Who: Lina & Isabela (with a side of Hawke) What: Discussing a rising cult situation while research is being done When: Earlier today Where: The Hanged Man Rating/Warnings: Discussions of cults, brainwashing, demons, language, and Hawke and Bela groping each other (what else is new though) Status: Complete!
There was a lot to go over. Lina knew this was a situation to tread carefully until her dreams revealed more - and they did. Sort of. Hints, a little more context, rumors of a sinister sword, villages set ablaze (no, not by her hands). Something big was going on, something on the astral-political side that was being set in motion as a fallout of what happened with Hellmaster’s demise. There wasn’t anything the sorceress didn’t keep notes on when it came to her various dreams - she had thick and chaotic handwritten notebooks (some bound for preservation purposes thanks to Zee, a gift from awhile back) with comments, sigils, rumors and legends, spellwork variations. Old, musty books where every page was parchment, the words written in old ink too - these were pulled at one point from one of the various Sorcerer’s Guilds in her world, and her dreamself never felt like giving them back.
Maybe there was something among them to see what the weapon was - something mentioned in the lores and legends section of the books. Wouldn’t hurt, and she also wasn’t a fan jumping into the fray of things completely fucking blind.
All of the aforementioned had been brought to The Hanged Man, where one of the lodging rooms was vacant and available for them to use - plus, the accessibility of food and beer was motivational fuel. And additional to all the arcane information was more modern, practical ones. Address of the meeting’s location (just so happens it was beneath a rave nightclub, where the basement was an actual venue available for renting - surprisingly it wasn’t a mother’s basement, but whatever), information about the owners of the nightclub (related to the cult, maybe?), credit card receipts from Romany’s shop that had given them the names of the morons they saw.
And one way to look these people up? Social media. That’s what Lina was currently doing at the round table in the room, laptop in front of her, with a mabari hound by her feet chewing on leftover bones from the tavern’s kitchen. “They seem mostly normal on the outside,” she mumbled, nose irritably scrunched at the entire bullshit - she had hair up in a messy bun of fire, black framed glasses and if someone had given her a cup o’ pumpkin spiced joe she’d be the image of hipster. “People with families, normal jobs, copious images of their pets. No sign of a group leader responsible for being a charismatic devil worshipper.”
No pumpkin coffee (not yet, though Isabela was planning on experimenting with dessert drinks when it came to the infamous autumn flavour) but would a pumpkin beer do? She’d been able to get her hands on some of the fresh stuff so the most logical thing to do was brew a test batch of ale - if it was tasty enough, she’d do all sorts of things with this. A pumpkin beer cheesecake was at the top of her list, in fact.
Besides, it was almost autumn anyway. Almost. Not that it mattered in the pit of actual hell that was the OC and its summer weather (until winter hit, when it really hit).
“Well, what’s the end goal?” Bela asked as she approached. “Like how in Scientology it’s apparently to spend an obscene amount of money to climb up to the top of the rainbow mountain or whatever, so here it’s what? And what are the parallels between here and your dreams?”
Research wasn’t usually her thing, but why not. She’d give her friend a safe place to hunker down and do some thinking, as long as she eventually got to come along and stab people. She’d also offer good eats and bar treats. “Here, try this and tell me what you think,” she slid the mug to Lina, before reaching up to fix the ponytail atop her head. Bela didn’t look as nerdy in her skintight jeans and tank top - she was barefoot too, one of those feet patting Dog where he lay, running along his brindle fur. Goooooooood boooooy. Good killer instincts.
“Ohhh, don’t mind if I do,” Lina sung happily, making grabby hands at the mug until she fingers hugged the drink, and she was able to sip - mmmm. Not bad at all. Better than the shit sold in stores (she had tried them out of curiosity, and it was booty), but Bela here had a special touch brewing. “But, hm, lesse -”
The sorceress squinted in thought, licked the bit of froth of the ale from her upper lip, and curled her legs onto the chair for some added comfort. “There was a cult, earlier on in this version - but they weren’t looking to wake a piece of him up. That’s like looking for a human needle in the human haystack, you know? There’s no established telltale sign and only two have woken up, historically - in sorcerer's with powerful magic.” Lei Magnus, still sealed in a wall of ice in the North and Rezo the Red Priest, who could never heal his own blindness because the piece of the dark lord had been specifically sealed in his own eyes - until the Philosopher’s Stone pulled it out of him. “They were mostly focused on tracking down manuscripts of an esoteric book that held information to make living demon armor, chimeras, demon beasts of legend. Most of the higher-level demons that run the show behind the scenes didn’t appreciate their secrets being out, so one of them was sent to decapitate the leader, burn the manuscripts and we just happened to help out due to extenuous circumstances.” Abridged version. “I tried to see if the leader’s name could give me a lead here, but so far, nothing.”
Zee’s infiltration of their thoughts, though, revealed the existence of a weapon. And her dreams were picking up the pace that brought the attention of a sinister sword to them - most logical thing to come up with was that it was related. It had to be. “This cult’s goal is to find a piece of him and wake him up, somehow. It could mean they’re reaching for straws because it’s not an easy task to do at all, or there’s someone among them who knows something. I wouldn’t be surprised if that someone wasn’t human, either.”
“Do non-humans usually show up here?” Isabela asked, lifting an eyebrow. “I mean, clearly we’ve got some freakshows in the area - but most are human until they begin to dream. Then again, after the thing last summer where a hole was ripped in the sky - it’s like the barrier between here and our worlds got thinner. So much more shite is falling through so a ‘someone’ who knows something and isn’t entirely human? That’s got to be it.”
If not one person, then multiple. Bela wouldn’t put anything past this ‘verse, at this stage of the game. Life changed and evolved for everyone, and so did their environment.
She sat in a plush chair with her own sample mug of ale, kicking up her legs to tuck one over the other - and dangle them over the armrest. “And anyway, waking up some super evil thing wouldn’t go well for anyone - probably even cult members,” she snorted.
It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to ever cross over, in the scheme of things - she’d been brutally pulled from this world to settle some kind of ‘bargain’ with literal chaos, and she had a difficult time imagining something worse than that bleeding over from her dreamworld. Knock on wood. “Waking up a piece of Ruby Eye’s just not human knowledge,” Lina sighed, biting her lip in thought. “And if it’s anyone high on the monster hierarchy, they reside on the astral plane - and for you guys it’s the equivalent of the Fade. Where dreams and spirits and demons exist, magic’s drawn from it too. And when they have a ‘form’ on the physical plane they shift into perfect looking humans, into any human, to blend in.”
Children, for example. It’s what Hellmaster had done.
That was her theory of what else could be behind it, anyway. Now to narrow it down to the who, was the question. It wasn’t a large pot to choose from assuming it was true. “And these cult members probably think they can get in his good graces. Promise of glory, power, resolution to whatever internal struggle they’re facing. They don’t know what they’re getting into.”
Humans gathered to be minions, expendable casualties, bitch work. They were being jipped, big time.
Maker’s nutsack, humans are so dumb, weren’t they? Bela didn’t have much faith in her own kind - these cult jerkoffs just solidified that conclusion. “The Fade’s not really my area of expertise, buttttttt - “ She shrugged, taking a sip of her ale. Mmm. Might need more spice, and not the ugly ‘pumpkin spice’ concoction that wasn’t even pumpkin or spice at all - just chemicals, and she’d lay down in front of an oncoming train before putting such poison into her brews.
“When spirits want to cross to this world, they look to possess someone on the mortal plane - it’s why mages are considered so ‘dangerous,’” Air quotes around the word - needless to say, she didn’t agree. “Because their minds are more susceptible, since they frequent the Fade in dreams pretty much nightly. They battle demons on another plane more than non-mages do.” A literal battle for souls too, or something.
Blood mages were just even more susceptible - because it was like turning up the spotlight. More juice, more power, more illumination. “So you might want to be looking for possessed people? Not just shapeshifters, but it could be that we ought to be perfecting our skills at performing exorcisms.”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Lina admitted, clucking her tongue. “I’ve encountered very few legitimate demonic possessions in my dreams. High-ranking demons don’t tend to bother unless they’re playing a game.” Hellmaster did in one version. Took over the body of a little girl, and how the hell was she supposed to fight that? Then there were devil’s pacts - willing deals between a human and demon linked by a physical object of their choosing (breaking it was one way to sever the bond), and in a pact like those humans were given some of the demonic perks. Couldn’t be killed unless the demon was killed, abnormal resistance to certain spells, limited teleportation abilities, immortality. “But with this many people involved, covering our bases with practical solutions isn’t impractical.”
Last thing she wanted was a high body count should they not only be brainwashed because they’re fucking morons, but physically puppeted against their will. “And things can just get so twisted here when it bleeds over - sometimes the same, sometimes all different shades of screwed up.” A more irritated sigh had been expelled, and she took a hearty gulp of the beer like it was water quenching a dry throat.
Excuse the dainty burp that followed that, too. Lina was a lady. “We’ll find out more when we actually go and see what’s up with these meetings. And if you and Hawke wanna tag along for in-case backup, I wouldn’t be opposed. This is going to be a really condensed area. We gotta be a little more careful with how we approach with violence.”
The Wisdoms, in general, were reputably destructive. They knew tricks that weren’t always ‘burn everything in sight down,’ but they didn’t want to get back into a corner where they had to cut loose completely and risk damage to people who didn’t deserve it, considering they’d be under a populated dancefloor.
Say no mas! Isabela was more than glad to tag along, provide backup, stick a blade into someone unsavoury and watch them bleed out. Why not, right? All the better to pep up a fun Friday night.
“There’s no way of knowing exactly how the crossover will go until it happens - but I always find that preparing for the worst is generally a good plan in this hellhole,” the pirate grinned. “I don’t mean like, sort of worst. I mean the worst as in you can’t picture it getting any shittier, rock bottom, everyone’s died - prepare for that.”
That way, when things happened? It wouldn’t seem as terrible. Or something. “But sure, me and Hawke are up for joining you as backup,” she nodded. “He’s not so great at espionage either - “ Well, not like Bela was winning any trophies for it on her end. Whenever she got herself into some shit, it usually ended with severed organs for most in the room. “We’ll do our best though! What kind of plan were you thinking?”
Lina tried not to giggle. Pete, surrounded by the loud and boisterous - she didn’t have to be a fortune teller to predict the scowls and sighs of total exasperation. If anything this entire adventure was bound to be really fuckin’ funny. “Well,” she started, setting the mug down to sift through the chaos on the table (she had a method to her madness, and was someone to find order in her own messes) to find the napkin from Rom’s shop. “I definitely got an invite extended, so they’ll be at least expecting me - they saw the color of my eyes and got curious. I’ve had people think I hold a piece of Ruby Eye because of it.”
Which was definitely not the case. It’d be fucked up irony with her sister being born with a soul fragment of Ceiphied, though them thinking it might work to their advantage for now.
“I figure we’ll go in as a group. Extra eyes and extra ears to see and listen. Something might happen, something might not - but if there’s a higher-ranking demon in the midst then they’ll notice us. And that might cause a reaction.” Her reputation among them was notorious with how tits-deep in their shit she’d been in the dreams, in every version. From the Rezo-Shabranigdo’s death to the split of the demon hierarchy, Phibrizzo versus Garv, then their deaths, and the rest not being a fan of how she was able to tap into the Lord of Nightmares. They knew her. All of them. “We’ll have to improvise with whatever that reaction is and make sure we have a clear exit in case anything happens.”
The situation at hand made her feel claustrophobic, good gods. Boxed in a basement, basically, with no windows, the only way up. In a way? It almost sounded like a trap. It could also be paranoia, but she had a habit of overthinking all the possibilities. Less surprises that way.
Preparing for the worst, right? Overthinking probably wasn’t a bad tactic in this scenario. You know, making plans for the situations where your mascara was running down your face and you thought you were going to die. Isabela rather liked the thrill of that sort of thing.
“Improvising, oh, Andraste’s tits,” Bela laughed. “Sounds good to me though. Whenever we walked into some happenstance in Kirkwall, we usually ended up improvising.” Hawke would make snarky comments, Fenris would talk about how magic was the worst ever, Varric fired off a few arrows, Merrill was a badass. She adored that dysfunctional crew so much. “I’ll bring my daggers and hide them cleverly.”
Hawke even had some daggers now too, thanks to her. They’d all be armed and ready, should the situation call for some bloodshed.
“At the very least, if there’s no exit in sight - one of you building demolishers can make n exit?”
“Hey, improvisation is the best plan to have - whatever works, right?” Whatever worked to get them out alive, yeah, that’d do. Lina was good at pulling things out of her ass last minute, and she was good at knowing when it was time to run. Another person handy with magic coming along was good to have, too. “But worse case scenario, yeah, we can blast our way out but it won’t be pr--”
Dog was the first to react when the door opened, sitting upright in his regal mabari glory with a low, friendly ruff from his beastly neck. Hawke had intruded - quietly hoping they were doing something like, oh, having a pillow fight in their bras but alas - with a plate of edible things. A platter of poutine, buffalo wings, lightly fried pickles. He hadn’t a chance to come up with how busy it’d gotten downstairs but there was a minute to breathe and to eat. “Are you two still hatching a diabolical plan of world domination? Ways to run off together so I can have Wisdom all to myself? Let me know, I’ll schedule my nap around it.”
Oh my god, FOOD. Lina’s fingers were like a greedy magnet when the plate neared and she swiped about three wings in one hand, they weren’t that hot to touch. “Oh, definitely - we’ll leave the two of you up at the cult altar and frolic off into the sunset, no worries.”
Mmm, that all smelled delicious too. Isabela’s senses were on high alert - she picked out poutine right away, and she’d gladly stick her fingers into that ooey gooey mess with no qualms. “Give it here,” she demanded of her scruffy, handsome husband. First she went for a couple pickles though - she’d leave the wings to Lina. “I mean, it’s good to see you, love. Welcome home.”
She adored most of the missing Kirkwall crew but loved her husband most of all. Obviously. “We were just talking about making exits if we need to - so, next weekend or so, we’re infiltrating a cult meeting in some basement. That sound good to you?”
It was better than dinner and a night at the cinema, wasn’t it?
Oh, is that what they were doing? Hawke set the platter down for them to tear apart (wasn’t taking them long, either) and took a seat by his wife - a proximity so close he was able to drape an arm around her shoulders and cop a feel of her breasts because marriage, that’s why. “Sounds like another day in the life, I suppose,” he casually said. “Is this what our dates have turned into? Because the last double-date we had I was almost the star of the next major tentacle porn film.”
Lord. It took a minute for Lina to respond - she, uh, had an entire wing stuffed in her mouth that she was working on, and when she finally took it out of her mouth the only thing that was left was a polished bone. It was almost like her mouth was vacuum that sucked the meat right off. “Mm, doubt there’ll be tentacles involved this time but never say never, y’know? The whole thing’s going on under a nightclub so while we’re above. We can at least have some drinks before we get into the belly of the beast. Something tells me we’re going to need it.”
Maker’s breath, Isabela had never seen anyone devour a chicken wing like that - leaving the bones clean as a whistle, that is. It was most impressive and made her cackle delightedly. She’d taken the manhandling of her tits in good stride too, returning the favour - because if mawwiage enabled Hawke to fondle her in the presence of company, then she could grab a handful of his UPS package as well.
Besides, they were dirty and inappropriate. Lina was used to it, she’d been out with them before (and with her own husband too, who pretended to be offended with his stuffy Britishness).
“Drinks and penetration - I mean, infiltration,” she grinned, patting Hawke’s leg (her other hand, she was busy sucking remnants of gravy from her index finger). “That sounds good to me. And I think liquid courage is always warranted anyway.”
Lina was a professional at shoving meat in her mouth, clearly - innuendo somewhat intended. Call it comfort eating, maybe. Considering they were in the midst of discussing on how to deal with another one of her notoriously fucked up bleed overs, there were three things that made her feel better: food, violence, and sex (she was like an itsy-bitsy barbarian) in no particular order.
Food was just the most readily available at the moment. And she shamelessly claimed a couple more, dunking them in ranch and readying them to be completely fucking annihilated by her gluttony.
Hawke ruffled some of Bela’s hair. “I’m alright with penetration as long as I’m not the one being penetrated,” he huffed. “But I’ll help you ladies do some research until the twins call me down for something - or until Isabela takes me to another room to ravish me. I see that look in her eye. She wants me.”
Groan. “I’ll give you guys ten minutes,” motioned the sorceress. Yes, she was used to it but all she was willing to witness was the groping, not anything else.
“Wait until I finish my poutine first, balls,” Bela huffed teasingly, her hair now a mess as she leaned in and planted a smooch on Hawke - it probably tasted like that delicious gravy she’d been inhaling. “Or I might not even be in the mood because I’m in a food coma.”
Oh wait, that wasn’t true in the slightest. She had to laugh at herself for being such a liar, because when was Isabela not in the mood?
But even so, they’d get some more search done since there was still a lot to do. Badness was coming, she could smell it in the air (and it wasn’t just Dog’s farts for once either).