The rowboat carrying Rilien and Sparrow split off from the other about halfway to their destination, angling towards the foundry district, and one of the many walls that kept the paraphernalia of industry contained within its due borders. Lia had run into difficulty scouting the location because of them, but Rilien had a plan to remedy the intelligence issue before deciding on an exact course of action.
He sat facing towards the city, keeping his eyes on the approaching harbor. Sparrow took care of the rowing part; only once did he murmur a course-change direction, as she had her back to the direction they were going. He couldn't see any Red Templars along the docks, but they likely wouldn't be, unless they were passing through en route to elsewhere. Rather, they'd be concentrated at areas of particular conflict, something that Rilien planned to use to bypass them unseen. Sparrow was neither particularly quiet nor subtle, but if he guided their route correctly, that would not matter.
He stood smoothly as the boat approached a pier, looping a length of rope over the protruding pole designed for it, then removing the grappling hook he'd brought with him from the bottom of the vessel and placing it at his hip, on a clip attached to his belt. He pulled himself soundlessly onto the quay, holding a hand down to help Sparrow and her impractically-large mace onto solid footing as well.
Placing a finger to his lips, Rilien indicated that from here on, they had to be as quiet as possible, then turned and led the way through the docks. No small amount of damage was already apparent; the red templar vessels moored here loomed over destroyed evidence of industry, broken crates and smashed barrels. It looked like pure violence, but Rilien knew there was a purpose to it. Any supplies so summarily destroyed could not be used to sustain the defenses, and in a siege, it was often the army that starved first that lost.
Red templars, to his knowledge, needed little food in the early stages of their transformation and none in those that came later.
It was in a way fortunate that he became as ill as he did around red lyrium, for it was a passing wave of nausea that first alerted him to the oncoming group of them. Reaching back, Rilien took Sparrow by the wrist, pulling them both into a crouch behind an overturned fishmonger's cart. It still bore the distinctive smell, but it was not for this reason that he nearly retched.
By the pinched expression on Sparrowâs face, and the way she wrinkled her nose, the reds' proximity had taken a toll on her as well. She hunkered down at his side, and pressed herself as low to the ground as she could. Leveraging her weapon so that it wasnât peeping up over the upturned cart. The footsteps drew nearer, near enough for the smothering repugnance to swell. Her face paled considerably. Never the one with the strongest of stomachs, especially since sheâd stopped chasing bottles in dingy taverns, her hand instinctively clamped to her mouth.
That, paired with the rancid smell of fish left out to rot, certainly didnât seem to be helping.
When the red templars had passed, Rilien stood once more, exhaling softly. The nausea went easily with them. He could not claim to be fully neutral on the matter of his unique difficulty with the substance, but for all his condition made that more difficult, it made ignoring it easier. Perhaps a fair trade-off, compared to what others endured.
Though they paused frequently so as to allow him time to suss out whether any further lyrium-poisoned soldiers might intersect with their path, the caution paid off, and they met with none, slowly creeping across the docks and into Lowtown proper, headed for the stone walls that blocked their access to both their destination and any information about it. Rilien was careful to walk them around to the least-occupied side, the one that faced closest to an unlit, quiet neighborhood, and furthest from any of the loci of conflict the scouts had been able to detect.
When they reached the spot he wanted, he removed the grabbling hook from his belt and turned to Sparrow. âI need you to keep a watch." His eyes flickered momentarily out towards the residential area on their side of the wall. âIf anything comes that I should be aware of, whistle." She'd learned a few common signals over time, he knew, designed to mimic birds one might normally hear in various locations. Best to keep as quiet as possible, even if they were discovered. A few red templars would be difficult enough to deal with. Even half a dozen stood a very real chance of killing them.
Sparrow nodded her head. Obedient, for once. She pursed her lips, however, and drew up her hand, knocking her knuckles softly against his cheekbone. Worry wasnât in her repertoire of affections; certainly not when it involved her friends. She simply assumed theyâd pull out fine, as they always had. Sheâd been proven wrong once before. Itâd been a hard lesson to swallow. âI donât need to tell you to be careful, do I?â A terse smile, flitting away just as quick as a birdâs beating wings. She dropped her hand away and perched herself closer to the wall, facing her back to it. At least then, she could look in all directions without fearing someone coming up from behind.
âI am always careful." He said it to her back, about the only reassurance he could offer. He could certainly not responsibly say that he would survive. But those thoughts were only a distraction now, and he discarded them with the dispassionate ease his tranquility afforded him.
Spinning the grappling hook in his hand, Rilien launched it deftly. It caught the top of the wall with a soft clang; he tugged a few times to test the grip. Adequate. Quickly, he scaled the wall, slowing when he came to the top of it. A sonorous crash sounded, a faint tremor in the wall itself reaching him through his feet planted on the side of it. He paused, trying to decide if he knew the sound, but no identification was immediately obvious to him.
Deciding he had to risk it, Rilien pulled himself far enough up to peer over the wall.
He located the statue-tower immediately, of course. It was too large not to. Also quite large was a vague shape that looked to be in motion. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing: a massive humanoid form, but misshapen, crimson crystals protruding from a hunched back and the ropy muscles coiled thickly around its trunklike limbs. It would seem that somehow or other, the red templars had corrupted a giant with their tainted lyrium. All around it lay scattered pieces of what must have been buildings and machinery, several corpses dotting the area. Squinting, Rilien could make out less-bright protrusions on some of them, the characteristic arm-spikes of a shadow informing him that among the giant's victims had been at least some of the enemy. Others wore an unfamiliar uniform, but from the color of it, he suspected that they must be part of this new militia he'd heard about.
Knowing that, Rilien scanned the horizon more carefully, silent but for a soft exhale when he found what he was looking for. A plan came together quickly in his mind. Risky, but no more so than anything useful would be in a situation like this. Retreat was not an option, and the giant was so close to the tower that there would likely be no avoiding it.
Though he found some irony in the metaphor, the tranquil believed he had a way to kill three birds with about one stoneâand some creative alchemy.
Making his way back to the ground, he replaced the grappling hook at his belt and gestured Sparrow a little closer to him. âThey have a giant nearby the tower. Some red templars seem to be entrenched within the district, and I suspect that they are arranged thus because they are trying to deal with a group of the militia. If we can give the soldiers an opportunity to escape their corner, we could use them to help us overwhelm the templars... and then the giant to bring down the chain."
A telltale grin steepled itâs way past Sparrowâs lips as Rilien explained his plan, especially when there was mention of a giant in the tower. The more dangerous, the better. Sheâd never been one to steer away from particularly risky arrangements, so this was no different. Besides, sheâd always been good at creating diversions, however unintentionally. Though clearly different, this might have felt like skulking through Kirkwall all those years ago; enough for her to feel nostalgic about it. It was home, once. She wrestled her grin into a line, and arched an eyebrow, âIâll follow your lead. Hopefully not into the giantâs path. I donât fancy being crushed.â
Rilien reached into a pouch at his belt, hanging from the opposite side as the rope. âThe creature will need to be drawn away temporarily, so that the militia can risk emerging from shelter." In front of her, he held up a glass sphere, designed so that a smaller sphere rested inside. The inner one contained a liquid that, when brought into contact with the lyrium dust in the inner sphere, would cause a rather noisy combustion reaction. âThis explodes. It should be sufficient to distract the giant. Take care not to draw it right to you, but if you doâ"
He shifted his hand, a much plainer sphere appearing between his last two fingers. This one had a wick protruding from the top. âSmoke to escape with." She would obviously be able to light it with magic. âIf you can take care of distracting it and double back, I will help the militia." What he was asking her to do was dangerous, but it did not occur to him to do otherwise. That she enjoyed risk was irrelevant. That a faint prickle of uneasiness ran over his skin at thinking of her taking such risks was also irrelevant. She was capable. That was the important thing.
Sparrow nodded once more, a shade more serious, as she took the spheres from his hand and pocketed it into her vest. Close enough to shift and grab should she need to do so quickly; this scheme involved a lot more finesse than she was used to, and a lot of guesswork on the giantâs part, though it wouldnât stop her from hurtling straight in. Relentless. A firestorm, scorching everything in her path. âShall we?â because good luck had never been appropriate for any of them, there were no guarantees.
Of course, nothing here would happen untroubled. The red templars had located themselves squarely at the district's entrance, which meant Rilien himself would have to be a distraction for the second distraction. If he could confuse them or draw their attention, Sparrow would stand a greater chance of slipping through undetected. At least for now, she needed to remain so.
Taking stock of his other supplies, Rilien settled on a soporific gas. Its effects would be diminished on the chemically-resistant red templars, but he didn't need to knock all of them out, efficient as that might have been. Slowing and confusing them temporarily should be enough. Peering around the corner of the house they'd ducked behind, Rilien tried to get a sense of the numbers. Conservatively, he'd estimate them at thirty, but he could see only about fifteen heads or so, so he could be undershooting by a fair margin. Less than ideal, but so it was.
âWait ten seconds after I leave, and follow me. Hold your breath until you are clear of the radius, and do not stop." He caught Sparrow's eyes, conveying the rest without using the words. No matter what happens to me.
They had one chance to do this correctly. If they failed, there would be no further opportunities, because the dead did not get second tries.
Rilien hurled the flask, jumping into a sprint immediately after it and drawing his knives from behind his back as he ran. The broken glass released an indistinct cloud, greenish under light but just dark in the scant illumination of the red templar encampment. A pair of them spotted him immediately, streaking towards them fast enough that his hood had long fallen back, making his pale hair rather visible even in low light.
The first nearly skewered him, but Rilien shifted his balance in anticipation, diving to the side and hearing the clang of the sword on stone behind him. He held his breath, darting forward and plunging one knife into the templar's waist, siding it precisely under the largest of her plates. She toppled, and Rilien whirled, parrying the hit her partner aimed for him. Already the gas was taking effect; the man's movement was much slower than his partner's.
He only had so much time, and he refused to waste a moment of it, lunging and dragging the blade of his second knife across that man's throat. By now, the others had realized that something was upon them, and staggered to arm themselves and deal with it. Their attention thus diverted provided exactly the opportunity he had promised Sparrow.
All Rilien saw was a streak of movement coming from his left side, a flurry with a mace in hand. Sparrow had her head lowered as she skirted around some of the templars, facing away from her. Facing him, instead. The frantic sound of footsteps slapping cobblestone and wet gurgles coming from those he felled, paired with the ill-looking cloud, masked her presence well enough. Either that⊠or they were just too focused on the assailant whoâd sprinted into the fray, twisting blades into fatal parts, leaving them crumpled at his feet.
A rattled cry smothered itself out with a whomping thud. An unfortunate templar had stepped in her way, distracted by the scuffle. Sheâd brought up her flanged mace, and charged as if she were jousting, knocking the man clear off his feet. A squelch later, and the mace was freed from his chest. As instructed, she did not stop or look behind her, only hurtled down the street, closer to the decrepit buildings and abandoned stalls. Possibly ducking beneath the tattered remains of orange canvas strewn between the alleys; fortunately for her, she was familiar with Kirkwallâs streets, especially the seedier parts of Lowtown. Navigating her way to the giant wouldnât take her long.
It hadnât.
Or else, the giant had wandered a little closer.
The same stomping noise that had given Rilien pause rattled the buildings; made the ground tremble beneath their feet. Shortly after, a concussive blast sounded off. Another jarring tremor, shaking pebbles and pieces from the buildings as a frenetic, frenzied clomping signaled the giantâs movements. No longer unhurried, nonchalantly destructiveâit was running and bumbling into buildings, a howl bugling from its throat. From where Rilien stood, only the disfigured shards coming from its pale head could be seen bobbing between the alleys, heading away from the statue-tower. Unintelligible screams followed soon after. A ruckus, as intended.
Only then did something else slither into the air. A slow, languid haze, rising up between smokestacks.
Smoke.
It was all the signal he could wait for. Sparrow had done her job; now it fell to him to do his fast enough that she'd survive it. Already his breath began to burn in his lungs, and the effects of the gas were fading from the red templars. Stabbing the one in front of him in the armânot fatal, unimportantâhe used the opportunity to disengage, ducking under his other elbow and sprinting past the rest as well. The remaining gas swirled violently in his wake, giving them an easy sense of his direction. That was as it should be.
Free of the cloud, Rilien took in a deep breath, angling them for a narrower street in between two of the smaller foundry buildings. His destination was the one ahead, where he suspected the militia was holed up. Importantly, it was in the opposite direction from where the giant was headed.
It didn't take particularly sharp ears to hear the clanging pursuit behind him. He was faster than the templars in their heavy armor, but he had no doubt they could keep the chase up for a very long time, tainted lyrium conferring upon them endurance well beyond the capacity even he was capable of. As he shot down the street, Rilien kept his eyes on his destination, barely swerving in enough time to avoid the worst of the arrows aimed for his back. One found the upper right quadrant, sticking in his leathers and sinking just slightly into his deltoid muscle on that side, but it didn't slow him. He could not allow it.
More arrows were loosed into the air, but unlike the last few, these went above Rilien's head, and more importantly, were flying in the opposite direction. In the distance, Ashton and another pair of archers-- one of the guard and one of the civilian army if the differing uniforms were anything to go by-- stood atop a pile of debris, each already going for another arrow. After the next volley, Ashton paused for a moment, and brought a finger to his lips and let a shrill whistle pierce the clanging from the Red Templars.
There was another shuffling of armor and arms, and whatever remained of Ashton's infantry element poured into the narrow street with an eager din. It was as if Rilien's appearance had set off a spark they'd been waiting for. They were only a few, and what few there weren't in the best of shape. Armor was bent and broken in places, weapons were chipped, and bandages were apparent on most, if not all of them, but still. It seemed that the possibility for a counterattack put the breath back into their lungs. From atop the pile of debris, Ashton gestured forward with his free hand, before drawing another arrow and sending it downfield-- striking true as another red templar fell as it pierced his skull.
Rilien did not stop moving until he was within range of Ashton, by which point the infantry had already arranged themselves between the red templars and himself. He would duck back into the fray eventually, but first there was information that needed conveying. He hadn't precisely expected to find Ashton here, but it did make things rather easier than they might have been otherwise.
âThere are fifteen more still at the entrance. Sparrow is distracting the giant, but we do not have indefinite time before she will have to abandon the effort. The chain must come down." He still suspected the best way to do that was going to be somehow manipulating the giant into destroying it from the outside, but if they had to force their way into the tower, then so be it.
"I'm not gonna ask the dumb question on whether if you have a plan or not, what do you need us to do?" he asked succinctly glancing up and loosing another arrow before returning to Rilien.
âI need you with me. We are finding Sparrow and making the giant do our work for us if we can. We are pushing up the tower if we cannot. Your numbers seem sufficient to rout the templars without you." Cold, factual judgement. He could not say they would do it without casualties, but Rilien would not lose sleep over that. There was no perfect outcome, and so no point in despairing that none was to be found.
"Got it," he answered before taking a moment to search the fray ahead of them. A moment later he appeared to have found who he looking for. "Lieutenant! This one's yours!"
A figure among them paused for a moment and glanced backward before nodding. Vesper, Ashton's second it appeared. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and her face was bruised, but she hefted her shield all the same. "You better have a good fucking idea Captain!" She called, before turning back toward the battle.
"Something of the sort," he answered, before hopping off of the debris pile. "Right, behind you then. Also, have I said it's damn good to see you?"
âI always take that to be implied." Rilien blinked once, then turned them both down a perpendicular road. The giant was still banging and crashing in the distance, and he oriented them towards the sound. Hopefully, he'd spot some sign of Sparrow before they reached it; otherwise, they'd simply have to improvise.
There was a glimpse of Sparrow in the distance, cut between alleyways as she passed. Running up the street and seemingly trying to compensate for the stomping creature huffing behind her, ripping through canvas and stubborn cobblestone alike. She stumbled, fell to her hands and knees, and lurched back up, hurtling forward once more. Clumsy. The right side of her face was a sheet of red, dropping in flecks. A trail of crimson in her wake. A head injury, perhaps. Her lips were peeled back from her teeth in a bloody grimace, though she appeared determined all the same.
The giant was drawing back to deliver another crushing blow with its club. Rilien did not take the time to decide whether it was likely to hit her or not. Instead, he hit faster, drawing back and hurling his left-hand knife. It flew end-over-end through the air, hitting point first and sinking to the hilt in the creature's thigh, between two plates formed by the lyrium growing out of its body.
It lurched, the club flying wide, smashing into the ground several meters to Sparrow's left instead of upon her. The enchantment on the blade meant that the muscle was swiftly covered in frost, but that was likely to be only minimally inconvenient. It would be slower, but it was far from downed. For the moment, that was actually a good thing.
âTo the tower. We need to draw it into striking the chain." Already, it was too close. Rilien's legs felt unsteady underneath him, threatening to give under the sheer sickening weight of the corruption rolling off the giant in waves. No doubt, the majority of the work from here onwards would have to be borne by his companions. He was too sluggish to muster the agility necessary, and he knew it.
"Good thing I can be pretty annoying," Ashton noted under his breath with a clear lack of humor. He held off on drawing an for a moment arrow to grab at Rilien's shoulder and straighten him up. Once the small service was done, then his hand went to the feather of his dwindling quiver. In one fluid he drew it and nocked before letting it fly downrange. Fortunately for him, the target was large enough to be nearly impossible to miss, and the arrow struck true. The arrow was not meant to harm, as it just glanced off a lyrium deposit on its temple, but rather draw attention to himself.
If that didn't work, then the goading that followed surely would. "Hey, jackass! Get out of my city!" And with that, the chase was on.
Sparrow huffed at their sides, wiping the blood from her face as best she could. A grin, quick as a whip, tipped the corner of her mouth up as she spotted Ashton in their midst. She was relieved, if not tired from her jaunt through the Foundryâs streets. She set a sidelong look in Rilienâs direction and joined him at his side, hands empty. Perhaps, to best help him out if he needed her. Her mace would only be in the way. A laugh. Curt, but genuine. âMaybe if youâre a little louder, theyâll actually listen.â
The giant was pretty fast for a creature of its size, perhaps in part because its strides were so large. The group took off running together, but Rilien's creeping weakness would not allow him to continue for as long, and he was the first to peel off, about a block before they reached the tower. Getting it in the general vicinity was not going to be hard. Getting it to knock down the chain would be a matter of a little more nuance.
The first crash of its club against the ground reverberated through his feet as he pushed himself to circle the tower from the opposite side. He trusted that Sparrow and Ashton would keep it in the place it needed to be. The trap was liveâbut it yet needed bait.
Rounding the side of the tower, Rilien took in the situation with cold precision. Sparrow had retrieved the flanged mace from the strapping on her back, circling around the giantâs ankles. Despite whatever injury sheâd acquired, she was faster. Pushing herself to her limits, as always. Certainly, quick enough to slip around the beast to its flank and swing her mace against the leg Rilienâs glacial-enchanted dagger had embedded itself in, still licking frost up to its kneecap. She swung hard, as if she could actually fell the thing. It howled, reverberating off the cobblestone buildings, shaking the foundations. Pieces of frost and ice chipped off where sheâd hit, hailing down over her head.
The giantâs empty hand swung down in a clumsier sweep, knuckles hitting the ground first. Desperate to rid itself of the thing attacking its feet. Stone and dirt flung into the air, bowling over abandoned carts and scattering debris in its wake. She managed to roll away just in time, releasing her grip on the mace in order to roll across her shoulder. As soon as she gained her ground once more, she vaulted forward, intent to retrieve it. Her head whipped to the side, âAsh, its eye!â
She never had to ask twice.
She barely had to ask once. Most of Ashton's arrows bounced off of the lyrium embedded in its skin, and the ones that managed to find purchase left the giant unfazed. The only other place that may have any affect was its sole eye. He had to take time to aim and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, and when none immediately presented itself, took matters into his own hands. He let loose a shrill whistle and in the moment that the giant swung its ugly head to investigate, the arrow was loosed. Its reaction had been quicker than he expected, it seemed, as instead of piercing its eyeball, it struck a lyrium shard embedded in it's orbital bone.
It had an unintended side affect however. The arrow shattered on the shard, and slinters reigned into its eye. It howled in pain as it swiped at its eye. It bought them a few more moments, but the weak point was lost to him now. "Dammit," Ashton cursed as he scanned the giant with his bow, looking for anywhere else that might hurt near as much.
Rilien elected to try something different. Fortunately, would not have a difficult time selling a wounded bird act; all he really had to do was make sure that he was placed exactly where he needed to be. Casting his eyes overhead, he found the chain through rapidly-blurring vision, then angled his gaze down to the giant, triangulating himself and taking his best guesses about how to account for its reach and likely trajectory from its current position to striking distance of him.
When he was exactly where he wanted to be, Rilien extracted the last of the small lyrium orbs from his pouch. Bringing the fingers of his other hand to his mouth, he whistled shrilly. The noise clearly caught the giant off-guard for a short moment; it stilled and turned its head towards him. The seconds of immobility were enough; Rilien tossed the sphere.
Unfortunately, he overestimated the strength remaining to himself and it fell lower than he aimed, striking their towering foe in its knee instead of center mass where he'd aimed. It was still enough to draw its attention and its ire; it reorientated its whole body towards him and charged, raising its club overhead. He resisted the urge to double-check the angles involved; he'd done it right the first time.
The giant's club descended towards the motionless tranquil, catching hard on the boom chain above his head. The impact jarred back through the giant's arm for a second before the chain snapped outright, part of it flying back into the creature's face with a slightly-crunched thud. It staggered backwards, shaking its head as if to clear its vision, and then continued to back off, confused and void of its previous aggression. Rilien had little time to consider this; the hit had taken off a portion of the bronze slave statue as well, and chunks of metal and masonry fell from near the top, clanging off the rest as gravity pulled them inexorably downâand towards him.
He dove, but a large slab of stone caught his leg anyway, sending him hard to the ground, and he was too weak to pull himself forward. A second heavy something struck his back, right between his shoulder blades, and Rilien's forehead cracked against the torn pavement beneath him. He remained conscious long enough to feel sense more impacts, darkness closing in around him, and then his vision whited out entirely.
He sat facing towards the city, keeping his eyes on the approaching harbor. Sparrow took care of the rowing part; only once did he murmur a course-change direction, as she had her back to the direction they were going. He couldn't see any Red Templars along the docks, but they likely wouldn't be, unless they were passing through en route to elsewhere. Rather, they'd be concentrated at areas of particular conflict, something that Rilien planned to use to bypass them unseen. Sparrow was neither particularly quiet nor subtle, but if he guided their route correctly, that would not matter.
He stood smoothly as the boat approached a pier, looping a length of rope over the protruding pole designed for it, then removing the grappling hook he'd brought with him from the bottom of the vessel and placing it at his hip, on a clip attached to his belt. He pulled himself soundlessly onto the quay, holding a hand down to help Sparrow and her impractically-large mace onto solid footing as well.
Placing a finger to his lips, Rilien indicated that from here on, they had to be as quiet as possible, then turned and led the way through the docks. No small amount of damage was already apparent; the red templar vessels moored here loomed over destroyed evidence of industry, broken crates and smashed barrels. It looked like pure violence, but Rilien knew there was a purpose to it. Any supplies so summarily destroyed could not be used to sustain the defenses, and in a siege, it was often the army that starved first that lost.
Red templars, to his knowledge, needed little food in the early stages of their transformation and none in those that came later.
It was in a way fortunate that he became as ill as he did around red lyrium, for it was a passing wave of nausea that first alerted him to the oncoming group of them. Reaching back, Rilien took Sparrow by the wrist, pulling them both into a crouch behind an overturned fishmonger's cart. It still bore the distinctive smell, but it was not for this reason that he nearly retched.
By the pinched expression on Sparrowâs face, and the way she wrinkled her nose, the reds' proximity had taken a toll on her as well. She hunkered down at his side, and pressed herself as low to the ground as she could. Leveraging her weapon so that it wasnât peeping up over the upturned cart. The footsteps drew nearer, near enough for the smothering repugnance to swell. Her face paled considerably. Never the one with the strongest of stomachs, especially since sheâd stopped chasing bottles in dingy taverns, her hand instinctively clamped to her mouth.
That, paired with the rancid smell of fish left out to rot, certainly didnât seem to be helping.
When the red templars had passed, Rilien stood once more, exhaling softly. The nausea went easily with them. He could not claim to be fully neutral on the matter of his unique difficulty with the substance, but for all his condition made that more difficult, it made ignoring it easier. Perhaps a fair trade-off, compared to what others endured.
Though they paused frequently so as to allow him time to suss out whether any further lyrium-poisoned soldiers might intersect with their path, the caution paid off, and they met with none, slowly creeping across the docks and into Lowtown proper, headed for the stone walls that blocked their access to both their destination and any information about it. Rilien was careful to walk them around to the least-occupied side, the one that faced closest to an unlit, quiet neighborhood, and furthest from any of the loci of conflict the scouts had been able to detect.
When they reached the spot he wanted, he removed the grabbling hook from his belt and turned to Sparrow. âI need you to keep a watch." His eyes flickered momentarily out towards the residential area on their side of the wall. âIf anything comes that I should be aware of, whistle." She'd learned a few common signals over time, he knew, designed to mimic birds one might normally hear in various locations. Best to keep as quiet as possible, even if they were discovered. A few red templars would be difficult enough to deal with. Even half a dozen stood a very real chance of killing them.
Sparrow nodded her head. Obedient, for once. She pursed her lips, however, and drew up her hand, knocking her knuckles softly against his cheekbone. Worry wasnât in her repertoire of affections; certainly not when it involved her friends. She simply assumed theyâd pull out fine, as they always had. Sheâd been proven wrong once before. Itâd been a hard lesson to swallow. âI donât need to tell you to be careful, do I?â A terse smile, flitting away just as quick as a birdâs beating wings. She dropped her hand away and perched herself closer to the wall, facing her back to it. At least then, she could look in all directions without fearing someone coming up from behind.
âI am always careful." He said it to her back, about the only reassurance he could offer. He could certainly not responsibly say that he would survive. But those thoughts were only a distraction now, and he discarded them with the dispassionate ease his tranquility afforded him.
Spinning the grappling hook in his hand, Rilien launched it deftly. It caught the top of the wall with a soft clang; he tugged a few times to test the grip. Adequate. Quickly, he scaled the wall, slowing when he came to the top of it. A sonorous crash sounded, a faint tremor in the wall itself reaching him through his feet planted on the side of it. He paused, trying to decide if he knew the sound, but no identification was immediately obvious to him.
Deciding he had to risk it, Rilien pulled himself far enough up to peer over the wall.
He located the statue-tower immediately, of course. It was too large not to. Also quite large was a vague shape that looked to be in motion. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing: a massive humanoid form, but misshapen, crimson crystals protruding from a hunched back and the ropy muscles coiled thickly around its trunklike limbs. It would seem that somehow or other, the red templars had corrupted a giant with their tainted lyrium. All around it lay scattered pieces of what must have been buildings and machinery, several corpses dotting the area. Squinting, Rilien could make out less-bright protrusions on some of them, the characteristic arm-spikes of a shadow informing him that among the giant's victims had been at least some of the enemy. Others wore an unfamiliar uniform, but from the color of it, he suspected that they must be part of this new militia he'd heard about.
Knowing that, Rilien scanned the horizon more carefully, silent but for a soft exhale when he found what he was looking for. A plan came together quickly in his mind. Risky, but no more so than anything useful would be in a situation like this. Retreat was not an option, and the giant was so close to the tower that there would likely be no avoiding it.
Though he found some irony in the metaphor, the tranquil believed he had a way to kill three birds with about one stoneâand some creative alchemy.
Making his way back to the ground, he replaced the grappling hook at his belt and gestured Sparrow a little closer to him. âThey have a giant nearby the tower. Some red templars seem to be entrenched within the district, and I suspect that they are arranged thus because they are trying to deal with a group of the militia. If we can give the soldiers an opportunity to escape their corner, we could use them to help us overwhelm the templars... and then the giant to bring down the chain."
A telltale grin steepled itâs way past Sparrowâs lips as Rilien explained his plan, especially when there was mention of a giant in the tower. The more dangerous, the better. Sheâd never been one to steer away from particularly risky arrangements, so this was no different. Besides, sheâd always been good at creating diversions, however unintentionally. Though clearly different, this might have felt like skulking through Kirkwall all those years ago; enough for her to feel nostalgic about it. It was home, once. She wrestled her grin into a line, and arched an eyebrow, âIâll follow your lead. Hopefully not into the giantâs path. I donât fancy being crushed.â
Rilien reached into a pouch at his belt, hanging from the opposite side as the rope. âThe creature will need to be drawn away temporarily, so that the militia can risk emerging from shelter." In front of her, he held up a glass sphere, designed so that a smaller sphere rested inside. The inner one contained a liquid that, when brought into contact with the lyrium dust in the inner sphere, would cause a rather noisy combustion reaction. âThis explodes. It should be sufficient to distract the giant. Take care not to draw it right to you, but if you doâ"
He shifted his hand, a much plainer sphere appearing between his last two fingers. This one had a wick protruding from the top. âSmoke to escape with." She would obviously be able to light it with magic. âIf you can take care of distracting it and double back, I will help the militia." What he was asking her to do was dangerous, but it did not occur to him to do otherwise. That she enjoyed risk was irrelevant. That a faint prickle of uneasiness ran over his skin at thinking of her taking such risks was also irrelevant. She was capable. That was the important thing.
Sparrow nodded once more, a shade more serious, as she took the spheres from his hand and pocketed it into her vest. Close enough to shift and grab should she need to do so quickly; this scheme involved a lot more finesse than she was used to, and a lot of guesswork on the giantâs part, though it wouldnât stop her from hurtling straight in. Relentless. A firestorm, scorching everything in her path. âShall we?â because good luck had never been appropriate for any of them, there were no guarantees.
Of course, nothing here would happen untroubled. The red templars had located themselves squarely at the district's entrance, which meant Rilien himself would have to be a distraction for the second distraction. If he could confuse them or draw their attention, Sparrow would stand a greater chance of slipping through undetected. At least for now, she needed to remain so.
Taking stock of his other supplies, Rilien settled on a soporific gas. Its effects would be diminished on the chemically-resistant red templars, but he didn't need to knock all of them out, efficient as that might have been. Slowing and confusing them temporarily should be enough. Peering around the corner of the house they'd ducked behind, Rilien tried to get a sense of the numbers. Conservatively, he'd estimate them at thirty, but he could see only about fifteen heads or so, so he could be undershooting by a fair margin. Less than ideal, but so it was.
âWait ten seconds after I leave, and follow me. Hold your breath until you are clear of the radius, and do not stop." He caught Sparrow's eyes, conveying the rest without using the words. No matter what happens to me.
They had one chance to do this correctly. If they failed, there would be no further opportunities, because the dead did not get second tries.
Rilien hurled the flask, jumping into a sprint immediately after it and drawing his knives from behind his back as he ran. The broken glass released an indistinct cloud, greenish under light but just dark in the scant illumination of the red templar encampment. A pair of them spotted him immediately, streaking towards them fast enough that his hood had long fallen back, making his pale hair rather visible even in low light.
The first nearly skewered him, but Rilien shifted his balance in anticipation, diving to the side and hearing the clang of the sword on stone behind him. He held his breath, darting forward and plunging one knife into the templar's waist, siding it precisely under the largest of her plates. She toppled, and Rilien whirled, parrying the hit her partner aimed for him. Already the gas was taking effect; the man's movement was much slower than his partner's.
He only had so much time, and he refused to waste a moment of it, lunging and dragging the blade of his second knife across that man's throat. By now, the others had realized that something was upon them, and staggered to arm themselves and deal with it. Their attention thus diverted provided exactly the opportunity he had promised Sparrow.
All Rilien saw was a streak of movement coming from his left side, a flurry with a mace in hand. Sparrow had her head lowered as she skirted around some of the templars, facing away from her. Facing him, instead. The frantic sound of footsteps slapping cobblestone and wet gurgles coming from those he felled, paired with the ill-looking cloud, masked her presence well enough. Either that⊠or they were just too focused on the assailant whoâd sprinted into the fray, twisting blades into fatal parts, leaving them crumpled at his feet.
A rattled cry smothered itself out with a whomping thud. An unfortunate templar had stepped in her way, distracted by the scuffle. Sheâd brought up her flanged mace, and charged as if she were jousting, knocking the man clear off his feet. A squelch later, and the mace was freed from his chest. As instructed, she did not stop or look behind her, only hurtled down the street, closer to the decrepit buildings and abandoned stalls. Possibly ducking beneath the tattered remains of orange canvas strewn between the alleys; fortunately for her, she was familiar with Kirkwallâs streets, especially the seedier parts of Lowtown. Navigating her way to the giant wouldnât take her long.
It hadnât.
Or else, the giant had wandered a little closer.
The same stomping noise that had given Rilien pause rattled the buildings; made the ground tremble beneath their feet. Shortly after, a concussive blast sounded off. Another jarring tremor, shaking pebbles and pieces from the buildings as a frenetic, frenzied clomping signaled the giantâs movements. No longer unhurried, nonchalantly destructiveâit was running and bumbling into buildings, a howl bugling from its throat. From where Rilien stood, only the disfigured shards coming from its pale head could be seen bobbing between the alleys, heading away from the statue-tower. Unintelligible screams followed soon after. A ruckus, as intended.
Only then did something else slither into the air. A slow, languid haze, rising up between smokestacks.
Smoke.
It was all the signal he could wait for. Sparrow had done her job; now it fell to him to do his fast enough that she'd survive it. Already his breath began to burn in his lungs, and the effects of the gas were fading from the red templars. Stabbing the one in front of him in the armânot fatal, unimportantâhe used the opportunity to disengage, ducking under his other elbow and sprinting past the rest as well. The remaining gas swirled violently in his wake, giving them an easy sense of his direction. That was as it should be.
Free of the cloud, Rilien took in a deep breath, angling them for a narrower street in between two of the smaller foundry buildings. His destination was the one ahead, where he suspected the militia was holed up. Importantly, it was in the opposite direction from where the giant was headed.
It didn't take particularly sharp ears to hear the clanging pursuit behind him. He was faster than the templars in their heavy armor, but he had no doubt they could keep the chase up for a very long time, tainted lyrium conferring upon them endurance well beyond the capacity even he was capable of. As he shot down the street, Rilien kept his eyes on his destination, barely swerving in enough time to avoid the worst of the arrows aimed for his back. One found the upper right quadrant, sticking in his leathers and sinking just slightly into his deltoid muscle on that side, but it didn't slow him. He could not allow it.
More arrows were loosed into the air, but unlike the last few, these went above Rilien's head, and more importantly, were flying in the opposite direction. In the distance, Ashton and another pair of archers-- one of the guard and one of the civilian army if the differing uniforms were anything to go by-- stood atop a pile of debris, each already going for another arrow. After the next volley, Ashton paused for a moment, and brought a finger to his lips and let a shrill whistle pierce the clanging from the Red Templars.
There was another shuffling of armor and arms, and whatever remained of Ashton's infantry element poured into the narrow street with an eager din. It was as if Rilien's appearance had set off a spark they'd been waiting for. They were only a few, and what few there weren't in the best of shape. Armor was bent and broken in places, weapons were chipped, and bandages were apparent on most, if not all of them, but still. It seemed that the possibility for a counterattack put the breath back into their lungs. From atop the pile of debris, Ashton gestured forward with his free hand, before drawing another arrow and sending it downfield-- striking true as another red templar fell as it pierced his skull.
Rilien did not stop moving until he was within range of Ashton, by which point the infantry had already arranged themselves between the red templars and himself. He would duck back into the fray eventually, but first there was information that needed conveying. He hadn't precisely expected to find Ashton here, but it did make things rather easier than they might have been otherwise.
âThere are fifteen more still at the entrance. Sparrow is distracting the giant, but we do not have indefinite time before she will have to abandon the effort. The chain must come down." He still suspected the best way to do that was going to be somehow manipulating the giant into destroying it from the outside, but if they had to force their way into the tower, then so be it.
"I'm not gonna ask the dumb question on whether if you have a plan or not, what do you need us to do?" he asked succinctly glancing up and loosing another arrow before returning to Rilien.
âI need you with me. We are finding Sparrow and making the giant do our work for us if we can. We are pushing up the tower if we cannot. Your numbers seem sufficient to rout the templars without you." Cold, factual judgement. He could not say they would do it without casualties, but Rilien would not lose sleep over that. There was no perfect outcome, and so no point in despairing that none was to be found.
"Got it," he answered before taking a moment to search the fray ahead of them. A moment later he appeared to have found who he looking for. "Lieutenant! This one's yours!"
A figure among them paused for a moment and glanced backward before nodding. Vesper, Ashton's second it appeared. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and her face was bruised, but she hefted her shield all the same. "You better have a good fucking idea Captain!" She called, before turning back toward the battle.
"Something of the sort," he answered, before hopping off of the debris pile. "Right, behind you then. Also, have I said it's damn good to see you?"
âI always take that to be implied." Rilien blinked once, then turned them both down a perpendicular road. The giant was still banging and crashing in the distance, and he oriented them towards the sound. Hopefully, he'd spot some sign of Sparrow before they reached it; otherwise, they'd simply have to improvise.
There was a glimpse of Sparrow in the distance, cut between alleyways as she passed. Running up the street and seemingly trying to compensate for the stomping creature huffing behind her, ripping through canvas and stubborn cobblestone alike. She stumbled, fell to her hands and knees, and lurched back up, hurtling forward once more. Clumsy. The right side of her face was a sheet of red, dropping in flecks. A trail of crimson in her wake. A head injury, perhaps. Her lips were peeled back from her teeth in a bloody grimace, though she appeared determined all the same.
The giant was drawing back to deliver another crushing blow with its club. Rilien did not take the time to decide whether it was likely to hit her or not. Instead, he hit faster, drawing back and hurling his left-hand knife. It flew end-over-end through the air, hitting point first and sinking to the hilt in the creature's thigh, between two plates formed by the lyrium growing out of its body.
It lurched, the club flying wide, smashing into the ground several meters to Sparrow's left instead of upon her. The enchantment on the blade meant that the muscle was swiftly covered in frost, but that was likely to be only minimally inconvenient. It would be slower, but it was far from downed. For the moment, that was actually a good thing.
âTo the tower. We need to draw it into striking the chain." Already, it was too close. Rilien's legs felt unsteady underneath him, threatening to give under the sheer sickening weight of the corruption rolling off the giant in waves. No doubt, the majority of the work from here onwards would have to be borne by his companions. He was too sluggish to muster the agility necessary, and he knew it.
"Good thing I can be pretty annoying," Ashton noted under his breath with a clear lack of humor. He held off on drawing an for a moment arrow to grab at Rilien's shoulder and straighten him up. Once the small service was done, then his hand went to the feather of his dwindling quiver. In one fluid he drew it and nocked before letting it fly downrange. Fortunately for him, the target was large enough to be nearly impossible to miss, and the arrow struck true. The arrow was not meant to harm, as it just glanced off a lyrium deposit on its temple, but rather draw attention to himself.
If that didn't work, then the goading that followed surely would. "Hey, jackass! Get out of my city!" And with that, the chase was on.
Sparrow huffed at their sides, wiping the blood from her face as best she could. A grin, quick as a whip, tipped the corner of her mouth up as she spotted Ashton in their midst. She was relieved, if not tired from her jaunt through the Foundryâs streets. She set a sidelong look in Rilienâs direction and joined him at his side, hands empty. Perhaps, to best help him out if he needed her. Her mace would only be in the way. A laugh. Curt, but genuine. âMaybe if youâre a little louder, theyâll actually listen.â
The giant was pretty fast for a creature of its size, perhaps in part because its strides were so large. The group took off running together, but Rilien's creeping weakness would not allow him to continue for as long, and he was the first to peel off, about a block before they reached the tower. Getting it in the general vicinity was not going to be hard. Getting it to knock down the chain would be a matter of a little more nuance.
The first crash of its club against the ground reverberated through his feet as he pushed himself to circle the tower from the opposite side. He trusted that Sparrow and Ashton would keep it in the place it needed to be. The trap was liveâbut it yet needed bait.
Rounding the side of the tower, Rilien took in the situation with cold precision. Sparrow had retrieved the flanged mace from the strapping on her back, circling around the giantâs ankles. Despite whatever injury sheâd acquired, she was faster. Pushing herself to her limits, as always. Certainly, quick enough to slip around the beast to its flank and swing her mace against the leg Rilienâs glacial-enchanted dagger had embedded itself in, still licking frost up to its kneecap. She swung hard, as if she could actually fell the thing. It howled, reverberating off the cobblestone buildings, shaking the foundations. Pieces of frost and ice chipped off where sheâd hit, hailing down over her head.
The giantâs empty hand swung down in a clumsier sweep, knuckles hitting the ground first. Desperate to rid itself of the thing attacking its feet. Stone and dirt flung into the air, bowling over abandoned carts and scattering debris in its wake. She managed to roll away just in time, releasing her grip on the mace in order to roll across her shoulder. As soon as she gained her ground once more, she vaulted forward, intent to retrieve it. Her head whipped to the side, âAsh, its eye!â
She never had to ask twice.
She barely had to ask once. Most of Ashton's arrows bounced off of the lyrium embedded in its skin, and the ones that managed to find purchase left the giant unfazed. The only other place that may have any affect was its sole eye. He had to take time to aim and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, and when none immediately presented itself, took matters into his own hands. He let loose a shrill whistle and in the moment that the giant swung its ugly head to investigate, the arrow was loosed. Its reaction had been quicker than he expected, it seemed, as instead of piercing its eyeball, it struck a lyrium shard embedded in it's orbital bone.
It had an unintended side affect however. The arrow shattered on the shard, and slinters reigned into its eye. It howled in pain as it swiped at its eye. It bought them a few more moments, but the weak point was lost to him now. "Dammit," Ashton cursed as he scanned the giant with his bow, looking for anywhere else that might hurt near as much.
Rilien elected to try something different. Fortunately, would not have a difficult time selling a wounded bird act; all he really had to do was make sure that he was placed exactly where he needed to be. Casting his eyes overhead, he found the chain through rapidly-blurring vision, then angled his gaze down to the giant, triangulating himself and taking his best guesses about how to account for its reach and likely trajectory from its current position to striking distance of him.
When he was exactly where he wanted to be, Rilien extracted the last of the small lyrium orbs from his pouch. Bringing the fingers of his other hand to his mouth, he whistled shrilly. The noise clearly caught the giant off-guard for a short moment; it stilled and turned its head towards him. The seconds of immobility were enough; Rilien tossed the sphere.
Unfortunately, he overestimated the strength remaining to himself and it fell lower than he aimed, striking their towering foe in its knee instead of center mass where he'd aimed. It was still enough to draw its attention and its ire; it reorientated its whole body towards him and charged, raising its club overhead. He resisted the urge to double-check the angles involved; he'd done it right the first time.
The giant's club descended towards the motionless tranquil, catching hard on the boom chain above his head. The impact jarred back through the giant's arm for a second before the chain snapped outright, part of it flying back into the creature's face with a slightly-crunched thud. It staggered backwards, shaking its head as if to clear its vision, and then continued to back off, confused and void of its previous aggression. Rilien had little time to consider this; the hit had taken off a portion of the bronze slave statue as well, and chunks of metal and masonry fell from near the top, clanging off the rest as gravity pulled them inexorably downâand towards him.
He dove, but a large slab of stone caught his leg anyway, sending him hard to the ground, and he was too weak to pull himself forward. A second heavy something struck his back, right between his shoulder blades, and Rilien's forehead cracked against the torn pavement beneath him. He remained conscious long enough to feel sense more impacts, darkness closing in around him, and then his vision whited out entirely.