faderift | But despite what you've been told

WHO: Cecil, Kevin, Sherlock, Maxwell, Korrin, Lenneth
WHAT: Four brave Inquisition members go to rescue a group of very odd people
WHEN: the next few days
WHERE: on the edge of Emprise
NOTES: Rescuers feel free to use the ooc post here to plot out how you want the rescue to go down. Feel free to make up camp details/NPC actions. Action will be split into three main threads: Captive chatter, rescue, and travelling (both coming and going). Rescue will be a group log, but for the others feel free to do one-on-one threads.

The report’s directions are clear, at least, which is good - how else would the scouts be able to find the camp in this cold, desolate landscape. Snow as far as the eye can see, but there are great red shards of lyrium breaking through the ground. The only sounds are the grunting noise of red Templars stalking their way through the construction site echos along the frozen grounds, and the freezing wind that bites through skin and fur alike.

Scattered among these fearsome foes are cages. They look almost like caravans - giant cages on wheels, with cowering, shivering figures within. A few elves, primarily humans, all cold and hungry and uncertain about their fate.

Within one of these cages, a tattoo-covered human is conducting interviews.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The first interview hadn't gone particularly well. The woman that shared the cage had stared at his forehead for a long time, and then started to sob uncontrollably into her hands, which was both very sad and sort of annoying because even after being comforted and offered a slightly awkward hug, she would not stop. So eventually Cecil had just shuffled to to the other end of the cage and tried to ignore the background noise of her weeping.

He tended to forget the purple eye tattooed on his forehead, rolled up as if trying to look at heaven, the rising sun behind it. He tended to forget the tattoos all together - but obviously strange, captive, traumatised prisoners didn't forget it as easily as he did. No matter. He had a fairly good grasp on the situation through the perspective of being one of those said traumatised prisoners, seeing as he was one himself. It was the rest of the situation that he was having trouble piecing together.

So he was sticking out a hand, trying to waved down one of the less lyrium-diseased looking templars, who happened to be quite handsome but that was neither here nor there.

"It really will only take a moment," He was imploring him, in a voice that was certainly not a whine. "Just a few questions, to soothe the general public."

"He won't be distracted."

It's a kind of cheerful tone that's nearly sing-song coming from the man seated in a corner of the cage. Like Cecil, he's been but a hospitable little host in their temporary home away from home. Indeed, Kevin had taken time to embrace those nearest him, offering what comfort he could so that their strained sobs became quieter and quieter until they eventually fell asleep in his arms. A few had woken up since then and, eager to leave Kevin to spread his comfort, had fled to the other end of the cage. But one still slept, the girl's head on his lap. Ever so thoughtfully, everyone else was kind enough to leave him a precious few inches of personal space to allow the girl uninterrupted rest.

"They have a deadline to meet. No time for...pleasantries. Or entirely counter productive activities."

"It isn't distraction if it is important," Cecil pointed out, turning to look at Kevin to notice yet another person sleeping in his lap. Bizarre. He could have sworn it was the bald headed man that was currently cowering terrified on the other side of the cage, just a moment ago. Maybe Kevin simply had a very comfortable lap. "And I'm fairly certain that us having a better grasp on our current situation could only be more productive." He waved his hand for the templar again, but then sighed, his entire body sinking with the sound, as he settled in against the bars.

"Unfortunately, our captors cannot seem to be reached for comment."

"At this exact moment, we seem irrelevant to their greater goals."

The girl was beginning to drool. With a smile frozen in place, Kevin reaches down to manipulate the angle of her head, letting the bodily fluid seep into her hair instead of his trouser leg.

"But, goodness. You are the curious sort. Aren't you."

"I'm a town crier," He replied, as if that should be obvious. "My whole job is to figure out what is going on and then tell people about it. That kind of work requires a little curiosity."

Like, for example, the curiosity about whether or not Kevin's smile was extremely creepy or just felt extremely creepy, but as there was no one here to gossip about it with out of ear shot, it would have to be a question for later. Plus, he didn't want to think about it too much, considering that if it was extremely creepy, there would be no where to run from it.

"Also," he added, frowning as he grasped the bars, looking out at their captors, "I've found that survival tends to require a little curiosity."

"Oh, only the right kind of curiosity. The types appropriate for our current position and role in life. Asking your name, for instance. That would be example of the helpful curiosity. Of use to...well, me. Right now."

And the drooling problem had been successfully addressed. Kevin nearly beams at this small, but functionally important, accomplishment. It wouldn't help to have a disgusting, frozen leg when the time came, now would it? Certainly not. But he'd been too distracted dealing with the many distress individuals to really catch what the 'crier' had been saying earlier. Despite the many...enthusiastic words that had come from the man's mouth.

"So, what is your name, friend?"

Kevin was - well - odd, but so was Cecil, and at the moment he could forgive a lot of oddness due to the fact that they were, both of them, imprisoned and likely to be driven through hard labour until dead. So. It was very easy to feel more amiable towards ones co-prisoners than one may otherwise be.

"Cecil. Cecil Gershwin Palmert," he added, to be extra helpful. "Though I'm not sure what use it serves, here. What is yours?"

"Cecil. What a lovely name. I'm Kevin, Cecil. It's so nice to meet you. And, just think, our friendship can only improve from here. That's what I like about terrible situations. They mean there is only good thing left to come!"

The smile grows with that, clearly believing his own words no matter how strange they may sound. He doesn't offer his hand, though, or any other form of confirming their introduction. He's rather up to his limit of contact for the day. Or the year. Or decade, really.

Unfortunately for Kevin, Cecil actually takes this conversation rather warmly, and offers him a smile that only has the barest trace of hesitancy.

"Why yes, what a wonderful way to put it. Everything else may be horrible - the world may be breaking and fraying all around us, evil may be taking over the world, but we will always have each other!"

When he said this he beamed at the others in captivity, who only looked on in what he had to assume was remaining shock from their terrible experience.

Kevin simply beamed back, pleased at having made progress with, while a slightly silly individual, one that at least had productivity on his mind. Doing his work while a captive! It was an admirable trait. Particularly in comparison to their other new friends.

"That is just so well put, Cecil. I have the feeling the two of use are going to work very, very. Closely. And create so many wonderful things."

But despite what you've been told

CAPTIVES

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject