cage. The new arrival let out a shout, and Sherlock swore under his breath. He and the tagalong had not been spotted yet, but it would only be a matter of seconds. He would need to maximize every one.

"Down," he hissed, putting a hand over the top of the man's head to 'encourage' him into a crouch, while Sherlock got to the ground himself, and began picking the second lock.

"I take that as 'No comment'," Cecil had been in the middle of saying when suddenly there was a hand on his head and he was being pushed down to the ground. He didn't fight it (after all, the man had just rescued him), but had no idea what he was ducking from, so while he did stay down, he was looking around curiously and probably not-at-all helpfully.

"Ah - now I see, that one is about to shoot--" He started, but was cut off by an arrow suddenly whizzing past his face, fletching nicking his ear, to slam into the snow behind him.

Light was flashing below in the camp, not just from Korrin now, but from the rifter as well. He hadn't realized Lenneth was a mage... but all the better he decided in a heartbeat.

An archer was bearing down on Sherlock and the strange prisoner (maybe he was helping somehow?) that had followed him, and Maxwell had no choice but to turn his aim from the women below to them.

He yelled for the freed captives - just reaching him - to take cover and then began to trade arrows with the archer pinning down Sherlock. The Templar was good, so Maxwell had to settle for driving him back and into cover - at least until the man slipped up and gave him a shot.

Lenneth's magic catches Korrin by surprise, and while she does her best not to let that hinder her, that moment of pause could have been disastrous. Silently reprimanding herself, the Vashoth mage backs away and renews her focus. She won't be any good to anyone if she's felled due to distraction. This is one more reason to get to know her allies -and their powers- better, especially the rifters.

Just because she put some distance between them doesn't mean Korrin is done helping Lenneth, though. Fine with being a ranged distraction while Maxwell focuses his aid elsewhere, she keeps firing with her staff, waiting for the chance to renew her lightning assaults as soon as she can.

Even armless, the greatsword wielder continued his assault--albeit with a wicked-looking shortsword from his belt. Lenneth grimaced, the brief elation from finally touching her magic falling to the wayside as the Red Templar advanced. Truly these creatures were tainted beyond repair. She reached again, felt her fingers tingle, but no power built. Perhaps she now used the energies of--what had they called it?--the Fade, rather than her own Divine energy. It made a certain kind of sense.

The shortsword whipped out at her and she blocked it just in time, wincing slightly at the impact. The battlefield was no place for theory. The power came or it didn't--it was not to be counted on.

Not wishing to look away from her opponent, she called to Korrin over her shoulder. "Is this the last?"

Where the previous prattle of questions had earned a confused glance, this time the man gets a glare. He couldn't have ruined Sherlock's cover any more if he'd been jumping up and down waving his arms.

At least someone was being useful: he heard Maxwell's shout and the zip of an arrow through the air shortly afterward. Beyond that, the cage itself gave him a non-negligible amount of protection, and he soon had the lock to this one open as well.

"Come on; same as the last," he encouraged the prisoners as he pulled off the lock — but just before another arrow whizzed down from the ledge above. It might have hit Sherlock dead on, if the very edge of the cage's roof hadn't gotten in the way. The prisoners quailed, and Sherlock backed off, looking upwards while he reached for his belt of grenades. He wasn't going to stop being a target so long as he was the one releasing the miners. Time to be proactive.

The jar of bees was a heavy bit of business compared to other projectiles. It required planting one foot behind himself, a solid pivot point from which to wind up and hurl it over the cage to the cliff wall. But it struck, the glass shattered, and the majority of the bees swarmed upward toward the archer as their buzzing added to the cacophony in the air.

The majority of them. A few decided to drift downward instead. The prisoners at the very back of the cage shouted for the others to start fleeing. Sherlock, who'd allowed himself to get mildly distracted by the jar's effectiveness — his mouth ticked off a smirk as he looked up toward the panicking archer — then swung open the door and left them to sort out the rest of the escape. Two birds with one grenade, as it were.

But despite what you've been told

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