Anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
circlejerked) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-07-17 09:34 pm
circlejerked) wrote in entrancelogs2017-07-17 09:34 pm
Entry tags:
OPEN | you think i'm dead but
Who: Anders (circlejerked) and anyone!
Where: Alexandria.
When: Backdated to July 15-16th.
Rating: PG-13 for ourunwelcomed guests, the zombies.
Summary: No Starbucks, but you get a mage with a big stick. A late edition to the zombie event, but I mean, it's zombies. Gotta love zombies.
The Story:
I. Day 2
[Don't look now, but there's a man in a housecoat beating on a zombie at the front gate... sort of?
There is a man and he is in robes, but up close they decidedly fall closer to the armored battle wear variety, and the weapon in his hand is less a bludgeon in the act of mindless beating and more a long, hefty fighting staff in the middle of poking. The zombie straining against the bars seems little more than harmlessly irate, swaying back a step at each push of the staff only to push forward again to repeat the process.
What you see before you is a mage studying the undead. A little poke to see its pain response there, a little prod to see how it reacts there... The experiment continues on with magic from that point: telekinetic blasts, tongues of fire, small currents of electricity that leap from his fingers, testing the bare minimum of forced needed to make the dead permanently dead.
Something can be said for these pitiful creatures: at least they're not carrying fungal spores, or the taint, or invisible to the naked eye.]
... just ugly.
II. Day 3
[Survival is, fortunately enough, something a successful apostate can do in his sleep--mostly since there's not a lot of time or opportunity to sleep when every templar in creation is out for your hide. Joining the Wardens had only continued to teach the joys of fighting hordes of invading monsters. Occupational hazards.
What that means for whomever happened to run into this house with him to shake pursuing off pursuing zombies is that Anders had been quite content to play sentry at the window, a practiced hand at watching out for the nearest thing intending to kill him. Deprived of prey, most of the zombies had lost interest milling around and slowly waddled off back onto the street in search of bigger and better pursuits, but one stubbornly curious zombie continues to claw at the door. It's starting to draw attention, Anders notes with an exasperated grimace.
Well, shooing won't work, so...
Looking to his latest survival partner, he eases a knife from the sheath at his belt and nods at the door. Open it.
Although beaning it with his heavy staff could be fun and cathartic, a more subtle shushing might be best for this loner that won't just take a hint.]
circlejerked) and anyone!Where: Alexandria.
When: Backdated to July 15-16th.
Rating: PG-13 for our
Summary: No Starbucks, but you get a mage with a big stick. A late edition to the zombie event, but I mean, it's zombies. Gotta love zombies.
The Story:
I. Day 2
[Don't look now, but there's a man in a housecoat beating on a zombie at the front gate... sort of?
There is a man and he is in robes, but up close they decidedly fall closer to the armored battle wear variety, and the weapon in his hand is less a bludgeon in the act of mindless beating and more a long, hefty fighting staff in the middle of poking. The zombie straining against the bars seems little more than harmlessly irate, swaying back a step at each push of the staff only to push forward again to repeat the process.
What you see before you is a mage studying the undead. A little poke to see its pain response there, a little prod to see how it reacts there... The experiment continues on with magic from that point: telekinetic blasts, tongues of fire, small currents of electricity that leap from his fingers, testing the bare minimum of forced needed to make the dead permanently dead.
Something can be said for these pitiful creatures: at least they're not carrying fungal spores, or the taint, or invisible to the naked eye.]
... just ugly.
II. Day 3
[Survival is, fortunately enough, something a successful apostate can do in his sleep--mostly since there's not a lot of time or opportunity to sleep when every templar in creation is out for your hide. Joining the Wardens had only continued to teach the joys of fighting hordes of invading monsters. Occupational hazards.
What that means for whomever happened to run into this house with him to shake pursuing off pursuing zombies is that Anders had been quite content to play sentry at the window, a practiced hand at watching out for the nearest thing intending to kill him. Deprived of prey, most of the zombies had lost interest milling around and slowly waddled off back onto the street in search of bigger and better pursuits, but one stubbornly curious zombie continues to claw at the door. It's starting to draw attention, Anders notes with an exasperated grimace.
Well, shooing won't work, so...
Looking to his latest survival partner, he eases a knife from the sheath at his belt and nods at the door. Open it.
Although beaning it with his heavy staff could be fun and cathartic, a more subtle shushing might be best for this loner that won't just take a hint.]
no subject
[His tone is dry, but it comes along with a faintly amused smile. If there is something he had come to miss in his time with the wardens, it was Anders' sense of humour. Being part of the Order has its way of ensuring you either make light of things or become entirely too grim, but Anders is on an entirely different level.
Nathaniel watches with undisguised interest as the mage works, albeit likely not to the level he would wish to.]
Of course, Anders. [He says then, narrowing his eyes on the creature his friend is taunting. His tone turns wry.] Though I wouldn't count on any whisking.
no subject
Such careful use of his mana might work for one or two, but a whole horde...? Hm. Time will tell. These walls weren't meant to withstand a siege; anyone from a world who's ever experienced a siege could see that. That's another thing that worries him.]
Oh, come on. I'm lighter than I look. You shouldn't have any problems lifting me.
[He's imagining a bridal hold. Probably in an emergency it'd be more like a fireman's hold.]
no subject
[He takes a small step back from the gate. Those things look determined, and he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a bite unless he absolutely can't help it.
In terms of rescue, Anders would be very lucky if he didn't just throw him up over one shoulder and run.]
What about Hawke? Is he having the same problem?
no subject
[There you go, just for you, Nathaniel--a skirt joke, your favorite. If they're going to be eaten alive by zombies in the next couple of days, he'll go out having giving Nathaniel a gift. You may take this moment to thank him for being a good friend... or maybe move a little further back from the gate, because the next blast of lightning he sends between the bars doesn't fail to dispose of its mark this time.
There's a little bit of splatter. It's gross. Welcome to their new reality for the time being. Honestly, it just makes Anders just want to walk up to Michonne and Clementine and shake their hands for being such troopers in the face of too much bodily fluids, too little soap.]
No clue! [This is accompanied by a shrug as he joins Nathaniel in turning away from the gate.] We don't talk that much.
[It's a curious aspect of his nature--he can flutter around, a social butterfly with something to say to everyone, and manage not to make a single deep connection even with people from his own world.
(Plus, he really has nothing to say to a mage who shacks up with a templar, retired from active duty or not, which is a whole other shit show. He'd rather deal with the zombies.)]