Human Noble
For centuries, your family, the Couslands, have stewarded the lands of Highever, earning the loyalty of your people with justice and temperance. When your country was occupied by the Orlesian Empire, your father and grandfather served the embattled kings of your land. Today, your eldest brother takes up House Cousland's banner in service to the crown, not against the men of Orlais, but against the bestial darkspawn rising in the south...
Teryn Bryce Cousland, a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing his silken clothes over the only slightly faded warrior's physique of his youth faces the fireplace, silver hair framed by the flames, as he addresses his oldest friend, Arl Rendon Howe, a severe faced man not liked by many men and women of his station. "I trust then that your troops will be here shortly?"
Arl Howe winces and nods. "I expect them to arrive tonight, and we can march tomorrow. I apologize for the delay my lord, this is entirely my fault." His long-nosed face sinks into something like a emaciated blood-hound's expression as he tries to meet Bryce's eyes but fails to do so. Behind him stand two Howe soldiers, Rendon's personal guard, wearing studded leather, swords, and the bear and shield symbol emblazoned on their bucklers.
Bryce turns then and smiles back at Howe. "No no, the appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the King a few days ago myself. I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!" He crosses the floor away from the fireplace to clap his old friend on the back.
Arl Howe's face seems to lift in relief although their is not much change overall in his expression. He actually chuckles however. "True, though we both had less gray in our hair then, and we fought Orlesians, not monsters..."
Bryce Cousland lets out a hearty laugh. "At least the smell will be the same!" he glances aside as the side door to the main hall opens and closes, and his two youngest sons come marching in. In the lead is the second youngest of his three sons, Olivier, and behind him, his younger, axe-shaft shouldered brother Kaidan.
"I'm sorry pups, I didn't realize you would be here so quickly. Howe, you remember my sons, Olivier and Kaidan?"
Howe nods in respect to the two young men. "I see they've both grown into fine young men. Pleasure to see you both again" He refrains from offering a hand in welcome however.
City Elf
Denerim, the largest city and capitol of Fereldan. Long ago, Elves lived as slaves to Humans, and though they have been free for many generations now, they are far from equals. Here, they live in a walled off community known as the Alienage, working as servants and laborers when they can. Despite these hardships, Denerim's elves are a strong people who take pride in their close community. This is the only world you've ever known...until now.
A rough shake of the shoulder brings Merin around to wakefulness. Standing over him stands his fiery, red-haired cousin Shiani, dressed in simple, home-spun clothes, as she lifts a jug of water almost teasingly above his head. "Wake up cousin! Why are you still in bed? It's your big day!"
At his mumble, complaining of her presence in his bedroom, she chuckles, much like any man he was used to hearing chortle around the front porches, and says "What, you're shy now? Besides, I had to sweet talk your father into letting me tell you the good news! You DO remember what today is don't you?" her eyebrow lifts severely and she does not lower the jug of water until she is sure he is fully awake.
Dalish Elf
You were born amidst the Dalish Elves, noble wanderers who refuse to join the society of humans that subjugated their homelands so long ago. The Dalish travel the land in tightly-knit clans, struggling to maintain their half forgotten lore in a human world that fears and despises them. Although your early life was a shadowy haze of sorrow and loneliness, now with your new clan, having been taken in under the wing of Keeper Marithari, an old friend of your parents, you spend your time hunting with your clan mate Tamlen in the forests, and is sometimes the case, your quarry is not always the local wildlife...
A peasant man dashes down a slippery, root-laden slope, one of his arms tucked tightly against his body, filthy face stricken with fear as he flees some unknown pursuer. He glances back multiple times, fearfully hyperventilating before his foot catches a hidden root and spends him rolling and scrambling down the remainer of the slope, sliding to a stop against a small rock. He groans out in pain, clutching his side but refusing to let go of the parcel in his hands. Behind him, the labored breathing of his two brothers are hot on his heels, and while he waits for them to catch up, he looks around, hoping that their hunter was not already upon them.
A much different sight greets his eyes, at a drawn bow with arrow nocked to the string points right at his eyes and he cries out, scrambling backwards even as his brothers arrive on the scene. He cries out "It's a Dalish!", pointing at one of the two heavily tattooed Dalish elf who hold the drawn weapon trained on them suspiciously.
"And you three are somewhere you shouldn't be..." growls Tamlen, a blond-haired young hunter dressed in Dalish leathers, holding his longbow expertly.
"Let us pass, elf, you have no right to stop us!" challenges one of the three hesitantly, trying to appear brave with a steel-headed arrow pointing at his heart.
"No? We will see about that, won't we Lethallin?" he says to Galadrian, who sidesteps next to him from the nearby cover of a tree, also holding a drawn bow trained on the humans. A small musical snort announces the arrival of Galadrian's companion, Harad, a snow-white furred elf, known as a Halla, who blocks the men's path to the right with his gleaming white flank and magnificent rack of sharp antlers.
"You're just in time, I found these humans lurking in the bushes. Bandits, no doubt." Tamlen says to Galadrian, despite the fact that none of the men carry weapons, or armor.
The braver of the three quails as there is suddenly yet another archer present. "We're not bandits, I swear! Please don't hurt us"
"You shemlen are pathetic! It's hard to believe that you ever drove us from our homeland" growls Tamlen, stepping closer.
"We-We've never done nothing to you, Dalish! We didn't even know this forest was yours!" cries one of the others from behind cover of the one in front.
Tamlen snorts in derision. "This forest isn't ours, fool! You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin, we can't trust you not to make mischief. What do you say Lethallin, what should we do with them?"
Circle Mage
On a cliff overlooking the dark waters of Lake Calenhad stands the tower-fortress that is home to the Circle of Magi. This tower is the only place in Fereldan where mages may study their art amongst others of their kind. Within the high stone walls, the Circle practices its magic, and trains its apprentices in the proper use of their powers. But the Circle Tower is as much a prison as a refuge.
The ever vigilant Templars of the Chantry watch over all Mages, constantly alert for any sign of corruption. This gilded cage is the only world you know, having been found sensitive to magic at a young age, you were ripped away from your family and drafted here as an apprentice. Today, that apprenticeship is nearly over. ALl that remains is the final test: the Harrowing...
Roused from his bed in the dead of night, Erast Andor is pushed up the winding stairs by a plate-armored Templar, who bears the symbol of the Chantry upon his steel shield, the hilt of his sword prodding the Magi apprentice in the back pointedly as they ascend yet higher. Sleep weighs heavily upon him despite this but the Templar has not spoken a word since wakening him, only making it clear he do as he is told. They arrive on the top floor of the tower, and they are not alone.
Standing around a pedestal that glows bright blue are the First Enchanter, Irving, and Knight-Commander Greagoir, both of whom look at Erast expectantly. As the Templar moves to join several others of his kind, Erast walks forwards to stand between the two leaders of the Circle.
Greagoir steps forwards then, wolf-grey haired and bearded face stern, sword bright and drawn, point balanced against the floor. "Magic is to serve man, and never to rule over him. So spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but also a curse, for demons of the dream world, the Fade, are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."
First Enchanter Irving, a venerable old man dressed in dark green robes, walks slowly forwards, leaning on his magnificent staff. "This is why the Harrowing exist. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there, you will face a Demon, armed with only your will."
Greagoir nods and then pats the hilt of his sword. "Know this apprentice, if you fail to defeat this demon and it possesses you, we Templars will do our duty. You will die." He spoke the words so calmly he might have been talking about the weather. He gestures then towards the glowing pedestal. "That is lyrium, the very essence of magic, and your gateway into the Fade."
Irving scowled slightly but nodded as well, stepping forwards comfortingly to place a wizened hand on Erast's shoulder. "The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, my boy. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you, and remember that the Fade is a realm of dreams. SPirits may rule it, but your own will is real."
Greagoir scowls at Irving. [b]"The apprentice must go through his test alone, First Enchanter. You are ready..."
Both men move back a pace, and Erast moves forwards, grips a handful of the cool, glowing blue crystals in his hands, which powder at his touch before settling on his body like a clinging mist. A flash of light, and he is suddenly within the Fade!
The ground beneath him is unfamiliar soil and roots, the air around him thick and clinging, but not warm. Hazy shapes of floating islands hang all around him, and everything seems viewed through smoked glass. Strange whisperings, statues and trees surround him even as the portal behind him snaps shut. A ghastly roar echoes from somewhere in the Fade, his demon awaits somewhere in this realm of living Dreams and Nightmares...
Speaking in Daleish, "Yalla, No friend, we can not fight against the shems and the dark spawn. I sense no taint in them. But I do see that one hides something from us." He motions with his bow towards the first man who had fallen down."Let us see what he hides before we go any further, the elders will wonder what is going on."
The young man wakes to find an almost nightmarish sight: water over his head. "Um...of course I didn't forget. But what are you doing in my bedroom?" He chuckles but obviously is hoping someone will come in to remove her before the jug is moved.
When it becomes obvious that either he's leaving the bed or the bed, and thus he, is going to get wet...well, that makes him sit up and wipe the sleep from his eyes with a vastly oversized yawn. "Why yes..Yes, I do. It's a very important day, really."
I enter the main hall eager to see my father. I long to join the fighting down south against the Darkspawn. Surely I am ready for battle by now after my feat of heroism not to long ago. I greet my father. "Father hi!"
Father greets me and then turns my attention to his friend Rendon Howe. I remember Howe, something about the man seemed stuck up in a way, like he was always better than everybody else. I never really cared for the man's bland mannerisms and I certainly had no interest in speaking with him now. I had more important things to discuss with father, like the war.
I merely look at Howe "Your here, hi sir. Yeah good to see you too." My tone betrays me. Dry and unimpressed. I hope father didn't notice how rude that sounded. Doesn't matter if Howe notices, I don't care about him.
I look again at my father, barely able to contain my excitement. "I hear we are going to face darkspawn father. I can hardly wait to put my skills to the test against a REAL opponent." It is best I not ask, best just assume I am going along, it'll be harder for him to say no. I am ready after all, I have to be. I eagerly await my father's response.
As this strange world pressed itself onto each of the young Mage's senses, its smells, sights, sounds and magical resonances filling him, he breathes in, and out, stretching his arms, feeling the differences, the dreams. He opens his eyes fully, and absent-mindedly reaches a finger up to stroke the neck of the non-existent bird resting on his shoulder. Erast covers a look of sadness as he realizes his loss, then pauses. For the first time in his life, he is alone; no fellow mages to compete and interact with, no templars to fear or watch for...
The usually staid mage shivers, and gives in to a small measure of familiar comfort.
"The Fade... incredible..." he speaks in a quiet voice to his absent friend. "Like everything and nothing written, like a world painted with dreams..." He imagines the words his companion would speak, and nods to himself. "Aye, Pel... fancy is dangerous enough in the real world, but here... and today I must rule this world and my mind." His eyes seek the source of that demonic roar. "And my demon."
Erast drops carefully to his knees and then sits, the grass beneath him seeming to recoil back and shape itself to fit him as he crosses his legs, reaching for the black-bound book hidden in its secret pocked under his robes, over his heart. As his fingers touch it, his mind remembering the first inklings of its contents, its spells and notes and secrets, he suddenly knows it all- the knowledge and gestures of his magics present in his mind. His eyes widen for a moment. "The clarity of dreams, and of knowing all... useful." Spells prepared, he takes his first steps into the fade, scanning the horizons measuringly, seeing everything and anything as he scans his memory similarly.
Bryce Cousland winces at his youngest son's abrasive tones, throws Arl Howe an apologetic look, then straightens his back, crossing his arms behind his waist and looking both his boys in the eyes. "About that. While your brother and I are both away, I am leaving you two in charge of the castle. Only a token force is remaining and you must keep peace within the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"
He waves away his son's roaring protests before they can begin, fixing the boy with a stern eye, as if to remind him what his impulsive nature had done before. He sighs then, remembering how it was to be that young. "I'm really not prepared to deal with your mother if you try and tag along as well, either of you. She'd kill me, she's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."
"There is also someone I wanted both of you to meet. Please, show Duncan in" He nods to a guardsman who signals another of his fellows to open the great double doors at the end of the hall. A tall black-haired man strides in, his silver armor gleaming so brightly that the fireplace seems dimmed by comparison. A longsword and dagger hang at his belt, and his hair is drawn back into a ponytail, his beard short and full. His piercing grey eyes latch onto the two young men and as he nears he bows.
"It is an honor to be a guest in your hall, Teyrn Cousland" he intones somberly.
Arl Howe reacts rather oddly to the man's intrusion. "Your lordship! You didn't mention a Gray Warden would be present!"
Bryce raises an eyebrow. "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"
"Of course not! But a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am at a...disadvantage."[/b] No one seems to catch onto Arl Howe's hesitancy to meet Duncan's eyes.
"We rarely have the chance to see one in person that's true. Boys, Aldous has taught you who the Grey Wardens are I hope? Duncan says he's here recruiting before he leaves with his fellows for the south. I believe he has his eye on Ser Gilmore."
Duncan speaks then. "If I might be so bold, your two sons here would also be exemplary candidates"
Bryce's back goes so rigid he might have been a suit of armor. He steps in between his sons and the Grey Warden as if now wishing he hadn't invited the man inside his castle. "Honor though that might be, these are my sons you are talking about. I've not so many children that I want to see them all carted off to battle. Unless you two have something you'd like to add?" he throws the two a warning glance over his shoulder.
Sense Motive (Shianni)
Shianni giggles and finally lowers the pitcher. "I guess even YOU aren't so blockheaded to forget your own wedding day. I mean, with the Bride having just arrived, it's sort of a BIG deal that you remember, cousin" she teases and then throws him a wrapped bundle. "Here, Valendrian and I picked this out from Alarith's store! Try it on. I need to get going and get all of my things in order, and don't you DARE think about running off!" She warns him, balling up her fist and punching her opposite palm loudly before she blows him a kiss and skips out of the house, red braids swinging.
A low chuckle sounds from Maren's father as he leans against the nearby corner, having just walked in. "Shianni told you then" he asks chuckling before he goes about sweeping up imaginary dust with a makeshift broom, secretly retrieving a parcel from underneath his nearby bed and making his nonchalant way over towards his son, who was in the process of getting into the tight, slightly-frayed silk wedding clothes.
Sleight of Hand (Solen)
My mind is a whirl with mixed emotions. Not allowed to go? Babysit a castle? No this isn't right! I am so ready for this./[i] Before I can let out my protests, father seems to know me too well and cuts me off before I can begin.
Suddenly, the stranger is brought in. [i]A Grey Warden here? Wow, they are the greatest warriors known! They fight and slay darkspawn in droves. Truly these are mighty warriors. This Duncan is old and must have seen many, MANY battles. I am simply in awe.
I grow even more excited when Duncan seems to think I too would be a great candidate.....[i]oh yeah, and my squishy brother too. Someone really should tell Duncan Oliver's not as tough as he looks.[/b]
Ignoring my fathers glance I blurt out. "Do I ever have something to add. Grey Warden is just the sort of challenge I've been waiting for father. And this one sees that I am skilled enough to be one. It's a great idea. Oh, I know a great compromise. I go with the Grey Warden, and Oliver stays and housesits. Does that sound fair?" I am so ready to get out of here and see some action.
Tamlen throws his friend a mock annoyed scowl before he returns his attention to the three humans. "Show us what you are hiding Shem, and be quick about it."
The one holding the parcel reluctantly hands it over, forcing Tamlen to lower his bow to take it. He unwraps it and stares at the broken slab of white marble, covered all over with intricate, what looks like, scribbles. "Is...this Elvish? Written Elvish?!" he exclaims before tucking it under his arm, backing away from the human before he could try taking it back. "Where did you Shems find this?" he asks seriously.
"Back there, in a cave, the place was full of stuff like that. Pretty carvings, gold-etched statues...but we ain't going back!" says the first human, fear obvious in his eyes. "There's some kind of demon guarding the place, huge, massive creature, almost ate us right then. We grabbed up the first thing we could and took off, I can still hear its roars chasing us out of there!" His fellows nod quickly in affirmation.
Tamlen scoffs at their tale but keeps glancing down at the tablet in his arms. "There aren't any caves like that around here, we would have found it a long time ago..." he challenges the humans, eyeing his friend and the tablet pointedly.
The humans all look very nervously at each other. "We wouldn't lie about this to you, Dalish. It's just back there, across the hills and in a little glen, big old hole in the earth, leads into a cave full of stuff just like that pretty tablet."
Tamlen draws back, eyes still on the humans, and whispers, in Dalish, into his friend's ear. "I don't think they're lying Lethallin. Look...written Elvish, the first we've ever seen since Arlathan fell! We need to check it out, just to make sure if there is anything else, before we take it to the Keeper."
As the colors and sounds of the Fade whirl around Erast, a small voice suddenly sounds from in front of him, and near to the ground as well. "Oh look, another mage thrown to the wolves of the Fade, typical of those bloody Circle mages..." The speaker is nowhere to be seen at eyelevel, but, looking down, reveals a mouse, staring straight up at Erast unflinchingly, nose twitching occassionaly but refusing to move.
If anything, the Mouse appears shocked. "You...can hear me can't you? I didn't think any Mage would or could anymore...It's been so long." the mouse suddenly glows bright white and in an instant, a red-haired youth in an apprentice robe stands before Erast. "Nice to meet you, welcome to the Fade" he says ironically, bowing in a mocking gesture, twisting the word into a cruel sarcastic sneer as he looks around the place then back at Erast. "So, How long before you think the Templars just chop your head off for taking too long? I've got my money on 10 minutes, that's how long I think they waited for me. Oh where are my manners, I'm..." he begins to struggle badly, holding a hand to his head as if trying to hold onto something physically before it slips away forever.
He sighs eventually. "Oh what does it matter, I've been in the Fade so long I don't even know what I am anymore. I guess you can call me Mouse, it's the only thing I find an association with anymore, being small, running, hiding, watching the Templars exploit the mages again and again, sending them in here to die horrifically..." He winces then. "Sorry, it's just I haven't been able to talk to anyone in...Maker knows, I don't even know what Age it is anymore"
Bryce turns a frosty glare upon his youngest son, quailing the young man. Duncan however forstalls the man's chastising remarks by supplying. "I meant no disrespect nor intended to cause trouble, I was only voicing my opinion, as tempting as recruitment might be, I have no intention of forcing the issue."
Bryce settles down slightly then, throws his son a last warning look, eyes both stern and sorrowful, before he turns back to Duncan and Arl Howe. "Be good lads and go say farewell to your Brother, and tell him to lead the troops ahead of us to Ostagar. I will be following tomorrow morning with Arl Howe's troops. Do as your father asks, we will talk soon"
"I hear we are going to face darkspawn father. I can hardly wait to put my skills to the test against a REAL opponent."
Olivier's smile closes and becomes more demure. He looks the other way and breathes through his nose, knowing the rebuke his brother has coming.
"About that. While your brother and I are both away, I am leaving you two in charge of the castle. Only a token force is remaining and you must keep peace within the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"
"You can trust me, Father. I can keep the peace here in Highever and look after mother."
He knows he hasn't been the model son, but this was his moment to prove himself to the family and earn his place. And how difficult could it be, listening to the griping and b#@!~ing of the locals and telling the most upright and moralistic that they need to remove the stick from their arse and quietly championing his libertine bretheren?
When Duncan is introduced, Olivier's eyebrows rise in surprise. "A real Grey Warden? Here in Ferelden? My my, Lord Duncan, but this is a surprise! I have done quite a bit of reading about the Wardens and I never thought we'd ever see you again in this country after...well..."
He evades the faux pas. "Where there are darkspawn, there are Wardens, I suppose."
Olivier looks perplexed when Duncan says something about him making a great Warden. "But I've never even seen a Darkspawn, let alone have the training to slay one."
"Do I ever have something to add. Grey Warden is just the sort of challenge I've been waiting for father. And this one sees that I am skilled enough to be one. It's a great idea. Oh, I know a great compromise. I go with the Grey Warden, and Oliver stays and housesits. Does that sound fair?"
"Dear Kaiden is as diplomatic and astute as ever. Some of us are suited to lead and others have different pursuits," the nobleman shrugs with an easy-going smile.
When their father issues his command, Olivier nods, backs from the room, bows to all present, and then waits for Kaiden to exit with him before closing the doors behind them.
The young elf grins, catching the bundle. "Yeah, forgetting when my bride is here would be horribly bad. And you know I'm not that bad." Merin just shakes his head at the crazy threat from the red head, relieved once she'd walked out.
The chuckle briefly startles him, but he nods quickly once he realizes it's his father. "Yep, that she did. I thought for sure that she'd catch me. But I've been getting better at the small fibs."
The young man seems to be too focused on getting into the wedding clothes to notice the parcel, until his father is almost upon him. "Got somethin' for me?"
Man there is no give at all. I really wish he would take me seriously. I nod to father, "I will do as you ask. Sorry for my rudeness." I cannot mask the essence disappointment in my voice. It is portrayed very clearly.
I turn and join my brother at the door. I speak to him but my words come out like a sigh. "Lets go see Fergus." Under my breath I mutter so only Oliver would hear. "Lucky sod he is."
After we are out I begin to vent. "I cannot believe father would turn down the chance to have at least one of his sons be a Grey Warden! He should be proud of that not against it! I don't understand, I have trained for years for this kind of thing. How can he just turn me down so hastily! I really want to go and prove myself."
I take a deep breath and calm down a bit. "You are probably thrilled you don't have to go into battle aren't you?' I continue to head in the direction of Fergus's room while talking with Oliver.
"Lucky is not the word I would use. Going to war with the Darkspawn for a king who lets his wife run the country and doesn't live up to all the promises and the expectations of a more gracious crown? Don't get me wrong, Kaiden, Fergus is brave...and has no choice...but still, he's putting his life on the line for more of the same. It's not a fight for change, it's a fight for the status quo."
Olivier is careful, however, about how his lips flap as he walks with his brother, maybe editing his conversation depending upon whom they pass.
"Father turned down Duncan because he cares. Just remember that. You're still young. You have a life to enjoy. Of course, he may also be thinking of the family's image, to have one of our own pledging himself to the Wardens. But I cannot speak for father's motivations. Only live by them."
He puts a hand on Kaiden's shoulder, a gesture he has often extended in moments of brotherly care laced with an air of noble superciliousness. "Have you even been with a girl yet? How can you be thinking of spilling blood on the battlefield? Please, do not be so eager to throw your life away."
"You are probably thrilled you don't have to go into battle aren't you?'
He rubs a gloved hand over his mustache. "Well, I wouldn't be thrilled to be told to polish my parade armor and get in formation, if that's what you mean..."
As the two brothers walk down the courtyard path away from the meeting hall, their eyes fall upon the cobblestone pathway, walls and uniformed guardsmen they have grown up so used to. Everything seems different, somehow, with the soldiers now leaving for war, everyone seems very subdued. A branch ahead of them leads down a small decline, towards where is supposed to be the Cousland family treasury. Ahead of them lies the door to the castle library, with a guard standing at attention nearby.
Both men are dressed no doubt in their normal noble affair, plus the obvious dagger at Kailan's waist due to his militaristic ideals, although Olivier may carry one as well, one never knew when a good knife would come in handy. Their personal equipment, suits of stylized, Cousland armor and weapons were up above them in the main keep of the castle, locked in their personal rooms, since neither really had any reason to wear full war gear at any time soon.
A sudden hail sounds as they near the treasury, and looking around, both young men see a tall, orange-haired man near their own age come striding up towards them, wearing the standard chainmail and Cousland tabard across his chest, his longsword and shield slung across his back. Ser Gilmore is a handsome fellow, youthful and experienced at the same time, one of their oldest acquaintances growing up.
"There you both are" he says, coming to a halt in front of them. "I've been looking for both of you, but I heard the teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt. Your mother is calling for both of you. She's in the atrium, or was when she called me over to find you both. Most likely she's still entertaining lady Landra and her son."
He smiles at both men evenly, maintaining a friendly and still soldier attitude despite his history with both young lords.
Solen chuckles and smiles widely. "Can't get anything past you, my sharp eyed boy, can I?" he says before unveiling the small lacquered box he holds in his hands. He opens it slowly, carefully, to reveal an exquisite pair of boots, wrapped in soft cloth to protect them. "A wedding present from your father. They were your mother's...she would have wanted you to have them." Even despite his joy at his son's impending marriage, Solen cannot hide the obvious pang of sadness upon thinking upon the death of Marin's mother, Adaia, a few years ago.
He sighs then and shakes his head, handing the box to his son. "A proper gift for such a happy day!" he says, trying to muster back up his former cheer. "Once you're dressed, be sure to go find Soren, he's supposed to be waiting for you near the Tree. And be sure to visit with everybody, they all want to say congratulations on your happy day."
Bluff
Mouse shakes off Erast's warm hand, a look of anger on his face. There is no doubt about his robes however, although they do look the worse for wear. He is most definitely, or was, an apprentice at the Tower, although his face is entirely unknown to you.
"You may be able to leave, but me, I'm trapped here. The Templars killed my body, I don't even know how long I've been trapped here. Mortal creatures aren't supposed to exist here in the Fade longer than a dream's worth, every day I feel like I am loosing more and more of myself to this place..." he shakes his head. "Although there is still hope for you though, you still stand a chance at getting out of here, although I doubt standing here just talking is helping your chances. I'll follow, at least a ways back, to make sure you don't get into too much trouble, if I can." He stands back and resumes the form of the mouse, following behind Erast discreetly as he walks into the Fade. The place resembles some warped forest, stripped of all leaves, grass or living things. Where rocks should be stand strange metal statues of mutated looking figures, and again the demonic roar sounds somewhere in this realm of dreams. The demon obviously is angry at its being trapped here.
As they round a bend however, Mouse speaks up. "There is another spirit here, although I do not think it is the one you are meant to face here..."
On their right rests a small clearing, a cluster of lyrium crystals nearby glowing bright blue. The clearing's edges are aflame although there is no fuel, nor does the fire spread any further than where it is. Directly ahead of them stands a glowing, silver creature in the shape of a man, overlooking the drop off of the island they stand upon.
I listen to my brother speak of status quo. "Our land is under threat from invading forces that wish nothing but harm upon our people. You make it sound as though it is such a trivial matter but I think darkspawn are a very big deal. From what I hear they are horrible monsters who only know how to destroy. Not like the Orlesians at all. We're fighting for our lives here."
While I thought I had made my point, my brother hits a very sensitive matter with he asks about a girl. "Oliver you know I have no skill with women. I just have a hard time even talking to one. I mean I like girls and I would like to have a girl to protect, or fight alongside me or to support me or....." I'm rambling, best to just shut it for now and stay quiet.
When Gilmore appears I greet him warmly. "Gilmore it is good to see you. I really think you should color your hair friend. Orange just isn't normal. How did you acquire such an odd color again." I do enjoy teasing Gil about his hair. I head towards the atrium with him as we talk."
"If nothing else, I've got sharp eyes then." the young groom-to-be grins. As the box is opened, the elf seems more than a bit surprised. "Wow...I...You're sure?"
It's blatantly obvious Merin wasn't expecting the boots but after his father almost forces him to, he slips them on and heads out the door after giving the older man a hug. Out into the Alienage for the meet and greet.
Galadrian frowns thoughtfully and then nods reluctantly "I suppose we should go look. " Galadrian was deeply disturbed by the sight of the elvish writing it was something that had been lost to clans for many years. "Run shems before we use you for practice. "
Erast turns and scrutinizes the silver spirit as best he can. Raising a hand to half-cover his mouth, he points and make a sign with the other. "Greetings" he quietly whispers, magic carrying his voice across the clearing. "Be you benevolent of malevolent?"
"It isn't trivial. I'm simply drawing a parallel. The darkspawn is our current plight, but we haven't seem them in any significant force in almost four hundred years. Mages in the Circle, elves in the alienage, the poor in the streets of Denerim? Their plight doesn't happen every four hundred years or so. It's every day. Every day they are denied basic freedoms becasue of fear, prejudice, indifference-"
"There you both are" he says, coming to a halt in front of them. "I've been looking for both of you, but I heard the teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt. Your mother is calling for both of you. She's in the atrium, or was when she called me over to find you both. Most likely she's still entertaining lady Landra and her son."
Olivier clasps his hands together. "Gil! Let's just leave for a week. Get out on the town. Are you worried you'll maybe be called to Ostagar?" He follows along in the direction of the atrium, the importance of mother's calling not lost on him.
Ser Gilmore walks with the two brothers, conversing lightly and chuckling good naturedly at their jokes, but before they get to the atrium, he halts them, a hopeful look on his face. "Before we continue on milords, might I beg a question? I had heard that there was a Grey Warden in the castle?"
At their joint nod, he quickly responds "Then, is it also true, that this Grey Warden was asking after me, to test me for recruitment?" The young knight looks over the moon at the possibility, having been risen from farmer's status to a knight solely due to his combat skills and knowledge of tactics. He is nowhere near the level of skill of Kailan, and his low birth does not give him the advantages of knowing nobility and how to work around them as Olivier does, but he does well enough for himself.
Ahead of them, up a flight of stairs, lies the atrium, where, clad in a lovely violet and pink dress, the brother's mother, Lady Elenor, stands in a perfect woman's pose, hands crossed at her hips and laughing very politely at a comment made by a woman of equal years, dressed in a less expensive green dress, Lady Landra. Their mother retains her youthful beauty, her graying hair done into two buns at the back of her head, and she seems the very picture of women nobility. Her son, Dairren, who the brothers recognize from several tourneys, is there as well, with a lovely little elf maiden accompanying them, obviously the lady's maid.
The Alienage is a clustered area at the best of times, multiple small apartment-like shacks packed in together, thus providing for a very close, tight-knit family system based around neighbors and friends. Everybody knows everybody here, and that point is all too obvious as the entire group of elves outside raise a cheer and give the young Merin plenty of backslaps, handshakes, hugs, and bawdy jokes concerning his imminent imprisonment. Looming over the entire area is the massive tree that dominates the Alienage.
Several elves personally hand him small homemade or collected gifts, none of which would be worth anything expensive, but it's the thought that counts anyways. They all look very approvingly at his wedding clothes, and there is a lot of wistful sighs from the girls as he walks by. Something about a man's wedding day seems to make all women become more wanting of the said groom, or so it seemed. Well, except for Shiani. She stands amidst several male elves, throwing back wine with the best of them and laughing in that boyish way of hers.
One elf stands away from the others, dressed in much the same fashion, and with his hair freshly combed, Merin hardly recognizes his best friend Soren, who is his fellow groom today. He waves Merin over, laughing and smiling, but looking a little more nervous than usual.
The humans are more than willing to flee, not turning back once until they vanish into the forest. Harad, Galadrian's companion, walks up and nudges his arm with his velvety nose, wise eyes watching him curiously, but he also looks at the tablet in Tamlen's hands warily, nostrils flared and he prances slightly whenever the thing gets any closer to him.
Tamlen, meanwhile, stows his weapon and then turns eagerly to look at the tablet. He begins walking in the direction the shemlen had pointed the cave to be, his long-legged stride carrying him up the steep hill with no effort at all. He looks back at his clanmate and stamps impatiently. "Come on Shem-Foot, or it'll be dusk before we even get there!"
Despite his enthusiasm, Tamlen still keeps his hand on the hilt of his weapon, sharp eyes scanning the area around them purely out of habit.
DC 15 Will Save: 1d3 Nonlethal Damage
The spirit's response is, for the lack of a better word, shocking. The creature's voice thunders through his head at an ear-shattering volume. "Who are you to invade my thoughts, Dreamer?! Name thy own intentions before asking for mine!"
The spirit's form collases if they get any closer, revealing the faded outline and shape of an armored warrior bearing sword and shield. His face is obscured by the outline of a full helm, but as any studier of the Fade knew, this was not its real form, simply the shape his mind gave to it so it could be better understood.
"I am a spirit of Valor" it states after evidently calming down, but refuses to talk further unless the Mage and Mouse draw closer.
I listen to Gilmore muse over the news of the warden. He may not have been born a noble but damn do I envy him. The chance to seek out and destroy foes such as the darkspawn is an adventure I wish was part of my destiny. But I am forced to watch this war from the sidelines playing "protector" to a castle that is simply out of harms way. Worst I can expect to deal with is breaking up feuds between guards and servants, and that is if I'm lucky.
These thoughts race through my mind even as we chat and approach mother. Upon seeing her tough I do regain some composure and try my best to be polite. Walking up to the gathering I bow first to my mother. "Greetings mother, glad you see you well and youthful as always"
Not to be rude I turn also to our guests bowing to each respectively. "Lady Landra and lord Dairren it is an honor to have you as well." I then exercise one of my more perplexing characteristics and bow to the elf servant standing there as well. [b]"Thank you for your diligence in serving your masters. Keep up the good work."
Elves are such fascinating creatures. Like dwarves and Qunari, they are exotic and have rich histories. I would hope to meet the Dalish one day and perhaps hear some tales of their great trials.
I was taught by Arron to respect all sentient cultures. Though they have differences from us, they have similar feelings and goals in life and if we simply all looked the same, people may not be able to tell us apart. They have different cultures and there is nothing wrong with that. They also have warriors and acts of extraordinary bravery. Especially the Qunari. I hope to meet one some day and talk of the battles they have faced.
Often times I do think elves are treated unfairly. They live among us and have so much to offer us yet we waste so much time and effort alienating them and putting them down that we can never discover what they have to offer. Still, it is a good practice to respect what they actually do for us and thank them. It is the least we can do.
I turn back to my mother after my display. "You wanted to see us?"
Merin does his best to weave his way through the maze of people, responding with hugs and handshakes to the males and polite smiles to the females, knowing today would NOT be the day to be caught flirting.
It is with visible relief that he waves to his dear friend and fellow about to be "imprisoned." Getting close, he pops Soren in the shoulder. "You look more scared than the time your mother thought you'd seduced one of the noble women." he grins, hoping the reminder of simpler times would help calm his buddy.
"Just think, we say a few words, suffer through wearing this fancy stuff, and then food, wine, and celebration. And for once, we're not crashing the party."
The truth of the matter is, Kaiden is of noble breeding. Though he may not have paid much mind to it, he had more schooling than any farmboy and thus has more to contribute to society than just a swordarm. Gilmore, on the other hand, was of common stock. Valor in battle and service to a greater cause was about the only option he had to define himself, and Olivier could not begrudge him or any other commonborn the privilege.
When they arrive before their mother, Olivier embraces his mother and presses his lips to her cheek, and then offers his open palm to Lady Landra so that he may do the same to her hand. [b]"So good to see you in Castle Cousland again, my lady. How was your travel?"
Lord Dairren gets a nod, but the elven handmaid gets a bit more. While Kaiden thanks her for her service, Olivier is busy trying to meet her eyes and see if she has that spirit to defy the servant's trappings and look back at him, instead of always away, somewhere else...
Ser Gilmore glows at the praise and idea. "Can you imagine me a Grey Warden?! It'd be everything I'd dreamed of since I was small! But I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Pardon my outburst" He sheepishly quitens himself respectfully as they approach the Lady Elanor, bowing his head politely and standing at attention while the nobles talk.
Lady Landra allows Olivier to kiss her hand, smiling rogueishly. "You are too kind dear boy. Didn't I spend the entire time, last we met at the spring salon, shamelessly flirting with you?" She guffaws with the best of any soldier, then turns to wave her hand at Dairren, who bows formally to the two noblemen. "You remember my son, Dairren. I believe your lordship sparred with him in the last tourney?" she asks Kaidan.
"And you beat me handily as I recall. It is good to see you again my lord. I have been itching to spar with you again sometime, if we ever got the chance." Dairren extends his hand warmly, rather soft when compared to most swordsmen's.
"And this is my lady in waiting, Iona. DO say something dear!" She gestures to her elven maid, who is raptured by staring at Olivier.
The elf maid curtsies expertly. "It is a great honor, my lords. I have heard many wonderful things about you both. Lord Kaidan so strong and gallant, Lord Olivier so debonair and full of wit." She does make a point to keep her eyes modest on both young, attractive lords.
Lady Landra guffaws again and leans over to whisper, rather loudly, to Elanor, "Don't look now Elanor, but I believe the girl has a crush on your lad"
"Lady Landra!" The elf girl goes completely red.
Elanor chuckles kindly. "Hush Landra, you'll turn the poor thing scarlet."
Soren grimaces at his best friend but manages to get up a half-smile. "Yeah well..." he says sheepishly, trying to avoid looking at the exuberant crowd. "You're just lucky you had a father to help set you up with a good match. I've heard a lot about your new bride, apparently she's as noble born as you get! Knows how to cook, clean, barter, diplomacize, not to mention she's supposed to be gorgeous. My bride sounds like a dying mouse!"
Soren is about the same height as Merin, although his hair is short and spiked up, a dark brown, and his clothes aren't nearly as well kept as Marin's are. Obviously it's an older, hand-me-down set from Valendrian, although he has a ring on his thumb already that looks to be made from silver, most likely a well-meant gift from the head of the Alienage.
Soren punches Merin playfully in the arm. "Well, since you're here, we might as well enjoy ourselves a little, maybe go introduce you to your beautiful bride-to-be before you say I do. He jumps away before Merin can retaliate and steps rather quickly not to have something thrown after him.
Galadrian frowns pensively for a moment gazing off towards the camp before shaking his head turning to look into Harad's eyes communicating to scout ahead of them. He felt confident that Harad's sharp senses would warn them of any danger as Galadrian began loping after Tamlen. "At the first sign of trouble I choose when we go back as apprentice to the Keeper."
Heartened by the spirit's angry fear, Erast slowly approaches, eyes gleaming with interest as the spirit coalesces into a knight. Erast bows his head respectfully. "Erast Andor, apprentice. My pleasure, Valorwisp. May I know the rhyme and reason for your presence in this place?"
I chuckle at Darrien. "If you want to spar again and have a hope of winning, you'd better bring something bigger than that cheese knife you call a sword."
At the words of the young elven maiden I merely blush and mentioning of a crush has me blushing harder. "Um...hehe..uh" Wow this is awkward. Maybe she pefers my brother more. I try and shake my embarrassment and get to business.
"Mother, did you have need of us for something or are you simply playing match maker."
"Oh I'm sure she's not that bad. Probably not a dead mouse. Maybe more like a drowned rat." he grins and then proceeds to dodge the swat that he knows is coming from his friend.
"But yeah, I should probably know who I'm marrying, so I don't say the vows to the wrong one."
It is only a few minutes later that he goes looking for his bride.
Lady Landra allows Olivier to kiss her hand, smiling rogueishly. "You are too kind dear boy. Didn't I spend the entire time, last we met at the spring salon, shamelessly flirting with you?"
"And it is now as it was then: a lady of your standing has a truer companion in beauty than in shame."
"It is a great honor, my lords. I have heard many wonderful things about you both. Lord Kaidan so strong and gallant, Lord Olivier so debonair and full of wit."
Olivier basks in the warm glow of the elfmaid's interest, even for once looking past Dairren's handsome silhouette at her figure. But it would be importune to continue to fondle her with his eyes, or to make any overtures here, so he turns his attention to Dairren. His voice is marked with the kind of boyish affection he's always held somewhere for Lady Landra's son. "Mind your feet, Dairren, lest your boots be traded for greaves. Every able-bodied young man around here is being snatched up for the army. Except, of course, my younger sibling who for eagerness alone would supplant a platoon. And yours truly."
He turns then to his mother, the joviality of the greeting overshadowed by the circumstances they all face. For all his jesting, the very real danger for his family cannot be ignored. "Someone must remain behind to keep our dear mother company. And to keep the petitioners happy."
"Ever the cautious one" teases Tamlen before the two and the Halla begin loping off through the forest. They come across the entrance to the ruins in no time, a gaping maw in the earth set into a hill. The stonework has decayed and is overgrown in many places, but it is obviously still a ruin. No lights flicker inside, a determent for humans, but bright as day for the keen-eyed elves. Harad snorts as he comes closer to the opening, backing away and shaking his head and antlers at his partner. His eyes ring white at the edges and he looks pointedly at the mouth to the ruin with trepidation, nostrils flaring rapidly.
"Looks like your Halla doesn't want to go inside" comments Tamlen who puts his hand on his sword hilt, venturing slowly inside and swiftly out of sight as he walks down into the ancient dwelling. The stonework looks noticeably human in its make, but more elvish-looking carvings dot the walls or the floor, most of them broken or shattered like pottery. No torches flicker inside, and the place smells of rot and decomposition.
The spirit of Valor looks down upon the mage in curiosity, as well as the presence of Mouse close by. "Yet another mage trapped here in the Fade left to fight an unfair battle with a demon." It shakes its head.
"My purpose here is to stay to my code, that of my being and the virtue I aspire to. I create weapons and when dreamers come, they may test themselves to see if they are worthy to wield them. I sense in this realm you are lost for most of your strength, and you are pitted against a creature most in the mortal world would quail to face." It gestures them to a shining rack of swords, staffs and other such armaments.
"If you would seek to gain my aid, if it is your wish to do so, then I will challenge you to my test. If you are worthy, you may take one of my weapons for yourself for your battle, as well as several things that in your world would mend injuries and the like. Your blood is not so safe within your veins in this world that the Demon cannot spill it openly."
Lady Landra curtsies to the three young men and then turns back to Elanor. "I think for now I shall rest now my dear. Dairren, I will see you and Iona for supper." The young lord bows his head to his mother and then stands back a pace, as does Iona.
Elanor walks forwards to her two sons, hugs and kisses them both, then looks seriously into both their faces. "I heard that there was a Grey Warden in the castle, and simply wanted to make sure neither of you have gotten it into your heads that you wanted to be recruited. With your father and brother leaving, you two are needed to help guard and govern the castle in their absence." Her eyes are twice as stern as Bryce's ever get.
She strokes each of their cheeks fondly despite her stern gaze. "You boys are all I have in this world, and while I know you may want to go chasing off after your father and Fergus, it is in the Maker's hands. We must simply remain and safeguard our home so that they have it to come back to. You both understand that, don't you?"
As the two grooms walk back through the Alienage, most of the crowd has dispersed to begin final preparations. Ahead of them stands Shiani, who waves at both of them, and beside her stand two very pretty young Elven women, dressed in more expensive than average dresses. Behind her however, striding arrogantly through the Alienage gates, are three, very well-dressed young Human men, wearing clothing that puts to shame even Merin's fine clothes, with trimmed hair, beards and even daggers at their waists. For Elves, it was forbidden to carry weapons whilst in Denerim.
Before she can move, the one in the lead strides up and grabs her by the shoulders. She squeals and shrieks in alarm and struggles out of his grip. He lets her go, letting out an arrogant laugh. "Take your pick boys. It's a party, isn't it? Just grab a wench you like and have a good time!"
Merin's hand goes into a fist, looking over to his friend, before looking back at the trio of nobles.
"I'm sorry, but that's probably not a good idea. I hear the last time one of your kind came here and did that, they ended up having to stay in the care of Chantry for almost two months. "
He lets the phrase hang, knowing it could mean any number of things to the nobles, and he hopes it'll give some opportunity to get these idiots out, one way or another.
Even I know better than to ask mom to become a Warden. Unlike father, I'm actually afraid of her. I simply nod. Y-yes ma'am I look around. [b]We were on our way to see Fergus at our father behest. Was there something else you needed, or perhaps you can accompany us to his chambers.
"And you know that if a Hala is cautious the Dales should listen." Galadrian quotes quietly, his hand still holding the arrow to his bow he quietly checks on his knife making sure it is still attached. "Harad stay here bugle if something bad comes in after us." Galdrian says to the Hala after a momment of studying the quiet forest around them.
With that he presses his forehead to the Hala's snowy forehead and bids the white elk to remain calm before breathing heavily to steady his racing nerves and follows his clanmate into the ancient ruins.