MOSTLY CLOSED: Weisshaupt Fortress

[visus]

WHO: Anders, Herc, Ingrid, Kaisa, Mal Reynolds, Merrick, Merrill, Nathaniel, Samwise, Sera, Teren, Varric
WHAT: A friendly visit to Weisshaupt Fortress that will go very smoothly and involve zero bloodshed.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 29-30 for the closed portion, with travel time on either side.
WHERE: Weisshaupt Fortress, the Anderfels.
NOTES: This plot is 90% closed to the above-named characters, but there are open comments for before and after the main quest that are open to any characters who might travel to the Anderfels to serve as back-up without going to Weisshaupt.

No one has ever claimed that 'the Anderfels' is a particularly pretty name for a place, but it is somehow still too nice for the land itself. Bone-dry and blasted by hot, dusty winds for most of the year, the steppeland of the Anderfels has been harsh and unforgiving country since long before the Blights began. It is barren in every sense of the word: all greys and browns and blood-rust reds, the monotony broken more often by black outcroppings of rock than by greenery, with settlements few and far between. Even where blight has not turned the ground dark and toxic, it feels like a place people are not meant to live. Not anymore.

↠ The Walk There (Open, Mingle)
↠ Arrival at Weisshaupt (Closed, GMed)
↠ R&R&Demons (Closed, Mingle)
↠ Everything Goes To Shit (Closed, GMed)
↠ The Sprint Back (Open)

Comments

The Walk There (Open, Mingle)

[visus]

If Erimond's information hadn't been believable, the signs of a large group traveling through the wasteland would be confirmation: there are abandoned tents, campfires half-buried in blown sand. No effort to hide the trail until signs of civilization appear on the horizon, and then the Wardens' path swings wide to go around it. The Inquisition's team has fewer demons, so they don't need to worry so much about that.

A half day's ride from Weisshaupt Fortress, the village of Freisig is barely a village at all, a small cluster of five homes and a single general store/tavern tucked at the juncture of the road and a sickly stream of sort-of-fresh water. The locals are as worn down and dried out as the land, wary of strangers but devoutly respectful of the Inquisition and loyal to the Grey Wardens. Plus, this is the most business they've seen in a month. The visitors are invited to lay their bedrolls on the dirt floor of an abandoned house--Wilhelm died two years ago, someone will explain, and no one's claimed to see his corpse wandering past the windows in months.

On Bloomingtide 28, late at night, the Calling stops. That, more or less, is the signal. Those going to Weisshaupt head out in the morning.

( OOC: Make your own threads! Characters who aren't going to Weisshaupt but want to tag along to be back-up are welcome as well. )

Malcolm & Jayne

[aintwejust]

He'd give 'bout anything to head north, he'd said. He missed the wide open skies and warmth, he'd said. Mal is kicking himself for coming along. But he felt in some small way he owed the Wardens for not pull'n up and runn'n when the Blight came down a decade ago. Sure, he didn't stick 'round for much long after the fact, but that was less on them and more on the king and whatnot. Little baggage as opposed to the big honk'n one they drag with every step north. Jayne takes the walk'n in stride, all in all? Ain't as bad as it could be.

At least he's not mak'n it on foot. Sasha's wicker'n her way through a fresh bag of apples when they get where they're going. And where they're go'n seems like one of them tiny towns where everyone knows everyone else and outsiders get the stink eye if they ain't a warden or flash'n an inquisition badge.

No matter how charm'n they might be. Mal should know. He's mighty charm'n and gett'n that damn stink eye all over the place. Then again he's one to poke and these folk don't much like pok'n. Mal just can't help himself tho. He's a poker. Wants to know the lay of the land, what's go'n about. He listens in, spins a few tales, spends some coin. Tries to make nice. Jayne's better at it than he is, but Jaynes a sneaky shit that way.

[unbrokenoath]

Warden uniforms go far when it comes to charming folks. It was that way in Fereldan, saved Kaisa's ass when she was on the run. Here in the Anders, it went even further than usual, and she was loving it. That's what was wrong with the Inquisition, not enough respect where it belonged. When she sees Malcolm trying to sweet talk the people, she decides, in her unending kindness, to give him a hand.

Kaisa sashays over, and gives Malcolm a hearty pat on the back, the kind that made people who were a little more delicate stumble. But Mal looked good and solid to her.

"Heeey, you guys met Mal already? Excellent, he's a real pal, Mal. Maker, it even rhymes." She shot the man a smile that was far too amused with her shitty joke. "Malpal. Palmal?" And she has to take a moment to not start snickering at said shitty joke. "Either way, he's a legit kinda guy, don't you guys worry. And he's got a mabari, and you know what they say about mabari."

She pauses, realizing that they may not, in fact, know what you say about mabari. These poor, poor souls. Her own dog was looking less impressed with Jayne, sniffing at the dog suspiciously.

"...They say that mabari are smart enough not to bother with folks who're jerks. So. It's a good judge of character."

[aintwejust]

"Jayne also mostly responds to Orlesian commands on accounta my liberat'n him from an Orlesian idjit." Which earns him a few laughs. Strained ones, but. Laughs. the pat to the back gets her a quirked brow and a shrug- he ain't gonna complain when someone is try'n to be all friendly like. Even if he's pretty sure he won't get much more outta these folk than he already have. Coupla coins for things he carved and a bit of gossip.

And some cheese for Jayne. Well.

They didn't know it was for Jayne but Jayne knows it's for Jayne and won't let Mal hear the end of his faint sighing as he noses the bag where he's stuffed it. Least till the sniff'n dog gets his attention and his head swings round, a lazy growl roll'n up. His cheese. His. Cheese.

"Jayne, you settle down, now." None of that.

[chainlightning]

As both a mage and an elf, Merrill is also getting quite a few Displeased Looks. They're not quite in the town yet, but there are, at times, others on the road -- enough that she finds herself inching closer and closer to those she knows. Eventually she ends up along the side of Mal's horse, one hand on the mare and the other occasionally going to scratch Jayne.

"I suppose I should be used to this," she murmurs after a moment, glancing up at Mal. "But- you aren't, are you?"

Elves, mages -- they're often hated. But Mal is human, not a mage, and she imagines it might be... difficult.

[aintwejust]

"Me? Yep. They see a man with a dog and think Fereldan, I start talk'n and they think dwarf, they see me ride and think Orlesian. Don't fit an any of their pretty little boxes so they squint. You, now. You really shouldn't." Mal mutters, slipping from his usual smiling charm to a few narrow eye'd glares right on back. Sure she's Dalish. Sure she's magey. But ain't nobody in Thedas sweeter than Merrill. "Folk are just folk. Elf folk, human folk, mage folk. We're all people. Ain't no reason to be squint'n funny."

Jayne buts his head up into her hand in lieu of leaning on her.

"You wanna ride for a li'l bit? You've been walk'n a long while."

Anders (OTA)

[justice_is_blond]

He's been quiet since they reached the village. Watching the locals while trying to look like he isn't, searching the horizon for anything recognizable. This isn't where he's from, but all the same these are the sorts of people here. Religious to an actual fault. The staff on his back condemns him in their eyes the way it did his father's, and before long he's not even looking at the locals anymore.

A:

That doesn't mean he doesn't sometimes look at others in the party, raising an eyebrow as if inquiring as to what they're thinking.

B:

The Anderfels aren't exactly the liveliest place, but there's one thing that they do have right - spice in their food. It helps with the heat, and Anders has tucked into the spiciest of what's been fixed, leaving the mild stuff for others. Those who go for it might well get a little bit of a smirk. Those who go spicy get a slightly more impressed look.

C:

He's drifting to sleep when he hears something and sits bolt upright, but can't for the life of him figure out what he's heard. Everything's silent. ...And that's when he realizes everything is silent, and he didn't wake because he'd heard something, he'd woken because it had stopped. The song has stopped.

"Fuck me." It's breathed out. Why? Why here, why now, what does it mean, what's happened?

B

[ingrid_kief]

There is one other who is braving the spiciest of the fare as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world. She notices Anders glancing at her.

"These Southerners do not know how to eat, do they?"

C

[arsebiscuit]

Sera is an almost painfully light sleeper, came from years and years of street living. But she'd held still in her bedroll when the mage sat bolt upright, making sure he wasn't going all demony before propping herself up on an elbow.

"Nice offer, but you'll have to go a few bed rolls over for that, yeah?"

Arrival at Weisshaupt (Closed, One Thread, Bloomingtide 29)

[visus]

There are a thousand Wardens in the Anderfels, and Weisshaupt Fortress is home to half, with ample room to spare--a relic of an age when their numbers were much greater. There's a village larger than Freisig within the walls, with a market and smithy, usually home to civilians but presently deserted. Across a bridge, Weisshaupt itself cuts an imposing figure against the red-dust sky. The Inquisition's envoys aren't stopped until they've crossed that bridge. That stop is only temporary: a brisk inquiry into their business there, a few minutes to run the message beyond the doors, and then a quiet escort through the empty courtyard and into a room with a long table and crackling fire.

The High Constable looks up first. Fulk is a small man, kind-faced, with grey at his temples and dark circles beneath his eyes. Beside him is Warden-Commander Clarel with her shaved head still bent to examine documents laid out on the table.

"The Inquisition, is it?" Fulk says, looking beyond those in Warden uniforms to examine the others.

There's a third figure in the corner, bearded and hooded. He turns a page in his book.

( OOC: Please keep things to a single thread. No tag order, and characters are welcome to be silent in the background. )

[justice_is_blond]

He's standing a bit back, and glances over at the person nearest him. "No. Dancing girls from Antiva." The sarcasm is, for once, very quiet. In theory no one official should be able to hear him. That doesn't keep him from shooting a wary look forward, though.

[ingrid_kief]

Ingrid squares her shoulders. The Joining pendant that had once belonged to her husband is worn on display around her neck, over her Templar armor.

"Most of us, ja," she answers. It is not her first time meeting Fulk, though whether he remembers her, she's not certain.

R&R&Demons (Closed, Mingle, 29-30 Bloomingtide)

[visus]

They keep their weapons, in the end, and they're given free rein in the upper levels of the fortress; the staircases to the lower levels are blocked off and guarded by Wardens, most with broad shoulders and thick Ander accents, if they speak Common at all. They're keeping the demons in, they'll explain, more than keeping the visitors out--but no, sers, you can't go down there. Perhaps in the morning, when if Fulk says it's all right.

That still leaves most of the fortress to roam. Weisshaupt is a monument and a memorial, strewn with tapestries and trophies, ancient weapons and ogre bones. The library rivals a university's. There is a small chapel, for the devout, and until sunset it's half-filled with Wardens on their knees. The kitchens are well-stocked--meant to feed hundreds of preternaturally hungry warriors--but presently understaffed, with the civilian workers recently evacuated. There's an aging Warden on duty instead, with nothing to offer but today's stew, tomorrow's porridge, or access to the raw stores of imported vegetables and dried meats. And stories. He talks about every Blight as if he had been there himself.

Periodically there are demons, matched with mages and additional watchers, crossing through to help carry food or blankets below. Near nightfall, there's a small commotion near the easternmost staircase--three Wardens wrangling an unconscious varghest that woke up too early. They appreciate any help immobilizing it, but not killing it, don't kill it, please--immobilize it, and the elven woman in the group will stop looking stressed long enough to say thank you before they drag it past the guarded doors and out of sight.

There are rooms to spare, though those both habitable and unoccupied are scattered. Nathaniel, Anders, Merill, and Mal are directed to a pair of rooms on the second floor; Samwise, Teren, Ingrid, and Merrick to the third. The remainder are left on the first. All on the eastern side of the fortress, all within shouting distance if one doesn't mind shouting up the stone stairways. The neighbors, however, might object. The local Wardens keep late hours, but by the earliest hours of morning, the fortress is quiet and still.

( OOC: This is partly just for time-bridging and partly for anyone who wants to chat or explore; it will not be GMed. You're welcome to take control of the grunt-level NPCs broadly described above for conversations. If you have any specific questions about what would happen if your character presses this or that button [metaphorically], let us know! )

merrill

[chainlightning]

It's a large fortress -- large enough to get lost in, or at least to pretend to get lost in when you're well-known for getting lost places. It's also decorated, and Merrill goes looking for anything of griffons that she can find. This seems like the best place to find any information on them, and as a result, she may be overheard both naming the statues ("Ser Clickytoes" is the griffon over the hall to the kitchen) and loudly admiring them. In her more quiet moments, she tries to dig through the library -- for griffons, yes, but also for elves. If there is history on her people here, she wants to find it. If there are answers about how an eluvian could contract the Taint and how blood magic could remove it, she definitely wants to find it.

Toward nightfall, Merrill helps immobilize the varghest and tells the elvish woman that she's welcome. She waits until they're gone and until she's certain she's out of earshot before murmuring to any of the others from the Inquisition. "I don't think I want to know what they're doing with living varghests down there." She has a feeling it may be food- but it's still alive, and that means it's going to still be alive when the demons start in on it.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders looks up from his cat with a frown when she returns, but for once the frown isn't because of her.

"I'd like to know a great deal, but that's one thing I'd agree I don't want to know." He exhales and reaches up to rub his temples. "Did you see anything of blood magic while you were looking around? Because that's the only explanation I can come up with for the mage's situation as of yet."

Malcolm

[aintwejust]

For his part Mal tucks his bag in their rooms before tak'n Jayne to find the kitchens. A dog's gotta eat. A man's gotta eat. And sometimes stick'n about where food's made gets you bits of gossip. Civilians be'n kicked out when there are demons wander'n around (likely in the lower levels) makes plenty a sense. It don't make a lot as to why the demons are still kept around or what they're planning but he puts Jayne to sniff'n about after he's eaten and Mal?

Pokes around a little, quiet like. Watches the demons wander'n around. Asks a few quiet questions 'bout the people in charge since they seem so solid on hav'n this locked down. Paces the halls to make a mental map of what goes where, counts doors, checks locks (discreetly and from a distance). Cases the joint like he would for a Job cuz this? Is a job. Most of the smiling simplicity drops off of him when he gets back to his room. "Yeah. We're right humped."

[justice_is_blond]

"At least we're not humped and down in the village." It's the only consolation he can offer. He'd gotten back to the room only a few moments earlier, trying to seem the affable, harmless healer that he's not. Purrelden is the only reason his attempt hadn't backfired. She pulled off cute. Now she's getting strips of meat as a reward and a treat as she rests in his lap... and watches Jayne carefully.

"There won't be civilians getting in the middle. Just a lot of demons. That will make it a little more straightforward. And you've fought demons before, I take it?"

[ingrid_kief]

[After this conversation]

While things are quiet, Ingrid finds Malcolm and approaches.
"You are the one called Malcolm Reynolds, ja? My commanding officer has asked that I speak with you."

Everything Goes To Shit (Closed, GMed, 30 Bloomingtide)

[visus]

The fortress does not stay quiet and still.

Pretend to be surprised.

The sky is a deep grey-red and the sun hasn't yet risen when the clamor starts--the clank of men and women running down stone corridors in armor, muffled shouting that's more outrage than panic, a cheering roar from the courtyards that floats through the windows--and the clamor only goes on for two minutes at most before it's brought directly to the doors of the visiting Wardens and Inquisition members. The Weisshaupt Wardens knock, if the doors are shut, or meet anyone already on their way to find the source of the noise before they get too far; they come in groups of ten, armed, but some still buckling their armor or affixing their hilts.

The message, everywhere, is, "You need to come with us."

( OOC: The NPCs and GMing will be separate for each group from this point forward, so please branch off into your three groups: Anders, Mal, Merrill, & Nathaniel; Ingrid, Merrick, Samwise, & Teren; and Hercules, Kaisa, Sera, & Varric. No strict tag order, but please don't leave anyone behind without their okay. )

Anders, Mal, Merrill, Nathaniel

[pinprick]

Nathaniel is the one who answers the door from his room with Anders, and he keeps his arm on the frame, blocking entrance. These are warriors, or at least they are armored like them. He singles out the nearest one and lowers his voice.

"On whose orders?"

Who is making you do this, lad?

[aintwejust]

Mal hits the door next- or well, he's the one right behind Nate, arms crossed, brows lifted, forming a solid wall between all them wardens and the squishie mages tucked into the room.

Jayne, in the corner, is pee'n in a bucket Mal asked for earlier. If they'd wondered, this is why. The dog don't even quit, just swings his head about to stare at the wardens like 'really. I'm doing something here. Really? Rude.'

Merrick, Ingrid, Samwise and Teren

[dalishious]

Too high strung and anxious to sleep, Merrick had been curled up in the corner near a candle, working on his latest carving when he heard the noise. He's on his feet swiftly, and he stuffs the carving (a pendant with a bow and arrow on it) into a pouch on his belt before he goes to investigate.

He fully intends on following the Wardens in secret, to spy on what they're up to, but then someone is at the door and his blades are out immediately. Reflex.

[harthad_uluithiad]

Sam had curled up and fallen asleep immediately. He still may not have been sure about any of this, but after the long trek to Weisshaupt, a hot meal and a (relatively) soft bed indoors had been more than welcome, and he'd taken to it gratefully.

But he wakes with a start at the knock on the door. He has no intention of disobeying, and obediently tumbles out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Instinctively, his gaze turns to Merrick (the only elf in the group, and therefore obviously the leader) for guidance on how to proceed. When he sees Merrick's blades gripped tight in his hands, his eyes open wide, and he shuffles behind him slightly, darting a worried look at the Wardens at the door.

Hercules, Kaisa, Sera & Varric

[twelvelabours]

"Need to, do we?"

Herc isn't some giant of a man. He doesn't feel like much of a person at all, with a song still ringing in his head and echoes of things sinking down and reverberating in the caverns of his skull and ribcage. Somehow despite that he fills up a doorway pretty well, arms crossed and shoulders squared, his shield at his back and Striker Eureka at his side, and Max on the other. For once Max doesn't look so smiley and drooly.

"Why's that? Where's the rest of our crew?"

[arsebiscuit]

Mouthy tit Sera was prone to be, but she...well. Wardens. They had saved the world and all. Whatever odd things they were up to, a certain respect came with the name. So she's willing to follow along, assuming no blows start getting thrown over a little question.

"Is there food?"