Entry tags:

Simple Gifts [Closed]

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

Estmond opens the door for her, the bright red color is more ominous than not, and waits for her to enter before him. It is an old habit and done automatically. The inside of the Hall is small, crowded, and absolutely permeated with the smell of blood and pus. There are the better part of thirty people in this building and all of them are in a dire state, on the very edge of death and lingering in a haze of drugs and pain.

All except for two.

Lakshmi enters first and is confronted with a curious sight.

There is an old woman seated on a bloodied cot with a young boy. She is bent and wizened, her limbs thin and her skin loose and creased at every point. Her gown is light, a white shift with a knit shawl drawn about her shoulders. Her hair is stark white and only exists in patches, thin and gangly but brushed back and tied into a braid. Her smile cuts very deep on her face and her laugh is an ancient wheeze but the boy at her side is delighted by it.

He cannot be more than six years old, his cheeks are flush, his smile is wide, and his hair is askew. He is not facing Lakshmi, not at first, but he turns when he hears them enter and his bright green eyes fall on her like a babe viewing the world for the first time.

"Go on now," the old woman says and ushers the boy off the cot. "This place is for the ill and weary."

The boy lets out an excited giggle and all but runs, barefooted, out into the rain. He shoves past Lakshmi with abandon and jumps, immediately into a puddle before scampering through the muddy garden and back into the Main Hall. The old woman remains, seated as she is on that dirtied cot, and smiles a strange and tired smile at Lakshmi.

"Hello."

She can't help the fondness that falls over her, watching the boy skip off - before she turns back. Her hands lifting in the same gesture she had given the Brother. Palms to each other, her head bowing over it. "Dadiji." Soft, endearment in her own tongue. But respectful for it, obvious in tone if not language.

"I have come to help you where I might, if you'll have me."

Can't help but imagine it - the life where she had raised her child as she should have, where the Blackwater had not been needed, would she be grinning out from behind those old lines? Laughing at the young, aching on her bones as she told her grandchildren to not be so fast.

"Oh, my dear, there is no help for me," she says and lets out a tired chuckle, it rasps against her throat but lights up her face. She rises, her knees weak and all but creaking, and is out of breath by the time she has stood.

"But you may help Brother Estmond," she continues and has to pause to draw in a deep breath. "If you like."

Brother Estmond, who had paused behind her in the door and stared, wide-eyed and delighted as the boy charged from the Infirmary Hall, takes that moment to enter. His happiness is written on him and it maintains as he spies the white-haired woman amid the dying.

"Reverend Mother Alvar! I am so happy to see you!"

She comes closer, hovering in an instinct to help anyone so much older than herself. "My hands are at your and his service, my lady."

Looking up only, only when she's sure the old woman is quite alright, even after Brother Estmond enters after her. "Reverend Mother." Is the appropriately respectful, surprised murmur.

"It's Your Reverence," she corrects but in a dry tone, one that implies she only barely expects most people to realize that and Lakshmi not at all. She glances, catching sight of Lakshmi's hands and her smile widens as she accepts the offer to help her stand and takes the taller woman's arm.

"Though not yours, apparently," she corrects after a pause and motions to Estmond to come in.

"I'm afraid I've exhausted myself, Brother, would you fetch Luca or Brigette?"

Estmond nods and, with a glance at Lakshmi, walks back toward the Abbey. He still has his tray in hand, unfortunately.

She helps the old woman along, slow in each of her movements and never far. Making sure that even in the worst case scenario she was right there. Following curiously between the Brother and the Revered Mother. Careful she was, unobservant she refused to be.

"I could make you a tea, Your Reverence, that would ease the pain some. Help you sleep deeper."

Alvar holds onto Lakshmi with casual ease and glances at her as they walk. It is a careful walk back to the Abbey and Estmond jogs ahead to hold the door for them as they re-enter the main hall.

"You know, that sounds quite lovely. Estmond, fetch us the kettle and teas--this young lady and I will be in my apartments."

Estmond does as told, gladly and with haste, and departs from the two of them. Alvar, in turn, directs them toward the end of the hall and the South Transept. The way to her room is a bit complex but they will be there before long.

She hovers - it is not her place to give orders, here, after all, but if she was going to do her best to help this woman then...

"If you have it, bring me turmeric, pepper, cloves if you have them, and milk. Extra milk." Is the call after him as he goes, her hands otherwise staying busy holding the woman next to her. But she never steps faster than her, never moves to cause her any kind of pain. Attentive as she had been taught to be.

The path to the Reverend Mother's apartments takes them past the south transept, where the sound of trickling water resounds heavily and the shadows of the trees give a looming quality to the windows. They move into the hall there and down a long hallway until they arrive in her chambers.

It is a wider room than any of the dormitories afford, but it is not lavishly decorated. There is a bed, well sheeted and plush with heavy blankets. There is a bookcase filled with books, a plush chair, and a hearth that is lit and burning cheerfully. This room is not cold, not like the rest of the abbey, and it is only when the cold is chased away that the truly pervasive nature of it becomes apparent.

Once they are inside, Alvar releases Lakshmi and moves to sit in the chair by the fire.

"I apologize I've only this one, but come stand and tell me why you desired such spices for simple tea."

"To sit at your feet, Revered Mother, is good enough for me."

But it is a relief to be in a warm room, finally. She would never complain, not openly - but she was born in deserts. Used to dry heat as her preference. Nevermind this cold miserable weather. More than that - this room seemed alive. In a way the rest of the place was not.

How strange that was.

She blinks back to attention, from looking over the room as she forms her answer. "It is a known remedy, in my homeland. The spices work to warm the body, and release its tension. But I promise you, it is quite sweet."

Alvar chuckles at her reassurance and says nothing to dissuade her from sitting at her feet. It is a curious tradition but not one Alvar takes offense at and she relaxes in the chair with a heavy, exhausted sigh. Her eyes drift closed but she does not sleep. After a moment or two she says:

"I am so fond of distant remedies," Alvar comments idly. "You are one of the rift folk, are you not?"

She doesn't pause for an answer before she adds:

"Have you been treated well?"

"I am - " and she makes not to gush, seem overbearing as she goes to do as she said. Letting herself settle cross-legged across from the other woman, her hands bracing on the ground below her.

"- So well, forgive me, almost no one is as kind to us as you have been. I cannot... help but wonder why?"

"I cannot say," Alvar replies and settles her hands in her lap.

"Perhaps they believe that the Maker has not yet turned back to us, or that his bride has not told him of our perils. They must think that you cannot be sent by him, that you are only a trick, a curse upon us, or something cleverer and more evil."

She draws a deep breath through her nose and nearly a minute passes before she can speak again. She is spread thin, now, and every aspect of her is delicate.

"I can see nothing in you but potential, if not for good and evil, at least for change...and what do we need more than change?"

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Simple Gifts [Closed]

The Abbey on the White Cliff

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