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

[circleprodigy]

Perhaps using Fade Step wasn't the best idea, in retrospect; Inessa isn't a front-line fighter, and even though her magic didn't carry her that close, the Despair demon could easily close in. But Garahel is at her side before she can even call him, the mabari in tune with her battlefield patterns. As much as he can be a silly, playful thing off-duty, now he's all war-hound and ready to make fully use of those strong jaws and big muscles.

The crack of thunder almost makes her jump, but Inessa does her best to keep focus and not just watch Sadira at work, much as she's fascinated by the display. A smirk forms as the Despair demon is blasted back, and she does her best to follow up with more shots from her staff. It can't last much longer, can it?

[fledglingenchanter]

The lightning bolt cast, Sadira again rushes forward panting from the effort of running and using so much magic at once. The first twinges of fatigue lurked around the edges, harrying her footsteps. For now, adrenaline kept it at bay. Garahel was Maker sent as far as she was concerned, serving as an instrument of fury and distraction, keeping the Despair Demon from focusing on any one person overlong. Using a moment of distraction to again close the gap, (Maker these things jump around a lot). Sadira stopped again to cast. Little more than a one trick pony with her storm magic, she hastily works to create another static cage, hoping to finally trap the Despair Demon and if possible even kill it.

[circleprodigy]

As the static cage takes effect, the despair demon shrieks at being trapped and Inessa's smirk lingers. Serves it right for spinning out of range so many times. Garahel moves into position just in case the static cage fades before it dies, and Inessa continues to fire with her staff, bombarding it with more lightning energy.

[fledglingenchanter]

On it's last legs, the despair demon gave one final sriek as it cllappsed in upon itself, leaving behind a pile of frosty rags and some essence. Now that the thing ws dealt with. fatigue was beginning to set in.

"Make I hope we don't have to fight one of those again any time soon. During the fight is n't so bad as much as the dreams I end up having later."

[circleprodigy]

Letting out a relieved huff, Inessa lowers her staff and glares at the remains. Those could prove useful, so she'll gather them. "I can't decide which noises are worse, theirs or the terror demons. Though even with that awful phasing ability, I'd still rather have the latter. At least they're not resistant to cold. I really ought to seek some balance with my combat magic...."

[fledglingenchanter]

"I know! Terror demons, well they're easier to get over. Face your fears and they seem weaker. Despair demons on the other hand, they always find something else to pry at. I kept getting the sensation that the Inquisition is going to fail. I was able to ignore it while fighting, you know push it aside but it's going to take me days to not have doubts about the inquisition or my place in it."

Sadira leaned against her staff with a heavy sigh. The wood felt preternaturally cold thanks to the remnants of ice lingering on it. "I think you did perfectly fine. You and Garahel make an excellent team." Then after a small pause: "but if you do try to pick up more magic, what were you thinking?"

[circleprodigy]

Inessa's not normally one to enter personal space without permission, but she does so now, her expression softening as Sadira mentions her insecurities prompted by the despair demon. "Doubts are normal; we would not be who we are without them. But if you fear faltering, perhaps the Spirit Healers can help. They are all partnered to one, aren't they? A spirit of Fortitude or Hope might assist in causing the remnants of the despair demon attack to fade."

She pauses, considering the question. "Fire, perhaps. Despair demons are weak to them, are they not? And it would be a strong counterpoint to all my ice magic. I doubt I would pursue it to any great extent, but the knowledge of even one spell could be vital."

[fledglingenchanter]

She didn't mind Inessa's invasion of personal space. The elf had time and again proven herself to be a friend and someone worthy of standing beside. Sadira smiled towards her encouragingly. "You needn't worry about me. It was just a passing feeling." She'd shared enough of her fears and doubts with the woman for one day, there was no need to continue doing so. Especially when they were having such a good success hunting out demons. The suggestion of talking to a spirit healer was a good one. There were a few Spirit Healers she might speak to.

"Fire is a good counterpoint. And you're right it would suit you. The lightning staff does as well, but perhaps a fire staff too? That way you'd have both hot and cold at your disposal."