I. SEMI-CLOSED.

[letterandspirit]

WHO: Marcus Kane and people of personal interest.
WHAT: A slow appraisement of the Inquisition begins the subtle hunt for one mage in particular.
WHEN: The rest of the Emprise du Lion campaign.
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: This log is a catch all for specific starters for planned threads, and hence semi-closed, but entirely open for planning! Please let me know if you'd like to meet Kane and we can divine some kind of encounter.

Comments

[letterandspirit]

"You lose your sense of direction when you've run away as much as you've given chase," Kane says, apologetic in a dry sort of way; not intending to be evasive, but the roads he's taken have been as winding and complicated as everything else about this war. "But I've been in the highlands of the Dales since the Red Templars started arriving and setting up their strongholds."

He says Red Templars like this terminology is still foreign in his mouth. It doesn't seem that long ago when they were as much his brother as the man he's greeted now.

"I conveyed what I know already to the organisation, which isn't much. Some pockets of hostility I've tracked and hadn't had the manpower to clear out. Until now, anyway."

[judgemewhole]

"That ... brother, is a truer statement than you realize." Norrington murmured softly, his gaze becoming weary with the very thought. Disappointment flashed over his face. "Ah, I hoped you had come from the south. Perhaps had some word of a place called Montemps. Nevermind then."

He gave Kane a sympathetic look - he felt much the same way about his lost brothers and sisters.

"My people and I will be happy to ride with you. You shall have to speak to the other Commanders, see if they too would be willing to come -- but action would be best now, as opposed to inaction."

[letterandspirit]

Sympathy in the form of a look washes past Kane, impervious as a cliffside to lapping waves. Not in an unfeeling way, just that there is damage done a long time ago, and remaining strength that can't be eroded so quickly as all that. He is studious to the things Norrington has to say, and the things he isn't quite saying.

"Then we'll ride," he says. He spares a glance past Norrington's shoulder, and by the time eye contact reconnects, there's a touch of steely apprehension there. "I've heard a little about the Inquisition. Not a lot. Equal parts propaganda as fact, I'm sure."

[judgemewhole]

Norrington pressed his lips together at the statement, which is in fact a question. He looks around himself, before nodding for Kane to walk with him, "Too many ears about - you never know who may be spying in. Up to the ramparts, where only the wind shall hear."

Then Marcus could ask whatever ailed him about this Inquisition, and Norrington would not be forced into a political answer.

[letterandspirit]

It's an understandable sentiment and goes uncommented on; Marcus follows, falling into easy step. He doesn't know if his questions will shake up dangerous information or unpopular opinion, but he does know that he doesn't wish for his own story to be spread if he can't, in good faith, evade all questions that Norrington may have for him in return.

He adjusts the sit of his cloak as a bracing wind flutters over the edge of the ramparts as they ascend. He's not sure what he likes best; the cold is brutal, but crisp and oddly dry. He'd never appreciated the muggy humidity of the Free Marches, even if he calls it home.

"I will say," he says, nodding out at the spread of camp that they can see from this vantage point, "it doesn't look like the ramshackle horde of heretics and war criminals, amassing power under false pretences. But I'm not really sure what that would look like."

[judgemewhole]

Norrington let out a quiet snort at that statement, before he shook his head. "Nothing could be further from the truth. Are there a fair number of the faithless here? Yes, but they are not in charge, nor are they likely to ever be. As for war criminals ... well my friend, right now that covers us, and the mages, so I am not really sure anyone has anything really to say on that particular front."

He folded his arms over his chest, before he spoke frankly, "This place has a lot of potential in fulfilling the dying wish of the late Divine, may her soul rest in peace. This may pull all of Thedas together -- or tear it apart at the seams. The problem right now is factions."

[letterandspirit]

Marcus glances over at that latter part, following on in a sort of silent agreement that something so powerful as to restore peace in Thedas could also go terribly, but it's not a point he is interested in worrying over here and now.

"Factions?" he echoes, a crinkle showing at his brow.

[ ooc ; rar sorry for this lateness. if you'd like to handwave instead of tag bc it's too old for you, lmk, but happy to continue. ]

[judgemewhole]

Norrington sighed again, and this is the sigh of a man who is clearly irritated with politics. Mostly because he keeps running face first into them, for as much as he is trying to avoid them.

"Factions." He states dryly, before he points to himself, "The templars are a faction. The mages are a faction. The Dalish are a small faction. The city elves have their own faction. Pro-circle is a faction. Freedom for mages is a faction. The Tal Vashoth are a faction against the Qunari. There are the Andrastians, like ourselves, and then there are those who spit in the Chantry's general direction. We are all here for a common cause but we ... forget that. Often."

[letterandspirit]

"That's quite the melting pot. Sounds like home."

The Free Marches broadly, anyway. Kaiten, also. The Circles and the fraternity are certainly more insular, and neither a nation nor a city are so condensed as a single banner, which he acknowledges as he adds; "But then, no one expects a common cause in the Free Marches." Except, perhaps, the flow of trade.

He finds a place to lean, arms folded around him against the cold. "This common cause, then. It stands against the entity that's corrupted the Order. Does it know much of its nature?"

[judgemewhole]

"Exactly so. You know, they all call us Marchers here. Not knowing that we all are loyal to our own cities, and not to the 'country' at large. I'm not quite sure they understand what it means - to be free and independent of one another." He arches an eyebrow at Marcus, "Perhaps the Inquisition should take a page out of our book."

One corner of his mouth twists, "We've found common causes before. The Blights. Divine Marches. Kirkwall comes to mind." He pauses, and then sighs. "You mean the being known as Corypheus? We know a great deal, and not enough."

[letterandspirit]

Kane smiles mainly with his eyes, the lines at their corners shadowing deeper. To think, the so-called Marchers as an example of unified disparity -- the Orlesians would love that one.

But it dims as he listens, patiently awaiting the answer to his question, and nods once. He's at least heard the name, and some of its associated rumours. "I heard some talk of its attack on Haven," he says, glancing out towards the wider camp. The mountains beyond. "A darkspawn magister, if the stories are to be believed, riding an archdemon. Whatever it is, its perverted our brothers beyond reason and recognition, and if the Inquisition is our best chance of ending it--

"Then, I'll be along for the ride. Factions or no factions."

[judgemewhole]

Norrington shrugs slightly, as if to say, 'What can I say? Sometimes the Free Marches seems to be the sane ones'.

"As have I -- and you are correct. Whatever the stories about that ... thing, it is responsible for turning our brothers and sisters into monsters." He stated solemnly. "So welcome to the fight, brother. May we bury that thing fifty feet deep."