[ CLOSED ] THE ANTIVAN CROWS SEND THEIR REGARDS

[ombranera]

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!

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The Remnants of The Ambush

[ombranera]

There is, at first glance, little left to see in the clearing just beyond the gates of Skyhold where Zevran and Merrick had been walking. Zevran himself? Was gone. Merrick had been unceremoniously dumped at the base of a boulder, bundled in a cloak to hide the awkward sprawl of his limbs and the puncture wound at his neck. Between snow and wind and hard stone there is little to show for what happened unless one knows what it is they are looking for.

The Trail North

[ombranera]

A series of spartan camps, fire long gone cold, the barest spattering of blood where one might hold someone prisoner, and the odd curl of half burnt paper with writing in Antivan directing whoever they were following to the next safe location. The further from Skyhold? The more careless they are with the burning, the more scraps left available-

The more blood pooled in rusty spatters next to a hook set into a wall, driven into the ground, or the cut length of rope.

It is a long ride North, but they are gaining ground.

The Stronghold

[ombranera]

From the outside it does not seem like much. Stone walls set into a series of caves, parapets and portcullis worn from age. An old smuggler's den reinforced during the old Exalted Marches into some manner of fort; the exterior pitted with haphazard craters and debris that did as much to hide what the structure actually was as it did to reinforce what walls were left. To one side there were caves, a scattering of rough buildings in front- trees offering fine cover for a quiet approach. Near the stables, the gate, and visible on the ramparts are figures minding the horizon. A Crow's Nest, to be certain.

The Golem of Flesh

[ombranera]

From deep within the Fortress there is an inhuman roar- discordant and unnatural as it rumbles through stone and wood and iron; those closest may be overcome with a wave of nausea or an icy chill in their core. From the depths of the caverns there is the hot wash of air moist with the scent of rot; of curdled blood. Wet, fleshy footsteps lumber to the cave's entrance, shades crackling with ash and vicious glee spill from the caverns like so much blood; loosed from their confines to clear the field of any that are not of the Crows.

Or.

Anyone that is moving.

Behind comes the shape of a golem Twice as tall as a man and thrice as thick, swinging meaty, dripping hands into whatever blocks it's path. At the first sign of movement it bellows once more- and charges.

The Aftermath and Ride Back

[ombranera]

Stronghold

When the dust has settled and the battle ended- through death or fire or flight- if there are any prisoners to interrogate or time to better examine the scraps of scrolls and ciphers left behind by the Crows, now is the time to do so. None shall come till dawn and by then it is best to be back on the road, returning home.

The Ride Back

While on the road Zevran is quiet, withdrawn. It takes the better part of a day for the worst of it to clear out of his system and even then? He seems as though he is in a daze, nodding along with conversation well enough; though sudden movement and sound causes him to go sharply still, an antithesis of a flinch. By the third day on the road scraps of his humor return, even if they are forced.

[qunari]

The Iron Bull observes the pools of blood in stony silence before taking to a knee. The scent is still thick in the air, the lingering smells of a camp, of leather, and the smoldering remains of the notes that someone else is looking over at the moment.

He's checking the consistency. How long has it sat here? Might give them a clue how far they have to go, how much ground they have to cover.

Might even catch up to him before they do more than let him bleed out.

[ombranera]

Hours, perhaps half a day at most, six hours at the least. The oddest thing was the lack of blood on the ropes, or hook, or ring used to hold their supposed captive; but rather the blood was alongside said implements, always in neat arcs.

Team Mayhem

[qunari]

"Yeah. This might not be a trap, but that doesn't mean the place isn't loaded with them," Bull grumbles, surveying the half-ruined fortress. There might be a few spots worthy of infiltrating, but they'd have to choose them carefully. No hold like this wouldn't have surprises stowed for uninvited guests, likely enough to rouse their attention in short order. The 'secret' entrance most likely to bring about the Crows attention?

That'd be the best option for those intending to bring the noise.

He glances back at the others, his expression grim. He'd rather have his boys for a mission like this, but every single one of them want Zevran back. They're working together on this, like it or not. So. Time to weigh in.

"Thoughts?"

[qunari]

These weren't signs of a struggle, no effort on Zevran's part to get away or simply some ill effects from being bound improperly. Taking some of the spirit out of him with torture, maybe?

His fingers followed the arc of blood along the ground, just past stickiness and starting to absorb into the ground. His nostrils flare quietly as he examines the ends of the rope. Neatly cut. A very sharp blade, or a heavy one.

[ombranera]

There in the dirt he'll scuff up and past two bits of incidental debris. The tip of a needle, hollowed and yet tacky with some manner of fragrant residue and the withered pod of a plant.

[quietblade]

"There's no way this place isn't full of boobytraps and sneaky fuckers at every turn, no matter if they set a specific trap for us or not." Taas says bitterly, eyes flickering from the fortress to Bull's lips. He's not looking forward to fighting by this man's side, but frankly he'd team up with fucking Corypheus to get Zevran back.

In one piece. Please.

His hand tighten a bit around his axe, and he gives a shrug. "Make a lot of noise, kill a bunch of Crows, be an excellent distraction? I'm sure the rest of them can sneak better than guys our size." It's nothing more than a suggestion, though. Taas does better with orders; he was Karasaad, not even a Sten.

[qunari]

Carefully, he pries the pod off the ground, bringing it close enough to take a whiff, though not enough to breathe anything directly in. After a moment he snorts, dropping the pod once more.

"Opium. They've been keeping him drugged. Smart. The initial dose must have worn off here," Bull murmurs to the others.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin's eyes meet Taas for a moment, having similar thoughts. She hasn't had to fight alongside a Qunari before and isn't thrilled about it now, but they all have a common cause. They can focus on that, and let the rest take care of itself later, after they have Zevran back.

Slipping her staff free from the strap on her back, Korrin grimly nods at her Tal-Vashoth companion's assessment. "Taas has a point. We concentrate on being noisy and flashy, keep them focused on us. I can't help with traps other than deliberately triggering those I see, but given that these are Crows, who know what will come of that. I'd trust Beleth to disarm them, though." She glands over to the Dalish elf, lighter and quieter than any of the rest.

[arlathvhen]

"What's opi--Drugged?"

Beleth has been watching Iron Bull work quietly. She can track, she can follow a trail, and the Crows are not as hard to follow as a hart in the plains. But this stuff? This is beyond her, and she eyes the pod and other implements with a confused eye. But she trusts that Iron Bull knows more than she does, and she takes a moment from circling the camp to inspect the pod, try to commit it to memory.

"So, um..." All of this is way out of her depth. But she's spent her time in Skyhold learning, and she takes some time to dwell on why they would keep Zevran drugged. "...They're...keeping him from escaping? Until they get him wherever they're going." She makes a face at that, lips pressed together.

Once she's done moving around, she takes all the scraps of paper she's collected this time, and hands it to Bull. Anything written in Antivan is meaningless to her, after all.

[wickedchase]

Twisted Fate watches how Beleth makes her conclusions and knows well to keep his judgments on hold. More than he prefers to say, finding Zevran is a more important matter. That will probably be perpetual among all of them.

"Wherever they're going, it's going to be guarded. I think they know well Zevran's meaning to the Inquisition, and those part of it. They're getting confident, though. Leaving a trail is messy. This is messier."

[arlathvhen]

The familiar press of anxiety rises up in Beleth's throat, and she has probably worn a hole through her scarf as she tries to direct the nervous energy away from her mind. It was her, who suggested the three qunari fight at the front, making the biggest distraction. If they got hurt, it would be her fault, it was her plans that made this.

If they died, it would be on her.

She nodded, snapping out of that cloud when Korrin mentions her. Okay, yes. She can do this, she's a Dalish hunter, proud and strong. She's not afraid to die. "Yeah--Um. I can disarm traps. I practiced with, ah--" Pause. Mental reminder that adult Dalish do not cry just because bad things are happening. "I can take care of traps. And--Yeah. The idea is to attract attention. Like, um. I can make their door explode."

That idea seems to cheer her up.

[qunari]

"Probably not the only reason they're drugging him. If he's not struggling..."

Then they're cutting into him for other reasons entirely. Not a pretty picture this scene's painting. He's going to want answers when they get back. How the Crows followed him, who gave him away. Spies in the Inquisition were bound to happen, his own presence included, but this?

They didn't have time for this with Corypheus still at large. Defenses were going to have to be--

Not the time for it. It was instinctive, rather than dwell on what was probably happening to Zevran as they spoke and letting his anger get the better of him. With a grunt, he took hold of the remaining scraps, scanning them over.

[justice_is_blond]

"Fuck that." Most of his attention is on Zevran, but it doesn't take a lot to know there's something huge, ugly, and smelly coming at them.

"Can we run? Because I don't know how much healing I can do for the rest of you while I'm helping him." The question happens to primarily be directed at the qunari. They've always struck him as a rather fight-happy people.

[qunari]

"Don't get in a hurry. We make it too obvious, they're going to know we've got people going in the back. These guys have their reputation for a reason." Bull scowls, folding his arm, though it's more at the situation than any one of them. "We need to look like we're doing this for real. So. Disarm the traps you can. If we trip some on accident, it looks real enough. Then we start shaking the walls."

His eye darted across the other three, brow raised. Anyone got a different plan, now's the time to say so. He's not in charge, but this isn't his first break-in.

[ombranera]

The burnt edges of the paper flake away as they're handled, winding words that double back over the page, pointing to a more stable camp several miles north, a notation about the tools they'll need waiting.

The list itself is incomplete but lyrium, opium, and a singularly potent hallucinogenic are legible.

[gatheringstorm]

While Detlef -that's his name, right?- is talking, Korrin wastes no time in throwing up a Barrier, encompassing everyone near her. She doesn't dare glance back to check on Zevran with that thing charging them. But as much as she doesn't fear a fight, she also doesn't want to cost Zevran any precious time.

"Keep going and get him out of here! That's our priority, isn't it? I'll try to trap it." It's time for Static Cage and hoping that will keep it occupied long enough to get Zevran clear of danger.

Team Stealth

[justice_is_blond]

"There's paranoia, and then there's this." His voice is low, though. It's not paranoia to be cautious when you're infiltrating an enemy stronghold. Or any stronghold, really. Infiltration didn't seem to be looked upon well.

"Let's give them a few more minutes to be a distraction before we head in?" Anders isn't a leader. He's not the type, and he's never wanted to be. But he's also not good at being silent. All his life it's been hard, but the year in solitary had reinforced his need for people and words.

[justice_is_blond]

"At least if he's not struggling, he's not making the wounds worse." It's the single plus side to everything they're finding here. Anders' job will be easier the less the wounds are aggravated.

Anders is standing hear Bull, reading what else is written there. More tools, more drugs. So much for no injuries on top of injuries. His stomach twists, anger mixing with worry, and it shows on his face.

[arlathvhen]

Despite the mounting nerves, Beleth actually laughed at Detlef's reaction. Not that she could blame him. She felt 'fuck that' on a very deep, personal level. Every instinct in her says to run, very fast, at the sight of the monstrous abomination charging at them. And she's about to bow to that instinct, when Korrin stops. And it's just like the first time they met, isn't it? Well, that thing is no bear, and she bounces unhappily on the balls of her feet, but she can't just wimp out on this.

"Trapping sounds good. I'll, um. I'll help."

And she controls herself, enough to slide over, get on one knee, and lob an arrow right at one of the mouths of that thing. This is helping, probably.

[byblow]

Speaking of people who aren't leaders, Alistair is standing forward toward the fortress, as near as he can without going too far, and bouncing the heel of one foot. It's a childish motion. A pointless position. There's nothing to see, and when they do move forward, he won't be able to do his usual crashing-ahead-into-danger-and-dealing-with-the-cuts-and-bruises-and-burns-later thing. He'll have to follow people who are actually capable of creeping.

It's killing him. Maybe literally. Days shaved off his lifespan for every minute they stand here.

So at Detlef's suggestion he looks back over his shoulder at him with something close to a glare. But he doesn't disagree. It probably is smarter. Alistair just resents that it is.