Galadriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laurenande) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2018-09-06 11:34 pm
laurenande) wrote in faderift2018-09-06 11:34 pm
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
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.
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Something curdles in Myr's gut to hear that; he knew Anders to be intensely tactless most of the time but that seems cruelty beyond the ordinary for the other mage. (Though not, he thinks, when there were suspected Loyalists or other Chantryfolk involved--and there had been the other woman present. The Nevarran, he thinks.) He hates that it happened--and hates more his questioning and hinting has only upset her further over it. Maker, why did things have to be this way.
Because, of course, not everyone trusted so completely as he did. Not everyone could. (Even he shouldn't.)
He's respectful of her anger--would be even if it weren't as justified as it is--and doesn't break in, letting her pace, letting her question. It gives him space to think of answers of his own, well aware that anything he gives her amounts to a promise on his end to act. It doesn't do anything to simply name the problem, throw up his hands, and walk away; to do as much is a betrayal of people he's already come to love.
"Sister--" he begins--stops, checks himself before he can launch into some convoluted explanation of what they'd done. That doesn't serve. "--Yes. Some of them are. The two who questioned you are," Wardens, he doesn't say, but only just, "soldiers; they live or die by their suspicions. They don't trust easy or often, and they don't trust anyone to just tell them the truth of a situation."
None of them bad traits in isolation. Especially not the latter, when people often didn't know the truth themselves, or knew it only halfway. But now's not the time to argue that. "They keep us safe and they can only see the gloom here--the hurt and heartbreak, not the miracles, not the Maker's grace or how truly you live the Chant. And,"
A considering breath, before he continues, a little heavily: "I don't know there's anything you could have done to escape their suspicion. And I am sorry--truly sorry--that it came to that. You invited us as guests. You deserve far better treatment than you've been shown."
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Her shout is unintentional, that much is obvious by the quickly drawn breath that follows and the sound of her pressing her hand over her mouth. Her pacing halts and and draws a shaky breath through her nose.
"I am sorry," Luca says but it is with some note of haste to it. Her steps shift as she moves to the doorway. "Stay if you like--I--I cannot continue speaking of this."
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He bites his tongue on the protest, realizing now isn't the time to make it. "No--forgive me, sister, for troubling you with this. Especially now, when you've a weight of other cares on your shoulders." When she faced a certain death sentence in two days, or three, or--who knew how long Revered Mother Arval might last.
"Let me go instead--you'd work to do here." He starts back toward the door himself.
no subject