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Fandom Agents of the Inquisition (A Dragon Age RP)

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graytful

graytful

criminal mischeif
Inquisition_Icon.png
:: For the Inquisition ::
​
When the sky is torn open by a hail storm of demons amidst a catastrophic civil war, the people of Southern Thedas are given a choice; act or die. But looking for leadership in the chaos proved a difficult task. The chantry, shaken by the sudden murder of their Divine and destabilized by the mage-templar war, crumbled under the pressure. But, in their wake, tales of a new power have begun to rise. In the far reaches of Ferelden, nestled into the Frostback Mountains, the Inquisition is born. The rumors of its purpose rage across the continent. A blasphemous challenger, preying on the chantry's weak disposition. A band of schemers seeking to take advantage of a world in tatters. A cult worshiping the murderer of the divine and the cause of the tear in the sky. Or... the only ones willing to try holding up a world that is falling down around them. And one thing is clear. They cannot act alone.

An Inquisition has been declared. Will you answer its call... to save the world?



  • You have heard news and rumors of a new, growing organization working to respond to the end of the world. You have decided, by whatever motivation, to confirm these tales for yourself. Upon arriving in Haven after a strenuous pilgrimage, you discover something that grounds you in your motivations; the facts. While the full picture is still blurry, what is perfectly clear is the massive glowing hole in the heavens, and the humble operation scrambling at its feet to stop the bleeding. You are met with piercing mountain snow, the sound of clashing blades, and a strong sense of uncertainty and deep convictions. You are interrogated about your business in Haven, and, upon declaring that you wish to be of service, you are assessed for your talents. You are given a tent to sleep in, meager rations, and a promise; that you will be put to good work. That, by pursuing the cause, you have already proven essential in healing the sky itself, and whatever caused it.

    While there is no clear leader, there are people who apparently have the authority to give orders. You are not one of them. You, as an individual, are not important. You are one of the little people who, when acting together, become the Inquisition. You are an agent. And you await your orders.
 
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Inquisition_Icon.png
:: The Threat Remains ::​

As you arrive at Haven, any notions of grandeur left by the prolific rumors are abandoned. The scene before you would cause unease in any mortal. A massive, glowing hole in the sky above the site where the hierarchy of a once supreme authority was firebombed. Before you, a frozen, quiet outpost hastily converted into a fortress that doesn't look capable of holding its own against a real onslaught. And, to top it off, you are still processing the otherworldly scenes from the valley of a nightmarish slaughter between men and demons. Just days ago, that unholy gash in the heavens was spewing demons. Now, it was temporarily tamed through the actions of some "Herald of Andraste" who possessed powers capable of challenging the unruly sky itself.

Upon arrival you are greeted by a few solemn-looking servants and questioned about your business. Those who came specifically to lend their arms are escorted to a small, exposed group of tents outside the fortress walls to be evaluated for combat capabilities and issued shoddy blankets, gear, and rations. Overseeing the process is an exhausted looking man adorned with a warm-looking cowl and a seemingly permanent crease in his forehead. You learn rather quickly that this is your new boss, charged with managing the forces of the Inquisition, Commander Cullen. After your intake, you are told to rest, recover from your journey, and become familiar with your new accommodations until the morning, when training begins.

Those who have traveled seeking to lend aid outside of their fighting abilities are guided within the fortress to be connected quickly with their most useful position. Nobles arriving to lend political aid or determine how many resources to send are gathered for an audience with the chief diplomat. Those who have knowledge of crafting are brought to the respective masters.

Overall, there is a sense of fatigued urgency to welcome all new arrivals into the fold. Judging by the scenes in the Valley and the rumors of the explosion-site, many lives were lost here and more hands were absolutely essential to the Inquisition's path forward. In the Chantry, the Herald prepares for their first trip to the Hinterlands. With the immediate danger on hold, the focus now is on growing forces and influence. With the Chantry brought to its knees, the mages and templars waging a blood-thirsty civil war despite the new threat, and the politics of the continent too divided to inspire united action, the Inquisition is the only beacon of hope for order to be restored. Soon, this place will be bustling. But, for now, you find yourself poised in the shock after the storm of great tragedy and on the precipice of the forceful response to come. Doubt pulses throughout the camp. Can this possibly work? Can this small, shaken band of misfits grow an organization capable of contending with the vengeful heavens and whatever force imposed such a sudden threat on all the world? That much is yet to be seen. This is an Inquisition in its infancy, the possibilities unclear, but endless. And all you can do now is wait, rest, and roam while the important people argue behind closed doors about the orders you are soon to receive.
 
Chevalier Vilahan is one of the unfortunate few who was there when the Breach opened. Not at the site itself, but far enough away that he survived the initial explosion, unlike those Chevaliers he came with. When he awoke in the rubble of a cottage turned to rubble by the quakes that followed, he found himself trapped and alone, not to mention injured. He thought he'd die there, trapped beneath some wooden beams, starving on some desolate Fereldan mountain. What a filthy, miserable way to die.

Except he didn't. Hours after awaking, having shouted himself hoarse, he was rescued by other survivors who were trying to scout the blast site. At Haven, he recovered quickly and found ways to make himself useful. Too many fighters had died in the catastrophe, Templar and Magi alike, and there were too few sword-arms around to hold back the tide of demons flowing down the mountains. He's been spilling ichor in the passes ever since, running himself ragged carving through foe after foe alongside other weary survivors. They cycled in and out, taking breaks and catching brief moments of sleep where they could, losing more men by the hour. Andros expected he was seeing the world end, and in his characteristic unflinching courage, had made the determination that he'd hold the gate as long as his body would let him. And then the Herald came, and the Breach.. shrank. Not yet closed, but.. calmed. He found time to lick his wounds, and then the work began anew.

Farmers, veterans, carpenters, wheel-makers, smith's apprentices, all flocked to Haven and its battered palisades. Andros has made himself useful in every way he can, his experience as a squire proving useful in readying dulled blades and preparing camp sites, latrines, and the reset for the growing population. Other hours were spent training the new recruits in the fundamentals of combat - stances, spear-drills, foot-work, the things that made a man a soldier instead of a desperate coward with a sword. No doubt word had spread and those who knew him thought him dead, but sending a letter home would be impossible - after all, its not as if there were messengers to carry them out when everyone was on their way here, not out.

In the intervening days he has made himself useful enough to merit the attention of Commander Cullen, at least enough to earn a brief meeting with the man. He seemed earnest, likable, competent, even if he lacked Orlesian manners, and he was certainly keen to flatter. Andros was asked to stay, and he accepted the offer. This, after all, was the sort of place a man like him should be - somewhere he can do good and die fighting with a proud war cry on his lips.
 
~ Nori Bemot ~
9:41 Dragon​

Imagine wandering the deep roads with nothing but the stench of darkspawn and rotting corpses to fill your lungs as you breathe in that cold air. Fighting with your brothers and your sisters of the legion, battling the ancient foe of your dwarven people in hopes of reclaiming a lost thaig you no doubt stumbled upon if your speaking honest, witness to the fall of many in your unit yet hope remained!!! Even as one after another fell... a pride washed over you still as you saw glory, honor and victory in your sights! A bravado and stubbornness that formed a sort of grit within your soul driving you to succeed where others fell.

But alas it was no more... The darkspawn were pouring in with each passing blow and smashed head, hissing and crawling even as they lay upon the ground at your feet. The last of your brothers have fallen while your sisters fell to bended knee struggling to get back to their feet. Knowing well what the darkspawn do with women if captured, they fought and you pressed on. But the battle was all for not that had been original intent, only one dwarf remained breathing and even a stubborn Bemot that yet drew breath could not hold out much longer, death would soon claim him....

As the last of the dwarves appeared dead and laying upon the cold stone floor of the thaig, the darkspawn retreated back to whence they came. While much to his surprise Nori yet lived....

Left in a daze and struggling to his feet without a single sense of balance and most definite of touch of clumsy. Nori wandered without a clue unbeknownst to him making it to the surface and out of the deep roads, either by fated luck or cruel and twisted jest or perhaps further punishment? The dwarf found himself upon the surface at perhaps the worst possible time. It wasn’t for a blight, no, Nori couldn’t have been so lucky. It was something far different... Only he hasn’t noticed yet in his dazed and injured state, only instinct and fumbling about in mere stumble and crawl took over for the legionnaire Scout.

As the time passed and Nori managed to patch himself up and get back to some form of conscious awareness, he fell back in shock as his eyes lay wide upon notice of the ground and audible surprise sounded from his deep, drying voice. The deep roads didn’t have a stone look of white such as this nor a potent breeze of chill and natural light. Shifting his head slowly up towards what he hoped was a ceiling, realizing this wasn’t death but something far more dreaded for him. Eyes only seemed widened further as his jaw fell practically to the ground, hands grasping for something to hold onto swearing, cursing aloud he’d not get taken by that gaping hole in the sky!! Not about to take this dwarf if he’d have anything to say about it.

Over time and as days seemed to pass. Nori wandered aimlessly knowing he was somewhere in the mountains after all his stone sense may be faint but he was still close enough to hopefully make it back to the deep roads. The only issue was he instead found a amassing group and some attack upon the hole he’d gazed upon before...

Lost, confused and irritated that he didn’t manage to find his way back into the deep roads. Nori wound up joining what he learned to be a inquisition that sought to combat that hole and stop whoever is creating this mess. While he didn’t like being on the surface nor did he sound to smart with some of his questions that may have seemed obvious to long walkers but not so for a dwarf from Orzammar that had never been above ground before. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to help even if only for simple sense of honor and finding out more about this sky, that hole and why nobody bothered to tell him he didn’t need to cling to every solid and grounded surface to keep himself grounded.

Never mind the fact he was alone and far from any living being that spoke his language when he figured it out for himself. Nori was never one to enjoy a joke at his expense especially not one so twisted and cruel as this seeming one...

Over the passing days or was it hours? He couldn’t quite tell at this point. Nori wandered the camp of tents after getting his rations, spill on what’s going on and expected, rather glad he’d not have improvise and scavenge just yet. The dwarf eventually found a spot by a fire that seemed quiet compared to the hustle and bustle around the place allowing for a moment to sit down, warm face and hands and ultimately process everything that’s happened and what he now has gotten himself into today.
 
graytful said:
Inquisition_Icon.png
:: The Threat Remains ::​

As you arrive at Haven, any notions of grandeur left by the prolific rumors are abandoned. The scene before you would cause unease in any mortal. A massive, glowing hole in the sky above the site where the hierarchy of once supreme authority was firebombed. Before you, a frozen, quiet outpost hastily converted into a fortress that doesn't look capable of holding its own against a real onslaught. And, to top it off, you are still processing the otherworldly scenes from the valley of a nightmarish slaughter between men and demons. Just days ago, that unholy gash in the heavens was spewing demons. It was temporarily tamed through the actions of some "Herald of Andraste" who possessed powers capable of challenging the unruly sky itself.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by a few solemn-looking servants and questioned about your business. Those who came specifically to lend their arms are escorted to a small, exposed group of tents outside the fortress walls to be evaluated for combat capabilities and issued shoddy blankets, gear, and rations. Overseeing the process is an exhausted-looking man adorned with a warm-looking cowl and a seemingly permanent crease in his forehead. You learn rather quickly that this is your new boss, charged with managing the Inquisition forces, Commander Cullen. After your intake, you are told to rest, recover from your journey, and become familiar with your new accommodations until the morning, when training begins.

Those who have traveled seeking to lend aid outside of their fighting abilities are guided within the fortress to be connected quickly with their most useful position. Nobles arriving to lend political aid or determine how many resources to send are gathered for an audience with the chief diplomat. Those who know about crafting are brought to the respective masters.

Overall, there is a sense of fatigued urgency to welcome all new arrivals into the fold. Judging by the scenes in the Valley and the explosion-site rumors, many lives were lost here, and more hands were essential to the Inquisition's path forward. In the Chantry, the Herald prepares for their first trip to the Hinterlands. With the immediate danger on hold, the focus now is on growing forces and influence. With the Chantry brought to its knees, the mages and templars waging a blood-thirsty civil war despite the new threat, and the continent's politics too divided to inspire united action, the Inquisition is the only beacon of hope for the order to be restored. Soon, this place will be bustling. But, for now, you find yourself poised in the shock after the storm of great tragedy and on the precipice of the forceful response to come. Doubt pulses throughout the camp. Can this possibly work? Can this small, shaken band of misfits grow an organization capable of contending with the vengeful heavens and whatever force imposed such a sudden threat on all the world? That much is yet to be seen. This is an Inquisition in its infancy, the possibilities unclear but endless. And all you can do now is wait, rest, and roam while the important people argue behind closed doors about the orders you are soon to receive.
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Deculant "Bist" Wedrow​
The bird who flies first flies the longest...

Haven surely hadn't flown for long, Deculant Wedrow mused. The phrase continued to echo in his old mind as the wagon's wheel trudged heavily across the ash-covered road. A proverb lifted from some forgotten tome of little consequence. But it felt pertinent looking at the pocket-marked landscape before him. The smell of sulfur road-heavy on the breeze that passed silently over the wagon train he had found himself attached to. Coughing, spluttering and lowly muttered curses toward it broke the otherwise grim air of the caravan. Rank and rotten to the noses of most, it has always been a comforting smell to him. Sulfer meant work to be done; among books, glass vases, and an alchemic table. It was strange that it be associated with the destruction that had just a little while passed through this outpost at the bosom of the Frostback Mountains. By the looks of it, the only work to be done was hard labor, and the only fortune had was to be bad.

The caravan had entered the valley alone; it hadn't stayed that way. Survivors made a quick approach and bid all of them assist even more quickly. Their owners quickly emptied the wagons, some more readily than others, to rebuild effort. Some were used as ambulances for the wounded. Others, such as his, found use as hearses for the dead. That is how he spent his first day at Haven. Playing crypt keeper. This changed once one of the bodies thrown into the wagon bed began to heave, lungs caked in ash but still capable of breath. Administering a health potion from his personal store saved the life of the stranger. It also alerted one of the more perceptive surviving guards that they had an overly qualified grave digger.

He was quickly relieved of his wagon duties and marched to a plaza with various tented buildings. On the way, despite his protests, the guards informed him of his new role as 'Healer Bist.' Quietly paired with another poor volunteer by the name of Adan, Deculant was set to a different kind of work. One, he had to admit, he liked more readily. But one that elevated him beyond the status of 'unnoticed'. Something he never quite had cared for. Brought back to the present by Adan's urgent cry behind him for 'Healer Bist, he set down the ingredients he had been grinding in the alchemical mortar. Another wounded one, perhaps? He repressed a sigh as he approached the 'patient.' It all got rather regular; the burns, the cuts, the missing limbs, and scarred tissue.

If only you all had flown first...
 
The qunari had been walking in a stupor for days. He could not recall how he knew to come here. He could not remember if or when he last had food or drink. He ran a quick inventory of himself and found only the clothes on his body, the battle staff in his hand, and some twigs of elfroot woven. Satisfied with his assessment, he plucked a spring of elfroot from his red locks and began chewing it as he carried on.

Traveling through a frigid valley with caravan of strangers, Feli watched as they began to organize before even reaching their destination. Groups of survivors and volunteers diligently gathering the bodies of the fallen. Arcane researchers were investigating the ichor that stained the snow. All around him he saw people desperately grasping for order and answers. Felicidus had no personal stake in either of those things, but he knew when he could be of use.

Carts and carriages were in limited supply, but if these bodies weren’t retrieved immediately they would be lost to the unforgiving snow and ice of the mountains. It looked like most of them had been there a few days already. Felicidus walked up to an overturned cart that had clearly smashed into a tree and shattered one of its wheels. He ripped the two front wheels off the cart, flipped it over, and began pulling it behind him like the horse it was intended to be moved by. He would stop every few feet, pick up a body, toss it on the cart, following slowly behind the main caravan. It wasn’t long before others started catching on, helping him load the cart, even pushing it from behind as he pulled. Felicidus felt right at home. Disposing of bodies as a team was a frequent bonding opportunity among the White Hawks. His chest suffered a harrowing pang at the memory of his comrades. He pulled harder.

And so, after a long journey and much effort Felicidus finally arrived at Haven. He rather unceremoniously dropped the cart, by that point piled with at least thirty bodies as the walls of the makeshift fortress came into view. And then, suddenly, just as he began to survey the site of his new cause, his vision went completely white. It was only then that he remembered he was seriously injured. His company was actively in the process of murdering him when the sky tore open and swallowed them all with demons, after all. All but him. The giant tumbled to the frozen ground with an earth-shaking thud.

He woke up in a warmly-lit but claustrophobically small dwelling with two human that smelled of medicine peering over him. Felicidus sat up slowly, minding his horns in the unfamiliar environment.

“Is this the Inquisition?” He asked bluntly. As if this kind of thing happened regularly. Which, for Felicidus, it did. He had been raised to ignore pain and pangs that would distract him into weakness. His primary function in life was being capable of taking hard hits. This included multiple stab wounds and gashes all over his body from the White Hawks and the demons alike. Not to mention a week without food or water and a strenuous trek through a frozen valley pulling a cart of thirty dead bodies. Felicidus turned his staring gaze to the elder healer in search of answers “I need to get to the hole in the sky.”

MedievalMethods MedievalMethods
 
This was no place for a noble. Sene had come with lily to work with this group that had supposedly helped to heal the hole in the sky. Sene didn't like that wht it was had been so simplified. She could feel it even before the hole could be seen any mage could. That was a hole to the fade a rend in the fabric between reality and dreams. That alone meant it was no place for lily, the rest of the camp proved it. The only solid built thing was the church to the false God of humans. The rest of the base if it could be called that was huts, shacks, and tents which hardly inspired confidence. Sene in truth would love to study the tear, to study the fade, perhaps even step into it, but she could not for she was meant to despise her gifts. The rumors of this Herald of andraste seemed to Sene more a cover for a powerful mage sealing the tear for humans were a stupid bunch that feared magic.

"It seems like they are just letting anyone in" Sene said looking with a frown out of the carriage.

"They need all the help they can get to fight the hole" lily said as if this was some adventure instead of what it would be talking with other nobles.

"It is not a hole it is a tear to the fade" Sene corrected, lily knew she was an apostate mage but still the family kept her.

"Right" lily nodded a little less comfortable at the idea of the fade, even if the hole had been closed. "Well there are lots of little tears and well they can fix them" she continued "they are blessed by the maker" she finished speaking as if they might get to meet this Herald.

"Yes they are." Sene said nodding though she had no faith in this false diety she pretended sge did. Humans always pretended if something magical and good happened it was the maker at work others wise it was evil mages.

" I hope we get to meet the Herald " lily said sounding like a child more than an adult.

" let's hope they will build more fitting quarters for you over meeting the Herald they must be very busy" Sene said being more realistic and as always worrying over lily. Sene watched out for lily before anything else, it was hard to beilve she would have to kill her one day. Sene looked out the carriage window as it rolled on watching the dead be gathered. This place really was no place for lily.
 
Mahera walked through the gate of Haven and looked out at the hustle and bustle of this infant organization. It had been a long journey to get here from Orlais over land and sea which was tiring. Add to that the fact it was cold, thick snow was everywhere, and she was not prepared for it. She huffed, wishing some Red Jenny in Ferelden would have warned her of that fact. She could have prepared better. More so she would have liked to know how young this organization was, this wasn't an organization taking its first steps but one that was still crawling. Hardly an organization which had the reach she had hopped her. Supplies seemed low, training was still was going on, most were living in makeshift tents and ruins.

Yet these misgiving were secondary to the other. The big tear in the sky, the dead still being sorted on one corner of the settlement, the hints and stories of the demons that were slowly infesting the world. No this organization was not what she hoped but a few seconds in Havens had made her realize how big the issue the Inquisition had to resolve. Soon she had an appreciation why she wasn't told much why she was not told everything before she got here. Neither would she believe it or be inclined to join if she did. She was a former slave, a thief and prankster not some warrior or mage that she could imagine being of help with all of this. One of her instinct was leave, and she almost did before one of the inquisition officers seemed to notice her wondering as if lost and approached her.

The officer questioned her, asking why she was here and upon discovering she was here as a recruit began to check on her background and skills. She was in it now, she thought uncomfortably but resolutely, and answered earnestly. She was send to meet a red headed human known as Leliana apparently she was setting up the Inquisition more clandestine elements. Finding her was a little tricky and asking for directions, she was meet with an interesting sight. Humans either elven haters or mistrustful of her orlaisian accent not being particularly friendly but still helping her on her way. It sort of added to the seriousness of the situation for her that even bigots found it necessary to put their issues aide for this organization. Finally meeting Leliana was brief as she was busy, still Mehara had a mixed feeling about her. An Orlaisian but she seemed kind and sharp but there was also something about her that was scary, she seemed to look at Mehara as if looking straight into her and sizing her up. A few words were exchanged and it seemed Lieliana accepted her and send her away, instructed her to help where she can until called for something specific.

So once more she was out alone in the chaos of Haven, trying to find a way to make herself useful.
 
Bann Loren,
As you are by now aware, the conclave was interrupted by the breach in the sky. I am remaining with the Inquisition as they seem to need all the help they can get. My condolences.
Mirevas signed the battered page with a shaky hand. A gruff looking gentleman snatched up the paper, glancing over the shaky words.
"To the point I see," he paused, "I'll see that this gets to the Bann." Mirevas nodded a quick thank you, and began to gather his stuff. The tavern was overflowing with refugees, and he and Alvin were lucky to find a bit of space at a table for a last meal. Before he could make his escape, Alvin's hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Be careful kid. I don't wanna find out you ended up in a ditch somewhere"
"Ah, you continue to underestimate me," There was fondness behind the words- Alvin's mothering was nothing new, and almost welcome amongst his guard outfit. Leaving them would be bitter sweet, they were good folk, but it was just a job. One with very little importance at that. The hole in the sky? Now that was a real problem. He managed to gather his few things, sword across his back, and push his way out of the overflowing Tavern. The cold outside air refreshing before quickly turning bitter. The air seemed colder. Maybe it was due to the exhaustion of the past few days, or the subsequent injuries he'd sustained, but Mirevas could have sworn it was warmer two days ago.

The trek to Haven was largely uneventful; the caravan weary, solemn, and cold. If Mirevas was aware of just how cold it would be he would've reconsidered. Or brought a heavier coat. All complaints were immediately pushed aside by the hustle and bustle of Haven. So this was the Inquisition. Mirevas wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. The fledgling Inquisition was chaos. There was clearly some organization, vendors here or there, and the armed forces camped right outside the city wall, but Mirevas couldn't tell you who was in charge here. The intake process was relatively quick, likely streamlined as the volunteers and refugees began flooding in in the immediate aftermath. He was questioned, personal details recorded- his age, next of kin, the usual things you get asked when you volunteer your life away, and was then sent off. By the end of the assessments, Mirevas was aching and exhausted. It had been a long few days. He had been advised to seek out a Commander Cullen, but after half heartedly wandering around Haven, the man proved elusive. Listless, alone, and not entirely sure what he should be doing, he found himself seated near a fire with a bowl of something.
 
graytful said:
The qunari had been walking in a stupor for days. He could not recall how he knew to come here. He could not remember if or when he last had food or drink. He ran a quick inventory of himself and found only the clothes on his body, the battle staff in his hand, and some twigs of elfroot woven. Satisfied with his assessment, he plucked a spring of elfroot from his red locks and began chewing it as he carried on.

Traveling through a frigid valley with caravan of strangers, Feli watched as they began to organize before even reaching their destination. Groups of survivors and volunteers diligently gathering the bodies of the fallen. Arcane researchers were investigating the ichor that stained the snow. All around him he saw people desperately grasping for order and answers. Felicidus had no personal stake in either of those things, but he knew when he could be of use.

Carts and carriages were in limited supply, but if these bodies weren’t retrieved immediately they would be lost to the unforgiving snow and ice of the mountains. It looked like most of them had been there a few days already. Felicidus walked up to an overturned cart that had clearly smashed into a tree and shattered one of its wheels. He ripped the two front wheels off the cart, flipped it over, and began pulling it behind him like the horse it was intended to be moved by. He would stop every few feet, pick up a body, toss it on the cart, following slowly behind the main caravan. It wasn’t long before others started catching on, helping him load the cart, even pushing it from behind as he pulled. Felicidus felt right at home. Disposing of bodies as a team was a frequent bonding opportunity among the White Hawks. His chest suffered a harrowing pang at the memory of his comrades. He pulled harder.

And so, after a long journey and much effort Felicidus finally arrived at Haven. He rather unceremoniously dropped the cart, by that point piled with at least thirty bodies as the walls of the makeshift fortress came into view. And then, suddenly, just as he began to survey the site of his new cause, his vision went completely white. It was only then that he remembered he was seriously injured. His company was actively in the process of murdering him when the sky tore open and swallowed them all with demons, after all. All but him. The giant tumbled to the frozen ground with an earth-shaking thud.

He woke up in a warmly-lit but claustrophobically small dwelling with two human that smelled of medicine peering over him. Felicidus sat up slowly, minding his horns in the unfamiliar environment.

“Is this the Inquisition?” He asked bluntly. As if this kind of thing happened regularly. Which, for Felicidus, it did. He had been raised to ignore pain and pangs that would distract him into weakness. His primary function in life was being capable of taking hard hits. This included multiple stab wounds and gashes all over his body from the White Hawks and the demons alike. Not to mention a week without food or water and a strenuous trek through a frozen valley pulling a cart of thirty dead bodies. Felicidus turned his staring gaze to the elder healer in search of answers “I need to get to the hole in the sky.”

MedievalMethods MedievalMethods
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The body awakens! Ignoring the pointed first question from his patient. For he did not truly know himself. Outwardly Bist took note of his patient's newfound cognizance solely in shifting his hands in continuing labor. He had been at it with this one for the last hour. And it was looking acceptable. When he first saw the large Qunari, he immediately felt that his time would be better put to the task he was doing before. Grim as the initial prognosis had seemed, the Alchemist-turned-Healer was extremely satisfied at having stabilized the patient. That was before the patient started moving on his own, of course—something you never need to worry about with ingredients at the alchemic table.

"Perhaps we s'ould deal wit' tha holes innya first."

His dry reply matched Bist's looks as his wrinkled forehead showed its furrows. He really did not appreciate this project to be so animated. Tapping the wounded man lightly on the shoulder, the hooded Healer mimed laying back down on the makeshift dining table they were using for an operating gurney.

"...and I say, Healer Bist, that its equal parts Elfroot and Spindleweed! You want to heal and promote regeneration at sufficent rates!"

"Tha' Chantry preserves us..." muttered Bist. The syllable was stretched so 'Us' sounded more like 'oose', as if giving accent to his irritation at the sudden booming voice that had entered the room. The voice of one Healer Adan. Who continued unabetted. The argument had begun early before and only had evolved since. Essentially, Adan, who was a local of Haven, believed Bist used too much originality when it came to potion-making. Too many ingredients and too much variation from what the published and peer-authored texts on the matter guided to use. Books which, in Bists humble opinion, we're full of crock. They had been out of date at the date of publishing, and they were basically ancient now. He had seen much since he took up the alchemical mantle nearly 40 years ago. And he had learned much from experience alone, tempered by book learning.

"Healer Adan, w'en one cannae peer tru ah wound, and see daylight on tha other side, would ya describe that needin' healin' sufficient?" Bist resisted the urge to shove his index finger into a particularly large wound and out the other side to reinforce his point. "No. The treatment must be up to tha task o' tha wound it's repairin'. So 2 parts Elfroot, to 4 parts Spindleweed

That salvo only set off the other alchemist; as the former renewed his tirade against 'irresponsible ingredient use' the former absently worked on the Qunari, occasionally giving out verbal barbed hooks towards the other Alchemist between requests for supplies and commands to his patient, which only further caused Adan to fume and shoot back at Bist. It was a feedback loop of toxic genius.

"Eat... this-- t'en drink this," Bist would offer a wooden bowl filled with a mushy, orange, gelatinous mass. He had just fished it out of a mortar and pestle, stopping shortly to grab at a nearby potion bottle. A neon red liquid swirled within it. "Tha' first taste awful. Tha' second's worse. Thee're both good for ya. Let me know if ya start seeing things." Leaving the bowl and bottle in his patient's hands, he continued with the more mundane tasks of medicine such as bandaging, disinfecting wounds, and the like.

"Potion-pusher..." clucked Adan unapprovingly, though he didn't intervene in Bist's prescription.

"...armchair-Alchemist." Bist needled back without a second thought, or a seconds pause in his work on the Qunari. "Ya' got a name fella?'
 
Felicidus briefly examined the peculiar man who answered him. He was old. His accent was difficult for Felicidus to understand. But he exuded an aura of unconventional wisdom. When the man pointed for Felicidus to lie back down the qunari slowly did so, feeling dull aches and jabs across his body on the way. He gazed at the ceiling blankly, hearing but not processing the entrance of another figure.

Visions began to swim behind his eyes. Quick flashes of green light, screams of his people, the look on his loves face as she accused him of treachery, and then the gruesome image of her demise. A shudder went through him as his attention was slammed back into a harsh reality. His senses were immediately drowned in the bickering match between the two apothecaries.

Felicidus didn’t have much technical knowledge of alchemy. He knew which plants were good for you and which ones were poison, but he mostly only cared for which ones inspired a serene breath of admiration. As such, he didn’t understand the argument, but he understood what was beneath it. The younger healer was insecure. He clearly felt challenged over something he possessed some degree of mastery over, and even more frustrated to see that his criticisms were falling flat in front of the elder healers success. The one was by the book, the other was self taught and better for it. So it went. In the middle of his passive assessment, he realized he was being spoken to again. He smelled the medicine before he saw it.

Felicidus propped himself up to receive the orange mush. He glanced between it and the red potion, looked to the healer, and then gave both items a sniff. Just to be sure. They both smelled strong. The qunari was grateful. It was rare for human alchemists to consider how much more of... anything... a creature of qunari stature needed. Felicidus gave a short, appreciative nod before knocking back the orange mush and chasing it with the the potion in two quick gulps. He hadn’t even heard the instructions for consumption, but he knew the motions. Whatever the healer puts in front of you, you’re usually supposed to swallow. Felicidus laid back down and stared at the ceiling, letting the ingredients hit his system.

“Hm,” Felicidus grunted “name’s Felicidus.” He replied after a few moments of trying to understand what the man had asked. He had never been good with accents. “Not seeing anything strange. Strong stuff. Feels good though. Like I’m being sewn up by tiny healers from the inside.”

Felicidus was grateful. He shouldn’t be alive right now. He ignored the inner voice telling him he wished he wasn’t. Instead, he reached to his head and plucked the remaining five sprigs of elfroot from his braids. He held them out a short distance to the healer.

“Not much, but it don’t grow out here. Might help. Thank you.”
 
The carriage came to s stop near the chantry and Sene got out then walked around to open the door for her lady. Those that were dealing with the diplomatic issues would be in the warm church and the rest were outside dealing with other things. Sene was at least glad lily would be keeping warm. Sene assumed that she would be attending Lily and just staying around holding things and fetching drinks for lily as she normally did.

" Sene there are a lot of hurt people think you could help them?" Lily asked her tone indicating she had good intention, but clearly was a bit to soft.

" My lady you do remember my status?" Sene reminded Lily as while her family had accepted an apostate after some time, they were right in the middle of a chantry based organization and lily was asking her to use her magic around them. " The chantry is not easy on my kind." She reminded the noble woman she had practically raised.

" I know but it seems they are turning a blind eye to a lot of things, surely you can do more good helping others than getting me drinks?" lily half asked as while Sene had been like a mother she was still her servant and lily was her lady someone she should listen to.

Sene shifted looking like she might try to convince lily this was a bad idea, but she didn't want to upset lily to much. Sene didn't fear Lily but she didn't want her to pout and get worked up, a spoiled child it seemed. Sene wavered first and nodded with a sigh " As you wish my lady, I will see what I can do" she agreed, though highly doubted that she would find anything to do, as she would serve none but the the family of her lady, for now.

In truth Sene didn't know how much longer she would spend with the people she had seen grow from young lords to wizen elders and a new born to a beautiful lady. She had received a letter from family, or well that was what it looked like to others. The letter was from her "employers" and said the time was near. They had not forgotten her after all, her family was in danger and it seemed they might kill the sadlers while she took care of lily. When she saw the letter every instinct in Sene had told her to do one thing and one thing alone, run, that was what she always did run away and save herself. She in the end had not ran and was dreading any more letters, that she knew were coming.

Sene would watch Lily head into the stone building before turning and looking out over the ramshackle base. The urge to run came back to her, if she fled now no one would ever find her. She could change her name and hide from others and no templar or letter would find her. this desire to run was only pushed down by the disgust at the idea of leaving Lily, leaving one that she had raised almost like a mother and the knowledge that whatever she did Sene would find a way to fuck it up she always did. Still how was Sene meant to help here, she was an attendant, a maid, not a blacksmith or surgeon? She could heal people, as a keeper needed to be able to deal with injuries and illness in clans, but she could not do so publicly. Then Sene saw a dark skinned elf with the tell tale face markings of the dalish, Ghilan'nain to be exact. The goddess of guides and Navigation, the halla mother and very popular with hunters despite the tales of her betrayal by them. The dalish seemed lost and Sene felt she could perhaps see how the dalish faired, well some of them faired through this elf. Sene herself lacked any markings for she had never had the chance to become an adult in her clan before her mistakes started.

Sene would go up to the dalish woman " I am surprised the Dalish have any interest in this organization" Sene said not really phrasing what she said as a question but still inviting answer with a slightly condescending tone. She had to play the part of city elf, pretending she saw her people as backwards and attached to a dead past. It was an act she had long ago perfected and had fooled to many to count with.

ThatGuyWithSouvlaki ThatGuyWithSouvlaki
 
Mahera tried to make herself useful a number of ways. She tried to help carry supplies to the chantry but she came to it too late and only carried one box before the job was done. She had thought to try and see if there was a stable here. She liked horses and animals, much to have been a hold-over from her time with her old clan. Though she had become quite the city girl after her slavery and release she still wished sometime to return to nature and bond with creatures like she was taught by her mother. Sadly it wasn't meant to be as the Inquisition did not seem to have any significant stable and animals yet and the owner seemed did not need and was not willing to ask for help from her.

Once more it seemed she was lost, wondering through the camp and wanting to make herself useful. She felt herself becoming concerned even worried about her feeling of lost. She frowned at herself and took a few deep breaths. You are better than this Mahera, she thought to herself, how would you deal with it back in the city? She closed her eyes and just listened, putting her long ears to good use. Clues were everywhere if one knew how to find them and if her eyes failed her than she must try another sense. She listened for conversation, people complaining about this or that. In stressful situations like this someone needed to vent about lacking help or supplies or something. On conversation caught her ears, two female humans talking about the local healer, an apothecary that is overworked and made everyone know it. He sounded cranky and she was no expert but she did know one or two things, she might be able to help.

No sooner than her mind was made up before someone seemed to approach her. He turned the voice and noted the striking looking blonde elf before her. Mahera had a mixed feeling immediately, as striking as the elf was and being glad of potentially having something like Mehera, she could not help a sense of being off put. It took her a moment to realise what it was, the elf was in appearance a city elf but not one from an alienage or something. No, the blonde stood straight with a sense of arrogance and superiority, the clothes to was of near nobility. Not to mention the condescending manner she spoke to her. The maid of some noble lady, she guessed with mild disgust. She knew the type, the short that thought the were equal to the nobility just she got the ear of the boss and was willing to use to their own ends. Slave or not, every other servant was just dirt compared to her.

She crossed her eyes and gave a humourless and feigned polite smile back at the elf. "Oh, hmmm.... I wonder..." She said in mock and sarcastic thoughtfully tone as she put finger on her cheek and pretended to look up as if in thought." Tear in the sky, causing many little tears, letting demons in which are attacking everyone... Why would it bother the dalish too..." She said likely confusing Sene's guess that she was dalish due to Mahera's Orlaisen accent. She chuckled as if she was just teasing Sene not actually sarcastic. "I tease you, mon amie. In truth, I can not speak for the Dalish, i am not her on behalf of any clan."

Karcen Karcen
 
Another dalish elf from Orlais that was not something Sene expected, but she really should have haven was in the frostback mountains between Orlais and Fereldan. It made Sene want to know more, but none could know she was dalish, her cover could not be blown so late in everything. Sene managed to her desire to know more behind a mask of almost disinterest that the elf had not been able to answer her in the way she wanted. The question was now if this woman was an exile like Sene or if she has wandered off, the marks on her face would lend some credit tot he latter as you picked the marks that suited you best. Still Sene had hoped the girl would have known more, maybe even mention her people, if anyone from it was still alive, it had been so long.

Sene sighed " I must apologize in my old age I seem to have forgotten my manners" Sene said despite not having aged a day past her 20th year thanks to the life she had drained from those templars. " So tell me what brings you here I have rarely seen a Dalish elf willing walking among humans?" Asked now sounding more polite though her manners were those one gained when serving nobility " I am sure no one commanded you as I was commanded to come " She continued feigning some annoyance at being a servant despite in truth she would not mind staying with Lily, but Sene didn't know how many years she had drained she might never age till even the girl that had been like a daughter was long dead.

ThatGuyWithSouvlaki ThatGuyWithSouvlaki
 
graytful said:
Felicidus briefly examined the peculiar man who answered him. He was old. His accent was difficult for Felicidus to understand. But he exuded an aura of unconventional wisdom. When the man pointed for Felicidus to lie back down the qunari slowly did so, feeling dull aches and jabs across his body on the way. He gazed at the ceiling blankly, hearing but not processing the entrance of another figure.

Visions began to swim behind his eyes. Quick flashes of green light, screams of his people, the look on his loves face as she accused him of treachery, and then the gruesome image of her demise. A shudder went through him as his attention was slammed back into a harsh reality. His senses were immediately drowned in the bickering match between the two apothecaries.

Felicidus didn’t have much technical knowledge of alchemy. He knew which plants were good for you and which ones were poison, but he mostly only cared for which ones inspired a serene breath of admiration. As such, he didn’t understand the argument, but he understood what was beneath it. The younger healer was insecure. He clearly felt challenged over something he possessed some degree of mastery over, and even more frustrated to see that his criticisms were falling flat in front of the elder healers success. The one was by the book, the other was self taught and better for it. So it went. In the middle of his passive assessment, he realized he was being spoken to again. He smelled the medicine before he saw it.

Felicidus propped himself up to receive the orange mush. He glanced between it and the red potion, looked to the healer, and then gave both items a sniff. Just to be sure. They both smelled strong. The qunari was grateful. It was rare for human alchemists to consider how much more of... anything... a creature of qunari stature needed. Felicidus gave a short, appreciative nod before knocking back the orange mush and chasing it with the the potion in two quick gulps. He hadn’t even heard the instructions for consumption, but he knew the motions. Whatever the healer puts in front of you, you’re usually supposed to swallow. Felicidus laid back down and stared at the ceiling, letting the ingredients hit his system.

“Hm,” Felicidus grunted “name’s Felicidus.” He replied after a few moments of trying to understand what the man had asked. He had never been good with accents. “Not seeing anything strange. Strong stuff. Feels good though. Like I’m being sewn up by tiny healers from the inside.”

Felicidus was grateful. He shouldn’t be alive right now. He ignored the inner voice telling him he wished he wasn’t. Instead, he reached to his head and plucked the remaining five sprigs of elfroot from his braids. He held them out a short distance to the healer.

“Not much, but it don’t grow out here. Might help. Thank you.”
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"Fe-li-ci-dus," the name was spoken drawn out. As if he was testing it out. With a nod toward his work on the warrior's response on the treatment, the human alchemist looked closely at the sprigs offered. Recognizing the herbs, he accepted them with silent gratitude.

"Call me Bist."

Throwing a finger lazily behind his shoulder he continued, "My assistant, Adan--"

"Your assistant?!--"

"--both appreciate tha' donation. It'll be put ta good use."

Indignant mutterings continued from Adan, where the new elfroot was stored among their combined supplies. A supply that was quickly being depleted by Bist's effective but costly treatments. What they did have in stockpile was all due to Adan's constant, protective protests. Even Bist admitted this in the silence of his mind. He was even thankful, in some respect.

"Ya are welcome ta remain 'ere until ya' feel well enough on yer feet, tho' mind the wounded who arrive. We may have to move ye' around on occasion."
 
The Silent Z said:
Over time and as days seemed to pass. Nori wandered aimlessly knowing he was somewhere in the mountains after all his stone sense may be faint but he was still close enough to hopefully make it back to the deep roads. The only issue was he instead found a amassing group and some attack upon the hole he’d gazed upon before...

Lost, confused and irritated that he didn’t manage to find his way back into the deep roads. Nori wound up joining what he learned to be a inquisition that sought to combat that hole and stop whoever is creating this mess. While he didn’t like being on the surface nor did he sound to smart with some of his questions that may have seemed obvious to long walkers but not so for a dwarf from Orzammar that had never been above ground before. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to help even if only for simple sense of honor and finding out more about this sky, that hole and why nobody bothered to tell him he didn’t need to cling to every solid and grounded surface to keep himself grounded.

Never mind the fact he was alone and far from any living being that spoke his language when he figured it out for himself. Nori was never one to enjoy a joke at his expense especially not one so twisted and cruel as this seeming one...

Over the passing days or was it hours? He couldn’t quite tell at this point. Nori wandered the camp of tents after getting his rations, spill on what’s going on and expected, rather glad he’d not have improvise and scavenge just yet. The dwarf eventually found a spot by a fire that seemed quiet compared to the hustle and bustle around the place allowing for a moment to sit down, warm face and hands and ultimately process everything that’s happened and what he now has gotten himself into today.
Click to expand...

While Nori warmed himself by a fire, an orange tabby cat trotted up to the same flame and promptly sprawled next to the cobblestones to soak up some heat for a few minutes. If pet, she would purr amicably. But after enough warmth to loosen the chill of the long journey here, the cat stretched, yawned and promptly flashed with white fire. When the silvery light cleared, a Dalish Elf sat by the fire.

A little too close to the fire.

With an unintelligible exclamation, the Dalish hopped away from the cobblestones and dabbed at her leather coat. "Sorry about that," she said to the probably uncomprehending dwarf. "I'm not usually so clumsy. Well...I say not usually but actually I suppose I am, a bit. I don't mean to. I tend to think about what I'm going to do and forget about what I'm doing, you see."

She cleared her throat and managed a wan smile before switching to a fairly accented dwarven. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it here safely! I was worried when I saw you out on the open, all by your own. A dwarf, alone. I don't think I've ever seen one. Thought about hunting some game for you but you found your way here instead which is-"

The elf craned her neck as she looked around Haven. "Where are we, anyway? Is this the Inquisition? I've heard about them! Well, I say I've heard about them but actually I just heard people saying the word 'Inquisition' a lot when I walked in here as a cat. Do they need help, do you think? I've never helped an organization before. Well, on purpose. I think I was in some kind of Chantry ritual at one point but I'm not sure what it was. Or that I actually helped, come to think of it."

"Oh!" She brightened and stuck out a hand in an offer to shake. "I'm Moire. Are you friends with Argal? What a nice man! He looks a lot like you. We did a few jobs together, he taught me your language and come to think of it, where did I leave him? You know, I think I promised to meet up with him at a tavern the next day. Was that last summer?"

Once more preoccupied by reminiscing, Moire finally stopped talking and simply stared at the dwarf with a smile and wide, interested eyes, plainly hoping he'd introduce himself.
 
Mahera tried to study Sene closely, but she could see nothing beyond the arrogant neutral expression. Aggravating because she really wanted to know what she was dealing with. Was she the "superior than though bitch" type he suspected her to be or were her first impression wrong? She was willing to be wrong, elves had enough troubles to add petty squabbles between themselves. Sene was at least trying to be more polite after her condescending comments previously. Still she was unsure if she should take it as genuine, she did practically trying to ask the same question again at her. Manipulation? Maybe but there was one comment that made her raise an eyebrow.

"Old woman?" She commented how that statement did match with Sene's appearance but shrugged it off. "Well, grand-mere, a friend of a friend passed on what was happening here and hearing about me suggested that I could be of help. "She replied keeping it vague unsure how much to tell her still. "They also told me this infant inquisition might help with a personal matter or two. So yeah my coming her is not totally selfless like many here." She paused and studied Sene closely. She thought there maybe some way to check what this elf was like. "So why are you here, you are commanded to be here? Asshole boss? I know a little about that, also know how to get a little revenge for that. Nothing violent just a bit of fun."

Karcen Karcen
 
Epiphany said:
While Nori warmed himself by a fire, an orange tabby cat trotted up to the same flame and promptly sprawled next to the cobblestones to soak up some heat for a few minutes. If pet, she would purr amicably. But after enough warmth to loosen the chill of the long journey here, the cat stretched, yawned and promptly flashed with white fire. When the silvery light cleared, a Dalish Elf sat by the fire.

A little too close to the fire.

With an unintelligible exclamation, the Dalish hopped away from the cobblestones and dabbed at her leather coat. "Sorry about that," she said to the probably uncomprehending dwarf. "I'm not usually so clumsy. Well...I say not usually but actually I suppose I am, a bit. I don't mean to. I tend to think about what I'm going to do and forget about what I'm doing, you see."

She cleared her throat and managed a wan smile before switching to a fairly accented dwarven. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it here safely! I was worried when I saw you out on the open, all by your own. A dwarf, alone. I don't think I've ever seen one. Thought about hunting some game for you but you found your way here instead which is-"

The elf craned her neck as she looked around Haven. "Where are we, anyway? Is this the Inquisition? I've heard about them! Well, I say I've heard about them but actually I just heard people saying the word 'Inquisition' a lot when I walked in here as a cat. Do they need help, do you think? I've never helped an organization before. Well, on purpose. I think I was in some kind of Chantry ritual at one point but I'm not sure what it was. Or that I actually helped, come to think of it."

"Oh!" She brightened and stuck out a hand in an offer to shake. "I'm Moire. Are you friends with Argal? What a nice man! He looks a lot like you. We did a few jobs together, he taught me your language and come to think of it, where did I leave him? You know, I think I promised to meet up with him at a tavern the next day. Was that last summer?"

Once more preoccupied by reminiscing, Moire finally stopped talking and simply stared at the dwarf with a smile and wide, interested eyes, plainly hoping he'd introduce himself.
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Nori had been almost lost completely in thought and recollection trying to piece together the puzzle that his situation and how he got here exactly. The dwarfs mind was still missing details from the dazed and overall state he was in before now. Brown eyes gazing into the fire allowing the warmth to wash over him as much as possible, while slowly returning to the world around him. It was only when a orange tabby trotted along to the same fire he sat near that he was brought fully back into awares, eyes narrowing slightly and brow matching, placing Lucy slowly side for a moment to make his movement more free and less intimidating perhaps for such a furry creature.

The dwarf wasn’t all to familiar with cats nor was he too familiar with topside creatures in general. But none the less he was not only a little curious, he was also a little shocked to see such a thing up within the mountains amongst the snow capped features that stretched forth towards the sky and amidst the hustle and bustle of a growing fort with various sorts about the place.

A outstretched hand yet covered by his gauntlet lightly formed in bent, closed fingers with but one left out offering a gentle pet atop the cats head in slow motion. “A bit small and young for battle, eh?” Nori commented softly aloud with a slight gruffly chuckle. Before his offered finger pet reached the cats head, he gave pause as the creature stretched and yawned with a following flare of light flashing like a fire made of silver. Causing a widened pair of dwarven eyes to gaze upon the sight in sheer shock and awe, before ultimately losing his balance and falling flat upon his backside in response to what he’d just witnessed. A number of sounds muffled yet still somewhat audible came from the dwarf, none were words yet clear enough to understand by the reaction and sound alone.

“By... by the... beards... ancestors, you’ve... you’re eh’???” Nori wandered about in his mind fumbling his inner thoughts, wondering now what else lay in store for him? Coming topside like he had and seeing that hole in the sky and now cats becoming elves?!?!? He’d never seen or heard of such a thing.


It took a moment or two before he could truly reply and push aside any need for apologies. It was her that nearly caught aflame not him though she gave him quite the shock. Listening to the elf speak of her at times clumsy moments and continuing on, Nori simply nodded along and listened still gathering himself and his ability to speak actual words without fumbling about in his mind or otherwise. However things only seem to grow from there in terms of surprise as the nearly middle aged dwarf got himself back to a seated position and dusted himself off a bit.

“You... an elf speak the language of my people?!” Nori replied truly amazed by what he was hearing and wondering just how hard did he hit his head or how hard was he hit? The dwarf couldn’t recall exactly which had occurred. He in turn offered a fairly gruff but kindly enough smile. “ By all the sun bathing, star gazers.... never thought I’d see the day. But it’s sweet of you to have such concerns, wasn’t aware of others about out there... not really any how. A dwarf alone? First time seeing? *chuckles* Can’t say I’ve seen many topside myself except that Scout Harding. Thanks though for the past thought. What’s left of my stone sense and what have you, managed me here.” Nori stated in kind and sincere of thanks.

A first time topside meant he’d not have a clue about many things. Food and where in the blazes he was had been a distant thought amongst it all and the aching he was under. However catching the young elf’s pause and craned her neck about the place, the dwarf was about to provide a answer the what he could upon thinking he recognized that look and pause. But stopped as the woman returned to speaking and asking questions, allowing her a finish before he started chiming in a bit.

“Aye... *chuckles gruffly* I’ve come to learn this is just that place. The inquisition. A curious lot of long walkers and side glancers.... Appears they are taking on all sorts of help to repair..... well all this mess they seem to be in.” Nori spoke gathering this young elf that was full of surprises would be a interesting one to have around the place, likely more so then some of the tightly wound sorts he’d come across so far.

Stretching out his hand and accepting a good shake in introducing themselves. Nori looked at her curiously not knowing this Argal or hearing of him before less he be mistaken? However it sounded like a good thing. Nice man and looked like him? Nori could accept that with a fair nod and smile without questioning it for something it wasn’t. However the fact she might have lost him somewhere was a little concerning and a bit of a chuckle worthy thing to hear. “Stone met Moire. Names Nori! Can’t say I’ve known a Argal before though impressive he could teach a topsider our language. Your accent is pretty good.” Nori introduced himself and added in dwarven. “I’m no expert on the matter, never been topside before, but something tells me your going to be quite the companion to have around.” The dwarf smiled with a small shake of his head and well meaning by what he said even if perhaps it may not have come off that way.

“I’m sure if Argal is anything like other dwarves, you could find him at a tavern somewhere. Perhaps that one over there for a start.” Nori added in attempt of reassuring the stranger he just met and come to know by name.
 
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Moire the cat certainly appreciated the head pats.

Moire the Shapeshifter seemed to appreciate the strength of his surprised reaction and she grinned at his efforts to put a sentence together. "I get that a lot, you know. If I were sensible, I'd stop doing it but my Mum told me I had a complete lack of sense and I don't want to prove her wrong, do I?"

Nori's mention of stone sense perceptible caught the Dalish elf's interest but she didn't ask any follow up questions about it. Small mercies.

"A fine mess it is, too," Moire said agreeably. "But I suppose we're all in it now, whoever caused it. It looks...bigger than it was the other day when I first saw it. If it keeps getting bigger, there won't be anywhere to run. I'd rather deal with it while I have room to move instead of when it's pressed my back up against the wall, you know?"

When the dwarf offered his name, the Dalish elf practically beamed in pleasure. "Nori! That's such a nice name! The nicest dwarf name I think I've ever heard. Not that I've heard the names of a lot of dwarves. I suppose there were those four brothers in that last village. Or those lyrium traders." Once again, her attention wandered into reverie before snapping back a few moments later. "I don't know why I thought you would know Argal," she then said with a chuckle. "Imagine if someone came up to me and said 'Oh do you know a Dalish elf named Mahariel'? I only knew my clan. Why would I?"

At Nori's suggestion that Argal might be in a tavern, Moire turned and looked in that direction, staring thoughtfully at the building. Then she turned back and gave a regretful sigh. "Last I saw him was in Ansburg, I think. Have you ever been to Ansburg? ...No, of course you haven't, that was thoughtless of me. It's up in the Free Marches. Have you-oh, Mythal'enaste, here let me show you."

She promptly reached into a traveling pouch on her waist and produced a scroll tube, from which she extracted a map. It provided an approximate view of the major nations of Thedas along with its major cities and the barest sketching of geography (mountains, forests, etc.). She tapped a spot near the middle of the Free Marches and said, "Ansburg. And we are...well, I don't actually know where I am at the moment. Somewhere between Orlais and Ferelden, I think? Suppose if I go east and eventually reach the ocean, I'll know."

"So, Argal isn't here. I don't think he's here. I suppose I could go look in the tavern. Care to come? It's nice to go to new places with friends and you're my closest friend here in the Inquisition. First ale's on me!" she added with a wink. "And maybe you could tell me more about what you all actually do here..."
 
Insulting humans in general Sene didn't mind but as the dalish woman called Lily an asshole ignorantly Sene could not help but be annoyed. here eyes narrowed while other humans might be horrid to those in their employ the Sadlers had never treated her anything but good and Lily was practically her child. She doubted Lily saw it that way as she had sent her off to help so easily. This all did make her feel a bit guilty about what was likely going to happen, or what would have happened. This place might just be safe, maybe they were taking in far to many people there were likely spies her from her employers ready should she fail... or succeed.

" I am out here because my lady is far to caring to send away her attendant to help " She said annoyance at Lilly being threatened and insulted showing easily. " So no I do not need any payback against her" Sene continued now wanting to make sure this elf would not do anything against her, the other nobles were fair game, well everyone else was fair game. Sene then exhaled " Let your elder give you this advice Revenge never leads anywhere good and more often only causes you to end up worse than you started" She explained her voice going from angry to a sadness that said she had made many mistakes and paid for each and every one.

ThatGuyWithSouvlaki ThatGuyWithSouvlaki
 
Epiphany said:
Moire the cat certainly appreciated the head pats.

Moire the Shapeshifter seemed to appreciate the strength of his surprised reaction and she grinned at his efforts to put a sentence together. "I get that a lot, you know. If I were sensible, I'd stop doing it but my Mum told me I had a complete lack of sense and I don't want to prove her wrong, do I?"

Nori's mention of stone sense perceptible caught the Dalish elf's interest but she didn't ask any follow up questions about it. Small mercies.

"A fine mess it is, too," Moire said agreeably. "But I suppose we're all in it now, whoever caused it. It looks...bigger than it was the other day when I first saw it. If it keeps getting bigger, there won't be anywhere to run. I'd rather deal with it while I have room to move instead of when it's pressed my back up against the wall, you know?"

When the dwarf offered his name, the Dalish elf practically beamed in pleasure. "Nori! That's such a nice name! The nicest dwarf name I think I've ever heard. Not that I've heard the names of a lot of dwarves. I suppose there were those four brothers in that last village. Or those lyrium traders." Once again, her attention wandered into reverie before snapping back a few moments later. "I don't know why I thought you would know Argal," she then said with a chuckle. "Imagine if someone came up to me and said 'Oh do you know a Dalish elf named Mahariel'? I only knew my clan. Why would I?"

At Nori's suggestion that Argal might be in a tavern, Moire turned and looked in that direction, staring thoughtfully at the building. Then she turned back and gave a regretful sigh. "Last I saw him was in Ansburg, I think. Have you ever been to Ansburg? ...No, of course you haven't, that was thoughtless of me. It's up in the Free Marches. Have you-oh, Mythal'enaste, here let me show you."

She promptly reached into a traveling pouch on her waist and produced a scroll tube, from which she extracted a map. It provided an approximate view of the major nations of Thedas along with its major cities and the barest sketching of geography (mountains, forests, etc.). She tapped a spot near the middle of the Free Marches and said, "Ansburg. And we are...well, I don't actually know where I am at the moment. Somewhere between Orlais and Ferelden, I think? Suppose if I go east and eventually reach the ocean, I'll know."

"So, Argal isn't here. I don't think he's here. I suppose I could go look in the tavern. Care to come? It's nice to go to new places with friends and you're my closest friend here in the Inquisition. First ale's on me!" she added with a wink. "And maybe you could tell me more about what you all actually do here..."
Click to expand...
Nori couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of some elven mother being proven wrong in such a way or right perhaps and over such topic. While taking a bump like that over such a shock was not ideal, especially in front of someone he just met, a slight insecurity of being the joke or embarrassment of any situation. A small issue of his own to work out but ignoring how he must of looked and smiling a bit at the sight of Moore’s grin and ability to draw a chuckle out of him. The dwarf nodded in agreement about the matter of sense and mothers.

“Aye... I do.” Nori stated rather disturbed by the whole idea of this giant hole, some living thing being capable of such a eye sore and potential disaster. “I didn’t much care getting stuck up here. But don’t like the thought of that hole either.... Rather just see it done.” The dwarf added with a measured nod for a silent exclamation and humph. Not directed towards the elf but rather that hole, it was almost personal.... maybe a little fueled by a old non sensical belief his people had about the surface and falling into that sky, his own manner of how he ended up here for the first time didn’t help.

He always did seem to have rotten sense of timing...

Offering a smile and nod of thanks while scratching his neck a bit. He looked toward Moire moving past his prior irritation over the eye sore they had to deal with and all it meant to him. “Kind words, Moire! One of the few things I can thank Ol’ mum for anyhow.” Nori replied kindly. “Moire is rather nice too! I must say I thought elven names were normally more of a mouthful and hard to pronounce... guess i don’t know many elven names myself either. Dwarven names usually have more of a hard sound to them, if it makes any sense.” The dwarf spoke sincere while giving a brief description of dwarven names the best he could.

“Lyrium traders, hey? I’ve seen a few traders back before I.... umm... well just before the last venture in Orzammar. Almost curious if they are the same ones... But I can see the thought behind it. Dwarves often draw lines back to Orzammar one way or another. Increased chances compared to other races and all those cities around.” Nori pondered aloud and offered his own possible thought behind it after all Moire wasn’t the first to think one dwarf knows another, least he didn’t think so. The moment she said Mahariel he started to mouth the name slowly trying to repeat that pronunciation, elven names... the longer the more difficult he shook his head. “I’m sure I’d butcher that name several times before getting it right once. But I can see what you mean. “ Nori responded shaking off his attempt to get the name right without actually sounding it out. Meanwhile he chuckled and started to see how similar one race could be to another.

Back home they’d have you believing all sorts of things and how new ideas just wouldn’t work or this and that couldn’t be...

Nori was about to ask what was this Ansburg when Moire went about a way to show him. While he knew of some places topside, he couldn’t claim too many names of cities and villages as part of that knowledge outside of a portion. ‘My...thal...’en.. a.. ste?’ He thought to himself just thinking how easily he’d mess up these words and names her people had.

“Aw.... Now I see.” Nori nodded figuring this Haven was right between the gates of Orzammar and the pass to Orlais as Moire mentioned. Though he would have never guessed this village would have been here this whole time if not for the experience of it now. He pointed toward the spot on the map and lined up a raised finger towards the direction the gates of Orzammar would be. “Orzammar would be that way, least the gates. Meaning whatever passage I came out of was closer to that pass to Orlais....” He figured aloud looking at the map and listening to Moire. “Don’t think i ever got real close to the free marches during my ventures in the deep roads. But maybe... hard to tell without a map sometimes. Go there often?”


Letting out a hearty laugh and grabbing Lucy by the hilt and bringing her up to his shoulders. He gave a readied nod while looking to Moire. “A tavern. Some ale and offer to buy the first round?! You’d have to keep me away!” Nori gave a deep chuckle. “I’d say if luck was good he’d be there. But either way, we can drink to old friends and new.” Nori added liking the sound of friends and glad to hear it. Would certainly make a go of things on the surface and apart of this inquisition much easier. “I could, but truth be told I haven’t been here too long myself. Still piecing it all together. But I’ll answer what I can over an ale.” Nori spoke

“I’d wager we’ll have plenty of heads being smashed and some form of magic to sew the sky back together..urm... Magic can do that right?” The dwarf asked while preparing to walk alongside Moire to the tavern.
 
Seeing the anger, Mahera raised her hand and stepped back defensively. "Relax, mon aimie, think of your old heart." She said with a bemused smirk finding the strong reaction amusing. It was certainly telling, narrowing down what Mahera was dealing with it. The elf was either what Mahera expected or somehow the world is more of an optimistic place and bosses were actually nice to their slaves or servants. Though the current state of the world with the rift and deamons spilling in the world hardly made the case of an optimistic world. Not to mention the current examples of the contrary she had seen.

Still, she did not yet know enough to be sure she needed to be a jenny to elf or lady so no reason not to be apologetic. "I was only asking if that is the case, and you require such a service. I meant it to be helpful and ir abelas, I am sorry for any offence meant." She said adding a hint of her Dalish past as a peace offering. "If you believe your boss is fair and kind, then she has nothing to fear from me." She paused and thought for a moment to consider her next words. "Since you seem set on the Dalish thing i am willing to say: Yes, I was once dalish. I hope I still am, but certain events made be separated from the clan. Haven't been able to return to them."

Karcen Karcen
 
Felicidus nodded at the healers and slowly rose from his makeshift cot. He kept his shoulders hunched so his horns were just short of scraping the ceiling. The medicine was working quickly, which meant he needed rest. But he wasn't keen on taking up beds from those who were actually injured in service to this organization.

"Thank you. I hope our paths cross again... though perhaps not too swiftly..." He gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes before ducking cautiously skirting towards the door and ducking out. Even though the sun was setting the light on the snow shocked Feli's pupils as they strained to adjust. He blinked out the reflection until the world came back into view. It was a solemn sight.

The scene within the walls were little more encouraging than those outside. This was no fortress. This was hardly an organization at all. Just scattered people, many who had previously never had a damn thing in common, doing their collective best to put on a brave face at the site of a great affront to the world. Felicidus turned once more to the Breach. Such an ugly wound in the sky. It took everything from him. From all those gathered here in one way or another.

The qunari took a grounding breath. He was prepared to die to see that tear vanquished. But first, he would need to be embraced by this fighting force. And so, Felicidus forced his gaze away from the heavens and began finding his way to the lodgings for recruits and refugees. He knew that tomorrow the real fight would begin.
 
Inquisition_Icon.png
:: For the Inquisition ::
The Threat Remains
-Haven-
​
News spread quickly that the Inquisitor had left in the night for the Hinterlands. The official reason for the trip was to establish a presence in the region which was now dealing with fade rifts pouring into the mage-templar war. The real reason was a meeting with a contact the Inquisition could leverage to placate the wounded, muckraking chantry. But, while the political aims of the Inquisition required tending outside of Haven, most of the forces pledged to the organization remained in Haven to provide a stable foundation.

Our band of agents have been given assignments prepare them for the inevitable future, when they will be called into the field to performs the will of their leadership. First, the soldiers. At the crack of dawn the soldiers are roused and split into groups. Cullen requested Chevalier Vilahan to oversee the training of an odd group of warriors; a legionnaire dwarf still adjusting to the surface, an elven army-veteran fresh from the ranks of Bann Loren's guard, and a quiet qunari who used magic along with the blade. They would meet and train in the make-shift barracks outside the gates of Haven.

Next, the spies. Mahera and Moirehave been instructed by Sister Nightingale to scout the forests and abandoned buildings surrounding Haven and the valley for any resources left to be scavenged, find any hidden trails that may be useful, and to put down any stray demons left behind. They are to navigate to a point in the woods to meet each other as their first trial.

Finally, the healers. Sene has been instructed by her Lady to assist with healing the wounded. As such, she has been offered to the service of Healer Wedrow in the apothecary hut while Lily engages in business of the nobility up in the Chantry.
 
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It only seemed natural to Chevalier Andros that he be put in charge of providing combat training - not only was he one of the few who had been around in the days immediately following the catastrophe, fighting demons day and night, but he was an Orlesian chevalier! There was simply no one better suited to the task, possibly in all the world. Who else here had mastered the Second Shield, Bear Mauls the Wolves, Duelist Catches an Apple, the Spear-fisher? Naught be he.

When Cullen informed him he was to be tasked with training some so-called Agents, he was more amused than anything. Shouldn't well-trained knights be arriving by the hundreds any time now? Certainly they would come from far and wide to serve this noble purpose. That was the first he ever heard of the tears in the Fade that had opened across the world, pouring demons out like fountainheads. It suddenly made sense why the only newcomers were sorely lacking in the finer points of either decorum or martial skills - everyone who could hold a sword already was, just somewhere else.

When his assigned band of future comrades gathers at the training field, Andros is waiting with armor on, save for his helm, and is currently going through a series of stretching routines. He waits to do introductions until all have arrived. "Chevalier Andros Vilahan." He says, arms held out to the sides as he twists at the waist. There is something vaguely comical about a man of his size and bearings engaging in what is basically yoga, but he does it with total sincerity and motions for the others to follow along with him.

"I am here because the hole in the sky threatens us all, but I am here in front of you specifically because I have a lifetime of swordplay under my belt and, over the last week, an unfortunate amount of experience with the monsters from the Fade. That has earned me the.. honor, of being selected to judge your martial talents." He says. His voice carries a pleasant lilt, his flowing and flowery accent on full display. Again, it seems at odds with the dark plate armor and the look in his eyes that says he's more akin to a wild bear than the dove he sounds like.

"There are many ways to go badly into battle, but for now we will focus on two. The first is without one's muscles and ligaments sufficiently tested, hence the stretching." He says, flashing a charming smile to his companions. "The second is without knowing who fights by your side. So, as I have said, I am Chevalier Andros Vilahan, sworn to the Order of the Red Dawn, giant-slayer and champion of yester-year's Summer Tourney. And who do I have the honor of crossing blades with this cool morn?" He asks. At no point does the stretching regimen stop, but he does click his tongue at anyone who stops following along with him at any point. Once his own introduction has finished, he turns his gaze on the Dwarf.

graytful graytful lizardbreath lizardbreath The Silent Z The Silent Z
 
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