action | open, choose your own adventure

[multiclasser]

a. the garden

Tamhas hates this place, if he's honest. He tries not to - making the best of bad situations and all that - but it feels wrong. The Dark Tower is so like Yggdrasil that sometimes, in the corner of his eye - because the Tower is always in the corner of your eye, he's found - he forgets it isn't the tree, thinks for a heartbeat that maybe he can find a way back. Not quite home, but the closest he has. But then he looks and it's a damn Tower, dark where the tree was all radiant, glorious light. And the fractured plate above is stifling. The sun, Tamhas' guiding beacon, feels so very far away even on bright days. A little like Svartalfheimr, but he supposes there is something to appreciate about this place in that.

It could be worse. It could be Svartalfheimr.

And it's not all bad, he supposes. The garden is nice, even if near all the plants are strange. He's always liked work like this, anyway. Steady, menial. It's comforting, soothing, quelling the itch in his hands. Sian would be delighted at all the strange new growing things to look at, even if there's wrongness here she'd hate, a thought which always makes him miss his sister keenly - Tamhas doesn't know a lot about all the various types there are here, and he's a farmer, not a herbalist, but it's enough. He tries to make it enough, anyway.

So, when he's not fighting monsters somewhere, he frequently comes here. Waters, plants, prunes, harvests - anything that's needing done, anything folk might need a hand with. And he takes solace in it, finds some measure of peace here, which is why he looks fleeting surprised when he almost walks into someone. He's usually more alert than that.

"Ah, sorry -" a fleeting smile, turning slightly wry as he inclines his head in greeting. "- you'd think a man would have learned to pay better attention by now, wouldn't you?" There's a cluster of blue banora white apples in his arms; after a moment, eyebrows raising, he holds one out in offering.

b. a street

A lot is strange and different and weird here, but some things are just as Tamhas remembers. Fighting is one of them. Most things here take to his sword as well as most things did back there, which Tamhas is remarkably grateful for. It's always good to do something. So, when he tumbles down from the plate to a street and finds he has company, he's not terribly perturbed.

He doesn't know what he's fighting. They're like the skeletal, feathered kin of Valravn, but different - of course they bloody are - but they come at him shrieking with claws like sickles and Tamhas responds in kind, falling easily into a dance he knows well. It's strange, fighting alone, not feeling the strength of his friends round about him, not having to dodge the spells Morven slings or consider tossing opponents back for Kenna or making openings for Halldis - but then Tamhas realises he's not fighting alone.

Friend or foe? He can't spare the time to figure that out, fending off blows and delivering his own as furiously as he is, but he resolves to hope for the former and deal with the latter after if necessary. He can't even tell if it's someone in the fight, or someone trying to escape it. Either way, he moves solidly between this new party and the creatures, light flashing along the length of his blade as he brings it down, cutting down one and scattering the rest, just for long enough that he can swiftly glance over at the new arrival. In battle, his face is stern, lips curled in a snarl, though that fades in a moment of genuine concern as speaks.

"You alright?"

And then he's turning back to face the next line of attacks, sweeping out in an arc with his sword to meet them.

c. the forest

Sometimes, it's easier to be a bear than a man. That's proven generally true in the woods around World's End. His senses are better for it, for a start, and the prevailing cold doesn't touch him, and there are things that would attack a man on sight that don't so much as look up at a passing bear.

(Sometimes, Tamhas attacks instead. Not today.)

And he's better at hunting as a bear than he is as a man, which he might consider a point of embarrassment, but he reasons that there are things he can do better than a bear. Hopefully. At the moment, he's up to the forelegs in river water, catching fish. But watchful eyes may notice that this bear, huge and golden furred, is perusing his catch with great, and perhaps unusual, scrutiny. Just as Tamhas is not a botanist, he's not a fishmonger, either, and the fish are as weird here as the plants, so every time he catches one it takes careful deliberation to decide if it's worth eating - or taking to someone who better enjoys and knows cooking - or if it might even be dangerous. So many things are dangerous, here.

The range he's caught today are definitely fish. He can tell that much, though there's one that's borderline, as far as he's concerned. Dubiously, he noses them further along the bank, and turns back to the water.

Comments

[multiclasser]

Just as long as I please? Tamhas thinks, but he keeps the words to himself, appreciating the sentiment even if he can't help but wonder. He nods his agreement, though something else sticks in his mind. Is Seamus unused to feeling like people give a damn? Maybe he's reading too much into things, running on his own experiences - though it shames him to think on that too long - but, all he can do is speculate. The thought is pushed aside for now.

"A Deadland?" He's unfamiliar with the term, but it's evocative. He hums thoughtfully, giving another little nod. "I ken not the name, but... 'Deadland' definitely sounds like a decent title for a place such as this." He glances over at the other, offering him a wan smile. "Funny how often stepping stones aren't really pleasant, isn't it?"

[freckledhuckster]

"A Deadland ain't pretty." He agrees softly, wrapping his arms loosely about himself, only to let them drop to his sides a moment later. "It's... a full blown nightmare landscape you don't ever wanna see. Heard tell about it before, but never been too close." He shuddered as he looked up at the other man. "Monsters n' varmints run rampant, rocks start to look like skulls, and people start to hear their name on the wind but... the dead who you remember fondly are the ones callin' to you."

Seamus looks out with large eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh at the thought of such a thing. "Ain't heard anyone whisperin' my name at least, or any skull rocks, so I figure it ain't a total hell on earth yet." His glance shifted up, sheepish. "Sorry. You're right though, but. We get through it! And the town's good. Helps a lot to have some sense of community.

[multiclasser]

"Doesn't sound pretty," Tamhas says, frowning, though he's quiet as Seamus describes it, that furrow in his brow deepening at the thought. The idea of hearing the lost dead... He suppresses a shudder, himself, even as some small part of him can't help but think it would be good, to hear his voice one more time. That only leaves him more disquieted by the notion, and he shifts uncomfortably, almost trying to shrug off the thought.

He hazards a smile, just a little wan. "No need to apologise. Better I hear about these things - means if I ever have the misfortune of seeing it I at least have some idea of what's going on, right? More than I usually have anyway."

[freckledhuckster]

"Right you are! Better armed we are with what we can get, the better of a chance we have of fightin' it or, worse to worse, gettin' folk to safety." He likes to pretend that he was always out for number one, but... that's never been true. He's always been a bleeding heart for others, and even now the idea of helping cheers him up a little through all this gloom.

"You're pretty smart, Tamhas." His eyes linger over the sword again. It looks heavy. How could someone, even with muscles on muscles like him, use it?

[multiclasser]

"Agreed," he says, lifting his hand and tipping it as though he's holding a beverage with which to drink to that. But at the compliment his eyebrows raise, a bewildered smile on his face. "Me? Gods, that's a new one." The words come with a disbelieving, but good-natured laugh. He winks. "Keep it to yourself, aye? Can't have folk expecting great things, or anything."

[freckledhuckster]

"The moment you let on that you're talented in somethin' is the moment you get swarmed for it. Don't do work for free, well... maybe a little work. If it helps folks, I suppose. But me? I get paid for my work." A thousand dollars to find a man and deliver a letter? Hell yes.

Granted it hasn't been working out that way and now he's here, putting all of that in jeopardy, but he bats it away like a fly as he looks up at the other, winking back with a delighted peal of laughter.