All Mortals Shall Know - Part II

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: A hit close to home
WHEN: Beginning of Cloudreach 9:50
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: OOC post! General CW for war-related violence, NPC death mentions, and significant peril to PCs. Use other CWs in your subject lines as needed.

Just after sunset, an hour or so after the news begins to arrive of mass Venatori action in Minrathous—a second coup, if it can be called that when the power already behind the throne finally steps out in front of it—comes another alarm, this not through the crystals at first but from Kirkwall itself. The watchtowers Riftwatch once helped repair burst with signal fires. Just one at first, to the northeast, and then after a time two more at once, and a fourth, bright against the falling dusk. On each the shutters begin to flash, two short interruptions and one long: the signal for a dragon attack.

Not even a high dragon like the one Corypheus's has tainted with red lyrium and enthralled could cover the distance from Minrathous to the Free Marches so quickly. But the watchtowers continue to blink the signal until, one by one, they're snuffed out.

I. THE CITY

Griffon riders and ranged fighters are called out as soon as the dragon signals come in, taking flight to wing across the harbor and spread out to locate this dragon, still not visible even from the roof of the Gallows. In the time that word is spread, lift ridden or stairs climbed, griffons mounted and launched, the watchtowers go dark, the sun falls deeper below the horizon, and Riftwatch arrives in the city proper just in time for a massive explosion at the Viscount's Keep to light up the twilight. Silhouetted against it, and now seared into the backs of everyone's eyes, is the shape of two small draconic creatures with riders on their backs wheeling away from the Keep.

Now that they know what they're looking for, Riftwatch's griffon riders will realize there is no single large dragon over the city. Instead there are a dozen or more of these creatures, smaller than griffons, bodies like large horses between leathery wings. The first time one wheels close, its rider flinging a spell or a grenade, they'll recognize the shape of the heads, the shrieking cries, the burst of fire or ice or acid poison from their mouths—they're dracolisks, now with wings.

Below, a hue and cry in the streets brings citizens with bows and buckets, joining the fight against attack and fire both. The city guard mobilized as soon as the first watchtower was lit, and arrows and crossbow bolts spray from atop the walls and roofs, but their range is too-easily evaded. The enemy on their dracolisks wheel above the city, some attacking Riftwatch's griffon riders, attempting to herd them into the path of a spell, others breaking off to drop explosive grenades on the city below, pillars of smoke rising beneath them.

Just as Riftwatch's griffon riders are beginning to come to grips with what they're dealing with and engage the enemy in the skies, another explosion lights the falling dark. Just as large as the one that has taken the top off Viscount's Keep, this comes from the stairs to Hightown. The noise alone is tremendous, the sound of the explosives almost drowned by cracking stone and the earth-shaking crash of buildings tumbling down from the edge of the cliffs above as Darktown splits open and sends a slice of Hightown cascading down into Lowtown. As it falls, a cadre of dracolisks breaks off from their current paths and heads for the Gallows.

While much of Riftwatch will need to follow them to defend the Gallows and the work contained in its towers, others may remain in or over the city to continue assisting with defense there. The remaining dracolisk riders will attempt to target the Twins—the large statues outside the entrance to the harbor, connected to the chains Kirkwall uses to control ship traffic through the Waking Sea—in an apparent attempt to down them and block that passage entirely. But between Riftwatch and the force of guards and civilian militia members mustered by Guard-Captain Aveline to shoot arrows from the walls and skybridges, they'll be driven off without success.

II. THE GALLOWS

At the Gallows, those who don't ride griffons have also been instructed to prepare to assist the city. As the explosions in the city are felt, large enough to rattle the furniture even from this distance, and news of the flying dracolisks arrives, all hands are ordered to get themselves to armor or infirmary and make ready to venture across the harbor. Those who can provide healing are an obvious need, but just as urgent will be assistance with evacuating damaged buildings and protecting those on the ground, especially if this proves to be followed by a ground attack. But the first ferry hasn't yet left the Gallows dock when the battle comes to them.

There is barely time for a crystal alert of incoming dracolisks before they arrive. They wing circles around the towers, flying close enough to touch the sides, hovering for seconds here and there in pairs as if trying to look in the windows. Almost as soon as they've come they draw back–

And then the Mage tower explodes. A burst of light and force engulfs the uppermost floors, flinging stones the size of a man outwards. It is immediately apparent to anyone remaining within (though there should be few, given how lightly occupied it is to begin with) and those watching from without that the blast has destablized the entire tower, which teeters for only a moment or two, just barely long enough to allow for a race to safety, before toppling over with a thunderous crash. It tips outwards before it drops, crushing a chunk of the outer wall and flinging the remains of its top floor into the sea. The impact sends out a shockwave, followed by a cloud of dust and debris that sweeps across the Gallows courtyards.

The other devices—because now that they know to look, there are devices fixed to the sides of the other two towers, up near the top—do not explode immediately. The dracolisk-riding Venatori continue to circle above, throwing spells and arrows and the occasional small grenade down at the denizens of the Gallows, while two of them also appear to be focused on the devices, trying to get near enough again to hit them with some sort of spell. It quickly becomes clear that there is a chance to save these towers, if the attackers can be fended off long enough to remove or disarm the magical devices before they're triggered.

Of course, it's not going to be easy. The devices are each attached to the outside of the tower between the top two floors, meaning they must be accessed by climbing out a window or off the roof and rappelling down to them. Once there, they'll prove to be attached with some impossibly sticky substance, such that trying to pry them off would damage the workings and risk explosion. The only option is to deactivate them where they are—whether by lowering someone knowledgeable down a rope, or by conveying instructions to someone good with heights by crystal or from the nearest window. The insides prove to be a complex combination of machinery and magic, clockwork mechanisms, enchanted or carved with delicate runes, panels inscribed with glyphs, glass tubes full of Maker knows what volatile compound, brass spinners like thaumoscope sensors, and so on. If attempting to defuse a bomb while dangling from a rope weren't difficult enough, the Venatori on dracolisks remain active overhead, doing their best to wreak havoc below while trying to hit the devices with the activation spells, which (thankfully) require concentration, time, and very precise aim.

They succeed in activating the device on the Templar tower first. Unlike the Mage tower, it doesn't immediately explode, but instead begins sending tendrils of ice racing out along the stone, finding its way into every crack and fissure, every weak patch of mortar, forcing the tower apart stone by stone. But the interference of those working to stop it has done something—weakened the device, or distracted the mage on dracolisk-back sufficiently to throw off the spell she casts to detonate it—and the ice only spreads so far.

But it does spread. Those defending the Templar tower will have to abandon it as the uppermost floors begin to crumble, aided by force and telekinetic spells that can target the frozen weak spots without needing so much precision. Climbing down, catching a griffon ride, or jumping across the gap to the main tower (if someone's good enough at jumping) are all rational choices, under the circumstances, but those who choose none of the above and take the stairs may be able to make it to the lower floors before the upper three collapse.

In the meantime the Venatori shift all their focus to the Central tower, home to Riftwatch's painstakingly-assembled library of rare volumes, records of all of its work, and storerooms full of irreplaceable artifacts. There, a third type of device. When an activation spell gets through, it at first seems to do nothing, but then the stones of the tower begin to shake. At first just a tremor, but the shaking intensifies and spreads, like an earthquake spell amplified throughout the building. Those trying to defuse the device must race to deactivate it before the building rattles to dust beneath them, taking most of Riftwatch's resources with it.

The Venatori do their best to disrupt this work, trying to pick off those on the outside or top of the tower, lobbing spells and explosives at those on the ground, and doing battle with the griffon riders in the air, but eventually, the device is disarmed, its shaking stopped before it can bring the tower down, and the enemy forces retreat.

III. THE AFTERMATH

The sun rises on a changed, chaotic Kirkwall. While the attackers didn't manage to inflict all of the damage they'd planned, Viscount's Keep is still rubble—with reports indicating Viscount Bran Kenric is among the dead, caught by debris while trying to organize an orderly evacuation—and Hightown, Lowtown, and Darktown alike suffered losses from the decimation of the staircase. The gap in the stairs is quickly bridged to facilitate movement, but the solutions begin makeshift, starting with a rope and wood bridge only wide and reliable enough for a few people at a time, and will take days and weeks to progress into sturdier scaffolding and wooden stairs to cover the missing piece. In the meantime, travel between the high and low parts of the city is slower, often involving long queues for either the narrow bridge or a ride on the industrial lifts straight up the cliffside from the docks.

Despite the damage, the mood in the city is more defiant than anything, anger primarily directed at Tevinter. There are some who blame Riftwatch, claiming that it's only their presence in the city that drew the attack, that they would all be safer if these foreign troublemakers took their problems elsewhere. But this idea doesn't get a whole lot of traction, especially not after the warning system they helped repair and Riftwatch's efforts to fight the enemy above the city at the expense of leaving the Gallows vulnerable. Their assistance with clean-up efforts in the city doesn't hurt, either.

In the Gallows, meanwhile, things might feel more destroyed than not, with the dust and debris from the collapsed Mage tower and the upper sections of the Templar tower scattered across the rest of the island. On the side of the Mage tower, the damage is extensive, with a whole section of the outer wall collapsed and a significant amount of the debris—including the residents' belongings—spilled across the rocks and down into the harbor. On the Templar side, stone walls from the upper floors have fallen more or less straight out and down around its perimeter, blocking walkways, with a large chunk of wall nearly flattening the smithy and all of its doors. Debris litters the training yard and has knocked a few holes into the thinner roofs of outbuildings and covered alcoves.

The Central tower is least affected, save the eyrie, which had previous holes and damage from the mage rebellion in Kirkwall and fell further apart, in turn causing the ceilings of the Scouting and Research division offices to partially collapse and bringing the structural integrity of the entire floor into doubt. The brand new lift, on the other hand, has come through largely unscathed. So too has the new tavern, as yet unnamed, and its first shipment of ale. So there is some good news.

The first two days after the attack, while the extent of the damage and possibility of further collapses are still being assessed, Riftwatch members are barred from sleeping in or near any of the standing towers, instead directed either to Riftwatch's warehouse near the docks or to tents set up around the debris of the Mage Tower, which can't really fall any further than it already has. As days pass, other options will open up: setting up cots in the outbuildings, dragging mattresses from the groups quarters into library alcoves, staying with various Riftwatch members and allies who have space to offer in the city, or continuing to camp out in the courtyards and among the debris as the weather warms enough to make it more or less pleasant. But between the time for reconstruction and the need to fund it, it will be at least a month before anyone can move into the remaining residential tower.

Assisting with relief in the city and sorting through the scattered debris in the Gallows or helping the hired labor brought in to help clear and rebuild will be an ongoing effort. In the meantime, everyone still has as much—or more—of their usual work to do as ever: adjusting plans and forming new ones to account for Corypheus' open takeover of Minrathous and the problems and opportunities that provides, or dealing with the news of other attacks that begins to arrive through contacts and field agents.

Comments

[dissolving]

He jolts like a called dog. Somewhere in the street below, a baby is crying, but abruptly he can’t hear it over the hum of his pulse, the rider -

Agathe crashes toward the dracolisk, and Cedric shifts high in the saddle, sword drawn to slash at its wings. Talons scrape harmless off the side of one scaly flank, forcing a turn back toward Vanya.

Cedric swipes only to rear back as fast, scrambling from the answering sweep of a glaive. The staff blade nearly takes his head off, crackles with electric light. The dracolisk's throat swells, ready to spit at Pampelmousse and rider.

you're fine, I was meanwhile duped by small text into using brackets bc I pay attention

[wearyallalone]

It's heart-stoppingly close when Pamplemousse banks hard to the right, nearly a roll that might have lost Vanya to gravity if he hadn't anticipated it enough to brace himself (or, perhaps, if he hadn't had the strength to do so). Regardless, he maintains his seat and Pamplemousse circles. A fleck or two caught Vanya's shoulder and Pamplemousse's flank, but it's not enough to slow either of them down.

If they can get the Venatori between the the two griffons, it will make it hard to effectively target them both, at least in theory. Vanya urges her around and slightly lower, his own sword in hand. If Cedric can keep them distracted, it might give Vanya a shot at the dracolisk's underbelly. If not, well, maybe Vanya will give Cedric an opening. One can hope

all according to keikaku (but also either’s always fine)

[dissolving]

It’s all too fast to track - not conscious, not really - but that’s no different than the ground. He takes it in flashes: Vanya stays on, Pampelmousse swings low. The mage casts reins aside to turn full in his saddle, staff arcing out with military precision. There’s something to the pattern of it, a tight series of forms that flares into blue afterimage, confuses the eye.

Cedric catches one blow, drives his blade down with the hope to disarm. No luck, not so far extended, not with the thrashing muscle of the dracolisk beneath them. Its neck snakes between foes above and below; uncertain as any prey.

Indecision.

Sparks catch and Agathe cries out under him, jolted unbidden to climb. Cedric’s teeth jitter in his mouth, but lyrium eats the worst of it, mineral over bone - the staff spears up, still in range of Agathe’s kicking paws. He slings over her side, sword parrying wild for the jabs, hanging half from the harness sling.

If the rider's seen Vanya, he'll chance it for this kill. The South is famously sentimental - easier to outpace a single, shocked pursuer.

The dracolisk stretches its wings, orderless, and ready to run. It’s open.

[wearyallalone]

There is, arguably, a great deal to criticize about the Templar Order's training protocols, but "making individuals sentimental" is probably not among them. Even leaving it behind doesn't undo more than 25 years of training and experience. Rationalizing can come later ("more chance of other help on the ground," "Cedric is significantly younger and still on lyrium, he can take care of himself"). But those reasons follow action; they don't precede it. In the moment, Vanya sees the opening he'd been looking for and takes it before conscious thought has time to weigh any of the pros or cons.

Pamplemousse shoots up, a precipitously fast and steep climb to take advantage of the rider's distraction and the dracolisk's indecision. Cedric will hang on a moment longer or he won't, but either way Vanya's sword is going for the joint where the dracolisk's wing meets its torso. It's the fastest way to get the creature, and the Venatori on its back, out of the sky. Vanya knows that age and lack of magic aren't on his side in this fight. He doesn't want to give their opponent time to capitalize on either of his advantages.

It's a reckless attack, and it isn't only Cedric who may suffer the consequences. That, too, can be rationalized later. Survival first.

blanket go-ahead as always for our threads 2 change stuff around however

[dissolving]

Vanya's blade strikes true. Blood gouts bizarre for the sudden thrust of air, half-severed, a blown-out sail wild for the wind above. It sends the beast crashing sideways into knight and griffon, all four spiraling down fast. The Venatori flings his staff into the falling dark, lunges instead for Pampelmousse's reins to haul himself bodily across - a mid-air takeover -

The Veil pulls tight against them both, as the mage lifts his fist and punches a spell for Vanya. Cedric's on the far side now, barely holding to a slashed harness; Agathe trailing blood from her great leonine flank. He shouts, white radiance blooming against night,

But not before the spell's caught him. It isn't long, but here and now, a few moments' rank terror reign.

it's terrible, I love it

[wearyallalone]

Pamplemousse loves games, "keep away" among the rest, and the Venatori can't get a proper seat as the griffon twists in the air. The mage is hanging on to her harness, and the precariousness of the position would have given Vanya an excellent advantage... if he'd not been caught in the spell first.

It is only luck that means Vanya clings more tightly to Pamplemousse rather than letting go when the spell takes hold. (He does, however, drop the sword he was holding to clutch her neck with both hands; he'll wonder, later, if anyone had been unluckily below when he did.) For all Vanya's faults, he is a steady man by training and habit. It's a strange thing, seeing his face go pale in the unsteady light coming up from the Gallows below. Whether he sees something illusory or simply feels the terror of a situation that he'd been managing before the spell, he can't do much other than hold on.

The mage looks momentarily triumphant that the spell took, though it's short-lived. Pamplemousse, agitated at the change in Vanya's mood, does a full barrel roll. The mage doesn't lose his grip, just, but comes right into Cedric's burst of radiance.

[dissolving]

The sword falls. Light bursts: Pampelmousse rolls, and the Venatori is thrown wide, knuckles straining to haul himself back up the rigging. Horror stamps out like a candle, but the rush of silence can’t untwist danger. They are very, very high. The city is burning.

(He's never seen Orlov's face like that,)

Agathe veers toward Pampelmousse, claws straining low to drag the mage from her saddle - only succeeding in knocking him forward, onto Vanya. Blood streams down his ribboned back, but he doesn't slow, desperate enough to grapple the knight by the strength of his arms. The Northern cavalry have never relied on spells alone. A fist closes for Vanya’s neck.

They circle. Cedric’s blade raises at an angle bred for horseback; readied to impale. But Vanya is still directly in front of that second body -

[wearyallalone]

For all the rhetoric about Templars being the fearless arm of the Chantry, Vanya's combat training never particularly relied on personal courage so much as repetition and muscle memory. He's lost his sword, but grappled on a mount activates a response that almost doesn't stop to check in with his brain before his body is already doing it: his off hand between his throat and the fist that would crush it. His dominant hand delivering a sharp jab to exposed ribs. A squeeze of his legs keeping him in place and, incidentally, urging Pamplemousse to bank. The target is still not steady or particularly large, but at least the Venatori is now closer to somewhere between Vanya and Cedric rather than using Vanya as a shield. It isn't the best opening, but it's an opening. (Vanya's not choking, either, even if he is stuck in the grapple.)

[dissolving]

Vanya catches under his ribs, and the Venatori slumps starry with pain - bent involuntary over a sudden, shuddering breathlessness -

Just far enough. Agathe comes screaming up to meet them, a sword shearing up from back through shoulder, its bloody point inches from Vanya’s face. Only for a moment. The impact separates them both, mage falling aside as Cedric wrenches the blade free, grip clenched against gravity; the sticky pull of plummeting flesh.

Cloud swallows corpse.

Cedric’s breath comes hard, fumbling off the reins for his abandoned shield. He stretches it for Vanya: A temporary weapon. At a griffon’s distance, better luck to bash someone than try for a knife.

"Harbour," He manages. They'll separate again, before either makes it. "The twins."

places a bow

[wearyallalone]

Vanya nods as he takes the shield. (He has a knife, but if it comes to using it up here, something has gone very wrong.) His expression is grim, but he seems fully back in control of himself. Pamplemousse, visibly ready to dive down after the fallen man, is in Vanya's control too, as he checks her with his knees. Strapping the shield to his arm, he shouts, "I'm with you, go," to Cedric. The high wind whips his words away, but the message clear enough even without them.

It's going to be a long night ahead, and whatever's happened just below is already done. No sense in lingering.