A raiding party. It had just been a simple raiding party. Aurin Demarc was glad for it, that it hadn’t been a full assault since he had been half asleep when the alarm was raised. He hadn’t been in bed though, occupied or otherwise. No he had been out walking, which was why he had been wearing simply his chainmail. He took his sword with him of course; he seldom went places without it. Especially places that might hold trouble. Ever since he had joined up with the Wardens, every place seemed to hold more than a bit of danger. He did like that though, he had to say. At least on this little trip it was very seldom boring.
On a whim he had found an abandoned house, a smaller one that he could clamber up quickly to the roof. It gave him a better view of things and he happened to like the higher places in town. He had stretched out on the rooftop, and let his mind wonder. The Templar had plenty to think about lately. When the attack came it had woken him from the spot he had chosen. Battle always helped to clear a head didn’t it? He had joined in of course, in defense of the innocents and the souls that had suddenly come under attack. The first indication of just who or what the attackers happened to be was the noisome smell of a Genlock as it crawled up onto the roof with a bow. Darkspawn, they always smelled foul. He waited quietly as the creature growled and snuffled its way down the incline of the roof with its ugly bow half drawn. The thing seemed to almost laugh as it drew back the string and aimed down the shaft towards one of the milling townspeople as they dashed towards the chantry.
The thing had just enough time to look surprise as it heard the jingling of armor behind it. It spun around in time for Aurin’s plated boot to catch it low in the ribs. The blow sent it flying off the edge of the roof with a panicked squeal. The creature crashed to the ground with a snapping of bone as Aurin stood and let a smirk slide across his face. He laughed then as he leapt from the roof to a balcony below him with a thump that jarred up though his boots. He dropped then from the balcony to the ground, his legs flexing to absorb the impact. He swept the massive sword from his back in a smooth and practiced motion.
Again a laugh escaped the Templar’s lips as he strode towards his first opponent, stepping over the motionless body of the genlock. He did not know how long he fought. It seemed quite some time, however it always seemed some time. It never was as long as it seemed, but it always felt like hours. He lost his blade somewhere in the small fray. This wasn’t really a surprise, he always seemed to lose that somewhere in any good fight. Well not in any good fight, in any serious fight. He had improvised as usual; Aurin was very good as improvising. A jagged Darkspawn axe was good enough a weapon to kill those creatures with. He had taken a slash to the arm, and a second to the ribs somewhere in the course of the battle. Not that it seemed to slow him down or he seemed to truly care about it.
Splattered with blood, but with a wide smirk on his face the Templar let his ‘barrowed’ axe on one shoulder as he caught the tail end of Savio’s speech. It was a good speech as far as speeches go. He shook his head slightly though as he glanced towards the door that Savio disappeared behind. One eyebrow is raised as he opened his mouth to reply…then the door shut again. Then it opened again. Then shut again. Finally Aurin just sighed and shook his head slightly before he slowly cast his blue eyes down towards Culture Hound. To punt it or not to punt it that is the question. He happened to be tired, bleeding, and in need of a better weapon. Culture Hound was safe.
For now.
Dropping the ugly axe to the ground next to the Darkspawn body the tall Templar glanced around the square before he turned towards the door that Savio disappeared into. “Better make it more than one bottle of wine. I think we’ll all need it.”
Now though, he had a little Templar and an Enchantress and a mage all to find in all of this mess. He was going to be busy.