Nostarielās path took her down a side alley, and it didnāt take her long to spot a barrel with a strange twist mechanism on the top, gushing green gas at an alarming rate. That could only be the source. Unfortunately, the way forward to it was blocked by a group of three people, ordinary Kirkwallers by the look of it, but there was a strange, fevered flush to their skin, and their eyes were glassy. She hoped that could be reversedā¦ probably better to assume it could, and try to get past them without killing them. Remembering her new trick, Nostariel drew an arrow back to her cheek, sighting down the shaft and putting the mind-magic into it, then firing the arrow into a nearby doorframe. She didnāt want to break it by hitting stone walls or floors, after all.
By this time, her breathing was labored and heavy in her chest, damp as though she had some kind of liquid in her lungs. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and she had to resist the urge to cough. Moving forward as quickly as she could after her arrow, she throat-punched one of the disoriented humans, dropping him like a rock to the ground. She had a repertoire not near as impressive as Amaliaās or even Auroraās, but the Qunari had not let her get by learning to meditate only, and now, when she didnāt want to hurt any of these people permanently, she was incredibly grateful for that.
The next two were harder, but she did manage to trip one up by sweeping her bow into the back of his knees, and his head met the stone beneath them with an uncomfortable thud. Not dead, but definitely concussed. She flinched, but there was no time. The last had recovered from her disorientation and swung what seemed to be a chisel at Nostariel, forcing the elf to take a few steps back and brace with the leather guard that encased her forearm. She cast a misdirection hex, but that only made the woman run off as though to attack someone else, and she couldnāt have that. Forcing her feet to pick up to a running pace, Nostariel tackled the woman from behind, twining an arm around her neck and holding her there until she passed out.
Unfortunately, the physical strain of such activity caused her to erupt into a coughing fit, and she spat a suspiciously-red spatter onto the ground. That wasnāt goodā¦ and it wouldnāt do her much more to heal the internal damage if she kept breathing this poison. Nonetheless, she tried, stumbling over to the barrel and turning the odd handle. It closed with a click, cutting off the flow of the gas. Thank the Makerā¦
Now, to find the others.
Ithilian drew one blade as he darted into a side alley. He didn't dare draw Parshaara, at the risk that this gas was flammable, but one of his own would suffice. He made sure to leave the blade in his left hand, keeping his right free. These would be civilians in a blind rage, and likely not difficult to defeat, at least in small numbers, and at least while he could breathe without choking on something, which would only be a short time now.
An empty handed woman screamed and ran at him, trying to claw him with her fingernails, but Ithilian vaulted left of her, placing his right hand on her shoulder and running off the left wall over a table, out of her reach. He landed smoothly and continued running, though a single cough sent a wave of pain through his lungs, and he grimaced. He ran past what looked to be a small inn, but just as he did the door swung open, and there was no time to sidestep. He slammed into it with his shoulder leading the way, sending two raging patrons to the ground along with him, rolling to the dusty street.
They were men, both armed and well built, and while he was willing to make a minor effort to avoid casualties in this situation, he wasn't patient enough to deal with armed individuals by knocking them out. One of them already had a hand on his jacket as he scrambled to his feet, a knife in the other hand. A punch to the jaw, followed by a knee to the head, severed his grip, and Ithilian finished the deal by plunging his blade cleanly down into the man's chest. This was shortly followed by the second man's mace coming down hard on Ithilian's shoulder with a resounding crack.
He snarled. Hit from behind again. He would do well to learn from some of these mistakes. The mace had hit on the right side, so he turned against it, throwing a reverse elbow strike with his left to the man's temple, knocking him back. He followed by turning and leaping forward at him, sinking a blade down into his chest, before ripping it free and plunging it up through the base of the chin into the brain, ending it quickly. His right arm wasn't working as well after that, and he imagined some heavy damage had been done to the collarbone. Thankfully, there was a barrel leaking the poison here, and he smacked the handle to shut it, stopping the flow. There were others, of course, and he darted off to find them, ignoring the hitching of his breath as best he could.
It took Aurora a little longer to find her barrel. Lowtown streets were normal for her, but when it was awash with a green fog and your vision flickered every few moments, it tended to be a disorienting affair. Fortunately, she followed the gas as it became denser and eventaully she stumbled over the source. A barrel-like mechanism spewing the green poisonous mist from a spout on the top. She began to wonder how could a barrel contain so much gas as to choke an entire city, but pushed it out. She didn't have time to ponder on such things, she needed to shut it off, and quick. Aurora dashed toward the barrel and almost made it when she was interrupted by an arrow. She managed to dodge well enough that it only left a thin red line across her cheek, but the statement was made. She'd have to fight her way to the barrel.
Now that Sophia was a safe distance away so as to not be hounded by threats of being dragged back to the Circle, Aurora summoned her stone armor around her, this time engulfing her core and arms instead of her hands. A good thing to, as an arrow embedded itself where her heart would have been without it. It still bit deep into the flesh beneath, but it luckily nonfatal. She glanced at the arrow and tried not to think what would have happened if she had been a couple of seconds slower, instead following the trajectory of the arrow. Walking out between a pair of buildings were a trio of thugs, each donning a plague masks. They would be hers by the end of the fight. No use in huffing any more poison if she could help.
The rock armor on her chest, compounded with the poison swirling around in her lungs, affected her breathing. Her throat was sore and raw, and even her lungs began to itch. But she didn't need to breathe. She didn't wait for the thugs to rush her, and did that job for them. She blocked an arrow aimed at her face with the rock on her arm and before the archer was able to get another shot off she was there. The rock of her shoulder rammed into his belly, taking him down with her. With Aurora leaning over the thug. Instead of two to the face like normal in an effort to not break the plague mask, she rammed another fist into his belly, discouraging any further hostility.
A flicker to the right of her, and she rolled off the man-- taking his mask with her. A chain smashed heavily into the thug's chest and where she was only moments ago. Good to see these thugs still respected their comrades. When she got back to her feet, she was already wearing the mask and found herself standing off against two thugs, one with a chain and another with a spear. She cursed, which was muffled by her mask, she didn't have time for this. She dashed forward again, and instead of leading off with a shoulder, she led with a cone of cold, catching the thugs by surprise. By the time they stopped wheeling from the jagged icicles tearing at their faces, Aurora had already delivered a number of punches into the midsection of the spearman.
It gave ample opportunity for other thug to swing his chain downward upon Aurora. Instead of it knocking her out, she took a step backward and let it wrap around her arm. Now that she had leverage, she yanked the chain, pulling the thug forward, and as he fell, Aurora dropped an elbow on the back of his head, finishing it. Now that the way was cleared, she twisted the mechanism and shut off the gas. However, before she left to find the others, she collected the plague masks off the other two. She was still coughing inside hers, and whatever damage was done was done-- but it should help to keep her alive longer than inhaling more of the putrid gas.
She sort of lost track of the twists and turns she took, doing the rather counterproductive thing and wading into thicker patches of gas where she found them, and by the time she managed to locate the last barrelānestled at the back of a dead-end alley, of courseāNostarielās breathing was ragged, though at least she was mostly too weak to cough now. That had to beā¦ something, at least. More stumbling than walking by this point, she headed towards it, reaching it after what seemed like an age, attempting to twist the handleā¦ only to discover that it refused to cooperate.
Was it just the weakness in her limbs from the poison working through her, or was it really stuck? Reaching out with both hands, she tried again, still to no avail. She could hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind her, and she sincerely hoped it wasnāt more crazed people. She wasnāt strong enough to both deal with them and close this barrel. Come on, you stupid thingā¦ Even her thoughts grew sluggish now, it seemed.
The footsteps behind Nostariel weren't of the crazed civilians, or rather, not the one she expected. There had to be something said about willingly wading into a mist of poison fog that brought on the questioning of one's sanity. Instead, it was Aurora and she found herself pleasantly surprised that instead of more thugs at the next barrel, it was only Nostariel. The mere sight of the woman managed to quicken her already sluggish gait and once she got close enough to where she didn't need to shout, Aurora spoke up, "It's me. Take this." It was all the words she could muster without falling into a deep wheeze. In her hand held one of the scavenged plague masks. Nostariel reached a fumbling hand to take it and fasten it to her face, nodding her thanks but unable to waste breath speaking for the moment.
Ithilian spotted an archer taking aim at someone, and didn't waste the time to check who it was, running up behind him and sticking his blade into his back, the point of it erupting out of his chest. He fell as Ithilian withdrew the sword, and he found that it was none other than Nostariel and Aurora being targeted. He jogged, favoring his right arm, over to meet them, sheathing his blade as Aurora offered him a mask she had pulled off one of the enemies. Gratefully he accepted, throwing it over his face to stop any more poison from entering his lungs. The barrel appeared to be jammed by something. He cursed under the mask. They really didn't have time for this. On top of it all, he heard the approaching footsteps of three thugs entering their dead end alley, and Ithilian re-drew his left hand blade. He doubted they had another fight in them, but obviously that was what was in store for them. Aurora turned just as wearily to face them as well, wondering just how far her limits would let her go.
The shadow ran along the edge of the roof, mismatched eyes almost backlit by the sparse illumination to be had in the poisoned alleys of Lowtown. She reached the edge of her last roof just as the trio of armed men entered the narrow alley occupied by the unfortunate three fighters, and though Sophia and Lucien were on their way, they would not be fast enough. Amalia never even broke her stride, leaping fluidly from the roof like something more feline than human, the polished steel blade in her gauntlet hissing as it slid free of the dragonskin. That Milly had caught her sleeping and relatively unprepared for the task at hand was evident only in one fact: her hair streamed behind her freely as she fell like a pennant in the breeze, as sheād judged there was not time to bind it before she grabbed her supplies and left.
Just as wellāshe appeared to be right on time. Her passage through the air was almost entirely silent, and she flipped once, landing solidly on the shoulders of the last man in line, burying the blade smoothly into the back of his neck, her momentum sufficient to sever his spine entirely. He didnāt even have time to scream, and she hopped off him as he collapsed, catching his body before it thudded to the ground and lowering it carefully so as to maintain the element of surprise. Quick as a flash, she buried the blade in the next oneās back, sliding it out again and letting that one fall, impaled through the heart and choking off some form of surprise at his sudden expiration.
That drew the final oneās attention, and he turned, but a poisoned needle embedded itself in either of his eyes, and he fell, too, leaving all three collapsed on the ground. Amalia stepped over the corpses without any concern for them, advancing on the group of three just now closing off the final barrel of poison. āThis is far from the most intelligent thing any of you have ever done,ā she said flatly, her voice partially muffled by the curious mask she wore. It encased the lower half of her face, and appeared to be made from equal parts leather and metal, though it conformed to her visage much better than the beaked ones did. From the belt of her blackened armor, she produced three small vials of something bright and green, holding the necks between her fingers. āDrink. And next time, send someone I know. I almost killed the girl when she woke me.ā Apparently nobody had warned Milly that Amalia was rather dangerous in her own right, for the young woman had simply tried to shake the Qunari awake. Not that she'd been sleeping anymore, with all the noise the intruder made.
Seeing that the poison was now dissipating from the area, she raised an arm in the air and made the universal beckoning motion. Milly would see it from where Amalia had left her with the rest of the antidote and some more traditional restorative potions.
With the timely appearance of Amalia, the other three were able to unjam the barrel leaking poison using what looked to be a handle of some sort found nearby. When it was clear the poison was finally starting to dissipate, Ithilian discarded it, removing the mask and accepting Amalia's antidote wordlessly, not really having the breath for a retort. Perhaps it had not been wise, but if they hadn't acted when they did, the poison could have easily consumed the district, or spread into the Alienage, and Ithilian simply wasn't willing to let that happen.
The party regrouped and spent a moment healing themselves of the most pressing injuries. The district saved, they returned the way they came. The Arishok could wait until the morning, and it seemed only Sophia and Lucien would be paying him a visit to inform him of what occurred. For the moment, they all needed a good rest.
By this time, her breathing was labored and heavy in her chest, damp as though she had some kind of liquid in her lungs. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and she had to resist the urge to cough. Moving forward as quickly as she could after her arrow, she throat-punched one of the disoriented humans, dropping him like a rock to the ground. She had a repertoire not near as impressive as Amaliaās or even Auroraās, but the Qunari had not let her get by learning to meditate only, and now, when she didnāt want to hurt any of these people permanently, she was incredibly grateful for that.
The next two were harder, but she did manage to trip one up by sweeping her bow into the back of his knees, and his head met the stone beneath them with an uncomfortable thud. Not dead, but definitely concussed. She flinched, but there was no time. The last had recovered from her disorientation and swung what seemed to be a chisel at Nostariel, forcing the elf to take a few steps back and brace with the leather guard that encased her forearm. She cast a misdirection hex, but that only made the woman run off as though to attack someone else, and she couldnāt have that. Forcing her feet to pick up to a running pace, Nostariel tackled the woman from behind, twining an arm around her neck and holding her there until she passed out.
Unfortunately, the physical strain of such activity caused her to erupt into a coughing fit, and she spat a suspiciously-red spatter onto the ground. That wasnāt goodā¦ and it wouldnāt do her much more to heal the internal damage if she kept breathing this poison. Nonetheless, she tried, stumbling over to the barrel and turning the odd handle. It closed with a click, cutting off the flow of the gas. Thank the Makerā¦
Now, to find the others.
Ithilian drew one blade as he darted into a side alley. He didn't dare draw Parshaara, at the risk that this gas was flammable, but one of his own would suffice. He made sure to leave the blade in his left hand, keeping his right free. These would be civilians in a blind rage, and likely not difficult to defeat, at least in small numbers, and at least while he could breathe without choking on something, which would only be a short time now.
An empty handed woman screamed and ran at him, trying to claw him with her fingernails, but Ithilian vaulted left of her, placing his right hand on her shoulder and running off the left wall over a table, out of her reach. He landed smoothly and continued running, though a single cough sent a wave of pain through his lungs, and he grimaced. He ran past what looked to be a small inn, but just as he did the door swung open, and there was no time to sidestep. He slammed into it with his shoulder leading the way, sending two raging patrons to the ground along with him, rolling to the dusty street.
They were men, both armed and well built, and while he was willing to make a minor effort to avoid casualties in this situation, he wasn't patient enough to deal with armed individuals by knocking them out. One of them already had a hand on his jacket as he scrambled to his feet, a knife in the other hand. A punch to the jaw, followed by a knee to the head, severed his grip, and Ithilian finished the deal by plunging his blade cleanly down into the man's chest. This was shortly followed by the second man's mace coming down hard on Ithilian's shoulder with a resounding crack.
He snarled. Hit from behind again. He would do well to learn from some of these mistakes. The mace had hit on the right side, so he turned against it, throwing a reverse elbow strike with his left to the man's temple, knocking him back. He followed by turning and leaping forward at him, sinking a blade down into his chest, before ripping it free and plunging it up through the base of the chin into the brain, ending it quickly. His right arm wasn't working as well after that, and he imagined some heavy damage had been done to the collarbone. Thankfully, there was a barrel leaking the poison here, and he smacked the handle to shut it, stopping the flow. There were others, of course, and he darted off to find them, ignoring the hitching of his breath as best he could.
It took Aurora a little longer to find her barrel. Lowtown streets were normal for her, but when it was awash with a green fog and your vision flickered every few moments, it tended to be a disorienting affair. Fortunately, she followed the gas as it became denser and eventaully she stumbled over the source. A barrel-like mechanism spewing the green poisonous mist from a spout on the top. She began to wonder how could a barrel contain so much gas as to choke an entire city, but pushed it out. She didn't have time to ponder on such things, she needed to shut it off, and quick. Aurora dashed toward the barrel and almost made it when she was interrupted by an arrow. She managed to dodge well enough that it only left a thin red line across her cheek, but the statement was made. She'd have to fight her way to the barrel.
Now that Sophia was a safe distance away so as to not be hounded by threats of being dragged back to the Circle, Aurora summoned her stone armor around her, this time engulfing her core and arms instead of her hands. A good thing to, as an arrow embedded itself where her heart would have been without it. It still bit deep into the flesh beneath, but it luckily nonfatal. She glanced at the arrow and tried not to think what would have happened if she had been a couple of seconds slower, instead following the trajectory of the arrow. Walking out between a pair of buildings were a trio of thugs, each donning a plague masks. They would be hers by the end of the fight. No use in huffing any more poison if she could help.
The rock armor on her chest, compounded with the poison swirling around in her lungs, affected her breathing. Her throat was sore and raw, and even her lungs began to itch. But she didn't need to breathe. She didn't wait for the thugs to rush her, and did that job for them. She blocked an arrow aimed at her face with the rock on her arm and before the archer was able to get another shot off she was there. The rock of her shoulder rammed into his belly, taking him down with her. With Aurora leaning over the thug. Instead of two to the face like normal in an effort to not break the plague mask, she rammed another fist into his belly, discouraging any further hostility.
A flicker to the right of her, and she rolled off the man-- taking his mask with her. A chain smashed heavily into the thug's chest and where she was only moments ago. Good to see these thugs still respected their comrades. When she got back to her feet, she was already wearing the mask and found herself standing off against two thugs, one with a chain and another with a spear. She cursed, which was muffled by her mask, she didn't have time for this. She dashed forward again, and instead of leading off with a shoulder, she led with a cone of cold, catching the thugs by surprise. By the time they stopped wheeling from the jagged icicles tearing at their faces, Aurora had already delivered a number of punches into the midsection of the spearman.
It gave ample opportunity for other thug to swing his chain downward upon Aurora. Instead of it knocking her out, she took a step backward and let it wrap around her arm. Now that she had leverage, she yanked the chain, pulling the thug forward, and as he fell, Aurora dropped an elbow on the back of his head, finishing it. Now that the way was cleared, she twisted the mechanism and shut off the gas. However, before she left to find the others, she collected the plague masks off the other two. She was still coughing inside hers, and whatever damage was done was done-- but it should help to keep her alive longer than inhaling more of the putrid gas.
She sort of lost track of the twists and turns she took, doing the rather counterproductive thing and wading into thicker patches of gas where she found them, and by the time she managed to locate the last barrelānestled at the back of a dead-end alley, of courseāNostarielās breathing was ragged, though at least she was mostly too weak to cough now. That had to beā¦ something, at least. More stumbling than walking by this point, she headed towards it, reaching it after what seemed like an age, attempting to twist the handleā¦ only to discover that it refused to cooperate.
Was it just the weakness in her limbs from the poison working through her, or was it really stuck? Reaching out with both hands, she tried again, still to no avail. She could hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind her, and she sincerely hoped it wasnāt more crazed people. She wasnāt strong enough to both deal with them and close this barrel. Come on, you stupid thingā¦ Even her thoughts grew sluggish now, it seemed.
The footsteps behind Nostariel weren't of the crazed civilians, or rather, not the one she expected. There had to be something said about willingly wading into a mist of poison fog that brought on the questioning of one's sanity. Instead, it was Aurora and she found herself pleasantly surprised that instead of more thugs at the next barrel, it was only Nostariel. The mere sight of the woman managed to quicken her already sluggish gait and once she got close enough to where she didn't need to shout, Aurora spoke up, "It's me. Take this." It was all the words she could muster without falling into a deep wheeze. In her hand held one of the scavenged plague masks. Nostariel reached a fumbling hand to take it and fasten it to her face, nodding her thanks but unable to waste breath speaking for the moment.
Ithilian spotted an archer taking aim at someone, and didn't waste the time to check who it was, running up behind him and sticking his blade into his back, the point of it erupting out of his chest. He fell as Ithilian withdrew the sword, and he found that it was none other than Nostariel and Aurora being targeted. He jogged, favoring his right arm, over to meet them, sheathing his blade as Aurora offered him a mask she had pulled off one of the enemies. Gratefully he accepted, throwing it over his face to stop any more poison from entering his lungs. The barrel appeared to be jammed by something. He cursed under the mask. They really didn't have time for this. On top of it all, he heard the approaching footsteps of three thugs entering their dead end alley, and Ithilian re-drew his left hand blade. He doubted they had another fight in them, but obviously that was what was in store for them. Aurora turned just as wearily to face them as well, wondering just how far her limits would let her go.
The shadow ran along the edge of the roof, mismatched eyes almost backlit by the sparse illumination to be had in the poisoned alleys of Lowtown. She reached the edge of her last roof just as the trio of armed men entered the narrow alley occupied by the unfortunate three fighters, and though Sophia and Lucien were on their way, they would not be fast enough. Amalia never even broke her stride, leaping fluidly from the roof like something more feline than human, the polished steel blade in her gauntlet hissing as it slid free of the dragonskin. That Milly had caught her sleeping and relatively unprepared for the task at hand was evident only in one fact: her hair streamed behind her freely as she fell like a pennant in the breeze, as sheād judged there was not time to bind it before she grabbed her supplies and left.
Just as wellāshe appeared to be right on time. Her passage through the air was almost entirely silent, and she flipped once, landing solidly on the shoulders of the last man in line, burying the blade smoothly into the back of his neck, her momentum sufficient to sever his spine entirely. He didnāt even have time to scream, and she hopped off him as he collapsed, catching his body before it thudded to the ground and lowering it carefully so as to maintain the element of surprise. Quick as a flash, she buried the blade in the next oneās back, sliding it out again and letting that one fall, impaled through the heart and choking off some form of surprise at his sudden expiration.
That drew the final oneās attention, and he turned, but a poisoned needle embedded itself in either of his eyes, and he fell, too, leaving all three collapsed on the ground. Amalia stepped over the corpses without any concern for them, advancing on the group of three just now closing off the final barrel of poison. āThis is far from the most intelligent thing any of you have ever done,ā she said flatly, her voice partially muffled by the curious mask she wore. It encased the lower half of her face, and appeared to be made from equal parts leather and metal, though it conformed to her visage much better than the beaked ones did. From the belt of her blackened armor, she produced three small vials of something bright and green, holding the necks between her fingers. āDrink. And next time, send someone I know. I almost killed the girl when she woke me.ā Apparently nobody had warned Milly that Amalia was rather dangerous in her own right, for the young woman had simply tried to shake the Qunari awake. Not that she'd been sleeping anymore, with all the noise the intruder made.
Seeing that the poison was now dissipating from the area, she raised an arm in the air and made the universal beckoning motion. Milly would see it from where Amalia had left her with the rest of the antidote and some more traditional restorative potions.
With the timely appearance of Amalia, the other three were able to unjam the barrel leaking poison using what looked to be a handle of some sort found nearby. When it was clear the poison was finally starting to dissipate, Ithilian discarded it, removing the mask and accepting Amalia's antidote wordlessly, not really having the breath for a retort. Perhaps it had not been wise, but if they hadn't acted when they did, the poison could have easily consumed the district, or spread into the Alienage, and Ithilian simply wasn't willing to let that happen.
The party regrouped and spent a moment healing themselves of the most pressing injuries. The district saved, they returned the way they came. The Arishok could wait until the morning, and it seemed only Sophia and Lucien would be paying him a visit to inform him of what occurred. For the moment, they all needed a good rest.