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.