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Post by Fenris on Jun 17, 2016 15:05:41 GMT -5
 - TAGGED - He'd likely never hear the end of it from Hawke once she realized where he disappeared off to, but at the same time she surely expected such action the moment he'd healed up. He was never one to just sit around lazily, after all, and had a hard enough time sitting still while he healed. With his shoulder no longer causing him trouble, Fenris had managed to train until he was certain he was fit enough to take on the task of hunting down the remaining slavers. The elf was unconcerned with a certain Hero's feelings on the matter either, especially since he surely wouldn't have to deal with him far out in Orlais. He hoped so, at least... Well either way, he wasn't content with letting them get away so easily and had every intention of making them pay for their crimes, not only for personal reasons, but it had since become a goal of his, the former slaves lot in life. He would keep slaying these monsters until slavery was finally abolished, and damn anyone who got in his way. The perks of being a mercenary was that a man could end up with plenty of connections, plenty of eyes who may have spotted the targets he was after. After a couple of leads, he finally found himself a destination, off in the Western Approach. The land was so expansive, and the location wasn't direct, but if they were in fact in the area, he was certain he could track them down from there. They were likely headed towards Tevinter, and though he was by no means eager to get anywhere near the Imperium again, he at least knew where to look. It was only a matter of time before the dreaded wolf would finally track down the source of a pillar of smoke, a camp nestled between ridges. A nice hiding spot far off the trails, but clearly they weren't too concerned about being found if the fire were any sort of indication. Foolish, perhaps, or simply far too cocky about being so close to home. Fenris glared down, keeping out of sight as he watched the slavers and their hired soldiers chat around the fire, a few standing guard near their bounty, a group of slaves who were huddled like cattle in a wooden cage. It wasn't nearly as large of an amount as they had with them back in Ferelden, but it was still one too many in his eyes. The one thing he could look forward to was that there were no archers about, but a couple of mages that could prove dangerous if not tended to quickly. The four soldiers looked rough and experienced, mercenaries like himself, but he hardly feared them and knew he could make short work of them so long as he didn't let himself get overcrowded. Fenris' eyes narrowed as he calculated his plan of attack, hoping to dispatch of the mages before they even knew what hit them. With them out of the way, he was certain of his victory. His markings were already taking on that faint glow in anticipation. While he didn't care to rely on them all that often, he knew that they offered him better chances. And so in a blink, he turned invisible to the naked eye, taking careful steps around as he approached, careful not to kick up too much dust and dirt that'd give himself away. No one appeared to notice him, not until he had managed to approach the conversing mages, approaching one from behind and cutting them off quite literally as he stabbed the mage through the back, his bloodied blade inches away from piercing the other who was momentarily frozen in shock. He'd snap out of his stupor quick enough, reaching for his staff as he alerted the others, Fenris solidifying once more as he retracted his blood coated Blade of Mercy. The remaining mage had quickly put some distance between himself and the killer elf, whilst the mercenaries had finally made their approach, brandishing their own respective weapons with every intent to dispose of him with them. Time to get to work, he supposed, glaring between them with an eerie composure as he dared the bravest to approach. hope this works out for you! otherwise let me know if i need to change anything |
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Post by Canicus Callixtus on Jun 17, 2016 18:55:42 GMT -5
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| | the story continues... |
Ah, the Western Approach. A hard, desolate wasteland, it’s flora consisting of the occasional oasis rock with a small patch of sad algae clinging to the bottom of it, it’s fauna entirely insufferable, whether native or visiting. After all, anything that didn’t already belong in this terrible place would only be able to survive it if they were insufferable enough to match. Or exceptionally desperate. Or, on occasion, an interesting mixture of the two. That’s where he felt he mostly fit.
[break][break]
Canicus remembered this place from the first time he’d traveled through it, on his initial trip out of the Imperium. He remembered how much it had frightened him then: unfeeling and cruel, it could freeze you under the moon and boil the blood in your veins under the sun. The feeling was too familiar, oppressing, like being under the whip all over again. He’d feared the rest of the world he was setting out to explore would be just the same, for if it was, truly, what place in it was there for him? Thankfully, Cani’d been pleasantly surprised to find the rest of the world was not so terrible, and he foolishly vowed never to return through the approach unless in the direst of needs.
[break][break]
This was not a dire need, not even remotely. In fact, he didn’t really need to be there at all. But in his recent visit to Churneau’s library, he overheard rumor of a sighting of unsavory characters whom had just passed the outskirts of the town bound for the Wastes. The description of the men and their ‘cargo’ was all too familiar to him, and being as close as he was, he’d have been remiss to pass up the opportunity to kill more of the bastards. Stupid of them to let themselves be seen, really – they must have been getting sloppy, so close to home.
[break][break]
It had been a few days of hunting them now, always a few steps behind, until finally catching this break. Lingering at rest like this wasn’t unusual for as rough a terrain as they were in, but it was unusually stupid. Canicus hadn’t needed to bother with wagon trails or magical residues to find them, he simply needed to look up at the smoke. Idiots. They’d even flanked themselves between the ridges… This would be too easy, more’s the pity.
[break][break]
The mage crept closer to the slaving party, staying pressed to the ridge walls. It seemed they hadn’t even bothered to secure a perimeter, though of course they had their mages, his countrymen. Only a few, but enough to ‘dissuade’ the average well-meaning adventurer. To him they were little more than animals ready for slaughter, sad excuses for men who shamed themselves in the eyes of the Maker and became a blight upon His world. He’d remove them first, and the soldiers… Well, soldiers always fled once their arcane backup was decimated.
[break][break]
Canicus gripped his staff, clenching his jaw as he began to focus on the magic that made home in his chest. He was preparing to launch a fireball at his first target when… Why was there a sword through his chest? He stood confused for longer than he’d admit as he processed exactly what was going on. It seems he wasn’t the only elf out hunting slavers this evening. Fancy that. Now that there was a Friendly and the element of surprise was all but lost, his tactics had to change.
[break][break]
He pushed out of his hiding place, approaching the camp from the opposite end in full view. None of them were focused on him, not yet. He concentrated his magic, flowing hot through his body until electricity crackled and spit in little arches over his skin. At a mere twenty paces from the group, he stopped and let out an ear-piercing whistle for their attention. He grinned, eyes glowing, and slammed one of the remaining mages and two nearby soldiers with a bolt of electricity a man wide.
[break][break]
“I don’t know who was here first,” he spoke to the other (glowing?) elf as two armored bodies fell to the ground sizzling, and another crippled. Canicus spun his staff, preparing another bolt of lightning.
[break][break]
“But they die.”
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Nope, this is perfect! ^^
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Post by Fenris on Jun 18, 2016 9:20:26 GMT -5
- TAGGED - A man with a battle axe was the first to approach, swinging it full force and missing Fenris by mere inches as he ducked down and with a wide arc slashed across the man's stomach, cutting through his armor and his skin, though not enough to kill, certainly enough to make the mercenary reconsider his approach as he reeled back, resting his hand over his open wound to feel the warm blood already soaking through. The next had approached, a bit more cautious than the last as he kept his distance with his dual swords, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. But with everyone's attention on him, no one had noticed the new presence until a piercing whistle had caused all of them to pause, looking towards the direction it had come from seconds before the air crackled with a strong surge of lightning. Great. Another mage. Fortunately he appeared to be fighting with him, at least at the moment, but that didn't exactly make him feel completely comfortable with the stranger being there, especially when he was mere inches away from the bolts of lightning that had taken his kill. Fenris' markings glowed with new intensity as he glared at the new mage. "Just stay out of my way." he growled, he himself intending to stay out of his aim as best he could, not trusting this elf to not turn around and attack him too. But for now? There were other matters to attend to. As a matter of fact, not all of the ones zapped were taken out, as the crippled one was actually fighting to get back on his feet and fight. Course he wouldn't get far as he too would taste his blade, Fenris stabbing him straight through the chest with enough force that he actually pinned the other to the ground, ripping out his sword as blood began to bubble from his mouth. Behind him, the slaver's remaining mage had decided to take care of him while he was preoccupied, but hadn't taken into account that the elf would actually be able to dodge, falling into a roll to evade the fiery blast. If getting a bit singed wasn't annoying enough, it appeared landing on his shoulder did him no favors, though while it left him a bit sore, it fortunately wasn't completely incapacitating though and he was back on his feet before it could even really be noticed. - |
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Post by Canicus Callixtus on Jun 18, 2016 16:26:01 GMT -5
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Damn, not all three had died in the blast. That made his entry much less dramatic. In his books, the main characters always made such dramatic entrances – then again, the characters in his books couldn’t actually die if they stopped to contemplate their arrivals on a live battlefield. He’d have to consider his power limiting at a more opportune time. “And you,” he began his approach, using his magic to hurl a fresh corpse at the remaining mage to distract him. “Stay out of mine.”
[break][break]
Whoever the elf was, he was without doubt an accomplished warrior. But the best and smartest opponent for any mage was always another mage. He’d leave the axes and swords to the one who favored the same. For now.
[break][break]
The mage had easily countered the body of course, though it had served its purpose in giving Canicus more time to approach. Unlike most who wielded magic, he preferred close quarters – it intimidated other casters into mistakes, and so long as he maintained speed and reflex, it didn’t impede his spellwork in the slightest. Plus, he would admit he enjoyed getting to occasionally bash an opponent with his staff.
[break][break]
Canicus countered a blast of flame straight into the face of the nearest enemy, then lashed out with a relentless barrage of dagger-like ice. His opponent stupidly tried to attack while still using active defensive magic, sending a stream of lightening at his torso. His aim proved false, the blast easily dodged and giving Cani the opportunity to press the advantage. The mage’s counter faltered, and a shard of ice lodged itself so deeply into the joint between shoulder and arm, it almost took the whole thing clean off.
[break][break]
Canicus staggered and ducked down onto one knee, narrowly dodging the wide swing of a blade a mercenary had aimed for his neck. That had been far, far too close for comfort. Eyes darting quickly to check that the slaver mage was still too busy howling in pain to attack, he leveraged his low position to sweep the mercenary off his feet and land a crushing blow to his head with the mace end of his staff.
[break][break]
Hopping back to his feet, he checked the field to see if his temporary compatriot needed an assist while he had the time before the mage recovered. These men were slightly more experienced than he’d originally guessed.
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Post by Fenris on Jun 19, 2016 14:45:52 GMT -5
- TAGGED - While having plenty of reason to be frustrated with the other elf already, Fenris had decided to keep his frustrations to himself at the moment, focusing on his fight and deal with him later. As much as he disliked mages, he wasn't about to deny the advantage of having one who may technically be on his side, at least for now. So while he focused on the other mage, Fenris had turned his attention to the melee fighters who were still trying to wrap their heads around the whole situation, as well as keep said heads on their shoulders as Fenris had managed to decapitate one of them with a strong swing of his large sword. As the now headless mercenary dropped to his knees, Fenris pressed on, fully aiming to cut each of them down. Course he wouldn't go completely unscathed, receiving a strong but fortunately blunt blow that knocked the wind out of him and then barely dodging an even worse injury as another had moved to attack him while he was dazed, the Tevinter elf wincing just the slightest as he backed away and dodged another consecutive strike from the persistent mercenary, a line of red growing across his cheek as the slice began to bleed. Before the more speedy rouge could make him bleed another drop however, Fenris had blocked his daggers with his own sword before countering with a powerful slash that knocked the other man off his feet, moaning in pain as the elf seemed to have returned the favor tenfold, slicing through his leather armor with ease. He wouldn't give him time to recover. No doubt this man was merely here for the money, not the slavery business itself, but unfortunately he was still fighting for the wrong side, so he too would have to die. Before he could deal the finishing blow however, another mercenary had intercepted, a partner perhaps since they seemed quite determined to protect the other, fiercely fighting against him and trying to give his ally enough time to recover. He'd give him some credit for it, and this warrior was rather skilled, even giving Fenris a bit of trouble as they both collided, not able to find the proper opening to deal with the other. But as Fenris found himself reluctantly backing off, he began to realize this man was quite larger than himself and his attacks were harder to deflect. His brows furrowed but he didn't relent, hardly intimidated by some mere human. He might have been stronger, but Fenris was certainly the faster of the two and it was for that reason he managed to avoid the most devastating of attacks, using the terrain to his advantage and whipping up some dirt when he had the opportunity which stunned the other momentarily, long enough for him to cut into his arm before the mercenary had the chance to fully block it. Again, he had to give credit where it was due, the man seeming to be able to fight through his injury, determined to not go down without a fight. "Die already!" he'd practically roared as he shoved Fenris off of him, immediately going in for another swing. It seemed he'd only made the man angry, and now his strikes seemed to be even more powerful. And though Fenris does well to avoid most of them, a strike to his leg is enough to knock him down. It's not all the way through thankfully, but deep enough to hit some muscle and actually cause him to cry out, snarling up at the impeding man like a wild animal as the other warrior had moved to finish him off. But thinking fast, Fenris reacts before it's too late and everything seems to freeze. Above him, the man is staring down wide-eyed, pierced through the chest before his own blade is able to reach the elf, mere inches away from his face. Fenris merely glares up at him, watching the life drain from his eyes before he began to slump forward. Managing to avoid the blade, Fenris shoves the much larger man off of him before pulling himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as he put weight on his injured leg but determined to finish this. Fortunately it appeared there was merely the injured rouge left and the mage. Fenris however had his eyes on the rouge who was hopelessly trying to crawl away, staggering over to deal with him. No survivors, that was his promise, so he kicked over the rouge to force him on his back, not even giving him enough time to plead as he plunged his sword into his chest, resting there for a moment against his blade until he gathered enough strength to rip it back out, turning to address the remaining situation. fenris is an independent elf who don't need no man *shot* |
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Post by Canicus Callixtus on Jun 23, 2016 21:58:07 GMT -5
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Canicus had to admit, whoever this person was, he was incredibly skilled. Injury barely seemed to slow him down, let along stop him. He vaguely wondered if it was adrenaline, stubbornness, or some combination of the two that fueled the elf as he turned back to his own concerns.
[break][break]
There was not too much left to be cleaned up – if nothing else, this other was efficient – and dispatching the remaining few on his little corner of the battlefield should be short work. Besides, the poor sods locked in cages were probably very terrified, and very confused by now. The quicker they were out, the better.
[break][break]
He resumed his approach on the mage, seeming singularly focused enough that the remaining mercenaries approached him with speed. People were always foolish when they thought there was an opening. Canicus summoned his magic, easily snapping the neck of one with a merciless burst of force that threw his ragdoll body so far back is smashed into the ridge. The surprise it gave another soldier gave him plenty of time to sidestep the swipe of a blade. This one he dispatched in a whirl of flame, the smell of scorching flesh washing over the battlefield. He enjoyed using fire against slavers; the screaming was incredibly satisfying.
[break][break]
He wasn’t quite fast enough when the crackle of pure energy whipped past his head, catching his shoulder as it went. His hissed, grinding his teeth and levels a look that could likely have killed on its own to the mage, whom had recovered enough to attack. He was clearly expending as much of his energy as possible now, that blast unnecessarily strong. He had the look of a man who knew he was going to die.
[break][break]
Canicus refused to react, to slow down. He wouldn’t give this Maker forsaken swine the satisfaction of more than his clenched jaw. Luckily the injury was far from debilitating, would likely not even scar, if he handled it quickly. He found a kind of irony in this: he’d wondered if it was adrenaline or stubbornness for his momentary partner. He never considered rage might also be an option.
[break][break]
A flurry of murderous intent veiled in magic began to cut through the air, back and forth as bolts of lightning and balls of fire were cast from the swing of staves and deflected in rapid battle. But the mage’s injury made him too slow, and finally his death was upon him. He attempted a swing of his staff, clearly not trained for close range. Canicus caught his wrist before full swing, yanking him down to meet his knee with his chest. He could feel the fulfilling crack of his sternum. The Tevinter crumpled and Canicus put his boot to his head and stomped, a sickening snap bouncing off the walls of the ridges.
[break][break]
There was something primal in him, something twisted and ugly, that found great pleasure in the violent deaths of those who would do to others what was done to him. There always had been, and as he slowly retracted his foot, a vicious little grin playing his features, it was clear there always would be.
[break][break]
He stepped back, looking back at the field of bodies to make sure the other elf was the only thing left standing, and happy to see that he was. Rolling his injured shoulder with a grimace, he approached the cages. Understandable, their occupants were petrified.
[break][break]
He stabbed his staff into the dirt a few paces from the cages, walking away from it to display he meant them no harm. Frankly, he was beginning to feel exhausted. “Try to be calm. I’ll get you out of there…” He reached for one of the locks, grabbing it firmly as he channeled his gift down to his palm, beginning to super-heat it to melt it clean off.
[break][break]
As he worked, he half turned to find the other elf again, calling to him. “Are you alright?”
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xD that gave me a good laugh
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Post by Fenris on Jun 25, 2016 13:50:02 GMT -5
- TAGGED - It seemed the mage seemed to be doing well enough on his own, the elf watching as the other crushed another mage's skull beneath his foot, the crack oddly satisfying. Whether this mages apparent skill was meant to be comforting or not was something that Fenris had yet to decide on. As long as he didn't turn on him, they should do fine, though the mercenary was not about to fully let his guard down either, sword still at the ready. While the mage went to address the slaves, Fenris decided to scour the field, making sure each of the fallen men were in fact dead and checking if they had anything valuable, whether it be knowledge or coin. He found a note on one of the mages, but once again found himself in the dilemma of not being able to actually read it, but he tucked it into his pocket till he could find someone who could, pocketing a few coins as well. While he searched, however, he wouldn't keep his eyes off the remaining mage for long, tossing him glances until he actually called out to him, asking him if he was alright. The ever distrustful Fenris would hesitate at first before finally deciding it wouldn't really hurt to respond. "Just a scratch..." he brushes it off, his pain tolerance finally kicking in and the pain in his leg starting to feel a bit more numb. Having endured plenty of injuries in his time, he was certain this one was nothing to stress over about anyway. It slightly hindered his movements, no doubt, but it was nothing a bit of bandages and rest couldn't heal, he was certain. If not, well, the moment Hawke figured out, he was certain there was no amount of growling he could do to keep her hands off of him. He sighed at the thought, finally making his approach as he watched the mage attempt to melt the lock, the frightened slaves trying to keep their distance from the intense heat until they were finally freed. Fenris had half the mind to cut the time and smash the now half melted lock off it's hinges, but refrained if solely to conserve his energy. He still couldn't be sure this man was an ally. The sole fact that he was actually fighting against slavers wasn't quite enough to garner his trust, honestly, and his chances were only worsened as he was a mage on top of it all. As his adrenaline died down, the glow of his markings finally began to fade until all that was left was the light scars where the lyrium was embedded into his flesh. He was still visibly cautious though, examining the other with a suspicious glance. "What is a Tevinter mage doing helping slaves anyway?" he asked with a slight growl to his tone. Quite a many marks against this fellow already, and he didn't even realize yet the worst fact of them all. For the other's sake, it was probably best he didn't find out what kind of magic he worked with. At the very least, the fact he was oddly helping the fight against slavers had stayed the warrior's sword, keeping him from outright killing him then and there. i am to please! fenris not so much xD |
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