leaderless [ INTRO // OPEN ]
who ; magebind and anyone who wanders by
what ; Ketojan's intro to the station.
where ; Zone 01
when ; Now :|b
warning(s) ; Can't think of any!
notes ; Action or prose is fine by me!
Through the small metal grills that served as the eye holes of his mask Ketojan could see just enough of his surroundings to be confused. His arrival had been sudden and sharp, the pile of refuse that broke his fall hard and unforgiving, and a woman's voice, calm and clear, had guided him from the rubble on to... To what? Skeletal things of metal and light and material he had no name for, reaching for him to place more blinking, noisy metal on his arm? They, and the device they had tried to put on him, seemed animated by unfamiliar magic. Ketojan had reflexively charred them, much to the dismay of the voice. Shortly after, when he had not answered, or even moved to acknowledge her further, she had left.
He stood there for some time, sluggishly turning over the situation in his mind, ignoring the fresh edge of fatigue that came from his sudden outburst of magic. Thinking was not his strong suit-it was better left to those whose role it was to lead-but alone as he was he had little choice but to think for himself once more. The woman's voice was gone, as were the constructs of metal and light. Perhaps she had been some sort of demon, sent to lure him away? There was no indication that this was the Fade, or any related realm, but the thought still made him rumble uncomfortably. Without Hawke to guide him, a saarebas would not be safe-regardless of where he was now, Ketojan was familiar with the attitudes towards unfettered mages, and had no wish to be dragged aside for questioning. It would inconvenience Hawke if the Champion was forced to go reclaim his saarebas from some Templar's inquisition (or worse).
Ketojan began to walk in no particular direction, simply seeking out some sort of landmark-a familiar sound, or smell, even a more familiar texture to the path beneath him-that would either lead him to safety. If he could not find Hawke, then he would guide himself back to the cellar and await his return, safe from prying eyes. If this was the work of demons he would ignore their lies, slay them, and return to his karataam. Satisfied with this course of action, at least until someone showed up to tell him otherwise, he was almost content to wander the unfamiliar streets.
what ; Ketojan's intro to the station.
where ; Zone 01
when ; Now :|b
warning(s) ; Can't think of any!
notes ; Action or prose is fine by me!
Through the small metal grills that served as the eye holes of his mask Ketojan could see just enough of his surroundings to be confused. His arrival had been sudden and sharp, the pile of refuse that broke his fall hard and unforgiving, and a woman's voice, calm and clear, had guided him from the rubble on to... To what? Skeletal things of metal and light and material he had no name for, reaching for him to place more blinking, noisy metal on his arm? They, and the device they had tried to put on him, seemed animated by unfamiliar magic. Ketojan had reflexively charred them, much to the dismay of the voice. Shortly after, when he had not answered, or even moved to acknowledge her further, she had left.
He stood there for some time, sluggishly turning over the situation in his mind, ignoring the fresh edge of fatigue that came from his sudden outburst of magic. Thinking was not his strong suit-it was better left to those whose role it was to lead-but alone as he was he had little choice but to think for himself once more. The woman's voice was gone, as were the constructs of metal and light. Perhaps she had been some sort of demon, sent to lure him away? There was no indication that this was the Fade, or any related realm, but the thought still made him rumble uncomfortably. Without Hawke to guide him, a saarebas would not be safe-regardless of where he was now, Ketojan was familiar with the attitudes towards unfettered mages, and had no wish to be dragged aside for questioning. It would inconvenience Hawke if the Champion was forced to go reclaim his saarebas from some Templar's inquisition (or worse).
Ketojan began to walk in no particular direction, simply seeking out some sort of landmark-a familiar sound, or smell, even a more familiar texture to the path beneath him-that would either lead him to safety. If he could not find Hawke, then he would guide himself back to the cellar and await his return, safe from prying eyes. If this was the work of demons he would ignore their lies, slay them, and return to his karataam. Satisfied with this course of action, at least until someone showed up to tell him otherwise, he was almost content to wander the unfamiliar streets.