It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?
i n s t r u c t i o n s • Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!
o p t i o n s 01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario.
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bakerstreet2020-10-01 04:32 pm
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They are nearing the top, where Imshael awaits them (according to de Chevin), but ahead of the demon is a large group of Red Templars. Among them, a behemoth: a large, twisted monster that is more red lyrium than anything else, recognizable, just barely, as having once been human.
And this time, they have little time to plan. The behemoth seems to know the party is there, and charges for them with a roar that sounds more of agony than anything. ]
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Rather than let the beast crash into their front line unabated, Wrathion draws up a hand in a swift motion. The fire that crawls in his veins, down to his molten core, comes when called to his hand, and a moment later there's a burst of flame that lands at the behemoth's feet to slow its charge.
Not waiting to see what the party thinks of his little trick, he motions to Sera and Cole before closing in. Something that big is going to be slow, but hard-hitting. Getting around at its back at before is a little more trouble, with all the red lyrium jutting out like an armor of spikes, but they don't have much choice.
Whatever is exposed needs to be hit, and hit hard. Now. ]
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The mages, for this fight, have little use. Paralyzing lightning, fear spells, and slowing ice, are all utterly ineffective. As though that were not enough, the warrior's blows seem to glance off uselessly. Even Bull with his great axe manages only to chip off a tiny spray of crystallized red lyrium.
Lasulahn rushes to find a better vantage, and stops short to see the ground seeming to bubble strangely. Red flecks lay in a circle around the behemoth but then - ]
Get away!
[ The Inquisitor outstretches his staff, a glyph encircling his companions to shield them, as red lyrium bursts from the ground in jagged crystals. ]
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Wrathion can't be sure, but he isn't taking any chances. As the protective shields are cast he darts forward. Under the behemoth's arm, sliding across the icy ground before his arm catches around Lasulahn's waist, spinning him about like a dancer on the floor of the Winter Palace...
Just in time to avoid one of those gory red spikes suddenly jutting out of the stone. ]
Keeping me on my toes, are we?
[ He huffs, winks, and returns to the fray. Nothing to do but beat this thing's guard down, chip away at it bit by bit, and try to keep its focus long enough to prevent another sudden explosion. ]
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He stares in surprise, for just a moment, looking between the spike that would have certainly impaled him, and his new companion. ]
Thank you, [ he says, breathless, and then nods his reassurance before the other returns to the fray. He's not entirely sure what to think of that wink, but he keeps his focus.
Dorian moves to assist Sera and Varric in their defense against the rest of the Red Templars, and soon there is panicked shouting as each of the abominations appear to lose their wits, either frozen still or rushing about. One even strikes his fellow. Sera cackles, calling something smart over her shoulder to the mage.
Lasulahn focuses on the behemoth with the rest of his party. The tortured beast was perhaps immune to the elements and the effects of them, but it was not immune to the Fade itself. The Anchor sparks with magic, and the Veil shimmers briefly in the air, a rift forming and drawing the behemoth to it, immobilizing it enough for the opportunity of a critical strike to finally kill it. ]
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He wastes no time with the opportunity given, having just avoided a swing of the monster's arm, skidding to a halt on one knee and glancing up, just as the crackle of green energy seems to split the fabric of this realm around the creature. Pushing off against the ground, he lunges, daggers bared...
And both sink into the thing's chest, ripping downwards with effort as red lyrium spits in all directions. It's like trying to carve through crystal, and one of the blades actually snaps off before he's done, but the other manages to rip down to the beast's midsection before he pulls free, leaving it to struggle as it gargles its last. ]
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Lasulahn doesn't have time to wonder. They move on, and Lasulahn gives Sera an amused but sympathetic look as she jerks an arrow from one of the dead Red Templar bodies, and grumbles to find it broken before tossing it aside.
There atop Suledin Keep awaits a rather unassuming looking man. His immediate response is not to attack, but rather? To try and negotiate. He offers Lasulahn virgins, riches, power.
And then? With a knowing smirk, his eyes slide up the elf's form in an almost crude manner, focusing finally on the vallaslin tattooed across his brow.
"No? Hmn. What about your people?" he asks lightly. Tension settles into the Inquisitor's shoulders. ]
What about them?
[ Imshael affects a theatrical sort of expression, feigning empathy. "They go through so much, don't they? And now that you're Inquisitor, why- you're the most talked about man in all of Thedas. Imagine the attention that brings to them. A target for all those unhappy with your.... appointment. What about a place, just for them? Where they can be free, and happy, and safe? I could give them that." ]
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[ This from Wrathion, standing near the back. He's got no say in what the Inquisitor does, but he knows a thing or two about eldritch beings who promise your greatest desires in exchange for power, freedom to do as they will, and sacrifices in their name.
This thing is seeking to use Lasulahn, no doubt about it. But will the elf fall victim? It's true his people have suffered much. He has every reason to want to help them.
But the road to Hell, as they say... ]
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The elf's jaw tightens, and he lifts his staff in front of him in defiance.
Imshael sighs, throwing up his hand in a dramatic display of exasperation.
"As you wish."
There is an unearthly screech, and Imshael's human form is gone, replaced with a ghastly visage with sharp appendages like that of a spider's legs. A fear demon. But Imshael is not the only foe they face. Red Templar horrors surge forth, and fearlings. Glaring at the grotesque form, Lasulahn slams the tip of his staff to the stone floor, supplying magic shield to each of his companions as they rush forward to meet their enemies .]
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Let me deal with the little ones.
[ Once again that smoke swirls around him, and in his place the dragon takes form. Spreading his wings, he takes to the skies, his roar echoing against the stones, before he takes to the air. A deep breath, and fire spews forth against the red templars swarming to surround the demon in defense. Scorching the ground, he circles the courtyard, as the archer arrows bounce off his scales.
They still fire, of course, seeking to down the airborne assault. Most the arrows ping harmlessly away. But one lucky shot finds its mark, sinking just between the layer of armor, and Wrathion snarls in pain and rage as it sinks deep into his flesh. But the offending archer has only moments to savor victory before he lands before them, claws, lashing out to crush them against the nearby rubble. ]
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Imshael seems determined to get to the Inquisitor, but the warriors are swift in their defense. Still, that leaves Lasulahn with little room to move. If he comes from behind the defensive line, Imshael will only turn for him. So when he hears that roar, and his gaze snaps to the dragon to find an arrow in his hide, he can only call out. ] Wrathion!
[ When the form of fear fails, the demon shifts to rage. — A choice that Vivienne seems all too pleased to declare a poor choice. The mages' ice slows the demon's form, and provides Lasulahn the opportunity to move quickly and check on his new friend.
A fearling scuttles across the floor towards him, and Lasulahn proves swiftly that he is not helpless on his own. The lesser demon crosses a glyph, and promptly bursts into flames. He ensures it is quite dead first, glances for any more immediate threats, then looks to Wrathion. ] Are you alright?
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[ He seems more offended than hurt, tail lashing behind him as he turns to regard an oncoming handful of templars. And then his tail swings in earnest, sending three of them flying with a hearty 'smack'.
That massive head turns back towards Lasulahn, eyes burning bright. It's a little harder to tell what expression he has in this form, a reptilian countenance showing little in the way of emotion, but safe to say he's more annoyed than anything. ]
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[ Worn down and increasingly enraged by the mate's onslaught, Imshael gives a road and shifts form once again- a demon of pride, far larger than that of rage. Lasulahn affords Wrathion a quick shield, and hurries to return behind the defenses of the warriors.
This form is... considerably more difficult. Lightning crackles across the Keep's roof, and a great orb scatters Cassandra and Blackwell, leaving Lasulahn exposed. The shield around him shatters from the strike of a whip of lightning, and the burn sinks deep into his shoulder, driving him to one knee.
Solas is quick qith another shield, and Bull launches himself at the pride demon form as Cassandra and Blackwall close ranks again. ]
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While the warriors reconstruct their front line, the dragon cannily circles around to the beast's back, lashing out with his claws to tear at its hide. It's tougher than the others to be sure, but it only means putting in an effort this time. And seeing Lasulahn take that blow encourages a vicious sort of fury in his chest, a determination to see the demon fall.
When it wheels back to strike with that whip once more, Wrathion takes the opportunity and lunges forward, jaws closing on its shoulder and shaking his head savagely to throw it off balance as best he can. ]
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The demon thrashes violently in Wrathion's grip, but has also grown tired, worn down by mage and blade and arrow. In a moment where the demon stills as though to catch his breath, Sera, Varric and Cole take opportunity with poison weapons to strike weak spots. Imshael shrieks, and then finally, goes slack in Wrathion's grasp.
Bull ensures that the demon is well and truly dead (perhaps a little more enthusiastically than necessary, and grumbles about 'why does it always have to be demons' while cleaning his axe blade off. There's a moment of relative quiet as Cole steals along the ramparts to ensure there are no remaining enemies, and Lasulahn checks to make sure each companion is alright - including Wrathion. He cradles his own shoulder, but the wound looks more burned than open - what of it is visible beneath his tunic, anyway. ] You're alright? [ He asks again, soft as he approaches. ]
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Of course. Other than a sour taste in my mouth from that creature.
[ He snorts, nostrils flaring as his gaze falls to the wound the elf now bears. ]
See to your own injuries, Inquisitor. I will see if we have any other unwelcome guests to see to in your new Keep.
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Lasulahn follows the spirit to find a Red Templar laying on the ground, closer to death than not. The tortured man rasps out that Imshael had offered to cure them of their corruption. Whatever price the demon asked, was too high, and the man had chosen death instead. And in a few moments, breath fades from his lips.
The claiming of Suledin Keep, signified by the raising of the Inquisition flag is a little more somber after that. The next steps are largely for others - Inquisition agents cleaning up after the Herald's party, securing the Keep, merchants and Desjardins arriving to take command in the Inquisitor's stead.
Still nursing his shoulder a time later, but looking a little less pained for the salve of Solas' healing, Lasulahn approaches Wrathion again. ] There will be rooms ready for us by evening. How are you feeling?
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His brow hikes upwards as the elf approaches. ]
A little chilly, truth be told. I'm not normally one for stone walls, but I think I might be a little grateful for them at this point. Are you well?
[ He nods towards his shoulder. Seems they were both clipped in that fight, though the elf had certainly taken the worse of the two blows. ]
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[ He looks back to Wrathion, brows raising. ] Ah? Oh- it's alright. My arm is a little numb, and it will likely scar, but Solas tended to it. It will heal.
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[ If his own injury still bothers him, he's not showing signs of it. Of course, he's gotten relatively adept at hiding pain and weakness. A minor discomfort like this is hardly an issue.
It seems the elf has a similar outlook, as dismissive as he is of the wound. His fortitude is an impressive thing, as is his skill in a fight. A faint smirk lingers on his lips as he moves closer, and again there's that sense of heat radiating as much from him as it does from the fire Lasulahn has conjured for them. ]
But the end result must please you. You are now the owner of a very run-down keep in desperate need of decontamination. How lucky for you.
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A wry smile crosses his expression, and he shrugs slightly, gesturing vaguely to indicate the Keep. ] It will serve as an important outpost, once cleaned out. But more importantly, we have taken an outpost from the Red Templars, eliminating their foothold in this area for the most part. We've cleared the quarries, so with the Inquisition presence, they'll be hard-pressed to —
I'm sorry. I doubt this interests you.
[ A pause, and he glances away, then returns to the dragon's gaze. ] I wanted to thank you. You did all we asked and more. Once the Crossing is passable and we've ensured no Red Templars have a hold there, we'll return to Skyhold.
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Of course it interests me. The state of the world is a very crucial thing to understand if one intends to spend any meaningful duration of time in it.
[ If only to better navigate his way to his goal. He's been given a board to play on without understanding the pieces or their function, how they move and interact.
Time with the Inquisition will no doubt solve several of these mysteries, and should their goals remain aligned? Perhaps he could lend his assistance in more meaningful ways than simply slapping down the local demonic presence. ]
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I could tell you what all I know - we'll have plenty of time while traveling. Though, keep in mind I've gone from a very specific upbringing and way of life, to being the head of a very public organization; I cannot promise my view is well-rounded. Solas knows much of elves, history, and the Fade. Cassandra can tell you of the Chantry, the Templars and Seekers. Vivienne can tell you of the Circles, where mages are kept. Dorian can tell you of Tevinter, a country to the north where mages are far more free than here - they rule, in fact - to my understanding, anyway. Varric knows much of the more human aspects of the Free Marches, and the city of Kirkwall in particular, which was perhaps the most instrumental city in the Mage Templar war beginning. Sera can tell you bits of all sorts of things. Blackwall can tell you of the Grey Wardens; they are a group responsible for defending against the Blights... though it's best to hear from him, the description of what a 'Blight' is, if your world does not experience them. The Iron Bull can tell you of the Qun, and Par Vollen far to the north. At Skyhold, Josephine can speak to most nobles in Thedas and the politics of each company, if that's more what interests you.
[ He pauses, realizing that might be quite a lot of information to dump all at once, but there's someone he hasn't mentioned— ] And Cole - he is a spirit... of sorts. According to Solas, something of an anomaly. But, he wishes to help. So if he said something ah, personal earlier, I apologize. It was not meant unkindly.
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[ His expression goes hard for a moment, recalling the pale-eyed boy intoning so clearly something he should not know. Mind-readers were one thing, but that? He'd felt his skin crawl realizing what he'd dredged up. Now, it's easier to simply shrug it away. ]
It's not something many would know. Not something I keep in my foremost thoughts, even. So it was...unexpected, to say the least.
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