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Post by Deimos on Jul 9, 2016 17:58:37 GMT -5
SITE EVENT AN ATTACK ON SKYHOLD The day had been easy, calm, as uneventful as ever. Some people had come and go from the fortress walls, but it wasn't anything unusual. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing seemed unusual, but nonetheless suddenly at noon three massive explosions shook the fortress. Walls buckled and people screamed as the explosions tore people apart, threw others to the ground, and left everyone else watching in horror. From the smoke, humans and elves in Qunari armor descended upon Skyhold. A full out battle has broken out amongst the fire, smoke, and gore. This event runs until 8/9/16! If you haven't yet, you can sign up here! If you're uncertain how to have your character join the event, it's easy enough to say they were visiting for one reason or another! Skyhold has a lot to offer, hosting the College of Enchanters and being a trade point between Orlais and Ferelden. This is the main event thread and there is no posting order. PHARAOH LEAP. [googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Bitter]
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Post by Varalas Mahariel on Jul 13, 2016 19:07:29 GMT -5
[attr="class","dilyrics"]Run away, away with me. Lost souls & reverie.[attr="class","dilyric"]Running wild and running free. | [attr="class","dibody3"]Varalas reached up and stretched as he wandered into Skyhold's courtyard. He'd been here for what, a month now? It was hard for him to keep track of the days. His senechal was already sending him letters, scolding him and pleading him to come back to Vigil's keep. He'd traveled all the way out here, he wasn't going to leave without stay for a while. For now, he ignored his senechal's letters. He'd make it up to him later, surely. He always did put up with him so well. Varalas let his arms drop down and he adjusted the waist of his gambeson. He was always in a gambeson. Always ready, always prepared. It'd been ten years since he last had a real fight but still he couldn't get it out of his bones. It had been so deeply engraved into him after a year spent fighting the blight. He never went anywhere unarmored. He felt naked, exposed, vulnerable without some kind of armor on. It would just be so easy for someone to slip a knife between his ribs without several inches of thick padding to stop the blade. He fingered the daggers at his side as he looked around the courtyard, searching for a familiar face. His attention was grabbed instead by someone slinking in the shadows and he took a step towards them. "Excuse me," He called out sweetly, innocently, "have you seen—" The figure looked up, looked at him with a face that twisted his gut. This was wrong. He opened his mouth to shout, but the sound was drowned out.
He could barely breathe, could barely catch his breath, every molecule of air having been forced from his lungs. How had he gotten on the ground? He couldn't think, but he could feel blood rolling down his face and a sharp pain in the back of his head. He could feel his body ache with bruises, cuts, and burns. Debris weighed on him. Somehow nothing felt real, like his body wasn't his own anymore. It was a familiar feeling. Fighting the weighted numbness of his limbs, he pushed the debris off of himself and slowly got to his feet. He stumbled, his ears still ringing. He could see, though, once he rubbed the blood and dirt from his eyes. He could see people slitting the throats of those on the ground and he could see others chasing those who tried to stumble away. Some fought back and fresher. He recognized the invaders' armor as Qunari, although the ones wearing it seemed to be mostly humans and elves. He was only able to make a vague connection, though, his head too fuzzy to properly think. Instinct cut through the haze sharply, his body moving on its own to draw the daggers that still hung at his waist. He rubbed at his eyes again, smearing blood across his face.
"Cyrlan." His voice was hoarse, was it because of the smoke in the air? He called out louder, "Cyrlan!" His throat ached and each breath of hot smokey air burned. His heart pounded in his throat, constricting it with every beat. Denerim, this was like Denerim. He could hear it at the edge of his hearing. He could hear the song, he could hear the archdemon cry out and the people below scream in a horrified echo. He shook it off; he shook off the fear. He was in control. This was his element. He snatched up a nearby bow and quiver of arrows from a Viddathari's corpse in favour of drawing his daggers. He nocked an arrow and drew back. The string bit into his unprotected fingers, but thick callouses eased the pain. He loosed the shot and an unlucky Viddathari fell as it lodged in their neck.
[attr="class","ditags3"]word count ✖ @ ✖ quietly yells |
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Post by Ashyla Lavellan on Jul 13, 2016 23:46:27 GMT -5
Ashyla had been out in the sparring fields, working with one of the mages Cyrlan was teaching. The mage froze and turned, the only warning Ash had that something was wrong before explosions wracked the castle. She ended up thrown against a wall, sending spots across her vision. Everything went dark, smoke blinding her when she tried to look around.
There was a bright flash from one side, followed by a roar that shook the ground. Her pulse began to race as the dragon flew over Haven, the strange darkspawn-looking creature on its back a terrifying sight to behold. The dragon shot a blast of fire from its jaws, destroying one of the catapults. She heard Cullen's voice beside her, urging her to run inside, toward the chantry. But she couldn't make herself move. Not until Cyrlan was there with her.
The smoke filled her lungs, choking her. The clashing of metal on metal rang in her ears, deafening her. The dragon's fireballs blinded her.
She was stuck in the flashback, her skin pale and slick with sweat. She was breathing hard, and her pulse was racing. ___________________________
Emma panicked slightly when the first explosion went off, the wolf's ears pressed flat to her head. She heard a familiar voice and bounded toward it, finding Varalas through the rubble. If she stuck with this new elf, she'd be able to find one of her elf's friends. Someone who could help her.[/i]
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Post by Fenris on Jul 14, 2016 19:42:51 GMT -5
- TAGGED - SKYHOLD EVENT* Fenris closely followed behind his charge for the past couple of days, a merchant who was looking to trade his wares, jewels and artifacts that were apparently blessed to him from all the corners of Thedas. Fenris had his doubts to the claim, of course, seeing as he was the only mercenary bought to protect both his goods and the merchant himself, but he wasn't being paid to certify whether this was an honest merchant or not, so he kept his opinions to himself, focused on making sure that no bandits might try to steal any of his possibly fake treasures. Fenris had been standing aside, letting the man spout his spiel for perhaps the hundredth time. He was a pretty decent story teller, if nothing else, weaving otherwise believable tales for his goods, though in all his time Fenris himself never heard of them before. Aside from the sometimes frustrating occupation he found himself in, the elf was feeling a tad restless today, and couldn't quite pin why. He had decided that this damned cold must have been the cause, the Tevinter born elf not used to such a bitter climate, but even then he wasn't sure. His arms crossed, adjusting his footing on the cold stone ground, the elf felt an odd tremor beneath the soles of his feet. This was definitely cause for concern and everyone in the courtyard had frozen, Fenris not being the only one who felt the fortress shook. But then he saw it. He made the split decision as another explosion had hit, sending smoke, debris, and even people flying. The mercenary had landed on his charge, using his own body to protect him from the brunt of the strike as he forced him to the ground. Screams and war cries could be heard once the ringing in his ears had stopped, Fenris sorely forcing himself to his feet. Everything hurt like hell, but he was alive and he wasn't about to waste that chance. Unfortunately, while he saved the merchant, he couldn't save his treasures, the man frantically trying to gather them together, up until the elf had forcefully pulled him from them by the collar of his shirt. "My wares! You idiot elf, help me gather them! It's your job to protect my goods!" he cried, not seeming at all concerned that Skyhold was being attacked. He quickly changed his tune when Fenris' markings began to glow, a ferocious look in his eyes. "Are you going to die for a bunch of overpriced trinkets?" his voice was level, his tone was stern. He noticed a few survivors running, being escorted elsewhere. He merely shoved the merchant towards the direction. "Get to safety. Now." It was not advice or even a suggestion. No, it was a demand. And it seemed to do the trick, the man running off, if not from the siege, definitely from the elf warrior's wrath. With the merchant out of the way, Fenris had decided to put his sword to use and aid in clearing this place out, or die trying. So he unsheathed is greatsword and advanced, ignoring the pain in his side or the blood that had seeped from his head, burning his right eye. fenris has joined the brawl! |
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Post by Elyssa Cousland on Jul 16, 2016 10:52:15 GMT -5
She ran a brush through her hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror. How she'd changed in recent years... She put her brush down and moved her hand to the pendant that hung around her neck. It had been a gift from Aval, her Dalish lover and the father of her younger twins. She stood up, and the explosions rocked Skyhold.
She looked up from where she'd fallen, her heart racing. For a moment, she was staring down the darkspawn again. She was staring down an ogre on the fields of Ostagar. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought for control, and when she opened her eyes again she was once more on the floor in her room at Skyhold. She scrambled to her feet and donned her armor, bearing the Cousland sword and shield.
A familiar bark sounded as she threw the door open. Kenai and Karina were waiting for her just outside.
"Karina, find them," she told her younger hound. Karina barked once before running off to search for Elyssa's four children. She went down the stairs and ran through the courtyard, now a battlefield, cutting down any enemies that stood in her way. She was a champion of Highever, the Commander of her forces. She wasn't going to let a little thing like this kill her.
Before anything, though, she had to find her children.
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Post by cyrlan lavellan on Jul 17, 2016 9:37:38 GMT -5
[googlefont=montserrat][newclass=.hug_much2]width:345px;padding:20px 19px 20px 19px;background:#efefef;border:1px solid #bcbcbc;[/newclass] [newclass=.much]width:320px;padding:10px;border:1px solid #bcbcbc;background:#ffffff;padding-bottom:30px[/newclass] [newclass=.image]width:320px;height:160px;position:absolute;background:url('http://ultraimg.com/images/Untitled-1bfe84.png')[/newclass] [newclass=.much_border]width:300px;height:140px;border:5px solid #ffffff;margin-top:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.much_text]width:250px;margin-top:195px;line-height:1.3em;text-align:justify;font-size:11px;font-family:calibri;color:#343434;padding-bottom:25px[/newclass] [newclass=.much_text a]font-family:georgia;color:#343434;font-style:italic;font-size:8.5px;letter-spacing:0.4px;[/newclass] [newclass=.alive_much1]border:1px solid #bcbcbc;padding:12px 25px 10px 25px;;font-size:7px;font-family:PT ono;letter-spacing:1.7px;text-transform:uppercase;width:194px;text-align:justify;background:#ffffff;line-height:1em;color:#a2a2a2[/newclass] [newclass=.alive_much1a]border:1px solid #bcbcbc;padding:5px;width:246px;background:#efefef[/newclass][newclass=.lemcred]width:300px;height:20px;font-family:montserrat;font-size:9px;margin-top:5px;color:#232323;[/newclass] [newclass=.lemcred a]color:#323232!important;font-family:montserrat!important;font-size:9px!important;text-transform:lowercase !important;[/newclass] [attr="class","hug_much2"] [attr="class","much"] [attr="class","image"] [attr="class","much_border"] [nospaces] [attr="class","much_text"] for @event ; this is a terrible post i'm so sorry[break][break] A fog lies over Skyhold, casting a muffled silence over the lazy morning. The sun overhead does little to permeate the air, neither does it do anything to warm the chilly stone walls. A dalish elf crouches over carefully curated plants; he finishes up by sweeping dark dirt of gloved hands and begins to make his way back into the tower. Draped over his shoulders is a simple cloak, protection against the cold for someone used to warmer climates. Otherwise, he is clad in garb bearing vague semblance to traditional dalish wear, in muted shades of green and gold.[break][break]
He is halfway up the stairs to the library, one foot placed on the step before him, before he realises something is wrong. There is screaming, not the gleeful shrieks of adventurous enchanters, but bloodcurdling battle cries tossed in futility at enemies. They come from the battlements (and the part of his mind that dimly registers it as an invasion reconciles to the fact that it is probably too late to help them). Cyrlan retracts his steps and sprints for the courtyard, but not before he shouts out a warning to the spymaster and hears the crowing in the rookery above.[break][break]
The explosions hit as he bursts into the sunlight - immediately he is thrown off his feet, clear off the ground and for a moment he is suspended in midair. Gravity catches up and sends the elf crashing gracelessly into the ground a moment later, where his heart thuds hard against his ribs and he's still perplexed at the notion of an invasion. This is Skyhold. It is said to be impregnable, infallible, a stony structure carved from the very mountainside itself.[break][break]
The air begins to fill with shouted orders and clanging armor - he can smell the blood in the air (and on himself), and shakes a momentary daze from his head. He lurches upright and meets with a faceful of Qunari invader that quickly slams the fact into him, quite literally. It is all that he can do to catch a shield on the edge of his mind and throw the glimmering blue barrier before him. The sword slides harmlessly away and here is when the inquisitor lunges. An arc cleaves through the air, a gout of blood is soon to follow and he pivots away from the invader as they crash into the ground. [break][break]
His breath rasps in his throat and his eyes burn. Cyrlan slashes a hand through the air before him in a fruitless attempt to cut away the smoke. How did they get through, how? Was the watchtower taken out? While he was doing some - creators be damned - gardening? "You, soldier," he grates out at a wide-eyed soldier with a lopsided helmet, "sound the alarm. Go." The warrior darts off with a stammered response he does not catch, for Cyrlan is already moving forward. The knight-enchanter spots an invader's back to him and marks a target, leveling the sword and preparing to strike.[break][break]
The sound of a horn cuts through smoke and dust. Invasion, it seems to scream, stand or die.
[attr="class","alive_much1a"] [attr="class","alive_much1"]the worst thing is that they aren’t even nightmares. they’re memories.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2016 11:18:25 GMT -5
Nightingale's eyes - what secrets lie in their worth? raven tears they cry, but all the while they softly lie and spy on you ✾❃✾❃✾❃ Covert vessels of the Inquisition that came and went from the Rookery that day were on edge. They witnessed the way the birds in their shadowed, hung cages ruffled; restless and agitated, crying out at one another in harsh voices. Rumor had it that these avian agents were extensions of the Spymaster that dwelt among them, intuitively aware of her mental state. To say that the birds were wary was synonymous with the Nightingale being so. Upon Leliana's desk - which was more a glorified table placed by a narrow mullioned window than the posh thing that Josephine would boast - were numerous reports spanning weeks and even months into the past. She sifted through them, plucking one from its place to ply her nimble mind at unraveling the shadows in its syllables, then onto the next. There was something... Something amiss. Something alluding her in the patchwork of recent reports and briefings. That Sister Nightingale felt there was a secret playing around the edges of her mind, just out of reach, was like a disease; a rash or fever that wouldn't abate. Not only because it was Leliana's job to know, but because not knowing never lead to any good. She passed a piece of parchment from her hand and into a stack at her elbow, turning her sight upon another instead. Silver blue eyes scored the documents so intensely it was a wonder the fibers didn't char or unravel. There was a trail that the Spymaster had found. And she only discerned that it was a trail because of the absence of a trail to begin with. The inconsistencies. The enigma; missing pieces; fractured corners of what should be whole assessments from her eyes and ears across Thedas; made a loose and treacherous line of mysterious crumbs. Most specifically, these wormed their way through the Frostbacks, which is what alarmed Leliana. They were little things. Unanswered questions in field reports, unexplained stones overturned without the culprit visible. Rendered as component parts, none would give credence to worry, but Leliana totaled them - adding them together and was left with... discomfort. The crux of the matter was that this trail - this conspiratorial ghost of a path - had only made itself manifest that very morning. Leliana had sent out her birds, carrying messages, and her agents, those swiftest of foot and most masterful in traversing the surrounding mountaintops, to investigate. Yet still the dark cloud of unknowing brooded on her shoulders and bowed her over her desk. At length, one of Leliana's agents appeared, seemingly solidifying from the shadows - of which there were many in the Rookery. "What news of the south?" Leliana demanded without looking up. "I can find nothing," the spy professed. "And Sprig?" Leliana inquired, naming another agent she'd dispatched that morning at the first sign of oddity. "He hasn't reported in, Nightingale," the agent said. Leliana froze. Sprig was the best she had to comb the Frostbacks. Sprig should've been back first. There was no reason he oughtn't. Leliana had lived too long and learned too much to dismiss this, the first clear and irrevocable kernel of concern. "I need to see Cyrlan." Leliana pushed herself away from her desk when the first tremors shook Skyhold. Her eyes went wide, automatically blades were in hand and in the hands of the eight agents that prowled the Rookery around her. The next explosion hit, nearer this time, and sent the whole tower shaking. Leliana heard over the screech of the birds and the screams from those in the Library the call of Crylan rise to meet her. The Nightingale steadied herself. Another of her spies landed amidst them, dropping from the rafters above, "It's an attack, my lady! Warriors armed in Qunari garb flood the courtyard and battlements!" Leliana moved through her shock, because this was Skyhold, the center of her web of influence and intelligence. There was no reasonable way such an attack could be mounted with her absent let alone being there and... and... not knowing! This was Haven all over again. Leliana steeled herself at once. "You know what is to be done," she commanded. Her agents fell into place. Messages were scrawled and tied to conveyors, several vanished through the shadows, off to warn, to scout, to observe, still more dropped down the center of the tower like aerialists, darts loosed from the Spymaster's sleeve, set upon the invaders. Leliana herself sheathed her knives and pulled an artfully crafted bow from beneath her desk. She slung two quivers upon her, one on her back and one on her hip, and moved. When the door to the balcony atop the tower was kicked open, a swarm of raven feathers spilled out, and from the eaves of the steepled roof above it. Countless winged messengers took to the skies like a cloud of the Spymaster's will. Among the sea of them, and paired with the rhythm of wing beats that hummed through the air above the discordant tumult that pulsed below, the Nightingale walked, enveloped in the birds as though they were a living cloak. She strode to the edge of her perch and, lacing three arrows between her fingers, knocked them to the string as quick as thought. Leliana looked down upon the havoc that was unfolding and let her volley fly. One invader fell, hearing the thud of the arrow embedding in his neck; another stumbled and groped as its two fellows lodged in his back. Already more shafts were falling down from on high as Leliana worked. In one way this was not like Haven: she would put it to rights herself. nightingale's eyes - what will they find left behind? Craven master spy with heart remiss for those who could not find the truth. MADE BY ★MEULK
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Post by Varalas Mahariel on Jul 22, 2016 13:19:52 GMT -5
[attr="class","dilyrics"]Run away, away with me. Lost souls & reverie.[attr="class","dilyric"]Running wild and running free. | [attr="class","dibody3"]He couldn't hear. He could feel blood run from his ears and down the line of his jaw. He spoke and hoped he could be understood, trying to carefully trace the movements he's done countless times but never really focused on. "Cyrlan!" He called out again, his voice distorted, but hopefully still understandable. He spun this way and that, trying to compensate for his inability to hear by using his eyes. Trying to cover his own back while looking for Cyrlan as well. He couldn't look everywhere at once. He saw movement in the corner of his and immediately turned to it, drawing the nocked arrow back. He almost released the drawstring, almost let the arrow fly, but at the last moment he gripped it a little harder. It was a dog, but it seemed more interested in helping him than trying to kill him. He briefly wondered where Cat was. He pointed the bow at a Viddathari and shot them instead.
He looked up as things darkened even through the thick smoke. He followed the cloud of birds back to the source. The smoke clouded the air and burned his eyes, preventing him from seeing who exactly was perched up there, but someone was, and either that was Leliana or one of her agents or someone had killed them all and taken the perch. The chance of that happening was low, though, considering not only Leliana's skill but the also the fact they were shooting at the Viddathari. He rubbed at his eyes, wiping away blood and tears. He nocked another arrow and fired. Arrow after arrow, burying themselves into enemy necks and chests. Those that didn't kill at least slowed their targets, allowing for allies to take them out. In a brief lull in the fight, he snatched up a handful more of arrows from a dead man's quiver.
Where was Cyrlan? They could lose half the Inquisition, but they could not lose Cyrlan. He wouldn't allow it. He glanced at Ashyla before striding quickly through the smoke, firing arrows as he went and replenishing where he could. "Cyrlan!" He yelled again. Was his voice being drowned out? He couldn't hear, but he could feel the thrum of battle in his bones. Surely it was loud. The air was probably a cacophony of crackling fire, screams, battle cries, and steel crashing against steel. As he tore his way through the smoke, various other figures cropped up, including Fenris and, if he remembered her name correctly, Elyssa Cousland. Neither were Cyrlan, though. Neither were his priority. He stopped and pulled back an arrow as a mabari bounded towards him the smoke, but as with Ashyla, it was a familiar face. Although more familiar than hers had been. He swore at Cat in elvish, who just barked (or it looked like she barked) and dove back into the smoke. He wasted no time in following. Briefly, the smoke thinned. "Cyrlan!" He spotted the familiar elf and shouted as if irritated about not getting a response earlier. Relief swelled within him as he saw that Cyrlan was, in fact, in one piece and seemed largely uninjured, really. He hoped they could keep it that way.
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Post by Ashyla Lavellan on Jul 23, 2016 8:48:09 GMT -5
Ashyla spun her twin daggers again and again, but she wasn't seeing the Qunari. She saw the Red Templars. Her eyes were wide as she frantically searched for her cousin, her best friend. She came across Varalas, and Emma instantly shifted her attention to her red-headed elf. Emma bowled Ashyla over, out of the way of a blast of magic that left a hole in the ground, and it momentarily cleared Ashyla's vision. It took her a moment to process the wolf who stood protectively before her, snarling at and attacking the Qunari soldiers.
Emma hadn't been at the Haven attack.
That realization was enough to fully break her out of her flashback, and her eyes now blazed with anger. She stood and drew her bow, sending the first arrow through a chink in the Vidathaari's armor, killing the soldier. This was her home now. No way was she going to just sit by and let them take it!
She put two fingers to her lips, and a shrill, high-pitched whistle broke through the air. Through a hole in the wall caused by the bombs, a large bear lumbered into Skyhold.
Ashyla had taken the time between jobs and patrols to befriend the animals around Skyhold. Good thing, too.
"Help us protect Skyhold!" she told the bear in the elven tongue. His black eyes blinked at her, a spark of understanding in their depths. He rose on his hind legs, standing almost as tall as the Qunari, and slammed down on one of the attacking soldiers.
"Emma, call the others," she told her wolf, still speaking in the elven language. Emma placed her two front paws together and lifted her head toward the sky, a howl erupting through her lips. The sound carries well, despite the clash of metal-on-metal and the clang-thuds of metal-on-wood. Soon enough, there were a number of wolves throughout Skyhold, all of them fighting against the invaders and with the Inquisition.
Magic tingled on Ashyla's skin as she raised her bow to another attacker. But the Vidathaari fell before she could fire and she glanced up to see Leliana on the battlements.
Good idea. Archers are better from a vantage point, she remembered. With that, she disappeared into the shadows and made her way up one of the intact sets of stone stairs that led to the battlements, and began to rain arrows down on the enemy. Her quiver could fit about twenty arrows, and she'd already fired three or four, so she had about fifteen left. Then she would join the battle proper once again.
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Post by Zaria Hawke on Jul 26, 2016 23:33:35 GMT -5
Zaria had been basically sent to Skyhold by Aveline, who, for whatever reason, was helping Varric keep in touch with the Inquisitor. What Zaria didn't understand was the need for so many middle men. Varric had his own network of people, he could've gotten any letter or message or whatever to Skyhold easily.
She was walking in the garden, examining the healing herbs, when the explosions went off. She wasn't in the blast zone for any of the bombs, but the dust was suffocating. She muttered a quick spell for air purification before stumbling through the debris. That armor... No... Not here. Not now.
That armor was qunari. For an instant, she was back in Kirkwall. The city was burning around her again, and the horned giants from the north were invading. A howl broke through the sounds of battle, and a wolf appeared near her for a moment before disappearing into the battle. She stared at where it had been, stunned, and then decided to make her way to the infirmary. That was assuming it hadn't been blown up.
But nothing ever went the way it was supposed to. She had to fight humans and elves in qunari armor. It was Kirkwall all over again, except Skyhold didn't have a lyrium-crazed knight-commander. Or, well, city politics.
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Post by Fenris on Jul 27, 2016 11:12:28 GMT -5
- TAGGED - SKYHOLD EVENT* One by one, the invaders who approached the Tevinter elf met their fate at the end of his blade, hacking and slashing as the group tried to pour in. Fenris would be overwhelmed at this rate, the ringing in his ears and the massive headache doing him no favors, but he was only fortunate when calvary arrived as not only Skyhold guards had finally joined the fun but... wolves? He didn't question it too much, grateful for any sort of alliance at this rate, and continued to fight, as he would until the last Viddathari had fallen. Fight first, ask questions later.He spotted a few familiar faces among the chaos, some he expected, others... Not so much. He always said she'd be the death of him, but fortunately he only got so close, narrowly dodging a deadly swing as he'd gotten distracted, eyes following her fight through the smoke. A man on a mission, he dispatched the opposing human with a sword to the gut, ripping it out of him and letting the man fall into a heap of himself on the ground to bleed. With that out of the way, he fought through the dust and debris, off to assist Hawke before she got herself killed. More questions he'd have to ask later, if he didn't kill her first for managing to once again land herself in trouble. As he approached, from behind another figure seemed to have the same idea, though for far more malicious purposes, ones that were put to an end before they could even start as the Tevinter elf cut him down before he had the chance to surprise Zaria with a couple of bloodied daggers. "We need to stop meeting this way." he tells the woman once the immediate threat is out of the way, but there are still plenty of invaders pouring in, and they wouldn't have the chance to breathe long. He needed to get her moving, out of all this chaos. While he had the most faith in her as a mage, that still didn't mean he wouldn't want to prevent things getting worse. Getting her out of this mess was a priority. He'd be able to fight better knowing she wasn't in the thick of all this. So with that already well settled in his mind, he focused on getting her to the infirmary, helping her get past any foe who stood in their path. gdi hawke, you gotta stop with this hero business! lol |
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Post by Zaria Hawke on Jul 27, 2016 23:55:45 GMT -5
((Since it says there's no posting order...))
Zaria used a few simple spells, mostly her weaker ones to keep enemies at a distance while she got through. A few Inquisition soldiers assisted her by taking out the attackers she weakened, and giving her directions to the infirmary.
She wasn't completely on her game yet, though, which allowed an enemy to sneak up behind her. She didn't notice until she heard Fenris's voice from behind her. She snapped around, startled, and stopped her staff just before it hit him.
"Fenris! Don't come up behind me like that in the middle of a battle," she told him, diverting her attention to an attacking human and killing him with a bolt of electricity. She managed a grin at her elf though. "Well, thanks for the help." She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, then reached her hand up to the bloody spot on his head. "Hold still," she told him, muttering a spell under her breath. The spell stopped the bleeding, and another quick one allowed her to assess the extent of his injury. "Just a concussion. That's an easy fix," she said, more to herself than to him. Another quick spell and his concussion was set to heal. "Fight now, talk later." She narrowed her eyes and threw a hand past his head, aiming a fireball at an elf with a bow.
"Get me over to the other healers," she said quickly. "I'll be more help there." She followed him through Skyhold, remembering things from the last time here. She had to force down the memories of her time physically in the Fade. There was a reason why she hadn't really wanted to come back.
What in the Maker's name had Varric so busy that he couldn't come himself?
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Post by Fenris on Jul 28, 2016 13:10:27 GMT -5
- TAGGED - SKYHOLD EVENT* The elf barely flinched as her staff nearly hit him, staring at her with a look that said it all. 'Is that really how you are going to thank me?' Fortunately he kept such snide comments to himself, understanding the action and only partially regretful of startling her like that. Better him than someone who actually wanted to kill her, after all! Still, he wanted to ask what she was even doing there but saved his questions for after the battle, were they to survive it, anyway, but Varric always made a valid point that going against Hawke was practically suicide, and he knew for a fact that the other two 'heroes' were here. Did that necessarily mean their victory was in the bag? Hell no! But it did a lot for morale, even he would admit that. She ended up thanking him anyway, even giving him a kiss to the cheek that the elf really wanted to complain about it being inappropriate right now but his words got caught in his throat. And it was in that moment of weakness she'd decided to take advantage. Fenris growled a bit as he was healed, but couldn't complain to much since it was already relieving some of the strain. Even further still when she actually healed the worst of it, he could hear and see more clearly again. Yes, he knew the pros of magic, but the magic abused elf would never fully accept it, even if it was from her. For now, he decided to save his complaints and she seemed to have read his mind, the mercenary merely nodding in agreement. Well, after she fired over his shoulder, Fenris leaning a bit out of the way as she downed another elf with the fireball. He might not trust mages all that much, but he definitely trusted her better than most, thankfully. With that settled, he agreed to getting her to the infirmary, preferring her using her 'talents' there than risking her life out here! The elf took the lead, cutting down any obstacle that got in their way and clearing the path for them. The sooner he got her to the infirmary, the better. No doubt with all this carnage there were plenty of causalities that needed to be tended to. -- |
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