A FOOL'S ERRAND | Closed.

[limier]

WHO: Wren Coupe + Malcolm Reed, Ioane, Inessa Serra, Simon Ashlock, Cade Harriman, Anders + NPCs
WHAT: The Inquisition has word that a handful of Red Templars may have broken from Corypheus' control. A team has been sent to investigate, and decide upon a course of action.
WHEN: Forward-dated to the end of the month.
WHERE: The Free Marches
NOTES: OOC Post; Violence, body horror, language. Will edit if stuff comes up.

Pieces will be edited in as we go!

Contents;

• Arrival
• Confronting Ser Hayes
•  

Previous Conversations;

• Taashaath
• Malcolm - 1, 2, 3
• Norrington - 1, 2
• Samson
• Anders

 

Comments

arrival; gathering information

[limier]

The journey out is tense, if only for the air between Coupe and Reed — that of an argument left unvoiced.

When they do break camp, it's some distance from town. Wren's brusque, but calm about the business of assigning roles. She'll stay back to finish setup.

Life in the Marches is hard; harder outside a city. A self-declared duke holds this stretch of land through a combination of force and some shrewd ass-kissing of distant Hambleton.

Still, the town of Damp is prosperous enough. Many of the roofs here are at least partially timbered, and stone walls are not infrequent. There's been care put into this place, and some peace with which to maintain it: boards are laid into the dirt for muddy walkways, the gardens are well-tended. There are no sisters and no Chantry — though a board posted outside one home advertises both beer and services.

Not unusual for a settlement of this size.

Armed strangers are met with suspicion (and pitchforks leaned prominently into view); less so, when they prove to have money or else to offer.

MALCOLM & IOANE - Team "Act Natural"

[limier]

Assignment: Ask around and keep ears open for anything that seems off. Ioane is to pretend to be Malcolm's servant; Malcolm is to pretend that he has those.

Notable information:

There's no Chantry, there are no sisters — but people talk like there were, not so long ago. They don't like to talk about it much more than that.

Pieces of expensive coloured glass can be found decorating homes, here and there: Usually hung from cord.

A child in the village tells fanciful stories of cellar monsters. He swears he's seen one, and that it told him to "run".

No knows what a Seeker is. They all know what Inquisition means, though, and they're worried. Some believe it means Rifts will appear, others expect more mundane trouble.

Those speaking to Ioane will be more open about believing trouble is already here. The cooper says he'd make for Hambleton, if he thought he'd be let in.

OOC Notes: Feel free to handwave as much or as little of this as you'd like, and generally use the thread for whatever talky purposes you want! If you want/need me to NPC, just ping me on plurk and I'll drop in.

[tactical_alert]

[After the first few times of introducing himself as Seeker Reed of the Inquisition, he decides to leave off the Seeker part. Malcolm, then, of the Inquisition. And Ioane. (It's a little unnatural for him to see a partner in a mission as just a second idle thought, but he can play the part as flawlessly as you please.) That the Inquisition is known even here, even if it's worries of trouble, is heartening in a way. But to know the Inquisition, and recognize Templars of course, but not know even the name Seeker of Truth? That troubles him. They haven't bee disappeared for that long. He tries to quell fears without making up too many details.

He stops before one of the quaint homes, at the dangling splash of purple light of sun filtered through glass. It's not the first decoration he's seen, and while to each their own...] Doesn't that seem more elaborate and expensive than a village like this ought to have?

[To be fair, he doesn't know much of Ioane, but if she's a working servant-type girl, she might have a better idea. He could help himself but doesn't, reaching up to lightly touch it and send it into a gentle spin.]

INESSA & ANDERS - Team "Catdog"

[limier]

Assignment: Use Garahel and a healer's eye to look for any signs of red lyrium in town. Anders is to use literally any name but "Anders".

Notable information:

A young man displays skin and eye irritations beyond those expected of a peasant's life. He goes out of his way to avoid the pair.

Garahel will trigger on the scent of red lyrium at several village locations, including the town well.

A pregnant mother hasn't been sleeping at night, and blames it on the howling winds.

Inessa will be met with open curiousity — much of it benignly puzzled. These people have never seen an elf before.

Both mages will meet with less fear than might be expected. Nonetheless, a villager will warn that it'd be safer if they kept moving. It doesn't seem to be a threat.

OOC Notes: Feel free to handwave as much or as little of this as you'd like, and generally use the thread for whatever talky purposes you want! If you want/need me to NPC, just ping me on plurk and I'll drop in.

[circleprodigy]

The stares are a little strange; for much of Thedas, elves are always beneath notice. At least being a mage as well as a Grey Warden has made Inessa stand out enough beforehand to accept the attention without comment. Whatever she thinks of it will not be stated, not here and not now. There are more pressing matters at hand than her own welfare, and she can handle a little curiosity. As for safety, they didn't track Red Templars in the pursuit of such.

Remaining at Anders' side, she nods for Garahel to take point. Her loyal mabari snaps into work-mode, no playfulness about him while he sniffs around that dangerous substance. As they approach the town well, he lets out a low growl, tensing up and not moving any closer. Narrowing her eyes, Inessa steps forward stares downward into said well.

"...oh, Maker."

SIMON & CADE - Team "Issues Like Vogue"

[limier]

Assignment: Someone's passed red letters through this village. Look like Templars, and see if you can flush anyone out.

Notable information:

Cade will meet with more wariness than Simon, by simple virtue of talking less. The more they speak, the easier people are with them.

The barman-slash-unofficial Chantry host is sympathetic, and oddly-knowledgeable. He asks detailed questions about their service.

Distracting him to look around will reveal the shrine is based around a small statue of Andraste; identical to those issued in philter boxes.

He is also apparently illiterate — but he boasts that his daughter can read.

The Song is faint, but present; it's strongest on the outskirts of the village, closer to the trees.

OOC Notes: Feel free to handwave as much or as little of this as you'd like, and generally use the thread for whatever talky purposes you want! If you want/need me to NPC, just ping me on plurk and I'll drop in.

[paladingus]

Well, if there's one thing these two can manage without issue, it's looking like templars. Even out of armor, the vibe clings to Simon like the scent of Chantry incense. It's no trouble to polish up the old skirt and breastplate and adopt his most pious air of peacekeeping and just-championing.

One would think he could give it a rest for the moment, at least, when they're still a good twenty minutes' walk from the town limits, but there's nobody Simon feels more compelled to be templary around than fellow templars, and Cade is...an unknown quantity. Simon remembers him as well as he remembers anything about his Gallows service, but he'd never gone out of his way to know him more than passingly. Mostly, he recalls the incident with those other knights and that charming young lady from the Blooming Rose--and he had felt bad for Cade, truly, but he'd also privately had to admit to himself that he wasn't sure why all the fuss was necessary. It hadn't exactly read as the sort of nose-in-the-air moralizing that the other chaste templars back in the Starkhaven barracks had been prone to, but Cade's presence still prompts a low level of wary self-consciousness. It is nice to see a familiar face again, after this long, but the silence between them feels heavy with the potential for judgment. Simon breaks it as quickly as he can.

"Been a while, hasn't it?" he says. "I hope life hasn't been treating you too badly in the meantime."

WREN - Miscellaneous/The Journey There

[limier]

She's composed, if a touch terse; though the information she's given thus far has been sparing, she'll answer any questions asked. She bids everyone use caution, and thanks them for coming along.

If you want to grab her before it all goes to hell, this is your shot.

[justice_is_blond]

Oh, why not. At this point, poking Templars is basically a hobby. Anders heads over to Wren and raises an eyebrow.

"Do we have some sort of main plan here? Base whatnot that you want us to keep in mind?"

[paladingus]

"I'm sure he has his uses," Simon murmurs from behind her, "but what do you anticipate we'll be needing demolition work for? We could've just brought a good mason."

This directed, of course, at Anders' distant back.

[circleprodigy]

When there is a moment and Wren isn't busy with others, Inessa (accompanied by Garahel, of course) quietly makes her way over. The slight elf woman pauses a short distance away, on hand on her mabari companion to keep him from being a pest as she glances over, slightly arching an eyebrow. She can't deny her curiosity about their mission, but at the same time wants to maintain a respectful balance.

"If you have a moment, I am here for advice...and to listen. Whatever you can share will be helpful."

confrontation; ser hayes

[limier]

The home on the outskirts of the village shows signs of recent improvements; even as its garden wilts and chickens grow scrawny, the walls have been fortified, and there are some signs of excavation. The young man who drags water back lives alone with an elderly woman. His skin is rubbed raw in places — most about the hands and eyes — 

Their neighbours: A cooper, his pregnant wife, and their several children. A small boy is warned back sharply when he runs up to chatter about monsters.

The dissonance of lyrium buzzes at the edge of perception, like the beginnings of rot in a tooth.

group thread; talking to the family

[limier]

[[ Anyone is welcome to jump in, there is no thread order and we're conveniently handwaving anyone being left at camp unless they want to be. ]]

The cooper supplies their names: Magaidh and Kester Hayes.

They're suspicious, evasive — the young man angry, his mother nervous. They do their best to put themselves between the party and the door. It's a laughable obstacle, but they've all agreed: The Inquisition will talk its way in. For the moment, these are still civilians.

"You're frightening Ma,"

Kester growls, in the throaty tones of someone trying too hard to sound tough. He's puffed himself up to his full height, leaning unsubtly on an old, woodsman's axe.

[circleprodigy]

Ever since they found the well, Inessa has taken to observing Garahel for his reaction before taking action herself. She does so now, narrowing her eyes as her mabari growls quietly, firmly placing himself between his mistress and the pair. No playfulness, no happy tail-wagging; he doesn't like what he senses, and it shows. His low growling becomes less subtle the closer they are to the house, and Inessa shoots a significant look at Wren. Garahel is onto something, and she's fairly certain as to what it is.

group thread; talking to hayes

[limier]

[[ Anyone is welcome to jump in, there is no thread order. Hayes may be recognizable to ex-Gallows residents, she's roughly of an age with Cade. Feel free to ping me and/or invent details as you'd like, there. ]]

The cellar door bangs open, and the creature opens its eyes.

Adamina Hayes might have been handsome, once. These days it’s difficult to tell. Gorged veins pulse across her features, those further obscured by small spines of crystal, like the points of a crown. There’s no armor, nothing down here that might be improvised as a weapon, but her limbs are heavy with crimson bulk — and the claws of her hands match marks torn deep into the earthen floor.

(The floor, scorched black and ruddy. Even at this distance, she radiates heat.)

"Please," When she speaks, the words waver, muddled and uncertain of their own shape. There's a second drone behind them, harsher: "Please don't."

[circleprodigy]

Inessa doesn't get very far inside before pausing abruptly as she takes in Hayes' appearance. Her eyes widen in horror, unable to look away as she takes in every detail. There's a part of her that wants to turn away and run, just keep running, but she can't manage even that. That distorted voice makes her flesh crawl, and everything she senses is putting her natural stoicism to the test.

"Maker's breath...."

camp; ioane & cade & anders

[limier]

[[ Anyone is welcome to jump in, there is no thread order. Feel free to ping me and/or invent details as you'd like. ]]


It's near a half hour's walk back to camp, and their jumpiness doesn't abate. Kester watches the trees in a silent fury, while Magaidh trails like an anchor off his arm.

He’s quick to stalk up to anyone still in camp, looming close to stare, as if in challenge. At such a distance, his eyes gleam faintly crimson against the gloom.

Magaidh lets him free, at last, hovers by Anders to clutch and whisper,

"She said she could help too, Serah." Her voice is low, but steadier now. Defeated. "I don’t want any more lies."

[justice_is_blond]

Anders rests a hand on those on his arm, looking down at Magaidh. It's no surprise that they'd trusted a Templar. They've been taught to. It's also no surprise that it went wrong. But maybe he can set things right, and maybe he can teach them that mages aren't things to fear or hide from.

"Talk to me," he says quietly. He can't end his lies; he can't tell her his name. But in everything else Anders believes he can be honest. "I'm not lying when I say I'm a spirit healer and I've attended to red lyrium poisoning before. I can try to fix what the Templar has done."

[limier]

"The templar? My daughter didn't do anything," Magaidh shakes her head, some of her earlier nerves returned. "She didn't want to stay, but that girl, Serah —"

Her arm wavers back and forth with the rest: No, no, no.

"She said she could help. But I'm not blind. Please, I can’t lose my son too. He means well, it’s only you’ve seen the town. None of them will listen to us. They only see the money she brings."

camp; ser nolan, ser bergier, "stormy"

[limier]

The wreckage of the little Chantry is half-hidden by trees.

Much of the structure remains, even as walls crumble, as thin red veins spider here and there through the stone. High holes in its sides are still studded with the occasional fracture of colour, of thin metal rods —

Only one window remains: A bright stained-glass piece of the prophet in flames. It’s a masterwork, by any estimate, and it’s difficult to imagine how it’s survived the destruction around them.

Inside, it’s clear they’ve been living here a while. The camp’s in better shape than might be expected, with clear signs of maintenance, of care, even among the disarray. Here and there, glass trinkets are hung, identical to those of the village. It’s not difficult to guess where the material came from now.

combat summary;

[limier]

[[ Anyone is welcome to jump in, there is no thread order. You can do individual or group threads, whatever. We don't need to thread combat, but anyone who'd like to is welcome to!

If you'd like injuries adjusted, feel free to do so, just ping me on plurk with what you're changing it to so I can keep track. If you'd like an NPC, feel free to ping me and/or invent details as you'd like. ]]

Combat is brutal, but swift. Their goal is to take prisoners where able — to wound, rather than kill.

Four red templars, and that’s not such a surprise; a slim girl emerges with hands full of lightning, and perhaps that’s moreso.

Perhaps not. They’ve been putting the pieces together.

Two die in the course of it, chance and fury and blunt refusal to yield. Of the three survivors: Ser Nolan, a tall, rangy man who swings an axe like a toy. Ser Bergier, a short, stocky fellow with an odd mix of accents. And Stormy, the mage, who bears a striking resemblance to the town barman.

Bergier acts strangely, seems to be trying — mostly — to stop the chaos. His shouts go unheard by his fellows. When he glimpses Wren, he yields, and he doesn't say a word.


There are injuries:

MALCOLM and SIMON are magically tased by Stormy. Like, a bunch. The burns aren’t life-threatening, but if you’d like, they can leave a mark.

INESSA is almost taken out by Nolan. Bergier drags him off and knocks him out before he can finish the blow. She’ll have a broken shoulder for her troubles.

CADE will break his nose and chip a tooth when he’s punched in the face with a gauntlet. Though he comes perilously close to getting stabbed with lyrium again, he gets lucky.

IOANE gets to hit some people with her torch. Unfortunately, her sleeve catches in the process. There are minor burns.

ANDERS gets slashed across the chest. It’s shallow, but probably stings like a mother. There are trace amounts of red lyrium in the wound.

WREN is unceremoniously thrown into a wall. It takes her longer to get up than is probably good, but she eventually does.

GARAHEL and MILADY are good good dogs who come to no harm because this isn't some I am Legend shit.

just after the fight

[circleprodigy]

Inessa lays where she's fallen, winded and eyes unfocused. Vaguely aware that the sounds of combat have ended, that Nolan isn't around to finish her off, she attempts to sit up--and gasps, grabbing her shoulder. With her armor, the issue isn't easily discerned, but something's not right.

questioning;

[limier]

[[ Individual threads or group threads are both welcome, just indicate which one you'd like in the header. ]]

aftermath; rites, return

[limier]

It's a mercy.

Or maybe it's only expediency. But with five bodies and a Chantry, all tainted — to say nothing of the town they've left behind them — there's still work to be done.

Rites are said, before they're burned. Hidden in the camp they find a cache: Some of it older, some new. The signs of banditry. The valuables will be returned to the Inquisition, though perhaps no one will mind if you claim a piece for your own.

The reception in town is a mixture of relief and unease. The bartender has already fled, as have the cooper and his family. A girl and her cat watch from the doorway of their empty house, and look satisfied.

Before the group goes, she'll press a bit of broken glass onto each of them: The shattered remains of the talisman outside her door.


[[ chances for solo threads here if you want them, as always, if you need an NPC feel free to make details up or give me a ping! ]]

wren again

[limier]

Cleaning her knife is a practical concern.

It's just, she's been cleaning it in the same blank-faced pattern for nearly half an hour — since walking out from her talk with Bergier, since leaving a new hole at the base of his skull. She lingers at the edge of camp, facing the trees, and occasionally doubles over to cough into a sleeve. And she cleans her knife.

Practical.