R. Hawke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
battlemaged) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-06-06 08:58 pm
battlemaged) wrote in towerofanimus2012-06-06 08:58 pm
Entry tags:
✫ 1 : The Champion Goes Explorin'
Characters: Hawke and any/everyone
Setting: Pick yer floor [leave in the subject line, plz?]
Format: Prose preferred, but pick what's comfortable
Summary: The Champion of Kirkwall wakes up in a strange place and, like anysmart good adventurer, leaves relative safety behind to go exploring.
Warnings: Maybe spoilers?
Never sail with a Rivaini pirate, especially one who's been landlocked for a decade or so. That was the first thought that sloshed through Rowen Hawke's throbbing head as he swam up from the depths of unconsciousness. The second was, after he'd made a deal with his eyelids to stay open long enough for him to check his surroundings, ...this isn't Isabela's ship.
He'd come to in a strange bed about an hour ago, tentatively rolling out of it and on his guard, waiting for the Templar bastards to leap out of hiding and attack, but when none had, natural curiosity had taken over. Discovering the note, which only puzzled him more, and the trunk at the foot of that bed, he'd quickly retrieved his much-familiar staff and, seeing little more in the room to pique his curiosity - given that the entire place was black as pitch and only by keeping a small fireball bouncing on his hand could he see a damned thing - the mage had ventured out and about, a bit worried, nonplussed, and absolutely confused as to what the hell had happened to bring him from the Waking Sea to this strange place.
So far, he'd deduced this was some sort of Tower, which immediately put him on the defensive, but still, no Templars had materialized out of the shadows, nor had he encountered any other mages who also might be trapped here. Nevertheless, Hawke was by no means inexperienced, thus he moved quickly and quietly, only producing light when he was satisfied nothing waited beyond to carve out his guts and every noise had him tensing, hand on staff.
And then there was the problem of the bloody collar around his neck! Try as he might, Hawke was unable to find a fastening or latch, and the blasted thing refused to cooperate with his best efforts. He grumbled foul curses under his breath, but pressed on, determined to get some answers...somewhere.
Setting: Pick yer floor [leave in the subject line, plz?]
Format: Prose preferred, but pick what's comfortable
Summary: The Champion of Kirkwall wakes up in a strange place and, like any
Warnings: Maybe spoilers?
Never sail with a Rivaini pirate, especially one who's been landlocked for a decade or so. That was the first thought that sloshed through Rowen Hawke's throbbing head as he swam up from the depths of unconsciousness. The second was, after he'd made a deal with his eyelids to stay open long enough for him to check his surroundings, ...this isn't Isabela's ship.
He'd come to in a strange bed about an hour ago, tentatively rolling out of it and on his guard, waiting for the Templar bastards to leap out of hiding and attack, but when none had, natural curiosity had taken over. Discovering the note, which only puzzled him more, and the trunk at the foot of that bed, he'd quickly retrieved his much-familiar staff and, seeing little more in the room to pique his curiosity - given that the entire place was black as pitch and only by keeping a small fireball bouncing on his hand could he see a damned thing - the mage had ventured out and about, a bit worried, nonplussed, and absolutely confused as to what the hell had happened to bring him from the Waking Sea to this strange place.
So far, he'd deduced this was some sort of Tower, which immediately put him on the defensive, but still, no Templars had materialized out of the shadows, nor had he encountered any other mages who also might be trapped here. Nevertheless, Hawke was by no means inexperienced, thus he moved quickly and quietly, only producing light when he was satisfied nothing waited beyond to carve out his guts and every noise had him tensing, hand on staff.
And then there was the problem of the bloody collar around his neck! Try as he might, Hawke was unable to find a fastening or latch, and the blasted thing refused to cooperate with his best efforts. He grumbled foul curses under his breath, but pressed on, determined to get some answers...somewhere.
no subject
"At this rate I might have to try my luck against some of the animal monsters and cook them."