Awkward Stoic Potato
Nation
|
Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Jan 12, 2018 23:08:09 GMT -5
Dragon Age AU! Please PM before joining VDA for some language, demons, dark topics, violence, basically what you expect from the game, but more pg-13 lol
Torn on time period so… pre-Kirkwall Rebellion I Guess?? Or just frigging wing it. I’m winging it. Currently they are in Orlais and are on the way to Churneau as per request of some Orlesian noble. Lutz is a fresh recruit that has been ordered to see that Lady Mia, a circle mage, arrives safely to their destination. No one said it was going to be 100% easy, however. Join the party, fight them, or set up a camp of your own. It’s just for funsies and adventure.
Name: Ludwig A. Rutherford Race: Human Class: Warrior (Sword/Shield) Spec: Templar Age: 19/20 From: Village near Kocari Wilds, Ferelden
Danger was always present, even at the calmest of moments, or so Ludwig had been taught. Even now, as the night lay silent and the light of the campfire danced over his armor, highlighting the symbol of a Templar—a downturned sword engulfed in righteous flames—the young Ferelden was wary. Casting a look over the campfire to his ward, he sighed softly. “Have you been to Churneau before or is this a new place for you as well?”He’s only just started getting used to Orlais and it’s customs himself. Really, he still had some difficulty in pronouncing some of their cities and titles, but he tried. Typically, he wouldn’t bother speaking to the mages unless necessary as he went along his duties, but it was just the two of them, and she was fairly young—she was just a teenager. He himself was only barely twenty and a new recruit they had sent to test his resolve. This was really just a small task for him compared to the bigger picture; escort the mage to safety as per request of the Circle and client, make a report, and await orders and other tasks while serving the local Chantry and making sure the mages were kept in line. To any other person, it would seem droll, but to Ludwig? It still bore some semblance of excitement and newness that kept his intrigue. He realized its importance, above all. The blond shifted to get a bit more comfortable, moving his sword and shield to lay beside him and against the nearby stump. He stoked the fire as blue eyes lifted upwards and past Lady Mia, watching for any trouble before falling back to the fire. Part of him wondered why the hell they only sent ONE Templar...a greenhorn nevertheless. The other part of him knew it was because they deemed the road rather safe for travel and any excessive knights would have been unnecessary, and perhaps even made the girl appear more important and more of a target. After all, nothing says “please take me. I’m important and can be used for a hefty ransom” than an envoy of armed Templars. It surely would have beckoned some unwelcome force to swoop down upon the group and pick off what they could as they sought the bigger prize. In any case, Ludwig would do the best he could with the task set before him—no matter how menial it seemed |
|
Awkward Stoic Potato
Nation
|
Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Jan 15, 2018 21:19:01 GMT -5
|  Name: Athlok ( Laborer. The mind, the earth.--not his “name” as Qunari are known by their titles/occupation
Race: Qunari; Tal-Vashoth
Class: Warrior (Bare-hand…or Two-Hand)
Spec: Reaver
Age: 23
From: Par Vollen
Also in Orlais and is basically on the run as he's considered Tal-Vashoth. Come drop in and give him a hand if you don't wanna tag along with the Templar.
“HRRRAAA!!!!!” The Qunari swung his hand back, catching the mercenary in the jaw and sending him stumbling back as the other leapt at him, twin daggers aimed for his chest. Athlok didn’t have time to sidestep, but the momentum of his backhand at least let him twist enough that the merc didn’t manage to impale him properly. His arm had shot up to block the daggers from sinking into his chest, and though the steel cut through flesh and bone, his life was spared.
Shaking in anger, arm dripping in blood, the unarmed giant of a man stepped back and hissed in pain. Athlok’s jaw clenched tightly together as he eyed the other. It was an unfair advantage in their favor. He was without a weapon and lightly armored having escaped in a hurry and with just the clothes on his back. He didn’t want to go back to that meaningless life…a life of rules and regulation, of expectation and the crushing weight of the Qun. He was sick of laboring in the fields. Of hauling stone and wood to building sites. He was sick of being maraas. Nothing.
The mercenary flicked his daggers downward, letting the blood fall to the dusty earth below as he adjusted his stance. “The more you fight, the worse it’s going to be for you, Tal-Vashoth. Just come quietly and it’ll all be over soon.” The man Athlok had struck earlier was coming to again, holding his jaw with one hand as he shakily pushed himself back to his feet and reached for his staff.
“Ashkost kata…” the Qunari growled, head bowed as his eyes remained locked on the rogue. “I’d rather die than go ba--AAACK!!” Before he could finish his declaration, he felt an arrow lodge in his left shoulder. There was more than just these two after all…how many then? Five men? Ten? With another battle shout, he charged, hoping the man was too slow to move so that he could gore him with a horn or at the very least knock the wind out of him. If he was going to die, it may as well be after a damn good fight.
|
Font Color: cc9933 Template by Isoitsu |
|
The Country of Passion
Empire
Aug 7, 2023 7:41:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Antonio Fernandez Carriedo on Apr 19, 2018 22:23:48 GMT -5
Name: Antonio Arainai
Race: Human
Class: Rogue (Dual Wielding)
Specialization: Assassin
Age: 23
Homeland: Antiva
I have a headcanon forming that Antonio is from the same house of assassins as Zevran, but took the opportunity to tentatively try slipping away from the Crows after the blight (post DA:O), when the Black Shadow (aka. secretly Zev) appeared & started dismantling things by targeting those with power within the organization. Antonio knows that no one leaves the Crows & lives typically, and that if House Arainai doesn’t fully fall to the Black Shadow he’ll be hunted, but he’s quite sure that the assassin of assassins is the more immediate concern for the Crows, compared to one deserter.
Antonio was not altogether sure why he had decided to tail the mercenaries he had barely missed crossing paths with earlier that day. If he had to guess though, maybe a mixture of boredom & curiosity was to blame? The small band had looked like they were tracking a mark of theirs, judging by their occasional pausing to scrutinize the ground & surrounding area for signs of prior travel, and it was not like the Antivan had more pressing life-or-death obligations to attend to these days anyways. Potentially impending hit on him for deserting aside, Antonio was a free Crow—free of contracts to carry out, free of the pressure to assassinate successfully every time or be deemed incompetent & killed off, and essentially free to do what he wanted.
In light of that, it would probably be more accurate to say then that he had put his stealth skills to use and followed the mercs on a whim, for the hell of it. He was fairly confident that given his training, he would not get caught... though if he happened to be, he was also confident in his ability not to die at the hands of a few mercs just because discovery had cost him his cover. He could still slip in & out of stealth in the open, and despite his specialties being primarily infiltration and seduction, Antonio was no stranger to resorting to using his daggers for close combat instead of purely stealth kills. Sometimes he had had to, whenever a lethal strike from the shadows missed its mark but revealed his presence. In those instances it was often kill the mark regardless of lost cover, retaliation or reinforcements, or be disposed of by the Crows for botching a contracted kill.
Point being: the ex-Crow could handle a scuffle, if it came to that. Which... it did, though he could have slipped away & not have gotten involved at all.
When the mercenaries finally seemed to be closing in on whoever they had been tracking, some of them split off & took up positions ahead but off to the side, probably at hidden vantage points to aid in an ambush. It was only when the remaining mercs moved to confront their target head on that Antonio quietly crept close enough to watch.
Having discovered the nature of their mark, he did not envy the mercenaries one bit. Qunari were a solid folk, formidable in size and fierce fighters. Even outnumbered & unarmed, Antonio would wager the lone Qunari could likely still down a couple mercenaries with the sheer force of his blows, before getting overwhelmed by the enemy’s numbers and advantage of having weapons.
That was the fate Antonio almost left the guy to, figuring he had no real reason to intervene, before something one of the mercs said carried on the wind gave him pause.
Tal-Vashoth. It meant the Qunari had tried abandoning the ways of the Qun to lead his own life, on his own terms.
That choice to reject how things were, & the circumstance of being hunted for it... they resonated with the former Crow, to a degree that unsettled him a bit. Seeing parallels with anyone about to be killed was bad for business because it could evoke sympathy or bending of the rules—that being said, Crows were taught to kill such thoughts. Yet here they were, & Antonio was under no obligation to stop them anymore, unfamiliar as they felt to him.
Seeing the Qunari take a shot from one of the band’s hidden archers, he made up his mind. He would help, if only to even the playing field and give the other more of a fighting chance. He could do that by taking out the enemies hiding on the sidelines, which he proceeded to do under cover of stealth. They fell to his blades one by one, silently for the most part as he tried to aim for the throat to cut off any cries that would alert the others that anything was amiss.
... He did topple a body down into the clearing when he was sure he had swept the perimeter though. For effect.
|
|
Awkward Stoic Potato
Nation
|
Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Jul 13, 2018 19:54:43 GMT -5
| The Qunari continued to charge, letting out another roar of a shout as another arrow found its home in his hip. The adrenaline kept him from faltering and the burning pain only fueled his anger and hatred of these Basra… he expected that the Ben-Hassrath would not be far behind them, if they were not acting on their wishes themselves. It was the thought of returning to Par Vollen that kept him pushing forward, ignoring the mage as he finally reached his staff and started to stand.
However, from the corner of his eye, Athlok saw the body of a lifeless archer suddenly drop into view. A sneer crept over his lips as he noted that the rogue had seen it as well and was more than a bit surprised. It was just for a second, but it was all he needed. Pushing off as hard and fast as he could, he drew his hand back to attack. “Surprise, bitch!” he growled, sustaining a few more slices to the arm and chest as his fist pushed through the man’s defenses and struck him firmly on the temple. The mercenary’s head twisted to the side with a sickening snap as he instantly released his daggers and crumpled to the ground without another word. Breathing heavily, Athlok, picked up the daggers, raising one to the mage. “If the Magical Death Fairy that got your archer doesn’t get you first, your ass is mine, Sparky.”
Hopefully, he thought. He wasn’t sure how well he could handle magic, but he started lumbering toward the mage, limping a bit with each step due to the arrow still lodged quite nicely in his hip. Gritting his teeth, and trying to push the pain from his mind, the Qunari tried to increase his pace and close the distance before a spell could be cast--which looked like it could be any second.
OoC:Thank you Magical Death Fairy ILY Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
|
Font Color: cc9933 Template by Isoitsu |
|
The Country of Passion
Empire
Aug 7, 2023 7:41:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Antonio Fernandez Carriedo on Jul 22, 2018 18:39:57 GMT -5
The former Crow chuckled under his breath upon witnessing the effect his contribution had on the fight below, pleased that the Qunari had the sense to capitalize on the distraction and down one of the mercenaries that had been closing in. That left one magic user, judging by the staff in hand. The question now was whether to continue aiding the big lug or to call it a day with the few archers he’d already disposed of to help him out. The Qunari was no longer outnumbered, but the mercenary band’s mage was not similarly encumbered by cuts and arrow wounds. It would likely all boil down to how fast the former could move despite injuries, and how fast the latter could cast. As impressive as it would be to see the disadvantaged party rise to victory, the odds of that happening seemed slim to Antonio. A mage versed in combat was bound to know spells that could immobilize and subdue even the most stubborn and physically formidable opponent, and could probably cast rather quickly—especially if the mage in question was already gathering magic into their hands and channelling it into their staff. Running out of time to decide, the assassin uttered a quiet curse and started moving. He’d grown so used to minding his own hide and making himself turn a blind eye to other people’s messes so as not to get dragged into more messy situations than his life as a Crow already entailed, but... he no longer needed to live by that policy. It was familiar, and a means of self-preservation that had been drilled into him by the guild; however, if he didn’t really like the way things were unfurling in his periphery, it was only indoctrinated habits standing in the way of choosing to act to turn things around for others for once. Knowing he needed to distract the mage in order to break his concentration and disrupt his spell, Antonio abandoned the cover of the treeline, slid down the bank and reached for a throwing knife from a pouch on his person. He was no good at long range combat, needing to be closer than the treeline to hit his mark with precision using throwing knifes, and needing to be even closer to make use of his daggers. Mostly just wanting to give the Qunari another opening to down this final pursuer, Antonio aimed for the arm holding the staff, let the knife fly and then another in quick succession, then shrouded himself in stealth and moved away from his last noticeable position. He’d been visible coming out from the trees, so he didn’t want the mage turning and targeting him upon noticing his advance. The first knife only succeeded in grazing the mage’s arm... which did provide a distraction, but not one nearly as satisfying as the second throwing knife provided. It sunk into the mercenary’s shoulder, causing a cry of pain and a disruption to the gathering magic, as the staff nearly fell from their grip.
“Today is really not your day, señor mercenary,” Antonio commented with mock pity, coming out of stealth a safe distance away to watch with confident nonchalance as the Qunari got close enough to take him out. He would not rob the other of the final blow—it was his freedom that had been threatened here, after all.
|
|
