Salem Lavellan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fortheloveoffalondin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2015-11-20 12:04 am
fortheloveoffalondin) wrote in faderift2015-11-20 12:04 am
Entry tags:
A Challenger Arrives!
WHO: Salem of clan Ghilan, and whoever finds him there at the gates
WHAT: The arrival of one small, cold elf that is not part of clan Ashara
WHEN: After most people have returned from the Mire
WHERE: Skyhold's front gates, then possibly the healers' tents
Keeper
I've made it to the mountains. It's so cold in the South.
I will find our missing brothers. They deserve to be home, or if they've not survived, they deserve to be buried as the knights are.
Updates will be sent as events escalate.
You have my thanks for allowing me on this journey. Now you must endure until I return.
The scroll was kept in a skin tube at his side, to be delivered when he arrived at Haven. When he'd arrived in the valley where it had been tucked, though, all he'd found was a mound of snow, rattled off the mountain, and droves of corpses. He'd lingered only long enough to offer prayers, ask that the souls be guided from the place to what afterlifes they would seek, then started off into the mountains. It was fortunate that one of his few great skills was tracking, as he'd been able to pick up a trail, first wide and hectic, trampling the snow as people had fled, but as he'd followed, stopping where the ground was swept clean and there were still traces of campfires, humps of snow and crude markers over the graves of villagers that had fallen, he'd started to slow. He was persistent, stubborn, and had a good capacity for endurance in conditions that really should have killed him within days.
The snow had all but completely erased the tracks he'd been following in some areas, but people always left markers behind that were easy enough to find, for one with keen eyes and determination that bordered on obsession.
When the hold had come into view, Salem was draped in furs, wrapped up tight to stave off the cold as his armor hadn't been able to. There were still parts of him that were frostbitten, and by the time he'd started the trek up the last leg of the path, his vision was swimming, legs shaking. His food had all but completely run out, hard tack and dried herbs the last scraps in his bag. He'd been chewing on strong mint to keep himself conscious, but even that was failing, and as soon as he'd rounded the top of the last slope and found where the land had mostly leveled off on the path up to the gates, he'd finally fallen.
An alert was put out to some of the healers: an unknown Dalish had been found in front of the hold, freezing, dehydrated, delirious upon being shaken to consciousness, but alive.
Two days later, after regaining the ability to walk without wobbling
Where was he now? The question went out among the healers, unanswered as the elf had disappeared from his cot while their backs had been turned. His armor was gone, his blades were gone, but it had apparently been too hard to drag his axe away unnoticed, so it was still dug into the dirt where it had been.
Now one elf a little too thin and dressed a little too sparsely was tucked away into a shadowy corner with a good view of the courtyard, a book in his hand and charcoal pencil scribbling away as he took notes on everything that he could see, from the Orlesian humans wandering the hold, to the elves here and there both from the city and from some other Dalish clan. He'd caught sight of an armored human man that looked like he'd had better days, a sword sheathed at his hip and an empty harness across his back similar to the one that he wore when he carried his greataxe, and had leaned out of his corner to track his movement until he'd disappeared into the tavern. Then he'd caught sight of another human, blonde and older and tired but with the bearing of a leader and a scar on his mouth that he wanted to see close-up and no his face was not turning pink over these stupid gods-forsaken shems you see nothing.
WHAT: The arrival of one small, cold elf that is not part of clan Ashara
WHEN: After most people have returned from the Mire
WHERE: Skyhold's front gates, then possibly the healers' tents
Keeper
I've made it to the mountains. It's so cold in the South.
I will find our missing brothers. They deserve to be home, or if they've not survived, they deserve to be buried as the knights are.
Updates will be sent as events escalate.
You have my thanks for allowing me on this journey. Now you must endure until I return.
The scroll was kept in a skin tube at his side, to be delivered when he arrived at Haven. When he'd arrived in the valley where it had been tucked, though, all he'd found was a mound of snow, rattled off the mountain, and droves of corpses. He'd lingered only long enough to offer prayers, ask that the souls be guided from the place to what afterlifes they would seek, then started off into the mountains. It was fortunate that one of his few great skills was tracking, as he'd been able to pick up a trail, first wide and hectic, trampling the snow as people had fled, but as he'd followed, stopping where the ground was swept clean and there were still traces of campfires, humps of snow and crude markers over the graves of villagers that had fallen, he'd started to slow. He was persistent, stubborn, and had a good capacity for endurance in conditions that really should have killed him within days.
The snow had all but completely erased the tracks he'd been following in some areas, but people always left markers behind that were easy enough to find, for one with keen eyes and determination that bordered on obsession.
When the hold had come into view, Salem was draped in furs, wrapped up tight to stave off the cold as his armor hadn't been able to. There were still parts of him that were frostbitten, and by the time he'd started the trek up the last leg of the path, his vision was swimming, legs shaking. His food had all but completely run out, hard tack and dried herbs the last scraps in his bag. He'd been chewing on strong mint to keep himself conscious, but even that was failing, and as soon as he'd rounded the top of the last slope and found where the land had mostly leveled off on the path up to the gates, he'd finally fallen.
An alert was put out to some of the healers: an unknown Dalish had been found in front of the hold, freezing, dehydrated, delirious upon being shaken to consciousness, but alive.
Two days later, after regaining the ability to walk without wobbling
Where was he now? The question went out among the healers, unanswered as the elf had disappeared from his cot while their backs had been turned. His armor was gone, his blades were gone, but it had apparently been too hard to drag his axe away unnoticed, so it was still dug into the dirt where it had been.
Now one elf a little too thin and dressed a little too sparsely was tucked away into a shadowy corner with a good view of the courtyard, a book in his hand and charcoal pencil scribbling away as he took notes on everything that he could see, from the Orlesian humans wandering the hold, to the elves here and there both from the city and from some other Dalish clan. He'd caught sight of an armored human man that looked like he'd had better days, a sword sheathed at his hip and an empty harness across his back similar to the one that he wore when he carried his greataxe, and had leaned out of his corner to track his movement until he'd disappeared into the tavern. Then he'd caught sight of another human, blonde and older and tired but with the bearing of a leader and a scar on his mouth that he wanted to see close-up and no his face was not turning pink over these stupid gods-forsaken shems you see nothing.
no subject
"No, not today. I barely know who he is, we don't exactly work in the same circles. But that should be looked at, and you probably need more rest, anyway. Take the opportunity; you'll see enough action once you're out there with us, trust me on that."
no subject
no subject
She gestures to the main hall, indicating that she has a room in the upper part. Well, shares a room. Skyhold may have a lot of space, but livable quarters are still an issue, so she rotates out with people on assignment.
no subject
"Whatever helps me get back out into the world," he huffs, letting Korrin lead the way.
no subject
"They do that to everyone. You could walk in there with Mother Giselle and they'd still think sparks are flying. Someone clearly needs to give them more work to do."
no subject
The stone in the hall under his bare feet is warmer than he expected it to be, and he paused once they stepped off onto it. So this was Tarasyl'an Te'las...
"Maybe send them back to Val Royeaux. Tell them they'd be valuable assets there. Get them out of your hair here," he suggests, jogging some to catch back up to her.
no subject
"They probably wouldn't be swayed by me, but perhaps a word to our ambassador would do it? At least if she gets them rubbing elbows with their own kind, they'll be useful. If they have to play that damned Game, they can do it somewhere else."
Korrin glances around the main hall as she makes her way over to the the stairs to the side, leading up to the balcony. "It's already looking much better. You should have seen it when we first arrived. It was a mess, rubble everywhere. At least now, you can recognize it for what it should be, when the scaffolding is gone."
no subject
Salem shakes his head and mounts the steps behind her, looking around this section of the hold that's not in as good of repair as what he's seen thus far. At the top of the stairs, he looks down at where there was more scaffolding and supplies arranged around chunks of wall in disrepair. They were working day and night to return this place to its former glory.
"It's already remarkable, but I look forward to seeing it when it's finished."
no subject
She wanders to the center of the balcony to take in the view for a moment. Even now, she can see potential in the large, cavernous hall. It just needs more time and effort poured into it to make it a place to be proud of again. Glancing back, she shoots him a smile.
"Likewise. You'll see, we'll return from some assignment or other and have a celebration below, sending up enough noise that Leliana's ravens in the rookery will hear us. Those nobles with their 'Game' will probably hate it, but to the Void with them. I like our style much better, in every way."
no subject
"We'll scare their bloomers right off," he laughs, leaning against the railing and looking down over the main hall, smiling down at the nobles and resisting the urge to stick his tongue at the lot of them. He looks back at Korrin after a moment though, giving her an easy grin. "An honest moment here though, if I may. It's good to see you again here. When I reached Haven and found it buried, I wasn't exactly hopeful about finding you, or any of the men from before. So I'm relieved, and more than that, I'm damned impressed."
no subject
Her smile becomes a warmer one after a moment, though. "It's good to see you again, too. I would have taken you with me, but it seems it would have been dangerous for you either way. At least you're here now, and who knows. There might be room to impress you further."