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cornichaun) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2016-10-31 05:43 pm
cornichaun) wrote in bakerstreet2016-10-31 05:43 pm
(no subject)
THE WAR ZONE MEME
WARNING: Meme will contain TRIGGERS, including war, violence, capture, and general uncomfortable content. Please do not click if you don't want to see, and please respect your fellow role-players.
◊ Post with your character with name and canon.
◊ List any preferences(roles, scenarios, time periods, etc.) you have.
◊ Reply to others! Roll using random.org or choose your prompts.
ROLES
1) The General/Admiral: You're the head honcho, the guy in charge. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of lives resting on you. What decision will you make?
2) The Officer: Not the leader, but you've got responsibility for your crew. What's your specialty -- independent initiative? Insubordination? Or do you let the noncoms walk all over you?
3) The Soldier: Just an ordinary soldier with your pike, or rifle, or energy gun. Your job is to follow orders. But when it comes down to it, when you look the enemy in the eye -- what will you do?
4) Spy: Dressed in civilian clothes, disguised as an enemy officer. Your job is to get as much information as you can, and then get out. Or are you going to sow a little chaos and destruction along the way?
5) Civilian: This is your land that's being fought over. Do you support a side? Do you hide, or do you hold steady in the face of such violence?
6) Other.
SCENARIOS
1) Battle: In the middle of the fighting.
2) Downtime/R&R: A few peaceful moments, to spend as you will.
3) Sabotage: Something's gone terribly wrong. A factory blown up, a bridge destroyed, an assassination. What do you do about it?
4) Planning: How do you go about storming that beach?
5) Capture/Rescue: The enemy soldiers have you surrounded. Or maybe you're on a daring mission to break your buddies out of jail.
6) Other.
TIME PERIOD
1) Ancient times: Grab that centurion's helmet, form up into a phalanx, and let's go crush those Gauls and/or Persians!
2) Medieval times: Suit up in your armor, grab a lance and make sure to bring along your squire.
3) Revolutionary times: Basic guns and muskets, very little medical care, and very little tactics. Give the other army a few days to dig in, and they'll hold you off forever.
4) World War I/II: Technology is advancing, and warfare is more sophisticated than ever. Remember the trenches, the skirmishes in cities, the spies and the drama.
5) Modern times: Guerilla warfare, modern tactics, modern technology.
6) The future: Ray guns? Space battles? Let your imagination go wild.
7) Other.
WARNING: Meme will contain TRIGGERS, including war, violence, capture, and general uncomfortable content. Please do not click if you don't want to see, and please respect your fellow role-players.
◊ Post with your character with name and canon.
◊ List any preferences(roles, scenarios, time periods, etc.) you have.
◊ Reply to others! Roll using random.org or choose your prompts.
1) The General/Admiral: You're the head honcho, the guy in charge. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of lives resting on you. What decision will you make?
2) The Officer: Not the leader, but you've got responsibility for your crew. What's your specialty -- independent initiative? Insubordination? Or do you let the noncoms walk all over you?
3) The Soldier: Just an ordinary soldier with your pike, or rifle, or energy gun. Your job is to follow orders. But when it comes down to it, when you look the enemy in the eye -- what will you do?
4) Spy: Dressed in civilian clothes, disguised as an enemy officer. Your job is to get as much information as you can, and then get out. Or are you going to sow a little chaos and destruction along the way?
5) Civilian: This is your land that's being fought over. Do you support a side? Do you hide, or do you hold steady in the face of such violence?
6) Other.
1) Battle: In the middle of the fighting.
2) Downtime/R&R: A few peaceful moments, to spend as you will.
3) Sabotage: Something's gone terribly wrong. A factory blown up, a bridge destroyed, an assassination. What do you do about it?
4) Planning: How do you go about storming that beach?
5) Capture/Rescue: The enemy soldiers have you surrounded. Or maybe you're on a daring mission to break your buddies out of jail.
6) Other.
1) Ancient times: Grab that centurion's helmet, form up into a phalanx, and let's go crush those Gauls and/or Persians!
2) Medieval times: Suit up in your armor, grab a lance and make sure to bring along your squire.
3) Revolutionary times: Basic guns and muskets, very little medical care, and very little tactics. Give the other army a few days to dig in, and they'll hold you off forever.
4) World War I/II: Technology is advancing, and warfare is more sophisticated than ever. Remember the trenches, the skirmishes in cities, the spies and the drama.
5) Modern times: Guerilla warfare, modern tactics, modern technology.
6) The future: Ray guns? Space battles? Let your imagination go wild.
7) Other.
I saw nothing
"Are you wounded?" she calls to him once nothing of the demon is left but smoking ashes.
"Only mildly charred," he assures her, and she does not blame him for barely daring to lower his blades. Putting one's claws away now would be unwise.
"There are Inquisition soldiers farther down the ramparts." It seems unlikely that the pride demon she saw them facing wiped them all out. "The two of you should either join them there or follow us to the Inquisitor." Wherever the Inquisitor and Hawke may be now. She glances toward Alistair. This chaos has not been their friend.
no subject
Alistair shakes his head and grimaces, looking from her to the two Wardens. "The Inquisitor was searching for Clarel. Finding her is what matters." Her and that magister controlling the Warden mages. It's their only chance of putting a stop to this before any more members of the order are sacrificed.
The warrior steps forward to volunteer, "The Warden-Commander was in the Main Courtyard." A moment's hesitation then, "With Magister Erimond." There's clearly some unease regarding the man and it's good to see that not everyone has been taken in by him.
Following the direction she indicates across the battlements and deeper within the fortress, he takes a deep breath and tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword. "Alright. We'll try to catch up to them." Glancing over to the pair of Wardens he offers, "The Inquisition soldiers could use some support." With a look of relief, they turn towards where the Inquisition's forces do battle and he can't blame them, as much as their support would help.
He turns back to Morrigan, expression briefly conflicted before with a tilt of his head he says, "Shall we?"
no subject
If they are fortunate, the Inquisitor has already reached the courtyard and interrupted whatever misguided ritual was no doubt taking place. She gives a brief nod of thanks to the rescued Wardens and then answers Alistair with arched eyebrows. "I thought you would never ask."
As dry as the words are, she has his back every bit as much as she has up until this point. As they head across the battlements toward the center of the fortress, she casts a minor revitalization spell and aims a crackling bolt of lightning ahead of them to help clear their path. Though she would dearly love to summon a full-blown blizzard, that will have to wait for a moment when the difference between allies and enemies is more obvious.
Before they can reach the fortress's inner wall, a thunderous rumble above them makes her lift her eyes to the sky. The sound of such massive wings is unmistakable. The dragon stands out clearly in the moonlight, diving as if in search of prey, and fire pours from its open mouth.
no subject
The familiar flow of battle manages to distract him from following that possibility through. His blows surge with energy as he dispatches another demon with a vicious satisfaction, the crackle of lightning making the hair on his neck stand up straight. Whatever they find there's hope they'll be capable of handling it.
Or, it would seem, not.
Staring up at the dragon as well he freezes, eyes widening in shock. It's a sight he'd hoped not to have to face ever again after the Blight.
So it's a good thing he's not much of a gambler, given his luck.
Shock makes him slow to react and it feels like he's moving through water as he runs towards Morrigan. His shield makes a flimsy barrier between them and the onrushing flames, not one he's willing to stake his life on - will magic do much better? It's a question he'd rather not see answered as he throws himself towards the cover of the fortress walls, prepared to drag Morrigan after him if he has to.
no subject
Her battle instincts, she thinks, are good, but not as recently honed as Alistair's. He rushes toward the wall with a momentum that she does not resist, her legs starting to move faster than her brain acknowledges, and hitting the stone wall knocks the breath out of her. For a few minutes the only thing that seems to match the volume of the dragon above is her own pounding heartbeat.
She offers no thanks for the nudge. Setting aside their differences just long enough to better their odds of survival is what they have always been forced to do.
Briefly, she grabs the elbow of his shield arm. "Now is our chance."
Thinking quickly again, she nods toward the shadowy stone archway a short distance away. It must lead their way down toward the courtyard, and the dragon has provided them with an opportunity to run for it with as little in their way as possible. What lies past the archway is a surprise they will have to be ready for when they reach it. Their barriers are, for the moment, still intact, so she hastens them both again. If they hug the wall, she thinks they can make this particular part of the process painless.
no subject
If they can get to the courtyard.
Alistair feels the spell settle over him, speeding his movements, and nods. "Keep close behind me." He has the better chance protecting himself should the dragon make another pass or if anything else tries to stop them, and in the worse case scenario Morrigan can still aid the Inquisitor.
Trusting her to follow behind he darts forward, armour practically scraping against the wall as he runs. The wingbeats overhead are getting louder as the dragon circles back around and he'd swear he can hear it drawing in air before it attacks again. He can't tell if it's noticed them or if the chaos of the battlefield is working to their advantage for once and doesn't slow down to see.
The roar of flames comes seconds too late, a wash of heat chasing after them as they gain the safety of the stone archway. Alistair stumbles to a halt and turns back to see the blackened stone behind them, a bellow from the dragon drowning him out as he says, "This isn't good."
no subject
The smell of burning wood -- and worse, burning flesh -- creeps into the air. They can only hope the dragon's fiery breath is claiming as many demons as allies. The cry it lets out makes the fortress tremble and mutes Alistair's words, but she thinks she knows the sentiment he shares.
For once, he may be right. Did the dragon appear to turn the tide? Does the Magister need something to pose a larger threat than the mages he controls? "Perhaps Corypheus himself is near."
There is but one way to find out, and no time to catch her breath. "Are you hurt?" she asks, an afterthought that makes her look sideways at him in quick appraisal as she turn toward the steps.
If so, she may not have a better opportunity to do something more about it. The sound of clashing steel and the palpable prickle of magic both rise from below.
no subject
Or maybe they'd all fall victim to his influence. If Corypheus is the cause behind the Calling then who knows what else he might be able to do with the taint in them?
It's unnerving to think he himself could become anything like the enslaved Warden mages. Better by far to push that aside and focus on what's in front of him - the sounds of battle ahead, thankfully uninterrupted by the dragon so far, and Morrigan's offer.
"Not too badly." It's often hard to tell in the moment, the rush of battle dulling all but the worst pain. But he can't feel anything worse than a few minor burns and the usual assortment of bruises already blossoming under his armour. He'll be black and blue and stiff later but for now- "I can keep going. You should save your magic." They don't know what might be up ahead but it can't be anything less than what they faced to get this far and he'd rather she have as much to direct against their enemies as possible.
no subject
She does study him a moment longer, as if to judge how much he may understating out of any foolish pride. The usual scrapes and bruises and bumps of battle are not what concern her, but her quick scrutiny picks up nothing out of the ordinary and that satisfies her. "Let us avoid death then, shall we?"
A familiar roar -- not that of a dragon this time -- sounds from nearby before they reach the bottom, and the gasp startled out of her as a hulking pride demon looms into view before them and falls to its knees, staggered, is louder than she would care to admit. A rift in the air above the courtyard casts its shimmering green light on everything around them, and in the distance she can see the Inquisitor with one arm raised, hand glowing, struggling to maintain a connection with it long enough to mend the tear. It takes her a moment to recognize the Champion of Kirkwall and more familiar faces closing in on the demon before them, but instinct flares up again quickly enough and she lends her assistance in the form of flame, a well-aimed ball of fire.
no subject
The words are barely out of his mouth when the pride demon draws his attention and he automatically places his shield between himself and it. As foreboding as the demon's appearance after such a declaration seems, it's not as bad as it could be. He can see Hawke and several others he remembers seeing with the Inquisition before already attacking the creature and Morrigan is quick to join in. The rift is a little worrying but everything he's seen says the Inquisitor can handle it before they have too many more demons to worry about.
Alistair himself moves to attack the pride demon as well, darting in to drive his blade into its back before it can rise again. There's Wardens all around them, some attacking the demon and several mages trying to hold them off. In the chaos, he can't see if Clarel or Erimond are anywhere to be found, no matter how he searches. He's so caught up in looking for them that he's caught off-guard when the demon regains its feet and sweeps a crackling whip of lightning down on its attackers.
He staggers back, teeth gritted against the pain as his muscles twitch uncontrollably. Sheer dumb luck locks his fingers tight around the grip of his sword so it stays in his hand so at least it's not all bad news. The sentiment is a little hard to hold onto as one of the Warden mages turns towards him and raises their staff while the sound of wingbeats grows overhead.
no subject
It does not last long. As the pride demon finds its feet again she hurries to escape its range, narrowly succeeding before electricity whips down. Flame leaps from her hands again, hitting the demon in the side and making it howl, but even more effective is the abrupt shockwave of energy that ripples through the air, an almost violent surge of green, as the rift closes.
Not a moment too soon, it seems: she can hear those massive wings again, the dragon's attention no doubt drawn to the busiest pockets of activity it can see. Overhead protection here in the courtyard is scarce, but she will take her chances until she feels she should not. Turning, she sees a group of Warden mages past Alistair, and she hoists herself up onto the base of a half-crumbled statue to gain a better view.
Her allies are distanced just right, with the possible exception of Alistair and he has proven several times tonight that he remembers how to use his shield well enough. She centers the deadly swirl of ice and snow she summons directly behind the mages and lets it do its worst.
no subject
Not too much so, though. As ever, as soon as one concern is dealt with another arises. Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair sees Morrigan climb up, her attention on the mage before him and their fellows. He feels the magic unleashed just in time to put his shield between him and the barrage of ice that hits the enslaved mages. They disappear in the swirl of white and he waits for it to die down enough that he can attack the shaking and frozen Wardens within. The first he strikes was at the centre of the storm and almost shatters under the blow from his sword, hitting the ground in several pieces he doesn't examine too closely.
As he turns his attention to the next one he hears the Inquisitor shout something about following Clarel and Erimond. With the din surrounding them all, it's difficult to tell if the pair has fled together or if Clarel hasn't yet fallen to Corypheus. No matter the answer they still need to find them.
Alistair slams into the next mage, who struggles to cast a spell through their uncontrollable shivering, the sight more than a little disconcerting with their blank, unfeeling expression. The heavy blow from his shield helps distract from that and the problem is gone entirely as his sword opens the mage up from shoulder to hip and they collapse to the ground, spraying him with more Warden blood.
As several other Warden warriors also close in on the mages the dragon's shadow darkens the courtyard and a bellow shakes the ground. Surprisingly, luckily, it doesn't stop, seemingly drawn on by something up in the battlements.