faderift | Dream and Idea

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Dream and Idea

WHO: Norrington and You
WHAT: Norrington and the Seven ~~dwarves~~ Templars arrive at Skyhold
WHEN: Beginning the 3rd week of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Warnings for the Chant of Light. Because Templars.

Night had fallen on Skyhold when the guards at the gate spotted seven soldiers mounted on horses, with another driving a car behind them, riding across the stone bridge to Skyhold proper. The call-out did not occur until the watchman on duty spotted the templar armor. The templars in Skyhold were many, but not so many that the watchmen didn't know who they were dealing with.

When they arrived at the gates, the man in front dismounted, and with a promptness that surprised the gate guards, gave them travel papers and proper identification. The man was clearly weary - his green eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion, but he held himself up right and straight.

The guards sent word ahead, to anyone who might be up and still in charge, and then opened the gates to let the templars in. They pointed them to the well, and to the stables, while they got someone to ... well.

They didn't look like red templars. Were they rogues? Were they spies? They were watched quite carefully.

For their part, the templars themselves seemed rather subdued. Taking care of their mounts, talking amongst themselves. Except the tall, dark haired man with sharp green eyes. He muttered something to the red-headed templar, before starting to walk around Skyhold itself. It was clear the man was looking to get the lay of the land.

...Or perhaps to figure out just what the hell he had gotten himself into.

Who was to say it could not be both?

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There's literally nothing that escapes Sauveterre's notice, especially in the late hours of the evening. Internally worried about the threat of attack and the constant conflict within the Hold between Mages and Templar, the former Knight-Commander is indeed present once these newcomers make their unannounced appearance. While Rutherford might be a tad lax in regards to Skyhold's. security, Alayre is not. The last thing the Hold needs is another troublesome group of brigands amongst them, especially rebels hailing from the Order.

Eyeing the newcomers with a hint of scrutiny within his grey gaze, Alayre pauses once he catches a glimpse of their supposed leader. A frown settles upon his weathered face as he regards the tall man with an impassive glance. There are many within the Hold who might find the sudden arrival of these Templars to be worrisome. Alayre is no different in that mindset as he slowly approaches.

Still dressed in the silver and red armor of the Order, Alayre does lack some of the usual trimmings that announce his former title as Knight-Commander. He indeed looks a little like a rogue with that dark crimson cloak draped across his shoulders and the twin swords at his hip.

"Not many venture to Skyhold under the dead of night without purpose." His tone is wary but kind. The accent alone gives away his Orlesian heritage but it's not overly snobbish.

"Therefore, shall I ask the purpose behind your untimely arrival?"

Edited 2015-12-21 15:11 (UTC)

Norrington turned from reading a notice about the building around Skyhold - he had to admit that Lady Montiliyet had a way with words - when he heard someone speaking to him. Orlaisian, to be certain, and as he turned he glanced towards his people. They were all looking warily at the new ... person, but Norrington raised his hand. The Inquisition would not let anyone through their gates who had not been thoroughly vetted.

Like they were being now.

He eyed the man, one eyebrow lifting over cool green eyes. "Well, luckily we are not without purpose then. My men are here to join the Inquisition and I -- I am here to throw myself upon their mercy."

Up here within the harsh embrace of the Frostback Mountains, the nights here are quite frigid and dark. Despite the Hold being well lit by a dozen or so torches, the shadows of the night still encroach upon this sanctuary built in Andraste's name. Had Alayre not announced himself, he doubts that the Templars would've ever known his presence. They look upon him with a similar wariness that he has for them. He could literally see the agitation and slight inkling of trepidation within their gaze as he steps into the light of a dimming fire.

His gray gaze linger on them briefly before meeting with their commander once more. "Throwing yourself at our mercy?" A dry humorless chuckle escapes him as he regards the nameless commander with more uncertainty.

"Depending upon the deeds done, wouldn't it be wiser to ask the Maker for mercy?" He asks.

Norrington made sure to keep his hand well away from his sword, so he could face the man. Some sort of military commander - perhaps even a former Templar Captain himself. He faced the man squarely, not avoiding his gaze and speaking firmly.

"Yes. And believe me, I have ... but since this is now the home of the Maker's Will?" He lifted his hands together. "This is where we have come to rebuild all that has been broken." Trust. Faith. The sense that the Templars were there to protect, and not to terrorize. But first?

"I have had to make many hard decisions, brother," let us just see if he reacts to this, this mysterious figure in the crimson cloak, "And this was without the Chantry's blessing, or the Seekers sanction. I do not regret these decisions, but I will be held accountable for them."

"Brother?"

A hint of surprise lingers upon Alayre's face momentarily before being erased with a brief smile. It would seem that their both are men of the Order after all. The tall one's reply wins Alayre's favor enough to gain a little of his trust. He pulls back the hood of his cloak to reveal more of his face in a sign of trust. These two should not be enemies, not at all.

"I would much rather the Inquisition to be an extension of the Maker's Will but that is my own opinion." He replies with a somewhat morose tone. "Nevertheless, I bid thee welcome to Skyhold, the home of the Inquisition." Alayre raises his right hand to signal towards the others who dwell within the darkness. Five others step out, all of which are Templars who've all sworn their allegiance to the Inquisition.

"I am Alayre Sauveterre, the former Knight-Commander of Pharos Tower. As one would expect, I'm one of many hailing from the Order."

Norrington himself relaxed at that, before he nodded and moved a step forward, offering his wrist in the traditional clasp between Templars. When the other templars came out of the shadows, an eyebrow arched, but he nodded his head briefly and respectfully at them.

"As would I -- but right now the Maker's Will is that we are to be broken down." He gives a tired smirk at that, "Perhaps into something better after we are forged. Only time and the Maker shall tell." He dips his head into greeting.

"James Norrington, Knight-Commander of the Ostwick Circle. Which, yes, has disbanded and our leadership either dead and gone or mad ... but I am still of the Faith." His green eyes flashed, "I will not let those murderers and thieves taken that from me, nor the mad Seeker Lambert."

A sigh of relief is heard but it's not from Alayre. His men were on a little on edge about these newcomers and for good reason. The Hold hasn't been very stable as of late. Between all the infighting, the expeditions and that latest stint with the Abomination, they have a right to feel a little jumpy. However, Alayre is actually feeling more relaxed now that an agreement has been reached between the Mages and Templar. There's still a potential for disaster but Alayre is desperately trying to remain optimistic.

"Indeed, only time will tell." He replies solmenly as he clasps Norrington arm. The two of them are indeed chantry brothers considering how easily they can greet each other in such dire times. "Understandable. I plan to uphold my creed to the Order regardless of situation." He smiles vaguely.

"I'm stubborn."

Behind him, he can also hear exhalations of relief, most of them exhausted but pleased. They had traveled a long way, to find some templars, any templars, that still followed the way of the Order. Sadly, this was the first indication that any of their way of life remained.

Giselle was, as always, the first to step forward to greet the five in the darkness, and Burns soon followed, with the rest moving forward with weary nods. James smirked faintly at the Orliasians immediately sassing Gibbs and Burns from being from Fereldan -- oh that would turn out poorly for them.

He turned back to Alayre, his own weariness finally flashing through his eyes. "'Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written'. So we shall continue to help the Maker's quill. Just not at the expense of our own souls."

One corner of his mouth twisted as well, "Then you are in excellent company. Tell me, Alayre, what is the state of things here? Is it all I have heard?"

A lone figure watched from the battlements as the Templars made their entrance. Cade felt a surge of hope upon seeing the telltale flaming sword insignia on their armor, but held back for the time being, not wanting to get in the way of their settling in.

It was later, when the leader of the unit began to make his way about, that Cade felt it time to approach. He descended the steps toward the Templar, giving a sharp wave of greeting, and made his way over to him once he was on ground level.

"It is heartening to see more of the Order arrive," he said in his quiet, eternally courteous tenor, "Knight-Lieutenant Cade Harimann at your service, ser."

James was examining one of the testing dummies, an almost fond smile on his face. He had many memorable hours, training with ones such as these. They clearly had taken quite the beating. Clearly someone had some anger to work through, and he wished them silent luck.

He caught the wave out of the corner of his eye, and looked up. Green eyes narrowed, but then became more thoughtful than anything else. He had seen the look on this young man's face. Naked relief, to see another one of his brethren. Norrington offered a nod of acknowledgement in turn

"It is heartening to be welcomed. As you can imagine, things have not been particularly ... pleasant, thanks to the madness of others." He offered his hand, in the templar clasp. "Knight Commander James Norrington, a pleasure, Lieutenant. Are you one of Alayre's men?"

Cade clasped Norrington's hand with a respectful incline of his head. "No, ser," he replied, "I served under Knight-Commander Meredith in the Kirkwall Order. Now I am at the Inquisition's disposal." He wasn't sure what that meant yet, but he was slowly learning.

"Ah." And that Ah, took a lot of meaning in one word. That would explain a lot about the young man's ... well. He looked light he had been through quite a bit. "Yes, I suppose that is what we are all here for. To serve, whatever way we can."

He offered a quick smile at the young man, before he tilted his chin. "Do you know your way around, Lieutenant? I find myself in need of a tour."

The man's response caused Cade to look down preemptively; he knew he should be ashamed of what had happened in Kirkwall, but at the time it had made sense and he had spent too long at Meredith's beck and call to see her as a madwoman. It was something he was still working to reconcile.

"I do, ser, at least the main areas. I've not yet had occasion to seek the gardens or the tavern, though I hear both are well-kept." The tavern he had forbidden himself, having been in one only once, and having dismissed it as a hotbed of temptation and sin with which he preferred not to engage.

Were there ever to come a time where Norrington had chance to speak to Cade about Kirkwall -- he would be certain to put the blame where he thought it ought to have landed. Firmly in Meredith's insane lap.

"Well, as I have no desire to visit a tavern at this hour ... perhaps you might show me the other areas." He folded his arms behind him, starting to walk, "Are you part of the Inquisition forces, fully, or do you still train as a Templar?"

Maria was on the ramparts when the group arrived. Not standing guard or training or doing anything of use as she'd like to be, but simply clearing her head in the cool air. As the group road in she didn't run down the stairs or find a ladder, rather she simply leaned over the edge and called down to the leader.

"Where do you hail from, Templar?"

Norrington looked up, into the darkness, where he could hear the voice calling out above his head. He arched an eyebrow, before he responded back, "Ostwick, Mysterious Female Voice. And you?"

"Kinloch Hold. But that was some time ago. A moment."

Ostwick. Not one of the more trouble options available. But interesting enough she slips into one of the many (decaying) stairways to climb down to where the group of Templars are.

"Maria Hill. Well met."

Now Norrington's eyebrows are going to rise straight up into his hairline. Kinloch Hold had been one of the better defended Circles, after the abomination attacks in 9:30. The reports there made him respect the First Enchanter's guiding hand even more.

He waited until she came down, before he offered his hand, "Knight Commander James Norrington. A pleasure." He looked at her keenly, as his people milled closer out of curiosity, "You no longer serve, then?"

"I serve the Inquisition. Knight-Captain Hill, if you like."

But as the current Templars met, titles from the old times meant less and less. Something she could live with well enough.

"But this is a new age we live in."

He nodded his head slowly, "As I hope my people will. As long as the Inquisition is as merciful -- or savvy enough to know a good resource when they have it."

He nodded his head slowly at that, "A new age requires a new Order. Something better to be built out of the dust of the old. I am not sure what that will be -- but I have heard the Inquisition is the place to find ... direction."

It would not be the first time Cade had heard such an accusation, but he would never speak against his commanding officer, even in death. Whether or not he agreed with their methods was fully irrelevant.

"Of course, ser," Cade replied, ducking his head in a small bow as he began to lead Norrington back up the battlements. "I am... currently left to my own devices. Although there is generalized training, I have seen no such organization for the Inquisition's Templars."

Oh, Norrington would. With great vigor and venom. However, Cade deserved none of that. The young man looked like he had been through the ringer, and Norrington had to wonder how long he had been off lyrium.

He followed the young Lieutenant, taking in the battlements and the posted guards with approval. Cade's statement, however, brought a brief frown to his face, "Truly? Well, I shall speak to Alayre. We should have some training of our own - keep sharp for the Venatori and the blood mages. If you like, you can practice with myself and my men."

Cade nodded to him, and gave a faint smile of relief at the offer. "I will be sure to, ser," he replied, his quiet voice fraught with gratitude. He wasn't exactly a sociable type, but like sought like and he knew that being around other Templars could help restore some of the normalcy to his world.

Norrington gave him a quick, small smile of his own, as he turned to look off the ramparts once more. "So I do not know much of this place - have you learned anything interesting during your stay, Lieutenant? I would love to know how a place like this existed without anyone knowing of it."

He sighs, quietly, "You can almost feel how much history it has."

In the interest of keeping relations in the Inquisition positive- or at the very least civil, in the interest of being present and available for those that would have need of her no matter the hour, Adelaide long since informed Cullen that her skills are at the Inquisition's disposal. Said word trickled down among the scouts that- should someone horribly injured or weary pass through the gates and a healer was required as soon as possible, she could be sent for no matter the time of day.

It was late. She was stripped to her chemise and dressing robe, hair bound in a loose braid as she went over another sheaf of notes she'd made on the Spire's techniques for the Creation school of healing when the runner found her. Sent her to the gate.

Weary but obligated to fulfill her duty, Adelaide followed the runner down to a lovely little contingent of Templars.

Marvelous.

Back straight, head held high, she strode among them as though she were fully dressed in her Enchanter's robes rather than a mere dressing robe, seeking out the injured party immediately. Not a word to their commander, not a thought for the remainder- it was the injured party she swept up to look over. "On a scale of 'an ant bit my thumb' to 'I've found every beartrap in the Hinterlands with my face", how much pain are you experiencing?"

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