faderift | What Can One Grey Warden Do?

Entry tags:

What Can One Grey Warden Do?

WHO: Hercules, Jamie, Kain, Rachette, Alistair, Kaidan, Bethany, Dorian, Anders, and Nathaniel.
WHAT: The ambush and capture of Lord Livius Erimond
WHEN: Drakonis 4
WHERE: The Western Approach
NOTES: Info on this post. Feel free to start your own mingle threads for the journey there and back. Warning for violence.

It doesn't really rain here. The skies are blue and the sun is glaring, the sands shifting only when a merciful breeze blazes through, which isn't often. It's hardest on Team D, which has no shade or shelter. The other two teams are tucked away in the shadows, impossible to see as Erimond's party enters the gorge.

They had seen the demons from afar, Nathaniel peering through a spyglass. There are eight of them, each bound to a mage, and Nathaniel has chosen to continue with the plan, though he has urged everyone not to try to fight, only to push through with the plan as-is and get out. They are all very much outnumbered, but all they need to do is take one man.

So stay hydrated and move quickly, team. Anything can happen in the next few minutes.

[OOC: I will tag into each team thread as the action reaches each team. Feel free to mingle on team threads before then and react to the action in other threads. Also, please start your own threads for travel mingling, if you want that sort of thing. This will keep everything organized for everyone's AC purposes.]

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"She said she gave her word. She will help you and Justice separate. She's an honorable woman."

Honor. A trait he didn't hope to find in an Orlesian. But she has her own set of Fereldan virtues, and Nathaniel respects her greatly.

"She'll help you. I'll help you. We'll do whatever it takes to get you both safely apart. You're not alone."

Nathaniel slides off his horse, staggers under a small tree, and sits down hard, face grey and drawn in pain. Anders has stopped the worst of the bleeding, but the wound is still fairly open and causing agony. There might be hairline fractures in the largest bone of his arm, he's not sure. Everything is pain. He curls against the tree and does not care that his plan was successful; the whole world has reduced to the size of his body. He's done.

Jamie gets an apologetic look at the grimace, but then Anders is more focused on Kain. There's blood loss, a piece of something still in Kain, and enough damage that if it's left too long there might be a lasting problem even with the blood loss stopped.

"I'll heal as we move him. But once we've got him on to a horse, you're going to need to make sure he stays on and gets to the rendezvous point." He can hear combat still going on, and it's not just Herc. Erimond has closed on Nate and Alistair and Anders is needed there too, and he has no idea how Bethany's group is doing.

Focusing internally, he casts, seeking to forestall anything lethal and stabilize. It's all they can afford, time-wise, for now. He can hear Rachette moving along behind them, giving them cover, and that's one concern gone as they approach the horses. By the time they've got Kain up and on, the bleeding's stopped. For now.

"Be careful, don't jostle it, I need to back up Nate and Alistair." It's hastily said because he's already looking for the two, trying to find... There. Nate and Erimond are entangled and Alistair is swinging, and Anders nods to this group.

"I'll see you at the rendezvous point." And then he's running, because he isn't done yet.

The demon is a fierce one, and Herc's attacks may stagger it, but it presses on. Its next swipe connects with Herc, though only the ends of its long fingers, dealing no damage but setting off his balance. Its long tail lashes out to wrap around Herc's ankle and yank him to the ground.

"She did give her word. But I wasn't going to hold her to anything she promised Detlef." That wouldn't have been right.

Anders takes another breath before tearing his gaze away from her notes.

"Thank you, Nate. You've... You've stood by me and helped me with so much already, and now this. I hadn't dared hope for this. Sought, but not hoped."

Damn it.

Herc's halfway to taking another step back to correct his balance when the demon's tail strikes. He's doing better than before, but he's still not up to his normal form and his body is protesting the lingering injuries. Landing at an awkward angle, shield caught between himself and the ground, Herc's arm takes a beating and sand meets his eyes and his mouth. Without looking he swings his sword to try and catch the demon's tail, flame still enveloping the blade.

Black smoke is thick and rising in the air, marking where the scuffle had been. Scorched earth, air rippling with heat. A wall of magically burning flame is a good deterrent against pursuit, and also serves to flag the final team's inevitable arrival, a little belated.

Dorian made it out alright, all things considered. His own magical energy somewhat low, manifesting as a spiritual kind of haggardness, although that could just be the effect of the Western Approach in general. But it's a lively kind of exhaustion, raw-boned and adrenalised while he catches his breath. There's a streak of crimson cutting a refined rivulet from his scratchy jaw down along his neck, smearing at where his robe begins.

His eyes are very bright and he brings with him a gusting smell of storm and fire, but a dimness sets in as he starts to count heads with a zigzagging gaze.

"Nathaniel!"

Bethany cried out across the desert expanse, her brown eyes widening. My fault, my fault! her mind screamed, as guilt turned into anger, and anger turned into magic.

If you have never seen a force mage at work, it can be a truly daunting sight. Bethany lifted her staff to the sky, and then slammed it down into the ground, shooting out one hand as she reached to the sky to tear open a hole in the fabric of force around them, and use it to create a vortex to the demons and mages rushing to Erimond's aid. Those who were not caught in Alistair's defensive templar abilities, soon found themselves dragged to one central spot.

Where they couldn't move, except to wave their arms ... rather ineffectually.

She starting swinging her staff around again, focusing and drawing mana back in for the next attack.

Things could be worse for Jamie. True, there's some scorch marks on his armor and a line of angry-looking blisters across his throat, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt, but all in all, he's lucky, and a part of him knows that. Some of the others haven't been, however, and there's a grim set to his mouth and a certain tightness to his jaw that could be interpreted as pain, but in reality has nothing whatsoever to do with his injuries.

He's hanging back somewhat as they approach, mostly to make sure that Kain doesn't wind up pitching off his horse along the way. Once he gets to a point where he can dismount, he does so quickly and quietly, not saying anything but putting himself in a place where he can offer Kain a hand down should he need it. His attention is split, however, eyes going back and forth between the warrior and the way they've come, the faint flicker of hope that appears as he looks back starting to dim somewhat as more time passes.

It definitely could have gone even worse, and he knows it, even as the frustration is evident in Kain’s posture the whole way as they make their escape. The worst injury is to his leg, aside from that it’s just minor burns from all the magic that was being flung around. He feels weary and a bit weakened… though Anders’ healing spared him from worse, stopped him from bleeding out. He’s definitely holding on tightly, ever wary of the animal he’s riding… why can’t they have sensible animals like giant birds to ride?... but at least there isn’t trouble on the way back.

“Should have gone back…” he grumbles, mainly disappointed in himself despite knowing they’d had virtually no choice at the time. He hesitates, but then accepts Jamie’s help to dismount, taking care in how he gets off and keeping his weight on the good leg, using the long pole of his lance as a support of sorts. “...Thank you.” He sighs. There wasn’t much they could do but… they’d had no choice. The guilt is there anyway.

Dorian's horror spell hits both demons and mages hard, lasting almost half a minute. From sheer terror, the mages begin to send spells out blindly in many directions. One, a blast of fire, catches Kaidan, singeing his face and any exposed hair but doing no more damage than a sunburn.

Several of the enemy mages have the sense, at least, to have barriers up. Kaidan's fireball singes a few eyebrows and knocks a number of demons back. It's Bethany's force spell that is deadliest to them, gathering them all tightly together as Kaidan's blade swings. The blow catches in layers of fabric, not flesh, but there is little they can do to resist more blows.

That is, until an older mage sends a wave of energy rippling out, casting off Bethany's spell--as well as the barriers guarding everyone in the fight. Only Dorian's horror spell remains, so the attacks from the enemy mages are still erratic.

A bolt of lightning lands near Dorian, but does not hit him. Dorian's fire spell hits nothing but rock, sending dust flying, obscuring the enemy targets.

"Easy for you to say," Nathaniel grumbles, but he turns his horse with his left hand. Shaking, sweating, strangely cold despite the sun. "Give the bastard another slap for me, will you, Alistair?"

But he is silent for the rest of the road to the rendezvous point, conserving energy to stay in his saddle.

The singeing of his hair and face didn't phase Kaidan - you didn't fight without getting some kind of scars, let's face it, but it was the dropping of his barrier that had him most concerned. The way he fought, he relied on that for protection as he got up close and personal, and to be without that was putting him on edge.

But he persevered, his staff whirling in an attempt to knock as many down as possible, struggling to find his feet as the Venatori mage looked to disrupt them all.

As soon as he's off his horse he's kneeling by Nathaniel and getting to work in earnest, but every new arrival has him looking up and assessing their injuries too. Dorian gets a frown - the man is upright but there are definitely injuries Anders will need to see to after the urgent ones - and Jamie and Kain get a wave over. There's far more to do there.

"Just breathe, Nate," he says quietly before raising his voice. "Kain, can you get over here? Or somewhere comfortable. I'll see to you next."

At least it looks like they haven't been followed, though they've paid quite the price for that. Anders doesn't look pleased because he isn't. Herc had saved his life, and Anders had been told to leave Herc behind to die.

"And I'll help anyone else who would like it after that." Who he is shouldn't stop the desire for healing, and the wounds he sees are ugly and need attention, but there's always that chance.

His attention shifts back to where Nate's been pierced, now, and he works to bring the flesh back together and ease battered nerve endings into some sort of restfulness.

It's almost better that they didn't try to fight the massive demon in the condition people are in. Rachette had watched the team's back, watching Herc and the giant terror demon disappear into the gorge. But it makes her upset. She seems to be one of the least hurt, which normally is a sign of a job well done, but she wonders if it makes her look like she hasn't done enough.

"We can go back for him," she insists. "Whoever is able--we have what we came for, and now with some patching up and a full assault, we can go back."

The angle isn't ideal, but the blade hits, nearly severing the tail. The demon screams in Herc's face and grabs him with both hands, lifting him two feet from the ground before slamming him back down. The whiplash causes near-immediate unconsciousness.

He's not out for long. When he wakes, his hands and feet are bound. A Warden mage kneels before him, eyes glowing strangely. He removes his healing hands from Herc, then tilts his head, as if curious about what he is seeing. Behind him, a few mages watch, their numbers dwindled from what it was.

"Where are you in pain?" the healer asks in a monotone voice.

All in all, he'd say that potentially dying would have been an easier out that being trapped like this. Herc eyes the mage warily. Warden against Warden wasn't how it was meant to be, and on another day, in another battle, the guy patching him up might've been a friend.

As it is, Herc considers a long moment before responding.

"Everywhere," he replies, and it's mostly true. Eating sand wasn't fun, being slammed into it by a bloody great demon wasn't high on his list, either. Still, some pain and tension is potentially more worrying. "Neck's not great." A little shift, testing, and he winces. "Right collarbone and arm aren't much better." He's not looked, but breathing and shrugging made his shoulder yell a mighty protest.

And speaking of arms, he's guessing his sword and shield are gone, left back in the Approach or requisitioned to these bastards. His head is foggy, but he manages a rough, "Where are we?"

Alistair doesn't dismount, tight one-handed hold on his horse's reins keeping the animal restrained to kicking up sand in a slow, agitated circle around the congregating group. He's standing in the stirrups even now that they've come to a rest, because Erimond is slung across horse's back in front of him, limp as a ragdoll, and sitting down properly would mean holding the bastard on his lap. He'd rather not.

"Go back for who?" he says, but his eyes have finished scanning and counting before he's done asking the question.

His shoulders would have sagged if they'd lost anyone, but they sag a little extra, for Hercules.

"Auugggghhk," Alistair answers, because he's under Herc's enormous, drooling, uncharming dog, pushing at Max's chest with one hand and shielding his face with the other. He likes dogs. He really, really likes dogs. But he likes them the way people ought to like dogs: a little distantly, with a line drawn somewhere ahead of being licked in the face while the dog's mouth is also still occupied by a putrid bone.

Help.

"Hansen."

Dorian can see that Alistair has done the math and says it anyway, making eye contact before he drops a look down to the flopping form of Erimond, and then to Rachette. "Venhedis," he curses. Of all the Wardens, it had to be one he'd specifically intended to see back to Skyhold, and he doesn't even know Hercules.

He knows Benevenuta. He stops leaning on his staff, volunteering silent, clear in his posture. He is among those who constitute as 'able'. "There isn't time to lose. If we can get them while they're still scrambling--"

Spirit magic ripples sickly green as Dorian throws up his barriers as attention is, inevitably, drawn their way, even after the devastation impact of Bethany's force spell. "Not exactly ice, is it?" he shouts over the chaos, unable not to rib her a little for immediately veering wildly off-course from her own plan.

Apostates, honestly.

It doesn't matter, though. It's working. His voice is textured with adrenalised liveliness, and he conserves his most of his energy for the moment as he sends gusts of energy, surgical, attempting to control the crowd around where Kaidan is fighting them toe-to-toe, like a madman.

He turns, tearing a fireball through the Veil and sending it blazing for the enemy mages -- attempting, this time, for accuracy.

"I'll cover our retreat," he asserts, mostly for Bethany -- Kaidan will have to do with them yelling at him to run. "Be ready."

Anders' gesture hasn't gone unnoticed, and he glances over at Kain for a second before motioning over in the mage's direction and starting to slowly head that way. However, he makes sure to stick close by Kain so that the other man can lean on him however he needs to, figuring it's better to be around for that until they can get over to a place where Anders can see about fixing that leg. Dorian has a point, though, and even though he doesn't pause in what he's doing, he gives a a brief nod, more or less agreeing with what's been said.

"Aye, catch them while they're on the move and there'd be a chance."

Likely they'd still be expecting something - they'd be daft not to, as far as he's concerned - but hitting them before they have a chance to get to where they're going would make a rescue easier. In theory, anyway, and his eyes flick over to Alistair, his chin lifting as he gestures in the general direction of the unconscious form still slung over the other man's horse.

"What about him, though? We can't bring him with us. That's just asking for them to rescue him."

"Max." Too amused to be much of a warning or a reprimand, and the offending canine looking at Herc over his shoulder before offering a thoughtful wuff, dropping the bone in Alistair's lap (but only after almost clocking him in the head with it) and licking Alistair's hand - armoured or otherwise - that was shielding his face.

Important business achieved, Max pulls back and flops down, panting contently.

"Sorry," he says, and though he does sound sorry, it's ruined by the quiet chuckle that comes with it.

"Take Rachette," Nathaniel says in a daze to no one in particular. "Rachette and three others. The rest of us will wait here for you. If you can't save Herc, don't sacrifice more lives trying or taking revenge. He understands. You have an hour."

There's a moment wherein Kain attempts doing without the support, but that doesn't go so well, so he leans on Jamie as he heads over toward Anders. He takes a seat nearby and stretches out his leg with a grimace so that the healer can see to it. But he's patient, knowing it looks like Nathaniel needs the healing more first. He's eager to get back out there, but the whole situation doesn't look good. Is it worth the trade off, losing one of their own in exchange for Erimond?

"I'm able... or I can be." Or... close enough to it? Ugh. It doesn't feel too great at the moment... but really if he can get rid of the worst of the pain, he's all for trying.

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Page 4 of 6

What Can One Grey Warden Do?

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It happens!

Just me and Herc from here on

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Just to let you all know. I rolled a fifteen! SCORE!

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