The end is near

Posted on 22 Mar 2021 @ 12:34am by Mage Kalian Winter & Warrior Martin Josceran & Warrior Rhiannon Cadash & Rogue Elinowy Ursulas

4,665 words; about a 23 minute read

Mission: Lore's Labour's Lost
Location: The Mine
Timeline: Cloureach 17th - night

OOC: After 'Uprising'

Now that Kalian had revealed himself as a mage, Gangue's attention had shifted squarely onto him. Martin's mind reeled with all that this implied but there wasn't time to dwell on it in the face of mortal danger. He took advantage of Gangue's distraction to attack again, though his pickaxe looked somewhat ridiculous compared to the hefty two-hander favoured by the Qunari. Gangue dodged with a snarl, then slashed at both Martin and Kalian with a mighty blow of his greatsword.

Kalian's attempt to nimbly dodge the qunari's greatsword ended with him tripping backward over loose rocks. He landed hard on his back, knocking the breath out of him, the greatsword slashing through the place where his chest had been just a moment ago. He rolled over and staggered to his feet. The Qunari reminded him of a bear he and his grandmother had fought, after he'd accidentally sent a firebolt its way.

Martin wasn't used to fighting without armour. Though it had been a while since he'd carried the Templar full plates, he always wore the Guard thick leather armour on patrol ; though the lack of it gave him greater agility he keenly felt the loss of protection. Even more so as he wasn't used to relying exclusively on dodging, and his reflexes in that regard were a little rusty. He avoided Gangue's latest hit, only just, nearly tripping on the uneven ground of the cave as he did.

Gangue easily carried his momentum into another blow, aimed again at Kalian. Martin jumped in front of him, pickaxe in both hands as he used it to parry. Although he managed to deflect the blade, the old, dry, brittle wood of the pickaxe handle broke under the strain. Oh damn. Martin tossed the metal head of the pickaxe at Gangue's face, just to buy a second, looking around for a weapon - any weapon. The Qunari's headwound was bleeding profusely still, blinding him on his left side.

"Kalian ! Glyph of Paralysis !" Martin shouted, half-commanding, half-pleading. He didn't even know if Kalian, having not benefited from formal teaching, would know this one.

Of course! Kalian was muttering the words and making the motions with his hands around them even before the tiny voice at the back of his mind wondered how much Martin knew about spells. A faint glow shimmered into being around them where they stood without a second to spare. The qunari stepped toward them and froze.

The spell would not hold Gangue for very long. Martin looked frantically around for a weapon. A few steps further one of the guards had fallen ; the blood seeping through his hair suggested he'd been hit by a stone and knocked out. Martin ran to the body and pulled the sword the guard hadn't had time to use, swearing between his teeth when the blade got snagged on the man's belt.

Kalian wiped the blood from his face using his sleeve. He searched for Elinowy in the chaotic milieu, and saw her fall to the ground, a guard looming over her. He ran toward her, taking up a discarded shovel on the way.

****

Henker had signed up as a guard for Roxa just for the easy money. So far it had been good, dice games everyday, a few whippings here and there... way better than in the army before he had deserted. But he had not signed up for this kind of shit. If the workers won, Henker had few illusions about what they'd do to him. It was this thought, rather than loyalty to Roxa, that encouraged him to fight. But, true to his cowardly nature, he chose the target that he thought would be easiest ; the tall (clearly addled) redhead who thought this was an appropriate time to sing.

"Shut up you whore !" Henker shouted vindictively, as he came at her with his sword.

Her focus on the newly revealed Kalian the Mage was quickly broken by the guard slashing his blade across her. She winced as her knees buckled. The guard drew back for another swing as she gasped for breath, her hand covering the laceration trying to hold back the blood pouring out.

A smart man in this situation would run for the mine's exit and try to escape on the lift. Henker was not a smart man. Instead, he pulled his whip from his belt for more fun.

Kalian ran up behind the guard and slammed the business end of the shovel into his head with all the force he could muster. The man toppled over to the side. "Elinowy," gasped the apostate, dropping to her side. In his worry and rush to help, he didn't stop to ask for her permission, but wrapped one arm around her shoulder for support while covering her hand that was held protectively over her stomach with his. Reaching for the fade, he poured healing magic into her abdomen.

The burning pain from the laceration had Elinowy's eyes closed as she fought to recall prayers to the Maker between moments she wished for the peace of joining the maker. The goings on about her in the battle faded to a distant blur or irrelevance. The guard dropped next to her, she didn't notice. Tears flowed from her tightly closed eyelids. Her breathing was short and belabored. Her world was a dark envelope of pain.

She barely recognized her body being elevated as Kalian supported her aside from the sudden wrenching pain in her abdomen as her position altered. A weak moan came from her lips. She felt something change. A warmth in her belly spread out through her body. It shook her mind from the prison of pain she had been in. Somewhat confused she managed to rationalize what she was experiencing. Magic! Her eyes shot open. "No!" she called in a broken voice, the hand that cradled her belly fought to push away Kalian's hand. She grabbed Kalian's wrist, fighting to lift it from her stomach.

The rush of healing magic flowed through her. It felt... wonderful. The grip on Kalian's wrist went from forcing him away to pulling him back tightly against her. The moan she let out was no longer of pain. In her mind she cursed herself for what she was doing, but by the same token was not inclined to stop it. Elinowy's blood coated Kalian's hand as the gash in her belly stitched itself back together with his healing touch. She gasped filling her lungs with air as the magic worked through her.

Kalian could see the wound closing as fading. Around the torn fabric of his sister's shirt he made out something odd. Dark markings on Elinowy's skin. Something was written on her.

Kalian's mana pool was nearly exhausted, recovery would take a few moments at least. He breathed heavily, as shaken by his friend's near-death as though he had nearly died himself. It had been a struggle, maintaining the flow of healing energy while she fought him, but in the end she surrendered.

Gently, he moved the torn fabric away from her belly, to check the state of her wound. He used the edge of his tunic to wipe away the blood, and as he expected, the scar was red and puckered where the flesh had knit together. What he did not expect was the tattoos - intricate patterns of ink across Elinowy's belly extending to parts he would not presume to investigate without her permission. They looked like runes of some kind, clearly magical, in fact the ink might even be infused with lyrium. Strange indeed, for a pious Chantry sister.

"Elinowy? I'm sorry, it's going to be painful, but you have to get up," urged Kalian. "We're still in danger."

The warmth of the healing magic faded being replaced by a tingling numbness in her stomach. Elinowy's blue eyes opened and looked up a Kalian. The sudden cascade of thoughts were hard to organize. Her friend was an Apostate! She felt her pulse begin to quicken. But he had also healed her in the most amazing way. That's couldn't be evil. Could it? She sat up, then looked her the shredded blood soaked shirt to her stomach. The would has closed. The notion of magic healing her repulsed her at the same time as feeling unusal notions of gratitude and affection for the Apostate that had done it. Her life continued, against the will of the Maker. She could see the edges of her tattoos being slightly exposed, she looked back to Kalian in terror. Her hand dropped to cover her exposed abdomen. Did he know? As a Mage could he read the inscription etched in her flesh? Her heart beat faster.

Kalian had arisen and was assessing the battle still going on around them. He was right. First things first. She and he were going to have a serious conversation when this was over. But now there were more important issues. She struggled to rise and looked about the chamber.

Back on their feet, Kalian scanned the area. Skirmishes were playing out all around them. There was Rhiannon fighting Roxa. And Martin against the qunari. "Maker's breath! Martin needs help."

Taking a couple tender steps, her wound was a dull ache. She would not be the best in a fight, but she could still sing. Her friend, the apostate mage the source of her salvation and condemnation would need help as well as the others bravely risking their lives around them. She chose some verses, dedicated to the valor of Andraste.

"Lady of Perpetual Victory, your praises I sing!
Gladly do I accept the gift invaluable
Of your glory! Let me be the vessel
Which bears the Light of your promise
To the world expectant.

The air itself rent asunder,
Spilling light unearthly from the
Waters of the Fade,
Opening as an eye to look
Upon the Realm of Opposition
In dire judgment."

While everyone fighting on the side of truth would be uplifted by the song, Kalian specifically felt his depth of magical force flow through him like he was being filled a new with strength and power. She kept on singing as she found the body of her attacker nearby. She took up the whip fallen beside him. The braided leather handle fit well in her hand. She lashed the whip out and circled it near her as she followed Kalian, adding emphasized cracks in the tempo of her song. In her current state, she may not be able to beat an assailant in combat, but she could certainly make them look for a better target than the tall flame headed woman soaked in scarlet brandishing a whip.


****

Roxa wanted to scream as she saw all her hard work unravel before her very eyes. Bloody Fereldans. She should have kept them all in chains. Longsword in one hand, shield in the other, she slashed at the nearest rebel, determined to execute as much of her workforce as necessary. The thrill of battle didn't diminish the burning fire of anger that burnt in the pit of her stomach.

"Rhiannon !" She looked for her guest, and how fortunate was it that she hadn't locked her up yet - Roxa's eyes widened as she saw Rhiannon took down one of her own guards, rather than the rabble attacking them. With a cry of rage, she threw herself at her.

Rhiannon had moved take on Roxa. As she has slipped around the others she came up to one of Roxa's guard. He was quick yet he had not expected that this dwarf was as nimble as she was. Three moves Rhi had taken the guard with a slice across the throat. She stood with a mischievous grin over the guard, she heard her name, looked up and that mischievous grin turned wicked. Her eyes gleamed with an excitement. "Let's dance." Her voice was soft yet almost feral, as she pulled a long dagger from its sheath, in her off hand. When Roxa threw herself at her, Rhi waited till the last moment to parry.

The sailor's parry deflected her longsword, and Roxa thrust her shield forward to push Rhiannon back. Damn that human, he must have warned her. Or she was in on this rebellion from the beginning – she arrived with the instigators. That prospect enraged the carta dwarf. "I should've locked you up from the start instead of listening to your prattle. You want to dance? I'll lead." Roxa roared and swung her sword.

Even though Rhi was ready for Roxa, the woman's shield still found some purchase. Backing up a couple of feet, Rhiannon knew she was going to be bruised from the force of the blow. Rhi's smile grew more feral as she slipped into a dancers pose. Roxa swung her sword, Rhi brought up her dagger to parry, the arm that took the brunt of thr shield bash. The sword and the power behind it, slid down the blade. Rhi pushed forward, turning Roxa's blade though not quickly enough. As the blade sliced across her forearm, leaving a crimson line.

Rhiannon took the blow and twisted out of the way, flourishing her rapier, bringing it around to slice down Roxa's sword arm. Rhi danced away to turn and face Roxa. "You dance well for someone who has two left feet." She grinned. "Trust me though, if you had wanted to use me to get to my mother. You would have made the biggest mistake of your life."

Blood rolled down her side from the wound in her sword-arm. But Roxa had at least scored first blood. She circled around the other dwarf, glancing around her. Gangue was busy fighting that human. Half her useless mine guards had run away, and the ones to stay and fight were falling. Good thing the lift was at the surface level, they were all stuck here. Roxa threw her shield at Rhiannon, then holding her sword in both hands, rushed her shouting, "I'll send you back to your mother in pieces!"

Rhiannon nimbly shifted out of they way when Roxa threw her shield at her. "Pieces you say. You can try if you would like. Just know, you die here today." As she slid to the side, parrying Roxa's sword. As she did she took her own swing with her long dagger, just missing.

Roxa barely dodged the dagger, saved by unusually fast reflexes. It was not the first life-or-death situation she'd been in, it was not even the worst. But no matter what, Rhiannon'd head would end up on a spike, she thought in cold fury, and screw that deal with her mother. She'd pay the higher fee if it meant she was done with this backstabbing traitor.

"Not today," She hissed. Although her shield was gone she still had her sword, and it was a good solid longsword, not a flimsy rapier. Where did Rhiannon think she was, at court in Val Royeaux ? "You picked the wrong side, cloudgazer ! The Carta will know what happened here."

Neither of them had the advantage, at that point. Roxa feinted to the right, then pressed and tried to score a hit on Rhiannon's left arm to get her to drop her dagger.

Rhiannon watched as Roxa feinted to tye right. She seen it coming and shifted to block Roxa's press with her dagger. Still the shock of the heavier blade pushed Rhi back a foot. As strong as Rhi was, this woman was stronger. What Rhi had was her quickness. And she used it. Pivoting so that the strike from Roxa seemed less, Rhi struck out rapier.

Roxa parried the riposte, infuriated to see Rhiannon block her so easily. She'd thought of her as a lightweight, an arrogant pup taking advantage of her mother's name and influence. She hadn't expected her to be actually good with a sword.

Around them, the fighting went on, and it was not going too well for Roxa's men. Gangue had gotten injured - she'd heard his grunt of pain, though she hadn't looked back - and she could feel the tide of battle turning against her. She had little time to regain the upper hand. Roxa's hurry was her downfall ; she hit again, overextending herself in her eagerness to finish the fight, and when Rhiannon dodged, she stumbled.

Rhiannon had not thought about how long the duel had gone on. For Rhi fighting was her joy, her passion so time didn't matter to her. She had just parried another blow from Rixa, when she heard the Qunari grunt in pain. This almost distracted her. Enough that Roxa took advantage and struck hard. Rhi had just scramble out of the way as Roxa stumbled as she overextended herself. This gave Rhi the opportunity she was looking for. Like a ballerina, Rhi pivoted to her left, spun to face Roxa's back, as she laid open a huge gash across Roxa's back. "You said the carta would know what happened here. I know they will. Cause I will tell them. You see, (as Rhi walks around to look Roxa in the eyes) I am the Carta, das'tang." As she ran her rapier across Roxa's throat.

****

Martin managed to yank the sword free just as Gangue shook off the last of the spell. The blade's balance was poor, and the steel probably brittle, but it would have to do. Gangue was looking around for Kalian but Martin did not give him time to search any further.

"Hey, ox-man ! You're fighting me !"

That was possibly not very inspired but it did the job ; Gangue's attention focused on Martin again, and with a growl of impatience he stepped forward, bringing his greatsword over his head in one formidable swing. Martin rolled to the side and took advantage of the Qunari's temporary imbalance to strike his arm, leaving a deep gash in his bicep. The blow was intended to weaken more than anything ; he was not delusional enough to think he could take his opponent in only one hit.

Gangue's muscles rolled under his skin as, with a grunt of effort, he managed to pull another sweeping blow with very little momentum. That show of strength was unexpected, even from a Qunari. Taken by surprise, Martin raised his left arm, forgetting simultaneously that he was wearing neither shield nor armour. He was fortunate that the blow had so little strength behind it. Even so, the sword sliced deep, and the Qunari sneered victoriously as blood spilled.

Both bleeding now, they sized each other up, breathing heavily. The fight was by no means over. The Qunari showed no sign that his injuries bothered him at all, nor much sign of fatigue. Martin looked at his left eye crusted with blood, his tall horns, then glanced at the ceiling.

Probably seeing this apparent distraction as a good opportunity to finish him off, Gangue swung at him again, as expected. Martin dodged and nearly tripped, deliberately sloppy in how he moved. Let the Qunari think he was tiring ; Martin had a plan.

Kalian hurried toward Martin, unsure of how best to help. He concentrated and cast barrier on his friend, but without his staff he couldn't heal Martin from a distance. Around them, the tide seemed to be turning. He'd saw a guard fall at Costard and Varvin's feet. Sorrel with a tall surly man he hadn't met, fighting side-by-side. And the elf Sofia, directing other workers.

The air shimmered around Martin and he felt the tell-tale tingle of magic on his skin. Well, he wouldn't begrudge the extra help, though the sensation of magic being cast on him was uncomfortable at best. Still, less uncomfortable than taking a hit from that greatsword. Martin stumbled again voluntarily, letting air come out of his lungs in short gasps, and Gangue's lips stretched into a triumphant sneer. The Qunari lifted his sword in another mighty blow and Martin dodged to the right again. Just a little bit further... He couldn't keep this up much longer ; he was beginning to actually feel the strain, though the absence of armour gave him that much more endurance.

"Faithless vermin," Gangue hissed, and stepped closer. Just where Martin had been luring him all this time.

With his left eye blinded and his attention on Martin, the Qunari had failed to notice the protruding stalactites. They were high enough to not be a problem for anyone else, but Gangue's horns went quite high and he looked stunned when they hit stone with a dull sound. Martin took the opening ; sidestepping the blade of the greatsword, he stabbed the Qunari beneath his lowest ribs, where his vulnerable midsection was exposed.

A stunned expression on his face, Gangue staggered and dropped his greatsword. For a moment it looked as though he may fall over ; but, with a roar of anger, he caught himself. Eyes gleaming with fury looked down at Martin as the Qunari's left hand closed around the sword and, with surprising strength for one so injured, he punched Martin in the face. It felt like being hit by an ox-cart. Martin was not sure exactly what happened, except that he landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him, ears ringing. Without Kalian's protective spell he may have been down for the count, or even worse.

Kalian hurried toward Martin and the oxman with Elinowy beside him, bolstered by her song and inspired - in ways he couldn't stop to think about just then - by the bad-ass way she cracked that whip.

Martin was on the ground, the oxman's great axe near him. The huge Qunari was gravely injured with a sword protruding from his middle, and yet he was still on his feet and staggering toward Martin. Kalian cast Glyph of Paralysis.

Gangue froze, his hate-filled gaze turning toward Kalian. "Saarebas scum!" Roxa had promised him an honorable death in battle. But when last he'd seen his boss, she was losing her fight with that other dwarf. Roxa had no honor, he knew that, just as deep down he knew she never intended to keep her promise.

He should help kill the qunari while he was immobilized, but Kalian had only ever killed one person, and that was mostly an accident. Instead, Kalian hurried toward Martin, and put his hand over his friend's left arm. Looking into Martin's eyes with a mixture of apology and determination, poured healing magic into the wound.

Martin's sleeve was wet with blood but the pain faded and his skin tingled as Kalian's magic poured into his arm. It felt not unlike icy water cascading on his skin, unpleasant but numbing. Kalian looked... well, he looked like someone expecting to be rejected. That was an expression Martin had seen before, more than once. There wasn't time to dwell on it, though ; Gangue was still in fighting form, albeit seriously injured.

"Thanks," Martin said, getting to his feet. "I owe you - duck !" He barely had time to grab Kalian's shirt and pull him aside before a sword hissed through the empty space where he had just been.

The warrior's timely intervention put Kalian off balance, and he fell to the cave floor.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Gangue had pulled Martin's sword from his wound and had nearly beheaded Kalian with it. Blood still poured out of his abdomen wound, drenching his trousers, but he seemed to have found his second wind. The great Qunari lifted the sword preparing to finish off the miserable mage. As his arm swung the blade he felt a sudden pull at his horns, yanking his head to the side, throwing off his aim at the mage, just narrowly missing taking its head off. The ox-man turned about to find a long leathery whip entangling his horns. The red headed female was at the other end of the lash. The qunari tossed his head to the side, pulling the bloodied young woman off balance. She skipped a couple steps struggling to maintain her grip on the whip. The Qunari snorted at her, swinging its sword in an upward arc and quickly severing the whip into two lengths. The female awkwardly let the broken leather cord drop to the floor before retreating nearer her companions.

Kalian scrambled to his feet awkwardly, amazed at the bravery of his companions. Elinowy had actually challenged the qunari with nothing more than a whip. He stepped back, hoping to keep the Oxman's focus away from the Sister.

Without pausing to think Martin found the two-hander Gangue had dropped and picked it up, grimacing slightly at the weight of the weapon. Good thing Kalian had healed his arm.

"Give up," he called to the Qunari. "You're bleeding out. If you surrender you can still live."

He might as well have been speaking a different language, for all the attention Gangue gave him ; he was still fixated on Kalian, lips pulled in a sneer that bared his teeth.

"Nehraa atash !" And he charged.

Martin didn't really have time to think twice about it. He stepped in front of Kalian, hefting the greatsword into a parry, allowing the Qunari's blade to slide harmlessly aside. Gangue lost his balance ; Martin kicked his supporting leg, making him fall on one knee, and pivoted to gain momentum as he brought down the greatsword on its previous owner, pinning Gangue to the ground like a giant butterfly. He must have hit an artery because blood spurted violently. Gangue shuddered, his skin turning a lighter shade of grey as the shock and hemorrhage hit him. Martin had seen this before. The Qunari would be dead within minutes and with him the last chance Roxa had had of reclaiming the mine. There wasn't much resistance elsewhere, the guards either subdued or dead by the miners.

Kalian leaned over, bracing his hands against his knees, panting. "You got him, Martin. You saved my life. You both did."

"Kalian, Elinowy, are you - Sister !" When he saw the blood covering her mid-section Martin dropped the greatsword and rushed to her side. "You're bleeding, let me - " He lifted her shirt before she had time to protest, and without really thinking about the impropriety of what he was doing.

Whatever Martin had expected to see, this... wasn't it. He stared at the white skin of Elinowy's belly, the thin, pink line where her wound must have been, and the delicate swirl of tattoos surrounding it. They were unusual, not similar to anything he'd seen before, and covering the greater part of her belly, stopping just under her ribs. Then Martin realized that he was holding the shirt of a barely-clad Chantry sister, who also happened to be a beautiful woman, and he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. The burn was quickly magnified by the palm of the sister's hand smacking against his face at her disapproval of having her shirt lifted and gawked at.

"...sorry." He let go of the tunic, though it was little more than rags by this point.

The sister did her best to straighten what was left of the garment loosely covering her chest and recover what little dignity she had left. She covered her stomach where she had been wounded out of embarrassment. The shirt was completely ruined. Elinowy owed Kalian's sister a shirt. Not that she had money to acquire one, but the maker would supply something. She had full confidence in that. But for now, the battle was clearly going in favor of the miners, with the great ox-man brought low by Martin. How they would get out of this pit was still something to be determine. [Kalian]

Kalian had gaped at Elinowy's exposed stomach, until the smack of her hand against Martin's face brought back his sense of propriety. Surely they could find something less bloodstained and ruined for her to wear, he thought as he scanned the cavern.

The cavern was not a comforting sight.

----

 

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