VashAs Issala waited for the ceremony to begin, she allowed her eyes to wander around the room, the mask decently hiding this from the others. Quite the odd group that they had here, to say the least. Who would have guessed that a human would have not one, but two qunari under his command! It almost brought a smirk to her face, but she made sure to keep herself looking passive. Her golden gaze turned to the half-elf girl, who looked more like a human to Issala. Another mage in their merry band of misfits. It would prove to be quite fun. And then their little dwarf companion. It would never cease to amaze her that a race so short could grow to become so powerful. Though, perhaps size wasn't everything.
Finally, she rested her gaze onto the Commander. Now, he was giving his pre-ceremony speech. She vaguely wondered if this was generally part of the process or if he was just trying to make them feel better. She subconsciously shrugged, and waited silently for him to finish. Damn, humans were wordy. Or perhaps qunari just didn't use their words enough. Either way, she wasn't used to this much talking. Her mind began to drift before the rite was even spoken, and soon enough the chalice had already gone through one recruit.
Her eyes settled down on the almost-black liquid, and her hands slowly rose to cup the bowl of the chalice. She took a deep breath, then raised the chalice to her lips. A hefty drink was taken, in which her eyes tightly shut and her throat nearly closed on it. It was a horrid taste of iron and rotten meat that lingered too long in her mouth. She lowered the chalice and pushed it back into the Commander's hands, raising a robed arm up to cover her mouth as she coughed into it. Was that it? The feared and secretive Grey Warden ceremony? Other than the horrible aftertaste, it wasn't all that bad.
Suddenly, her vision went dark. Across her field of view, open plains tinged with black came into view. Armies of darkspawn surged across it, pillaging the bodies that littered the area. Some women that had refused death, she could see them being dragged, kicking and screaming, away, to who knows where. And flying above it all, lording over the death and destruction, was a huge, deformed dragon. The Archdemon? It roared over the horde, unholy flames spouting from its maw, the cry sounding something between mightiness and pained anger.
Issala fell to her knees, hands raised to clutch the sides of her head. The visions kept coming, swirling across, changing by the seconds. Her body shook, and then she lurched forward, falling onto the ground, metal clanging around. She was still breathing, but she was out cold. And whatever it was she was dreaming of, it was obvious by the look on her face that it wasn't pleasant.
Pyro V Member
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
It may sound mean, but I find it completely reasonable. I've been eager to get some posts in this week.
*lurklurklurk*
6/10
5/10
A set of robes laid nearby, flat as they could be on the uneven ground. Pieces of metal stuck out here and there, standing out against the blue robes and green grass. A few yards away, a lone qunari woman stood, body poised as if in preparation for a fight. A pair of pants and a bra were the only thing that covered her grey skin, other than a broken gold mask. A silver mane fell over her back, laying heavily against her shoulders and between the shattered horns that protruded from her head. Solid steel gauntlets covered her clutched fists and most over her forearms.
In one swift motion, she began to shadowbox, striking swiftly at enemies that only she could see. In her eyes, the weak enemies fell with a few punches, or were debilitated by a strong kick to the jaw. It wasn't anything special, what she was doing, but for someone who had been trained to be a mage, with little martial training, it was quite impressive. Still, it was not quite enough for her. Minutes ticked bye, and countless enemies were slain, sweat forming and falling off of her grey flesh. With a final, powerful uppercut, she let her arms fall to her sides, and allowed the first of a long line of heavy, panting breaths escape her.
Issala strolled over to where her things were, relishing the cool air of the south against her hot skin. It was so different from Seheron and Par Vollen, where it was so hot nearly all year. With a wave of her hand, a wave of cold blasted over the area just above her head, and then a few flakes of snow fell over her, gathering on her shoulders. Within seconds, the sweat had stopped, and was replaced by frozen droplets of ice that clung to her body. With a few quick brushes, she was clear of unwanted debris, and was free to redress herself.
As she did, the horn sounded in the distance. Good, it was finally time. In under a minute, she was clad in her modified robes, and was making her way back towards Ostagar. She had heard the stories, the legends of the one they only called the Warden and his companions. It was quite amazing, being at the place where it all started. A small smile formed over her face as she neared the Tower of Ishal, twirling her staff idly in her right hand. She figured she'd be the last to get there, unless that other qunari, Maas, made it first. She despised that man, but it couldn't be told by the others; she'd refused to say anything to any of them, other than the Commander, and had then gone off to train on her own while she waited.
Entering the area where the others waited, she squatted down, laying the staff on the ground in front of her, and silently waited for the Commander to proceed, ignoring the others as if they didn't even exist.
In one swift motion, she began to shadowbox, striking swiftly at enemies that only she could see. In her eyes, the weak enemies fell with a few punches, or were debilitated by a strong kick to the jaw. It wasn't anything special, what she was doing, but for someone who had been trained to be a mage, with little martial training, it was quite impressive. Still, it was not quite enough for her. Minutes ticked bye, and countless enemies were slain, sweat forming and falling off of her grey flesh. With a final, powerful uppercut, she let her arms fall to her sides, and allowed the first of a long line of heavy, panting breaths escape her.
Issala strolled over to where her things were, relishing the cool air of the south against her hot skin. It was so different from Seheron and Par Vollen, where it was so hot nearly all year. With a wave of her hand, a wave of cold blasted over the area just above her head, and then a few flakes of snow fell over her, gathering on her shoulders. Within seconds, the sweat had stopped, and was replaced by frozen droplets of ice that clung to her body. With a few quick brushes, she was clear of unwanted debris, and was free to redress herself.
As she did, the horn sounded in the distance. Good, it was finally time. In under a minute, she was clad in her modified robes, and was making her way back towards Ostagar. She had heard the stories, the legends of the one they only called the Warden and his companions. It was quite amazing, being at the place where it all started. A small smile formed over her face as she neared the Tower of Ishal, twirling her staff idly in her right hand. She figured she'd be the last to get there, unless that other qunari, Maas, made it first. She despised that man, but it couldn't be told by the others; she'd refused to say anything to any of them, other than the Commander, and had then gone off to train on her own while she waited.
Entering the area where the others waited, she squatted down, laying the staff on the ground in front of her, and silently waited for the Commander to proceed, ignoring the others as if they didn't even exist.
A knock on the door interrupted the voice before it could continue, and with a quick "End Log 001" the recording quit. Interrogator Anna Cassius of the Ordo Malleus sat in a high backed chair, staring into the eyes of a psyber-raven, the robotic black bird tilting its head as the knock sounded once more. The woman's eyes narrowed and glanced to the side, and her hand wrapped around the barrel of the hellrifle that rested against the desk. Slowly standing, she readied the gun, resting the barrel atop the back of the chair. With a small gesture, the psyber-raven flew onto the Interrogator's bed, and led out a pre-recorded command in Anna's voice, "Enter."
The door opened, and a stormtrooper entered. The woman's muscles relaxed, and she raised the rifle up. The trooper paused and stared at the bird, who flew over to land back on the desk behind Anna. His helmeted gaze followed, and she could feel his uneasiness from where she was, even if she couldn't read it on his face. A passive frown covered her face as the narrowed eyes remained, the woman waiting to hear whatever he had to say.
The trooper coughed, and averted his gaze away from her. Unlike most people on the ship, Anna wasn't paranoid enough to be in full body armor at all times. As such, her current state of dress was rather lacking, causing the man to take a few moments to compose his words. "Ma'am, Inquisitor Aultellus requests you in Interrogation Room A1, immediately."
A sigh escaped the woman, who rose a hand to rub at her temples. "Thank you, trooper. Please, wait outside the door while I ready myself. Is it about Kalstov?" A brief nod answered her. "Yes, I've read the report, I have it hear, will look over it. Now, go wait." The man obediently exited the room and stood outside, and Anna made haste to dress herself. In but a minute, she was in full formal attire, lacking only the wide-brimmed hat. Leaving it, she pulled the long coat over her, and belted it around her waste. Her hellrifle was shoved into the holster on her back, and she let out a little whistle. In an instant, the psyber-raven was perched upon her shoulder, and in her hands was a datapad with the Kalstov Report displayed on it.
She exited her room, and made her way towards the interrogation rooms, the stormtrooper falling in step behind her. Likely, it had started without her. Grey eyes stared down at the pad, going over the report for the upteenth time. Short strands of black hair framed her pale face as she glared down at it, the psyber-raven looking just intently at it. As she neared the interrogation room, she looked up and shoved the datapad into the hands of the stormtrooper, and pushed her way into the room. She was able to hear the last bit of the story, about the regiment being wiped out, but she didn't need to hear any of it.
Anna and the raven both gave the woman a sideways look, the woman narrowing her eyes momentarily, then Anna stood at attention behind the Inquisitor, hands folded behind her back. The aura of unease around her engulfed the room, and her eyes settled on the woman. "Interrogator Cassius, reporting for duty, sir," she said calmly, the raven muttering something indistinct into her ear. "What would you have of me?"
We could probably do with a time-skip type thing right about now
Modem got struck by lightning, all the routers got fried. Sorry. Will make post soon.
Sounds like a good idea to me.
© 2007-2024