Cristiano Murdoch

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About Cristiano Murdoch

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    Northern Hunter

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  1. The grin spread across the Templars face, and a shudder ran through his body, he grasped her hand by the wrist and a darker light hit his eyes. There was something not altogether right about Cristiano in his head, and any head doctor would say that his former mentor had not only taken his hatred of Mages and forged it into something new but twisted any feelings he might have had in romance department. He grinned wider, warmth spreading across his body with the alochol "Is that all you got Poodle?" He trusted Ava with his life so why not trust her with this. He ran a hand down her neck "I thought you 'lesians played hardball" He was pushing her and he knew it, but that was all part of the game right?
  2. He snorted and managed to get to his feet, the room span a little but soon settled down, although when he took a step in front of her he was a little unsteady on his feet. He opened his shirt and took it off, spreading his arms a little to show a perfectly honed, perfectly muscled body. Every inch of his body muscles defined from years of training. Scars at various points on his body showed his wars, and for one his age, he had many of them. Although the scars on his back were now more obvious as to where they came from. Feeling cheeky and probably more than a tad bit drunk, he did a complete 360 showing off his physique "Like whatcha see Lightweight Poodle?" He was going to suffer for that comment but right now he was in a happy state and he really didn't care.
  3. Cris held his hand up for a moment, and carried on chugging his whisky stopping when he had drained every last drop. He set the empty bottle down and sniffed a bit, letting the spirits fire warm him. His head span for a moment but settled down, although he didn't want to try standing. Still it was good to get one over on Ava. Rare as it was. "Fucking lightweight" he teased although his voice was a little slurred. The Lyrium might hold off the worst of the effects when it was fresh in his body but it was still affecting him. He looked at the whip and picked it up, his barriers lowered for now. "I don't know you could take my trousers off or you could use this, i leave it entirely up to you" The grin that spread across his face was mixture of slight inebriation and slight tease. "Gotta let the lightweight have some control right?"
  4. Cris arched an eyebrow, the first part of that deal sounded fair, the second? fuck he knew how many chores she had and how dirty her armour could get, that, that did not sound fair at all but, never one to back down from a challenge, he accepted. "It has to go straight down, no breaks and if you choke or splutter, you are forefiet, deal?" He grinned a little, course if he did this then it might be a moot point anyone cause alcohol and dicks never worked well together. Still he was semi confident he would win and this would be ... interesting. Very very interesting. "On three" He put the bottle to his lips and began to glug.
  5. He drained his bottle and picked up a whisky bottle, opened it and swallowed a generous measure of it. What would she get out of it? it wasn't an altogether abhorrent idea, but they were partners, warriors who strove to keep the normal folk of Thedas safe in their beds, from the ravages of foul magic. He shrugged and looked at her, with a deadpan voice said, "Well the Dog Lord could show the Orlesian Poodle how to do it doggy style" Was it the drink or the Lyrium talking he didn't know, he trusted her with this part of his private life, why not trust her with more. If Ava ever enquired enough she would discover that Cristiano's private life would make some chantry sisters and brothers blush in embarrassment, he had no time for the softly softly approach of sex or any other sort of game. he was a man who liked his playmates to be rough. The rougher the better as far as he was concerned. He wouldn't draw Ava into that however, he was happy to tease her. Until his body had calmed down enough. He arched an eyebrow a crude man, but an honest man, and besides he always thought he might be out of Ava's league and Bryant might be more in her league.
  6. Cris took her teasing with the good nature it was but that didn't solve his immediate problem. He couldn't exactly stand up right now and he didn't actually fancy wanking himself in front of his friend. She had him backed into a corner, literally, so he had to find a way out. Waiting until she had the bottle to her lips again. He reached out and ran his finger the length off her neck then kissed it before sitting back and picking his bottle up. The smirk on his face. This might help, teasing her as much as she teased him, lets see how hard it got now.
  7. Cris snorted a little, he cared little about his homeland, as much as Orlais, but she had a point. His mage loving king and a fucking grey warden to boot was to blame for the war, them and the Divine too. So no he didn't care about things like that. "you're right" he glanced at her and swallowed a large amount of his drink "The bastard King, the Grey Wardens who take mages without question. The Fucking Divine who wants to give them fucking rights, the only good mage is a dead mage, so sure, lets head across to my homeland because other than Tevinter they always seem to find safe haven in Fereldan" He lent towards her "Or does hanging with a dog lord, going into the lands that smell like Wet Dogs offend your Orleasian sensibilities" He was teasing now he took what she threw and he could throw it back, twice as hard "Besides the only cleansing i want t do to them is at the end of my sword, its all they will ever know, but um there's something else i need to take care off so unless you have a voyeur instinct in you i need to find a woman to fuck, side effect and the lyrium i took before you came back, sort of need to calm down a little. Any suggestions?"
  8. Cris looked at her and nodded, He didn't really care what anyone else said, as long as she was ok with it. Getting up he grabbed a couple of bottles and after ripping the tops from them he handed her one. The fact that one of the side effects of this left him with urges, he chose to keep to himself. Ava didn't need to know that. She was his friend and there were somethings that he would keep to himself. For now. "Whisky and Brandy" he told her, "figured they would be strong enough. So what's next? please tell me i can execute a couple of Orlesian fops" Cris really did not like the Orleasian nobility, whether that was an inherent dislike because he was a Dog Lord, or the way they treated everyone around them like they owed them something wasn't clear. Ava would know he just hated the nobility, he was good with Ava though, she was a Templar, one of them and he adored her.
  9. His eyes set on her and he nodded "I am fine," he crossed to where a bottle of ale sat and he downed half the bottle. "It will never interfere in the work we do, that i swear to you" He sat on his bedroll and motioned for her to sit down. "I would not ask such a personal thing of you Ava, not that i do not trust you, i do, but i haven't let anyone else do this since Susanna died." There was an underlying implication that he did not voice. Sometimes this led onto other things. There was a fine line between pleasure and pain and for years he had atoned when he had to and then nature had taken over. It had certainly coloured his view on dealings with the heart that was for certain. "Seeing those kids, the future, i just..well you what i did" he shrugged a little "So now you know my own cleansing. I am sorry if it seems weird to you but we all have our ways of coping, thats mine" He was pretty certain that he would not need to do this for a while. He had no idea in any rational sense that his mentor and former lover had been so lyrium addled and deep scars from what she had seen, that it had been a form of control over her squad.
  10. Cris scowled, this was his thing, how dare she? then he heard the rare soft tone and his anger dissipated. He got up and ignoring the fact he was naked stood before her arching an eyebrow before reaching for his uniform trousers. "When we met i was standing over my mentors body" he told her "You remember? everything i had done then had been for Susanna, my mentor, my friend and my lover" He pulled his breeches on and eased himself onto the floor "It was my fault she and the others had died, i was supposed to be watching thier backs but those freaks had come out of nowhere. So i atoned for my mistake when i was alone." He picked the small cat up and looked at it "Susanna started it, every time we all failed in our duty as Swords, her company and her Swords, the rightfully appointed Templars of the Maker. Our souls needed to be cleansed of thier touch, our faith had wavered and needed to be reaffirmed. This was how to do it." He set it down "The Maker is an unforgiving god, he neither speaks to us nor coddle us, he expects and we do as he expects. That is what those of us that were in Susanna's company were taught" He shrugged "I haven't felt the need to cleanse my soul like that for months, that abomination defiled and murdered a chantry mother, the children, sisters and brother Templars, daughters of the Maker, I had to affirm my faith and my devotion," he raised his eyes to hers "I can explain it no other way"
  11. Ava's voice made him jump, so lost in what he saw as his Penance, he hadn't even heard her come up and cursed himself for his laxity. When she stood before him he knew that look on her face, when she wanted answers she was like a Mabari with a bone. He had spent months hiding this from everyone, considering it a private and personal penance between him and the maker, and there was no way he was going to get out of here without Ava getting her answers. The other side of that was she was near his clothes so he couldn't even cover his dignity, not that he had much left now. "Years" he told her, "Since the war started, and after. Its not all the time Ava, just when i have not been fast enough to stop the deaths of the innocent. It is my penance to the Maker and his bride for letting those abominations kill" he said with a snarl to his voice. Lyrium effected Templars differently and in Cris mind, for every mage bastard that was free and not in the circle or the grave, it was his duty to make sure they returned to either. If innocents were harmed that was on him, his fellow Knights could deal with this how they felt fit, this was how he dealt with it, he had since the day his mentor died and his belief that this was the way to cleanse himself was set in his mind. "It is how i cleanse my soul"
  12. Cris set up the tents and going into his took his armour off, setting it to one side he would tend to his armours needs and blessings later. They had got to the abominations, but in his mind, had not got there fast enough. He reached into his backpack and removed a small cat o nine from the back. Innocents, children and sisters of the maker, Brother and Sister Templars had been slain because the magical freaks were one step ahead. Probably aided by the damn nobility who sympathised with them, or elements within the Chantry itself. He removed the last items of his clothing and took a deep breath. He needed to cleanse himself of his shame. The first lash on his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, he had done this time and time again, every time he had failed in his duty to the Maker, right now, he felt he had failed. Another further down, every time he pictured one of the dead the lash got harder. This was nothing to do with Piety, this was cleansing himself of the guilt. Each time he whipped himself he vowed to do better. He vowed to ensure that the Maker would see in him a steadfast loyal son. He hit himself again feeling the blood trickle down his back and let a sigh go from his lips and rested the whip beside him.
  13. "Though all i see before me is shadow" Cris cut one of the abominations down as he made his way to the demon "Forever shall the Maker be my guiding light" He said it loud enough as a mantra to steel his heart. He reached the Desire demon, there was nothing this foul creature could offer him, nothing whatsoever. They had tried before, it was not the first time he had faced one, and it wouldn't be the last. "The Maker and Blessed Bride forever by my side" he growled as he brought his sword up to block her strike "Their hands on my heart to send you back to the hell that spawned you and yours creature" He took its head off with a single powerful stroke, glancing at the mothers limp and very abused body he cursed himself for not being fast enough. That would have to be addressed, but later, not now. He turned to face the next batch, the scriptures flowing from his lips like poetry, the Maker did not intervene, he never did, but he could give his warriors strength in his name, and in his name and the blessed brides name he would fight.
  14. Cris moved his hand to the entrance and closed his eyes, magic abound in here, blood around the entrance, With a grunt he dispelled the barrier, his lyrium blessed powers making short work of it. Moving through what he saw sickened him. A Chantry mother...a mother! Held up naked, her arms outstretched the fear on her face evident as the Demon of desire made its sickening touches over her chaste body. On the floor the bodies of the rest of the entourage and mages...half a dozen or so, abominations, all. With a roar he drove his sword into the ground, letting his nullifying powers come to the fore. Ava could have her pick of what she wanted but their magic needed to be killed first..oh he was going to enjoy this, he was going to make it slow and painful and he focused on the desire demon, but not before the naked horned creature snapped the Mothers neck and laughed. "A Templar...come my handsome man....come see what i offer" He snarled under his breath, these creatures had no idea what they were about to face, no idea at all, not one but two of the finest truest Templars in this maker forsaken hole. "I want nothing from you but your death!" he snarled and brought the wrath of the maker to bear.
  15. Cris patted his horses neck as she whinnied and made to step back "Easy girl, easy" he cooed and dismounted, best leave them here. He hefted his shield and drew his sword, mirroring his partner and his closest friend. The hairs on his arm prickled as he felt the waves of latent magic and something else, something ugly, he picked his way through, his Templar powers reaching out like feelers. That was when he saw the first body. A young Templar knight, female, maybe 19 or 20, barely past their training. Then another older Templar, a Knight Lieutenant by the looks, necks twisted at unnatural angles. He gripped the hilt of his sword and swore under his breath although his voice trailed when he found the Chantry Sisters and the children. Orphans judging by the clothes they wore, the sigil of an Orphanage in Val Chevain. "Ava" he called, his voice choked. He was too late to save them but through him and his friend they would be avenged.