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[berelinde]

Our story begins in 9:29 Dragon, 20 Harvestmere. The weather is mild and sunny, but the breeze is crisp and the nights are chilly.

 

The village of Vintiver lies in southeastern Ferelden, in the Southern Hills that form the border between the Brecilian Forest and the Bannorn. The region is not heavily settled, but both Dalish and humans have made a few incursions.

 

The climate is temperate on average, with hot dry summers and cool, snowy winters. In other words, the region is perfect for viniculture. Wine is the lifeblood of Vintiver, and its chief export, which has become even more important now that trade with Orlais is becoming more complicated. Local wines have always supplied the tables of Redcliffe, Gwaren, and Kinloch Hold, but even cosmopolitan Denerim is buying them up by the wagon-load. King Cailan himself sent a letter of congratulations to the Vintiver Collective for the mellowness and balance of the '26!

 

Vintiver is serious about their wine. In Monsimmard, individual vintners might press their own grapes and bottle under their chateau's label, but the growers of Vintiver prefer to run the industry as a co-op. They pool their grapes, press them in common vats, and compensate each farmer according to the weight of fruit they contributed. For them, it makes sense. They wish to avoid the fate of Chateau Manon, which had one good harvest twenty years ago, and their insistence on stamping "Monsimmard Red" on every abysmal cask has tarnished the reputation of an otherwise stellar region ever since. In Vintiver, one vineyard's grapes may be too sweet and another's too acidic, but blended, they produce a consistently good product year after year. Their customers appreciate their dependability, and the practice fosters a sense of community.

 

The sense of community almost overwhelms you as you arrive in town. The annual harvest fair was over two weeks ago, yet the muddy streets are bustling and the tavern, the Arbor Inn, is packed.

 

The innkeepers, Haran and Kesla Mullin, somehow manage to find you rooms, offering Auren and Laurelin their own quarters, which, not coincidentally, is the only room with a lock. The reason is immediately apparent.

 

Everywhere you go, you hear muttered oaths against the Dalish, and the villagers, human and elf alike, stare with cold animosity at anyone wearing vallaslin. Rael encounters no more than the usual condescension humans show when speaking to city elves, but Auren and Laurelin can barely leave their room without being bombarded with muttered, half-heard insults. The hostility is made even more obvious, as all other conversation stops when they enter the common room. One burly human is especially blatant about his distaste.

 

"That's enough, Coalan," Kesla tells him firmly, taking a still-brimming flagon from his grimy, soot-streaked hand and passing it to her husband, who drinks it with nonchalance. "All that was over weeks ago, and if I hear one more word out of you, I'm going to have Haran throw you out."

 

"I was just leaving," he says with a snort. "I'll go to the Void before I sup with those murderous scum."

 

With that, he stomps out of the common room, lightening the tone considerably. The atmosphere is not precisely welcoming, but you can almost feel every patron exhale.

 

"I'm so sorry you had to witness that," Kesla says. "We're all a little tense at the moment. Two weeks ago, we had our harvest fair, and there was some bad blood between Coalan and one of our Dalish guests... Harralan, I think his name was. Anyway, Warden Tarl and the Dalish Keeper put a stop to it before it came to blows, but Coalan's been nursing a grudge ever since, and stirring up trouble with the firebrands. There's always a few. And then, when the disappearances started, and his apprentice turned up mauled... well, some folks here believe in hexes. Not us, but some. But please understand that you're most welcome here at the Arbor, and my husband and I guarantee your safety. I'll go to the Void myself before I let that stubborn old fool threaten my guests."

[BFace]

Tessa looked up from her supper when she noticed everything had gone silent.  Seeing the two elves who just walked in, she was about to go back to her stew until she realized they had strange markings on their faces.

 

‘Are those Dalish elves?’ she wondered to herself, then the one big fellow’s belligerent rumblings answered the question for her.  Tess watched the unfolding scene, wondering if Dalish ever hired guards and after the innkeeper made her little speech, she nodded to herself and stood up.

 

Addressing the two Dalish, she said, wearing a smile that she hoped was friendly, “Come sit with me. The stew is good.”

[mysteriouspast]

Rael is in her room preparing for her performance for the night. She has stayed in Vintiver since the festival and has enjoyed the break from the chaos in Denerim. She performed very successfully at the Harvest Festival and has performed a few minor shows in various locales since then. This is her first time performing at the Inn, where she is sure to get more notoriety in the village. A couple of the local, more prosperous vintners have caught her eye and she's hoping a concert in the local inn will secure her an invitation to a private party where she can go through their manors at her leisure.

 

Deciding to get her supper before she is scheduled to perform, Rael makes her way down to the main dining area.

[ChachiBobinks]

Etienne drew in a quick breath, pursed his lips together, and quietly slipped out of the common room en route to his own quarters. He had only been in Viventer for one week's time. It took him approximately one day of that to realize that the town, while quaint and picturesquely town-ish, was not at all what he expected. One woman had gone cross-eyed when he asked her if she could exchange his silvers for coppers, as smaller monetary amounts were easier for him to understand. Perhaps the villagers aren't used to outsiders, he assumed, having paid particularly close attention to the reaction garnered by the Dalish. He wasn't ignorant, just slightly aloof and somewhat unfamiliar with the prejudice some showed to the pretty elves.

 

So he packed up the little bread he had left, tucking it away neatly in a handkerchief, and slipped into the hallway.

[berelinde]

"He must really be fired up," a red-haired, deeply-freckled man remarked. "That's the longest sentence I've heard out of him since that apprentice of his - Maker grant him rest - quenched a set of horseshoes in water instead of putting them in the sand pit to cool."

 

"Can't say I blame him," answered the redhead's drinking partner, a bald man with a wispy blond beard. "If you'd seen what those vermin did to his apprentice, you'd be angry, too."

 

"I hear it was bad. I was out digging fence posts when they brought the boy back, and Mother Arda had the body burned before I could pay my respects."

 

"Aye, it was bad," the bald man nodded. "Split open like a tomato from one side to the other, and his guts in a pile betwixt his knees. 'Twas Coalan himself who found him, when he didn't come back from a rest day with his family. I thought the shock might kill him. You know how he cared for that boy."

 

"Didn't think he had it in him," the redhead said. "He never gave two parsnips for anybody that I ever heard."

 

"You're just saying that because he didn't like your sister."

 

"Nah, I don't blame him for that. But it is a bit odd."

 

"Not liking your sister?" the bald man harumphed. "As you say, it's hard to blame him for that. But from what I hear, he also turned Lorean down, and that's crazy talk. Said he didn't have time for that foolishness, if you believe it."

 

------------------------------------------------

 

"I should drop in on Emma tomorrow," said a woman in a plaid shawl.

 

"Andraste's ass, you will!" a man who was presumably her husband retorted. "The Bustards are even further out than the Ferns, and nobody's seen them for a week!"

 

"Don't you hear anything I tell you? Davic said that Henry said that the Bustards are staying with Coalan until Mother Arda finds a way to break the curse."

 

"You don't say!" the husband said more cheerfully. "I didn't think Coalan even knew the Bustards, but it makes sense, what with that big house he's got. I wonder if Lou brought that drill I loaned him."

 

--------------------

 

"I can't say I'm surprised that Coalan's temper's wearing thin," a handsome human woman in homespun said to a neatly-dressed elven man.

 

"I'm not surprised, either," the elf said. "But I don't want to be there when it breaks."

 

"Indeed! I thought he was going to punch Warden Tarl!"

 

"Punch the Warden?" the elf said with a gasp. "What in Thedas could have brought this on?"

 

"I don't know if it's any one thing in particular," his companion replied. "I was bringing the Warden his evening ale when Coalan comes in, steaming at the ears, and demands that the Warden release the militia to go hunt Dalish in the forest."

 

"And the Warden said no, I take it? It's a pity."

 

"You seem to have gone off the Dalish a bit," the woman said. "You were quick enough to chase after that white-haired tramp when they were dancing naked in their camp."

 

"No one could ever replace you, my dear," he said, surreptitiously kissing her nose, "and nobody was naked, I assure you. Eshara asked me if I would like to see a Dalish harvest dance, and I was curious. Nothing more."

 

"So, there wasn't a fertility ritual? Tasha swore she saw two people coupling in the bushes."

 

"I don't imagine that had anything to do with the dancing. And I seem to remember you getting friendly with one of their hunters. Or was Coalan lying when he said that he saw you together behind the aravel?"

 

"Nothing happened!" the woman protested. "I was asking him about his bow. I wanted to get one for you, and he was showing me the draw, but then Coalan raised a stink, and the Dalish left before I could buy it."

 

"They say it's the thought that counts, love. Meet me in our hiding spot and I'll show you my gratitude."

 

"They won't miss you at the winery?"

 

"My chores will wait until tomorrow."

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"That was rather harsh of Kesla, don't you think?" a red-faced young man asked his equally red-faced friend over two tumblers of brandy.

 

"I'll say!" his friend agreed with the carefully articulated consonants of a person who wants to appear less drunk than they really are. "The whole thing is a disgrace, if you ask me."

 

"It should never have happened at all. Coalan was just doing what was right. I mean, what gives those knife-ears the right to make free with our women?"

 

"Sneaky bastards, casting love charms on them and subjecting them to their wiles!"

 

"It's a disgrace, I tell you! Tarl should have run the lot of them out of town."

 

"Yeah, and none of that 'Welcome to our harvest fair, here's your piece of Vintiver arse.'"

 

"It's disgusting! Bloody cheats."

 

"Yup."

 

"You better believe it... Er, Oliver? What's a 'wile'?"

 

"Something between a minute and a day, I think."

 

"Oh. Right."

[Lorien19]

Vintiver is considered a village by human standards but  Laurelin is already overwhelmed by it.

It's the first time has to leave the clan and most importantly,the first time she sees so many people in one place,hostile people.

She was forced to spend the night at an inn,which was relatively safer,from the angry mobs,she expected sooner or later to appear due to her presence in the small town.

Laurelin quietly enters the main room her hand is tense,Had her brother Auren been downstairs with her, he might have done something worse than simply side-eye,any Shemlen who might make the mistake to insult him loudly,but Laurelin didn't want to draw more unwanted attention.

Although she instinctively tightens her grip around her staff,that she passes for a walking stick,as one of them a rather burly and robust,made it rather obvious that she wasn't welcome here.

Laurelin carefully inspects her surroundings before making a move,at one table she noticed a woman with dark brown hair,probably a warrior from her built.
From the stairs appeared a young elven woman with red hair,dressed in a colourful outfit but Laurelin saw something glimmering beneath"could it be a hidden blade?"she thought.

The other individual that caught her eye was a young man who packed his meal and quietly slipped away into the halway.He was a human with red hair and freckles,from the energy he radiated she could tell,that he was probably a mage,like her.
 

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by the warm voice of the innkeeper,who apologized for the incident.

Laurelin glanced at the innkeeper,but her expression softened once she realized that she was in fact being kind ."
Ma serannas...I mean,thank you...For interfering,I want no trouble.."she said softly.

The warrior woman had now her eyes fixed on her,surprisingly enough instead of an insult she gave them a friendly smile and invited them to her table “Come sit with me. The stew is good.”she said, Laurelin walked forward and hesitantly smiled back.

[ChachiBobinks]

"It should never have happened at all. Coalan was just doing what was right. I mean, what gives those knife-ears the right to make free with our women?"

 

"Sneaky bastards, casting love charms on them and subjecting them to their wiles!"

 

"It's a disgrace, I tell you! Tarl should have run the lot of them out of town."

 

"Yeah, and none of that 'Welcome to our harvest fair, here's your piece of Vintiver arse.'"

 

"It's disgusting! Bloody cheats."

 

"Yup."

 

"You better believe it... Er, Oliver? What's a 'wile'?"

 

"Something between a minute and a day, I think."

 

"Oh. Right."

 

 

Two steps into the walkway and Etienne paused, brow quirking. Now, he had been prepared for his journey and advised by the Enchanters of numerous situations to avoid. Speaking to bar patrons was certainly on that list. However, First Enchanter Irving had also suggested that he satiate his curiosity and look for learning opportunities wherever they may lie.

 

So when patrons began to speak of some love charm, his head turned.

 

He had not mastered the art of chit-chat. Conversations at the Circle were hardly flippant in nature, nor particularly friendly, as his were normally professional in nature and with colleagues, not confidants. Little butterflies stirred in his belly as he made the decision to head their way instead. "Excuse me," he said politely, smile spread. "Pardon my intrusion. You said something of a 'love charm,' yes?"

[berelinde]

The Mullins are well-known and well-loved in Vintiver. They run the Arbor Inn. Haran has an ear for gossip, but is not known for spreading it. As if running Vintiver's only tavern and inn weren't enough, Kesla is also the village midwife. No one in Vintiver has any secrets from her... but few would want to keep them from her anyway. She is always ready to lend a compassionate ear. As these conversations usually take place over a bowl of her excellent soup, most of the villagers have learned to come to her with their problems.

 

Images hidden because mobile devices.

Spoiler

Coalan is the village blacksmith. He has a well-earned position of respect in the community, but he has never been an affable man. Growing up, his large size made him awkward, and he never learned many of the social skills most people take for granted. He looks out for Vintiver, though, and he is fiercely protective of her inhabitants.

Spoiler

Those who have been in the village for a few days will have met Tarl Dale at some point. He's the village warden. Most of the time, that's an easy job, asking people to please keep their goats out of their neighbors' gardens or slapping the wrists of village youths who drink too much and make fools of themselves, but lately, he's been run ragged trying to be sure that everyone is safe and accounted for. He's a calm, steady man. Everything about him, from his short, greying hair to his easy grace and even temper suggests a long military career.

Spoiler

[mysteriouspast]

Rael reaches the bottom of the stairs and heads to the bar for some soup and a tankard of ale. She overhears some of the villagers gossiping, but it's nothing she hasn't heard before, so it doesn't pique her interest. Scanning the room, she sees a couple Dalish and a young man in a strange outfit. He could be a mage, but she's never seen one in person. Intrigued, Rael takes her meal to a table adjacent to the one with the two drunk men that the young mage was attempting to speak with. She quietly eats the soup and listens.

[ChachiBobinks]

(OOC: This is the entire conversation done via PM. Anyone can interact with Etienne now.)

 

"Excuse me," Etienne said politely, smile spread. "Pardon my intrusion. You said something of a 'love charm,' yes?"

 

"Well, yeah," said Oliver, the one who was visibly trying to act sober. "That was the whole reason they came. They said they were selling their trinkets and buying our grain, but everybody knows they were just trying to breed with our women."

 

"Er... isn't that what we do?" his friend asked. "When they let us, that is."

 

"But we're supposed to!" Oliver said. "It's our sacred duty. But we don't go around telling their fortunes and casting spells on them when their eyes are closed."

 

Etienne furrowed his brow and dropped into the chair next to the men. He had no reason to doubt what they said; the Dalish practiced magic that was ancient and shrouded in secrecy. But he considered himself an expert in all light magic, and anything related to love would certainly be light, so his curiosity was piqued.

 

Besides, there were many girls in the tower. Many girls, really, who would easily have been either the sender or recipient of any such thing, should it exist.

 

"Tell me more of this charm," he replied with an encouraging nod. "Have you seen it cast? Or is it embedded in these items they sell?" As he spoke, he quickly searched his bag for spare vellum and frowned when he found none. Vellum was practically everywhere when he didn't need it.

 

"Emdebdedded... ded... ebemded.. ebded -" the less coherrent one stammered.

 

"Embedded," Oliver corrected. "As in 'in bed with.' Honestly, Sam, didn't Mother Arda teach you anything during lessons? And I don't rightly know. I mean, a few of the things they were selling looked like they might be fun to use in bed, but nobody asked me to try any of them."

 

An unmanly shade of pink immediately splashed across his freckled face and he shook his head, mouth hanging open. "N-no,not... in bed with. I am.. I am not inquiring into their... beds." He groaned and rubbed his face with his hand. Really, that was the downside of conversations with drunkards, he determined. It was difficult. He had to recover, and quick. "It means built into. Such as a magical item, I mean."

 

"I mean, how would we know what to look for?" the drunker one rallied. "The girls all stuck out their hands and this bald old geezer promised them all strong, rich husbands and healthy babies."

 

They went on about a elderly gentleman and Etienne was curious again. Now, he knew of fortune telling, but thought of it as more of a novelty than anything else. Seeing as how magic was intended to do the Maker's will and was never meant to be self-serving, seering was logical. It would do man well to have an indication as to what the future held.  "You say, it was the man who told fortunes who also lured your women away? That's interesting. I wouldn't think the Dalish able to provide rich husbands." Not an insult against the tribe, of course, but their theory just wasn't... logical.

 

"Well, that leaves us out, doesn't it?" Oliver snorted. "Load of rubbish if you ask me. Hey, stranger, you know a lot of big words. Do you think they could have drugged our drinks or something? I mean, I've drunk loads of things that have turned my guts inside out. Do you think that was what killed Rory?"

 

He peered over at their drinks and wrinkled his nose. "These specific ones? I doubt it. Have you seen any of the elves behind the bar counter and with access to our beverages?" Seemed like a logical question, unless the barkeep was the one poisoning them. "Who is Rory?"

 

"Rory's Coalan's apprentice," the one called Sam said, fishing a cap out of his pocket and holding it over his heart while both he and Oliver bowed their heads. "Or was. The blacksmith found him in the field with his guts torn out."

 

"But we all know 'twas the Dalish who done it," Oliver said solemnly. "They must have done. Cursed him from afar, they did."

 

"On account of his popularity with the womenfolk," Sam agreed, shoving his hat back in his pocket.

 

"Wait, they cursed him to have his innards spill out?" Etienne ran his hands over his robe pockets, thinking surely he had scrap of vellum to spare. "From afar? Did anyone see this take place? Perhaps they heard a verbal command or an item held..."

 

He trailed off, gaze falling back to their tankards. For their part, both men stared at him in slack-jawed horror at the realization that they could be standing face to face with somebody who understood how curses worked. A mage, in other words.

 

"Wait, you think they put something in his drink that caused him to," he paused, quietly murmuring of Andraste's blessings, "pass on in such a way?"

 

The men looked once more at Etienne, then at each other, and both glasses of brandy fell from nerveless fingers. They fled, leaving the tavern door swinging behind them.

 

Etienne pursed his lips as he watched the tankards hit the table, then wobble about in the absence of hands to steady them. While the more likely scenario was that they had fled upon realizing that he's a mage, his immediate assumption was that the brandy here clearly isn't very good. It could possibly rupture innards. "Well," he says aloud to no one in particular, "that was interesting, no?"

 

 

(OOC EDIT: Etienne immediately moved into conversation with Rael. Please let me know if your char would join in after the drunkards ran off)

Modifié par Chachi vas BoBinks, 24 juin 2014 - 09:43 .

[berelinde]

Vintiver Village, spoiler tags to avoid making mobile devices cry

Spoiler

1 The Chantry

2 The Winery

3 The Arbor Inn

4 Stables

5 The Smithy

[ChachiBobinks]

(ooc: this is the conversation had between Etienne & Rael after the departure of his scared NPCs. Spoiler cut because it's long. Both players are available at the bar and table, respectively)

 

Spoiler

Rael leans towards the young mage and says over her shoulder, "My, but you do have a way with words."

Etienne sighed and slid one of the tankards closer to him, his free hand curled under his chin. With his gaze not lifting from the golden brew, he replied, "And they've got a way with alcohol."

Rael laughs, a bright, colorful sound. "Well, you can't blame them. Drinking is the livelihood of this place."

"Is that all they do?" His question was innocent enough and without malicious intent. "Have they no passion? No thirst for knowledge, perhaps, instead of questionable liquor?"

Rael turns toward the strange young man, her green eyes sparkling. "Who? Those two?" she asks, crooking her thumb towards the open doorway where the dust had finally settled in Sam and Oliver's wake. "Not likely. But, then again, a tavern is more of a place for idle gossip and meaningless chitchat, not really a place where people expect to find deep, philosophical conversations."

Frowning, he thoughtfully ran a finger around the edge of the glass, then grimaced, wiping his finger off on his robes and murmuring a quiet, "Gross." He shouldn't be surprised to hear her assessment of the bar scene. He had taken up residence at a table the day prior, books stacked up around him, and hardly got the attention of the barkeep. "Perhaps instead, I should seek out conversation at the Chantry?"

It was then -- with a statement one wouldn't expect to hear from a mage -- that he offered a smile to the woman. He did a double-take.

"You could do that," Rael allowed, shaking her head slightly and making her peacock feather earring sway. "But then you wouldn't be here for tonight's performance, and I wouldn't recommend missing it."

Etienne noted first that she was very... colorful. It wasn't that they didn't have color in the Circle. Quite the opposite. She was just more eye catching. "Performance? What performance?"

The smile faded from Rael's face. "Clearly, I need to do better marketing," she muttered. Then she turned her attention back to the young mage and flashed him a wide grin. "There's to be a musical performance!" she said loudly, hoping to catch the attention of the entire room. Then she stood up, and threw off her dark blue cloak to reveal her performance ensemble that was a wash of glittering gold punctuated by embroidery in emerald, teal, and ultramarine. With a sly wink to the mage, Rael sauntered up to a small wooden stage in the back of the room.

He had heard of these performers. A bard, he believed. He had trouble distinguishing between those from Ferelden and those from his home country of Orlais. Prior to his week in the town, he had only ever seen the latter. And he really hoped she wasn't one of those.

His jaw slacked as she threw off her cloak in a show of so many colors and dazzling things. "...I suppose I shall stay," he informed the air between them, as he wasn't sure she could hear him over the crowd's reaction.

Mere steps from the stage, Rael is stopped by a wobbly older man who stops her as he staggers in front of the stage. "'Scuse me," he says in a low growl to her. Without another word, he turns his head and vomits prodigiously all over the stage and only Rael's quick reflexes allow her to jump back to avoid any splatter.

The man rubs his eyes, and looks at the vomit on the stage as thought its origin is a mystery.

"Somebody orta clean that up," he mumbles and continues on his way to the privy.

Rael jerks her head over at Kesla, who can only shrug her shoulders helplessly. "Looks like the stage is closed," Kesla calls over the din. "Sorry, Rael."

His brow lifted in surprise. Etienne was both saddened that her performance would have to wait, and relieved. Some faint memory had suggested his mother once told him that no good performance ends without someone in the shadows, dead. Dying would delay his research.

Deflated, Rael throws her cloak back over her shoulders and scans the room to see that almost everyone (except that strange, red-headed mage she was speaking to earlier) is still immersed in their conversations and tankards and hasn't noticed her grand entrance at all.  The local people seem to be more preoccupied with the Dalish issue than she had anticipated. With a slightly disappointed backward glance at the empty stage, Rael heads back to her table wondering if it's time to move on.

When she sits, she sees the young mage is still staring at her as though she may do her performance from the table instead. She shakes her head sadly and says, "Occupational hazard."

Performing on a tabletop wouldn't be a bad thing, he mused, depending on what she actually did. Any sort of singing or lute playing would probably be fine. Interpretive dance would be fine too, he supposed, though he'd probably prefer it just not be on his table.

She might spill the highly refined brandy he wasn't drinking. That would be a shame.

He did, however, gesture towards one of the empty seats at his own table. "I'm sure," he replied cautiously, pausing to offer her a broad, curious smile. "If it's fine by you, serah, I could still enjoy your company instead of the Chantry?"

Rael's eyes narrow. "Serah, is it?" she asks with a small note of hostility at the honorific she was by no means used to hearing from shemlen except in the most mocking of tones. Seeing no signs of malice, and remembering his inability to read the social cues of his previous drinking companions, she decides he's actually being polite. A human, being polite to an elf. Strange.

He wrinkled his nose at her reaction. "Would you prefer messere?" The word flowed with his accent far more elegantly than the first. He was, of course, absolutely oblivious to any sort of disregard typically shown to women of her... stature, pun intended. He had many elven colleagues in the Circle. In fact, he spent his apprenticeship mentored by one of the most brilliant Enchanters he'd ever met who, incidentally, was an elf.

She assumed that he was drunker than he appeared. Might be something to gain from the situation. "That depends," she says with a sly wink. "On if you could find me one of those brandies you're drinking."

"I'm drinking no brandy," he replied, eying the tankards again. "Though they do look good, no? My prior companions thought them to be poisoned, though. I think... I shall stick with water." He motioned for the barkeep.

"You can call me Rael," she said with a slight, bow of her head, causing long auburn hair to spill over her shoulders. "You keep calling me serah, or messere, or your excellency, or what have you, and people will think you're simple." Rael then casually reached over and plucked the tankard from the young man's hand. She gave him a challenging look and took a healthy swig from the glass. The liquor was better quality than the ale she was drinking, but certainly not up to the standards of the nobility she'd managed to rub elbows with.

"I doubt these drinks are poisoned," Rael said with laughter in her voice. "That would be bad for business."

"Rael," he repeated. "Pleasure to meet you, Rael. I am Etienne Durand." Oblivious to their real reason to flee, Etienne shook his head. "You would think so! But those gentlemen believed them to be poisoned and left." Though, honestly, it was all a blur. He thought to recount the entire adventure as if she hadn't been watching, as he had no clue that she had, but instead summarized. "Something something, love potion, something, riches and babies." His eyes widened as he motioned for her to return the tankard. "Maker's breath, messere, please drink no more."

Rael scrutinizes Etienne for a moment, trying to discern what on earth he was talking about. Maker, he couldn't be insinuating that drinking brandy could get you pregnant, could he? What did they teach those boys in those towers?

The tankard was placed on the table and shoved to the other end. This Rael was like a delicate bird and he felt the need to protect her. Protect her from the innards-rendering, love potioned brandy, whatever that even was. "I thank you."

Not wanting to get into a discussion on where babies come from, Rael shrugged and handed back the tankard. Her impulse was to get up and find a table with saner occupants to chat up, but something about this young man--his earnestness maybe?--intrigued her. Seizing upon the only part of his statement that she felt inclined to address she said, "Those two--"gentlemen" as you called them--ran out of here because you terrified them." She leveled her eyes with his and teased, "Maybe I should be scared of you too."

He frowned, however, clearly unhappy to hear that they might have been scared of him. "Maker, why?" He considered himself to be quite disarming, magic notwithstanding. In fact, it was hard for him to remember how the world outside of the Circle saw mages. It just wasn't something he thought about often. And it was a hard concept to grasp. "I'm not terrifyin--" He cut himself off as his gaze lifted to meet her's. Etienne was an observant young man, but it took him a moment of frowing and digging a fingernail into the grooves of the wood table before he realized that she wasn't being completely serious. "...you should be scared." He sniffed, hiding a coy smile. "Trembling in fear, no? I might do something dreadful, such as heal you."

Relieved that Etienne was able to grasp humor, Rael replied, "Heal me? But I'm not injured. Except for my pride, maybe," she sniffed, glancing back at the befouled stage.

His face broke with a grin. "Dear serah, I have no spells to fix one's pride." Thinking quickly, he gestured to the stage and added, "Nor do I fix... that." Hands up in the air as if in surrender, he grimaced. "I suppose I am not as all powerful as one may think, no?"

Maker, he really was a mage. She was sitting at a table, joking (flirting, even?) with an honest-to-goodness mage. She'd spied a few at a distance at various times in Denerim, but had never had the opportunity to engage one in conversation. This one was definitely younger than the ones she'd seen before. She would worry about prying, but he didn't seem to be one for social mores anyway.

"So, Messere Durand, what brings you to Vintiver?" she asked. "I didn't think they generally let your kind out of your towers."

Ignorant to the novelty, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. Despite not particularly comprehending it, he didn't mind the attention. Time spent interacting with fellow mages demanded that he be guarded, as if the wrong word might sully his goals and all. His opinion of their life, and how it should be spent, varied from the popular ideal. It was nice -- even freeing -- to speak with someone who he could be candid with, if for no other reason than because he knew their interaction would never make it back to the tower.

He chuckled. "No, they don't. I am very lucky, you see. I was sent on assignment," he replied. "I've been afforded a few weeks to study the indigenous medicinal plants of this region. They are quite remarkable."

"Medicinal plants, huh?" Rael said, pursing her rouged lips. "Not exactly the exciting tale of demons and magic battles I was hoping for." She leaned back in her seat, regarding Etienne more carefully. "Makes you sound like a school child on a field trip."

His eyes narrowed, scowling as he hooked a finger around the bottom of one of the tankards and pushed it back to her. For a moment the only sound was that of glass grating against rough wood.

"You look thirsty."

He found it hard to keep a good natured smile from his face, even when returning her teasing jabs. "I'll have you know that the study of indigenous medicinal plans is quite manly, not school child-like in the least bit. Only reason why there's no demons or magical battles is because clearly they know to stay back. Since I'm so terrifying and scary, Messere Rael."

Rael bursts into tittering laughter. "We've just met and you're already trying to get me drunk, ser mage?" She smiles pleasantly and raises the tankard to her lips. "Perhaps you're more experienced with love potions than you let on..." She lets the last word drag on, waiting to see if he stops her from drinking. Maker knows what a mage could do to her drink...

"I tell you," he replied, not pausing to think. "My prior companions were convinced these beverages were laced with a love potion, but I do not thi--" And this his brain, as sharp and brilliant as he really was, finally caught up with him. She could have finished the entirety of the beverage, as little gears took their precious time turning in his mind. A brilliant shade of red came out from hiding behind bright freckles. He had to cover his mouth with a curled fist to hide any sort of smile that dared to show itself. "..I beg your pardon, I operate by wiles alone."

"Glad to hear it," Rael said and took a long swig of the alcohol in the tankard. Somehow free drinks always tasted better. Inwardly, she acknowledged that trading flirtatious banter with a human mage was not among the smartest things she'd ever done. Still, she couldn't resist the urge to see how red she could make that pale face of his. "I'm looking forward to seeing your...wiles in action."

He certainly knew that any sort of... talk.... like what they were engaging in, would be looked down upon immediately. And he shocked himself by not taking his leave immediately as he would have, had their conversation taken place in the tower. His goal was to take up an apprentice as soon as he returned to the tower with his findings. It was hardly the time for missteps.

However, he couldn't help himself. And he got redder by the minute.

"Ah, but you have, Messere Rael," he said. "What seems like the murmuring of a bookish school boy is clearly... wiles..." He didn't buy it either, really.

"Clearly," she agreed, unable to conceal the amusement in her voice. Despite her enjoyment of watching him squirm, she decided to let the poor boy off the hook. For now.

Rael leaned back in her chair, dissipating some of the charge that had developed between them. She hadn't even noticed it, so slow was its buildup, until it fizzled. "We were well met, serah," she said, offering her hand.

His hand slipped around her's. "Well met, Messere Rael."

Despite her promises that he'd miss so much should he head to the Chantry, the feeling he had when she held out her hand was enough to convince him that he needed nothing more than to go. Had he not been born a mage, he would have likely would have devoted his life to his Andrastian faith. He was practically a Chantry boy, just with harsh rules instead of chosen vows. So much as flirting with a woman was scandalous.

Rael gave Etienne's hand a firm shake then pulled hers away, worried if she lingered she might cause the poor lad to have a coronary. As it was, she was sure she could see little beads of sweat appear on his hairline when their hands touched. In a quick, fluid motion, she got to her feet and adjusted her cloak back around her shoulders, arranging her hair just so.

 
"Should you find yourself in Denerim, I hope we'll meet again," she said, with a warm, sincere smile. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have some matters to attend to with the proprietors." She turned to walk towards the bar, but before she took a step she looked back over her shoulder and said with a smirk, "And stop calling me 'messere.' It's weird."

He let out a breath, one he hadn't realized that he had been holding, and slowly lowered his head to the table. He wasn't shy or uncultured, not by far. After spending the majority of his prior week with only the hallas to speak to, human interaction just felt odd. Interaction with a charming elf, even moreso. She spoke again and he snapped his chin up, smiling broadly in a quick recovery. "I hope we will as well."

[Mahumia]

Bartha steps into the inn and makes her way towards the bar. She drops her backpack and, when the person behind it looks in her direction, asks: "Would you have a spare room for the night, ser?" She takes a moment to look at herself: her cloak and boots have quite some stains of mud. "Oi, and a bath would do too." Her stomach growls as the scent of soup reaches her nose. She sighs: "And a meal... and ale, please?" 

[berelinde]

The big, red-faced human behind the bar seems startled by Bartha's greeting, looking around for a moment before looking down.

 

"Bless my soul!" he says with a warm smile. "You caught me with my head full of wool. We've a room left, but not much. You'd have a bed to yourself, but you'd have to share a room with one other woman. And the ale will be right up, and the stew not long after."

 

He pulls a mug of foamy ale for her and hollers to a woman in the kitchen for a plate of stew.

 

"I'm Haran Mullin," he says. "My wife Kesla will be right out with your dinner."

[Lorien19]

(OOC: This the conversation I had with Bramblefae after Tessa invited Laurelin to her table.Both players are now available.)

Spoiler

Tessa sat back down in her chair and gestured to the serving girl to bring more stew. Tess studied the elven woman frankly as she made her way to the table. Judging by the previous display from the Inn's patrons, she also hoped she would not need to defend the woman before she learned her name at least.

As the Dalish reached the table, Tessa leaned back in her chair. "I'm Tessa, and you're far from home, I'd wager."

Laurelin Approached the table where the warrior woman was seated,she hesitantly grabbed a chair and darted a glance around the room.Some of the patrons were watching the whole scene in astonishment,which wasn't surprising all things considered.
Wasn't for her curiosity,she would have avoided interacting with humans in the first place.
"Greetings,Tessa..."She shifted in her chair and stared directly into the woman's grey eyes "I'm far from my people that's true,but we Dalish don't really have a place to call home."

 

Before she managed to finish her sentence,the serving girl arrived and placed Laurelin's stew on the table in a rather sloppy manner,giving her a half frightened half disdainful look,Laurelin raised an eyebrow and shrugged with a smile.

"But where are my manners,my name is Laurelin!I assume you on the other hand, are one of the locals?"

Tess snorted. "Not likely. I came through here after hearing about the festival.
Laurelin was glad she missed the festival, since she wasn't the type that blends in,everything from her attire and her vallaslin to her facial features screamed "outlandish".

I thought it'd be a good place to look for some work." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. 

"I've heard that the Dalish move around a lot. I do too." A shadow crossed her face before she resumed her interested expression.
Laurelin immediately noticed sudden change in Tessa's expression,it was the expression someone had when they wanted something from her.

"So, Laurelin, what brings you to this lovely little village?" Tessa grinned as she said the last part to try to let Laurelin know she was being sarcastic.

Laurelin crossed her arms and chuckled."Curiosity and good wine?We Dalish really know how to appreciate good wine,trust me."

 

Laurellin leaned forward,her expression now serious "So Tell me Tessa,are you always that hospitable to every lone wanderer you meet?"

Tess didn't quite laugh outright, but her grin grew wider and she shrugged one shoulder.
"I did say I was looking for work."

She grew a bit more serious as she glanced around the room.

"And besides, you saw what you walked into here. I don't like the idea of people bein' picked on for something they can't really help. And I know what it's like to walk into a room and not see a single friendly face. I just...try not to be that person. And I thought my speaking up might distract folks from anything...obnoxious they were thinking about doing or saying."

Laurelin's expression softened,being picked for something she couldn't help was at this point part of her daily routine  even among her people.She shifted uncomfortably trying to remain stoic and and nodded.

"I see you're a mercenary then...Ma seran...Thank you for your offer and for your kind intentions,but I'm not in need of protection...Although, I wouldn't say the same for anyone who gets in my way."She mumbled and took a sip from her wine.

Laurelin for one would like to travel with company,other than Auren's who so far has been the only person she ever travelled with...
But the fact that she was an mage and no doubt an apostate according to the human laws,was more than enough reason for her to be extremely cautious and avoid interacting with strangers.

Tessa might have been kind,but she didn't know how she'll react to the revelation that her travelling companion was an apostate.
"Besides,I will return to my people soon enough...Trust me it wouldn't be wise for you to be with me when I do."
She smiled and shook her head "Some of them can be as hostile as the people in here,if not worse."Laurelin remarked stoically.

 

Tessa'd heard that the Dalish were prone to kill humans first, then let the Maker sort them out. Which made this elf pretty interesting to Tess.

She picked up her tankard and took a long drink, then set it back on the table.

"Fair enough. You don't need protection. That makes my life easier." She raised an eyebrow at Laurelin.

"But. Traveling with someone is safer and less boring than traveling alone, yes?"

She sat back in her chair.

"At least until you go back to your people."

Laurelin crossed her arms,she knew keeper Orell wouldn't want a human anywhere near his camp,but perhaps Tessa was right it'll be easier for her to avoid any unpleasantness if she had a human in her company.

"Fair enough,we can travel together until a certain point."

That certain point in her mind,was as far from the camp as possible.She doubted that she'd have to use magic while they were still in the village anyway.
In the forest however things would be different but should her travelling companion reacted negatively to her talents,she'd definitely have the upper hand.

"Id suggest we leave tomorrow at first light...The earlier the better."She finally said and attempted to take another sip from her drink, just to realize that her tankard was empty.

[mysteriouspast]

Standing at the bar, it's a moment before Rael can get Haran's attention as he's conversing with a dwarf woman who had just arrived. She sat on a stool, placing her elbows on the bar and her head in her hands in a somewhat childish stance.

 

"Haran, oh Haran," she said in a sing-song voice. "I know our arrangement was a concert in exchange for free room and board, but..." she slowly indicated the stage where a faint vomit smell was now strong enough to have convinced several people to switch tables. "Are you going to clean the stage, or am I getting my lodgings for free?" she asked with what she hoped was an irresistible smile.

[ChachiBobinks]

Things weren't really looking swell. The drunkards were terrified of him, something that didn't settle well with Etienne, and the Dalish were allegedly going around killing people. If they thought mages to be behind it, in their eyes there might not be much difference between him and the apostates of the Dalish tribe. They could just as easily blame him for what happened.

 

So when a capable looking woman across the room said something about protection, he lifted his head.

 

Enough time sulking over his school child projects and... wiles. With intention, he stood up, brushed his robes off, and strolled straight for the warrior and Dalish's table. "Pardon me," he said to Tessa, smiling broadly. "Might I borrow your ear, messere?"

[berelinde]

Standing at the bar, it's a moment before Rael can get Haran's attention as he's conversing with a dwarf woman who had just arrived. She sat on a stool, placing her elbows on the bar and her head in her hands in a somewhat childish stance.

 

"Haran, oh Haran," she said in a sing-song voice. "I know our arrangement was a concert in exchange for free room and board, but..." she slowly indicated the stage where a faint vomit smell was now strong enough to have convinced several people to switch tables. "Are you going to clean the stage, or am I getting my lodgings for free?" she asked with what she hoped was an irresistible smile.

"Maker's breath!" he muttered. "What is wrong with everyone tonight?"

 

Shooing an overly-curious patron away from the tap, he put a bucket upside down over the hand pump and emerged from behind the bar.

 

"I'll have that cleared away in a moment, lass," he said more loudly. "Just let me run out for a pail of water. And see that you lot over there stay away from my bottles! And yes, I mean you, Dane Harper. Don't think I'll fall for that one again! Not twice in one week, I won't."

[BFace]

Things weren't really looking swell. The drunkards were terrified of him, something that didn't settle well with Etienne, and the Dalish were allegedly going around killing people. If they thought mages to be behind it, in their eyes there might not be much difference between him and the apostates of the Dalish tribe. They could just as easily blame him for what happened.

 

So when a capable looking woman across the room said something about protection, he lifted his head.

 

Enough time sulking over his school child projects and... wiles. With intention, he stood up, brushed his robes off, and strolled straight for the warrior and Dalish's table. "Pardon me," he said to Tessa, smiling broadly. "Might I borrow your ear, messere?"

Tessa looked up at the redheaded man who approached the table. Oh, Maker. This fairly pretty fellow couldn't have made the fact that he was a mage more obviously known if he'd walked around with a flame in his hand.  Well, maybe he was a scholar or something.  He certainly had the look of someone who hadn't been around much.

 

Tess smiled up at him. "If you promise to bring it back when you're done."

[mysteriouspast]

Resting her back against the bar, Rael summoned what existed of her patience and surveyed the room. Etienne had joined a table with a human woman and a Dalish woman. Well, isn't he the social butterfly? she thought with a rueful smile. 

 

With all of the clamoring in the inn, she wondered whether anyone would even notice her music over the cacophony. Still, she had played in worse circumstances. Hopefully, Haran wouldn't tarry with that bucket.

 

(Rael will wait to perform unless something happens to catch her attention)

[CuriousArtemis]

Auren awoke with a jolt.

 

He sat up quickly, his heart pounding, his hand reaching automatically for a weapon. It took a second for him to regain his senses, his unfamiliar surroundings becoming vaguely familiar again.

 

He looked around the room—and immediately gritted his teeth.

 

Laurelin was gone.

 

He stood up quickly, slinging his bow over his shoulder and hastily reaching up to tie his hair back. He muttered a curse or two under his breath as he hurriedly exited the room—the only room with a locked door, and she knew damn well why the innkeeper had given it to them!

 

He made his way downstairs, the warmth of the common room greeting him as he entered. Not surprisingly, talk died down briefly as all eyes turned in his direction, many of them filled with fear and distrust. His appearance surely didn’t help: a bow to his back, a dagger at his waist, and another poking out of his boot. His own eyes scanned the room until he found his little sister.

 

He pressed his lips together, seeing she was sitting with a pair of shem.

 

“Laurelin!” he hissed, coming to take a seat beside her. She had to know he was upset when he used her full name like that.

 

“What are you doing? I told you not to come downstairs without me!”

 

He glanced suspiciously at the two shem, but the pair appeared to be in deep conversation with one another. 

[ChachiBobinks]

Spoiler

Etienne stared at her in thoughtful curiosity for a few quite seconds before it finally hit him. "Oh, right," he replied with a laugh. "I shall keep no body parts that are not my own!"

Truly her assessment was correct. He likely carried the smell of ages old books and spilled ink. His robes were vivid blue and green, and a small scroll of spells was tucked in his belt. And yet he assumed that any guesses about his true nature were lucky, at best. "I promise to be quick, messere."

Tessa gestured at one of the open chairs at her table.  "Well, Serah, have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Etienne slipped into the seat and offered her another broad smile. "I am sorry to have eavesdropped but I believe I heard you say that you offer protection?"

Tess quirked an eyebrow, still smiling. "Did I say that?"

His face froze in confusion. First he gestured back to where he had sat before, then glanced back. When he turned again, he pointed a finger to her. "Yes? No?" It was as if he was trying to draw it all together, to make sense of what he thought he had heard but possibly did not. "Yes?"

Tessa picked up her mug and took a deep swig, mostly to not laugh at this poor kid. "I actually said that I was glad I *would not* have to protect the elf." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Are you saying you need me to protect you from something?"

Oh, he thought to himself. They were to be secretive. He nodded slowly and leaned forward, hands pressed against the tabletop. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Tessa blinked and involuntarily sat back. She then eyed the fellow frankly, stopping pointedly at his hands, taking in his robe, then scanning back to his face. "What is after you that you can't protect yourself from, Serah?"

"Well," he replied carefully, "I worry that should any of the horrors racking this village make their way to me, I might not be able to heal them to death, I suppose." Etienne took the time to check her out as well, spying any sort of weapons she might have nearby, as a girl who fought with, say, an empty hatbox (or anything equally silly) wouldn't aid him well at all. "I have nothing to fear currently, no. But I worry that I will."
 
Tessa relaxed and sat forward again. "You're a healer. Well, if you're willing to travel with my new associate here..." She jerks her head toward Laurelin, "without giving her grief about her Dalishness, then I could see us working together, for now." She started suddenly as a thought occurred to her and she sat back again. "Wait. You're not an apostate, are you? Like, on the run?"

He nodded. "Yes, precisely. And you're a protector, then?" Pausing, he glanced at the Dalish, then back to Tessa with a frown. "I've no problem with the Dalish and would love to nick their recipes." Because love potion, honestly. Not that he'd use it, he assured himself. The idea of traveling was... intriguing. He did have time to spare and could gather materials while on the road as well. Surely no one would notice if he slipped a little further away for some time. They wouldn't think him to be, well, an apostate. "Oh Maker no," he replied quickly, hands held up in the air between them. "I am from the Circle of Magi, messere."

Tessa blinked, her brow furrowed. From the Circle. Didn't they have to take a templar with them? Well, maybe this is working out anyway. "Good then. Now, sit down, Serah, and have some stew."

She sat back and looked around the room before resting her gaze back on the mage. "Also, do they give you names at the Circle of Magi?"

"No," he replied with a private smile, eyeballing the stew. "We are left to make them up on our own. We pull inspiration from the world around us, therefore I am called 'Bookshelf Candlestick'." Maker, did the stew look incredible. He had been saving his coin by living off of pack rations, so bread and hard cheeses were the bulk of his diet. He had found a patch of trees the day prior and harvested nuts as well. Those were to be his dessert. But he would not turn down a free meal and fetched the soup without hesitation. "Etienne Durand, messere."

At "Bookshelf Candlestick", Tessa's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline, and then she realized he was joking. "Well done, Serah. Well done. Etienne, I am Tessa."

He smiled in return and inclined his head. "Pleasure to meet you, messere Tessa."

[Lorien19]

 "Pardon me,might I borrow your ear, messere?"

The red haired mage said to Tessa.From what Laurelin gathered from their conversation he was a circle mage looking for protection.
He also demonstrated an interest in Dalish "recipes",which brought a wolfish smile to her face,since she how secretive the Dalish could be about such things.The  young man was like a fish out of water,something they had in common.
A few minutes passed and Laurelin  gestured at the serving girl,who glanced at her,to bring her more wine.

 

Suddenly the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs caught her attention and she knew exactly whose footsteps made that sound.

It was her older brother,Auren, who was still asleep,when she decided to venture out of her room.

"Laurelin"he hissed and approached the table she was sharing with Tessa,who was now in deep conversation with the other mage.

She could tell that he was furious, by the way he pressed his lips together and most importantly by the way he used her full name."It would seem,I'm in trouble."she thought.

 

“What are you doing? I told you not to come downstairs without me!”She sighed and gave him her sweetest smile "I'm not a child brother,besides I didn't want to wake you up."

She was hoping that she'll get the chance to discuss with him about Tessa later,she knew that Auren would disapprove of her intention to bring a human with them,he wouldn't even accept it in the first place.Especially as angry as he was now...
"Grab a sit brother!The stew is...Well decent,but the wine is really good!"

[berelinde]

{The Game Thread is now open. Please use that for all your role-playing needs.}