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

[outofthebreach]

"Neither am I, but of my normal companions that have shown up here, Dorian's the only one that remembers me," Brennan chuckles as he tugs his shield into place once more and draws his sword once more. He'd prefer to be ready for whatever they find. "Makes dragging them out for zombie slaying a little more difficult than usual."

[fatherlesskind]

Expecting Brennan to follow Alistair sets off, blade in hand, to look for more of the things or people who might need help. He comments over his shoulder as he goes, "Really? They are fussy. Me, I don't mind killing monsters with whoever's available. Unless they're going to try and kill me. And even then." Thinking of you, Zevran.

"Not that I don't prefer your company over a stranger." Just in case Brennan thought he had no standards. Which might be true but he did have a reputation to protect.

[outofthebreach]

"Don't worry, I'm not easy to offend, I know what you meant," Brennan chuckles as he falls into step with him, his eyes searching the corridor ahead. "And I don't know if it's fussy so much as... hmm. Awkward? They don't know me, but I know them. Some of them very well. It's startling, I think, to have a stranger know you as intimately as one of your closest friends, but know nothing in return."

[fatherlesskind]

"Tell me about it. I don't think I've met a single person from Thedas who hasn't recognised me. It's just- Ugh." Alistair shakes his head, wrinkling his nose at the awkwardness of it all. Although he has gotten used to it for the most part. And on the bright side, it means he rarely needs to introduce himself to his fellows and makes it easy to tell who's from home and who's not. So that's something.

"Not that I don't think it's uncomfortable from the other side. Or difficult for you." Just that maybe Brennan has a point about why they're reluctant to follow him. But it certainly worked out in Alistair's favour that they are.

[outofthebreach]

"If it makes you feel better, you're rather difficult to forget," Brennan counters with a smirk, flashing him a sideways glance as he peers into the rooms and open doorways they patrol past, watching for any sign of movement.

"It is, but I still understand it. It's just..." he hesitates, searching for the right words without it coming out all wrong. "I miss the ease of the companionship. I miss them being my friends."

[fatherlesskind]

"You're one to talk." This from the man with the glowing green hand who led an organisation filled with weirdos named after one of the Chantry's old disbanded arms? Oh, and was involved with a Tevinter magister. He's just some Warden and bastard who's father just happened to be important by comparison.

"I'm sorry." It's quiet but heartfelt. Alistair has never had that problem, finding no recognition where he expects it. It would hurt, he knows that much. "For what it's worth I don't think it will take long for any of them to feel the same again. I'll deny ever saying it but you're hard to not like. I think someone would have to try to manage it."

Or be lurching monstrosity. By which he means, "Do you hear something?"

[outofthebreach]

"Apparently I am," he chuckles. "I am so easily forgettable, after all." Even if it requires Wonderland's particular brand of magic to do it. Or, at the very least, replace him.

Still, he shoots the man a grin. "That's because I haven't stolen all your money and your pants yet in a game of Wicked Grace. Or made you traipse through an undead swamp. Or made you fight a high dragon. besides, the Venatori weren't very fond of me. Or the Templars. And I have it on very good authority that the Qunari are out to get me as well."

Although lurching monstrosity still occasionally covers all the above, in his opinion.

Still, he pauses to listen, hearing movement. He dips his head in a nod, falling into a defensive stance. "Up ahead, off to the left."

[fatherlesskind]

It really doesn't count as easily forgettable when it requires magic to make it happen. That's like saying catching fire is easy because a dragon happened to burn you to a crisp.

"I haven't got any money. And I can lose my pants just fine on my own." Not that he does that often, lose his pants. It's not a daily occurrence or anything. But it may have happened once or twice before. "And I don't know what a Venatori is but from my experience templars and qunari aren't fond of anyone." They were both too busy being grouchy and humourless for that kind of thing. But he'd take grouchy and humourless over wanting to eat his face any day given the choice.

Similarly readying himself, Alistair nods in return and advances in the direction of the noise. Soon he can see the creatures up ahead, unaware of them for the moment but it can't be long before they spot them and decide they don't like Brennan's face much either.

[outofthebreach]

Well, that would certainly make catching fire easier, it's true.

"Lose your pants often, do you?" Brennan asks with a sharp grin, teasing, because there's no way he's letting that comment pass. "There's a mental image I didn't expect. And Venatori are... well. Certainly no more cheerful than templars and Qunari. They're Tevinter fanatics. Cultists. Obsessed with restoring the magisters of old - or one of the, at least - and the powers they once wielded. They make a right mess of things."

Wow, there's nothing wrong with his face. But just in case, he launches forward and initiates the attack before they have a chance, shield braced before him as he gives a battle cry to draw their attention to him, striking out with his sword in an easy practiced maneuver of someone well-used to the battlefield.

[fatherlesskind]

"I'm not answering that." He just has to hope that no one else in the mansion has heard some of his more embarrassing stories and is willing to share them if Brennan asks. With that and everything else on his mind he's a little distracted and the explanation as to what the Venatori are niggles at him, reminding him of something else he's heard but he can't immediately place what. Later. He can think about it later.

When he's not charging after Brennan, slamming into one of the Infected with his shield and cutting it down while it struggles to recover its balance. And when there's not more coming to replace it. Because clearly there is something wrong with Brennan's face if so many things want to attack it and him on sight.

[outofthebreach]

"I think that's an answer in itself, actually." His lips twitch in amusement a moment before the battle crashes in around them and his focus is distracted by thrust and parry and block, falling into a familiar dance beside the other warrior, well used to having another sword-and-shield fighter at his back, what with the many battles he's fought with Blackwall and Cassandra. it's easy to get lost in the familiarity of it, relishing the opportunity for something he can fight back against, since Wonderland's been so stubborn in keeping them here for as long as it has.

Also he can't help it that he's so pretty, Alistair, don't be jealous.

[fatherlesskind]

Alistair's less accustomed to fighting alongside someone with the same style of combat as him, both Sten and Oghren favouring two-handed weapons and different fighting styles entirely. But he got plenty of practice during his training and it's easy to fall back into those old, well-learned movements.

The Infected are mindless as any ghoul or walking corpse so the biggest concern is not being overwhelmed by them. In it's way it's not so bad - Alistair has found himself getting restless during his months in Wonderland, not used to having so much free time. Or going without something trying to kill him for so long. Both things he's sure Brennan understands all too well. It's almost welcome to get back to familiar territory if it weren't for the fact that there are people here who aren't used to that sort of thing and could be in danger.

But he's totally not jealous. Because he's ruggedly handsome OK and at least as good looking... Stop laughing!