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WHO: Derrica and Allumin
WHAT: Summary of content
WHEN: Late August, early Kingsway
WHERE: Between Wildervale and Starkhaven
NOTES: mission notes.

Days pass.

Between them is a little book passed off by the last pair to occupy this observation point; over the past few days their shared notes have picked up where the last team's had left off, filling the pages and detailing the comings and goings of Imperium soldiers. It's not exciting work. But there is some sense of accomplishment. They have done exactly what they were meant to do, and Scouting will be able to make something of this.

Derrica is not a scout, doesn't exactly understand the work, but they've more or less managed their piece of the work. She's propped her chin on one hand, attention on the river, even as she asks, "Do you need to stretch your legs, or are you alright to wait a little longer?"

Now might be as good a time as any. It's quiet. (It's been quiet, apart from what the passing boats.) And he's so much taller than she is that it is probably a real necessity for him in a way it isn't for Derrica.

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While not particularly experienced in scouting, Allumin definitely has some familiarity with data collection and what is their task if not that? Speaking of, at the prompting of her question he looks over what they've gathered so far over the week and looks skyward to compare them to the current time of day.

It has been rather uncomfortable doing his best to keep the whole of him tucked into the little lookout they'd been assigned to, and it would be nice to take a moment to stretch on solid ground.

"If they follow the schedule they've had over the past few days, I think we can spare ten minutes or so down from the perch - if you'd also like to come down," he says after giving it some thought.

"Are you sure?"

There is some real hesitation over it, even though they have pages of notes supporting the idea that they have a little time before they need to be tucked away and out of sight. Though even as she considers the proposal and her own hesitation, Derrica runs a palm over the pages, and nods.

"Let's go. Carefully."

A little bit of caution, against the idea that there are threats apart from the ones they've been seeing come floating down the river like clockwork.

And once they shimmy out of the bind and down the ladder, she does stretch. Because even if she hasn't been suffering the way Allumin was, it's still nice to be out of the bind and out in the world.

He vastly underestimated how much he actually really genuinely truly definitely needed this, because he's barely climbed down the ladder when he gets a cramp in one of his legs. There's a pained hiss as he lets it hang limply, relying on his upper body strength and other leg to climb the rest of the way down. Internally, he thanks all the incredibly dense ancient tomes that he's carried around over the years.

Once down, he lowers himself down to a sit as delicately as possible on one leg, then carefully stretches and massages out the cramp. Despite the time seeming safe, he still does lean back a bit as he stretches his legs to keep an eye on the water from around the tree.

"Suddenly I am relieved today's the last day of this," he says with a bit of a laugh. The work is important so he doesn't want to make light of it, but he's definitely looking forward to sleeping in a bed again, and a bath.

As she descends and Astarion stretches, Derrica dangles for a moment off the last rung before letting herself drop to the ground.

"It'll be good to get back," she agrees, skirting around the obvious: Derrica wants to sink into a bath and stay there as long as the water is warm. "I'm glad it's been so quiet. I was worried something would happen."

And there were only two of them, with help not anywhere in the immediate vicinity. If there was trouble, it had the potential to go badly. Not that there was anywhere to put a third or fourth person in their little hut, but still. The thought had presented itself when they had ridden out from Kirkwall and it comes to her now, thinking of how well things had gone.

He nods, carefully rising back up to his feet as he says, "I feel the same way."

If magic worked the same as it did back home, he might not be worried so much but some of his stronger spells don't work here and the ones that do... Well, it's a learning curve trying to get a handle on things again.

"I've trained some since I arrived but not enough to feel confident in my magic if anything were to have happened." This is what he says, but what he's also thinking about is his conversation with Benedict about certain kinds of magic that has led him to worry that most of his combat-oriented spells might be objectionable to say the least. He's not really sure how to explain that to anyone yet, and has been thinking all week about whether or not to cast spells and ask for understanding later or explain first and risk scrutiny before even getting into a fight. Thinking all of that aside...

"It would have been interesting to see how native magic works in action though." He hasn't had a chance to observe beyond occasionally watching others train at a distance, and he's been curious. Not that he could stop and take notes if they got in a fight, but, y'know.

There's some prickle of—

That turn of phrase, native magic, sparks something tight and defensive in her. Or maybe it's that coupled with this kind of curiosity. It inspires a particular kind of discomfort that Derrica keeps banked and smothered. There's no malice in what Allumin is saying, but Derrica finds herself balking at the idea of being observed in such a way.

"Do you have any skill with a weapon?" she asks instead, bypassing her own misgivings. "It might be easier for you, if something happens."

A key word: might. After spending so much time with Holden, Derrica is very aware that even weaponry varies greatly between Thedas and what lies beyond all those rifts. Maybe that's something else Allumin will have to be learning as he goes.

He doesn't catch any sort of shift in tone or facial expression to notice the undercurrent of thoughts before her question. Despite working together for a week, he just hasn't gotten to know Derrica well enough to perceive anything deeper beyond what he sees and hears at face value.

"I can wield knives rather well," he answers, hesitating at first as he considers whether or not to supplement this before continuing (it's something that will either sound silly considering his demeanor, or could fetch him a side-eye, or both). "...and I know enough about arteries and anatomy to make that a problem for an enemy. Of course, that does come with the risk of being up close and personal."

And he doesn't exactly have enough knives on his person to throw them either, so getting up close and personal with anyone is not really something he wants to engage in.

Yes, that would be a risk. Allumin is far taller than her, but he is not brawny. Maybe he would do well in close quarters, but maybe—

Well, she is a healer, so that is something, at least.

"You should see Enchanter Rowntree in the training yard. Maybe it would be helpful to learn how to be familiar with something you can use at a little bit of a distance."

Or that they put him in better armor, but the two things go hand in hand. If his magic is unpredictable, Derrica doesn't know whether that will continue for the duration of his time here, or if it will settle after months of acclimating.

And regardless, it has felt more and more urgent to her that mages are equipped with the means to defend themselves, even against things that negate their magic.

"I've meant to put a blade at the end of my own stave," she tells him. "Once I have the coin for it."

There's a thoughtful nod at the suggestion - he's been meaning to do so, actually, especially after having been extended an offer of guidance over the crystals. Things simply hadn't lined up - finding himself on the training grounds when the man wasn't around and busy with tasks presumably when he was. He'd have to do something about his schedule when this is wrapped up and they're back at the Gallows.

His eyebrows then raise up in interest.

"That's an option?" he asks, trying to keep his voice reigned in at simple curiosity. Typically blades were not attached to spell-focusing tools back home, so the concept of a staff with a blade on it suddenly makes the concept of wielding more interesting (more aesthetic, really). Once the full length of her words has had time to sink in, the urge of material generosity begins to bubble up within him from a place that has forgotten that he does not have the same privilege of wealth here that he'd had before.

He stops himself before he can say any sort of overeager commitment to help pay for it and instead asks, "How much more do you need?"

"I don't know the exact amount, but it's likely more than I have on hand."

A little self-deprecating. If she managed her coin a little better, then it might be easier. But this is still only a half-formed idea, one she has been toying with on and off in the months since the dream. It's been nearly a year now, and she isn't so certain the blade would be useful to her.

However, to Allumin's question—

"I suppose I could have it removed easily if it didn't suit me. Not every mage is skilled with that sort of combat. Especially if you don't like to be up close."

The last point is said with a little smile.

There's a sheepish smile and a nod in return. He really prefers the security of being at range from an opponent, but fortune favors the prepared hence being trained on how to use a dagger in the first place.

"Can you borrow one with a blade from the armory and practice wi--"

Before he can finish his question, he stops as the sounds of voices drift closer and closer to their position from the direction of the river. Allumin's expression shifts to one of alarm, stepping quickly as he can to hide behind the tree they'd descended from only a few moments ago.

It's just as well he shifts, because Allumin is the taller of the pair of them. Easily spotted, if anyone were paying attention. Derrica drops into a crouche behind the bushes, vanishing from sight as the scraping sound of a boat dragging onto the sand heralds the arrival of soldiers.

Derrica glances up at Allumin, eyes wide.

This has never happened. Not in weeks have the soldier come ashore. The patter of their conversation carries, complaints and ribbing as they move about the riverbed. There is the clatter of weapons. Snippy critique of someone's armor. Derrica hears the name of a village.

She reaches over, just able to catch hold of his calf from where she's crouched. There's no way he hasn't heard, but there's also no way to communicate her own alarm other than this without risking being overheard.

There's a startled twitch at the grip on his calf, jaw clenching to choke back any sound as he'd been trying to get a small peek around to see how many and also how far... or close. Then, he lowers himself down into a crouch as well, careful to stay tucked behind the girth of the tree's trunk as he does so.

He does his best to follow the conversation - there's the more mundane, everyday talk you might hear anywhere like debating over whose turn it is to go fetch firewood for cooking dinner while others discuss plans. From context, it sounds like a plan to raid a small settlement nearby? Oh, of course, what irony it is that this would happen after the two of them had already been like 'hey, it's a good thing nothing actually happened because it's just us, right?'

Of course.

His jaw clenches a bit - sort of fighting with himself on whether or not to say anything, before keeping his voice down to a whisper as he looks to Derrica and asks, "Is that near here?"

"Close," Derrica answers. "A day's ride, maybe less for them if they intend to follow the river a bit farther down."

This is difficult to predict, and surely depends on the angle of their approach. Attack. It's going to be an attack, Derrica understands. Maybe they won't care enough to be subtle about it. Why would they? It's hardly as if the villages in this region are capable of putting up a real fight against trained soldiers.

Her expression crumples, worry knitting across her face as she answers him, before she turns to try and peer through the brush.

"Can you tell how many of them there are?"

"I didn't get a very good look but, um," he pauses, doing his best to call back what he's just seen to the forefront of his mind, "at least five? There might be a couple more."

He does his best to stay hidden as he peeks around the opposite side of the tree he'd looked from before, seeing if he can get a better look at the modest campsite they've set up. He thinks he sees a sixth person at least, stepping away towards the shore - presumably where their boats are to fetch something. Rations, or a map, or some other kind of supplies for planning maybe? He's not sure how, well, organized their operation is and if they have files or notes for their orders on their person. One would think? In any case, after trying to get a better look, he tucks back behind cover and turns to Derrica.

"Were you able to get a better look?" A beat. His well-partnered self-preservation instinct and cowardice begin to creep forward. "You're not thinking we should fight them, are you...?"

"We have to," Derrica says, so immediate that it marks out the obvious: she hadn't thought this would be a question. "Those villages won't be able to defend themselves."

Even between the two of them, somewhat outnumbered and Allumin with unreliable magic, likely had better odds than any of these small villages. They weren't equipped. They likely had no mages. They would be overrun so easily.

The soldiers sound self-assured for a reason, after all.

"You'll help me, won't you?" is a little prompting, as she looks up at him.

There's clearly some fear on his face as he thinks over the situation, her question, the consequences, all the different little variables. There's the part of him that wants to turn tail and come up with all number of rationalizations as to why it's better than him trying to help, and then there's the part of him that grapples with a differently selfish thought: what would people think if he did run away in favor of helping? The consequences of the two choices before him are both severe in their own ways...

He takes in a deep breath, and nods despite the anxieties in his expression.

As long as he doesn't die, he can reason with himself that any physical pain is more tolerable than the social consequences. Remembering the promise he'd made to Gabranth, the thought of what would await him showing up after leaving a member of Riftwatch to fight the enemy outnumbered sends a chill down his spine.

"Do you have, um, any thoughts then? Rough idea of a plan?" he asks, sinking back down into a crouch so that it's easier to keep their voices just between them. In an attempt to not be helpful and not place the sole pressure of planning on her, he says, "I have a spell that can make the area foggy, but it will make things harder for us to see as well as for them depending on how you want to approach things."

This is given due consideration, even as Derrica tries to consider their approach carefully.

"I can strike them with lightening," she tells him, one hand coming to brace on Allumin's knee as she twists to peer through the bushes and reassure herself of the number. The soldiers seem to be assembled by now, without any stragglers to surprise them. "If you can bring fog, it might help keep them from fleeing."

Derrica wishes she could pull out her crystal and ask advice. But they are here now, and there is no time to dawdle. So they must trust their instincts.

"Do you have any spells that would harm them?" is very blunt. She might have drawn this more gently from him under different circumstances, but here they are, being very plain about what they're both capable of.

More or less. There are things Derrica isn't inclined to share, especially not with people she doesn't know well.

There's a nod a little "okay" of affirmation as she speaks. At the thought of preventing escape (or, at least an expedient one), he thinks about anything that could be done to sabotage the boats - the easiest thing would probably be to push them off the shore under the cover of fog... Hm...

The inquiry pulls him out of his thoughts, blinking.

"Yes -," he says, and while it could simply have stopped there, there's an open-ended pause. His best spell for inflicting harm is the kind of magic he's been advised to use with discretion, but this seems like the kind of situation where restraint will result in worse consequences.

"Yes, I do," he eventually says with finality. If she wants to know more, he can explain later. "Unrelated to spells that can harm but still spell-related: you wouldn't happen to have a flask on your person, would you? I didn't think I'd need to bring one."

A flask?

Derrica's quizzical expression softens slightly as she considers the reasons a man might ask for a flask before a fight. Nerves, most likely. She shakes her head, brow pinched apologetically.

"I don't. I'm sorry."

Likely she hadn't brought one for the same reasons Allumin hadn't: they were meant to be working, observing, and anything that might distract them from that goal had been left behind.

"You'll do just fine," she reassures quickly. "I'll keep you warded with a barrier, so you can just concentrate on your casting."

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puts hand over timestamp forgivE me

no prob! all is forgiven!!

thank u

finger guns

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