Mountains are crumbling like statues of clay.

[dreadinquisitor]

Who| The Thedosians & Friends
What| Reuniting and Planning
Where| In the area of the Cornucopia
When| Late evening/night, the first night
Warnings/Notes| Open to all Thedosians and allies who are interested in reuniting post-Cornucopia and plotting out next moves together. This will function like the War Room posts in the Capitol: tag Maxwell, enter into the "planning" catch-all starter, or talk amongst yourselves! If you'd rather your character remain separate, feel free to say they missed this!



Maxwell convinced Shepard to wait until the sun began to sink before he made his move. It had been hours since they'd tucked themselves into the little, bowed house at the edge of the village. Longer still since the troll-child, Karkat, had passed.

The sounds of the blood-bath at the makeshift Cornucopia had faded and died, and an eery hush had fallen, broken only rarely by speech. Far more often it was the house, creaking and groaning around them, squeaking beneath them as they moved about, spending the last of their adrenaline and rage and worry in pacing and checking the ramshackle rooms for anything that might be of use.

There wasn't much. A dirty, chipped cup. A few rusted utensils. A straw-hewn bed, torn full of holes by rodents and an old blanket, still wet green with mold in the folds of the fabric. But without knowing how the Cornucopia went for the others, it was difficult to pass up anything.

Piling it together, they'd waited. Then, finally, Maxwell moved.

As the sky had began to shift from ashen grey, to steel, and then slowly to coal, he clambered onto the sill of one of the open windows and hauled himself as carefully as he could up onto the roof. The wood complained and sank threatening beneath his boots, but it held.

He'd wrapped the silly little cap Jolie had given him around the Anchor to try and disguise it, but he unwrapped it then. The others from the Inquisition would know it for what it was, he was certain, and hopefully the rest would have heard enough about it or were with someone who had.

Holding up his arm, he opened his hand and the ghostly green light spilled free.

Comments

After the Death Announcements

[dreadinquisitor]

After the last of the faces had melted from the sky and the music had finally faded away, Maxwell climbed back down from the roof and joined the others who had gathered in the house.

Looking around at them, he nodded.

"We know now where we stand," he said. "Now we have to decide how to move forward. Are there any ideas?"

Re: After the Death Announcements

[andrastian]

"That depends on our intention as a group."

Sebastian had wanted no part in killing more than he had to, but that had been before the Cornocopia, before he'd smelled the blood around him and heard screams and been reminded of the most recent events of his life. It tended to drive a man's mind backwards a bit, and had him mulling over ideas that could give them a chance at getting to people before they got to them.

"Are we in this to survive and keep out of the way, or do we mean to try getting rid of our...competition?" He asked, the word and concept distasteful, still, but seeming a bit closer to necessary now.

"For our immediate protection here...has anyone experience with traps? They may at least keep out those we do not want coming in."

[dreadinquisitor]

"That is if we intend to stay here," Maxwell pointed out, leaning back against the windowsill, arms folding across his chest as he looked at Sebastian. "It may not be wise to stay so close to the Cornucopia. Even if the supplies were all destroyed in the fire, other tributes may still come looking."

He looked around at the others gathered nearby.

"And I'll be the first to admit I haven't seen what else the arena has to offer in defensible positions besides the castle."

[allyorfoe]

"Surviving." Tabris told him helpfully, rubbing the back of her neck. "That's my idea." She paused, then sighed, shaking her head. "Iunno if Cullen told me, but the Wardens and I are going to be, ah. Separated from you guys." She gave a little shrug. No need to get complicated on matters, right. "But we'll be close enough, if you guys need us, we'll come. So...I'm not sure what we'll be doing. Might check out the castle? We still need to find Bayard."

[dreadinquisitor]

"You're leaving?" It was clear from the look on Maxwell's face that no, Cullen hadn't told him. Surprise and worry crossed his features, uncertainty pulling at the corners of his mouth. "...You believe that's best?"

But didn't mean it argumentatively, Tabris was the Warden-Commander and knew she would hardly make such a decision lightly. He just... wanted to understand.

Dorian

[tevintage]

[A- For Maxwell and whoever else is there]

That green light was so eerily familiar that for a moment Dorian forgot where he was. That light belonged to his Inquisitor. It didn't occur to him until he was sprinting toward it that if he had his magic back, the Inquisitors would have their marks.

That Lavellan wasn't the one holding his hand to the sky - an almost literal beacon - was a jarring realization. But not one he thought about for more than a second. After all, everything about this place had been jarring.

He wasn't being particularly careful. He was almost disappointed that he'd come out of the cornucopia unscathed - he hadn't even had a chance to show off his new found powers again. He also hadn't managed to grab anything of use - at least not for himself. The war hammer in his grip was much heavier than anything he was used to using. But he remembered Tabris telling him that she used them, so he brought it with him anyway.

When he got to the house he arched his neck up to see Maxwell. Not Adella, then. Though it could have been either of them.

At least the whole death game thing should make this a little less awkward than it might have been.

"Well this certainly feels like a homecoming," he drawled after he had slipped up next to the house, his voice carrying up to the roof but hopefully not much further. "I almost feel like we should go raid ourselves an empty castle, hm?"

[B - inside the house, for everyone]

Dorian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, wearing very little clothing save a gossamer loincloth, a sash from one shoulder to the other hip, a pair of brilliantly iridescent wings, and long laced sandals that ran up to his calf. He was surely the King of the Faeries, and he really didn't give a rat's ass about it. He made it look good.

Now if only it wasn't so fucking cold.

"Please tell me someone managed to find a decent pair of trousers, in the Cornucopia?" He said wryly. "Or, Maker's mercy, a jacket? I'll even settle for a pair of stockings."

B!

[uncalled_for]

Fiona stood not terribly far from Dorian toward the center of the room. Her initial intention was to keep quiet, watch the others and just try to get through the day without bringing too much attention to herself. But with the man's sounded complaints she glanced his way, revising that decision to merely observe.

"We would have better luck finding firewood." Which was saying something, considering the state of drenched this entire region seemed to be in.

[tevintage]

Dorian sighed, heavy, with agreement. "I suppose I could go stand by the giant pyre in the square, if its still burning," he said wryly, "But somehow I think that it might not be particularly helpful."

He glanced over at her - she was still too young, but he was polite enough not to mention it. That people he knew came from different times was already well established - he just hadn't thought that it would be years different rather than a mere few months.

"However, I'll take nearly anything that has the potential to create warmth, at this particular moment."

[dreadinquisitor]

The flickering marker, hanging against the darkening sky, gave away that someone was approaching long before Maxwell could make out who it was. Lowering his hand, he waited, knowing it was possibility that a curious stranger could be drawn in, or someone hoping to be crowned a Victor - if he were particularly unlucky. But still, he held his position on the roof peak.

Waiting, and hoping. ...And breathing a long sigh of relief as Dorian came into view.

Thank the Maker.

Maxwell was prepared to remember his place - what he was - but not to lose him again, to the Capitol, to this game....

Crouching, he leaned toward the ledge, meeting Dorian as he jogged to up the house. Mouth twitching gently as he took in the man's getup.

"The castle's never empty," he replied, joking as lightly as he could. "There are always blood-thirsty raiders, or angry spirits, or something else just waiting kill us." And doubted the Capitol's castle, looming in the distance was any different.

He glanced at it, then back at Dorian.

"Nice wings."

[tevintage]

"That's hardly new. And who knows - knowing you, you could take a few angry spirits and turn them into something helpful."

He reached back when Maxwell mentioned his wings, and tugged on them gently.

"My only complaint is that they aren't at all functional," he said wistfully. "I suppose they thought that would be altogether too helpful." He turned back, glancing at Maxwell's hand. "... then again. I suppose you already know about the magic."

B!

[andrastian]

"I would offer, but..." Sebastian had not fared much better, the dark blue trousers they'd stuffed him in were rather tattered, providing tantalizing views for the audience but not much in the way of warmth himself.

Besides this, there was a white scarf of sorts tied around his middle, holding up both the ripped trousers and Andraste's face, in lieu of a traditional belt, but nothing left on top. In spite of himself, and the moment, it WAS a little funny.

"Do you know, the only sailor I knew very well actually wore shirts but no pants. I was not under the impression that one had to choose until just recently."

[tevintage]

Dorian chuckled, glancing over at Sebastian.

"Perhaps you're meant to work for it," he said wryly. "I rather think we got the short end of the stick, as it were. I saw some dressed in full formal robes! Perhaps they mean for us to pillage the corpses for fabric."

He may be sarcastic, but he also thought that would entirely be a thing the game makers would intend for them to do.

[allyorfoe]

"I'd offer some of my clothes, Dorian, but I don't think they'd fit." Tabris wryly plucked at her stockings and stupid poofy pants. She'd ditch them and run about in nothing but her small clothes if she could--Maybe that would get the sponsor's attention. Dorian's legs, however, had nothing in common with Tabris', aside from both being used to stand. And her stockings were pretty deeply singed, to boot.

"...I'd even trade them," She adds, casting her eyes on that beautiful weapon of his--No, not that one. That war hammer was perfect, but she wouldn't ask for it. That'd be rude. But. Maker. Could he even lift it.

"At least you look pretty, Dorian. I'd swoon if I didn't have my husband here to remind me of my vows." At least he didn't have these dumb poofy shorts.

[tevintage]

"As far as all my years have told me, married women are just as capable of swooning as maidens are - if not more so," He teased. He saw her look at the war hammer. He'd been intending to give it to her anyway, but let her give that longing look a little while more.

"I wasn't aware that swooning was covered in the marital vows. How lucky for me I'll never have to take them."

[earthborn]

"Well, don't look at me," Shepard was dressed in what she could make of the tattered remains of polyester faux-satin and crinoline lace, "I'm just glad I'm not stuck in heels."

The results were somewhere between the ides of a wasteland vagabond, and the first attempts at dressing a barbie doll by a child who had no idea that sewing technology existed. There were bare midriffs, there were knots on hips, but at least her bra wasn't showing, and if the nights were cold-- well. Tomorrow was another day.

Shepard's shoes had points on them, curled upward in a witchy style, but were leather all the same, purple and green. Not exactly her colors.

"Nice wings, princess."

She's jealous of the wires underlying their construction, make no mistake.

[tevintage]

"Princess?" He asked, arching an amused eyebrow. "Well, apparently I've gone up in the world. Won't my father be so proud." He turned his head to reach back and fondle the wings in a vaguely suggestive manner, because Dorian was incapable of fondling anything non-suggestively.

"Find me a pair of trousers and I'll trade you. Or, heaven forbid, a belt."

Cullen - Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide open

[revocation]

Cullen isn't letting Adella out of his sight, no matter how dangerous it is for both of them. It's as simple as that. With her magic back, as usual, it's both a blessing and a curse, but that's no reason to leave her behind, or to abandon their overall plan for attempting unity. As far as he's concerned, there is still safety in numbers.

After the deaths are announced, he stares up at the sky with a faint frown on his face, arms crossed over his chest.

"Anyone still unaccounted for?" he asks into the air around him. At least they know what happened to Bull.

[earthborn]

"No news on where Garrus went, and... Nothing obvious to signal his location."

During one arena, Garrus had rigged what amounted to a chain-bomb out of a series of derelict combustion engines and a half-bottle of vodka. Despite his legendary resolve and sniper's patience, Shepard doubted any signal he gave would be subtle.

Shepard busied herself in the meantime with tearing the brim off her annoying hat to remove the wire. It would live again as something less annoying.

"Unless you saw something and didn't tell anybody?"

Tabris, OTA

[allyorfoe]

Tabris slipped into the house, accompanied by the other two Wardens. She looks worse for the wear-- The dumb ass page costume was singed, and there was still a strange scar running up her leg that looked remarkably like lightning. She leaned on Alistair as they came into the house, though once they were in, she separated to let him mingle, should he choose to. She can lean against a wall.

Anders had managed to heal her, but Maker, her brain still felt stuffed with cotton.

"The Wardens are all here." She announced, rubbing her forehead. "And our powers are all functional. Am I the only one that saw the pyre? They're making a jab at us, aren't they? Did they construct this entire arena just to make us the butt of a joke? Look at these clothes. I'm writing a stern letter when we get back."

[earthborn]

"You know they burn witches in other places too, right?" Shepard has made a very fine reputation out of being obnoxious, and right now is no exception, "Not everything is about you and your weird religious problems."

Speaking of witches, that's what Shepard started this all dressed as. Now she's busied herself in a corner, draping and tearing and tying the remnants of her black witchy skirt into something a little less likely to snag. This pointed hat will make a fine carry-sack.

"Everybody's got their own martyrs."

Adella OTA

[unlikelyherald]

Looking over who is gathered in the shelter that Maxwell found, Adella makes a few observations. She and Maxwell both have strange flames hovering over them, making their location obvious, as if the glowing hand didn't already give them away. She thought she'd seen them over Dorian earlier as well, though they seemed to be gone, now.

She'd also noticed when they'd been watching the sky two persistent glowing marks, hovering above them, as well as others far off. She steps outside into the evening while the others talk, looking up at the sky again, and noting the location of their bright little dots, silently counting the others. She hadn't realized how many people had power, before.

"They're making us easier to hunt," she murmurs softly to herself, squinting her eyes up at the sky.

[dreadinquisitor]

"You noticed it too."

The talk had descended into debate and seeing Adella slip out, Maxwell had followed after. On the other side of the doorway, he leaned back against the rotted wall, arms folding across his chest.

Unlike many of the others, he had a shirt, but the fabric was thin and deeply veed and offered little more than skin in the way of warmth against the rapidly cooling night.

"We may not know why they are, but what they are seems apparent."

[earthborn]

Shepard would never, ever admit, not even under pain of torture, that she hadn't thought of that herself. Still, looking out over the sparse treeline, the darkness only made the reality of it more clear; the markings glowed like fire in the sky, beacons. Targeting reticules.

"You're right," They're recording this, you might want to remember to get a copy, sometime. The pause was thoughtful, remembering the cornucopia, the bolts from above that Shepard had been half-sure were the result of some tribute, "They're attacking us, too. Bolts from the blue-- putting us at a disadvantage. Shit."

[freedomscall]

With all the bodies in the building, all the people who both knew each other and knew of him, the man found it hard to find a spot to simply meld in with the scenery.

There was Cullen, guarding the woman named Adella like she was something fragile and precious, and who hated him both on principal and with good reason. There was Adella, who he lied to in hopes she would see him, and not the monster that both he and Justice had created. He saw the look the man with the marker shot him, he watched Sebastian from the corner of his eyes.

Anders tried not to fidget, listening to their conversations.

Finally he cleared his throat. "Maybe those of us with markers should split up, form a group of our own. We still have safety in numbers that way".

[earthborn]

"It's not a bad principle, but the flares aren't just a giveaway, they're also a warning. Anyone who comes looking for us will expect a show of force."

He's thinking; that's good. Shepard is calm, almost relaxed, seemingly unconcerned with anything the group at her back is doing. Either she trusts them, or trusts that betrayal is an inevitability that no amount of anxiety will prevent. Either way, here she is; maybe the only person in the room not looking at Anders with any mix of suspicion or guilt.

She shrugs, one-shouldered, and turns back to watching the surrounding terrain through a gap in the wall.