[OPEN] FROM RIFTWATCH WITH LOVE: PART ONE

[unshut]

WHO: Everyone and anyone
WHAT: An abomination redecorates the Gallows.
WHEN: Early August
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Part One of FROM RIFTWATCH WITH LOVE. Will include some violence, some general chaos, and some light murderin'.

There is a man in a worn traveling cloak. He is dark haired, with sharp features dominated by a dark horizontal scar near his hairline, and later someone will describe him as having been soft spoken when he asked for directions.

But something in the Gallows' dining hall, with its unreliable population for the midday meal, must catch under his skin; he's found his voice again by the time he steps up onto one of the benches.

"Is this all of you?"

Someone nearby tells him to get his boots off the furniture, so the man climbs higher onto the table and is louder the second time: "Is this really all you are? A few people in a tower on an island?"

Heads are coming up. As his voice rises, he produces an envelope from his pocket.

"Do you think this is funny? Playing at being something, and telling people you can make a difference to them? You were supposed to be helping, but you're all just sitting here! Don't touch me"—to someone encouraging him to get off the fucking table—"You were meant to be helping us. You promised you would, and I told her I believed you!"

Hands are reaching for him. No, really, get off the table. You can explain what's wrong once you're down; you're with friends— The man jerks his arm free, snarling, "Don't touch me! You're nothing!" A stronger hand finds him then and begins pulling him struggling down. With a wrenched cry of, "Livia!" the man slips from the table.

A column of fire pours upward out of him like molten heat from a crack in the earth. It bursts so high that it scorches a circle on the dining hall ceiling, and burns so suddenly hot that it sends those nearest to him recoiling backward as their clothes catch. The fire licks again in random directions, in chaotic fits and starts of light and heat, and the thing that rises up again in the mage's place isn't really a man at all.

The rage abomination will ravage its way through the dining hall and prodigious Gallows kitchens, then out into the courtyard beyond leaving considerable destruction in its wake until finally brought down by Leander. In the charred aftermath, the following can be recovered from among the mage's belongings: a leather corded bracelet with a green bead woven in it (too small for anything but the smallest wrist), a functioning phylactery, and a letter from "Riftwatch" which implies a history of correspondence and familiarly refers to the recipient by name, 'Felix.' An investigation of Riftwatch's files will reveal the log of having received a message from a similar Felix, No Lastname six months earlier. The message itself is nowhere to be found among the Gallows records.

The recovered letter assures Felix that all will be well, and includes instructions to wait in the woods above the crossroads of a small Wildervale village.

'Help will be on its way. Good luck, and safe travels.'

Comments

Colin | open

[keenly]

I.

Does this recall one of the most frightening times of Colin's life? Yes. But this time, there's only one abomination, and Colin is no longer a child. The spike of adrenaline has him running toward the monster, coupled with an anger that this thing has dared to threaten his new family.

Anyone needing healing is seen to promptly. Otherwise, he is following the abomination as it goes, blocking any pathways back into the mess or further into the Gallows with a force field. Any time someone fighting the abomination gets hurt, the force field drops for the space of a healing spell.

II.

The end of the action sees Colin dropping his force fields and swaying, odd little giggles erupting from him. He is at once elated and drained, and has a dopey grin as he goes about making sure anyone he missed the first time gets healing, though he pulls himself together enough to look more somber when making sure anyone looking shaken has someone to talk to.

I

[thereneverwas]

There are some things that Templars are made for, and one of them, which Ser Barrow currently understands to be the case, is dealing with abominations.

He's not about to run in and kill anything himself, of course, but there is at least one ability that can help make others' lives a little easier. So he grabs the nearest swingable thing-- in this case, a candelabra (thankfully not lit), and slogs out of the room he shares with Lazar.

As subtly as possible while still being very sore, he creeps toward the room housing most of the chaos, his breaths deep and focused.

[okayimin]

Sawbones is on her way back from where she had bolted to grab a bucket of water after being chucked out a window. She sees someone who should very much Not Be There and makes a beeline toward him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

[keenly]

Barrow will find himself suddenly trapped by a bubble of force magic. Nothing can penetrate it--except a Templar's abilities, but Colin can just make another one. He's doing it because he's too far away to run into Barrow's path in time to stop him. Force field in place, he starts running toward the Templar.

[thereneverwas]

In the moment that Barrow turns his head to look appropriately afraid of Sawbones, Colin has plenty of time to bubble him. He looks like he might use the candelabra to Silence himself out of it, but with both healers bearing down on him, common sense wins out.

"...helping," he says with a timid smile, shrugging stiffly.

[okayimin]

"You nugshitting half stoned-" She'll go on like that as she closes the distance between them. "The last thing we damned well need right now is more Dusters getting their arses burnt! The fuck were you gonna do if Silencing it took out all the other blasted mages!"

[keenly]

Colin, coming close enough, adds his voice to the litany. "You are on bedrest," he says in no uncertain terms. "You go in there, I'll have to spend energy keeping you afloat that I could have used on people who can fight. If I take this down, you are going to sit your arse in a chair in a back room and wait till someone comes to help you back up the stairs. Am I clear?"

[thereneverwas]

Never one to kick up a fuss, Barrow nevertheless looks very much as though he'd like to. He glances past Colin to the mayhem, then to Colin, then to Sawbones -- and if looks could kill, he'd be one of them Nevarran mummies-- and yet,

"I can help," he insists in a level, pleading tone, "I can mitigate the damage. I'm-- trained for this." How many times now has he confessed to being a Templar? It doesn't matter, everyone surely knows by this point.

[okayimin]

It's a tempting argument and that just makes Sawbones' glare fiercer. Too many reasons to say no, too many reasons to say yes.

"Could you do it without getting any of the other caught in the crossfire or drawing it towards us?" She glances at Colin to get his input, "We absolutely can not have anyone going down in its path and we're fucked if you draw its attention."

[keenly]

"Can you do it sitting down? I know it can be at a distance." He lets out a breath. There's a reason Templars are indispensable during these things.

[thereneverwas]

Now they're getting somewhere. Barrow looks ahead to where he can see the abomination, and the people around it, analyzing the situation to ensure his answer to Sawbones is a decent one.

"I can purge magic hostile to me," he says, thinking through it, "which, if I focus properly shouldn't affect friendly magic."
He glances to Colin. "Is there an actual sword nearby?" For now he ignores the question about sitting down; he's standing all right on his own, just not about to do any running.

[okayimin]

There's a crash and a sudden billow of smoke and Sawbones' swears loudly, rounding on. "Colin, your call. You know more about Templars than I do. There's a broom in the closet down the hall if we don't got a sword." She levels another glare at Barrow and points at him, "You blow out any of your joints with this shit and you'll fuckin' wish you stayed in Orlais."

With that, she grabs her bucket of water and dashes back into the chaos.

[keenly]

Colin can do better than a broom. He takes a lyrium potion from his belt and presses it into Barrow's hand. It's the best thing he has to hand without running up several flights of stairs.

"Make your way slowly. Stay as far away as you possibly can and still be in range. I am going to the kitchen and I'll be back. Don't draw attention to yourself till I get back, because I'm going to cover you. Go slow."

With that, he's running like mad toward the kitchen.

[thereneverwas]

Accepting the lyrium potion, Barrow offers a silent nod. He's already got a candelabra, which is arguably better than a broom, but really what he needs is a singular focus that can also be used as a weapon: hence his request for a sword. A knife. Anything.

He steps carefully through the mayhem, eyes fixed on the abomination, prepared to chug the potion and leap (figuratively) into action the moment Colin returns and gives the go ahead.

[keenly]

You should never run with knives, but Colin runs with a very long, very sharp kitchen knife used to help butcher larger carcasses. He reaches the templar and offers him the handle before immediately stepping back to get out of his way, his magic sizzling at his fingertips to prepare for what's next.