lovingvambrace | For pavus

For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

The taste of ash lies thick in the air. For once something manages to overpower the foundry stench and blacken the perpetual orange of Kirkwall's night sky. Rubble lies massed in the streets, flung from the highest point to almost the lowest. Insanity and sudden chaos in the wink of an eye, a fateful explosion that has Cullen still blinking back blue lines, negative light impressions burned onto retinas.

Knight-Commander Meredith has left the Champion with an ultimatum that she not surprisingly doesn't take, murder her companion and choose their side, or the mages will all face the consequences. Hawke has vowed to fight to the bitter end to protect the mages of the Circle from the Right. Cullen privately hopes that she'll keep that word whether he agrees with her sparing of the abomination or not. This is all moving too fast with blame falling in the wrong quarter. The right answer isn't more blood. Meredith is implacable with all of them drawn along in her wake of righteous fury.

Cullen doesn't stay silent, arguing about the Champion. Surely arrest will be enough. Kirkwall's nobility won't stand for one of their grudging own being murdered by the arm of the Chantry. It isn't their place, Viscount or no Viscount in office. To his surprise, he earns concession on that front.

Then there is no more room for talking. They come upon their first wave of demons and abominations slaughtering unfortunates. The night turns red and black, a mist of blood and ichor. Cullen bashes his way through wave after wave of evil torn straight through the Veil, called by violence and horror. His sword arm burns. His shield feels as though it gains twenty pounds of its own volition, all of that before they reach the Docks District.

He hears a sound up toward the boarded up Qunari compound, more fighting. He peels away from the main force following Meredith, promising to catch up shortly, and runs up the steep steps. Breathless at the top, he sees flashes of fire past the barrier. He throws his weight behind his shield and bashes it in enough to gain entrance. A lone figure stands in the long abandoned plaza battling demons with magic and not an abomination himself. Without further thought, Cullen charges into the fray. "Aid behind you!" he shouts. He doesn't want to be mistaken for another enemy in the fight.

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"Yes, the Tevinter Magister is just what you need at your side when you're worried about the Seekers coming for you," he says with a bitter laugh. He can't be good for Cullen, he can't. He's only good for himself, honestly. "I apologize for the 'you're under his thrall' comments you'll get when they get here. Do you think a full body inspection will settle their fears or will they just assume I'm sacrificing kittens?"

He leans towards him, taking the comfort even though he really shouldn't. This won't last. He's going to leave Cullen behind eventually. He can't stay forever. It's foolish to let himself get involved like this but the problem with being true to his heart is this.

"I wouldn't use kitten, though, not enough blood."

He shouldn't laugh at that, any of it, but he does. The sad thing is Dorian isn't wrong. That's exactly the sort of thing they'll think or say and another reason he's determined that he leave before they get here, even if it means tying him up and shipping him out forcibly.

"They're hard to find these days anyway. We Fereldans ate all the cats when we got here after the Blight." Not all of them. Most of them.

He's warmer with them actually touching, solid leans in shoulder to shoulder and arm to arm. He's not habitually a leaner. It's doubtful he would be now had they not had such an emotionally fraught night. It's this release of the tension that allows it, a few stolen moments of normalcy and conversation, the waves and the whales, and Maker only knew what else. He's grateful for it.

Dorian smiles, a real genuine one, for a brief moment. He's glad they can find something to laugh about even if it's the horrible truth that he will be painted as a criminal simply for existing.

"No wonder Darktown had so many rats," he muses, rubbing his chin with a hand. "I thought that meant you simply had a large amount of cheese."

They should go back to the camp. Honestly, they've been gone too long. There are going to be so many rumors. The rumors always came with him. He doesn't want to go back. He's comfortable here and content. For a brief moment Kirkwall isn't a shithole.

"You'll find far more cheese in Ferelden." Better cheese, at least, if one were to ask him, not that he's an example of refined taste in food or drink.

His thoughts are running in similar channels. They need to get back. People will come looking for them, especially after the dangerous night they had up to this point. He lets out a soft sigh that sounds exactly like what it is. Regret.

"We should get up." He glances at him, giving a final harder lean. "At this rate, we're going to fall asleep and get washed out when the tide turns."

"Yes, we should." Dorian sighs heavily as he gets to his feet. He slides off the rock and then waits for Cullen to join him on the sand. "Waking up with a Templar, what would people think?"

He puts a little more magic in to his wisp so they have more light to see by. It's darker now and he doesn't want to trip over any rocks and die on the cliffs.

"Come along now. Your men are waiting."

"We'd be washed out to sea. They'd never know how we died. How tragic." His lips twitch slightly. His spirits are lighter, enough that he can still joke a little bit.

He lets out another sigh and looks up the long walk. "Yes, they are," he mutters under his breath. Without more grumbling he gets moving. The good thing is that he's not in his plate. The climb this time will be much easier than his first one earlier.

Leaving behind the exposed strand feels akin to leaving a private room and being forced to go back to socializing. He can feel himself tensing up all over again, having to tuck away the person he could be with Dorian on the beach behind the shield of his command. To his credit, he doesn't resent it, only regrets it. It's hard to imagine the time or the freedom to take many moments like that in the days to come.

"I think they could put it together when they know we were down at the beach and never returned." Dorian was glad to leave the beach behind. It was a lovely break but he had too many revelations tonight.

Most of the camp is asleep when they return. Dorian sends his wisp away because the low fires of the camp provide more than enough light. He looks over at Cullen one more time.

"Sleep well tonight," he says softly before he heads towards where the mages have their tents and bedrolls.

"You, too." Cullen watches him go for a moment before heading over to collapse onto his bedroll. He's exhausted enough that he falls quickly into sleep and stays that way despite his dreams.

When he awakens, the entire camp is blanketed in thick, swirling gray, light enough that it's obvious the sun is rising, but too dim to make out anyone or anything without proximity. Such morning fogs are natural on the Wounded Coast, inconvenient and something he would have taken advantage of in their raids. That thought only serves to sour his mood. He sits up and finds his armor to finish what he started last night, cleaning it and getting it serviceable for his day. He can hear others around him doing the same, sounds and voices drifting from different directions tricky to pin in the fog.

He's glad for the chance of temporary isolation. It allows him to pull himself together from last night, both their rout at the hands of the demon and its minions and his lapse into vulnerability on the beach. He doesn't regret that, but he has to close himself up again if he's to be of any real use today. After cleaning everything, he dresses himself and begins moving through the camp, checking in on the survivors and injured, then coordinating with Aveline about what their next move should be.

The fog gradually shifts from gray to golden and then begins to burn off and blow away with the shift of the winds and the rise of heat. Their numbers are fewer. Spirits aren't crushed, however. These are people accustomed to losses and plans going awry. It's the way things have been going ever since the fall of the Chantry. Cullen doesn't know if he's proud of them or sad for them that this is the new normal they adjust to so readily.

The plan is relatively simple and involves all of their forces. They're leaving nothing of value behind at the camp. They'll be leaving this place on the ferry by nightfall. They're returning to the site of the attack to comb the area for the cave system the demon and spiders came from. They'll search it, clear it, and block the entrance so that it won't be a ready base of operations for anything or anyone else without considerable effort.

Breakfast is a hasty affair. No one is wounded enough to be left behind entirely, but the mages are tasked with guarding those too injured to be of much use in a fight should things turn ugly again. They're positioned at the middle of the column. Aveline is at the front, and Cullen takes up the rear guard in case of ambush.

It's a hot, frustrating search through thick, tick infested undergrowth. They have to hack their way through several unyielding thickets until finally a voice calls out from the south west of their search grid, "Found it! Maker's breath, what a bloody great hole."

Cullen pushes his way through the bushes to see for himself. It looks to him like the opening of a sinkhole at first. How in Andraste's name are they ever going to block that? Closer inspection shows a steep path leading downward, less actual hole than very steep cave entrance. Better, though still not ideal. Perimeter guards set up with the few wounded who need to rest. Everyone else prepares to go in, torches lit up and passed hand to hand. "Remember the plan," Cullen's voice carries over all of them. "No one goes off anywhere alone. Keep up the patterns of call and response with your signals. At the first sign of heavier spider infestation, alert everyone. No more losses today."

There's a ringing chorus of "Yes ser!" Then they begin the descent.

It doesn't feel like morning when he wakes. Everything is gray and heavy even though there's a hint of sun somewhere. Dorian takes a few extra minutes to make sure his hair is in order and that his mustache looks neat. It helps him feel a bit more normal after last night's losses.

The mages seem to feel better about seeing him so calm and together. He doesn't make light of the losses but he keeps everyone focused on the task at hand. They have spiders to clear out and the Templars and guards will need fire if they're truly going to end the infestation. Mages are very good at fire.

A massive hole in the ground. Lovely. Dorian is so thrilled. He brings a wisp with him as they descend in to the depts. Once again he finds himself doing things he never would have imagined he would do when he left Tevinter.

"My life has become one of those action adventure tales I read a child," he says conversationally but softly. No need to alert the spiders. "Mage leaves for the big wide world and battles all sorts of things including demons and southern barbarians."

Cullen overhears, not too far away, and chuckles low. "Truly, you'd have to go much further south for the real barbarians. Some of these ruffians are from closer to your homeland, Rivain and Antiva."

The spiders, though, they're all home grown, and none of them get very far into the cave before they start seeing the signs, thick webbing and dark, web lined holes leading into rock. Everyone goes more on alert, listening for the telltale click of chitinous legs and clawed feet and the sometimes eerie squeaking and chittering that the larger spiders make, whether vocalizations or something else.

It's almost too quiet. "Burn the webbing," Cullen says, his voice carrying perfectly well.

"You're here," he points out, "Ferelden. I think that's southern enough. It's certainly barbarian enough for me."

That gets a chuckle out of some people, the mages at least. They're willing to laugh at Dorian when he's funny. It eases some of the tension.

"You heard the man, let's burn." Dorian flicks his fingers, causing sparks to fall to the ground. The mages step forward to deal with the web. They send flames along the webs which lights the caves.

Cullen snorts and rolls his eyes. It's nice to hear the others laughing, enough that he doesn't feel compelled to retort. It's good for them to see that he can take ribbing at his expense, that he's not another Meredith, not a tyrant to be feared at any sign of confrontation, even light hearted.

He grips his sword tighter and braces himself. As expected, the onslaught of fire flushes out three spiders, nasty wasp spiders with shiny black legs, poisonous red abdomens, and fierce tempers to match. The templars and guards are on them the moment they emerge from the flaming burrows.

After what happened the night before, none of them are willing to lose another comrade.

"Oh, well, look at that." Dorian smiles because the fire also reveals a great number of skeletons lying on the ground. He can feel the spirits just on the other side of the Fade. "Some friends to help us. Keep the fires burning."

Dorian reaches for those spirits and calls them forward. He guides them in to the skeletons and the skeletons to their feet. It helps. It makes him feel powerful again after the spiders tried to take that last night.

But he doesn't use them to attack the spiders outright. He puts the skeletons between the spiders and the Templars when they try to flank and come at them. He doesn't want to alienate the Templars. He wants them to trust him.

It's eerie. The templars and the guards both are jumpy when they see skeletons rising. Cullen felt the surge of mana. He knows they're not demon possessed. "They're ours!" he snaps. It's all he has time for with the speed and potential lethality of the attacking spiders. Wasp spiders are some of the worst.

The wall of bone helps. It also confuses one of the arachnids. It turns its fury on the skeletons instead, trying to bite and grapple them. It gives the fighters the opening they need to kill it quickly.

One of the others leaps back several feet and gushes a jet of poison. Guardsman Hendyr raises his shield just in time, and he and his wife break off to rush that one.

One of the other mages casts a barrier as the poison explodes from the arachnids. Dorian turns the skeletons trying to distract more spiders, trying to swarm them and give the knights openings.

This feels righteous. Dorian feels like he's on the side of good for once instead of a monster or the evil man everyone takes him for.

The other mages keep him protected as he keeps the skeletons alive but there's nothing he can do when the spiders crash through their forms. The spirits inside can't pull bones back together. When the skeletons break the spirits leave and Dorian no longer has control.

The last goes down with four swords thrust into its shiny abdomen at once. Silence descends back on the cave, until Aveline's voice calls out, "That's how you clear a cave. Good work, everyone. There's further to go. Stay sharp."

Cullen cleans his sword against his skirting but keeps it drawn. It was good work. It was a balm to the spirits they all needed after last night. He's radiating satisfaction and the desire to take it further. If they can leave the coast on a high note, their losses won't be for naught.

Deeper into the cave blue glow worms dot the low ceiling providing some ambient light. He has always thought them beautiful, if eerie. He manages to position himself close enough to Dorian for low conversation again. "Do they have these in Tevinter?" he asks, pointing upward with his sword.

With the last spider dead Dorian sends the spirits back beyond the Veil. The skeletons collapses as if they are puppets with their strings cut. The mages breathe a sigh of relief and a few of them check on the Templars and guards if they need any healing.

He is not surprised that Cullen finds his way back to him after the fight. "We have crickets the size of mice that are pure white in the caves back home. I've only seen them in books."

The worms are a little unsettling to him. They light things, yes, but why haven't the spiders eaten them? They should be easy food.

"Eww. Eww." His nose wrinkles and his whole face scrunches up at the thought of that. For some reason that sounds more disturbing than giant spiders, and he can't even say why that is. He feels like a kid trying to work up the courage to touch something slimy and shakes his head at his own reaction. "Can you imagine if it jumped on your head?" He shudders.

"I've always liked these. When I was little, my siblings and I would sometimes gather a few from the caves and keep them in jars in our rooms at night. We'd put them back before they could die. I have no idea what they eat. Maybe minerals from the rocks like nugs." It's better in this part of the cave, no side passages for sudden ambush, and the ground descends at a more gentle slope. He can hear water running in the distance.

"As I'm already trapped in a cave with disgusting creatures. I don't want to imagine anything but sunshine and wine." He shivers at the idea even though he said he wasn't going to think about it. He failed that step obviously.

They haven't seen any nugs down here. The spiders probably ate them a long time ago. "I'm wondering why the spiders haven't eaten them, not what they eat." Perhaps it's grim of him but he's in one of those mindsets.

"Maybe they taste bad," he says, glancing up again. Considering the fact that he has handled them many times in his life with no ill effects, he's not worried about what they can do. "Or maybe they think they're pretty, too." It's tongue in cheek, something to try to get him out of worry mode if he can.

"Trust me. Of all the things we could find down here, the glow worms are the least dangerous." OK, that sounded more reassuring in his head than when it came out. His smile is a little sheepish.

"I can tell you're trying to be reassuring but you've failed utterly Knight-Commander," Dorian says dryly, giving Cullen a look. At least the man seemed to realize his mistake and was appropriate chastised.

They had yet to encounter more spiders. Dorian isn't sure if that's a good thing or not. They couldn't have killed all of them already. "From what I remember of history Kirkwall was a hub of the Tevinter slave trade. At one point they used these caves for storing cargo. Have you found any ruins down here?"

"It sounded so much better in my head." He doesn't believe for an instant they've seen the last of the spiders. The behemoth they fought had to come from deeper and likely spawned countless progeny. Hopefully they ate one another as they grew. It seemed to be the way of these deeper cave spiders. It also meant the survivors were exceptionally tough.

He nods, frowning. "Yes. We're always running across ruins, either Tevinter or remnants of dwarven civilization before the Deep Roads were overrun by Darkspawn. Those places contain far worse than spiders." Undead by the hordes, revenants, arcane horrors, demons. Kirkwall's depths are even worse than its surface and places he avoids venturing whenever he can.

Dorian frowns at that. He wanted to take a look at them but if they were too dangerous he couldn't do that. He doubted Cullen would approve it and he wouldn't be able to get anyone to accompany him.

"Perhaps I'll have to read more modern history then. I'm curious about what people have found," he says to explain himself. "I might throw books at how wrong your historians are but I'll give them a try."

"I'll be glad to show you what accounts we have in our reports archives. It's not sensitive material. Not all of the knights making their reports will ever win any prizes at writing. The information is solid and accurate. There are maps, too. One of the ruins is at Sundermount." Not that he suspects Dorian is in any hurry to want to return there soon.

The sound of running water is getting louder. Aveline's voice comes from up ahead, sharp but not alarmed. "Hold!"

Cullen cuts a glance at Dorian then steps forward in the column to see what the problem is. When he reaches her it's all too obvious. There's a sheer drop-off into blackness with no obvious path or way down. The closest mage bends to pick up a rock, lights it with a soft glow, and hands it over to be tossed down. Cullen does so. It sails down, and down, and down until it's suddenly swallowed in a plop that takes a second or two to reach them.

"I don't think we're going to be able to get down there today," Cullen says.

Aveline shakes her head. "Then it's the other plan. We block the opening with rubble."

He nods. They don't have much other choice. "Back the way we've come. Keep looking sharp. We don't know where some of those spider tunnels lead. More could have come in behind us." The rear guard also determines to stay sharp in case anything comes up from the deeper cavern.

Dorian is not afraid of heights when it comes to towers and spires of buildings but the edge of the cliff and the sheer drop off make him incredibly nervous. He steps back after he sees the rock fall.

"We have enough mages to bring down enough rocks to block the entrance," he says when everyone backs away from the edge. "Give us some time to place the proper wards to crack the stone and make it fall you'll have your plugged entrance."

Once again the mages looked pleased someone was sticking up for them and their usefulness. A few of them even spoke up and offered suggestions about how to break the rocks and where. Dorian's very proud of them standing up for themselves.

For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

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