WAR TABLE | Silent Plains | OTA

[dissolving]

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

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! ]

Comments

[reparo]

" -ve some care," are the last words she manages to get out, directed towards one of the March solders as he cranks the crate open,

(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.

[dissolving]

"Sh —" He can't hear her. Can't hear a thing, skull's ringing too loud, hands thrown up over both (one-point-five?) ears. Grain spills into the sands below, black with rot; a trap through and through. "— Th'fuck was that?"

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.

[reparo]

It's a small rune, Evanesco should vanish it into non-existence easily - leaving the group free to disperse fast

(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.

[dissolving]

The plume blinks out. Relief washes over him — momentary, as smoke billows forth again. Blinks, billows, blinks —

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.

[reparo]

Their distant griffon is a bit of a misnomer - Clarisse asked if Hermione could handle being trained to ride griffons, and she'd told her the truth. She could ride horses, she could in theory ride griffons, but she hated feeling out of control while flying.

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.

[dissolving]

Agathe swipes at the air, and screams in the face of a March soldier. Near takes a chunk out of Cedric before she spies it's him.

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.

[reparo]

This is why she doesn't like flying - not enough hands. How is she going to hold onto the harness, hold onto the box, and wave her wand around? If the get attacked, if they get found because the smoke is leading people straight to them, she's dropping the box. It's not that precious.

"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.)

[dissolving]

"When y'vanish something," He's thinking aloud, still breathing hard around smoke. "Does that hide it, or –"

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.

[reparo]

"Vanishes it out of existence, Cedric," she corrects him, about as dryly as one can while flying on a wild winged horselion.

"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?"

[dissolving]

Can he lose them? Not with two riders and armor aback. Have her vanish the damn plate if he weren't about to need it, and out of existence, what does that even mean -

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.

[reparo]

"Christ!" Is as eloquently as she can put it when Cedric just flings himself off the griffon and leaves Hermione mounted on her own. They're low enough that she could dismount as well, or Apparate on the ground, but then - would Agathe be in danger?

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

[dissolving]

An easy target. Easier, for the stupid way he charges at the thing, arm thrown up at the last second into a hard arc of green. Fire blooms off the anchor-shield as he lunges beneath belly, eviscerates the beast in a slurry of hot entrails. Its rider bails, finds his feet already calling for power.

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.