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Post by Kelathi on Jul 22, 2019 21:20:02 GMT
The green light spurted violently again from her wrist, sending jagged lines up her arm and rippling down her hand. Each bolt hit the ground with a crackle, sending up faint plumes of black smoke with the impact. The pain was sharp but short-lived, and seemed to come in waves. She was on her hands and knees, palms flat against the stone floor, wrists bound together by iron cuffs and her black hair falling either side of her face, obscuring it from view. She was trying to control her breathing, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths, rather than just gulping for air like she had the urge to. Each breath was hitched, her jaw clenched grimly with the effort not to cry out at each burst of pain. Slowly, she lifted her head, the firelight from the wall-mounted torches glinting in her dark blue eyes as she scanned the walls of her cell, looking for a distraction whilst also attempting to piece together where she must be. Nothing in this place was familiar to her, and disturbingly, she could not remember how she came to be here.
Another crackle. Another flash of green. She groaned, low, head dropping again. She rode out the pain, then pursed her lips together and forced herself up, to sit back, kneeling with her bound hands limp in her lap. Her entire left arm was tingling sharply, but although each attack sent waves of pain up it, amazingly, her clothes were not damaged, nor were there any lasting marks on the floor. Something to do with the magic, which in turn was something she didn’t understand.
She could hear movement from outside the barred, heavy wooden door. Approaching footsteps and raised voices, which steadily grew louder as they closed the distance. They were arguing over her, about whom she might be and what to do with her. They’d been through all this already. Her name is Valhael Lavellan. No, she didn’t remember anything. No, she didn’t know why her arm was currently spurting green lightning, and no, she wasn’t being unhelpful on purpose. The questions had started as soon as she had awoken, with no time to try and work out what she was doing here, or why she was a prisoner. A woman and two armoured men, although it had been only the first who had spoken, clearly in charge as she fired questions left and right, her patience running thin with every uttered response. Finally, they had left. The brief respite from her interrogation had given Valhael time to try and clear her mind to really wrack her brain as to what had happened. Slowly, without their pressure, snippets of memories had indeed come back to her, but they were unhelpful at best. There had been… things, she recalled. Strange creatures. Monsters. They had been chasing her up the hill. She’d been running on an incline, and there had been a light at the crown.
Then, darkness.
Soon enough, she heard the tell-tale sign of the clinking of keys, then an iron bolt sliding across. She braced herself for more questions she would be unable to answer. The door opened, the wood catching on the stone floor, and that woman; the armoured one with the short, choppy black hair and intense, angry gaze- was back. The emblem of the Chantry stared accusingly back at Valhael from the woman’s breastplate, obnoxiously stretching across the woman’s chest, the unmistakeable symbol of the sun. But this one was different to the image she was used to seeing, as there was an eye at the centre. Andraste’s all-seeing eye, perhaps? The damned Chantry imagery was everywhere.
But this time, the woman wasn’t flanked by two soldiers. A bald, well-dressed man in a green tunic followed her, a staff strapped to his back, and Valhael was surprised to see that he had pointed ears that matched her own. Another elf, and clearly a mage. She fixed her full attention on this stranger automatically, although she winced as another crackle of lightning spurted from her fingertips. She was both surprised and a little impressed to see that this stranger was the only one of the two who didn’t flinch, although the armoured woman had clearly tried to hide her reaction, her lips immediately pursing in annoyance at her inability to do so. “Come with us.” She near-growled, grabbing their prisoner by her arm and unceremoniously forcing her to her feet.
***
The sky was tumultuous. Angry grey clouds swirling in an untamed sea, creating a vortex around the...
…around the hole in the sky.
Valhael had immediately stiffened, halting abruptly, frozen to the spot as she regarded the jagged tear in the clouds, green light spewing from it’s centre. A green glow that was much too similar to that which now occasionally surged from her arm. Unbeknownst to her, her company was watching her response closely. “That is the Breach.” The woman spoke, her critical gaze settled on their prisoner’s face. “The Divine Conclave… no-one survived. The Breach opened and sent green lightning down from the heavens, destroying the temple and everyone in attendance.” Valhael heard the words, but was unable to wrench her gaze away. That is, until the woman spoke again. “Everyone, of course, except for you.” Surprised, Valhael’s eyes flitted back to the stranger. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she was suddenly interrupted, her arm taking that moment to crackle, green bolts running up and down it as before, causing her fold over slightly, grunting low in pain. A few men nearest to her jumped, grasping their swords, but were settled as the armoured woman waved at them dismissively. Meanwhile, Valhael’s mind was racing. She had been at the Conclave? Why? The very name of the Divine Conclave echoed Chantry dealings. Why on Thedas would she be present during that?
The woman rounded on her, then. It seemed she had the same questions as the elf, and more. “Why were you there? And how could it be that you are the only survivor?” she demanded, grabbing the front of Valhael’s tunic in her anger, pulling her close. Valhael held her gaze levelly, brow furrowing in defiance, although she was still trying to absorb the information given to her. “I don’t know.” She responded truthfully, voice low and immeasurably calm, all the while wracking her brain. She remembered running up a hill, chased by monsters, and a bright light. What else? Before that, she’d merely been travelling, and she had no idea how that had come to her being present at the Conclave. Her aim had been to run away from people, not towards them!
Cassandra scoffed then, causing the elf’s eyes to narrow. She may be many things, but she was not a liar. “It’s the truth! I don’t know why I was there, and I don’t know what this is!” she lifted her arms slightly, palms up, the mark on her left hand clearly visible. Tiny, glowing static waves of green stretching across her palm.
“I think we should move on.” The first words the elven man had spoken so far, to which Cassandra began to respond, almost growling in her frustration.“Solas…”
“Cassandra, questioning can wait, we’ve already wasted too much time. We must go.” At his words, Cassandra glanced once more up at the sky, before reluctantly loosing the prisoner. For the first time, Valhael was the one to ask a question.
“Where are we going?”
Her eyes widened once more as the stranger answered, grimly.
“To the Breach.”
***
It was snowing lightly. A winding dirt path led down the hill, and about her she could see that there were modest houses, set out sparsely. A small village, but where were the people? Instead of village-folk, all about were tents and grim-faced soldiers, and the place was a hive of activity as they ran back and forth, taking messages to one another and binding the wounded. Upon catching sight of her, some would pause to stare before being spurred back into motion by their comrades. She wasn’t sure what emotions they were showing on their face- curiosity? Wariness? Fear?
Cassandra walked ahead, leading the way, whilst Solas stayed by her side. As they began to descend down the hill, she began to see light in the distance… flames, emitted from small bonfires spaced out unevenly across the land. A snowflake drifted close to her face, and she realised that although there was indeed a small dusting of snow on the trees and ground, it wasn’t snow falling at all, but ash. As they came closer to the rift in the sky, the activity of the armoured men seemed to become more frantic, their armour less pristine, and more men seemed to be bloodied and injured, stumbling past helped by their comrades, or lying on the bare ground. Valhael was aware she was missing something, something they hadn’t told her. Many of the men looked as if they had just come out of a fierce battle.
What were they fighting?
It also hadn’t escaped her notice that many of the armoured men were Templars, the flaming sword imprinted on the front of their breastplates was hard to miss. Despite herself, she found her gaze doggedly staying averted from them, fixed ahead instead, feeling her heart beating faster in her chest every time they came near. She was in a nest of vipers, and now she was heading towards a rift in the sky.
As they walked, the houses became more sparse, and many were alight, the orange flames licking at the wooden structures greedily. Just as she was wondering what was causing the fires, she suddenly heard a crash, a house ahead of them having been struck by a shock of green light, the structure bursting instantly into flames and sending the nearby men scattering like ants. The small party halted abruptly, every single one of them jumping and taking a half-step back, standing readily as if ready for some attack. The woman’s hand had flown to her sword and Solas’s to his staff, but then they had straightened and continued, hurriedly now, Cassandra grasping Valhael’s arm again to spur her into motion. The prisoner recovered quickly, and the woman was soon able to loose her.
Why were they heading towards the Breach? Her company had yet to tell her, but Valhael held her tongue, figuring that she would find out soon enough. “Alistair!” Cassandra suddenly barked, widening her stride and walking ahead to a small group of Templars, whom jumped to attention at her approach. All of their armour was spattered with blood and gore, and Valhael found herself unable to draw her gaze away from it, her expression unreadable.
“I need a group of your finest men.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 24, 2019 4:57:15 GMT
He had gone down hard, the spirit spell cast against him still stinging the scales it had impacted. The three hunters were made up of a mix of one elf mage and two humans, working together to eliminate the demons that were rumored to be spreading in the area. They had been elated to find one as impressive as him, and were currently boasting about their success in taking him down. All they needed now was the trophy. His breath was shallow, ragged, raspy… weak. But he was breathing in more than he was breathing out, slowly filling his lungs, which only minutes before had been unleashing electric blasts.
They never saw the ice that took them.
Even as their bodies were encased and twisted into the pure clarity of ice, their expressions were frozen at the dawning of realization. They hadn’t been so successful after all. Many years of hiding amongst and fighting the two-legged species had taught him the value of playing dead, of letting others lower their defenses out of arrogant victory.
Hissing as he rose, able to taste his own blood in his mouth from the fight, Kaitan shook himself a little, licking his injuries with care. He folded his wings back alongside his spine, hiding most of the distinctive dark stripes against his pale form that identified him all too easily as an electric elemental. Wings folded he far more resembled an ice beast, but he doubted that any of the two-legged creatures would ever suspect a dragon could possibly be of two elements.
Suddenly, he paused mid-lick, head finally lifting as he looked out to the distance. Something was wrong. He could feel it, deep in his bones. It chilled him in a way that was distinctly different from his own ice, a dark, brooding evil. Then, to his utter shock, the sky broke.
The flash of green was accompanied by electric bolts that struck the earth with a fury he had never witnessed, flinching even though it was miles away. Even though the sun was shining, the flash of green was blinding.
But despite not knowing what had happened, not knowing what sort of danger it was, or the danger he would put himself in… he found himself drawn towards the explosion. Faces flashed in his mind as he began to race, launching from the ground and into the air. Were they alright? The barman and his wife, the shoe peddler, the old storyteller in the square? Some of the closest people he had as friends lived in the town where the explosion came from, and his heart tightened at the thought of what might have happened to them.
---
It would have been funny had it not been the circumstances. The Circle and the Templars had agreed to work together to try and solve the problem of the tear in the sky, which had decimated the town and all who lived in it. Kaitan’s heart had sunk at the news, but at the moment, all he could do was mourn silently and secretly. And hide. Hide in plain sight.
Appearing human was wearing, however, and it had been an attempt to recover his energy that revealed his presence to the hunters back on that mountainside. Being in the thick of a massive army of soldiers, Templars and mages made it impossible for him to simply change and escape. Then, he wouldn’t be playing dead.
What was funny was how quickly he was dismissed as simply working for the other side. The Circle of Magi assumed that, as he was not one of theirs, he was working with the Templars. The Templars simply assumed he was registered with the Circle. No one really bothered to ask or verify whose side he was on. For all they knew, he could have been an apostate. In fact, they’d see him as much, much worse.
So he hid, even though the strain was giving him a headache, and leaving him moody. One soldier had even gone so far as to call him cranky; somehow that fight was seen by another soldier, and he had been enlisted with a special company working for a man called Alexander.
Hallister.
Lester?
Kaitan had been too distracted at the time to pay enough attention, still plagued by the same issues that had gotten him into that one-punch fist fight in the first place. So even though he was trapped in a camp surrounded by would-be heroes under a broken green sky, he was glad to be on the move, called up to help handle something important for Lester. Alster.
Whoever.
Only the Qunari in the group was as tall as Kaitan, although the Qunari was far more broadly built. With lanky white hair controlled only by two thick braids to either side of his face, pale skin that almost looked cold against his dark mage robes, Kaitan seemed imposing… or would have, if his gaze hadn’t been so casual, so unfocused. Amber eyes, so often lidded as if bored, almost daring anyone to test his lightning punch that had flattened the other soldier with one strike. His eyes only lit up at seeing who they were summoned to, recognizing a “fellow” mage, a human… and some girl, bound…
With the same green light as the Breach above sparking out of her arm. Fortunately, no one was paying enough attention to him to notice the slits in his eyes, the one part that showed what hid beneath. Everyone was focused on the girl, stiff, awaiting orders.
Well...
Almost everyone.
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 24, 2019 10:37:50 GMT
“I’ve only seen one person floor a man with a single punch, and that had been a Qunari!”
Alistair, despite the white-haired stranger’s knockout of a fellow soldier, had been impressed by the man’s strength and speed. Clearly a mage judging by his odd-coloured hair and eyes, Alistair had enlisted him eagerly into his faction. They’d been fighting at the fringes of the breach, trying to clear a pathway up to the destroyed temple. The first wave dealt with meant that the way was temporarily clear, a few men had been stationed there to take care of any stragglers, and the rest had returned to await further instructions. Although by far not a particularly imposing figure, and rather young by the standards of the other men, he was a Grey Warden, which meant an aptitude for strength.
“Seeker.” He’d responded, dipping his head in acknowledgement, his eyes flitting to Valhael curiously for a moment. He turned to bark some orders, at which two men fisted their chest plates before hurrying off. Returning his attention to Cassandra, he spoke. “The way is clear, for now, but from what I’ve seen, it may not be for long.” The two men that had been sent off soon returned, flanked by three others, a woman, a Qunari male and a man. Valhael’s eyes lit up with interest at sight of the Qunari, eyes trailing unabashedly over his grizzled horns, so like a dragon just as stories told. She’d never seen one of his kind before, although she had heard many tales, particularly of the famous (or perhaps more accurately, infamous) mercenary, The Iron Bull and his Chargers. Then her eyes flitted to the man with the startling white hair and pale gaze. Her own remained levelled as their eyes met, despite the distinct height difference between the two, he, easily towering over her should they stand close. Even with the exotic Qunari besides him, something about the human seemed to interest her just as much, her unreadable gaze only drawing away as they began to move again.
The small group was now a rag-tag concoction of Warden, Qunari, mage, Templar and Ferelden knights. It became clear to her that if the destruction at the Conclave had only recently happened, a large number of mages, Templars and perhaps Wardens must have already been present. She filed the fact in her mind as ‘suspicious’.
“Good.” Cassandra had merely responded to Alistair, as they began to walk, drawing her sword, Solas following suit with his staff. “Then lets not waste any time.”
***
Valhael was beginning to feel uneasy not to have a weapon of some kind. Not that it would be much use to her, of course. She’d never been trained in combat, and although she was decent with a bow, her foe had always been unsuspecting rabbits or deer, not men or monsters aiming to kill her. Still, a blade of some kind would have been appreciated, but with her current status as prisoner her captors were understandably not eager to arm her.
As Alistair had predicted, their way thus far had proved to be void of whatever enemy it was that they had faced, but there were clear remnants of skirmishes. Bloodied, indistinguishable remains littered the ground, as well as charred skeletons, looking to be in various states of decay, decomposition setting in at an unnaturally rapid speed. There was a distinct smell of sulphur in the air, and the closer they drew to the Breach, the more uneven the land became. Dark columns, jagged shards of black rock sprouted from the ground, as if having been plunged there by the hand of a giant, altering the landscape. Heat radiated from them, no snow lay nearby, and only ash rained from the heavens now. A strange sensation had come over her affected arm by now, a faint humming, only perceptible to herself. It wasn’t so much pain, but rather more like a throbbing sensation. Her veins were singing.
Here and there they passed soldiers standing guard, who drew a fisted hand to their chestplates, their salute to the company passing by. On occasion, Cassandra would stop and ask for a brief report, all of which pretty much stated the same thing in slightly different variants. The way was clear, for now, but no-one can reach the temple. They company soon entered a valley, and now a hill stood before them, stretching up to the abysmal sky against the backdrop of the Breach, which was almost directly above them now. A bloodied soldier ran to meet them.
“Seeker!” He announced, breathlessly, just barely remembering to pound his chestplate before speaking. “We need reinforce...” but just before he could finish his sentence, an ear-splitting screech could be heard, tapering off into a pained wail. Then, suddenly, something came hurtling out from behind one of the black rocks, making straight for Cassandra...
Who split it clean in two without hesitation, guts spurting across her armour and chunks of meat falling to the ground, as if in death the creature no longer had the ability to maintain it’s solidity.
In one synchronised action, the party tensed, falling into a protective formation around Valhael... which she both appreciated and was alarmed at simultaneously. “We are the reinforcements.” Cassandra growled, striding past the man, whom was clearly shaken, face pale against the dark grey of his helmet. “Gather all your men, we are heading to the temple.” “S... Seeker.” Another pound to the chest-plate, and the man was running ahead to band together whatever small group was left. For the first time, Solas spoke to Valhael directly, coming up to her side as they all began to pick up speed. “The Breach is a tear in the Veil, the protective barrier that separates our world from the Fade. Rifts have been spotted all over Ferelden, demons pouring out across the land.”
Creatures racing after her. She had been running up a hill towards the light.
A hill... crowned with a temple.
“The Breach is where it all started, it’s the main source of power.” “What is it that you expect me to do?” Valhael demanded, her mounting fear expressing itself as anger, already pretty certain where this conversation was going.
But before Solas could answer, a bright green light blinded them all, and the floor seemed to pitch violently, Valhael stumbling a little but regaining her balance quickly. Demons began to appear about them, seemingly growing from the ground or apparating in plumes of black smoke, grunting and groaning, their bodies a mangled accumulation of bones and tendons, and stretched skin thin as canvas. Valhael heard one of the soldiers mutter a prayer. “Andraste, protect us.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 25, 2019 3:06:20 GMT
The irony of how people viewed the Qunari as so very draconic was not lost on Kaitan, but he didn’t mind that they tended to draw more attention, letting even his height and pale coloring fade into the background.
What no one seemed to notice, or at least no one remarked upon, was how of all those who were armed, Kaitan was the only one not to draw his weapon as they began to move towards the Breach. He had a staff, safely secured to his back like most mages, but any who had seen him use magic would attest to his ability to summon ice and electricity into his hands, or - most dramatically - use his breath to increase the spell he was casting, hand lifted to his mouth, but almost breathing like a dragon might. It was quite a trick, they’d say.
If only they knew.
But even through his disguise, his uncertainty about heading towards the swirling green void was fairly clear. He remained at the back of the group, his long stride letting him keep up even though his pace was slow with wariness. The sulfur was bad enough for the others; his own nose was on fire, a sensation he didn’t find pleasant or amusingly ironic. It did, at least, dull the scent of the dead as they passed, keeping his stomach more settled than it might have been otherwise.
It didn’t affect his hearing, however, and had paused a moment after the bloodied soldier had run into view, eyes trained on the rocks behind the soldier. Kaitan could hear something, another set of steps that didn’t match, but didn’t know enough to alert anyone. The sour-faced Seeker dealt with the creature swiftly enough, before even he had a chance to respond, but it did little to improve their situation. They were still heading towards the temple, still walking straight into whatever monster’s jaws awaited them next.
The idiocy of humans never failed to surprise him.
Lingering in the back did place him in an advantageous spot to overhear the mage talking to the prisoner, and it surprised the dragon to hear she was somehow expected to do something about the Breach. A tear between worlds. But there was the fact that he had seen for himself the flickers of green dancing along her one arm, a match for what lanced overhead.
Before he had time to question the elf mage himself, they were blinded by another flash of green, Kaitan’s hiss slowly pushed down as it became clear that they weren’t being attacked even though he had nearly fallen from the sudden shake of the earth. Fortunately for him, no one seemed to notice. Unfortunately for them all, there was a reason for that.
Soon, the sensation of being surrounded by enemies was twofold, for at least the former was inclined at the moment to not try and kill him. The sudden appearance of the demons around them left the dragon feeling…
Well, fortunately, feeling rather pissed off. And for once, he could do more than simply punch some sarcastic soldier in the face.
This was why his lip curled into a sneer, one foot sliding back to brace himself for the fight, eyes sharp as he watched the closest demons begin to move in just as the soldier behind him muttered some human prayer.
The first demon was half thrown back as Kaitan used his “dragon-breath” technique, contorted into solid ice by the time it hit the ground, half shattering like the creature the Seeker had killed. The second one was faster, nearly scratching the dragon’s arm as he dodged so only fabric was ripped. Something about the creatures repelled him, and he didn’t even want to touch them to beat them back. So instead he shot a blast of ice from his hand before moving on to the dozen or so that happily replaced the first two. Once more, the far more powerful method was used, but the lightning was able to strike at multiple targets, taking down three at once. Were he able to fight as himself, his ice would be far more effective, unleashed in full and unconstrained by a tiny human mouth. But the last thing any of them needed was the chaos of a dragon suddenly appearing in the middle of their group, quite probably flattening the huddled warriors with bulk alone.
Finally, Kaitan took the risk of glancing at the others, making sure nothing could get to his back, and swiftly counting how many of their small company was left. A morbid count down before he would risk escaping in a dramatic way.
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 27, 2019 0:40:03 GMT
The creatures pressed in from all sides, but their enemies were not mere soldiers, and they had more than just iron swords at their disposal. The air practically began to hiss with magic as the mages leapt into action, with largely ranged attacks, whilst the Wardens bodily threw themselves into the fray, maintaining the perimeter around their collective prisoner. Valhael had seen many monsters in her time, but all in the shape of human men; she’d never seen anything like this. It was like someone had taken all the stories of darkspawn and every Chantry connotation of evil, and mashed it together. Only then would you get the creatures that were before her.
Each was different. Some towered a few feet above their heads, with impossibly long limbs and faces split into a myriad of shiny black eyes. Others were short but fast, hunched over like decrepit old men, faces dominated by gnashing teeth, skittering to and fro in an attempt to confuse their foe before leaping in to attack. One such demon managed to slip past a soldier to her right, but before it could round on the man, leaping at his back… it had crashed to the floor with a shriek as the lump of black rock connected to it’s skull. Valhael moved back, in case it should get up again, but by that point the man had turned to dispatch it fully, a fleeting nod of thanks to her before turning to take care of the next. It wasn’t much, but at least she felt like she had contributed.
Cassandra came to Valhael’s side then, grabbing her arm and propelling her bodily towards an opening in the fray. “Alistair, take the rear! Solas! You! With me.” the ‘you’ was barked at the mage with the pale hair and the exceptionally powerful magic, the Seeker clearly thinking his skills best placed towards the front of the party. “We push forwards. Whatever happens, the Anchor must get to the temple.” The Anchor? Valhael could only assume the woman was referring to the mark on her hand, and hearing it called such caused a hesitant flare of hope in her chest. Maybe they did actually know what they were doing after all, and weren’t just drawing them all into the belly of the beast haphazardly, without a plan and without hope of survival... Either way, it was not like the elf had a choice in the matter.
They began to climb the stairs, which at some places were wide enough to fit three people shoulder-to-shoulder, and at others there was barely enough room for one. The steady onslaught of demons began to thin, preoccupied by Alistair and his men, and the few stragglers that met them on the stairs were dealt with quickly and methodically.
The world wavered about Valhael, her gaze becoming glassy and unfocused, and for a moment all she saw was
herself, climbing up the aged steps. Racing as fast as her legs could carry her. The crest of the hill looming into sight. A light at the top. Beckoning her. Calling her to safety. Reaching out…
Then they were at the top of the hill.
The temple was in ruins, lying about them like a slain animal, the great, jagged black rocks having speared it’s heart and body. And facing them, suspended in the air above their heads was a mass of black crystals, contorting before their eyes and humming with magic as well as that same, ominous green glow. Fire licked at the rocks and the ground, and the gritty sulphuric smell was so strong now it was like a presence of its own. From here they could stare right up into the belly of the Breach, which seemed to trick the eye with fluid shapes that seemed recognisable at one minute then undecipherable the next.
And as they watched, the crystal rift suddenly struck forth with those fearsome green bolts, striking the ground in quick succession, and everywhere they hit, a demon would begin to crawl out from the ground like some morbid Jack-in-the-box.
Sword at the ready, Cassandra glanced at Solas, a silent look passing between them. But this time, neither had to grab Valhael’s arm, for she was already walking towards the rift, eyes fixed on its writhing mass. Fear sat like a weight of lead on her heart, but she was also buoyed by adrenalin, which spurred her into motion as she walked like one entranced. Her arm was crackling now with electricity, as if the mark had become excited at this close proximity to the Breach, but she hardly noticed the pain lacing up it now. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, but it suddenly felt as if she’d always meant to be in this moment,- that just being here felt right.
And then a creature had emitted one of those high-pitched screams, and it seemed to jolt her back to the present, the full gravity of the situation hitting her like a tonne of bricks, her entire form freezing. Cassandra and Solas flanked her at either side, slicing and dicing or, in the mage’s case, setting the creatures alight, so they didn’t see the clash of another bolt of lightning right before Valhael’s feet. Nor did they see how the ground had begun to churn and bubble before her as another demon began it’s inevitable climb from the earth…
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 28, 2019 2:31:09 GMT
It took quite a bit of self control to not just fly out of there; Kaitan was occasionally impressed with the courage of these two-legged beings, but was far more likely to view their courage as stupid. But for once, their courage was appreciated. Working as a team, protecting one another’s backs, proved a far smarter move than fighting alone, and it wasn’t long before Kaitan found himself icing a demon that was then crushed by a Warden, or throwing lightning to get another demon off the Qunari’s back, or having a demon stabbed inches from his own back. There was no time for words of appreciation for any aid in any direction, only able to turn to face the latest monster.
So fluidly in the moment, it took the dragon a moment to recognize who the “you” was that had been barked at, realizing with a face at what obviously was about to happen. One strong kick to a demon coming up behind him, quickly beheaded by a soldier, and he rushed to the front, immediately having to clear the way with lightning, hindering a quivering hunchback with ice a heartbeat later.
If only he could combine the two… in human form.
The elf was flanked by the other two, Kaitan focusing on his lightning to avoid making the way slippery for the rest of them as they moved. But he noticed how the horde seemed to be thinning, striking proactively before moving into the ruins, sparking at anything that so much as whispered. Or didn’t, given how his narrowed eyes and curled lip showed how unsettling the entire situation was. Nostrils burning now, the heat of the fire intense, and above them the Breach, crystalline, black, alien.
Maybe it hadn’t been worth punching that soldier after all.
Kaitan shifted back a pace as the green lightning began to strike the ground, eyes widening against the sulphuric burn as each blast seemed to summon the latest demon from the ashen mud itself. He quickly busied himself with defense, the thunderous noise from the lightning and the screeches of the beasts covering up his own increasing snarls as he blasted, often forgetting to feign the hand gesture for his dragon-breath blasts.
Perhaps it was her stillness in the chaos that drew his attention, or perhaps it was simply the bolt that struck the ground before her that he had followed, but he saw the elf standing frozen, watching as a creature began to crawl out at her feet. The Seeker and the mage were busy protecting her from behind and hadn’t seen the newest threat.
Perhaps, in reality, it was her age, young and innocent, drawn into a fight that wasn’t supposed to be hers, that made him move.
Shoving a demon aside to clear his path, he rushed to her side. The creature shrieked as soon as its head was out, but stopped cold as a blast of ice magic froze it into the earth. In the same moment, his other arm wrapped around the girl’s waist, lifting her easily and out of immediate danger, keeping the Seeker and mage as the other two points to their defensive triangle. Although why the girl was drawn towards the pulsating force was beyond him…
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 28, 2019 8:59:58 GMT
Valhael was pretty sure that her life had begun to flash before her eyes, but the reel was suddenly interrupted by the demon literally freezing in it’s tracks. Before she could question this quick turn of events, she felt an arm about her waist, and she was swung bodily out of the way, back into the protective triangle of warriors. Her eyes were wide as she turned quickly to see who her saviour had been, the white-haired stranger preoccupied once more with keeping the press of enemies at bay.
Caged again, Valhael felt conflicting urges to both run and stay put, her dark blue gaze flitting about herself like a cornered animal, finding no possible way to escape. Even if she could slip past the warriors, she would be faced with the horror that they fought- with the added bonus of being unarmed and bound. Her arm crackled again, then, a large burst of energy this time, and she got the distinctive feeling that it was protesting against being kept from the rift. Again, opposing forces pulled her first one way then another- an urge to approach the frightening, contorting mass but at the same time to put as much distance between herself and it as possible.
As had become infuriatingly common at the moment, it once again turned out not really to be her choice. Solas whipped round, slamming his staff on the ground between them, and she felt the ripple of energy and saw the waver of the semi-transparent shield as it encased them both. “It wont last.” He explained quickly. He didn’t need to elaborate, Valhael had begun to walk again with purpose, perhaps realising that accepting her fate meant avoiding the need to be man-handled yet again. The pale-haired mage had once again cleared the way forwards, leaving an opening that they were able to push through. The rift pulsated just ahead, they were practically under it when she began to feel something new. A low, ominous feeling of dread that felt different to the fear that already gripped her, crept over her slowly, and she knew something was coming. The rift began to shudder, and the feeling suddenly became more urgent. Solas grabbed her arm then, lifting it so that her hands pointed to the rift...
The burst of power sent a shockwave through the floor, the green bolts of lightning running down her arm and connecting with the rift, which lapped it up eagerly. Pressure mounted, then with a dramatic clap of thunder, the rift exploded, jagged shards flying out in all directions but dissipating immediately, passing through bodies harmlessly. The demons followed suit, shattering into a thousand pieces before turning to ash.
Valhael stumbled, then lost her balance completely as darkness consumed her world, Solas only just catching her before she hit the ground. The first rift had been closed, but the breach still swirled in the angry clouds above, a grim reminder that this was not yet over. Even so, he could sense that it was stable for now, a looming threat within temporary bonds.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 2, 2019 3:18:34 GMT
What had happened… was unsettling. The green lightning lacing up her arm, Solas’s spell to allow her to close the rift… and then she collapsed even as the rift shuddered and disappeared, dramatically making all present believe for a moment they were dead.
The near death by black spire was not appreciated on top of everything else. Even being hailed as a hero wasn’t worth the effort, particularly as the two-leggers were eager to include him in the festivities, his headache and energy quickly draining after so much fighting.
A day and a half later, and Kaitan knew he had to run. He didn’t have another twenty-four hours before he’d have to change, and at that point nothing would save him from the terrified soldiers, mages and Templars.
This was why he was where he was, on the outskirts of the camp, taking the long way around to escape the valley. He didn’t want to run into anyone who’d recognize him, least of all that prattling idiot Alistair. He’d finally heard the name clearly mentioned, which he was grateful for in order to know who to avoid. Pack hanging over his shoulder, along with the never-used staff, Kaitan would pause at any sound of footsteps, which was often. Of course, with the Breach still looming overhead, it was easy to understand the need to remain cautious.
So the last thing anyone needed was, again, a dragon suddenly appearing in their midst.
As the latest trio of guards marched past, the dragon slowly stepped away from the tent and kept heading towards the open pass, knowing he needed as much space as possible between him and the army before he ran out of stamina and had to shift. As it was, he might very well simply sleep for a week to recover his strength. All he needed was to just get far enough away… a thought that kept circling, pushing him on, helping to keep his human guise strong.
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 9, 2019 21:46:01 GMT
The rift was gone, but the Breach remained, stretching across the sky like an open wound. Still, whilst reports would continue to reach the camp over the following days of similar, pulsing, black masses of crystallised rifts spotted across the land; Haven itself seemed now to be free of such demons, the remains of their unnatural bodies scattered away with the wind. And so, there was call for a little celebration, even if every soldier knew that this strange war against such alien creatures was clearly not yet over.
Utterances of a ‘Herald of Andraste’ were common about the camp in regards to the mysterious elf that had helped close the rift, but so were exclamations of her guilt. The army was split, at a loss as to whether to revere the elf as the liberator of the people, the one destined to close the breach for good and expel the demons… or if she was in the fact the one responsible for opening it in the first place, with the intention to bring doom to them all. The decision of what to do with the woman fell to the leaders of each of the factions encapsulated within the army, and any who passed their tent would be able to hear raised voices as they fought amongst themselves, clearly just as torn as everyone else.
Whilst her fate hung in the balance, Valhael herself slept peacefully, oblivious to most of this talk as she remained unconscious for a full day after the closure of the rift. With the last few buildings having been turned to rubble, her motionless form had been carried to a tent, in which Solas, unbeknownst to her, had saved her life. After the rift had been closed, the mark on her wrist had begun to throb with such power that it would have killed her had Solas not sensed what was happening. Only when he thought her stable, did he finally leave her side, and it was not long after he had left that she finally began to awaken…
…and became aware of the unrest within the camp almost immediately. All that divided her from the voices outside was the thin cloth of the tent wall, and it proved to be one easily pierced by conversation as she slowly came to. It had been an angered proclamation that she should be sacrificed that had finally dragged her from the last vestiges of sleep, as she sat bolt upright, her senses immediately sharpened. The one speaking the damning words had been hushed quickly by his comrades, but the damage had already been done, as moments upon waking, Valhael was already on her feet, eyes darting over the space of the tent as she sought out an exit, blood pounding in her ears as her heart beat painfully in her chest. She took a few moments to allow herself to settle, trying to ignore the adrenalin coursing through her veins and forcing the fog of panic in her mind to abate a little, so that she could think a little clearer. It would not do to run blindly from the tent like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter, she reasoned with herself. Better to stop and assess, even if every fibre of her being just screamed at her to run and forsake all rational thought.
Instead of doing so, she forced herself to study her surroundings, and see what was at hand that might be useful to her. Unfortunately, there didn't seem much to that effect. Although there was not a potential weapon in sight, the tent’s contents were lavish; it had clearly belonged to someone important before it had been used as her own private infirmary. And prison, she realised, as she noticed that her wrists were still bound. Valhael could vaguely recall that someone else had been here, someone that had helped- for hadn’t there been a voice, pulling her back from the suffocating darkness? She glanced down at her wrist then, opening her palm. There were no more laces of pain up her arm, and a quick study revealed that the green veins on her wrist, stretching across her palm were still visible, but the glow was dull, and gone were the pulsing, crackles of lightning. But for her wrists to still be bound… it suggested that her captors were undecided as to what her fate should be. Whether she had been helped or not, she was not safe here. She was not a stranger to being held captive, and knew better than most that time was of the essence. Who knew how long she’d been out for, or how long she might have before someone would come to check on her?
Valhael mapped out her course first. Although she was anxious to get going quickly, she knew a little foresight would serve her well. Peeking through the curtain that formed the entrance to the tent, she could see other similar dwellings, and although the occasional person passed by, causing her to shrink away from sight quickly, it was relatively deserted around these parts. Voices were softened by distance and the men were not concerned with quietening their footsteps, so it was pretty easy to hear their approach. Elves are known for being light on their feet, so for Valhael, slipping unseen from the shadow of one tent to another was a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. Her senses were in overdrive, her ears focussed on her surroundings as much as her gaze, which flitted to and fro warily. Here and there she caught snippets of conversation, and felt the uncertainty in the air about what had happened… and the part she had to play in it. Much of the snow had thawed, which was a blessing, as she did not have to worry about it crunching underfoot as she passed by. People were sparse, and she thought she could hear why. There was a celebration happening somewhere, laughter and music drifting across from some unseen place. Here, it was quiet.
The tents were beginning to thin out now, which was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it meant she was nearing the outskirts of the camp, but on the other… it meant less places to hide, more chances to be spotted.
Which, unfortunately, was exactly what happened.
She had been watching the back of a soldier as he walked away, and just as she stepped out, ready to run to the next tent, he had suddenly turned on his heel, as if he had forgotten something, and his eyes had locked with hers.
Moments later, she was racing away, with shouts at her back to stop, as well as calls to other soldiers to block her way. Like a bolting rabbit she raced across the camp, no longer edging round corners and taking careful steps but just concentrating on building up speed and getting away, at all costs. Seeing a small group of men ahead, she took a sharp left…
And found her progress unceremoniously halted as she collided hard with another, the force causing her to fall back and flat onto her arse. A curse flew from her lips at the impact, a word that would make any elvish woman blush, before her gaze flitted up to meet the eye of her obstacle. Her own gaze was a curious mixture of anger and defiance as well as fear, clearly certain that her attempt at an escape had been thwarted.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 14, 2019 2:42:32 GMT
Kaitan must have been getting tired, to not hear the sounds of approaching feet soon enough to avoid a collision. Instead he had been distracted by calls, tensing, instantly concerned that the shouts were regarding his own unauthorized departure. A turn, and something crashed into him, the impact enough to make him take a step back, already able to feel the heat against his tongue before realizing what had run into him.
He hesitated, but looked up and around, reached down for her and grabbed her bound hands. With his physical strength, it was easy to haul her up, letting go only long enough to reach around her waist, hoist her halfway on his shoulder, and duck into the nearest tent. The motion was quick, not enough to avoid the elf’s complaints, but even she seemed to consider the sound of the passing guards just outside the thin fabric barrier. And the fact that he hadn’t simply turned her over to them.
Once the sound of footsteps faded away, Kaitan finally turned to look at the woman, looking about as unhappy with their strange new situation as she was. He studied her for several moments, as if considering his options, but finally began to speak, his movements quick and considered.
“Why do you run?” he asked, even as he once more pulled her hands towards him, a dagger coming out to cut at the ropes. “Where do you go?” His questions quickly began to take shape; he wasn’t chastising her, nor was he questioning her. It as if he wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing. Why anyone would be so quick to support her escape was questionable, given the hot debate over how pure or evil she was.
Good or bad, Kaitan knew what it was like to be on the run. To be considered a monstrous demon that needed to be killed. He had pitied her when he heard the arguments around the camp, but he had no way to assist her in his condition. At least she was able to escape herself, taking some of the guilt with her.
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 15, 2019 22:14:39 GMT
It was embarrassingly easy for the stranger to lift the elf up, Valhael’s anger at being man-handled eclipsed only by her panic. No sooner had she begun to struggle, though, had she been unceremoniously released, and this time her surprise struck her silent as she realised that his actions had in fact hidden her from her pursuers. Her eyes were wide as she regarded the man, her form tense and clearly still ready to run, like a taut wire on the verge of snapping. Her gaze flitted warily about herself before moving towards the tent’s opening, her ears perking as the approaching footsteps grew louder. But then they had passed, taking the pursuit elsewhere.
As their voices faded out of hearing, the stranger finally turned to her. She stayed still as he approached, but despite her efforts to appear unphased, her breath caught noticeably in her throat as the dagger appeared, and uncertainty flashed across her features. Thankfully, his movements were quick and efficient, and so his reason for revealing the weapon soon became clear as he cut her free. Confused at the sudden turn of events, but still wary of the man’s intentions, she rubbed absent-mindedly at her wrists as she watched him carefully.
She considered his questions for a moment before replying. “They mean to kill me.” Her tone was flat, clearly unsurprised at her predicament considering recent events. She searched his eyes for any flicker of emotion as she spoke, and in answer to his second question, she shook her head slightly. Where was not important. Only ‘away’ mattered now. “I don’t know… anywhere but here.”
As she spoke, she studied him intently, as if trying to puzzle out some riddle. In fact, she was indeed trying to work out why he had seemed to help her and whether he would continue to do so, or is this was some elaborate ploy. To what end, she didn’t know, but it paid not to be too trusting.
“Are you going to help me?” it seemed as good a question as any, and the way she asked it seemed almost as if she were issuing a challenge, defiant just in case this turned out not be the case.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 16, 2019 3:48:23 GMT
Kaitan’s attention was only half on the elf, still listening for sounds of approaching steps. Fortunately, none seemed to be coming near… for now. With the assumed threat of the elf’s connection with the green lightning, it was unlikely that they wouldn’t be found out.
Her remark about them wanting to kill her was unsurprising given the arguments and fisticuffs that had been sparking since the closure of the rift. This he pretty much ignored, raising an eyebrow only at her latter words. Anywhere but here? That was dangerously vague.
It was her own question that finally made him look back at her, head and gaze tilted towards the edge of the tent. If she was seeking some deep emotion from him, given her intense study, all she was likely to see was the edge of wariness was wearing thin, a deep exhaustion evident in his expression. It was as if he was ready to collapse at any moment.
As if to emphasize this weariness, he let out an unrestrained sigh, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “I can help you get away,” he finally said, slowly, sliding his pack off of his back. Digging in it to pull out a long cloak, it was clear that the dagger he had pulled out was the only weapon he carried with him, as there was precious little else in the pack. A canteen of water, some money… the bag almost humorously laid limply without the cloak, which he swung about the young elf’s shoulders uninvited, almost overwhelming her by being designed for a much larger figure. “After that,” he surprisingly continued, readjusting the cloak about her a little, “We go our separate ways.” His words, while simple instructions, also revealed he himself was leaving the camp… a sign of desertion, at least.
Once more waiting a few moments to check the coast was clear, Kaitan stepped through into the light outside, trying as hard as his tired mind could to look natural as the two walked towards the far edge of the camp, tantalizingly only a dozen tents and a set of guards away. Even from this distance they looked tense, having heard the cry go up about the woman’s disappearance, but they were unlikely to assume that Kaitan would be helping her.
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 18, 2019 22:48:35 GMT
Valhael looked nothing more than a child with the way the cloak swamped her, it did well to hide her form, especially once she pulled the hood up. It should serve as a good disguise, as long as nobody looked too closely. At his words, she nodded quickly. She was thankful to receive help, but also about as eager to stay long in a stranger’s company as he was, especially as she was still not certain why he had deigned to help her with no advantage to himself. With her careful study of him, it would have been difficult not to notice the clear signs of fatigue, and Valhael found herself wondering what was the cause for such… although she supposed the presence of demons was reason enough.
Tying the drawstring about her neck, she followed the mage outside, her feet light but her heart pounding heavily within her ribcage.
It felt strange to be walking in the open like this, rather than flitting from shadow to shadow, and Valhael found that even with the addition of the cloak she felt exposed. Even so, people were sparse, the soldiers having dispersed in different directions in their search for her. At one point, the sound of running feet approached them, and they changed direction, having to go a round-about way towards the edge of the camp in order to avoid a patrol. But now, finally, they were coming to the last few tents…
Until a voice rang out, but it was one of familiarity with an edge of questioning rather than a call for Valhael, and by the way the stranger besides her tensed, the elf guessed that the call was for him.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 19, 2019 3:43:35 GMT
Had he been in a better situation, he might have laughed at how the cloak dominated her. As it was, he had to pretend that it was perfectly normal for someone to have a cloak dragging on the ground around them, or that he was supposed to be walking with them.
He could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest, even with his human ears; maybe that was why he was feeling so overprotective, even putting an arm around her shoulder at one point to push her ahead of him and avoid being noticed by some stragglers around and in the tents. Few wandered here rather than enjoy the festivities, always eager to celebrate when and where they could.
Which was precisely why Kaitan tensed at hearing the familiar voice, eyes blinking wide in surprise as his step paused. Silently, but visible in his expression, he chided his response; he was too tired, too open in his reactions. But he pushed on, even lengthening his stride, rather than looking back at hearing his name called out. His hand was again about her shoulders, but not quite as gently this time, his eyes focused on the freedom that lay only a few tents ahead. “Keep going,” he hissed under his breath, unable to hide the deeper, guttural echo to his tone.
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 22, 2019 23:19:25 GMT
Only with the stranger’s reaction to the calling voice, was Valhael able to confirm that the shout was for him at all; although she had her suspicions, she had been holding onto a small ray of hope that she was wrong. Her gut sank at the realisation that this was not the case, the adrenalin in her veins only seeming to amplify as she felt the mage’s arm about her shoulders, pushing her on now with some urgency. When the voice spoke again, it was with a note of confusion, but closely followed by a harsher tone, this time clearly a command, with a dash of anger at being ignored. Valhael glanced up at the man walking besides her, this... Kaitan? And saw that he looked almost as desperate as she felt. Exactly how much trouble would he be in for trying to sneak her out?
Realising that Kaitan was clearly disobeying orders for some unknown reason, and becoming understandably suspicious as to who his mysterious companion might be, Alistair and the guards picked up pace. “Stop!” He barked, patience running out, reaching for his sword. That was enough for Valhael, they would have to stop, the guards would surround them and she would be taken back. Memories of capture flitted across her mind, not of here or by these people but by others, many years ago. Shackles, servitude and the constant looming threat of death…
And then in one swift movement the cloak had flowed from her form like water, Valhael spinning in one fluid motion and hurling it at their pursuer. By some stroke of luck it ensnared Alistair’s head perfectly, blocking her temporarily from his sight, buying her less than half a second to start running, a chance which she took without hesitation.
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