Lucien, on the other hand, could see considerably betterāthe dim light in the northeastern passage he now occupied was about the same as had been present in the entryway, casting long, gloomy shadows off the jagged edges of the walls. This chamber appeared to belong to a ruin of some kind, from whatever bygone age had taken Arlathan with it. For these were surely elven ruins, but from a time when the People were far more glorious than they were today. The warrior would discover himself immobile, his limbs and joints locked uncomfortably in place, and indeed, some invisible force pinned him to a wall about ten feet up, at the very back of the chamber. If he strained his ears, he could hear the sounds of battle, as though through walls of thick stone. The clang of steel on steel, muted cries, desperate and overrun. With time, he would recognize them as belonging to those with whom he had entered, and they called for him.
Lucien was dazed, what had been a rather mild confusion at the start suddenly amplified enough that he could hardly see straight. The shadows flickered oddly off the walls, and for a moment, his befuddlement seized on them, as though seeking ardently for something to understand, butā¦ there wasnāt anything, was there? Why did his mind feel so clouded? He tried to bring a hand to his face, only to fail utterly in the endeavor, his body refusing to respond properly to his commands. He looked around, and the strangeness of what he was seeing registered with a startāthe perspective was so strange because he was taller than usual. Far taller, andā¦ somehow held against a wall? What in Thedas was going on? He felt a keen sense of urgency to remove himself from his situation, something that he would ordinarily have taken the time to patiently assess first.
Somehow, though, patience seemed rather beyond him at this point, and he tried again to move, tugging hard against the restraints he could feel but not see. There was still no give to them, though at least this time, his body felt like his rather than someone elseās. It was responding as it should, if not perhaps to the degree heād come to expect of his own strength.
A small noise drew his attention, and he stilled in his movements, trying to quiet the sound of his own breathing so he could hear it. Was it possible that there were enemies approaching? He dare not hope that it was the others, not at this point. Straining his ears, he could just make out a faint ringing, one he knew very well indeed. That was the sound of clashing blades. Sophia, then, or Rilien, perhaps, engaged with a foe? He tried pulling again, still nothing. Blast it allāhe had to help! His friends were in danger, he couldnāt justā
The sound of a scream cut through him like a knife, and Lucienās singular visible eye went wide, a layer of panic he had never had to deal with before driving him to a desperate urgency. Not this again, anything but this again. It was how heād failed so many times before, and he couldnāt fail again. If there were any gods left in the world at all, Maker or no, surely they could not be so cruel as to allow him to suffer this again. No, perhaps they could, but no benevolent god could let them suffer. Once, heād been punished for his naivete. Then, for his arrogance. The third time had been for his belief in others. But thisā¦ what could he possibly have done that warranted this? Why must it always be others who paid for these things, whatever they were?
With all the strength he had and then some, Lucien pulled, and the force holding him in place snapped, sending him tumbling gracelessly to the floor ten feet below. He landed in an awkward sprawl, his armor digging uncomfortably into his body in several places and knocking the wind out of him, but he was so panicked he scarcely noticed. He had to get to them, had to help. Assuming that they arenāt already gone. The thought, which should have been easily brushed aside, was crushing in its weight, and bowed his shoulders, bit his fists tightened and he grasped the haft of his axe, starting forward. There was no telling what was ahead and he had to be preparedāwhat? The chevalier felt the weight of the weapon in his hand, the familiar heft of it, but he didnāt see it. To his eyes, he was holding nothing at all. He swallowed uncomfortably, but the sounds of battle persisted, and drove him forward. They were still fighting. Someone was still alive. Whomever it was, he had to help them. He could not stop now.
As Lucien moved through the passage towards whatever end it would take him to, the sounds of battle seemed to grow no closer, as though, for all his effort, he were not really moving at all. What did increase was the frequency and urgency of the shoutingāhe could now clearly realize that the voices belonged to his three friends, trying with little success to coordinate with each other as they were overrun by what sounded like an entire hoard of undead, their rasping, nonsensical voices only adding to the pitched fervor of the din. There was more steel-on-steel, then a desperate cry from the only feminine voice in the trio, presumably as one of her comrades fell. More hoarse shouting, something that sounded suspiciously like his name, too soft to be discerned for certain, and thenā¦ utter silence. It was only then that the passage opened up into a miniature room, the ceiling suddenly vaulting, and there were two additional passages out, suggesting that he had come upon a crossroads of sorts.
Before he could so much as properly process them, however, something massive shifted to his left, a loud hiss the only herald of the incoming attack by a corrupted snake at least four feet wide and twenty-five long. Its fangs dripped with venom, either one almost a match in length for a typical dagger, and there was no mistaking that while his plate might turn them aside, his mail would be easily punctured if it got hold of him.
Lucienās pace had picked up to a dead sprint the moment the voices grew more frantic, and the fact that they were now silent seemed only to push him harder, and despite his armor, he was running breakneck when he emerged into the merged tunnel. Itās not too late yet, I still have potions, I just have toā The thought was unfortunately cut off by movement to his left, and reflex threw him to his side in just enough time to avoid the driving of a great snakeās fangs. He did not miss the way the venom spattered onto the floor, ichor-black and insidious.
All he could think, however, was that he didnāt have time for this. Fear was coiled unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It was not an entirely foreign sensation to the knight, and indeed, he felt fear often enough, it was simply that he never allowed that uncertainty to daunt him. At its core, fear was uncertainty. If one could be certain, one had no need to be afraid. But hereā¦ there was no certainty left. He wasnāt stupidāhe knew that what he was hearing might not be real, but he also knew that it might be, and that uncertainty was driving him mad. He had not the patience to stand here and fight this creature while his friends may be dying without him, while she might be dying without him, and he swornāif only to himselfāto protect her from situations just like this one. While they might be dying, and he dared call himself their friend.
But he had no choice. The serpent, massive as it was, was surprisingly-quick, and he only just managed to bring up the axe he couldnāt see to block its next pass at him. It struck with as much force as a dragon of comparable size, and perhaps that was something the knowing of which heād really been taking for granted. So much could kill himākill themāand every day he risked it all the same. What was he thinking? Was any of this really worth dying for? Heād die for it, he still knew that, but was honor really worth anyone elseās life? He didnāt know, and his uncertainty was just more fear, winding around his heart and lungs with cold, squeezing fingers.
He hadnāt noticed the snake winding itself apart, and so when the tail of it struck him from behind, Lucien was pitched forward, hitting the rough ground hard, his temple unluckily striking a jagged stone. The cut was less worrisome than the blurring of his visionāhe only had the one good eye, and though heād long learned to compensate for the altered depth perception, he really, really needed the one he had. He rolled onto his back in just enough time to avoid the first rapid strike, but she snake drew back again, and there was just no way he was escaping itāthe dripping fangs latched onto his left shoulder and arm, one stopped by his pauldron, but the other biting deep into the muscle stretching from the back of his neck to his shoulder-joint. It punched right through the ringmail there and out the other end before the creature withdrew. He could feel the venom working already, making his joints slow and unresponsive to his mental commands.
It reared back to bite again, apparently intent on nothing less than his death, and Lucien had no choice but to act in desperation, using his better arm to lay his axe across his chest. With touch, he identified the location of the axehead, and he took hold of one end of it, leveraging the other one to face directly up. When the snake dove in, he shoved with his remaining strength, catching the creature in the hinge of its jaw, holding this out at what length he could muster. The snakeās own momentum took care of the rest, and the axe bit through its flesh and his hand at the same time, only the gauntlet he wore saving him from losing the top half of his palm and everything after.
The corrupted snake fell to the side, writhing uncomfortably as it bled from the mouth, and Lucien knew this was not yet concluded. He was probably going to dieāthe venom in his bloodstream would make sure of that, but strangely, even that sort of certainty brought an end to his tentative fear. All he wanted now was to make sure he didnāt die without slaying his foe. He had nary a good hand or arm left, but with shaking limbs, he managed to climb to his feet one last time, mouth set in a grim line. His axe was sort of visible againāor rather, the blood coating it was, and he picked it up by the handle, treading wearily over to the serpent. Ignoring the screaming protestations of his muscles, he hefted it over his head, hoping his grip was good enough, and let it fall, the momentum of the strike doing most of the work for him. With a sick, wet thunk, it embedded itself between the creatureās eyes, and it fell still.
Letting go of the haft of the axe, Lucien staggered backwards a few steps, then fell to his knees when his legs would support him no longer. He could feel the full-body paralysis coming on now, and the rest of him toppled over as well, sprawling him on his back, more or less. At least he couldnāt feel the pain of that. It was funny, actually: heād always assumed heād die in battle somewhere, but his father had been adamant that it would be poison that got him, in the end. Poison always took the members of his family, after all. It had taken his mother. Butā¦ battle had taken his friends. Then, as now. It wasnāt reallyā¦ satisfying, that they both got to be correct, but it seemed right, somehow. It wasā¦ good to know that he would die having done what his principles demanded of him, but even now, he couldnāt shake the dissatisfaction of itāthat heād failed to save them first. A dozen thoughts and feelings flitted over his mind, but he was far too tired to sort them out at the momentā¦
Lucienās eyes fell closed, and his breathing became shallow. He hoped he was wrong.
He hoped they would live.
Sophia wasn't sure how much time passed before she could finally see something again, but while it felt like an eternity, it was probably only a matter of minutes at most. Her eyes locked onto the dim light in the distance of one of the tunnels, and she set her path straight for it, walking as quickly as she could. She would have attempted jogging or outright running, but the footing in here was unsure, and she didn't want to risk another fall like the one before, not with her arm as mangled as it was. She had poison antidotes on her, but as far as she knew, she wasn't poisoned. Lucien and Rilien had carried the restoratives. Hopefully she could find one of them, and hopefully they didn't require them themselves.
Simply being able to see again was an immense relief, and she once again felt like she had entered a normal environment, unaffected by magic. It was still here, no doubt, but she had escaped it for the time being. She chose to believe that this was due to her strength rather than any kind of mercy in her foe. She staggered on through confusing passageways, sometimes believing she'd backtracked somehow, but she kept her hands against the wall all the time, and never stumbled back into the darkness, so she had to assume this was the right way.
She knew that it was when she came upon the snake. It was massive, and thankfully dead already, with Lucien's axe buried in its face. Lucien! He lay on his back in the room, clearly heavily injured. "No..." she whispered, the word all she was capable of, as her throat immediately tightened upon seeing him flat on his back and largely motionless. Under his chestplate, she couldn't even see if he was breathing. She limped as quickly as she could to his side and fell to her knees, trying to get a sense of his wounds. The snake was obviously venomous, and had clearly gotten a good bite in on him. One of the antidotes Amalia had gifted her with was meant for posionous bites of all kinds, so that was likely her best bet.
She reached across her body to pull out the bottle, holding it carefully in her left hand and twisting off the lid with slightly shaking hands. She held the antidote like it was the ashes of Andraste herself. "Lucien," she said, unaware if he was still conscious at all, "I'm here. You need to drink this." It was awkward at best with only one functioning arm, but she managed to get enough of it down his throat to stop the poison. Now... he had healing potions on him somewhere. She searched briefly, finding four of them in his bag, for which she was most grateful of. She uncorked the first. "And this... We're going to be alright, Lucien. All of us." She had no idea where the other two were, but she'd found Lucien. She could find them, too. With Lucien's help.
When she could see his wounds beginning to heal, she took a second healing potion for herself, sighing in relief when the pain eased from her forearm and the wounds in her shoulder and calf. Unfortunately, it could not fix the dislocation. She'd need Lucien's help with that when he was capable. Her job done, she slumped down onto her rear beside Lucien, watching to make sure he would be okay, beginning to feel the effects of her own blood loss. At this point, she needed him as much as anyone in the city. They would all leave this place, whole and well.
Thankfully, by the time that Sophia found him, Lucien was still conscious, if only just. Indeed, he registered the sound of her voice without really recognizing that it was hers, and none of the words were very intelligible to him, more like murmurs so quiet he couldnāt honestly make them out. Fortunately for him, he did understand what he was being asked to doāor rather, when the antidote followed by the potion was tipped down his throat, he knew enough to swallow. The first had a bitter, acrid taste, and the second was sour and pungent, but then the latter at least was a taste he recognized.
Both went to work in quite short order, and he groaned uncomfortably as feeling returned to his limbs before they were actually patched up, reminding him of the sorry shape he was in. But this, too, faded, and he could feel the wounds on his hand, shoulder, and temple closing up, leaving only the stains where his blood had started to dry and one very notable puncture in his mail. He drew his breaths more deeply, the sound of them ragged, then coughed uncomfortably, pushing himself into a sitting position with one arm and bringing the other to his face, as though to stave off a massive headache, or perhaps a large hangover. It was about as pleasant as one, but he was alive, and he wasnāt sure heād been expecting that.
Cracking his eye open, he blinked away the blurriness still present, feeling much more like himself when the world resolved into focus around him. What hadā¦ he had the distinct feeling he wasnāt supposed to be here anymore. Heād thoughtāthe thought aborted, conclusion reached quickly enough, and he cut his glance to the side, to where Sophia was still kneeling. WaitāāSophia.ā That, he remembered. The hand that had been at his head made as if to reach for her, but he aborted the motion halfway through, looking dimly surprised at himself. āI thoughtāthe sounds of battle, of dying. I thought you wereā¦ā He couldnāt finish the sentence. It sounded more blasphemy in his mind then anything heād ever heard leveled against Andraste.
He shook his head. āThank the Maker you arenāt.ā He wasnāt much for doing that, generally speaking, but she certainly wasnāt safe by anything heād done, and it seemed strange to thank her for surviving, though he might have, had he thought to. Assessing her condition quickly, he noted that one of her shoulders appeared to be dislocated and made an odd sound, something like a half-choked hiss, perhaps sympathetic in nature. āI can fix that?ā he offered, though it came out more like a question than anything.
"Battle?" Sophia said, confused. "No, there was no battle. I was alone, in a different part of this cave. In total darkness. A blight wolf nearly killed me, but... I'm still here." It was the short version of what she'd gone through, but it was accurate enough. When he offered to help fix her arm, she looked down at it, still cradled carefully against her chest. "It's dislocated, I think." Fixing that was a matter of getting it popped back into place, and to that end Lucien carefully placed his hands near her elbow. Pulling was what was required next, and eventually the shoulder clicked back into place, causing Sophia to grit her teeth from the pain, and blink a few tears from her eyes. "Ohh... that's better, thank you. Do you know what happened? Rilien had just... gotten his magic back, and then..."
Lucien shook his head, honest confusion openly displayed on his face. āIāmā¦ not honestly sure. Iāve heard of certain demonic or magical abilities that allow for teleportation, but Iāve never had it done to me before, if thatās even what it was. There was also some force restraining me in the passage I went to, and for a while there, my axe was invisible.ā He pointed at the instrument in question, still sticking out of the serpentās cranium at a forty-five degree angle or so, but then his voice grew quieter, more subdued. āIt produced your voices. Ashtonās, Rilienās, yours. The sound of an armed clash. I heardā¦ I heard you die.ā
Setting his jaw against the words that wanted to follow, Lucien gingerly drew his feet underneath him, pushing himself into a stand slowly, so as not to inadvertently set off any lingering bouts of dizziness. It was painful to contemplate, and he didnāt have time for it right now. At least he knew she was safe, and that the battle heād heard had been a lie, but Ril and Ashton were still out there somewhere, and though he wasnāt really sure what state his best friend or the hunter were in, it was imperative that they be found. He offered Sophia a hand up, then walked over and dug his axe out of the crushed snake skull, throwing it back over a shoulder. āAre you all right to continue? Iādā¦ rather not linger any longer than necessary.ā He managed a rueful smile, feeling much more on-balance now that she was here and his fears were given the lie, at least in part. She took his hand and stood, nodding. It was rather unsettling what kind of power this demon could have even at range. She wondered what it would be able to do when they met it in person.
Whatever it was, it wouldn't be enough to stop them, not if they were together.
Lucien was dazed, what had been a rather mild confusion at the start suddenly amplified enough that he could hardly see straight. The shadows flickered oddly off the walls, and for a moment, his befuddlement seized on them, as though seeking ardently for something to understand, butā¦ there wasnāt anything, was there? Why did his mind feel so clouded? He tried to bring a hand to his face, only to fail utterly in the endeavor, his body refusing to respond properly to his commands. He looked around, and the strangeness of what he was seeing registered with a startāthe perspective was so strange because he was taller than usual. Far taller, andā¦ somehow held against a wall? What in Thedas was going on? He felt a keen sense of urgency to remove himself from his situation, something that he would ordinarily have taken the time to patiently assess first.
Somehow, though, patience seemed rather beyond him at this point, and he tried again to move, tugging hard against the restraints he could feel but not see. There was still no give to them, though at least this time, his body felt like his rather than someone elseās. It was responding as it should, if not perhaps to the degree heād come to expect of his own strength.
A small noise drew his attention, and he stilled in his movements, trying to quiet the sound of his own breathing so he could hear it. Was it possible that there were enemies approaching? He dare not hope that it was the others, not at this point. Straining his ears, he could just make out a faint ringing, one he knew very well indeed. That was the sound of clashing blades. Sophia, then, or Rilien, perhaps, engaged with a foe? He tried pulling again, still nothing. Blast it allāhe had to help! His friends were in danger, he couldnāt justā
The sound of a scream cut through him like a knife, and Lucienās singular visible eye went wide, a layer of panic he had never had to deal with before driving him to a desperate urgency. Not this again, anything but this again. It was how heād failed so many times before, and he couldnāt fail again. If there were any gods left in the world at all, Maker or no, surely they could not be so cruel as to allow him to suffer this again. No, perhaps they could, but no benevolent god could let them suffer. Once, heād been punished for his naivete. Then, for his arrogance. The third time had been for his belief in others. But thisā¦ what could he possibly have done that warranted this? Why must it always be others who paid for these things, whatever they were?
With all the strength he had and then some, Lucien pulled, and the force holding him in place snapped, sending him tumbling gracelessly to the floor ten feet below. He landed in an awkward sprawl, his armor digging uncomfortably into his body in several places and knocking the wind out of him, but he was so panicked he scarcely noticed. He had to get to them, had to help. Assuming that they arenāt already gone. The thought, which should have been easily brushed aside, was crushing in its weight, and bowed his shoulders, bit his fists tightened and he grasped the haft of his axe, starting forward. There was no telling what was ahead and he had to be preparedāwhat? The chevalier felt the weight of the weapon in his hand, the familiar heft of it, but he didnāt see it. To his eyes, he was holding nothing at all. He swallowed uncomfortably, but the sounds of battle persisted, and drove him forward. They were still fighting. Someone was still alive. Whomever it was, he had to help them. He could not stop now.
As Lucien moved through the passage towards whatever end it would take him to, the sounds of battle seemed to grow no closer, as though, for all his effort, he were not really moving at all. What did increase was the frequency and urgency of the shoutingāhe could now clearly realize that the voices belonged to his three friends, trying with little success to coordinate with each other as they were overrun by what sounded like an entire hoard of undead, their rasping, nonsensical voices only adding to the pitched fervor of the din. There was more steel-on-steel, then a desperate cry from the only feminine voice in the trio, presumably as one of her comrades fell. More hoarse shouting, something that sounded suspiciously like his name, too soft to be discerned for certain, and thenā¦ utter silence. It was only then that the passage opened up into a miniature room, the ceiling suddenly vaulting, and there were two additional passages out, suggesting that he had come upon a crossroads of sorts.
Before he could so much as properly process them, however, something massive shifted to his left, a loud hiss the only herald of the incoming attack by a corrupted snake at least four feet wide and twenty-five long. Its fangs dripped with venom, either one almost a match in length for a typical dagger, and there was no mistaking that while his plate might turn them aside, his mail would be easily punctured if it got hold of him.
Lucienās pace had picked up to a dead sprint the moment the voices grew more frantic, and the fact that they were now silent seemed only to push him harder, and despite his armor, he was running breakneck when he emerged into the merged tunnel. Itās not too late yet, I still have potions, I just have toā The thought was unfortunately cut off by movement to his left, and reflex threw him to his side in just enough time to avoid the driving of a great snakeās fangs. He did not miss the way the venom spattered onto the floor, ichor-black and insidious.
All he could think, however, was that he didnāt have time for this. Fear was coiled unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It was not an entirely foreign sensation to the knight, and indeed, he felt fear often enough, it was simply that he never allowed that uncertainty to daunt him. At its core, fear was uncertainty. If one could be certain, one had no need to be afraid. But hereā¦ there was no certainty left. He wasnāt stupidāhe knew that what he was hearing might not be real, but he also knew that it might be, and that uncertainty was driving him mad. He had not the patience to stand here and fight this creature while his friends may be dying without him, while she might be dying without him, and he swornāif only to himselfāto protect her from situations just like this one. While they might be dying, and he dared call himself their friend.
But he had no choice. The serpent, massive as it was, was surprisingly-quick, and he only just managed to bring up the axe he couldnāt see to block its next pass at him. It struck with as much force as a dragon of comparable size, and perhaps that was something the knowing of which heād really been taking for granted. So much could kill himākill themāand every day he risked it all the same. What was he thinking? Was any of this really worth dying for? Heād die for it, he still knew that, but was honor really worth anyone elseās life? He didnāt know, and his uncertainty was just more fear, winding around his heart and lungs with cold, squeezing fingers.
He hadnāt noticed the snake winding itself apart, and so when the tail of it struck him from behind, Lucien was pitched forward, hitting the rough ground hard, his temple unluckily striking a jagged stone. The cut was less worrisome than the blurring of his visionāhe only had the one good eye, and though heād long learned to compensate for the altered depth perception, he really, really needed the one he had. He rolled onto his back in just enough time to avoid the first rapid strike, but she snake drew back again, and there was just no way he was escaping itāthe dripping fangs latched onto his left shoulder and arm, one stopped by his pauldron, but the other biting deep into the muscle stretching from the back of his neck to his shoulder-joint. It punched right through the ringmail there and out the other end before the creature withdrew. He could feel the venom working already, making his joints slow and unresponsive to his mental commands.
It reared back to bite again, apparently intent on nothing less than his death, and Lucien had no choice but to act in desperation, using his better arm to lay his axe across his chest. With touch, he identified the location of the axehead, and he took hold of one end of it, leveraging the other one to face directly up. When the snake dove in, he shoved with his remaining strength, catching the creature in the hinge of its jaw, holding this out at what length he could muster. The snakeās own momentum took care of the rest, and the axe bit through its flesh and his hand at the same time, only the gauntlet he wore saving him from losing the top half of his palm and everything after.
The corrupted snake fell to the side, writhing uncomfortably as it bled from the mouth, and Lucien knew this was not yet concluded. He was probably going to dieāthe venom in his bloodstream would make sure of that, but strangely, even that sort of certainty brought an end to his tentative fear. All he wanted now was to make sure he didnāt die without slaying his foe. He had nary a good hand or arm left, but with shaking limbs, he managed to climb to his feet one last time, mouth set in a grim line. His axe was sort of visible againāor rather, the blood coating it was, and he picked it up by the handle, treading wearily over to the serpent. Ignoring the screaming protestations of his muscles, he hefted it over his head, hoping his grip was good enough, and let it fall, the momentum of the strike doing most of the work for him. With a sick, wet thunk, it embedded itself between the creatureās eyes, and it fell still.
Letting go of the haft of the axe, Lucien staggered backwards a few steps, then fell to his knees when his legs would support him no longer. He could feel the full-body paralysis coming on now, and the rest of him toppled over as well, sprawling him on his back, more or less. At least he couldnāt feel the pain of that. It was funny, actually: heād always assumed heād die in battle somewhere, but his father had been adamant that it would be poison that got him, in the end. Poison always took the members of his family, after all. It had taken his mother. Butā¦ battle had taken his friends. Then, as now. It wasnāt reallyā¦ satisfying, that they both got to be correct, but it seemed right, somehow. It wasā¦ good to know that he would die having done what his principles demanded of him, but even now, he couldnāt shake the dissatisfaction of itāthat heād failed to save them first. A dozen thoughts and feelings flitted over his mind, but he was far too tired to sort them out at the momentā¦
Lucienās eyes fell closed, and his breathing became shallow. He hoped he was wrong.
He hoped they would live.
Sophia wasn't sure how much time passed before she could finally see something again, but while it felt like an eternity, it was probably only a matter of minutes at most. Her eyes locked onto the dim light in the distance of one of the tunnels, and she set her path straight for it, walking as quickly as she could. She would have attempted jogging or outright running, but the footing in here was unsure, and she didn't want to risk another fall like the one before, not with her arm as mangled as it was. She had poison antidotes on her, but as far as she knew, she wasn't poisoned. Lucien and Rilien had carried the restoratives. Hopefully she could find one of them, and hopefully they didn't require them themselves.
Simply being able to see again was an immense relief, and she once again felt like she had entered a normal environment, unaffected by magic. It was still here, no doubt, but she had escaped it for the time being. She chose to believe that this was due to her strength rather than any kind of mercy in her foe. She staggered on through confusing passageways, sometimes believing she'd backtracked somehow, but she kept her hands against the wall all the time, and never stumbled back into the darkness, so she had to assume this was the right way.
She knew that it was when she came upon the snake. It was massive, and thankfully dead already, with Lucien's axe buried in its face. Lucien! He lay on his back in the room, clearly heavily injured. "No..." she whispered, the word all she was capable of, as her throat immediately tightened upon seeing him flat on his back and largely motionless. Under his chestplate, she couldn't even see if he was breathing. She limped as quickly as she could to his side and fell to her knees, trying to get a sense of his wounds. The snake was obviously venomous, and had clearly gotten a good bite in on him. One of the antidotes Amalia had gifted her with was meant for posionous bites of all kinds, so that was likely her best bet.
She reached across her body to pull out the bottle, holding it carefully in her left hand and twisting off the lid with slightly shaking hands. She held the antidote like it was the ashes of Andraste herself. "Lucien," she said, unaware if he was still conscious at all, "I'm here. You need to drink this." It was awkward at best with only one functioning arm, but she managed to get enough of it down his throat to stop the poison. Now... he had healing potions on him somewhere. She searched briefly, finding four of them in his bag, for which she was most grateful of. She uncorked the first. "And this... We're going to be alright, Lucien. All of us." She had no idea where the other two were, but she'd found Lucien. She could find them, too. With Lucien's help.
When she could see his wounds beginning to heal, she took a second healing potion for herself, sighing in relief when the pain eased from her forearm and the wounds in her shoulder and calf. Unfortunately, it could not fix the dislocation. She'd need Lucien's help with that when he was capable. Her job done, she slumped down onto her rear beside Lucien, watching to make sure he would be okay, beginning to feel the effects of her own blood loss. At this point, she needed him as much as anyone in the city. They would all leave this place, whole and well.
Thankfully, by the time that Sophia found him, Lucien was still conscious, if only just. Indeed, he registered the sound of her voice without really recognizing that it was hers, and none of the words were very intelligible to him, more like murmurs so quiet he couldnāt honestly make them out. Fortunately for him, he did understand what he was being asked to doāor rather, when the antidote followed by the potion was tipped down his throat, he knew enough to swallow. The first had a bitter, acrid taste, and the second was sour and pungent, but then the latter at least was a taste he recognized.
Both went to work in quite short order, and he groaned uncomfortably as feeling returned to his limbs before they were actually patched up, reminding him of the sorry shape he was in. But this, too, faded, and he could feel the wounds on his hand, shoulder, and temple closing up, leaving only the stains where his blood had started to dry and one very notable puncture in his mail. He drew his breaths more deeply, the sound of them ragged, then coughed uncomfortably, pushing himself into a sitting position with one arm and bringing the other to his face, as though to stave off a massive headache, or perhaps a large hangover. It was about as pleasant as one, but he was alive, and he wasnāt sure heād been expecting that.
Cracking his eye open, he blinked away the blurriness still present, feeling much more like himself when the world resolved into focus around him. What hadā¦ he had the distinct feeling he wasnāt supposed to be here anymore. Heād thoughtāthe thought aborted, conclusion reached quickly enough, and he cut his glance to the side, to where Sophia was still kneeling. WaitāāSophia.ā That, he remembered. The hand that had been at his head made as if to reach for her, but he aborted the motion halfway through, looking dimly surprised at himself. āI thoughtāthe sounds of battle, of dying. I thought you wereā¦ā He couldnāt finish the sentence. It sounded more blasphemy in his mind then anything heād ever heard leveled against Andraste.
He shook his head. āThank the Maker you arenāt.ā He wasnāt much for doing that, generally speaking, but she certainly wasnāt safe by anything heād done, and it seemed strange to thank her for surviving, though he might have, had he thought to. Assessing her condition quickly, he noted that one of her shoulders appeared to be dislocated and made an odd sound, something like a half-choked hiss, perhaps sympathetic in nature. āI can fix that?ā he offered, though it came out more like a question than anything.
"Battle?" Sophia said, confused. "No, there was no battle. I was alone, in a different part of this cave. In total darkness. A blight wolf nearly killed me, but... I'm still here." It was the short version of what she'd gone through, but it was accurate enough. When he offered to help fix her arm, she looked down at it, still cradled carefully against her chest. "It's dislocated, I think." Fixing that was a matter of getting it popped back into place, and to that end Lucien carefully placed his hands near her elbow. Pulling was what was required next, and eventually the shoulder clicked back into place, causing Sophia to grit her teeth from the pain, and blink a few tears from her eyes. "Ohh... that's better, thank you. Do you know what happened? Rilien had just... gotten his magic back, and then..."
Lucien shook his head, honest confusion openly displayed on his face. āIāmā¦ not honestly sure. Iāve heard of certain demonic or magical abilities that allow for teleportation, but Iāve never had it done to me before, if thatās even what it was. There was also some force restraining me in the passage I went to, and for a while there, my axe was invisible.ā He pointed at the instrument in question, still sticking out of the serpentās cranium at a forty-five degree angle or so, but then his voice grew quieter, more subdued. āIt produced your voices. Ashtonās, Rilienās, yours. The sound of an armed clash. I heardā¦ I heard you die.ā
Setting his jaw against the words that wanted to follow, Lucien gingerly drew his feet underneath him, pushing himself into a stand slowly, so as not to inadvertently set off any lingering bouts of dizziness. It was painful to contemplate, and he didnāt have time for it right now. At least he knew she was safe, and that the battle heād heard had been a lie, but Ril and Ashton were still out there somewhere, and though he wasnāt really sure what state his best friend or the hunter were in, it was imperative that they be found. He offered Sophia a hand up, then walked over and dug his axe out of the crushed snake skull, throwing it back over a shoulder. āAre you all right to continue? Iādā¦ rather not linger any longer than necessary.ā He managed a rueful smile, feeling much more on-balance now that she was here and his fears were given the lie, at least in part. She took his hand and stood, nodding. It was rather unsettling what kind of power this demon could have even at range. She wondered what it would be able to do when they met it in person.
Whatever it was, it wouldn't be enough to stop them, not if they were together.