faderift | [ CLOSED ] THE ANTIVAN CROWS SEND THEIR REGARDS

Entry tags:

[ CLOSED ] THE ANTIVAN CROWS SEND THEIR REGARDS

WHO: Alistair, Araceli Bonaventura, Beleth Ashara, ~~Anders~~ Detlef, Korrin Ataash, Taashath, The Iron Bull, Twisted Fate, an Zevran Arainai. Guest Starring: Samouel, Cyril, and Merrick, Super Special Guest Star: Leliana.
WHAT: The Crows come for the Ombra Nera.
WHEN: Begins Guardian 6
WHERE: Skyhold/Antivan Border/The Road
NOTES: CW/TW FOR: Flesh hommonculi, violent/gruesome content, torture, blood magic, non-consensual drug use, adult content, adult language, reader discretion is advised. Sign up post, original plotting post, hit me on PM or @

thesouthernbelle if you have questions.

It's a normal morning in Thedas until, abruptly, it isn't. The Crows come calling; they are swift, they are certain, they are silent and leave behind but one witness that won't be alive for much longer (or so they assume). Prize in hand they ride North for Antiva.

Subthreads for portions of the plot are yours to tag around in as you like!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bull's closest when the spray hits. He jerks to the side, feels it splash against his shoulder where the leather doesn't quite cover, spraying against his back. And it stings. It stinks. It's agonizing.

And all he does is channel that quivering agony back around again, imparting it right back where it had come from.

A particularly vicious yank pulls the axe free, and just in time to wheel him out of the way as Taas goes flying for the beast's face. Without pausing for an instant, Bull takes a swipe at the back of the golem's knees. The impact vibrates up his arm, but he'll hit it again if it means cutting one of those legs out from under it.

The pain is enough that she doesn't argue about Detlef healing her first. Later on, she'll kick herself about being selfish, but in that moment, her only concern was that she needed to get her hands fixed, to stop the pain. She holds her hands out, watching him worriedly, and trying not to gag, because the smell of burning flesh is everywhere, not just from her.

"Th-Thank you." She says between gritted teeth, looking up at him. "I--If I couldn't use my bow--" But there isn't time for that, so she just looks at the rest of the room instead. Bull and Taas are hit worse than she is, but the healer won't be able to help them until the monster is done with. So she just nods to Detlef, and once she's done healing, with a fully repaired barrier, she reaches and grabs her bow again, while mentally telling herself that staying is, in fact, the definition of insanity.

"If you want to stay here, stay behind me. Save your energy for helping Taas and Iron Bull once they finish that thing." And, gritting her teeth as sensitive, newly healed flesh protests using the bow, she fires one of those poisoned arrows at another shade. Keeping them off of the two fighters would be the best way to help, right now.

And is Korrin ever glad to have a functioning barrier when that acidic spray hits; that combined with the hex would have crippled her efforts. As it is, she grits her teeth at hearing the others' pain, ready to take a moment she can't really afford for a healing mist grenade, but spotting Detlef nearby brings her some relief. Good, he can concentrate on the healing. On the other hand, she will keep focusing on the shades. Every time they strike and weaken her barrier, she'll retaliate with strikes of her own, using her spirit blade to both harm them and strengthen that barrier back to what it should be.

Edited 2016-02-05 00:50 (UTC)

One by one the shades fall, to arrows, to Korrin's blade, crumpling in on themselves in piles of putrid ash and gouts of sulfur. Those struck by Beleth's arrows glow in bright pulses of demonic power before exploding in a cloud of sand and warped fabric. When the one that had cast it is struck down the hex flickers under Korrin's feet- fades, leaving her free of it's wasting influence. One struck with an arrow extends a hand, garbled black speech grating through the air like nails on bone, cuts like blood and a siphon swirl in horrid, dark power through the air to connect it's ashen form and The Iron Bull. The power is sapping, draining, minuscule cuts that bleed spatter their skin as blood and life are siphoned away.

Meaty fists swing down hard, slamming against the ground even as it is staggered- a gaping, spewing mouth silenced of it's bellows by the blade of Taas' ax. It stumbles too it's knees from the assault, and the air around it? Ripples. A sudden miasma of black, entrophic magic roils from it's flesh like a fog, roiling over the muddied ground. Those crows cut down in the fight before twitch and wrench unnaturally, staggering to their feet one by one. Shambling corpses, the lot of them, stagger to those yet engaged in battle, blades at the ready.

"..."

There's really only one word to sum up Beleth's current emotional state.

"GODDAMMIT."

Those might be three words smudged into one, but who's counting?

She'll be firing arrows at the new zombies, at any rate.

"I sincerely, absolutely, do not want to be here," Anders informs Beleth and everyone else but he doesn't leave. He stands behind her and wishes that he could have a near-infinite source of mana. The best help he can give comes after the fight and he knows it. As did she. At least he can pull out his staff and hit things with it, though.

"Frankly," he says as he thwacks the closest corpse in the head, regretting for not the first time that he hadn't let Aveline teach him more about dodging swords, "anyone who wants to be here needs their heads examined."

What's battle without a little snark? Still battle, but lacking the only bit of amusement one can get. If he's fighting, he'll be talking. He'll leave the growling to Taas and the silent fury to Korrin.

This would probably be an excellent time to retreat. Unfortunately, Taas is far too busy pulling his axe out and trying to slam it into another head, just barely dodging a swipe of those meaty hands. He can't hear any warnings and he's lost in the blood rage, shoving his other hand into what must be an eye or something, tearing what he can.

Zombies are just an extra challenge. A deadly challenge.

"I don't want to be here either, trust me!" Korrin's only thought is to keep her friends' heads on their shoulders, if possible.

And it's time to use that code word for Taas' arm cuff, so Korrin does just that while taking advantage of the vanished hex and hence renewal of energy. She closes in on the undead, swinging her blade as Vivienne taught her. Perhaps it's not as polished in application, but Korrin's use of it is vigorous and brutal, not giving the undead any quarter.

Edited 2016-02-05 01:37 (UTC)

More blood in the air. His, this time. The tears in his skin are felt, like the cut of a dozen tiny knives, skin already blistered in places from the burn of the bile spew, and that initial swell of rage bleeds out of him for a moment as he too goes to a knee, dizzy.

No. Get up.

He shakes his head to clear it, still gripping the axe tightly. When one of the zombie Crows gets a little too close, however, Bull glances up just in time. His free hand goes to snatch the corpse by the throat and squeezing, giving a sharp twist and hurling it aside.

Come on. Get up.

Time to get back to work.

The last shade is downed by the final ticking moments of Beleth's earlier poison, bursting with ash and blood (Bull's) and sand. The spell breaks as the shade dies- leaving the lingering mist that had not quite made it's way over in a gory trail between the two.

Dead and risen by magic spewing from the flesh golem, the crows lack their dexterity or skill, attacking like ravenous beasts. Their swings are wild and erratic, aiming less for vulnerable slots and more for the meat of a body- once close they claw and bite, stumbling into one another in their haste to find a target- and to keep it. They swarm the staggering mages, stumbling over their felled brethren.

With a ghastly belch of sulfur and a small gout of bile, the Golem clings to Taas' hand lodged in one of it's many skulls, it's other meaty fist reaching to it's back once again and tearing a bony, gnarled arm from it's own back before swinging hard in an arc in front of it, aiming for Taas' head. Blood and bile and it's earlier thrown entrails are slick and thick in the mud around the creature, down to it's knees as it is- making a close approach treacherous.

The mages. Detlef. Beleth makes a snap decision, dropping her bow and pulling out daggers. She's not sure if it's a good decision, but she has to protect Detlef, because he is necessary to keeping Zevran alive. It's a selfish reasoning, but it makes it easier to turn from Korrin. Trusting that the qunari woman can handle herself, Beleth uses the hand to hand skills that Merrick taught her on the corpses trying to swarm the spirit healer.

She's no Zevran or Merrick, but she's fueled by a distinct lack of self-preservation, and enough rage to make up for it. Whether or not Korrin's barrier holds, she struggles to keep the corpses off of Detlef. "Get out of here!" Is snarled as she tries to dislodge one with a kick to it's gut. "Zevran needs you."

He can't fight all of these creatures. All he can do is be a weakness and distract the fighters, but not even the fighters are doing well. Bull had been down for a time, Taas is too close to the golem, the raised corpses are everywhere, and it's bad.

"We need to all go!" How can they possibly win this fight? The last time the group he was with got swarmed, he was the only survivor and Biff made gurgly noises. ...The noises had been satisfying, actually, but there's no one in this group he hates. "Please!"

In the meantime, he's backing away, trying to keep from overtaxing any lines of defense, casting a weak healing spell over the whole group in hopes of that being enough to help make some sort of difference.

The vibration of his arm ring is completely ignored, blood rage too strong, too distracting for Taas to notice anything else than the battle.

...then he's grabbed by the golem and he roars in anger, trying to tear himself loose with all his might. It's only that movement that saves him from being hit in the head with that torn-off arm. He's still hit, however, hard enough to fly off the golem and skid across the floor, almost so close to Korrin to nearly knock her over.

He groans, shaking his head and trying to get up again. "Ashkost kata!"

"I know, but--"

And then Taas nearly knocks her over. Korrin doesn't think about what could have happened just then and there, immediately moving to provide Taas with some cover while he needs it. Casting Barrier, she then contributes to Detlef's healing with one of her healing mist grenades. With any luck, it'll be enough to keep them on their feet.

Just enough to get his edge back, as it turns out. With the golem's attention on Tass and its back turned, Bull's ready to levy some hurt against the creature again.

The attack comes from the rear, this time, launching himself at the back of the monster's head with a heavy swing at the base of its spine. Hard to tell how deep it'll cut, whether or not it'll reach bone, but he still gives that swing all he's got.

There's not a chance he's leaving this thing to wander the countryside until someone unfortunate just stumbles across it. Which is easier said than done with the undead Crows falling around them.

Between the force of it's blow, Bull's earlier cut, and Taas' grip when the Vashoth goes flying? He takes the limb he'd been clinging to with him in a wet rending of flesh and sinew- black blood seeping from the wound in thick, gelatinous drips. Apart from itself it continues to grasp at him, bone tipped fingers striving to claw or tear.

The shambling corpses shift their attention to Beleth, staggering and stumbling in the bloodied mod, over their felled brethren, or cut down by her blades. They struggle to rise, to claw their way to her through the muck, coming in at all sides-

Those unfortunate enough to be under Taas shudder and burst in a rotting mist of pus and bile; not corrosive but certainly dank and foul; the Golem's magic decomposing them rapidly even as they attempted to fight. Scattered, wriggling limbs attempt to claw their way either to Taas' throat, ankles, or over to Beleth in a slippery pile of sloughed off skin and exposed bone.

Bull's last blow has the golem locking up, head thrown back in a grating, discordant bellow, blood and sinew twitching and knotting around the mass of his blade. It attempts to wrench itself free but the cut severed it's spine and clove a fair way through it's middle, almost meeting the edge of the gash from the beginning of the fight. More bile coated, oily entrails ooze from the cut but it cannot move or turn to attack Disarmed and disabled it reaches up to grasp the largest of it's skulls-

And pulls.

Scraps of flesh and flecks of bone fall away from it's shoulders and throat, leaving a skull with small, clawlike, spindly arms and a serpent's tail of muscle coiled around what is left of it's spine. There's a moment where something black and vile connecting the two stretches and snaps- and when it snaps? The remaining crows burst like rotted fruit, coating those nearest with blood and bile. Toothy maw open wide and shrieking the remaining arm hurls it's head with uncanny aim right at Anders before the larger body collapses backward, oozing more of that black, greasy fluid.

And there are corpses everywhere, coming after her faster than she can cut them down. Like a nightmare come to life, they're surrounding her, grabbing her--

And Beleth realizes that she's about to die, and her screaming stops abruptly, because that's not how Dalish are supposed to die. The knowledge isn't met with panic. She's going to die, leagues away from any of her clan, and only two thoughts occur to her: Merrick is going to blame himself (she hopes Cyril helps), and that none of these guys know how to bury a Dalish properly. Will Fate know? Does she have enough time to holler out instructions?

Before she has time to attempt to use her dying breaths to ask them to please not burn her like some goddamn shemlen, the corpses all rather unexpectedly explode.

Instead of rather dramatically dying, Beleth is indignantly sent tumbling, covered in bile and blood and worse, and she promptly starts gagging, struggling for breath that isn't full of rotten air, and thinking that dying would have been preferable--But then there's a thing heading at Anders, and Beleth doesn't even stop to think didn't you just finish almost dying, before she lunges at the mage, trying to tackle him to the ground.

He's almost on his feet again when the zombie crow parts start to swarm him, and he's not sure where his axe had gone - maybe it was still in the flesh beast, even. Taas has to make due with his hands, punching and pushing rapidly-rotting corpses off himself and slamming them into the stone floor with a heaving snarl.

They're drawing blood, he can feel it, and it's only making him more pissed off, grasping those trying to get to Beleth more for the sake of fighting them rather than actually protecting her. Skulls, weakened by rot, smash under his fingers - but he's running out of steam, and he's probably a bit concussed from that skid across the ground.

There's teeth in his shoulder and he he can't reach... and then the whole fucking place explodes in the vilest shower of black goo and innards he's ever seen.

Just... fuck. Even while deep in the blood rage, Taas is stunned.

They're dead. They're all of them dead, because qunari can't back down from a fight and he's idiotic enough to always come back when he's left: Vigil's Keep, going to Skyhold, now this. Worse, he's going to die by getting head in the worst way and all he can do is stare instead of move because for some reason his feet are stuck. As Anders mentally rants against his own stupidity, he's slammed into... by Beleth, instead of the head.

The floor is hard, he's fairly certain the impact has bruised ribs if not broken them, but he's not actually dead. Coated in bile, in a little pain, but not dead.

"Thank--" And then he sees the head rolling toward them, teeth gnashing. "Are you kidding me. No. No." There is a point at which everything is altogether too much, and he pushes himself up with the use of his staff before swinging it, hard, driving it right back into the wall it struck. It's followed by a fireball because yes, he needs to conserve mana, but this thing needs to fucking die.

Well. This is a moment Korrin will always remember, as much as she would love to excise it from her brain. She's slicing those corpse limbs off Taas's ankles when that rather dramatic -and deeply disgusting- moment happens. The sight of those corpses exploding and showing them all in blood and bile, and the stench alone...she isn't nauseated by much, but has to fight off a strong gag reflex just then and there.

At least her barrier is holding, and when the moment passes -not really, but enough where she can focus on something else- her spirit blade is out again. Helping Detlef is the main priority, but part of her really, really needs to take her disgust out on something just then. 'I'll trap it.' Ugh, worst decision ever made.

Bull only just managed to roll out of the way of the collapsing body of the flesh golemn, swiping at the remaining bile burning on his skin with a low growl. Finally, the thing was down...and it appeared the rest of their foes had fallen as well. In a manner of speaking.

One of the least satisfying wins he could recall, everyone covered in filth, bloody and beaten. But the thing was dead. Mostly. Seeing that head go sailing across the room earned an exasperated, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Well. If they can keep it still long enough, one of them can plug it dead, and they can move on. Just a matter of who reaches it first. Bull? He's willing to let someone else take the shot, at this point.

Hunkering down to help guard Fate and Zevran around a few corners becomes an increasingly less smart idea the longer the others are gone; it's easy enough to tell from the shouting that they're still alive, mostly, probably, but it doesn't sound like that's guaranteed to continue.

"Andraste's—watch him," he says to Fate, and runs.

And stops

He is so overwhelmed that his face goes blank and sort of stupid—which might be funny later, if any of this is ever funny—looking at the toothy head... thing... that's just crashed into a nearby wall. It's on fire. It launches itself off. He knocks it away on reflex, with his shield, back toward the fray.

Never let it be said that Grey Wardens never contribute anything outside of dealing with the Blight.

The trouble with lighting undead things on fire is that, then, you have the flaming undead. Bile drips and fat sizzles, popping under it's bulbous flesh, the acrid stink of decomposing bodies suddenly offset by the scent of cooked pork. The shrieking, sizzling thing had launched itself from the wall with all the force it's bone tipped arms could manage and sailed through the air at Alistair, only to be batted away in a high arc right at Korrin.

Shrieking maw open and talons spread wide it snaps for whatever part of her it can reach while on the descent- a flaming ball of animated, decomposing flesh.

"Vashedan!" There are many creatures Korrin wants nowhere near any part of her body and right now a soaring, flaming undead is right at the top of that list. Thankful to already have her spirit blade in hand, she lifts it to slice at the thing with renewed vigor borne of complete disgust. That unholy mess needs to die and die now.

The cut is clean- slicing the beast's burning skull neatly in two- spattering the surrounding area with cooked flesh, splinters of bone, the congealed pudding that was the beast's brain- and the two cracked halves of some warped, burnt gem filled with lyrium. Both halves fly past in artful spirals to land with a meaty thud behind her.

A few of the limbs of the crows that survived the initial round of bursting now, well, burst, showering Alistair with ripping, greasy corpse juice.

Beyond them all the headless corpse of the golem gives a great, gurgling roil, the other heads writhing and lolling along it's spine, the massive flesh undulating like a leather sack full of pudding, coiling with tension not yet loosed- and then?

BUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrr_rrrrt thh^hpp_bbbb ^rrrrrt

The corpse went still after one final, flatulent bellow that filled the room with the harmless odor of sulfur and eggs as it emptied it's rotted bowels.

At last, the beast is dead.

[ CLOSED ] THE ANTIVAN CROWS SEND THEIR REGARDS

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

... welp

why is everything on fire?

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)