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Post by Kelathi on Jul 23, 2016 23:54:37 GMT
((IT'S HERE! The Dragon Age role-play *dances* Message me for info or if you want to join! Red, as always, has auto-join privileges. Onwards!))
They had been travelling for around a week before they finally arrived at the Hinterlands.
The horses champed the mossy ground anxiously, steam rising in short bursts from their snouts before dissipating ponderously into the humid air. The sun had been beating down relentlessly for the past few days, and the animals were feeling it more than their riders. Occasionally, a heavy cumulus cloud would pass across the sun, shading the land temporarily from the sun’s harsh rays, and at such moments the horses almost seemed to sigh with relief, pushing on forwards with renewed effort and vigour. When the heat of day seemed too much for their steeds, the riders would dismount, lead the horses to a shadier area, and allow them to drink from a nearby crook and rest a while before continuing.
They were a small entourage, consisting of two men and two women, their clothing specked with dust from their travels, armour dented and leather boots worn from wear. The man at the head of the party was a tall, sturdy individual with sun-kissed skin, dark stubble and an austere countenance; his dark hair was cut short on one side, falling down free on the other and at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a light brown, often appearing golden when the sun caught them in just the right way. Two prominent scars marred his otherwise handsome features, one cutting through his right eyebrow and just missing his eye, and the other lay on his cheek, angled up towards the first. Around his left eye a prominent tattoo, a gift from a rival, which is all Cael would say about this mysterious marking when pressed. There was a steadiness to his gaze, suggesting a sense of hardship to his life, and when moved to mutter words he was soft-spoken and sombre, the rumbling of his voice seeming to have a calming affect on the listener. And yet this same voice had the capacity to be authoritative when needed, and despite his solemn appearance, his mouth relaxed easily into a smile whilst his companions cracked jokes and quipped at each other as they travelled.
The ones he led were just as intimidating with their battle-beaten armour, and yet as they rode they laughed as they talked amongst themselves, sharing half-serious remarks and general chatter about the journey. There was also a fair-haired man with sharp, pixie-like features, a raven-haired woman with steely eyes, dark blue markings on her face and pointed ears, and a stocky, red-haired individual with a long, thick beard. Heavy swords in faded scabbards hung at their sides, apart from the fair-haired man, whom wielded an ebony staff instead, bearing a large emerald crystal at the top, encased by a wooden crown. Occasionally, the emerald seemed to sputter small electrical currents.
It would be immediately clear to any who might be observing at this moment, the specific nature of their trade, for wardens are easy to recognise. Their beaten armour is hardy despite the wear, infused with magic to ward off and deflect a collection of varied magical attacks. But more so than their clothing, the telling was in their countenance, their posture… their very attitude that often naturally distilled in others a sense of wariness. Here were individuals, whom hunted darkspawn, and somehow it seemed to show in their face, in their steely gazes… there was an essence, an aura, if you will, that they were a force to be reckoned with…
The rider at the front of the entourage slowed, and slowly the chatter died off. After a few more steps, at once, the riders dismounted, and promptly began to tie their horses to nearby trees. The wardens were silent now, their faces set in seriousness. Then, as one, they began to press deeper into the forest, following the trickle of water that soon became a steady stream. There was no need for words; they could all sense what was ahead. After a while, they slowed, and their footsteps became stealthy. They drew their weapons with barely a whisper of steel, and began to split up, spreading out. After a while they could no longer see each other, but their heightened senses allowed them to pinpoint each other’s position, using this to work out where they should be in regards to everyone else. Out of sight from each other, they picked up the pace now, it would not be long before their enemy sensed their presence, as they themselves had sensed their enemy. But for now, they had the element of surprise. It would not last for long, so they had to move fast.
Their quarry came into sight up ahead.
It is difficult to describe a creature of taint. They are the stuff of nightmares, with sallow skin stretched too tight over their bodies, which are littered with self-inflicted scars and battle-wounds. Whilst their armour, crafted from human slaves before they outlive their usefulness, is crude, it has the ability to withstand most heavy blows and even offers a little magical protection. When finding themselves without a weapon, they are still formidable foes, wielding great strength and still able to fell a man with their bare hands.
Which is why tactics were important.
The creatures seemed to halt all at once in their grunting, simultaneously pausing only momentarily, but it was all the signal that the wardens needed.
They attacked.
It was over quickly. There were only three darkspawn, after all, and four wardens. Hardly a challenge for them. The wardens were efficient, bearing down on the darkspawn with a calculated precision. A clash of swords and the scuffle was over in just a few minutes. Spearing his sword into the head of a genlock, Cael turned to his bearded companion, and offered his hand, helping him up. His mouth twitched into a smile as he spoke, “Lose your footing, old man?” The older man merely frowned, accepting the help, albeit grudgingly, and brushing himself off. “Nonsense. All part of the plan.” This earnt a chuckle from the others. The raven-haired woman picked up the man’s sword, throwing it to him hilt-first, which the older man caught smartly. “That was part of the plan, too.” He merely noted gruffly, to which the woman laughed, and replied, “Never doubted it.” Meanwhile, Cael was walking towards the edge of the cliff, and soon, he found what he was looking for. A deep rift in the ground, the rock lifting up as a harsh lip, the floor after it dipping down so that it was invisible from the other side. Cael stepped round before it, and motioned to the others. “Lets get this hole filled.” He announced, as they approached the rift, the opening which the darkspawn had used to enter their world. The woman quipped at the bearded man again, and he produced a bottle from his satchel, as the two began to drink in celebration. The fair-haired mage walked towards Cael, standing before him and regarding the hole quizzically for a moment. Then he lifted his staff, and as he called the power to him, the floor began to shake. A blue glow originated from his hands, and as he lifted them, palms facing the sky, the larger rocks near them began to rise…
He sensed the creature before he saw it. He should have noticed it before… in fact, had he time to ponder on the occurrence, he’d have realised it should have been impossible that he had not. All wardens can sense darkspawn. All the same, without such prior warning... he reacted quickly.
The creature threw itself from the ground, bearing towards the mage, but was met with a heavy shield to the face as Cael threw himself in front of him. At the impact, both Cael and the mage flew back with the force, staff clattering to the ground, and the heavy rocks dropping with such force the sound of stone on stone echoed in their ears, and the cliff edge shook beneath them… Cael felt empty air beneath his head, and he was quick to push himself up, realising he had just missed falling off the edge. Looking up, the creature bore over them, casting a giant shadow over them and blocking out the sun.
Maker’s breath!
This creature was no darkspawn.
It’s hulking form looked as if a child had pieced it together. It’s back was bowed with the weight of heavy crystals that seemed to be protruding from the creature’s skin, and it’s limbs were dis-proportionate. The strange crystals held a faint glow, which seemed to brighten as the creature emitted a terrible scream. It was not the typical roar of a great beast about to attack… but a tortured howl, like there was a man somewhere within this creature, fighting to get out, and battling with the animal it had become… It swung both arms at once, both hands wielding long, sharp crystals instead of fingers. The floor rumbled as it charged at them, the fresh blood of it’s tainted brothers sending it berserk…
He was barely on his feet before the creature swung at him, but he managed to spin to the side just in time. The creature skidded to a halt, sending rocks tumbling off the cliff instead of its hulking mass. A flash of light hit it in the back of the head, and it swung round, roaring. The mage struck it again, sending shocking waves of power towards it, meanwhile, the rest of the wardens attacked from the back, hoping to draw the creature away from the cliff edge… and thus away from Cael, who was unarmed now, his sword having slid down into the gaping rift in the ground. Together, the wardens seemed to draw blood, although the crimson substance spurting from the creature’s wounds seemed to glow for a short while when fresh. As the creature turned towards Cael’s companions, arms swinging so as to grab at them, Cael made a run for his sword. Skidding on the ground, he reached into the hole and grabbed the hilt. Rolling back, he was on his feet quickly, just in time to see that the wardens had been split up. This would have been fine, had the creature not been about to bear down on the mage, whom was now unarmed…
He threw the sword forwards, and it pierced through the air, spearing the creature in the back of its neck and imbedding itself into the soft flesh where crystals were not growing. Immediately, it stumbled back, screeching, and the wardens were able to run to the mage’s aid. The creature spun round again… and Cael would have sworn that they locked eyes for a moment.
And he knew what the beast was going to do.
He had just about enough time to raise his shield… and that was what saved him. That… and the elevated hardiness that being a warden gave him.
The creature barreled into him with so much force that the ground gave way beneath them both.
***
He was choking. Choking on blood? He was doused in it. He could feel it weighing down on his armour, and dribbling down his face and he couldn't breathe...
He coughed, he felt as if he were bringing up his lungs but what came out was water, not blood. His vision was misty but as he drew up a hand to wipe his eyes his hand was wet with water... Not blood.
Well, that was promising.
He grasped at the grass, pulling himself from the grip of the river, crawling up the bank... Before turning and collapsing onto his back.
The birds twittered happily, unconcerned about the drenched man who lay staring up at the sky. Wait... His sword!
He sat up suddenly, but regretted it immediately. His head was pounding, and this time when something ran into his eye.... A sweep of his hand revealed that this was, in fact, blood. Distracted, he merely wiped to regain his sight, his hand going to the empty sheath at his waist. And then he remembered what had happened in a flood of memories. The damn creature. It had knocked him clear off the cliff...
He leaned back on his hands, looking about himself. He could not see the cliff from here, and the stream was calm... Nothing like the raging rapids he had been dragged through. He must have drifted quite far downstream. With a sigh, he pushed himself up, shaking his head, droplets of water spraying the sand. He began to walk, following the stream.
His companions should be alright, the beast had tumbled down with him, of that he was sure, although for the moment, it was nowhere to be seen. But he picked up his pace nonetheless, anxious to find out for sure.
It took him around an hour to reach the waterfall, and again, he was amazed at how far he had been dragged by the currents, whilst still retaining his life. Not to mention the fall, which, as he shielded his eyes from the sun to look up at the cliff, would have killed a normal human. Meanwhile, he sported no more than a few bumps and bruises, and a cut above his eyebrow that bled more than it had a right to. A slight wheezing to his breath and a pain in his stomach indicated a few broken ribs, but this was nothing of alarm. These wounds would heal; the fact that he was alive at all was a feat and a half. It was easy sometimes to forget the physical privilege of the taint, the aspects which made him hardier than the average human. When fighting, he did not stop to wonder at the strength of his blows or his heightened stamina. But the positive, physical effects of the taint were never clearer than now.
He needed to get back up there, somehow. He turned his attention to the sun, and with a curse at the time that had passed, set to work immediately to find a route.
***
All wardens were proficient at tracking. It was something that was required of them. Whilst sensing darkspawn comes naturally after the Joining, it is a gift that must be practiced, and it never hurt to be able to track other creatures. For not all enemies would be darkspawn, and not all enemies would they be able to rely on their taint-given abilities...
A few hours later and he knew they would be far away by now. No doubt the horses would be gone, and they would be on their way to report to the others what they had seen. He did not venture close to the edge, which he noted absently was a different shape now, as the cliff had indeed come away with the creature and himself. What his companions had left for him had made him smile. His satchel which he had left on his horse, his sword, imbedded in the mossy ground where the rock did not touch, a flask of water and a small package of bread. The small collection was telling. The fact that they had left it suggested that they thought there may be a chance he was alive… but the fact that they had not left his horse, suggested that they were also realists. A soft chuckle left him as he gathered the items, sheathing his sword, tying the satchel to his belt and shoving the bread into his pocket. They were alive, of this he was sure. If one of them had died, they would have left the warden’s weapon… as they had his. This lifted his spirits. He just needed a horse, and he would catch up with them in no time. He glanced at the sun… maybe it would take a little time… but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were alive.
They had passed a small village nearby, he would be able to obtain a horse there, and bind his stomach so that the ribs would not set improperly. If he were lucky, he would also be able to obtain the services of a healer, but by the look of the place as they had rode by, perhaps not.
He could only hope.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 24, 2016 3:50:50 GMT
To some, those who hunted the darkspawn were heroes; men and women brave enough to track down and face such monsters, even risking the taint themselves. Others saw them as power-hungry beasts themselves, as tainted and evil as those they hunted. There was a third, much rarer view of the wardens and their quarry, one that could stand its own ground against either, and had infused its beliefs into its charge. This view is rather simple: only wardens and darkspawn presented any valid threat. Even so, she was quick to argue against dealing with the other two-legs, despite an inbred connection and need.
A figure walked along the edge of a river, the long cloak playfully tossed in the breeze. The cliffs rose up on either side, trees dotting the landscape. There was a forest nearby, on the far side of the cliff face, but the space down at the river was mostly occupied by boulders that had been shaken from the walls above. This made the lone figure seem rather vulnerable as a shadow loomed above, growing in size until its monstrous form could be recognized.
The figure’s cloak was snagged in the ragged fangs of a Highland Ravager, a massive beast that had outgrown its own kind. The glowing mix of red and slate scales almost hid the golden eyes, narrowed as the creature landed with the fabric nearly snagging on teeth. However, the response of the human against the High Dragon was not an expected one. Yanked back by the sudden grab on the cloak, the wings kicking up pebbles and water from the riverbed, the human twisted about as the latch on the cloak was released, removing the hood to reveal that it was not hiding something human.
At least, fully human.
No longer attached, the dragon lifted her head to study the creature before her, the cloak still dangling from her mouth like a daintily sized rag. Her gaze met with equally golden and fiery eyes, narrowed and slitted in irritation. Nothing more, however, for the man, even in his delicate features and strong profile, tanned skin and lean form, physically had less in common with a human than the beast before him. Not only were his eyes alight with fire, not only did his bared teeth show fangs for canines, but the sides of his face and back of his neck were covered in scales. Not just any scales, but the reddish slate scales of the dragon before him. These were only partly hidden by the reddish locks that fell free of their constraining braid, and the layers of robes that he wore. The dragon and the “human” stared at one another for several long moments, the dragon’s soft purring growl being all that mingled with the sound of the water running beside them.
At last, the human strode forward, power and purpose to his step despite marching on a High Dragon. Rather than attack with the sword that hung at his side, he yanked the cloak out of her mouth, checking its hem for holes despite the presence of such a powerful beast hovering above him.
He found one new hole.
“Again?!” he growled, nearly taking a draconic tone himself as he shot a glare at the dragon, who snorted even while looking a little subdued. “Do you know how long it took me to save up for this cloak?! This is the third time!” the human went on, turning away while replacing the cloak. The dragon lifted her head as he walked, huffing as a cloud of smoke escaped her nostrils.
“I don’t see why you had to get that particular one in the first place.”
To anyone else, a dragon actually speaking in the common tongue – with an almost aristocratic accent to boot – would have probably convinced them they had gone mad, or she was tainted somehow. Although the ability to speak had yet to be discovered as a side effect of being tainted, there was no limit to the stupidity of a two-leg. This of course did not include the one before her, who turned at her remark with a glare. “Because this is the first I found that has a mask built into it… despite what you think, I look more like a dragon than a human,” he replied even as he replaced the band of fabric that covered his face just below his eyes. There was a strong undercurrent of anger at referencing how human he looked, but it went away quickly as the dragon moved in close.
Even to an observer it was not an attack. Instead, the long head rubbed against the other, purring softly. “I just worry that you get closer and closer to those two-legs every day you deal with them, little Ronan,” she rumbled softly, lowering her entire body against the ground as if in submission. The heat of her body began to turn the outer edges of the river to steam, rising like a faint mist that faded within feet of her. Ronan sighed at the persistent, needy nuzzling, stroking the great nose compassionately as his eyes changed from slits to a more human roundess. “They’ll never steal me from you, Stormrune,” he said, pausing at the murmur of a whimper within the rumble. A heavy sigh of defeat, an eyeroll that he had learned from the two-legs, and he added in a softer voice, “Grandmama.”
The childish name immediately earned an increase of rumble, resembling that of a cat suddenly satisfied. The great golden eye closed, the head lifting to finally allow her halfbreed to progress. “The town is not too far,” Ronan tried to reassure even as he checked that her nuzzling hadn’t removed the mask or caused a new rip in his clothes. “There’ll not be a town tomorrow if you are not back by dawn,” she reassured in turn, the implicit threat only earning an appreciative smile.
“Just try not to get into trouble without me,” Ronan replied as he turned to continue on. Stormrune watched him for a few moments, her lip curling into a smile as she replied, “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the fun.”
The halfbreed’s smile was hidden as he felt the force of her taking off, heading back to their most recent cave. Only for him had she ventured out into the daylight, to risk being seen as more than a passing, vengeful ghost. Now it was time to hide. And time for a different type of hunting. The kind only possible through finding the right type of merchant to buy what trinkets they had been able to scrabble together.
---
It was getting late by the time he reached his end point with the river. Then again, Stormrune had done her best to make sure he didn’t get going until an unreasonable hour in the afternoon. At least she wasn’t following him. Given the smell of blood somewhere up ahead, she would have already made her protective presence known if she was trailing him.
Once more checking that the band of fabric was snugly fitted to his face, Ronan pushed on, only a few loose strands escaping the hood, every other inch of him invisible under the clothes. This was not by accident by any means. Just one good look into his eyes would reveal he was more than he tried to appear; a simple human trader, despite being a decent bit taller than almost anyone else he had yet met, save for the Qunari. The fact that Ronan was a little scrawny for his height dispelled most concerns about him, however, and few tried hard enough to peer into his nearly hidden gaze. The golden eyes moved upwards along the cliff, seeing quickly his usual path up. With little effort or concern, he began to quickly scale the wall, able to reach handholds with ease.
On top, he paused, able to see that something had happened here. Rocks had fallen where they hadn’t before, the dirt disturbed and the scent of blood strong. So this was the trace he had been scenting for the last hour… it wasn’t human, but only one source wasn’t something he recognized. The rest… well, darkspawn were something dragons had to deal with as well, even if they were not foolish enough to hunt them down actively. But there was also a damaged cliff side, giving him more concern than the lingering presence of dead darkspawn.
For this reason, he decided against being quite so concerned about hiding himself. He threw the edges of his cloak back behind him, freeing his arms and so his weapon should the need arise. Ronan was also too busy to notice that the climb had finally dislodged the mask, resting just threads away from his neck rather than covering his face. But he could scent clearly now, knowing that something had been through recently… something that smelled more human and so less of a threat.
Rather than simply walk, Ronan began to jog slowly, still open to the possibility that there was an actual threat lingering. After all, darkspawn and broken cliffs couldn’t possibly be a good mix. He was not as quick to fight or flight as his grandmother was, however. He still wanted to sell the baubles he had found in various places, some claimed to be “sacred,” to earn more coin for the things the two of them needed. Stormrune might not want to admit it, but in a world with growing numbers of wardens and darkspawn attacks, distance from all other races was not a very feasible plan.
Ronan’s focus on the satchel beneath the cloak switched quickly as he heard something up ahead. Had he been so distracted by the darkspawn he hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone? His pace immediately slowed, shifting from the run to a stalk, looking into the woods for the source of the sound.
Nothing… so like a hunter, he ran. One might think he was tainted by his speed, barely managing to keep the cloak from snagging as he dodged about and around trees. Finally, there it was – a figure, human from what he could tell at a distance, walking calmly. Did the human not realize there was darkspawn in the area? Ronan paused to see if there was anything else nearby, settled by the quiet noises of the forest. Settling into a normal path of walking himself, Ronan focused on reorienting himself to the town, scowling when he realized that the other was walking in at least a similar direction. Ronan hoped this wasn’t the case. But he needed the money… their supplies for medicine was low, and the only way to access such items was through two-legs.
So he pressed on, a little calmer for his rush through the trees, but he was quickly recovering his usual dark mood when dealing with anything that wasn’t his grandmother.
(in case it needs noting, the human Ronan finds at the end is supposed to be Cael. And the mask is currently down to show his face. lol)
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 25, 2016 14:50:30 GMT
((No worries, you were clear xP))
At moments like these, the importance of being able to track was never more apparent. His companions were too far away for him to be able to sense the taint running within their veins, so instead, he needed to rely on what the land told him. True, he knew their ultimate destination, but there was a chance that they would stop for a rest at a town or village, and so he might catch up with them before they arrived back at Crestwood to report to Blackwall what they had found. The individual was an old friend and mentor to himself and his companions, and whilst still hardy enough to join them and hold his own in a fight, he had stayed behind to protect a village on the outskirts of Crestwood from bandits. Whilst not strictly the job of a warden, a good warden would do what they could to help people in need, regardless of whether the threat was darkspawn or not. Of course, darkspawn threats always take priority, which was why Cael and his entourage had ventured this far South to deal with the issue, leaving only Blackwall behind. One warden was more than enough to protect a village from people.
Helping the villagers would no doubt improve their morale and attitude to wardens, which was not something that should be underestimated. Many people still treated them with contempt, fearful of the creatures they fought against, and the fact that the taint that ran through the monster’s veins also ran just as eagerly through the blood of a warden. In order to work to their full potential, wardens needed the co-operation of people. Whilst people were decreed by law to give a Grey Warden whatever they may request to help them in their fight, including a right of conscription, people whom did not trust wardens have been known to stall or be less than helpful, damaging the reputation of wardens when they are forced to take what they need regardless, and further perpetuating distrust between civilians and wardens, thus endangering the fate of the world.
Without Grey Wardens, darkspawn would run rampant and free. To be able to protect the world from darkness, viable people, regardless of species, gender, criminal background or social class, are chosen to join the wardens. They are trained in the ways, a notion labeled as The Joining, until finally facing the last and most challenging task… to drink the blood of the tainted, and survive. Most who have rolled the dice and chanced with fate have not lived to fulfill their potential as a Grey Warden. But those that survive have the ability to sense the taint, meaning they can sense darkspawn, and to a much lesser extent, other wardens. They have greater strength and stamina, but with these gifts… there are, of course, the drawbacks. In between those blessed nights of peaceful sleep and empty dreams, the night of a warden can also be littered with nightmares and torturous visions. Only the respite of nights of peaceful sleep, which may last for days if the warden is fortunate, between these sleepless nights is enough to stop them from going crazy.
The other major downfall is the ravenous hunger, which can arise sporadically and last for a day at most. During this time, the individual is driven almost mad with an insatiable desire to eat, but should they indulge, no amount food would satisfy. To counter this, their bodies also have an increased metabolism, which allows them to eat much more than the average human without dire side effects. During these times, the individual would be short of temper and constantly frustrated… and therefore it is a good time for civilians to keep their distance. Thankfully, Cael had just come out of this state the day before. This meant he was feeling in a relatively good mood, despite the events that had passed by recently. His wounds were only minor inconveniences, easily fixed. The point was that his companions, and of course, he, were alive. But there was something that was troubling him… and the very thought was enough to put a damper on his mood.
Why had been taken off-guard by that one darkspawn that had leapt from the darkness?
It did not make sense. That, and it was nothing like he had ever seen before. Why did it seem to be imbedded with crystals? And that scream… wardens are rarely afraid, due to their awareness of their inner strength. And yet, the thought of that howl made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. But there was a further issue, one that boggled even the minds of his superiors.
This wasn’t a blight. Of this, his superiors had assured all wardens. If it was a blight there would an archdemon. That’s how it worked. Then why, were there so many darkspawn attacks? It was not unusual to find a small horde of darkspawn rising from the earth every now and again, but so many, at so many different places in Thedas? The thought was troubling. And some of his older companions had told him that there was a feeling in the air, a tension, much alike to the feeling of the beginning of the last blight… a concern they did not voice to their superiors, for fear of being accused of being fear-mongers.
He thought he heard a snap of a twig behind him, but it was soon accompanied with birdsong, so he thought nothing of it. Also, he could hear running water nearby, so he picked up his pace. He could do with washing away blood and grime, if he were going to face people soon. The small brook came into view up ahead, and when he reached it, he crouched and cupped his hands, splashing his face gratefully and washing away the blood from his face. He also wet the back of his neck, the cool water soothing him, and drank from his cupped hands. As he stood back up, shaking the droplets from his hands… this time he hadn’t heard a noise, but he sensed that something was near by.
Regardless of whether the creature he could sense was animal or human, his hand automatically reached for the hilt of his weapon, and his body stiffened as he swiftly searched his surroundings, standing motionless now and listening intently. He held his breath, so that he could hear much more clearly without his damaged wheezing, and waited for a further indication of a presence.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 25, 2016 16:09:11 GMT
It would not be inaccurate to say that dragons are, if anything, not subtle. When herds of livestock start to vanish, people investigate. When people start to vanish, wardens investigate. It doesn’t take long to discover a High Dragon has set up a new nest, with her daughters and sons protecting a horde of eggs. They almost seem to take pleasure in becoming a growing threat, only to be taken out by wardens already on high alert for darkspawn attacks.
Stormrune, a High Dragon herself, showed at least a similar behavioral pattern. She did not say anything that could ever be misinterpreted. Subtlety was not something she understood the purpose of, to neatly slip in a secondary meaning behind her words that could be misconstrued, reinterpreted. This was a skill Ronan was learning from his interactions with two-legs, being forced to be patient and so observe what might be intended.
Ronan was still half dragon, however.
His direct path towards the village was one based on scent, the herd of goats kept in the streets only one of the unmistakable markers. He could follow it through the woods and across waterways. He could tell if there was something in his path as to avoid unnecessary confrontation, such as a bear or a hunting party. But he was already on his way to a town full of two-legs. It might not hurt to get into the mood for the lot of them. The figure he came upon as he too approached the brook seemed no threat. The stink of dead darkspawn still lingered, apparently contaminating any new scents. As if the human in front of him would have something to do with darkspawn… humans weren’t much of a concern for anything but their coin.
Ronan paused at the edge of the woods, still covered in shadows but not bothering to hide, as he evaluated the human. A hand had moved back towards a sword, apparently studying the area around him. The smell of blood lingered even though much had already been washed off, but it indicated injury. There was no need for a careful study of the other, no interest in learning more. Just a desire to not be slowed up any more than he had been already.
“Save your energy for an actual threat,” Ronan coolly and ‘subtly’ noted aloud as he finally approached, his voice managing to be strong yet silken, and totally condescending. Usually, his mask would hide most of his expression, including the slight curl of his lip that now lingered from his words. Not bothering to alter his course and so gain more distance, his path continued on mere feet past the stranger. Beyond the one sentence, Ronan hadn’t bothered to look the man in the eyes, used to the usual response; an irritated look his way, perhaps a similar remark returned, and that would be that. With his face perpetually masked, no one seemed interested in looking. A plus, he thought.
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 31, 2016 2:24:01 GMT
Well, at least it seemed that in this case, his senses were not completely failing him… The stranger approached from beneath the shade of a tree, and as the shadows fell from his face… Cael fought to keep the expression of surprise from his own, but felt his body tense in response nevertheless. A face that, at a glance, had appeared human, he could now see was not quite as it seemed… but then the stranger had passed by, and Cael was left with a decision.
Encroaching on the side of the stranger’s face, Cael could have sworn he had seen dark red markings, markings that he had immediately assumed to be vallaslin, the intricate tattoos non-city elves bore on their faces. But in that split moment as he approached… Cael was not so sure. They almost looked like…
The rock, crystal-like markings he had seen on that darkspawn-like creature.
Was this how it worked? The onset of the disease? It was how it worked with darkspawn. The signs were small to begin with. A patch of rotting skin, a hunger that soon develops into an insatiable voracious appetite… Perhaps with those creatures it was the same, except it was the crystal material instead of the sallow skin of a Hurlock that steadily overtakes the body. The crystals had made the creature much more difficult to wound, acting like armour. Maybe these creatures were the next stage in the evolution of darkspawn. And just like with the armoured creature, Cael could not sense taint within this stranger.
This was why he decided to follow this individual… discreetly, of course. He seemed to be walking in the direction of civilisation, which was where Cael was headed anyway. He told himself he would be observing for the aforementioned reasons… and not because of the stranger’s alluring, golden eyes. He had merely caught a glimpse, and yet… Curiosity piqued, he had decided in that moment that he wanted to know more about this stranger.
Even if nothing about him invited company, the hostility almost rolling off him in waves. Cael was not perturbed. “Do you know the way to the nearest town?” he asked suddenly, removing his hand from the hilt of his sword. Breathing normally now, his wheeze was noticeable once more. Instead of trying to hide it, he allowed it to come naturally. Sometimes it paid to appear weak, it lulled people into a false sense of security. Despite their deeds, many did not truly believe in the legendary strength of wardens, so it always paid to play on such underestimations occasionally. “I’m looking for somewhere to get patched up.” He explained, a rare, lopsided grin alighting on his lips.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 31, 2016 5:27:59 GMT
Rather than a reply, the human began to follow, evidenced by the sound of footsteps on the shore of the stream, and the sudden desire to communicate with him. This wasn’t what he was expecting, particularly after such a verbal assessment.
The question was met with silence, Ronan only responding with a secondary pause before continuing on. His irritated sigh was barely audible beneath his breath, bordering on a snarl. Sensitive hearing immediately caught the wheezing in his voice, confirming that he was injured. So why was he being so… chatty?
Ronan’s eyes were narrowed irritably as he turned to glance at the human, momentarily taken off guard by the strange smile. His eyes widened for a second, the slits visible for that short time, quickly replaced by an even more irritated look. “Better have coin then,” he grumbled, his eyes once more evaluating the stranger with a less than approving gaze.
“They don’t do charitable,” he added unhelpfully as he finally began to walk away, a steady, strong pace that was marred by only one thing. As a habit, he had gotten used to checking the mask was in place, leaving only a stormy glare visible to the annoying two-legs. His step lost some of its confidence even as his eyes grew wide, feeling the leather of his glove against his skin and scales rather than fabric.
He rushed to bring up the band of fabric, fumbling only to find it hiding below his chin. A feeling he was most unused to welled within him; his heart was hammering, wondering how much had been noticed, how much had really been seen. Surely, if the stranger was so friendly, it had meant that his scales hadn’t been seen…?
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 31, 2016 9:18:34 GMT
The man was clearly not happy about his new companion, but fortunately this did not bother Cael in the slightest. “Ah…” Was his reply to his comment, however, his smile disappearing quickly. He had a handful of bronze coins, but that was it. Well, thankfully he knew how to earn his keep. Technically, he could take what he needed without need for payment, but he tried not to unless he was in dire need. One of their aims was to improve people’s opinion of Grey Wardens, after all...
“It shouldn’t be a problem.” He added, with a casual wave of his hand, aware that his sunny disposition had faded for a moment. He noticed from his peripheral vision in that moment a sudden movement as the stranger scrambled to cover his face, an action that Cael noted in his mind as ‘curious’, even if he did not visibly react. So he had been correct, if it had been vallaslin, the individual would have had no need to hide it, but rather, would be wearing his facial markings proudly. This… did not look good for the man.
But, Cael firmly believed people should be treated as innocent until proven guilty, and was loathe to make any kind of move until he knew more about this individual- it never did well to jump to conclusions. Besides, if he presented a problem, Cael would be around to protect the people if needs be.
“You come to this town often then?” He asked conversationally, to numb the silence that had grown between them.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 31, 2016 13:50:02 GMT
Isn’t he ever going to shut up?!
Ronan’s mood had soured with his worry about having been discovered, only slightly visible as his boldness had faded in turn. He was confident that he could take care of himself; Stormrune would always become the bigger target simply for being a High Dragon. Causing waves, even if they were wild accusations of taint such as were rampant, could draw the wrong attention. It had taken some time to find their current cave; Ronan didn’t want to give that up so soon.
Nothing about his bad mood had kept the man from wanting to walk with him, however, so of course it wasn’t affecting a desire to converse. It was only because Ronan had bothered to learn anything about the darkspawn and the taint that he even responded – verbally, without a sword to the other’s throat – given that the taint meant an individual may cover up, but certainly wouldn’t stay “conversational.” The taint fouled up that ability fairly quickly.
He couldn’t help the slight edge to his voice that explained he’d rather not be talking at all, even as he forced himself to reply. “As little as possible,” Ronan explained, barely keeping a growl out of his voice by letting it get rougher. He did not, however, push on the conversation, hoping still that the other would be put off eventually and leave him be.
And hopefully not alert anyone about what he might or might not have seen…
Despite what had happened to his family in the past, he had only met a Gray Warden once as a child, the encounter itself short. He would avoid contact when he had early warning, most often from those who felt the wardens were as evil as those they hunted. He figured they’d be similar enough to the darkspawn they were trained to fight to be decently recognizable. And if Ronan could take out darkspawn, he’d be able to handle a warden.
Or this human, if push came to shove.
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Post by Kelathi on Aug 2, 2016 13:30:37 GMT
((Omg I have sooo many funny fanart ideas XD ))
Cael kept up the visage that he was following because he was clueless as to the location of the town, despite the fact that he was in fact adept at tracking. Even so, it was not easy for him to ignore the tell-tale signs that others had walked this way recently. A snapped branch here, a scuff in the dirt there… He allowed himself the brief hope that his comrades had decided to rendezvous at the town… and therefore, may still be there. It was not unusual for a warden to travel alone, and he did not mind it, but he felt the need to warn them that there was possibly another threat, one that may be much alike the creature that had almost decapitated him…
The stranger’s reply was telling, as was his entire demeanour. But telling of what? Was he wary of Cael because he was a warden? Because he was a stranger? Or… because the individual had something to hide?
Either way, he was not eager to converse, so Cael allowed the silence to stretch on and consume them both. Although the other did not accept his company, he did not explicitly ask him to leave, so Cael let him take the lead, to keep up the act that he was assisting him find his way.
When the town finally came into view, Cael smiled gratefully, ignoring the rueful look in the stranger’s eyes. “Thank you for showing me the way.” And then he split away from the stranger’s path.
If the others were here, he knew where they would be… Should the stranger leave before he re-emerged, he doubted they would be hard to track.
((I’ll pm you an idea!))
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 2, 2016 16:57:48 GMT
(XD Can’t wait to seeeee! )
Ronan remained slightly suspicious of the other; not only to find someone so quick to admit being lost when on their own, but the human remained ever so slightly tense. This was preferable, however, given the fact that the other had finally given Ronan his quiet. Why he didn’t just leave him alone on top of that Ronan didn’t know. It didn’t matter the human was lost; it was annoying!
Soon enough the stench of the herds and their two-leg owners grew strong enough that Ronan had to wait for the trees to break and reveal the town. Village, really… it only had a few things that technically made it a town instead of a small hovel.
Not that cities held any allure either.
At the stranger’s note of gratitude, Ronan only managed to look at him briefly to acknowledge before he split off. This alone made Ronan edgy, After so intently insisting that he needed help in the town, he had no trouble going his own way once there. But he was gone, and again the lack of conversation persevered. Ronan was happy to go on his own way in turn.
The path to the trader’s door was a well-known one, a customer milling about the wares even as Ronan entered and moved towards the back. The man, shorter and far stockier in build, looked over as the robe brushed against him lightly, a hand thoughtfully stroking his red beard as he considered who had gone by.
This study went unnoticed by the other two in the room, the trader, a gaunt looking man almost as tall as Ronan but barely more meaty than a scarecrow, smiled. “Ah, welcome back, friend,” he noted as he eagerly reached for the bag hanging at Ronan’s side. Rather than fight back, the halfbreed had undone the belt holding the bag across his shoulder, and set it on the counter to be examined by the trader.
Or rather, the goods within.
“Ah, more antiques I see,” the trader attempted a jest, lifting up a clearly old dagger to compare it to another hanging on the wall. No, not a match after all. Ronan’s expression was fortunately hidden by his mask, the look of annoyance at the joke even outdoing the annoyance of being talked to by that stranger. Even so, he was “glad” to find the trader in such a good mood. It meant he’d be more generous in his offers.
This time, however, there wasn’t going to be an offer. Setting the dagger aside, the trader began digging through the bag even as the red-haired customer came up from behind to look at the dagger. His expression became stormy, looking towards Ronan, who was already on edge having some two-leg come up from behind.
“Where’d you get this, lad?” he asked gruffly, not quite ready to accuse. Ronan looked down finally, eyes narrowed. “I found it,” he replied darkly, truthfully but not happy with being questioned so suddenly. Seeing the trader had backed off, Ronan began to gather up the satchel’s items, sweeping them in and turning before the red-haired man could stop him.
“Half of those things are from warden graves!” the man gasped, following Ronan and reaching for the bag. “I found them!” Ronan repeated, trying to emphasize his possible innocence while keeping the bag out of reach. He was, however, less than concerned about robbing a warden’s grave for coin. Not that he would intentionally go after any grave… animals would dig things up, from metal trinkets to bones.
Such a notion clearly never crossed the other’s mind, however, since he persisted in following even as Ronan went back into the street and quickened his pace. The dagger had been left behind, but he’d remind the trader that it hadn’t been sold yet. If he ever came back, that was. The red-haired stranger was making a quiet escape from the town damn near impossible.
Any hope of returning to the town to sell items to the trader went up in smoke as the man finally grew impatient, yanking on the cloak with the intention of stopping the thief. What it did was yank the hood and in turn the mask down even as Ronan twisted, not unlike when his grandmother would pull on the cloak. The wide-eyed expression of surprise was all Ronan needed out of the older man, pulling his cloak free and turning to run, one hand trying to lift the hood back up. The red-haired man recovered quickly, pulling out his sword and chasing after the halfbreed. His reasoning became quite obvious.
“Come back and taste my blade, tainted!”
Ronan managed to dodge the initial swing, twisting to match swords with the shorter man. For a moment, both seemed surprised; height gave Ronan the advantage in bearing down his weapon upon the other, but their strength was equivalent. This seemed to confirm the tainting for the older man, even though the dark forms across his face and reaching back in a horn-like pattern seemed less like darkspawn rather than something else; Ronan realized with a sinking feeling that this man had to be a warden. Little wonder he knew what a warden’s weapon looked like from just a glance.
For a moment, it seemed the warden had the advantage as Ronan took one hand off of his own weapon, automatically letting the other’s push up take over. At the same time, the free hand had swung back, becoming his support as both of Ronan’s legs kicked out and hit the warden square in the chest beneath their blades, knocking him away. With the one hand already outstretched, it was an easy recovery to get Ronan back on his feet, preparing to run again.
Until he saw what was now stopping him.
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Post by Kelathi on Aug 7, 2016 21:14:28 GMT
((I hope you don't mind I made a brief interlude, I wanted Barrett and Cael to converse for a moment before more action lol))
“Cael!”
He did not have chance to utter a word in response before she barrelled into him, throwing her arms over his shoulders as she pulled him into a hearty embrace. He chuckled, the sound low and pleasing to the ear, and she pulled away, her vallaslin-lined face radiant with happiness. “I told ‘em, you know! I said it’d take more than darkspawn and a cliff-dive to kill Cael!” She announced proudly, punching him playfully in the arm. Cael sensed a few stares at this declaration, but they had nothing to fear here. The occupants of the tavern were evidently aware of their line of work, and it took Cael only a brief moment to understand what exactly had occurred here… from the dejected, disgruntled looks, the unconscious man who was currently being dragged away…. And the culprit, sitting on the table, looking rather innocent in the musky light.
Cael stepped forwards, taking the bottle by the neck, and raising it to his nose. A whiff was all he needed. “Marissa… Abyssal Peach, really?” He turned towards his companion, who did not even bother to look contrite. In fact… she was grinning mischievously. “Don’t worry, he only took a sniff... that was enough.” “I’m sure it was.” Cael remarked, picking up the stopper and corking the bottle. He handed it back to Marissa, who swung her rucksack onto her shoulder, and returned it to it’s rightful home. “I see you weren’t completely unscathed, though.” The elf added, referring to the wheeze present in Cael’s voice. “A few broken ribs, nothing a healing potion wont fix.” Marissa nodded at his words, and they turned to leave, much to the relief of the remaining occupants of the bar, who realised they would not be losing any more money today...
“I’m guessing you were successful in gathering coin?” Cael asked when they were out of earshot. “Of course!” Marissa replied with a smile, jiggling the money pouch at her waist, which clinked happily in response. When low on money, wardens of course had the right to request what they needed without the need for payment. But as stated before, this particular group had been trained only to use this tactic when absolutely necessary, and to find other ways of obtaining what they need. One such was to partake in betting. Fighting, eating or drinking contests were all viable ways. A warden can consume much more than the average human, not to mention their incredibly high tolerance for alcohol, and their aforementioned elevated strength. A warden’s aptitude in these tasks is legendary… but there are always people who wish to challenge these ideals, and think to themselves… well, they can’t be that strong…
So fantastic was a warden’s tolerance for alcohol, that they had been moved to create their own to be more suited to their tastes. And that was how the likes of Abyssal Peach had been borne. The process was simple, as they were always on the move, wardens could not very well carry around satchels full of bottles, so they merely emptied leftover booze into one bottle. This mixing created a whole host of now famous liquors, some which became so popular that they were now created with intention rather than merely by serendipitous action. Some were safe for non-warden consumption in small quantities, such as *Rowan’s Rose, and others were so strong that they were even fatal to wardens should they drink too much, such as the likes of Aqua Magus.
Marissa’s voice tore him from his silent musing. “Barrett stayed behind too, but Abel went on ahead to report back to Blackwall.” Cael nodded in response, they had acted correctly, except for the fact that he would advised that only one of them stayed behind for Cael, if any at all. But he could understand their actions; they had evidently been low on coin, so by staying behind they had been able to kill two birds with one stone, with Marissa gathering coin and Barrett conducting other business. He did not need to ask where the stocky individual was, he could sense him just as well as he could his female companion, so they made their way confidently towards his location. Marissa began to speak again. “You’re in luck, I think Barrett has one healing potion left, but we’ll need to take another visit to…”
She halted at the sound of raised voices. Then without another word, they were both racing towards the commotion.
They took in the scene quickly, and reacted immediately. Cael’s first instinct was to throw himself between the warden and the stranger, a motion which Barrett only became aware off when their swords clashed. Meanwhile, Marissa had halted the stranger’s quick escape, both her sword drawn in one hand and a heavy battle axe in the other, which she held with ease. Barrett’s eyes widened with recognition, and he pointed towards the man behind him accusingly. “He’s tainted!” he growled.
A gasp ran around the crowd that had quickly formed at the sound of a brawl, and a few people nearby stepped back. Marissa had momentarily stopped the individual, but she seemed unsure as to whom she should be pointing her weapons at. Barrett had appeared to be attacking a civilian, but now…? She was not so sure. She looked to Cael for instruction, whom had not stepped away from his position, his gaze steadily focused on his comrade and his stance unrelenting. “This is not how we treat the tainted, if they are still largely human.” He replied calmly. His companion should know this, so something must have gotten him steamed up enough to forget protocol. Barrett was breathing heavily, adrenalin still purring through his veins. He did not back down as easily as Cael would have liked. “He will turn, they all do. And he will taint others, unless you put him down now!” A low murmur ran amongst the crowd, and Cael knew they were questioning his motives… But he held fast. “We don’t kill innocents.” He growled in response. To that, Barrett stepped forwards, and pointed his accusing finger at the stranger once more. “Innocents? He stole from warden’s graves! Is that a crime that also goes unpunished?”
((*Fun fact, these all actually exist in the game, and the process of how they are made is canonical ))
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 8, 2016 0:04:10 GMT
(of course! You need to explain what Cael was up to )
Ronan’s throat was tight as he evaluated his situation, the rare sensation of being trapped and fooled weighing heavily upon him.
The elf who had stopped him looked as normal as any elf would, vallaslin lines proudly worn. Given that the short man hadn’t looked at all like darkspawn, and was now being aided by this elf… two wardens. Who didn’t look like darkspawn. Why had his assumption that one who was tainted would look like they were tainted never been challenged before getting into a tussle with one?
All of this study took a second, Ronan taking a step back before realizing the short warden was about to attack from behind. However when he turned there was another’s back there, blocking the blow. Ronan’s sword was ready to fend off the elf’s mere seconds after realizing the first warden was even advancing again, no time to see who had come to his… well, assistance. Two wardens he felt he could handle.
His jaw stiffened and gaze darkened as he recognized the voice of the newcomer, along with the commanding tone used on the other warden. He had met a warden without realizing it. Traveled with him.
It made him sick.
How to respond to being surrounded, though? He could attack the warden behind him,… that should distract the short warden and he could just rush over the elf with one good jump… but that wouldn’t account for being chased. And with three, he might be cornered a second time. As uncertain as his position was, he bit down hard on the urge to attack the warden who had accompanied him, his sword arm even shaking with the desire for vengeance.
A soft growl escaped him at being referred to as “largely human,” already shifting his grip on his sword. But rather than directly fight, the chatty warden had tried to reason with his bearded companion, calling Ronan an “innocent.” A warden who considered innocence? That was something Ronan had never encountered. It was enough to stay his sword.
But not his tongue. Already so on edge, Ronan only spoke, unwilling to take his eyes off the elf and her two weapons. “I did not steal anything! I found those items! Is it my fault wardens are too lazy to bury their dead deep enough?” he growled defensively, unable to help the automatic jab that he didn’t really regret afterwards. He figured he would either escape, or be killed. Either way it wouldn’t matter if he insulted them a few times before the end.
(ah cool! There need to be like real recipes for stuff like that XD)
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 1, 2016 21:36:00 GMT
The cloaked stranger spoke up to defend himself, but his words were only met with a snarl from the one named Barrett, whom was unlikely to believe any declarations that left his mouth at this moment… especially words so barbed as those. Cael was anxious to control the situation… although thankfully, he was skilled at appearing calm and collected in the face of such adversity. Issues of taint were delicate when they involved people whom had not yet fully turned. These people had families, sometimes even children… you can’t just strike them down before everyone. There was a protocol to follow, if the man was indeed tainted, he would need to be separated from others, and be taken care of as humanely as possible. Once the situation was explained to the infected, that there was no way he could be cured, the individual would be given a choice- to allow the Grey Wardens to end his short life painlessly, or wait for the taint to take him over before they did so... in complete isolation, lest he taint and doom anyone else. Many opted for the latter option, for no-one truly believes in their own death, and most hope against all hope that they might survive… but by the time the disease has progressed, where they still have a shred of sanity left before they are consumed by the darkspawn… they always beg for relief through a quick release.
There were many horror stories of situations where civilians had been tainted, and the people had taken to drastic measures in order to contain the problem. He was still chilled whenever he happened to muse upon the result of the last blight in Crestwood. When darkspawn infected the people, the dam also broke, drowning the entire village. It was later discovered that the mayor of Crestwood had sabotaged the dam himself, releasing the water intentionally, knowing it would drown the people- in order to stop the spread of taint. But he did not only kill those whom were infected, but everyone, young and old, perfectly healthy people… all slaughtered, because of a reckless act from a man whom believed he was doing the right thing. The man had been apprehended by the Seekers of Truth, had confessed to his wretched crime, and had been put to death. All those untainted and innocent lives could have been saved had the mayor sought help from the wardens rather than taking things into his own hands….
This was why it was so important for situations like these to be controlled. It was easy to lose sight of what is important when people are afraid. They needed people to trust the Grey Wardens, welcome them to help… not to be afraid of them. They could save so many lives if they just had cooperation.
Barrett’s stance… was understandable. But that didn’t make it right.
“Barrett.” Cael’s voice was authoritative and steady. “Stand. Down.” The shorter man’s eyes narrowed, and he looked from Cael to the stranger. Then, after a tense moment… he did indeed force his sword-hand down, albeit with difficulty and with a glare that did not falter. It was clear then that the others answered to him. Marissa lowered her weapons much more readily, although the party remained tense, and ready to raise them again if needed.
Only then did Cael turn to the stranger. Having his back to the man did not indicate some misplaced sense of trust, but rather, Cael’s confidence in his own fighting ability. Even taken off-guard from the back, a warden was a formidable foe. Besides, Marissa was covering his back.
“Stranger, will you accompany us, so that we may examine the possibility of taint?” The request was an attempt at keeping the situation calm and collected. Of course, the stranger could refuse, in which case the wardens would have to, and would be backed both by the law of the land and the people, to take him into custody until they could discern whether he truly was tainted. But he would like things to move smoothly, if possible.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 3, 2016 4:47:44 GMT
(Ok working off of what we discussed in messages; lemme know if this doesn’t work ^_^;; lol)
Ronan appeared to struggle for a few moments to answer the warden’s question of quietly going with them, and indeed he did. All he wanted was to cut them all down. Wardens were evil, he knew that much.
But he was still badly outnumbered by beings who each had his equivalent strength. One was ready to attack, one focused on calming the situation, the third ready to go either way. He had to find a way out. What could he do? It suddenly occurred to him that he could do just as the warden asked – go quietly with them. Become less of a threat. He’d already seen the weapons go down because of the one warden, the one trying to protect him. For some unknown reason.
Probably had some horrible plan in mind for him.
Wisely, Ronan let every uncertain thought flicker across his face, his eyes slitted and his lip curled. Slowly, though, he reconciled himself to his fate, and began to pull out of his defensive stance. His biggest gesture of peace was to slide his sword back into its sheath, unhappily turning his back to the female warden to face the annoyingly chatty man who had accompanied him into the town. He was still stiff, but with the threat of being tainted hovering over him, it was perfectly understandable.
“Aye, I’ll come… to prove I’m not tainted,” Ronan replied, dark but honest, never pulling his sharp golden gaze to look at the shorter warden, despite the words being aimed almost directly at him. As he turned to walk with the lead warden, the other two seemed to settle. So he would come willingly then? Perhaps the shorter one – Barrett – had simply spooked him? It seemed so, as Ronan still shied away from him, the elf coming in to settle them both. The chatty warden was allowed closer, despite the tightness in Ronan’s throat as his arm brushed against his.
The reason the chatty warden was allowed to stay so close for so long was made blatantly clear within a few minutes. Ronan had let them guide him through a few streets, enough time for the other wardens to begin murmuring to one another. The elf lingered closer, Barrett still radiating hostility but respecting the one warden’s decision. Who knew what they thought at first, seeing the motion.
Ronan’s hand rose to gently graze over the chatty man’s arm, an unexpected gesture, almost tender in its lightness. It wasn’t nearly as unexpected as his sudden move to grab that arm and spin the warden mid-step, managing to half toss him straight into the elf. Barrett had jumped out of the way in time, but by the time he realized what had happened Ronan was already well on his way, knowing what happened only by the cry of surprise from the two wardens crashing into one another.
It left a satisfied smile on his face.
Ronan was not fully familiar with the town, used to finding only a select few places before leaving. Even so, he pushed on with all the speed he could muster, sliding across the back of a cart and between a horse’s legs as he raced. He knew his way around enough to at least avoid the dead ends, finally spotting an opening to the woods beyond. Once there, he could hide. Perhaps he’d even call out, and bring Stormrune’s full wrath upon the wardens. All he had to do was get past the buildings and their narrow alleyways… just a little more speed…
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Post by Kelathi on Nov 2, 2016 20:53:28 GMT
He should have known better than to hope things would go calmly and peacefully. The initial surprise was quickly taken over by a deep anger, which was clear on his face as the Wardens leaped into action. They did not need to be told what to do, like a pack of wolves they knew exactly the role of each, and that is why they split up instead of running straight after the fleeing stranger.
There could be little doubt now, and Cael cursed his own actions silently as he raced down the street. Only one tainted would run. Cael had let his intuition guide him rather than his common sense, an intuition that had evidently proved to be wrong and misguided in this case. They would catch him, there was no question about that, and next time they would not so easily be caught off-guard. But he was angry at himself for being swayed by to act so flippant about the situation, they should have clapped the man in irons and been done with it. Even with this hindsight, he was not so sure he would not have simply done the same again… he did not like acting before acquiring knowledge, and to give the stranger the benefit of a doubt had seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Now they just had to find him…
Despite not fully knowing the layout of the Town, they had a good sense of direction, and had moved to cut off the individual’s possible exit points. It would not be long now before one of them bumped into him, and shortly after the others would meet too.
Despite all this, despite the evidence, and the chase that was ensuing… He still could not find himself fully convinced. Why could they not sense the taint within this man? Was he a different species, a new form of the taint? It was worrying, to say the least. He was halted mid-thought as he saw the individual up ahead… and with a last spurt of speed…
He barrelled into him from behind, sending them both crashing to the ground. Cael was quick, quicker than Ronan, whom had been taken by surprise, and he quickly flicked the iron chains onto Cael’s wrists, closing the cuffs with ease. “You shouldn’t have run!” He growled angrily, but it was unclear as to whether he was actually talking to Ronan, or it was a thought that he had accidentally voiced. Now there would be no easy way.
No sooner had he uttered these words, his comrades each came round the corner with impeccable timing, even the mage, whom had been sent ahead to contact Blackwall. He quickly uttered a few words under his breath, waving in their direction. The chains shuddered and glowed for a moment... and then it was done. No strength could break the chains now, only magic… magic from the very mage whom had bound the metal.
Even after the run, none of the Wardens seemed out of breath, as if they had merely been strolling along rather than racing. Cael, however, was a little more worse for wear, having as of yet had no time to heal, and the wheezing was much more evident now. He grasped the prisoner harshly by the arm, dragging him up to stand. They were ready now should he try to struggle, Barrett standing on his other side, ready to grab him too if needed. Barrett knew better than to gloat… but the expression on his face said all it needed to. A dark glare from Cael was enough to keep his tongue stilled, however…
“Abel, I thought you had been sent on ahead?” The mage merely smiled knowingly. “I did start after Blackwall… but something told me I should head back.” Cael merely nodded. The mage had been gifted with the Sight, and whilst it could be unreliable at times, and could not be called upon but rather was random as to when visions occurred, it was a useful trait for a Warden to have. “Come on.” Cael growled then, loosing Ronan’s arm and pushing him forwards, his voice gravelling as he spoke to their prisoner. They had taken formation around him automatically, Cael at the back, Barrett and Abel at the left and right, and Marissa at the front.
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