Piece by Piece ~ 9:43 Dragon (In progress)

The night before…

Magdelene adjusted several thick pieces of skewered mutton over the fire and added more wood to the flames. Beside her, Lars was rewrapping his swollen, discolored calf in a splint with the last of their clean linen. He was fumbling, his hands trembling and clumsy from the effects of the tonic he’d taken for pain when they first made camp. Magdelene itched to reach over and finish the job for him, but he’d refused an earlier offer of help and she didn’t relish the thought of putting up with his current bad mood.

Not that it was fair of her to dismiss his current...troubles...as a simple “bad mood,” but she didn’t think she could handle dwelling on the truth just yet.

Satisfied that their dinner was cooking properly, Magdelene stood and walked to the other side of the campfire to set up their tent. She and Lars generally chose to sleep under the stars rather than under a canvas, but this would give her something to do until it was time to eat. And it would take her mind off Lars for a little while. Lars, her companion, her fellow Grey Warden, and her lover.

Lars, who’d begun hearing the Calling just days ago as they were finishing off a group of darkspawn, but who’d waited until just that morning to tell her about it.

She hammered a stake into the ground with so much force that she almost splintered the damn thing.

“Destroying our shelter isn’t going to help anything, Mag,” he said, sounding gruff. Magdelene looked over her shoulder to see him gingerly stretching his injured leg out in front of him to rest it on his pack.

She scoffed and turned back to her task, hammering more gently, but picturing his scowling face on the end of the stake. She knew she was being ridiculous, but it was easier to just be angry with him than it was to give in to her fear of losing him. Anger, she could work with. It could spur her to act. But fear was paralyzing.

They ate in tense silence. Several times, Lars seemed about to speak, at first in anger, the sullenness of each of them dragging the other one further down. But by the time they’d tossed aside the last bones, Lars’ expression had softened and he was watching Magdelene out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry, Maggie,” he said quietly.

In an instant, her anger with him was gone and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. He leaned back to lie on the ground right where he was -- outside the tent that Magdelene had set up -- and reached out to pull her down with him. She obliged and made herself as comfortable as she could while they were both still wearing chainmail. He squeezed her and she pressed her face into his shoulder, ignoring the links of steel pushing against her nose and forehead.

“We knew this was coming,” she replied. “Nothing good can last forever. At least...at least I’ll...” be able to join you one day, she finished to herself.

“Together at the Maker’s side,” he agreed. Of course he knew what she’d been thinking. “But not yet, Mag, especially not for you.”

But she wished it was.

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They started out early the next morning, before the sun had even peeked above the horizon, hoping to make it to Weisshaupt before the morning meal. Had she been travelling alone, or had Lars not been injured, they would not have stopped for the night at all. But he’d been in so much pain from his injury that it had been unwise to push on.

They made the short journey in silence, though this time they were shooting brave smiles toward each other instead of glares and scowls. Magdelene was carrying all of their gear, but even so, Lars moved slower than she did. The man was an ox, and for the leg injury to impede him this much, it had to be severe.

She led him straight to the healer upon their arrival to the fortress, who confirmed that Lars’ calf bones were broken.
The only consolation this gave Magdelene was that Lars was unlikely to go limping off to the Deep Roads if he was too injured to take a horde of darkspawn to the void with him.

She left Lars with a kiss and a pain tonic, then trudged off to stow their gear and clean herself up. She did not get far, however, before she noticed the crowd gathering before the main doors. Feeling curious, she adjusted the gear on her back so that it would be less likely to knock against anyone else as she meandered through the crowd. It seemed that Warden-Commander Cyryl had an announcement to make.


----------------------------------------------------------

Magdelene raised a hand to shield her eyes against the brightening morning sun as she watched Cyryl ascend the stairs and disappear through the fortress doors.

‘...a dissonant note to end its call,’ Cyryl had said, and Magdelene’s attention had been instantly captured. The Call eventually came for every Grey Warden, if death at the hands of darkspawn didn’t come first. She’d known it since she’d survived the Joining as a girl, and she had accepted it; that she would one day hear the Calling, and would journey to the Deep Roads to fight the monsters there, and there would be no coming out of it again. But she would die fighting, protecting the Maker’s children, and that was a worthy way to spend her life. She’d been prepared for the eventuality.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was Lars hearing the Calling first. His confession just the day before had been like a hammer to the chest. It was one thing to understand intellectually how they were each going to die, and even to understand that he, being a decade her senior, would likely go first. But actually having to face the reality of it was something else entirely. She’d been a fool to think she was prepared for it.

The thought gave her the jolt she needed to weave through the buzzing crowd, toward the main gates and the library beyond. If Cyryl was putting together an expedition that had any hope of bringing an end to the Blights -- and an end to the Calling -- as far-fetched as that seemed to Magdelene, she was going to be on that expedition.

She hurried up the stairs as smoothly as she could with all the gear still strapped to her back, making a few hurried apologies as she squeezed between two groups of conversing Wardens. She’d heard the rumors that the Hero of Ferelden was searching for a cure to the Calling, but she’d never really believed them. A cure to the Calling? It had sounded preposterous, even indulgent. Imagine, giving one’s life to fight darkspawn, to do the Maker’s work...and then letting it all go, to become weak and useless in old age. Magdelene would have never considered it, not for her and not for Lars either.

But she’d assumed they would have more time together. More time to fight, to journey across Thedas, to spread the Maker’s word in their own way, and to protect His children. And yes, more time to simply enjoy each other, when demands and obligations allowed it.

Now, they were running out of time. Now, the idea of curing the Calling seemed much less preposterous, much less indulgent, when it was her Lars facing that fate and not herself. Until today, she’d felt helpless to do anything about it.

But now, Cyryl had given her the barest hope...of ending the Blights, not just fighting them. Of ending the Calling for good. Of saving Lars. She had to try.




Tagging cmoe , I think.

Character Name: Kirsa Abendroth
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Faction/role: Rogue Archer Grey Warden


"Presentation in the courtyard at 8 am….”

Kirsa was polishing her armor when a senior warden came in to make the announcement. Her ears perked up at the order for full armor. Luckily for her, it wasn’t an issue. She looked over at Adan who was rushing to buff his armor and boots in the allotted time remaining. She smiled to herself, thinking it was typical of him. Finishing her final task of putting her boots on, she approached Adan to offer assistance.

She grabbed one of his boots so she could buff out the scuff marks. Her violet eyes met his gray eyes as she studied his face then she just shook her head. How he always managed to have a look of humor and mischief she would never understand. He smirked at her in that way that said he knew something she didn’t. How that smirk always caused her pulse to speed up, she would never know. It was ridiculous, she was 37 years old. She was too busy being a grey warden for romantic entanglements anyway.

Adan was one of her few remaining friends. She had seen a lot of good people die. From Senior Wardens to recruits barely 18 years old. She learned a long time ago she had to protect herself. She focused on her job and didn’t form very many sentimental attachments. Adan had slipped past her barriers somehow. Curious she asked, “do you have any idea what all of the commotion is about. I heard we have visitors today. Now a big presentation with full armor. Strange”

Adan shrugged his shoulders saying “your guess is as good as mine. I just heard there was going to be a big announcement.”

They worked together for several minutes in silent comradery when Kirsa finally spoke. “This looks good, I don’t want to be late, I will see you out there.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible for you to be late.” Adan teased as she tossed him his boot and left.

As a rule, she was always early. Making her way to the courtyard, she was happy to see it wasn’t too crowded yet. The others probably had to finish getting their armor ready. Kirsa was always prepared for anything. Inexplicably nervous was the only way she could describe how she was feeling. It felt as though something important was about to happen and she couldn't explain the sensation. It was already hot out even at this early hour. The fact that she was tapping her foot and feeling anxious was not helping her cool down.

They had been a large sandstorm yesterday and Kirsa glanced around noticing the piles of red sand still covering a good portion of the courtyard. Weisshaupt was not the easiest place to live, there was no denying that. It was getting loud, there had to be close to 200 hundred people filling up the courtyard. Suddenly it got very quiet, Kirsa noticed Warden Commander Cyryl was ascending the steps in the courtyard. She was a stern looking woman but Kirsa liked her straightforward attitude. After joining the First Warden and the Chamberlain of the Grey, Cyryl began a very moving speech.

Finding herself growing inspired, Kirsa listened intently. Cyryl spoke of a very important mission that could be the key to stopping blight permanently. Kirsa could no longer contain her excitement. She felt herself cheer along with the rest of the crowd. Cyryl concluded her speech by telling any wardens who wished to volunteer, they should head to the Great Library. There was no question in her mind, she was going to volunteer. Kirsa was glad she was close to the front of the crowd. She wanted to get to the Library as quickly as possible.

She felt a tug on her hand has she began to climb the stairs. She looked back to see Adan looking at her curiously. He was almost at eye level being 6’2. He must have spoken to her and she had not heard him. She continued to move forward though, not wanting to step out of line. Adan followed closely behind so Kirsa spoke over her shoulder. “Are you going to volunteer as well. This would be an amazing opportunity. To be able to be part of a mission that could accomplish what every grey warden has dreamt of doing since… well.. always.”

Kirsa glanced back at Adan. He had a look of concern on his face. She only smiled and continued moving. A small line had already started to form outside of the First Warden’s office. She turned to Adan continuing their conversation. "What's bothering you?"

He looked up to her through his silky black hair. It had some graying at the temples which only served to make him look more handsome. “This is just strange. After that whole mess with Corypheus, it seems like a bad time for such a large undertaking.” Adan spoke in a quiet voice so she had to lean in to hear him.

“Maybe, but we have to keep trying, don’t we? What is the alternative? We have fewer wardens joining each year. Many have died and even less have joined. Something has to be done.” Kirsa murmured.

Feeling a bit anxious from Adan's uncertainty, Kirsa took a moment to just look around the great library. It had high vaulted ceilings and large windows that looked out onto the courtyard. She loved all the books and she loved the smell. The library was her favorite place at Weisshaupt. She felt more relaxed as she gazed out the windows. Before long, it was Kirsa’s turn to speak with the Warden Commander.

[OOC: Collab with Phoray/Cyryl]

Kirsa approached the door and knocked lightly. Upon hearing a command to enter, she stepped into the room. The Warden Commander was sitting in a large oak chair and had papers spread across her desk. Kirsa cleared her throat stating, “Senior Warden Kirsa, I’m here to volunteer for the mission.”

“Warden Abendroth.” Warden Commander Cyryl responded, plucking a sheaf of parchment from the pile. Glancing at it, she nodded. “I’m not surprised to see you here.” She smiled slightly. “Perhaps the only surprise is you weren’t the first one in the door.”

Cyryl waved for her to come closer to her desk. Kirsa chuckled at Cyryl’s attempt to tease her. She approached the desk without speaking. “This is the 6th time I’ve said this, and it probably won’t be the last this afternoon. So, this will sound curt. There is a high chance of death on this mission. I don’t know all the details myself, that joy rests with the First Warden. He has tasked me with vetting appropriate senior Wardens for this mission.”

Cyryl reviewed the sheaf once more, offering a verbal synopsis. “You joined us 17 years ago and are 5-10 years away from your Calling. You’ve done what has been asked of you and stoically volunteered for additional missions as they’ve come up.” Cyryl looked up. “Of which one I led myself when I first took the position of Warden Commander.”

She sat the sheaf down and leaned back. “I certainly have nothing against your joining the mission, although what raw recruits we still get on occasion may miss out on your teaching skills.”

Cyryl laced her fingers together on her desk and thought a moment. “Since I have you alone, I would like to add that I’m surprised you’ve never...wanted to advance. I’d accuse you of wanting the quiet life if you didn’t volunteer so much.” She finished, with an amused expression.

“All I have ever wanted was to be a Grey Warden and somehow find a way to stop the Darkspawn from tearing Thedas apart. I do this for my sister.” Kirsa felt herself getting emotional but maintained her a neutral look on her face.

Warden Commander Cyryl’s expression darkened. “Yes. The Darkspawn end up scarring each and every one of us, one way or another.” Cyryl tapped the table and sighed. “Thank you for submitting yourself. The First Warden makes the final choice, as I mentioned. You’ll be informed by one of the task boys scurrying about later today.”

“Thank you for your time ma’am, I would be honored to be chosen for this mission.” Kirsa replied sincerely.

Cyryl nodded, already shuffling the parchments. “Dismissed.”

Kirsa came out of her meeting feeling more unsure than she went in. It had gone well but there were a lot of volunteers. There was nothing all that exceptional to note from her long career as a warden. As Kirsa was leaving Cyryl’s office Adan tugged on her arm again. He offered a reassuring smile before heading into the office she had just vacated. It was time for a good sparing session. She needed to burn off this nervous energy.

Kirsa made quick work of getting into her sparring gear and getting back outside. So caught up in her fight with a training dummy, she didn’t notice Adan approach. Luckily a wooden sword and Adan’s quick reflexes meant her swing barely grazed him. Holding both hands up in front of himself in a sign of surrender, Adan smiled and spoke. “Hey, just wondering if you want a sparring partner. It’s been a while since we had the time. I’m surprised you aren’t practicing with your bow. That’s usually your go-to stress reliever.”

“Maybe I was waiting on you to join me, it’s been a while since I sparred with someone that wasn’t a recruit.” Kirsa tossed Adan a wooden sword and the two began. Within an hour Kirsa was drenched in sweat. It was certainly turning out to be a hot day. She took a drink from her water skin before tossing it to Adan. She was about to say something when a messenger came into view.

Tagging phoray I hope

Vanasha, researcher and Altus of House Facere.



8th, Nebulis

Dear brother,

I've arrived in Amaranthine. Holidays sailing off the coast of Vyrantium stood me in good stead on that barge they called a ship on the way over here. The Waking Sea is apparently quite choppy this time of year. I'd sent a letter directed toward the Warden Commander of Amaranthine before I'd even left, with directions to send replies here to "The Crown and Lion." But nothing was here when I arrived. The man behind the bar was quite irritated that I demanded he check a second time. If the colder temperatures didn't make it obvious enough that I wasn't home, the total lack of recognition and respect from house Facere's insignia on my bracers certainly was. Regardless, I had him post another letter on the spot to Vigil's Keep and the Warden Commander there. I don't care if they are the "Hero of Fereldan" they should have some class and answer a letter. As it stands, I still haven't heard from you, which is a bit unlike you. I'll blame the Waking Sea for this lack of affection on your behalf. I'll linger here yet a while longer, converse a bit. I know there was rumors of odd goings on with Darkspawn here shortly after the Blight ended. It'll tide me over until the Warden Commander replies.

Your sister,
Vanasha
House Facere

Vanasha, researcher and Altus of House Facere.



Lothering. It'd probably been a dreary washed out village from the get go, and the Blight had done it no favors. Even the nearby weeds as the Imperial Highway came to a halting stop north of the place appeared to be struggling. Vanasha instructed the wee wisp she’d called from the Fade to inspect the road going forward. She watched it’s glow as it to’d and fro’d over a wide stair downwards into even more mud, hills to her left, and off into the distance. Briefly, it floated over the husk of a building. Even further on, Vanasha could see at least one set of torches still burning in this quiet village. Probably the inn.

Before it’d even returned, she’d gotten out of the saddle. There was no saving the matter; she’d not break her horse’s leg going down decrepit stone steps just to save her own feet. The wisp bounced estatically and she focused on bringing it to focus and be still just above her head. She told it to focus on casting a light down upon the way she walked. What could she say, carrying a torch was so plebian.

By the time she made it to the Tavern, she was glad she’d switched out her city sandals for the Thigh high Fereldan boots she’d bought in Denerim. She was looking forward to peeling them off and handing them off to the nearest sla-servant to clean.. The buildings she passed must be full of sleeping locals, the small huts backed with a very tall building in the distance. Guiding her hose across a bridge that could allow two at any time to pass, she parsed that it was very likely the Chantry that was so tall. Twenty yards short of the torches, she learned she was right and dismissed her wisp. It bounced and then blinked out.
“Hafter’s Refuge huh?” She scoffed under her breath, the sign and the door warmly lit with the fire’s glow.. As a historian herself, it tinkled in the back of her mind, that Fereldan story. But since it had nothing to do with the Blight, all she could remember was something to do with a dog. And didn’t all Fereldan stories involve dogs?

Twisting the reins of her horse round one of the metal brackets holding the torch, for lack of anything better, she pushed in. The door was certainly solid. knocking back her hood as soon as she entered, she sighed wearily even as she enjoyed the heat coming from the fire on her right. The fire gleamed on the polished amethyst diadem on her forehead. The heels of her new Fereldan boots knocked on the wood of the floor as she went to the desk. Or bar, she observed, possibly depending on the time of day. No one was there.

“Hello?” Vanasha called. A sudden snorting sound to the left made her realize someone was sleeping on the bench near a table. It clattered some on it’s legs as a very tall young barrel chested man sat up. He ran a hand down his face and across his goatee before he realized she was there.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, getting up and coming her direction. He towered over her a good six inches and she wasn’t a short woman. But Fereldens seemed to always be tall and strapping, she’d gleaned from her observations of the country so far.

“Miss.I apologize, we don’t usually get people so late. Were you wanting to check in?”

Unimpressed, Vanasha kept her tone polite. “My brother, Titus Facere, wrote to this establishment, I believe. Securing a room on my behalf in advance?” She ended her sentence with a question, an attempt at a gentle reminder of the sleepy man. She'd given up on the subtle flashing of her bracers with the insignia stamped on them in Amaranthine. She was on her own now- her name meant nothing, just the coin in her pocket.

"Ah. yes. I remember Ma mentioning that now. Considering the hour, I didn’t think you’d arrive until tomorrow.” He turned his back to her, to dig in a drawer.

Vanasha raised one brow, a bit haughtily. “The hour? I suspect it is around ten o’clock.”

“I agree, it’s pretty late. But it’s no bother, Miss Facere. Here’s your key.” He’d had time to become alert and look her over. She supposed she struck an imposing figure with her thigh high boots, thick expensive cloak, and amethyst diadem. He offered her a winning smile. “I’m Stanley, by the way. We hope your stay with us will be to your expectations.”

She shared a polite but muted smile back. “I’m sure you do.” Not taking the key, she turned halfway towards the stairs and then looked back at him, arcing her brow again.

The young man practically stumbled out from behind his desk. “Yes, miss, I’ll show you the way.”

As she followed, she thought about what she needed done.

“My horse is outside, in need of a good brushing down and a fresh stall. I’d like my packs delivered to my room. I’ll also need to post some letters. And my boots will need to be scrubbed and buffed. Will that be a problem?”

“The horse and boots, no, not a problem, Miss.” His voice rumbled warmly back in her direction. “But letters are posted at the Chantry, Miss.” He slid the key into the third room on the right, then opened the door for her.

She stepped in and took a look around. For Ferelden, it was quite a nice room. Stress on the phrase, ‘For Ferelden.’

“This will certainly do. At least there are plenty of furs on the, “she paused a moment, then ended lack lusterly, “bed.” Vansha turned round and held out her hand. “The key, please. I shall retire immediately. And place the boots outside my door.”

Stanley handed her the key, his calloused and large hand brushing hers. Vanasha kept herself from rolling her eyes. Hard.

“Good night.” And she closed the door in his face quietly. A muffled noise on the other side of the door was probably his farewell.

Sighing, she set to getting changed. She had letters to pen before she approached the appropriate level of tired.

---

OOC this post is done.

This is Vanasha's cloak.
Vanasha, researcher and Altus of House Facere.

---

She stowed the sandwich she’d just had Marge pack into her saddle bag. Then, sweeping her fur edged cloak back long enough to get a boot into the stirrup, she swung up into the saddle. She was glad she'd healed the sore skin from her breaking in her riding leathers on such short notice or she'd be miserable from all this riding.

Taking the reins, she clucked at the horse and they were off at a steady pace. As they turned right with the bend of the path, she caught the eyes of a man to her left. He'd been hammering on an anvil, but but he'd stopped long enough to glance at her and she at him. He had thick brown hair ending just at the corner of his eyes, the color of which she could not tell at this distance.



He appeared to be shirtless under his blacksmith's apron, thick leather gloves holding his trade. And then it was too much to keep looking at him without craning her head in an obvious way and so she went on. It wasn't until she'd gained the Imperial highway and attempted a trot that she realized her trip would be postponed. The sound was off on the cobbled stones; her horse was missing a shoe. Grumbling, she stepped back off and led the horse back from where she'd come from.

The resumed banging by the Blacksmith came with more intensity as she grew closer. He didn't stop even as she waited, reins of her horse in hand, a safe distance away from the occasional spark. At the point she was considering just go and take a chance on Stanley instead, the Blacksmith reached the point he needed to. He turned to quench the red metal in a barrel of water. Placing his cooled project on a table nearby, he turned back to her. Even in the chill air, he was sweating from his exertions. Vanasha didn't mind the show.

"Can I help you?" He asked, pulling one of his gloves off to wipe the sweat off his brow, his brown locks near plastered from his efforts.

His eyes were blue. “I believe you can. I was on my way out of town, when it became clear my horse had lost it’s shoe. I’d like to purchase one and would be appreciative if you’d put it on my horse so I can be on my way.”

Taking off his other glove, he sat the pair next to his project.

“I saw you heading South.” His voice was a warm baritone.

Expecting a simple aquience to her request, Vanasha ruffled. “Yes.”

“If you aim to visit Ostagar, there are rumors of spirits. Veil’s been thin since the fall of King Cailan’s army there. Further south than that, you just start being in the Konkari wilds. There’s nothing but beasts, Chasind, and bandits to the South.”

Vanasha, half lidded in mild contempt, replied, “I can handle myself.”

A disapproving expression came over his features. His tone was dismissive. “I don’t see a single weapon and all you’re wearing are riding clothes and a cloak.”

“Are you going to sell me a horse shoe or aren’t you?” The man seemed unconvinced. “What is your name?”

“Folks call me Theo.”

“Theo.” Vanasha smiled, polite and charming. Her tone matter of fact. “I can just get Stanley to shoe my horse. So you see, there is nothing you can do to stop me from going my way. So do you want my coin or shall I give it to the Innkeeper?”

Five minutes later, Vanasha was on her way, the sound of her horses hooves on the Imperial Highway sounding just fine.

[OOC: I just like little posts. Big posts make me feel like I have to break them up anyway. Onwards!]

Vanasha, researcher and altus of House Facere

---

On their way back, Theo carefully held his sword out away from the horse. He’d kindly allowed her to use his sword sheath to carry her speculatively dangerous cargo. A blackened and rusted sword, Darkspawn crafted, was within the sheath, and she maintained a small barrier round it just in case.

She was getting a bit sick hungry, so she slowed her horse down to walk. grabbing the pommel, she reached back into her saddle bag and grabbed the parchment wrapped sandwich. It was a bit soggy at this point. Theo had slowed down as well, and eyed her sandwich with interest.

She grinned, then pulled her horse to a stop. “Half?” She said, already tearing it so as to share.

“Don’t mind if I do, Vanasha” He said, pulling his horse close and reaching for it with his free hand

Both sank their teeth into the bread then urged their horses back into a walk. Theo seemed to inhale the sandwich more than chew it, sucking at his fingertips to get the juice from the beef off. Vanasha chewed hers, although her appetite made quick but tidy work of it also. Their hungry bellies satiated for the moment, Vanasha felt an inclination to speak.

“I’ll need to store this material somewhere apart from the people in Lothering, for safety.”

“What are you going to do with it, exactly?”

“My equipment from a shop in Denerim should be arriving soon. I’ll be experimenting with it’s properties under strict magical conditions but I don’t know exactly what I’ll find out. I just...want to know more.”

Theo was quiet a moment, then said, darkly, “I can’t imagine you’d learn anything pleasant from it.”

Vanasha glanced at him, curious. “No. No I don’t think I would. But I’m hoping for “useful.” Which could benefit many.”

A minute of silence passed between them. Dark would come soon, only maybe an hour of light left. They would still have two more hours of riding after that.

Theo broke it. “Alison, our herbalist… she’s sort of our informal town leader. She’d know where you could set up for your experiments.”

Vanasha smiled warmly. “Thank you. I’ll also need to see someone for clothes. Making of them and the washing of them.”

“That’ll be Lyn, Maralyn. She mostly helps out at Haynes goods, but fixes hems and linings for the tourists. Washing lady, Bridget. She has a few wee ones, you may have seen them playing outside her house earlier. She’d appreciate the coin.” He gave her a roguish grin. “Most people do.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. Then gave heel to her horse’s side to spur it on into a gallop, hearing Theo do the same behind her.

---

Arriving just inside Lothering’s borders on the Imperial Highway, they slowed their horses to a stop. Vanasha slid off from the saddle wearily, her muscles stiff. Both of them guided their horses down the steps and onto the dirt pathway leading through town. They stopped just outside Theo’s blacksmithing shop.

“Good night, Theo,” Vanasha said, turning toward the inn.

“Vanasha,” He said, causing her to stop to look back at him. He was rubbing his horse’s forehead as he continued. “I’d like to buy you a drink at Hafter’s Refuge. Seems only fair. Saved each other’s life. I gave you my sword sheath. But more importantly,” She saw his impish grin in the dim light from the inn torches, “You shared your sandwich.”

Vanasha laughed. Fereldens. No subtlety, no clever turn of the words. Still… “I’d be glad to let you buy me a drink. Or several.” She said saucily.

“Tommorrow perhaps?” Theo asked.

“Tomorrow.” Vanasha assured him, glad she didn’t have to beg off this evening.And she returned to the inn, handing her sable horse off to Stanley. She smiled brightly at him, her mood quite grand. She stored the tainted sword in some bushes near the river, a glyph or repulsion round it to keep off what didn’t need to be visiting. She figured that was safe enough until she got back to it.

This is a colab between cmoe and I from the POV of Warden Kirsa Abendroth.

---

The month, Justinian (June)

---

The messenger had delivered Kirsa a note. She was both excited and nervous to read it’s contents. Slowly, she unfolded the piece of paper. On it were orders to report to duty at 1730 in the First Warden’s office. This must mean she was chosen to go on the mission. She couldn’t believe she had been selected. There were a lot more experienced Wardens they could have chosen.

Though he tried to hide it, she saw the disappointment wash over Adan’s face before it was replaced with a smirk telling her he knew she would be chosen. He always believed in her and at times it drove her to be better. She felt she owed him a lot for his constant support.

With a huge grin on her face, Kirsa gave Adan a big hug then tossed him her wooden sword and ran towards the barracks. She used the time to get cleaned up and back into her freshly polished armor. She still had a few minutes so she took her time making her way to the First Warden’s office.

In her distraction, she walked right past the door to the First Warden’s office. He was often away so she had never spoken to him personally. He was a nice-looking man if not a little too much of a politician for her liking. Kirsa backtracked to the ornate Griffon covered doors only to notice one door was open and the First Warden was speaking with the Chamberlain.

Not wanting to interrupt she waited outside the door as they concluded their business. Kirsa backed away from the door slightly to avoid overhearing their conversation. Her mind was racing, thinking over the events of the day. Before long, they finished speaking so she knocked on the open door.

With a large smile, the First Warden invited Kirsa to enter the room. He dismissed the Chamberlain, asking him to close the door behind him. Slightly puzzled at being the only other warden in the office, Kirsa hesitantly stepped further in.

“Warden Abendroth,” his warm smile still lingered, causing creases at the corners of his eyes and forehead to remain. “Would you like to take a seat?” He gestured to an ornate padded chair.

“Thank you, sir, but I’m fine.” Kirsa returned his smile and took a moment to look around the office. She couldn’t remember ever being inside it before. There were large windows overlooking the courtyard. It was nicely decorated with large oak bookcases. After a beat of silence, Kirsa spoke.

“It appears I am early. My note said to arrive at 1730, I’m sorry if there was a miscommunication.” Kirsa add, formally.

“Thank you for coming.” He said congenially. He remained standing as well, just behind his desk to Kirsa’s left, crossing his arms.

He continued. “I talked about you with Warden Commander Cyryl and the Chamberlain both and I think you’re the warden I’m looking for.”

“The warden you’re looking for, sir? Won’t there be other wardens joining me on this mission?” Still confused and uneasy as to why she was the only person here, she waited for him to continue.

His voice was strong, energetic, just short of boisterous. “Oh- Absolutely. It’s not in question, there is a team I’ve selected for this mission. They’ll be coming later. The thing about them is..” He trailed off in thought, tapping the fingers of his left hand on his right pauldron.

Consideration over, the tapping stopped. “The thing is, Warden Abendroth, the other three people of the team are a bit of an unknown to me. The other Warden going with you, although recommended very highly by Cyryl, has a history that inclines her towards too much independence in the field. An outside-” a split second pause, hardly noticed. “Expert will be informally leading this expedition.”

The First Warden came around to the front of the desk, then leaned his hip casually against it. He smiled charmingly at Kirsa. He was about two feet from Kirsa now.

Speaking more quietly, but voice still strong. “The Ambassadoria will also be lending us a guide. But none of them are you, Warden Abendroth.” He raised his gauntlet, flaring it open to indicate her. “None of them have your soldiering spirit. The discipline to follow orders even in the face of hardship.” He clasped his hand back into a fist on the word ‘hardship’, the metal grinding together a bit. His voice was compelling.

His warm brown eyes stared hard into hers searchingly. “What I wanted to be certain of, Warden Abendroth, was, “Am I right?” Do you have that discipline? That commitment I’m looking for for such an all important mission?”

There was a silent pause as Kirsa processed what the First Warden had told her. Curious they would be sending wardens they didn’t completely trust on such an important mission. She must know this warden he was referring to but no one came to mind. A feeling of uncertainty came over her.

She stiffened her spine and cleared her throat before responding. “Ser, I am completely committed to the wardens. There is nothing more important to me than being a Grey Warden. I would wade through the fade itself if it meant stopping darkspawn. I believe in what this order stands for, no questions asked. I have always followed orders without hesitation. I have spent a good portion of my career training recruits and instilling discipline and loyalty within them. I do this because I believe in our cause without question.”

“Excellent! This is just what I wanted to hear.” He went back around behind his desk and sat down, neatly taking off his gauntlets and placing them on the right side of his desk. He laced his fingers together and smiled at her over the top of them. Then his smile dimmed and his expression became much more serious.

His voice took on a hard business like edge, the gregarious smiling man receding backward.
“This is first, and foremost, a rescue operation, Warden Abendroth. Our allies, the Fereldan and Orzammar kings, have tasked us with finding the whereabouts of the Ferelden Warden Commander. I believe fans of hers call her, “The Hero of Ferelden.” Although his tone wasn’t dismissive, it showed just as much that he wasn’t impressed with the title either. He leaned forward, knocking the wood of his desk with his knuckles before he continued.

“Heros aren’t allowed to die too soon, it seems.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Since the Wardens Exile from Orlais,” his expression turned sour, “there have been simmerings of dislike for Wardens everywhere.” He stood up again, mildly agitated, facing the window.

“We’ve been accused of showing up in strength when a Blight comes up. But the people ask a complex question that has no good answer. “what have the Wardens been doing to prevent the Blight?” He turned towards her, the morning sun at his back. “And not that poorly thought out "dig up the archdemons and kill them first." scenario that got the wardens exiled from Orlais in the first place.” He sighed.

“Back to the topic at hand. Warden Abendroth, it is imperative that we maintain good relations with two of our three largest supporters. Without supplies, it doesn’t matter the size and dedication of the army, that army will fall.”

Kirsa’s was trying to absorb everything the First Warden had just said. A rescue mission, do they believe the Hero of Ferelden was in danger? To say she idolized the Hero was an understatement. It was well known the wardens were losing respect and support. If anyone could help turn things around for them, the Hero could.

“I’m a little confused. Do you believe there is a way to cure the calling? Is that still a part of this mission?”

“What I believe, Warden Abendroth, is of little relevance. Public opinion in Thedas is that we should be doing something other than what we’ve done. And so we are.” He raised one brow at her expression and smiled, a bit sadly. “I’ve never thought to try to avoid the cost of being a Grey Warden, Warden Abendroth. I don’t fear death, but neither do I seek it. I’d certainly welcome more years in Thedas before meeting the Maker.”

“That is completely understandable ser. I have never considered being cured. I do think it would be a step in the right direction towards slowing the damage done by darkspawn. A lot of lives could be saved if there was a way to cure them of the taint. So this is not a mission to find a weapon that will end the blights permanently?” Shaking her head she stands straighter. “Regardless, I am the warden you are looking for. I understand there is a cost to doing what needs to be done.”

“The important thing is that we’re trying and we’ve let the public know we are. And Warden Surana has gone missing searching for the end of the Blight. That we find the whereabouts of Warden Commander Surana is the priority although I welcome any information about the Blight that Warden Surana may have in her possession or that you may find along the way. This is the assignment I’m giving you. Can you complete it?”

“I can understand your position and even see the need to bring the Hero of Ferelden back.” Kirsa firmed her resolve and spoke again. “Ser, I am, as always, dedicated to the Wardens. I will not hesitate to do my duty without question.”

“Good. It bears saying that this discussion doesn’t leave this room, Warden Abendroth. Let the others believe what they wish to keep them motivated. Meanwhile, discreetly seek out information in your travels about those of Surana.”

“Of course, First Warden. I will complete this mission and do my best to keep the others on task without revealing the true scope of the mission.”

And a knock stopped further discussion.

This is a colab between dragontartare , cmoe , and myself.

---

A rapping at the door, quick and sharp, brought the First Warden and Kirsa’s meeting to an end. The first Warden glanced at the dwarven made Grandfather Clock. It was 1745. Standing, he let the fingertips of his hands rest upon the top of his desk as he called out.

“You may” the door was already opening, “enter.” The First Warden ended the last word with a bemused tone.

In walked a woman, dark of skin, wearing an even darker tunic of lace. She was elaborately wrapped in a vivid purple bolt of silk with beaded embellishments round the edges. To top off her ensemble was an amethyst diadem bound by a silver chain that disappeared into the shadow of her hair, no doubt clipped to maintain it’s placement. Decorative, but flat, black sandals peeped into view as she stepped towards the First Warden’s desk. A polite but encompassing glance swept over Kirsa before her eyes returned to that of the figure of the First Warden.

Vanasha gracefully placed the back of her hand in his direction, and the First Warden was similarly smooth in taking it. “Ser, I do believe from your stance behind that desk that you are the man I’m to meet with today. Am I correct?”

The First Warden brushed the back of her hand with a brief kiss, as if he’d done so a million times. “You are indeed correct, Lady Facere, so glad you could make it.” Their hands parted.

“I do hope you’ll forgive the delay in our meeting? The Chamberlain is so used to screening my letters…” The First Warden’s face invited the sympathy of the Lady. “you understand.”

The skin around Vanasha’s brown eyes tightened only slightly in response. She smiled, teeth flashing. “Very much so, dear Warden. I am here now and all is forgiven.”

Vanasha crossed her arms, fingers displayed, but with a quick glance, she carefully tucked her nails from view. They were dull from the lack of attention these last few months in Ferelden. Her eyes found Kirsa’s once more.

“You have a strong look of purpose about you.” Vanasha nodded slightly, approving. “Are you assigned to my team?”

The fIrst Warden cleared his throat politely, “Ah. The team, yes. This is Senior Warden Kirsa Abendroth. Warden Abendroth, this is Lady Vanasha of House Facere.” He paused a moment, considering, then added, “She’s a noble woman from Tevinter.”

Vanasha waved her right hand dismissively. “Such formality when we’ll be working so closely together, lives in peril, all that, for months?” She stepped toward Kirsa, opening her arms to greet the Warden.

A look of confusion crossed Kirsa’s face as she stiffly stepped into the greeting. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I look forward to working with you.”

Vanasha brushed cheeks with Kirsa, then stopped back. “Don’t let him fool you., Kirsa. I’ve been roughing it for months now in Ferelden, I’m not quite as all useless as ‘Tevinter Noble Woman’ would seem at first glance.” Vanasha smiled confidently, putting her hands on her hips.

“People are rarely what them seem at first glance ma’am.”

Vanasha cocked her head at Kirsa, smile and exuded confidence fading, when two others entered the room and the First Warden spoke.

“Warden Commander Cyryl, Chamberlain, thank you for joining us. In a few moments, the other Senior Warden will be--”

A firm rap on the door interrupted the conversation.

“Ah, here she is. Senior Warden Gelder. You may know Warden Abendroth already? And this enchanting stranger is Vanasha Facere. An expert from Tevinter.”

The office had a man's touch in every corner. The tusks of a Darkspawn Ogre are braced under glass on the fireplace mantle to the entrance’s left. A large mahogany desk took up a quarter of the room with a double paned window taking up a good portion of the right hand wall behind said desk. The curtains, pulled opened, allowed a peak into the courtyard that the speech had been performed in that morning. An Ornate chair, the only soft thing in the room, sat nearest the door.  The Chamberlain and Cryrl stood near the fire place. The Chamberlain, eyeing the cushioned chair, and Cryrl was standing at attention. Her sour expression having turned grim.

“Messeres,” Magdalene said with a respectful nod. She paused a moment, just inside the door, taking in the disparate expressions of the people before her. “I know I am a little bit early. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“No, no. We’re all here, so we may as well begin.”

Vanasha went to sit upon the cushioned chair, resting her elbows on the arms. She steepled her fingers together. Her expression that of someone in a good mood ready to be entertained. Warden Gelder had moved toward the right side of the desk, away from her superiors, with her hands folded behind her back. Her head was held high, but there was a touch of strain in her expression. Warden Abendroth stood at attention across from the First Warden, Cyryl, and the Chamberlain. She offered a smile and a curt nod as Warden Gelder joined her, which the other woman returned.

Standing at similar formal attention, the First Warden began.“We received word of strange activity; a warden has even gone missing during a more subtle investigation. Unfortunately, the full details of the strange activity, and the suspicion that it indicates vital information regarding the Blight, went missing with that Warden. Even as one of our own falls, we can not let the battle be laid to rest.”

He made sure to look at each of them in turn. “The Warden Order has decided to partner with the Ambassadoria to put a team together for a mission. We have the support of the Fereldan and Orzamaar Kings and the full blessings of the leadership in the Anderfells. King Bhelen has ordered the additional support of a guide for your team upon arrival there in Tevinter. We have many maps at our disposal, but due to their mining operations, paths have changed and so our maps are out of date. Additionally, it is probable your path will have taken you off the maps we have in our possession anyway. A dwarven guide as well as a warrior will be a great ally in the Deep Roads.”

The First Warden indicated Vanasha with a mild inclination of his head in her direction. “Speaking of allies. Lady Facere has offered her skills and her expertise on the Blight for this mission, and will make sure things go smoothly upon arrival in Tevinter. Gather what personal weapons you prefer and anything you may need out of the Armory is at your disposal. The Chamberlain has already set in motion a collection of supplies and horses at the base of the Thousand Steps.”

He rested his chin on his chest a moment then looked up again. “We all have a reason and a duty that has brought us here. I need no grand speech or flowery words to incite you to action. You are here because you choose to be.” He gave a heavy serious look to both Kirsa and Magdalene.

“Any questions?”

Magdalene turned a curious glance to Lady Facere. “What is the nature of your expertise on the Blight?”

Vanasha cocked her head to the left as she gazed at Warden Gelder and considered the question. She stood up and walked towards the fireplace, her arms folded once more.“While the wardens have been focused on vigilance, my late mentor devoted his entire life to studying the Blight. He had no stake in the the Chantry’s tale, but sought facts about how it happened. Blight is far too stubborn to simply continue throwing swords” she traced her fingers over the glass box holding the ogre’s tusks, “And lives at it.”

Clasping her hands together in front of her, Vanasha turned back to the room. “Although not exactly proven, my Cearso had a theory. The Blight does not come of this world but neither does it come from the Fade. The magic these emissaries wield is not a magic even those of Tevinter can harness. Yet, “ her eyes darted among Gelder, Abendroth, and the First Warden.”how can these twisted creatures, born of our very blood, wield magic not of this world or of our flesh?”

The First Warden’s gaze on Vanasha was sharp and disapproving.

Spinning round and returning the First Warden’s gaze, Vanasha’s grin was predatory. “My inquiries have led me to interesting places. Like the case of Fiona-

“Enough!” The First Warden cut her off, tone angry and loud in the smal room.

Vanasha’s mouth gaped a bit, shocked.

He continued, quieter. “Lady Facere, you try my patience with your implied superiority of knowledge into Warden affairs. You’re here because your late mentor is dead and only you have the knowledge he possessed as his protege. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Kirsa’s eyebrows shot up as she looked from Lady Facere to the First Warden but she remained silent.

Magdalene turned to him in surprise at his sudden shift in tone. “Who is Fiona? I don’t wish to be impertinent, but if this information is important for completing our mission, then shouldn’t we hear it, no matter the source of the information?”

The First Warden’s tone remained stilted as he replied, “Fiona was a Warden and the change is as mysterious as it is unreproducible, Warden Gelder.”

His tone turned sharp with disdain. “Unless Lady Facere has solved this mystery with her inquiries?”

Vanasha, somewhat recovered, glared at him and a second ticked by with irritation simmering within her. She kept her tone icily polite. “No, ser, I did not.”

Magdalene clamped her mouth shut, but she was watching Vanasha with a speculative look.

The First Warden ran a hand over his face, sighed. “Not that it wouldn’t have been grand if that had actually been solved, but both Cearso and our own people said it was a dead end and I believed them.”

An odd expression, perhaps confusion, flashed across Vanasha’s face. Then she gave herself a small shake, more mental that outward, and pushed a smile onto her face once more.

“Warden Gelder, I have spent many years among the great libraries of Tevinter, ancient texts within reach.” Vanasha reached a hand into the air as if to pluck such a book from it. “My focuses were ancient Tevene and dwarven language, the theory of rune crafting, historical accounts, not myths, of each of the Blights are to me what bedtime stories are to the children of Thedas. I--”

“Lady Facere, as charming as being held hostage by the eloquent recounting of your grand accomplishments are, I shall again be blunt. Your late mentor was onto a potential discovery, or perhaps it was just a lead, into ending the Blights. The location of which our missing Warden, if they still live, and you, are in possession of. Your letters carefully avoided sharing this information, but your requests for a support team of Wardens to enter the Deep Roads for research were all too clear.”

Kirsa’s head turned sharply, looking at the First Warden with furrowed brows.

Vanasha blinked, crossing her arms. Her intonation was slow. “Yes, that is true.”

“Very well then. This is not your team, Lady Facere, but our goals align in this endeavor. Savoring the joy of this opportune alliance too long will lead to a bitter after taste, don’t you agree?” The First Warden turned to the others. “ Are there any other questions?”

Magdalene, using her better judgement, did not ask the foremost question on her mind. Instead, “when do we leave?”

“The plan is the day after tomorrow.” The First Warden inclined his head towards Vanasha, his pleasant demeanor returning.. Up in the air whether the intent behind the manners were done so mockingly or sincerely. “The Lady has some things to attend to here at Weishaupt before the departure.”

“Very well, Ser. I will make my preparations,” Magdalene said.

“Then you may leave. Warden Abendroth, if you would stay behind.”

“Of course, Ser.” Kirsa remains standing at attention. But watches as the others filed out.

---

[OOC: tagging dragontartare for her interim day post of Magdalene. When she returns from her vacation.]

Colab tween cmoe and I. From Kirsa's point of view]

“Warden Abendroth, if you would stay behind.”

Kirsa had begun to exit the room as the First Warden beckoned her to stay. She turned back around, a curious look crossing her features. She was unsure how many more secrets she could handle today. Her mind still a whirlwind of racing thoughts. How did the mage from Tevinter know so much?

The others filed out of the room. But Vanasha stayed conspicuously present, a slight smile at odds with the air of formality in the room.

“Lady Facere. I considered denying your request for research into our archives but rethought it. While supplies are gathered for the team, you may have full access. I assume you’re familiar with the needs of aging books and know to take care in your endeavors. Also, although I am reluctant to share information about the existence of a certain…. Asset, the Warden Commander says it is vital that you have access. I have conceded her point.”

The First Warden gave Vanasha a searing look. “I would hope for discretion in this matter, considering I am trusting you are more interested in finding a solution to the Blight than in airing the secrets of the Wardens, despite the earlier showing. Nonetheless, you will have a chaperone as you visit a man doing Blight research in the West Wing of Weishaupt.”

The West Wing? Kirsa recalled that area being off limits for years now. A man doing research there and the area being sealed off. Could it mean they had him here all this time? Kirsa felt her interest peak at the thought of finding out more about this research.

Vanasha met his searing gaze with a sharp one of her own. “A man doing Blight Research here at Weishaupt? You wouldn’t happen to be talking about...,” Vanasha sounded excited, “A mage by the name of Avernus?”

Kirsa looked to the mage with a narrowed gaze. She was well informed about even this, it seemed.

The First Warden raised one brow. “You’ve heard of him.”

Vanasha smiled, glee in her expression. “Yes! Glorious! I found the castle empty of all but Traders when I investigated, and tight lipped ones at that. I could get no confirmation on whether or not he still lived, only a clue from-” She stopped herself. “A source.” She finished.

“A source.” The fIrst Warden repeated, wryly. “You were recently in Ferelden, as I understand?”

Vanasha straightened and schooled her expression. “Yes, I was. Quite a dreary place.”

“Indeed.” The First Warden nodded, pleasantly enough. But Vanasha seemed ill at ease.

“Regardless of your recent travels, I will have Warden Abendroth accompany you to this meeting. He seems to need little sleep so any time is appropriate, more than likely. Just let Warden Abendroth know when you wish to speak with him.”

“Immediately!” Vanasha smiled again, eager, looking at Kirsa. “I mean, if that is okay for you, Kirsa?”

Kirsa paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, of course, Ma’am we can head there right away. Please follow me if you have everything you need.”

Kirsa was uneasy around the Tevinter mage. That wasn’t the best way to begin this mission. They were likely to run into danger in the upcoming weeks and she would need to find a way to put her mistrust aside. Kirsa offered a polite nod to the First Warden as she exited the office. Vanasha added a fluttering of her fingers at him as she followed Kirsa.

Moving purposefully, she made her way back down the stairs to the first floor glancing back once to ensure Vanasha was close behind her. Kirsa briefly wondered if she should offer polite conversation but decided against it as the mage seemed eager to see Avernus. That was a feeling Kirsa could relate to. It had never really occurred to her to wonder what had happened to the infamous mage. Stories of Avernus and the Hero of Ferelden were often exaggerated making it difficult to discern the truth.

Realizing she had slowed her pace, she looked curiously to Vanasha. “Have you had a chance or inclination to tour the fortress?”

“I only arrived an hour before the meeting and I was busy with washing up and dressing. But there is the rest of today and all of tomorrow to do so. “

“If you need someone to show you around, I would be glad to help you out.” Kirsa offered sincerely, if not a bit stiffly. She was never good at being friendly but she thought it best to try.

“Oh.” Vanasha kept quiet a moment, then replied. “I think I can handle the place. I’ll mostly spend a lot of time in the library, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your preparations.”

As the West Wing had been off limits for over twelve years, Kirsa had never seen this part of the fortress. Considering how much time she had spent at Weisshaupt over the years, it was probably strange she had never wondered what was here.

They passed through a large entryway and the feel of the air signaled they were now within the mountain that Weishaupt was built into and out of.

As they made their way down a long hall Kirsa observed windows holes carved high above them, allowing light to shine in. Considering the hour, there wasn’t much light streaming in. It was a rather impressive corridor.

They finally reached two large metal ornate doors, the mark of the griffon melted into the center. Kirsa applied three sharp raps against the door, resulting metal banging echoing down the empty hall they’d just walked down. It was opened by a young man Kirsa thought familiar. But she couldn’t quite place why so. Though tall and stout, the boy didn’t look to be older than 16. She briefly wondered if he had once been a messenger boy who was then moved to this strange position.

”Lady Cyryl sent you right? I dunno, “ His eyes shifted to his right and his feet shuffled to use his body to more effectively block the entrance. “It’s not a very good night for him.”

“My time here is limited. The time to speak with him is now.” Vanasha declared with detached air of order.

Kirsa merely raised an eyebrow at the exchange between Vanasha and the young boy. She felt sympathy for him, but knew their chance to speak to Avernus before leaving was limited.

The young man nodded. He chewed at his lip as he pulled the heavy metal door a bit wider for them to enter and stopped blocking the way. It opened into a large hall, eight tables weighted down with towering piles of books as well as glowing glass flasks, funnels, tubes, and beakers. Some of the beakers were held by metal frames near fluttering candles. The ceiling disappeared into the darkness mere candles could not penetrate. The torch just to their left, nearest the door they’d come through was the brightest source of light. It’s candelabra was just above a simple but large wooden chair, likely the one the young man had been sitting in when they’d knocked.

“Why is it so dark in here? Nothing but a few sputtering candles round the place.” Vanasha queried.

“He says it hurts his eyes.” The young man replied quietly. Further conversation was interrupted by movement at one of the tables.

“Who’s there? Interrupting my work.” A voice, harsh, gasped out.

He came closer to the rim cast by the torch. As he neared, he put up one hand in defense as if pained, and stopped short of it. Avernus wore the robes of a mage, that shade of blue marking him as a Warden, but the cloth looked like he’d slept in it for weeks. Crumpled with odd discolorations or stains. He lacked a staff or any obvious other weapons, but as most knew, mages weren’t always inhibited by this.

It was his skin that cast a shadow of horror upon the affair. His skin appeared rough, and it seemed as if patches of grey overcame the natural hue of human flesh on his cheeks. The skin was tight against his skull and hands, his hair but wisps. Some of his nails seemed dark and pointed.

“Avernus..?” Vansha asked, her tone uncertain to Kirsa’s ears. Not that she could blame Vanasha, even Kirsa had qualms about the entire situation. How was he still alive?

Avernus shuffled along the rim of the torch light. “You’re not her, my Sophia, fiery Sophia.” His words started to stutter, as if he were about to cry.

“Calculation errors were inevitable! I told them!” He gripped his own robe sleeves.

He seemed to forget himself a moment, then stared at his own hands as if they weren’t his own. He began to dig the pointed fingers of one hand into the back of another. The man who’d opened the door rushed at him, grabbing his hands gently in his meaty fists.

“No no, Avernus, you leave that alone.” He said, firmly, consolingly almost, to the old mage.

“It burns! I must get it off!” Avernus hissed, struggling against the strength of one much larger and younger than himself. A few moments of that and his frail body gave, collapsing. The man scooped him up and sat him in a chair at a table, resting his palms on the mage’s shoulders.

“These are ladies come to talk to you, Avernus. Ask you some questions.” The young man said, maintaining a soothing voice.

“Questions? But.. I’m so tired… so old.” Avernus fretted, looking around at his beakers and vessels.

Avernus calmed enough for the young man to feel confident enough to release his shoulders. Avernus allowed his chin to come to his chest, one hand petting the other. Kirsa found herself feeling sympathy for the man. Though, if there were any truth to the tales about what Avernus had done, she wasn’t sure he deserved it. Surely tales of torture to study the taint had been exaggerated. Though, to rid Thedas of the blight, who was to say what some would or wouldn’t do.

Vanasha approached slowly, exiting the strongest glow of the torch light to come near his chair. She stopped a few feet from him. Choosing to stay closer to the door, Kirsa did not want to add to the man’s agitation. Too many people crowding him may be a hinderance to getting information they may need.

“Master Avernus. I have journeyed to find out information about the Blight.”

Avernus’ head popped up from it’s resting place. “It’s in the blood.” he declared, shrilly. He cocked his head, as if listening. “Hers!” He suddenly pointed a finger at Kirsa.

“You are correct. I am a grey warden, the taint is in my blood.” Kirsa replied quietly. This felt almost surreal to Kirsa. He was not acting like she would have expected, but what had she expected? He was very old, it shouldn’t be so surprising his mind would be going, as his body had.

Vanasha came to his side and crouched near his chair. She brought both her hands round his, gently tugging his hand down and into his lap, patting it.

“It’s in my blood, too.” He added, the energy gone once more.

“Indeed, Master Avernus. I’ve come to discuss your research.“ Vanasha gently reminded.

The old man perked up, setting his shoulders back and sitting up straight. He lifted his hands out of his lap, dropping Vanasha’s away from him as he placed his hands on the arms of the chair. A moment of lucidity; the Avernus they both expected to meet.

“Only under Wardens can true magical research continue. That’s why I’m here. To rediscover the secrets of ancient Tevinter with their full support.”

Vanasha smiled, pleased. “Yes, Master Avernus. That’s also why I’m here. I have a lot of questions for you, see if you’ve made some headway. I recently visited with ex grey warden, Fiona-”

“Fiona refused to submit to inspection. A pity.” Avernus sniffed. “Her blood would have been interesting to see how it reacted to--” He stopped speaking and cocked his head, listening. His eyes darted upward. A few moments passed, his air of self leaching somewhat.

“That music… It’s a tune no one remembers but it’s always there. Beautiful. It used to be louder.” He sniffed, turning his greying eyes back to Vanasha. “The boy denies it’s notes. It’s not in the blood.”

Avernus’ eyes skittered across the space Kirsa stood in the torch light, but he smiled, knowingly. He spoke loud enough to carry his voice. “She’ll know it, if she hadn’t already. You have the look of one who’s heard the Archdemon speak in dreams when it still lived.”

“I have, yes. It was terrifying and fascinating to hear the Archdemon.” Distracted by memories she would just as soon forget, Kirsa tried to refocus.

“Avernus.” Vanasha spoke, bringing his attention back to her. “What do you know of potions given to King Maric by First Enchanter Remille? Or the dagger that--”

Avernus suddenly stood, throwing out his arms, and crackling with a dark energy. The young man moved to intercept, but Vanasha waved him off, backing off herself and calling up a barrier over the three of them with a flash of her diadem. A brief glimmering was seen as it was cast, settling upon them like a light layer of cloth, easily forgotten.

Avernus voice no longer had the raspiness of failing life, but the strength of years long gone from him. His greying eyes glared intensely at Vansha. “It’s not the hubris of man who brought you the darkness that lays beneath your earth and ravages the blood of your best. Two worlds diverge dripping corruption and you tumble along ignorant in their wake. You dream the path, but you will know it. Our two worlds will meet.”

Avernus then collapsed in on himself, panting. With watery grey eyes, he looked towards Kirsa.

“When you see her, please tell her I’m ready. Good woman… she’ll know what I mean.” Bowed with the weight of his years, he shuffled over to a table. He tapped one of the beakers over a flame, and began to mutter unintelligibly.

“Is he always like this?” Vanasha asked of the young man. The feeling of the barrier dissipated.

“He used to be better, ser. It seems he’s more like this every day, but he has his clear moments. Spends them working on them al-chim-cal drinks for the First Warden and some other stuff, I think, on my days off. “

“Days off-- Can he be left alone?” Vanasha wondered aloud, obviously dismayed.

“Ah, no. First Warden watches him himself those days. Other door gets opened, I get a gold coin and I head down the Thousand Steps first thing to hit the market and see my ma and da. Place gets all scrubbed up by the time I report the next day.”

Kirsa was frowning as she listened to the boy answer Vanasha’s questions. The First Warden watches him? More secrets? Kirsa wouldn’t be surprised but using such a young boy to watch over Avernus didn’t seem right. Too many things were running through her mind. She needed to set it aside for now. There would be time to think over the implications later.

“Alchemical drinks, you say?” Vanasha asked, rhetorically. “Well. I think I shall have to agree with you. This is a rough night for him. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Very well, ser. Better you hurry out now.”

And in moments, the door was closed soundly and locked behind them.

“Did that go as you expected? Kirsa asked in hesitation.

“HA!” Vanasha barked the word, more than actually laughed. “No. What a sad fate to a great man.” She added, quietly.

“Agreed.” Kirsa spoke quietly. She wasn’t sure what to make of anything she had seen or heard today.

Vanasha rubbed her arms. “My silks aren’t meant for the depths of mountains, and I’ve just arrived today. As enjoyable as your company has been, I think I will retire. Shall we walk back to the main hall together?”

Kirsa nodded her assent and began walking.

“That was a strange form of magic he exhibited. A speciality of Warden mages? Or would you know?” Vanasha asked, walking to Kirsa’s right.

Kirsa considered before responding. “I’ve only seen that kind of magic used by darkspawn emissaries. I.. magic isn’t my area of expertise.” Kirsa cut herself off abruptly.

“Emissaries.” Vanasha stated. And stayed quiet for the rest of their walk. Kirsa let out a quiet sigh of relief. Unsure she should have said that much. Chances were good they would be running into darkspawn on this mission. Vanasha would need to know about the types of enemies they may face.

They reached the library and Vanasha turned halfway towards the stairs that led up to the barracks and her room. She stifled a yawn.

“I think I’ll linger a moment down here, in this grand library, before heading up. We shall get more acquainted another day, I believe. Thank you. ”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you. If there is anything I can help with, let me know.” Distracted now, Kirsa nodded and smiled at Vanasha before turning to make her way back to the barracks. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. Nothing made a lot of sense to her right now.


[tagging cmoe for her interim post]

Vanasha , researcher and altus of House Facere

---

Vanasha is wearing this:



Vanasha was struck with her own absurdity and yet long held habit poked at her. She did not have a carrying bag that matched her dress. She’d left Lothering with only her horse’s carry bags and the satchel draped cross her body to sit at her waist. That dreary practical thing did not match one inch of the sheer iris fabric of her sleeves of her draping blouse. Not one stitch of the silver embroidered flowers across the torso and edges of the gown. Nor the shimmering voluminous pearl folds of her under gown and skirt.

Nothing for it; she’d just have to carry the vellum sheaves marked by the rune designs she’d copied from the Ferelden King’s sword in her hand. Still, as she closed and locked the door to her little room, she scoffed at herself for giving into vanity. She went down the hall. She raised her skirt a bit to avoid stepping on it as she went downstairs. Perhaps it was best she forgot the habits she’d picked up in Lothering anyhow. It was not like they’d serve her well in Tevinter.

As she made her way across the library, she paid the great things in the room no attention. Her destination was clear. She would speak to Avernus once more and she didn’t need a chaperone to do so. She just hoped Avernus was having a “good” day.

The chill of the mountain as she left Weishaupt proper again clung closely, sapping the warmth from her light garments. Her slippered feet made little sound as she padded down the long stone hallway. The light of mid morning was dimmer from the light of her last visit, making it even cooler.
She reached the large metal doors, griffons emblazened across its surface, and knocked.

The boy from the night before answered the door. However, the look on his face was hooded; uncomfortable. His body barred the way of what little she could see if the mere four inches he’d opened the door. That was new.

“I can’t let you in, Lady. First Warden’s orders.”

“What?” Vanasha exclaimed, gracelessly. She rallied. “What do you mean, “First Warden’s orders”? His orders are what allowed me an audience with Avernus yesterday.”

“Well, Lady, he stopped by early this morning. Had me report all the goings on of the evening. I told him all that happened, and he said ‘no more visits’. That’s all I know miss. He left after that.”

There was no arguing with him. His entire income rested on following the direction of his betters. Frustration and anger rose in her regardless, however. Avernus may yet hold many secrets, secrets vital to her research and the success of this mission. The fade was right there, all she’d have to do was call on it and this simple boy would fall asleep. She could then push the door in, delicately step round his unconsious body, and have a good long chat with Avernus. It would be easy and it would be satisfying. She would have want she wanted.

“Very well.” She said on an exhaled breath. “Good day to you.” She said curtly, turning on her heel and padding back towards the library. She heard the small sound of the door returning to its closed state behind her. She would talk to the First Warden and make her case.

What could the First Warden have been uncomfortable with? An outsider seeing Avernus’ sorry state? The subtle clues that pointed toward the blood magic he was letting happen in the laboratory? Were there even more secrets he was trying to hide? Was he hiding it just from her?
Regardless, his secretive nature was getting in her way

AS she swept across the great library once more, she noticed a man with greying brown hair and beard, wearing the robes of a mage, sitting at a table with very old tomes. The First Warden’s doors were closed, so she knocked, hard, once. Twice. Waited a moment, listening intently to any potential signs to indicate someone within. Then tried the doorknob; locked.

She sighed. Going across and to the right, she found two offices. One of it’s doors was open, and inside sat a man with bushy grey brows knitted together as he penned a letter. A small messenger boy stood in front of the Chamberlain’s desk, back to her. She knocked on the door frame to get his attention. Then folded her hands together as the man looked up from under the small white forests that was his brows. The little boy turned round to look at her but stayed silent.

“Good morning. I recognize you from yesterday’s meeting with the First Warden. The Chamberlain, yes?” She asked rhetorically, then continued. “The First Warden is not in his office, could you direct me to where I may find him?” She inquired, politely.

His eyes returned back to the letter as his quill resumed.“The First Warden took horse to Hossberg a few hours ago.”


Crestfallen, Vanasha couldn’t quite keep the fret from her tone. “He did.” She delicately cleared her throat. “Perhaps I could speak to the Warden Commander. Cyryl?

The Chamberlain tucked his quill away, then dipped his fingers in a small vase of ash. He dusted it over the letter to dry it quickly. He gently shook the excess before he rolled the letter and tied it with a string. Handing it off to the messenger boy, he returned his bushy gaze back to Vanasha.

“She’s in the courtyard for sword practice. Or should be. By the way, the mission’s goods, rations and the like, will be at the bottom of the Thousand Steps come dawn.”

“Is that so?” Vanasha replied, distracted as she thought of what she needed to say to Cryrl. “Thank you, Chamberlain.”

The old man nodded in acceptance and she went straight from his office towards the main atrium leading to the courtyard steps. Exiting the castle, she felt the full strength of the sun and appreciated its warmth. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun as the castle’s chill seeped from her. A wind gusted across her and she pinched her fingers tighter together on her papers. Her drawing skills were not excellent but she’d not lose them for all the lyrium in Minrathous.

Tilting her chin back down, she rose her free hand to her forehead and peered around. She spotted Kirsa to her right upon the ramparts, peering down into the courtyard. Vanasha waved, but the Warden showed no sign that she’d seen her. Vanasha went back to looking over the courtyard and spotted a smaller figure, in light armor, bearing down on a larger armored figure with grand vigor. Letting her gaze fall back to the path she would take on the stairs, she made quick work of the distance between her and the mock battle.

It was rather fierce for being practice, and she stopped a good 10 yards away from them. Swords clanged as strikes met perries. It was rather loud, visually and auditorily, and she didn’t have time for it. Her amethyst diadem flashed and both of the combatants weapons flew out of their hands into the air.

She twirled her fingers and the weapons spun lazily in the air. Warden Commander Cyryl took off her helmet and glared at her, sweat beaded on her face.. The she simply held out her hand.

“I was just trying to garner your attention but knew I’d not be heard over your exertions, Warden Commander.” Vanasha said, carefully controlling one of the swords to place the hilt directly in Cyryl’s hand. She held the second sword in the air near the other armored figure until he’d taken his sword back as well.

“Facere.” Warden Commander Cyryl’s tone was irritated. She sheathed her sword. “What is it?”

“The First Warden allowed me rights to visit the WEst wing. Yet, this morning I am barred entrance. I went to discuss it with him but he has apparently withdrawn himself from Weishaupt to Hossberg.”

Cyryl turned back to the armored man, “Rainier. That was good practice. Perhaps again tomorrow if your rotation allows.”

Rainier pulled off his own helmet, having already sheathed his sword as well. His shield hung from his right arm. “Yes, Warden Commander. I have time in the afternoon.”

“Very good, Rainier. Till then.” Cyryl turned back toward Vanasha. “What do you think I can do for you then?”

A smile wouldn’t be amiss. “Warden Commander Cyryl. I would like your permission to enter the West Wing once more.”

Cyryl withdrew a cloth from the inside of one guantlet, using it to mop at the sweat at her greying brow.

“No.”

Vanasha was startled.. “What?” She asked, a bit dumbly.

“I can not override the First Warden’s Orders in this matter.”

“But-”

“There is nothing to argue about, Facere. I will not disobey direct orders for you, no matter the worthiness of your goal.” She stalked away toward the water troughs kept for the donkeys.. Setting her helmet down, she dipped one hand into a bucket sitting on the rim of a stall and drank. A few gulps later, Cryrl turned back to Vanasha’s expectant gaze for she had followed.

“What you got yesterday was what you will have to work with, Facere.” Sympathetically, she grasped one of Vanasha’s shoulders. “May Andraste guide you along the right path, Facere, for two of my best follow you.”

Vanasha was searching for some sort of argument but found nothing. What stubborn stubborn people.

A small boy came running up to the two of them. She recognized him from the Chamberlain’s office. He grasped a folded piece of paper with intensity as he thrust it in Cyryl’s direction. Cyryl dropped her hand from Vanasha’s shoulder.

“Warden Commander Lady Ser, “he chattered off, “I’ve a message for you.”

With an air of familiar repetition, Cyryl took and read the slip of paper. The little boy ran off. Cyryl frowned.

“Not again.” Cyryl growled, grabbing her helmet. she walked away without so much as a goodbye.

Some of the men in the stall stared at her dress admiringly. She crossed her arms, fuming, then cringed as she heard the vellum crumple. She swiftly crossed the courtyard to the steps and back into the castle. She didn’t feel like being stared at, admiring or not.

In spite of giving her the resources, available in a short amount of time even, she felt like the Wardens didn’t actually want her to succeed. Which was absurd, surely, because if anyone wanted the Blight to end it would be the Wardens, would it not? When she entered the grand library once more, she headed straight for the books. The man she’d seen earlier was still there.

"Are you a Grey Warden?" Halfway through the question, she reigned in the overt anger in her voice.

The man blinked as he raised his gaze from the page to her, then smiled.

"Uh, no.  But I’d have given myself if there were Blight, in spite of my years.” he stood up. “I’m Elias. I am one of the senior enchanters from the Hossberg Tower. The Wardens offered me santuary in a trying time, and I’ve been repaying them by restoring the tomes here.

“I’m Vanasha Facere.” She paused, looking over him and his robes. “How are you a senior enchanter if you are not in your tower, Elias?”

Oh, I shall be returning to Hossberg after not much longer. I miss the Circle life; well, I suppose it’s College life now. The apprentices that arrived with me have moved on as well. Some returning to the College and some recruited into the Wardens. Doing good work.” He nodded, content expression as he looked around the library, one hand stroking the faded leather of the book on the table.

Her voice was quiet. “I lived my entire life in a building full of books. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His gaze came back to her. “The Tranquil usually took care of them at the Hossberg Circle. I’d watched them, learned from them.  They have a skill I can’t quite match. Perhaps, more, it is an unwavering attention for detail.” he tapped the book. “Still. I’ve had the joy of restoring them during my time here."

Vanasha seized on the opening the chatty man had left open. "Then you’ve read most of the books here already?"

"Yes, I--"

"Excellent. I’m looking for references to black dagger that may have been within Warden care in the last thirty years. Anything to do with dwarves and elves of the first Blight. Alchemical treatments derived for the common man. Can you help me? "

"Well, that section there,” he pointed to the northern portion of the library, “has some books on the first Blight. But unfortunately most of what was written is mostly combat related. If you’re looking for a weapon, however, they’d not be here, it’d be best to try to Quartermaster. And alchemical treatments you say? Maybe over here in this section.” he finished, walking towards the eastern most portion of the library.

Vanasha followed.

[tagging dragontartare for our colab.]