Night had settled at this point, but the majority of this section of Lowtown was lit by a dull green glow of fumes, spreading ever so slowly. Speed would be the party's only defense against the poison gas, but even that would only get them so far. They needed to locate the source of the gas, and put it out, by whatever means necessary. Immediately after they'd dove into the fumes Sophia felt an itching sensation at the back of her throat, and then in her chest, disagreeing with what she was breathing. It was difficult, but not impossible, to get a breath, though of course the more air she took in, the more poison. Combining that with the likelihood of being forced into fighting someone, and their lifespans were currently shrinking considerably if Aurora's friend couldn't bring Amalia after this was done.
They entered a square courtyard leading into what looked like a residential complex of some sort, loosely organized housing rising up several stories around them, the gas slipping down a number of side alleys and back streets. Sophia was about to direct the group to explore these when she noticed an armored elven woman brandishing a greatsword similar to her own stepping out onto one of the second story balconies, flanked by a half dozen mercenaries, just out of reach of the poison. "Is that..." she said, eyed the brave visitors into the poisoned areas. "the Viscount's daughter, Sophia Dumar! You have enemies."
Of course she did. Someone had nearly killed her on her own birthday, and tried to kill her father as well. Someone in her position couldn't possibly avoid having enemies. "I'm glad it's you, really. These poor people. You are a much better target!" Ithilian had begun to move sideways. "There is no time for this. Someone needs to deal with her. The rest of us will find the source of this and stop it." At that, Sophia nodded to him. "I can handle her." She'd probably need some help with the bodyguards, but splitting into two and three seemed doable here.
Nostariel really had no idea what was going on. Why would someone who stole a toxin from the Qunari be particularly interested in hurting Sophia? There wasnât really any time to wrap her head around it, however, as Ithilian was rightâthey needed to find whatever was emitting this gas and stop it, and the woman herself didnât seem to be holding any kind of device, nor was the poison issuing from behind her. Glancing around quickly, Nostariel picked the opposite side from Ithilian and darted off, hoping they could cover more ground that way. It already hurt to breathe, and there was no telling how long it would take the stuff to work fully on them. Nostariel was willing to bet she and Aurora would be the first to drop, however, given their smaller size.
Lucien, on the other hand, didnât move. The saar-qamek burned in his lungs, an uncanny sensation that was also most unpleasant, but he gripped the haft of his axe anyway, seeing Nostariel and Ithilian edging away from the corner of his eye. He suspected that this was a few too many people for Sophia to safely handle on her own, given the toxic substance they were inhaling, so he would remain as well. He firmly believed that Amalia would be here when she needed to be, if in fact Milly reached her on time, and it wasnât hard to locate the Qunari woman if you really needed to.
âWhat on Thedas could possibly make you think this was a good idea?â he asked, genuinely flabbergasted. âDid someone put you up to this?â His second hand gripped the axe, and he held it level in front of him, in case she decided to act rather than speak. Still, he owed the Arishok an answer if he could give one, and he wasnât going to just attack without trying to figure this out first. Who knew; doing so might reveal something important.
As she initially expected, the scarf did nothing to block the poisonous gas from seeping into her lungs, and by the time her throat began to rub raw she let the piece of cloth fall back to around her neck. It was a nice thought, but thoroughly ineffective. As Ithilian began to ease sideways, Aurora did the same in her own direction. Sure could sit there and wonder why the woman would want this, yes, but that wouldn't solve the problem any faster. They needed to act, and fast, before the whole district died, and not only themselves. It was only when Nostariel darted off that Aurora followed suit in a wholly different direction. She wouldn't drop from this gas, she'd made a promise, after all.
"Qunari take my people!" the irate elven woman explained. "My siblings forget their culture, then go to the Qun for purpose. We're losing them twice! So I get some help from your people. We'll take the Qunari thunder, make some accidents, make them hated!"
"Who?" Sophia repeated Lucien's question. "Who put you up to this?" But the elf only smiled knowingly. "It can still work. They are hidden in your city. They'll enrage the faithful, and make sure the Qunari are blamed! Me, I'm finished, just need a few more bodies. A few more..." She and her guards pulled plague masks over their heads, before jumping down into the street to engage Sophia and Lucien.
The elf made a beeline for Sophia, the more valuable target of the two, though considering Lucien's situation, probably not by much. Still, she was the more widely known person in Kirkwall, and would make the prettier corpse for the populace to be angry about, and revolt against the Qunari. Seriously, if she made any more connections... but perhaps there was a reason for that. Enrage the faithful... this was all too disturbingly similar to Petrice's previous plot to be coincidence. Whatever was infecting the Chantry here in Kirkwall, Sophia would root it out and remove it. Right after she killed this crazed elf here...
Sadly, it wouldn't be so simply, as the elf was good with a blade, and she wasn't subjected to the pain of taking in a breath with that mask on. They traded blows as the mercenaries with her attempted to swarm Lucien, but she knew full well that he could handle himself. She had her hands full as it was. The elf was quick with her strikes, and Sophia found herself driven back a few paces, her parrying ability put to the test. She was immediately short of breath, unable to take a good one without increasing pain in her chest.
After a quick high strike, the elf woman threw a low kick that took out one of Sophia's legs, bringing her to a knee. She attempted to bring her sword down to plunge through the back of Sophia's neck, but the Viscount's daughter performed a quick sideways roll, returning to her feet and landing a quick slash to the elf's side, opening a wound and forcing her to regroup. Sophia did not intend to allow her the chance, pushing forward with a flurry of blows, trying to drive her to the nearby wall and prevent her from retreating any further.
Six against one was just Lucienâs kind of unfair. Naturally, he offered them the opportunity to leave, and naturally, they refused, so it was down to business immediately afterwards. He found he didnât mindâhe rarely did, but it seemed unfair somehow not to warn them about what they were getting themselves into. These allies of his were formidable, and he was certainly no slouch either.
A sword clanged off his axe, and another two rebounded off his armor, which was rather unfortunate for the men holding them, because, burning lungs or no, he scythed through the trio in one broad swing, leaving each with a nasty gash at about chest level. That forced the leather clad ones to retreat a bit, and two men in full plate stepped up instead. The first was even bigger than he was, by what must have been an accident of heritage, and the other was a woman only slightly shorter than Sophia. The big man bore down on him, but Lucien didnât bother rising to the bait of a strength contestâthat would only leave him open for attack by the other five, particularly the woman, who was circling a bit to his side. Instead, he slid smoothly out from under the hammerblow and jammed the pommel of his axe up into the other fellowâs chin, the force of it producing a familiar cracking as his jaw shattered.
That left him reeling, and gave Lucien enough time to turn into the womanâs sword, which caught a weaker joint in his armor and left a thin ribbon of blood trailing out of his abdomen, just beneath and to the side of his ribcage. Getting the hit cost her dearly, however, and when he proved undaunted by such a strike, she wisely tried to backpedal away from him⊠and then his axe parted her head from her shoulders. The body collapsed, and he grimaced as two of the rogues and their uninjured companionâa light skirmisher from the look of itâclosed back in. One went down when a vertical slice bit deep into the space between shoulder and neck, collapsing his collarbone and tearing through the muscles, leaving him screaming and collapsed.
He was planning on ending that more mercifully, but a rogueâs dagger at his back forced him to change his mind. Had it not been for the fact that Rilien was a far superior assassin whoâd attempted something similar, Lucien would have met his end right there. Instead, he leaned sideways, the knife aimed for the base of his skull whistling past his ear instead. Gripping his axe near the head, he jammed the haft back and caught the fellow in the stomach, spinning and slamming a heavy fist into his nose, breaking it with enough force that it was quite likely not even Nostariel would be able to put it back together rightly. The axe slid through his fingers until he was holding it properly again, and the spear-tip drove down into the screaming manâs throat, silencing him permanently.
The arrow, he had not expected. It was the third injured rogue, whoâd apparently decided it was a better idea not to engage a knight in melee combat. Wise, and for that, Lucien was unlucky enough to find an arrowhead buried in the palm of his hand, of all places. Gritting his teeth, he swung the axe one-handed and cleaved open the chest of the remaining melee fighter, then dropped it and drew the long knife from his belt. Much easier to handle with only one good hand, but thankfully not a sword. He still did not plan on allowing himself one of those.
His lungs burned and his vision was becoming blurry, but he was still singularly-focused on the task at hand, and the archer stood no chance, drawing his own knife and striking frantically, only to be batted away by the chevalierâs plate gauntlet. His own dagger punched through the layers of leather and light ringmail, burying itself in the brigandâs heart. Breathing heavily, Lucien sheathed the knife and snapped off the shaft of the arrow. He⊠might need someone else to dig the metal head out of his hand, as it was barbed and he didnât want to lose the use of the appendage.
Sophia had her, driving her all the way to the wall, but just as she reached it, an arrow from an archer Lucien was not yet able to engage found a spot on the left side of her back, and she immediately tightened up, the way her breath immediately caught giving her some indication that the arrowhead had nicked a lung. That was bad. Her next planned attack against the elf woman came out woefully weakened, and the woman turned it aside, taking both their swordpoints to the ground. She followed with a pommel strike up into Sophia's forehead, sending flashing lights exploding into her field of vision.
A rough grip closed around her arm and Sophia was pulled hard into the wall she'd been attempting to drive the elf into, her back hitting it hard enough to summon what would have been a small fit of coughing if she hadn't desperately contained it. The shaft of the arrow pushed into her back further into her back before the force itself snapped it, the pain garnering a gasp from Sophia. The elf's first strike came hard and horizontally, Sophia's block not quite strong enough to stop it fully, and the edge bit into her left side with the sound of metal slicing on metal and into flesh beneath, sending several lines of crimson tumbling down over her silver ringmail. She found her own sword placed precariously with the tip down between her legs, no good for a traditional strike, but it did give her an opportunity of sorts...
She picked it up only enough to plunge it down again, stabbing it down cleanly through the the elven woman's leather boot, all the way until she felt the steel hit dirt, and a red splotch began to spread beneath her feet. The elf snarled and roughly withdrew her blade from Sophia's side, though the Viscount's daughter already launched her next attack, throwing her own pommel strike up under her jaw, knocking the elf back a few steps and giving Sophia room to breathe. She pushed away while she could, attempting a sideways swing, but the elf had the same idea, flowing into a spin, and the two blades each bit into their targets' sides simultaneously, and while Sophia's hit with more force, the elf's hit the wound she'd already opened.
Both withdrew at once, taking a step back and collecting themselves, each dripping blood to the streets by this point. The elf made the next attack, attempting a lunge this time, but her speed was inhibited by the wound in her foot, and Sophia saw the chance. She knew this needed to end now, as the longer it went, the more the odds stacked against her, both considering the poison in her lungs, and her heavily bleeding wound. She dipped the point of her sword down and parried the lunge to the side at the correct moment, when the elf's momentum was carrying her forward without a chance to alter her course. The stab deflected aside, she lunged forward herself, bringing the point up to spear the elf through the middle. She heard the woman cough several times under her mask, before she withdrew the bloody sword, and she collapsed to the ground on her back.
She turned to see Lucien having defeated the others, though he was injured himself. The tip of her sword fell to the ground, her left hand rising to try and stem the bleeding from her side. Her breathing was heavily strained, both from exertion and from the effects of the poison. "We need to... find Nostariel," she said, a cough and several breaths interrupting the sentence.
It was with considerably more care than he would usually use for such an action that Lucien bent and retrieved his axe, strapping it back into place as well as he could with only one fully-functional hand. Sophia was just as injured as he was, perhaps even moreso, and he nodded to her statement. He didnât have any potions on his person, as most of the time, he honestly didnât need them. The poison might be killing them faster, but that didnât mean their wounds could go untreated forever, either. Casting a glance around, he didnât see anything in particular, but there were sounds of a commotion coming from somewhere to their left. âThat wayâit sounds like they might be engaged.â He slide the knife back out of its sheath and held it loosely in his uninjured hand, preceding his friend in the direction heâd indicated.
They entered a square courtyard leading into what looked like a residential complex of some sort, loosely organized housing rising up several stories around them, the gas slipping down a number of side alleys and back streets. Sophia was about to direct the group to explore these when she noticed an armored elven woman brandishing a greatsword similar to her own stepping out onto one of the second story balconies, flanked by a half dozen mercenaries, just out of reach of the poison. "Is that..." she said, eyed the brave visitors into the poisoned areas. "the Viscount's daughter, Sophia Dumar! You have enemies."
Of course she did. Someone had nearly killed her on her own birthday, and tried to kill her father as well. Someone in her position couldn't possibly avoid having enemies. "I'm glad it's you, really. These poor people. You are a much better target!" Ithilian had begun to move sideways. "There is no time for this. Someone needs to deal with her. The rest of us will find the source of this and stop it." At that, Sophia nodded to him. "I can handle her." She'd probably need some help with the bodyguards, but splitting into two and three seemed doable here.
Nostariel really had no idea what was going on. Why would someone who stole a toxin from the Qunari be particularly interested in hurting Sophia? There wasnât really any time to wrap her head around it, however, as Ithilian was rightâthey needed to find whatever was emitting this gas and stop it, and the woman herself didnât seem to be holding any kind of device, nor was the poison issuing from behind her. Glancing around quickly, Nostariel picked the opposite side from Ithilian and darted off, hoping they could cover more ground that way. It already hurt to breathe, and there was no telling how long it would take the stuff to work fully on them. Nostariel was willing to bet she and Aurora would be the first to drop, however, given their smaller size.
Lucien, on the other hand, didnât move. The saar-qamek burned in his lungs, an uncanny sensation that was also most unpleasant, but he gripped the haft of his axe anyway, seeing Nostariel and Ithilian edging away from the corner of his eye. He suspected that this was a few too many people for Sophia to safely handle on her own, given the toxic substance they were inhaling, so he would remain as well. He firmly believed that Amalia would be here when she needed to be, if in fact Milly reached her on time, and it wasnât hard to locate the Qunari woman if you really needed to.
âWhat on Thedas could possibly make you think this was a good idea?â he asked, genuinely flabbergasted. âDid someone put you up to this?â His second hand gripped the axe, and he held it level in front of him, in case she decided to act rather than speak. Still, he owed the Arishok an answer if he could give one, and he wasnât going to just attack without trying to figure this out first. Who knew; doing so might reveal something important.
As she initially expected, the scarf did nothing to block the poisonous gas from seeping into her lungs, and by the time her throat began to rub raw she let the piece of cloth fall back to around her neck. It was a nice thought, but thoroughly ineffective. As Ithilian began to ease sideways, Aurora did the same in her own direction. Sure could sit there and wonder why the woman would want this, yes, but that wouldn't solve the problem any faster. They needed to act, and fast, before the whole district died, and not only themselves. It was only when Nostariel darted off that Aurora followed suit in a wholly different direction. She wouldn't drop from this gas, she'd made a promise, after all.
"Qunari take my people!" the irate elven woman explained. "My siblings forget their culture, then go to the Qun for purpose. We're losing them twice! So I get some help from your people. We'll take the Qunari thunder, make some accidents, make them hated!"
"Who?" Sophia repeated Lucien's question. "Who put you up to this?" But the elf only smiled knowingly. "It can still work. They are hidden in your city. They'll enrage the faithful, and make sure the Qunari are blamed! Me, I'm finished, just need a few more bodies. A few more..." She and her guards pulled plague masks over their heads, before jumping down into the street to engage Sophia and Lucien.
The elf made a beeline for Sophia, the more valuable target of the two, though considering Lucien's situation, probably not by much. Still, she was the more widely known person in Kirkwall, and would make the prettier corpse for the populace to be angry about, and revolt against the Qunari. Seriously, if she made any more connections... but perhaps there was a reason for that. Enrage the faithful... this was all too disturbingly similar to Petrice's previous plot to be coincidence. Whatever was infecting the Chantry here in Kirkwall, Sophia would root it out and remove it. Right after she killed this crazed elf here...
Sadly, it wouldn't be so simply, as the elf was good with a blade, and she wasn't subjected to the pain of taking in a breath with that mask on. They traded blows as the mercenaries with her attempted to swarm Lucien, but she knew full well that he could handle himself. She had her hands full as it was. The elf was quick with her strikes, and Sophia found herself driven back a few paces, her parrying ability put to the test. She was immediately short of breath, unable to take a good one without increasing pain in her chest.
After a quick high strike, the elf woman threw a low kick that took out one of Sophia's legs, bringing her to a knee. She attempted to bring her sword down to plunge through the back of Sophia's neck, but the Viscount's daughter performed a quick sideways roll, returning to her feet and landing a quick slash to the elf's side, opening a wound and forcing her to regroup. Sophia did not intend to allow her the chance, pushing forward with a flurry of blows, trying to drive her to the nearby wall and prevent her from retreating any further.
Six against one was just Lucienâs kind of unfair. Naturally, he offered them the opportunity to leave, and naturally, they refused, so it was down to business immediately afterwards. He found he didnât mindâhe rarely did, but it seemed unfair somehow not to warn them about what they were getting themselves into. These allies of his were formidable, and he was certainly no slouch either.
A sword clanged off his axe, and another two rebounded off his armor, which was rather unfortunate for the men holding them, because, burning lungs or no, he scythed through the trio in one broad swing, leaving each with a nasty gash at about chest level. That forced the leather clad ones to retreat a bit, and two men in full plate stepped up instead. The first was even bigger than he was, by what must have been an accident of heritage, and the other was a woman only slightly shorter than Sophia. The big man bore down on him, but Lucien didnât bother rising to the bait of a strength contestâthat would only leave him open for attack by the other five, particularly the woman, who was circling a bit to his side. Instead, he slid smoothly out from under the hammerblow and jammed the pommel of his axe up into the other fellowâs chin, the force of it producing a familiar cracking as his jaw shattered.
That left him reeling, and gave Lucien enough time to turn into the womanâs sword, which caught a weaker joint in his armor and left a thin ribbon of blood trailing out of his abdomen, just beneath and to the side of his ribcage. Getting the hit cost her dearly, however, and when he proved undaunted by such a strike, she wisely tried to backpedal away from him⊠and then his axe parted her head from her shoulders. The body collapsed, and he grimaced as two of the rogues and their uninjured companionâa light skirmisher from the look of itâclosed back in. One went down when a vertical slice bit deep into the space between shoulder and neck, collapsing his collarbone and tearing through the muscles, leaving him screaming and collapsed.
He was planning on ending that more mercifully, but a rogueâs dagger at his back forced him to change his mind. Had it not been for the fact that Rilien was a far superior assassin whoâd attempted something similar, Lucien would have met his end right there. Instead, he leaned sideways, the knife aimed for the base of his skull whistling past his ear instead. Gripping his axe near the head, he jammed the haft back and caught the fellow in the stomach, spinning and slamming a heavy fist into his nose, breaking it with enough force that it was quite likely not even Nostariel would be able to put it back together rightly. The axe slid through his fingers until he was holding it properly again, and the spear-tip drove down into the screaming manâs throat, silencing him permanently.
The arrow, he had not expected. It was the third injured rogue, whoâd apparently decided it was a better idea not to engage a knight in melee combat. Wise, and for that, Lucien was unlucky enough to find an arrowhead buried in the palm of his hand, of all places. Gritting his teeth, he swung the axe one-handed and cleaved open the chest of the remaining melee fighter, then dropped it and drew the long knife from his belt. Much easier to handle with only one good hand, but thankfully not a sword. He still did not plan on allowing himself one of those.
His lungs burned and his vision was becoming blurry, but he was still singularly-focused on the task at hand, and the archer stood no chance, drawing his own knife and striking frantically, only to be batted away by the chevalierâs plate gauntlet. His own dagger punched through the layers of leather and light ringmail, burying itself in the brigandâs heart. Breathing heavily, Lucien sheathed the knife and snapped off the shaft of the arrow. He⊠might need someone else to dig the metal head out of his hand, as it was barbed and he didnât want to lose the use of the appendage.
Sophia had her, driving her all the way to the wall, but just as she reached it, an arrow from an archer Lucien was not yet able to engage found a spot on the left side of her back, and she immediately tightened up, the way her breath immediately caught giving her some indication that the arrowhead had nicked a lung. That was bad. Her next planned attack against the elf woman came out woefully weakened, and the woman turned it aside, taking both their swordpoints to the ground. She followed with a pommel strike up into Sophia's forehead, sending flashing lights exploding into her field of vision.
A rough grip closed around her arm and Sophia was pulled hard into the wall she'd been attempting to drive the elf into, her back hitting it hard enough to summon what would have been a small fit of coughing if she hadn't desperately contained it. The shaft of the arrow pushed into her back further into her back before the force itself snapped it, the pain garnering a gasp from Sophia. The elf's first strike came hard and horizontally, Sophia's block not quite strong enough to stop it fully, and the edge bit into her left side with the sound of metal slicing on metal and into flesh beneath, sending several lines of crimson tumbling down over her silver ringmail. She found her own sword placed precariously with the tip down between her legs, no good for a traditional strike, but it did give her an opportunity of sorts...
She picked it up only enough to plunge it down again, stabbing it down cleanly through the the elven woman's leather boot, all the way until she felt the steel hit dirt, and a red splotch began to spread beneath her feet. The elf snarled and roughly withdrew her blade from Sophia's side, though the Viscount's daughter already launched her next attack, throwing her own pommel strike up under her jaw, knocking the elf back a few steps and giving Sophia room to breathe. She pushed away while she could, attempting a sideways swing, but the elf had the same idea, flowing into a spin, and the two blades each bit into their targets' sides simultaneously, and while Sophia's hit with more force, the elf's hit the wound she'd already opened.
Both withdrew at once, taking a step back and collecting themselves, each dripping blood to the streets by this point. The elf made the next attack, attempting a lunge this time, but her speed was inhibited by the wound in her foot, and Sophia saw the chance. She knew this needed to end now, as the longer it went, the more the odds stacked against her, both considering the poison in her lungs, and her heavily bleeding wound. She dipped the point of her sword down and parried the lunge to the side at the correct moment, when the elf's momentum was carrying her forward without a chance to alter her course. The stab deflected aside, she lunged forward herself, bringing the point up to spear the elf through the middle. She heard the woman cough several times under her mask, before she withdrew the bloody sword, and she collapsed to the ground on her back.
She turned to see Lucien having defeated the others, though he was injured himself. The tip of her sword fell to the ground, her left hand rising to try and stem the bleeding from her side. Her breathing was heavily strained, both from exertion and from the effects of the poison. "We need to... find Nostariel," she said, a cough and several breaths interrupting the sentence.
It was with considerably more care than he would usually use for such an action that Lucien bent and retrieved his axe, strapping it back into place as well as he could with only one fully-functional hand. Sophia was just as injured as he was, perhaps even moreso, and he nodded to her statement. He didnât have any potions on his person, as most of the time, he honestly didnât need them. The poison might be killing them faster, but that didnât mean their wounds could go untreated forever, either. Casting a glance around, he didnât see anything in particular, but there were sounds of a commotion coming from somewhere to their left. âThat wayâit sounds like they might be engaged.â He slide the knife back out of its sheath and held it loosely in his uninjured hand, preceding his friend in the direction heâd indicated.