[ The problem with handling multiple moving parts is that it forces Iorveth to make difficult decisions and handle nothing at maximum capacity. Dazed from the throw, he picks himself up off of the floor and battles cascading objects during his efforts to regroup; out of the corner of his shit peripheral vision, he sees Astarion flicker back into view and get handily disarmed with a flick of a gnarled hand.
Fuck. His pulse is a roar in his ears, and he calls out: ] Astarion, take the damned cloaks and run!
[ Outlining his two priorities, the only thing that would make this debacle worthwhile: Astarion's safety, and the sun. Iorveth kicks forward to provide a distraction, silvered dagger in hand for a rush attack, but the items in the room seem to pulse and shift around him, sneaking under his foot to trip him mid-motion.
"Bad thieves need to learn their manners," the hag cackles as Iorveth stumbles over a stack of books (was that there before?); one of her hands glow a sick blue-violet, and the subsequent spell she casts sends him lurching sideways, blinking back a sudden, overwhelming desire to sleep. The other hand darts forward, vicelike fingers attempting to close around Astarion's neck and handle him with the sort of strength one wouldn't expect from a creature that looks so slight.
"Oh, but Granny does love thinking of punishments. Fun, fun punishments." ]
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Fuck. His pulse is a roar in his ears, and he calls out: ] Astarion, take the damned cloaks and run!
[ Outlining his two priorities, the only thing that would make this debacle worthwhile: Astarion's safety, and the sun. Iorveth kicks forward to provide a distraction, silvered dagger in hand for a rush attack, but the items in the room seem to pulse and shift around him, sneaking under his foot to trip him mid-motion.
"Bad thieves need to learn their manners," the hag cackles as Iorveth stumbles over a stack of books (was that there before?); one of her hands glow a sick blue-violet, and the subsequent spell she casts sends him lurching sideways, blinking back a sudden, overwhelming desire to sleep. The other hand darts forward, vicelike fingers attempting to close around Astarion's neck and handle him with the sort of strength one wouldn't expect from a creature that looks so slight.
"Oh, but Granny does love thinking of punishments. Fun, fun punishments." ]