faderift | Looting the Circle

[ Nevarra City's circle is located on the outskirts of the city proper, where the tight network of streets gives way to a ramble of lanes winding through the spires and the green spaces between. The road wanders up into the foothills and stops at the base of one, a hummock of stone and soil with the front face sheared off flat and a grand bronze door set into the front of it, flanked by columns cut into the rock itself. They stop before it, tying the horses to one of the line of posts set into the ground for the purpose, and approach, Nell leading the way even though it's Petrana to whom the keys have been entrusted.

The lock is as big as Simon's hand, the great handles the length of a man's arm, but when the tumblers click into place the doors swing wide with barely a push, hinges as silent as if they'd been greased yesterday. Nell snaps her fingers and the torches on either side of the door light, fire catching the oil in the stone gutter and rushing around the sides of the room to meet on the other side. It lights a cavernous space, great stone pillars supporting a high stone ceiling, all of it carved and gilded, golden skulls watching from every corner and cornice, shadows shifting in empty sockets.

Nell spreads her hands as if to say voila and turns to look over her shoulder at the group, though her gaze slides past them to Kostos. ] Home sweet home.

Edited 2017-11-23 03:57 (UTC)

[ The Nevarra City circle is on the outskirts of town, dug into a hill, the insides hollowed out (no doubt with magic) to create a soaring entrance hall and a warren of corridors, offices and kitchens and mess halls and vast storage spaces branching off. Much of the work is to be done here, collecting records and crates of supplies to cart back to Kirkwall.

But it's not all rock and torchlight: follow the wide central hall ahead and it leads, suddenly, outdoors. They've come out the other side of the hill entirely, into a series of courtyards, their neat landscaping now run to seed, grasses and wildflowers sprouting up from the graveled paths, overripe fruit unpicked on the trees.

The courtyards are surrounded by cloisters, three stories of open air halls. Two are dormitories: one each for mages and templars judging by the decorative carvings and mosaics that adorn them, a third for classrooms and training spaces, the fourth entirely devoted to the library, a bright and airy reading room on the top floor, vast stacks punctuated by study carrels and plush chairs.

Everywhere, there are signs of abrupt abandonment: books left open on beside half-written notes, rock hard bread in the kitchen hearth, dishes on the long trestle tables still waiting to be cleared away, all of it covered in a thick layer of dust. ]

Most of what's taken away with be crates of books and records to be sorted through later, but PCs may also find and bring back:

Anything of use in the library, which has a particularly diverse and thorough section on spirit magic.
A stash of Chantry-banned books beneath a trick floorboard, including a number of volumes on spellbinding, various writings by Magister Callistus of Taraevyn, and several Chantry-critical works.
A globular device with interlocking rings in perpetual motion, which moves faster or slower depending on which direction it’s turned
A cylindrical block of solid glass, two feet tall by ten inches circumference, with purple mist moving inside it
A cabinet full of preserved potion ingredients, some of them rare.
An intact Astrarium (HEAVY).
Boxes of supplies for runecrafting, alchemical, and other magical crafting/experimentation, such as glass vials, equipment for measurement both mundane and magical, and blank runestones.

The Circle's loss is his gain. And basically the world's, in his opinion, which is why he'd been all too happy to come loot the place. While the courtyards are deceptively nice there's no forgetting that this had been a prison as well.

Anders heads for the library. It's possible most things of value are gone, but he has any number of students and any number of things that need to be taught.

"I've never gone looting a place before. It's almost exciting." He pauses and frowns after a moment. "Well. I suppose clearing out places of Darkspawn and skeletons and then taking what remained with Jonas was looting, so ignore that, please."

[ Kostos has his arms folded and his head leaned back, looking at the golden skulls instead of Nell, until he feels her looking at him and moves just his eyes to return it. His expression would be flat if his gaze weren’t so sharp, a little searching. The last time he was here, they were both fairly loyal to the Chantry. ]

We’ll be lucky if no one else has made a home of it.

[ Pessimism. He isn’t right; there are no bands of tramps or slavers who made it past the door, no demons or giant spiders. But he won’t entirely believe that until every room has been checked, and he brought a staff, when he usually avoids it. ]

Stay together, [ he says to the other three—or to two of the other three, at least, as he refrains from directly acknowledging Simon whenever possible. ]

“Ignore what?” Kostos says from beside a nearby shelf.

[ Audra is in awe of the Circle, even if the suspended nature of everything left behind makes it feel almost like a crypt. She wants to dig through everything, but she starts in the library like many others, quickly able to identify books that might be useful to the Inquisition.

Every once in a while she stops to thumb through forgotten notes. She sighs a little, wistfully. ]

I would have loved to study here...

[If Simon follows that suggestion anyway, it's just because it's common sense, he would argue--he's certainly not letting himself be ordered around by Kostos, or anything. Being contrary on purpose would be counterproductive, but the mutinous part of his brain considers it for half a second anyway.

The sensible rest of it is helped along by the fact that this is not a place he would want to be alone in for any length of time. He cranes his head back to follow the pillars all the way upward, silently counting all the skulls in his field of vision until he loses track.]

I'd sooner be back in Ansburg any day. [Not that Ansburg has anything he'd consider of value left to loot. He'd seen to that himself.]

[Inessa remains outwardly stoic, though those that know her well can sense a tension within her. It's not easy for her to enter the abandoned Circle, the quiet halls and various signs of life that had existed reminding her all too well of the time when Kinloch Hold was under siege, and the aftermath. Circumstances are thankfully different; there are no abominations or blood mages to fight, and she keeps telling herself this silently whenever a glance to dusty shelves or abandoned meals has her stomach twisting in knots. Garahel is at her side, of course, unusually quiet and alert.

What draws her interest? The spirit magic books in the library, the Chantry-banned books beneath the floorboard, the rare potion ingredients, and runecrafting supplies. Much of her time is spent in the former storeroom previously manned by Tranquil, mulling over schematics and notes. So absorbed is she that Inessa doesn't hear the approach of footsteps even as Garahel wags his tail at the newcomer. She smiles and lifts some schematics to her wisp-summoned light.]

Sweet Maker...now this could be useful!

Likewise. Now I almost wish I had transferred....

[If the Circles hadn't fallen, perhaps she would have done so. Inessa pauses at her side, Garahel sniffing -and sneezing- at just about everything, however dust-covered.]

Garahel has some room in his side-bags for those books, if you'd like. I can take a handful as well, though he can carry far more than I.

"What," She prods at the block of glass. "D'you reckon'd happen if we broke it."

She rocks back onto her feet, casts the little room an appraising glance. It's been a pleasant few hours' wandering: She'll be sick off the plums later, but a nap in a sunlit chaise lounge is just the thing to cure what ails.

And in the mean time, there's plenty just waiting for the take. Some other lot's already seen to the supplies, and it's a bloody miracle those haven't upped and walked off already. Have to be right stupid or desperate to chance breaking into mage territory — let alone ones this fucking flash — but stupid grows everywhere, even cities rich as this. Desperation does too.

"Ain't getting it back in one piece, neither way, I figure."

May as well see what it does.

"Exactly." He chooses to think Kostos is joking around with him rather than mishearing him, because he is still holding faith in Kostos having a sense of humor.

"Finding anything of interest?" A couple of books have made their way into Anders' pack, but not many yet. He's only got so much pack space, and he wants to save room for something very interesting if he comes across it. Like the rings he keeps glancing at before finally walking over and poking them.

"D'you want the worst-case for that one? Because it's definitely the mist in there boils out and kills us before reanimating our corpses."

While he's not so much use for reading titles or evaluating schematics, Myr's another pair of hands for crating books--or alchemical supplies--or whatever else someone with eyes might deem worth retrieving en masse for the Inquisition's clerks to dig through later. It isn't as if they've got unlimited time for this little expedition, leisurely as it might be; anything he can get into a box is something they'd not otherwise take with them. (The garden by itself was reward enough for him; he's seeds to take back to Kirkwall for Fern, to see how they'll prove out in the blustery southern climate.)

"Though I doubt even Nevarrans are crazy enough to keep something like that sitting around where anyone could bust it open," he adds cheerily, tucking another jar of dried herbs away in his half-filled crate. "S'pose I could feel it out a little before you tip it over, though."

No telling it had magic enough in it to respond to prodding with energize, but it's worth a shot.

Staying together is not Teren's forte, but this is a place for mages, and if there's any class of people that can make Teren more nervous than mages, she doesn't know who it is. She brings up the rear, constantly scanning around, preparing to disappear and/or take care of a threat if necessary.
Simon's quip earns him a pensive, judgmental look. Isn't this the one of whom Coupe is so fond? ...huh.

[ Gareth, for one, seems quite pleased to be here, looking around with an intense curiosity. At the skulls, the ceiling, squinting into the shadows. It isn't that he's a huge Circle fan, but there's something fascinating about seeing the Circle that Kostos and Nell spent...at least a chunk of their lives in. It's not exactly something they spent a lot of time chatting about. ]

If anything came in here, surely that massive lock wouldn't still be there? Unless they've stepped out and locked up behind themselves.

Why are the skulls painted gold? Do you think the owners would feel pleased, knowing that their skulls were donated to glamoring up the hallway, all sparkly and whatnot?

Gareth has a box of books he's already sorted out, but he's found the astrarium, and is now inspecting it closely. He puts both hands on it, and gives it a mighty push, with all his strength....which does absolutely nothing, not as much as a wiggle. He gives another push, really trying...with the same effect.

With an angry huff, he steps away, and contents himself with inspecting the astrology readings it offers, instead. "Yeah, well, you would've been useless to cart all the way back with us, anyway." He informs the astrarium angrily, as he begins manipulating the dweomers. Still. It would've been cool to show up at Kirkwall with an entire astrarium.

I think it unlikely.

( - that anyone's stepped out and locked up after, or for that matter that anyone's stepped in and locked up for safe-keeping, although that is somewhat more plausible. Her passively neutral expression is a deliberate choice, in such a place; her interest reserved, lacking the excitement of novelty she might have found somewhere else.

It is interesting, but it's hard to be enthusiastic about a Circle. )

They're the skulls of mages who failed their Harrowing. [ Nell says, sounding thoroughly serious for a moment. Then she shrugs. ] Or so we were told as children.

[ She doesn't wait for a reaction, or to see if they're prepared to stick together as Kostos has advised. She doesn't quite meet his eyes, given the opportunity, only for a second before her gaze slides away. She pivots on a heel to lead the way down the central corridor. Torches flare to life ahead of them as they go, lit by a flicker of her fingers. ]

The Knight-Commander's office is just off the main courtyard. We'll start there, he should have keys to the storerooms. Which of you can pick locks?

( With only a brief hesitation- habitual more than meaningful, a skill that she has no comfortable explanation for having and that she's always been inclined to keep in reserve against the day she needs it; )

I can. I did anticipate the need.

( So she's got lockpicks on her, is what she's saying. )

It’s faith well-placed, even though it isn’t faith rewarded at this particular moment. If it was a joke—if Kostos does look amused under his usual layer of straight-faced irritation, only the shelf he’s looking at gets to witness it.

“No,” he says. His favorite word. It’s so multipurpose. Here it means: books I studied from fifteen years ago, when I thought my life would go very differently than it has, but nothing useful. He turns away from the shelf when he hears Anders moving and stands there watching while he touches the rings. “Enchanter Crysanthe carried those around. She never explained what it was for.”

[ Gareth has to reappraise the skulls again after that, squinting up at them. ] They could be fake, you know. Hard to tell with the gold and the creepy shadows. Maybe they're just carved wood, because whoever designed the place thought there should be spooky skulls hanging around. [ Nevarrans were, if nothing else, dedicated to their aesthetic. ]

[ He glances at Petra as she volunteers for lockpicking, but his expression is only politely interested. Neat. His attention is then refocused on their surroundings, peeking at the rooms they pass by, but not daring to venture off. He's not stupid. ]

You know, I think there should be a spell to pick locks. Something that could just move the tumblers where they need to be.

[He looks over at Nell as she relates that little anecdote, an argument on the tip of his tongue, though he would never actually voice it--not in mixed company, and certainly not in majority-Nevarran mixed company, when he's already managed to offend the Warden without even trying.

We gave our mages who failed their Harrowings proper respectful funerals. But then, I suppose chucking their skulls up on the ceiling is what counts as a respectful memorial around here.

He won't comment, either, on Gareth's theory, though he'd much prefer to believe it. The notion of lockpicking magic is a safer subject to latch onto.]

There might well be already. I know a couple mages who're all for developing more practical applications for magic. I wouldn't know if the sort that lets you move things without touching them works on something like the inside of a lock that you can't see.

[Works great on shirts, though.]

Not to speak ill of Madame's lockpicking skills; I'm sure we'll be fine the old-fashioned way for now.

Edited 2017-11-30 08:09 (UTC)

He takes Kostos at his one word and doesn't come over to join him and peer at things. If there's nothing interesting over there, it's entirely believable.

"Carried them around on a daily basis?" He's never seen their like, and if she carried them regularly, then they have to be safe to move. After a moment's consideration he hefts them, deciding they're portable enough. "We're robbing the place, might as well not leave them. I can try to figure out what they do."

It would be a nice, low-stress project.

[ Nell was beginning to turn toward Teren, who she'd identified as the most likely to be able to pick a lock. But then Petrana speaks up instead, and Nell spins back the other way, not concealing the momentary flash of surprise across her features. Not trying to, either: ]

Truly? [ She looks amused and bemused all at once, eyebrows arched and furrowed in succession. ] You never cease to intrigue, Madame de Cedoux.

[ Simon and Gareth discuss, as Nell leads them up to another set of great doors. A smaller door within the larger is more easily swung open, and they step out, momentarily blinded by the sunlight that suffuses the cloistered courtyard. Bright, spacious, and marked by what must once have been prettily-landscaped gardens in the center, it bears little resemblance to the classic Circle tower model. When her eyes have adjusted, Nell pivots to head down one open-air hall. ]

You would need an uncommonly fine level of control to do it [ she says, perhaps a little belatedly. ] To pick a lock with magic. Those of us with the skill are generally trained with combat in mind, not precision. Do you have some issue with practical applications of magic, Ashlock?

[Petra's intervention is timely, because Teren is not behind Nell, or anyone else. She's skulking about the dark corners of the hall, inspecting the stonework, running her hands lightly over any patches that seem misshapen or gapped. If there's one thing about Nevarrans that she knows with a certainty, it's that a single lock is rarely the only thing warding off intruders, and any hidden wheels or levers might be the difference between everyone walking safely through the door and everyone being suddenly impaled on centuries-old spikes.

She might just be paranoid. But that's nothing new.]

[Teren's absence does not go unnoticed by Simon. Unnerving though she might be, she's the only other non-mage in the party--and when the other mages in the party are these ones in particular, Simon has learned thoroughly indeed by now that being outnumbered is a recipe for disaster. Solidarity, as Melys would say, is important.

But that doesn't stop him from taking mild offense at Nell's question anyway, feeling vaguely as though he's being accused once more of something he never did, said or implied.]

Why would you think I have an issue with it? I was admiring the ingenuity. I've a friend who can do all manner of things with glyphs--preserve food like an icebox, track your path if you can't see it, keep off the weather like an umbrella. He's always inventing more. It's fascinating stuff.

Maybe you haven't the talent to pick a lock with your magic, but I'm sure someone could, and more power to them.

Looting the Circle

CLOSED to mini-mission team

OPEN to whoever

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