faderift | A SEA OF DEATH

A SEA OF DEATH

WHO: Anyone/Everyone
WHAT: A trip to sunny Nevarra
WHEN: Mid-Firstfall
WHERE: Nevarra City
NOTES: Undead cw. OOC post. We highly encourage using the OOC post for plotting and especially for coordinating strategy among characters participating in Part III.

Following the successful defense of Perendale, the Nevarran crown has extended an invitation to the Inquisition to send representatives to Nevarra City to enjoy its hospitality and gratitude. Most signs point toward an uneventful, perhaps even pleasant, stay, one that could foster a closer relationship between the Inquisition and the Northeast's premier military power. Other signs, however, point toward trouble. The Inquisition has previously addressed early Venatori attempts to influence the king, but reports from agents embedded in Nevarra City indicate that these attempts have resumed. While no immediate danger is expected, everyone will be advised to be on their guard during the visit and keep an eye out for potential enemy activity.

I. TRAVEL & TAVERN

The swiftest route to Nevarra City is to first travel by sea to Cumberland, an uneventful voyage followed by half a day to rest and eat before heading up the Imperial Highway toward the capital. It isn't a large group, consisting only of staff from Kirkwall's outpost who volunteered or were ordered to make the journey, so once on land they're able to move swiftly with horses and carts and spend only one night sleeping aside the road in tents. If there are bandits along the highway, the sight of a uniformed, armed, and relatively organized force on the horizon makes them disappear long before they're reached, and the Inquisition is troubled by nothing but bad weather along the way. The paved highway makes for quick travel despite the rain, except for those who are tasked with detouring off the main road to collect a new party of rifters.

Still, the Inquisition reaches the Nevarra City well after nightfall on the second day, with no time to explore before heading straight to the tavern and inn where they'll be residing during the visit. The Crooked Bone is a large establishment near the center of the city and built for crowds, though it is clearly unprepared for quite this large a number of overnight guests, and the staff may be heard debating the wisdom of taking such a contract, having to cancel and refuse other guests to fit the whole Inquisition contingent, but apparently making a pretty penny and earning favor with some unnamed royal courtier in exchange. Even though the Inquisition has been granted exclusive use of the inn for its stay, it fills up the available rooms without anyone, no matter how high-ranking, permitted a room of their own.

But it isn't an altogether uncomfortable arrangement, and definitely preferable to sleeping in tents. There's hot food downstairs at nearly any hour, not to mention ale and wine, served at long tables in a large room with space at the center for dancing—when there's music, which there won't be now unless someone among the Inquisition wishes to provide it—and a cheery sort of atmosphere lingers despite the decor, which tends toward dark wood and skeleton motifs. It's warmed by the proliferation of lanterns of all shapes and sizes, and the fire burning merrily in every grate, which combined with the full house lends the place a surprisingly cozy feel. Plus, the Inquisition's takeover of the inn means it can maintain its own security and thus genuinely relax indoors, something that won't be so true upon venturing out into the city.

II. NEVARRA CITY

Nevarra's capital city sits on the banks of the Minanter, where the river winds down through the hills that mark the border between Nevarra and its rival Orlais. The city is tucked into a high valley, surrounded by sharp cliffs and studded with rocky spires. The few tributaries of the Minanter that once flowed through have been rerouted into a central channel that tumbles down a fake falls into a large reflecting pool in the city's main park, feeding a fountain in the shape of a trio of water-spewing dragons. The City is renowned for its art and culture, grand buildings and meticulously manicured landscaping, unusually clean cobbled streets and soaring halls carved with intricate adornment. Though no longer as large or as busy as Cumberland, it is a wealthy city, and the immaculately dressed majority will not hesitate to stare at the Inquisition interlopers in their midst. They are frank about their curiosity and also about their suspicions: Nevarra has no love for Orlais, and the Inquisition has far more close ties to the southern Empire than anyone here is comfortable with.

Originally a Tevinter stronghold, the oldest parts of the city are distinctly Imperial in style, all polished, seamless black marble, like the columns that line the boulevard leading from the heart of the city up to the Castrum Draconis, where King Markus holds court. The way to the royal fortress is lined with statues, the finest examples of the hundreds of figures that exist throughout the city, likenesses of every hero and dragon-slayer, kings and generals. At this time of year, each noble family honors its famous ancestors with processions, marching through the city to drape their family's statues in the house colors.

These parades take many forms, from the loud and gaudy to the solemn and torchlit, attended by thousands or just a handful. The richest houses hire troupes of actors to man the streets beside the statues of their predecessors, costumed and acting out the most famous triumphs of their subject's life. This year, as the king's health declines, the competing efforts of the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams and their respective supporters take on a new urgency. Every theater in Nevarra has been emptied and some further afield too, to fill the long, black marble boulevard before the castle with players staging elaborate recreations of dragon hunts and historic battles. Accusations of sabotage, petty turf wars, or players making impromptu cameos in their rivals' shows raise tempers ever higher and the unlucky or unwary may be caught in the midst of a street brawl as tensions threaten to spill over.

The situation in the court itself is no less fraught, though the simmering anxiety is more successfully kept behind closed doors. The King is old, and that he is failing is no longer a secret. His mind has not gone, but his strength has, and he is only capable of brief spates of sharp attention before the effort exhausts his resources and he begins to drift or doze. He is constantly attended by a rotating trio of Mortalitasi, his most trusted companions. He holds court for roughly an hour a day, perhaps two if he is feeling especially hale, and courtiers are in constant competition to be among the few blessed with the king's personal attention. All other business is handled by a handful of advisors, most of long standing. While the Inquisition's representatives are welcomed, and official gratitude expressed for the assistance at Perendale, they may find the reception rather cool overall. The nobility is particularly wary, of Orlesian influence, foreign or Chantry factions meddling in the succession, of the potential threat to Nevarra if the sleeping dragon of the Imperium is poked too hard. It will take careful and strategic mingling indeed to begin to truly win anyone here over.

III. THE NECROPOLIS

Toward the end of the Inquisition's stay, a rare invitation will be extended to its members: an opportunity to tour the Grand Necropolis outside of Nevarra City, proffered out of awareness that its customs are seen as barbaric to outsiders and in hopes that a better understanding of Nevarra's customs will facilitate a better working relationship. The Inquisition will not require any particular person to attend the tour. It is a delicate subject, and one that may rightly make many people squeamish or afraid. But it would be rude not to send representatives, so those who are willing and curious enough to agree will be sent to meet Tivadar Nancollas, one of the Mortalitasi, at the entrance.

Within the walls, the Necropolis is nearly large enough to be a city of its own, were any of its population alive. It is divided into a warren of countless crypts, wound through with passageways. Those maintained by Nevarra's ancient families are enormous and ornate, paths as wide as real streets leading through a maze of oversized statuary and gilded rooms fit for living nobility. Others are smaller and simpler. Some belong to families that have since died out entirely and have fallen into disrepair, though the Mortalitasi see still to the remains within. There are vast public crypts as well, where the inexpertly mummified bodies of Nevarra's poor and nameless are housed en masse if delivered to the Necropolis from outlying communities. The one constant is the smell: the pervasive spicy-sweet aroma of the incense burned in censers throughout the Necropolis, heavy enough to cling to clothes and hair for hours afterwards, and give headaches to those unused to the scent.

As the group passes each crypt, Tivadar names its owner and perhaps some of the better-known figures residing within. The Pentaghast crypt is particularly enormous, and he guides the group inside, past the crowd of still and staring dead, for a brief glimpse at King Caspar still and silent on his throne, crown atop the wispy remains of his hair, finery conspicuously new yet crafted in the style of ages past, the blade of the sword laid across his lap still razor-sharp.

In contrast to the enraged corpses that may have climbed out of bogs or emerged from caves to attack Inquisition agents in their past travels, these possessed corpses are remarkably sedate. They do move: they may blink or turn their heads to watch someone pass, eyes (or eye sockets, depending on the age and wealth of the deceased) glowing with the presence of something otherworldly. But they seem content with watching, until—

(There's always an until.)

—deep in center of the Necropolis, where some of the oldest crypts are falling into ruin and even the Mortalitasi's careful work can't keep all the skin on the corpses' bones, Tivadar disappears—magic, perhaps, or a trick door, or some combination of the two—and the sealed door to a nearby crypt creaks open.

The corpses that lurch out of it are not sedate. They're rabid and grasping, red-eyed, and ready to claw and bite and pursue the Inquisition through the Necropolis' streets. These first enraged mummies count among the poor and poorly kept—they're numerous, but unarmed, brittle. As they push the Inquisition back through the streets, however, their presence seems to awaken the mummies that had previously sat or stood calmly elsewhere. Some of them retreat deeper into their crypts as if frightened. Others do not retreat, but join the swarm in attack. And the further the fighting progresses toward the doors, with the red-eyed corpses stirring each crypt they pass too close to to action, the better preserved and better armed the dead become, until they are wielding swords with names and clad in the dragon-scale armor of the royal houses themselves.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

— ｔａｖｅｒｎ．

The idea of sharing a small space is not unusual for Saoirse. They always bunked within the Circles and, at times, living in the Gallows meant sharing far smaller spaces with her fellows. This room is almost far too spacious with its three beds and lovely windows allowing sunlight to seep into the space just perfectly. There is a part of her that wonders if the boys would be uncomfortable sharing a space with her since she was the only girl but ultimately figures they would speak on it if it did become uncomfortable. For now, she is pleased to have two familiar faces here as well even though the other two are rather unfamiliar... they seemed nice.

Later in the evening, once all five of them are in the room and luggage has been arranged does Saoirse sit on the one of the beds with a happy smile. "How about a game? We could use it to get to know one another better since we'll be sharing this space together while we're here."

— ｓｏｎｇ＆ｄａｎｃｅ．

Did someone say they needed music? Well then: look no further because Saoirse is happy to take it by the head, jump onto the stage with lute in hand (did she always have it with her??) and begin to play. She is no stranger to the sort of tavern melodies popular throughout the lands from her many months now singing around the taverns in Kirkwall. She sings happily, dancing around as she does and urges patrons to get up and dance or to come sing with her. At times she'll wander through the crowd, exhausted but grinning and eager to ask: "Anything I can play for you?"

Later on when another has taken the stage, she seeks out friends and familiar faces to take their hands. "Come on, we have to dance at least once!"

She might not take no for an answer at this rate.

— ｐａｒａｄｅ．

Saoirse has seen many parades throughout her life but this is all something else simply due to the sheer amount of people present for these parades through the streets. Every corner she takes there is another flash of color, another family and another story to tell. It's incredible and, more often than not, she stops to watch the procession from the back of a crowd while standing upon her tiptoes with wide eyes. If there is unrest starting to build in the crowd, she does not notice and is far too taken in by the sights playing out before her.

"Isn't it incredible?" She asks the person nearest her yet never glancing away from the parades of colors.

— ｎｅｃｒｏｐｏｌｉｓ．

It was certainly an... interesting sight. She had heard about the Necropolis, read about it many times but never imagined actually visiting the famed location or touring its inner workings. Saoirse still cannot believe it and so she stands to the back, arms wrapped around her chest and looking upwards with unsure curiosity. She isn't scared... per say but she certainly does not make a move to move any closer. Instead, she lets her hands brush down the front of her robes and take in a deep breath as the tour guide begins to round them up.

"Shall we?" She isn't nervous, no... not at all!

— ｗｉｌｄｃａｒｄ．

For anything not listed above! Feel free to hit me up if you'd like a specific starter.

Edited 2017-11-21 01:47 (UTC)

He's been spoiled for the past few years with having his own space and only having to share it with one, maybe two people, of his choosing, but sharing a room with others doesn't seem to bother Sam in the least - and, hey, the room was actually spacious. Even when he finds out there is a woman sharing with them. Obviously it wasn't ideal for a sleeping arrangement, but he's had to room with plenty other women in tents for missions so as long as everyone found a place to sleep it was fine.

Sam is actually in the middle of figuring out which bed to take, already in a linen top and pants so that he didn't catch cold from wet clothes, when Saoirse speaks up, to which he tilts his head. "What kind of game are you suggesting?"

Prompto's not terribly used to sharing a bed with someone, but he is used to sharing a space with other people. And hey, at least it's not a tent. So while he feels bad for Saoirse and hopes she's not uncomfortable with a bunch of other guys around, he's fine otherwise.

He perks up at her suggestion of a game. "There's always cards, if no one has any other ideas." Prompto will always vie for a card game. But he also doesn't want to steamroll over other ideas, especially if there's an interesting kind of icebreaker game in Thedas he hasn't heard of.

"Well, we had a simple card game we played in the Gallows when I first arrived there from Starkhaven." You know... before everything went to shit. "You take turns drawing from the deck and based on the suites, you have to answer certain types of questions. Hearts you tell us something you like, clubs for dislikes, spades about something that happened in the past and diamonds for personal questions. If you don't answer within a certain time then we get to ask you a question."

Again: it was a simple game but helped with introductions she found.

"Queens you answer two questions, Kings get three and you can pass your card to someone if you drew an Ace. If you drew a Joker then you had to answer a question from each of us though."

Edited 2017-11-23 07:45 (UTC)

Like Sam, Kirk had changed from wet clothes into dry and warm to avoid a cold. The last thing he needed was to be sick on a mission, especially with a healer in the room. The fuss would be unbearable. He stretched and meandered over to Sam, wrapping his arm around his waist and giving a light tug as he himself flopped onto the nearest bed.

"Sounds fun. Like truth or dare or never have I ever, but with cards," he yawned.

For himself, he wasn't bothered on which bed he slept in or where, he just wanted to be beside his lover. For quite a few reasons, most of them personal, but simply just because he had been sleeping with Sam for almost a year now, and being without threw him off in unsettling ways. If no one else in the room liked it, well, they could bite him.

These kinds of games always make Prompto a little nervous, since, well, he's got a fair bit about his past to hide. But he tells himself that he's overreacting and that this will be fine. He puts on a grin as he flops onto a different bed, the one he'd be sharing with Gareth.

"Yeah, I like it! As long as someone has a deck of cards, we should be good to go." And hopefully not too many skeletons in the closet. "I can even grab us a few bottles from downstairs if we want something to drink while we're at it."

SAOIRSE CEALLACH

Tavern

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{ parade }

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Song and dance

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Parade

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Necropolis

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