Dragon Age: Elvhenan

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by MerlotBeauty, Feb 24, 2015.

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  1. Dragon Age: Elvhenan
    A fan-based story based in the world of Dragon Age
    written by Sansa Stark and MerlotBeauty

    The Grand Cathedral, Val Royeaux, Orlais
    Matrinalis 9:47 Dragon

    "Ah. My Lady Divine, might I say that you look quite gorgeous in your new headdress."

    The woman stood, her head bowed and eyes closed. Just ahead of her was the audacious, yet resilient and peaceful statue of Andraste. The antechamber itself was quiet and peaceful, the soft amber lights reflecting warmth and comfort against the marble and gold. It was a room untouched by politics or war. There was goodness here. And the Maker's love.

    Opening her eyes, she turned her head ever so slightly gazing with borealis blue eyes that regarded the blonde elf standing just outside the torchlight's embrace. He held a look of mirth despite the fine lines on his brow, and the crow's feet sprawling from his eyes that spoke of too many days on dangerous roads. It was impressive.

    Finally, she merely smirked, both appreciating and ignoring his lecherous compliment. "It is nice to know, Zevran, that in this world there are some things that do not change." Her voice was soft, carrying a soft lilt of song and speech. "Though I am surprised that you have come yourself, and that you bring such news to me directly."

    "As you say, your Holiness, I have not changed. I love my life above all things, and now that my beloved Antiva has fallen, I find that it is time once again to perhaps find adventure and travel the world for a time. If I am lucky, then I shall find myself forgotten and unmentioned, and if I am unlucky I will find myself in the company of yet another hero capable of finding the most difficult and dangerous foes while tripping over glorious treasures."

    The Divine Lelianna chuckled, "I hear that Skyhold is in need of a new Spymaster.

    "But you did not come here in person to tell me of your future plans, Zevran. I know the news you bring, but why bother bringing it to me at all, and in person?"

    "The Chantry is everywhere. You can spread the word faster than even the Inquisition. Most importantly, you are a fair lady. How could I not witness such a beauty of the cloth with my own eyes?" Zevran smirked for a brief minute before donning a grave frown. "Antiva is no longer recognizable. I do not know if fallen is truly the correct word, but the city is in chaos.

    "The Plutocracy has been either imprisoned or executed, and in their place the elves have claimed dominion over all the lands people and holdings. Elves who once lived as slaves or in Alienages have been uplifted to nobility and humans, while not entirely cast down, are left walking a fine line."

    Divine Lelianna frowned. "Are the casualty numbers accurate? It is hard to believe that with such an uprising so many have been spared."

    "It is hard to say. The leader of these new Dalish is an enigma. None have seen his face, but his words echo and are heard by all. He offers peace and clemency with one hand, but arms the other with a sword. Those in Antiva who agreed to his terms were spared, and those who did not were... dealt with swiftly. After the first few dozen were killed in the streets... well a person's need self-preservation is often powerful."

    "I see." She did not need to hear more. People always clung to the thing that would keep them alive. It was only natural. And yet Maker preserve them, the wounds of the last great rebellion were still fresh. The sky was still scarred.Was it naive to hope that the past short years of peace would last?

    "Your Holiness, there is something more you should know."

    The Divine took in a breath and held it.

    "As you know the Antivan Crows are primarily elves. I can tell you, officially, that the Crows are now loyal to the Dalish."

    "Maker's Breath Zevran, are you saying what I think you are saying?"

    The assassin nodded. "The Dalish Clans have not only banded together in rebellion, but they have taken the Antivan nation by storm, and with it the most feared assassins in the world. That also means that they will have eyes everywhere in the nation. They have strength, numbers, and a cause they are willing to die for."

    "And what do you make of all this, you are after all an elf."

    Zevran chuckled dryly. "Ah my Lady Divine, I am and have always been an assassin first. If the elves wish to retake the world, then they are welcome to try, and I intend to use my cunning wit and sexy wiles to survive, and also stay out of the fighting as best I can."

    "I wonder how many more heroes we will see rise up, live, and die before the world finds true peace," Lelianna said, her eyes growing warm, yet sad. She and her old friend shared an old familiar look in that moment. They both remembered those days so many years ago.

    Zevran laughed then. "Perhaps a scholar is better suited to answer such deep questions, or maybe after bottle or three of wine. But alas, I must be on my way now, before your guards discover my presence and take offense."

    He stepped back into the shadows, his last words echoing down the corridor. "Skyhold, you say. Well, it has been some time since I visited the mountains near Haven..."
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  2. Shiral Clan, Emerald Graves, Orlais
    Matrinalis 9:47 Dragon

    The squalor surrounding the little tribe of elves was unlike any Ashalle had ever bore witness to. Black, thick smoke rose with the brush of a gentle summer breeze, though calming in some cases remained inexplicably horrifying through the scene before her eyes. Tangled bodies lay strewn carelessly across the blood-soaked ground, the tattered husks of elves, her people. Or, so she thought. The Hearthmistress crouched beside a stagnant body of her slain kin, letting her gentle hand trace like a ghost over the outline of the stranger's tattoos. Mythal's, she noted. He was certainly passed on to the next world. She sighed and retracted her touch from cold skin, rising with the assistance of her helpful healer's staff.

    "Diagnosis?" came the grim voice of Shiral's Keeper. His face was warped into a frown, one that she mimicked almost immediately.

    "Dead," Ashalle reported. "All of them, Keeper. Slaughtered like animals..."

    "I feared so. It appears that this is only another piece in our mystery." The Keeper, a wise man well into his elder years and compassionate beyond measure, placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of his young ward. "I did not expect that we would find them alive, unfortunately. Dalish word often becomes a true one. How many does that make, now?"

    "Three," spoke Ashalle. "Three clans, butchered."

    "Curious." The keeper scratched his chin. "I believe someone intends to stop our people from making the pilgrimage to Antiva. It isn't hard to imagine why."

    "I'm not surprised," spoke Avexus, one of the few warriors of the Shiral tribe, and Ashalle's elder brother. He stood tall with a bow slung over his shoulder, dual swords at his sides. "That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of, anyway. Why else would the Dalish be so openly attacked?"

    "You're right. Someone is trying to stop us, stop all of us. I knew we should never have left home." The woman turned her eyes toward the twenty-seven elves under their care, men, women and children, picking at the scraps of what their kin had left behind in death. "I don't like this. I don't like it at all."

    "We can avenge them, Ashalle. There is no need for murder like this in the new world us elves can create."

    "I am scared of that world, and you should be too. Violence should never be the answer."

    "Ever Sylaise's messenger," the Keeper said with a small smile. "I appreciate your warnings, but the decision has already been made. Please, do not speak of it any longer. I believe we will make it to Antiva yet, and see the world born anew." Their leader's stance on the issue was firm and final, and there was no changing his mind despite how desperate she was to do so. Ashalle knew this. She had tried countless times. "We will respect the dead and move on, Hearthmistress. I still wish to reach Antiva before the month's end."

    "And what hells will that lead us to?" she asked in attempt to be the voice of reason once more, but none cared to hear her pleas. Not even her brother. The elves went about their grim and despairing business, leaving Ashalle with her thoughts and the invasive feeling of anxiety crawling through her porcelain skin.

    She knew this could only lead to disaster.
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  3. Somewhere North of the Minanter River
    Parvulis 9:47 Dragon

    There was a cool bite in the predawn air. The soft luminous mists hovered lightly between the ancient trees, and over soft mossy ground covers. Moonlight fell through the canopy as soft blue pinlights casting more shadow than light. It was the perfect cover for those who knew where and how to wait patiently for just the right moment.

    The land sails were hastily rounded about a main fire where only hours ago the entire clan sat and shared stories of hopes and dreams; of the past, present and uncertain future. They laughed and cried together before sitting in respectful reverence. They were good people.

    And soon they would die like the rest if her people did not act swiftly.

    Tevinter assassins were tricky, and without morals or codes. There was always a mage nearby, and nearly impossible to predict their strategy. Whether they used a standard attack, or fire or undead the silent watchers were forced to wait until the true enemy attacked.
    She grew tired of waiting.

    "Find the assassins and dispatch them. Quickly. Quietly. Do not underestimate Tevinter mages." The Captain, an elven woman with silvery hair and shadowy eyes spoke in an near inaudible whisper, and without hesitation her silent scouts offered a slight, single nod before disappearing within the moonlit mists.

    Moments later there was a gasp and a subtle thud against the soft ground, and then there was another. One by one the assassins fell, and their trap left unsprung. With a sigh of relief, the woman let herself relax when the last of the enemies fell. No open battle, or magic. The Revas'Hahren would be pleased at this outcome, and more pleased to see more of his kin returning home.

    When the Captain's scouts returned she looked to them with her stark brown eyes made angry against the harsh cheekbones and perpetual frown. "Wake the clan, and find the Keeper. Inform him that the danger is past, but we must escort them to safety now while we have the advantage."
    #3 MerlotBeauty, Mar 10, 2015
    Last edited: Mar 10, 2015
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