The trip to the local village passed without much incident, Marceline and the rest of the Inquisition personnel making small talk with Vesryn's associates. Lady Marceline didn't trust them, of course-- though that didn't have much to do with them personally. She knew nothing of these people, and it would have been next to impossible to dig up any information on them prior to their introductions. Past experiences with outside influences did not end particularly well between Anais, Borja, and Ser Durand, and Marceline would like to see this one did not end in the same manner. Of course, she was well aware that it could solely be paranoia setting in, but regardless it would do well to be cautious when amongst strangers. She would watch them, carefully, while they traveled with the Inquisition.
Eventually, they began to close in on the local village, though as in everything, it would seem to not be as simple as strolling through the gates. They could hear a ruckus over the next rise in the path, as if a fight had broken out recently. Lady Marceline spared glance between those she traveled with. "We should hurry," she stated, her hand going to the silverite mask resting on her neckline.
Cyrus, still absorbed in conversation with Estella and Astraia, glanced up at that. “There are demons here." His tone left no room for doubt, and his lip curled slightly. “Probably keeping our lovely shambling friends company." Stepping a bit away from the others, he held one of his arms slightly out to his side. With a low hum, and a sound not too unlike the crackle of static, a bluish light extended from his fingers. He shifted his grip, holding what sharpened into a swordlike shape, and stepped into whatever magic it was that moved him quickly over long distances, disappearing over the hill first.
He wasn't wrong—when Marceline crested the hill, it was to see multiple sickly grey-skinned creatures heading towards what passed for a gate in the town. Though it had been built in a strategic location, the walls of Crestwood village were low, not likely to hold back the assault for long. Alongside the undead were more exotic creatures, including quite a few demons of various sorts. Cyrus's momentum carried him past a shade; the humming sword in his hand severed its head at the neck, and he brought it around to parry a Rage demon's claws right after, his free hand throwing a bolt of lightning into the corpse furthest towards the gate. It rebounded and struck several more in the process, but there were plenty left.
Estella taking the field was nothing nearly so impressive as watching her twin do it, but the enchanted sword in her hand was bright even in the storm-dark surroundings, and she didn't hesitate, hopping into a sprint to join him before any of the creatures could breach the village's defenses. The first few corpses didn't even see her coming, and she cut three of them down from behind before a Despair demon turned to face her. It threw a sphere of ice, but she ducked and rolled under it, springing back to her feet and thrusting, finding its heart with precision. She spun them both around in time to avoid the clumsy swing of another undead's rusted blade, putting the demon between them as a shield, then casting it from the end of her saber and stepping forward again to engage the next foe.
Two arrows flew into the mix, taking down two more undead. They'd come from Lia and Shae, though the latter of the two was advancing as she loosed her arrows, soon replacing the bow and drawing her mace instead. She flowed away from the first corpse to swing at her, using the opening to smash her blunt weapon into the thing's pelvis, cracking it in several places and doubling over the undead out of necessity. Her next blow came down hard on the thing's skull, caving it in and removing the head entirely.
Vesryn waded into the front with the others in melee, making broad swings of his bardiche axe and felling a corpse or a lesser demon with each one. When he reached a rage demon, he braced to block an attack, only for the fiery creature to be frozen solid in front of him, the spell having come from Vesryn's associate Zethlasan. Vesryn glanced back only for a moment before he swung his axe through the demon, shattering it into pieces. From beside Zeth, Astraia had drawn her staff, a thin and light weapon with a small blade affixed to the top, but she only contributed small bursts of lightning magic channeled from it, aiming for corpses on the fringes of the fight with mediocre accuracy.
Lady Marceline was more measured in her approach, slowly stepping into the fray trying to keep the nearest combatants in sight. A battle was different from a duel, she had to split her focus among a number of foes instead of a single one. Still, they were undead and their shambling movements and stuttering swings were easy prey. The first walking corpse didn't even turn around before Marceline's rapier pierced its skull and scattered it into loose bones. She spun and caught the blade of the next with her main-gauche, and she thrust forward into its chest, its guard having been removed. The demons were more problematic, their movements weren't nearly as telegraphed. She sat her sights on a wisp and forced herself into a trot, weaving around shards of fade it threw at her. She sprung when she reached it, driving the rapier into the demon's chest.
Their little force was one to be reckoned with, and soon thereafter they had mopped up the last of them. The party began to gather once more and make their way toward the gate. Marceline was busy cleaning the ichor from the point of her rapier with a handkerchief by the time she stood in front of it, and she looked up to find the person who manned it. "If it would not be too much trouble, the Inquisition would ask an audience with whomever is in charge?" She asked, playing off the recent battle they just had. "I believe we have earned our entry."
An older man poked his head out from behind the wall, wearing an ill-fitting iron helm. He looked down at the grim display beyond his wooden wall, narrowing his eyes. "You folks are the Inquisition? Been begging the mayor to send for help for days. Thank'ee for coming. Boy! Open the gate, now!" With a shuffling of feet and a creaking of gears and wood, the gate of Crestwood village swung open, and the old man walked down to the opening to greet them. "Mayor's house is the big one, top of the hill. I'd offer ye hospitality, but I'm afraid we've not much to spare."
“Think nothing of it," Estella replied easily, pausing a moment to get as much of the blood off her sword as she could before sliding it back home in its sheath. She glanced at the rest of them for a moment, then apparently decided that she might as well lead the way up, when no one else immediately moved to do so.
The town itself had clearly seen better days. Most of the buildings were made of ill-looking wood with mud and grass roofs. More than a few of them sagged on their foundations. The town itself was built on a hill, with steep inclines intermittently leading from one tier up to the next. The houses tended to get a little better as they went, but arguably the people did not. A few exited their homes to see what all the fuss was about, setting eyes upon the Inquisition and its guests with weary expressions. Largely, it seemed, devoid of hope. The Inquisitor attempted to smile at a few she made eye contact with, but most simply averted their gazes if she seemed to notice them in particular, which quickly stopped her from trying again.
They reached the top of the hill, and the larger house upon it, without trouble. Estella turned to Marceline then, one hand still resting habitually over the hilt of her saber. “Would you like to be the one to speak with him, Lady Marceline?"
"Of course Lady Estella," Marceline agreed with a polite smile and a nod. Her mask hung at her neckline once more, though she did go ahead and pull back her hood to reveal moistened hair tied up into a neat bun. Now that she felt somewhat more presentable, she reached forward and knocked on the door before taking the door handle and letting herself in. Inside, the found a depressed looking man waiting to greet them, though not before Lady Marceline could beat him to it, "Monsieur Mayor, I presume?" She asked, "We are the Inquisition."
"I'd tell you to come in, but it seems I'm too late for that." The jab was only half-meant judging by his tired tone. He was an older man, at least in his late fifties, his hairline having receded at least halfway back his scalp. He rose from his chair upon seeing them enter, offering a hand for Marceline to shake if she saw fit. "Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood village, despite everything. Are you... here to stop the undead?"
She accepted the shake with a firm grip of her own. After Marceline smiled and nodded in the affirmative. "We are here to close the rift in the lake, which we believe will solve the undead issue, yes. However," she frowned. If it were that easy, then they would have made their way toward the rift but with it in the middle of the lake... "In order to do that, we first need to reach it. We wish to ask if you have any information that may help us in that regard."
"You need to reach the light in the lake?" The mayor seemed to think that was a rather incredulous idea. "It has to be coming from the caves below Old Crestwood. Darkspawn flooded it ten years ago during the Blight. Wiped out the village, killing the refugees we took in. You can't deal with from afar? With magic or... something?"
"Doesn't work like that," Zethlasan said, having made his own way into the mayor's house. The other two Dalish were staying outside, but Zeth did not seem as concerned.
"I saw a dam on the way here," Lia offered. "Is there any way we can use it? Drain the lake, get closer to the rift?"
"Drain the... no. No, there must be some other way."
"Mayor, please," Marceline urged, her visage hardening. "We need to close the rift, but we cannot if it is submerged."
He grimaced, nervously wringing his hands, perhaps to alleviate some hidden pain. "You'd have to evict the bandits at the old fort to the southeast to use the dam. I can't ask you to risk your lives on our behalf. We have nothing to give."
"A fort?" Marceline asked. If they take the fort, then it could prove useful in establishing a presence in Crestwood and to keep the roads safe for trade and travel. If they were to save the area from the demons, she doubted that they would hear much protest against having an Inquisition influence nearby... "Regardless, your village and the surrounding area cannot stand up to any more assaults from the undead or demons," Marceline explained, crossing her arms as she went. "Your people are nearing their breaking point. They need what aid we can provide--do not deny them that."
"If you are set on this then... then I have no choice. Here," he handed a key to Marceline. "This key unlocks the gate to the dam controls in the fort. The rifts must be in the caves under Old Crestwood, but..." He looked to all present in the room, eyes conveying grim warning. "I would not linger there."
Marceline accepted the key gracefully, and then passed it along to Estella beside her. "Thank you, Mayor," she said with an incline to her head. "We will only stay as long as necessary, which, I hope is not long at all." She could think of better things to do with her time than to linger in damp caverns. "I believe it is time we took our leave," she added, looking at the rest of her party.
Outside, Astraia and Shaethra awaited them. The young mage leaned on her staff, curiously peering inside, but she backed away as soon as the rest were taking their leave, heading up and out of the village proper. "What did he say?" she asked. "Can we help somehow?"
“We can drain the lake by using the dam controls. Unsurprisingly, they are in a fort currently controlled by bandits." Cyrus shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Apparently, Old Crestwood was flooded by darkspawn during the Blight. Conveniently, this killed off the refugee population in its entirety, and few others." His tone made clear how dubious he found that claim. “But we can get to the rift, in any case."
“Cy." Estella sighed softly. “We don't know that it didn't happen that way. It sounds a little... far-fetched, but there are definitely intelligent darkspawn that would be capable of something like that. Emissaries, and so on." She seemed to be trying to give the story the benefit of the doubt, but struggling with it. The key Marceline had given her had long since disappeared, presumably into a pocket or, if she was like her teacher in this respect, perhaps up her sleeve.
"Operating a dam would seem to require fine skills that I was unaware Darkspawn possessed," Marceline noted, her tone more in line with Cyrus's than Estella's. The protests the Mayor raised when Lia suggested they drain the dam were also suspicious, considering the state his people were in. However, it was not the best of times to ponder on it. "Regardless, we have a task at hand and we should see to it, agreed?"
It was determined quickly enough that they needed to scout the approach and find out what they were facing. Lia was sent ahead while the others found a decent spot to dig in and wait. About an hour passed, the group getting through the time by making small talk. Vesryn never seemed to bring up anything of note with Zethlasan or the other two elves, and vice versa. Quite possibly due to the company with them.
When Lia returned, she gratefully stepped under the protection of the rocky overhang that sheltered the others from the rain. "They're no Venatori, but we shouldn't take this lightly," she explained, once they had all gathered. "There doesn't seem to be a viable back entrance. None that we can all climb, anyway, and I don't think we should split up. We'll have to do this the hard way, and go through the gate. It's reinforced, but still mostly wooden."
"Astraia can handle that," Zeth pitched in, smiling pleasantly at his younger sister.
Her eyes widened. "I can?"
"It's not a small target, sis. I want to show our Inquisition friends here what you can do."
She looked between him and mostly Estella, though she glanced once at Cyrus and once at Vesryn, too. "I can get the gate open, I guess."
“I believe I might be of some assistance." Cyrus, lifting some kind of leaf out of a belt-pouch, chewed it for a moment before elaborating. “A large amount of smoke or fog should prevent them from seeing her do so before it's already done." He lifted his shoulders. “It would also help us get in without being shot down, I suspect."
“Fog's probably best," Estella added. “Less suspicious in this weather, anyway." She did pause a moment, though, and met eyes with Astraia. “If you'd rather not destroy the gate, we can find another way to do it. It's up to you."
"No, I want to," she said, her mind clearly made up now. "I... don't get to let loose very much. Really use my magic. And I'd rather use it on a gate than on other people. You guys can take care of the rest."
"We'll keep you covered," Vesryn assured her, smiling confidently. "Once the gate's down, we move in together, watch each other's backs. Don't lose track of the archers."
"I find myself looking forward to this," Zethlasan said. "Don't you, Shae?" The elven woman answered only with the flat line of her lips, her arms remaining crossed. "Well, I'm excited. Let's get to it."
“Very well. One deep fog, coming right up." Cyrus nodded briefly and stepped out from beneath the overhang, back out into the rain.
For several moments, it didn't look like he was doing anything in particular. There were no bright lights, or telltale flashes of magic, or anything like that. But after a while, something began to change in the direction of the lake itself. It was hard to discern exactly what at first, but as it drew closer, Marceline could easily tell that it was, in fact, a massive wall of thick, cloudy fog, dark grey in color. Cyrus oriented himself in the direction of the fortress, and the bank of mist and condensation went that way, too, washing over the rest of them on the way. For a moment, she could see only as far in front of her as she could reach, but then it receded on its way, cloaking the fortress instead.
Cyrus turned back and gestured that it was time for the rest of them to move. “Should last a while. We'll all want to stay somewhat close once inside, of course. Wouldn't do to be just as blind as they are."
"You're up, Skygirl," Vesryn said just before he donned his helmet, his visage vanishing behind the steel. Astraia took a deep breath, taking her staff in both hands and moved to the front of the group. Vesryn made sure to stand close beside her. He didn't have his shield, but it seemed obvious that if any arrows started coming their way, he would put his plate armor in front of Astraia without a moment's hesitation.
The elf mage had yet to cast a real spell in front of them, but as soon as she did it was perhaps apparent why. Primal magic began to glow and pulse energetically around her staff, with an obviously dangerous strength behind it. Her eyes stayed down on the spell she was forming, slowly circling the end of her staff in front of her. She formed thick and heavy rocks from the Fade, conjuring up a dense stonefist that quickly swelled and built upon itself until it was quite massive in size, at least as large as the head of a battering ram. The front end of it she molded into a dull point.
Her face locked in concentration, she glanced up to look for the gate, which was just barely visible as an outline in the fog. Letting out a grunt of effort, she stepped forward and thrust her staff, hurling the massive stonefist at an impressive speed. It didn't fly completely straight, angling a bit off to the right, but the velocity behind it made that irrelevant. It smashed into the gate and created a small explosion of wood and stone fragments as the doorway was blasted open. Whatever was barring it had been completely destroyed.
Astraia's eyes lit up, a little breathy laugh escaping her. Vesryn was quick to put a hand on her shoulder. "Nicely done. Now stay close to Shae, got it?" She blinked and nodded her understanding, backing off a few steps. Vesryn glanced back at the others. "Quickly, let's go."
The twins were both quick to react, moving forward together. “We'll head left." Estella drew both blades this time, disappearing into the fog just a half-step behind Cyrus. It stirred for a moment after, before settling back into place as though nothing had disturbed it to begin with.
Like last time, Lady Marceline was slower in her approach, though this time she planned to at least match her pace with Vesryn's. Between them, she knew that Cyrus was able to create shields, and Vesryn was outfitted in a heavy enough armor to block glancing arrows. Considering that Cyrus had already bolted ahead with his sister, she sidled up beside the elf. "How about you take the lead, Ser Vesryn?" she asked, her weapons at the ready.
"Gladly," he answered, already making his way forward. Their cohort of elves followed closely behind. Lia already had an arrow drawn back, searching for a target through the fog. She was clearly being careful with her aim, and squinting to make sure she could clearly see who she'd be shooting at. Shae also had her bow drawn and ready, sticking to the rear of the group with Astraia, who gripped her staff tightly in both hands.
They found a body at the mouth of the gate, his chest rent open with the signature manner of wound left behind by Cyrus's fade-blade. The first to investigate the destroyed gate, perhaps. Through the fog they could be seen engaging more of the bandits on the left flank. More came from the right, brandishing varying weapons in several states of armor. Some had clearly been taken by surprise, and were not properly outfitted for the fight.
The first dropped to Lia's arrow and fell in a heap onto the initial stairs. The second, an archer, turned his bow on the new attackers, but Shae's arrow found his head just in time. The bandit's arrow was loosed high into the sky as he collapsed backwards. Stepping forward, Vesryn met the first to make it into melee range, a woman with a pair of short swords that he drove back, easily taking glancing hits off his armor, which she was too imprecise to pierce through. He checked her into a wall, drawing his axe back.
Astraia looked away before the hit fell, to where her brother launched a heavy frost spell at a set of double doors leading into the fort's main building. There were heavy bangs from the other side of it, as reinforcements inside tried to join their fellow bandits. The mage forcefully turned aside a spear stab from a man that made it close enough to him. Zeth punched the blade on the bottom end of his staff into the man's unarmored midsection. A fireball erupted out the other side of him a moment later, blowing a hole in his torso a foot wide. The elf shoved him over with disdain, and looked for the next.
The door he'd sealed finally broke, and the leader of the bandits emerged: an impressively large man in what looked to be a set of old but functional knight's plate. He was steel from head to toe, carrying a huge war maul, and the very sight of him compelled the remaining bandits to fight harder.
Marceline spared a glance for their leader and promptly decided that she would allow the others to handle him. Not that she was afraid, of course, but she did not wish to face off with that rather larger maul of his unless she was given no other choice. His underlings however, were another matter. She dropped in behind Vesryn and posited on his other side, driving her rapier through the throat of a bandit who tried to flank him. Even in death he never knew she had struck. "Think it would be too much to ask if they surrendered?" Marceline asked in jest, ripping a longsword free with her main-gauche and piercing its wielder's chest.
It wasn't long before someone stepped in to engage the towering leader of the bandits. Cyrus was not unimpressive, physically, but he was certainly no titan, and stood a full head shorter than his foe. Of course, such comparisons had little meaning when magic was involved. He struck first with a heavy chain lightning spell, one that hit the bandit almost hard enough to knock him on his rear end—though he managed to stagger back in just enough time to keep his feet. The spell bounced several times, clearing out many of the others still close enough to him with a series of hissing crackles and snaps.
Turning to face the new threat, the armored warrior swung his maul up and over his shoulder with a surprising amount of speed, no doubt aiming to crush the spell-slinger in one stroke. Cyrus sidestepped, feet solid and sure, and a second blade flickered to life in his off-hand. When the bandit stepped in and grabbed for him, he strafed backwards at an angle, motions fluid and smooth. No doubt they would have to be—one hit with a weapon that mighty would surely end him, and probably crack through whatever magical shield he erected to protect himself.
He seemed to be almost intentionally allowing the game of cat-and-mouse to continue, though, choosing his direction in a way that Marceline, trained to dueling, could recognize as deliberate despite the seeming necessity of it. When a horizontal strike came in at the level of his shoulders, he took what must have been the opportunity he'd been waiting for.
Raising his left-hand blade to parry, he angled the hammer's strike off in an upward direction, jarring his own arm heavily in the process, no doubt. But it left him free to step in and cut with his right, the fade-generated sword finding the much-less-protected elbow joint of the platemail and biting deep.
The reason he'd chosen to move the fight in the direction he had became obvious a moment later. Inaudible over the sounds of the battle, Estella emerged from the fog, now behind the bandit, and slashed quickly for his legs. Like the inside of his elbows, the backs of his knees could not be protected as well as the rest of him, and at least one of the hits was deep enough to collapse him on that side, taking him to a knee. He lunged for Cyrus in front of him, apparently intent on fighting to the last.
But the incandescent blades in Cyrus's hands were faster, and found one last vulnerability in the full plate: the slight gap between helmet and gorget. A scissoring motion with both hands parted the bandit's head from his body, and he fell forward with a heavy thud.
With their leader dead, the rest of the bandits followed soon after. Now that the fort was clear, they found and unlocked the gate with the key the mayor had given them. It led back outside, though on the other side of the fort. They followed the path a ways, which lead them to a stone bridge with what seemed like a tavern at the far end, though fortunately, there were no bandits around. The locked gate probably kept them from spreading that way. Likewise, the inside of the tavern was empty, and in one of the backrooms they found the dam controls, a wheel with four spokes. Lady Marceline allowed some of the others to volunteer to turn the wheel.
The sounds of water rushing came from far away, indicating that they had succeeded in their task. Marceline then turned toward the others, "While we wait for the lake to empty, we should try to get word to Inquisition and inform them that we have taken a new fort."
Eventually, they began to close in on the local village, though as in everything, it would seem to not be as simple as strolling through the gates. They could hear a ruckus over the next rise in the path, as if a fight had broken out recently. Lady Marceline spared glance between those she traveled with. "We should hurry," she stated, her hand going to the silverite mask resting on her neckline.
Cyrus, still absorbed in conversation with Estella and Astraia, glanced up at that. “There are demons here." His tone left no room for doubt, and his lip curled slightly. “Probably keeping our lovely shambling friends company." Stepping a bit away from the others, he held one of his arms slightly out to his side. With a low hum, and a sound not too unlike the crackle of static, a bluish light extended from his fingers. He shifted his grip, holding what sharpened into a swordlike shape, and stepped into whatever magic it was that moved him quickly over long distances, disappearing over the hill first.
He wasn't wrong—when Marceline crested the hill, it was to see multiple sickly grey-skinned creatures heading towards what passed for a gate in the town. Though it had been built in a strategic location, the walls of Crestwood village were low, not likely to hold back the assault for long. Alongside the undead were more exotic creatures, including quite a few demons of various sorts. Cyrus's momentum carried him past a shade; the humming sword in his hand severed its head at the neck, and he brought it around to parry a Rage demon's claws right after, his free hand throwing a bolt of lightning into the corpse furthest towards the gate. It rebounded and struck several more in the process, but there were plenty left.
Estella taking the field was nothing nearly so impressive as watching her twin do it, but the enchanted sword in her hand was bright even in the storm-dark surroundings, and she didn't hesitate, hopping into a sprint to join him before any of the creatures could breach the village's defenses. The first few corpses didn't even see her coming, and she cut three of them down from behind before a Despair demon turned to face her. It threw a sphere of ice, but she ducked and rolled under it, springing back to her feet and thrusting, finding its heart with precision. She spun them both around in time to avoid the clumsy swing of another undead's rusted blade, putting the demon between them as a shield, then casting it from the end of her saber and stepping forward again to engage the next foe.
Two arrows flew into the mix, taking down two more undead. They'd come from Lia and Shae, though the latter of the two was advancing as she loosed her arrows, soon replacing the bow and drawing her mace instead. She flowed away from the first corpse to swing at her, using the opening to smash her blunt weapon into the thing's pelvis, cracking it in several places and doubling over the undead out of necessity. Her next blow came down hard on the thing's skull, caving it in and removing the head entirely.
Vesryn waded into the front with the others in melee, making broad swings of his bardiche axe and felling a corpse or a lesser demon with each one. When he reached a rage demon, he braced to block an attack, only for the fiery creature to be frozen solid in front of him, the spell having come from Vesryn's associate Zethlasan. Vesryn glanced back only for a moment before he swung his axe through the demon, shattering it into pieces. From beside Zeth, Astraia had drawn her staff, a thin and light weapon with a small blade affixed to the top, but she only contributed small bursts of lightning magic channeled from it, aiming for corpses on the fringes of the fight with mediocre accuracy.
Lady Marceline was more measured in her approach, slowly stepping into the fray trying to keep the nearest combatants in sight. A battle was different from a duel, she had to split her focus among a number of foes instead of a single one. Still, they were undead and their shambling movements and stuttering swings were easy prey. The first walking corpse didn't even turn around before Marceline's rapier pierced its skull and scattered it into loose bones. She spun and caught the blade of the next with her main-gauche, and she thrust forward into its chest, its guard having been removed. The demons were more problematic, their movements weren't nearly as telegraphed. She sat her sights on a wisp and forced herself into a trot, weaving around shards of fade it threw at her. She sprung when she reached it, driving the rapier into the demon's chest.
Their little force was one to be reckoned with, and soon thereafter they had mopped up the last of them. The party began to gather once more and make their way toward the gate. Marceline was busy cleaning the ichor from the point of her rapier with a handkerchief by the time she stood in front of it, and she looked up to find the person who manned it. "If it would not be too much trouble, the Inquisition would ask an audience with whomever is in charge?" She asked, playing off the recent battle they just had. "I believe we have earned our entry."
An older man poked his head out from behind the wall, wearing an ill-fitting iron helm. He looked down at the grim display beyond his wooden wall, narrowing his eyes. "You folks are the Inquisition? Been begging the mayor to send for help for days. Thank'ee for coming. Boy! Open the gate, now!" With a shuffling of feet and a creaking of gears and wood, the gate of Crestwood village swung open, and the old man walked down to the opening to greet them. "Mayor's house is the big one, top of the hill. I'd offer ye hospitality, but I'm afraid we've not much to spare."
“Think nothing of it," Estella replied easily, pausing a moment to get as much of the blood off her sword as she could before sliding it back home in its sheath. She glanced at the rest of them for a moment, then apparently decided that she might as well lead the way up, when no one else immediately moved to do so.
The town itself had clearly seen better days. Most of the buildings were made of ill-looking wood with mud and grass roofs. More than a few of them sagged on their foundations. The town itself was built on a hill, with steep inclines intermittently leading from one tier up to the next. The houses tended to get a little better as they went, but arguably the people did not. A few exited their homes to see what all the fuss was about, setting eyes upon the Inquisition and its guests with weary expressions. Largely, it seemed, devoid of hope. The Inquisitor attempted to smile at a few she made eye contact with, but most simply averted their gazes if she seemed to notice them in particular, which quickly stopped her from trying again.
They reached the top of the hill, and the larger house upon it, without trouble. Estella turned to Marceline then, one hand still resting habitually over the hilt of her saber. “Would you like to be the one to speak with him, Lady Marceline?"
"Of course Lady Estella," Marceline agreed with a polite smile and a nod. Her mask hung at her neckline once more, though she did go ahead and pull back her hood to reveal moistened hair tied up into a neat bun. Now that she felt somewhat more presentable, she reached forward and knocked on the door before taking the door handle and letting herself in. Inside, the found a depressed looking man waiting to greet them, though not before Lady Marceline could beat him to it, "Monsieur Mayor, I presume?" She asked, "We are the Inquisition."
"I'd tell you to come in, but it seems I'm too late for that." The jab was only half-meant judging by his tired tone. He was an older man, at least in his late fifties, his hairline having receded at least halfway back his scalp. He rose from his chair upon seeing them enter, offering a hand for Marceline to shake if she saw fit. "Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood village, despite everything. Are you... here to stop the undead?"
She accepted the shake with a firm grip of her own. After Marceline smiled and nodded in the affirmative. "We are here to close the rift in the lake, which we believe will solve the undead issue, yes. However," she frowned. If it were that easy, then they would have made their way toward the rift but with it in the middle of the lake... "In order to do that, we first need to reach it. We wish to ask if you have any information that may help us in that regard."
"You need to reach the light in the lake?" The mayor seemed to think that was a rather incredulous idea. "It has to be coming from the caves below Old Crestwood. Darkspawn flooded it ten years ago during the Blight. Wiped out the village, killing the refugees we took in. You can't deal with from afar? With magic or... something?"
"Doesn't work like that," Zethlasan said, having made his own way into the mayor's house. The other two Dalish were staying outside, but Zeth did not seem as concerned.
"I saw a dam on the way here," Lia offered. "Is there any way we can use it? Drain the lake, get closer to the rift?"
"Drain the... no. No, there must be some other way."
"Mayor, please," Marceline urged, her visage hardening. "We need to close the rift, but we cannot if it is submerged."
He grimaced, nervously wringing his hands, perhaps to alleviate some hidden pain. "You'd have to evict the bandits at the old fort to the southeast to use the dam. I can't ask you to risk your lives on our behalf. We have nothing to give."
"A fort?" Marceline asked. If they take the fort, then it could prove useful in establishing a presence in Crestwood and to keep the roads safe for trade and travel. If they were to save the area from the demons, she doubted that they would hear much protest against having an Inquisition influence nearby... "Regardless, your village and the surrounding area cannot stand up to any more assaults from the undead or demons," Marceline explained, crossing her arms as she went. "Your people are nearing their breaking point. They need what aid we can provide--do not deny them that."
"If you are set on this then... then I have no choice. Here," he handed a key to Marceline. "This key unlocks the gate to the dam controls in the fort. The rifts must be in the caves under Old Crestwood, but..." He looked to all present in the room, eyes conveying grim warning. "I would not linger there."
Marceline accepted the key gracefully, and then passed it along to Estella beside her. "Thank you, Mayor," she said with an incline to her head. "We will only stay as long as necessary, which, I hope is not long at all." She could think of better things to do with her time than to linger in damp caverns. "I believe it is time we took our leave," she added, looking at the rest of her party.
Outside, Astraia and Shaethra awaited them. The young mage leaned on her staff, curiously peering inside, but she backed away as soon as the rest were taking their leave, heading up and out of the village proper. "What did he say?" she asked. "Can we help somehow?"
“We can drain the lake by using the dam controls. Unsurprisingly, they are in a fort currently controlled by bandits." Cyrus shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Apparently, Old Crestwood was flooded by darkspawn during the Blight. Conveniently, this killed off the refugee population in its entirety, and few others." His tone made clear how dubious he found that claim. “But we can get to the rift, in any case."
“Cy." Estella sighed softly. “We don't know that it didn't happen that way. It sounds a little... far-fetched, but there are definitely intelligent darkspawn that would be capable of something like that. Emissaries, and so on." She seemed to be trying to give the story the benefit of the doubt, but struggling with it. The key Marceline had given her had long since disappeared, presumably into a pocket or, if she was like her teacher in this respect, perhaps up her sleeve.
"Operating a dam would seem to require fine skills that I was unaware Darkspawn possessed," Marceline noted, her tone more in line with Cyrus's than Estella's. The protests the Mayor raised when Lia suggested they drain the dam were also suspicious, considering the state his people were in. However, it was not the best of times to ponder on it. "Regardless, we have a task at hand and we should see to it, agreed?"
It was determined quickly enough that they needed to scout the approach and find out what they were facing. Lia was sent ahead while the others found a decent spot to dig in and wait. About an hour passed, the group getting through the time by making small talk. Vesryn never seemed to bring up anything of note with Zethlasan or the other two elves, and vice versa. Quite possibly due to the company with them.
When Lia returned, she gratefully stepped under the protection of the rocky overhang that sheltered the others from the rain. "They're no Venatori, but we shouldn't take this lightly," she explained, once they had all gathered. "There doesn't seem to be a viable back entrance. None that we can all climb, anyway, and I don't think we should split up. We'll have to do this the hard way, and go through the gate. It's reinforced, but still mostly wooden."
"Astraia can handle that," Zeth pitched in, smiling pleasantly at his younger sister.
Her eyes widened. "I can?"
"It's not a small target, sis. I want to show our Inquisition friends here what you can do."
She looked between him and mostly Estella, though she glanced once at Cyrus and once at Vesryn, too. "I can get the gate open, I guess."
“I believe I might be of some assistance." Cyrus, lifting some kind of leaf out of a belt-pouch, chewed it for a moment before elaborating. “A large amount of smoke or fog should prevent them from seeing her do so before it's already done." He lifted his shoulders. “It would also help us get in without being shot down, I suspect."
“Fog's probably best," Estella added. “Less suspicious in this weather, anyway." She did pause a moment, though, and met eyes with Astraia. “If you'd rather not destroy the gate, we can find another way to do it. It's up to you."
"No, I want to," she said, her mind clearly made up now. "I... don't get to let loose very much. Really use my magic. And I'd rather use it on a gate than on other people. You guys can take care of the rest."
"We'll keep you covered," Vesryn assured her, smiling confidently. "Once the gate's down, we move in together, watch each other's backs. Don't lose track of the archers."
"I find myself looking forward to this," Zethlasan said. "Don't you, Shae?" The elven woman answered only with the flat line of her lips, her arms remaining crossed. "Well, I'm excited. Let's get to it."
“Very well. One deep fog, coming right up." Cyrus nodded briefly and stepped out from beneath the overhang, back out into the rain.
For several moments, it didn't look like he was doing anything in particular. There were no bright lights, or telltale flashes of magic, or anything like that. But after a while, something began to change in the direction of the lake itself. It was hard to discern exactly what at first, but as it drew closer, Marceline could easily tell that it was, in fact, a massive wall of thick, cloudy fog, dark grey in color. Cyrus oriented himself in the direction of the fortress, and the bank of mist and condensation went that way, too, washing over the rest of them on the way. For a moment, she could see only as far in front of her as she could reach, but then it receded on its way, cloaking the fortress instead.
Cyrus turned back and gestured that it was time for the rest of them to move. “Should last a while. We'll all want to stay somewhat close once inside, of course. Wouldn't do to be just as blind as they are."
"You're up, Skygirl," Vesryn said just before he donned his helmet, his visage vanishing behind the steel. Astraia took a deep breath, taking her staff in both hands and moved to the front of the group. Vesryn made sure to stand close beside her. He didn't have his shield, but it seemed obvious that if any arrows started coming their way, he would put his plate armor in front of Astraia without a moment's hesitation.
The elf mage had yet to cast a real spell in front of them, but as soon as she did it was perhaps apparent why. Primal magic began to glow and pulse energetically around her staff, with an obviously dangerous strength behind it. Her eyes stayed down on the spell she was forming, slowly circling the end of her staff in front of her. She formed thick and heavy rocks from the Fade, conjuring up a dense stonefist that quickly swelled and built upon itself until it was quite massive in size, at least as large as the head of a battering ram. The front end of it she molded into a dull point.
Her face locked in concentration, she glanced up to look for the gate, which was just barely visible as an outline in the fog. Letting out a grunt of effort, she stepped forward and thrust her staff, hurling the massive stonefist at an impressive speed. It didn't fly completely straight, angling a bit off to the right, but the velocity behind it made that irrelevant. It smashed into the gate and created a small explosion of wood and stone fragments as the doorway was blasted open. Whatever was barring it had been completely destroyed.
Astraia's eyes lit up, a little breathy laugh escaping her. Vesryn was quick to put a hand on her shoulder. "Nicely done. Now stay close to Shae, got it?" She blinked and nodded her understanding, backing off a few steps. Vesryn glanced back at the others. "Quickly, let's go."
The twins were both quick to react, moving forward together. “We'll head left." Estella drew both blades this time, disappearing into the fog just a half-step behind Cyrus. It stirred for a moment after, before settling back into place as though nothing had disturbed it to begin with.
Like last time, Lady Marceline was slower in her approach, though this time she planned to at least match her pace with Vesryn's. Between them, she knew that Cyrus was able to create shields, and Vesryn was outfitted in a heavy enough armor to block glancing arrows. Considering that Cyrus had already bolted ahead with his sister, she sidled up beside the elf. "How about you take the lead, Ser Vesryn?" she asked, her weapons at the ready.
"Gladly," he answered, already making his way forward. Their cohort of elves followed closely behind. Lia already had an arrow drawn back, searching for a target through the fog. She was clearly being careful with her aim, and squinting to make sure she could clearly see who she'd be shooting at. Shae also had her bow drawn and ready, sticking to the rear of the group with Astraia, who gripped her staff tightly in both hands.
They found a body at the mouth of the gate, his chest rent open with the signature manner of wound left behind by Cyrus's fade-blade. The first to investigate the destroyed gate, perhaps. Through the fog they could be seen engaging more of the bandits on the left flank. More came from the right, brandishing varying weapons in several states of armor. Some had clearly been taken by surprise, and were not properly outfitted for the fight.
The first dropped to Lia's arrow and fell in a heap onto the initial stairs. The second, an archer, turned his bow on the new attackers, but Shae's arrow found his head just in time. The bandit's arrow was loosed high into the sky as he collapsed backwards. Stepping forward, Vesryn met the first to make it into melee range, a woman with a pair of short swords that he drove back, easily taking glancing hits off his armor, which she was too imprecise to pierce through. He checked her into a wall, drawing his axe back.
Astraia looked away before the hit fell, to where her brother launched a heavy frost spell at a set of double doors leading into the fort's main building. There were heavy bangs from the other side of it, as reinforcements inside tried to join their fellow bandits. The mage forcefully turned aside a spear stab from a man that made it close enough to him. Zeth punched the blade on the bottom end of his staff into the man's unarmored midsection. A fireball erupted out the other side of him a moment later, blowing a hole in his torso a foot wide. The elf shoved him over with disdain, and looked for the next.
The door he'd sealed finally broke, and the leader of the bandits emerged: an impressively large man in what looked to be a set of old but functional knight's plate. He was steel from head to toe, carrying a huge war maul, and the very sight of him compelled the remaining bandits to fight harder.
Marceline spared a glance for their leader and promptly decided that she would allow the others to handle him. Not that she was afraid, of course, but she did not wish to face off with that rather larger maul of his unless she was given no other choice. His underlings however, were another matter. She dropped in behind Vesryn and posited on his other side, driving her rapier through the throat of a bandit who tried to flank him. Even in death he never knew she had struck. "Think it would be too much to ask if they surrendered?" Marceline asked in jest, ripping a longsword free with her main-gauche and piercing its wielder's chest.
It wasn't long before someone stepped in to engage the towering leader of the bandits. Cyrus was not unimpressive, physically, but he was certainly no titan, and stood a full head shorter than his foe. Of course, such comparisons had little meaning when magic was involved. He struck first with a heavy chain lightning spell, one that hit the bandit almost hard enough to knock him on his rear end—though he managed to stagger back in just enough time to keep his feet. The spell bounced several times, clearing out many of the others still close enough to him with a series of hissing crackles and snaps.
Turning to face the new threat, the armored warrior swung his maul up and over his shoulder with a surprising amount of speed, no doubt aiming to crush the spell-slinger in one stroke. Cyrus sidestepped, feet solid and sure, and a second blade flickered to life in his off-hand. When the bandit stepped in and grabbed for him, he strafed backwards at an angle, motions fluid and smooth. No doubt they would have to be—one hit with a weapon that mighty would surely end him, and probably crack through whatever magical shield he erected to protect himself.
He seemed to be almost intentionally allowing the game of cat-and-mouse to continue, though, choosing his direction in a way that Marceline, trained to dueling, could recognize as deliberate despite the seeming necessity of it. When a horizontal strike came in at the level of his shoulders, he took what must have been the opportunity he'd been waiting for.
Raising his left-hand blade to parry, he angled the hammer's strike off in an upward direction, jarring his own arm heavily in the process, no doubt. But it left him free to step in and cut with his right, the fade-generated sword finding the much-less-protected elbow joint of the platemail and biting deep.
The reason he'd chosen to move the fight in the direction he had became obvious a moment later. Inaudible over the sounds of the battle, Estella emerged from the fog, now behind the bandit, and slashed quickly for his legs. Like the inside of his elbows, the backs of his knees could not be protected as well as the rest of him, and at least one of the hits was deep enough to collapse him on that side, taking him to a knee. He lunged for Cyrus in front of him, apparently intent on fighting to the last.
But the incandescent blades in Cyrus's hands were faster, and found one last vulnerability in the full plate: the slight gap between helmet and gorget. A scissoring motion with both hands parted the bandit's head from his body, and he fell forward with a heavy thud.
With their leader dead, the rest of the bandits followed soon after. Now that the fort was clear, they found and unlocked the gate with the key the mayor had given them. It led back outside, though on the other side of the fort. They followed the path a ways, which lead them to a stone bridge with what seemed like a tavern at the far end, though fortunately, there were no bandits around. The locked gate probably kept them from spreading that way. Likewise, the inside of the tavern was empty, and in one of the backrooms they found the dam controls, a wheel with four spokes. Lady Marceline allowed some of the others to volunteer to turn the wheel.
The sounds of water rushing came from far away, indicating that they had succeeded in their task. Marceline then turned toward the others, "While we wait for the lake to empty, we should try to get word to Inquisition and inform them that we have taken a new fort."