Dragon Age: The Sixth Blight [IC]

[Artorias]

Ser Ethan Urbain Rose | Chevalier | Brecilian Forest
​

Ethan was given word about the Expedition and orders from Empress Victoria to travel to Denerim and travel with the party that the young prince was gathering together. It was going to be a rag tag bunch of members all gathering for the Expedition and his Empress figured it would be best to send along someone who was professional, and a sign of good faith between Orlais and Ferelden to put an end to the this new Blight. It was also a potential way to spy on the Prince of Ferelden and maybe even befriend the Prince into sharing whatever secrets Empress Victoria may wish to know. Orlais hasn't given up on the idea of conquering Ferelden, and they never will stop until one side or the other is crushed.

It appeared that Ser Ethan was too late to meet with the Expedition, just missing the party leaving by the time he arrived at the Capital of Ferelden. An atrocious sight with awful smells for a Capital City, one that proved the Fereldens were nothing more than unwashed dogs and barbarians compared to the Orlesian Empire. Time was of the essence to meet with young Fergus and his Expidition, but Ethan needed to learn of their whereabouts. He requested audience with Queen Alexandria, but in her stead Valora came to him. Valora was a...friendly and familiar face to the Chevalier, the two have dueled against one another in the past. They were travelling south to Brecilian forest instead of heading towards the Free Marches like originally planned.

The sun would be setting soon and Ser Ethan had to regrettably leave for the Expedition, but he promised Valora that they will duel once more in the upcoming future. Without time to spare, he departed the city of Denerim and traveled South to Brecilian Forest. He encountered nothing on the roads, only deep prints that led Ethan the way to the group of travelers. When the Chevalier finally reached the entrance of the forest, the sun was starting to set over the horizon and it grew increasingly hard to follow the tracks but he would have to make due.

Traveling on foot was grueling, it truly was but he made it to the small encampment in due time and was instantly disappointed in how ill prepared they all were. They were all relaxing and chatting, seeming to be fat on a full belly and ready for sleep. Did Fergus have sentries placed? Shifts for who was on first watch? He did not go unnoticed when entering the camp, but he arrived rather quickly to the camps borders before he could feel more eyes fall on him. He wore his standard armor that any Chevalier would wear in a time of war or battle.

"Where is the Prince?" Ethan spoke with a smooth, masculine voice that held a strong Orlesian accent along with his appearance and armor. The fine armor with detail he wore showed just who he was and what Order he belonged to from Orlais, but Ethan didn't expect any of these people to know who his Order was. They all seemed uncultured when it came to Orlesian matters. A pity really as the Orlesians took interest in learning about their surrounding nations.

@BearEnthusiast

 

[Bears]

ISADORA WHITE-MANE
@DustBunny @Wolfsin​

She loved the wilds. The deep tangled woods was where Isadora grew up and where she was most comfortable. Though she was most accustomed to hunting for her food in the form of a wolf, the witch of the wilds had decided to gather meat as a bear, the expedition had plenty of members and unlike before she wasn't only hunting for two.

She arrived after the odd dwarven rogue had and watched the group from afar as the camp began to come together slowly. She had varying opinions on the members, though none of them hardly had to display the extent of their abilities with what enemies they've encountered so far. The warriors were..sufficient in combat to say the least. To Isadora, their leader seemed sheltered and idiotically light-hearted, the templar was going to expire soon, the qunari had always been attractive to her but the one they lacked the mental capacity to entertain her. Clicking her tongue in thought, she noted that the only one she considered talking to was Varsus and that was for obvious reasons.

The mages on the other hand evoked a larger variety of opinions from her. Though she personally felt she was overall more competent than them, they heavily differed from one another. There was a keeper, a circle mage dressed in armor, an apostate, a blood mage, and a tiny little mutt that just radiated magical energy. Isadora wasn't particularly fond of the little one, as eager to help as he was. He let his emotions get loose and it'll be more than their enemies that would be hurting. If she were Fergus she would've turned him away at the gates.

As night beset them, and everyone began to settle in Isadora continued to observe as everyone separated to speak with one another. A decent amount sat around the fire, others dotted the outskirts. The blood mage, who she believed called himself Gerric laid back against a tree near her and her eyebrows furrowed in response. She was no stranger to blood magic and the risks it had, Isadora hoped it was the same for him. She approached him, nodding over to where her warrior companion sat.

"I dislike the setting just as much, blood mage. But don't antagonize yourself even further than your magic already has - we've a long journey ahead of us." Isadora spoke bluntly before turning to walk away. "You are free to sit near me, if it pleases you."

She left Gerric without waiting for a reply, taking her spot next to Varsus. She was careful not to ruin her feather skirt as she joined him on the forest floor. Without a word she offered him a skewer with venison that she had grabbed along the way. She sighed tiredly before she placed her head lightly on his shoulder. She began to cook her own skewer in the fire in front of them. "I am from the Wilds as well. One of the reverted witches that lie there, in fact." Isadora then addressed everyone. "As if it was not obvious enough."
​

FERGUS ALEXANDER THEIRIN
@Artorias
​

Fergus was unfamiliar with running a group as large as this. Before all the signs of the Blight, he had lead a band of six knights who he still counted as close friends to this day. They didn't require much directing, the seven of them seemed to know what each of them expected from one another and made sure they met that expectation. But this expedition would be very different and the prince could already tell.

He had just finished polishing his blade when he heard the unmistakably Orlesian accent come from near the camp fires. Fergus' eyes narrowed at the accent. The people of Orlais were too political for him. Though the abilities of their chevaliers and armies as whole was definitely not in question, the time he spent in Val Royeaux where he received a taste of the game was enough to leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth at the very mention of the Empire.

The Prince remembered reading Valora's reports during her ventures into Orlais which he had requested from his sister in secret. Queen Alexandria often sent Val deep into Orlais for her to participate in grand tourneys, a sign of peace between his country and it's neighbor. The Empire loved Valora and judging from her accounts, she had become quite accustomed to playing the Grand Game he hated so. He scowled at the idea of Valora dancing in the Winter Palace with some esteemed Chevalier.

He stood up quickly, placing sheathing his blade but not putting it away as he strode across the camp. Speak of the devil.. he muttered as he approached the newcomer. In the back of his head he made a mental note to assign someone on watch. He'd prefer having known of the Chevalier's presence before actually meeting him..though he knew that it was his fault that he let it happened.

"That would be me." He greeted somewhat coldly. The prince crossed his arm and gave him a wary gaze. "You are a long way from the Winter Palace, chevalier. State your business."​

​

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​

 

[Artorias]

Ser Ethan Urbain Rose | Chevalier | Brecilian Forest
​

Fergus showed his face rather quickly, addressing himself to the Chevalier in a way that Ethan wouldn't consider noble or friendly. Instead he was met with cold words and Ethan crossed his arms behind his back while squaring up Fergus, judging the prince and the prince's stature. He was sorely disappointed in the Ferelden Nobility--expecting something more was Ethan's own downfall for hoping to meet a Prince of Orlesian caliber. "My business? Why it is here with you and your expedition of all the...choices of men and women of Thedas." A small smile graced his lips as he walked past the Prince and looked around the camp and at the members of the group. He should of simply requested that his Empress sent at least six Chevaliers to make sure this mission gets done instead of one, but he will make his Empress and people proud by himself. "Poor..." He was not addressing the state of the expeditions wealth, but how they were currently performing. Setting up camp in dangerous wildlands, no sentries, no sense of danger within the borders of this camp.

"Lady Valora had sent letter to my Empress personally, requesting Empress Victoria to send at least one man of her choosing to join you on this Expedition. I, Ser Ethan Urbain Rose, was chosen for this mission and left the Winter Palace as swiftly as I could." Ethan's back was to the Prince, but the Chevalier turned on heel sharply and gracefully to stare back at the Prince and continue his little story and explanation on why he was here now. "After all my days of perilous traveling. I finally arrived at Denerim only a few hours late, but Lady Valora pointed me in your direction." He uncrossed his arms from behind his body as he raised them into the air--"So here I am."

Ethan didn't give the Prince a proper bow or greeting, such as Ethan wasn't granted one either. "I am sure you would agree Prince Fergus, that this Expedition needed some professionalism to it." He said bluntly, stating already to the Prince that he was wary and judging the current adventurers. He didn't know them personally, but he was still going to judge just like any Orlesian would. It was simply how he was raised.

For the Prince, in Ethan's eyes the Prince didn't seem much of a fighter. Appearances were generally deceiving but Ethan would be willing to bet that the Qunari up in the tree was more reckless and barbaric on the field of battle than precise and swift. Everyone had their own style, be it wildly predictable or shrouded in mysteries. "I am not here to make enemies, only here to serve my Empress."

@BearEnthusiast

 

[Wolfsin]

Little by little Varsus was coming to understand the group of vagabonds that he'd be traveling with. Some of them were silent as tombstones, and others found everything to talk about. For now he satisfied himself in simply listening to the talk.... none of which he missed. The wilds had trained him to the likeliness of a barbarian, yet the skill of a ranger and he prided himself with the ability to listen, learn.. and perhaps most importantly adapt. The mages were especially quiet too, for those that would normally blabber on about their latest studies.... mmm Varsus hated them... Not these ones specifically but the whole idea of those that held the power to manipulate this world to their will. Especially those that had no grasp, or respect for what they were doing. Isadora.. was not like them.

No not Isadora. Varsus had forgotten just how long it had been that Isadora was a part of his clan, but of anyone he treasured her. She had her goals, and he of course had his they were different but intersected at this point and that was all either of them needed to know.

"Oi. Something to kill aye Qunari?" Varsus smirked and turned the hulking man beast known as Itwa. "I think I seen a rabbit a scurryin through the brush over there.. ye better catch it to sate some of that blood rage." It was both a mild insult and a jest that might have been passed around his clan at a ritual fire. Though varsus by no means was opposed to having a bout with the qunari.

Varsus turned back only in time to see Isadora deliver her truths. He'd started it and some had followed the idea. Then again, some still had yet to speak. Isadora settled in her rightful spot next to him, and instinctively and protectively his hulking arm wrapped around her as he pulled her close and watched the others through the fire. "Aye she is my witch.. which means any that might want to find themselves beguiled and hung up in a tree, go ahead and touch er. I wont have to lift a finger she'll do it er self." His muscle tensed around her then as a hardly laugh passed through the air. "Now, don't you be forgettin that ya hear? All these young fuckers about... plenty of em to show ya a good time." Varsus spoke quietly to Isadora, though his comments were more of a jolly little poke than anything. "You enjoyin yourself yet Isadora? sittin around with these fucks around a fire... waitin to slay some dark spawn?" He was absolutely horrible with small talk. Always had been.

The sudden rustle in the bushes instantly drew Varsus attention though... actually even before the bushes had rustled. His hand unwound from around Isadora and Varsus was on his feet even before the intruder spoke. He stood ready with fists clenched staring at the brush before the Orlesian appeared. Varsus glared through the fire, but didn't say anything as he'd already noticed that the prince Ferghus was getting up. This was not his.. clan.. and so it was not his place to deal with this until made necessary by their commanding officer. Isadora had spent many a night drilling this damned fact into his head before they'd even set out. That didn't mean though, that the way the orlesian surveyed them.... didn't piss him off.

Nothing so close to the camp that was said was going to escape Varsus ears... and that included poor insults from a suited knight. "Aye.. professionalism indeed... Did ya stick yer sword up yer ass before you got here just to look pretty for us... or is it always stuck up there? You want professionals, and ya don't want to make enemies.. well yer first mistake was looking at us like a bunch of poor thugs. ye don't know us boy, and we don't know you.. so the next time ye look in our direction it better be to look at me ass, or to regard us with respect. yer little whisper to the prince wont get by here... and ye wanna talk about professionalism.... yer late boyo.. so get over here.. grab a bite and sit yer ass at the fire... otherwise.. this whole meetin is not gonna go very well at all."

With that Varsus returned to his seat. Whether he got a talkin to by their commander or not... he wasn't about to have any one here look down on him. They were all in each others hands now.. and if Sir Ethan expected to look at them as lessers... he'd quickly know what it felt to look down at someone under a size sixteen boot. Varsus turned back to Isadora after that and smirked. "Ye like that one? I think I may enjoy this a bit more then I thought."

 

[Bears]

ISADORA WHITE-MANE
@Wolfsin
​

The arm wrap was not unexpected and despite the frown she plastered on her lips, Isadora did not mind being held in his warmth. She spent the last few years with him and his people, but only recently had she let herself get this comfortable with them. They were both two strong individuals who needed something from one another. Though she was attracted to him, sex was out of the question. Sleeping with Varsus would only blur the lines she had established long ago in order to protect both of their interests. "I am no one's witch but my own." Isadora spoke softly, laughing when Varsus quieted down to check up on her. She placed one hand on his cheek before tilting her head amused. "You are much more attractive when you don't talk, Varsus." She whispered. Obviously, Isadora wasn't so strict about flirting.

The witch had quickly grabbed her staff when her warrior companion stood fast to defend them from whatever was rustling in the bushes, it was a common reaction they shared during their years of travel together. But the decorated plates of an Orlesian chevalier caught everyone's eyes and Isadora noted Varsus calming his stance. Good. Her lessons worked. Isadora stood up as well at the arrival of this stranger and watched curiously as Fergus spoke to him.

Holding back a mocking clap at seeing the Chevalier disregard the Prince she watched the Orlesian, introduced as Ethan, examine the camp with a quick and critical eye. Isadora was familiar with Orlais and it's culture, long ago her own sister had played the empire's Grand Game even. Surprising considering what she just revealed to everyone, but true nonetheless.

But Varsus spoke up again and Fergus turned to him. "Stand down, Varsus. As..blunt as he is this chevalier is here to help us." The prince commanded. Isadora smirked at watching the Prince acting like a leader. Isadora returned to her seat as he did and shook her head at Varsus' satisfaction, albeit with a small smile. ​

FERGUS ALEXANDER THEIRIN
@Artorias
​

Ugh. Orlesians. Even out here in the middle of the damned woods they still made him feel like he was dancing in the ballroom of Orlais' Winter Palace. For hours he entertained woman after woman, all of which he could hardly make eye contact through their elaborate mask and hair. During this his parents were in peace talks with the previous emperor and all Fergus could think about was Denerim and the courtyard with Valora.

His gaze remained weary and on the Chevalier as Ethan displayed his truly Orlesian attitudes whilst inspecting the camp they had set up so far. When Ethan turned back to him, Fergus crossed his arms and shifted weight onto one of his legs. Before he could say anything, Varsus, the barbaric companion of the Witch spoke up and the Prince was quick to settle him.

Turning back to the Chevalier, his eyebrows remained furrowed. Professionalism. The prince held back a scoff at the idea, instead he laughed and shook his head. "Hmm. If my sister truly wanted this to be a professional expedition, Ethan, we'd have caravans, knights, and a quartermaster to boot. Perhaps even a royal emblem to show just how legitimate we are." Fergus quipped gesturing to the air nonchalantly. "But it's anything but as you've already noticed. I'm not sure what Val wrote in her letter to the Empress but this is an independent movement. No official royal support, no soldiers dedicated to the cause, no carts to haul supplies. Just men and women equal in arms acting while others will not."

He moved closer to the Chevalier, his eyes narrowing as he extended one gloved hand. "Understand that and we will have no problems." ​

 

[Kitti]

The burn of the alcohol from the bottle lingered both in Solavir's thoughts and in her throat and so it was with surprise that she watched the dwarf tip it back as though it were little more than a refreshing flask of cool water. She couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, wide-eyed in disbelief at his ability to not only keep it down but seem to enjoy it. Her own insides recoiled at the very thought of attempting the same feat. Not wanting to seem rude, though, she quickly lowered her lashes to look down at her hands and was glad that she had done so before he paid the compliment to her vallaslin, for she was certain that her cheeks had taken on a rosy hue that wasn't attributed to the drink.

This almost demure posture was not long-lived though, as she raised her gaze again to his face at his tale, searching his expression with her own guarded gaze. Though he did not seem upset recounting the experience of getting his facial tattoo, she could not help the flicker of sympathy that crossed her gaze hearing about it. Still, she admired that he had made the best of the markings, creating an identity for himself that embraced this rather than trying to hide from it or, worse, wallowing in self-pity over such misfortune. The expression on his face looked as though it was intended to downplay any suffering and it was evident that he did not want any sort of pity for his experiences, a sentiment that Solavir was willing to indulge and she held her tongue on the matter.

Between the warming effects of the alcohol, the candid but playful conversation, and the comfortable smells of the fire blending with the earthy scents of the wood, Solavir had begun to grow fairly comfortable. This took her by surprise, as she had half expected to feel on edge surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces, many of whom had not looked overly friendly from the start. A full smile stole across her features listening to the dwarf voice his opinions on the parties members in sight. Her own were influenced by the cocky declarations on a few of their number, which caused her to raise her eyebrows, amused expression still firmly in place. The arrival of a new man to the camp did catch her attention, though, and she cast an inquisitive look in the direction of him and the prince before turning back to Ghrem.

"Aye, I've heard stories about how you should never trust a dwarf, casteless or not. At least, though, the casteless ones will have the decency to try to hide it from you when they're trying to rob you blind, though. Or so they say. You know, though, someone once told me that those Dalish have blood orgies in the forests..." She tried to say the last sentence with a deadpan expression but couldn't help the corners of her lips, which twitched upward mischievously. She cast her eyes around the group again, indicating the adult qunari who had just climbed into a tree.

"Do you know, is that, well, normal? Do they normally roost in trees? I confess I've never heard such a thing and even if I had, I probably wouldn't have believed it until I saw it with my own eyes."

@Tyrannosaurus Rekt

​

 

[chaosheart13]

Elwyn just shrugged off the fact he didn't get that many replies. If they didn't want to answer or just talk to him, then so be it. He remained quiet for some time until he heard the rustling of bushes. He turned his head in the direction it came from, eyes flying wide open when he saw the person. A chevalier. From Orlais. No doubt he was from nobility and he might recognize him from some ball or something as Gwyneth. But then again, he'd never really met this particular chevalier before, so maybe he wouldn't recognize him. He ducked his head and turned it away from the sight. Let him talk with the prince, just as long as his attention wasn't on him.

 

[Artorias]

Ser Ethan Urbain Rose | Chevalier | Brecilian Forest
​

Ethan didn't even give the Kocari Chieftan a second glance as the man tried to insult the Chevalier. The attempts were poor and crude, showing and proving to Ethan just how correct his judgments were becoming already. Ethan's eyes stayed on the Prince who tried to show leadership skills by getting Varsus to back down and that Ethan was here to help. Ethan allowed the Prince to continue speaking about his sister not wanting this to be professional, but Ethan said that the Empress and Valora wanted it to be. "Do not worry Prince Fergus. I will make sure that the mission is complete." Ethan would not apologize for being blunt about the poor sights before him. Unguarded, unprepared. If he was the enemy waiting in the bushes to attack, they would all be overran and dead by now. Unprepared to be ambushed with no proper sentries in place to watch.

"It is a shame Lady Valora could not come with us on this Expedition. She is a fine duelist, and a wonderful dancer." Ethan's comment wasn't meant to offend the young Prince, he was commentating on how it was a shame a talented warrior couldn't tag along with the group to ensure safety and victory. Ethan had no problems with any of the members of the group, just low expectations of how they would perform. He was judging them, yes, but that didn't mean he hated them and wished to see them die. Simply he didn't trust them with the mission placed in their hands and how dire it was for them to succeed.

Ethan had a brown traveling bag that was over his shoulder, his travelling supplies, and the clothes/armor on his back along with his weapon. His left hand was on the scabbard of his sword, right at the guard and hilt of the sword as he held the scabbard still. An old habit and muscle memory from the intense training at the Academie where they taught Chevaliers different 'forms' of fighting enemies. Currently Ethan was ready to quickly draw his sword and strike before anyone else could react given the current situation that form would be better suited until more of the members of the camp tried to attack him and of course Ethan was wary of them all an ready to kill if they tried to attack him.

@BearEnthusiast

 

[Bears]

FERGUS ALEXANDER THEIRIN
@ATORIAS
​

Fergus' lip twitched slightly at the mentioning of Valora. The picture he had in his head earlier, where she was dancing on the floor of the Winter Palace came back to mind. But now he pictured Ethan as her partner and that made it twice as worse. His eyebrows furrowed as he retracted the handshake Ethan had decided to not return. Instead, the hand moved to the hilt of his blade like the Chevalier held his. The posturing of the two men were different of course, but both were obviously prepared to draw if needed.

"A shame indeed." Fergus replied, glancing at the the man's fine blade before looking back up to meet his eye. "We were each other's first duel you know? For years we practiced with one another but I must admit that I never got the opportunity to watch her attend a tourney." He then added. The last part was a lie, in reality Fergus could've accompanied her whenever he wanted (granted he wasn't out with his knight) it was just the idea of staying in Orlais that usually kept him from going.

"If you've dueled her personally, I wouldn't mind testing out your mettle myself." Fergus smiled, though his eye still watched the Chevalier with a slight look of distaste. He was so incredibly Orlesian that Fergus couldn't help but dislike him. Were it not for his sister and the Empress' close relationship Fergus would've turned him away outright. "Valora never really commented on the other men she faced however."

 

[Artorias]

Ser Ethan Urbain Rose | Chevalier | Brecilian Forest
​

There were worse options for Valora at the Winter Palace to dance with after the duels and tourney was over. Despite Ethan's first impressions on the group, he was one of the 'better' Orlesians, but he wouldn't try to sway their mind by acting differently to receive their praise and likes. He would not be untrue to himself and be someone who he was not. He didn't come on this journey to make Friends with anyone nor did he come for riches and glory. He came because his Empress ordered him to join this Expedition and make sure it was completed. Fergus spoke more of Valora and about his younger years growing up with the Elf, all to which he wasn't surprised. "Tell me Prince Fergus on why you would think she would tell you the stories of what happens at the Winter Palace?" Ethan asked a serious question.

"Empress Victoria, and many of the Orlesian Nobles know that you aren't a fan of Orlais and her people. How many times has the Empress invited the Prince and Valora to Grand Tourney's only for Valora to come with excuse after excuse for you?" If Fergus hated the Orlesians so much and Valora knew it, then why would he want to hear all the stories about what she was doing down in Orlais? There was no point in lying to the Chevalier. Ethan himself was not offended by Fergus's choice to never go to Orlais or how he feels about Orlesians. Ethan was raised by the Academie to dislike the Fereldens because they were considered barbaric, and Ethan believed that to some extent, but he did not judge every Ferelden off the teachings of the Academie. Only the way he fights and his honor come from the Academie, his mind was his own.

"If you wish to duel, then so be it Prince Fergus." Ethan glanced around to the camp, unsure on many of the companions in the group right now and if they won't freak out about a simple duel. Some blood may be drawn but nothing serious. Perhaps this would be a way for the two to move past the terms Orlesian and Ferelden, it was how he moved past the fact that Valora was an Elf from Ferelden after all, through dueling. "Are we going for First Blood? Disarming? First Surrender?" There were different ways to judge a winner and he was giving the Prince the option of what duel he wanted.

 

[Bears]

FERGUS ALEXANDER THEIRIN
@Artorias
​

Surprisingly enough, Fergus grin grew wider as he listened to the Chevalier question him. The questions he asked ever so seriously showed that he was capable of an expression other than general distaste, the Ferelden prince chuckled lightly as he drew his blade in preparation. He held it nonchalantly, though he knew he was fully capable of assuming a proper battle stance at a moments notice. Like his father had during his younger years, the prince assumed a sly smile. "Simply put, Valora and I used to always tell each other about our ventures."

The smile did not fade as Ethan called him out for his distaste of the Empire and it's Grand Game. Instead, the prince turned and positioned himself a few paces farther from the Chevalier. He gazed confidently at the blade he held before he took it up in both of his hands. The prince turned his heel and assumed his usual form. "Your choice, Chevalier. Perhaps whatever you did with Valora." He replied ever so informally. Fergus was a prince yes, but he was far from the castle. Out here on the field he saw himself as another warrior, titles and grandstanding meant less than nothing during a battle to Fergus. "I don't hate the people of Orlais. The Orlesian farmer is little different compared to the Ferelden farmer after all. The same goes for the blacksmith, the farmer, and so on. But I will not ignore the nobles of Orlais and there acceptance of the Grand Game, there is no honest honor in it."

"Valora's excuses was her own choice. Not once did I ask her to cover for me - I do regret heavily that she went through the trouble however." He answered somberly, his eyes narrowing in focus despite the smirk on his lips. "Let us begin, Ethan."
​

 

[Tyrannosaurus Rekt]

Ghrem had been in his own little bubble with the graceful elf, Solavir. Yet, everything ground to a halt when he watched Ser Fancy Pants stroll into the encampment as if he owned it. The dwarf half wanted to grab his bow and half wanted to not. Yet, he seemed to have a reason for being here and the Adorable Lordling Fergus tended to Ser Fancy Pants with apparent dull human words.

He turned his attention back to Solavir. She was far more accommodating to his eyes and to his tastes. She seemed to be taking to the liquor well, and he was elated to see that she hadn't been off put by his nature or his words. Quite frankly, out of the elitist group he found himself surrounded by, it was comforting to find someone of similar tastes.

He laughed at her words. "Dwarves are the worst. Crotch high and very protective of it. Their honor is buried in years of swinging their dicks at each other." He patted her hand. "Casteless are the worst, though. They don't have some mind-numbing role to fulfill. They just exist. Still, it is obvious to tell them from other dwarves." He smiled. "Especially when it comes to their inappropriate rumors. They, of course, apologize for that."

He laughed at her mention of the qunari taking a tree. "We should document the phenomenon. It would probably making us a gold or two. Researchers would start equating qunari to cats. As they should. They're a surly bunch that only seem to be interested by the possibility of milk, and by milk I mean not so couth things, oh and the need to be cuddled. They're angry at random intervals, and they want to be pet at other random intervals. Qunari are cats." He nodded. "Horned cats, that sometimes have the upper torso of an attractive god. But. Cats none-the-less."

He smirked at her before his attention was turned to Fergus and Ser Fancy Pants. They seem to be speaking in tight and aggressive bursts. Their posture demonstrated a very soon fight. Ghrem smiled wildly. "My money is on Lord Fergus!" Ghrem yelled. "Who wants to bet against me?" He sat his pipe down and pulled his money purse forward. "The young lordling is too good to be bested by someone that as a stick firmly planted into their ass. What is this, a puppet show? Please do disarm the puppet, Lord Fergus." Ghrem smiled and winked.

@Kitti @Artorias @BearEnthusiast

 

[Artorias]

Ser Ethan Urbain Rose | Chevalier | Brecilian Forest
​

Ethan figured that it would be best if they simply went to disarm one another, rather than trying to draw first blood because certainly the sheltered prince couldn't handle a proper wound. Ethan on the other hand, was use to the pain of being injured, cut and beaten. Surely people from other Nations would view the Academie that he attended as cruel and unusual for how they raise the Nobles into Chevaliers. Ethan has been purposely stabbed and cut so he could simply learn and identify the kind of pain he was in. He has had bones broken, severe twists, and all sorts of other things happen to him. All so he can identify what has happened to him while he is out in the field, to know if it is a serious injury or a minor. To know if he has a broken leg or a twisted ankle. He has gone through hell just to have the title Chevalier, he has been conditioned for anything one might imagine on the battlefield. He has been trained to resist magic without the aid of lyrium, and so on and so forth. Perhaps if he was born as a Noble in another Nation, he would find the training cruel and wrong, but he has learned that it is necessary and has accepted it.

"Disarming it will be then, Prince." Ethan drew his blade and waited for Prince Fergus to draw his blade. The two would square off against one another, but the tale of their fight is boring and noble. The two were careful with each strike to disarm, overextending in a duel to simply disarm and not injure was tricky and different. In short, after what felt like an intense and long lasted duel, the two simply disarmed one another at the same time.

Dueling was a great honor and all that mumbo jumbo to Orlesians, especially Chevaliers. So the fact Fergus put up such a fight was respectable in Ethan's eyes. The fact that Ethan hasn't done anything wrong besides voice his opinion on how poor of a force they are appearing to be, and receiving such hate from people was proof that they were more racist or hateful to Orlesians. Ethan could be the same way, but he at least learns and meets the dog first before calling it a bitch. He may be wrong about a person.

Picking his sword from the ground, Ethan cleaned off the blade and let it slide back down into its scabbard. "Very impressive Prince Fergus." Ethan gave a slight bow, one that showed some respect in the Prince's capabilties. Ethan would surely be disappointed if Fergus couldn't fight. Nobles generally received the best training money or status could afford, and Fergus was a Knight of Ferelden. Ethan was a Chevalier, the Elite Soldiers of Orlais's armies, only commanded by the Empress.

Ethan would find his own little spot and pitch his own tent to sleep in, and he could take watch throughout the night.

 

[AceSorcerer]

-Those Who Lead-​

The first day of the expedition was not nearly as challenging as their task called for but Fergus knew that it would change soon enough. The duel with Ethan had challenged him. The prince had tested his share of Orlesian Chevaliers but the one accompanying them had been the most capable of them all. A distasteful thought in Fergus' mind - he knew Valora judged men based on their ability. He took did take solace in the fact that he hadn't lost however.

The rest of the evening that followed the duel was significantly less eventful. One by one the different members said their evening wishes and took to their tents in hopes of getting rest. Fergus kept the women's tent a fair distance from the men's. Each tent housed two tenants but he left who bunked with whom to them. He knew Ethan pitched his own tent. He also drafted a watch rotation for the next time they'd camp before he went to sleep. He was intent on proving his leadership abilities to the Chevalier.

****​

At the break of dawn, Fergus was up and mercilessly rallying everyone out of slumber. Their final destination of the Anderfels was far and they had no time to waste. Whilst everyone packed up camp he approached the Witch who had been long awake before everyone else. She nonchalantly sat on a low hanging branch, her ivory hair and feathered skirt fluttering in the light morn breeze. His eyes narrowed as she shot him a glare.

"How far are we from the Warden, exactly?" He spoke, the prince's voice nearly matching his late father's in both tone and which words he emphasized or strained. Isadora hopped down, gracefully landing in front of him. Her distasteful expression did not change.

"Half a day's walk." She answered before walking past him. "He waits for us with one of my agents; apparently he intends to seek alliances like your parents had during the last blight." Fergus' eyebrows narrowed even further as he followed after her.

"How does a witch of the wilds have agents exactly?" The prince asked inquisitively as the two walked through the campsite, passing the different expedition members as they packed. Isadora laughed mockingly at his innocence. "And how exactly do you know so much of my parents?"

"I did not survive this long answering every question I've been asked, young prince." She turned to him, walking backwards through the forest, her feet seemingly memorizing the placement of each root that bumped up from the earth. "Let us depart soon."

Throughout the morning the Expedition travelled as they did the day before, with Isadora in the front and Fergus following behind her they traversed even deeper into the woods. The trees, grew thicker and the land harder to traverse. The animals deep in the forest grew in ferocity the closer the group got to their destination.

But their progress as brought to a halt as the appearance of Dalish scouts signaled they were as close as ever to the first warden anyone has seen in decades. The trained elven archers surrounded the members of the expedition, each with an arrow trained on one of the group. Fergus drew his blade defensively but Isadora signaled everyone to remain calm with one graceful gesture of her hand. She rose her head, her amber eyes meeting the lone Dalish who stood at the front of them.
"Vir antish'an dirthara mithradan. Vir nal din'an." She spoke effortlessly and sweet. The Dalish seemed surprised to see a human speak his language with such familiarity but nodded silently, his expression serious. He left and a moment later they were allowed entry. As the diverse group walked through the camp they were met by the weary eyes of the clan members. Fergus was not afraid, but he felt awkward. He had never set foot in a Dalish camp prior to this.

------------​

"Wake up, Arrahel. The Grey Wardens are needed all over Thedas, and your duty is only just beginning to reveal itself…"

It was to that voice that the elf known as Arrahel the White awoke, having slept for more than three years amidst the chaos of the rising Blight. The elf felt as if all of the life in his surroundings beckoned him to consciousness, their collective will amplified through the matronly voice that had resounded throughout his mind. But that mattered not immediately, as the Dalish healers ran forward to tend to the Grey Warden, ensuring he had suffered no permanent injury during his sleep.

It was during the days that followed that the Dalish clan informed the Grey Warden about everything that occurred in the past three years, including the loss of public faith in Orlais and of some of the northern countries. Furthermore, when Arrahel asked if any of the Dalish clans they had come into contact with had sighted any other Grey Wardens. Due to the extent of the information that the Dalish could provide, Arrahel learned that the previous Warden-Commander had been found dead near Redcliffe.

It was with this news that the elf had to rise and take upon himself the duty and rank of Warden-Commander of Ferelden. The burden felt like great millstones had fallen onto his shoulders from miles above, but he could not forsake it. To forsake this duty when he was the last Grey Warden he knew of would be to condemn Thedas to the darkness of the Blight, a place from which the continent may never rise again. His duty, at least, was clear; to unify the people of Thedas against the Sixth Blight and begin to rebuild the Grey Wardens.

It was a daunting prospect, to say it in the most minimal terms, but it had to be accomplished.

The first step, Arrahel would determine, would be to call upon the obligations written down in the treaties signed with the Grey Wardens. And with the expedition to Weisshaupt the Dalish had informed him of, Arrahel wouldn't have a better opportunity. Somehow he needed to catch up with them before they reached Guerin, which according to hearsay was their initial destination. Hopefully he could convince the Dalish to uphold the ancient treaties before he needed depart for the port city.

It would be soon that the healers allowed the Grey Warden to exit the healing tent after a few days, wherein the elf donned his garb and armor. His garb consisted of a white, long-sleeved tunic- under which he wore his Warden's Oath pendant- and grey traveler's pants and matching socks. His gloves were made of inscribed leather, and his vambraces were of a central layer of red steel that was covered with twin layers of inscribed leather. His cuirass encompassed the pauldrons, chestpiece, and a short tasset that also acted as a codpiece. Arrahel's legwear, however, was simple and only consisted of red steel poleyns (knee-guards) and grey, roughspun adventuring boots that were equipped with red steel greaves.

However, Arrahel's most valuable garment was his cloak. A parting gift from his parents before he left the Circle to join the Grey Wardens, the white, hooded cloak was woven and enchanted to mimic a dragon's scales in the aspects that it could resist and protect the wearer from elemental magics, softening the blow and preventing the destruction of the cloak though not negating attacks completely and scarcely dirtying as a side-effect (this was much to the mother's approval). On the back, the Grey Warden had modified the cloak (after taking upon himself the ways of the Arcane Warrior and learning how to weave the enchantment) to have three holsters. The topmost was for his sword and its scabbard, the middle holster was for his staff, and the bottom most holder supported the weight of his metal targe, upon which was the heraldry of the Grey Wardens.

Aside from these garments, the elf wore two satchel's beneath his cloak. One carried lyrium, ingredients for potions and poultices, the instruments necessary for the aforementioned, and bandages while other carried copies of the Grey Wardens' treaties, his personal accounts, items for correspondence (including sealing wax, the seal to which was a ring he wore on his right ring finger), what little correspondence he received from other Grey Wardens, and the equipment necessary to perform the Joining, save for vials of darkspawn blood.

He did have one more bag, a single-strap rucksack in which he kept clothing and personal effects, along with preserved food and drink. It was well used, but the fabric and rope held taut and firm even after the elf's years-long slumber. With his bags packed equipment holstered, the Grey Warden pulled out his staff- which was carved predominantly from dark sylvanwood- and used it to ensure his legs were fully awake as he walked through the camp and speak to the healer, leaving his mage's satchel and rucksack in his tent as he made his way to the Keeper.

The clan's Keeper, an elderly elf named Thelralan, had the same angular racial features as Arrahel. But while Arrahel's hair was white naturally, Thelralan's hair was white due to age. But soon enough, the Grey Warden's steel-blue eyes met the Keeper's green ones, the former turning to speak on serious business with the latter. The Keeper, resting on his silverite staff, greeted the Warden-Commander as they stood under the shade of the aravel he shared with his family. The voice of the Keeper was a hardened, gruff bass while the Warden-Commander's was a lower, more serious baritone.

"Aneth ara, Arrahel."

"Aneth ara,Thelralan. I'm glad to see you're still living after my slumber, falon."

"Mas serannas, falon. Likewise, it is good to see that we did not lose you to the Fade. Did you dream any while you were in your sleep?"

"Sometimes, sometimes. At times I was conscious of the living world, observing the affairs around me, and other times I was pulled in and out of the Fade, speaking with the spirits I passed as I had control over my limbs, despite it only being in dreams."

"I understand, mithradan. But from what I understand, you Grey Wardens have different dreams than the rest of us, that it is your dreams that affirm whether or not Thedas is truly subject to a Blight."

"Unfortunately, that is true, falon. My dreams while in that state have shown me that we are, indeed, subject to the Sixth Blight. Therefore, it is with some sadness that I must ask you to uphold your end of the ancient treaties and begin to prepare, likewise informing the other Dalish clans as to the fact they are to be called upon."

"Mithradan, we cannot yet fulfill our end of the treaty. There are ruins nearby that contain an artifact sacred to our clan, a scroll that contains the recipes to lost medicines that have yet to be recreated. Retrieve this for us, and we will be able to begin."

"Very well."

"Mas serannas, Arrahel. I do have one more thing you should know before you dive into the ruins."

"And what is that, Keeper?"

"After the Fifth Blight, there was a group of Grey Wardens that used the ruins as an outpost before they were forced to abandon it due to the giant spiders that now reside there. One of the things they left, however, was a vial filled with the blood of an Archdemon. This is something valuable to your Order, is it not?"

"It is indeed. I shall keep an eye out for it. Thank you, Thelralan."
It would be then that one of the Dalish hunters who guarded the entrance to the camp, the young hunter speaking slightly worriedly to the Keeper.

"Keeper, news from the front watch. There is a group here, claiming to be searching for the Grey Warden. Their leader claims he is Prince Fergus Theirin of Fereldan."

The Keeper then scratched his chin, clearly skeptical of the message as the Grey Warden returned his staff to its holster as he looked at the Keeper, unsure as to why these travelers came searching for him.

"Did they tell you why they wanted to meet with the Grey Warden?"

"No, Keeper. They say their business is their own."

"Hmmm… very well. But tell them they are to have their weapons sheathed. I want no more trouble for the clan than we already have."

"Yes, Keeper. I will bring them to you."

The Dalish elf then gave his respect before sprinting back to the guards, the leader of which soon escorted the party in question to the Warden-Commander and the Keeper. As such, Arrahel nodded to the Keeper, facing the party that came in as he took a few steps forward so that he could speak to the visiting group without causing a stir.

"Hail, travelers. I am Arrahel the White, Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I take it you must Prince Fergus, the executor of this expedition. If I may so ask, why have you sought me out here? From what the Dalish have told me you and your companions were bound for the port of Guerin to sail to the Free Marches in the north."

Fergus examined the elf with a cautious eye. He was an actual Grey Warden. He had met few members of the order during his younger years while his mother still commanded their forces in Ferelden. But throughout the years that followed his parent's departure for the Deep Roads he hadn't gotten the opportunity. In short, it was odd to see one talking to him once more. Fergus cleared his throat and offered a handsome smile. "The answer is simply really - we are looking for the rest of your order and were hoping you knew."

"Regardless of your knowledge we also intend to bring you along." Isadora then interjected bluntly. Fergus intended to say more but the witch stepped forward past him, tilting her head to the side to move locks of hair out of her amber eyes. She offered the remaining Warden a smile before her eyes quickly scanned the camp for her agent, Trinity. When she found her she motioned her over to the group. After her agent took her place at the witch's side, Isadora's gaze slowly returned to the remaining Warden. "It would be preferable if you had an idea as to what happened."

"I wish I did. I have been unconscious through the magic latent at Ostagar these past few years… the only remaining Warden I knew of in Ferelden when I was so- my predecessor- was found dead by these Dalish. When they told me of your journey to the Anderfels, I made it a point to meet you in Guerin after securing their aid. Regardless, one the aid of the Dalish and Ferelden is cemented, I will accompany you. The Blight marshals to the south, we cannot waste time we do not have." The elf spoke with a distinct sense of duty and responsibility due his calling. As far as he knew, he was the last of the Grey Wardens and would have to rebuild the Order from the ground-up granted Thedas survived this coming ordeal.

"I agree completely, Warden. I know my sister and Ferelden will back us only when we prove to its queen that our cause is worthy of following." Fergus spoke, gesturing to the rag-tag group that he was intending on making the most of. "This is all she has given to me for the expedition and as you can tell..it's not much. I must warn you Arrahel; the Order is not what it once was. To say it has fallen from grace is to..put it modestly. Regardless, you joining is a first good step."

"And in regards to the next step -- I assume you know how we will be allying with the Dalish?" Isadora questioned inquisitively, her eyes analyzing the elf as she spoke. He was a mage like her.

Looking upon the woman's visage and garb, it would seem that she was a Witch of the Wilds. For him it was rather interesting, as he had been curious as to the manner of magical instruction that such witches- as well as the few known Chasind mages- received. But that was a question for another time, for in the moment he needed to answer hers. The Grey Warden, meeting her gaze, would continue to speak in his serious tone. "Yes, I know how. There is a ruin nearby to the east where we will need to recover a lost scroll, as well as an important Grey Warden artifact. However, this will be rather difficult unless some of you can read written elvish like myself and the Dalish here."

"I am familiar with the language." Isadora replied. "If the ruin requires us to split up in order to cover its length then it shall be done."

"We also have a Dalish elf among our ranks." Prince Fergus added nodding over to Solavir who due to both her attire and the presence of her vaslin disregarded any idea that she might have originated from an alienage. "But as you said earlier, we've no time to waste. We depart soon. We can discuss our plan of action while you lead the way to the ruin, friend."

"Then follow me. It isn't a long hike, but the roads change with the sylvians. Just don't make eye contact with them and they will not attack you. Aside from that, keep an eye out for revenants. Although, there shouldn't be any weaker ones appearing given the current stage in the lunar cycle."

With no time to waste, Arrahel took to the front and Fergus ordered the members of his expedition to follow the the Warden's lead. As they exited the camp, Isadora approached the Prince and nodded back to Trinity, who was now assimilating into the group of adventurers and misfits that the Prince had gathered.

"She helped me locate this Warden and was the one who informed him of your goal. " Isadora spoke in secret as the group slowly returned into the thick of the Brecilian. "I hope that is enough for you to disregard her roots in the Imperium." Fergus eyebrows furrowed as he glanced back at the woman. She gave him the same uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that most mages did..

Slowly his gaze returned to Isadora, he looked at her concernedly for a moment before turning back to face forward when he spoke. "For now it will have to be enough."

The Grey Warden kept on forward, leading the group until they finally came across a large set of ruins in the forest. Thick, strong vines wrapped around the worn mossed stone that was halfway submerged in a large hill. Fragments broken of the wall by time covered the surrounding ground, along with old but sturdy roots. The stillness of the ruin was incredibly unsettling and unlike the rest of the Brecilian, this area alone was completely devoid of stray noises. No crickets or birds could be heard - only an eerie silence filled the air. The Warden was the first to break this silence, as he had them all gather around as he pulled out a vial from one of his satchels.

"The ruins within here branch off, so we'll need to split into three groups in order to investigate them. The goals of our expedition is to recover an ancient elvish healing scroll, called the 'Codex of Sylaise.' Other than that, we are searching for a set of vials that match this one, contents included. I cannot tell you what is inside, but do know that if the contents touches any exposed flesh, you will need to undergo the Joining to survive. If it touches anything you own, take it off and/or burn it. If there's no questions, we'd best break off and get inside. And do keep in mind that the main foe you'll find in these ruins are the giant spiders, but there is always a chance of Darkspawn in places like these."

Opening up into the ruins, the twin granite doors gave way into a circular antechamber that broke off into three separate corridors in the cardinal directions of north, west, and south. The Grey Warden would make his way towards the western corridor, allowing the three who would deign to accompany him do so. Each of the three of them who could read written elvish led a group into one of the corridors. Arrahel did so, picking a corridor as he felt the tingling in his head. There was a definite darkspawn presence down that corridor but not nearly as much in the others, and they would need to be dealt with.

Fergus turned and gathered the members of his expedition around him. Isadora brought over Solavir to join him in front of everyone. He offered everyone a smile before explaining the situation once more.

"Our numbers will be split between the Warden, the Witch and the El-er.." Fergus' voice drifted off slightly, uncertain as to how he would label Solavir without coming off as offensive. Isadora cleared her throat before continuing for him, her tone amused with his inexperience dealing with anything other than humans and abaris "A Dalish Keeper's apprentice would be the proper title..but I believe it would be better off to just go by names, yes?"

Fergus nodded before clearing his throat and quickly recovering from that slight mishap. He was embarrassed but he played it off as best as he possibly could. Quickly, he assigned Adim, Ur'gari, Ered and Raghnall to join Arrahel in the western corridor. Isadora was to be accompanied into the northern corridor by Trinity, Varus, Ethan and Gerric and the southern corridor would be explored by himself, Solavir, Ghrem and Elwyn.

"We all know what we are looking for. We also don't know what exactly we will find down there but thankfully our Warden has given us an idea." Fergus smiled as he gave his final address with a glib tongue. "Do what you have to do but in times of doubt refer to the leader of your group. Try not to die; we still have a few nations to cross before we are done."

With that everyone separated and began their descent into the unknown.

 

[Bears]

FERGUS ALEXANDER THEIRIN

OCC THREAD l MAIN QUEST "THE SILENT RUIN" l POSTING ORDER OFF l INTERACTIONS: @chaosheart13 @Kitti @Tyrannosaurus Rekt ​

The archway and entrance into the Southern Corridor was drenched in darkness. The only light that had entered it was from the Antechamber and
after the four entered it quickly became a narrow passage. The Prince took to the front of the small band, leading the three behind him through a claustrophobic pathway that required everyone to walk sideways, with their backs pressed against the hard rock wall. Frequently, Fergus' plated armor clanked against the jutting stones and he cursed under his breath every time it did. Despite the close quarters the Southern Corridor retained an uneasy chill in its air and the Prince's stomach sunk at the feeling.

The whole time the cave also remained eerily silent aside from the occasional bump against Fergus' armor. It was silent enough that at times the only thing that could be heard was everyone's individual breath. Everything about the ruin felt unnatural to the Ferelden noble and that was never a good sign according to experience. He turned back and looked at those who accompanied him for a moment in thought. They were the smallest of the groups and had the least amount of frontline material but at the very least they were diverse. He offered everyone a sheepish smile although he was unsure if any could tell in the general lack of light.

"Well this is fun isn't it?" He began with a light tone, his voice seeming to echo in the small opening. "But perhaps a bit of friendly conversation might make it seem a little bit less..uncomfortable?" Fergus didn't address anyone specifically, choosing to speak to everyone in hopes that at least one would help him drown out the silence. Right as he finished however a draft filled the passageway and Fergus turned his head. A light appeared at the end of the passage - an opening.

While he listened to those who had chosen to respond to him, he quickened the band's pace. The sooner they were out in the open the better. After spending a total half hour of being cramped and consumed in dark, the four finally reached an open and lit area. Thick greenery covered every inch of the chamber, hiding creatures and traps alike. The roots from the trees above them dug through the ground and spread across the walls, covering elven symbols written on the stone. The light came from collapses in the roof and fresh air filled the room. A staircase rested at the end of the room but the Prince assumed that like him, the other three would prefer a bit more time to stretch in the chamber before entering another closed in hall. He settled on a nearby rock and inspected the scratches of the armor. As uncomfortable as the last half hour was they had yet to encounter any traditional form of resistance. Chuckling, he looked up and addressed the other three once more. "You guys think the other two groups are enjoying their corridor?"
​

ISADORA WHITEMANE
INTERACTIONS: @Wolfsin @Artorias @DustBunny @Princess Misaou
​

The Northern Corridor was like the Antechamber in appearance at first. Its halls were wide and decorated with old elven architecture and designs, vines draped the walls and roots cracked up and broke the stone floor in sections. Isadora watched everything cautiously with amber eyes. In her years before working with Varsus she had spent quite the amount of time deep within halls that were lost to present civilization. This ruin felt different than most. There was a complete silence when no one was speaking. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling to her but definitely an uncommon one.

As natural sun light began to fade away from the corridor she handed the warriors in her group torches which she quickly lit with a magical snap of her finger. She smiled while handing her personal companion his torch. It wasn't everyday you saw a man as large as he was making his way through a tiny close in hallway, he looked completely out of his element. Isadora had the two warriors take to the front together, the small passage requiring them to be within arm's length of each other. As Varsus passed her she offered him a wink before quickly whispering a reminder. "Try not to get into a fight with the Chevalier, while you are up there alright?"

She wasn't sure if Varsus would refrain from saying something however as he was a passionate man and the Chevalier hadn't left the best first impression last night. Regardless, Isadora then remained a few paces back with Trinity while her mind mainly focused on Gerric who walked behind them. The blood mage she had spoken to earlier during camp had remained distant and she was intent on getting him to open up. Not because she wanted an ally in him, but rather she wanted to make sure he wouldn't become a liability in the future. Utilizing the power of blood magic was walking on a thin tight rope and it was something she had done successfully in the past. For everyone's sake she hoped he had the balance to do the same.

She turned to Trinity and offered her a smile that many did not get to see. She had approached the younger woman during a time when magister's daughter was at a crossroad in her life. It was at that time the witch offered her a different path and Trinity began to work for her. But when Isadora began to see her agent as more of an apprentice exactly, the witch wasn't sure. "You did good locating the Warden Trinity. But I have another task for you."

She quickly glanced back at the blood mage before looking back at her agent, her tone became dark and grim as she discreetly whispered to Trinity her new orders. "Befriend him. We need to know if he has enough willpower to resist the demons he tempts with his magic. If you determine that he can't be trusted than we will discuss how we must eliminate him after we leave this ruin." Once she saw that Trinity understood she looked back forward - her perceptive eyes noticing the growing amounts of thick cobwebs coating the corridor.
​

UR'GARI
INTERACTIONS: @AceSorcerer @Gateman @Eternalfire61 @UltimaCircuit
​

Upon receiving his orders from the Prince clad in golden armor, the young qunari-elf child quickly ran into the Western Corridor in order be the first to join Arrahel. The slight hop in each of his steps showed just how excited he was to adventure into an old ruin. What secrets could be hidden? What creatures would they find? He had so many questions and it took all of his willpower to refrain from annoying the Warden with them. He walked behind Arrahel but still remained in a close proximity to Adim. He had applied some of the Vitaar that the bigger Qunari offered the night before. Ur'gari tried his best to mimic the designs on Adim's face based off of memorization alone but upon inspection he was sad to see that he failed to meet his own expectations.

The Western Corridor soon transferred into what seemed like an endless staircase. The eagerness and excitement the child had first felt was slowly fading as the only thing their group was encountering was staircase after staircase. Pouting with his arms crossed he hummed quietly to himself in order to prevent himself from dying of boredom. Eventually The child wondered about the duo behind him and Adim. The older of the two was a templar. He knew this because his parents had taught him to run away from anybody wearing the insignia shown on his armor. The one with the mask was a mage, the mixed blood child could feel it just by looking at him. Ur'gari turned away when he realized that he was staring.

He wanted to complain but at the same time he knew that adventurer's never complained. He managed to keep silent for the following fifteen minutes before he simply had to say something. "What are we looking for exactly? And what are we going to have to fight for it?" Ur'gari asked. He knew from the stories his parents told him that treasures in ruins had to be guarded by something. That's just how things like this went.

The Warden turned and was about to speak before his expression change suddenly. He signaled everyone to be quiet as they all realized they reached the end of the staircase. The group arrived at a corridor which remained solely lit by a large fire in the center of the room. Ur'gari counted a total of eleven shadows moved across the walls. The shadows moved in jerks and spasms. Three of the shadows were unnervingly hunched over and digging and viciously digging at something that laid lifelessly on the ground. The child caught a glance of what owned these shadows and he could feel his throat drop into his stomach. The Warden whispered something to the group but Ur'gari could only make out one word. Darkspawn.


​

​

 

[Kitti]

To say that the experience up until now had been entirely pleasant would have been something of a lie, at least from Solavir's point of view. However, she was actually rather pleased with the whole course of events, though she chose to keep her general enthusiasm tampered down a bit in light of the fact that the others were not as amiable toward it all as she was. Truth be told, she hadn't expected to greet another Dalish clan in this journey. The familiar feeling of being surrounded by her kind, and even seeing a few faces whom she recognized from crossing paths at gatherings, was heartening to her.

The Grey Warden was another story entirely. He had an energy to him that she couldn't place - was it because of whatever had made him a warden? She could almost feel the disparity in the veil around him, knew that he was a mage as well. Could he feel it, how unusual it was? She had looked hard at him, trying to puzzle it out, and was taken off guard when the proposal to go into nearby ruins surfaced. The prospect of delving into the ancient ruins was an interesting one, especially if it contained knowledge about the history of her people but she couldn't help a tinge of pink to her cheeks when she was brought to the fore of attention as the third member present who could read the script.

It was decided who the other members of each group would be and she felt fairly at ease with those accompanying her. The prince, while a little green in some of his mannerisms, was a fairly likable seeming person from what she had gleaned of him. Her conversation with Ghrem had been a pleasant one, too. The last member was the only one that gave her pause, as she had not seen much to base an opinion from in any direction. The concern was not over making friends with Elwyn, for she had not come here to that end, but rather whether they would be a liability or not. She had reasonable faith in the prince's abilities if only by virtue of the fact that he had taken them this far and was chosen as the leader of this important task. The tales of Casteless dwarves were cautionary for the occasions when they wandered into the vicinity of the Frostbacks and their reputation proceeded them in most circles, leaving Solavir content to assume his skill as well.

The silence of the tunnel had been the most unnerving part for Solavir thus far - dangerous things liked to lurk in the dark and no noise was more concerning than a ruckus. The light chatter inspired by the prince eased her thoughts as the words bounced off of the walls and for that, she was appreciative. Nothing could have prepared her, though, for what lay at the end of the tunnel. As she emerged into the light, her breath all but left her. Her eyes went as wide as saucers and she gazed in complete silence at the scene. She had scarcely seen anything so magical in her life.

If she heard Fergus's question, it didn't show as she drifted to the walls adorned with elven lettering. She brushed her fingertips over the symbols, studying them with rapt attention. She wondered how long it had been since they were written, tried to imagine the hands of those who had carved them here. Her thoughts began to turn to the fade, wondering if she would see visions of her people walking here. What knowledge was there to be gained from this place, locked away in secret for so long?

@Tyrannosaurus Rekt @BearEnthusiast @chaosheart13​

 

[chaosheart13]

@Kitti @Tyrannosaurus Rekt @BearEnthusiast

Elwyn wasn't used to going without beauty sleep, having all the time in the world to sleep when he was a noble and when he became a thief to survive. Groggy and irritated, he packed his things while mumbling curses under his breath for having been woken up so early. The trip through the woods was uneventful, until the Dalish elves came into view, bows trained on the party. He kept his mouth shut as the party conversed with them, knowing that they had to tread carefully when it came to heathens like them. Who knows what they would do if not spoken to gently like a toddler?

Though he had to admit, he hadn't expected to meet a Grey Warden while they were journeying through the woods. And he spoke of some ancient artifacts that could be of use that they needed to retrieve, right into the ruins of something or other, he hadn't been paying attention all that well. They moved on and into the ruins, coming upon a split path. He was told to take the Southern corridor along with the prince himself, the elf, and the dwarf. They were quite the mismatched bunch, to say the least.

He had to scoff at the prince's statement for idle chitchat to pass the time. They were supposed to be working here, what use would idle chatter be if they were attacked? No, better to move on and get it over with. Time seemed to pass by languidly and they had no trouble come to them whatsoever, not even when they came into a lit room that set him on edge for some reason. "Perhaps," he said, "Still, it would be wise to stay on guard. I feel uneasy about this room for some reason..." Having made his opinion known, he began scanning the room for anything that could potentially be triggered.

 

[AceSorcerer]

@BearEnthusiast @Gateman @UltimaCircuit @Eternalfire61

The Grey Warden had been previously acquainted with the mage and templar who accompanied him from Ferelden's Circle. As a result, it was good to have an old friend and an elder warrior in tow, especially since he was joining a group of people he hardly knew. As for the Qunari and half-blooded Qunari (the Grey Warden surmised this due to the ears that the child sported and their similarities to his own), it would be interesting to have new views and backgrounds that even Arrahel hadn't come across in the time that he had roamed Thedas. But as for his companions who had been in the Circle with him, the elf would speak up, addressing the group as he used magic to ignite the various sconces in the ruins.

"It is quite a pleasure to see the two of you again, Ered, Ser Raghnall. While I do realize we are exploring ruins of old, I hope if you do not ask a couple of questions regarding my old home at the Circle Tower. How does my old teacher, First Enchanter Isaiah, fair? How are my parents? They must be worried sick since I couldn't write for three years. But, most importantly, how does the Circle itself fair? I had heard of the insanity that seems to be going on in the Free Marches, but I have not heard if it spread to Ferelden. With all my being, I certainly hope it should not be so."

Now, Arrahel believed in what the Circle could stand for and what it could do. Admitting that, he was one of the Aequitarians when he was a Circle mage, one of the individuals of a magic fraternity of the same name who held the belief that mages deserved the same freedom and equality as non-mages, but it needed to occur over time. Likewise, he also believed that the Circles needed some reform. But, all in all, that was not a topic to think about in the current time. Right now, besides idle conversation to pass the time and observing the area for anything of interest, the Grey Warden kept his mind open in order to detect any and all darkspawn that might appear. Around this time he heard the young Qunari speak up, and as such the elf turned his head slightly to acknowledge that he heard the child speak, soon raising his voice to respond afterwards.

"Well- Ur'gari, isn't it?- this first trick to finding artifacts of any kind is to try and find something interesting or something that catches your eye. Not necessarily anything shiny or attractive, but I think you understand. And everyone should hope that we don't have to fight for our haul, but such is rarely the case where darkspawn and giant spiders dwell."

It was at that time that the elf stood still, drawing his blade in his left hand as he took a cautious stance, uttering only a whisper, stating that the darkspawn were ahead.

Raising his right arm, the elf sent a jolt of electricity at one of the three darkspawn, which were two hurlocks and one genlock that had been hiding behind the aforementioned hurlocks. The bolt landed square in the chest of the leftmost hurlock as the Grey Warden took his shield onto his left arm after tossing his longsword into his right hand as he charged the hurlock he wounded. None of the darkspawn were alphas or emissaries, but the other hurlock seemed to favor ranged combat as it brought out a shortbow to begin fighting. The darkspawn Arrahel was fighting wielded a greatsword, with which it slashed at the Grey Warden, who deflected the blow using his targe before lunging and scoring a hit on its torso. The darkspawn howled, but the elf didn't "hear" any other darkspawn responding to it, indicating that it would just be these three for now. The elf had the hurlock locked in combat, leaving his companions to deal with the other hurlock and the genlock.

 

[Sailor Arti]

Location: The Northern Corridor
Mood: "Oh this is not, what I signed up for"
Interactions: @BearEnthusiast - Isadora
Mentions: @Wolfsin - Varsus , @Artorias - Ethan 'Chevalier' , @DustBunny - Gerric


Trinity's first impression of this ragtag group of Theadas' sloppy seconds, wasn't a good one. She could remember herself thinking something along the lines of; 'Y'know, considering the state of this world and how we're about to enter the next blight, the end of the world and all, if nothing's done, one would think there would be a more put together, organized force of people to fight against it. Not like we're just fighting for the survival of our world or anything.' Suddenly she found herself missing the naive comfort of home as opposed to the situation she was stuck in now.

If her mother was here and heard her say her sarcastic comments out loud she would just brush her off as being dramatic, saying she didn't mean it at all when she was entirely serious. This, was not what she expected when she imagined the group tasked with being the key to stopping the blight. When she imagined joining this group, dwarfs, dalish, qunari and children (yes, there was a child qunari here too. Trinity still didn't quite understand that one. Like she had to restrain herself from gawking at the kid, pointing and being like, 'What is that? No, Really? What. Is. That?!') were not exactly the picture she came up with.

Still, there was nothing she could do about it now. Another weird thing was hunting down that Warden. When Isadora came to her with her mission Trinity was just as surprised as anyone else would be, that there was still a Warden around. She expected him to be on the hunt to recruit as many as he could into the Grey Warden's, seeing as how dire the situation was and how lacking they were in the Warden department. Surprisingly it wasn't that hard to find Arrahel. (He had a longer title but to be honest, when he introduced himself Trinity wasn't exactly listening. At some point, her brain shut off and decided it was too long to really pay attention. Not to mention the time she met him she was exhausted from traveling and hungry, automatically making her attention span shorter. And she was irritable because the Dailsh aren't exactly they most hospitable people around. )

What were Trinity's thoughts on Arrahel? She didn't have much, he seemed intelligent enough, she didn't know a lot about him but he hadn't given her a reason to dislike him. Same could be said about the lack of reason for her to like him. Honestly, her mind was just focused on completing her job. She wasn't too concerned about making best friends while on her journey here. Fast forward to what was going on currently, Trinity had been separated into a group with Isadora and 3 others. There were two other groups that were tasked with finding specific things as well. They were in some elven ruins that Arrahel and taken them too. Trinity noted the occasional web that she would almost walk through, time and time again as she continued with the others.

Isadora had the two fighters in the front. Some weird looking guy and the chevalier. Trinity was sure they're names had been said but she was probably daydreaming or something. Point is, she wasn't paying attention again and missed them. Isadora closed the gap between her and Trinity, flashing her amber eyes at the girl with an expression that only made Trinity want to sigh deeply like some 80-year-old man, tired and worn out from life. Whatever she was up to, it could be assumed, she was up to no good. Which didn't bother Trinity, until she was involved in it.

"You did well locating the Warden Trinity. But I have another task for you." Trinity knew it was something. Her hunches were usually correct. Trinity turned her icy blue eyes towards the witch of the wilds before a cocky smirked graced her lips, "Needy as always I see. Barely a few hours passed and you already want me to do something else." she shook her head, her dark curls bouncing as she did so, "What is it?" she asked the witch. Isadora's gesture was subtle but Trinity got the hint without drawing more attention and instead trained her eyes to focus on the witch instead. "Befriend him. We need to know if he has enough willpower to resist the demons he tempts with his magic. If you determine that he can't be trusted then we will discuss how we must eliminate him after we leave this ruin." she said in a hushed voice.

Trinity frowned icy eyes narrowing at her. Finding people, sure, she could do that, no problem. But this, doing this was something else. "Uh, listen, I know you know I'm very good at "playing the game". Hell, I'm from Tevinter, a Magister family at that, I should be used to playing a role. Which is all well and good, I can do that, but you see, that wasn't in our agreement. You were supposed to break me away from the things I was trapped doing, not making me do them somewhere else. " Trinity didn't like being forced to do this sort of thing. Sure, she was better than your average person at acting but she was really hoping to avoid doing any of that here. She should've known better. Of course, Isadora would make use of her strong suits. "If you wanted me to be an actor you should've left me in Tevinter," she grumbled, still not pleased with her mission. "Fine." she complied, glancing behind her towards the elf behind them then turning back around and letting out an inaudible sigh.

She should start charging for doing unpleasant missions.


​

​

 

[DustBunny]

Still resting against the tree, Gerric gave no heed to the witch that had spoken to him. Don't antagonize myself? Please, this has nothing to do with my abilities. I just can't bring myself to socialize. Much less with this group. He continued to eye those around him before letting out a silent sigh as he rested his head against the tree. The longer he stuck with this group, the less and less he wanted to remain. Too bad for him, he had to if he wanted to make sure he was safe from those damnable Templars. Eh. Riches may not be so bad either.

His eyes didn't open again until the body of a new being arrived. It didn't take long for this man to claim who he was and why he was here. It took even less time for Gerric to not like him. Gerric's first impression of this man was that he was cocky, arrogant, and a right and proper dick. The impression was soon confirmed as the man continued to speak about their group in such a rude fashion. Gerric's face never changed from its dead stare that would make corpses turn uneasily in their coffins.

When one of the other members spoke up to reprimand this newcomer, Gerric sighed and closed his eyes again. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this shit right now. He was NEVER in the mood to deal with any shit, so he tried to block everyone else out the best he could. There wasn't much left for him to hear, but he caught snipets of some of what was going on. Apparently there was a duel, but Gerric paid it no mind; he also paid little attention to the 'wager' set up by the Dwarf, as no one else really did either.

Gladly, it was soon time for them all to return for the night. Gerric absolutely refused to share a tent with any of these clods, so he slept out in the open of the night, resting against the tree that had become his only friend.

Gerric woke about the same time their fearless leader had. If Fergus thought it odd that the elf had slept in the open, he didn't show it. Standing, he dusted off his clothes and followed behind the trail of misfit heroes again. He looked around their current location, barely noticing the arrival of two new members to their party. Nothing really captured his attention until they entered the ruins. He knew that he'd have to pay attention here if he was going to be helpful. After the groups were separated, he kept to the back again.

He really didn't think too much about the group he was with, but he kept his eyes peeled. There were spiders here and Gerric HATED spiders. Footsteps quiet, he kept his eyes looking at each wall and over the floor. The webs began to get thicker and more common as they walked deeper into the ruin.

His jaw set, he continued to jerk his head around quickly at every sound he heard. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light given off by the torches, but made sure to keep an eye behind them as well. As the two ahead of him, the witch and the new female that joined them, spoke quietly to each other, Gerric narrowed his eyes. For some reason, part of him couldn't help but feel curious as to what the two were keeping between themselves.

Choosing not to think too much of it, he began to swivel his head a bit, glancing over his shoulders quickly to keep a watchful eye on the shadows behind the group. Normally, he wouldn't care. But since he was in the back of the team, his pale ass would be the first one some of these nasty spiders sank their poison-filled fangs into if some of them managed to sneak up from behind. His head movements would seem slightly frantic to those who were unsure of why, or what for that matter, he was doing what he was doing. Making sure he kept his distance and not walking into anyone, he would look over his shoulder for a few moments before looking back in front of him.

You know, if any of these people cared to look, they'd most likely think me jumpy or quite a hyperactive dumbass. The thought slightly annoyed the mage, but it was his own thoughts with no proof, so he shook it off. Whatever. They can think what they want. All I know is that no spider is going to come ANYWHERE near my ass without my permission first.

His eyes, when forward he looked, couldn't help but be drawn to the two women in front of him. Some part of him inside nagged at him, whether it was because the two made him uncomfortable with their secretivity or because he wanted to know what they were speaking, he wasn't sure.

Over and over his head and eyes followed the same routine: Look over right shoulder; look at women with narrowed eyes; look over left shoulder; look at women with narrowed eyes; and repeat again and again.

-----

@Wolfsin @Artorias @BearEnthusiast @Princess Misaou