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Oct 20, 2019 4:22 PM
Dragon Age Ari lands in vampireworld
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"And we're gonna have a coven when we're big and me and Ari will mate and make ultimate babies! It'll be great!"

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Flemeth nods seriously. "I'm sure you will. Arilal comes from excellent stock." He rises just before the cauldron over the fire begins to boil, his chair scraping over Ari's protests at his phrasing, and pours four mugs of elfroot tea. (It smells kind of marshmallowy.)

Ari sips his tea mutinously.

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"So, what's a Vashoth?"

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Flemeth pulls a tome from a nearby bookshelf and opens it to an illustration labeled QUNARI. It shows a powerfully built grey humanoid, a head and a half taller than the human provided for scale, with broad, swept-back horns. He’s shown baring his teeth and brandishing a massive battleaxe.

“Not the most culturally sensitive portrayal,” Flemeth notes, “but you get the idea. The Kossith were a race of horned giants, who later chose to call themselves Qunari, the People of the Qun, or the Word. This Qun defines the Qunari; the races who do not follow it are called ‘bas’, less than animals. Some Qunari, dissatisfied with the demands of the Qun, fled their homeland to forge a new life for themselves, usually as mercenaries, because, well, look at them. These are called ‘Vashoth’, the grey ones. If you call a Qunari a Vashoth, he will kill you. If you call a Vashoth a Qunari, he will kill you. If you call either Kossith, they will both kill you. This has been a history lesson.” 

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"Qunari, Quanari," Tabby sing songs at Ari.

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Ari rolls his eyes. “I’m not Vashoth anymore, I’m a vampire. Wasn’t Vashoth before either, really, I was a Witch of the Wilds, but I’m especially not now.”

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"You do still smell a little funny."

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Ari sticks his tongue out. 

“That’s undignified,” Flemeth chides. “But he’s right; he’s not Tal-Vashoth, a ‘true grey one’, because he was raised outside of their society, loose as it is. There’s no reason for him to have any particular emotional valence attached to either term, beyond you being a pest about it.”

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Ari considers her. "You know, if you want a fight you can just ask."

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"I always wanna fight."

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“Let’s fight, then!”

”Not in the house,” Flemeth says firmly. “Take it to the sparring ring.”

The training ring turns out to be a rocky hilltop near the hut, clear of trees and grass, with several large scorchmarks in the dirt. Flemeth puts them at opposite sides of it. 

“You may establish ground rules before fighting if you like,” he says, “or you may simply begin tearing each other to pieces like wild animals. I don't actually care."

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Tabby goes for the latter, roaring!

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Ari is not exactly surprised by this. He sidesteps her charge and tests her defenses with a kick to the ribs. 

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Fiend! The vampiric strength knocks her back, but she decides to go for the one weak spot shared by all male vampires...

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It’s a solid hit, which, given the force of the attack and the intent of the attacker, means that a very important piece of Ari’s anatomy is ripped off and sent flying. Flemeth winces slightly; he may be two thousand years old and an arcane abomination, but some reflexes don't go away.

It hurts, of course. Possibly more than anything that’s ever happened in Ari's life. But pain is a very bad way to put Ari down. It is a good way to send him into a blood rage, though. Blood and worse running down his legs, he leaps onto Tabby and bites into her forearm with bone-crunching force, worrying it back and forth like a Mabari hound.

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Skin and muscle tears away, while Tabby tries to bite off some fingers.

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Fingers aren’t important. What is important is destroying his enemy. 

Flemeth turns to Zeke. “How much damage can she actually take? Because Arilal is going to go for the throat eventually.”

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"A lot. Long as her head stays on and her heart's alright really."

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“Hmm. I’ll put a lifeward on her anyway, he does have a tendency to get carried away.”

He gestures, and nothing visibly happens, but a tinge of strain enters his expression. 

Meanwhile, Ari has switched from trying to rip off Tabby’s arm to trying to get her in a clinch and crush her ribcage. This is kind of fun! Would be better if he were still capable of conscious thought, and probably even better if he hadn't just had his dick torn off, but under the circumstances.

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Tabby grunts as a few of her ribs pop. "I concede."

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Ari is not at home right now.

Flemeth is, though. He waves his hands and Ari is lifted off of his opponent, still snarling and clawing at the air. After a few seconds of rage-floating, he slumps forward as the fury drains from his system. He twitches slightly as he falls to the ground.

"Ow," he says flatly.

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"You fight good!"

Tabby's body is visibly healing, wounds closing, her ear reforming like some kind of fleshy mold.

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"You didn't have to go for my stuff like that," Ari complains as said stuff continues to regrow. "Could've had a nice, normal fight, maybe broken a couple of bones."

"Perhaps next time you should wear pants," Flemeth suggests innocently.

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"Quit complaining, she's done it to me twice!"

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