Player Plot: I will call you home

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Beleth, Cyril, Merrick, and Ellana Ashara, Thranduil, Sina Dahlasanor, Metaari, Sam Gareth, Kallian Endris, Alistair and Ruby i think??? whoever wants to go
WHAT: Keeping Up With The Asharas, the reality tv show
WHEN: Backdatedish, around mid-kingsway
WHERE: The Heartlands of Orlais
NOTES: OOC post

Tel'enfenim, da'len Irassal ma ghilas Ma garas mir renan Ara ma'athlan vhenas Ara ma'athlan vhenas	Never fear, little one, Wherever you shall go. Follow my voice-- I will call you home. I will call you home.

Clan Ashara currently resides in a small valley nestled into the mountains, that seems idyllic for a Dalish clan. A stream runs through the valley, descending into a waterfall with the steep cliffs on one side, and sheer mountain walls going straight up on two other sides. The only way in and out is through a gap big enough to lead several aravels through. It's a defensible position, safe from any threats. Except the fade rift that has opened up just a little ways from the gap. The hunters can handle the demons spewing from it well enough, and there are always a couple stationed there to pick off whatever appears. But it's too dangerous to lead the aravels and noncombatants through, and thus, they are forced to wait. To compound the issue, there's a village close to where they're currently staying, and while both sides have kept to themselves, neither are pleased with the current situation. They've helped get a message to the Inquisition in hopes that someone will come take care of the problem, and now both are tensely waiting for something to happen to change the situation, for better or worse. And so the members of Clan Ashara, with their friends in tow, return back to their clan.

Comments

[metaari]

"That's a fair point, we are very much together. I amend my statement, then: I only bite if it's wanted." Metaari casts Sorrel a grin as he finally sits down, the smile crooked and taunting. If he's going to be bold, then Metaari isn't going to shy away from it, either. There's no point in it.

He gives his bow one last glance before he leans it against the nearest tree. "I'm mostly a front line fighter, when it's required of me, going with different teams to fill out the ranks of their heavy hitters and fire slingers. I work with explosives as well; right now I'm working on developing something that will be easier to assemble in the heat of a battle."

[writteninblood]

"Most people like to have their weapons put together before fighting, but I won't judge you for it," Metaari's lopsided, cheeky grin was infectious, and Sorrel returned it. So, this was Merrick's choice, then? He could just about imagine why, if he squinted, "'Course you know my job here, I'm sure. More or less."

Less, was the likely option, but Sorrel isn't about to offer, not unasked. He's a mage, and makes no effort to hide that fact-- don't mages have universal appeal? Well, Sorrel likes to think so.

"I guess I'm just surprised. We all thought we'd seen the last of Merrick, and he comes bringing you here. Must be serious."