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points the faith in higher things,
WHO: Herian Amsel & open.
WHAT: the party don't start 'til she walks in. (Introducing Herian & her recruitment to the Inquisiton.)
WHEN: mid-July & onwards.
WHERE: Halamshiral & surrounds, maybe some Skyhold later?
NOTES: Prose/brackets are both fine!
Open starters in the main post (more to be added), closed starters in the comments, if we've discussed any plans feel free to barge in with a wildcard or prod me via pm or pp @karmacharging and I'll whip something up. If you'd like some information on this problem child, here is her info post.
WARNINGS: Herian's background includes themes of violence, torture and death, as well as discrimination and her own post traumatic stress disorder. While she will not in general be vocal about some of her own prejudices (against apostates, Dalish and nobles as some examples) it is very likely to come up in narrative and could come up in dialogue depending on interactions. Here is an opt out post if you'd rather certain things be avoided, or if you'd like to opt out of interactions with her in general.
WHAT: the party don't start 'til she walks in. (Introducing Herian & her recruitment to the Inquisiton.)
WHEN: mid-July & onwards.
WHERE: Halamshiral & surrounds, maybe some Skyhold later?
NOTES: Prose/brackets are both fine!
Open starters in the main post (more to be added), closed starters in the comments, if we've discussed any plans feel free to barge in with a wildcard or prod me via pm or pp @karmacharging and I'll whip something up. If you'd like some information on this problem child, here is her info post.
WARNINGS: Herian's background includes themes of violence, torture and death, as well as discrimination and her own post traumatic stress disorder. While she will not in general be vocal about some of her own prejudices (against apostates, Dalish and nobles as some examples) it is very likely to come up in narrative and could come up in dialogue depending on interactions. Here is an opt out post if you'd rather certain things be avoided, or if you'd like to opt out of interactions with her in general.
Arriving with the Inquisition ( open. )
Herian Amsel exists in shades of winter, even when the world around her is dusty from heat. Her hair is dark, the black of a tree stripped of leaves and colour and grasping at a grey, unsympathetic sky, her eyes a pale, blue that people might foolishly attribute to ice in a fit of romanticism. For all that she appears to carry winter with her, summer has rolled relentlessly through a country already bearing the scorchmarks of war, making the people and the landscape seem to blur together. It is the dirt, she expects, the clouds of dust that have rolled over them on their journey. Even the grass feels dry and brittle. The closer they have drawn to the estate of Duc Hugues Pelletier, the more she has wondered just what difference there will be between the state of the gardens and the grass the common folk can wander on outside. It seems comical, if not downright insane that she be leading a group of elven refugees to the estate of an Orlesian noble for sanctuary, but she promised them she would bring them to the Inquisiton, and if the Inquisition is in Halamshiral then the group will have access to better food and medicine and more protection than she can afford them if she were to escort them to Skyhold as their sole guard.
Option A.
Herian is on foot, leading a palomino stallion with an elven woman on his back, pregnant and exhausted. Mage as she might be, Herian carries no staff. Instead a sword hangs by her side, and something like twenty refugees follow behind her.
"Inquisition," she starts, and her accent is defiantly and perhaps unexpectedly Starkhaven. "These refugees seek sanctuary amongst your number, and to lend their hands to your cause. To where shall I lead them?"
Option B.
Still on foot, Herian accompanies a smaller number of elves, now, heading towards the makeshift Medical Tents. The pregnant woman from before is with her, Herian leading her so that the woman can rest a hand on her forearm, Herian move slowly and patiently.
"This way. The mages here work under the Inquisiton banner, so if your need is dire then they are well qualified to bring you aid. You need not spend any time in the presence of those that set you ill at ease." Her voice is soft, and she has not yet looked up to the person standing nearby. "Can I have the names of your elven healers, for my friends?"
Other Increasingly Ridiculous Prompts ( open. )
Option C.
There is something singularly satisfying about the burn of muscles after exertion. Usually it comes in the form of training, practicing forms over and over for hours on end. Today, though, Herian is chopping wood, ensuring that those she accompanied who are still tired or injured need not worry should they have need, or perhaps so she can be useful to the Inquisition in some form.
Largely she does it because she likes to work, and the steady routine of grabbing up the heavy slabs of wood and breaking them apart with an axe is steadying. Not quite the meditation technique that she was taught in the Spire, but it sets her in the right frame of mind all the same. Her breath, her mind, and the regular thud and splinter make her feel better. Sweat rolls down her back, the thin material of her shirt sticks to her skin, and the tangled mess of her hair seems wilder even than before.
.... Although it is after noon and she's doing it non-stop for a long time in the summer sun, so perhaps an intervention would be wise.
Wildcard me, bro.
A
Upon spotting the group, however, Inessa refrains from throwing the ball again and snaps to alertness, approaching them. Garahael perks up and barks to Herian, tail wagging happily. Hello again! "...Herian?" Well, this is a surprise, though definitely not an unwelcome one. But she doesn't allow shock to take over when there are people in need. "The estate has plenty of rooms available. I'll be glad to show the way."
no subject
Recognition does not come immediately; it has been coming on two years since the Spire fell, but at least the uniform gives her a point for reference, and Herian's mouth flickers into a frown for long moments before finally she makes the connection.
"Warden Serra." Her posture eases just barely. "It is a fine thing to see you well. Your guidance is greatly appreciated, though I suspect my companions will be better at ease closer to their kin than might be expected in the rooms of this estate." Cautious, mistrustful of this Duc rather than anything the Warden has ever said or done. "Know you where the elves are most commonly accommodated?"
She's been doing this too long to think they are anything but secluded in some way.
no subject
It's a testament to how long Inessa has lived in integrated settings -first the Circle, then the Wardens- that the question catches her a little off-guard. "There isn't a specific area designated for elves, as the Inquisition's forces are rather integrated. But if they'd feel more comfortable establishing a specific place, there is space available to claim. Perhaps nearest the medical tents?" The pregnant woman with Herian doesn't escape notice, and she'd hate to see her make a long trek in order to be tended."
no subject
Outside those walls the cruelties and injustices of the world felt far more real - inescapable.
"No specific area." She sounds gently sceptical, and her gaze narrows a little, thoughtfulness more than anything else. Sometimes outside the Circle it had seemed that separation kept elves safer. (And then she always remembered Halamshiral, and the smell of sulfur and charcoal.)
"The medical tents would suit well," she agrees, looking towards the group. They are exhausted, one or two with recovering injuries, but not so bad they cannot travel. Still, there is no cause to keep them waiting, so she continues, "know you where they are?"
no subject
Inessa nods and gestures for them to follow. "I know a bit of healing magic as well, though I'm no true healer. Battle wounds I can help fix, but other medical conditions are outside my area of focus." Basically, she learned just enough to patch herself up so she could keep fighting darkspawn or whatever else.
no subject
She knows a bit more than that, memories of bits and pieces from her childhood, but in truth? Her healing abilities are miserable. The bit she knows is not that much more. She isn't sure if that's purposeful or not.
One of the children wanders closer to Garahel as they follow, curious, followed by a watchful parent. Herian's look to Inessa is questioning, just ensuring its safe. She is no Fereldan - her trust and love of the creatures is rather more limited.
no subject
And indeed, Garahel wags his tail hopefully and bows his head for the child to pet, ever so patient. Despite his imposing physique gained from training and battle, he's a gentle soul at heart. Knowing this, Inessa trusts him implicitly.
no subject
Tabitha, Herian thought with some concern, was exactly the sort of friendly, inquisitive child who wanted to learn about everything. She rests her hand on his head, and Herian Doesn't Smile for a brief moment before rolling her eyes.
"The one redeeming trait of Orlesians is the lack of dogs," she comments to Inessa very dryly, as they keep walking. Look what you've done.
no subject
Meanwhile, Garahel's tail wags all the harder upon being pet, and he makes contented noises before rolling onto his back and exposing that belly. Please pet it or he might explode. Of course, petting or not, Inessa eventually calls for him so he won't fall too far behind and he obeys.
Inessa's lips twitch. "As a 'dog lord' I will happily disagree. If they had more mabari around, Orlais might be a better place for it."