[ Taking a cue from the other Warden, Robyn moves through the water to the shore to gather up some of her own pieces of armor. Not much of it can be washed here outright, lest it rust over completely, but she takes a delicate hand in scrubbing off some of the stubborn bits, resting against one of the half-submerged boulders as she does so. ]
Oh, absolutely. And it either scares them off outright, or causes such a deep-seated rage than they feel the need to try and kill us to make it end. [ She leans toward him to whisper conspiratorially, brows lifting. ] I think the archdemon actually started all this for normal darkspawn reasons, but then heard tell of our awful smell and vowed that it and its hordes had to defeat us on basis of stench alone.
There is absolutely no world where we smell worse than darkspawn.
[He insists this, of course. But the idea of a blight really being that simple is a fun one, so he won't argue more than that. A bit of lighthearted banter is best when on the road like this, otherwise the Warden would be trapped with much darker thoughts.
Alistair isn't worried too much about rust, it's a warm enough day that anything he scrubs won't take too long to dry, especially if it's toweled of first. The blood itself is likely to pose more of a rust threat than cleaning it would, anyhow. Who knows? He's no scientist... clearly. He starts with his chestplate, where more of the spatter had ended up.]
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Oh, absolutely. And it either scares them off outright, or causes such a deep-seated rage than they feel the need to try and kill us to make it end. [ She leans toward him to whisper conspiratorially, brows lifting. ] I think the archdemon actually started all this for normal darkspawn reasons, but then heard tell of our awful smell and vowed that it and its hordes had to defeat us on basis of stench alone.
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There is absolutely no world where we smell worse than darkspawn.
[He insists this, of course. But the idea of a blight really being that simple is a fun one, so he won't argue more than that. A bit of lighthearted banter is best when on the road like this, otherwise the Warden would be trapped with much darker thoughts.
Alistair isn't worried too much about rust, it's a warm enough day that anything he scrubs won't take too long to dry, especially if it's toweled of first. The blood itself is likely to pose more of a rust threat than cleaning it would, anyhow. Who knows? He's no scientist... clearly. He starts with his chestplate, where more of the spatter had ended up.]