Backscene: Cold Rain Who: Aurin Demarc, Azabeth Kordura Where: Denerim When:Six months ago; Around Umbralis the previous year. Summary:A Templar is found out, a chase ensues, and truths are revealed in the back streets of Denerim. Rating:T
Templars were night cut out to be spies.
The night was rainy, the weather turning foul as the seasons turned to winter. Cold wind off the water made a chilly night even more chill, even though the rain wasn’t heavy it was still enough to soak though all but the best waterproof cloaks. The one that hung around the broad shoulders of Aurin, Templar in Disguise, was a far cry from the best. It was older and worn, well loved one might say. It went well with the armor of leather scales and small triangular metal scales he wore. The armor was well cared for, but it didn’t seem that he carried his usual great sword on his back. Instead he wore a pair of short handled axes on a belt around his waist. It was hard to tell just why he didn’t have his blade with him, as at the rate that he was moving he could have lost it somewhere along the way. He was running, at top speed down one of the many back streets of the city. He wasn’t very good at the whole moving in stealth as speed either. Boxes crashed behind him. Planked thumped as he pounded across wooden stairs. At one point, he was sure he stepped on a cat’s tail as the animal yowled a protest behind him.
The reason for this unsubtle charge across the poorer district of the city became clear quite soon. A pack of men were hot on his heels. Their armor was in worse condition, but the weapons in their hands were keen enough. They moved much more easily though the backstreets than Aurin’s impersonation of a charging bull. It wasn’t the best of situations, but if the Templar could get to the Chantry he would be fine he knew. There was quite a pack of them, and they didn’t seem to want to ask the man questions about the weather.
“Your sword is too obvious,” Aurin muttered to himself as he leapt up to pull himself onto a small platform to more easily cross one of the cluttered alleyways. “Don’t take it. Oh yes. We know where they are just go look. Oh no. They don’t have any lookouts.” he continued to grumble as he moved as quickly as he could across the wooden planks. “There can’t be more than two of them working for the apostate. Of course not.” A bottle crashed to the ground and sounds of pursuit closed on the man as he took a turn into an second back street. “This is the /last/ time I’m listening to a damn Chantry born, superior Maker-Be-Dammed brother of mine.”
He hoped he was going in the right direction, he didn’t know if this was still towards the merchant square or not. The back streets of the city were a maze at the best of times, and this was anything but the best. He knew he couldn’t stay and fight six on one. Even with his sword the odds would not be good, and so he ran. He had confirmed the existence of an apostate at least, and as long as he got back to the rest of his brothers they could take it from there. The back of his mind wondered though…why did they just send him out on his own to confirm this. If they had information /this/ specific then why didn’t they send a full squad. It almost felt like some one had set him up here to die. They couldn’t have done that, he might not be the best of Templars, but they were all Templars together.
Weren’t they?
There would be time enough to worry about that later, he thought as he dropped back down to the muddy ground. A dagger whistled by near his head and he cursed again and ducked before hurling himself down another dark street. If he didn’t find cover soon, well if he had been set up then they would get their wish. He wasn’t about to let that happen though, he would live. Just to spite whoever did this.