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.

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.

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."

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.

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! ]]