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

[sandsofhell]

"Must have your job cut out for you right now." He glanced around himself, refugees, injured and people who were just swept up in it all. Lots of work indeed. But he did suppose that it shouldn't last for long. Hopefully the supplies they managed to collect would go to good use here. Depending on those in command. It's something to be hopeful for, at least.

Even if he probably shouldn't care that much about these people, it's best to get on their good side.

"Heard anything interesting while on he job? Besides the obvious."

[amygdalae]

"I manage." As overwhelming as the work could be at times, Bruce felt good being able to do this. To help people, heal their wounds and treat their injuries. With every person he helped he could pretend that it lifted just a bit more of the guilt on his shoulders... even if he knew that wasn't true in the slightest.

With the next question Bruce only shakes his head, offering another apologetic smile while he replies. "Not really, no. I don't really try to pry into what people are talking about, as much as I can." They had a right to some privacy, and he was here to do his job. Anything else beyond that, Bruce did his best not to interfere.

[sandsofhell]

"Not much for gossip then?" It was said as casually as possible to get this guy to open up a bit more about anything he could have possibly overheard, big or small it didn't matter. Much of the time it was the boots on the ground, or the people who just got caught up in everything, that took the most notice of certain situations.

Such as whether or not he would be tossed in a cage.

[amygdalae]

"Not really, no." If he was trying to find any information then he wasn't going to get much from Bruce. Even if he did hear something Bruce wasn't just going to pointlessly say it aloud.

Still, he didn't have to worry - if the rifters were to be imprisoned it would have been done a good while ago.

[sandsofhell]

"Hm..." He silently starts munching on his bread and drinking his water. Not really sure what else to say at the moment unless something else was brought up. In truth he wasn't feeling all that up to talking but at least it bore some fruits? Cassandra and Cullen, he loved the names away in his head, would write them down too if he had a pencil and notepads with him. Alas he doesn't anymore, they were one of the first things to be lost.

[amygdalae]

Bruce is silent as he watches the rifter eat and drink, studying him at the same time. He was certainly dressed in an interesting manner - Bruce hadn't seen clothing like that before. The way he spoke, too, was different. Wherever he came from, it certain didn't seem like it was anywhere near Thedas.

"If you don't mind answering..." he started after a few more minutes, trying his best not to be intrusive. "What were you doing before you came here?" How did he enter the rift and end up here?

[sandsofhell]

"Taking a nap." Which wasn't a direct lie. But really these people probably would have as much difficulty understanding the things he did or went through, more than he does about their...well their everything. He was never all that big of a fantasy geek, always straight and too the point without much imagination in the way.

The perfect soldier, the perfect killing machine.

[amygdalae]

So he was napping and then... came here? That was interesting. Bruce would dwell on that later when he had the time to.

For now though, he supposed he should stop bothering him. Bruce made a move to stand up from his seat, taking the food he had brought with him. "I need to go and check up on some of my patients now," he said, then paused and smiled as kindly as he could. "Hopefully we can speak to each other again."