Backscene :: Won't Go Who: Any character in Denerim at the time of the seige. NPCs: When: The Seige of Denerim, 9:30 Where: Denerim Summary: There is no courage under fiery skies, only those who refuse to be taken. Rating: M for violence Notes: This is an open thread, and as such, there is no posting order- you may post vignettes out of sequence. You may post as many or as few as you like.
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Surely this was the end of all things; trembling beneath armor she never saw herself fit to wear, breath coming frantically even as the lyrium rushed through her pounding blood.
Lorna thought the waiting had been the worst; breathing in deeply as she walked between the rapidly evacuating bodies, watching with hooded resigned eyes as families abandoned their possessions, some even each other. Denerim was the center of Ferelden and it had nearly torn itself apart, bodies moving in a wild frenzy, her own legs shook with their collective terror, barely hanging claiming her own restraint. She wanted to run, wanted it so badly that her soul felt like it was screaming through the fear clamping fiercely over her heart.
Despite what she'd initially believed; telling herself to stay, resigning herself to what would surely be an execution wasn't the worst. The worst part was that he was there beside her, clinging to his damnable faith in the certain coming maelstrom. And when the humming came, so had the whispered prayer tumbling from his lips. Even now, at the end, he took the Chant closer to his heart, instead of taking her hand.
The one who repents, who has faith, Unshaken by the darkness of the world, She shall know true peace.
The words were certainly meant for her comfort; she knew Tobias well enough to understand when he reached out to her. Tonight, if his Maker chose it, he was prepared to die. The Chant of Light gave him such inner strength he needn't ever breath the words aloud, unless he was speaking them for her. It was hard to clamp her lips together, stem the rising bile. She was not comforted, and Lorna was far from unshaken. The city, even when standing united, seemed like it was still falling apart- the only thing Ferelden had ever decided upon as a nation was to stand in trembling boots... there was no peace. Not here, there would only be terror.
Who could possibly pass from this nightmare into the cool grip of serenity?
She'd been at Ostagar, waged two battles against insurmountable odds in the span of a year. Lorna had known despair and seen the broken bodies, but these were not soldiers. She certainly was not; neither was the merchant, nor the seamstress- How could she dodge destiny a second time?
The steady throng of mottled monsters battered them, pressing them deeper into the streets- their soulless eyes black and unfeeling, even as they consumed Denerim. There hadn't been near enough evacuations and she heard the screaming in the homes, the broken sobbing and dying even over the clashing din. She had Tobias guiding her through the alleys, even as ash fluttered like perverse snow, coating everything. He assured her that should they reach the morning light, this would become easier- the Darkspawn would still have their unwavering masses, but their vision would become impared with the sun.
Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion
Stepping into the Alienage, Lorna did mutter a quick prayer to a Maker that she didn't fully believe in. There were far too many unevacuated children here; elves trembling alongside of each other gripping sword hilts and bows, even though they'd never had cause to use them before. They shook in makeshift plate and mismatched armor, reaching into some deep place, seeking the courage to get them through. Lorna hadn't the strength to tell them that there was no courage under fiery skies, only the beating hearts of those who refused to be taken.
Arien didn't belong here; the young mage's wide eyes swallowing every horror, and every step shattered the vestiges of the teenager's control. Lorna held close to her when possible, reached out to soothe her wounds with the warming blue light. Understanding that this girl had not yet even undergone her Harrowing, the mage's were already too few at the Tower, and she had stupidly volunteered. The girl was now close to breaking, and as the wave of genlocks surged, Arien blasted outward, a soul shattering scream wrenching from her blistered lips as the fire exploded from her palms. There was no warning, and the whipchord reaction was severe.
Her young body was taken from within, too tired and pushed to survive; the demon raged violently through her as it annihilated the girl from before, twisting her limbs into it's own. Tobias hadn't completely dodged the flames, screaming even as he wrenched the heated gauntlet from his burning flesh. There was too much flame, the city already a quaking inferno, too much heat already searing Lorna's sweating brow... the demon was lost to the first brush of madness, tearing through soldiers even as it turned it's attention to the Darkspawn.
Lorna's feet surged into action, rushing toward Tobias, even as the blue orbs of her healing spell where already enveloping him from the distance. She took a shuddering breath, shoving outward with an arcane bolt to genlock already leaping to take advantage of Tobias' agony. Despite his pain, he dodged the blow, clutching his healing limb to his plated chest, dropping his sword momentarily to the earth, wrenching a dagger loose from his belt. From somewhere close by, the abomination shrieked, lashing out with fury at the darkspawn.
She handn't been paying near enough attention, the adrenaline ravaging her senses. From her periphery she saw the down-swinging arm of the ogre, as large and gnarled as any tree trunk. It thundered against the center of her chest, crushing and twisting the armored plate, denting it deeply into her flesh. Her body blew backward, crashing against the weak wooden planks of the groaning houses.
There wasn't enough air to think, let alone cast; her body so stunned that it seemed to stand still in the time that she needed it the most. The shrieking was unbearable, the clashing of metal against shield, and the ogre roaring as it's stomping feet trembled the dirt below. She forced air back through her lungs, her leg twitching in response to it's utter shock.
She reached out, feeling the echoing bubble snap of the healing energy melting inward, both inflicting pain even as it soothed it. The plate was still dented inward, and upon each exhale her stomach pressed against it. There were long moments even as her body knitted itself back together, and soon she was able to prop herself up onto her elbows.
The abomination had turned it's deranged sights on the ogre, breaking past the monster's impossible defenses. It was an odd moment as Templar and demon fought for common cause. Tobias stood at the ogre's back, sword once again in hand as he slashed at the back of impossibly large thighs. Other soldiers clambered over to help, trying to avoid the frenzied swatting limbs and casted magic. There wasn't even a pause when the beast toppled dead, the demon's need to consume far too great for a single moment between rages. It lashed out, striking the closest target, burning an elven youth- swallowing the wretched thing entirely in flame. Tobias hadn't enough strength to remove it's head, the battle already raging long on his aged body, but he cleaved as hard as he could- slinging the blade through it's neck, dragging downward between it's shoulders.
Soon enough he was limping toward her, the small street breathing in relief as one of the short lulls settled. They were pushed back for now, but would certainly surge again. Tobias' armor was coated in blood, soot, and gore. It no longer glinted- covering his body with none of it's ceremonial splendor. He shook his head, lips pursed angrily as he examined her. "You're a fool."
"You're welcome." Lorna spat tiredly, too exhausted to fight with him. This was their endless circle. "Tell the Maker he owes me for the dented plate, and the broken ribs."
"That's not quite how prayer works... but I'll be sure to mention it." He looked her over quickly, blue eyes flashing inventory, unsatisfied with his initial assessment. He carefully bent to his knee, struggling against the steel. His fingers rushed to the buckles at her sides, releasing the crushed plate. With the quarter came more air, and Lorna geniunely thanked him. "We should try and stomp this out... or find you another plate... perhaps Arien's?"
She felt herself groaning as he prattled practically, using the time to gather weapons and arms. "Stop annoying me- you could die and I'd only remember you as you were, during your irritating last moments." Lorna felt a small twinge for the fallen Arien, but Tobias fared with his unfaultering shoulders. It was merely another death in a life of service, and in his face, there wasn't a small hint of mourning for the girl. Lorna offered her hands, pulling herself into a more comfortable position. "Her tits weren't nearly big enough to accommodate me... we'll try to stamp it out."
Tobias' face flickered, not at the crude joke, but something more unreadable. He brought up his unarmored hand, gauntlet still abandoned and brushed it wearily over his features. "You're okay then?"