faderift | [closed] speaking of fights

For the first time in what felt like ages, Merrick had been actually enjoying himself.

Not at the ball-- the ball had made him shrink into himself, the anxiety crunching his ribs around his lungs, pressure thick and tacky in his chest and throat. The drink had helped, certainly-- but it hadn't been until he walked outside and took in the air, smelled the familiar scent of burning wood that he'd truly felt the coils in his body unwind just enough for him to breathe. Song had burst from his throat, laughs from his liberated lungs. He'd almost felt happy, as if the past few weeks hadn't happened, as if he weren't a wretched shuddering thing pressed constantly at the edge, tightly wound muscles wracked with constant brutal misery.

And then he'd seen him.

The flash of blond hair, the uneasy bend of the shoulders. Merrick couldn't even remember his name. All he could think of then had been Beleth Beleth Beleth and need to hurt he needs to pay he hurt her hurt hurt hurt

It still pulses in his brain as he stalks the man back to his room, completely silent and hidden in the shadows. It's practically impulse now; Zevran's training has honed him into a sleek and silent killer, and his moves are second nature now even in his anger. He moves around and locates the window on the side of Cade's room, and climbs up to it effortlessly.

The man is reading. There's one candle lit, the room is otherwise dark. Merrick slips through the window as unnoticeable as the breeze, and hoists himself up onto the wooden planks near the ceiling.

From there, he's able to move to just above Cade's bed, and then he falls.

His feet land on either side of Cade's body and his hand darts down to grip the man's throat. He uses the moment of panic to push the Templar to the side and kick him off the bed, hard.

Edited 2016-03-30 09:11 (UTC)

Cade is lying on his stomach with the book laid in front of him, chin resting on his palm, his eyelids beginning to droop as the day's exhaustion starts to catch up with him.

It's not that he hears something, because he doesn't. But he feels it, feels that there's someone watching him, a sense far more refined in him than it would be in most people as a result of how cripplingly shy he is. He angles his head and turns over to look curiously at the Tranquil, who is still busy with his own book, and then Cade's paranoia is validated when an elf falls on him.

He barely has time to react before Merrick's hands close around his throat, and he's in the process of lashing out to push him off when the much smaller person kicks him straight in the stomach.
He lands hard on the floor, all of his instincts screaming for him to wrest the elf down and crush him, bash his head in, kill him before he can do any killing; but somewhere deep in the back of Cade's mind, a small voice reminds him that this would end catastrophically for himself.

In the meantime, he just scrabbles against the stone floor to get up and out of such a vulnerable position.

At some point in the madness, Hadrian took off. He is on his way down the hall, hurrying back to the ballroom to find Nerva.

Merrick closes in, throwing another kick at Cade and pressing him down with a heel in his back. His hands go to the templar's arm, yanking it up and back, twisting it hard.

Even if Cade does fly into berserker mode periodically, he always has a sword. He's never brawled before, and this is unfamiliar territory, though he does make an effort to grab at one of Merrick's feet in an attempt to pull him down. This results in another kick and the wrenching of his arm, a frantic and anguished expulsion of breath as his other hand continues to grasp for purchase.

The movements have been practiced thus far, methodical, but Merrick is rapidly losing control. He plants his foot on Cade's back, putting his whole weight on it--which isn't much; Cade absolutely has the size and strength advantage here--and twists the arm just so, in anticipation of the pop of a dislocated shoulder.

When his shoulder gives in to Merrick's attempt, Cade makes a sound like a kicked dog, a yelp of unfamiliar agony. He's certainly been injured before, but never with quite so much... deliberation. A calculated effort, not the heat of combat.
Suddenly giving way to the frenzy he's been trying to hold back, he reaches behind him with the uninjured arm to grasp the elf's ankle. He wrenches his grip outward and away from himself, intending to catch Merrick off-balance long enough to get up and gain the upper hand. Never mind that his right arm is now almost entirely useless; that sort of thing usually doesn't stop him when he's fighting for his life.

Merrick is easily overpowered and thrown to the ground. His back hits the stone floor and he winces before bending his knees with the intention of bouncing back up.

Cade tries to take the opportunity to get up himself, but the pain in his shoulder verges on blinding and he's slower than he would normally be. He lurches toward Merrick, hoping to knock him down again, perhaps to pin him under his greater weight until he can figure out what to do. However, it's possible that the elf is too quick for him.

Hadrian is not equipped to deal with such a crisis. He wouldn't want to anyway, as he has no experience with physical altercations and does not wish to be involved.
He hurries down the dark hallway from Cade's room, then to the stairs, both stone and makeshift wooden scaffolding; when he finally reaches the main hall, the party is winding down but not yet over. Spying the person he seeks, he makes his way over to Ser Nerva and begins speaking whether or not she's mid-conversation.

"Ser Nerva, an elf has dropped from the ceiling in Ser Cade's chambers," he blithely announces, "I believe they will try to kill each other if left unattended for long." Of course he had to leave them unattended, but who else was going to come get her? It was the sensible thing to do.

Merrick arches his back, bends his knees and springs up, but before he can orient his spine Cade is lurching toward him. His drunkenness has him swaying, and Cade is able to tackle him back into the ground.

Sometimes when Cade fights, he's in a rage or just letting go of his mind entirely, a brainless human-sized golem made for fighting. There's no relish in it, no passion, very little expression or emotion at all.
But tonight there is, even if it's just animalistic fear. Despite the pain and desperation and the suddenness of the situation, there is a cognizance in his eyes, and he seems as afraid of his own actions as anything Merrick would do.

He'll be executed. Or worse, jailed forever, forced to live with what he's made his life.

It's because of this that he is just barely able to hold himself back, and though he does his best to pin the elf, he's too aware of himself to hold him very well. With a knee pressed in just under Merrick's ribcage and the good hand on his chest, Cade looks imploringly at the door, hoping nobody walks through it to find them.

The hold is weak; Merrick has fought worse during training. Cade has weight against him, but most of his opponents do, and he knows how to handle it. He hits Cade in the crook of his elbow to weaken his hold then grabs his arm and twists.

A quick intake of breath signals Cade's surprise and pain at the sudden maneuver, and though Merrick gives his arm a good wrench, Cade manages to jerk it away before it can be fully debilitated. In a last-ditch effort to hang onto his senses, he looks toward the doorway again, and realizes he has to get out of here. Not just the room-- he has to get out of Skyhold, and the Frostbacks, and... everywhere.
Of course, he just has to... deal with the person he's holding down first.

His hand is shaking when it returns to snatch up a handful of Merrick's hair and slam his head down against the stone floor, perhaps harder than he should, at least with the intent to disable rather than kill; and then he makes a clumsy attempt to bolt, hindered somewhat by his total inability to use his right arm for the balance and strength needed to get himself off the floor while trying not to step on or be killed by a homicidal elf.

Edited 2016-04-04 05:36 (UTC)

The blow to his head is bad. Merrick had already felt a migraine growing, tasted it in his mouth just as he'd been waking up that morning. It had been sitting in the back of his skull all day, but he'd been determined to go to the ball, to be with people, to try to relax and be happy and be normal for just one night-- and now, his skull is like an iron maiden clamped shut around his brain.

He reels, his vision whiting out, and is only dimly aware of Cade's body lifting off of his. Arching his spine, he catches the human around the hips with his legs, using his lower body strength to bring him back down and roll them over.

Now straddling Cade's hips, he goes in with his first blow, a punishing cut to the jaw. He's past technique now.

Merde.

She dropped the conversation she'd been having immediately (much to the relief of the young Templar she'd been having it with), and turned immediately.

"Keep behind me." She said to the Tranquil, which was the shortest she ever spoke to them. Usually unerringly polite, she was, at this moment, utter business.

She slammed the door open, her sword already drawn. "What is going on here?" She barked.

Cade's landing isn't terribly graceful, not that that could be expected. He goes down like a sack of bricks, one hand clawing futilely at the door-- just enough to bat it almost closed instead of grabbing onto it-- and only stopping when Merrick's fist hits his face.
In all his years of combat, Cade has actually never been just... slugged in the face before. Even in spars it's been accidental or pulled, so this is as shocking as it is painful. It takes him a moment to react, in the form of trying to push Merrick off him with his good arm.

There's a tinny noise in Merrick's head, signaling the start of a rapid downward spiral. With each hit he descends, tier after tier after tier, until the last vestiges of control are peeled away.

He's momentarily shoved aside, but rights himself quickly and punches Cade again. Visions of Beleth's bruised and beaten face tear across his mind. Her nose had been broken-- Cade's nose should be broken too. He pounds his fist into it ruthlessly.

There is no technique, no finesse anymore. There's just hit after hit after hit as Merrick tries to get the human underneath him to bleed as much as possible.

Quickly seeing the futility in trying to either shove Merrick off him or struggle out from under him, and too shocked to do much else, Cade resorts to shielding his face with his one mobile arm, with limited results. Each subsequent blow disorients him further, until his plan of action is reduced to lying there waiting for it to stop.

Hadrian followed benignly after, but hung back once they reached the scene, not about involve himself in the chaos.

The door was already partially open, but the force of Nerva's entrance slammed it back against the wall to reveal several important things: one, there were two men fighting on the floor. Two, one of them was Cade, and he was feebly shielding himself from and being straddled by a Dalish elf who was repeatedly punching him in the face. Three, there was blood everywhere, or at least all over his face, Merrick's fists, and smeared on the floor.
So nothing too terribly out of the ordinary.

When Merrick had first slipped away, Metaari hadn't thought much of it. It was in his nature, after all, and Metaari couldn't fault him for that. But he had been standing near when he heard tell of an elf gone violent, and the image of Merrick flashed through his mind. He had searched for him in the hall, briefly, before finally mostly following the woman and the Tranquil, keeping enough distance to not alert them, but close enough to not lose them.

When they stop at the door it's his chance. Metaari can easily see over their heads and his eyes widen slightly. Instinct takes over and he pushes through, growling out a sharp "Move," as he shoves between them, darting into the small room. Without a single thought for his own safety Metaari leans down and wraps his arms fully around Merrick's body and stands, ripping him off the beaten figure below him. "Merrick. Merrick! You have to--" stop being so squirmy, by the Maker, it's like trying to hold on to a fish "--calm down."

"No!" Merrick screams. "No--"

He twists in Metaari's arms, fighting him relentlessly. That bloody face had stopped looking like Cade a long time ago-- the skin and hair had gotten darker, the nose longer and more prominent, spidery vallaslin over its surface. Merrick needs to get back to it and hit more, harder, beat it until it's nothing.

The screams he continues to let out are horrific to hear. They're wretched, like a wounded animal's, tearing brutally at his throat. He doesn't seem to register anyone else in the room, or even where he is.

This is exactly what Alayre honestly feared would happen.

While everything was settled all fine and dandy regarding the incident between Beleth and Cade, Alayre just knew subconsciously that he would be dealing with this matter for a second time. It wasn't widely publicized that Cade had been suspended from duty. Only the Templars, the Seekers, and Beleth herself all knew what transpired during that meeting for the most part. While news regarding Beleth's assault certainly reached the ears of many, Alayre did his best to keep the rest of this incident out of the mouths of others.

However, there's only but so much he could've done to prevent something like this from going down.

"Cade!?" The Knight-Commander entered the fray once the qunari subdued the elf. He briefly gave Merrick a glance before turning his attention to Cade. There was blood all over the floor, most of which Alayre suspected to belong to the blond.

She doesn't take well to being shoved past, and almost snaps at the Vashoth, but once he picks Merrick up, she instantly decides that she's glad that he's there, and instead of being angry with him gives him a sharp look and says.

"Get him out of here. Now."

She'd already drawn her sword, but it didn't seem like she needed it - though she stepped between Cade and the fighting, hissing, scrambling elf anyway - just in case he managed to slip out of the Vashoth's arm.

Alayre is another thing, but helpful, at least.

"Take Cade to the healer's tents. I'll be there shortly."

She doesn't say anything to Cade - she doesn't need to. That will come later.

Finally granted a reprieve from the pummeling, Cade rolls himself back over in a daze, blood dripping from his nose and mouth onto the floor below. He's a terrible sight, the top half of his face already bruising and swelling, his eyes streaming, the bottom half under a solid sheen of blood.
Then he hears his name, and two familiar voices, and he knows it's too late; there's no controlling the situation now.
"No," he feebly protests, to an unspoken accusation, his chest tightening and his mind going on high alert as the pain starts to set in. He did it again, he's going to be taken or sent away, he's going to be killed, and no amount of diplomacy or pleading will stop it. This is it, the final, damning mistake.

Hearing Merrick scream like that physically hurts, cuts straight down to the core. Metaari doesn't know what he can do for him, not just yet, but he knows he has to get him out, even before the woman snaps the order at him. He shifts his hold, wrapping one arm around Merrick's legs, the other around his torso. He carries him bridal-style, wrapped in a tight ball, and turns to hurry out of the room, stopping only once to briefly glance back.

"We need to find Cyril," he finally mutters, looking down at Merrick wrapped firmly in his arms. He's using all of the strength he dares to in order to keep a hold of him as he hurries off down the hallway.

With or without Nerva's request, Alayre approaches to Cade. He already could hear the fear and defiance in the young man's voice but Alayre hopes to stifle it with assurance. "Don't worry." He begins. "I'm just taking you to a healer--" The Templar trails off as Merrick's screams echo throughout the halls. That elf always been a tad feral at best but right now Merrick is nothing more than a wild beast. This isn't the first time he witnessed Merrick lose his sanity. His memory stray to the days he spent in Hallows Mire.

"He is truly beside himself." Alayre mutters before reaching for Cade. He held out his hand towards him in hopes of coaxing Cade to come with him rather than outright grab him. "Nothing is going to happen to you. I swear it. We just...need to get you healed up before you wounds get any worse." He's desperately trying to be diplomatic here without just yanking Cade up on his feet and marching him out of here.

As frightened and anxious as a wounded animal, Cade is nonetheless reassured somewhat by Alayre's voice. He can't see him very well, but clasps his wrist with his left hand and begins to stumble to his feet with considerable difficulty. He's clearly favoring his right arm, which hangs unnaturally at his side.
He looks like a dragon stepped on him.

[closed] speaking of fights

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[for Nerva] ((Hadrian is an NPC))

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