A SEA OF DEATH

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

[lyriumcarved]

You're asking him to relax? Seriously? Fenris gives her a very skeptical, wary sort of look, although it's not meant as something personal by any means. He's just never done well with 'relaxing'. Even now, he's doing the same old routines as ever, glancing around the room, working out whether the window or the door might be better as an escape route, just in case. It's all just... an automatic reaction to a new environment for him, and probably always will be.

He doesn't ever carry much with him, but he paces over toward one of the beds, deciding to stake a claim now.

"But is the Hawke a male or female?" That's the major question to answer, here, and will determine just how much 'quiet' they're going to have, or whether their nights will be filled with odd questions and chatter.

[iceblade]

"Male. Does that make a difference to you?" Skadi raises an eyebrow, not knowing either Hawke well enough to favor one over the other. Carver is pretty easy on the eyes, though.

She unrolls her furs as well, not caring that the bed already has covers. The Avvar woman can't help being this far north, but she'll keep a bit of the south with her to compensate.

[lyriumcarved]

He sighs, shaking his head, but the thing about Carver is that he's at least tolerable, far enough up the scale past Anders and Merril that he can... definitely deal. At least for the duration of this temporary living arrangement. Besides, Carver's attitude has improved over the years since he's known him.

"No, actually, it's quite fine. Carver has his moments, but it's nothing that can't be tolerated. Just don't let him get talking about his tattoo." He comes very close to rolling his eyes at that. "But overall... the Hawkes are better people than most I've known, make no mistake of that." It's saying a lot, considering that two of them even happen to be mages.

[iceblade]

"What's wrong with a tattoo? Is this a rival thing? Because I don't think you have aught to worry about, there." Skadi's been eyeing his marking appreciatively, both for artistic value and remembering how they glowed in battle. "It was fun fighting alongside you, by the way. We showed those vints what the power of a couple of blades can do, eh?"

[lyriumcarved]

"Not at all. If we're to be sharing a room, I may as well set you straight on this matter..." He points to the markings showing on his neck, one of the few openly visible areas that isn't covered up by armor. "These are not tattoos." He says this firmly, in a tone that implies there's a lot more to it all, but nothing he's about to get into here and now. No room for argument or discussion.

That being said, though, he relaxes yet again, or at least tries to let out some of the tension that had been building up in him. "I really enjoyed that, as well. It's always worthwhile to share in some mutual hatred of Tevinter's finest." Nothing is more satisfying than killing Venatori, slavers, magisters, or anyone along those lines. Absolutely nothing. "I haven't had much opportunity to fight alongside any Avvar before. Your battle skills are impressive."

[iceblade]

Skadi arches her eyebrows at his firm declaration but nods, not about to prod into what is obviously sensitive territory. (She still thinks they're eye-catching, though.) Someone needs to show her The Tale of the Champion, sometime. At any rate, battle memories are always more fun and she grins.

"Good to hear, I've trained long and hard to have the skill I do now. As have you, I bet. Care to talk about it over drinks? All that traveling has me thirsty."

[lyriumcarved]

The fact that she seems to have missed out on reading Varric's account of things... is a very good thing, in Fenris' mind. It'll make things all the more tolerable, without those typical probing questions that most people have on first meeting him. Sure, it might be a bit frustrating having to fully explain certain things like the lyrium brands, but... well, at least she's not prying into that. That earns a small amount of respect points from him.

"Drinks sound like a good idea. Let's see what this place has to offer."

[iceblade]

"Excellent. That spot by the fireplace looks perfect, and I want to claim it before someone else does." Checking for her belt pouch to be sure no one's made off with it, Skadi straightens and gestures for him to lead them onward.

[lyriumcarved]

"Then let's go." He heads over, first to the bar to order a drink, then to go claim that spot. It's warm and actually relatively cozy. Given the location they're currently in, he sees that as a good thing. He could almost forget they're in the north, right where he least enjoys being. "It won't be so bad, staying here for the duration of this trip..."

[iceblade]

Skadi settles in with her large tankard, stretching out, then looks over at him and winks. "The company makes it worthwhile, I can tell you that. I was worried that I would be stuck with a bunch of stuffy lowlanders for roommates, but you...you're a damn sight better than I'd have hoped for already. So, my thanks for that."

[lyriumcarved]

"The Inquisition does have its share of questionable membership, I won't deny that. Mostly, you can find ways to avoid the worst of them." He wouldn't have stuck around if he couldn't keep well away from certain individuals. Though he'll manage if he had to be stuck with someone unpleasant, he always did before. Somehow. "What does being you here, to this group? You must have some motivation, to leave your land behind..."

[iceblade]

"Is this enough motivation?" Skadi lifts her hand, revealing the shard in her palm. She glances to the green glow with distaste. "I never asked for this, never wanted it, and want it gone. If there's a way for that to happen, I want to be there for it."

[lyriumcarved]

Fenris instinctively recoils from the glowing shard, as if getting too close will cause its disgusting, terrible magic to spill out and infect him somehow. Which, he knows rationally that it won't. But he's still not too fond of being near such a thing.

At the same time, he has... quite a bit of experience with unnatural glowing magic being ingrained into one's body.

"More than enough motivation. I'm sure the sooner that's gone, the better it will be for you. I'd heard it was possible for this to happen... so how did it? You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, I presume."

[iceblade]

The reaction is noted, and Skadi lowers her hand. She has no desire to make him feel uncomfortable, nor does she blame him. It's not the kind of magic she feels comfortable with, herself. "Aye, it as a case of bad timing. My hunt took me too close to a rift and...I got a battle-scar, of sorts. At least the demons hate it, but I keep thinking about what it'll do to my hand. I'm a two-handed warrior, and I want to stay that way."

[lyriumcarved]

It's a small gesture, but Fenris greatly appreciates her moving the shard away. It's small moments of respect like that which are important to him, which make him in turn respect someone else.

"The shards have come in handy, I'll admit that. I've seen them seal rifts before... including the one in my house." He frowns a little, thinking of that whole situation. Blood magic, slavers, and rifts, all in the place he's again made his Kirkwall home. It's a cruel prank of fate somehow. "But I still can't entirely trust them, all the same. You're right to be concerned about that. So far, I've heard nothing about a viable means to remove them..."

[iceblade]

"You...had one in your house? Lady, that's some terrible luck." Skadi's eyebrows rais, almost wishing she had been around to see it. "...and aye, same. I'll keep hoping that it exists and we just haven't found it, though. This isn't the connection with the Fade I trained for or wanted. When there's a means to be rid of it short of chopping off a hand I don't mean to lose, I'll take it."

[lyriumcarved]

"Extremely terrible. I thought several times about simply burning it all to the ground to start anew, but I don't need to draw that much attention to it." It's already bad enough, being an elf in Hightown... but some of the locals have grown to at least tolerate even if they don't always fully accept his presence there.

"I would want no connection to the Fade, whatsoever, if it were my choice. But then... things like this are rarely ever our own choice." Such as the lyrium within him. Oh, sure, maybe there had been something to what Varania had said, about him competing and all... but it still was something he'd been forced to do through circumstances. "Who knows, it might be possible, someday. I believe they're still researching the matter..." But there's just so much to research, in general, so the mages really have their work cut out for them, here.

[iceblade]

"Isn't that the truth." Skadi says that softly, momentarily pensive as she's had to make do with her own set of circumstances. Granted, her case is far less drastic. "They're likely learning all they can from the wee elf with the chest shard. Hearing about her makes me feel damn lucky, by comparison."

[lyriumcarved]

"I'd still personally count not having one at all as my definition of 'damn lucky.'" But he has very different standards for his sort of thing, evidently. "I haven't followed their work closely, but I'm sure you could find out more about what they've uncovered, so far, perhaps join in their work. Though I take it you're more of a Forces person than Research?"

[iceblade]

"That obvious, eh?" Skadi flashes a grin. "I've no patience for research, but if they need me to fight something to get the materials they need, I'll be there. I may be part of other projects, but it's in my own best interests to give them a hand...heh, 'give them a hand', I swear I wasn't planning a pun there.

[lyriumcarved]

"The way you fought, I figured... You have the bearing overall of a warrior, too, someone dedicated to battle." Or maybe it's just that Avvar thing, who knows? If she's representative of the Avvar in general, then they're a rather strong people.

"That was the most terrible pun I've heard." But there's... a faint smirk... just a hint, under the serious overall demeanor. He's not always as serious as most would believe him to be. "But I'm of the same mind. I'll aid in scouting and fighting, but I'll leave the research for those with an interest in it." Ok, and a lot of the research involves icky magic and... yeah, no. He isn't going to be in on any of that. The other angle would be pouring over books, but he's still learning, in that area.