// Recent work of Tenthrin, a cleric character of mine. There’s several ways to handle your foes.. Bringing holy wrath and flame upon them is one of them.
So, @icylook and I have been discussing the times our mage characters have had Holy Smite inflicted upon them. The following scene was based on something that actually happened in game. I was sort of sleepwalking through the Tower. I may have played this game a time or two before.... So I wasn’t really thinking about it when I had Macsen walk first into the room with the possessed templars in it. That went poorly.
And yet, it made a lot of sense to me in terms of the story of it. Who would see that coming? He’d been raised to think mages were uniquely susceptible to possession. He’d have a bias against expecting that. And probably trying very hard not to think overmuch about who he’s fighting, anyway.
Story bit from the Broken Circle part of Strange luck under the cut for spoilers for the intervening 60K words.
Macsen knew by now that someone waited for him on the other side of that door. He tried not to think. Plunge ahead, kill whatever attacks, sort out everything that didn't attack after the fact. The strategy, such as it was, came naturally, and nobody friendly needed to be in front of him when he let the lightning go.
He flung the door open and saw nothing but a flaming blue light. Malice speared through his skull, and then all went dark.
Alistair watched in horror as Macsen hit the floor like a blob of pancake batter. Dust crumbled from the stone walls as a result of the blast of five Smites at once. Maker, can he even survive that?!
“Oh, no!” Leliana cried from behind him.
No time to think about it. “Stay back, Wynne! I'll keep them busy.”
How can this be? Those are templars. They're ensorcelled, or are they possessed? He tried to call to them. Was that Clyde? Shannon? Feminine laughter echoed across the room. Alistair spun towards it. A naked woman the color of winter clouds beckoned to him and smirked.
Alistair shook his head to clear it. Obviously a demon, and strong.
The templars fought onward towards Alistair. “Oh, Maker, no...”
He stepped in front of Macsen; had to defend him. Bashed his shield into the largest man. It didn't help. Alistair's opponent readied his bastard sword to chop downward past Alistair-
No! I owe you, Silvana. I promised.
A shield bashed Alistair from the left. He flew. Crashed. Righted himself- too slow.
A rock hurtled into Alistair's recent attacker, but the large man... Clyde? rushed Macsen's defenseless form.
A shadow darted in between. A blade arced, took Clyde's head in the seam between helm and gorget. It rolled with a clang and a rattle.
The shadow slid to the floor with an exhaled groan and a the creak of studded leather. Tanned skin, leather rather than plate- a specialist tracker. He threw his sword away.
What?!
No time. Shannon returned, bore down on Alistair. Swords clanged, shields hit breastplates. Alistair struck again and again- good hits. Shannon spat blood and assaulted relentlessly with his shield. Alistair spun backwards; landed hard.
He heaved himself back upright. Too slow. Shannon stabbed downward straight at Macsen.
“NO!” yelled Alistair. He ran to beat the templar away.
“Alistair, move!” yelled Wynne. A giant chunk of hurtling stone bowled Shannon over. Alistair ran over to finish the man off. Where'd his sword go?!
A scream tore across the air. Leliana kicked her opponent in the balls as she tried to get enough space between them. Alistair ran behind him and shield bashed him over the head. Leliana trotted backwards down the hall, firing rapid arrows as she went.
The other templar had Wynne furiously casting. He cleansed the area as often as she could work magic. Fortunately, that kept him as busy as it kept her. Or, it did until a flurry of arrows found his weak spots.
Alistair turned to the demon. Wynne's magic had hurt it... her? Oily tendrils pried into his mind, but she'd kept these men trapped for weeks, possibly. Her fatigue was lucky for him. Demons fell to swords well enough. One more rock smashed into her, and Alistair chopped downward, finishing it. He turned to see how Wynne and Leliana fared- it was over, the last templar down.
He shoved his thoughts on that to the back of his mind. Later. He could have a nice, thorough meltdown when all of this was over.
Alistair turned to Macsen- teeth gritted, fearing the worst. There'd been no time to check on him. The man who had thrown his sword away lay draped across Macsen, gasping in pain. Alistair had thought him gone. A broadsword ran right through his lower right side. That's what happened to Shannon's sword. One of Leliana's arrows stuck out of his left arm.
Momentum almost carried Alistair to chop the man's head off and be done, but something was off. The demon was gone, but even while she'd remained, this person had assisted... Oh. “You're his... man-friend, aren't you?”
“Was,” he hissed out. “Never thought I'd see him again this side of the veil. If here counts as... a side.” His voice came out strained. He coughed, but it wasn't bloody. That was something.
Wynne bustled over. “Alistair, I'll need your help. I have no idea what that many smites do to a person, and Phelan's about to bleed out.”
“Let me,” he groaned.
“Don't be so melodramatic. Alistair, hold him up just a little. Gently! Leliana, slide Macsen out from under...” She continued barking instructions. Macsen was breathing and had a regular, slow heartbeat. His skin blistered and had reddened, and he'd hit his head badly on the way down. She sent a heal at him. Leliana bound a poultice to his head to reduce swelling.
The templar's injuries were complex. Alistair held him steady as Leliana drew out the sword and arrow. His leathers had sustained too much damage to be useful again so destroying them to remove them safely was no great loss. Wynne poured a stream of magic into the worst wound. She went completely silent in her focus.
“Really, don't waste time on me,” their patient protested, again. He'd only stopped begging them to leave him to scream at the sword's removal.
“Don't be an idiot,” said Leliana. “this is hardly... your fault.” She ripped a length of gauze with her teeth and pressed it to the cleaned arrow wound. The arrow had gone through the bicep, missing the bone.
“Whose, then?” he sighed and fell silent.
Alistair understood. Templars supposedly protected against this sort of thing. But now all the templars milled around outside, waiting for more so they could safely kill everyone to a man. Alistair honestly didn't know if they'd spare the children or not. Macsen obviously didn't think they would. And inside, templars had fallen prey to possession as the mages had. Worse, even. The mages had practice resisting demons. Alistair's mind flashed to the moment of Silvana's death. This entire predicament- could it be laid at templar feet?
No, he decided. These mages had turned to blood magic, and nothing excused that. And yet, the younger ones had been led into it. Plenty of blame to go around and none of it mattered right now, anyway.
Wynne cursed under her breath as she moved on to tend Macsen more thoroughly. “Blast it. I think he's bleeding internally. I've never seen this.”
“By the way, what does that do?” Leliana asked Alistair.
“One or two would knock a mage unconscious, and stun anybody nearby. It also drains their power and separates them temporarily from the fade.” Alistair swallowed. “Some have petitioned the Divine for permission to experiment with more, but it was always denied. 'Inhumane', they've always been told.”
“How could they even ask? That's terrible.”
“The Chantry is terrible,” Phelan cough-laughed bitterly.
Alistair looked over at him in surprise. “You think so?”
“You don't?”
“Well, not all the time. And you took your vows.”
“I’m told my parents were mages.”
“Oh.” That did sum it up. The Chantry had him from birth, then. They'd put him to work somewhere.
“He's coming around!” Wynne exclaimed. Her hands still glowed blue. Macsen's skin looked more pink than red.
Macsen's eyes opened. Alistair sighed in relief.
“Macsen,” Wynne rested her palm against his face. “Can you hear me?”
He croaked like a dying frog, but Alistair supposed it was an answer of sorts.
Not good enough for Wynne, though. “Blink twice if you can understand me.”
He did. Then he started to cough and shake. Wynne rolled him over far too quickly for Alistair's liking and Macsen vomited blood.
“Can I help?” Phelan asked. His voice still sounded strained.
“You can stay put and keep your insides where I left them, young man.” she snapped. “You've done enough.”
His face fell and he nodded.
Macsen struggled to look over at him, eyes wide. Wynne held him down with one glowing hand. “I know, I know. He's going to be fine. You need to worry about yourself for a moment. We have no idea what this has done to you beyond burn you inside and out. That's rather enough in any case. Leliana, please fetch me my herbs. I need to make an infusion. Alistair, please start a fire in the kitchen hearth. Boil some water and bring it to me.
So people actually get sent to boil water, Alistair mused. Not that he minded. It beat staring awkwardly as Wynne did all the work. It took him a while to find an intact kettle and scrub it clean. At least he had plenty of practice at that sort of thing.
When Alistair returned to the others, Macsen lay propped on a rolled up carpet with his... friend sitting next to him. Macsen held onto his hand for dear life, in spite of his pink and blistered skin. Wynne stared at them with obvious disapproval. She smoothed her features into her more usual businesslike attitude when Alistair cleared his throat. She thanked him and threw a muslin-wrapped bundle of herbs into the pot he brought. The cool scent of herbs filled the room.
Sorry, nothing from inside his head this time, but there’s how it happened. Macsen’s least favorite injury.
Conversation snippet from when he’s fully all right, again:
“I suppose I needn't continue flirting with you, then?” Leliana smiled and looked at him sideways.
Macsen chuckle-coughed weakly. “I was trying to figure out the most polite way to say 'yes I noticed, and thank you but no thank you'.”
