Well. He was here. Back in Ferelden. Not in Denerim though. Really, he didn’t know why he was here specifically, like here here, near what could be a volcano. Which was really not a great place to be, because volcanoes exploded and went all boom while spewing out smoke hot enough to smother and incinerate people. But that wasn’t all. Oh, no, then came the belching lava which was molten hot rock or so he’d read somewhere… that he couldn’t remember where, but that wasn’t important.
No, the point he was trying to make to no one in particular inside of his own head was that this wasn’t the best place to be. But, wow, here he was. With folks tried not to make eye contact with. In front of what might be a big go boom volcano. He almost regretted picking up the damn flier, but he knew that… well, he had to be here. He’d been king once. Not that he really wanted to again, but he was still rather miffed about the whole being kidnapped and sold into slavery thing. So that was something on his agenda to Get Cleared Up as soon as he could.
Then?
Well, Alastair had no idea but he sure wasn’t going to go begging to be let back into Denerim or the Grey Wardens. He’d go live out in the Wilds or something, maybe track down that mean woman to pick a fight with her and tease her about gaining another wrinkle or two. If nothing else, Morrigan was always good for huffing and insulting him. It’d almost be like old times again.
Pulling down the hood of his floppy hat, he muttered something unintelligible and didn’t give out his name. He did wonder how long it’d be until someone recognized him though. His disguises apparently weren’t very good… except this time, he wasn’t trying to pretend he was something he wasn’t. He looked unkempt and scruffy because he was. And hand to Maker? He kind of liked it.
No, the point he was trying to make to no one in particular inside of his own head was that this wasn’t the best place to be. But, wow, here he was. With folks tried not to make eye contact with. In front of what might be a big go boom volcano. He almost regretted picking up the damn flier, but he knew that… well, he had to be here. He’d been king once. Not that he really wanted to again, but he was still rather miffed about the whole being kidnapped and sold into slavery thing. So that was something on his agenda to Get Cleared Up as soon as he could.
Then?
Well, Alastair had no idea but he sure wasn’t going to go begging to be let back into Denerim or the Grey Wardens. He’d go live out in the Wilds or something, maybe track down that mean woman to pick a fight with her and tease her about gaining another wrinkle or two. If nothing else, Morrigan was always good for huffing and insulting him. It’d almost be like old times again.
Pulling down the hood of his floppy hat, he muttered something unintelligible and didn’t give out his name. He did wonder how long it’d be until someone recognized him though. His disguises apparently weren’t very good… except this time, he wasn’t trying to pretend he was something he wasn’t. He looked unkempt and scruffy because he was. And hand to Maker? He kind of liked it.
TL;DR
- Alastair is here because... well, he's here.
- Found a flier, still wants to save Ferelden, damn it all.
- Sus about the possibility of a volcano.
- Giant explosions of fiery death? Still better than slavery though.
11-28-2023, 05:14 PM
