hornlessmarauder
Dragon
Posts: 39 
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hornlessmarauder
39
September 2015
hornlessmarauder
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Post by hornlessmarauder on Sept 9, 2015 2:27:13 GMT
Shackle hated the Free Marches. Free wasn't a word to associate with a city so heavy on it's past of slavery. With Kirkwall's recent incidents of uprisings, rebellions, and oppression, the air was thick with distrust and distaste. You could smell it in the air, along with the brine of the coast, the stinging salt still wafting into his lungs. He poked his campfire as evening settled around him, bundling his cloak a little closer to push away the chill. Damn the Marches, damn the cold, and damn the coast. As long as he caught his boat back to Ferelden in the morning, the apostate could care less. His food extinguished, the perfume of cooked meat still hanging in the air, Shackle eased slightly, the firelight casting a lashing shadow behind the looming figure. It waved and danced slowly, as the fire flickered in blood-red eyes, black abyss staring emptily into the blaze. There was a reason he lit his fires with a match, and cooked with his hands instead of magic. It was something to respect, not to be played with. The matches sat in his sack, as Shackle looked into the flames. He huffed a long, slow sigh of air, cold chill curling and wafting the hot breath into the breeze. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy, the qunari reaching up an dragging his thumb and forefinger along his orbs. At least it was a quiet night. |
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Sabina Flavius
Dragonling
Posts: 6 
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Sept 20, 2015 21:43:53 GMT
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Sabina Flavius
6
September 2015
sabina
{"image":"http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v337/misfitdemon/stardust_zpsbajlz8dr.png","color":""}
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Post by Sabina Flavius on Sept 9, 2015 3:01:27 GMT
There were very few reasons to be anywhere near Kirkwall, and none of them were particularly pressing - but the urgency depended on the person, and Sabina's prioritization skills were questionable, at best. Without a doubt, she was here to cause trouble. Kirkwall's Templars were sparse, if they had not all disappeared entirely. Apostates were everywhere - herself among them - and she intended to see how they were handling things. By that, of course, she meant to see if they had taken charge, or if they still cowered and fled like beaten dogs with not an ounce of hope left. Things would take a surprising turn, however; before she could even make it to the heart of the city, she had spotted a looming form in the distance. That she could see the creature from here hinted at it's size, and what could be so large but a Qunari? She grins, though it is spiteful and laced with malice, and her steps quicken. Yet she remains as silent as possible; half the fun of this possible situation would be the element of surprise. "Long way from home, eh - y'get lost?" The words alone were chipper enough, but the tone in which they were spoken carried arrogance - a threat even. "Thought all you horny-heads took your leave. But then, y'head ain't got the horns, huh." Her head tilts almost childishly, but there is a sinister glint in her eyes as they narrow. "Wonder why that is." |
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hornlessmarauder
Dragon
Posts: 39
Mini-Profile Background: {"image":"","color":""}
inherit
54
0
1
hornlessmarauder
39
September 2015
hornlessmarauder
{"image":"","color":""}
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Post by hornlessmarauder on Sept 9, 2015 13:59:23 GMT
A boot kicked up sand across the fire, and the flames died in an instant, sputtering out of existence. The cold chill of the coast curled around him as the Qunari vanished into the shadows of the night. He lowered his hood slowly, taking a great sniff to catch a scent on the wind, but he was upwind of whoever was hunting him. It didn't inspire confidence, being stalked from the shadows once more. And that accent, that damnable dialect of those arrogant, cutthroat mages-
"Tevinter," he snarled, voice distant and haggard, a deep, hateful rumble in it as he slowly stood. The mammoth figure looked around the shadows, keen vision slowly piecing together the world around him as his eyes adjusted to the light. "How like your cowardly ilk to lurk in the shadows. Afraid of the big, bad Qunari having his way with you if you show your pretty face?" He snapped, spite and wickedness on his tongue, "You've heard what we do to prisoners from your country, haven't you? The men die slow. The women," he rumbled, stepping deeper into the shadows, voice echoing off of shoals and tree trunks, "less so."
His voice left the threat compelling enough. He would never touch or harm any woman or man in such a way, but he'd learned that the threat was a good way to drive off most pursuers, or at least flush them out of hiding. Now, it was no longer a game of cat and mouse: it was cat and bigger, pissed off cat, two predators hunting each other from deep in the shadows.
Damn Tevene. Where was she creeping now?
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Sabina Flavius
Dragonling
Posts: 6
Mini-Profile Background: {"image":"http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v337/misfitdemon/stardust_zpsbajlz8dr.png","color":""}
inherit
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Sept 20, 2015 21:43:53 GMT
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Sabina Flavius
6
September 2015
sabina
{"image":"http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v337/misfitdemon/stardust_zpsbajlz8dr.png","color":""}
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Post by Sabina Flavius on Sept 10, 2015 2:49:31 GMT
"Looks like you're hiding now, too." She laughs, an eerie sort of thing - not in the sense that it sounded unnatural, but because it sounded unstable. As if there was too much enjoyment that could come from this situation, the chance to tease and taunt and test her abilities. His, too, if he had the strength to keep up. A Qunari should, she supposed, so this should be even more fun.
His threat only brought about a brief cackle from the darkness as she circled around, eyes strained to keep track of the figure now that the light source had been cut. "That a threat, or a promise? Hope y'make good on it, either way." Bare feet pressed into the dirt, the leaves rustling as she knelt to bring about her own flame - a small little thing, which she gifted to a pile of dead, dried foliage. It would give her position away, but it might lure him nearer.
There was a low branch that she jumped up to grab, pulling herself up as quickly as she was able; Sabina perched there quietly, eyes on the prowl for any sign of movement. Magic gathered in her palm, the warm preparation for a fireball. Not something she intended to hit dead-on with, but simply to distract. The real magic was using the blades at her waist.
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hornlessmarauder
Dragon
Posts: 39
Mini-Profile Background: {"image":"","color":""}
inherit
54
0
1
hornlessmarauder
39
September 2015
hornlessmarauder
{"image":"","color":""}
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Post by hornlessmarauder on Sept 10, 2015 14:06:42 GMT
There was hiding, and then there was strategy. Shackle had done both in his time, learning how to improve one from the other. A massive figure like Shackle's wasn't easily veiled from the world, and it took significant training for a Qunari to be able to hide as deftly as any elf or human. Shackle wasn't the type to usually hide, either. 'Anthropomorphic Armageddon' was one description to apply to the Tal-Vashoth, and that wasn't synonymous with stealth. So, pushing himself to remain quiet as possible, the apostate made his way into the brush, eyes watching for a trace of the enemy as they adjusted to the dim light.
And then one blossomed into existence. A dim, faint glow of fire flickered into life a few feet away, and red eyes followed the first sparks of life. He watch it shift and hover, a lithe figure slowly moving up along a tree. He remained still and quiet, watching them climb and situate themselves. If they were aiming to use a fireball, they'd focus a much larger piece of arcane artillery into existence. This was a lure, a distraction meant to draw him out. It was the sort of thing he'd learned to avoid.
This left him with a handful of options. On one hand, he could wait until his opponent slipped up, or made a move towards him where he could ambush them. Or, he could give away his position in favor of a quick strike. Shackle's strategy was always the latter. Dexterity was one of his strengths. Focusing magic in his palm, he lunged, and slammed his hand into the trunk. The wood buckled and snapped as the force magic ripped through the wood, splinters erupting out the other side. He jumped back into the brush and shadows as the tree started to come down, waiting for the figure in the canopy to move.
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Sabina Flavius
Dragonling
Posts: 6
Mini-Profile Background: {"image":"http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v337/misfitdemon/stardust_zpsbajlz8dr.png","color":""}
inherit
47
0
Sept 20, 2015 21:43:53 GMT
0
Sabina Flavius
6
September 2015
sabina
{"image":"http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v337/misfitdemon/stardust_zpsbajlz8dr.png","color":""}
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Post by Sabina Flavius on Sept 20, 2015 21:12:01 GMT
She waits, waits, and waits longer; it feels longer, anyways. In truth, the passing time had been short, but she has grown bored. Patience was a virtue she has never possessed, and Sabina wraps her legs around the limb she has perched upon before twisting around to hang from it.
Her arms fold across her chest as she scans the land, though a safer option would have been doing so while right-side up. Safety was rarely a primary concern, though. Ah! - there it was, the sign she was waiting for. Sabina chuckles to herself as she pulls herself back up and drops to the ground; she lost her edge down here, but it would make slinking through the shadows easier. If it was a game of cat-and-mouse, or perhaps cat-and-larger cat, then so be it. She would play along.
"So, it's a mage," she murmured as she approaches where she suspects he may now hide. Sabina didn't dare approach any closer than where she stood, however. Safety wasn't a precaution she was mindful of often, but she did know that an ambush from something so much larger than herself could end very badly. There was no fun to be had in a quick death.
The woman reaches down for the daggers at her hips, unsheathing them and holding them at the ready; would they be of use? Who knew; she didn't care, really. They tended to be more for flashy effects, anyways. "And with no - what is it you people call them, arvaarad? To think they have let you off your leash, how interesting."
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