the days that bind us

[exequy]

WHO: Lots of people
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.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

Norrington is paying attention to the militiamen around them, the Templar whose name Anders doesn't care to find out is on his knees, and the action is spread around to the point that he's fairly sure no one is exactly watching him. In this moment of right-here stillness, Anders brings the point of his staff's blade to the Templar's throat.

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.

[judgemewhole]

Maker be damned! Norrington could hear the man cursing Anders behind him, spitting out Knight Commander ... the rest was lost in the rising rage in Norrington's blood. The Smite trembled through all of them, but unlike Anders, it invigorated him. The militia men in front of him were slammed, and then slashed at the ankles and arms to disable them, caught in chinks of the armor to finish them off.

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?"

[justice_is_blond]

"Working on it!" His voice is strained, but thankfully he has adrenaline to help combat the pain. Anders grabs for his staff again and on the second swing manages to get hold of it. Then he's using it to get back to his feet, leaning on it and trying to catch his breath.

"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.

[judgemewhole]

Norrington nodded his head grimly in response to Anders's whispering, holding up his shield at an angle to deflect any projectiles. "Right, stay behind me. They won't be able to flank me but I want to make sure that you are out of range and out of danger."

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.