My soul lies beneath the waves

Indie roleplay blog for "Ram", a Tal-Vashoth Qunari looking for redemption. Tracking the tag talxvashoth

[hornlessmarauder]

More Qunari war cries, more bellows of victory and bloodlust. Shackle scowled, a tight knot winding in his stomach at the sound of the familiar words. Once, they had been his anthem. Then, they were a distant thunder on the horizon. Now, they were annoying and almost insulting, especially coming from someone with such poor control of their temper. 

Was he Ben-Hassrath? Was this some secret agent, come to blind him and mute him, and drag him back to Seheron? 

No. No time for that. First, the mages.

Fireballs rolled off of the shield; a fine defense. The mage stumped back and turned, and a chop caught his throat. His voice became raspy and empty, staff dropping as he grasped at his throat. The second blow struck him in the chest, through the chest, gleaming, translucent magic splattered with blood and bone before Shackle withdrew it. 

"There were more," He growled, walking to the one left choking by the charging Arvaarad, driving a foot into his temple to deliver him to his gods, "They probably went to fetch friends."

[talxvashoth-blog]

There were more. The Arvaarad in him practically screamed for their death. The one he'd dropped wasn't nearly enough to satiate his need to end them. The fact that so many slipped out of his grasp frustrated him to no ends. In his mounting anger, Aban nearly turned on Shackle then and there.  He felt the urge to end him, demand he live up to his obligation to the Qun.

But even Arvaarad could not overcome the sea. Aban shut his eyes and forced the tension out of his shoulders and arms, fought and overcame years of training to slide his blunt blade back in its sheath.

"I have no further quarrel with them, Bas Saarebas. Your fate from here on out lies in your own hands." Crossing his shield arm over his chest and resting the other over it, the Qunari began to slowly shake his head.

"I am not a dog you can rely on to fight your battles at your side. Go find someone else if you wish to pursue them. I am going back to my camp."

[hornlessmarauder]

It was almost humorous how Shackle was regarding the armored stranger as a child, in turn. The continued snapping and snarling was characteristic of a posturing animal, howling and growing for some form of attention, some way of being heeded. Still, Shackle understood his unease. Among his kind, Shackle was once seen as walking trouble, when he was Saarebas. Technically, he still was, but his mind had been opened to the possibilities in Tevinter.

Now, it had been focused and honed towards a purpose; it made Shackle was ten times more dangerous than Saarebas.

The mage only nodded, not caring much for the threat. He had practiced long, and taught himself precision. The Qun enforced his discipline. He wouldn’t miss. As the strange charged forward, ice and fire ricocheting to splatter and sear across grass and wood, Shackle moved around behind the enemy magi. The first victory came when his fist contacted the back of an elf. The spine splintered under him as he pushed his force magic into is fist, giving the blow more force as he struck forwards. The mage yelled as he was flung into a tree trunk, the crack of his ribs filling the air. Taking up a fluid stance, Shackle dived behind a thick trunk as lightning shot his way. 

Now, for the stranger to prove their worth.

[talxvashoth-blog]

For all his talk of being free of Arvaarad, for all his attempts to free himself of his old life, Arvaarad slid over him like an old skin that Aban could not be rid of. He moved like an Arvaarad, avoiding volleys of spells or meeting them with his shield tipped just so. In that moment, everything he'd come to believe in, everything others had taught him slipped from his mind and the war cry that had lived on his lips since he was a child sprung up from him like a ghost from the grave.

"Anaam essam Arvaarad, Anaam essam Qun!" His face twisted in a mask of anger as he closed in on a mage of his own, a Basra mage, one who would corrupt and pervert all around him, fumbled on his spell as Aban drew near with a single-minded relentlessness.

Aban went in high with his shield rather than his sword, bearing it on the man's neck with all his might. Bone broke and snapped sickeningly, but he continued even after dropping the mage. He hadn't yet stopped gasping like a fish when Aban turned on another, sword bearing in low and shield high.

"Basra Vashedan!"

[talxvashoth-blog]

((Heavy weapons guy as a fc it is.))

[talxvashoth-blog]

((:T Crap, I'm not having any luck with finding faceclaims for Aban, and that's been driving me nuts. So far, the only two I've found have been fictional characters.

What do you guys think? Which would be better for Aban here?))

[hornlessmarauder]

A scowl curled Shackles lips, but his focus remained on keeping the shield up, a barrier of pale blue light between the two Qunari and the rain of fire, ice, and lightning that the mages across the wood brought down on them. Crossing paths with these rogue mages was becoming a headache too often encountered out here in the South. Was no one attempting to control these animals?

"Your assistance is welcome, Vashoth," Shackle barked back, bolts of magic surging along his hands as he dropped the barrier, instead turning his fists to a nearby try. Hands glowing with the powers of the arcane, his knuckles slammed into the thick trunk. There was a crack, and a roar as the  tree came crashing down in front of them, a natural barrier between them and the magi. "Your lip is not. Draw their attention. I will dispatch them."

[talxvashoth-blog]

Of course, the mage brought down a tree rather than going for a less destructive route. Instinctively, Aban stepped back, shield raised as if to try and defend himself from the falling debris, regardless of how far back he stood from it.

"My lip and my help come as one, maraas imekari!" He may have no longer been Arvaarad, but that didn't mean he was going to simply accept a mage's quips against him. Calling the large man a child might have been a step too far, but it was justified in Aban's eyes. After all, the mage was acting like one, as far as he was concerned. By jumping into a mess like this feet-first and asking for help, but demanding it on his terms was a sign of immaturity.

The ex-Arvaarad shook his head in utter disdain at the mage, but he none the less listened to his second request. They could not hide behind the tree forever, no matter what the mage did nor how far down they crouched. "If you accidentally maim me, I will rip your throat out with my teeth if I have to." With that final warning and a sidelong glare, Aban darted out from behind the fallen limb, shield held high and slightly tipped to draw fire to himself.

[hornlessmarauder]

talxvashoth started following you

[hornlessmarauder]

“Some help would not be remiss.”

[talxvashoth-blog]

This was definitely a first. A Saarebas- an unleashed Saarebas was demanding his help? The very idea that he'd find himself in such a situation was enough to stun him for a brief moment. Arvaarad's pride wormed up in his chest- he nearly turned on the mage himself, attackers be damned. In his old life, he would have done no less.

Even after wrenching himself from thoughts of what he would have done in his old life to an unleashed mage, Aban couldn't help but growl low in his throat at Shackle. It felt wrong, unsheathing his blade and raising shield to defend the mage- all he could do was ignore it as he answered the call to help. "Vashedan... You should pick your battles more carefully!" The mages in his old Karataam would have never gotten him into this situation.

[talxvashoth-blog]

((That difficult moment when you try to find a fc for your Qunari but don't even know where to start.))

[asxnder-deactivated20150107]

"Can you not hear? the tune notes they sing so high. It is a mimicry of joy and happiness." He questioned, gazing up at the particular raven that had caught his attention. "They whisper of joy."

He laughs a little, caught up, very caught up, in the tunes that he could hear. Cole’s attention turns to the larger man, gazing curiously. “Do you not hear? they are sweet, kind. Loud, blissful. Listen to the wind, it tells sweet stories.”

[talxvashoth-blog]

"They do?" If the idealistic child was correct, the birds here were very different than the ones back home. He fell silent, head cocked as he listened to the beards and their warbling.

"... Do all humans understand the language of the birds and the air, or is it just you?" Resting his elbows on his knees, Aban slouched forward slightly to get a better look at the human. He did look oddly pale and thin, even for a Basra. For all Aban knew, he could be a mage who was simply versed in such things.

[talxvashoth-blog]

... Why are people exchanging presents today? Was I supposed to acquire gifts to donate to people?

[asxnder-deactivated20150107]

                              “Everything seems a lot nicer today. The birds are                                kinder.. smiling down upon us all..”

[talxvashoth-blog]

"Birds do not have lips." The response came from a place of confusion rather than one of malice. Aban simply did not understand what the boy meant. Was this some sort of game the Bas played? It seemed like something they might do.

Curiously, the Tal-Vashoth cocked his head to one side, glancing up at the strange child before looking up towards the trees and sky in an attempt to see these supposedly smiling birds.

"How is this possible?"

[praesidiium-blog]

     ”Er… Just Krem is fine.” He said, more than a little confused about the repetition of his full name and title. This big horned fella sure was an odd one. 

     Fairly beat-up looking one as well. Krem figured they’d get a few stragglers from that dreadnought exploding, but with as rough as this one looked, he didn’t think they’d be getting many more… If any. "If you can still use a sword with that other hand, I’d say you’ve got a good chance. Hell, even if the best you can do is hold one, practice makes perfect, yeah?"

[talxvashoth-blog]

"Ah, forgive me, Krem." Aban was used to calling others by their title. He'd been conditioned to do so all his life, and it was a hard thing to shake. Of all the things, this just might be the one he would have the most trouble with.

"Arvaarad are trained to use one-handed weapons. I am not as proficient with my right as I was my left, but I do think I will be able to do my part." But, it had been weeks since he'd held a blade, and longer still since he had to fight solely with his right hand. Absently, he began to flex his remaining fingers.

"Is there someone I can train with in the meanwhile? I believe I will need to practice."

[reilinwarad]

The smaller sputtered and smiled, “No, no, I’m fine.” he said.  It was so interesting and endearing to see the Qunari trying to acclimate to outsider behavior and concerns, “Sorry I don’t mean to be unusually concerned with how warm you are-friends worry if you’re too hot or too cold.”.

[talxvashoth-blog]

So, these people spent their time listening to their heart- which may or may not be right- trying to figure out their place in society, and worrying about eachothers' body temperatures constantly? No wonder they had problems accepting the Qun.

"Do not apologize, friend." He said, once again trying to smile down at Reilin. "I simply have much to learn about this society."

[talxvashoth-blog]

Humans are strange creatures.

[reilinwarad]

"Yes, I will tell you, my friend." he chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.  "Now, come on, let’s get you inside, you look cold." he said, worried about him being out in the cold for too long.

[talxvashoth-blog]

"You are... unusually concerned with my warmth." As usual, the Qunari found himself confused by Reilin's actions. Were human friends supposed to worry constantly about the body temperature of one another?

"... You look quite hot." He replied, cocking his head to one side as he watched he mage. Hopefully, expressing his own concern would be the right response. "I would not mind staying outside for a short while longer to allow you a chance to cool down."

[inqxisitxr-archive-deactivated2]

      “Dare I ask what ‘Vashedan' means?” the Inquisitor had heard what she took for a curse, inquiring upon it when she finally arrived to the cell.

  Carefully did the elf study him, frowning, noting the way he so anxiously paced. The circumstances upon which her soldiers caught him boggled her mind. Truthfully? She was not even sure how she should judge him. Perhaps if she tried to personally speak with him…

      “Qunari, my soldiers say you have not spoken much. I have questions…if I may? I was advised to judge you at the throne room, but I’ll admit to some curiosity as to why you allowed my soldiers to capture you without protest…”

[talxvashoth-blog]

"Refuse. Vashedan means refuse." The Qunari responded as he turned to face the elf. He hadn't heard her coming- either by that grace the elvhen had been graced with or due to his own troubled thoughts. To his credit, he recovered from his surprise rather swiftly and ceased wearing a groove into her floor.

So, he was to be plied with questions now, was he? The Qunari supposed she ad a right and a good reason to question him. He was, for all intents and purposes- at her peoples' mercy. Being rude to her would gain him nothing, even if her first question was an odd one.

"I believe I was unconscious when your men found me. Even a Qunari cannot mount a successful counter-attack on- presumably- armed men, despite what the stories might say."

[talxvashoth-blog]

It seemed that no matter what Aban did, he could not truly adapt to fighting with his right and solely blocking with his left. While he knew his way around a sword and shield about as well as he did a two-handed weapon, he just couldn't quite make it work.

And so, the Qunari improvized, forming a new sort of 'style' to overcome what he ad to work with. Aban selected his new sword carefully. It wasn't pretty and had very little edge to it, but the damned thing was thick and broad enough to turn away and withstand most blows.

It was the shield that became his true weapon. The one he selected was no more dainty than his shield, but it would serve a fine purpose as his 'sword'. The smith had modified it, reinforcing he breath of it where his arm would have been and creating additional straps so it would not slip off of his arm. Rather than rending his foes apart as he had done in ages past, Aban would crush them, shattering their bones under the edge of his shield.

In a way, the Qunari felt more complete than he had in a long time. The balance of his shield felt... right on his arm. All he truly felt it needed was a spike of some sort to really drive the point home.

[reilinwarad]

"Friend... I promised to inform you when I chose my name, yes?"

"Yes you did…" he paused before putting his book down, looking up at Captain with wide eyes and a gasp, "Did you pick one!?" he asked excitedly.

[reilinwarad]

"Then do that thing!" he said, giving him a light pat on his chest, over his heart as he’d done earlier, "But don’t be afraid to learn how to do something else, you can always learn to do something else, but if you feel like that’s where you need to go, then that’s where you need to go!" he hummed.

[talxvashoth-blog]

"I will keep your advice in mind." Aban was still learning, still trying to come to grips with this alien culture. So, when the human set a hand on his heart, he shifted slightly and attempted to replicate the gesture. But, before he could press his stump to Reilin's chest, he caught himself and lowered it.

"... wrong arm."