Alistair Theirin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reluctantbastard) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-11-10 06:29 pm
reluctantbastard) wrote in driftfleet2017-11-10 06:29 pm
Entry tags:
1st Chant - Just Like Home
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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
makochan or discord at makotosagara#9497 for plotting ideas!]
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