Have mercy. Oh, have mercy.

[fatherlesskind]

Who: Alistair & Open | Alistair & Robyn
Where: Throughout the mansion
When: April 16th to 20th
Rating: PG-13 to start with, may be upped later
Summary: A Warden and some monsters that spread infection wherever they go. Business as usual really.
The Story:

April 16 to 18: Some people have no sense of personal space

These... things - Infected or whatever they were called - are enough like darkspawn that Alistair can't just hide out somewhere safe and hope everything will be OK. Even without that similarity he wouldn't feel right just sitting back while others might be in danger. Add to that the fact that he's not a hoarder by nature and has only what scraps of food the closet provides? He has no choice but to venture out sooner or later.

The important difference is, unlike darkspawn, he can't sense these. Hence, his current situation.

The deformed faces of the things that had ambushed him loom closer as he struggles to push them both off. His shield is keeping them off him for the moment but, off-balance and pinned against a wall, the weight of his own armour working against him, he can't easily force them back. His sword lays on the ground, just out of reach, where it had fallen when the creatures jumped him.

More worrying than his present situation - which really, he'll have completely in hand in just a second - is the sound of movement coming closer. If more are coming he... could be in trouble. Gritting his teeth he shoves harder against the snarling pair with designs on his nose. He just needs to get free before their friends arrive. If he can please manage that he'll be a good boy from now on and pray every day like he's supposed to. Just so long as he gets to keep his face.


Closed to Robyn: You are not the boss of me. She is.

Wardens on the whole are bad at staying home and avoiding danger. Maybe that's why they all have such shortened lives and it in fact has nothing to do with the taint. It's something to think about. Later. When there's not a pack of the creatures closing in on them with every clumsy step.

They haven't been detected yet but it's surely only a matter of time. Alistair has both sword and shield at the ready, peering around the corner to size up their opponents as they wander about the hall up ahead. Glancing over at Robyn questioningly he tilts his head towards them and asks softly, "Well? What do you think?"

She's by far the stealthier of them and knows what he's capable of while he's never seen her fight. If she thinks they should try to sneak around and avoid a fight then he'll be Mr Stealthy. Or he'll try. He makes no promises of success so if they are sneaking she's going first.


April 19: Nothing like a brush with death to make you... not like death much.

Once he'd recognised the infection for what it was and what it meant there had really only been one choice. He couldn't kill himself and it would be too much to ask anyone he knew to do so for him. Besides, he'd known since shortly after his Joining that sooner or later he'd succumb to the corruption in his veins and would become a monster if he didn't die first. This was just a different kind of monster with a different cause. But his course of action remained the same.

Alistair had shouldered his weapons and set out for the basement, searching out any of the creatures between him and it. If he runs into anyone fighting the things he throws himself into the fray, putting himself between them and danger with a blatant disregard for his own life or safety. On his own he engages the creatures without fear, slamming into one of the blind, deformed ones with a snarl, struggling to drive his blade into it as it forces him back.


(OOC: If he's not killed first Alistair will be turning on the last day so if anyone wants to run into him as one of the Infected feel free to throw something up or prod me for a starter. Prose or brackets are both fine, I'll match format.)

Comments

[Action - Early in the event]

[outofthebreach]

One of these days, Brennan is really going to get Captain Rogers to teach him how he throws his shield as a weapon, because that would have been extremely useful knowledge to have right now.

As it is, he makes do with a focused charge down the corridor, a battle yell shouted to draw the monsters' attention off the Warden they currently have pinned to the wall mere moments before he plows into them from the side, pushing them back with his own shield.

"Hope you don't mind me interrupting your little party."

[fatherlesskind]

Alistair brightens as a familiar voice shouts out moments before the other man plows into the creatures. As soon as their weight is off him he shoves away from the wall he was getting a bit too friendly with and sweeps up his blade, taking up position by Brennan's side once he's rearmed.

"I had everything under control." Really. He definitely would have been fine on his own. Somehow. "But I don't mind the extra company. This lot aren't very good conversationalists." They're also not very polite as they seem to have little interest in letting them talk, lunging at them again before Alistair can even finish talking.

[outofthebreach]

"Perhaps your topics of conversation weren't of interest to them," Brennan counters easily, his tone light as he fights at the man's side. Well used to fighting alongside others with similar training - Cassandra and Blackwall at the very least, not to mention Cullen - he keeps them a safe distance away with his shield long enough to take off a head with his sword, hearing it thud to the floor and roll away.

He hopes this place has no maids that are going to come after him once this event has ended.

[fatherlesskind]

He scoffs at the suggestion. "How could anything I say not be interesting?" He's brilliant and witty and definitely always worth listening to, thank you. "They're just grumpy."

Much like darkspawn. And they also die much like darkspawn thankfully. Slamming his shield into the remaining creature to knock it back, Alistair runs it through before it can recover itself. Wrenching his blade free he turns to Brennan with a smile as the body slowly crumples to the floor to join its partner. "Thanks for swooping in there. They caught me by surprise."

[heroica]

Many of their fellows had (perhaps wisely) taken shelter in or out of the mansion. There had been talk of a magical barrier... but, Grey Wardens don't run and hide when darkspawn invade a city, and she could never do the same now, when there are so many people in danger and not behind a sturdy barrier. It's why she and Alistair, who'd blessedly agreed to help her clear the mansion of potential victims, are standing and peering around a corner, breath held back often to avoid the noise.

"I think we've not gone as far from Ferelden as I thought," she whispers, the situation's parallels to the blight not lost on her. She sighs, barely a breath, and then looks down at the shambling bodies, the living souls, if the girl on the network was to be believed.

"There are three that I can see," she continues. "We could sneak by, but... if we leave them, they may attack the others. We've taken more, haven't we?"

[fatherlesskind]

"More than that and bigger if you count back home," he agrees, smiling at her faintly. It feels good to have a real enemy to fight again, despite the danger these things pose to everyone. This is something familiar that he knows how to handle and is confident in his ability to deal with. And it's been good working alongside his fellow Warden. They work together surprisingly well - or perhaps not, given she does know how he fights. This time he's not complaining about how strange that is as it's worked in their favour on more than one occasion.

Another glance at the creatures ahead to check their positions and Alistair shifts forward, prepared to move out into the hallway where they're shuffling about. "I'll draw their attention and you hit them from behind?" It seems the best approach. He's better at close-quarters than she is and has his shield and armour which are better protection than Robyn's own lighter gear. And he makes a good distraction if he says so himself.

[heroica]

"And we fought the undead already, at Redcliffe," she reminds him, still quiet. It may not have been the same for him, since so many things are different between their worlds, but he can correct her if she's mistaken. Though... now that she thinks about it, she remembers there having been talk, since these creatures appeared, of them being living humans, still, but with some kind of sickness.

Somehow, it's worse than if they'd died and come back, given the state of them.

"All right," she agrees, crossbow in her hands, dagger at her hip. It's a good strategy, using both of their strengths, and she nods briefly at him. "Whenever you're ready, Alistair."

[fatherlesskind]

He'd almost prefer it if these were just demons possessing human corpses like they've both seen before. As terrible as demons could be they were a more familiar danger than this uncertain infection that they have to try not to breathe in. One that's brought its victims with it from wherever it originated. This is unpleasantly like facing ghouls and knowing that once they must have been a person. As with the victims of the taint though, the kindest thing they can do is kill these creatures.

Nodding in return, Alistair offers a brief, reassuring smile. "Don't hit me by mistake."

With that he steps out into the hall and charges the creatures up ahead, shouting to draw their attention. It works rather well, all of them immediately turning to face him, their sluggish ambling gone as they lunge at him, limbs flailing wildly. He's grateful for the protection of his mail as one attempts to bite his arm, teeth scraping harmlessly over the metal before he drives the pommel of his sword into its face with a crunch.

He'd say they're definitely distracted.

17th

[circlejerked]

Where people go, the fungus monsters go. And where the fungus monsters go, the mage with a vested interest in burning them to a crisp goes.

Anders happens to be heading in the opposite direction when he hears the crazed screaming start up from somewhere in another part of the floor. It's faint, but it sounds like more than one zombie is at it again. Every time he hears those snarling screams, it's a sure bet someone's in need of an extra set of hands.

He runs toward the sound, eyes open for other monsters who might have been attracted to it the same way. He cuts into the hall where a gaggle of zombies are mobbing someone against a wall just as another couple of runners skid around a corner and into view, feverish eyes trained on fresh prey.

"Not today, boys and girls," Anders says, holding out his staff. "Try some of this on for size."

He intones the words to the spell and a paralysis field ripples in either direction down the corridor, sweeping through the runners mid-charge and the handful attacking Alistair, freezing them in place. Only does their thrashing limbs have stopped moving does he spy who they'd been attempting to dog-pile.

"Fancy meeting you here." A smile lightens his features. "Please tell me you didn't get bitten or sneezed on. My healing isn't that good."

[fatherlesskind]

The familiar prickle of magic alerts him first to his company, followed by the creatures on top of him freezing where they stand. A moment later his saviour speaks up, bringing a grin to Alistair's face as recognises Anders' voice. Squirming out from between the immobilised Infected and the wall he sweeps his sword up and turns to the mage, relief plain on his face. Particularly when he sees the others caught in the middle of running in to join the fun.

"I had that." Which is why he's cautiously edging around his frozen attackers, lest the spell wear off and they try to make a snack of him again. Speaking of which, "No bites here. Not from them." He might have been chewed on by a cat recently but no horrible, deformed plant monsters had gotten their teeth into him. Luckily. He'd seen the warning broadcast about these things and what would happen if he were bitten. He had enough with the taint in him already, he didn't need them adding their own brand of horrific to the mix.

Poking one of the creatures with his blade Alistair considers if it would be best to just start beheading them now or if there's a faster way to get rid of them all. "Since you already decided to get involved do you want to finish them off for me? Its going to get messy if I do it."

[circlejerked]

"Sure you did." Being the kind person he is, he'll let Alistair tell himself that.

Turning toward the calvary he'd paralyzed in mid-charge, Anders reaches into his well of power. "Good, then I got here just in time," he adds as he summons fire into his hand. "Your look wouldn't be improved with fungus growing on your face."

Without regard for the damage to the mansion, he draws a line of fire at the feet of the zombies before the paralysis can wear off. The fire is hotter than any normal variety; it starts to consume them instantly, tongues of flame licking at the walls, burning spore clusters gathered on the base boards and blackening the wallpaper. There. Done.

It smells as bad as a nug's ass end, but it's effective, and he's observed before that Wonderland has a funny way of repairing itself. He's not too worried about fire damage at a time like this.

Pivoting back toward Alistair and his attackers, the accusation he throws out is teasing. "Yes, play up that damsel in distress act and let your noble rescuer do all the work. That's what I'm here for."

[fatherlesskind]

Alright, it wasn't a very convincing lie but Anders could at least try to sound like he believes him there. Though Alistair is willing to let it go since they can agree that he's too handsome to have his good looks ruined.

Watching the creatures burn he waves a hand futilely in front of him to try and dispel the stench, relaxing slightly once they're gone. No matter what he says, he knows that was close and if Anders had shown up a few minutes later he wouldn't be joking about much at all.

Which just means he should be grateful and take the opportunity now. Particularly when he's gotten an invitation like that. It's too much to expect him to pass up. Turning to face Anders he trills, "My hero, however shall I repay you?" Batting his eyelashes, Alistair sways over to the other man's side and goes on breathily, "Please kind Ser, won't you keep me safe? I'm ever so frightened!"

He would clutch at Anders' robes for good measure but he still has a sword in one hand and isn't in a hurry to let it go until he's sure they won't have be joined by something looking for a bite to eat. He'd rather not appear completely incompetent. He has to maintain some sort of a reputation among his fellow Wardens.

the 18th-ish?

[ttlynotabloodmage]

This is far, far too close to what Jowan thought he'd escape from in Redcliffe, but no, apparently the corpses coming to life again and trying to murder people had to follow him somehow, and this time he was certain it had absolutely nothing at all to do with him. Well. Mostly certain. It was still close enough to what had happened to him that he did wonder if somehow it had come along with him as well.

But either way, his plans of hiding in his room with the door locked until everything somehow managed to fix itself wasn't really showing a high chance of working and he had to worry about a much smaller mouth to feed now a well, so leaving the kitten locked up with the last of his food to tide it over, he'd ventured out into the chaos. It was about as bad as he'd expected, and he had to remind himself every step of the way that he claimed to be done hiding and letting other people handle everything, so it was time to prove it.

It would have been nice to prove it without darkspawn or whatever these were though.

A nearby snarl has Jowan suppressing a high noise of surprise, mentally wondering what is wrong with him as he ventures slowly in the direction of the sound instead of, as his instincts scream at him, running in the opposite direction. But there's a corpse attacking someone and for once luck is on his side in that neither have seen him yet and it's a perfect, clear shot for a fireball to smack right into the back of the creature with a brilliant burst of flame and Jowan, for once, feels a surge of pride and delight in doing something right.

Until the thing snarls and spins and lunges towards him instead and it occurs to him that maybe he should have thought about this in a little more detail. His hand comes up for another spell but a burst of ice to slow it down is the best he can manage before his hands are caught up in holding it off as the other man had before.

"Help!"

[fatherlesskind]

Alistair doesn't know how the creature feels about it but he's mighty surprised when the heat of a fireball washes over his face, flames licking over the back of the thing pinning him down. It's not enough to kill it unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as if it were it would likely have been unpleasant for him too. And it turns out that Mr Growly doesn't much like getting fireballs thrown at him as he immediately turns his attention to the culprit.

The mage unleashes a burst of ice to about similar effect as the fireball whilst Alistair snatches up his sword and then the thing is trying to eat the newcomer's nose instead of his. Whoever the mage is he clearly didn't think this plan through. Not that Alistair is ungrateful or about the complain about the timing, he just thinks his saviour should maybe have thought beyond 'draw the monster's attention'. Fortunately, rearmed and free to move he's feeling a lot better about his chances in a rematch.

With a wordless shout he charges towards the pair, sweeping his shield around to knock the creature away from the man - who sounds familiar but he really doesn't have time to put a face to the voice right now - so he can try and dispatch it without harming its would-be meal.

18th

[radiopalkiller]

Sightseeing is bad sightseeing is bad sightseeing is bad sightseeing is-- Bottom line, the next time Philip decides to get himself to safety he's not going to take the scenic route, and he's definitely not stopping to check out more of the monsters along the way. Sure, on the bright side, he now knows that some of them are even more deformed than the others, and make weird clicking noises to boot, that's- valuable scientific insight.

Would be even better if four pieces of valuable insight weren't chasing him up the stairs right now.

He fumbles for something at his belt, while sprinting up the stairs. Relieved when he's got the roll of dynamite between his fingers, even more so when his lighter strikes, and he can hear the fuse hiss. One, two, three, letting go and picking up the pace as fast as he can, preferably making it around the corner on the next floor before--

BAM!

The explosion slams him stumbling into the wall, debris and dust welling up behind him. Ringing noise in his ears? Check. Clicking noise at his back? Gone! He's gonna feel that in the morning, but at least... at least...

At least it turns out that the next floor isn't empty either, one somebody and two somethings, both a bit difficult to make out, but he gets the general idea, because here's his first impression: Those two things? Were perfectly happy mauling somebody else until he waltzed up here, sounding loud and delicious. Now they're letting go of their original prey, and sprinting towards him.

So.

Luck, huh? Philip heard a story about people who are supposed to have that sort of thing. It was a long time ago. He doesn't remember the details.

[fatherlesskind]

The loud bang startles all three occupants of the hall, the struggle pausing as, almost comically in-sync, they turn to look in the direction of the noise. And the shape that just staggered in to interrupt this little tête-à-tête.

Alistair has a moment to worry that it's another one of the creatures come to join the feast when suddenly the weight lifts off of him. His new friends clearly prefer food that doesn't need to be peeled first and go racing off towards the newcomer. So, not one of them. Maybe his luck's not so terrible after all.

Shoving himself off the wall he sweeps up his sword and immediately charges towards his unexpected guest as well. He catches one of the creatures before it can reach the newcomer, momentum driving the blade straight through it with a crunch. Whatever made these monsters they still die like anyone else. Which is always a good start in these situations.

He wrenches his blade free of the body and takes a moment to locate the other. Two bodies just ahead but even through the dust that has yet to settle it's not hard to tell which is which. He just hopes that whoever this is doesn't decide the best way to deal with the situation is with another bomb. He'd really hate to die after just avoiding it the first time.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" The shout is as much to prevent another explosion as it is reassurance but he figures his company can appreciate the desire to not die.

[radiopalkiller]

Apparently the other meal ticket can still stand, and the first mold zombie subsequently falls. So that's good news, actually. The second one? Dynamite? Obviously out. Gun? Save the bullets for something worse, and besides, might accidentally hit whoever's storming his way. No, hang on. Familiar voice there. Jesus, him, really? All right, correction: No problem if he hits the guy storming his way, but saving bullets still counts for something.

Philip detaches the pickaxe from his back. Used to be he'd get terrified of even trying to use it on anything bitter and more dangerous than a rabid dog. Used to be he just didn't know how to go for the head properly. He waits for the thing to advance, still. Only closes the last step between them as he swings, a sickening crunch tearing through the infected creature's skull. Philip exhales, relieved.

So his axe got stuck in the wall, but the corridor is cleared now. He's got a second to breathe and pull it out. Well, more or less.

"Sorry, guess my evil blood summoning hand slipped, again. And you're welcome, by the way. Again."

[fatherlesskind]

Or not.

His rescuer is apparently better prepared than he was for these things. Alistair watches the second one fall, a thanks already on his lips when that voice in his head makes him flinch back.

"Oh." Staring at Philip uncertainly, he tightens his grip on his sword, still raised between them. The other man had gotten those things off of him. But he hadn't exactly planned that so much as happened to be nearby when something exploded and drew their attention. And now he's here talking in Alistair's head again.

With this guy and the girl, River, from before he's really beginning to feel like he needs to put up a wall around there. Or get an enchanted helm. See if there was some part of templar training he missed that keeps people from being in his head. It's crowded enough in there with all the things he has to say rattling around without other people barging in and eavesdropping.

None of which stops him pulling a face as he retorts, "Don't act like you decided to come to my rescue. Did you even know I was here before I spoke up?"

On the positive side, as much as the creatures currently roaming Wonderland seem an awful lot like demon possessed corpses, the fact that there had been a girl on the network who claimed to have seen these things before made that explanation doubtful. And to summon this many demons Philip would have needed to kill a lot of people. So he was probably not responsible for this one. But he was still being kind of an ass about it all.

Early in the event before the barrier goes up in the bar

[ivehadbetter]

Isabela has never been more greatful for her daggers as she was fighting through a horde of these "runners" as she made her way down the hallway. She was looking for her friends, wanting to make sure they were safe but this was ridiculous. She was ready to just give up and head to the bar where there was a barrier being erected, the rest of them could take care of themselves. Only then she knew she would spend the next however long feeling incredibly guilting. Damn guilt.

She turns a corner and sees a group of them converging on someone who seems to have dropped their sword. She curses quietly under her breath before throwing herself into the fray, daggers slicing and stabbing until the horde had thinned out enough for Alistair to fight back.

"I know you wanted me to start saving people but you didn't need to throw yourself into the middle of a wannabe Darkspawn Horde." She smirks at him, slightly out of breath.

[fatherlesskind]

He's only seen Isabela fight once but it made an impression then and she certainly hasn't gotten rusty in the time since. It seems as though she's only just appeared and the creatures are stumbling away from him, bloodied or dying. Snatching up his sword again and turning to face the handful she hasn't already dispatched, he grins back at her.

"What can I say? I don't do things by halves." Which includes getting himself in trouble. Besides, even if that hadn't been what he'd been going for she had proved him right. "I told you I'd convince you somehow." And just look at her, doing good deeds and everything. Maybe he should get those Chantry robes ready after all.

Once they were no longer in danger of being eaten, that is. Those robes really weren't designed for fighting.

[ivehadbetter]

"No, I don't suppose you do." She grins as she slices through another one of the infected. This was the most fun she had had in a while. She'd almost forgotten how exhilarating fighting was.

"Andraste's flaming arse," she cursed spotting more moving down the hall towards them. "Where are these demons even coming from?"

[fatherlesskind]

It's impossible not to share Isabela's high spirits and Alistair finds himself smiling even as he knocks one of the creatures to the ground and slams his sword through its head. Not exactly a pleasant task but he does enjoy the rush of combat and he takes pride in his skills. Far better to focus on that than to wonder if these used to be people or if they were simply conjured up by Wonderland.

The initial group is running out but her exclamation pulls his attention over to where more are coming to replace them. Stepping in front of Isabela to put himself in their path he glances back at her. "Your guess is as good as mine. But I think we can make them wish they'd stayed there."

With that he charges the newcomers, bellowing at the top of his lungs to draw their attention.

17th

[assembles]

Thankfully, it isn't one of the Infected's friends that Alistair heard coming. Steve has been making patrols through the spore-filled hallways when he can to make sure no one has gotten caught there -- when he has a gas mask with a working filter, anyway. They run out way too fast and Steve hasn't wanted to take any chances. While he'd like to think that his serum would override any infection from the spores, he can't be sure and he's not going to take that risk if he doesn't have to.

With the gas mask firmly in place, though, Steve actually feels pretty good. The Infected are fast, but so is he, and he's been able to take out a fair number of them so far. He's on the lookout for more when he hears a commotion up ahead, which is what bring him to Alistair's rescue.

When Steve spots the man backed up into a corner by two of the monsters, he doesn't stop to think, just races forward to grab for the dropped sword with one hand and then slam his shield into one of the Infected with the other. That sends it stumbling against the wall, though the second one has fast enough reaction time to lunge for him. Steve dances backward out of its range as quick as he can. He didn't quite figure out his next move, but he's taken the heat off of the stranger, and that's what matters.

[fatherlesskind]

Alistair barely has time to register the arrival of another body before one of the creatures has been knocked off of him and is already crashing into a wall. The other decides that makes him the less tasty looking treat and turns its attention to the stranger with the odd face mask, giving him a chance push off the wall.

He's quick to recover himself, taking in the situation quickly and turning his attention to the nearest creature. The newcomer has his sword but he still has his shield and if there's one thing his old trainers were enthusiastic about drilling into their students (along with everything else they could) it was that a shield can be just as dangerous as any blade in the right hands.

Leaving the second Infected for the stranger to deal with, he lunges at the first one and drives it against the wall again with his shield and the full weight of his body. It staggers, giving him time to draw back and slam his shield into the twisted remains of its face, again and again until bone crunches sickeningly beneath the metal and its struggles weaken and finally stop.

With one down he turns his attention to his rescuer, to check that the man has his own opponent well in hand.

[assembles]

Much as Steve might hate to admit it, this is where he really thrives. When he's in the middle of some chaotic battle, fighting for his life with someone at his back, his body moves without him having to think. It's exhilarating in a way that he can't really put into words.

These things used to be human, and what happened to them is horrifying. But they're not human anymore, and it's up to him to make sure that the infection that's taken over their minds doesn't spread any further. So the guilt of what he's doing isn't as strong as it might have been under other circumstances.

Steve's hearing tells him that the other man has his situation under control, and so he focuses on the Infected that's gunning for him, backing up further until it stumbles, at which point he lunges forward to force it back with the shield. When it's thrown off-balance, Steve does what seems natural in that moment: he shoves the tip of the sword straight through the zombie's chest.

He's never used a sword before, but sticking the pointy end into your opponent seems to be the general idea. When Steve pulls the blade back out, the Infected crumples to the floor, and that's when he turns to see the mess that the stranger has made of the other one's face. With his shield, no less. He gets bonus points for that.

Steve shifts his grip on the handle of the sword so that he can extend it toward the man. "Here you go, sorry about that." He kind of got zombie guts all over it. "Are you all right?"

The guy isn't wearing a gas mask, Steve realizes. That can't be good...