Finrod | Findaráto Ingoldo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
finrod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gondolindrim2013-02-27 07:55 pm
finrod) wrote in gondolindrim2013-02-27 07:55 pm
Entry tags:
And Finrod fell before the throne.
Cristaer: *goes out to play the prey for Finrod, setting his cult members to be 'attacking' him, knowing he look the weakest of them* He's coming. Are you prepared?
Rae: *looks around at the rest of the followers* Yes, I think so.
Cristaer: Then we begin. *starts shouting for help and runs out of the alley, pursued by the cultists, and falls down in view of Finrod*
Cultists: *give chase*
Rae: *runs along in the very back* Don't let him escape!
Finrod: *sees the commotion ahead and someone fall, quickens his pace to see what's up*
Cristaer: Get back! *on the ground, scrabbling at the cobblestones as if to pick one up to throw*
Cultists: *run up and surround Cristaer, grabbing at his arms*
Cristaer: *decently panicky voice* No! No!
Finrod: *comes upon the group* What is going on here?!
Cristaer: They're madmen!
Cultists: *drag him to his feet*
Cristaer: *struggles, yelling*
Finrod: *narrows his eyes, a hand on the hilt of his sword* Let go of him.
Cultists: *tug him backward, dragging him away*
Rae: *lurks near the back, watching*
Cristaer: *suddenly changes body language* Get him.
Rae: *moves quickly to Finrod and places her hand on his arm* My dear cousin, so very fair. *says a few words of encantation under her breath* We would be honored if you came with us.
Finrod: *draws his sword as soon as the elf he'd thought a victim is let go; snaps his around at Rae's touch* Let go of me.
Rae: *locks eyes with him* No, you don't really want me to do that. *whispers another spell, stronger than the first one* You should come with me.
Cristaer: *pulling out a sleeping draught to help the spells along*
Finrod: *shivers at the touch of magic; says a low counter-spell of his own, pointing his sword at her*
Rae: *smiles sweetly* I mean you no harm, cousin. Trust me. *shoots a look at Cristaer*
Cristaer: *takes advantage of Finrod's distraction to drug him*
Finrod: *twists away from Rae as soon as she breaks eye-contact to glance at Cristaer*
Cristaer: *presses the rag of sleeping draught against Finrod's mouth*
Rae: *steps back as Cristaer administers the drug*
Finrod: *drives his elbow backward into Cristaer, ducking from his grip and staggering a few steps sideways, sword in front of him ready*
Cultists: *step forward to grab him*
Finrod: *slashes gracelessly at them, still running words through his head to try to fight off the feeling of sleep*
Cultist: *gets hacked on the arm, drops to his knees*
Cristaer: *bites back a cry when he gets the sword to his side*
Finrod: *breathing hard, catches another in the throat*
Rae: *rushes to Cristaer's side and places a hand on his arm* It's almost finished.
Cristaer: *flings the bottle of draught at Finrod's face, splashing it across*
Finrod: *unsteady, only managing to whisper the sporadic words of part-spells; brings a hand up to wipe at the draught, but staggers*
Rae: *nods to a cultist* Grab him.
Cristaer: And collect our dead. *gets up unsteadily* The city wants this one to suffer.
Cultist: *moves to grab Finrod*
Rae: *steadies Cristaer* And he will. I'll see to that.
Finrod: *slashing wildly at anyone, becoming increasingly dizzy and disoriented*
Cultists: *grab him by each arm*
Cristaer: Let us leave!
Finrod: *cries out (though unaware of it) when one wrenches his sword from his hand; cannot see anything past a blur of washed-out colour, and his struggling is entirely ineffective at this point*
Cultists: *lead Finrod away, following Rae and Cristaer*
Finrod: *passes out*
It's dark when he comes to, head pounding furiously and mouth bone-dry. Finrod can dimly make out the muffled sound of voices, and water, though he cannot yet make them out clearly. He moves to massage his forehead, but finds himself bound fast...
Rae: *looks around at the rest of the followers* Yes, I think so.
Cristaer: Then we begin. *starts shouting for help and runs out of the alley, pursued by the cultists, and falls down in view of Finrod*
Cultists: *give chase*
Rae: *runs along in the very back* Don't let him escape!
Finrod: *sees the commotion ahead and someone fall, quickens his pace to see what's up*
Cristaer: Get back! *on the ground, scrabbling at the cobblestones as if to pick one up to throw*
Cultists: *run up and surround Cristaer, grabbing at his arms*
Cristaer: *decently panicky voice* No! No!
Finrod: *comes upon the group* What is going on here?!
Cristaer: They're madmen!
Cultists: *drag him to his feet*
Cristaer: *struggles, yelling*
Finrod: *narrows his eyes, a hand on the hilt of his sword* Let go of him.
Cultists: *tug him backward, dragging him away*
Rae: *lurks near the back, watching*
Cristaer: *suddenly changes body language* Get him.
Rae: *moves quickly to Finrod and places her hand on his arm* My dear cousin, so very fair. *says a few words of encantation under her breath* We would be honored if you came with us.
Finrod: *draws his sword as soon as the elf he'd thought a victim is let go; snaps his around at Rae's touch* Let go of me.
Rae: *locks eyes with him* No, you don't really want me to do that. *whispers another spell, stronger than the first one* You should come with me.
Cristaer: *pulling out a sleeping draught to help the spells along*
Finrod: *shivers at the touch of magic; says a low counter-spell of his own, pointing his sword at her*
Rae: *smiles sweetly* I mean you no harm, cousin. Trust me. *shoots a look at Cristaer*
Cristaer: *takes advantage of Finrod's distraction to drug him*
Finrod: *twists away from Rae as soon as she breaks eye-contact to glance at Cristaer*
Cristaer: *presses the rag of sleeping draught against Finrod's mouth*
Rae: *steps back as Cristaer administers the drug*
Finrod: *drives his elbow backward into Cristaer, ducking from his grip and staggering a few steps sideways, sword in front of him ready*
Cultists: *step forward to grab him*
Finrod: *slashes gracelessly at them, still running words through his head to try to fight off the feeling of sleep*
Cultist: *gets hacked on the arm, drops to his knees*
Cristaer: *bites back a cry when he gets the sword to his side*
Finrod: *breathing hard, catches another in the throat*
Rae: *rushes to Cristaer's side and places a hand on his arm* It's almost finished.
Cristaer: *flings the bottle of draught at Finrod's face, splashing it across*
Finrod: *unsteady, only managing to whisper the sporadic words of part-spells; brings a hand up to wipe at the draught, but staggers*
Rae: *nods to a cultist* Grab him.
Cristaer: And collect our dead. *gets up unsteadily* The city wants this one to suffer.
Cultist: *moves to grab Finrod*
Rae: *steadies Cristaer* And he will. I'll see to that.
Finrod: *slashing wildly at anyone, becoming increasingly dizzy and disoriented*
Cultists: *grab him by each arm*
Cristaer: Let us leave!
Finrod: *cries out (though unaware of it) when one wrenches his sword from his hand; cannot see anything past a blur of washed-out colour, and his struggling is entirely ineffective at this point*
Cultists: *lead Finrod away, following Rae and Cristaer*
Finrod: *passes out*
It's dark when he comes to, head pounding furiously and mouth bone-dry. Finrod can dimly make out the muffled sound of voices, and water, though he cannot yet make them out clearly. He moves to massage his forehead, but finds himself bound fast...