faderift | We come from the land of the ice and snow

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dante knew exactly what the well implied, but his eyebrows shot up expectantly anyway over the rim of the mug, challenging the words he was just waiting to hear.

"Ravishing? I call bullshit," Nobody could come out of that mess completely unscathed, granted Dante put himself a little closer to it than some had, what with his drag and slash methods of fighting. Still, that was besides the point, "I tried looking for a bath, but indoor plumbing's impossible."

He's been spoiled. Is there another way?

"There are hotsprings under the hold if you need, and barrels of water." What he wouldn't give for a proper bath house. Alas. Putting roofs over their heads took priority and with winter on it's way he cannot complain.

"Besides. If one is quick the blood and viscera don't spatter upon you."

"I guess it's a good thing I don't have a problem with nudity," but oh what to wear in the meantime, the clothing in this world looked a bit more complicated than he liked with all of the fastenings.

"I'm quick...but the situation was complicated. There were other people and ducking and weaving wasn't the best tactic...more like grab and slash. Fuckin' demons."

"Take care where you strip down, you may make some poor Dalish thing swoon." Though most here seemed less concerned with propriety than others he'd met in his life. Curious creatures, the Clan Ashara. "Or perhaps some other maiden with delicate sensibilities."

He was certain there was at least one of those somewhere in Skyhold. Perhaps a handful.

"So I have heard. All the more reason to buy you a drink for killing the demons and not the members of the Inquisition."

"Debauchery wouldn't be done right if there wasn't some swooning involved, though I'm not sure what a Dalish is," it sounded like food or something equally unlikely to him, regardless Dante wasn't the sort to hold back in that particular regard. Let them eat Dalishes or whatever.

"Well I can't say it wasn't tempting. I'm not one for being stared at and herded around, but I played along because this seemed like the best of all the possible options. No one's really saying a damned word about what happened, what this Inquisition is, and how...you know...we reverse it so we can get back and move on with the other shit we have to do."

Without missing a beat, batting an eye, or looking so much like he's speaking anything but the utter truth, Zevran rolled on through: "Ah, right, you are from somewhere else. Dalish are adorable woodland creatures that enjoy being scratched behind the ears and fed fruit. They look much like elves but are marked by tattoos on their faces, similar to mine but far more elaborate. They have a timid temperament and startle easily. If you solve one of their riddles they will reward you with gold."

What other bits of bullshit had he heard about Dalish while in Antiva? Something about stealing firstborn children and eating them?

"Well...The Inquisition exist to save the world, more or less. I can't say anything of how you arrived or how to help you return, but since anyone that wants to understand anything about the rifts will likely be coming to us? Remaining is probably your best option."

Dante listened to what Zevran said with a deadpan expression on his face which made it hard to tell whether or not he believed what he was being told. He'd certainly seen plenty of elven-like creatures with facial tattoos, but based on his experience, specifically with Galadriel who...wasn't Dalish...he wasn't about to scratch anyone behind the ear. Plus it was just stupid, "I think you've left out rainbows, pots of gold, and circles of mushrooms...or wait...is that leprechauns and faeries? And what about that..." he gestured to the embossed dragon on the cover of the book he'd been looking at, "...tell me the stuff I've heard about dragons in mythology, tell me that's real."

Do they spit fire? Do they fly?

"Oh...I can come up with theories about how I arrived. I'm not unused to being pulled into the most fucked up places...this is new though. Beats what's in that big hole in the sky...or what I know about it, maybe," he wasn't sure what he knew about it to be honest, he just had ideas about it.

Ah, well. It was worth a shot. "Sylvans and giants." That much was true. Mostly. Even if they weren't of the rhyming variety anymore, apparently that madness was for them and them alone.

Strange creatures.

"Mm? Do you mean High Dragons, Blighted Dragons, or Archdemons? They are all quite dragony and not something I'd recommend hunting down on a whim." If only because he'd rather watch this man try and fail to ride it.

After the whole Virility incident Dante was more suspicious of the things people told him, tried to sell, him or what he read. Granted he was in a strange world...but there were some things that sounded far-fetched even to his ears.

"I don't know, I've never actually met one, but Archdemon sounds right up my alley. It's kinda the perfect reason to poke at one, don't y' think?" Because who is he to leave well enough alone?

"Alas you are ten years too late for the most recent Archdemon- but there are reports of a blighted dragon. And high dragons in particular, none quite so close to the hold just yet but I'm certain someone would be happy to pay to see them slain." More money for the Inquisition, more renown? All the better.

"I wasn't really thinking too much about slaying it--seeing it, poking it, pissing it off a little...sure. That'll be something to scratch off the bucket list. Has anyone ever tried taming a dragon?" at least he could say he did something interesting while he was here.

"There was this one group, also ten years ago- but it did not end well. Dragons are fickle, if you lose their favor they tend to turn on you and eat you." Or you have to kill them. Either way, death, sorrow, alas. "Now Qunari, however, are dragon descendant- they are the marvelous sort you see walking about with the height and the horns. Poking them is relatively easy if you stick with the traditional greeting of a headbutt. I never understand why they do this but- who am I to question their traditions?"

"I don't know, I tend to think of myself as unappetizing...you know, something you get a small taste of and then spit right back out," okay, maybe that wasn't a flattering picture, but most people found him not very tasty so it fit init's own way, "Qunari...yeah I've seen a few of them walking around, there was one at Haven...strange, but she seemed harmless...more or less. Not really the headbutting sort, sadly, I tend to knock people out with that particular greeting. You're welcome to do it, though, I'll watch and live through you vicariously."

"Allow me to find a ladder and I'll be happy to demonstrate." Being several head shorter than most Qunari made headbutting them difficult, though he wasn't truly one to make an attempt. "Their skulls are quite think, I'm willing to wager they could take whatever blow you might manage. Me? I fear I might break my nose and I quite like the shape it is in."

"If I had the money I'd pay to see it," Dante had taken not of the short stature of elves in this world...well except for one who was just as tall as he was. Dante almost had to do a double take. He had to assume, however, that she wasn't from this world...she was like him, or stuck in the same boat anyway, "as long as they keep both feet firmly planted they might stand a chance I guess," giving Zevran a once over he nodded in agreement, "well you look delicate, but looks aren't everything.

"Remind me when you find yourself some coin." He'll be glad to relieve him of it. Sure, the blow might hurt but if he took it in the right way with a proper accomplice? Perhaps his nose might not break.

Or.

It would and then there would be sympathy lovemaking from someone. Either way, he wins! Save for his poor nose.

"I am a delicate Antivan rose, it is true." He said with all due seriousness.

"If only you had a currency exchange rate, the gold standard isn't what it used to be," not that the few coins he arrived here with in the depths of his pockets would amount to terribly much either, but still. Ruse or not he figured it would be hilarious to watch and Dante was not beyond a little entertainment where he could find it.

"You might be a delicate...whatever rose," because Dante has no idea what Antivan is, "but you have a pretty mean game face."

"Antivan. Of Antiva." He offers. It is no fault of this man's that he has knowledge of the greatest country in all of Thedas. "The fun country, as it were. Currently we are straddling the line between Ferelden and Orlais."

"Antivan," Dante was careful in pronouncing the syllables in his own accent since he seemed to pronounce things slightly different from some of the individuals in this world. He hit the syllables a little harder that Zevran, but he doesn't bother to correct it, he would have to take on the other's way of talking and he would probably butcher it so he didn't try, "well if it's the fun city why the hell am I here instead of there?"

"Because the Inquisition is here and it is they that wonder after your fine glowing hand and skill with murdering demons." That would be his best guess, to be certain.

"You think my hand is fine? I guess it's the only thing not covered in sludge," Dante finished what remained in the mug before setting it aside grinning more to himself than at Zevran, "the demon murdering skill just comes with the territory, if you're a demon hunter you'd damn well better be good at killing demons. Though how do you know?"

"You are covered in gore and not dead. You've either got some skill in slaughtering demons or you're terribly unfortunate with where you choose to stand." It could be either, honestly.

"The first one paints a better picture, don't you think?" At least he'd rather not be seen as being an accident and the truth was that killing some of these demons was a lot like killing the ones back home. They didn't look like the ones back home and some of the ones back home were a great deal larger...uglier...smellier, "right, let's go with 'I'm just that good'."

"Until I am proven otherwise? I shall think so." Better to be skilled than to be incompetent, after all. "Seriously though, soon as you are finished here? Find somewhere to rinse off yourself and your kit. Demon gore does not come out easily once it dries."

"You don't need me to tell you that flattery gets you just about anywhere, right?" Dante was so competitive and combative he was just as likely to prove his skill in the physical arena as he would be in other, more questionable arenas. Of course, until he figured he could get by without scaring the people of this world shitless he might just stick to subtleties.

"You're keen to watch, that's what it is," this was said around an amused snort, "I'm not worried about the denim, that's easy, but I do like this jacket."

[ooc: I don't know how this got lost, but sorry for the delay, oi.]

We come from the land of the ice and snow

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)