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

[foundmyselfagain]

"Hah, right?" Gareth's tone is pleasant and cheerful, with no regret for what he did, or that he just did it in public. Were they really going to push a punishment on him for destroying his own phylactery? It would be an interesting point to argue--and Gareth is more than ready to butt heads over it.

"It's just so wet and slippery, and I am but a scruffy mage. They should've had the Templars and Seekers doing this if they wanted it done right." Despite his light tone, his focus is less on it, or Anders, and on the box of names he knows, blood of people he'd called friends. Arguing over who had the right to his own phylactery would be a debate worth getting into, but he's well aware that doing it en masse would be pushing it.

He should still do it. They still deserve to be destroyed.

He'll talk it over with Nell and the others, he decides silently, they'll know what to do. In the meantime, he hefts the box up with a sigh. "These asses managed to be inconvenient even in death, huh. Figures."