[Q1] The Chains that Bind Us

The marked one seemed to deflate a bit, his inflated ego punctured by the sharpened edge of her censure. Katriel almost relaxed, satisfied that her point had been hammered home - but no. 'Direct your rage elsewhere, dragoness. I am not your enemy,' the other elf said. Katriel's lips curled as she bared her teeth at him, only just barely managing to avoid giving voice to the draconic rumble that vibrated in her throat. "That remains to be seen," she snapped - but was distracted from any further response as the dark-skinned halfling was abruptly shocked and electrified by the collar he'd been attempting to pry apart. As a bolt of lightning then struck the ground nearby.

Katriel blinked at Cade, her inquisitive mind instinctively shifting gears to focus on this newly discovered mechanism. A collar whose lock defended itself with teeth, capable of draining magic, that protested physical manipulation with electrocution? Rather a lot of work had been put into keeping them captive. All the more suspicious, then, that their cage had been so poorly reinforced. That there were no guards to prevent their escape. The entire situation raised the little hairs on the back of her neck. At least Cade had the good sense to stop playing with his collar; too many more lightning strikes would doubtless call attention to their escape.

She watched as the recently electrified man reached shaking hands into his pocket, and then pulled out a handkerchief that seemed to revitalize him. Interesting....especially as she caught the scent of a familiar woman on the square of fabric. So, he knew Eriar? Curiouser and curiouser. Though the other woman wasn't a friend per say, Katriel would not deny that she felt a certain kinship with the younger dragonkin. If the two were friends...well. Now she just had a vested interest in Cade's survival.

She fell silent and allowed the men to banter back and forth with questions both active and rhetorical. She was lost in thought and she tuned them out, her focus locked on the distant figures through the trees. She was not so distracted, however, that she failed to take note of the kossith's sudden change of being and bearing. She heard the kossith speak a word, watched as he stepped up behind the other ancient. In support? In acknowledged leadership? Katriel's eyes flashed and narrowed, but she lost the rest of the qunari's speech in the low register of his volume.

Alarm rang in her head, and her claws tensed at her sides. And when she moved forward, following Faelyn's lead, she made certain that she was behind him, and that she kept him in her sight at all times. She did not trust him, and at this point, she was all but convinced that he had something to do with their capture. She didn't know how, and she didn't know why...but in the end, that was rather inconsequential. She'd kill him if it meant that she kept her freedom, for she had no intention of being anyone's slave ever again.

tldr:// Katriel tells Faelyn that she does not trust him. She catches the scent of Eriar on Cade's handkerchief, and takes a more active interest in his survival. She overhears Kershaw refer to Faelyn as 'Arvaarad' and becomes even more suspicious. When she follows Faelyn into the fog, she is careful to keep an eye on him just in case he tries anything funny. Resolves to kill him 'just in case'.

He raised his brow at the Antivan as he mentioned something about Eriar’s handkerchief and chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head, “It’s one of my lover’s. I’m trying to steel myself to get home to her and the rest of them. The shock was… something else, hmm Antivan?” He made sure his thick Rivaini accent was obvious as he spoke.

He took a breath, the time for petty squabbles was for when they got away from this place and got these Maker-forsaken collars off.

Cade really didn’t care about who knew who or what or trusted whom. The draconic woman and the elf seemed about to come to blows which was frustrating. They didn’t have time for infighting if they were all going to get out of here. The Antivan and the Qunari seemed on board with just getting the hell out of there and Cade was of the same mind. He wanted to get back home to his people. He wanted to come up with a game plan in regards for retribution for this.

As the anger an indignation about what had happened to him started to build in him there was a crackling and a he could taste the static I as it built in his mouth and on his skin. The angrier he got the stronger the feeling built until there was a shock of lightening nearby the group, a bit of the way ahead.

He wasn’t causing that was he?

He wasn’t a mage. It had been something he was constantly reminded about as a child. That’s why he had the position he had in his home country rather than a sage or advisor to his sister. He was a warrior. His focus was on physical warfare. There was no way he was causing this unless…

Cade took a deep breath, We need to get these collars off regardless of if they can be used to track us. I think they’re cursed. I’d also like to locate my personal effects. Weapons of some sort at least. We don’t know what’s lurking in the woods who have nothing to do with any of this.

tldr: Cade explains his handkerchief isn’t charmed just important to him, he gets irritated and causes another lightning strike and comes to the conclusion that they need to get the collars off, he voices as much and suggests they get their things and weapons if possible

ASHON rolled a 25, meaning her character is not safe. Katriel's distrust of Faelyn has only grown since the start of this event. As they leave their cages and proceed through the area, they eventually enter a place where rage intensifies tenfold. Uncontrollable. But only to one person. Katriel. For her next post, Katriel is unreasonably enraged, and will act on these emotions.

HER TARGET: Cade Fessehaye, our lightning boy.

RULES:
No character death UNLESS the target's RPer requests it.
Both characters can be maimed and injured.
Injuries can be as extensive as RPers want, barring immediately fatal.

NEZUMI rolled a 95, and he may have thought Faelyn was safe. Well, Faelyn is. But... he's safe because should Katriel try to hit him, a magic forcefield will respond, knocking her blows away. This magic forcefield will remain for the duration of the quest.

How suspicious...

A lump had begun in his throat, one that made it hard to swallow past, much less speak around. Their words were biting, and all he had attempted to do was help. It would have been childish to refuse to go further and sort through his feelings on the matter, not to mention dangerous and time wasting. Instead he simply turned down the hunting path, keeping the fog with them. He was no one's keeper, the phrase he'd come familiar with over the years of his research in the repository. And it made him sick. But he couldn't afford a fight with the man, and simply let it stand, even if the rolling discomfort was creeping up on him.

What did push him into silence was the biting words thrown at him from the mouth of a dragon. He stopped and looked back at her. Eyes tired forlorn before continuing on his way down the path. It did him no good to try and speak sense to her, she'd chosen her target and it seemed he was set to be another's whipping boy yet again. Instead, he turned around long enough to sign No, I don't know the rules of this game, and I'm trying to. This is not the same game that it was 4,000 years ago when I was a slave. I want to go home like the rest of us. Collars off, belongings and weapons retrieved. Let's not complicate it. his signs were small, kept close to his body, the whole of his countenance pained and quiet. 

If nothing else, the trail that they followed lead them through to the edge of the main camp with its many tents. At that hour, most slept it seemed, leaving only a few around the fire keeping guard. So long as they were quiet, they might be able to simply find what they were looking for, and leave. We're looking for the slave master, he'll have our keys. If our belongings remain, they've been distributed or cast aside. Let's hope they're cast aside. were his final signs before the small flame on his palm was extinguished, stepping out into the shadows of the tent to begin their search for the slavemaster. 

---

Notes: The stress of everything has dropped Faelyn non-verbal and he will likely remain so for the rest of the thread. 

Summary: Feels sick to his stomach over being referred to as "Arvaarad" and heads down the hunter's path pointed out by Jorah. Gives Kat a tried look for er to interoperate as she sees fit. Informs the group that he doesn't know the rules to this new game and his 'voice' is small and pained. Gets them to the edge of camp, makes note that they're looking for the slave master, and that hopefully their things were seen as useless and cast aside, but some things they may have to go looking for. Sets out into the camp, staying to the shadows.

After offering a shrug to the Rivaini man, who seemed especially frustrated with his collar, Jorah followed the Elf through the hunters trail. On the way, he found a rock the size of a large dog's skull, and palmed in his main hand. The sticks were a waste to scavenge if they met anyone with any proper weapon. He glanced around, to see how others solved their defenselessness, to figure out what they could manage if a fight were in store. He could already sense tension, and was reminded of whenever he travelled when his children were young, before they burst with bottled up discord.

When the party reached the encampment, a fire glowing in the center with tents surrounding, he bent down, still palming the rock. While the Elf approached the tent, he hesitated looking around at the others. 'How quiet could they be?' he feared to himself. Especially the one who lightning followed - the young Rivaini fellow. Perhaps he stared too long at the problem, a thick wrinkle canyoning his eyebrows, before he finally whispered to the man, [color=orange]"Can you choose where and when it strikes, or is it haunting you?"[/color]

tldr: Jorah finds a rock for protection. Pausing before the occupied camp, Jorah asks Cade if he can control his lightning powers.

For all that he was he was obedient. The ever present shadow of faelyn now that they had seen fit to move down a well. Protective in the wake of reaching the encampment. The air thick as he subtle drew on the weave. Thankful then to have it even if he could body a fully grow individual with was if given Hagler the chance. He stepped into faelyn's sight line to sign in a rapid well practiced manner. Do we split and cover more ground my Arvaarad?

He of course would follow faeyln. The size of the group gave him pause Maybe two go? Less likely to be seen.

Ooc: Kershaw follows along and then asks faelyn what they are doing.

The group moved - if not in a coordinated unit, then at least in the same direction. She kept her eyes on the other ancient, narrowing her eyes at him when he glanced back at her, glaring in the face of his attention.

She did not see what happened, but after only a few steps, lightning struck the ground nearby. The sudden flash - and subsequent tremble of earth - produced a damning crash of sound against the darkness of the night. Alarm burst like a bubble of blood in her heart - surprise that became annoyance, and then became anger. It was already there, lingering close to her thoughts. It was a simple matter for it consume her, to nudge her control aside. She halted, her glare turning to Cade. Was it not obvious that they could not afford to flaunt their position? Was he, too, part of the plot to kidnap and capture them? She had wanted to keep him alive, out of consideration for the dragonkin he claimed as a lover, but...Red hot anger clawed its way up her chest, choking her, and she held on to her control by a thread.

She turned her stubborn focus to walking forward. With each step, though, her rage mounted. A thought tickled at the edge of her mind, a sense of wrongness, of something out of place...but that, too, was consumed in the fire of her anger. By the time they crept up on the camp nestled in the trees before them, she was almost vibrating with it.

At least the elf was quiet. She did not care enough to pick apart the meaning of his signs. Still, others spoke, and words were spun back and forth, whispered in the shadows. They grated like claws against her consciousness.

It was enough that the anger rose up like a tidal wave, and Katriel drowned in it.

Cade shifted his weight, or perhaps only breathed too loudly. Whatever it was, the dragon was too near the surface to be reined in by petty concerns like logic or morality. Katriel whipped around, claws outstretched - one hand reaching for his throat even as the other caught on his shoulder, ripping downward. Blood splashed as flesh parted, her fangs flashing in the low light as she snarled, leaping forward. But her shoulder clipped Faelyn as she moved, and a sudden wall of magic forced her back. She was blasted away, sent flying into the undergrowth with enough force that she landed heavily on her back, forcing the breath from her lungs.

A shout rose up from the nearby camp, the clatter of armor and the shouting of men betraying the slavers' sudden awareness of company.

tldr:// Kat becomes more and more angry as the group walks forward. As the captives are crouched to observe the camp of slavers, her control snaps, and she lunges at Cade. She claws at his neck and shoulder before being blasted backwards by accidental contact with Faelyn. The camp is roused and men start to head in the group's direction.

Cade didn’t like this. He was used to working with a team of men and women he knew and trusted. Men and women he’d trained with or trained himself. He was used to moving along terrain he’d studied for some time or he at least had some knowledge of where he is. They were going in blind and on top of that, something was wrong with him.

It hit him like a ton of brick when the Antivan spoke "Can you choose where and when it strikes, or is it haunting you?”

The lightening, he was somehow causing the lightening. Magic was his sister’s thing. Mer’s thing. He was blunt force. He was a weapon. He wasn’t a mage.

His hand traveled up, not touching the collar but thinking about what happened when he first woke up. Did he do that when he tried to pull at the lock? What the hell was going on here?

He was following Faelyn’s hand signals on instinct. Cade had grown up learning those sorts of things as part of his training as a prince and a warrior. There were still diplomatic things he had to do as a prince but the most use he’d ever gotten out of it were in situations like this one.

As focused as he was on solving the lightening mystery and paying attention to Faelyn that he didn’t notice the change in the dragonkin. It was his own fault. He choked on the cry as she sprung onto him and stumbled back and pushed her as hard as he could as blood gushed from his shoulder. He didn’t see what happened next as he fell onto the ground, losing blood and consciousness fast. The sound of the camp rousing the last thing in his ear and the thought that he couldn’t quite feel his arm the last thoughts before darkness.

tldr; Cade is piecing together the mystery of the lightening when Katriel attacks him while he’s distracted. He realizes the camp is waking up around them and that the arm that Katriel got the worst has completely lost any feeling but pain.

Gross, the dice liked you.

For once there was not fire in his veins, there was ice. Ice that chilled him to the bone when he saw the dragoness launch her way across the small space, claws ripping into flesh in a sickening slice that left the air smelling like blood and meat. He staggered a bit when she hit whatever shimmering field had come around him, the force of it enough to send him forward into the quick, reflexive arms of Kershaw to keep him on his feet. It seemed not every touch was destined to throw people away from him. 

No sooner had Kershaw stepped forward had Faelyn relit the flames in his hands, the dancing flames twisting up his forearms as he sunk back to his hind foot, taking a defensive stance. There was a gathering sounds of a waking camp, awoken by the cry of pain in the night. Someone grab him. Stablemaster, get the bleeding stopped, or get him pulled into the bushes. If she fights, put her down. I'm going to find the keys." His voice was forced, and the last instructions were given to Kershaw, though he did not wait to be acknowledged. Time was running out to find the keys and run. So run, he did.... straight into the rest fo the camp, eyes scanning through the tents to find his target.  

Perhaps there was some stroke of luck that he managed to stumble across the correct tent in the encampment, though unlucky for the slave master to have already awoken to the sounds of the comotion. One hand pressed to the man's skull, flame spurred on by the growing wind around the archivist, consuming the man in a moment, burning hot enough to make it quick if nothing else. Dropping the charred remains to the ground, he began to hunt for the keys, finding them among the ex-keeper's personal effects, and following the path he'd come, finding it much harder to go unnoticed. They needed to run. And run fast. 

---

Notes: Kershaw's catch and defensive stance were talked about with Stringbat prior to this post for approval. Both finding the tent, and finding the slave master awake were decided by the wheel.

TLDR: Was sent staggering forward by the knock against the forcefield but caught by Ker. Asks Jorah to try and stop Cade's bleeding, or to move him. Tells Kershaw to put Katriel down if she keeps up. Takes off into camp, finds the tent of the slave master, kills him, takes the keys, and attempts to book it back to the group. 

Jorah gawked and leaped back away from Cade as the wild woman clawed at him. She had claws? He hadn't realized, he thought she was just a peculiar-looking woman who perhaps lived alone in a forest somewhere, and thus, had never learned how to smile. The forcefield rocked him too, and he fell back into a mess of ferns, before adroitly scrambling back to his feet. His eyes widened at the long gash torn into Cade's arm, and then, he crouched lower.

In the quick moment of astonishment after the forcefield's blast, palms sweaty on the forest floor, Jorah uttered, [color=orange]"What demon has you, woman?"[/color] Then, a shouting at the camp made his head turn and stomach sink. He began to reach again for his rock when the Elf, ready to take matters into his own hands, when the Elf delegated the components of a plan, and he decided to go along with it for now.

[color=orange]"Aye,"[/color] he replied to the Elf, and then, he stepped over Cade's legs and searched for something to stop the bleeding. He'd ripped the man's shirt halfway down when he spied the white clip of cotton, a faster solution. Jorah yanked out the handkerchief, and promptly tied a military-grade tourniquet around the man's upper bicep to slow the bleeding. Then, he grabbed Cade's better arm and lifted it above his broad shoulders, and then, turned with him to retreat further back into the woods, eying a cluster of boulders he could leave the man behind before figuring out if he needed to get another rock. The shouts grow louder as their position is approached, and once Cade is in a heap on the ground again (as there was too much to be done immediately to lay him prettily) Jorah took a peak to see what had become of the rest.

TLDR: Jorah asks Kat what demon possesses her. Jorah follows Faelyns orders, using Cade's handerkercheif to stop the bleeding. He moves Cade behind some boulders to hide him and then peaks out to see what's happened.

A deep frown was the only response he gave to the chaos that they had suddenly found themselves. Frozen in the moment the order came. Torn, even as Jorah moved Cade and Faelyn went to go get the keys. He should be healing him. He should have be en at Faelyn's side. Instead he made towards where the dragon essentially had flown in the backlash from Faelyn's...he didn't have words for it. Waiting for her to catch her breath an arm out stretched to help her up. The frown etched into his feature at this piont. I have been ordered to keep you at bay if you can not control yourself.

OOC: Kershaw has the general vibe of this is my life now and moves to go help Kat up

With a ragged gasp, air flooded back into Katriel's lungs. The ringing in her ears slowly faded, giving way to shouting, voices. She blinked up into the crowded canopy, trying to orient herself, trying to breathe around the choking miasma of rage that still flooded her senses.

'-if she fights, put her down.'

-"...demon has you...

And then, as the kossith approached - "I have been ordered to keep you at bay if you can not control yourself.'

Anger snapped. Cold amusement rose. She eyed the hand outstretched to her - and laughed.

They thought to control her? That she could be 'put down' so easily? The marked elf had fled, but not before giving orders to his slave. That was, really, all the proof she'd needed. The marked one and the kossith were in this together, and the elf had some sort of authority even beyond that, some sort of magical protection that had repelled her proximity. He was not a fellow captive, but an architect of their suffering. The halfling was an unfortunate casualty - she could not, now, remember why she'd been compelled to attack him - but the rage that prompted the action was still there, boiling, bubbling under her skin.

She turned it to a more pertinent purpose.

"You can certainly try," she grinned - and then she let herself go.

Dark mist rolled out from her body, obscuring her form. The transformation was swift, easy. She had been the First of her kind, and though her appearance was more elvhen than the later iterations of her kin, the blood that flowed in her veins was more concentrated. The dragon was never far from the surface. It had been a long time since she'd last given it reign, but stepping back into its skin was like palming a familiar weapon. Bones grew and skin stretched, scales rippled along muscled hide. The trees around her bent and broke, and as the dark mists parted, she roared her rage to the heavens. A fully grown Highland Ravager - black of scale, long of wing - stood where Katriel had lain only a moment ago.

Much to her disgust, the collar around her neck had only grown in size to accommodate her new form. It still clung, tenacious, to the base of her long, serpentine neck.

Smoke trailed from her nose as golden pupils constricted, and she fixed her gaze on Kershaw. She snapped at him - a warning - before she turned her attention to the distant camp. She could not move well within the trees...but she wouldn't have to if she burned the whole thing to the ground.

tldr:// Kat is dazed by the blast, and only catches snippets of words being spoken around her. Still enraged by whatever magical effect caused her anger in the first place, she latches on to Kershaw and Faelyn as the perpetrators of their captivity. She turns into a dragon and prepares to set the whole forest on fire.

The chaos came in and out of just like Cade’s consciousness as he was dragged behind a set of boulders. He groaned a little in pain, aware of how much blood he was continuing to lose before things went black. He could still hear things around him and he felt Kershaw tie the handkerchief around his arm, though he was unaware what exactly it was.

It was after that Cade went completely under, the sent of his home with his lovers in his nostrils and the sounds of the waterfalls flowing near the house, roaring like a flame.

tldr: Cade is pretty out of it. Dreams of home.

JORAH has forgotten everything. He does not remember who he is, where he's at, what he was doing. He doesn't even remember his Crow and Talon training. This will last the duration of the thread.