1st Chant - Just Like Home

[reluctantbastard]

Who: Alistair Theirin and you
Broadcast: Nah
Action: On the SS Heron and on Lato'li's surface
When: November 10th

Arrival on the Heron - Closed to Rowan

[One minute, it's nonstop meetings with Teryn So-and-So or Arl Thinks-He's-More-Important-Than-Everyone-Else. The next, Alistair is walking out of the palace's Audience Chamber in favor of finding five minutes alone in the alcove down the hall. He'd never asked to be named king of Ferelden, but he's doing a passable job. Advisers are actually giving advice, instead of trying to tell him what to do. Of course, it helps that he's standing up for himself more and telling them no if he doesn't agree.

But that doesn't stop the constant demands from the nobles rebuilding their lands after the Blight. And the depleted national treasury because of Loghain and Arl Howe. So far, his assessment of this position is: It's a headache.

There are perks, sure. People actually listen to him when he speaks. He's well liked. He's actually respected. It's a total 180 from what his life was like before the Landsmeet where he was thrust into the limelight as Maric's bastard son and the only living Theirin left.

All well and good, but the second he's out the sidedoor near the throne, he's... in a dark, cramped corridor. His father's sword which he normally keeps belted at his waist as the only outward sign of his position is oddly missing and the difference in weight makes him half-stumble before he straightens out and avoids faceplanting on the metal ground. He looks around, but nothing about this place seems like the Fade. Though it's a thought that keeps rearing its ugly head as he looks around and wonders where the hell he is.]

Hello? Riona? Eamon? Hello~? Is anyone there?

[And then there's some sort of strange music, paper being thrown in his face and a tray of... something not too far at hand as he walks into an open space with a wall caving in and scorched. The fanfare is out of place in what looks like a deserted, burned out metal building. And it's the sky outside that gets his attention as he walks closer.]

Maker's breath... What in the world did I walk into?

[And as he attempts to step out of the construct he's on and onto the strange ground, a blood-curdling scream is the only hint that Alistair gets before a sword comes a little too close to his head for comfort.]

Where Is She? - Closed to Riona

[After a very unnerving save by someone claiming to know him and be a Cousland of Highever, Alistair is armed with two swrods against the enemies of this strange world. And looking for his wife. Because he's been told she's here and there's no way he's not going to spend his time to find her.

And while he might be covered in the blood of his enemies, it's a familiar enough feeling that he doesn't even care. It's not important. (At least it doesn't smell like the blood of Darkspawn does.)

As he gets closer to the space ship that is supposed to be where Riona is, he stops running and looks around at the clearing.]

Riona, are you around here somewhere?

[Guess who still doesn't know how to use the damn communicators and doesn't care?]

Choose Your Own Adventure

[Anyone on Lato'li is free to catch up with Alistair as he runs around and fighting like a mad warrior-king. (Without the whole dying thing that another certain king did not that long ago. No more civil wars for Ferelden, alright?

Just hit me up on plurk at makochan or discord at makotosagara#9497 for plotting ideas!]

Comments

[bryces_pup]

[He's met with silence, at first. The ship's quiet; too much noise draws the attention of the Vieziri, after all. Luckily, Alistair's not going to have to wait too long.

From the surrounding forest, there's a rustle of leaves, before a muzzle slowly emerges from the underbrush. The nose attached to it sniffs the air tentatively. That little sniffer stops when Alistair's scent carries downwind. Wait a second...

The rest of the creature emerges from the forest. Though he's much smaller than he should be, Alistair, if he turns around, will recognize Kiter. The mabari looks honestly shocked for a second, because even he had little hope that Alistair would ever turn up here. But his eyes - and his nose - don't lie. Once the shock breaks, he breaks out into a sprint, barking excitedly as he charges at Alistair. Since he's not full grown (thanks, Atroma) the tackle probably won't break Alistair's spine or anything. But still, he's got a mabari running full tilt at him with the intention of smooshing him in joy.

In the distance, Riona calls for Kiter. Where'd that dog get to??]

[reluctantbastard]

[Belatedly, he does remember the warning that yelling only draws out the crazy cannibals. Let them come. He's not afraid of flesh-eating creeps. He lived through that trip in the Deep Roads after all.

And the sound of something moving in the bushes has his attention almost immediately before he spots the brown dog in the very red-tinted everything, barking and slobbering. But it's not fast enough before the mabari is barreling into him and knocking in to the ground.

And while he and Kiter never hated one another, he doesn't really remember their relationship being so...spirited. But, here he is, laying face up in the dirt, being covered in the slobber of a warhound.]

Kiter, please don't drown me.

[As he pets the animal's head and flanks, he does notice that he's not that big. Not that it matters with a breed that is bred to kill things in the first place.]

[bryces_pup]

[Kiter once considered Alistair a rival for Riona's affection, but those days are long since past for him. They bonded a fair bit while Riona went off to Vigil's Keep, both boys forced to stay behind in Denerim.

He unapologetically licks Alistair's face, his little stump of a tail wagging hard. Oh, his mistress will be so pleased! She's been pining for Alistair for months and months now. Finally, the cloud over her may finally part.

A high-pitched whistle snaps Kiter's attention away from Alistair, saving the man from drowning. His ears perk up, listening attentively. Distantly, Riona calls for Kiter again. Unconcerned about the cannibals, he barks repeatedly, trying to get her attention. He keeps it up until finally, in the same direction he'd come from, a figure emerges from the foliage.

Riona sighs, looking aggravated a moment.]

Kiter, what are you-

[But the rest of the words die in her throat when she sees who's on the ground. Her heart slams against her ribcage. Of course they'd do this. In the middle of preparations for attacking the Vieziri, and all the other shit going on, they'd bring him here. How could they do this to her, again? Her upper lip stiffens. She's not so foolish as to think he's her Alistair. Nice try, Atroma. She's not falling for it.]

Maker, I am so sorry. [Her expression hides the maelstrom churning inside of her as she approaches.] Kiter, off. [He whines, unsure as to why she's reacting this way. But he does as told. Riona swallows thickly.] Are you all right?

[reluctantbastard]

Ew, your breath is disgusting. What've you been eating? Dwarves?

[Honestly, the mabari smelled better after their trip through the Deep Roads that was crawling with Darkspawn and spiders and golems and crazy Dwarven Paragons. But, this is definitely better than trying to bite his fingers off or growling when he mentions spending time alone with his wife. No, it's almost as if the warhound might like him, which is strange, but good.

He'd take it.

But he still wants to wash his face now. Because Mabari slobber is worse than blood. Of course.

When the dog starts barking, Alistair looks around the beast to see why. One arm raises up towards his head to draw one of his newly acquired swords but stops when he hears the familiar voice, even with the exasperated tone. And he can't help smiling. Like a loon.]

There you are.

[But she doesn't seem at all happy to see him. His smile dies as he stands up to look at her. It's not the same situation with that Rowan fellow, is it? Because if it is, that's just beyond cruel. Two Couslands—and she's definitely Riona if that's Kiter—and neither his wife...

But, he has to make sure. So, he'll just talk, awkwardly.]

You know, I imagined at least a hello. I don't think I've done anything in the last month to warrant not even getting a greeting. I even sent Arl Wulff that sizable donation you suggested to rebuild the Chantry in Western Hills.

[bryces_pup]

[WOW RUDE. KITER THOUGHT YOU WERE BROS NOW. Alistair gets a quick, mild glare for that. See how long your socks last today after that comment, bucko. But he's not too focused on that at the moment. He's far more worried about Riona.

Riona's defenses are up. She's ready, or so she tells herself. This time, she'll handle her reaction. She'll be fine and unruffled. Calm as the surface of a lake. Unperturbed and collected.

"There you are."

Three little words, but they throw her completely off balance. Riona goes from cautious to gobsmacked in seconds, eyes wide and staring as Alistair rambles. Awkward and unsure. The words don't quite sink in; her mind reels too much from the reality standing in front of her.]

...Alistair?

[Could this really be? Is... Is Atroma really allowing her this? Hands shaking, she takes a step closer, aching to reach out and touch him, but so afraid to. So fearful that if she does, he'll vanish, and reveal the cruel illusion she's half certain this is.]

You... you know me? You know who I am?

[Maker, let it be so.]

[whatisright]

[Justice has been tracking this pack of Vieziri. They are on the hunt, and he intends to stop them before they have the chance to claim any more innocents. Justice sees the crashed ship, grimacing and leveling his gun as the Vieziri get closer. He doesn't see anyone. Maybe--

But then a man is trying to leave the ship, and the Vieziri pounce.

Justice fires off multiple rounds, careful not to hit the man. Hopefully, the human has some basic battle instincts and doesn't fly into a blind panic.]

[reluctantbastard]

[Alright, so, he really should have learned his lesson when leaving off the other ship that paying attention to his surroundings is an absolutely must around here. But, he's still distracted by what's happened with Riona.

Is anyone going to blame him?

Probably, if he winds up dead, yes. Especially his wife.

And since he is a battle-hardened warrior, he doesn't let out a squeak of surprise or a girly scream (despite the initial desire to do so) and instead drops down to his knees and manages to pull his swords out and take his opponent's legs out from them. Literally. Then, he stands, covered in red blood that matches this terrible red planet and goes to find out who is the person who alerted him by shooting one of his attackers int he first place.]

Whatever you do, don't tell anyone else about this. I'm not sure that I can take the humiliation.

[whatisright]

[Well, that was nice and efficient. Clearly, this man does have some battle experience. Justice holsters his gun, dipping his head towards the human man.] You were ambushed and you survived. I do not see how that is humiliating.

[Justice does not move to greet the man, but he doesn't avoid him as he approaches either. He senses no ill will in the man--nor has he so far in anyone on this planet that hasn't been Vieziri.]

[reluctantbastard]

[As a former Templar and Grey Warden, Alistair would like to think he has plenty of battle experience. But, it was over-confidence that killed Cailan before he was betrayed, and he's always tried to keep his brother's death in mind as a matter of perspective for his own rule. He eyes the gun with a hard stare.

It's like a bow, but better. What the dwarves could do with something like that, he doesn't even know, but he's sure that any of the Smith Caste would kill to get their hands on it.]

It's the ambushing part. Can you just forget that happened? I'd rather it not get back to certain parties that I was nearly killed twice by the same move in the space of two days. I have a reputation to think of.

[whatisright]

[Justice can literally forget that it happened, but somehow, he doubts that's what the human is asking him to do.]

If you wish, I will not bring it up. [He won't lie if asked, but he doesn't see the need to talk about it if the man doesn't want him to. This seems like one of those instances of harmless secrecy that mortals seem so attached to.] What certain parties do you not wish to inform?

[trudge]

[ Any reasonable human being probably would have stopped exploring the forests after the first handful of dangerous encounters with the Vieziri. Rowan Cousland however was not a reasonable human being, and for some reason felt it necessary that he continue to explore if only for the shear fact that someone from the fleet might be lost and in need of help. It also gave him time to think — time alone even though he sometimes hated it, because so much had happened in the short time he had been in the fleet. Too much.

And apparently more was about to happen. He hears the guttural scream and instead of running in the opposite direction — he runs right toward it, his newly fashioned bow in hand and an arrow at the ready. He leaps from the brambles just in time for the attacking Vieziri's sword arm to swing toward Alistair, and he looses an arrow as fast as he can. It hits the Vieziri's hand, knocking the sword loose and sending it clanking to the ground. He hasn't quite registered who the man being attacked is yet, but it doesn't matter. ]

You might want to grab that! [ The sword, he means. ]

[reluctantbastard]

[Look, reasonableness and people in general from Thedas... They doesn't really mesh well. It's just not something you can really get when you have Darkspawn, Old Dragon Gods, and racism and classism of every kind running around. And, really, you had to be half-insane to be a Grey Warden in the first place, right?

And after the Blight had ended, Alistair might've spent ten months in court, but not all of it was idle. He's already ducking to try and avoid the blade as it travels through the air. It's a close call before it suddenly clatters to the ground.

Even if Rowan hadn't yelled, the former Templar is reaching for the weapon and swinging at his attacker all in the same move. The blade strikes armor and the reverberations travel up his arm, only magnifying the fact that he is not ready for any sort of combat, years of training or no.]

Your timing is impeccable, but I don't suppose you also have a shield somewhere?

[trudge]

[ It's only when Alistair speaks that it clicks. The voice is familiar — one he's heard countless times before. A fellow Grey Warden and technically his senior, but who's really keeping track of things like that? No one. ]

You should know I don't just carry those around, Al. [ Rowan winks and knocks another arrow, aiming for the Vieziri's head before he has a chance to get too far. ] Just flail your sword around a bit, you should hit him eventually.

[reluctantbastard]

[Look, everyone is Alistair's senior in life experience. He's a fucking Lost Boy on a good day. He's just a Lost Boy who is now king of an entire country. But he sure does scrunch up his nose at that nickname.

"Al"? Does he look like an "Al"? No, the answer is absolutely not. Besides, that is an insult. He is a warrior, not some amateur.]

Excuse you? I don't flail my sword about ever.

[trudge]

[ Rowan lets the arrow fly, nailing his shot as it sinks into Vieziri's skull and comes out the other side with a sickening squelching noise. He looks confused afterwards, brows raised at Alistair's defensive response. He hadn't acted like that in a long time. The stupid nickname and jokes about his sword were things long since accepted - albeit begrudgingly - and even reciprocated at times. ]

If I had known making you king would ruin your sense of humor I wouldn't have suggested it.

[wolfuncaged]

[Fenris has been swiftly dispatching any cannibals foolish enough to get near him. He's largely been sticking to the general perimeter of the Tourist- keeping his crew and ship as safe as possible. It's on one of his patrols a little further afield that he runs into Alistair, something that absolutely makes him pause. ]

...Oh. It's you.

[Which is absolutely a way to greet a foreign king, of course. He doesn't know how much Alistair remembers- he looks rather young - probably from a little further back in their complicated timeline. Maker- he wonders if Riona knows.]

[reluctantbastard]

[Alistair tugs one of his liberated swords from the neck of an attacker and looks back over his shoulder at the voice. He hasn't released the hilts and he's not sure if this person is a friend or foe yet.

But, he's an elf. Probably a City Elf, since he doesn't seem to have much of the intricate tattooing that comes from the Dalish. No, what he has is...strange. It reminds him of...lyrium. But who in the world would do that?]

Uh, it's me.

[Because, what? He can't really deny being himself, can he? Here he is, in all his awkward glory. Such as it is.]

And you are?

[wolfuncaged]

[Someone awful, that's who.

Fenris exhales- right, much younger. Very likely hasn't even stepped foot in Kirkwall yet. Probably for the best, that. The less horrible fresh memories Thedosians have the better, in his opinion.]

Fenris. I am from Thedas, also. Though...you will find that is not the case with everyone here. When did you arrive?

[reluctantbastard]

[Well, yes, you'd kind of have to be awful to put lyrium into a person's skin. The things it does to the Templars that use it and with Sandal and that one dwarven merchant in Orzammar... He can only imagine what it's doing to this poor elf. Slowly killing him and rattling what brains he has left until they're mush, probably.]

Right. Fenris. No offense, but that's the strangest name for any elf from Thedas that I've ever met.

[Alistair, your mommy was an elven mage Grey Warden named Fiona. Kinda not fair for you to be judging people...]

As for when I arrived... maybe an hour ago? I'm looking for my wife. Perhaps you know her. The Hero of Fereldan, long, dark hair?

[wolfuncaged]

[That is the most likely scenario. Fenris has lived with his markings for some time now, but he is under no illusion that he will avoid lyrium poisoning forever. One day, it will come to claim him, and he does not intend to go out quietly. ]

It is Tevene. [Which is all he's going to say on the subject because who wants to talk about Tevinter? No one, that's who. ]

...Do you mean Riona Cousland? [Please. Let her have this one thing. ]

chooses own very-late adventure?

[selfhelp]

[Billy's doing a lot of zipping back and forth between outer space and the crashed ships, thanks to his handy-dandy teleportation magic, which means he can provide supplies, but it also means he misses quite a bit on the surface itself. Including shuffles and newcomers, as it turns out.

He returns to the Blue Fish just in time to spot Alistair returning from a fight- he pops into existence out of nowhere with a flourish of glowing blue energy, carrying a box. It's likely an equal surprise for both of them, as he's really not expecting to find a geared-up warrior fella, questionably covered in blood.]

Whoa! Um...!

[FRIEND OR FOE, FRIEND OR FOE, SHIT]

Welp, this is great!

[reluctantbastard]

[Alistair was all for cleaning up, finding something to eat, finding Riona and maybe a nap. It's been a long day of fighting and he's kinda tired of it. But then a strange, glowing young man just drops down in front of him. And all of that is forgotten as he reaches for his weapons, ready to fight him if he must.]

Identify yourself, mage!

[Don't make any sudden moves, Billy.]

rip billy nice knowing you

[selfhelp]

[FOE, THEN? HE'S GUESSING FOE? if he wasn't on guard already, he sure as hell is now, lifting the box up like a shield between his face and whatever Alistair is carrying.]

Ohgod, um- Billy! Billy Kaplan! It's my ship! Don't stab me, please?

He was so young. How tragic.

[reluctantbastard]

[That... is not the reaction he expects. Mages on Thedas would have either sassed him or at least let him know who they were. But they never would have cowered.

He lowers his swords but doesn't exactly put them away either.]

Your ship? Then you know who the captain of this vessel and the first mate are.

[Your life might depend on this, Wiccan.]

wipes tear

[selfhelp]

[what did he do to deserve this... it's lucky he's not new to the ship, or this would be some trouble.]

Uh, yeah? Sokka and Riona...