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

[laurenande]

It was all she could do, to look upon him, practically agape, as he retreated from her side. He was fearful, as he should have been, but that boundless, foolish kindness overwhelmed his terror. She had no words for this, for what he told her, what he was, or why he behaved as he did. There were no words. Galadriel gave him the only response she could.

She laughed.

The sound was not as bitter and weary as it should have been, there was a thread of genuine amusement that ran through her, but it was not a merry thing. It was a pale echo of her earlier joy.

"I have lived for years unnumbered, ere the first sunrise lit the world," she said dryly, for she had no energy for politesse or pity any longer. "I am weak, but this shall not claim my life."

She couldn't trust him. That fact crawled beneath her skin as surely as the poison ran beneath his. He was no clever servant of darkness, that she knew, but he was touched by it and, just as she could not be free of the One Ring, he could not be free of that song. It was curious, but she was inclined to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was just a man, that his heart had not been an impossible facade, and that he desired no violence as recompense for his fate. If it were true, though, it meant he deserved more pity than suspicion and she could never grant him that.

She was wary of him and it saddened her.

When had she become so terrible and fearful?

She was gentler, both in expression and tone, when she spoke again.

"Go," she said and closed her eyes. The sunlight streaming in from the window was watery, but she could feel it where it fell across her. "I will recover in time."