Dragon Age: Blood Dance (Closed)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by bottlefaery, Jul 31, 2013.

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  1. Dankmoor was a town with as much excitement as its name suggested. If one squinted their eyes and peered closely enough at a map of Ferelden, they may have been able to spot it: a tiny dot of a fishing village on the far outskirts of Amaranthine. For generations, the same families lived in Dankmoor, the fishermen and their fish wives, cleaning their fish guts and bearing brutal lives at sea. Occasionally, a scandalous event would shake the village, like a fish wife being caught in bed with another man while her husband was aboard his ship, or every decade or so an unfortunate family would birth a mage child who needed to be taken to the Circle Tower. Ultimately, even if the villagers of Dankmoor were overworked and not necessarily happy, they were comfortable with their mundane lives away from the blood and strife that captured the rest of Ferelden.

    That is, until the Raven’s Nest Inn opened.

    Alaia and Eneko immediately drew suspicion when they arrived in Dankmoor. The village hadn’t had new residents for half a century. If they were fishermen, their presence may have been warmly received, but the dark-skinned twins with their tattoo-laden bodies, pierced faces and strange language were unlike anything the people of Dankmoor had ever seen. They apparently came from Rivain, which may as well have been another planet. There was even gossip and rumors that the twins didn’t believe in the Maker, as no one had ever seen them step foot inside the small village Chantry.

    The Raven’s Nest Inn drew all manner of people, foreigners from distant lands, refugees seeking shelter from the Blight, dwarven merchants with only the finest weaponry and jewelry, who would never think of stopping in a village as poor as Dankmoor under normal circumstances. When a woman claimed to see elves in the Raven’s Nest of all things, without the accompaniment of human masters, it nearly incited a riot in the village.

    Then the Blight spread its dark wings, and would have raped and burned Dankmoor to the ground, if the pair of condemned innkeepers hadn’t been there, staffs raised in their hands; raw, powerful magic at their command.

    No one would ever forget that night, how the outsiders saved them, the chaos and terror blazing through a village whose quiet, and insignificance had always been its protection.

    From then on, the people of Dankmoor tolerated the Rivaini twins, no matter how strange they still were and the deadly implications safeguarding two apostate mages presented. You’d never see a local occupying the tavern again, only Andraste herself knew the goings on that happened in there, but henceforth the Raven’s Nest Inn and its patrons were left unperturbed.

    Before a gruff templar in gleaming silver armor came riding through Dankmoor, and it looked like he was there to stay.
     
    #1 bottlefaery, Jul 31, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 31, 2013
  2. Sturdy hooves clicked the road was the steed trotted quickly along the worn dirt road. A thin lining of trees offered little shade to horse and rider as they traveled from Amaranthine. Autumn leaves littered the ground. Some lifting gently from the cold wind that started to blow. It was to be a cold night, the sea air rolling off the Amaranthine Ocean bringing with it the chill. The young templar could smell the salty sea air, reminding him of how close this small town was to the ocean that bore it’s name. The chestnut mare snorted heavily as a result of this steady pace for the long period of time he’d been traveling this way. The heavily armored templar on his back was slowly taking it’s toll on the poor steed. Heavy armor clanked with the horses movements, his hand never once removed from the broad sword at his side. “I promise, just a little longer.” He spoke to the horse though she could obviously not reply.

    The horses snorts were also joined with the panting of the mabari that trotted beside the horse and rider. She was a fine example of her breed, tall with a wide deep chest and a boxy head that held powerful jaws. Her thin coat or fur was a pale fawn color with the breeds signature darker muzzle. She grumbled in only a dog could as she looked up at her master. He looked down at the intelligent dog, knowing she was probably tired of traveling like this as well. But they needed to reach the town before it got dark.

    Misty grey eyes narrowed on the road ahead. A sneer on his rugged unshaven but young face. His straight edged masculine face making him look more fierce then he possibly might have been. He gently tugged on the reins and slowed his horse. “Whoa girl…” His deep smooth voice called to his horse. He ran a silver gauntlet covered hand through his short cut honey brown hair. Those misty grey eyes glaring at the fork in the road. The stallion tossed his head and paced anxiously, trying to bite the bit in his mouth. He studied the split in the road, rolling his strong shoulders to try and chase away the tension that held fast onto his muscles. His squared face looking between the paths. He patted the horses neck as he looked at the worn sign. Dankmoor was apparently a town very few visited.

    He grumbled when he could not read with direction to go. “Which way Kobi?” He said looking down at the mabari. She barked, wagging the nub of a tail she had and put her nose to the ground. Sniffing only a moment before she barked again and bounced towards the right. He nodded and followed his loyal companion.

    It wasn’t much longer before he slowed his horse and slowly strode into town. It was nearly off the map but by no means was this a shabby run down fishing village. The buildings were well taken care of, albeit old. Cobble stone lined the clean streets as well as skeptical towns folk. The people obviously took pride in their town. His grey eyes slid around and he nodded in greeting to the people. He was clearly a templar, adorned with the silver plate armor and symbols of the order etched into it. And yet he couldn’t help but feel... Unwelcome. Kobi even seemed to sense it. She too looked warily around and hung close to the horse and rider.


    His first stop was to the village chantry, hoping they might know if any apostate mages had passed by. He led his mare to a water trough and dismounted. Stretching a moment as his canine strode to his side. She whimpered and looked at him. “I know. Their acting peculiar but... Perhaps they don’t get much visitors?” He suggested to her as he walked inside the small chantry.
     
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