faderift | [Closed] The Order's Obligations

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[Closed] The Order's Obligations

WHO: Aleron Darton, Malcolm Reed, Inessa, Bruce Not-Banner, Cade Harimann, Ingrid Kief, Jeannot Mercier, Sadira, Bethany Hawke, npc templars.
WHAT: Templars have been asked to clear out suspicious mages squatting in the old Circle Tower. The group is sniffing out the truth.
WHEN: August 15-20 (Backdated a smidge)
WHERE: Perendale, Nevarra
NOTES: More information about the plot may be found here. A link is available on that page for the original war table wiki page. Feel free to inject any local npcs you like. IC signups are over here.

The road to Perendale proves less than interesting. Dusty and bare rock, with the odd silver mine to break up the monotony of the road. A peculiar strain of goats are native to the area and they do not seem to care for strangers on the road. They express their displeasure by rushing the Inquisition's horses and butting them in the legs. Annoying, but thank the Maker, not so aggressive and violent to put an end to the travel days.

The road itself begins moving north through Orlais then turns west. There is something small of interest, however. Perhaps. If one is knowledgeable enough and paying attention. The houses en route have a markedly Orlesian style to them. The odd lion battles a dragon in statuary along the way. Clearly the territory used to belong to Nevarra's southern neighbor, lost in an ongoing squabble between the two.

Perendale itself manifests its Orlesian heritage all over the city. The main gates boast lions rampant, entrenched in battle against dragons. Residences and shops are painted in the same lively colors that one would expect to see in any number of Orlais' towns. Thus ends the similarity. There are no gilded masks anywhere to be seen on the occupants, however, the mode of dress is not outlandish. The accents rippling through the air are not of the lilting elision one hears in Val Royeaux, but far closer to matching that of Seeker Pentaghast. Even the smells wafting out of the local taverns are different, rich and spicy; not a whiff of some overblown perfume to be had. The streets are cobbled and moderately clean, at least in the better quarters of the city.

And off in the distance, just outside the city walls, stands the abandoned Circle Tower, with faint infrequent lights flickering in the windows.

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((ooc: If anyone would like to socialize, have at.))

As they arrive at the city gates, Aleron pulls up on his horse and swings around to address the group. Not that it's been a hard two days travel, but one can become saddle sore and cranky from an extended ride.

"It's best if we take some rest and acquire more information before we delve into lending our requested aid." He fixes a stern look at the youngest of the Templars to have tagged along. "There is to be no kicking down doors or impromptu interrogations. Well will acquire the full facts of the situation and make our decisions based on truth. Make whatever sleeping arrangements suit you and we will reconvene in the morning to discuss what we've learned."

---

It won't take long to piece together a full picture. The locals don't object to Mortalitasi, the good mages who tend their honored dead. It's those other ones who came from the tower and didn't have the decency to clear out when the others did. Stories of rudeness and extreme suspicion on the part of the citizenry are rampant. It wasn't good enough for the mages to just leave the streets and stay away from Maker-fearing good people. They went and hauled up in that tower of theirs and barricaded it. Andraste preserve them, everyone just knows they're plotting to burn the city down.

The oft repeated plea becomes, "Won't you do something about them?"

What's curiously absent in the gossipy people are any reports of mages taking action in defense of themselves. No fireballs, no walls of ice, not even a sharp word or a well-deserved slap across someone's face. If anything it's been people trying to go about their business, buying food, washing clothes, that are being run off from public spaces.

The old Circle Tower shows the same stylistic similarities to Orlais as the city has done. Granted, it is nowhere nearly so grand and sprawling as the White Spire, but the outside decor and bright paint are a good indication. Nor is the building just one very circular tower parked on a moat as the tower in Ferelden. No moat, but it's clear that this Circle was once a fortress claimed my the mages and made theirs. A watchtower is central to the complex and the walls surrounding it are wide enough for four burly Qunari to walk side by side on the top. But there are also wings visible at a distance.

Given what news they've acquired in the city proper, it's questionable how kindly a group of anyone's arrival will be taken by the tower's occupants. Not at all unreasonable are the glyphs placed on the approach, their faint glowing marks a warning to keep everyone away. None of them appear to be explosive or damaging, but peeling them away would be safer than stomping across and barging in the front door.

The group's arrival has been noticed, as evidenced by the movement of lights on the lowest ground floor, nearest the entry. Hard to say how many, as the locals were too diverse in their approximated numbers inside. Everything was given from 5 senior enchanters to 1000 well-armed battlemages. There is at the very least a dozen distinct lights inside and one very ancient fellow hauled up on the walls.

It's that man who calls out, "Just go away and leave us alone! That's what you want from us, isn't it?"

Unfortunately the Inquisition is not made of money. Out of the thirty mages coming out of the old Perendale Circle, at least eight of them are senior citizens. They're nowhere nearly young and sprightly enough for a trudge across Nevarra and Orlais, only to ascend a mountain upon completing that journey. Horses for all would have been ideal, but they've had to settle for hiring a carriage for the elderly and their belongings. More specifically, Aleron has silently footed that expense out of his own pockets.

It's a slow-moving caravan of people on the road south, away from the Blasted Hills. Wyvern shrieks can be heard echoing off the rocky terrain, but come scurrying out to launch an attack.

No, it's monsters of a different variety that come after the group. Mob mentality takes hold so easily and grows rapidly.

Within two hours of leaving Perendale, a group of some four dozen disgruntled Nevarrans have caught up to the group. They are brandishing base weapons such as hoes and shovels, and at least one butcher in his bloody apron waving a knife. Their shouting only creates a din of noise that offers no clarity as to what their complaint is, beyond they are unhappy with the mage departure. If someone doesn't talk them down, and quickly, matters could get very ugly and bloody fast. The protestors are outnumbered, but only just

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En Route

Investigation

At the Tower

The Return