Twisted Oaths ~ Lake Celestine: 9:43 Dragon (in progress)

Part 2

(OOC: Pic of the survivor: vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/dragonage/images/f/f7/Skins_of_the_Keeper.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130104192606 )

Elaith had never seen so much death before.

Not since witnessing her mother’s death in the elven riots in Denerim when she was 5. Despite Denerim being a traumatizing experience for Elaith, it was nothing compared to what she was witnessing right now.

Elaith wiped away the tears that were rolling from her eyes and continued to look at the fallen Dalish camp. It was a daunting, chaotic mess but Elaith had to focus. There could be survivors here or at least that’s what she hoped. Careful not to trip over the corpses of the fallen Dalish, Elaith muttered a quiet prayer to Falon’Din.

“Please guide their spirits to the afterlife.”

There were corpses of fallen Templars as well, she noted, and Elaith sighed. At least the Dalish fought back... Just then she heard a moan somewhere in the bushes. Immediately pulling out her bow and arrow, Elaith slowly approached the area.

It was then she saw a blonde elven survivor, the tatoo of Mythal clear even in the dim smoky light. She wore the robes of a mage but was too young in appearance to be the Keeper. Their First? Elaith thought the skimpy mage robes were unseemly, but given the gravity of the situation, she set it aside. The woman clutched at deep wound on her abdomen, grimacing in pain, before noticing Elaith.

“Who are you?” She rasped, her tone scared and tired.

Elaith was elated to have found a survivor, and she cleared her throat: “Aneth Ara, Lethalin” She crooned, kneeling beside her. “You are hurt, let me help you. My name is Elaith.”

“My name is Aredhel. Would you help me up, please?”

“O-of course.” Elaith helped up Aredhel, who struggled to avoid worsening the wound. Still, after becoming upright, it did bleed more. Elaith began escorting her to Edmund and Ashara.

“I’m bringing you to my friends. What happened here?” Elaith asked.

“T-Templars, ambushed us from out of nowhere.” Aredhel stuttered, her breath short as she dealt with the pain. “It all happened so fast...”She seemed to become woozy from blood loss and nearly fainted.

“H-hold on!” Elaith said, pausing while Aredhel took deeper breaths, leaning into her. She needed to get to Edmund and Ashara. She wished she’d used the money she had to stock up on healing items instead of spending it to party. A few moments later, Elaith reached the meeting area, not even paying attention to what’s going on ahead of her.

“I found someone!” Shouted Elaith. “She’s still alive!”

Character Name: Myanna Tordra (current pseudonym, Kali Norek)
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Female
Faction/role: Ex-Carta, Freelance Knife-for-hire


Myanna stood in the cool breeze for a moment, watching Thene and Helen go off on their separate errands. The sun had risen enough now to lift the demon-hiding shadows that had veiled the square when she and Helen first walked to the chantry earlier that morning. In fact, the flowering vines growing over the buildings and the brightly colored shutters framing nearly every window made any idea of demons seem almost as fanciful as the idea that Titans really did lurk underground and were finally waking up again.

Which was to say, Myanna decided it would be best for her mental health to ignore their existence -- for the moment, anyway -- despite all growing evidence to the contrary.

Myanna opted to see what the local apothecary had before venturing out to the hunter's cottage. Besides, it would be a good idea to see what Thene was buying. If the woman had any shifty ideas, Myanna might be able to suss them out based on what the woman bought. Either that, or she would force the woman to return to the shop later for the rest of her purchases, sans nosey dwarf.

Up ahead, Thene entered the apothecary. Myanna quickened her pace just a touch, not wanting to miss anything the warrior might look at in the shop...until she caught sight of a man browsing the market stall set to the left of the apothecary. Casually, Myanna turned the opposite direction and noticed another shop with its door swung wide open. She ducked inside.

The man was Eric Tomlin, mercenary and a wetter blanket than the squealer who'd ratted out Myanna and her sisters when they, as children, had switched out an uncle's stealth grenades for ones filled with a tincture of stinging nettle, and then had used the stealth grenades themselves to watch the fruits of their labor. (Really, telling every one of their elders about what they'd done was a total overreaction. Their uncle had been fine. Eventually. And he'd learned to check his grenades before going pilfering himself.)

Tomlin did not know Myanna Tordra. He did not know Kali Norek. But he did spend several months working with Eliza Dumas, and Myanna hadn't had the opportunity to change her tattoos since then.

Tomlin did not need to see "Eliza" in Velun, and he most certainly did not need to meet "Kali" either.

"'Ow may I 'elp yoo, meeztress dwarf?" the masked shopkeeper said in one of the strongest Orlesian accents Myanna had heard yet in the village.

"Uh," Myanna said eloquently. She looked around herself, at glass jars filled with colorful wooden buttons and metal thimbles, spools of shimmery silk ribbon, needle cases both practical and ornamental -- even one that appeared to be made of ivory, which made Myanna's jaw drop.

She'd walked into the village haberdashery.

"Uh," she repeated, "I do like silk ribbons for my hair."

The shopkeeper beamed at her and began placing spools of ribbon on the counter between them, jabbering about how well each one would complement Myanna's eyes or skin or hair. After one more glance at Tomlin to make sure he was still at the far market stall, Myanna gave her attention to the haberdasher.

A few minutes later, with her new silk ribbons tucked safely into a pocket, and a green one tied into her hair, Myanna peeked across the square to see Tomlin engaged in haggling with the merchant of the same stall he'd been browsing earlier. It wasn't worth risking that he might see her, so the apothecary was a no-go for now. Instead, Myanna headed the other direction, toward where Helen indicated Thene might find Christoph the hunter and his herb-picking daughter.

True to Helen's word, the girl had a healthy supply of herbs at reasonable prices, even without name-dropping, which Myanna did not want to risk doing with Tomlin in town. The fewer loose ends she left behind, the better.

With a sack full of embrium, death root, blood lotus, and ghoul's beard, Myanna returned to the inn, alert both for Tomlin as well as for the crazy mage, the crazier young elf, and the impatient Dalish woman who'd run off on their own that morning. She saw none of them.

The tiny inn room was not an ideal brewing location, even with the window wide open. Myanna had stuffed wet bedsheets around the door to prevent the fumes from escaping into the hallway, which meant that any fumes that didn't immediately get pulled out the window instead affected her. The stealth potion wasn't so bad -- watching her own body blend into the floor was a little disconcerting, but the same thing happened every time she used stealth grenades, so it was hardly a surprise -- but Myanna had to hold a counter-agent to her nose just to stay awake while she brewed her confusion grenades. She hoped no Orlesians were delicately fainting or stylishly turning against their neighbors in the alley below. That would be awkward to explain.

Some time later, once her belongings, including her fresh grenades, were packed safely in her satchel, Myanna set about cleaning up the room. She wondered whether the beautiful Alizée would be the one to come upstairs to prepare the room for the next guest, and Myanna decided to leave the room cleaner than it was when she found it. Perhaps she would return one day to hear Alizée sing for her, but she knew it was very unlikely, especially with Eric Destroyer-of-Dreams Tomlin hanging around the village.

With a heart so heavy it actually surprised her, Myanna headed to the inn's common room, where she spotted Thene finishing a bowl of stew, and went to join her.

(OOC: Collab between phoray, Morrigan and Norstaera)

Elaith paced around for what felt like hours even if she knew it’d only been minutes. She was worried about Aredhel. Elaith had faith that Thene would heal the Dalish survivor, but a lingering doubt still hung over Elaith like a dark cloud. She looked at Ashara who seemed to be calm about all of this. “Ashara, I hope Aredhel will be okay,” she said sadly.

Ashara, arms crossed and standing two feet from the door,, appeared stoic. “Thene seemed like she knew what she was doing. The dwarf appears capable as well.“ She paused a beat. “Aredhel will be fine.”

”Fine?” Elaith replied angrily. “Is that all you can say? She’ll be fine? And you say this without any emotion! Do you not care for your fellow Dalish Elf? But okay! I’m sure she’ll be fine, just like you were fine at the camp! Right?!”

Ashara blinked in confusion, then frowned. Her voice was unsure. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Elaith was flabbergasted at Ashara’s response. “Stop it, Ashara!” she yelled. “Please just stop with the facade. I know what you saw was traumatizing, but you have to be truthful about this!”

Ashara took a step back, raising her hands in a calming motion. “Shhh, Elaith. I don’t--” Ashara stopped a moment to run a hand over her face while she brought her own voice back down to a murmur. “I honestly don’t know, Elaith. I remember running to the camp with you and Edmund not far behind. The next thing I remember clearly is kneeling in the grass, you and Edmund tending to Aredhel.”

“Cut the emotionless bullshit Ashara! Bottling your feelings will only make things worse!” Elaith snapped.

Ashara’s eyes widened in shock at the accusation and then the door opened to her left.

Thene came out into the hall and scowled at the two elves. "No yelling," she growled. Thene looked from the confused Ashara to the angry Elaith. "Look, I don't know what the problem is. Sounds like something happened at the site, maybe something that has to be dealt with, but not here where you're going to disturb what's-her-name, Aredhel. And not where everybody can hear you." Her eyes flicked behind them where somebody was coming up the stairs. Thene moved a little further down the hall and leaned against the wall; feet apart, arms crossed, head lowered, and eyes watching. She may have muttered, "Maker bite me, my head hurts.".

Elaith turned around and saw Helen just behind them. “Helen, Thene! Oh Hello” Elaith said putting her hand on her chest out of embarrassment. She looked at helen Suspiciously. “Ummmm were you listening to our conversation?”

Helen furrowed her brow and held up her bowl of soup. “Why? Were you sharing anything interesting?” she asked.

Elaith blushed. “Oh no! Nothing of importance!” She muttered, backpedaling, as she moved a lock of her brown hair back behind her shoulder.

Helen looked at Elaith and Ashara in turn. “Very well, then,” she said and walked past them into the room with Aredhel.

Elaith sighed heavily and stared at Ashara “This isn’t over.” She hissed and followed Helen to the room.

Ashara only shook her head in obvious bewilderment as she followed them in.

Name: Ashara
Born 9:10 Dragon
Female Rogue Archer Dalish Elf and Ex-Grey Warden

---

Ashara closed the door quietly behind them and sighed. She’d been harsher than she’d wanted to be with Elaith. Perhaps even created a divide between them when the group needed to be united- if they were to succeed.

“She’s not Dalish?” Aredhel’s tired voice inquired from behind her.

AShara turned, averting her eyes from Aredhel’s. “Elaith is... complicated. But no. She was raised outside of clan’s reach.”

A few moments passed in quiet contemplation of one another. Aredhel shifted, slumping a bit further down. She looked ready to pass out into sleep, even her blinking had slowed down.

“I don’t know you, nor do I know Elaith. But it is harsh to judge those of the city by that one standard.” Aredhel managed, groggily.

Ashara twisted her mouth a bit with an expression of bitterness, fleeting. “Easy to say when you’re one of the Elvhen.”

Aredhel’s brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you--”

Ashara came to her bedside, cutting her off. “Multiple clans of Elvhen have come together just north of the Arbor Wilds. The Keepers debate full battle against Orlais for the acts of war they’ve committed. Acts such as what the Templars did upon your clan just this morning.”

Aredhel was startled, more awake. “You mean, we could have had warning?” She finally asked, her voice breaking.

“You know that for every visit between one clan and another is ten months or more until the next one. I’m not certain how your clan was missed for notification, and I am sorry, as it was obivously not missed for an attack.” It struck her suddenly. “Maybe they’re running interference, killed the messenger. “

Aredhel just sat quietly horror struck. Ashara empathized. She’d been there herself near two weeks ago. She pushed on.

“I spoke with Ghi’ral, of clan Ghi’lain. I told him I would investigate into these atrocities and I would return. I am on the path and I honestly feel that” she rushed on, trying not to doubt herself. “that there is strong evidence that the Chantry and Orlais’ leadership are not involved.“

Ashara was earnest in her intent and she knelt down, a dull clank as her armor hit wood; a position of supplication.. “I may be gone many days yet, but I wanted you, when you were more fit for travel, to take horse and go there. Tell the other Keepers to delay and not be hasty- that answers soon will come. Will you do this for me?”

Aredhel had listened wide eyed to her speech. But now a look of shrewd capability was settling upon her.

Her voice stronger than it was before, Aredhel replied.. “Feeling, Ashara?” She sighed. “Even in my injured state I can see you are making a gamble with tenuous facts. Or did you forget you were just questioning me for knowledge like a new apprentice to his hah’ren?”

Ashara could see why she’d become Keeper’s First. “I-” she stuttered. Then stopped, dropping her chin to her amored chest.

“The people---” Ashara finally choked out. “They can’t-”

“I will go.”

Relief crashed over Ashara. “Ma serranas, fa’lon. I fear the Elvhen will march upon Orlais to their ends” She swallowed on the thickness in her throat. “ I could not bear it.”

Aredhel lifted one palm to place it on Ashara’s cheek. “Telanadas, Ashara.”

The door opened, startling Ashara to standing and reaching for a dagger that wasn't there. Whcih was well enough, for it was obvious the healer had arrived.

He raised a brow at her. "You are obviously not the patient. Out." Then he stepped aside, leaving the door open, and hurried to Aredhel's side. 

Picking up her weapons, Ashara's eyes met Aredhel's eyes one final time and she said, "May Mythal protect you." 

A gentle smile was all the response she needed before shutting the door. And finding herself once more in the hall way with Elaith- and Edmund.

---

{tagging smilesja and @tzeenchianapostrophe as our 3 way is next.)

(OOC: A small collab between dragontartare and I.)

It was a mostly quiet trek towards the Dalish camp. Elaith felt a bit nauseous at the prospect of going back to the destroyed camp however with her friends beside her she was at ease. She also was very uncomfortable riding behind Kali on a Horse. Elaith, never ridden on a horse before and she was very embarrassed to admit that in front of everyone. Kali though was nice enough to offer Elaith a ride on her horse. 

Holding on to Kali's waist Elaith observed her allies. Elaith was happy she was on good terms with Ashara again, but she was still a little suspicious on the conversation between her and Adrehel. What was Ashara talking about? It was probably none of her business but she couldn't help but wonder. Ashara's companion Edmmund seemed like a good enough fellow. He was friendly to Elaith and she did appreciate the fact that he helped her with Aredhel and Ashara. She did have a desire to get to know Edmmund better as he looked like he traveled far and wide. "Well all of them except me has a lot of life experience." Elaith thought, "I can learn a lot from them."

Elaith wasn't sure what to make of Helen. She seemed friendly to her like Edmmund but unlike Edmmund Helen seemed to carry an air of pretentiousness to her. It set Elaith off a bit, but maybe because she looks like one of those fairy princesses she read as a child. Elaith really liked Thene, she comforted her when Elaith was hyperventilating and she patched up Adrehel. The question Elaith had for Thene...... Hopefully, she'll get a chance to ask her after they've completed their task. 

As for Kali, well she was very quiet and Elaith still felt very guilty of stealing her food when they first met. She was determined to make it up to the Dwarf. Still, Elaith hoped she can form a bond with Kali. It was still so quiet and Elaith wanted to be at ease before they enter the Dalish camp so she decided to strike up a conversation with Kali. 

"Thank you for allowing me to ride with you, Kali! I've never ridden a horse before!"
Elaith said excitedly.

"Yeah, well, don't fidget too much back there. If you fall off, I won't be able to catch you."
Kali responded


Still excited Elaith continued:  "This is great! A Dwarf and an Elf working together to stop a grave threat!"


"I think you mean, a dwarf, two elves, a princess, a thug, and a mage interfere in each other's business and try not to kill each other," Kali said turning around to wink at Elaith.


Elaith snorted laughing. "Ha! We make an unusual group! Forget the boring storybooks! This is a fresh take on a grand adventure!"



Elaith remained quiet for a moment, then spoke to Kali. "I'm glad you came Kali, I really am. What we saw at the Dailsh camp was horrifying. I-I've never seen so much death before...."

Kali rolled her shoulders, looking uncomfortable. "Well, you're probably going to see a lot more before we're through. You sure you want to be on this misadventure?"

"For the sake of the kidnapped people," Elaith responded with determination. "I'm willing to do anything, this path though is something I've never been on and I'm scared of what's ahead. But I know with you guys on my side I'll be okay."



Elaith began mumbling to herself enough for Kali to hear "Are you willing to fight side by side with a Dwarf? Are you willing to fight side by side with a friend?"

Kali gave Elaith an odd look but continued to ride.

At long last, the group arrived at the camp. Elaith had to fight back tears as she looked for clues, other than the mangled corpses of the Templars and the Dalish Elves there wasn't anything unusual. Except some residue..... "That's new." Elaith thought as she grabbed the residue and put it in a small brown pouch. She then hurried to Kali, "Hey Kali!" Elaith shouted. "I think I found something!"

However, the Dwarf was conversing with Helen.  “Have you found any slain mages?” she asked the dwarf. “I require their rings and other identifying items. I would prefer not to have Edmund see them.”


"Ummm." Elaith interrupted. "What's going on here? What about you not wanting Edmmund to see the rings Helen?"

(OOC: If you don't want me to get involved. Morrigan just say so and I'll delete it.)

“Do not ever touch the blade of those knives without gloves,” Helen warned Luke. “Even after cleaning, they can give you terrible rashes. It seeps through cuts or even the pores in your skin.”

“Is it not terrifying to carry all these horrible poisons all around?” Luke asked.

Helen laughed. “You will find out, my dear boy, as you will be doing the carrying.” She looked at him. “Have you ever seen the horrors of an army field hospital? Would it not be kinder if every weapon was coated with poison?” Helen had never been to an army field hospital.

They finished packing the last of Helen's belongings and stepped out into the corridor. There were no sign of the others. On the ground floor, they came upon Alizée. Helen gave her a pouch and told Alizée to give the elven survivor coin and provisions once she had recovered from her wounds. It is always better to leave a trail of friends than a trail of enemies.

The sun hit Helen in the face and made her squint as she stepped outside. She looked at Luke. The descending sun gave a golden hue to the farmboy's tanned skin. He was almost handsome. The heavy rucksack he carried did not seem to bother him, not yet at least. 

"So what is it you do?" Luke whispered.

"I tell stories," Helen said.

"But what are we doing now?"

"We are going on a little trek to look for inspiration," Helen answered, "which the philistines call evidence, because they fail to realise that it is the storytellers who decide what is true and what is not."

"Then why look for evidence ... I mean inspiration ... at all?" Luke asked.

Helen laughed. "It is just part of the pretence. A storyteller needs to build her credibility."

Some men came towards them, leading six horses by the reins. Helen knew nothing of horses, but her sharp eyes quickly found the proudest and strongest. While Luke held the horse still, Helen easily pulled her lithesome body up into the saddle and swung her leg across the horses back. It felt strange to have such an unruly and excitable beast between her legs. She hummed a soothing tune and hoped the horse would take to her.

The rest of the party joined them soon. They had agreed to ride to the remains of the Dalish camp to look for further clues. Tensions were high, so there were little talking. Riding along the dust roads was easy. Helen amused herself by singing old folk songs of heartbroken vagabonds and knight errants. It became harder once they headed into the wilderness. A few places they had to dismount and lead their horses by the reins. Luckily, it was not far. Helen was feeling rather sore once they were finally there.

The smell of death lay heavy upon the ravaged camp. Helen held a perfumed kerchief in front of her face as she stepped over the dead, mangled bodies of Dalish warriors and the innocents whom they had failed to protect. Memories of the early days of the Mage Rebellion flooded the young woman’s mind. The sight of her fellow mages hanging from trees like fruit had scorched itself into her retina and continued to haunt her waking and sleeping hours. The smell of burnt flesh brought another memory to Helen’s mind - a more recent one - of the only man she had killed with her magic. She could still see his face melt from his skull and feel her palms burn with searing fire.

It was time to snap out of her wallowing. Helen was a proud creature - one of the infamous bards of Orlais. Nothing could faze her for long. Her mind was trained to see opportunities and here were plenty. The camp was like a treasure cove. The Dalish traded little with humans and they were especially reluctant to trade any of their religious art. Dalish carvings on wood and metal were valuable collectors items in Val Royeaux. Street peddlers sold cheap fakes, but Helen was enough of a scholar to convince a rich collector of the authenticity of her merchandize. Studying the history and art of the exiled elves had been a favourite pastime of hers as a young student in the Circle tower.

“Look for things with carvings on them,” Helen told Luke as she handed him a beautifully ornamented dagger covered with dried blood. “Clean them and put them in your rucksack. Try not to let the elves see you.” She looked over her shoulder. The other members of the group were quite far away.

Most of the corpses were elves, though they had managed to take a few Templars with them. Then Helen spotted something among the bushes. It was a dead woman in mage’s robes. This caught her interest. Mages usually carried more personal items than the military Templars. There may be clues to her identity.

Helen made sure none of the other members of the group were watching her, before sneaking over to the dead woman. Even as a corpse, she was beautiful. Her skin was as pale as a powdered noblewoman’s. Helen herself was starting to develop a horrible tan from all this trekking. A Dalish arrow stuck out from the dead mage’s chest. A small strip of blood ran from the edge of her mouth and down the side of her chin. It was like watching a painting. The corpse looked like it had been arranged this way purposefully.

Then Helen saw something that made her freeze. The ring on the woman’s cold finger - it was a signet ring of House Sade. Helen started laughing hysterically. There was just too many emotions going through her at once. The smell of the corpses almost made her pass out. The beauty of the dead woman had touched her somewhere inside. The stressfulness of her situation was getting to her. It was all so ridiculous. Tears came streaming down her face. She dried them off and composed herself. Then came a feeling of relief. She had stumbled upon something important. This dead woman could be a relation of her patron. This trek had not been for nothing.

Helen stripped the body of all identifying possessions. Then she summoned Luke and had him retrieve pencil and parchment for her. She made a rough sketch of the dead woman’s face and penned a quick letter to her patron, informing her of her discovery.

“Find a large rock and drop it on the woman’s face,” Helen said.

“What?” Luke looked dumbfounded a Helen.

Helen turned away and crossed her arms. “Find a rock heavy enough to crush her skull,” she hissed from over her shoulder, “and drop it on her face. Make sure it is unrecognisable. Then strip off her raiments and burn them. Find some rags to cover her corpse with.”

Helen walked back to the aravels. Luke rejoined her a few minutes later. His face was pale and he was breathing heavily. Helen gave her a few moments to compose himself, before giving him new instructions. She needed him to take her letter and ride over to the main road. The letter had to be given to a caravan heading for the capital. Payment to be given upon delivery. It was getting dark. The others might not notice his absence.

Once Luke was gone, Helen went in search of Kali. “Have you found any slain mages?” she asked the dwarf. “I require their rings and other identifying items. I would prefer not to have Edmund see them.”

Kali raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you make all that coin?" she asked testingly. "As long as it's nothing I'd have to turn over to the Chantry, I guess I can let you have any mage treasures I happen to find."

"I don't think the Chantry minds," Helen mumbled. "They don't take as good care of their charges as they used to."

"Course, I'd expect you to share anything you might find about the missing lyrium," Kali said. "Fair's fair."

Helen smiled. "Of course, my dear, but it is not much." She sighed wearily. "The Templars must have come to recruit. They must have expected their Dalish captives to join their cause, just like the ones that were already with them. I just do not see how, except by some magic."

Just then, Elaith stepped forth from the shadows. "Ummm," she interrupted. "What's going on here? What about you not wanting Edmund to see the rings Helen?"

Helen scoffed. "We need the mage," she mumbled, "but he is an unknown variable and half our enemies are mages." She stepped into the shadows that Elaith had come out of and was gone.

Whole-group Collab Starring:
Helen
Edmund
Ashara
Thene
Kali
Elaith


Helen sat cross legged on a blanket. A cloak draped her slender frame. She was singing from In Uthenera, an ancient poem dealing with the world weariness of the immortal elves. Her eyes looked sad.

Next to her, Kali was using a whetstone to sharpen one of her knives. She occasionally glanced up to look between Helen and Ashara, wondering whether Helen was simply insensitive rather than making a calculated decision to make Ashara uncomfortable. She wasn’t betting on “insensitive.”

Thene stared into the flames through half-closed eyes trying to tamp down on the rage vibrating through her entire body. She’d need it later, but not now. Now, she had to think. Rather than focus on the carnage behind them, she concentrated on the rune-gems still in the pouch she placed them, rhythmically turning it over in her hands. Periodically she studied her companions through her lashes, taking note of their expressions and demeanor.

Elaith was busy making arrows while listening to the cackling of the flames and Helen’s singing. Her armor was laid next to the Elf and she wore her peasant clothing. It was a long day and Elaith wanted to know who are they going to deal with. She briefly looked up to examine the others. Their facial expressions ranged from sad to pensive Elaith wanted to say something but saved it and returned to creating more arrows.

Ashara was at first shocked to hear the human woman singing in elven. Her surprised gaze went unnoticed by the bard due to angle, however. She could hear one of the horses nickered at the other, vying for prime grass spots behind her. The wind picked up, chilling her considering she’d shucked her armor and wore nothing but the knee length shift beneath. When had she heard this song last…Arlathvhen, after the ritual group burials for all those who were lost since the last Arlathvhen. She’d missed the most recent one. The song, telling of how they were to live another day, telling the tales, finding joy and love...Ashara brought her knees in close, wrapping her arms round her calves, and rested her chin upon her knees. Closing her eyes. Longing welled up in her chest and went on aching. The song could not come to an end too soon.

Largely ignoring the others around him, Edmund sat not far from the fire, between Helen and Ashara. He was in the process of inspecting the runes on his armor, making sure that the alchemical substance within them was sufficiently dried and correctly sat in place. From time to time he touched a finger to one of the runes, a barely perceptible blue glow forming around the finger. Helen’s singing voice was pleasant enough, although, something about her was making him uncomfortable, and the sweet voice wasn’t quite enough to put him at ease. Ashara on the other hand, was completely silent. The way she was sitting, all wrapped up in her own arms into a defensive ball, spoke volumes about her state of mind. Edmund could only hope that this wasn’t the prelude for another episode like the one she had when they first arrived at the camp.

“I’d love to know who’s controlling who, here,” Kali said when Helen’s song was over, carefully sheathing her knife and pulling out another one. “We’re assuming the Templars are in charge, but are they? Can they be?” She examined the knife closely as she spoke, her eyes crossing somewhat comically as she held the blade before her face. “Hard to imagine all those mages just...going back to the old ways, I guess? Now that they don’t have to, I mean.” Satisfied with the sharpness of the blade, she sheathed that knife and reached into her boot to pull out a third one.

“Things are never that simple,” replied Edmund quietly. “One doesn’t need to resort to magic in order to control the mind of another. Some don’t know any better, they still believe that magic is a curse.”

“Maybe the Templars and mages are working together,” Elaith suggested, finishing an arrow and putting it aside. “We’ve only seen the Templars attack a settlement, and the mages are probably doing stuff behind the scenes to the captives.”

“The mages were not there by their own volition,” Helen said. “Why would elves fight their own?”

“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense to me,” Elaith said nervously. “The Elves killing each other? We’ve always been tight knit and friendly to the Dalish, well at least when I lived in the alienage back in Denerim.”

“I do not know what drives the elves of the city. Some hate the Dalish just as much as the humans do.”

“Well, some city elves say that the Dalish spit on them labeling the city elves flat ears.” Elaith answered. “They claim that the Dalish considers the city elves race traitors for siding with the humans. I disagree with that statement, the elves of the city are simply trying to make do with what they have and stick together despite the abuse from the humans.”

“Not just elves, Dalish elves,” Helen added, steering the conversation back. “There are attacking elves with vallaslin.”

Ashara spoke up from her place in the flickering shadows cast by the flames of the fire. “At least one was false but… Dalish have gone missing, for certain. I can only tell false from true, not prey from predator when speaking about the dead.”

Elaith’s heart was racing. “One of the elves wore false vallaslin? But why would they do that? Unless maybe that Elf is a spy.”

Helen went pale. “Then the mages may be working voluntarily with Templars,” she mumbled.

“Ugh, that’s even scarier.” Elaith shivered at the thought. “I never thought the Dalish would kill one another, especially when we’re trying to preserve our culture.”

“The Dalish would not voluntarily turn on their own,” Ashara defended, then grimaced, thinking of an exception. The elves who had turned onto a path of hate, practicing guerilla warfare in the mountains mostly held their blade against other elves. But they were not predictable.

“These seemed to, though. You think this could be…” Kali began, absentmindedly moving the whetstone over her blade. “...a war, of some kind? Maybe some of the Dalish don’t like what the Chantry did. Dissolving the Circles and the like. Maybe they want to force everyone back to the old ways? I’m sure they’d find plenty of Templars who agree with that. Or else the Templars were desperate enough to find like-minded elves.”

Ashara sat up to kneel on her blanket, brows knitted together in a frown as she gazed in Kali’s direction. She was so thrown by Kali’s musings she couldn’t find her tongue. What was the dwarf even talking about and suggesting.

“War?!” Elaith’s eyebrows shot up in shock. “The Dalish starting a war?! T-they can’t! The ramifications will be…” Elaith trailed off shaking her head. “It’s suicide! The Dalish are smart enough not to do something like that!”

“Which old ways? The Circle life or pre-Chantry?” Thene interjected at the same time.

“Circle life,” Kali responded, “with mages locked up and out of people’s hai-- uh...well, not roaming the countryside, anyway, maybe interfering the elves,” she finished lamely, concentrating hard on the knife she was sharpening. “Plenty of people are peeved over what Divine Deranged is doing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Edmund opened his mouth in order to to respond, but then just shook his head and remained silent.

Thene bent her head and coughed to hide her laughter.

“We may have reservations about some of the things the Chantry does, but we call the Most Holy by her proper title,” Helen scoffed. “As for the Dalish: Why would they take an interest in Chantry politics? Apart from settlements that encroach on their hunting grounds, they care little for the civilised world.”

Ashara snorted derisively, very unlady like, and considered just rolling over and going to sleep.. She didn’t know what she’d expected from her new comrades. That they would be any less racist than all those she’d encountered over the last thirteen years?

“Come on Helen….” Elaith muttered under her breath, face full of anger. “If one more word comes pouring out your cunt mouth….” Elaith tried to calm down as scenarios of horrible things happening to Helen flooded her mind.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Thene muttered crossly under her breath, her innate sense of fairness making her speak. She looked at Helen, “That song you were singing so beautifully? The Dalish’ culture has been around a lot longer than Orlais or Ferelden. I’m not sure they see us as ‘civilised’, but unless they’ve suddenly gone as loopy as nugs eating a bushel of fermented apples they’re not going to side with Templars. Templars are the strong arm of the Chantry and have been hunting them down as diligently as they did any apostate or maleficar.”

Elaith gave Thene a big smile of thanks.

Ashara was pleased. ‘She took the words right out of my mouth. For the most part.. And not even an elf.’

“The Dalish are the descendants of slaves carrying around the fragmented memories of a civilisation we know almost nothing about,” Helen mumbled. “It is good that they remember,” she said with some sympathy in her voice, “but ours is the Empire that stands.”

Kali winced.

Edmund shared a sympathetic look with Kali, and palmed his face, covering his own wince.

‘May the Dread Wolf take you Helen, you fucking cunt!’ Elaith thought with rage.

Ashara stood the moment Helen used the word ‘slaves’. Camaraderie be damned, she needed a walk. Shaking the blanket she’d just been about to sleep on, she wrapped it round her shoulders and took off north. Elaith’s next words were the last she heard before she left the camp far enough behind.

“We were powerful once!” Elaith retorted towards Helen. “There was a time where we were immortal and reigned over Thedas peacefully!” Elaith craned her head to notice Ashara had left the group. ‘Looks like Ashara couldn’t handle Helen’s bigotry any longer,’ Elaith thought. ‘Can’t blame her. Helen is a bitch.’

One side of Helen’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile. “You were,” she said with emphasis. “I am sure it was glorious.” She sighed.

Elaith glared daggers into Helen. “If it weren’t for the humans coming in and oppressing, killing and erasing our history and culture,” she spat. “But It’s pretty glorious what the humans built in a land full conflict and death!”

“In every ruined city lays a broken statue with the inscription ‘Look at me ye mighty and despair’,” Helen mused. “I am sure the Kings of Arlathan looked at the scattered human settlements and believed in their hearts that their civilisation would stand forever.”

Realizing what she just said, Elaith put her head down. “Sorry,” she said “I got a little carried away there.” Though in her thoughts she said, ‘I’m pretty sure the humans think the same way about their kingdoms too. Nothing lasts forever. Just like the elves of old.’ Elaith’s expression turned somber at the thought of that.

Helen smiled and nodded at Elaith.

“Now that we’ve all agreed that humans and elves have both been horrible -- unlike the dwarves, you know,” Kali said with a forced grin. In the background, Edmund snorted in amusement. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about elven culture. I work with nobles way more often than with Dalish. Hell, I work with mages more often than with Dalish, and I avoid mages as much as I can -- uh, no offense, Edmund.”

Looking in her direction, Edmund raised an eyebrow, still amused. She put the knife away and reached for a fourth one, conveniently avoiding eye contact with Edmund. “But these Dalish must care enough about this Templar business,” Kali continued, “or else they’re being blackmailed, or controlled somehow...and that’s a scary thought.”

“It has to be the only explanation!” Elaith snapped. “No way that the Dalish would be willing to kill their own kind! The Dalish Elves may be controlled by blood magic or something!”

“I agree,” Helen said. “If a group of Dalish are angry with the Chantry, why are they attacking their own people?”

Kali shrugged. “Dunno. You...well, we...chased away the only person who could have explained that.” She frowned in the direction Ashara had disappeared in. “Ashara said some of the vallaslin were fake. There are elves in the circle, aren’t there? Maybe they could be Chantry sympathizers, rounding up Dalish mages to take back to the Templars.” She held up the knife to examine her work. “Although, I think those would be former city elves. Wouldn’t they have real vallaslin if they used to be Dalish? Can you resign from the Dalish life to live in a fancy Orlesian tower? Or maybe a smelly Fereldan one?”

Helen sighed. “Possibly. You would be questioned, quarantined and perhaps executed.”

Kali raised an eyebrow. “All that, huh? Can’t imagine why the circles had trouble recruiting.”

Edmund snorted in amusement again. He was starting to like the dwarf. “A bit of an understatement.”

“I think they’d rather live with their own than with the humans,” Elaith said. “Elven pride.”

“The Dalish don’t give a Creator’s piss for the ‘flat ears’. I’ve seen them walk right on by an injured elf, treating him as just a rock in the road, something to get around but otherwise ignore. If you’re not one of the precious People, you don’t count.” Thene sneered into the fire at some memory then took a deep breath before looking at those around her. “Anyway, the Templar bastards have been fighting mages and honing their anti-magic skills for 1,000 years. So yeah, they’re powerful enough to be leading this group. Doesn’t mean they are, just that they can.”

“Not all Dalish are like that!” Elaith countered. “Maybe some are, but I have heard stories of city elves being accepted into Dalish clans.” The way she said it, Elaith felt as though she was convincing herself.

Thene sighed, this is why she hated dealing with people. Her tact quota was pretty low. She glanced sideways at the young elf. Elaith looked a little lost, a little confused. “Maybe,” she said quietly, “you met some who were different than the ones I did.”

It was time to get back to business. “So, about these things I found earlier. I think they’re runes, but smaller and fancier than any runes I’ve ever seen,” she spilled out the contents of her pouch onto a plate. Some of them were still attached to the bit of cloth the warrior removed from the trap. Thene didn’t want to touch them any more than she had to without knowing what they were. She snorted, “They’re the ‘Helen’ of runes.” Thene couldn’t help smirking just a bit at the annoyed expression on Helen’s face. “Anyway, Templars can’t control minds, so they either coerced some mages or some mages actually believe the Circle cages are the way to go. Doesn’t mean they didn’t mind control others, though. So, Magic Man, I mean Edmund, as our resident expert on the arcane, do these mean anything?”

Taking the small package, Edmund hummed thoughtfully. “These runes were clearly part of a larger design. That strip of cloth looked like it belonged on the edges of a robe. Was it a decorative design, or something that had a function? Hmmm… Hard to say. If there was magic on it, it likely broke when the cloth was ripped apart.”

Putting down the torn strip of cloth, Edmund picked up two small medallions, both covered in an intricate runic design. “These medallions however, I can feel something from them.” He closed his eyes, frowning in concentration. “It’s just at the edge of my senses, like a magical resonance or a tone, but it’s weak, unfocused. If I had to guess, those medallions were a part of a set, perhaps together they served to hold some kind of spell?”

Edmund turned his back on the fire and lifted up one of the small medallion, using the light to better observe the intricate script. “There’s something familiar about this script…” And then as realization struck, he grimaced in distaste. “Ah… That’s never a good sign. I’m fairly certain that these are sigils of the Old Gods of Tevinter, here at the center there’s the sigil of Dumat, the Dragon of Silence, and here at the edges of the medallion this decorative design that looks like a chain, is actually made of the sigil of Andoral, the Dragon of Chains.” Edmund sighed, and handed the runes back. “I can’t say for certain what this means, but the symbolism here makes me uneasy. What I am sure about is that these symbols are not directly connected to what I found at the site of the sacrifice. Whatever magic these runes contained, it was likely tied to the mage wearing the robe.”

“Oh goody,” Thene replied sarcastically. “I thought we were going to get bored with only blood sacrificers, murderers, kidnappers, and a few pesky demons thrown in. In a weird way it almost makes sense that we might be dealing with Tevinter magic if not magisters, or an old god cult. Whoever they are, whatever their reasons, these Templars have gone so far they can’t even see the beliefs they used to uphold. Nugs eat their brains,” she huffed.

“Hey Edmund,” Elaith asked, taking out the pouch containing the goo and offering it to him. “What were you able discover with this goo?”

Taking the pouch and opening it, Edmund frowned. “Demons remains, no question. Probably a Rage Demon, I wonder who summoned it.” Shaking his head, he threw the pouch back. “You keep it, there’s not much I can learn from it unfortunately.”

Elaith gripped the pouch with both hands. “I’ve never seen a Rage Demon before,” she said with uncertainty staring into the fire.

“At least we know we need fire resistance if we run into those things,” Kali said with a shudder. “Thene, you think between us we have enough to brew up a fire resistance potion? I have a bit of spindleweed.”

“Way ahead of you, big girl,” Thene grinned at the dwarf. “Demons are pesky little slime buckets, but with a little planning they’re usually not that hard to deal with. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit,” she conceded. She was relieved they were talking about something concrete, not emotional stuff. “Unlike people, they’re mostly predictable in how they attack and react. I have some potions for different resistances already made - started carrying them a couple of years ago when they all began popping out of the sky like popcorn. But yeah, the spindleweed is good, sounds like we’ll need it. If you’ve got some empty vials, we can start the first part of some tonic tonight. Or it’ll keep until we use some of what I’ve got.”

In response, Kali dug into her bag and pulled out a fistfull of empty vials. She was frequently surprised by how much the bag could hold without anything getting crushed. In the back of her mind, she knew there was a possibility that it was enchanted -- she’d bought it in the black markets of Kirkwall -- but she preferred to pretend she was just a really efficient packer.

“Can we just prepare first?” Elaith said in a frightened tone. “We still don’t know much yet.”

“That’s what we’re doing, kid,” Kali responded. “I know I’d feel a lot safer if we got this done tonight, too.”

Ashara was weary, but she’d stalked her annoyance out, so goal accomplished. She intentionally made noise walking through the leaves to warn them, then added her voice. “Now is always better than later.” And they could see her, all but knee down hidden underneath her grey blanket. She padded back to her spot beside the horses a bit of mud and grass stuck to her toes.

Elaith smiled at Ashara returning but immediately returned to her somber state. “I’m just not sure about all of this,” Elaith said to the Dalish Elf while nervously playing with the strands of her hair.

“We’ll be as prepared as we can be, Elaith,” Kali said, pulling the spindleweed out of her bag and leaning over to hand it to Thene.

“Well, I hope I don’t mess up,” Elaith mumbled, continuing to play with her hair.

“Tonight then,” Thene took the vials and spindleweed from Kali. She sniffed the herb, pinched off a tiny leaf and placed it on her tongue, letting it sit. She caught some of the glances the others were giving her and shrugged. “Checking the quality,” she said carefully, not wanting to dislodge the herb. It’s bitter taste meant she’d have to wait to do another test.

“It had better be good quality,” Kali said with a laugh, “because it came from Helen’s herbalist.”

Thene made some calculations and went to her tent. Since neither elf wanted to sleep in a tent tonight, she was alone and had plenty of room to unpack what she needed. She returned to the fire and listened to the others while concentrating on her work. First, she boiled some water. Then, she set two heavy metal bowls near the fire. In one she cut small bits of leached rashvine. Thene got her mortar and pestle and lightly bruised some embrium before scraping it into the second bowl. Finally, she began preparing the spindleweed.

“Hey Thene,” Elaith asked. “You need some help?”

“Sure,” Thene replied. She repeated one thing she learned during her time at Ostagar, “it’s good when more people know at least the basics. Here,” she divided the spindleweed in half. “Strip the leaves and put ‘em aside for now. Dice the stems and roots, as fine as herbs for a sauce. Add them to this bowl,” she pushed the one with rashvine a little closer to the elf. “The leaves need to be bruised and ground, but I only have one mortar and pestle.” She handed Elaith a small cutting board.

Elaith nodded and did what she was told. She did this kind of thing before with her father for hunting purposes or selling items on the road.

Kali watched as Thene prepared the tonic, reassured by the fact that the burly woman seemed to use a similar recipe as she did. “As long as it doesn’t rain tonight,” she said to the group, “we should be able to follow the Templars’ tracks in the morning, maybe even catch up to them.” She pulled out another knife to sharpen, this one buried in a sleeve. “At which point, we’ll probably need one or two of us to scout ahead. I can do that, if it’s needed.”

“What do we do, if we catch up?” Helen asked. “I hope nobody harbours delusions of grandeur. There is no way we can take this horde by ourselves. The best thing we can hope for is to find their camp and raid it when most of them are out.”

“We don’t know for sure if they’re five or twenty.” Ashara interrupted. “They use trickery and stealth and foul magic to get their way.”

“That’s a fair point.” Agreed Edmund with a nod. “We’ll need to figure out how many of them are there, and what kind of defenses they have.”

“Which is why I suggest sending someone to scout ahead, once we find them,” Kali insisted. “We can at least find out how many we’re talking about here.”

“Be good to have two scouts,” Thene added without looking up from the spindleweed. “Flanking them means less chance of missing something.”

“Agreed,” Elaith said putting her head down and returning to her work. “Best to have an extra pair of eyes. I’ll volunteer. I spent the past year working as a scout for travelers. I’m pretty good at spotting danger.”

“That’s settled then,” Thene briskly replied. She didn’t stop bruising the spindleweed leaves. In fact, she appeared to be doing so more vigorously, bordering on vicious.

If they could all be so vicious with the demons, too, then the group had some hope.


Tagging Norstaera and smilesja

Collab with phoray (even though part 1 is pretty much just me )


Myanna stretched out one leg to replace the knife she’d sharpened into its sheath and pulled out her last one. As she drew the whetstone over the blade, she peered at Ashara without turning toward her. The woman had removed her contoured veridium plates and leathers, and had pulled her blanket a bit further away from the others. She sat on it, dressed only in her linen shift, brooding like an adolescent.

Myanna could admit to herself that it wasn’t exactly fair to compare the elf to an adolescent, considering how the conversation had gone, but she couldn’t help but be reminded of her sister, Magra, as she watched the elf mope. Magra had been the broody sort, too, though she’d never had quite this good of a reason for it. Usually, Magra moped because Myanna had taken her hair ribbons, or borrowed one of her knives without asking, or brought immense shame to the entire family that would be felt for at least the next five generations, if not longer. The inconsequential stuff.

She looked away from Ashara and puffed out her cheeks with a harsh breath. Her ridiculous sister. Her bossy, prissy, mouthy sister. The last time Myanna had seen Magra was the evening before she’d fled from home. Magra had been sitting on the roof, moping about the family’s very...unfortunate circumstances, and she hadn’t moved in over an hour. Myanna knew: she’d spent the same hour brooding from a window sill across the alley, watching her sister and trying to work up the nerve to say something to her.

She hadn’t.

Myanna stroked the whetstone over the blade with so much force that a small spark flew, and she dropped the whetstone in surprise.

“Ah, tits,” she muttered to herself as she reached to pick up it up. It had soil and bits of grass stuck to it, now. She rubbed the dirt off on her pants, frowning at the bit of grunge now gracing her trousers, and made a half-hearted attempt to brush it off with her hand.

Ah, well. It wasn’t as if they were ever going to stay nice and clean anyway, with the adventure this was turning into. At least the whetstone was clean enough to do its job. She ran the blade over it a few more times, but found her mind wandering back to the elven woman.

She turned her head to study Ashara. The woman looked surprisingly...removed, even considering her physical distance from the rest of the group. With occasional chatter and the sounds of cleaning, brewing, and other preparations coming from the others, Ashara in her stillness seemed almost like a waif who’d limped up to the fire for warmth, and was too tired to hope it hadn’t been seen by anyone.

Myanna did not like the pang this sight sent through her, and she had nothing to gain now by trying to identify the emotion or examine it more closely. The last thing she needed was to become melancholy about her past in front of this crowd, all because a brooding elf reminded her of her sister.

She puffed out another harsh breath -- another habit of hers, though at least she hadn’t rolled her eyes -- shoved the knife back into its sheath, and nestled the whetstone back into her pack.

‘The worst she can do is have another hallucination, imagine I’m a demon, and try to stab me to death,’ Myanna said to herself as she stood and approached Ashara, who turned her head to watch Myanna’s approach.


Tagging phoray for part 2

Thene carefully carried her vials into her tent where they'd be safe for the night. In the morning, when it was much lighter, she would distribute some of them and carefully pack the rest. She went back to the fire and began making fresh coffee. She and Kali had first watch and she knew from past experience that having something simple to do, such as drinking it or keeping the coffee from burning, could help relieve the likely tedium. It was hard for some people to stay focused on possible danger when nothing happened.

She looked around camp, the two elves were already asleep or seemed to be. She knew the dwarf was trying to get some sleep before their watch started. Thene took advantage of the others' puttering about to check on the horses. She spent a minute petting or murmuring to each one before returning to the fire, satisfied the beasts were calm and securely tied. Thene sighed, horses were much easier than people.

The cool night air felt good as she quietly walked to the center of camp where Kali was coming out of her tent. She pointed to the coffee and waited while Kali helped herself. After a brief, whispered discussion they circled the camp once together so Thene could point out the locations of the traps. They settled under the shadow of a tree where they commanded a good view of the area. At random intervals they separated and strolled the perimeter in opposite directions to make sure all was as it should be. Other than an occasional sleepy murmur distant wildlife, the night was quiet.

When they woke Elaith and Helen for the second watch, they informed the two women they hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual. A whispered ‘good night’ later Thene entered her tent and gratefully slipped out of her armor. She listened while slipping on her night shirt and loosening her hair so it fell loose around her waist. She placed her shield and sword by the side of her bedroll, crawled inside, blanked her mind, and fell asleep.