She woke with no memory of having fallen asleep. Disoriented and dizzied, her head ached, pulsing in a dull pounding echo of her sluggish heartbeat. Worse, though, was the weight of metal that curled around her neck, a choking pressure that bid her first believe she was still dreaming. It had been years - centuries - since she'd last worn a collar, but her body remembered, and her nightmares all too often taunted her with painful flashes of recollection. If this was a dream, it was a cruel one.
But...no. Against the darkness of her closed eyelids, the cadence of voices bantered back and forth, unfamiliar accents and alien turns of phrase that momentarily eluded her. As the voices whispered back and forth, Katriel stretched her senses outward, keeping her eyes closed so as not to immediately betray her wakefulness. The scents of the individuals around her were wholly unfamiliar - males all, but each unknown to her. Their voices, hushed though they might have been, drowned out any song beyond their immediate circle. And her magic...
Her magic was dampened. She reached for it, turned it towards the weight around her neck - only for it to draw away from her, a wave receding from the desperate shore. Draining into the lock itself. She cut off the flow of mana, jolting the magic back into herself.
Her pulse sped, and she cast back in her thoughts in an effort to distract herself from the black tide of memory. She'd been on the road for some few days now, travelling between Amaranthine and Arlathan. Her encounter with Fen'Harel still weighed heavily upon her mind, and she had lingered near Arlathan long past when prudence might have bid her depart. There was no explanation in those recent recollections to add clarity to her current circumstances, and the weight of the binding around her neck left her feeling helpless, confused, and....angry. She held tight to the latter, let it take shape and burn away her mounting sense of unease.
Anger was always preferable to fear.
Her eyes snapped open, pinprick pupils mere slits against the well of gold that surrounded them. A dark, dangerous rumble started in her chest, more draconic than humanoid, ruthlessly muted as she rose to a seated position from her inelegant slump of repose. A quick glance down her person noted that her weapons had been confiscated, her sword and daggers missing from their sheaths. She still wore her armor, but the idea that she had been disarmed, that someone had gotten so close to her while she was unconscious...
Her clawed hands rose to the collar around her neck, to the tiny, intricate keyhole contained thereon, and her eyes darkened for a moment before they rose to study the faces of the men around her. A halfblood, a human, a kossith, and an elf. A motley crew, to be sure. They were but missing a dwarf to have near all the races of Thedas represented in one singular circle. By chance, or design?
At the moment, it hardly mattered. All of them were wearing collars, and by the turn of the conversation thus far, none of them were particularly pleased about their current circumstances. They were alone, for now, but she cast her senses further outward, and noted signs of life further afield. Her grasp on her collar tightened. When she discovered who had done this, she would salt the earth with their blood. She would rip open their bellies and cast their entrails across the sea. She would -
She took a breath and answered the last question that had been posed to the group at large. "I am skilled with a blade, and with various combat magics," she intoned, keeping her volume muted. "Though without an enemy near to hand, I am rather at a loss as to how that might aid our current predicament." Her gaze skimmed over the visage of the only other elf in the group, her golden eyes tracing the golden lines of the vallaslin that scrolled across the stranger's face. A question arose, but she did not give it voice. This was not the time for idle curiosity, or for half-cocked speculation. She would hold her tongue, and her judgement, until further answers were forthcoming.
TLDR:// Katriel wakes but remains still and quiet as everyone else speaks, feigning unconsciousness for a while longer. Discovers that the collars drain any magic used against them. She opens her eyes, growls, and sits upright. Fights murderous impulses. She lists her skills in answer to Kershaw's question, and then gives Faelyn a long, considering look.
But...no. Against the darkness of her closed eyelids, the cadence of voices bantered back and forth, unfamiliar accents and alien turns of phrase that momentarily eluded her. As the voices whispered back and forth, Katriel stretched her senses outward, keeping her eyes closed so as not to immediately betray her wakefulness. The scents of the individuals around her were wholly unfamiliar - males all, but each unknown to her. Their voices, hushed though they might have been, drowned out any song beyond their immediate circle. And her magic...
Her magic was dampened. She reached for it, turned it towards the weight around her neck - only for it to draw away from her, a wave receding from the desperate shore. Draining into the lock itself. She cut off the flow of mana, jolting the magic back into herself.
Her pulse sped, and she cast back in her thoughts in an effort to distract herself from the black tide of memory. She'd been on the road for some few days now, travelling between Amaranthine and Arlathan. Her encounter with Fen'Harel still weighed heavily upon her mind, and she had lingered near Arlathan long past when prudence might have bid her depart. There was no explanation in those recent recollections to add clarity to her current circumstances, and the weight of the binding around her neck left her feeling helpless, confused, and....angry. She held tight to the latter, let it take shape and burn away her mounting sense of unease.
Anger was always preferable to fear.
Her eyes snapped open, pinprick pupils mere slits against the well of gold that surrounded them. A dark, dangerous rumble started in her chest, more draconic than humanoid, ruthlessly muted as she rose to a seated position from her inelegant slump of repose. A quick glance down her person noted that her weapons had been confiscated, her sword and daggers missing from their sheaths. She still wore her armor, but the idea that she had been disarmed, that someone had gotten so close to her while she was unconscious...
Her clawed hands rose to the collar around her neck, to the tiny, intricate keyhole contained thereon, and her eyes darkened for a moment before they rose to study the faces of the men around her. A halfblood, a human, a kossith, and an elf. A motley crew, to be sure. They were but missing a dwarf to have near all the races of Thedas represented in one singular circle. By chance, or design?
At the moment, it hardly mattered. All of them were wearing collars, and by the turn of the conversation thus far, none of them were particularly pleased about their current circumstances. They were alone, for now, but she cast her senses further outward, and noted signs of life further afield. Her grasp on her collar tightened. When she discovered who had done this, she would salt the earth with their blood. She would rip open their bellies and cast their entrails across the sea. She would -
She took a breath and answered the last question that had been posed to the group at large. "I am skilled with a blade, and with various combat magics," she intoned, keeping her volume muted. "Though without an enemy near to hand, I am rather at a loss as to how that might aid our current predicament." Her gaze skimmed over the visage of the only other elf in the group, her golden eyes tracing the golden lines of the vallaslin that scrolled across the stranger's face. A question arose, but she did not give it voice. This was not the time for idle curiosity, or for half-cocked speculation. She would hold her tongue, and her judgement, until further answers were forthcoming.
TLDR:// Katriel wakes but remains still and quiet as everyone else speaks, feigning unconsciousness for a while longer. Discovers that the collars drain any magic used against them. She opens her eyes, growls, and sits upright. Fights murderous impulses. She lists her skills in answer to Kershaw's question, and then gives Faelyn a long, considering look.
07-13-2023, 08:35 PM
