CaliforniaState

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

Ahhh tomorrow is already 14 days for my time limit. I'll get a post up tomorrow, scout's honor.

DRAGON AGE : Lost Convictions

Roderick knew not of whether this had been ordained by the maker or if it was just a coincidence. Is faith not all but coincidence? Whatever the makers wishes were it was quite befuddling that he would have delivered unto him a savior with horns. Roderick had very little in the way of experience with the Qunari. He had known of their existence, their rich history, and the state in which many of them lived to this date. They were another victim of circumstance in their world, one that he hoped he’d never have to encounter. Yet, fate had another way of pulling the strings to the marionette of his faith. Now, as helpless as when he was a pup, at the mercy of the Qun before him with no foresight in what she would do to him.

The overwhelming sense of heat that washed over him and forced sweat to the outcropping of his pores, slowly washed away. One solid grunt, almost barbarian an uncouth in nature, set his breathing free from the constraints of hostage air. Slowly enough he was working his way back to steady condition, not that any of that mattered to the Qun before him. ”Asaara” it was often queer for a member of their race to have a name of their own. Often time they simply had monikers they assigned themselves for feats of strength or obvious…characteristics. Her gift with the bow and arrow led him to believe that it was won by her ability and not so vain as to grant it herself.

“Pretty name for a pretty gal, wouldn’t you say?” a brittle almost bordering hoarse laugh. The knight rose to his knees and then to his feet, stumbling like a newborn foal finding its legs. The curtains of silk like blond hair, weaved back into the backs of his skull after running a hand through his precarious locks. “Ah, now that’s better now that I can actually talk. Ah blood magic, quite the nasty bugger, isn’t it? You never quite get used to it” a crack from each side of his neck, each one giving birth to a sigh of relief, “never quite forget your first either.” It was clear she was simply humoring his presence and spoke little in the way of superfluous language, a trait he failed to pick up.

His ears perked at the utterance of her betrayal or rather the cognizance to self-govern. “You know I’m going to ask the obvious question then” patting the last remaining dust off his armor and silks. The manicuring process resembled that of a cat that was just licking and combing until sufficient. Luckily for the mercenary, he did not splay his foot up to clean, down there. “Why shift your allegiance? And what brought you here? Couldn’t have been in the market to help a Templar out, although I do appreciate it. Looks like I owe you one, unless you aim to finish me off to” Roderick jerked forward with a feign and laughed as if he were getting ready to defend himself. A rat bastard he was through and through.

OBLIVION

I’ll see how the participation is after this cycle and we can downsize. The cast was supposed to be 6 including the gms overall. So I’m not worried too much.

OBLIVION

Well if we don’t get any more posts in by the end of the weekend I’ll be moving us forward.

OBLIVION

I second the suggestion of a posting order.

@Benzaiten

I agree. I’m thinking of doing two things.

Trying to make the deadline 14 days from you last post. Maybe less.

And establish a posting order with the more active members.

OBLIVION

<Snipped quote by nodogs>

motherfucker I GOT HIT BY A CAR

@nodogs

I guess they were oblivious

DRAGON AGE : Lost Convictions

The night set upon them quick. Nothing but naked branches from a season so bitter they had to shed unless they were evergreen. The gaps in the canopy allowed for pure moonlight to bleed through them and illuminate the forest floor. Leaf litter scattered everywhere, making it somewhat impossible to sneak around with the amount of noise generated from the crunch of metal on dying plant matter. The orb of immaculate light was unobscured by cloud or any other embellishment in the sky. The stars commanded much less respect having been smaller in comparison. They might as well have not been there at all. The cool chill sank into the ridges of barks, seeping into the soil making the dirt compact, and past the metal of their armor, sapping their strength.

Condensation was apparent in the clouds of hot air coming from their haggard breath and steam rising from the nape of the neck and dome of the head. The small squadron of templar soldiers, led by none other than Roderick, had been hot on the heels of a troupe of apostates. Normally apostates were a one to two templar mission depending on rank. However, the troupe of unlikely mages was under the head of a maleficar. There were talks or rather hushed whispers that they were using mind control to dominate the will of these other apostates. Their morals loosely brought them together and the Maleficar was the glue to bring them into one being. A unity of sorts, one without consent or decision.

The flickers of fire and the cracking of wood splintered as the wood burned through the chemical processes within. The flames were strong enough to show the faces of the Templars sitting on logs with helmet set neatly next to them. There were 5 in total, including Roderick, all chatting and huddled by the fire to warm their bones. Roderick was not seated nor near the open fire, instead he stood by the edge of their camp and looked out to the thicket and the moon that loomed over head.

“Why not fancy yourself a seat Captain?”

“Knowing a Maleficar is still out there, is enough to warm my blood.”

“But we been searching for a fortnight nonstop. We’re almost out of the Brecilian Forest and it ain’t even dawn yet.”

“Any longer and they will be in the safety of the walls of Kirkwall. We can’t let that happen”

“Aye sir, at least eat something before we continue.”

“I will Rhett, thank you for your vigilance”

Except this was a lie. Roderick had not eaten for he wanted to be on an empty stomach, at any moments notice the mages could appear and an empty stomach would allow lyrium to enter his body almost instantaneously. While his men warmed themselves and steeled their nerves, he started on the lyrium veins beneath the soil once more. The tracks had ended here and started nowhere else. It was a sickly feeling that was pressing on the front of his chest. It was too convenient for them to have vanished. They must have known they were only a few steps behind.

Roderick's concentration was broken by the gurgling of liquid frothing from a soldier’s mouth behind him. The long sword of Rhett had pierced their brother’s chest, tears welled up in Rhett’s eyes as if he had not meant to commit such a grave sin. The flame extinguished in both the eyes of the Templar impaled on the sword as well as the pit that kept them warm. Mages sprung from the shadows of the trees surrounding the area. It was an ambush; they had been there the whole time. They were just biding their time for the perfect opportunity. A cloud blocked the light of the moon, pulling a shade of darkness over the camp. Nothing but the whites of eyes and teeth could be seen. Roderick only able to see his sword directly in front of him realized what he must do.

Lyrium filled his body in what felt like cold swirls, traveling from the passages in his throat down to the base of his gut. What happened next was a blur.

Roderick jeered awake from a log he had been perched on. Cold sweat left the inside of his clothes soaked with moisture. Besides the sweat was the sickly smell of iron that clung to not just his clothes but stained his skin. His fingers mapped out his skin, ensuring none of the blood was his. The stars and moon had gone and now the warm rays of the sun began to announce their presence. Only on the rise of the sun did the dark curtains rise to show what had happened. Bodies were splayed everywhere like mannequins carefully prepped to showcase leather worked wares. Templars and apostates alike, devoid of life and any purposeful meaning.

A sadness sunk to the bottom of Roderick’s chest. Knowing he couldn’t falter and lower the mask he created for himself, he grit his teeth and stood up. Aided by the weight of his sword that had been planted in the ground. The next few minutes were used to assess the damage, retrieve his crews’ personal items, and get a head count of who had fallen. All the mages perished save for one, the Maleficar.

“Kirkwall” a muffled confession escaping his lips.

The tired knight had made his way to the Free marches and eventually to the outskirts of Kirkwall. A hot meal, a drink, and the comfort of a bed were his priorities. Finding information would come later. He had no issues entering the city, just as anyone who was seeking refuge or trade. The day set with him. The following morning, he looked for answers and anything anyone might have seen, but it all summed to nothing. He followed the lyrium best he could, leading him back to the outskirts near a cave. His sword drawn he took a careful canter towards the cave. It was too late again; he could feel his mind losing autonomy over his body. His body twisting and contorting so he spun around and saw the Maleficar.

“I was hoping you weren’t as foolish as you looked. Falling for my trap, not once but twice? How the chantry must have fallen.”

“You’re right I was the last of the good ones” his words left him with exasperation.

“Well, if you’re one of the last good ones, let’s see how you get out of this one.”

In truth, Roderick didn’t have too much. An arrow slithered out from the darkness of the cave behind him and shot cleanly through the neck of the maleficar. His body went limp, allowing Roderick to move his. Heaving in air, Roderick fell to his knees whilst messaging his throat before looking up. A large Qunari stood only looking down at him. “Who are you?”

DRAGON AGE : Lost Convictions

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NAME; Roderick, He normally doesn't give out his Surname unless trusted enough to regale them with it.

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PERSONALITY; That Roderick, well he was a rat bastard or at least that’s what a majority of the people who knew of him would tell you. Vain and arrogant, the worse possible heterogenous ichor one could imbibe into their personality. Traits that Roderick took in stride, so much so that their venom seemed to enthrall others into his company. Flaws like those often-adopted positive traits like confidence and a vigor for life that others clamored for like a bear to honey. As much as he invited enemies into his bed, he doubled that with fans. This, however, never got in the way nor deterred his faith and fealty to the Maker and serving Thedas.

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BACKGROUND; Roderick wasn’t always the product of hubris; in fact, he was quite the opposite. The only son and future nobility to his family who resided in Orlais, left him lonely. The appeal of rags and riches never attracted him to the culture that afflicted the class divide that existed. It felt as hollow as the masks he was forced to wear as not to seem too gauche. And while Roderick had everything and anything he could ask for, he longed for the days beyond what he could see through a naked window. Time outside was limited, heavily, due to the chance of a bard from a rival noble house serving as some type of assassin. In turn, Roderick learned only what he did through servants and parents.

Eventually with clipped wings and a childish sense of wonder he subsided his desires by vicariously living through his servants. One in particular who’s face he had never known but felt the warmth in their smile. For years the two had formed a bond that was iron bound. Stories, even if fiction, did wonders to appease the young boy’s heart. It wasn’t until he hit puberty and was to receive the duties of his father did things turn sour. The servant that had placated his wonderment, had stained his trust when his parents fell to his magical song. Roderick in turn left and never looked back. On his distraught dismissal he found solace in the chantry. From then the boy turned cruel and found the best way to represent himself was with a mask of his own design. He would be everything he was supposed to be upon his noble ascension, as to never fall victim to weakness once more.

After a few years within the chantry and extensive training in his teen years he was finally able to join the Templars after completing his vows, training, and completing his knighthood. Years have passed and Roderick enjoys a position of Knight-Captain within the Templar Hierarchy. Any attack against the realm was an attack against him.

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AGE; 26 Y/O

HEIGHT; 6’2” (187.96 cm)

WEIGHT; 205 Lbs (92.98 Kg)

EYE COLOR; Pale green

SKIN COLOR; Soft Creme

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PRIMARY WEAPON; Templar Longsword

SECONDARY WEAPON; Templar Shield

OBLIVION

Don’t make me get the spray bottle you two.

@Prisk

And yeah I’ve been debating about that one.

OBLIVION

Me casually thirsting for posts