We come from the land of the ice and snow

[faderifting]

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: Thedas' strange new guests are delivered to Skyhold
WHEN: 25 Harvestmere (October)
WHERE: Skyhold main gate & courtyard
NOTES: This is Part I of a two-part intro event, Part II will be posted tomorrow.

A long uphill tromp through the snowy mountains ends at Skyhold, the distant fortress finally before them in all its tumble-down glory. There is time to admire the drop into the river gorge far below as they cross the only bridge into the castle; it is briefly backed up with traffic, several carts bearing supplies and visitors stalled as the portcullis is raised. Those coming to help catalog and unload the shipment and greet the guests, or otherwise present near the front courtyard, will find themselves witness to a far more interesting arrival.

Guards at the gate carry the word quickly, and more gather, though they make no move to imprison the strange people who fell out of a rift. They just line the perimeter and keep a close watch. Perhaps this adds a level of tension to this first encounter, but it also reassures the many who are unsettled by the uncertain turn of events and keeps in check those who might attack first and ask questions later. Others will no doubt soften the Inquisition's first impression, offering food, information, and other assistance.

Medical attention is available in the tented-encircled corner of the courtyard where the wounded from Haven are still treated. The quartermaster's assistant is called upon to provide spare odds and ends of clothing to those in need, and to issue blankets for all, though they are left to fend for themselves to find places to sleep.

Any mage willing to help is called in to do so and a cluster forms in one side of the courtyard to examine the rifters. They are objects of curiosity in general, but the marks on their hands are of particular interest, resembling smaller slivers of the Herald's famous mark. Despite their best efforts, no mage will be able to provide any real insight after this initial assessment. What the rifters and their marks are is a question they cannot answer today.

But one question is answered: in the midst of all the commotion, another Inquisition agent arrives from Haven, rushing in red-faced to announce that the Herald's body has finally been found.


OOC

It will be decided (partly for OOC reasons, admittedly) that the rifters will not be imprisoned at this point, but they will be watched carefully, and the guards are on alert for any strange behavior by people with glowing hands or strange attire. And of course, their freedom can be revoked at any time if they're deemed a danger. Though there are some OOC considerations at play here, you're welcome to ICly lobby for more or less freedom for the rifters, and things may change based on IC action/consensus.

Also: Part II, aka the log for the funeral/wake/etc. event, will go up tomorrow!

Comments

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne frowned. And for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable, she waited, expecting some kind of reply. But none came. She'd met plenty of laconic people before. But never someone who'd stopped to acknowledge her without actually saying a word.

It was puzzling.

Unless...

"Do you not speak Common?" she asked. So far, everyone she'd met seemed to, but she supposed it was prudent to expect more variation. With precision, she immediately started to rattle off the word 'hello' in about a dozen languages.

[apostasia]

Martel waited for her to run out of languages, and then, blandly, "Did you want something, girl?"

[demonicbeauty]

Prickly. Or perhaps he was making some kind of joke at her expense. Humanoid humor was surprisingly difficult to understand. But Ariadne preferred to expect the best of people.

"Oh, no," she said, eagerly and politely. "I was just saying hello. I think I saw you earlier. You came through the Rift--that's what they're calling it--like me, didn't you?"

[apostasia]

Pleasantries -

It's not that they weren't his strong suit. When he exerted himself to be charming, he did an excellent job; his mother had been a courtier, ambitious, a great white shark of a woman who had expected greatness from her only child, and he had been taught well. His manner was courtly, but

'gentleman' had always been a misnomer for the type. He'd be the first to point it out.

"If that was all, then," he said, briefly, turning.

[demonicbeauty]

Her forehead crinkled a little bit. "Yes. I guess so." Ariadne's first instinct with people like that was to try to cheer them up. Because, obviously, something was bothering them.

Except. Well.

It was perfectly obvious what was wrong. He was just as displaced as she. And there was certainly nothing she could do about that. If she could, she'd be back in Valeria by now.

"I'm sure they'll straighten it all out eventually."