#vaargr

[whitecrowrising-blog]

@vaargr

Admittedly, there were better ways one could spend an evening. But he could also think of worse. At some point he’d just gotten tired of being pursued and decided to hold his stance and wait for his attackers to come, easier to deal with them here and now than to continue to evade.

Fenris stood, pulled the sword from his back and held it forward. His eyes skimmed the men that came to stand around him, grinning like they’ve already won, like they’re not about to have their hearts torn from their chests. He was determined to clear the expressions, irritation running hot right up to the tips of his ears.

He waited, calm, undisturbed for the first to move forward, two blades drawn and ready before he sidestepped, pivoted one foot and pushed forward with the full length of his sword. Anyone who might be passing by is reduced to background noise when the rest of the group takes up their weapons and strikes forward.

Ah, how young the night had been. And how terribly eventful too! It would be but a moment of time when they would find his latest victim, and wonder what could have possibly happened to the dear young man. But it was fine that way, it was his job after all. A smirk played at his lips as he tugged the scarf away from his neck and gave a pleased whistle as he walked along, rolling up the scarf before stopping and tilting his head a tad bit to the side.

Fighting?

Red hues glinted in the dark as he peered ahead, a moment of contemplativeness before he finally slunk forward in the shadows, ready to flee or fight if that would be necessary. It did not take long before he found the cause of commotion, a look of interest crossing his face momentarily.

Any other man with a good heart would have perhaps gone to help out. But he was no good man. Nor would he needlessly endanger his own life against those who were now going for the white-haired man-- Elf? Yes. Elf. And so, he remained in the shadows, his arms folded and a look of intrigue upon his face. He would not show himself, not until the end of the battle. Perhaps congratulate the other for his survival. And if he did not?

He would move on before the man’s pursuers had settled eyes upon him,

[rileymcdaniels]

@vaargr

Riley was no stranger to making runs up and down Kirkwall, burdened by letters and small parcels, but after a day of work in unreasonably warm temperatures, forced to go from Hightown to Darktown at least ten times at a near-breakneck pace -- she was tired. 

Her last letter was to a merchant in Hightown as the sun started to set, and she didn’t linger in Hightown, not even for a drink at the Blooming Rose. She made her way down to the main square, heading for the long staircase down to Lowtown. Her focus was entirely on the bread and cheese she would eat for dinner and then the warm blanket she would curl underneath before falling asleep.

That focus was snapped when an arrow flew past her nose to ricochet off a column. Her dual swords were in her hands, and she was facing her enemy before she was consciously aware of it. 

Guardsmen -- ?

It didn’t matter who they were, only that she needed to fight to stay alive. There were five of them and only one of her, and those were bad odds. She parried, ducking and weaving as best as she knew how, returning a few blows when she could, but her arms were exhausted and her form was terrible. 

“What do you even want?” she grit out, “I don’t have any money!” 

The only response was a mace to her ribs, which sent her to the ground and one of her blades skittering out of her reach.

She was so fucked.

[fxrctis]

@vaargr looks vaguely familiar... l:

          Now THAT is an interesting looking elf, Cullen thinks. Distantly, he realizes           that he’s seen him before somewhere. With Hawke perhaps...? He’s not sure,           always been too focused on the THREE apostates in the Champion’s merry           band of misfits to be vigilant about any one else in the group.           “ You’re, uh— friend’s with Hawke, right? And the dwarf....? ”

[viddathar-blog]

@vaargr​ -- ;

Fenris doesn’t respond at first, looks between the offering and the one holding it out. Odd, for someone to be handing out charity. Or maybe he’s just cynical. Still, he accepts, slowly, carefully. “Thank you. Though I have nothing to offer in return.”

  jhevel had spied the elf from afar , his altruism deciding this course of action for him . still , the viddathari smiles warmly at him , but not nearing as to invade upon his personal space . jhevel leans against a nearby wall warmed by sunlight , folding his arms contemplatively . ‘ not that i can blame you . humans -- or shemlens , as i’ve heard some friends in the qun call me -- treat your ilk horribly . it’s little wonder you might think it poisoned , even if it is not . ‘