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the days that bind us
WHO: Lots of people
WHAT: Recovering lost phylacteries
WHEN: Guardian 23, 9:44
WHERE: The Storm Coast
NOTES: Violence! OOC post over here.
WHAT: Recovering lost phylacteries
WHEN: Guardian 23, 9:44
WHERE: The Storm Coast
NOTES: Violence! OOC post over here.
All signs point to the Storm Coast, and once scouts have narrowed down the location it's only a short journey across the Waking Sea to move a small force onto the rocky coast. They row ashore just after dawn in driving rain, and follow the beach for at least a mile before finding a path that actually reaches the top of the cliff. The rain fades to a drizzle but the day remains relentlessly overcast as they hike toward their goal, grey and dim even at noon, with a raw breeze off the water.
OTA come join
Anders shoots lightning at a tree behind the man who seems to be in charge. It falls, but doesn't hit the Templar. That's fine. A tree killing the man would be far too merciful. It does, however, have the Templar glancing behind himself for a brief enough second that Anders feels safe enough to reveal his location a second time with a second lightning bolt that streaks brightly forward to strike the man's armor and stagger him back some.
Re: OTA come join
As the lightening strikes, James uses that advantage to slam a miltiaman into the false Templar's back, hoping to come at the man from both sides of the equation, and distract him from attacking Anders directly. His Knight-Commander armor gleams green, and the dents will be proof to this man that's he's earned his title.
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The loathsome Templar is staggered again by the slam, turning to face the decent Templar, and Anders smiles coldly. With no hesitation he runs forward. Norrington being there means Anders can't safely keep simply flinging spells, but that's fine. All it takes is a hand on the enemy's armor to send more lightning into it, painfully partially cooking the man inside the metal shell and making him shout in pain, swinging around with his blade out. It catches Anders in the arm; he's being stupid and taking dumb risks because he's angry and the anger is cover for fear.
"I hear you like hurting people," he says with hatred in his voice, stepping back to be at least out of sword distance, hand on the slice in his arm.
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"Maker's bloody everything," he spits, glaring at the Templar who is engaged with Norrington at the moment. He knows better than closing the distance. He knows better than to charge off. But he's gotten sloppy and now he has to not just survive being in the middle of a battlefield without magic, he needs to keep helping. Staff, then, with the attached blade as he fights a battle against losing the last meal he'd eaten. There's a splitting headache building in the back of his head too, but he's not ready to surrender.
"Norrington! Watch your flank!" There are militiamen closing in around the Templar pair and Anders has a strong preference about which one he'd care to see survive today. Back in he goes, swinging his staff as he looks for a gap in the already-wounded Templar's armor and finds one - slashing at the back of a knee and getting a decent cut in. He won't be moving much longer if he and Norrington have anything to say about it.
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The man tries to lunge forward on his sliced and bashed legs and fails, hate in his eyes that Anders thinks likely mirrors his own. For so long Anders has worked to be better, but right now the high road is one he absolutely does not want to take. Maybe at the end of the day he's simply not a good person. All that's certain is that when realization enters the Templar's eyes and he sputters something, possibly a plea for his life, possibly insults, Anders hears nothing but a buzz. How many would this man have tortured if they hadn't caught him? How many would have died as the attacks continued to escalate? And how many would have been innocent?
"You will never change," he says, braced to be judge, jury, and executioner... and he hesitates. The Templar starts to laugh as Anders has his own realization - he's not as strong as he thought he was. There's a surge of light before he's hit with the all-too-familiar Smite, burning at him, but he's been burned very recently, hit by lightning very recently, hit by so many things that he's not as shaken as he would have been without the phylactery attacks. As the Templar flips one of his daggers to a throwing position rather than a stabbing one, time seems to slow and Anders drives his staff forward at last, blade through the man's throat before sinking to his knees from the pain.
He loses his grip on his staff but manages to blindly fumble his way to his little belt knife while he rides out the Smite for the over-long few moments it tears at him. There's far more attention now directed his way than he'd like now that their commander's fallen, but at least some of them are breaking and running and it may just buy him enough time to get back to his feet.
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He heard the gurgle of the Knight Commander's death behind him, saw the men in front of him get that panic, when leadership starts to fall. He held off his assault, shield up, to guard Anders while he recovered.
"Anders! Can you stand, man?"
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"I've no magic," he says more quietly when he thinks he's in range for only Norrington to hear him. "I have a dagger, I can watch your back with that, but there's no healing or barriers or the like."
There's still a roll in his stomach and some fog in his head from the magebane, and that's going to last longer than the frustrating lack of ability.
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He'll enjoy the irony later, as he considers his opponents. "There is lyrium, untouched, in my back pouch if you need it." Then he takes his defensive posture, green eyes narrowing.