Morrigan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
courtintrigue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-05-07 02:20 am
courtintrigue) wrote in entrancelogs2016-05-07 02:20 am
[open] so much rock over one's head is disquieting
Who: Morrigan + you!
Where: the Deep Roads
When: 5/5-5/9
Rating: PG-13ish. Violence is expected, but probably not super graphic?
Summary: One trip through the Deep Roads was enough, but this mansion-shaped prison is still a prison. Maybe there's a path out.
Note: Insert your own pre-5/9 prompt if you'd like! I'm game. Or you can pm or pp me if you have a craving for something specific.
The Story:
Morrigan thought exploring these relentless tunnels would somehow feel different, not as true to her experiences during the Blight, less-than-pleasant memories that cling so stubbornly to the back of her mind ten years later. She expected something more like the trick of a demon, a poor imitation. To find herself once again traveling these passages is unthinkable, but if there is the slightest chance that winding her way through this damnable maze will lead her to a place she would rather be... well, it must be taken.
The Roads are never truly still: a steady drip, falling rock, the screeches and growls of dozens of creatures that would like to either kill you or prove to you that there are indeed fates worse than death. She is reminded of how deceptive time is here, how easily days run into nights without access to sky, of how nice it is to sometimes hear birds or a rustle of leaves in wind. There has never been any one place she has felt more trapped than within the Deep Roads, but she does what she feels she must.
She chooses her battles when she has the luxury. As a cat and a raven she manages to slip past more overwhelming odds, sticking to shadows where she can find them, but her supplies will not last forever. She uses them sparingly, assuming that whatever she finds at the end of her journey is likely to be severely unpleasant.
the enemy of my enemy (5/6 - 5/7)
In what seems like a fairly defensible spot, on a slightly raised platform surrounded by tall dwarven statues in a corner of a larger chamber, she begins to settle for as much rest as she can. Just as she begins warding the paths onto the platform she feels the stone beneath her quake once, then quake again. And again, the heavy footfalls of something massive.
She casts a quick barrier on herself in the moment before she sees a shadow eclipse the larger of the two entrances to the chamber, but she is forced to look more closely when a much smaller body than expected runs inside, just barely escaping a large grasping hand.
fire it up (5/8)
Rest is necessary but sleep is elusive. Even if she had all she needed to mix a sleeping draught here and now she would not be willing to use it. Not in these depths.
Still, she has warded the immediate area to the best of her ability, tucking her makeshift camp into a rocky corner behind a headless statue. The glyphs that mark the ground are almost imperceptible, especially to those with no sensitivity to magic. Stepping on one will result in anything that is not particularly resistant being knocked back and then a brief wave of fire to slow the approach. She has every confidence that she will be roused if something triggers her trap, but in the meantime she curls on top of her bedroll, her back to the tunnel wall, and allows her eyes to close.
Where: the Deep Roads
When: 5/5-5/9
Rating: PG-13ish. Violence is expected, but probably not super graphic?
Summary: One trip through the Deep Roads was enough, but this mansion-shaped prison is still a prison. Maybe there's a path out.
Note: Insert your own pre-5/9 prompt if you'd like! I'm game. Or you can pm or pp me if you have a craving for something specific.
The Story:
Morrigan thought exploring these relentless tunnels would somehow feel different, not as true to her experiences during the Blight, less-than-pleasant memories that cling so stubbornly to the back of her mind ten years later. She expected something more like the trick of a demon, a poor imitation. To find herself once again traveling these passages is unthinkable, but if there is the slightest chance that winding her way through this damnable maze will lead her to a place she would rather be... well, it must be taken.
The Roads are never truly still: a steady drip, falling rock, the screeches and growls of dozens of creatures that would like to either kill you or prove to you that there are indeed fates worse than death. She is reminded of how deceptive time is here, how easily days run into nights without access to sky, of how nice it is to sometimes hear birds or a rustle of leaves in wind. There has never been any one place she has felt more trapped than within the Deep Roads, but she does what she feels she must.
She chooses her battles when she has the luxury. As a cat and a raven she manages to slip past more overwhelming odds, sticking to shadows where she can find them, but her supplies will not last forever. She uses them sparingly, assuming that whatever she finds at the end of her journey is likely to be severely unpleasant.
the enemy of my enemy (5/6 - 5/7)
In what seems like a fairly defensible spot, on a slightly raised platform surrounded by tall dwarven statues in a corner of a larger chamber, she begins to settle for as much rest as she can. Just as she begins warding the paths onto the platform she feels the stone beneath her quake once, then quake again. And again, the heavy footfalls of something massive.
She casts a quick barrier on herself in the moment before she sees a shadow eclipse the larger of the two entrances to the chamber, but she is forced to look more closely when a much smaller body than expected runs inside, just barely escaping a large grasping hand.
fire it up (5/8)
Rest is necessary but sleep is elusive. Even if she had all she needed to mix a sleeping draught here and now she would not be willing to use it. Not in these depths.
Still, she has warded the immediate area to the best of her ability, tucking her makeshift camp into a rocky corner behind a headless statue. The glyphs that mark the ground are almost imperceptible, especially to those with no sensitivity to magic. Stepping on one will result in anything that is not particularly resistant being knocked back and then a brief wave of fire to slow the approach. She has every confidence that she will be roused if something triggers her trap, but in the meantime she curls on top of her bedroll, her back to the tunnel wall, and allows her eyes to close.
5/7 let me know if this doesn't work
"Damn." Spinning away from the tunnel he finds himself looking at the cat again. The too-large group of darkspawn drawing near may ignore it but does he really want leave that to chance? There's enough that he can't face them alone which could mean enough that even a cat can't avoid them or get away from them easily.
Heaving a sigh he shakes his head in exasperation. "I really am an idiot." With that he strides over, reaching down towards it and calling out softly, "Come on little guy. You don't want to stay here, believe me."
it's perf!
What is more startling is that Alistair is not the man she last spoke to at Skyhold. It had been so long since she had last seen him that before their reunion there she thought with mild pleasure that she did not quite recall how he looked. Now she finds herself with a younger Alistair looming over her, talking aloud to himself, and he is very much as she remembers.
She rasps out a sharp mrow of agreement at his exasperation -- for once every word he says is inarguable -- but how like him to be willing to waste concern on a cat in the Deep Roads. Having no intention of changing form until they put more space between them and the horde she has so narrowly avoided, she eludes his reach. Her tail curls into what could almost pass for a beckoning gesture, and she decisively sets off in what must be the safer direction. Almost anything they find will be easier to deal with than what lies behind her, and if his connection with the darkspawn argues otherwise...
Then, she thinks grimly, they will have an unenviable opportunity to see how much slaughter they are still capable of causing together when necessary.
no subject
Catching up to it, Alistair looks down at his new travelling companion with a smile. "You're quick to get moving. I guess we know which one of us is smarter." Although given the cat came down here in the first place, it's not that much smarter than him. Unless someone else was stupid enough to bring their pet down here and then lost it. But what kind of person would be so foolish as to bring a cat down into the Deep Roads? It must have wandered in on its own and gotten lost, he decides. And managed to avoid the darkspawn so far. Which means he's going to have to make sure to bring it back out with him and return it to its owner if he can.
"Lucky for you I like company. And I have a friend who will be happy to see you when we get out of here." If he can't find the cat's owner Anders will surely take it in without complaint, though the mage hardly needs another pet.
Unfortunately his chatter is cut off before he can share this thought, as he feels more darkspawn approaching from up ahead. It's a far smaller number that he felt behind them and they're closing quickly enough that the only way to avoid them would be to retreat. So. He'll take his chances and hope that by the time he's dealt with them the noise won't have drawn the rest.
Looking down at the cat again he frowns. The one advantage to hounds is they (sometimes) listen when you say- "Stay? Stay here. Uh... good boy?" Probably not going to work that, so he picks up his pace, moving ahead of his new friend to round the corner first and launch himself at the small knot of genlocks he sees there.
no subject
They are probably both fools to be here at all, and she has a strong suspicion that she may know who his cat-loving friend is. She has not seen Anders in these tunnels, but the idea makes her wonder if every Warden here has felt some urge to descend.
When he looks down and asks her to stay, calling her a good boy, she could almost sigh. Instead blinks up at him as innocently as she can manage, watches him hurry away from her, and listens for the first clash of metal against metal. As soon as she hears it, she leaps into action herself, running after and shifting back into her own form as she turns the corner. At this age he is inarguably an idiot, but she will not see him die here for it.
Not until he provokes her hard enough.
She raises both hands and envelops the cluster of genlocks in a dark cloud that slows their movement, ripening them for his attack and making their own weaker. "Archer!" she warns as soon as she spots the one genlock holding a bow. Before it can back away enough to safely take aim, she casts a bolt of lightning past Alistair to take it down.
no subject
The familiar voice that tells him the mage who's joined him isn't who he thought doesn't make him pause, he's better trained than that whatever else may be said about him. But it does bring a frown of consternation to his face as he briefly checks that yes, the archer has been dealt with before turning his attention to the few still standing. They're easily dealt with between them and Alistair's left looking down at the bodies with a scowl, faintly annoyed that the battle didn't last longer. Now he has to actually talk to.... her.
Or he could just keep walking and not say a word. There are darkspawn behind them who will have been alerted to where they are.
He stalls a little, wiping off his sword so he can sheathe it again before turning back to face Morrigan. It's dark enough in the tunnels he can't make out any details but she looks much the same as he remembers. More importantly, the cat is missing. It must have run....
Oh. Ugh.
Scowling even more fiercely than before Alistair gestures back the way they'd come. "They're going to know we're here now. And there's still too many of them." They might well end up needing to fight the group behind them eventually but he'd rather they had a better battlefield if it came to that, something that might give them an advantage. Assuming Morrigan is going to stay instead of running off and leaving him.
no subject
Naturally, he would not thank her for her assistance even if she resurrected him and had a dish of assorted cheeses to immediately offer while singing the Maker's praises. There was a time at Skyhold when she would have been willing to admit, if pressed, that he was not entirely bad, an opinion that may be been shaped by the fact that he did not seem quite as intolerable with ten more years of experience under his belt.
Or perhaps he is simply easier to deal with in the much smaller doses the Inquisition provided.
No, she doubts that. Surely he must realize that she could slink off into the shadows and have a better chance of survival without him. A part of her wonders if she would feel as resolute about seeing him to a safer spot if he had returned from Adamant.
"You are the Warden, are you not?" She gestures ahead of them. They run into the unknown, but the other creatures in these tunnels that would enjoy seeing them dead are less of a concern to her than the darkspawn. There must be a point at which the passage narrows, and if they must make a stand she assumes they will be better off there. "Lead on. I will slow whatever pursues." She half-turns, hands glowing for a moment, and casts a glyph on the ground behind them to knock back anything that follows.