WHO: Galadriel, Thranduil, Solas, Myrobalan, Merrill, Kitty, Lakshmi, Teren, Marcoulf, Jang, Obi-Wan, and Anders
WHAT: A trip to a perfectly normal Chantry in the middle of nowhere.
WHEN: Current.
WHERE: The Island of Alamar, Ferelden.
NOTES: Current warnings, to be updated: Graphic Descriptions of Gore

The Abbey on the White Cliff

Travel to the Abbey on the White Cliff is no easy matter. While it stands not far from Amaranthine, the waters between the mainland and the island shores are a wicked confluence of eddies and razor sharp rock. The rain is ever-present here and the wind moves unpredictably at the best of times. Ships of size cannot travel easily to the island of Alamar and small boats are rarely steady through the choppy water. Fortunately, as the Inquisition approaches, the world takes some pity on them and the waters seem to still and calm. The clouds linger but, at the very least, they don't open above them until they have reached the land.

The island is a grey affair, all rocks and scrub and damp. The village, an austere looking outcropping of buildings, is entirely made from the local stone and, were it not for the red clay roofing, would blend into the landscape seamlessly. Very few people have strayed into the rain to greet the Inquisition and, without the voices to echo off the stone, most sound is drowned in the lapping of waves and the heavy fall of rain. As a result of the weather and the lack of citizens, the town has the general quality of a graveyard.

The merchants who work the docks are affable enough and, after unloading their haul and securing it somewhere a bit drier, offer to take the Inquisition up to the Abbey proper. The rain slows before long and the merchants lead the Inquisition to the main roads and, let them on their way. Fortunately, the Island is not terribly large and, even walking, it will take only a few hours to arrive at the far side of it.

As the party leaves the village and the shore, the island landscape opens before them. Sloping moors give way to periodic outcroppings of rock and, against the horizon and the far end of the island, there rests a dark forest of pines. The Abbey on the White Cliff stands at the far side, at the top of the hill and overlooking the waves. The road they travel is an easy one, well worn, and the buildings come into view long before they reach them--they stand several stories tall, made of the same stone as the village. They are moss-covered and have the look of an old building that has been questionably kept--at least, from a distance.

The closer one gets to the buildings, the more obvious the additions and repairs become. Windows that have no business holding glass have had colorful windows inset to them. The doors are heavy, wooden, and new. The ironwork on the walls is polished and unworn by the rain. There are no torches lit but, once the Inquisition members have reached the doors, they open promptly.

They are greeted by a Chantry Sister with a bright smile and rosy cheeks and, without hesitation, the lot of them are welcomed into the Abbey.

OOC:

Hey guys! So I plan on aggressively GMing this one. Basically I want to run this like D&D, or as near as I can manage.

The location threads below are available for single player/two player exploration, I will be tagging you with information based on where you go or what you do, but if you want to do a bigger thread please just use the team threads at the bottom. That way if you all decide you want to check out the [INSERT LOCATION HERE] and it leads you to [DIFFERENT LOCATION] I can move you along without changing threads.

Because of your proficiencies, different characters will have advantages in different areas/while talking to different people, so groups are best. I will also be PMing your character journal periodically with any information that your character may have picked up on that nobody else would.

The NPCs are available for talking to or questioning by any number of people. Their general locations are in their thread headers so you can travel there as a crew or ask me to send them at you, if you so desire.

Feel free to do new top-levels if you guys really want, I am just here to try and make this fun.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On their second night, Teren's insomnia comes out a bit stronger despite her being unable to catch up properly. Sleeping in a new place is always like that, isn't it? And rather than go seek out Brother Morely for another night of futile candle lighting, she opts to simply pace the halls.
There's something not right here, after all. She gets nervous on missions like this, with all these new people in this new place, so far from home, and with rifters who truly didn't know better. Didn't know the world is quick to take advantage of their ilk, the new and the magical.

For this reason, Teren is actually checking the rooms like a fretful governess, turning the latch of each door as silently as she can and cracking it open to peer inside, count the glows, gently close it again. She's not used to the layout of the sleeping arrangements, so this results in checking on far more than just rifters, but somehow her only reassurance can come from knowing everyone else is unconscious.
Harder to plan an ambush that way, at least.

The first room is a simple affair, right next door to the one that Teren had been placed in. All the occupants of the room are sleeping and the mild glow off of the hands of the rifters within give away their locations. The second room is down a ways, past a crowded closet, but when Teren opens the door, one of the green lights and, indeed, the whole glowing elf it belongs to is absent. Galadriel is not in her room though, if the peaceful slumber of everyone within is accounted for, she was certainly not snatched up in the middle of the night.

Because Teren doesn't actually know that this is Galadriel's room, all she notices is the missing light. And although that's curious, it's not necessarily cause for banging any gongs in alarm-- just, you know, better safe than sorry.
She continues to check the rooms until all the shardbearers other than the one are accounted for, then sets out looking for that conspicuous green glow. It'll be hard to hide in a place so dark.

The dormitory is dark and occupied, the rooms are filled with the quiet sounds of sleeping and the presence of other bodies. The halls are empty and quiet, but the pounding of the rain is a constant--it buffets the shutters and the tiles of the roof, resounding through the stone. In the distance, the crashing of waves against the cliffs shakes its way through the floors.

The kitchen below is dead silent, its stores shuffled into corners but still absorbing nearly all the space in the room. There is no one here, nor a lit candle or lantern to mark the comings and goings of those who travel the Abbey during the small hours. The door to the north, however, is just slightly ajar. It is too heavy to move with the wind, but the rain slides in past the cracks and a puddle is already forming on the floor.

Teren used to live by a big lake, across which the storms could grow large and menacing, the waves tossing against the harbor pilings and at times reducing them to matchsticks. It always makes her uneasy, because nature will always do what it wants, regardless of who's in the way, whose house it floods or livelihood it destroys.
Being that the body of water nearest to the abbey is the sea, that feeling is magnified tenfold as Teren makes her way down the halls. At least once she jumps at her own shadow, cast by the single candle she holds-- and though her hand is cupped protectively around it, it lasts only until the kitchen before winking out.

The sky reflecting on the sea casts a small amount of light, at least enough for Teren to see the wetness on the stone and the crack in the doorway. Someone is out there.
Loathe as she is to get soaking wet in the middle of the night when she can't light a fire or change clothes without potentially waking her roommates, Teren hasn't lived as long as she had by seeing suspicious things and assuming they're fine. She approaches the door and muscles it open with her shoulder, holding it there to squint out into the rain.

The world beyond the northern door is dark, save for the glimmer of light on dark waters. The trees shift in the wind, hissing and moving as a great, singular looming shadow. The rain tumbles down in sheets, but there, in the distance, there is a bright spot against the black. There is a light in a window, there, bright and golden as a well tended hearth. The building is some distance, across the backside of the yard, and rests north of the rest of the Abbey. It is too far to see more than the light, itself, but that is already a curiosity.

If she lingers for a moment, a shadow will pass before that light. It will do it once and only once but the light will remain, strong and steady as the storm above them.

Well, she’s already drenched, and something is still afoot. No sense turning back now.
The nice thing about the driving rain is that it’s easier to walk quietly, but Teren realizes that’s also a danger. She draws one of her hip blades, keeping it gripped in her bony hand as she slowly, measuredly approaches the light, her free arm trying to shield her face from the torrent.

Naturally her braid comes loose from its bun in the gale, whipping around like a weapon of its own. Let it.

Teren moves through the driving rain with speed and stealth, invisible against the inky black of the Abbey yard. The ground curves down a bit as it approaches the building with the lit window and as such the sill stands at just above five feet. It is not an easy window to enter, nor to see through, and the view it provides is largely of a ceiling and of the items directly before it.

The room inside is a library, or so it seems from afar. There are shelves that line the walls, the ceiling is unadorned, and there is a lit candle very near to the window. The shadow that moves through the light rises again and, at this distance, it is clearly Anders, lit in gold and with a mixed expression on his face.

Simple Gifts [Closed]

The Abbey on the White Cliff

badadada, night wandering, deseeerves a quiet niight

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