The Cult of Andraste

[keeperofmagi]

WHO: Dorian, Maria, Nerva and Twisted Fate
WHAT: War Table Mission: The Cult of Andraste
WHEN: Forward dated to Haring 5th, over a period of at least 3 days
WHERE: The ruins of the ancient temple of Andraste
NOTES: see original mission outline above, linked in 'what'. likely to involve a lot of violence and bickering and since dorian is here, sass

[Prompt below is for initial meeting / heading out on the quest thread. We can start other threads as we need them for later parts of the mission.]

It came as something of a relief, when Nerva was finally given a mission outside of the castle grounds. Skyhold had been something of a shock, despite her thinking that she had prepared for it. But the way the mages lived and worked here was unnerving, and dangerous, but she and her fellow templars were far outnumbered. Being able to get out into the world, do some real good, was an intoxicating idea. She was even smiling - albeit a small one - as she checked over her equipment and the gear they would require for the journey. She'd come to the gates early, just to make sure she had a good idea of everything that would be needed, what they were missing, and what would have to be done without. It was little more than a glorified scouting mission, but for Nerva, an important one. The loss of her connection to the Chantry had been a heavy blow, and anything she could do to help restore some of that connection, even if only for herself...

Well. She would gladly do it.

So she was far more devoted to the mission than mere duty necessitated.

However, that was very likely to change, once she found out exactly who was on the mission with her...

Comments

initial meeting.

[liberalum]

Apparently, avoiding the general boggish misery of the Fallow Mire meant it was traded in for a hike through the icy, mountainways of the Frostbacks. Maybe Dorian would have reconsidered, had he known.

But the subject of this adventure is one of wide reaching interest for all that it could turn into a scavenger hunt just as easily, and so here he is. He's dressed in sturdy leathers and buckles and shining metal embellishments that seem to reflect firelight that isn't present, and at his back, a staff of dark wood and serpentstone. A thick, fur-lined cloak and cowl drapes about his shoulders, something gifted to him from the Inquisition's own provisions rather than anything as fancy as the rest of him.

He's made inquiry as to who he was meant to be travelling with already. Two unknowns, one of which has a reputation that precedes her. Dorian recognises her by way of process of elimination, and his smile, subtle as it is, is already crooked.

"It occurred to me that every route through the Frostbacks is the scenic route," he says, instead of a hello, in the midst of approach. "Because getting everywhere takes about as long as that implies, but it's very pretty, if you like that sort of thing. Dorian Pavus," he adds, swiftly.

[keeperofmagi]

He was dressed so obviously as a mage that it was almost helpful, if only because for once it wasn't a surprise. She turned at the voice, and the smile that she had been so carefully and delicately cultivating disappeared instantly. Mages. Of course they were sending mages, to such a religious and important place. Why not. And judging by his name--

A muscle in her neck twitched.

"Nerva Lecuyer," She replied, the Orlesian accent stronger for her being all the more aware of his. Her templar armour - which had recently been polished, again - didn't have the same odd firelight quality of Dorian's buckles, but still caught the sun with a good, decent shine. The pride would have been obvious a mile away.

"It will take as long as it requires," She replied to the rest of his statement - unable to completely ignore it, because she was doing her best to not be completely confrontational. Sort of. "You will not be forced to enjoy it."

[liberalum]

"No?" Dorian says, with sarcastic italics and all, although there is enough good humour bright like a candle in his tone, guttering away irreverently. "But you strike me so immediately as particularly warming company."

Thankfully, none of the other inner circle are present to point out he'll be complaining about not being able to feel his extremities at least once every few hours during the worst of the hike. Nerva and the rest will just have to find that out for themselves.

"Never fear, I'll see to my own entertainment. Force won't be required."

[keeperofmagi]

"I am sure you will," She replied, the irreverent cheer in his voice only cementing the ice in hers. "You seem the sort to be happily entertained by very little."

So much for the civility. She bit her own tongue as she said it, pulling a face more for herself than for him, at having been dragged down so quickly into unprofessionalism.

She cleared her throat, but did not apologize. There was no point. "You have all the equipment that you will require?" She asked, the words grating against her throat. They weren't the ones she wanted to ask. How in the Maker's light had they thought sending a Tevinter Mage to the Temple of Andraste would be a good idea?

[liberalum]

How, indeed?

"I've everything I need," he assures (his modest carry bag is modest but well packed, resting now at his feet) and then, because he is absolutely not letting her get away with that one, he drags the conversation back to where she left off like an alligator's dogged hauling of prey back into a swamp. "And you're absolutely right; I'll get hours out of my reflection bouncing off your remarkably shiny breastplate. Tell me, how do you get it to such a polish? Some sort of Orlesian remedy?" His tone drops down into a flatter affect; "The tears of your enemies?"

He glances over his shoulder, mindful of approach of the rest of their party. Just as lightly; "Or, perhaps, your mage charges."

[keeperofmagi]

"All the work of my own hands," she snapped back - the irritation immediate, unable to keep herself from rising to his ribbing. "Though that must seem like an impossible concept, for you. Do you miss your entourage?"

There was no playful humour in her tone - ice and ash. "I collect no tears, nor keep my new allies as charges. But if you are interested in shedding some, I will be happy to assist."

the inevitable camp

[wickedchase]

The cold is rarely a fun spot of weather, though none of them hardly joined the Inquisition in the expectation of being whisked away to a place of sunshine and warmth. It's work, and the snow doesn't much compromise.

Camp or no camp. Thankfully, there's fire to tend to.

Fate is as close as he can be to it without letting himself catch, and his eyes are focused on the papers in his lap. In his left hand, his thumb is rubbing over something -- a careful enough glance would inform the looker that it's an arrowhead with some engravings on it -- and with his right he's tasked himself with drawing a map.

What a fine day of hiking and tension it was, indeed.

"There was a bar I was in once, had a special called the Twisted Grape. I'd ordered it, but I suppose the bartender was less sober than I was at the time, and thought I'd said Twisted Fate. Wouldn't stop repeating the damn phrase, and before you know it, the entire bar was chanting it. So, the name stuck. Lucky me, eh?" He chuckles. "Not as bad off as a companion of mine. He was stuck being called Fizz after he complained about his drink."

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva is sitting, still in armour, but with her legs crossed and her sword and shield resting against the log that she also happens to be resting against. In arms reach, but not in hand. She is sitting and doing very little save watching Twisted Fate intently, in case he decides more than just the fire needs to be burning.

(Or perhaps she was just very tired from the day's march but still needed to look like she was alert and doing something useful.)

"Is that meant to be impressive, or amusing? Because I assure you, it is neither."

It wasn't so much stern as exasperated.

[wickedchase]

A small snort escapes him at her remark, his smile not leaving as his eyes remained focused on the map he's illustrating.

"I imagine few things can impress you, and nothing can amuse you," he says. "Do you know how to smile, or would it break your face?"

[keeperofmagi]

"I can smile," She says, unsmiling, as she narrows her eyes at his map.

"What are you working on?" (And did it have anything to do with blood magic?) "You've had a long day - you should be resting."

[wickedchase]

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Fate glances up finally, turning the arrowhead in his fingers. "My my, I didn't realize you were concerned," he says, his voice not as jovial as he'd like it to be. "I figure once we make it to the tunnels, might be useful to have a map. I can memorize it all -- useful as an escape artist, after all -- but that's not really useful for anyone else here or the Inquisition."

Maria one on ones

[nofury]

Exploring the temple

There was something innately heretical about knocking down walls of an ancient temple, but orders were orders. The whole of the structure would stand as it had for so long, only the already crumbling stone blocking alcoves or rotting wood of doors busted in by her shield. It wasn't the most glorious work, but it was better the mages saved their magic for further attacks.

From time to time she stops to take a rubbing of the old runes. She knew at least one researcher back at Skyhold that may find them of some interest.

Abandoned Camp

Someone else had been there, recently. Not so recent she was concerned about an attack, but Maria is still scowling as she confirms the ashes of the fire pit are no longer fresh. It certainly supported the idea the enemy had defiled the temple. Or, even if it had only been random thieves, it meant there would be fewer resources for the Inquisition left to find. Now it was just a matter of searching the left behind items to determine which group it had been. And why they had left so much behind.

Or talk to her whenever! Make your own adventure

explorin' the temple

[wickedchase]

In terms of company, he's determined that being around Maria is probably best. He still feels rather undecided in regard to the Tevinter mage, and he's already on difficult terms, so to speak, with Nerva. Maria seems to have a fine level head, and that's something he can respect.

As she works, Twisted Fate stands behind, working absently on his map.

"Does it bother you? Being here. Considering all that's happened." And who Maria is.

[nofury]

Her first response is just an appraising- and, yes, somewhat suspicious- look over her shoulder at him. A self-named 'Twisted Fate' that had entertained himself with sassing at the other Templar of the group on the way here. Difficult to know where a conversation started by him, no matter how apparently direct, may be intended to go. But for now Maria takes him at face value, relying after she's kicked out the last bit of rotten wood standing between her and her current goal.

"It bothers me more we weren't the first ones here. Does just where we are mean anything to you?"

[wickedchase]

It's an expression he's often received and more than used to -- and frankly, a wise one, in his viewpoint. Trust is a rare and precious thing, and he would be more concerned if she did so blindly, considering everything. Still, he waits patiently for her response, making a small note to himself on the map.

"Well, that's hardly a surprise, considering what happened at Haven. More than a few people probably used the tunnels, suffice it to say." Her question makes him shrug. "And not as much as it does others, I suspect. I'm interested to see if there's anything useful here, and that about sums it up for me."

[nofury]

"Do you follow the elven gods instead?"

There is, of course, a knee-jerk reaction to recognize Andraste as the correct religion, but of all the things to argue over that ranks low on the overall list. Still, she's honestly curious if the man has any kind of religion. Having different traditions she can at least understand, if not believe in them herself. Having no faith at all was a different matter entirely.

abandoned camp

[keeperofmagi]

"Fresh, isn't it," Nerva said, frowning, as she watched Maria bend down over the fire. She made a rough click down with her tongue, scowling as she looked around them. It was hard to tell who it could have been - other than the fire, they'd left little behind. She shifted one of the burnt logs with the toe of her boot.

"Of course it is. Looters and scum."

[nofury]

"Not fresh enough. Trying to track them likely isn't worth the time."

Particularly as, though she's rather skilled at hunting down an individual mage hiding in populated areas, Maria has no real tracking ability of her own in terrain like this. Nor, she highly suspects, do any of the others.

She wipes her hand off on a pile of nearby snow, her own scowl still in place as she stands.

"But there may be some message or other left in their gear."

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva nodded in agreement as she immediately went to search what was left of the gear. She had no tracking ability either - though she was more familiar with the terrain, it simply wasn't her forte.

The first search turns up nothing and Nerva lets out a frustrated grunt before turning to the rest of it.

"They certainly left in a hurry," she grumbled under her breath.

[nofury]

"With any luck whatever they were running front took care of the lot for us."

Which meant there would be something for them, in turn, to fight instead. But she could use a good battle right about then. This entire mission had a way of putting her on edge.

exploration and making friends with ghosts. for nerva, initially.

[liberalum]

[ It's no warmer inside than in, but at least, the ice and snow has not found its way within the strange tunnels they explore in relative silence.

And Dorian is coming to terms with the fact that most of these texts are going to have to be left behind -- partly because he can't carry a bookshelf, but also because some are simply too frail, decayed. Scrolls locked in containers skinny enough for him to spirit into his luggage are obtained for more careful attempts to extract them back in Skyhold, but with his luck, they'll wind up being ancient Alamarri recipes for someone's grandmother's bread pudding.

It's the third time he sees one ghostly figure in particular regarding them, just beyond torchlight. Dorian pauses his task, settled into a crouch and watching it in return.

Casually, he unbuckles one of the books at his belt, thumbing through it.

He stands, taking care not to take a step towards the ghost right away. He relaxes his hand, and the book hovers an inch above it, his other spread-fingered over the page. ]

Re: exploration and making friends with ghosts. for nerva, initially.

[keeperofmagi]

[They don't speak. This suits Nerva just fine - Dorian is much easier to be around when he isn't talking, or flailing his staff around setting things on fire - and for a little while she can almost forget that he's an Altus. Just pretend that they are two people quietly working to preserve lost holy texts. To say that she is enjoying herself would not be accurate - she is taking her duties here incredibly seriously, and has not smiled once, but she hasn't been glaring at Dorian, which is a step in the right directly.

The spirit, however.

Dorian noticed it before she did. In fact, the first thing that she noticed was that Dorian was making the book he was currently reading float, just above his hand. She thinks about chastising him, but then thinks about Maria and decides not to. She can pick her battles. She lets her eyes slide away from him (so that she doesn't snort in disgust) and that's when they catch the figure. She stills, instantly, her hand hovering over the hilt of her sword.]

Dorian.

[The word is calm, flat, but obviously a warning.]

[liberalum]

Nerva.

[ Nerrr-va. Acknowledgement and little more, the most of his concentration on the text, and his other hovering hand plays at the air with questing fingers, as if drawing from it its power.

Before she can tell him to cut it out or explain himself, he finishes -- purple light ripples across the page, and cuts a swift path straight for the ghost. The figure doesn't flinch, as if it doesn't even notice the rope-like light that curls around it's shape, the ground beneath it shining. Clapping closed the book, Dorian takes a step forward. The ghost appears to turn away, as it had been doing, but stops. Unable to move. ]

Haha! Had me worried it was a little too expired to be grasped easily. I haven't performed a binding in a great many ancient ruins, you know.

[keeperofmagi]

[Her sword is already half way out of its sheath the second that the magic begins - drawn both by reflex and training - the steal flashing purple as it lights up with the magic passing it. She doesn't slide it back into its sheath but instead turns to glare at Dorian.

A bound spirit is better than one currently attacking them, but not by much.]

Revel in your triumph later. Alone.

[She turns back to the spirit, frowning at it. It isn't a demon - yet - but her shield takes a firmer position, her sword sliding into an easy guard, the tip pointed at the ground just left of he back foot.]

How long has it been following us?

[liberalum]

[ Dorian allows this first part to slide by, still preening ever so at a job well done as he straps his book back to his belt, eyes on the ghost. Captured as it is, its form is coming through all the clearer, depicting the visage of a mature gentleman, seeming now to stand patiently as Dorian approaches.

He doesn't take his staff in hand, and there is a bold enough quality to his saunter, for all that demons could burst out at them at any moment -- or perhaps not. His has some confidence in his binding, after all. ]

I've noticed spirits here and there since we entered the tunnels -- this one's made a point to watch us, so I thought we ought to introduce ourselves.

You first, [ he directs, to the spirit itself. ]

I am Havard the Aegis, [ it volunteers. ] The first of the Disciples of Andraste. I know your names and your travels, Dorian of the Tevinter Imperium.