a hell of a show

[trudge]

Who: Rowan Cousland && Anyone planetside && Anyone on the Bishop
Broadcast: Nay
Action: Aboard the remains of the Bishop and the literal hell of the planet
When: Right meow


THE BISHOP (arrival)
[ A lot of things happen at once when Rowan opens his eyes. First, he's immediately accosted by the heavy feeling in his head, like a figurative weight has settled upon his skull with all the knowledge he was just entrusted with upon arrival. The second is the barrage of confetti, accompanying music, and the tray of treats that looks hilariously out of place in the clearly damaged and broken ship around him. And the third is his lingering realization that, last he checked, he was supposed to be dead. Was this where you went when you died? Where you truly went? To space? Because that's weird. Weirder than the usual Thedosian beliefs.

After the initial surprise, he moves to walk around the ship - or what parts of it remain intact, hoping for some kind of life to be found besides his own. He has so many questions. Like, for instance, why the hell can't he catch a break even in death? And also, is this thing supposed to be in a dozen pieces, or was that an aesthetic choice? Why is this planet red? Hello? ]


PLANETSIDE (balls deep in danger pt. 1: is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?)
[ Let's say someone warned him about the potential dangers of wandering aimlessly through the dense forests of the planet. And let's say that that Rowan probably didn't listen to them. Sure, he doesn't have his daggers or his bow on him but you can fashion stabby-things out of nearly anything if you're smart enough. He ends up doing just that, eventually making a pair of shivs out of some stray pieces of metal and cloth. Not the fanciest thing, but it'll get the job done.

The Vieziri have the upper hand with their superior knowledge of the planet, but Rowan isn't a novice when it comes to stealth and recon. And honestly the only thing that keeps him from sufficiently getting a jump on the group he's been following is the loud crunch of someone's foot under a pile of leaves. It wasn't his foot either, but someone else's ( your characters?! ) who had the bad luck to approach at the wrong time. Rowan sighs, glancing back to see the source of the noise just as the Vieziri hunting party does the same. ]

Hope you came prepared to fight. [ because he sure did. ]



PLANETSIDE (balls deep in danger pt.2: electric bugaloo. )
[ Or let's pretend it was Rowan's fault that his cover was blown. Brambles and thick foliage make for a hell of a hard time being stealthy. Or maybe he's just really off his game. Either way, someone has had the luck of finding him now - an enraged Vieziri pinning him to the ground with a weapon poised to strike the killing blow. Around them are two other Vieziri, both of which seemed to have lost the fight with Rowan before this one took the advantage he had and set him into this unfortunate position. Blood colors the already vermillion-tinted ground, and weapons are scattered save for the one about to kill the Warden for the second time.

Wasn't once enough, universe? Wasn't once enough. ]

Uh, sorry to bother but would you mind helping me!? [ He shouts between grunts as he attempts to keep his attacker at bay. ] No rush!

Comments

[trudge]

[ There's a smartass remark on the tip of his tongue — something like I hope you're not telling me to not move, because I don't really have much choice. But he manages to reel himself in, lest he somehow make the situation worse. His attacker does not heed the warning however, and looks up just in time to get hit with a bolt of lightning.

Rowan's not sure how he feels about someone shooting electricity out of their fingertips and into someone holding a metal weapon to his neck, but he's not dead so really - does he have room to complain? No. No he does not. He takes the opportunity to spring to his feet once the body goes flying, watching as Hawke promptly annihilates the Vieziri. ]

Thank you. [ He says in regard to the no-more-lightning-bolt arrangement as well as her assistance. Rowan moves over, offering a hand. ] You alright?

[ofkirkwall]

[ Oh, right! The damsel. She glances up as he speaks, momentarily surprised by his presence before memories catch up with her. Her mouth grows with a grin, laughter bubbling past her lips. She's still breathing, unlike the Vizeiri skewered by her staff, though covered in dirt and blood from days of surviving. ]

I should be asking you that.

[ Hawke takes his hand getting to her feet with a slight stumble, limbs a little numb with the magic she expended. Using it hadn't been the best idea considering how exhausted she already is, but when is she ever full of good ideas? Giving him a glance over she moves to grab her staff, half leaning on it as she speaks. ]

But I am fine, thank you for asking. You? They didn't get any chunks out of you did they?

[trudge]

[ Blood and dirt seems to be standard on this planet. Rowan helps her to her feet, his hand outstretched even when she releases it just in case she decides that standing isn't in her repertoire at the moment. ]

So far as I know I have all the important bits. [ It's clear he's been in a few scuffles though, judging from the drying blood on his face, neck, and what can be seen under the torn outfit he's wearing currently. ] Is this how they treat all new arrivals to the Fleet? Toss them into the wilderness with cannibals?

[ofkirkwall]

[ For the moment she is good, she thinks, it's a little hard to tell when the world likes to spin a little bit every so often. Mana deprivation isn't fun, not in the slightest. ]

That's good. It would have been a great tragedy indeed if they had taken anything from such a handsome fellow. [ Exhausted, covered in dirt and blood, and she still has enough energy to flirt. ] Not normally, no. It's fairly boring on a normal day, this... this is a strange one.

[ Hawke shifts, turning to look at the man she had skewered before yanking the staff from his chest. Blood spurts out from the wound and from the dead man's mouth, splattering all that are standing too close. Mostly her. ]

Most of us were shot down, though there is a few ships that survived the assault. We're just the unlucky ones.

[trudge]

[ A woman after his own heart. Rowan laughs. ] I don't know, I heard women like men with scars. So long as they're in the right place. [ He's going to have one on his stupid face after this. Which he deserves.

Rowan's still hovering, if only because he knows as soon as he moves away she'll end up toppling over and then what kind of gentlemen would he be? A bad one, obviously. The addition of fresh blood on his boots doesn't really deter him either. ]

Ah. Lovely. Anyone have a plan to get us back in the air, or do we just need to take out the lunatics and hope they don't forget about us down here?

[ofkirkwall]

Oh, they do. I can already tell by looking at you that you would wear them well.

[ Bless this one, it's always nice encountering someone who doesn't just shoot down any attempt you make. Also it helps her deflect some of the panic brought on by their current situation.

She doesn't mind the hovering at least, as she just as little confidence in her own ability to stand as he does. Were things not nearly as dire she would take a nap right here and now, but alas such comforts are beyond them right now. ]

I'd wager there is some sort of rescue being mounted, but I know about as much as you do. It looks like we have to survive the lunatics for a while.

[trudge]

You think so? Well, with all these crazies running around the chances of me obtaining some seem to be steadily increasing. You'll be the first to see them if you decide to stick around.

[ And she probably should, at least for a time. In a dense forest populated by cannibals who attack anyone on sight and hunt them like animals; there's safety in numbers. ]

In that case, we should at least attempt to find a place to rest. We won't last long against them if we're fumbling and running on nothing but pure adrenaline. [ He offers a hand as if preparing to lead her somewhere. He... vaguely has an idea where to go. Maybe. ] I'm Rowan. Rowan Cousland. [ Bond. James Bond. ]

[ofkirkwall]

If that is the case I think shall. Wouldn't want to miss the show.

[ As drained as she is it would be stupid to continue alone, as foolish as she might be at times she'd rather stay alive. She's grown find of living. ]

Huh, fancy that. That was exactly what I was trying to do before I heard your cry. [ She takes his hand despite the tremble in her fingers, her expression as bright as an exhausted mage's can be. Hopefully he does know where to go, or at least has a better sense of direction than she does. ] Cousland? [ Ah, she thought he sounded Ferelden. ] It's a pleasure, my name is Hawke. Marian Hawke.

[trudge]

You'll have to forgive me for disturbing your chance at rest. But on the bright side, now we can rest together. [ Wink wink. Anyway.

Rowan has a vague idea of where the Bishop crashed, and can probably make it back there without much trouble if we assume they don't get ambushed again. And if they do, well, it probably isn't going to go so well a second time with Marian trembling like that.

At least she's in good spirits. ]

Heard of me? [ Many have at this point. ] The pleasure is all mine, Marian. A shame we couldn't meet under more suitable circumstances.

[ofkirkwall]

It's not problem at all, I'd much rather the company. [ Wink wink right back at ya.

She should be fine, at least she hopes she will, in the case of them getting ambushed again. Adrenaline should carry her far enough to defend herself though spells might be out of the equation, but that's a worry for later. It's easier to focus on her current, incredibly handsome, company. ]

I've heard of your family name. [ Who hasn't? ] Oh, and apparently the Hero of Ferelden is a Cousland. [ Or was, it is hard to keep track of all the different Heroes, Champions, and Inquisitors these days. ] Nonsense, there is no better time to meet new people than on a planet filled with cannibals.