Roland Deschain (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ka_sera_sera) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-05-28 10:50 am
ka_sera_sera) wrote in thearena2014-05-28 10:50 am
Entry tags:
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Who| Roland Deschain & Commander Shepard & Thane Krios, Roland Deschain & anyone
What| walking, death and spider fighting (not in that order)
Where| an abandoned building, the lake, the amusement park
When| week two
Warnings/Notes| death
A.
During the day, during that heat, seems the best time to stop and rest. Any fighting - though he's not seen much - is probably best done in the cold, not during the day when he'll be sweaty and slow. The building's chosen deliberately, not in such good shape that others might have chosen it, but not so bad that it'll rot under him.
The choice was a careful one but, as he finds out shortly, not careful enough.
Before he's taken more than a few steps inside, before he's even had time to shut the door behind him, there's a glimpse of color high up amid the ruins of what was once a second floor. That shifting color is his only warning because the movement is fast, something huge and quick dropping right on top of him. Reflex takes over and he throws himself back, hitting the wall beside the doorway hard enough that it rattles. That same reflex has also got him dropping a hand to his hip, but of course - no gun there. Not now, probably never again. "Damn it," Roland spits, a little louder than he probably should have.
There's that height and those legs, and Roland's first look at it has him thinking of another enemy fought long before the gamemakers brought him here, and he can't help the wide-eyed look that slips over his face, the shiver of confused memory. The thing's colors are different, though, and it's taller. Much taller. Until it brings itself low, red things squirming inside that wide mouth, and makes a noise he can only be called a hiss. Between his own noise and that hiss anyone passing probably knows there's something happening in this house, knows there's someone inside who's distracted enough to take advantage of. No time to worry about that. Roland grips the screwdriver in his left hand, the only hand whole enough to still have a reliable grip, gets his feet under him, and waits for it to get close. Probably won't have to wait long.
B.
A while later, rested and having avoided becoming a meal for any mutie spiders, Roland makes his way along the edges of the lake. His eyes dart toward it now and again, keeping a wary eye on the huge swaths of darkness shifting under the water. He'd risked the wrath of those shapes to drink a little of that water not long ago and he hunches his shoulders now, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. More cold than usual, suddenly, but that may be because there's not too much cover here, nothing to break the wind. He'd be more cautious, but he's got to keep the big metal shapes in the distance in his view. The tallest of them, from what he can tell, looks like a giant wheel, and if he can get atop that Roland may be able to make some progress finding Cuthbert.
But that'll be no use until this fog clears a little, so for now he just walks, shouldering the windbreaker tied like a purse over one of his shoulders and trying to stay alert. Little harder than it should be. Maybe he should have slept a while longer.
What| walking, death and spider fighting (not in that order)
Where| an abandoned building, the lake, the amusement park
When| week two
Warnings/Notes| death
A.
During the day, during that heat, seems the best time to stop and rest. Any fighting - though he's not seen much - is probably best done in the cold, not during the day when he'll be sweaty and slow. The building's chosen deliberately, not in such good shape that others might have chosen it, but not so bad that it'll rot under him.
The choice was a careful one but, as he finds out shortly, not careful enough.
Before he's taken more than a few steps inside, before he's even had time to shut the door behind him, there's a glimpse of color high up amid the ruins of what was once a second floor. That shifting color is his only warning because the movement is fast, something huge and quick dropping right on top of him. Reflex takes over and he throws himself back, hitting the wall beside the doorway hard enough that it rattles. That same reflex has also got him dropping a hand to his hip, but of course - no gun there. Not now, probably never again. "Damn it," Roland spits, a little louder than he probably should have.
There's that height and those legs, and Roland's first look at it has him thinking of another enemy fought long before the gamemakers brought him here, and he can't help the wide-eyed look that slips over his face, the shiver of confused memory. The thing's colors are different, though, and it's taller. Much taller. Until it brings itself low, red things squirming inside that wide mouth, and makes a noise he can only be called a hiss. Between his own noise and that hiss anyone passing probably knows there's something happening in this house, knows there's someone inside who's distracted enough to take advantage of. No time to worry about that. Roland grips the screwdriver in his left hand, the only hand whole enough to still have a reliable grip, gets his feet under him, and waits for it to get close. Probably won't have to wait long.
B.
A while later, rested and having avoided becoming a meal for any mutie spiders, Roland makes his way along the edges of the lake. His eyes dart toward it now and again, keeping a wary eye on the huge swaths of darkness shifting under the water. He'd risked the wrath of those shapes to drink a little of that water not long ago and he hunches his shoulders now, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. More cold than usual, suddenly, but that may be because there's not too much cover here, nothing to break the wind. He'd be more cautious, but he's got to keep the big metal shapes in the distance in his view. The tallest of them, from what he can tell, looks like a giant wheel, and if he can get atop that Roland may be able to make some progress finding Cuthbert.
But that'll be no use until this fog clears a little, so for now he just walks, shouldering the windbreaker tied like a purse over one of his shoulders and trying to stay alert. Little harder than it should be. Maybe he should have slept a while longer.
A.
She moves carefully to the house, emboldened by the gifts she'd received, a crowbar and a swiss army knife. The former is from her stylist, the latter from an anonymous sponsor -- she's not sure who she impressed that much but she'd thank them when she got out of this. It had really helped in working on fashioning a bow and arrows like Roland had shown her. The one she'd made wasn't so powerful but it shot more or less straight and it did give her distance.
Hopefully the second one she and Ellie are working on will be better. They'd taken wood from the edges of the orchard for them.
As she rounds the house there's a thump and a loud hiss. Instantly Clementine drops low, moving quick and quiet to the broken window to peer inside.
It's Roland! Roland and -- and a spider, a really... really big spider. Not something she'd seen yet. A moment of heart palpitating terror washes over her as she watches, tempted to simply flee back where she'd come but Roland... Roland had been good to her, Roland had helped her.
He was armed with nothing but a screwdriver.
Clementine made her decision and ran for the front door, finding it open and pulling an arrow to set it to the bow in her hand. It's just a sharpened piece of wood but that doesn't mean it can't do some damage. She doesn't call out, that would distract Roland and alert the monster, too risky. Instead she takes aim and looses the arrow past Roland as close as she dares into its swollen body.
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He tries to make it toward the door, but its moment of distraction is over and it darts to intercept. Moving in the opposite direction to avoid that mouth takes Roland further into the corner, which seems too convenient for the thing not to be deliberate.
He'll worry more later about the fact that he's been outthought by something that's barely even got a brain.
"Keep near the door," Roland warns her, not taking his eyes from its face. His voice is very quiet, even, almost soothing. He's taking the risk that it'll react as little to that low, steady sound as it is to his stillness now, and for the moment, he seems to be right. "I'm going to try to grab my hammer too, but if it thinks you're the easier target it may go for you instead. I don't know if it'll chase you out there, but I think it'd rather remain in the dark."
Slowly, he grabs at his hammer. Slowly, he hefts the screwdriver. Then, in one sudden movement he jumps, driving it toward one of the thing's eyes. He's not sure whether he got it because the thing's started to move - and, as Roland found out earlier, when it decides to move it does it fast.
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Thank God, and it actually seemed to do some damage, not enough though. "I--" Clementine manages a nod, thinking that silence is her best option unless it's absolutely necessary to talk. She quickly makes a mental tally, four more arrows sticking out of the backpack she'd found, the crowbar stuffed in her hoodie and the swiss army knife in her pocket.
She unzips the hoodie enough to let Roland see that she has the crowbar and she'll throw it to him if he indicates that he wants it, otherwise she knocks another arrow and stays stood in the doorway (glancing backwards briefly to make sure nothing was sneaking up from behind) and waits to fire again.
Clementine looses the arrow as Roland strikes, she really can't miss at this distance, not with the spiders girth. The arrow hits close by the first, confusing the monster with attacks from both sides.
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"There's a can in there," he says, grabbing the windbreaker-turned-makeshift-purse off his shoulder and slinging it toward her. "Got a picture of a bug. Use it!" It tries to turn, following the movement of his throw. "Ey! This way!" he shouts at it, and hooks the claws of the hammer around one of its legs. It hisses and darts toward Roland again and again he jumps back, holding the screwdriver out toward it. He hasn't got much in the bag, so with luck what he's thinking of will be easy for her to identify. With luck, he'll be able to keep either of them from being eaten until she does.
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God, she hopes this works.
She darts forward -- because this really doesn't have much of a range -- and pulls her crowbar out into her other hand. No time to be scared, just act and presses her finger down on the release, the hiss of the spray matches the sounds of the spider and she thinks confuses it before the poison hits. It must burn on contact, possibly as the spray hits the wounds where the arrows are sticking out, because the spider lets out the most horrendous sound she's ever heard.
Clementine hits with her crow bar at one of its legs with all the strength she can muster, teeth gritted so hard her jaw hurts.
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Saliva that burns. Makes a sort of sense for a predator like that, if he thinks about it. He doesn't much care to.
He grips the screwdriver, begins to move forward - and the thing starts to teeter a little. "I think it is working," Roland says, stepping back past the doorway. "If that doesn't kill it shortly I'll try to step in while it's still distracted. But I don't think I'll have to."
With that, he looks down at her, taking his first careful look over her self-made weapon. "Fair work with those arrows," he says, sounding pleased. "I see they fly true."
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The compliment gets a residual acknowledgement of a nod and hard swallow, an afterthought to wanting to make sure Roland is in fact alright and not likely to die anytime soon.
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Oh.
Between her own background and the circumstances of this place, Roland realizes he's started to think of her as he would have one of the boys taking the Training of his youth. But she's no gunslinger apprentice, is she? Still a child, for all this.
"I'm fine. Sit. Take slow breaths. I'll take care of this. While I do, take stock of yourself. Make sure you weren't injured anywhere."
If she does sit, she might only hear what happens next; another hiss, but a weak one. A tearing noise. A thump, followed by several wet thuds. When Roland walks back out, the bottoms of his shoes are spattered with purplish blood. "Now," he says, hunkering to get closer to her eye level. "How are you feeling?"
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She won't sit but she does lean back against the wall, feeling safer with a solid surface at her back ensuring nothing will sneak up from behind. Her lips purse as Roland walks away and she hears him deliver the finishing blow to the spider. Hopefully neither of them will have to deal with one of those again.
Clem looks at the blood on his shoes for a moment before lifting her eyes to his face, "I'm okay. I've never saw anything like that before, that's all."
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She has some of her own but it's back with Joel and the others, she makes a vow to herself not to leave it again.
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Without waiting for her answer, he moves on, calmly retying the windbreaker as he continues. "It's good to hear you found someone to travel with. Do you know them well?" He really ought to remind her to travel in pairs, if she's got someone willing to watch her back, but one rebuke's enough for the time being.
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"I'm getting to. One of them offered to ally with me before the arena started. A man with two other girls, almost as young as me. They're nice."
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"I'd like to meet them sometime," he says, turning to put his back to the wall behind Clementine and sitting against it. "Outside the arena, if possible. But in the mean time, maybe you could teach them something about those arrows." He crosses his arms over his knees and smiles at her. "It looks like you remembered what I told you. Maybe well enough to teach someone else."
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Calming down she lets the compliment about the bow sink in this time, smiling to him in return. "Joel and Ellie know how to use a bow but not how to make one. We're working on making a second one." she takes it and shows him more closely. It's a rough make to be sure but not bad for what materials they could find, and it shoots more or less straight as she just proved. "It should be better."
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He's inspecting the bow as he talks, and turns the topic back to it. "Well judged on the size. Keep in mind that if the man you're traveling with needs one, it should probably be much bigger if he's going to get the most out of it."
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She'd met Cuthbert once, briefly, in Roland's company and she knows they're close. Back home she'd had the similar urge to pass by safe company to find Christa who she still wonders for, if circumstances had allowed it she probably would have but instead she came here.
"Thank you. I'll remember."
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He stands, pulls his makeshift-purse higher on his shoulder, and raises a hand. "Take care to travel in pairs from now on, aye?" Then he turns and walks away toward a different, and hopefully emptier, house. And later, to his death, though he doesn't know it. Probably should have taken his own advice.
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She'll watch him go, watch him walk away and hope that he finds Cuthbert swiftly and that maybe after that they'll meet again and that time he'll stay. Turning away when he's far gone she hurries back to her own group, destined for disappointment.