(no subject)
Title: walk the world [and find it new]
Rating: pg
Original/Fandom: Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning/Dragon Age: Inquisition
Pairings (if any): n/a
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): n/a
Summary: you wake in a world with two moons
Notes: this started out NaNo-original and kinda segued into Fateless One getting thrown into Dragon Age: Inquisition but still somehow remains vague enough to simply have “appropriated elements” for my NaNo-original … so I don’t really know how to classify it. *headdesk*
[104|Thirteen]
A fortnight and a day, that’s how long you walk along the river’s shore. Flora, fauna. It’s strangely mimicked to what you know, but the beasts that attack are without cohesion, without intelligence beyond base reaction. You cull them with spell and blade and arrow; no thought, no strategy.
These encounters are easy, worth nothing really, not even time. Bears and wolves. Bears and wolves. It is so peaceful, so untouched by war’s hand, by migration, by soldiers, by bandits.
You wonder at the lack of variety. Not a single boggart or brownie or sprite. You wonder if this is a land without magic.
[105|Academic]
Human, male, and very dead. Cut flesh, deep, lines unbroken by rudimentary padding. Robes. Boots intact, birch staff broken, no traveler’s pack. Stolen or never there to start?
Blooded earth and broken grass, patchwork patterns of a fight. Three assailants. Heavy prints, heavy armor. Brittle brakes in a tree, ice shard thrown wide, no prints near point of impact. You checked.
Back to the body, young enough, fit. You go through his pockets, find nothing.
Still.
Toes angled, square heal, metal boots turned east. No wheels digging deep; on foot three alive, they walk in formation.
A trail to follow at last, if you dare.
Rating: pg
Original/Fandom: Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning/Dragon Age: Inquisition
Pairings (if any): n/a
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): n/a
Summary: you wake in a world with two moons
Notes: this started out NaNo-original and kinda segued into Fateless One getting thrown into Dragon Age: Inquisition but still somehow remains vague enough to simply have “appropriated elements” for my NaNo-original … so I don’t really know how to classify it. *headdesk*
[104|Thirteen]
A fortnight and a day, that’s how long you walk along the river’s shore. Flora, fauna. It’s strangely mimicked to what you know, but the beasts that attack are without cohesion, without intelligence beyond base reaction. You cull them with spell and blade and arrow; no thought, no strategy.
These encounters are easy, worth nothing really, not even time. Bears and wolves. Bears and wolves. It is so peaceful, so untouched by war’s hand, by migration, by soldiers, by bandits.
You wonder at the lack of variety. Not a single boggart or brownie or sprite. You wonder if this is a land without magic.
[105|Academic]
Human, male, and very dead. Cut flesh, deep, lines unbroken by rudimentary padding. Robes. Boots intact, birch staff broken, no traveler’s pack. Stolen or never there to start?
Blooded earth and broken grass, patchwork patterns of a fight. Three assailants. Heavy prints, heavy armor. Brittle brakes in a tree, ice shard thrown wide, no prints near point of impact. You checked.
Back to the body, young enough, fit. You go through his pockets, find nothing.
Still.
Toes angled, square heal, metal boots turned east. No wheels digging deep; on foot three alive, they walk in formation.
A trail to follow at last, if you dare.