OPEN: Halamshiral

[visus]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: The Inquisition Does Orlais, Pt. 1: Masks, Charity, and Tension
WHEN: Solace 15 onward
WHERE: Halamshiral
NOTES: Please note that your character's conduct and actions in this log or in other private logs set in Orlais, if observable by the public, may influence local opinion of the Inquisition and/or the balance of power among Celene, Gaspard, and the elves.

It is a smaller force that the Inquisition sends to Halamshiral than has been sent in the past; not yet able to interfere directly in the civil war, and still attempting to determine what is happening in the Anderfels, the organization is moving in not as a military force but as a stabilizing one, with cautious cooperation from the Chantry and endorsements from several among the nobility who were suitably impressed by Madame de Fer's soiree in Skyhold, to assist with the local unrest while better assessing the political situation. What is known is that a leaderless and unstable Orlais is part of Corypheus' grand scheme. What is not known is… everything else.

I. THE ESTATE

Duc Hugues Pelletier is not himself in residence when the Inquisition arrives. He was here only yesterday, they will be told, but left on urgent business, leaving behind his welcome and best wishes for helping restore the Maker's peace to Orlais. (He fled on news of their approach, gossipy staff members will later reveal, overcome with nerves at the notion of residing under the same roof as the incomparable Seeker Pentaghast.)

The Inquisition has free use of the mansion--under the watchful eyes of the duke's house staff, who will step in to politely prevent any destruction of his property or excessive raiding of his wine cellar--with his library available as a work space for those who require desks, books, and quiet, and his study serving as a makeshift office for the Inquisition's highest ranking officers. The cook does his best to feed everyone. That still means porridge and stew for most (something he offers his apologies for, as well as his personal disdain, but with this number of mouths to feed it's a matter of practicality, surely you understand) but those who seem important or are particularly good at sucking up to him might be given something special.

Day use aside, there's not room in the building to house everyone. Only the high-ranking (which the duke's housekeeper interprets to mean leaders of the Inquisition, Orlesian nobles, and non-Fereldan nobles, in that order, and absolutely no non-humans) will be allowed guest rooms in the chateau itself, while the majority will still need to pitch tents on the expansive and well-manicured grounds to sleep in. But all are welcome in the chapel, the largest and most ornate wing of the house.

II. HIGH QUARTER

Dear Inquisition, imagine music--alive and market placey--and violins taking a break up in the air with non-threatening amblings and a wreath of tambourine just lightly jangled… Imagine the shuffle of slippers on well-kept cobblestones and the pleasant murmur of voices as servants negotiate prices for their masters, who stare opulent and bored stares over the wares spread out for their perusal and consideration. Deals are struck, coins exchange hands, wares are wrapped in crisp paper or bleach-white linen for transport, and taken away to their new homes.

Have you the coin to spend in this place? Then by all means: select a souvenir. Make sure you can actually pay, for the shopkeeps and stallhands do not take kindly to a deal broken, once it has been made. And do not even think about stealing. Looking is free, but hang around too long and someone might begin to get suspicious.

The polite thing to do is to wear a mask. A supply of simple ones is made available to the Inquisition, carved over one eye with the symbol--not enough for everyone to have one to keep as a souvenir, but plenty enough for anyone to borrow before venturing into the High Quarter.

It is inadvisable for elves or Qunari to wander the High Quarter alone, period, but particularly inadvisable for them to do so out of Inquisition armor or without human company, and orders to this effect will have been passed through the ranks. The Inquisition is not here to start any riots or revolutions, and prefers its agents intact and un-arrested. Should any venture there alone and in plainclothes despite this warning, they will find themselves at the very best the subject of points and stares and rude remarks, and denied service by any local merchants or taverns.

III. ELVEN DISTRICTS

Orlesian cities do not easily come by their reputation for opulence. At some point, streets must be cleaned, bricks must be brushed, marble must be buffed, and flowers must be tended. In fact, Comte Pierre has hinted that the Inquisition's generous offer of assistance might be of use in the elven district. Unique among major cities in Thedas, Halamshiral doesn't have an alienage--or, rather, most of the city is the alienage, populated by elves and elf-blooded humans who are kept out of the High Quarter rather than kept in their shabbier streets. There are taverns and shops and a market here, too--one with fewer silks and more bruises on the apples, but cheaper and kinder to those without rounded ears--and in many ways, in most places, it looks to provide a better and freer life for its inhabitants, who are not packed in quite so tightly or watched quite so constantly.

During the day, at least. There's still a curfew--one inapplicable to members of the Inquisition, if they're wearing their armor, but at night the streets empty save for the occasional dart of someone trying to make it home undetected by guards or Chevaliers. And at all hours there's an odd tension in the air, a combination of simmering resentment and pervasive defeat, the kind of feeling best encapsulated by quick, sullen glances up from an obediently bowed head.

If one needs evidence of the root of that tension, it isn't difficult to find. A large, unmissable area of the city, once the center of life there, has been burned down.

This is the area where the Inquisition's help is needed, according to Comte Pierre, who loves Halamshiral itself more than he cares for Celene, Gaspard, or the feelings of the local elves. It isn’t anything a lot of elbow grease can’t fix, but the state of these city streets is sorry indeed. Everything is streaked with ash that's been blown about and rained on but never cleaned. The few trees in the streets have been burnt black, and their bare limbs twist up toward the sky like desperate claws. The houses, the little market stall tucked into the corner of the main square--even the grass growing up between the cobblestones--everything has been burned. The bodies were collected, but you may still find a fingerbone or teeth knocked loose in the battle among the cobblestones or old rust-brown blood stains on wood. Gaunt windows stare down at you, watching your every move.

There are supplies waiting. But the work is mostly conducted alone. The elves, what little are still hanging around, keep to themselves as they pass by. Some may even look to resent the progress being made there, though they know better than to say why. The upstanding citizens of Halamshiral don’t seem inclined to come down this way, or even make casual use of the nearby alleyways.

A woman, selling worn steel scrap some streets over, is happy to tell you why, whether or not you ask her. The elves deserve what they got. They should have kept their heads down, just like everyone else. Even before the fire, she says, no one much wanted to hang around down there, on account of the crime. A notorious band of thieves were hidden among the elves of the alienage, a group of rough elves known for stealing anything from anybody. She’ll warn you to keep any valuables close while you’re working down there: “Poor souls need the help, but you can’t let yourself be robbed while you’re fixing their problems.”

It’s hard, perhaps, to imagine what she means. The destroyed blocks, as you work them, will be largely deserted. An eerie calm hangs over the place, almost as if the secluded wreck has become unmoored from the city proper and drifted away across a still and dead river.

IV. THE COUNTRYSIDE

All the wealth of Orlais can’t save them from some of the more common problems around these days. Even in the country, the tension of the city is palpable, like a current that runs through the air.

Of these tensions and worries, first and foremost are the rifts, a threat that plagues the outskirts of Hamalamadingdong far worse than the central spaces. Demons of varying strength can be found wandering and unless they are stopped, they will become a worse threat.

Whatever your political leanings, you have been asked to protect the people of Orlais. One small cluster of homes in particular has been complaining most bitterly about this threat. Worried and harried by demons, they have finally made themselves heard enough, and the Inquisition has dispatched aid. But as you arrive, you and your party will find the homes to be quiet. A little… too quiet.

The roar of a demon soon puts an end to that, and a chorus of screams follows.

Elsewhere, you may notice part of Orlais’ defensive problem: there are no brave young men to step in and fight off demons. In the High Quarter, a few callow young noblemen lounge around sipping from goblets of wine and laughing at their own jokes, but every able-bodied soldier who's not found some way out (or publicly refused to care, at their own risk) is presently occupied with the War of the Lions. Of those who remain, the young are very young and the old are very old.

Even among the gentle country gentlemen and their ladies, elves and Qunari will find themselves to be points of interest. No attacks are likely, but expect to weather gossip, whispered comments, and frank open stares. No one is foolish enough to turn down aid, but they can still be wary of these… others among them.

Comments

II!

[arlathvhen]

It was frustrating to need to be accompanied, like a child. But it was a frustration that she would have to get used to, if she wanted to pursue the path of being a bard. Being an elven bard meant learning what she was permitted, and how to maneuver within, around, and over it. And also, she wanted to go shopping. So when Nerva offered to help any who needed an escort, Beleth accepted.

She wore her mask and dress without complaint, moving with her back straight and her head held high. She might have fit in among the crowd, if it weren't for the ears, and the green ink twisting around the visible part of her face. Still, with Nerva by her side, and purchases in her hand, she is left alone.

"Again, thank you for coming with me." Beleth turns to Nerva, away from the pastries she'd been examining, and holds up a tiny eclair. "Would you like one? Or a few. It's the least that I could do."

Re: II!

[keeperofmagi]

"You need not thank me," Nerva said, frowning at said pastries as she shook her head. She was ignoring the way her stomach rumbled at the idea - but she had her heart set on a meat pie she had seen earlier, at the other end of the street, and she was not going to waver.

"You are a member of the Inquisition, and I would do the same for any of them."

[arlathvhen]

Beleth shrugged, handed a coin over, and began to walk away from the stall, nibbling on the eclair. Being told that she was being treated exactly the same as the rest of the Inquisition--well, Beleth had a habit of overestimating friendship with other people. She took it as a marker of current status, and moved on. At least she knew.

"I would feel remiss in not thanking you. I still appreciate it, even so." She waited, carefully, for them to come to an area that was less crowded. And even then, when she continued, her voice was a lower hush. "Some day, I will come here as a great bard. I hope that on that day, I can shop with another here because I desire to, not because I am required to. "

[keeperofmagi]

"It is a good dream, though knowing Orlais, perhaps a feeble one. Even the greatest of elves would still be shunned." She paused to look over at a booth of masks, down the end of the lane, and well out of earshot. There was some decent work, there.

"It is not a place I would ever name 'fair', in any circumstance."

[arlathvhen]

And yet, they had to save it. Had to make sure it didn't collapse on itself, because that would help Corypheus. She wishes that Orlais had chosen a better time to self-destruct, a time when she could wash her hands of it and hope it burned. But such a thing is not polite to say to someone from Orlais.

"I suppose it's all we can do to hope for a better future." is a far more diplomatic response. "Things have been changing in Thedas rapidly. Maybe this will be another one." If the mage circles can fall, who knows?

She glances up at Nerva, fingers toying with the sleeve of her dress. "Do you think it's changed since the last time you were here?"

[keeperofmagi]

"Perhaps." There's a very slight wistfulness to her voice, as if she wants to believe it, but can't. When Beleth starts fiddling, she turns her attention back to the elf, glancing down at her sleeves.

"It has been a long time. I was a child, before I joined the templars, and not a wealthy one. The circle was... different. Covered in snow, most of the time, and far from Val Royeaux or Halamshiral. Truthfully, Orlais itself was more like a mirage I couldn't quite touch." She wasn't sure why she was being so honest with Beleth, but the words came out anyway. She could hardly ignore a direct question. "The changes that I do notice - the fear, the glances behind people's shoulders, the attempt to mask any feelings of unease... That, is new. But it is new everywhere."

[arlathvhen]

The dress Beleth is wearing is a decent quality one, which means that there aren't many loose threads for her to pull at. After a few half-hearted attempted, she switches to the bag her shopping is in, thoughtfully plucking at it, though listening intently to Nerva's words.

"We'll stop the fear," She mutters, voice quiet but sure. "The Inquisition has already started putting the world back together, and we'll keep doing it." That part was easy enough, it seemed. Like the grand quests in stories. Beleth had little doubt that they would succeed, because if they didn't--the idea was too horrible to contemplate. So they had to win, because that's the only choice. The only question would be, who among them would make it to that victory.

She paused a moment, turning to look at Nerva. "I suppose I kind of understand, though. How you feel about Orlais. I couldn't tell you about any of the city states in the Free Marches. Or much at all about it, really, outside of it's nature. The forests and rivers, where the plains meet the mountains. Which...isn't much."