While heading to Hawke's house...

[unasked_for]

[After getting the call from Hawke, Fenris had scoured his house and garage for anything remotely like the sort of two-handed weapon he's used to using. Sadly, Mayfield has very little in the way of mauls, battleaxes, or bastard swords just lying around the place. What he did find was a shovel. This is hardly ideal, but it'll do in a pinch, and Fenris is definitely feeling the pinch right now. Especially since his entire household is full of drones.

So, shovel in hand, he's been making his way through the streets to Hawke's house, killing zombies as needed but largely trying to avoid them; he knows full well that it's not terribly prudent to take on the drone mobs alone, wielding a significantly inferior weapon to what he's used to. But avoidance only goes so far, and he eventually finds himself surrounded by the damned things, fending them off as best he's able - which is slow going with a shovel, as taking even one out with such a weapon is a slow process that leaves him open to attack.

He could definitely use some assistance.]

Comments

[lunawolves10th.livejournal.com]

I have oaths to keep, if you will survive then it is good enough for me. But do return the blade when you are done with it, that was a gift from a friend of mine.

[ He turns to go, drawing an enormous hand-weapon that is shaped like a box with a smaller box attached to it (his bolter) from his hip. ]

My name is Garviel Loken.

[ And with that, he steps out into the storm once more, bellowing a challenge so that he can draw more of the ghouls to him, slaying as he goes with focused brutality, but no relish in it. A craftsman, rather than an artist. ]

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

[No time for long-winded introductions, not when there are wandering zombies. He settles for simply--]

Loki, slayer of zombies and sometime salesman of cars. Now that I've given you my name, it'd be uncourteous of you to withhold yours.

[Maybe the name will ring a bell.]

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

Understood. [Garviel Loken. Fenris makes a mental note of it; he'll need the name to find the man after this is over in order to return the blade to him. Neither his name nor Loki's mean anything to him in particular, however; even if there is a mythological Loki in Fenris' own world, Danarius certainly never educated his slaves on the matter.

So, when he mentions his own name, he doesn't expect any reaction in return.] I owe you more than my name, I suppose. But I am called Fenris.

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

[Loki snaps his fingers.]

Fenris! That's it! Do you recall an instance a few months ago where we were given pictures and told to go out and kill one another?

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

[Fenris is taken somewhat by surprise by the fact that the man apparently knows him - or at least his name - and put further off guard by the reference to the assassinations they'd been ordered to carry out a month or two ago. His wary expression only becomes more closed off; it's not a time he particularly relishes thinking about, especially considering the things he'd done.]

...yes. Why?

sorry for the late! D:

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

You were my target. I didn't go after you, of course, but I couldn't help noticing your name. You see, I have a son named Fenris.

No problem, I was behind on answering tags until today anyway ;w;

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

Is that so? [Fenris cocks an eyebrow at this, but his mythological ignorance is definitely showing; he makes no connection between a Loki claiming to have fathered a Fenris. Instead, he simply glances at the man's ears.] Unless you are actually an elf, I can assure you I'm no son of yours. [He may have no memory of his real father, but he can at least be sure of that point. Elven children can only result from both parents being elves themselves.]

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

[He laughs lightly. An elf? Certainly not.]

No, no, there's no resemblance whatsoever. My son's a wolf, you see.

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

[Fenris gives Loki a long, steady look. With Mayfield being what it is, he honestly doesn't know if the man is telling the truth, joking, or making some sort of figurative statement. After a few moments, he smirks slightly.] So am I...in a sense.

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

[Interest! Is this another parallel between his world and someone else's?]

A wolf and an elf, eh? You've got my curiosity, but you're sadly short on time. If we're going to talk, let's do it on the road, yes?

[Loki looks around. Though Garviel led most of them off, there's the occasional zombie wandering around, and it's only a matter of time before they're spotted and have to fight all over again...]

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

[Fenris cocks an eyebrow, hefting his loaned sword.] Then you intend to accompany me? I need little assistance now that I'm properly armed. I have fought undead before.

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

[A shrug.]

I want to talk to you, but it's foolish to do it sitting here waiting to be attacked again.

But if you're really so adamant, I'll tell you what: you can fight off the zombies we meet. Feel better?

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

I would prefer that, yes. Properly armed, I should have little difficulty; I've fought undead before. [He's studying Loki, his manner not quite hostile but...guarded.] I don't make a habit of trusting magic. [The 'or mages' is not said, but implied.]

[putmeinstitches.livejournal.com]

[Loki sighs. This attitude is all too familiar. (Although not trusting Loki is a generally good idea.)]

One of those, are you? This isn't even magic, it's -- never mind, now's not the time for technical details.

But if you want to do the work, I won't complain.