Realist Self-Inserts

Remember how I said I’m not good at keeping prompts on track?  Yeahhhh.  The prompt, via @realistself-inserts, was “how do your real-world friends respond to your new ones?”  Apparently, I heard “your people come with you”, and things got very strange from there.  The people are real, the names are not.

Uhhh…rated “teen” for fairly Red-typical overuse of the word “fuck” and humor sufficiently dark that you might miss it in the shadows.

The last half hour had gone…well, about as poorly as anything in her entire life, which she thought was really saying something, overall.  She’d woken up behind bars with a pair of massive shackles on and proceeded to have a really spectacular panic attack of the fight-not-flight variety. She’s bloodied her knuckles and bruised her wrists compulsively trying to batter the shackles off against the stone floor, all while bellowing semi-coherently for someone to “get it OFF”.

Things had gone from ‘fucking terrible’ to ‘complete shitshow’ when the dark-haired woman in armor—whose braid wrapped around her head like Red’s mother’s, as if to confirm that this was some truly spectacularly vivid cleithrophobic dream—had come in and started shouting at her.  The woman was clearly used to being heard and obeyed, but Red had never voluntarily obeyed anyone in her life, and she wasn’t about to start with her wrists bound and probably enough adrenaline on tap to lift a car.  She honestly didn’t remember what either of them had said, but if she’d had to guess, her lines (at top volume) had gone something like this:

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but this is going on national television.  Get these off me right the fuck now.  I don’t know what you’ve done to me or why and I…where are my children?  Where are my children you show me my children this fucking second I will eat you.”  

What do the other characters say about you when you’re not around? Yeah. That thing that we all think about in the shower and when we find out all our friends are hanging out without us. Face it directly. What would your A.U. companions actually say about you when you’re out of earshot? I bet it’s not all bad! Yeah, maybe you do annoy them in some ways, maybe your jokes aren’t as funny as you think. but maybe you’ve helped someone in ways they don’t know how to thank you for. Maybe your friendship means more to them than they’re used to, and they don’t know how to respond to that.

“Any thoughts on our fearless leader?”

Cassandra “The. Inquisitor. Is… Well-intentioned… trying at times but… well-intentioned… and stubborn… and socially clumsy. And loud, and childish and scatterbrained and-

Vivienne Oh I think our Inquisitor fits her role perfectly! She presents a relatable face, she assures the people… and most importantly, she knows her wheelhouse. She’s an excellent figurehead who knows enough to let the Captain steer the ship.   

Sera She knows who really runs things, yeah? Not afraid of us little people because she’s still kinda one of us. Not just because she’s all *waves a flat hand around her shoulder, which is about as tall as Lurx stands* I mean, she is, obviously. but you kinda forget about it when she talks to you, you kinda forget you’re little too. It doesn’t matter how big your breeches are, they all smell like arse by the end of the day. She knows that. And she still remembers how to have a giggle every once in a once! The other day, huhuheuehe, we had a bet goin’: whichever of us could sneak the most flowers onto droopy ears without him catching wise got a free pint outta the other one. She got more on ‘im but blew our cover when she tried to sneak one behind ‘is ear and he had it out with her about personal space and shite. So we just bought each other a pint and called it a day… hehehehe he didn’ notice his arse daisies till the next day Dorian I’ve never known someone who demonstrates the phrase ‘diarrhea of the mouth’ so aptly as Lurx. I don’t think she has ever once had a thought that did not immediately drop directly out of her mouth. The good news is those thoughts are rarely cruel… though they are often appallingly vulgar. I’ve definitely known worse people to acquire immense power. And I am reasonably certain that she will not use her position to oppress the masses or bathe in virgin blood to keep her face young. I know that doesn’t sound like a very high bar, but given the powerful people I’ve met, this makes her quite the exception. I know plenty of powerful people, and Lurx is nothing like any of them. Believe me when I say that is the highest compliment I can pay her. Call me a fool if you like, you wouldn’t be the first. but if simple, bull-headed insistence on altruism is so volatile that it threatens something as grand as the Inquisition… then I’d rather go down knowing that I fought for the right side, even if it wasn’t the winning side in the end. Cullen As a leader, who never asked to be one and seems to have less than zero training for the position, she’s about as competent as one might expect. But she’s open to learning, and she’s doing her best. I guess that’s really all any of us are doing… She seems determined to do as much good for the world as possible while she has the chance, though, and that’s admirable, at least. As a person, I can’t really say… whenever I come around, she flees as though I were some kind of ogre. I worry Varric has told her some kind of story about me that has her frightened… But from what I hear from others, she sounds like a decent enough person. If a little grating at times. I suppose I’ll get back to you once I actually get more than a passing conversation out of her.

What do the other characters say about you when you’re not around? Yeah. That thing that we all think about in the shower and when we find out all our friends are hanging out without us. Face it directly. What would your A.U. companions actually say about you when you’re out of earshot? I bet it’s not all bad! Yeah, maybe you do annoy them in some ways, maybe your jokes aren’t as funny as you think. but maybe you’ve helped someone in ways they don’t know how to thank you for. Maybe your friendship means more to them than they’re used to, and they don’t know how to respond to that.

“Any thoughts on our fearless leader?”

Cassandra “The. Inquisitor. Is… Well-intentioned… trying at times but… well-intentioned… and stubborn... and socially clumsy. And loud, and childish and scatterbrained and-

So I had a bit too much fun with my ridiculous “realistic self-insert” Red As Inquisitor vignettes on @thetaiwanesedartjob‘s inspired writing prompt the other day, and I thought I’d see if I could dig out a few more.  These are also all ridiculous because fundamentally I am a ridiculous person.  I actually tried to write some serious ones but next thing you know I’m trying to decide if I’m from a parallel universe and if so how does my more-advanced scientific and technological knowledge play into the story and I just sucked the joy right out.

Lurx, I’m callin’ you out.  You started this business, and yours were hilarious.  I’d love to see more.

“Scratch my head, Varric.”

“What?”

“Scratch my head.  I’m freaking out, so you scratch my head.  Pleaaaase?  It’s like dogs…you know, like they have the Stupid Spot and if you scratch them there they just bliss out and wiggle their leg or whatever.   You knowww.  Scratch my head and then I can think.”

Varric sighed and raised blunt fingers tentatively to the vivid red floof of her hair, scritching experimentally.  Red angled her head around, chasing his fingers.  

“Higher.”

“This is weird, you know that, right?”

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

——————————————

The Herald and Cassandra had sussed out an agreement that shaved at least an hour off their morning: If the Herald did not rouse herself within ten minutes of the first good-morning tent-rattling then Cassandra had full authorization to dismantle the tent around the Herald until she felt inclined to move.

The mornings where Cassandra had to pull the bottom canvas out from under the sleeping Herald were slowly becoming less and less common.

————————-

“You’re driving us all crazy with that!” he snapped.

“MEHHHHH!!!” she replied, releasing a flurry of slaps from flailing forearms.

…

“Someone’s got to stop those thugs from beating up that beggar!” Rhodes cried, looking around for someone, anyone- Anyone but herself.

…

“Why does Rhodes always disappear into the woods every morning when we camp?” asked the mage over breakfast.

“She secretly shaves her armpits out there,” the paladin grunted, rolling his eyes.

“For forty five minutes?” asked the mage incredulously.

…

“Rhodes, can you skin these hares for dinner?” asked the rogue, dropping the carcasses at her feet. Rhodes recoiled in disgust.

“Aw, man! But there’s like, blood and stuff. Ewwww! Can’t the mage do it?”

…

Rhodes parried the guard’s blows hit for hit before coming over the top with an overhand punch that sent him staggering.

“Oh my god, sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole. Are you okay? Do you need ice? I can go ask the mage…” she fussed frantically, hovering over her opponent. The guard used the opportunity to get in a swift shovel punch to the body, dropping her like a sack of potatoes.

…

“What are we going to do? The fate of the seven continents rest on our shoulders alone. We’re in over our heads, guys, for real,” whined Rhodes, plucking her eyebrow hairs out with her fingers.

“You’re not going to have any eyebrows left if you keep doing that!” shouted the paladin, leaping from his seat to wrench Rhodes’s hands away from her face. 

“It just might be because she’s never seen a demon before, much less a whole horde of them spewing out of a hole in the sky,” Varric responded, rolling his eyes behind Solas’ back.

Cassandra huffed as she glared at the prisoner.   Between this, and the blubbering in the jail cell, she was less and less convinced the woman was the villainous, mastermind, behind the attack at the temple.

Without a word she heaved the woman over her shoulder and trudged back down the mountain path. ***

Space screwed up her face into a scowl, waving her hands vigorously back and forth, as her face turned red.

Varric looked at her in concern, “Master?”

“Yes!  Bbattle-mmaster,” she said the word as though she had to wrestle it out of her mouth, hands slashing through the air in a motion of finalization. Her face returned to its normal color, but she still scowled in frustration.

“I’m sure Harrit could whip you up whatever kind of armor you want.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to bother him,” Space said, shaking her head, a furrow between her brows.

Varric raised his eyebrows, “You know, it is his job to smith things.  Like armor.”

“I know, but I’m sure he has better things to do.  The soldiers need things more than I do.”

Varric snorted and shook his head.  

“Madam de Fer,” he called over the sound of the horses, “The Inquisitor needs you.” ***

“You must put far more power into your attacks my dear.  It is a wonder you haven’t perished in any of our forays.”

Space flushed and bit her bottom lip, eyes downcast.

“I’ve never liked fighting.  Before I came here I’d never killed anyone.  I prefer reading b-books.”

With no other warning tears flooded her eyes and her throat siezed up as she burst into loud, ugly, sobs.

“Now, now, darling,” Vivienne pulled a silken handkerchief out of her robes. Space covered her face with it, appreciating the lavender scent even as she soiled it with her tears and snot.  Vivienne guided her to an out of the way alcove and they sat down on a bench.

“People generally prefer a good book over the reality of bloodshed,” she sighed as she patted Space on the back a bit absently, but kindly all the same. “Such needless loss and mess.  A nuisance at the best of times.  However, Inquisitor, we are here at the worst of times.”

She tipped the Inquisitor’s face upward with a gentle finger.  Space avoided her eyes, instead staring at the glowing skin of the woman’s shapely cheekbones.  Inwardly she quaked and fiercely choked down the rest of her tears. 

Vivienne was strong, poised, and beautiful.  Space wanted to do better for her and the rest of her friends more than she did the rest of the world.

“For better or worst, you have been chosen.  You do not have to fight for power, you have it.  In the palm of your hand, the magic in your veins, and the hearts of the people.  Now you must use it well.”

“Come,” she stood in one graceful moment and Space wobbled to her feet as well.

“You may be one of a kind Inquisitor, but you are not alone.” ***

“My dear,” Dorian drawled.

Space jumped visibly in her chair and his grin turned gleeful.

“Tell me, why are you hiding in this dark, corner, biting your poor finger while pretending to read a book.”

She blushed and dropped the book and her hands onto her lap.

Biting her lip, she tried to stop from grinning but failed spectacularly.  She leaned in toward Dorian.

“Sera flirted with me,” she said in a secretive voice, eyes crinkling with her smile.

“Oh?  And this is cause for mutilation, why?”  Dorian leaned against a bookshelf, looking half irritated, and half fond.

“Never mind that,” she waved her hand at him absently, “I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

She  tilted her head back and sighed dreamily, “She’s so beautiful.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “Right.  So you’re hiding because she flirted with you?”

“Yes!  I mean, I flirted back, because I’m not completely hopeless, but after awhile I got scared.”

Space sighed again, this time in frustration, her hand at her brow to cover her eyes.  She hated when people tried to look her in the eye while she was opening up to them.  It was a dangerous venture, she knew, to trust people, and she could only take it so far.  Eyes are the window to the soul as they say, and she liked to keep hers to herself.

“I like how she sees me as a person first.  But I’m afraid that once she gets to know me better, she’ll see how messed up I am and run off.”

“If Sera believes anyone to be too messed up, then she is quite the hypocrite.”

Space glared at him, “That is my potential girlfriend you’re talking about.”

“Yes, yes, anyway.  You are not ‘messed up,’” he curled his fingers into quotation marks.

“You are simply a complex person, just as all the best people are.”

He stood up straight and practically preened.  

“Hmph, I guess us gay people with issues need to stick together.” ***

“You have to eat something, Squirmy,” Sera growled, arms crossed over her chest.  

A plate of eggs, berries, and toast covered with maple syrup was set in front of Space and she had to shove back the urge to vomit.

“No, I can’t eat that,” she grunted, staring at the food as if it had personally attacked her.

“Its your favorite breakfast.”

“I know,” Space said, voicing her frustration.  She felt guilty and horrible for being such a bother, but she couldn’t think of a single thing she could eat without her mouth and stomach rebelling.

“Not even plain toast?”  

Space’s stomach lurched, “No.”

“Why not??”

“I don’t know.  It’s just not… good.  Today.”

“How about some pie,” Sera grinned wickedly.  "I know how much you like pie.“

Space blushed all the way to the roots of her hair.  The dining hall was full of people and she felt like all eyes and ears were on her.

"As much as I like pie, I don’t want to taste anything right now.  Tasting is gross.”

“Pff… thanks a lot.”

“You know I didn’t mean your…you,” Space glanced around and swore she saw Blackwall’s lips trembling with repressed laughter.

She was half mortified and half wickedly amused.  A smile broke out on her face.

“Sit with me,” she patted the spot beside her on the bench.

Sera plopped down with a huff.

Space leaned in, her lips brushing Sera’s ear.

“We can save your pie for later.  And maybe after I enjoy it, we can make some cookies.”

The archer grinned, “Only if you promise to eat as many as your belly can hold.”

“Promise,” she said, leaning forward to kiss Sera’s cheek.

The elf shifted her head so that Space kissed her on the lips.  They both laughed, eyes bright with mischief. ***

“So, whatcha up to, Boss.”

The Iron Bull took up the entire doorway and nearly scared Space out of her wits.  She choked on the strawberry tart she’d been busy shoving into her mouth.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Boss,” Iron Bull chuckled as he sat beside her at the kitchen table.

Space glared at him.  Of course it would be the Ben Hassrath who would find her bingeing on sweets.  She could just imagine his latest report to his superiors.  'The Inquisitor shoves food down her gullet when upset.  It is disgusting and abnormal.’

“What are you doing here,” she said harshly, her throat still stinging from all her coughing.

Iron Bull stood and got her a cup of water, Space drank it gratefully, unable to meet his eyes for even a moment.

“I came in to make some hot chocolate.  Cabot gets pissy when he’s asked to do anything other than pull a draught of mead.”

Space shoved the pan of tarts away and stood to retreat to her room in shame.  Bull was puttering around the kitchen as he prepared his drink.

“Don’t worry about it Boss,” he said as he dumped some chocolate powder and sugar into a mug.

“Everyone has their ways of coping.  Yours is pretty tame compared to others.  Can’t really imagine you starting fights or getting piss drunk.  Its the same thing though.  Doing something that makes you feel better about all the shit in the world.”

“And then feeling like a gross, idiot, afterwards?” she asked, still facing away from him, looking longingly at the long hallway that promised her escape.

Iron Bull shrugged, “Some of them, yeah.  Depends on what’s considered socially acceptable.  I’m not one to judge though.”

He sat back down, his huge hands dwarfing the regular sized mug.  "See you tomorrow then, Boss.“

"Good night,” she responded softly, before finally allowing herself to flee.  She didn’t feel as ashamed as she usually did.  Despite her distrust of the known spy, he had a way of making her feel better. ***

“I really hate when people lie to me, Blackwall,” Space’s hand twitched for her staff.  Not because she was tempted to cast at him, but because she was tempted to smack him with it until her anger was spent.

Blackwall had seen the Inquisitor angry before.  When that mayor ran for the hills, when Templars had burned those mages alive, the whole time she was in Orlais.  

But he’d never seen her furious.  She was trembling, her jaw was clenched, knuckles white as she clamped her hands into fists.  

“Not only did you slaughter innocent people, run away from the consequences, and take someone elses identity, you invoked the Grey Wardens and got me into a huge mess.”

“And then,” with those words her voice raised to an almost yell, “You ran away, again, without a word, and I had to spend my resources to track you down and save your pitiful life.”

Blackwall was silent during her tirade, head hung low as he grasped onto the prison bars like a lifeline.

“Only for a time,” he said hoarsely.  "You should have let me die.“

"I am not going to let you rot in a cell or swing from a rope when you could still be useful,” Space sneered.

“You may have been too busy plotting your death to notice, but at Halamshiral I managed to beat those ridiculous nobles, and a spymaster at their own game.  Orlais is mine now and you shall be set free.”

“I don’t deserve-”

“You deserve to live with the consequences of your actions for the rest of your life.  You deserve to have those children’s screams echo in your ears as you lie on your deathbed years from now,” she hissed, leaning forward till her face was inches from his own.

“I will make a final judgement at Skyhold.  Be prepared.”

With that she stalked from the prison, back stiff and head held high.  Blackwall shivered and shuffled to the corner of his cell.  Her words were daggers to his already tattered heart.  But he knew he deserved those as well.

Losing the treasured friendship of the Inquisitor was the last straw, he sank to the filthy stones of the cell and cried.  

‘Hmmm ….’  said a reverberating voice in her ear; the voice of the Sorting Hat. ‘What have we here?’

Kasumi opened her mouth to whisper to it, but the Hat must have read her thoughts first.

‘There isn’t nothing in this head of yours, as much you might believe yourself to be an airhead, girl.’ it said. ‘For instance …. Aha! Intelligent, but with a lazy streak. Brave in heart, but your voice and self-esteem leave much to be desired. Loyal to your friends, but with a notoriety for not replying to messages. Clever to twist words to your advantage, but lacking the foresight to do so. Hm. This …. You are a difficult person to sort indeed.’

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, wringing her hands in her lap. “Ohmygodohmygodohmyfuckinggod—”

‘Be silent, girl. I cannot focus while you are spouting such—’

“I can’t help it if I’m mediocre at everything!” she cried, lashing blindly out with an arm and catching Professor McGonagall across the stomach.

And that was how ten points were deducted from Hufflepuff before the term had even started.

Kasumi stared down at the broom by her feet, eyes narrowed in dubious suspicion. The broom looked ancient, worn down handle with several twigs at the end broken or missing entirely. It didn’t look like it could even sweep the floor any more, let alone fly.

Raising her above it like Madam Hooch had instructed, she took in a deep breath and her and the class waited for Madam Hooch’s signal. At her call, Kasumi meeped out a barely audible “Up.”

The broom did not budge.

She bit her lip. “Up!”

The broom remained a broom on the floor. Keeping her head down, she gave her classmates sidelong glances and realised with a growing pit of despair that some were actually getting their brooms to roll

Desperation seizing her, she hissed, “Up, for fuck’s sake!” 

Apparently brooms didn’t like being sworn at, as it bolted upright, bypassing her hand and smacking her on the nose with its faded wooden handle.

Lord of the Rings

“I want to see the elves!”

“My Lady, I regret to inform you that the Golden Wood and Rivendell lie much too far away for travel—”

“But Mirkwood’s practically next door!”

“Horrible things dwell in that cursed forest—”

“But elves!”

“—like giant spiders—”

“Fuck the elves, ain’t nobody got time for that shit.”

Inheritance

So you can hear every thing I think of? Holy shit, that’s both awesome and awesomely bad.

Yes, replied the dragon’s voice in her head. You have no need to fear, I have been privy to your thoughts since the day I hatched and you became my Rider. There is nothing more you can think of that would make me think less of you.

Really? Kasumi asked, biting her lip as her traitorous brain strayed.

… Though I do recommend exercising a modicum of self-control, Kasumi.

Skyrim

“Fus!”

Faendal snapped his head in her direction, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare.”

Kasumi merely grinned at him, before opening her mouth to utter a louder. “Ro!”

Faendal dove behind a tree with a curse.

“DAH!”

With a great clatter of metal, wood, shattering china, and the snapping of fabric, the collection of objects were thrown into the air and off the cliff, plummeting to the ground down below.

“Why do you always have to do that?!” hissed Faendal, popping his frowning face out from behind the tree. “You could have gotten me killed—for the twelfth time this week! One of these days, you’re going to end up hurting somebody.”

Miles below, an adventurer shrieked out in pain as a fork fell from the sky and lodged itself into his knee.

Dragon Age

“OHMYGOD LOOK, DRAGON!”

“Nice find, Boss!” said Bull, smile wide as he looked up, shielding his eyes to better see the colossal reptile flying overhead. 

“Oh yes, because a roaring, thundering dragon is amazingly difficult to spot,” said Cassandra, her tone making her eye-roll known without having to look.

“I think it’s gonna land!” squealed Kasumi as the dragon dipped down lower to the ground. “Can we go get a closer look?”

“Hell yeah!” crowed Bull, punching the air at the same time Cassandra replied with, “Absolutely not.”

Pausing, they both turned to exchange looks; Cassandra’s face screwed up in irritation, Bull’s in smug satisfaction.

“Come now, Seeker. A little bit of dragon-hunting never did anyone any harm.”

“Course not,” piped Varric as he shook his head. “Its not like anyone ever gotten their head bitten off of their flesh burned from their bones after paying a friendly visit to a dragon.”

“We’re not going to hunt it,” said Kasumi, her scowl colouring her tone. “I just want to see it up close.”

Groaning into her hand, Cassandra’s posture collapsed into a slouch. “Maker have mercy.”

Mass Effect

“So cool!”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Joker sighed. Maybe introducing the two hadn’t been the best idea.

“But wait! Watch this—”

“DAYUM. How did you do that?!”

If the entire Normandy crew were to get kicked out of the casino yet again, Shepard would have his ass shipped back to Earth faster than Grunt finding something new to smash his head through.

“Goto, AFK God, we really should be heading back—”

“No way,” they both said in unison.

“Besides,” said the woman in a hooded black catsuit, looking up from her handiwork. “Since when have you called any of us by our last names?”

“Because calling you by your first names would just be confusing—”

“Gee, that’s cold, Joker.” said the girl in a light grey hoodie, mock-scowling at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“Guys, look, if Shepard finds out that we got in trouble for being caught rigging the quasar machines again—”

“Won’t,” they both said, looking down at the machine’s exposed wiring once more.

“Won’t what?” Joker hissed, glancing around for any prying eyes.

“We won’t get caught.”

“Or Shepard won’t find out, take your pick.”

Joker spun back around. “What do you me—”

Only to find the two gone, the machine’s motherboard still out in the open.

“HEY, you there, mister!” called a guard, his face stern as he stalked over.

“You’re driving us all crazy with that!” he snapped.

“MEHHHHH!!!” she replied, releasing a flurry of slaps from flailing forearms.

…

“Someone’s got to stop those thugs from beating up that beggar!” Rhodes cried, looking around for someone, anyone- Anyone but herself.

…

“Why does Rhodes always disappear into the woods every morning when we camp?” asked the mage over breakfast.

“She secretly shaves her armpits out there,” the paladin grunted, rolling his eyes.

“For forty five minutes?” asked the mage incredulously.

…

“Rhodes, can you skin these hares for dinner?” asked the rogue, dropping the carcasses at her feet. Rhodes recoiled in disgust.

“Aw, man! But there’s like, blood and stuff. Ewwww! Can’t the mage do it?”

…

Rhodes parried the guard’s blows hit for hit before coming over the top with an overhand punch that sent him staggering.

“Oh my god, sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole. Are you okay? Do you need ice? I can go ask the mage…” she fussed frantically, hovering over her opponent. The guard used the opportunity to get in a swift shovel punch to the body, dropping her like a sack of potatoes.

…

“What are we going to do? The fate of the seven continents rest on our shoulders alone. We’re in over our heads, guys, for real,” whined Rhodes, plucking her eyebrow hairs out with her fingers.

“You’re not going to have any eyebrows left if you keep doing that!” shouted the paladin, leaping from his seat to wrench Rhodes’s hands away from her face. 

“You’re driving us all crazy with that!” he snapped.

“MEHHHHH!!!” she replied, releasing a flurry of slaps from flailing forearms.

…

“Someone’s got to stop those thugs from beating up that beggar!” Rhodes cried, looking around for someone, anyone- Anyone but herself.

…

“Why does Rhodes always disappear into the woods every morning when we camp?” asked the mage over breakfast.

“She secretly shaves her armpits out there,” the paladin grunted, rolling his eyes.

“For forty five minutes?” asked the mage incredulously.

…

“Rhodes, can you skin these hares for dinner?” asked the rogue, dropping the carcasses at her feet. Rhodes recoiled in disgust.

“Aw, man! But there’s like, blood and stuff. Ewwww! Can’t the mage do it?”

…

Rhodes parried the guard’s blows hit for hit before coming over the top with an overhand punch that sent him staggering.

“Oh my god, sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole. Are you okay? Do you need ice? I can go ask the mage…” she fussed frantically, hovering over her opponent. The guard used the opportunity to get in a swift shovel punch to the body, dropping her like a sack of potatoes.

…

“What are we going to do? The fate of the seven continents rest on our shoulders alone. We’re in over our heads, guys, for real,” whined Rhodes, plucking her eyebrow hairs out with her fingers.

“You’re not going to have any eyebrows left if you keep doing that!” shouted the paladin, leaping from his seat to wrench Rhodes’s hands away from her face. 

Anyway, here’s some blurbs from the adventures of Kris the Grey Warden!

“You’re driving us all crazy with that!” he snapped.

“MEHHHHH!!!” she replied, releasing a flurry of slaps from flailing forearms.

…

“Someone’s got to stop those thugs from beating up that beggar!” Rhodes cried, looking around for someone, anyone- Anyone but herself.

…

“Why does Rhodes always disappear into the woods every morning when we camp?” asked the mage over breakfast.

“She secretly shaves her armpits out there,” the paladin grunted, rolling his eyes.

“For forty five minutes?” asked the mage incredulously.

…

“Rhodes, can you skin these hares for dinner?” asked the rogue, dropping the carcasses at her feet. Rhodes recoiled in disgust.

“Aw, man! But there’s like, blood and stuff. Ewwww! Can’t the mage do it?”

…

Rhodes parried the guard’s blows hit for hit before coming over the top with an overhand punch that sent him staggering.

“Oh my god, sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole. Are you okay? Do you need ice? I can go ask the mage…” she fussed frantically, hovering over her opponent. The guard used the opportunity to get in a swift shovel punch to the body, dropping her like a sack of potatoes.

…

“What are we going to do? The fate of the seven continents rest on our shoulders alone. We’re in over our heads, guys, for real,” whined Rhodes, plucking her eyebrow hairs out with her fingers.

“You’re not going to have any eyebrows left if you keep doing that!” shouted the paladin, leaping from his seat to wrench Rhodes’s hands away from her face.