wrong baby cedric (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2024-09-05 09:42 pm
dissolving) wrote in faderift2024-09-05 09:42 pm
Entry tags:
WAR TABLE | Silent Plains | OTA
WHO: Cedric Carsus + Viktor, Hermione, OTA
WHAT: Loot division
WHEN: Don't think about it too hard.
WHERE: The Silent Plains, along the Southern Tevinter border.
NOTES: OOC Info
WHAT: Loot division
WHEN: Don't think about it too hard.
WHERE: The Silent Plains, along the Southern Tevinter border.
NOTES: OOC Info
Riftwatch is invited to help capture an Imperial supply wagon by the People of the Silent Plains, who have some complaints about the balance of power between them and the Exalted March troops.
Their scouting has led to the discovery of the supply caravan's route and other details needed for the attack, but they lack the manpower to pull it off alone. The last time they did this, though, they got less than what they considered their fair share of the supplies, leading to a current shortage bordering on a crisis. They're counting on Riftwatch to help tilt the scale further in their favor.
On the other side of this argument, the Marchers will argue that they put up more manpower and take greater risks for these joint endeavors—they provide footsoldiers, and more of them, while the People are smaller in number and more often ranged fighters and scouts who stay out of direct danger.
Riftwatch won't have enough sway to dictate the division of the loot, but it may be able to tip the scale toward the People, convince the People to be content with a limited share, or both at once.
x. CLOAKING DEVICE REPORT
x. PEOPLE OF THE SILENT PLAINS WIKI
[ ooc note: a report about general outcomes will be turned in on the 28th. backtagging still welcome! ]
I | THE PROBLEM
While preparing the ambush, both sides argue their case:
None of this would be possible without the People's scouts, and their deep knowledge of the land — but partnering with the March has left them hungry. Loudest among today's contingent is Eryx, a young elven mage whose forehead splits with scar.
His counterpart is Powers, a bullish man of twenty. The March takes on great risks for these raids; and he'd know, having been assigned to them constantly this past year. Attaching elves to field expeditions has meant less hostility from the local Dalish, so his abrupt promotion from stablehand to footsoldier has come with no shortage of danger.
The two have nearly started a fistfight by the time Riftwatch arrives. They can be talked down, further agitated, or taken aside for your own conversations.
Cedric, for his part, will offer the quiet word that armies don't stop eating for fairness. What the March doesn't carry out of the wagons, it's likely to take from the surrounding towns.
II | THE CARAVAN
The guards have been dispatched. Already, excitement ripples through the combined ranks, eyeballing sacks of grain and salted cod. But as a particular crate levels open the sky splits with a deafening crack.
Anyone close enough to the explosion is knocked back in a shower of sparks and heat. Inside, black smoke billows up from a runic device, and does not stop. The plume rises, steady. A beacon.
Say, if one were tracking raids on important supply lines.
It's up to Riftwatch to act, and quickly. Stop it, or hide it, or simply ferry it elsewhere: To the People's camp, toward the March, or deeper into desert. Maybe you could catch the response team yourselves.
no subject
(You don't want to shove that pointy end of a sword into a sack of grain and spill the whole thing onto the sandy Silent Plains, do you? Again?)
and then - BOOM!
Several people are knocked back, Hermione included. Her ears are ringing, and when the smoke clears she'll note that one of the tails of her coat got singed in the blast, except - the smoke doesn't clear.
She stumbles, shakes her head, takes stock. Something's billowing smoke - a trap? A rune? They're so exposed out here, this column of smoke will point an arrow right at them.
Her wand is out, evanesco on the tip of her tongue, before she looks for a familiar set of eyes in the crowd. It's not that she trusts Cedric, but they've been running into each other before, and he'll know best. She has a fix, she just needs - confirmation. Tell her it's the right thing to do.
"Do we need this?" she shouts - louder because ears, ringing - and points, wand in hand, at the rune chugging out black smoke.
no subject
Can't hear himself, or he'd know that he's yelling. Cedric unbraces, squinting through the smog toward her. She's pointing at something, and he can't make out what, but that doesn't stop him nodding as he charges over.
"Do it!" Whatever she's doing. No telling how much time they've got before someone follows the boom.
no subject
(She hasn't displayed her magic front and center in front of the known and declared Templars, out of an abundance of caution, but needs sometimes must.)
Of course, there is the explosion that preceded this to account for. Her balance is out of whack, her ears throbbing with pain, and the aim is frankly shit.
She aims that stick and shouts, louder than necessary, "Evanesco!"
The rune remains, but the plume of smoke sort of blips out of existence. For a few seconds.
(So she's sending Morse code now. Smoke signals.)
Frustrated, she shakes her arm and does it again. And again.
no subject
He rips up a broken crate, and jams it atop the device. That holds it too, for half a second, before the smog's seeping out from below. What he mutters doesn't sound very much like an incantation.
Cedric tugs Hermione's elbow, points toward their distant griffon, rearing and squalling for the noise. Follow me,
Abrupt, he flips the crate over to scoop the device within. A mad dash for Agathe as he trails smoke. If Hermione's aim is true, she can vanish as they go, but they need to put distance between the ambush and the beacon. This can't be the last place that it was seen: Injured men are slower to move than a decoy.
no subject
Not that there's much of a choice, this time. She runs with Cedric this time, putting two and two together. Connecting the dots. The can't keep sending smoke signals to whoever put that rune on the box that lead them straight to their caravan.
She is running towards Cedric's griffon with him, keeping pace, and nods. Raises her voice, in case of the post-explosion ear-ringing is still going,
"Get on first, I'll hold onto the box. Evanesco." Insisting doesn't fix it, but at least it will let them get on the griffon before leading some unseen and unnamed enemies on a goosechase, without choking on smoke.
no subject
Praise be that she's still saddled. Smooth as it'll get to toss Hermione the crate (evanesco), and sling himself into place. Agathe ruffles for a cockatoo as he reaches to haul her up. Takes some juggling, with the box, with the harness he's thrusting into her hands. It's gonna be a rough ride.
Agathe hardly waits for her to settle, wings snapping out and starting to climb. The ground falls below. Cedric slaps at a buzzing ear.
"Forces," Not a lot of context, without: "You can fight?"
Confirmation. His bodyguard, sure, but it's one thing to bluster a spirit and another to slip a hunting party. If the odds are too dire, he knows where the main March is encamped, can lead them to backup. That'll come at a price.
no subject
"Better than I can fly," she answers, twisting the harness around one wrist for a more secure grip.
It's a blessing that she has her hair up in a top bun instead of loose, because the wind would be whipping it back in Cedric's face as Agathe takes them up.
She holds on for dear life, but like - in a dignified way. It's easier when the flying mount is not invisible under her.
"You lead us away, I'll watch out for us." A beat. "And say when - I'll try to vanish this again when we've put distance between us and the caravan."
Needless to say, she doesn't want to pass out from trying to perform a minor spell too many times. Maybe flying will help her hearing and balance recover! (Sarcasm.)
no subject
A dark shape lifts above horizon, another, three in all. Still too distant to spy what Cedric already knows: Dracolisks, headed their way. His knees dig in, and Agathe plunges on. The fuckers are fast. Air battle's a bad way to be outnumbered. If they can spy rock, somewhere to land and get the jump...
Separating rider and fire-spitting mount is the best chance to even the score.
no subject
"Once it bloody works it will be really - oh." She saw the dracolisks - they're mounts for Venatori, aren't they? Captain Baudin has one she requisitioned from the Venatori, not that she's met the girl yet.
Spiky dragonlings don't sound very calm, especially when they're chasing them in the air?
There's no vanishing this rune now. She tightens her grip on the griffon by squeezing her legs together, so she can let the reins go and one-handedly pull open the bag at her hip - the one she's once carried tents, ore, supplies and books in, but that has been limited in capacity by her passage through the Fade. The crate is not small enough for the bag not to spit it out, but the rune is.
The lid flings behind them when she lifts it, one dracolisk rider swerving to avoid it. She curses under her breath, and shoves the rune inside.
"Not sure if smoke counts, so assume we have limited time." The crate is the next thing she lets go of, and then she's holding onto Cedric and the griffon. "Can you lose them or do we fight?"
no subject
Smoke vanishes into the depths of cloth, a few final puffs scattered by the falling crash of wood. Behind them, something shrieks, and Cedric yanks them both down, flat to the griffon's back as a blast of frigid air blooms overhead. Tiny points of ice rain over them. At least it's not fire,
"Fight –" He manages, hauling straps about from one hand to hers. Another way to stay on, because: "– Gonna land us. Try t'give you cover."
Takes a few minutes for the dracolisks to suck their breath back in. Gives them time to break for the line of spiky crag ahead. The hill's pocketed with holes and ledge, promises just enough overhead cover to kite between. There's no further warning before Agathe's talons scrabble stone, and Cedric's flung himself off, still a few feet from ground and stumbling into a run. Hermione and the griffon pose a bigger target, but he's an easy one. It's that distraction he's counting on now, hauling sword from sheath,
Give the mage room to work.
no subject
She resolves to make the best of it. They can figure out what they do with the rune later, for now they fight Venatori and dracolisks. So she grabs onto Agathe's reigns with one hand and drags herself closer to the front of the saddle, looking over her shoulder to locate one of the dracolisks - more importantly, the rider.
The one that's highest from the ground is visible, and Hermione pushes to the side the part of her that says don't kill.
Expelliarmus, technically, divests an enemy of their weapon if they do not think to resist it. It's a wild aim, but Hermione targets the reigns in the Venatori's hand, hoping that surprise, gravity and speed will do the trick. As the screaming Venatori falls out of his saddle, and falls and falls and falls, Hermione looks towards Cedric instead, spotting another dracolisk swooping low - rider and beast alike aimed at the Riftwatcher.
there is literally zero pressure on this two months late, i'm just doing a total inbox clear o7
Fade vanishes along Cedric's arm, as something else snaps out, suffocates the spell blooming from Venatori mouth. But the man isn't unarmed: Swinging a staff that's more a glaive for its reach. He fences Cedric onto desperate heels.
(Somewhere, far below the rocks, a body crunches.)
Toppled of its rider, the remaining dracolisk turns, veering for Agathe and Hermione - trained not to turn from battle, but into it -
Lips peel back over spiny maw, frosting a great intake of breath. Agathe screams, crashing hungry for its throat. Unless Hermione intervenes, it'll bring them right into the path of the blast.
III | THE PLAINS
There are a few wounded on both sides, and extra hands can assist them or move boxes. And someone, maybe, ought to check on the People's stores of Riftwatch-designed weaponry; or discuss a way to better protect that cloaking device.
If you can find it.
The grasslands and hills give way to open desert, and scattered villages. Most in easy reach are small, built about dirt roads and the nearest source of water. The larger towns are more developed, and more dangerous of it; boasting closer ties to Minrathous. Supplies everywhere are scarce, and strangers received with suspicion: You're in enemy territory here, and travel requires both subterfuge and caution.
You can also hang out in camp, or pick flowers, or do something else entirely. I'm not the boss of you.
extra hands/cloaking device
He takes it upon himself to inspect the weaponry, and can be found seated by whatever passes for the armoury as he takes an inventory and marks the condition of each piece.
It isn't until he overhears mention of the cloaking device that he and his writing board amble closer with arched eyebrows and a disbelieving-if-anxiously-amused smile.
"You lost it?"
no subject
"Need a way t'find it." Cedric finishes, himself drawn a touch short. This has not been a great day for anyone.
"There was a sandstorm," Eryx adds, a little lamely. "We had to leave in the field."
no subject
"Might've been a blessing in disguise," he muses, "if it's covered in sand? Or will the sand fall off?"
He glances around, then adds,
"we could comb the area waving big sticks about?"
no subject
Viktor is having no such day himself, although he's definitely had worse. For the most part, the promise of seeing the cloaking device once again has kept his mood up. Also heartening: when he asked after the tent winches he left with the People, he found that two of three of them were still functional, if a bit crunchy due to grit. So that was nice.
Anyway, he's here now, bundled against the landscape's whims, goggles standing by on his forehead and all.
"It's not a shield, exactly... more of an illusion. But loose sand may be affected by prolonged interaction with its energy field. There was no opportunity to make those observations last time. If so, and should it have piled high enough to form a bank, such an anomalous shape could stand out to anyone with an eye for the landscape. Failing that," now he's rummaging in his satchel, "I could attempt to attune one of our thaumoscopes to its signature."
no subject
Barrow's sand banks, Viktor's magical... whatever that is. It'll take both to narrow in. Eryx blanches for the suggestion:
"I know the landscape on foot," He protests. It isn't that he's afraid, it's just that it's very high up there, even before lightning and dragons and the vertigo that so often rings his skull. "Not by air."
A loud crunch. Agathe tosses one snapped spoke aside, and goes for another. Cedric glances between Eryx and Barrow,
"Odds're good they're watching the skies, anyway. If we do that, oughta have cover on the ground. What d'you need to set the thaumoscope?"
squeaks another in
and from the satchel pulls the rattiest hand-bound booklet of mismatched pages, all the corners of which are bent and curled and tinted with dust of a tint similar to the sand they're standing on. This thing has been beaten to hell.
"Technically, this isn't what these devices were built to do, but I think I can make it work."
no subject
It's still a plan, and one that doesn't require them to aimlessly wander a wasteland in (possibly) plain sight of the enemy.
"I'll cover you," he offers, "if we can get someone on crystal watching the skies as well."
handing off the thread to you two for travel reasons
"Alright. Eryx can mark a map, I'll keep an eye out here." If another argument breaks open, he's got the best shot of them for settling the March. Cedric tucks fingers into his mouth to whistle. Agathe's head shoots up, feathers tufted for a mane. "You take th'bird."
She stares a moment, eyes tracking between them, then lays her neck flat and hisses.
But eventually, she's saddled, grunting objection all the way. There are reins for Barrow, and a scribbled map for Viktor: The rough spot that storm hit. Cedric waves them on, Powers watching their ascent with such raw jealousy as to wound.
They'll have some time before Cedric reports in. Clear skies, no dracolisks circling. It's almost suspiciously clear.
That might have something to do with the quicksand. It's developed in a hurry, all about the area the readings come strongest. It's possible some of the Venatori scouts have gotten lost in it themselves, and optionally, one might still be struggling.