The First Blight: Curse of Dumat [RP/Closed]

[ShadowFolk]

She tittered, quickly covering her mouth. "Oh, you're bad. I would suggest not letting him hear that, Se- Diocles. He might string you up." It probably was not so wise to mock Thaedrin with so many people around. It could and likely would come back to bite one or more of them in the rear. If Diocles' goal was to put her at ease, he'd have succeeded at that. "I can make no promises of such and I certainly do not wish to disobey that order. I can say that I am in no rush to meet my Creators. I am almost positive they have much in store for me."

 

[Cinnonym]

Ghil rolled her eyes.

"Enough. I cannot sit here all day. Give us a task, anything."

 

[Rosen2012]

Ulrin was glad Ghil spoke up to request a task. He still found Diocles' jokes unamusing. He rather preferred when the human was serious.

 

[FortyThree]

"..Yes. I'm certain they do. And don't worry about me, I've been bending rules.. Among other things.. for as long as I've held a bow."

Taking his hand back, Diocles gave her a small, mock salute, as if dismissing a squad, before stifling a yawn. He glanced at Ghil, frowning at the enormous warrior.

"..Shouldn't be too long before dinner now, I should think. I might see if I have time to wax my bowstrings-If you're bored, I suggest seeing if you can help someone perform some menial task, like cleaning. Or perhaps prepare for your next fight-Perhaps some sparring."

 

[Cinnonym]

Ghil's eyebrow quirked upward. "Vorenus said no duels." She paused, glancing around the Hall; her fingers flexed absently. "I will see if there are any who will humor me. ...The food first."

 

[FortyThree]

"No duels, not no practice. You might try unarmed, open handed-No one gets hurt, but you learn dodging and reading opponents movements. Or sticks, but I'm certain you could kill someone like that."

He shrugged.

"My preferred form of combat is rather easy to practice. Which is one of the many reasons I'm so good."

 

[Cinnonym]

Ghil's lips quirked into a smile, then she chuckled lowly. The man's idea of practice, to her, was adorable. Six months of fighting for her life in the coliseum, a decade before that of leading her tribe into combat against their own kin, and he thought she ought wrestle. Still, it was better than standing still.

"Which is... what?"

 

[Rosen2012]

Ulrin silently hoped anyone foolish enough to accept Ghil's sparring offer would know where to find the closest healer. Certainly the barbarian's idea of sparing would still result in her opponent being injured whether she meant to or not. she towered over most everyone in the room.

"Food does sound like the best option for the moment... Sulahn'nehn, are you alright to eat with us?"

 

[FortyThree]

"Hahah, Ghil, I'd love to fight you, but I'm afraid I'm your senior, and I'm afraid we're too good of friends, and finally, I'm afraid."

He grinned up at the big woman, giving no indication of shame whatsoever.

 

[Cinnonym]

The barbarian nodded, pleased. "Good."

Thaedrin emerged from down the Hall; he was impeccably groomed, though unusually simply dressed. "Komnenos. Come, it's time." He turned on his heel and strode down the corridor, past the mess hall to the Commander's suites. Though he chose to say nothing, his irritation at bringing the archer to the meal was evident on his face.

 

[ShadowFolk]

"Hm?", she turned her head to the other elf. "I am fine. Only tired and sore. As I am sure everyone else is. It would be foolish not to eat."

Eating with them was still up in the air. If she felt welcome nowhere else, she could always sit herself next to Ghil instead of Ulrin. Sulahn'nehn could not help but notice he'd been nicer to her. Greeting her in the morning and staying by her side not too long ago. Either Ulrin had forgotten the nasty words he'd spoken to her the night before or this was his way of making up for it. Either way, she had not forgotten the lack of a proper apology. One she expected would never come from the curt man.

 

[FortyThree]

Diocles spoke just too loudly.

"Excuse me, friends, Thaedrin has invited me to dinner."

He leaned close to Sul, whispering in her ear.

"If I don't come back, you were right about me getting strung up after all, one way or another."

Giving his companions one last grin, he turned to follow after Thaedrin

"Of course, Constable!"

 

[Rosen2012]

Ulrin frowned slightly as Diocles left the trio alone, "His personality turns faster than a tide. I think I prefer him when he is more focused."

 

[Cinnonym]

His ire rose in the back of his throat, he could taste it. He didn't know what it was about the archer that enraged him in such a way. It was probably that stupid face. His hands gripped into fists at his sides, as though trying to keep his own blood from spilling out the wounds in his palms.

"Must everything be a joke to you?"

 

[ShadowFolk]

The elf just barely contained a giggle. A bit too telling with Thaedrin around. The human had a talent for lightening the mood, she managed not to tense at least this once when constable appeared. How Diocles managed to stay out of trouble or continuously bounce back from it was something to wonder about. Hopefully, with the commander around, the archer was in no danger of hanging from his feet.

Hungry like the rest, she went to take a seat in the mess hall.

 

[FortyThree]

Diocles turned to Thaedrin, ready with a snappy comeback, but he bit it back as he walked alongside his commander. His grinning façade dissipated, and he looked almost pensive for a moment. When he spoke, it was softly, not intending to be overheard by any but Thaedrin.

" ... No. Not in battle. Other than that, though, it's better to laugh than to cry, isn't it? I mean... If you had to choose one or the other, it's not a difficult decision, right?"

 

[Cinnonym]

"Is that the reason? To keep yourself from weeping?" Thaedrin's voice had lowered as well. However little respect he had for Diocles, the mage's words now were stern and sincere, "Do you think you are rescuing them with levity? You make yourself out to be an incompetent fool, joke with them, make them feel relaxed. Make them feel safe. You do them a disservice when you lower their guards."

He paused, casting him a glance before turning his attention forward again, "Although I suppose it serves some purpose in weeding out the simple-minded. Some of us, you never fooled for a second."

 

[FortyThree]

"You know nothing of soldiers, constable. You are a mage, an aristocrat. Morale is important, harmony is important. Soldiers that like each other do not desert, and a solid formation is a thousand times stronger than one with a single runaway soldier. Keep them on their toes, ready for combat constantly, and they will be too tired to fight a real battle when it comes."

Diocles had clearly forgotten his place now. Thaedrin had asked for sincerity, and he was receiving it in ample doses, uncensored and unrefined. The mage rubbed him the wrong way entirely, and he was now beginning to tell his antithesis exactly what he thought, chain of command be damned.

"And aside from that, have you ever even tried having fun, Thaedrin? Gambling, joking, other pursuits? Afraid you might actually enjoy yourself, or is it just that your mage's stick has been rammed too far up your backside?"

 

[duckflesh]

Alrik rounded a corner and nearly walked directly into Thaedrin and Diocles. He raised an eyebrow at their raised voices, but declined to comment.

He turned and walked the final few feet down the hall, swinging open the door to Trajan Vorenus' dining room.

The large table could seat 12, though only four places are set. Each plate is accompanied by the overwhelming array of silverware used in formal Tevinter functions, and no fewer than half a dozen slaves are moving about the edges of the table, carrying out various tasks. A woman with a lute stands in the corner.

Alrik walks in and takes a seat on the right hand of the head of the table.

 

[Cinnonym]

"This is not the army you left behind--!"


Thaedrin stopped short of a lecture when Alrik rounded the corner, frozen for a moment in equal parts surprise and embarrassment. The brigand's presence, at least, was enough to keep him from screaming, or slapping the archer full in the face. There were a hundred other things he could think of to say, but he chose only one, and whispered it harshly.


"You will address me as 'Constable Davinius', or not at all."


Entering Trajan's personal dining room, half of his stress melted away on the spot. He was relieved to be among the comforts of home for the hour.


"Commander," he said, giving a casual salute.