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

[visus]

If he recognizes Ingrid--or if he hears Anders--there's little sign of it other than his gaze sticking a millisecond too long on each of them. Other faces in the crowd are more familiar. Other concerns are more pressing. He is remarkably exhausted. "You are a long way from the Frostbacks," Fulk says. "Is it too much to hope that you are returning Warden-Commander Clarel's advisor?"

[pinprick]

"High-Constable Fulk." Nathaniel steps up. "Warden Nathaniel Howe. The criminal Erimond was tricking Clarel into the service of Corypheus, by his own admission. He remains in custody."

He glances at Clarel's face, wondering whether she, too, might be bound to a demon.

"Through her demon army, the mage Wardens were bound to Corypheus and completely under his control."

[aintwejust]

Warden stuff. Mal never really had much stomach for warden stuff but- he's here, his dog's here, and he's gett'n a little techy the more those eyes slip around. Somth'n don't smell right.

Then he hears 'demon army' and wonders what in the shit he's gotten himself into. He gently elbows Anders, murmuring. "Think I would've preferred the danc'n girls."

[visus]

The sound of her name snaps the Warden-Commander out of her attention to the documents before her--maps, notes--so she can bestow a glare on Nathaniel. "That is absurd," she says. "We would never--"

"Clarel," Fulk interrupts.

The man in the corner turns another page and doesn't lift his head, but he does say, quietly, for Fulk rather than their audience, "What Erimond may have done and what he may say to save his skin are hardly relevant now. Under the circumstances--"

"The circumstances have changed, Macrinus," Fulk says. He sounds very much like a man trying to be polite to a relative in front of company.

"They have," the man agrees, simple and conciliatory, but there is a brief glance up beneath his cowl at the visitors, a subtle flash of irritation. Their arrival after the Calling's cessation cannot be coincidence. "We can discuss the way forward when the First Warden returns."

Fulk's frown is kept contained to the corners of his eyes; his pause is silent, resentful assent. To the party, he says, "The mages you speak of are here. I have spoken to them myself. They are--" A hesitation. "--of sound mind, and in control of their demons."

[doneisdone]

"Then we should very much like to meet them."

Teren has been standing towards the back, somehow managing to loom even while not the tallest person in the room, nor even in much shadow. "Indulge us, sers, we have come a long way. Would you have us leave with no curiosity unresolved?"
Tilting her head with a narrow of her eyes, she adds, "it strikes me that Wardens who have been off on other business might have a right to know."

[justice_is_blond]

In control of their demons. His discomfort is no longer of concern here, the issue is too big and he may well need to focus. Anders steps forward, arms crossed over his chest, voice as neutral as he can make it.

"I'm a spirit healer. I've assessed those with sound mind and unsound before, and I could verify their state for our group. Everyone's concerns could be put at ease with that." There's an imbalance in the room, a tension, and Anders does not know who is truly in charge here or what might be going on. If there's demons prowling, though, that's one clear and present issue that must be dealt with.

[ingrid_kief]

"I have no wish to harm any mages, Warden or otherwise. But it would ease my heart to know that this is true, that they are in control and pose no threat in this manner," Ingrid says.

[chainlightning]

'Of sound mind'. Maybe for now, but that can change -- it's changed more than once even in the case of Anders. Merrill is standing toward the back of the group, trying her best not to cast furtive glances over at Herc, but- well. It's hard.

"Never knowingly, perhaps," she says after a moment, looking toward Clarel. Her voice is soft, almost pleading. "But isn't it better to be sure?"

[visus]

Clarel glares at Merrill, too, but the expression quickly softens into something less hostile, if no less troubled, while Fulk takes in the others' echoing demands. He sighs quietly, gesturing beyond them to get the attention of one of their escorts from the gates.

"Jillian, will you retrieve... whomever you come across first?" he asks. The Warden in the doorway crosses her fist to the opposite shoulder and leaves, while Fulk smiles tightly at the visitors. "They are locked in, for now. We thought it best, until we can safely sever the bindings, to—"

Clarel interrupts: "Many good men died for this opportunity, Constable." It lacks the fire of her earlier interjection—tired, worn in, an argument that's been had several a times over before the Inquisition's arrival.

Behind them, Macrinus closes his book to rub his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose, and Fulk only looks at her for a moment, jaw set and weary, before turning his attention back to the group.

"The First Warden was called to Hossberg by the King. We evacuated—" or evicted; perspective matters "—the civilians when the southern Wardens arrived, and it has caused some concern. Vidar should return within a few days. You are welcome to wait and voice your concerns to him directly."

[pinprick]

Nathaniel looks between Clarel, Macrinus, and Fulk, then finally Clarel again. A tense quiet comes to his voice.

"You...summoned your demons by killing countless men and women under your command. You brought them to Weisshaupt to kill the old gods in the Deep Roads. Then the false Calling stopped, and now you've an army of demons and no need of it. And you don't know how best to dispose of it."

[aintwejust]

"Maybe we oughta wait and see what they're work'n with?" Mal calls from the back. "I'm no mage and- well, I'm no warden but seems t'me if the say they got this sorted and we got a mind to worry- we see their hand, we say our piece to the man in charge when he gets back."

And sneak around in the time between, of course. Mal's got one eye on that hooded bastard because- Vint. Everything 'bout him screams Vint. And a Vint with the wardens and a demon army when they're trying to kill a giant Vint Darkspawn-

Now that smells fishy to him. Smells blighty and fishy and demony and Mal don't like it one bit. But he likes the idea of an out and out brawl or gett'n kicked out before they can snoop even less so he puts on his most gullible face, all Fereldan bumpkin charm and drawling swagger, sidles up to Nathaniel and sets a hand on his shoulder. Be calm, man. It's a con. Work with it. "Seems like you've taken care t'keep folk safe. We just got a coupla questions for the big man and I'm sure we'll be on our merry after."

[twelvelabours]

There is not a single part of this he likes. Herc, as a rule, is a man who likes to listen better than he likes to talk. He's a second in command, the back up. He's never seen himself as the last man standing - he's the shield that keeps those who need to stand steady.

And then there's this, and though he's been content enough to listen, he steps forward. For a brief moment his hand is on Merrill's shoulder - steadying her, maybe steadying himself - as he prepares to add a voice to the pile of what might already be too many voices.

"Wardens," he addresses his fellows. Comrades, that was what the people in front of him were meant to be, and he's walked through Weisshaupt many times over, passed months here at a time. "Mal here's right. You've taken care. Maybe we can help you with that demon army. The Inquisition's looking to help. No one else needs to die taking care of those demons, but they do need to be taken care of."

He's not much for words, anyway.

[aintwejust]

Mal was, all told, stunned into silence at that.

Someone was play'n along? Someone thought he was right? He glances over to Herc before turning his winning smile back on the Wardens. Right. He was right. Just a simple man with simple thoughts, nothing dangerous here. Nope.

[chainlightning]

It's the hand on her shoulder from Herc that clues Merrill in onto the plan. Oh, they're being sneaky! That's very good, then- just like being with Hawke, back in Kirkwall.

As Clarel's gaze softens, Merrill offers her a slight smile. She doesn't agree with what was done- but she can understand why she did it. People do desperate things out of fear, to protect their own.

"Thedas has always owed the Wardens so much. Maybe we can help you as so many of you have helped us." Beat. "If nothing else, there's so much lovely art with griffons on it here!"

That's not even a facade. That's Merrill.

[unbrokenoath]

Kaisa is nearly vibrating with all the words shaking around in her that she can't say because this is diplomatic business, and Kaisa may have a lot of faults, including being bad at diplomacy, but at least she knows that she's terrible at it, and that it's better for her to just stand down for now.

Merrill's little comment about the griffons makes her break into laughter, however much she was trying to hold her tongue. But she tries to make herself behave, and turns to look at Herc, face cloudy.

"Please tell me that we ain't helping 'em get more demons, ser, 'cause you can paint my ass and call me Orlesian before I let someone get blood magicy and stabby with my blood."

[visus]

"I think we have plenty of demons for now," Fulk says, voice even and a hand falling to Clarel's shoulder for restraint, or comfort, or both, "although if there's a ritual to summon those dancing girls of yours, some of the men may consider it worth the risk. Thank you, Hercules," he goes on, attention shifting, "and--Mal." Merrill gets a look, too, but no one's told him her name; Nathaniel is next, and for a moment Fulk looks as though he may be trying to say something with his eyes, but he doesn't have a very eloquent face. It could be a warning. It could be agreement. "We can house you in the fortress or in the village, wherever you're more comfortable."

"They must surrender their weapons," Macrinus says, fingers drumming on his closed book, and Fulk drops his hand from Clarel's shoulder to face him.

"Under the circumstances, I am sure they will sleep better if they do not."

If there's a moment when both men look prepared to abandon their quiet tones and have it out--and an equally long moment when Clarel looks poised to step between them--it's cut short by footsteps in the doorway: Jillian, from before, and a young man in Warden robes with a robed, long-toothed figure hovering behind him.

"Ser," he says. He's pale and slow to blink, with a faraway look to his eyes, but he manages to focus (approximately) on the gathered crowd. "You needed me."

[justice_is_blond]

Before he can even have the grace to look embarrassed that his dancing girl comment had been heard, there's a mage with a demon in front of them and Anders is grasping hurriedly for Nate's arm. The contact helps with keeping Justice from pushing entirely to the forefront, but it's a struggle.

Anders takes a slow breath, watching the other mage warily. He's not sound. That's obvious as it is. But maybe there's still a chance to save him.

"If I may." His free hand glows green as he slowly lifts it, trying to communicate that this is not a threat. "I want to assess your situation." This is a mess, but if the mages can be freed, then there's still a little hope.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel's hand immediately covers Anders' as it grips his arm, and remains there, steady. His eyes shift from Clarel to Anders, expression shifting from rage to worry, though the change looks subtle to anyone who doesn't know him. He will remain at Anders' side, and only release him at his direction.

[chainlightning]

Surrender their weapons. She doubts it -- in part because some of their number are Wardens, and in part because absolutely no one will agree to it. She might, but only because she knows she doesn't need the staff, if it comes down to it. But her mind is pulled away entirely at the sight of the young man and the figure behind him.

Despair. Merrill flinches; Creators, of course it's Despair. Why wouldn't it be? They thought they were dying. And the demon hasn't possessed him; it's there, bound by an invisible leash, likely feeding off him. Anders is already moving (and she's certain Justice is quite unhappy), and Merrill's fingers twitch. She wants to reach out, wants to see if she can recognize the magic that was used -- is the young man in full control of himself? But she stays still.

"My name is Merrill," she tells the young man, and wonders if it will mean anything to the other humans gathered. Luckily, the Chantry found no evidence of blood magic, and she doubts any Tevinter mage has put much stock in the talents of an elf. Her reputation with Hawke can go either way, but she has to try. "Will you tell me yours?"

Kind, gentle- wary, but perhaps she can be a balm in this situation.

[unbrokenoath]

"...Dancing girls might be worth it." Kaisa mumbles under her breath, watching the boy and the demon. Her hands clench and unclench into fists, all instincts fighting to get her sword out and bash the demon into festive pudding. But she restrains herself, letting Anders and Merrill go up to do their magey thing.

She straightens up, trying to look a little more professional, and says, louder, "High Constable Fulk has the right of it. I'd prefer to keep my weapons, if it's all the same." She glances at Hercules to make sure that this is the right thing to say, and continues. "As for the village or the fortress, we will need to discuss that amongst ourselves, I think. Privately." It's hard to draw her sight away from the demon. It's not right. It's not right, and it needs to die, and it makes Kaisa's skin itch that there's nothing she can do right now.

[aintwejust]

Mal none too subtly drums his fingers on the hilt of his shortsword, spear tucked against his shoulder like it's nothing. Cuz it's noth'n. They want 'em? They can take 'em. Right now he's spend'n too much time mind'n eyes, follow'n the power play that he almost misses the damn demon. Jayne, silent until now, perks up at the demon and starts up a low key growl that has Mal reach'n down to steady him with a hand. "Être encore."

Now that was a mite unsettl'n. More than a little. Jayne whuffs and settles as he's told, grumbling as he leans against Merrill's legs. Merrill understands him. Merrill doesn't think he's being silly.

"Sorry 'bout that. Jayne does what he's told, though, don't you boy? He won't cause any trouble and neither will the rest of us. I do gotta say- I think the villagers mighta had their fill of us. Wouldn't mind stick'n it out here for a li'l while."

[ingrid_kief]

Ingrid's attention immediately snapped to the figure, one hand already on her sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

"Few can handle demons more readily than templars. We can help you if needed. But they must be dealt with," she said. "We can stay here if it is easier."

[dalishious]

There might as well be just a bit of shadow behind the others for all Merrick makes himself known. He's been silently assessing the situation the entire time, studying every action and reaction, mapping out the location in his mind. He's not too concerned about being disarmed; they probably wouldn't find all the knives he has on him, and he can kick an ass without them if need be.

He's irritated, to be frank. There's far too much talking going on. That, and there's a literal demon right in front of them, and nobody is killing it. He has a dagger literally up his sleeve, ready to throw at a moment's notice.

"Fine, fortress, can we move on?" he finally remarks, alerting everyone to his presence.

[harthad_uluithiad]

Sam, like Merrick, has kept silent during the discussion, his eyes moving back and forth between the Inquisition's forces and the strangers as they talk. This is all too big for him, that much is certain, and though he's never at a loss for words, he knows well enough to know when he's not needed. Let the Big Folk figure it out.

He's worried, though; even most of the people he'd traveled here with had been (or still are) strangers, if not people he wished to avoid entirely, and even if he doesn't understand everything that's being said he knows it's not going particularly well. He sticks close to Merrill, near the back, wondering more with every passing moment just why he had come rather than staying back in Skyhold in his own warm bed; and when the demon appears in the doorway he lets out a frightened cry, clapping a hand over his mouth. He manages not to anxiously grab Merrill's hand with his other, but it's a near thing.

[twelvelabours]

His mouth feels dry; unpleasant. There's a song in his head when its gone from everyone else's. Doesn't matter for now, and he nods an agreement.

(He's torn between grateful and aggravated towards some of their companions, here, because this is alarming and frightening and that little bloke isn't even from this world and yet he's still here to help-- and yet there's the part of him that rails against the ones sounding so done already, some part of him still protective of the Wardens and their cause, even though this has gotten so twisted.)

"Fortress," he echoes, confirming. "We're not giving up our weapons. Good number of us are your fellow Wardens, and those that aren't have every right to defend themselves from demons." His smile is wan.