faderift | WAR TABLE: wtf is happening in the anderfels

They are not wrong to call the Anderfels the most desolate place in the world. Once the party leaves the Imperial Highway nature seems to vanish beneath the arid sands and the sun hangs high in the sky, raising temperatures the further one travels through the northwestern kingdom. There is much distance to cover before reaching the capital city and the only company they have are each other and the Blight weathered steppes, deserted of seemingly all life.

The only reprieve from the red sand, bones and blistering winds are the sights of what might remain of Weisshaupt after the fire and Our Lady of the Anderfels, a giant white sculpture of Andraste, holding an eternal flame, carved into the Merdaine near the Warden fortress.

Ah, the Anderfels. Inessa was rather hoping she would never see this particular corner of Thedas again, at least not without the backing of an Inquisition army. The five of them hardly count as that, however skilled they might be. Memories of Weisshaupt and all that went wrong there trickle back the closer they get, and Inessa grows quieter and more grim as a result. In any case, she sticks close to Ciri whenever possible. Garahel does as well, though he's often looking ahead for them, drawing attention to a better path or warning them off a worse one. Or just bringing back something shiny he found in the dirt.

Her thoughts are not so different from Inessa's own. She can remember their first march out into these red sands and how alien it had been to see now, despite it being less than a year ago, it feels like a completely different world now. The closer they get the Weisshaupt, the more tension settles in her chest but she tries not to let it show and focuses on a horizon that hardly seems to change.

At some point, she glances over and offers Inessa a tired smile. She's sure that her friend is not feeling so different from how she feels now as they near whatever might be left of Weisshaupt.

"You know, I think when we get back from this mission I'm going to take some time off and go into Ferelden. Go see Denerim." It is said softly as she breathes out a sigh. "Want to come along?"

The tired smile is echoed, glad that she doesn't have to explain what's going on in her mind to Ciri. Of all people here, she would know, better Alistair or Merrill. She nods almost immediately to the question; it's not hard to get Inessa to agree to go anywhere, if Ciri's involved. She takes a moment to answer verbally, though.

"I'd like to make a detour to the alienage. No one is there for me now, but...I want to see the vhenadahl. After all this time, I wonder if it's even still there." Maybe it was destroyed when Denerim was put under siege by darkspawn; she never found out, because no one ever thinks the state of an alienage is newsworthy.

"We can make a detour wherever you want." She says, grinning ever so slightly. "Besides, I don't have anyone there for me either."

Everyone that mattered died in the Blight. Ciri isn't even sure if her old home is still standing in it's place not far from the marketplace. Perhaps without an heir to claim it, they sold it off and it was now the home of another noble family. Another little noble girl occupying the spaces she used to play in, call home and going through the same motions. Suddenly, she chuckles.

"You want to know something hilarious about me? Have I ever told you my full name?"

"You have several, don't you?" That never fails to amuse Inessa a little. Only having the two, any more than that seems exceedingly extravagant to her. But she'd heard that some families were just like that; the Lady Seeker's, if the Skyhold gossips are correct.

"Unfortunately." Ciri sighs, dramatically with a wave of her hand. "Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. I suppose they threw the names of all my maternal grandmothers in a basket and drew out a couple."

Thankfully, she did not have as many as the Lady Seeker but she was not related to royalty either. There is a quiet moment where Ciri wonders if she should continue. She's never told anyone about her childhood, she's never even told anyone about her life as an outlaw but...

"My family's name was Llewelyn. We were a old noble house in Denerim... never really raising above that but well-to-do as it were. My parents died when I was young so I was raised by grandmother."

She scrunches up her nose and appearing thoughtful. "I don't have any siblings, aunts, uncles or cousins. Even my grandmother was an only child. Part of me wonders what happened after I ran from Denerim so thus I decided on this trip. Partly that but mostly because we absolutely need to get away from this mad house."

"Truer words were never spoken." Inessa shakes her head, allowing that stoicism to slip for a moment. Behind it is a weary, traumatized woman; thankfully, that trauma isn't still fresh, but you don't just see the things they did and walk away unscathed.

"Llewelyn...I'm sure my parents would have recognized that name, but honestly my time in Denerim is mostly a blur." It's possible that her parents could have crossed paths with them at some point, or if not them than definitely other people in the alienage, who served in mansions by day and slept in hovels by night. "I think had family somewhere else, but I never knew them. And then I was taken to the Circle, so it didn't matter." She smiles sympathetically at Ciri. "We can be adrift from family together, then, and see how Denerim has changed in our absence."

"I imagine. You were really young when you left to go to the Circle, huh?" She can barely remember her life when she was four-years-old. Probably being forced to wear dresses and to stand in front in place for hours while some painter did her portrait.

"It'll be interesting, I think. Be nice to not be a Grey Warden for a day or two and just... forget for a little bit before we have to get back to all this craziness." She grins, reaching up to pet Kelpie down her mane. "And we can pick up some supplies to make our tent a little more homely."

"I was four, so there's much I don't know or just don't remember. If I didn't have a good memory, I might have forgotten my roots altogether. It's happened to many mages who arrived young in the tower. One of my mentors only remembered her life in Kinloch Hold, nowhere else." It's a strange thing to explain, and only a fellow Circle mage is likely to understand in full, but she's not bound by oath to keep any Circle secrets, even if that mattered now.

The thought of shedding their Grey Warden roles has Inessa thoughtful, as she tries to think of the last time either of them had that much time off, and comes up blank. "Will we even know what to do with ourselves? An interesting dilemma. And a little decor sounds good, as long as it's easy to pack and store. Really, though, anything other than yet more furs is appreciated. I think we're set on those for the rest of our lives."

"Sometimes I have a hard time remembering how life was before the Blight. I was eleven but sometimes things only come back in weird blurs like my mind can't get past everything that happened during the attack on Denerim."

There is no sadness in Ciri's voice but more... thoughtfulness as she stares forward. The most vivid memory she has of is her grandmother covered in sick black ichor that made her gag, clutching a knife and frantically trying to rub the blood off her face. She remembers scrambling and climbing atop a chair to get away from the blood pooling on the floor and then--

Then she shakes her head and smiling slightly. "I can take you dancing but none of that fancy stuff and we can stuff ourselves with apple tarts. It's the best time for apples now so they'll be great." Her smile grows and she cannot help but chuckle. "Definitely no more furs."

"Some memories have a way of taking so much prominence that all before them fades. I understand." Inessa doesn't pry for details, knowing that if Ciri's in a mood to share, she will. And if she isn't, that's fine.

The topic of an impending vacation seems to improve her mood, anyhow. "Apple tarts and dancing? How can I resist? It will take some time to reach the other side of Thedas again, but even so, it'll be well worth the wait. Just don't spin me around too much after all those apple tarts, or you might regret it." She'd probably go with along with it anyway, despite the warning. Ciri can make anything fun, and it's easy to lose herself in the dancing, just like earlier.

At least the Anderfels still look mostly the same. Granted, Merrill thinks it's not likely they could look much worse -- but there aren't any conspicuous corpses nearby, which is nice. In any case, it's a far cry from her last visit to the Anderfels, to Weisshaupt; the company is different, fewer, and there is far more of a sense of dread hanging over even her than optimism.

She slows her horse, Honeysuckle, when they're near what remains of Weisshaupt. She stares for a moment, gently stroking the horse's mane, whispering prayers into the wind for whatever gods will take them. Let the dead be at peace. Let some still be alive, and good, and let us be able to help them. Let us help to save this world.

Eventually, she turns away and catches up to the rest. She's quiet for a while after that sight.

Rachette wants a better look at what remains of Weisshaupt, having wanted to go, having not been able to, having only to hear tidbits and tales. But there's not much left to see, and what there is wouldn't be safe, and would take them off course. Still, she'll likewise slow and stop and see.

The pale elf who was close to Hercules is there, murmuring near soundlessly, lost to the whipping dry winds. Maybe prayers. She doesn't know any that feel applicable to the situation--dwarves do have their own funeral rites, of course; they aren't barbarians. None of it feels like it works, though. She doesn't know who was there. Can't be sure if they deserve words of good will.

"So I realize the Wardens with us are fine," she says eventually. "They're not crazy, free from influences. But is it really a good idea for them to come along?"

If the Stone wanted to swallow what remains of the fortress up, Merrill imagines no decent person would mind too much. But it's not for her to ask others to pray for it, either. Still, she quiets a bit when Rachette approaches, only turning her head to look at her once the dwarf speaks up.

"I don't know," she admits, sighing softly. Honeysuckle gets another pat to his neck, more for Merrill's sake than his. "Probably not, in truth, just because of what Corypheus can do if he's close. But at the same time... I think they deserve to try and make things right." They deserve some closure, if nothing else -- to be able to try and help. Still, she worries. Alistair wasn't at Weisshaupt, but Ciri and Inessa came to the Inquisition because of it.

Excuse you, the Stone reclaims dwarves, not crazy Anderfel cities, thank you.

"There's making things right, and there's putting yourself in harm's way to probably go crazy and join the ranks of craziness." Look, she mostly likes some of their Warden friends. Some can just...stop, but she's come to not immediately dislike many of them. That doesn't mean she trusts them to keep their heads. "I just think maybe whoever's in charge of putting these teams together should've seen a bunch of Wardens--by the way, I can count, so they outnumber us--being sent into Warden-go-crazy territory and maybe decided that wasn't a good idea."

There might have been dwarves there!

Merrill rubs the back of her neck, humming softly in thought. "Or- I don't know. Maybe they wanted to see what would happen." Which is an Uncomfortable thought, which of course means she can't stop thinking about it.

"...That seems cold for the Inquisition leaders," she starts, slowly but thoughtfully. It's not a thought that gives her a whole lot of confidence, if it's the case. She doesn't know any of them personally. "Maybe they think it'll be fine, since none of ours have gone crazy yet." They'll run off into the Deep Roads and die because of imaginary songs in their heads, but they haven't gone crazy. "Like they can't catch it. They're stoppered up to that sort of thing." (The word she's looking for is 'immune'.)

It does seem cold. But that is what leaders do, isn't it? Her frown deepens for a moment, but Rachette brings up just assuming the Wardens are fine, and she nods. "And it isn't as though any non-Wardens would be more resistant to blood magic, if they were using it. But these ones also know what to look for, we all do, so that should help." Information is power and all that.

Well, is there a way to tell blood magic from regular magic if you don't see blood being used? She isn't sure. Usually, so far, there's been a lot of blood. Like a lot of it. And a lot of bodies.

"So is that what it is, then, blood magic fucking around with their minds to believe they're bound to demons or that they should be following Corious--Corifia--the bad guy? That guy's name. And we're sure it's not that any joined willingly?"

If you try hard and believe in yourself and are very sensitive to things like the Fade, sure.

"They didn't believe they were bound to demons. They were, and with the demons not possessing them at first." Note the 'at first'. "A lot of them did things out of fear, because Corypheus was able to manipulate them all into hearing the Calling, which means they're going to die. They thought all the Grey Wardens in Thedas were going to die. Blood magic was definitely used, but... I don't know if they're being controlled by it now or not."

There's a half shrug. "Either way, he and the people who follow him will use it on other people."

"So it could just be a bunch of Grey Wardens pissing their pants because they don't want to die." Sure, the Warden secrets might die with them, but it's still just an organization. Not a race or a whole country. "I thought they were meant to be braver than that."

Hercules was, after all. The Wardens with them are, too. She assumes.

"We'll make sure nobody else has to fall under the bad guy's control if we can help it. That's what the Inquisition's for, mostly, right?"

"Most are. But I think maybe they panicked, with some of the recruits." No one expected the last Blight, after all. Granted, Merrill is pretty sure no one is supposed to expect Blights.

Hercules is going to smite all the coward Wardens from the afterlife, calling it now.

"Right! And I kind of like these people, so I'll be extra upset if they fall under Corypheus' control. I'll tie them to Honeysuckle and drag them back to Skyhold if I have to."

Honeysuckle seems to like that idea, whinnying happily.

WAR TABLE: wtf is happening in the anderfels

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