[closed] the smith of ferelden

[unshut]

WHO: Barrow, John Silver, Kostos, Ilias
WHAT: Mages, Templars and Swords - oh my!
WHEN: Vaguely Drakonis
WHERE: Ferelden
NOTES: OOC Post

It's said that the forge at Farrow's Crossing has been burning uninterrupted since the Steel Age. While that is almost certainly a fairy tale proudly perpetuated by Bann Egan, what is undeniable is that Farrow's Crossing is home to some of Ferelden's finest smiths. Weapons and armor crafted here are renowned for their quality, the production of which is fed by the mines located in the nearby hills. --Which is probably what drew a band of still-rebelling mages there. Doing anything to interrupt the flow of raw material from the mines to the forges could deal a real blow to the Bannorn's economic stability (never mind its pride and reputation), and so Bann Egan has offered a significant trade deal on arms from his forges to anyone who can root out the apostates and either send them packing or deal with them a little more permanently. He's not particular about where they go, but they can't stay here.

Comments

i

[thereneverwas]

Trying to talk to scared mages seems like a bad idea at the best of times, and even if he hasn't broadcast to the world outside Riftwatch that he's a defected Templar, Barrow figures he'll have a better time talking to the wounded member of his own former order and just prays he doesn't know her.

"Hullo," he chirps as he strolls in, casting an odd look at the Chantry brother, but his smile is reserved for the bedridden woman.

[unshut]

"Oh for the love of-- You." This from the herbalist at the wounded Templar's bedside; it is not directed at Barrow, but rather at the fretting Chantry Brother. "I can't work like this. Take yourself and your friend out of this room at once."

And that bit does seem to include the newcomer. The Chantry Brother blinks - he opens his mouth to protest even and then seems to rethink it at the herbalist's murderous look. However it isn't until the burned Templar croaks something nonsensical from her place in the bed that the young man sharpens up, looks to Barrow and makes a decision: "Yes, well. Come along then. Nothing either of us can do, I suppose."

He leads the way back out of the room and into the hall.

[thereneverwas]

At the word 'you', Barrow points innocently at himself, then shifts it toward the Chantry Brother, pleased that he's not already in trouble before he's said anything past a greeting.

"Righto," he agrees, and moves to follow the Brother without complaint.