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

"Of course!" Estmond all but shouts and catches himself. He lowers his voice before speaking again. "I will be back as soon as I can, please keep watch," he adds and with little additional fanfare is through the door. He seems almost glad to be working at the behest of an actual healer.

The door closes behind him and there is a lingering sensation that something has left with him. The room is a little colder and, as Anders begins working on the next man over, the temperature drops again. The fire in the hearth still burns, bolstered somewhat by magic, but it burns low and there is a whistling draft through the floo above it.

The spirit that Anders calls to aid his magic does not come at once and when it does, the shadows on the windows grow just slightly longer. There is an oppressive nature to the silence, now, and it mounts the longer he utilizes magic to heal the patient before him.

The response gets the faintest of smiles from Anders before he's turning to work. All traces of smile are quickly gone, though. The temperature is dropping, and Mercy clearly does not want to respond, does not want to be here. Spirits avoid demons and what might corrupt them, and it's the latter that says a lot about what might be going on. This is supposed to be a place of mercy and compassion, but it's not.

Once he has the man more stable and the bleeding slowed enough, Anders tells Mercy she can go for now and sits back on his heels. Estmond wants to help. Something else doesn't want that to happen. But there's a thorn in the tidy guess of a demon being at fault here - a demon would want people to feel whatever its form is, and these people are far too drugged to really feed it.

Which means it might be people at fault here. Deliberately so. Whenever Estmond returns, Anders has one more question for him: "Were you touched by a miracle at any time?"

Estmond comes back within the hour. He is soaking wet and carrying a covered basket of herbs with him. Anders's question catches him by surprise, but nearly everything appears to manage that. On reflex, once he enters, he moves to stoke the fire and add more fuel.

"Me?" He asks, his tone making it perfectly clear that he does not understand why such a question would be posed to him.

"No, not directly. I wasn't in a bad way when I came here, I have never needed a miracle--but I have seen them! Quite a lot of them."

So that throws that partially out the window... but not completely. It could be that Estmond isn't a part of whatever greater mess is going on here, that he genuinely cares. He'd be a rare brother, in Anders' experience.

"Sorry. I get curious." Anders gets up to take the basket and start sorting through it as Estmond tends to the fire. "I can do things the regular person would find miraculous, but nothing that's actually a miracle. It all boils down to magical knowledge combined with what I've learned helping the poor and lost for nearly a decade. So hearing about miracles makes me want to know everything I can."

"I'm afriad I might be a poor judge of what is or isn't a miracle," Estmond admits. "I never even met a mage before I came here--but I have seen miraculous things. I have seen people jump up and leave here at a sprint, but most don't leave at all.

"I wish I were better at this, that I knew more, but I only have the books they give me--and they aren't bad is all, but they're only books."

"I'll write you some notes," Anders decides. "Notes on making potions, their applications, dosage, and the like. If you could have a servant drop by the room I'm staying in with some parchment and ink I'll see to it."

Now that he has the herbs sorted, he's portioning them out before lining up what vials he can scrounge up around the room. Then, sounding as casual as he can:

"It must be a nightmare of a time keeping pyres lit for those who aren't saved, considering the fires around here. I can't imagine the effort that goes into that."

The promise of notes and assistance perks Estmond right up, bringing a bright look to the man's wide and watery eyes, but that last comment--that strips the joy out of him as surely as this place snuffs out flame. The hand that is tending the fire slows and he seems at a loss--for words at first and then for air. Anders, it seems, has knocked the wind out of him and he has to look away as he tries to conjure the answer.

"Every day we try," he says, very softly, after a long pause. "And every day we fail. Of all the wounds in this place, that one--its the one that digs the deepest I think."

The bodies go unburned. And yet the place doesn't stink of death and decay.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"What do you, what can you do, at that point? I run a Clinic, back... back where I was, ran it," curse how much he sucks at being subtle, "and I can't imagine not being able to at least give the people who came too late that one bit of solace."

Estmond does not take his questions for anything other than rhetorical. He sighs in response to them and returns his attention to the fire as the melancholy passes through him. There is little to say on the matter of burning and bodies, they've nothing else to do for it, save attempt to keep people alive long enough to avoid joining them.

"I shall...fetch water. Do you require anything else?"

The questions hadn't been rhetorical, but Anders doesn't want to hurt Estmond so he'll let them slip away. Where are the bodies? What's being done with them?

"Mostly the company, at this point. The fire seems a little less eager to go out when you're in here, and I can help run you through some of this. But that can wait until after you return."

Simple Gifts [Closed]

The Abbey on the White Cliff

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