Alistair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
onceatemplar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
edge_of_forever2012-04-19 06:24 am
onceatemplar) wrote in edge_of_forever2012-04-19 06:24 am
Entry tags:
Darkspawn [Open]
Until a second ago, Alistair wished that whatever-this-was didn't have to come to an end.
There was nothing that the Templar-Gone-Grey-Warden more than a family. And for whatever reason, he suddenly had one. A real family with a real sister and a real collection of nieces and nephews, all for his very own.
The other Warden was there, too, though if he thought about it hard enough, they probably shouldn't be. Then again, the family he hadn't met shouldn't have been present either, but he didn't think of that at all, either.
He is in the middle of a game of hide and seek with Davis, the youngest of his imagined nephews when he finds that he can't find him. At all. Or anyone else, for that matter. He starts racing towards the house, but finds that grass slowly gives way to metal gray floors.
When he turns around, the field outside his sister's house is not there. It had all just vanished.
With a sharp intake of breath, he turns around again, his brows furrowed with confusion. He realizes it, then. He's aboard the Prosperina, still. All that before was...
"Just a dream." Like that time in the Mage's Tower, when they went into the Fade.
Disappointment wells up inside of him. Having the family he wanted so badly had been unceremoniously seized from him before and now it had been taken away from him again. But there's little time to dwell on that.
Alistair hears a snarl rise up from behind him.
A very familiar snarl.
He spins around, only to find himself face-to-face with a trio of Darkspawn. One ogre, flanked by a hurlock and a genlock. And unfortunately for Alistair, none of the three seemed particularly happy to see him.
And unlike him, they also had weapons.
"Darkspawn!" he says in one second. In the next, he's racing down the halls, eyes searching frantically for something -- anything, he can use to fend the creatures off. With a weapon, he could handle the Darkspawn. Without one -- well, he was just about as useless as everyone else.
There was nothing that the Templar-Gone-Grey-Warden more than a family. And for whatever reason, he suddenly had one. A real family with a real sister and a real collection of nieces and nephews, all for his very own.
The other Warden was there, too, though if he thought about it hard enough, they probably shouldn't be. Then again, the family he hadn't met shouldn't have been present either, but he didn't think of that at all, either.
He is in the middle of a game of hide and seek with Davis, the youngest of his imagined nephews when he finds that he can't find him. At all. Or anyone else, for that matter. He starts racing towards the house, but finds that grass slowly gives way to metal gray floors.
When he turns around, the field outside his sister's house is not there. It had all just vanished.
With a sharp intake of breath, he turns around again, his brows furrowed with confusion. He realizes it, then. He's aboard the Prosperina, still. All that before was...
"Just a dream." Like that time in the Mage's Tower, when they went into the Fade.
Disappointment wells up inside of him. Having the family he wanted so badly had been unceremoniously seized from him before and now it had been taken away from him again. But there's little time to dwell on that.
Alistair hears a snarl rise up from behind him.
A very familiar snarl.
He spins around, only to find himself face-to-face with a trio of Darkspawn. One ogre, flanked by a hurlock and a genlock. And unfortunately for Alistair, none of the three seemed particularly happy to see him.
And unlike him, they also had weapons.
"Darkspawn!" he says in one second. In the next, he's racing down the halls, eyes searching frantically for something -- anything, he can use to fend the creatures off. With a weapon, he could handle the Darkspawn. Without one -- well, he was just about as useless as everyone else.
no subject
"They're creatures I was sworn to fight as a Grey Warden," he says, slamming his practice sword into the creature's side with so much force that the sword began to splinter under the force of the attack.
"My sword's not going to hold up much longer," he yells to Sandor, wishing very much that he was wielding a real sword instead of a practice one. He glances over at the weights the man brought wonderingly -- just in time to be knocked back by one of the ogre's bulbous arms.
no subject
He waited til the other man looked his way, then tossed him the sword he'd taken from the smaller monster. "Have that," he said, and hefted a weight with a 50 on it in his other arm. He grimaced; in order to do real damage it should be twice as heavy, but if it were, he couldn't have lifted it. So he made do with what he had, and spun around once to get some momentum before aiming and letting the barbell fly.
It caught the monster in the nose, not exactly where he'd been hoping it would hit, but close enough. Its head flew back and it appeared to lose balance, momentarily addled. And that was when the direwolf struck. Rearing back on its hind legs, it launched itself at the monster, latching onto its neck and tearing. The thing tripped back, flailing blindly to try and dislodge the predator at its throat, but with no luck. Sandor rushed at it, his weight bulling it backward, and he saw the man on its other side do the same.
One of the Darkspawn's windmilling arms caught him on the temple, and his vision went grey. When his eyes cleared, the direwolf was covered in black sludgy blood, and the ogre had stopped moving; the wolf had torn its throat out.