NORTHERN TOWER Anduin casts a hasty shield over both himself and the man he had been tending, throwing himself on top of him to shield him bodily as the latest projectile finds its mark in the fortress wall nearby, stone and blazing hot fire raining down on the ground around them. The tower rocks with the force of the blow, aftershocks shuddering through it even after the smoke begins to settle.
He raises his head, taking in the new damage. The newly injured.
"This section of the tower may not hold for much longer," he tells the man he had been tending. "Get yourself to safety."
The man does not need to be told twice. Pushing himself up to his feet, Anduin turns to hurry toward the blaze...
((ooc: are you injured in the fire? anduin can heal you (as completely or not as you desire)! or perhaps you are there to protect him or stop him from getting himself killed!))
THE WARDS: THINK OF THE CHILDREN Spending time in a place like this is familiar, in ways that makes Anduin not wish to consider too closely. He has lived through times of unrest in Stormwind and other such strongholds in the allied territories, but he has never had to hold strong during a siege. Never had to consider evacuation.
But that is not to say it has not been done. Once upon a time, and not so long ago in fact, the capital city of the Alliance did fall to the undead. Some who lived there did manage to escape to neighboring Stormwind, but many -- too many -- were not so lucky.
Anduin is one step ahead of many other healers in that he can heal with magic. The Light. But even the Light can only heal so much.
The child he has been tending to is not long for this world. He can sense it, as he tends to her small, emaciated form. She has been too ill for too long, too poor, and has gone too long without adequate nutrition. Even if he were to heal her, he knows it will likely only prolong her suffering. By the look in her mother's eyes, she understands this too. With two other mouths to feed...
Anduin offers a quiet prayer for their family, leaving them with what food and water he can before he excuses himself far enough from the little family that they cannot see him before he drops to his knees and puts his head in his hands.
THE WARDS: WATSON ON DUTY As he spends time in the Wards, Anduin picks up details here and there of the deaths of the men. Death is not uncommon here in this place, he has seen a fair amount of it in the short time he has spent here already. It is the manner of these deaths which stands out. They were not sick or severely injured like those Anduin has been tending to. The only thing that really seems to unite the men in fact is their sex and the mysterious circumstances of their death.
It is troubling, to say the least. Even more troubling is the fact that no one in leadership -- besides Haiva that is -- seems to make anything of it.
Anduin just managed to fall into some semblance of sleep after a full day of caring for those in the Wards, thankfully not being called upon to return to the Towers just yet, when he hears it. A woman's voice, in the distance. The sound is haunting, piercing, and melancholy, calling to him in a way that he cannot ignore.
Pushing himself to his feet, Anduin stumbles over a body sleeping nearby, barely managing a mumbled apology as he steps forward, into the dark...
THE CROSSING: HAGGLE GAGGLE Anduin knows that the 100 coins they received were supposed to pay for their own survival in this crumbling city. However... He is all too aware, after having spent time in the Wards that there are those who need these supplies even more.
It is a dangerous game. A person might be able to stand to give away the shirt off their back, as one might say, but if he gives his shirt and his shoes and his blanket and cloak and his week's rations, he will be in no better shape than them soon enough. He cannot help all of them, he knows this...
But he can at least see that he helps some.
"What are you asking for those?" he asks the merchant, gesturing to a bundle of dried fruit. "I'm... A magician. A healer. I can pay in trade. Anything you need."
It's clearly a dangerous question. The merchant's eyes gleam brightly as they take in the measure of him. Anduin swallows nervously but the memory of the hungry eyes of the children below has him standing his ground.
WILDCARD ((ooc: if you'd like to play something differently with me that doesn't fit any of the above prompts, toss me a comment here and we will work something out!))
Anduin Wrynn | Warcraft
Anduin casts a hasty shield over both himself and the man he had been tending, throwing himself on top of him to shield him bodily as the latest projectile finds its mark in the fortress wall nearby, stone and blazing hot fire raining down on the ground around them. The tower rocks with the force of the blow, aftershocks shuddering through it even after the smoke begins to settle.
He raises his head, taking in the new damage. The newly injured.
"This section of the tower may not hold for much longer," he tells the man he had been tending. "Get yourself to safety."
The man does not need to be told twice. Pushing himself up to his feet, Anduin turns to hurry toward the blaze...
((ooc: are you injured in the fire? anduin can heal you (as completely or not as you desire)! or perhaps you are there to protect him or stop him from getting himself killed!))
THE WARDS: THINK OF THE CHILDREN
Spending time in a place like this is familiar, in ways that makes Anduin not wish to consider too closely. He has lived through times of unrest in Stormwind and other such strongholds in the allied territories, but he has never had to hold strong during a siege. Never had to consider evacuation.
But that is not to say it has not been done. Once upon a time, and not so long ago in fact, the capital city of the Alliance did fall to the undead. Some who lived there did manage to escape to neighboring Stormwind, but many -- too many -- were not so lucky.
Anduin is one step ahead of many other healers in that he can heal with magic. The Light. But even the Light can only heal so much.
The child he has been tending to is not long for this world. He can sense it, as he tends to her small, emaciated form. She has been too ill for too long, too poor, and has gone too long without adequate nutrition. Even if he were to heal her, he knows it will likely only prolong her suffering. By the look in her mother's eyes, she understands this too. With two other mouths to feed...
Anduin offers a quiet prayer for their family, leaving them with what food and water he can before he excuses himself far enough from the little family that they cannot see him before he drops to his knees and puts his head in his hands.
THE WARDS: WATSON ON DUTY
As he spends time in the Wards, Anduin picks up details here and there of the deaths of the men. Death is not uncommon here in this place, he has seen a fair amount of it in the short time he has spent here already. It is the manner of these deaths which stands out. They were not sick or severely injured like those Anduin has been tending to. The only thing that really seems to unite the men in fact is their sex and the mysterious circumstances of their death.
It is troubling, to say the least. Even more troubling is the fact that no one in leadership -- besides Haiva that is -- seems to make anything of it.
Anduin just managed to fall into some semblance of sleep after a full day of caring for those in the Wards, thankfully not being called upon to return to the Towers just yet, when he hears it. A woman's voice, in the distance. The sound is haunting, piercing, and melancholy, calling to him in a way that he cannot ignore.
Pushing himself to his feet, Anduin stumbles over a body sleeping nearby, barely managing a mumbled apology as he steps forward, into the dark...
THE CROSSING: HAGGLE GAGGLE
Anduin knows that the 100 coins they received were supposed to pay for their own survival in this crumbling city. However... He is all too aware, after having spent time in the Wards that there are those who need these supplies even more.
It is a dangerous game. A person might be able to stand to give away the shirt off their back, as one might say, but if he gives his shirt and his shoes and his blanket and cloak and his week's rations, he will be in no better shape than them soon enough. He cannot help all of them, he knows this...
But he can at least see that he helps some.
"What are you asking for those?" he asks the merchant, gesturing to a bundle of dried fruit. "I'm... A magician. A healer. I can pay in trade. Anything you need."
It's clearly a dangerous question. The merchant's eyes gleam brightly as they take in the measure of him. Anduin swallows nervously but the memory of the hungry eyes of the children below has him standing his ground.
WILDCARD
((ooc: if you'd like to play something differently with me that doesn't fit any of the above prompts, toss me a comment here and we will work something out!))