The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Marian Hawke]

"He mentioned a ritual -- could he be planning a summoning? or--"

Marian sits up, then, eyes widening. "If you wanted to hold someone and not have them be found-- say ,if you thought they might have friends helping them escape --"

[Varric]

"Then your secret sex slash devil summoning base would be a pretty damn good spot," Varric admits softly, eyes closing. Gods... Bartrand... how could you... how could you do this?

[Marian Hawke]

Marian takes a deep breath, then another. "Right. I'll-- I'll lead you there. All of us -- grab your gear, we might have to fight our way out." Gods. I have to go back. But... Bianca. Varric. No, there's no choice. I'll just have to handle it.

[Haliel Lightsong]

"Helene, grab Zevran and Isabela. Then you and Marian can stand watch outside the building with our traveling gear while we go inside," Haliel says briskly. "I'll get my armour on- Marian, would you mind giving me a hand with that?"

[Marian Hawke]

Marian nods. "It's-- it's a large facility, you might need--"

[Haliel Lightsong]

Haliel gently kisses her, uncaring of the lingering traces of sick. "Hush. Let us do our part now, okay?"

[Marian Hawke]

It takes some time for Marian to find her way; things look different now, without Tanna occupying her attention, and she has to slip them through back tunnels and secret passages she doesn't quite remember how to open. If she wasn't brilliant, there's  no way they'd have found their way down to the lowest parts of the city, near the great forges that keep the Clans running. 

Down here, there's always noise; the tunnels are carved further apart, letting more rock dampen the sound. The compound she leads them to is an old Clan hall, abandoned now, carved with runes that glow faintly red as they enter, as though watching them, sensing the life in them. 

As soon as they pass the threshold, they hear the screaming. Bianca's screams are hoarse, as though she's been screaming for some time, and loud enough they should have been heard, except for the enchantments in the place. Marian doesn't think twice; she runs forward, drawing her crossbow, two steps behind Varric, Lightsong at her heels with Zev not far behind.

They burst into the ritual room, coming into it via an upper balcony, a gallery where those uninvolved can sit and watch the proceedings. Below them, the ground is aglow with red runes: the ritual circle is in use, clearly, and the four hooded figures at the cardinal points of the circle are chanting and gesturing, raising the power for the ritual.

Bianca is laid on an altar in the center of the table, a collar -- familiar to Marian -- strapped around her neck. She doesn't move, but her eyes are wide in terror, and she's screaming bloody murder. The stench of blood fills the air, much of it coming from her; she's not wearing anything but a smock, and from the looks of it, the baby's coming. 

Now. 

[Varric]

Before they get more than a few steps in, a poorly cloaked figure leaps from the ceiling. Chains rattle and lash out, but Lightsong intercepts the attack with a challenging bellow. Zevran heads for the closest spectator cultist, daggers gleaming and his Beautiful Hope at his side. 

Varric doesn't notice any of this. He just sees Bianca, his first love, his first friend. Bleeding. Screaming. Dying. Bolts fire out towards the chanting cultists but hit a ward designed to prevent that very thing. Each one chips away at it, but it means they'll have to get close in to make a difference any time soon, which, given they're twenty feet above everything, will be a problem. No. No. No. This will not- no. I will not- no. No.

[Marian Hawke]

Marian throws herself over the railing without a second thought, feet overwhelming the shield rapidly to let her through -- it was meant to stop small projectiles, not people. Her foot scuffs one of the ritual marks, and she shrieks, a bit of reflected summoning energy coursing through her body, dragging her into the spell -- resonating with her lower back, with the mark on it. Changing the mark on it, not that she can see. 

Then she stumbles forward, into the center of the ritual, face to face with Bartrand. "Remember me," she pants, raising her crossbow and putting two bolts dead center in his chest. 

There's a brilliant light, then, as the energies go haywire, eclipsing the center of the ritual space. They're all blown back, knocked off their feet -- it's not a big ritual, just a summoning really, with some extra modifiers, so the backlash is worst for those directly involved and bearable for the rest. 

[Varric]

Just as the crescendo of light and sound peaks, Varric's mind snaps into focus. Not on the combat. Not on Bianca either. But on Marian. And a debt.

Greybeard- protect her!

[NPCs]

Done.

[Marian Hawke]

The light clears. 

Marian's form lies crumpled in a heap, atop Bartrand's dead body. On the table, Bianca coughs, a deep, desperate cough, struggling to cling to a shell that's already losing its grip on her. 

A baby wails. 

[Varric]

"Go," Zevran snaps from his spot on the chain devil's neck, blade sawing away as Lightsong keeps it pinned. Isabela and the wand-wielding Helene have the cultists handled- none of them are really fighters, so it's not a hard battle. Varric doesn't bother to reply, just leaps off the balcony after Marian. And it's Marian he goes to first, needing to... needing to have proof of Greybeard's payment.

[Marian Hawke]

She breathes; her pulse is steady, despite being out cold. But her form -- one leathery wing is tucked over her body like a blanket, the other sprawled beneath her; a pair of horns twist their way up through her hair, and her nails have grown longer, sharper, thicker, darker. A tail slips out from under her tunic,  thick and furless and spaded at the end. Part of her tunic's been singed, on the small of her back -- something to look into later, when they're all safe.

[Varric]

"Lightsong! Helene! Need you!" Whatever had happened to Marian not being something that a potion or wand could fix, the dwarf offers a prayer and moves over to Bianca in the hopes he might have better luck there.