09/05/2022 02:03 PM  Reply (unfinished) “Warden Commander!” Sharp blue eyes pinned the figure down as they skidded to a stop before him. This town was only supposed to be a stopping point for a few hours but stirrings in his blood and a low hum in his ears had them sticking put. Darkspawns. Only they could cause that feeling. But what would they want with a town already torn apart by the war constantly going on between the Imperium and Qunari? Was it the Architect? Or the band of darkspawn that were ‘rebelling’ against him? “I know. I feel it.” It was faint which meant they had some time. Would it be enough to get the villagers to safety? Would they even leave? Or listen to a word they said to them? He had already caught a couple of side-eyed glances of distrust from the town folks. While a bit on the frustrating side, he did not blame them. They were already being disturbed by two warring factions who thought little of them to begin with. No one trusted Wardens outside of a blight and even sometimes during a blight so that was another strike against them. “Do you think it’s him?” “I do not believe so. We’ve been tracking him for some time and none of what we saw points to him. But do not let down your guard. While I do believe he’s not planning a new blight he is still a Darkspawn and we know nothing about him. Hunch feelings don’t mean anything here. Be prepared.” Was is The Architect and what Darkspawn he had cumulated since the attack on Amaranthine and Vigil Keep? Or was it another group? Could there be more going on that Kohma was not privy to? It didn’t do well to second guess himself. But if he had been wrong and he’d doomed the world with letting the Architect live then he would take the creature out himself even at the cost of his own life. It didn’t do well to dwell on that though. Not now. He’d deal with that later. Right now he had a town to warn and Wardens to command. “Find Nathaniel. I want him to have archers put up high. This town might be war torn as it is but I will not let these people lose any more than they already have. Warn the people and send them on their way to the Chantry. Rather or not they listen is up to them. Same with this town’s guards: give them the choice to move with the rest or fight alongside us. There is a chance that it won’t be needed but as Nathaniel would say: better safe than sorry.” “Yes Warden Commander!” Now all they could do was wait. Maybe this would be nothing. Or it could be something. Would it be The Architect’s darkspawn breaking down those oak doors? Or something else? It felt weird even all these months later since the death of the Mother thinking of the Darkspawn as two different fractions when they had been one during the Fifth Blight. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen the two different fractions that followed the Mother and the Architect. When he had been conscripted by Warden Duncan he hadn’t thought his path would lead down to this very moment. Warden Commander of the Grey Wardens….and getting ready to protect people that he did not know and was most likely looking down on him for his ears alone. He should find Nathaniel. Make sure his commands were being followed. Or he could find a place to rest his head for the battle that was already thrumming through his veins. Sometime later it had begun to rain. While refreshing to a point it would make the battle to come harder to deal with. He ended up losing track of the time, being too busy trying to get the town’s guards to take his suggestions as just that. Suggestions. Not demands. He was almost ready to call for Nathaniel to take over when the hum in his ear grew louder. He spun, ignoring the guard behind him. They were here. They had wasted too much time. While his Wardens were ready for the attack this town and its people were not. Soon enough the shouts began. It took a single second for Kohma to find Nathaniel, their eyes locking briefly before he was moving forward. He couldn’t help but curse the fools that refused to listening, having to push himself past a few of the town’s people. “Wardens! At the ready! Do not let them to the Chantry.”   0 Comments

09/04/2021 08:49 PM  Brave Maiden starter “Strife…..Strife. Strife!” Strife jerked out of his thoughts, sidestepping a fist that came at his head. His eyes narrowed and he glared at the petite form of his pain in the ass mother. “What?” “Don’t you what me.” Eris sneered, fireball forming in her hand to be thrown at a simple thought. “Could have let that mortal have his way with you since you want to ‘what me’” Strife rolled his eyes, why suddenly, she wanted to be a protective mother he did not understand. Until the fireball that had been in his mother’s hand moments before was now thrown past him a second later: grazing his cheek. He yelped, took a step back and threw one of his own at the bitch. It would have turned into a war against mother and son if Ares hadn’t swooped down in the middle of the battlefield and smacked both upside the head. “I did not have you two start this war to fight amongst yourself. Shut up until it’s over and then you two can kill each other.” Strife and Eris sneered at each other once more before they were going their separate ways. The rest of the battlefield went as planned. The Greeks won and pushed the opposing force even further back to their rightful places: beneath them and far away. Once the battle was over and the mortals had everything under control, the three gods flashed themselves away from the battlefield. The adrenaline from the battle was still rushing through Strife’s blood. It had been a good skirmish today. Ares relaxed in his throne, one leg up and over the arm of the chair and the other firm on the ground as his eyes roamed over the temple. Strife stood on the side of the throne, leaning against it. “So Unc…..what’s the plan.” Ares turned to give Strife a hard stare, eyes flickering to his relaxed position against his throne back up to the blood-covered face of his annoying nephew. “You’re getting blood on my throne.” It was the only warning Strife got. He quickly pushed off, waving his hands in a ‘Sorry.’ movement. “Do not worry on what I have planned next.” That was code for get out of here. Strife mock bowed, cackling as Ares threw a fireball and he flashed away. He would definitely pay for it when he saw his uncle next but that was next time. He appeared in his hidden temple, hidden from mortals but close enough to a village in case he ever felt like causing something. Children laughter filled the throne room upon his entrance. Delia –his handmaiden- must be with the village children. Nothing was more mischievous then children so they were his worshippers. Most of the children were orphaned due to the very wars his uncle created and he helped with. So it was equal worship from the children and Strife silently helping the children he helped orphan. He needed to get out of these blood-soaked clothes. He could flash away his clothes and replace them with identical ones or he could do it the mortal way. The sound of children getting loudly made the choice for him. He could not let them see him in blood from head to toe. Seconds before they appeared Strife was lounging on his throne: not even a speck of blood on his body and legs throne over the arm of the chair as his head hung down off the other arm. He grinned when the children went from surrounding his beloved handmaiden to immediately running to him: already explaining their offerings to their god. He fixed himself in his throne, leaning over to aptly listen to the children before them. While other gods had adult worshippers he had them. One day they would probably shed their mischievous sides and join one of his aunts and uncles temple. Or they would stay with him like Delia. She had been his since the day she was 6: still mischievous even to this day. That spark never left her eyes and she knew Strife better than anyone. Eventually Delia had to politely remind the children it was time to return to the village. They groaned and whined, not wanting to leave but knew they had to. Strife wiggled his fingers in a goodbye before he was left alone once again. The sound of giggling, laughing and speaking slowly getting softer until it was silent once more. Strife leaned back, eyes closing. Today had been a very eventful day. No Jerkcules. No Xena. No annoying blonde sidekicks. Just pure chaos and fun.   0 Comments

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