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[berelinde]

{Continued from Game Thread: From Fuldor's Farm to Vintiver}

 

The sky was bright as the party bid farewell to Tarl Dale outside his home, but it was a dull, leaden grey as they climbed the path that led out of Vintiver. Mist rose from the ground all around them, and geese honked mournfully overhead. The road took a bend northward, around a cluster of trees, and they left even the sight of the village behind.

 

Fields still stretched out on either side of the road for a time, but they became fewer and fewer as they traveled, and before long, the woods closed in around them.

[TreeHuggerHannah]

Before the group left Vintiver, Tempest made one more brief stop. She found the local keeper of ravens, and paid to send a message to a farmstead two days' foot travel from town. The bird couldn't carry a great deal of weight, nor did she have time to write out all the emotion contained in her heart, but she penned a few brief lines to her Circle, letting them know she was still needed and would be delayed in her return, sending her love to her children, and warning them that additional healing support might become necessary should things go wrong on their expedition. Of course, should things actually go so dreadfully wrong, there might be no way for Circle healers to reach their party or the Dalish clan anyway... but Tempest figured it couldn't hurt to have healers on call and potions packed just in case.

 

With this task completed, she returned to the group and indicated her readiness to depart. 

 

The leaden sky matched Tempest's heavy heart. Not only were they leaving behind a village that Tempest had quickly become fond of, but - more importantly - as they left the settled area for the forest, Tempest would have no way to get in touch with her children. Though they had been physically separated before, now she was utterly cut off. 

 

Dwelling on it wouldn't help, though. Tempest did her best to focus on the road ahead, not what lay behind.

[TreeHuggerHannah]

A joint post between Philomena and Tempest on the way out of town. Tempest goes into Bess's hut while Philomena packs, secrets are hinted at, and much social awkwardness is packed into a few short minutes.

 

Spoiler

As they crested the small hill, Philomena could see her home in the distance. It was a modest wooden structure nestled in amongst the trees with dark smoke billowing from its chimney. So Bess had found the strength to get out of bed after all. Marshalling her resolve, Philomena worked her way to the front of the group and addressed them: “Ahead is my home. I’m not equipped for overnight travel, so I’d like to make a brief stop to gather my things.”

 

Looking at the sturdy, seasoned timber door, Philomena’s heart sank. This conversation would not go well, no matter what she did. Bess had always wanted her close, away from the suspicious eyes of the Chantry or whoever else could reveal their secrets. Bess was old and venerable--an established figure here. They most likely wouldn’t bother carting her off to the Circle at her age. But Philomena, well, that was different. 

 

Up until this point, she’d been content to stay in the house, never leave the woods around Vintiver. She’d had her own reasons, much aside from Bess’ worrywarting. But the village had never been in such danger before. Standing around waiting for more deaths, hearing about the atrocities, well, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

 

However, that didn’t mean she wanted to confront the old lady alone.

 

Looking over her shoulder, she caught sight of the dark-haired human woman, the one Beldin had affirmed was an apostate and a healer. Perhaps she would…

 

“Excuse me,” she said, addressing Tempest directly. “Tempest, right? Beldin said you were… perhaps interested in the rarer types of herbs. Would you like to take a look at them before we go?” She indicated the front door, her eyes suggesting the fact that this was more than a casual request.

 

“Certainly,” Tempest replied. “I refilled my healer’s kit recently and I have not yet depleted my stores, but perhaps you have something in stock that I lack. It can be harder to find some of the rarer plants.”

 

It was obvious to Tempest that Philomena had some sort of ulterior motive, which made her a little nervous to follow - even though there was no clear threat present - but the rest of the party wouldn’t be far away, so she decided it was reasonably safe to follow.

 

The inside of the house was warm and well-loved with fur rugs lining the wooden boards and brightly-colored curtains hanging over the small windows. A fire blazed merrily in the hearth as a pot boiled audibly, sending out pungent spatters of whatever was brewing inside. 

 

As soon as Tempest crossed the threshold, Philomena paused for a moment and said quietly to her over her shoulder, “Just keep her busy for a few minutes. Ask about the Curacio tea. That’ll keep her going for awhile.” 

 

Before she could take two steps forward, the voice of an elderly woman floated towards them. “Mena? Have you returned from the market already?” Philomena stiffened a bit, and looked around hastily, but it was too late.

 

A stout woman, clearly in her twilight years, emerged from a door to the left. She wore embroidered robes of saffron and red and her hair was concealed by some sort of gauzy scarf. Deep lines were engraved in her deep brown cheeks and forehead, but her dark eyes were bright and alert. She stopped suddenly when she saw Tempest and said in a thick Rivaini accent, “Pardon me, dear. Did you require some of our services?”

 

The sights, sounds, and smells of the hut and its surroundings brought a lump to Tempest’s throat, so much did it remind her of home. There would be something brewing over the fire back at her Circle, too…

 

Tempest forced her mind to the present. This wasn’t helpful. Dwelling on thoughts of home would just make the task ahead more difficult. 

 

“Just browsing, really,” Tempest said. “I’m always on the lookout for new herbs to add to my stock.”

 

“There’s no need to be shy, my pretty one,” the old woman said, advancing towards Tempest with her hands outstretched. “We offer more here than just herbs for purchase.” She conspicuously eyed Tempest’s belly, then grabbed her left hand with surprising agility, inspecting her fourth finger before releasing it. “You caught it early, I see,” she said sagely.

 

“Bess,” Philomena hissed. “She’s another herbalist. She doesn’t need any special services.” 

 

“There’s nothing to be sold here of interest that you didn’t have at the market, and I can see you left prematurely,” Bess retorted, poking the cloth Philomena had gathered into a makeshift bag. “What else could she want?”

 

Tempest took a step back when Bess grabbed her hand, recoiling as if stung. Unwanted memories came flooding back. Memories of when she was indeed with child - the fear, the panic, and the anticipation of loss. Mixed in with the old emotion was a heavy dose of shame. It was true, she was no one’s wife, and she never would be. She had long ago ceased to be fit for such things, however much she might desire it, and yet always there would be judgment of her failings. Tempest looked at Philomena in confusion. She was beginning to get the feeling she had been lured here under entirely false pretenses. Philomena had suggested innocent herb shopping, but from what Bess said, what was going on here was quite another matter. 

 

As both a healer and a woman who had been through an ill-timed pregnancy, Tempest had no judgment for those who were unwilling or unable to carry to term. Such was life, and always would be. Even so, Tempest was simply not prepared to relive the most difficult time in her life at the hands of a complete stranger to suit some unknown purpose of another she barely knew.

 

“I am sorry,” Tempest said slightly breathlessly, but managing to keep her voice from trembling. “I believe we have a misunderstanding. I am not with child.”

 

Nor would she be ever again, whether she wanted to be or not. The man who had tormented Tempest had taken that too.

 

“I was under the impression you might have some herbs that would be of use to me professionally as a healer, not for personal use,” Tempest explained carefully. “I was mistaken about the nature of your business. Forgive me. I will take my leave.”

 

“Wait, please. Our business is many-fold,” Philomena revealed with a sigh. “Forgive my mentor’s presumptiveness, friend. Chief among our clients are those requiring a midwife. Bess was merely… eager to help.” Philomena had no idea why Tempest had suddenly gone pale, but she knew enough to see that Bess had upset her with her unfortunate assumption. And the last thing she wanted was a traveling companion who held a grudge against her. She turned to Bess and said, “The Curacio--she’d like to sample some of your tea.”

 

“Which you could have also given her in the market.” Bess gave Philomena a suspicious glance before looking back at Tempest with bewilderment. She turned back to Philomena and asked in a pained voice, “Quin pla, Mena?”

 

Philomena sighed again. So much for sneaking away. “I’m going to pack my things and go with her,” she replied nonchalantly.

 

“You’re leaving? Where in Thedas are you traipsing off to?” she asked incredulously, but with a marked attempt to keep her tone pleasant.

 

“A band of… mercenaries, I suppose, is setting off to root out the evil that has plagued Vintiver. I’m going to help them find whatever has been murdering the villagers.” Philomena looked at her with an almost defeated expression. “I can’t just hide in here while others risk their lives. It… it is not our way to put the welfare of ourselves above others,” she said in a quiet rebuke.

 

Bess’ mouth twisted into a frown and she crossed her arms across her chest. “How long will you be gone then?”

 

“I cannot say,” Philomena replied. “Days, I think.”

 

“Days? That long?” Bess looked towards the closed door then back at Philomena with a knitted brow. “But you must be here… What if… What if he…”

 

“Bastant,” Philomena said harshly. “He’s not coming back. S’ha anat!” she cried in a voice that rang through the room. She pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose, as though a pain settled behind it. When she looked up, her eyes were dewey and miserable. “Avia, can’t you see that?” she whispered.

 

Bess scowled and threw her arms up. “You always were a hard-hearted girl,” she said angrily, but not unkindly. “Bull-headed, too.”

 

“I’m sure I got it from somewhere,” Philomena replied, her dark expression somewhat lighter. “I’ll gather my belongings quickly,” she said to Tempest. “Please help yourself to any supplies you might need.” She quickly slipped past the two other women and disappeared behind a curtain that acted as a partition to a back room.

 

Bess watched Philomena depart, her expression suddenly mournful. Then she turned to Tempest, as though remembering the other woman’s presence. “Children, yes?” she said quietly. “They always think they know everything, don’t they?”

 

Tempest was all too aware that the conversation between the two women was probably none of her business. Her heart rate was still coming down and her breathing normalizing, so she just slipped into a mode she’d used in Kirkwall when things seemed to be getting hairy - she went very quiet and tried to fade into the background. Becoming little more than furniture was the best way to stay out of trouble.

 

By the time Bess directly addressed her, Tempest had regained her composure. She smiled faintly, and nodded. “That they do. You… are Philomena’s mother, then?”

 

“Why, do we look alike?” Bess asked with a twinkle in her eye as she mimed fussing with her hair. “I knew her mother, though. We were old friends.” She looked towards the doorway that Philomena had vanished into. “I’m her Avia… you would say grandmother, I think. But, it is a title I have gained through raising her, not through blood.”

 

She motioned to a back area, past the cauldron, where sunlight filtered through bare windows. “You wanted to try the Curacio, did you, dear? It’s this way. I just made a fresh batch this morning.”

 

Tempest shrugged when Bess asked if she and Philomena look alike. “Two of my own children are adopted,” she said. “I don’t take physical resemblance as a strong indication. It was simply your manner of speaking of her. Fond, but also knowing. It does not surprise me to hear that you raised her.”

 

She nodded when Bess offered her tea. Once again, she felt a stab of homesickness. Back at the Circle, they consumed massive quantities of herbal teas, more for the sake of camaraderie than anything else. “Yes please,” she said. “We don’t have much time, but that is kind of you. I’ll have a quick cup while Philomena packs. Thank you.”

 

The old woman scuttled into the back room and indicated a worn wooden chair for Tempest to sit in. The room itself seemed to be designated as a workspace for the two women. Various tables were covered in jars, mortars and pestles, strange-looking filters, all in various states of use, and none of them particularly organized. Through the window a small shed could be seen with twirling fan blades in each of its windows and steam rising from its tiny chimney.

 

Bess busied herself with a teapot while picking up several cups and inspecting them before casting them aside. “Can’t keep a clean house… immud nens…” She finally found two that she deemed suitable and placed them on the table. “Have you ever tried Curacio before?” she asked.

 

“I haven’t,” Tempest replied. “I’ve not heard of it, actually. Back home we mostly make our own teas by drying herbs from our garden. We drink a lot of mint tea, or lemon balm. What is the Curacio made from? Did you grow the herbs here?”

 

“The herbs to make Curacio normally don’t grow in a place as cold as this. They grow in the heated, arid plains of Rivain. We built that hothouse out back to accommodate them,” she said proudly, pointing to the shed. She poured some of the amber-colored liquid from the kettle into a ceramic cup and passed it to Tempest. An earthy scent reminiscent of ginger and anise wafted from the cup. “An old Rivaini secret--said to have medicinal properties. Try some.”

 

“I’d love to have a hothouse someday,” Tempest said, warming to the subject. “We’ve moved a great deal lately, and it’s difficult to have even a conventional garden when you may not be around a full growing season, but we try. Once we’re more settled, perhaps.”

 

Tempest wrapped both hands around the mug to absorb the warmth into her hands, and raised it to inhale a deep breath of the pleasant scent before taking a sip - a small one, so as not to burn her tongue. “Medicinal properties, you say? May I ask what its uses are?”

 

Bess smiled enigmatically. “That’s up to the Curacio to decide. I find that it works its ways through each of us differently, depending on the drinker’s needs.” She sat and took a sip herself. “It was Nylene--Philomena’s mother--who brought me the seeds that made those plants,” she said quietly, with a distance in her eyes. “She was a wild tea merchant traveling with a company of Tal-Vashoth.” Laughing softly to herself, Bess continued, “fearless, that one. She was truly a sight to behold.”

 

Tempest was curious about how Bess described the tea - although a cynical part of her wondered if Bess was overselling the thing to try to make some coin. As she drank, though, she felt its effect for herself. She felt a loosening of knots of tension deep within her, the muscles of her abdomen relaxing as pain that had become a dull background hum she didn’t even notice anymore began to ease slightly. It was a very pleasant feeling.

 

“Tal-Vashoth?” Tempest repeated. It took her a moment to process the unfamiliar word, though she’d heard it a handful of times before. “That’s… Qunari, isn’t it? Philomena’s mother traveled with the Qunari?”

 

Bess’ eyes widened at the last word Tempest said. “Qunari? No,” she said and spat on the ground. “These look like them, yes… We call them bou-gegants. Bull-men who have broken away from the Qun and follow their own paths.” She looked back into her cup and added, “The enemy of my enemy, yes?”

 

“I… I suppose so, yes,” Tempest replied, more out of politeness than out of any real certainty she understood the comment. “I confess I know very little about the Qun, or… well, any of it, really. All I know is what they tell you at chantry, which is frankly rather terrifying. Nylene must have been very brave.”

 

“She was,” Bess said softly and rose from her seat. She shuffled over to the window and said in a voice that was strange and almost rhythmic, “Quese comha deser. It is as it must be.” She turned and looked at Tempest briefly and in that moment the air seemed to shimmer around her. “I’ve kept her too long… Philomena. I see that now. I wanted to keep her safe, you see. But I think of Nylene, and the life she wanted for her…” She paused, bringing arthritic knuckles to her mouth. “Lameste… She must go out in the world. You will help her, yes?”

 

Tempest frowned slightly in sympathy. “Kept her too long? You raised her. She is your child, as well as Nylene’s. That will never change. She will always be kept in your heart, and you in hers. I am sure that wherever she travels, someday she will return to you. You have given her a place to call home.”

 

Tempest’s furrowed brow softened, and her lips kinked upward into a smile. “I will help her, yes. I will do my best to keep her safe. We all will. I am sure she will be eager to tell you of her adventures next time she sees you.”

 

Bess smiled but there was sadness deep within it. “You have a big heart. I thank you. Philomena has lost hers. Half of it died with her mother and the other half she gave to Tris.” She shook her head. “Poor thing. Cara perdut.”

 

Tempest was momentarily distracted by the fact that the last thing Bess said, in a language she didn’t understand, sounded so much like her daughter’s name - and the name that used to be her own. That thought passed in an instant, and her focus returned to the matter at hand. A linguistic coincidence wasn’t the primary issue here, even if it was particularly coincidental given the subject matter.

 

“I can understand that,” Tempest replied. “I’ve had losses of my own, and… you never really get over it, do you? You move past it, and learn to live with it. Philomena has my sympathies. If it is not prying too much to ask, this Tris - was that Philomena’s partner?”

 

Bess began to speak but a loud creak in the floorboard behind them drew her attention. Philomena stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. She’d changed into her traveling gear, her wine-colored surcoat now covered on the shoulders by a fur shawl and her simple shoes exchanged for knee-length black boots. A full traveler’s pack was slung across her back and a shiny metal spade with a long handle hung from her belt. She’d made some attempt to tie back her thick black hair, binding the parts that were most vexing, but it still tumbled across her back and shoulders.

 

She casually stepped into the room, but brought some tension with her. “Did you finish your tea, then?” she asked Tempest. “We must not leave the others waiting.”

 

Tempest smiled when Philomena returned. Bess hadn’t had a chance to answer her question, but it was really none of her business anyway. Tempest had been more just making conversation than fishing for information. If Philomena ever wanted her to know, surely she would tell her herself. If not, Tempest would take it as none of her concern.

 

“Yes, thank you,” she replied. “I am grateful for your hospitality. You are pleasant hosts. We should indeed be on our way. Before we go, I wondered if I might buy some of the Curacio tea to take with me? I think it might help ease a certain small medical difficulty of mine.”

 

"Naturally, there is no charge," Bess replied kindly and Philomena nodded her agreement. She fished a large canvas bag out from several bundles in a corner near the hearth.

 

"I'll carry these teabags for you," Philomena said in a voice that told of a fact, not a request. "The others might benefit as well." She turned swiftly to depart, but Bess stood in the doorway, arms already open. 

 

"Abraca'm, neta," Bess said in a soft, broken voice. Philomena's shoulders instantly slumped and her face fell. Without a sound, she gathered the old woman in her arms. "Mantena fora deperill, Mena," she whispered.

 

"I will, Avia," Philomena said in a surprisingly tender voice. "Don't fuss." With that, she released Bess and turned to Tempest. "I'm ready," she announced, looking towards the doorway. "Let us be off."

[berelinde]

Beldin and Philomena get to know each other a little better.

 

Spoiler

The party had been traveling for about half of the morning. Since leaving Vintiver, Beldin had been thinking about the windmill battle, or what he remembered of it, and trying to come up with some way to prevent that kind of disorganized charge in the future. Sarel's precipitous spell had cost him his life, and very nearly Beldin's and Mercuriel's as well. Rael, Maker keep her safe, had done her part, as had the the rest of the party, but that one lapse of judgment had nearly lost them the battle. And now, with Etienne gone too, it was more important than ever that he learn his new friends' strenghths, as well as their preferences.

 

He glanced around, reassuring himself that he knew where everyone was. They were spread out a little more than he liked, but they'd seen no sign of trouble. And there was also no sign of their newest team member. Anxiety assailed him. He started to call out and thought better of it. Calm down, look around, he told himself. And there she was, maybe ten yards ahead on the left, behind a row of conifers. He jogged ahead to catch up.

 

"Ho, Philomena!" he panted, dropping to a walk. "May I walk with you for a moment?"

 

Philomena had been using the trees as a screen, not necessarily from her traveling companions, but from any unwanted eyes. There were enough dangers in the forest to not court them by being out in the open. Beldin’s voice caught her attention and as he came up behind her, his shadow darkened the path she’d chosen.

 

She looked over her shoulder at him, unsure of what he wanted to speak about. Whatever it was, she reasoned, it would most likely be unpleasant. After all, she’d gone out of her way to be nice to him in the market, and he’d been less than appreciative.

 

“You may walk where you please,” she replied, looking back ahead to the uneven ground before her. “Mind you keep out of my light, though.”

 

He lengthened his stride until their shadows overlapped. If she could see around her own, she could see around her own plus his.

 

"We didn't exactly get off to the best start," he said, "but I do welcome you to our group. I gather from your conversation with Laurelin that you'd rather not discuss your education. I won't press. I've... learned a lot about that subject in Laurelin's and Tempest's company, and most of it involves how mistaken my attitude on the subject was."

 

Looking at him sideways, she asked, “And what do you know of my...education?”

 

He smiled at that.

 

"I know you and Laurelin have something in common," he said. "Since you were probably not speaking of your hair color, I can only assume it has something to do with your staff. Forgive me if I sound evasive. I try not to mention some things unless I am absolutely certain of privacy."

 

Philomena’s expression softened. “That is wise of you,” she replied with an air of respect. “I suppose you’ve known Laurelin for some time, since she entrusted you with such a secret.”

 

"Laurelin is more comfortable with her talents than some," he said "and I've benefitted greatly from them on at least one occasion. But I've known her less than a week. You'll form your own opinions, of course, but I enjoy her company. And I want her to be safe, as I wish for all of us."

 

Philomena balked when Beldin admitted how short his acquaintanceship with Laurelin had actually been. Less than a week, and she was exposing her magic? To a human she barely knew? The Dalish hadn’t seemed that foolish to her at first meeting, but she supposed looks could be deceiving. Perhaps Laurelin had faith in her clan to keep her away from the Templars. But she herself had no such assurance. 

 

She turned to Beldin then, slowing her pace and looking at him with eyes like pools of darkness. “So you know I’m a mage then. And I can assume you’ve guessed that I’m also an apostate.” Leaning towards him with narrowed eyes she said in a low, dangerous voice, “What will you do when this is over? Will you go to the Templars when your use for me is at its end?”

 

"Maker, no!" he said with more emphasis than he intended. "I mean, the templars in Vintiver let Dalish apostates come and go at will, but I wouldn't voluntarily put any of you in danger. I might have to ask you to take my word for that, but I can't really prove it until it happens."

 

“Your word,” she echoed with a scowl and began walking quickly again, her eyes focused ahead of her. “I realize the Templars in Vintiver are… lax in some ways. But you are not from Vintiver, are you? Nor are your fellows… except for the smith you brought along.” She suddenly looked back to Beldin with wide eyes. “I do not imagine that Fabian knows my true nature. He must think me an herbalist only. I suppose that illusion will not last much longer.”

 

"Probably not, no," he agreed, "but it is better to know in advance and prepare for emergencies than to leave it unsaid and be caught off guard. We're better if we can fight together than we would be, each of us alone."

 

“There is much truth to what you say,” she said, showing a brief glimpse of a crooked smile. “Your comrades must revere you for your wisdom.”

 

"Mostly, they point and laugh," he chuckled. "But I jest. I was thinking about trying to set up a combat exercise when we make camp, and while I know where Laurlelin and Tempest like to be, I'm not sure where your expertise lies. Do you prefer to go on the offensive, or are you more comfortable in a support role?"

 

Philomena’s brow furrowed and she gave Beldin a bemused look. “I cannot say, as I have never fought alongside anyone before. Perhaps you could… advise me on what’s best.”

 

He rocked his head in a maybe-yea-maybe-nay gesture and said, "I'm no expert on the subject, as you can see, but Laurelin's talents are more offensive. She can't heal, but she can... er... make enemies wish they found other targets. Tempest is a marvelous field medic, in every sense. Do either of those sound like something you'd prefer?"

 

“My magic can keep you alive as well,” Philomena replied without a hint of self-satisfaction. “Tempest… you must be referring to the other apostate you travel with. How did you meet her, if I may ask?”

 

"She and the others saved me from wolves," he said. "We were investigating the local disappearances, and I... arrived separately."

 

He cleared his throat to cover the pause. Etienne was not here at the moment. There was no need to tell her that his help had been offered and refused.

 

“Then you were fortunate to have the aid of such a company,” she observed. “And I’ve dealt with my fair share of wolves. Nasty blighters, aren’t they?” she commiserated. 

 

As she opened her mouth to tell of a particularly lethal encounter deep in the forest, Bess’ voice piped up deep in the back of her mind. Stop making nice with this outsider, it warned. They can’t be trusted. You need to keep yourself safe above all else. She shook her head rather conspicuously to silence it. There was no point in trying to be evasive now. Beldin would soon find out what her abilities were, as would they all. 

 

She took a deep breath and said, “You asked me earlier about my magic. It’s something I don’t fully understand myself.” She frowned slightly and shrugged. “Your Chantry would call me a hedge mage, rather perjoratively, I might add. I draw my power from the earth we walk on. I can make my skin as stone and I can cast a magic… um… boulder, I guess… at a foe.” She looked up at him with concern on her face, but what worried her was unclear. “I hope that answers your question.”

 

"Aye," he said, "that it does. And those sound like very useful talents indeed. I look forward to fighting beside you. Figuratively speaking. I myself have to be out front to draw fire."

 

“You must be very brave, then,” she replied quietly. “I shall try to keep life in your bones, as best as I am able.”

 

"I would be grateful," he said, grinning. "And I'll try to make sure you don't need to. I appreciate your willingness to help these people, both Vintiver and the Dalish. You guessed truly, I'm no Vintiver native, but I do consider the Ruswold my home, and these are my neighbors."

 

“It is in my nature to put the welfare of others before my own,” she said solemnly, with a strange, distant look in her eye. 

 

Just then she realized that she had been wrong about Beldin. She’d assumed he was a harsh, unfriendly man on their first conversation, but he was going out of his way to make her feel welcome. That could only mean that the fault had been hers, as it usually was.

 

She sighed and said, “I made you upset earlier, when we first spoke. I apologize if I said something… untoward. I… don’t meet new people often, and speak with them even less.” She shrugged again, this time in a self-effacive way. “I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

 

"No, not at all," he said, smiling. "You didn't know me, and while it was a bit awkward for a moment or two, there's no need for it to continue to be so. I look forward to traveling with you."

 

She looked at him quizzically, as though his words made no sense. “I...do as well,” she replied with a note of surprise in her voice.

[TreeHuggerHannah]

A joint post between Bartha and Tempest. The two discuss demons, mages, Circles, and family, and Tempest realizes she may be able to help Bartha with a problem.

 

Spoiler

Bartha had a hard time starting up that morning, so getting on the road helped to give her the extra push. Truth be told, she had a hard time imagining what they were about to face. ‘Apparently there was magic involved, and demons. Ah yes, demons… weren’t they supposed to be constantly nagging mages to try and possess them?’ She looked around and glanced at the various mages of the group. ‘Plenty of mages… neither appears to be under constant pressure. Or well, not of that kind.’ She smiled when her eyes caught Etienne and Rael. ‘Perhaps it would help to just ask the experts…’ Tempest appeared to be walking alone, so she fastened her pace to walk up next to her. “Good morning Tempest. Would you mind if I ask you something?” 

 

Tempest matched her pace to Bartha's. "Of course, messere," she said. "What do you wish to know?"

 

Although Tempest and Bartha hadn't talked much, Tempest was quickly growing to appreciate Bartha's wit and good nature.

 

Bartha smiled at Tempest, before her face grew more serious. “I was wondering about something. I recall people say that mages would be under constant temptation from demons who would try to possess them, yet neither of you appears to be fighting such pressure. Is it true at all? I mean, I have no idea what it should be like, as I seem to have no connection to the Fade whatsoever, but I think it would get boring as blight to just keep nagging mages all day.”

 

"It's true in a sense," Tempest replied. "In general, any given mage is at far more risk from demons than the average person is. That is not to say that every mage is in active danger of demonic possession at any given moment, though - well, with the exception of places where the Veil is extremely thin, which makes it all more unpredictable. We mages learn to use our magic as safely as possible. We learn to tune out the voices when we sleep. If we don't learn these things, we don't survive."

 

She softened that harsh truth with an affable smile. "So no, I am not about to turn into an abomination and devour you all. I would never claim that I am in no danger from demons, though - or that any mage is in no danger. To claim that is to become complacent, and complacence leads to great danger."

 

Bartha softened her tone. “Please, it was not meant as an offense. I really do not expect you or anyone else from this group to turn upon us. I know mages aren’t as bad as some like to believe. In fact, my best friend turned out to be a mage.” She paused and turned her head away for a moment. “I guess it is good than that you can learn how to handle your powers and how to deal with those demons. I just have a hard time understanding why that has to be done locked up in some tower.” She shook her head and looked up at Tempest. “But do you expect the upcoming fight to be even more dangerous for Etienne, Laurelin and you, than?”  

"Oh, I'm not offended," Tempest said amiably. "A mage should not fear to speak of demons - to fear that is to allow ourselves to forget the danger itself, and that we must never do. Of course you may ask such things."

 

Tempest wondered what Bartha would have made of her recent nightmare, had she overheard it. She wouldn't have blamed the dwarf for thinking that she was fighting demons in the Fade. But no, mages could have ordinary dreams, too. The only demons Tempest had been fighting were from her own past.

 

She considered her response to Bartha's question carefully. "I think we will all be in grave danger," she said. "We have seen what these demons can do. We mages will be in more danger of possession. Demons will tempt any mortals they can, though, mages or not. I don't know if these demons seek to corrupt, or only to kill. Either way, though, we must all be wary."

 

Bartha frowned. “Is there a way to recognize a demon? And how do you know it is trying to possess someone?” She rubbed her temples. “I have truly no idea how they would want to do that to me… just walk up to me and say ‘let me in, and I’ll promise you great powers in return’? Cause that would be way too obvious, I guess? And well, if they are up for a fight… I guess that they still don’t like stabbing?” 

 

"Demons wear many guises," Tempest replied. "It is extremely rare for them to be able to exist outside the Fade in independent physical form, but they can possess people, or the corpses of the dead, or occasionally even animals. They may also send other creatures to do their bidding for them. It is said that a demon cannot possess a host that does not allow it in - but rarely does the host realize what is happening when he or she gives in. Demons are great deceivers. One does not know their true intentions till it is too late."

 

With a wry smile, she added, "I think, though, that possession is not the major danger we will face here. I don't know whether or not this will be comforting to you, but it is to me. These demons - if indeed they are demons - have been presented with opportunities to possess and have not done so. They had access to a weakened mage, and a number of corpses, as well as they animals on the farm, yet we saw no sign of attempts to create new abominations. For better or worse, these things seem more intent on violence."

 

Tempest gave Bartha a pat on the shoulder, and said, "So yes, you'll likely get your shot at stabbing them."

 

“Please don’t get me wrong. I am definitely not eager to face these foes, but I would like to have an idea what I can expect.” She glanced at some trees they’d pass by. “I just don’t have that much experience in battle, and I fear that I might form a burden because of that. I don’t want to put you in danger again due to some stupid actions from my side, so please feel free to lend me a hand if the situation arises.” She sent Tempest a weak smile. “I take it we all want to go home and see our family again, after all. Which reminds me… what is it like to live in a circle?”  

"I don't think you'll be a burden, Bartha," Tempest replied. "You seem more than capable of holding your own in a fight. Truth be told, I don't have much combat experience either."

 

The question of what life in a Circle was like stopped Tempest short. She wasn't quite sure how to answer it. Should she speak of the horrors she had experienced in Kirkwall? Or the loving bond of family she felt at home, a self-proclaimed Circle without Chantry sanction? She decided that neither was very representative of life for the average mage, and presumably the average mage was what Bartha was really asking about.

 

"Life in a Circle is often restrictive and monotonous," Tempest replied. "But Circles serve their purpose. In a Circle, a mage has a place to learn and be protected."

 

She couldn't quite manage to keep a hint of emotion out of her voice when she said 'protected.' That was how a Circle should be, but she'd been far from protected in Kirkwall. Tempest managed to get herself back in check, and met Bartha's eyes again with a friendly smile.

 

Bartha pondered a bit on Tempest's answer. She had noticed that something was off, but she was not sure whether she should pry some more. "But why should it be restricted? You can perfectly function out here and help people. I mean, if it wasn't for mages, some of our group wouldn't be standing anymore..." She frowned before continuing, in a softer voice. "Or do they just lock you up and protect you for the fear of the common people? I've been told to get lost when I wanted to visit someone who is in a circle...  'mages don't get visitors', they said..." She shook her head softly before continuing. "My best childhood friend turned out to be a mage. He got taken away during summer, right before me and my family returned to Redcliffe. I was devastated when I found the burnt down cottage... and apparently his parents had perished when they tried to protect him." She swallowed at the lump in her throat. "Poor Elias... everyone gone, taken away and put away... like that many others, apparently." She looked up at Tempest. "But at least you adult mages get the chance to go outside, right?" A hopeful glimmer was in her eyes.

"There are many reasons for Circles," Tempest said, now feeling like she was on steadier ground. "Mages can be dangerous. Not only those who are malicious, but who are too weak-willed or frightened to stand up to the temptations we face. So yes, Circles protect the outside world from mages. That isn't the only function, though. Many people fear magic. Some even hate mages. In a Circle we are protected from people who would wish to harm us, just as they are protected from wayward mages."

 

Tempest squeezed Bartha's hand sympathetically. "I am sorry for the loss of your friend, and the death of his parents. I'm sorry you were not allowed to visit him, but that is not uncommon. He likely knew that you tried, and was grateful you cared. I hope he is alive and safe. Maker watch over him."

 

She nodded to Bartha's question. "Yes, in some cases... with restrictions. Etienne is here with the permission of his Circle. My own situation is rather different. I... do not mean to seem unkind, but if I tell you, may I have your word that you will keep it to yourself?"

 

Bartha smiled at Tempest. "Thank you. I hope he knows and is well, too." 

 

She curiously quirked her brow, then nodded: "Of course. I won't tell anyone, without your permission."

"Thank you," Tempest replied.

 

Although she didn't blame Bartha for what had happened with Beldin the night before, it still made her a little cautious. The last thing she needed was Bartha running off to tell Tarl that there was an apostate in their midst. Although she considered the warden her friend, and he didn't seem bothered that Eshara lived with her clan rather than in a Circle, she couldn't be absolutely positive how Tarl would react to the news bluntly stated.

 

"I lived in the Kirkwall Circle for many years. Things were... difficult... but I saw no alternative. A time came, though, when I feared for my life. I had an opportunity to run, and I took it. For a while I lived alone, evading templars and keeping to myself. That was not a particularly pleasant existence either, though. I was lonely and frightened. I don't believe mages do well by ourselves. We need support, to maintain the strength we require to fight our literal and metaphorical demons. I found a group of other mages, and they accepted me. We formed a Circle of our own, away from the dictates of the Templar Order, where we live together, protect each other, learn, and teach. I consider them both my Circle and my family."

 

"They did a pretty lousy job at protecting you, if you had to fear for your life." Bartha blurted out. She quickly lowered her voice. "I think everyone needs a place where they can feel safe and at home. If that one place didn't appease to you... than I am glad that you found one that did. If I can move homes, than why wouldn't you be able to do so at will?" She sent Tempest a warm smile. "Your circle sounds like a nice place. Do you accept visitors?"

Tempest felt a sudden, ridiculous need to defend the templars who had failed to protect her. They weren't all monsters, though. Some of them had tried.

 

"It wasn't entirely their fault," she said. "In Kirkwall, the Veil is thin. There's only so much you can do to prevent abominations under those conditions. As for the rest... I carefully didn't tell anyone, because I was too afraid. You can't stop what you don't know about."

 

She grinned when Bartha asked if she could visit Tempest's Circle. "Of course!" she said enthusiastically. "We're always pleased to have visits from friends. Once this is all over, you should come see us before you go home. Erm... where is home for you?"

 

Tempest realized she knew very little about Bartha.

Bartha frowned: "But if it is that dangerous, why not move out and build a new circle outside of Kirkwall? Ignoring a dangerous situation is just asking for problems, I think?" She reached out and placed a hand on Tempest's upper arm. "I'm sorry to hear that... I don't know what happened, or even if you want to talk about it, but please know that you have my word: if I know that something is a danger to you, I will do my very best to protect you."

 

She squeezed gently before letting go. A smile formed on her lips when Tempest responded enthusiastically about visiting her circle. "Thank you, I would be honored... Of course you are also welcome in Redcliffe. I guess you have the best chances of finding the whole family if you would visit sometime during winter... otherwise people might be on the road." She rubbed her neck before continuing: "However, I would like to warn you that it's a merchant family who is quite eager to see anyone as a potential customer... They don't mind mages though, so no need to worry about that."

 

It was a sensible question, but one Tempest had never really framed in quite those terms: Why didn't they all just leave Kirkwall? Obviously an individual mage, or templar for that matter, couldn't easily just up and move away - but why not move the whole Circle? Tempest didn't actually have a good answer for that.

 

"Thank you for being willing to listen. I think I will not spoil a pleasant walk by talking too much of unpleasant things, though. As far as I know, I am perfectly safe for the moment. Well... safe as any of us are, under the circumstances. If that should change, I am grateful for your offer of assistance, and I promise I will let you know."

 

Tempest smiled when Bartha spoke of her pushy merchant family who didn't fear mages. "They sound lovely," she said sincerely. "What family do you have? Parents? Siblings? Children of your own?"

 

"And well, I am quite sure you have the whole group willing to fight for your safety, should the need arise." Bartha chuckled when Tempest asked about her family. "It's my parents, me and two elder brothers. The eldest is married and has a baby, but hasn't yet moved out still." She shook her head with a grin on her face. "He and his wife cannot make up their mind whether they'd should stay in Redcliffe or get closer to Highever, where she hails from... so they just stay put for now. Not like my parents mind that: they love the babe. And much to their dismay, my other brother and me aren't that much in a hurry to procreate, so to speak..." She rubbed her cheek. "Don't get me wrong, I love children... but I don't see myself locked up in some cottage, looking after someone else's laundry yet... Fair enough, hooking up someone isn't that easy either, but... I want to see some of the world first, I guess."

 

Tempest listened with a smile as Bartha talked about her family. It sounded so pleasant, so homey. There might be conflict, but it was of the loving variety. Tempest hoped that when her children were grown, they would be so fond when they spoke of home.

 

"They sound wonderful," Tempest said. "I never knew my own parents, but yours sound like a treasure."

 

There was no sadness in her voice when she said this. Her tone was utterly matter-of-fact. There was only so long a person could mourn something they never had in the first place, and Tempest's life had moved on.

 

"I can understand your feelings about having little ones. My children are my greatest joy in life, but there is no rush. You have plenty of time."

 

If she'd had a choice, Tempest would not have borne her first child at the age of sixteen. She hadn't had the option, though - and she would never wish for Cara not to be. Amidst all the suffering Cara's father had inflicted, he had created someone wonderful also, in spite of his ill intentions. Tempest saw the Maker's goodness in that.

 

"You'd like children someday, though, Bartha?"

 

Bartha raised her brows. "Oh, I wasn't aware that you have children. Isn't it hard than, to be here with us instead of with them? I mean, during childhood, we always complained that our parents dragged us along. But in hindsight, I get that they did it to ensure that the family was always together and they could always care for us. They just did what they considered to be the best, and I get that you do the same."

 

She stared a bit into the distance. Her mind drifted back to past times, and she wondered how things would turn out in the future. "Yes..." She turned her head to face Tempest. "I would like to have children, and some husband who can stand being around me." She grinned sheepishly when he said the last bit.

 

"I have three children," Tempest replied. "And yes, I miss them a great deal. I take consolation in the fact that I will not need to be away from them for long. It also helps to know that they're with loving aunts and uncles who I can trust to take excellent care of them."

 

Tempest noted Bartha's sheepish expression and said, "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. There's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting that. I'm confident that someday, you'll have exactly what you desire. When you have the husband and children you dream of, it will be worth the wait."

 

There was a faint stab of pain in Tempest's heart when she said this. She had dreamed of getting married, too. It was impossible for her, though. It was too late. For Bartha, though, Tempest thought surely it was just a matter of time before the right person came along.

"Wow... I can imagine that you miss them. We should hurry up with kicking the behinds of those demons, so you can hold your children in your arms again."

 

Bartha imagined Tempest surrounded by some toddlers. She wondered why Tempest hadn't mentioned their father, but decided to not ask about it: perhaps he had just passed away. If Tempest would like to talk about it, she would probably initiate that herself. 

 

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. There's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting that. I'm confident that someday, you'll have exactly what you desire. When you have the husband and children you dream of, it will be worth the wait."

 

She smiled shyly. "True, but it reminded me of ehm... my skills at scaring people. But fair enough, I guess I might find someone crazy enough to stay at my side."

 

"I'm hoping for a swift demon-behind-kicking," Tempest replied. "None of my children are babies - they're fourteen, thirteen, and six - so they're not entirely dependent. Still, they need their mother... and truth be told, I need them too. It is vital we help the Dalish clan, but once we have done so, it will be good to see my family again."

 

Tempest smiled reassuringly at Bartha's self-deprecating comments. "It won't take someone crazy," she replied gently. "It will take someone who recognizes your courage, intelligence, and wit. I am confident that such a person exists, and you will find him when the time is right. In the meantime, you have your adventures to enjoy - then one day you'll have another to adventure at your side."

 

Bartha looked a bit at Tempest, without saying anything. 'The eldest is fourteen? Is Tempest than that much older than I guessed?' She sent Tempest a warm smile. "They reach the age where they might say different, but I know that they do indeed still need their mother."

 

She smiled shyly at Tempest's kind words. "Thank you, you're a sweet person. I hope you're right, but in the meantime, let us indeed enjoy our own adventures."

 

Tempest caught Bartha's quick look before it changed to a smile, and wasn't surprised. People wondered. It was only to be expected. Although Tempest didn't know her exact age, she was around thirty, and she was young to have birthed a child who was now in her teens. There was no way to avoid people wondering other than never to talk about her children - which she was unwilling to do. She didn't fault anyone for their curiosity, but nor would she hide her family.

 

"My children know they need me," she replied. "Unfortunately they have experienced too much to take having a parent for granted, my younger two before they were adopted and my oldest during the years we were apart."

 

Tempest returned Bartha's smile with one of her own. "I'm confident you will have all you desire. But in the meantime, I'm glad you're able to be happy. When all this is done, will you return to Redcliffe? Or will you continue exploring?"

 

Bartha’s expression went to a sad frown. She had always been with her family, or at least knew where they were in case of need. Of course there was friction every now and then, but as her mother used to say ‘You can’t make things shine without a good rubbing’. They knew without doubt that they loved each other and could blindly rely on each other. It was a security she had always taken for granted, but she learned that such luxury was not for everyone. "I'm sorry to hear that about your children... May I ask how you got separated from your oldest?” As soon as the words had escaped her lips, she was afraid that she might be prying too much, so she hastily added. “And if you don’t want to talk about it, please let me know.”

 

She pondered a bit on Tempest’s question. “I do not know yet… I guess I’ll have to see whether or not I like this kind of adventure. Had you asked before, I’d say ‘continue adventuring’ in a heartbeat. But I have to admit that the sight at Fuldors and the fight at the mill were a bit more than I bargained for. Nonetheless I would like to have the opportunity to pay a visit to my family. Whether or not I’ll stay after that… we’ll see.” 

"You may ask," Tempest replied. "My daughter was born in the Kirkwall Circle. Babies born there - babies born to any mage under Chantry authority - are removed from their mothers at birth. I was barely able to catch a glimpse of her before she was taken. It was fourteen years before I had the opportunity to hold her in my arms."

 

Tempest tried to soften the impact of this harsh truth with a smile. "Always treasure your family, Bartha. Whether you return to Redcliffe straightaway or see more of the world first, family is far too important to be taken for granted. What I lost taught me that."

 

"I... I didn't know that. Sorry." She nodded at Tempest's last comment. "My family is very important to me. I would be honored if you would visit us sometimes, when this is over." She felt the urge to give the mage a hug. The idea of having a babe ripped from your arms, to be denied a family, overwhelmed her with sadness. "I can't even imagine what you have gone through... I am just..." She shaked her head. "Sorry... this is inhumane. What do they hope to achieve with that? Are they afraid that you might be happy?" She clenched her jaw.

 

"I would love to visit your family, and I am grateful for the invitation," Tempest replied with a smile. Her brow furrowed into an expression of sadness, though, as she went on, "As for why they take the children... they say it is for the baby's protection. That a child is not safe around a mage mother who thus cannot be trusted. A child who is not a mage can be raised away from magic, and if the child turns out to be a mage too, then he or she must receive a 'proper' upbringing without unfavorable influences. Truth be told, though, to a great extent you are right - it is about control, and making sure mages do not gain the happiness and strength that comes from family."

 

Deciding to make an attempt at a happier subject, Tempest said, "That jewel in your hair is lovely. Today is the first I had noticed you wearing it. Is it new?"

Bartha sent Tempest an inviting smile when she admitted to want to visit Bartha's family sometime. Her expression quickly followed that of the mage though, slowly turning into an angered expression as Tempest continued her story. She opened her mouth to answer, but didn't follow through as Tempest did her best to change the subject. 'Makers balls... I really need to get you out of there, Elias... But I'll ask for advise another time. I understand that the subject isn't helping with our mood, and especially for one who has experienced all this first hand.'

 

She took a deep breath before looking up at Tempest again. "Thank you. You are correct: it is new. Actually, it is made by Fabian. He gave it to me as a gift last night."

As soon as the words changing the subject were out of her mouth, Tempest could tell from Bartha's expression that she had made a misstep. She had assumed that as a non-mage and a dwarf, Circle-specific problems would not be of interest to Bartha, so she had felt she shouldn't belabor the topic. Belatedly, she realized that it was relevant because of Bartha's mage friend. Tempest decided she would try to loop the conversation back to the subject.

 

First, though, she grinned at what Bartha said about the broach. "He made it himself? He must be an excellent craftsman. And what a thoughtful gift! Any special occasion?"

 

Tempest wondered if Fabian might be a bit sweet on Bartha, and that thought made her smile.

 

She nodded: "I asked to see some of his work when he said that he was a smith. It's good advertisement I guess. At least I surely consider doing business with him." Bartha smiled at Tempest. "I wasn't really sure what to make of it when he knocked on my door last night, but apparently he really just wanted to chat."

 

Tempest greeted the last bit of what Bartha said with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

 

"He paid a visit to your room? I hope he was a gentleman."

 

Although her tone was light and joking, there was a faint layer of concern buried beneath what Tempest said. She had no particular fear about Fabian, having decided he was simply flirtatious in his manner but likely harmless, but she would have worried about another woman's safety with any such nighttime encounter.

 

Bartha nodded. "We chatted a bit and then he left again. A few minutes later Mercuriel came by to ensure I was alright and alone in my room." She smiled faintly. "Guess it's good to know that everone is concerned about my safety." 

Tempest smiled back, and replied, "Whether you are alone in your room at night is none of my business, but I am glad to hear you were safe."

 

Returning to an earlier subject that she had ended prematurely, she said, "Forgive me for prying, but... you are concerned for your mage friend in the Circle, no? Is there any way I can help set your mind at ease?" 

Bartha chuckled: "I guess I wouldn't mind to have someone to keep to warm, but alas... I tend to be alone." 

 

She wrinkled her nose when Tempest changed the subject. "Yes, I am concerned. It has been about a decade since I have seen him, so perhaps he does not consider me a friend anymore... nonetheless, I do want him to be happy and enjoy his life. I have blamed myself for years that I was not there to help him when the templars came. Later on I came to terms with the fact that I would not have been able to do anything about it, anyway. And although it hurted me that I was denied to have further contact with him, I settled with the idea that he would be used to his new life, within the sanctioned circle. Now with you lot, I come to see that I might be wrong with my image of the circle of magi..." She sighed. "I just hope I will actually manage to get into contact with him, and hear from him how he is. And if he is unhappy, I hope I'll be able to get him out of there. If that is what he wants, of course... I understand that it is also dangerous outside of the circle, especially if he'd be marked apostate." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I just don't know what to do."  

 

"You could try to speak to him," Tempest replied. "To find out what he wants. Not all mages despise Circle life. He very well may be happy and safe, engrossed in learning and protected by devoted templars. Or, his situation may be as mine was... but you cannot know that without asking him. You might be able to get a letter to him, although it wouldn't be easy. The best way, though, would be to find create some pretext to get him away from the Circle for a time, as when Etienne was sent on his errand. It is almost impossible to sneak into a Circle, but much easier to steal a moment alone with a mage on the road or in the wilds, even with templars nearby."

 

"Of course, but how would I be able to set up one such an errand for him? In the past, I did send him some letters, but none got answered. So I have no idea whether they reached him at all or not. I mean, if I send a letter to the circle, they could just send any mage instead." She let out a deep sigh. "Etienne said he knew him... I guess Sarel might have known him too, but both are no longer available to us. I have no idea what Elias' speciality would be: healing, potions, knitting... Something to use as a lead why especially he is required." 

 

Tempest pondered this for a moment, but couldn't come up with an easy answer. "We need some way to get information about him so we do not seem to be in ignorance about him. It would also help to have the endorsement of some authority figure - a trusted mage or someone from a chantry - but that may not be possible."

 

She realized she had just said 'we' about trying to rescue a mage she had never met, and who might not even want to be rescued.

 

"I will think on this, Bartha," Tempest promised. "I am sure we can find a solution. That is, if you want my help."

 

Bartha gave Tempest a grateful smile. "Thank you. I would have no clue at all who to contact or how to do this, so I would be really glad for your help. Perhaps it will be only to find out that he is satisfied with his life as it is, but that knowledge would be a relief for me too." 

 

"You are welcome," Tempest replied. "Do you know which Circle he was taken to? Was it perchance Kinloch Hold? If so, I know some mages who used to live there. I doubt they have any useful connections remaining, but they might be able to give us information about his specialties to help us tailor a request."

 

"As far as I know they took him to Kinloch indeed. That would mean a lot to me." Bartha smiled. She started to have new hope of pulling this off. But first they would have to pull off another feat.

"I will be happy to contact them," Tempest said. "It will need to wait until we finish our errand, of course. When we have returned, I will ask about your friend. Hopefully I will be able to find some useful information. In the meantime, I will pray for him. Or... is that offensive to you? I know dwarves have different religious customs."

 

Bartha's friend presumably was not a dwarf, since a dwarf couldn't be a mage, but the rogue still might feel awkward about Andrastian prayers being said for him.

 

Bartha nodded. "There are more urgent matters which need to be solved first."

 

She chuckled when Tempest responded insecure when offering to pray for Elias. "Do not worry, I appreciate the thought and I wouldn't mind at all. Myself, I call out to both Maker and my ancestors, as I have no idea who would answer. And if both would hear me... well, the more help the better, right? As a surfacer, I lack stonesense, so calling out to the stone seems a bit farfetched to me. And for Elias, I honestly have no idea what he believes in. His parents weren't Andrastians, being Rivaini, but I do not know what his faith is nowadays."

 

Tempest smiled at what Bartha said. "That is indeed a sensible way to look at it," she said. "I will pray for Elias, then. I hope that one day I will meet him in person - although I also hope for his sake that he will tell us he is safe and happy, and not in need of rescue. If he does need to be liberated, though... Maker willing, we will find a way."

 

"Fair enough." Bartha nodded. "It would indeed be a lot easier, or he might be on the run for templars for the rest of his life. But that is something I'd best not worry about, yet. I expect it will take some time before we can do this, anyway."

 

"It will take time," Tempest agreed. Getting information from her Circle, sending ravens to Kinloch Hold... and that was even before the real work began. "Fortunately, there is no reason to think he is in immediate danger. We will figure this out, Bartha. I am confident of it."

[BFace]

In Which Tessa Doesn't Ask Philomena the Wrong Question

(A joint post between Philomena and Tessa)

 

Spoiler

“Ho there, Philomena! Mind if I walk with you a bit?” Tessa jogged to catch up to the other woman, then slowed to match her stride. As they walked toward this Dalish camp, Tess had been able to talk to several of the folks she traveled with. She’d hesitated about approaching their newest addition out of a desire not to overwhelm the newcomer, but having seen her walking alone, Tessa thought that now was as good a time as any to make some friendly overtures. 

 

Philomena had been lost in thought, as she usually was during long walks. A woman’s voice called out her name, and she looked back to see the tall warrior approaching her. Strange how these folks tended to ask for permission to walk next to her.

 

“As I told your tall friend yesterday--the one with the axe--you may walk where you please,” she responded without breaking stride. A person with as long of leg as Tessa should have no trouble matching it.

 

Tessa nodded politely. “That’s true. Maybe I should have asked if I were interrupting your thoughts. I only wished to be polite in my greeting. I didn’t offend, did I?” It was always an interesting dance, meeting new people. Everyone had their own way of thinking and doing, and Tessa didn’t always go about it as smoothly as she’d like.

 

“Thoughts are meant to be interrupted, aren’t they? Otherwise, we’d never get anything done.” Philomena hoped the usual edge in her voice did not belie her attempts at… well, she supposed friendliness was the word, if such a one could be used to describe anything she did. “And it takes far more to offend me than a request for proximity,” she said, chuckling without smiling. Then it suddenly occurred to her that the warrior’s interest in her could be more than just pleasantries or chatter. She reminded herself to be on guard, as there was no telling where this woman’s allegiances lay.

 

Tessa lifted the corner of her mouth in something almost a smile. “That’s certainly true. I actually wanted to thank you, if I’m honest, for offering to guide us through this Maker-forsaken forest.  It’s a bit of a comfort to know we’re not just wandering around lost.”  She was never much of a navigator and one tree looked very like another to her.

 

"I'll do my utmost, of course," Philomena replied seriously. "But since our destination is unknown--that is, I've never seen these ruins myself--my help might be limited." She shrugged, uncertain if Tessa was actually worried about losing their way or if she was attempting trivial conversation to pass the time.

 

Nodding, Tessa replied, “That’s true, too. I do have a question, though, and pardon me if it seems out of line. It isn’t meant so, and you have to admit it is a fair question. What made you volunteer your help? I mean what I said about appreciation, but we have no real idea what we’re walking into. Many people would have wished us luck and went home and barred the door.” 

 

 The warrior had asked her what she had planned to be a pointed question. Philomena's eyes roved between her new companions: a cadre of fighters, deadly warriors, and the two Mages. What use would a simple forester be in such a company? Tessa's curiosity was somewhat expected, though unwanted. Indeed, why bring her along at all, considering their likely foe? What would make Philomena more useful than a map? It would have been simplest to simply reveal her abilities, but her natural inclination to conceal herself to strangers prevailed. "Though I live in Ferelden, I am Rivaini by blood and temperament. Perhaps your people would cower in the shadows as their neighbors were violently killed. But where I come from, there is no good for one if there is no good for the many."

 

Tessa let Philomena’s pointed barb pass without comment. She’d heard of Rivain, or rather she’d read about it in one of the books in Lothering’s Chantry.  Absolutely all she remembered was that it was far away. It would probably explain her new companion’s warm dark skin, maybe her courage as well.

 

“I like to think it’s natural to want to help where help is needed, Philomena,” she said kindly.  “I’ll do my best to see you there and then back to Vintiver in one piece.”

 

"That would be my preference," Philomena said with a relieved exhalation.

 

 

[TreeHuggerHannah]

A joint post between Beldin and Tempest. Bel asks about her favorite subject... her children!

 

Spoiler

Beldin usually allowed the others to walk ahead of him while traveling. His legs were long enough to get forward if trouble arose, and his bulk was usually sufficient to discourage hostility if trouble pursued them. At the moment, however, he saw Tempest walking alone, and lengthened his stride to catch up.

 

"And how are you today, hnesce-modor?" he asked, not bothering to translate the Logerwold dialect. The compound word sounded like "nest-mother" and meant "mum," a kindly woman who took in strays and nursed them like abandoned ducklings among her own brood. After everything they had been through together, the meaning and the tone would be clear enough. "Is your pack full of books that wants someone else to carry?"

 

"I am well, and you are very kind, Beldin," Tempest said with a smile. "But I am accustomed to carrying my own pack. I would not wish to treat a friend as a beast of burden. Besides, it is not so heavy."

 

She added, "What you called me... nes-modor, was it?" Her attempt to imitate the unfamiliar pronunciation hit the highlights but missed the subtleties. "I like that. It sounds very maternal. What is the origin of the phrase?"

Beldin felt quite at ease this morning, and chatty. Unlike some of the others, he wasn't particularly worried about wandering into the forest. That might have been due to a lack of imagination on his part, but at the moment, he enjoyed being out in the forest with a breeze on his face and friends all around him. If he had a tail, he would have wagged it.

 

"You might have to ask Rhys," he said around a grin. "No one in my home village remembers where the words came from, they're just there. I'm told that it's a bit like the Avvar language, but I've never heard that particular variety outside Logerwold. In Trade Tongue, it's "gentle mother," more or less, but where I come from, it's a nice lady who takes in lost children with no home to return to. You seem to have a knack for that. I heard mention of a family. I'd like to hear about them, if you're willing to tell me."

Intentionally or not, Beldin had hit upon Tempest's favorite conversational subject. She beamed, and replied, "Of course. I have three children."

 

She removed a drawing from the pocket of her traveling garb and passed it to Beldin. He would see the carefully painted likenesses of Tempest, a young teenager who looked like a virtual miniature of her mother save for the child's rounder face and straight hair, a red-haired girl of similar age with freckles and no hands, and the much younger child, a mischievous-looking blond boy. All four figures in the picture, Tempest and her children, looked blissfully happy.

 

"Cara is my oldest," Tempest said, pointing to the dark-haired girl. "She's fourteen. Amazingly confident and utterly opinionated, but with a good heart. Annice is thirteen. She's shy, yet she's a wonderful storyteller. My youngest, Minnow, is only six. He's clever and always getting into things. And for whatever reason, he's utterly fascinated with nugs." 

He gazed at the painting and its happy occupants and wondered how such a thing might be possible. Nobody was pulling anybody else's hair or grumbling because their sibling got a bigger spoonful of pudding. It brought a lump to his throat. He swallowed and covered his momentary lapse of compsure by bringing the painting closer for a better look.

 

"It's... beautiful," he blurted. "You have a lovely family, Tempest. With storytellers and artists and... nug... experts among them, you must never lack for a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I hope you'll allow me to meet them someday, and Minnow can explain to me what a nug is."

 

"Thank you," Tempest replied. "I am truly blessed beyond measure by the Maker to have my children. I do hope you'll come visit! The children would love to meet you. I'm confident Minnow will tell you everything you wish to know about nugs, plus quite a bit more."

 

She admitted, "I'm very new to parenthood. My children have only been with me for a few months. I count myself incredibly fortunate, though, and I do as well as I can by them."

Beldin blinked at her.

 

"But you..." he stammered. "I don't mean to be rude, but it just seems so right, so natural for you. I hadn't known you for half a day before that became obvious. I think if I were a child with a skinned knee and saw you in the market square, I'd run up and ask you to kiss it better."

 

He chuckled. "I still might. It's strange how some people are just made to be parents. It's a calling, I guess, and look how happy your children are! It seems as if everybody found the place they need to be. They say the Maker's gone, but as long as that keeps happening, I won't believe it."

 

"Thank you, Beldin," Tempest replied. "I take that as a great compliment. What I said was true... I've only been with my children a short time... but I've been a mother for much longer. My eldest, Cara, was born in the Kirkwall Circle. Children born to mages are taken at birth. My daughter and I were separated for many years, and it was only recently that we were able to reunite. I went on to adopt the other two. I know it sounds strange, saying I was a mother when I had no child, but... from the moment I felt Cara move in my womb, I felt like a mother, and no amount of argument otherwise could take that away."

Beldin went silent for a moment as her words turned themselves over and over in his mind. Images formed, of old Aelwynn carrying his sixteen year old self out of Tor Adley at midnight and loading him onto a cart, of his grandmother putting a fat purse of gold in his hands and kissing him goodbye, her eyes awash with tears. He had been in too much pain to feel the loss at the time, but the memory was his constant companion in his fevered dreams as he lay dying in the ditch before the farmer's rescue, and his own grief over the separation consumed him as he recovered in the farmer's chidren's bed. How much worse must that have been to be torn from a mother... or from a child, an infant.

 

"They... took your baby away?" he asked, dumbstruck. "Just like that, without even telling you where they took her or that she was alright? I can't even imagine what you must have suffered, feeling her grow inside you, loving her, and then... losing her like that. And what Cara must have suffered! My mother died when I was four, and I still remember how... devastating... it was to know that she was gone. But I always knew that she loved me, and my grandmother was there to comfort me. I never felt... abandoned... alone. Thank the Maker that you found each other!"

 

All his life, Beldin had believed that the Chantry was right to keep mages locked away to protect people from them, but his time in Tempest's company had certainly opened his eyes. To separate a mother from her child... and how must Cara have been conceived? In Tarl Dale's courtroom, she confessed the abuse she'd endured. To rip from her that one glimmer of joy, after everything she'd been through...

 

He drew his axe, sank to one knee, and presented the weapon to her across the open palms of his hands.

 

"You and your family will never want for a protector again, Tempest," he said solemnly. "By Andraste's blessed pyre, I swear it."

 

Tempest felt her eyes mist up a little at this heartfelt show of loyalty. 

 

"Thank you," she said, gently touching his shoulder. "For that I am deeply grateful. I accept your offer of protection. Please know, too, that you will always be welcome in our home. Though you haven't met the rest of my family yet, I can already assure you that you will have their friendship also."

 

She offered Beldin her hand to help him rise, then gave him a decidedly sisterly hug. 

 

"I am sorry for the loss of your mother," she told him. "I thank the Maker I found Cara too, and that He gave me my other children. The templars told me they were giving Cara to a nice, loving Andrastian couple to be adopted. I wanted to keep her, of course I did, but I couldn't, so I convinced myself it was the best thing that she have a new home like that. I convinced myself she'd be better off. It was all a lie. She was never adopted. She lived in an orphanage till she was twelve, and then... then they gave her to her father. My poor little girl, feeling unloved and then being hurt. It breaks my heart, and all the while I was telling myself how happy she must be..."

 

Tempest stopped and wiped her eyes. "I apologize. I am sure this is more than you wished to know. But... thank you for listening."

 

When Tempest finished speaking, he embraced her in return, gently.

 

"Do not apologize," he said quietly, so only she could hear. "That's what friends are for. And while you and all your children suffered when you were apart, you are together now, and anyone can see how happy you are. There's healing in joy, and in time, pain becomes only a memory. It's natural to ask why, to wonder if the Maker has abandoned us, that He should allow such terrible things to occur, but that was the doing of mortals, and their sin is their own. It was the Maker who brought you together, and who gave you the strength to endure."

 

He touched his cheek to hers in a brotherly caress.

 

"And that's enough sermons from me," he said with a wry smile. "I thank you for sharing this glimpse of your family with me. I will cherish it."

 

Tempest nodded her agreement with everything Beldin said. "The Maker is good," she replied. "Even though a man claiming to be His servant was wicked. Our family has been incredibly blessed. There has been suffering, yes, but now there is healing. Now things are as they were meant to be."

 

Her only regret, at present, was that she wouldn't be going home to her children tonight. Tempest enjoyed traveling and seeing new places, but it was difficult to be away from her family. She sincerely believed that the Maker had given her the gift of healing so that she could serve others, and she couldn't always do that just sitting by her own fireside. Her heart was torn, though, between duty and home. Duty meant helping the Dalish clan, no two ways about it. Selfishly, though, she hoped that soon they would be making this journey in a homeward direction.

 

"Thank you for your compassion, Beldin. It means a great deal to me how much you care about us."

 

"You're an easy person to like," he said, smiling softly, "and I've a feeling the rest of your family is the same. Do you live near Vintiver? I think I may settle in this area, if I ever do. It's a pleasant thought that we might be neighbors one day."

 

"You're easy to like, too, Beldin," Tempest replied sincerely. "I do not always make male friends easily. With you, I have never been fearful, which is saying a great deal. I am glad that we've had the opportunity to become acquainted."

 

The question about where she lived was a complicated one to answer. They hadn't been able to stay in one place for long.

 

"My Circle is located near Vintiver at present. It's two days' walk at a moderate pace, a bit less if you rush. As for 'settled,' though, we unfortunately are not. We're staying at an abandoned farmstead for the moment, but it's not a permanent home. We'll likely need to move again before the winter sets in in earnest, as it requires more repairs than we'd be able to accomplish and we wouldn't able to get to a market to sell the goods we produce. I've... well, to be honest, I've been thinking about whether we might be able to move to Vintiver proper. It's a nice place. I think it would be good for us. And I... to be utterly frank with you, I would very much like to be settled. A life spent on the move is not for me. I would like to have a place for my family to call home."

"Vintiver would be ideal!" he agreed enthusiastically. "And you're wise moving before the winter. This part of Ferelden sees heavy weather, so if that farmhouse needs repairs, better now than later. That's assuming we can find those missing Dalish and put a stop to the creatures who are attacking the village. We will. Have no fear. I don't disbelieve the danger, nor am I foolhardy, but I have faith. We would not have been led here from the four corners of Thedas if we did not have the strength to overcome these obstacles."

 

He smiled. "Home is more than a building or a town. It's safety, a sense of belonging. I think everyone needs that."

 

"The Maker will give us strength," Tempest agreed. "And when this is all over, perhaps we'll indeed be neighbors someday."

 

It was, Tempest decided, a very pleasant thought.

[BFace]

In Which Beldin and Tessa Discuss Combat Tactics and Warrior Philosophy.

(A joint post between BFace and berelinde)

 

Spoiler

 

Tessa walked for a bit, lost in her own thoughts. She would occasionally look ahead and behind to see how everyone was traveling and she’d been passing the walk in conversation with various people.  These long hauls were definitely the best time to get to know the people one traveled with.

 

She looked ahead of her to Beldin, who for once, was not talking to someone else.  He traveled neatly, and Tessa took a moment to admire the fact that he seemed to have a place for everything. Although she wondered where he kept his axe…Oh, right, Tess thought to herself as she spotted it on his left side and lengthened her stride until she caught him up on that side.

 

“You know,” she said conversationally, “We could make use of your left-handedness.”

 

She felt the blush creep up her neck and over her face. “I mean, in combat.”

 

You’re an idiot, Tessa.

 

"In combat?" Beldin asked, shortening his strides to a compromise that left them both maintaining a comfortable pace. "Cover the opposite flank? If I'm on the edges, I'm probably doing it wrong."

 

Tess made a face up at him. “Yes, clearly. But I mean...you generally see right handed opponents, yes?”

 

"Aye," he agreed. The answer was terse, but the tone wasn't. Tessa didn't demand a lot of words if one would do, and there wasn't really much he could add. "And most people aren't used to the weapon coming at them from the other side."

 

“Which is a benefit in most cases,” Tessa nodded. “But it also leaves your axe arm more vulnerable than it would be if it were your right arm, does it not?”

 

"As I discovered at the windmill," he said, touching his side where the axe had bitten him. "You get used to it, but I'll never block as well with the axe as I do with the shield."

 

Frowning at the ground in front of them, Tess answered, “Yes, well, if I’d been fas...well, nevermind that. My point is, you need someone willing to guard your left side.” She glanced up at him, then looked away. “Like I’m doing right now.”

 

"Good point," Beldin said. "It'd be a comfort to have somebody competent covering my arse."

 

His cheeks went pink at that. "Not that the others aren't," he added hastily. "And you'd get coverage on your off side, too."

 

Tessa dipped her head in a nod. “That’s true, and it’d save me having to haul ass across a field when you fall down.” Her tone was light, but she didn’t look at him.

 

He looked at her sharply, catching his toe on a rock. He staggered forward a half step, but did not fall over.

 

"That was you, then?" he said. 

 

 

She nodded shortly, still not looking at him.

 

The image of the bisected man flashed before his eyes.

 

"That was... impressive," he said. "I had not thought such a thing was possible. I can cleave a skull, but to cut a man in half... I shouldn't have put you in that position."

 

Tessa snorted. “Beldin, I’d have done exactly what you did, if my legs were longer.” She did look over at him then, “Which doesn’t make it less damn reckless, mind.” She exhaled and wrinkled her nose. “I understand why you did, is all I’m saying. If I’m honest, though, my shoulder hurts like fury. I don’t think I could do something like that on command. And it’s just as well. That’s a ...it was...it maybe didn’t need to be so brutal.”

 

"We don't always get to choose," he said. "Aye, I can tell you about holding it in and all, but we both know it's rot. You hit hard so you don't have to hit again. Because if you don't, you're next. We're neither of us made for hand-wringing."

 

She chuckled softly. “No, that’s true. But I think if we didn’t, at least, have some regret for the necessity of what we do, we’d be no better than bandits.” She looked up at him, her head tilted. 

 

"Regret implies we'd do it differently next time," he said, but there was no reproach in it. "Aye, the necessity is an ugly thing, and we owe a debt for each life we take. If it were up to me, I'd as soon shake hands over a pint at the tavern, but if they're bent on harm, they don't leave us a lot of options. Give them a chance to walk away, and if they don't take it, well, it's their choice."

 

He chuckled. "Said the man who spent most of the fight on his arse. Again."

 

“I do sometimes forget that they choose too.” She remembered what Fabian called him back at the manor and chuckled before going on, “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Ser Ox, you did your fair share of work before you fell over. Don’t doubt that.”

 

He grinned at the nickname, and decided he liked it. From her.

 

"I only regret that I didn't get to see you cleave that bastard in two." He held up a hand to quell the potential reproach about his bloodthirstiness. "He did try to do the same to me. But that swing must have been a sight to behold."

 

“Well, I did manage to do it while standing half on top of you.” She wasn’t boastful by nature, but he spoke about her skill and the event in a way that let her know that he understood, and that he was impressed. Something about that made it alright to be a little flippant.  She didn’t feel so guarded around him. This was going to be an interesting thing to get used to.

 

In Beldin's life, romance had always pertained more to heroism than to matters of the heart, but the image of Tessa straddling his prone form, standing strong in the face of that massive warrior inspired both nuances of the term. He was neither vain nor deluded enough to believe himself the best warrior of the Age. He had needed a rescue, and there she was. It was humbling, but it was also exciting. It would take some getting used to, but it was not an unpleasant experience.

 

"Good to know you can fight over large obstacles across uneven terrain," he said with a lopsided smile. His brain was still preoccupied with the strike sequence that must have played out on the hillside in pleasant but disconcerting ways, but she could not see inside his skull. She would not know of his perversions unless he told her, and he'd bite off his own tongue before he said a word about them.

 

"Hey, Tess," he said after a pause, "about that shoulder. I wrenched mine a while back when some horseman tried to ride me down. One of the lads had at it with a warm rock and a good rub. Set it to rights in mere moments. I can try that on yours when we make camp later, if you're willing."

 

She knew that heat was good for muscles so she nodded companionably. Several beats passed before she registered what he’d called her. Or rather, before she registered how the sound had settled in her belly in a bit of warm rightness. Tess looked over at him, gave him a small smile and could not stop herself from reaching out to touch his arm for a moment.

 

[mysteriouspast]

((HOT DAMN BUT WE ARE CHATTY TONIGHT!!  ))

[Lorien19]

Joint Post between Tessa and Laurelin...In which they discuss about shapeshifting.

 

Spoiler

Tessa caught up to Laurelin, then slowed to match the Dalish woman's pace. Her mind kept going back to the scene near the windmill from last night. She still had no clear idea what Laurelin had done. Some sort of magic, clearly, and Tessa was interested in learning what to expect so that if it happened again, she could keep her wits about her, maybe.

"How are you doing, Laurelin?"
It was one of the few moments, where Laurelin didn't pay much attention to her suroundings .On the contrary her mind was in a different dimension, lost in the labyrinth of her mind among her thoughts. Therefore she was quite startled when Tessa addressed her.She slicked back a strand of her hair behind her ear, and turned towards the warrior woman.

"Tessa?...I am fine...Thank you for asking." She said, mildly surprised.
Tessa hid a smile when Laurelin jumped. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said. "I do want to ask you about last night, before we ran up to the windmill."

She tilted her head to look at the elven woman. "What exactly did you do?" Her voice held no worry or reproach, just a simple curiosity.
Laurelin's brow furrowed in confusion "Last Night... Ah yes you mean the transformation! I'm actually trying to forget this myself." She said blushing, for one she was glad that she didn't spook the woman off, nor anyone in their company so far.

"It's called shapeshifting, the Keeper taught me how to use such magic... Although, it's not very common even among the Dalish."
She shrugged "I try not to use that ability much though... It nearly cost my life once." She said, sadness was apparent in her voice.

Tessa looked utterly perplexed.

"Shape...shifting? You mean, when the light exploded, you were turning back into yourself? From something else? How...Is that Dalish magic?"

Tessa had no idea such a thing was even possible. The Maker's world was full of wonder.
"I wouldn't call it Dalish magic exclusively,but then again my knowledge on shape-shifting is merely but a fraction of what the Keeper knows."Laurelin sighed,she didn't know whether she the Keeper would approve her discussing this topic,yet she understood that Tessa was genuinely curious,and her desire to know more about what happened was understandable since they will be travelling together for some time.
"In that particular occasion,I took the form of a raven,to scoot the area and find Bartha...Saved us precious time,after all we arrived precisely at the right moment for her rescue."She chuckled "Of course,when I use this kind of magic,I'm usually alone so I neglected to change back into myself in...Private

She wore a look of astonishment. "Wait. You were scouting? That...that could be incredibly useful."

She snorted at the memory of a very bare Laurelin causing havok the night before. "So, ideally someone should carry spare clothes for you, if you ever do this?"

Tessa grew serious then. "What does it cost you, though? You said you nearly lost your life once because of it. That's too high a cost just to scout."
"That would certainly make it easier...And far less embarrassing."She chuckled.
At Tessa's question Laurelin's expression changed,from cheerful to solemn.
As much as she tried to bury that memory,it was impossible.The wound from the arrow might have healed thanks to the Keeper,but she couldn't say the same about the one in her heart.
She remembered everything,herself lying on the ground, while the pain along with the scent of the decaying leaves and that of her own blood,was making her nauseous.
"The only thing it costs me is mana."She said evenly.
"It wasn't the transformation itself that nearly killed me you see."
Tessa looked sharply at Laurelin.

"So what happened?" she asked simply.

She was quickly learning that mages were far more complicated than she'd ever thought about. And that she was going to have be on her toes, because if Laurelin could turn into a bird, then so could another mage, possibly, and Tessa would need to know as much as she could to be able to protect Laurelin if she ever did that again.
"In our parts,there's a legend of a great beast...Twice as big as a normal wolf."Her tone became somber "Both Shemlen and Elves keep their distance from that particular spot in the forest, where Fen'Adhalen dwells."Her eyes narrowed as she gazed towards the direction of the forest.
"However,a hunter from the Illan clan was determined to seek the beast out and kill it."Laurelin paused and looked back at Tessa
"We Dalish have a custom according to which a hunter must prove his mantle and bring back the pelt of a creature he killed himself."She crossed her arms and shrugged
"But you see that particular hunter had already proved himself to the clan...His real intention was to win a woman's hand.A woman that according to the Keeper wasn't meant for him."The bitterness in her voice was apparent.
"But he failed his quest,since there was no beast to begin with...So he ended up shooting old me instead.I was following him in the form of a raven to assist him in case he got himself in rouble"
Her voice began to shake
“But when I changed back into myself,he was alarmed by the light and instinctively shot an arrow at my direction.”
Tessa could almost feel her head spinning with all the questions she had. She thought quietly for a moment as she figured out where to start. As always, Tessa found that breaking something down into its base parts made it easier to work around figuring it out.

So she started at the basic, important question.

"Did he...did he know it was you, Laurelin?"
"He learned it was me eventually...If he knew it already he wouldn't purse this meaningless hunt,of that I'm sure."
She said calmly,she didn't hold a grudge at him,she wasn’t even angry at this point.
"So I pretty much learned the hard way,that I have to be more careful when I use this kind of magic."
Wiping a hand across her face, Tessa nodded. This is still very difficult to wrap her brain around. For the first time she really thought that even as a gift, magic was maybe not a good gift. It seemed fraught with danger and worry.

"Can you...can you turn into any animal?"
"It's more complicated than that...You see in order to assume it's form I must study that animal in question for quite some time."
Laurelin smiled faintly,she couldn't tell whether Tessa was nervous or confused,or even curious about magic.
"Are you afraid of it...Magic I mean,your people seem to dread those born with it."
Tessa blinked at Laurelin.

"Afraid? Well...a little, yes. I don't know anything about it, not being a mage. But to ask if I'm afraid of you for being a mage?"

Tessa smiled at her. "No. I'm not afraid of you, Laurelin. But I am a little afraid for you. That's why I'm asking so many questions."

She was pretty sure now that it was the Maker's Will that she be a part of this group of people. Tess just hoped she was up to the challenge of whatever lay ahead.
Tessa nodded at Laurelin. She was right, of course.

"That's true, there's danger abound in this place. It's good to stay alert, but it's also good to know none of us are facing this unknown by ourselves, yes?"
"Most certainly..."Laurelin said stoically but her face equally calm as her voice.
However her mind was clouded and clearly troubled.She didn’t know in what condition they'll find Eshara's clan.
"Although,I don't know how the Eladiel clan will react to our arrival."
Tilting her head, Tessa looked at Laurelin. "Surely they won't attack us with you and Mercuriel in plain sight, and clearly with us of your own will, would they?"

That was something that had not occurred to Tessa at all. She frowned worriedly.

"I hope so!from what I know they aren't as hostile with humans as other clans...But the situation is rather complicated at this point...In the end of the day,I don't even know whether we'll find a clan at all."
Laurelin said worringly,hopefully the revengers didn't get to them first.
Tessa paled at that.

"Maker, let's hope we do find them, Laurelin."
Laurelin nodded in agreement,she didn't know what or whom they'd find in that forest.

Still,they weren't going to turn back at this point,whatever they'd have to face they'd face it together.
A thought that she found more comforting, than she thought.

[Mahumia]

Bartha and Tessa gossip a bit on the road  

 

Spoiler

Bartha quickened her step to keep up with Tessa. "Hey Tessa? I noticed that you and Rhys know each other, right? Is he an old friend of you? He looks so different from the other folks from the banorn."

 

Tessa shortened her stride so she could walk alongside Bartha.  She smiled as the dwarf woman mentioned Rhys, who was walking ahead of them, his long hillsman's stride making it look like he was talking a simple morning stroll.

 

"He and I used to belong to the same group of sell-swords. We weren't a mercenary company exactly-no fancy name, or fancy pay, but we'd wander around the countryside guarding merchant wagons and whatnot."

 

She looked down at Bartha, still smiling. "No, he doesn't look much like me, does he? He's an Avvar, Bartha. I think he's from the Frostbacks, at least I'm pretty sure he doesn't consider himself Fereldan, at any rate. What do you think of him, so far?"

 

She raised a brow: "You were a sell-sword? Really? I didn't expect that... well, fair enough, you show experience in fighting... I'd more expected you to be in the guard or some sort..." She shrugged: "Not that it matters. An Avvar... don't think I've seen those before, but to be honest: I haven't been much in the Frostbacks either." Bartha glanced in the direction of Rhys. "I haven't yet had the opportunity of much conversation, but he seems to be a decent man... who has some issues with holding his ale, though. Perhaps we could teach him a thing or two about that." She sent Tessa a cheeky grin.

 

Tessa smiled at Bartha. "I actually like not staying in one place, if I'm honest. And guard work was never something I'd had the opportunity for."

 

Tess was glad to see some of Bartha's sense of humor. She enjoyed talking to the dwarf woman.

 

She chuckled at her companion's description of Rhys. "Well, to be fair, he's not usually like that. I think that...I think that whatever he saw, whatever killed his group, must have been quite the shock. Maybe you could teach him a bit about holding his liquor-I'm not much of a drinker, myself."

 

Bartha's face grew serious. "Of course, it must have been horrible for him to just witness his whole group getting slaughtered. At least you can keep an eye on him, I guess? To make sure that he is alright?"

 

Bartha crossed her arms and pouted. "What do you mean, that I should teach him? Got I such a great reputation already? Tsk, tsk... I like my liquor, but I am not that well at holding it, either." She winked at Tessa, showing that she was just teasing.

"Maybe we could just sit down sometimes and take our time to enjoy some good wine? Would you like that? I mean, Fabian made a similar offer yesterday, so it could be fun to do so with all of us, I guess?"

 

"I'd like to sit down with you for a chat, anytime, Bartha." Tess said this with a small smile before going on. "I don't drink alcohol, though, so I'd have to pass on the wine tasting."

 

She turned the subject to the other new man among them. "You've spoken with Fabian then? What do you think of him?"

 

"That's good too, of course! I didn't know that you don't drink alcohol at all. Maybe some other kind of sampling?"

 

For a moment she glanced in the direction of Fabian, before looking back at Tessa again. "Yes, he knocked on my door last night, to 'trade a tale for a tale'. I wasn't really sure what to make of it, but I've got to admit that it was a nice conversation. Apparently he is a smith." She pointed at the broach in her hair. "He gave this to me, so I guess he's a good smith too. Ah, I guess I'll have to think a bit more before I decide which one of his stories holds truth... " Bartha started to think out loud: "According to him, only one, but we'll see... Maybe all where true, which would make him a flattering, smithing assassin from Antiva..." Bartha wrinkled her nose and scratched her chin. "Na... that doesn't sound right.... I guess I'll stick with the story that he's a smith, looking for better opportunities here." She shrugged before giving Tessa her full attention again. "Anyway, I have only a first impression so far, and he seems like a nice man. What about you?"

 

Tessa blinked at Bartha's multiple descriptions for Fabian.

 

"..a flattering, smithing assassin from Antiva, hmmm?" She smiled. "Having heard him talk this morning, I believe the Antivan part, at least. I haven't actually had the chance to talk to him yet, to be honest. If you feel that he's a good man, that eases my mind a good deal. I look forward to seeing how he fits in with our little raggle-taggle group."

 

Bartha chuckled when Tessa repeated her description of Fabian. "It sounds ridiculous, don't you think? But I agree on the Antivan part. He is a bit confusing at times, with his exquisite choice of words... but I guess he means well. I guess Mercuriel has a harder time trusting him, as he came to my room shortly after Fabian had left to ensure that I was alright and alone in my room." She shrugged. "I think he is a good man, but perhaps I'm wrong. I guess we might ask Mercuriel about his gut feeling in the matter, sometime?"

 

Tessa nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I'm glad to hear that, maybe. It is a little odd how he just appeared on the hill last night, but I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially if you speak well of him."

 

"Are you sure you want to trust me on my word? It might be a trick, you know? Perhaps i'm under influence of something... wasn't Etienne selling love potions the other day?" She sent Tessa a big grin and winked. "I thought it was strange too, but you had him surrounded, so I thought any danger had passed."

 

Tessa chuckled quietly. "Well you didn't buy any from him, did you?"  She wrinkled her nose, thinking. She hoped that Etienne was being treated well wherever they had him deciphering things. And she hoped it would help.

 

"I was only worried because he startled Tempest.  If he refrains from doing any more of that, I think he'll be fine."

 

Tessa turned her head to actually look at the broach in Bartha's hair. "That's lovely. You say he gave that to you?" She smiled at Bartha.

 

Bartha shook her head, still grinning. "No, I'm afraid I didn't buy any. I first want to see it in action before spending hard earned sovereigns on some exotic potion..."

 

She nodded at Tessa. "It is lovely, isn't it?" Her hand moved to the broach, gently touching it. "I asked to see some of his work sometime, and he actually showed me this one and asked me to accept it as a gift. Perhaps you can do the same if he knocks at your door for story telling?"

 

Tessa gave her companion a knowing smile.

 

"Bartha, I am not much of a storyteller. And I don't think he would come to my door for anything more than directions to the privy."

Bartha blinked a few times, a confused look on her face. "What? It's not like I am good at telling stories either. It was just an exchange of introductions, actually. If I had go give anyone directions, they'd end up everywhere except where they want to go."

 

Tessa snorted. "I fear I'd be the same, Bartha."

 

She grew serious as she looked ahead of them at Mercuriel, walking with his dog. "What do you think about all this Dalish mess, Bartha? Are we in over our heads?"

 

Bartha followed Tessa's gaze, her eyes lingering on the sword on the mans back. "I am not sure what to think, actually. One moment I do not dare to think of what might lay ahead, the other I feel like 'bring it on'." She turned her head and faced the woman next to her. "Yes, I think we are in over our heads, which means I'm pretty much drowning by now. Nonetheless, I hope that we can solve this before more fall victim to these... beings. Ignoring the danger is not an option either, as sooner or later they might come for our families too."

 

Tessa nodded, turning her head to face Bartha. 

 

"You're right, ignoring the danger is not an option. I'm glad you feel that way."

 

She exhaled heavily. "Let's hope we can actually be of some help."

 

Bartha nodded slowly, with a clenched jaw. "I hope so too."

[obsessedwjpn]

Mercuriel and Tempest have a chat while on the road. Mercuriel reveals a bit about his past, is haunted by a vision from his past, and Tempest tries to help him with his reservations concerning his budding relationship with Laurelin.

 

Spoiler

The group was underway to their next destination: the Dalish camp mentioned by elven woman who they had rescued earlier and returned to Tarl. Mercuriel lagged a little behind the group. He wasn't in a hurry to meet the next set of enemies that lie in wait for them - especially considering Tempest's description of them earlier. Dog trotted up a bit further, in the middle of everyone, just the way he liked it. 

 

Mercuriel tried to avoid glancing in Laurelin's direction for any long period of time. He did allow himself the occasional look just to make sure she was with the group. While attempting to avoid any thoughts dealing with Laurelin, Mercuriel noted Tempest's presence in the party. He'd barely spoken with the female mage since starting his travels with the group.

 

It's Bartha all over again, he thought to himself. He'd started conversing with Bartha lately though and found her presence to be quite a delight so perhaps interacting with Tempest would yield a similar result? He mulled it over for a moment before picking up his pace and moving to walk beside her.

 

"Excuse me, Tempest, was it?" He flashed her a broad smile. "How are you doing this fine-albeit ominous morning?"

 

Tempest had been wary of Mercuriel since they had first met. The elf warrior's flirtatious manner set her on edge, so although it was easy to make excuses by saying their paths hadn't crossed much and she wasn't actively avoiding him, she hadn't made any real effort to be friendly, either. She decided it was time to make up for this failure.

 

"Yes, my name is Tempest," she replied. "I am well. Although I am anxious for what we will face, I am glad for the opportunity to do some good. How are you?"

 

"Only anxious?" He raised a brow. "That is one way of putting it, I guess. As far as doing some good...I'm not one to run into trouble simply because it will make things better for others but I guess having a few good deeds on my record couldn't hurt." 

 

He chuckled lightly. "Usually, I do things for the right amount of coin in return." 

 

He took a moment to really look at Tempest. She had long dark hair and rather dazzling eyes. He stared into them for a moment before breaking contact. "May I ask why you are traveling with this group?" He gestures around them at everyone. "Laurelin," he faltered for a moment at the sound of her name then continued. "Anyway, Laurelin I can see wandering around, albeit it is still extremely dangerous for her, because she is a Dalish mage but do the Circle routinely allow their mages out and about?"

 

Tempest felt a bit uncomfortable with the length of Mercuriel's gaze, but told herself she was being ridiculous. He was just being friendly.

 

"I wanted to do some good," she told him honestly. "I originally came to Vintiver on business, but when I heard of the need of the Dalish clan, I could not turn away. I felt it was what the Maker would wish me to do. As for my Circle, my First Enchanter knows where I am, and she trusts my judgment."

 

Tempest did not require permission to be away from home. That wasn't how her Circle worked. She had enough respect for her Circle comrades, though, to discuss her plans with them rather than simply taking off.

 

The jaded, cynical part of Mercuriel's personality almost wanted to laugh at the notion of doing good or helping out a group of elves who you barely knew and had no connection to of any kind. But there was a small part left in Mercuriel's heart that still wanted to believe in people like Tempest who did good simply for the sake of doing good. At one point in time Mercuriel acted as Tempest did but now, with everything he'd seen in the world, he just couldn't agree with her sentiment, as much as he would like to.

 

"I see. Some would call you an honorable sort of person. I, however, think it is foolish to have such hopeful views of the world. But I believe to each their own. If you stand by your belief in helping others then I commend you."

 

He rubbed the back of his neck and adjusted his hair so that instead of hanging over his shoulders loosely it was now wrapped up in a leather braid. "As for what the Maker wishes you to do and your Circle - I admit I know little of your human god or what exactly goes on in human-controlled Circles but I am shocked they let you go so easily and without Templar supervision. What were the Templars like at your Circle? Are the stories the Dalish hear of Templars doing horrors unto mages, true? What of Tranquils? Does it not worry you?"

 

Tempest looked down at the ground, not sure how to answer that. It wasn't in her nature to lie, but this was a dangerous subject. Perhaps less so to one such as Mercuriel, however, who followed the elven gods and wasn't likely to go running off to the Chantry authorities at the first hint of unsanctioned magic.

 

"Not all Circles are the same," she said. "My own Circle has no templars at present, though we would prefer to remedy that. As for what you have heard... not all templars are the same, either. Some are capable of great cruelty. I have experienced that all too well. There are others, though, who are honorable men and women and genuinely seek to protect mages."

 

Mercuriel noted Tempest's statement of how she had experienced all too well the cruelty of templars. He frowned for a moment then softened his expression to one of understanding. He felt sorry for her. Who knows what kind of cruelty the templars had done to her? He wanted to comfort her, even if just a little, but he knew from watching her reactions around the others that she did not like being touched. Did that stem from the cruelty she received at the hands of the templars? He almost cursed out loud in anger before biting his tongue.

 

"I see. Even though I am Dalish I do not think all humans are alike, as tempting as that may be. Therefore, I can imagine that there are some good templars sprinkled in amongst all the bad ones. I am just glad that I never possessed the magical gift that you do. In fact, when I was younger, I had a friend who was being trained as the First to our Keeper. Her abilities always amazed me and scared me at the same time."

 

He didn't know how it had happened but he was opening up to Tempest, of all people, about Shaunee. His heart hurt for a moment but he pushed on and smiled. "I remember that she liked to use her magic to help our clan in any way possible. She was one of the kindest people I knew. Not that she didn't use her magic for tricks now and then."

 

He chuckled. Shaunee wasn't perfect though. When she was younger she caused quite an issue for the clan. She set fire to a shipment of crates from a human town. She did it out of dislike and ignorance of humans but didn't realize the effect it could have on the clan as a whole. The burned shipment alerted the human town to the Dalish clan's existence. Luckily they only sent a few scouts into the area, which Mercuriel and his fellow warriors silenced quickly, but the clan still had to move. Shaunee felt guilty ever since that day and did the best she could to make everyone's lives better.

 

Tempest could tell Mercuriel had mixed emotions - great affection for the woman he described, but also great sadness.

 

"She sounds like a wonderful person," Tempest said. "You speak of her in the past tense, though. If I may ask - what happened to her?"

 

Tempest hesitated to pry, but it seemed like Mercuriel wanted to talk about it.

 

Mercuriel considered for a moment if he should continue or not. Tempest seemed interested in hearing more and Mercuriel found himself in a rather sharing mood. Besides, what could it hurt to reveal just a little of his past? He wouldn't tell Tempest everything. 

 

"Well," he cleared his throat and looked ahead at their other traveling companions, "she died." He paused a moment then continued, his voice a bit hoarse, "She died during a hunt that we went on together."

 

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Our clan sent us out hunting that day and she and I were partners. A bear attacked us and even though I managed to fend it off, she'd been gravely injured. I couldn't protect her."

 

His breathing became a bit heavier as the tale unfolded. He looked at Tempest, waiting for her reaction. 

 

"I am truly sorry for your loss," Tempest said. She met Mercuriel's eyes, and there was clear sympathy written on her face. "I hope that you understand it was not your fault. I'm confident that you did all you could, and that is all anyone can ask. I think that she would be grateful you did your best to save her, and she would want you to live the rest of your life and be happy."

 

Mercuriel had described this woman as a 'friend,' but Tempest wondered about that, particularly in light of the obvious awkwardness between Mercuriel and a certain elf mage this morning, after considerable flirting the night before.

 

"Does her death make things difficult with Laurelin?" Tempest asked gently.

 

Mercuriel heard Tempest's words but couldn't process them. She seemed genuinely sorry for his loss and he accepted that but he couldn't agree with her that Shaunee would have wanted him to have any sort of happy existence after her death. Perhaps he was being too negative. He'd thought many times about simply letting go of the past and moving on but he couldn't. He'd never really told the true story to anyone, not even his clan, and until he revealed it he would forever feel guilt. Despite this need to share he felt that there was no one yet who he could entrust with such sensitive information.

 

"Thank you for your kind words, Tempest."

 

Tempest's next question did not surprise Mercuriel. He knew that someone would figure out the tension between he and Laurelin. However, Tempest seemed rather clever. She'd not only deduced Laurelin and his developing relationship but the connection between that and Shaunee's death. How could one woman know so much of matters of the heart? Mercuriel thought he would remember to ask Tempest about that later. For now, he simply turned his head towards her, his eyes focusing just beyond her face into a space far off.

 

"You are very quick to realize things, are you not?" A bit of admiration crept in to his tone. "Shaunee's death makes much of my life complicated but with relationships and feelings it makes things even more complicated. Fortunately, I have already explained to Laurelin the impact of my past and how I cannot do anything more than warm her bed. It is not in me to return feelings or...love, as they say."

 

His eyes moved to Tempest's and his mouth turned up a bit at the edges in a smile. It was a bittersweet look that he showed her. For a moment his walls of protection were down. 

 

"That must be incredibly painful for you," Tempest replied sympathetically. "The wound must run deep. Forgive me if it is not my place to ask, but... when you say you cannot return her feelings, is it because your own heart is too burdened by grief? Or is it because you fear what your dead love would think if you moved on? Or perhaps both?"

 

In a sense the question was none of her business, but Tempest wasn't sure how to respond without knowing for sure.

 

Tempest was not shying away from this conversation at all. Mercuriel was a bit surprised she seemed to willing to listen and discuss a topic which any other person might find awkward or at least difficult seeing as it involved one of their traveling companions. He was grateful for her ear though and despite his head warning him to not let go any more information, his heart had other actions in mind.

 

"I...I cannot return her feelings because I am worried what will happen if I give away my heart again and lose someone I care for again. I am not sure I could survive the trauma. I am barely living as it is. I think my heart can only take one lost love. Especially when I feel so responsible for what happened to her."

 

A dark cloud of grief and contemplation settled over him. For a little while Mercuriel became lost in his world, nothing and no one existing around him. The image of his sword plunging into Shaunee's chest replayed in his mind. He watched as her blood spilled out over his blade, the veins of corruption bulging out over her once beautiful porcelain skin. He heard her choking gasps as the last few moments of life left her body. But, most of all, he heard her whisper, "Thank you, my love..."

 

"NO!" Mercuriel broke from his daze and realized he was yelling. He quickly ceased his exclamation and wiped a few wet tendrils of hair from his face. He'd been sweating from the vision. He turned to look at Tempest, sure that he must have terrified her with his sudden outburst, and said:

 

"Thank you for listening, really, but I think I must walk alone for a little while to regain my composure. I apologize for my shouting. I hope it did not scare you too much. We shall speak again, my lady, I am sure of it."

 

With that he picked up his pace and marched on ahead, separating himself from Tempest's side. It was obvious he needed some space after what had just happened.

 

Tempest was not at all afraid. She recognized the far-off look in his eyes, the way he reacted to an unseen terror. The party may not have seen it yet, but Tempest had flashbacks too. She understood all too well what trauma could do.

 

As Mercuriel passed, Tempest gently touched his arm in a friendly gesture of comfort. "There is no need for apologies. I was not frightened. I understand these... reminders of the past. When you wish to speak again, I will be here."

 

For the time being, though, she let him go. She could tell that he needed to be alone, and she would do him no favors by intruding on his reverie.

[obsessedwjpn]

Mercuriel glances at the newest companion to join their party. She has dark features overall and stands out brilliantly within their traveling group. She is pretty, as most woman are in Mercuriel's eyes, and she carries herself well within the party despite meeting them just a few short moments ago. Why she would want to travel with them was another thing entirely and one that Mercuriel wondered about. Sarel, Etienne and Rael gone. Rhys, Fabian and now this new woman enter. Never a dull moment at least.

 

Mercuriel took a moment to think about his first time happening upon the party. It was because of Rael and his acquaintance with her that he joined at all. Well, that, the offering of food/shelter, and Dog's unending need for companionship.

 

He strolled up to walk beside Rhys and smiled at the man. "What do you think of our new traveling companion? It seems that our group is quick to attract others despite our destination being one filled with danger and certain death most likely." He laughed at his own comment. "Actually, perhaps I should rethink being here."

 

Quickly, so Rhys would not notice, Mercuriel shot a quick look over at Laurelin. Was she keeping him here?

[mysteriouspast]

Philomena and Fabian sit for a spell and get better acquainted.

 

Spoiler

Under other circumstances, I would not usually bother with a midday meal, but I'd been walking all morning, and a break was welcome. Most of the party congregated around two of the women, the ones with the confusing names, but Philomena sat by herself, not taking food. I loaded my own plate with enough dried fruit and bread for two and approached her.

 

"Forgive the intrusion, Philomena," I said, "but I thought that you might be hungry. We have far to go today, yes?"

 

Philomena sat on an upturned trunk, now a dried out log as she removed her left boot. "Collons!" she said in a voice that indicated a mild curse word. "Only a few hours... how did a rock get in there?" she mused to herself.

 

When Fabian approached, she looked up and saw that he offered her food. "I... I thank you, Fabian," she replied, scooting over to make him room next to her. She briefly indicated the empty spot with her free hand to show his company was not unwelcome. Replacing her now-emptied boot, she said, "Yes, we've come quite a distance already. I'm used to wandering around forests, but, admittedly, at a much more leisurely pace."

 

I accepted the seat she offered and placed the plate between us on the log.

 

"Understandable, surely," I said. "I myself came to Ferelden by ship, and the march from Gwaren to these frigid hills is not a long one. Are you enjoying our adventure thus far?"

 

"I'm not sure, honestly," she said shyly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, causing three earrings to jangle. "It's not been long." She looked up, surveying the group for a moment, subconsciously hunching over slightly, as if to feel smaller. "I confess I cannot remember the last time I was around so many people at once."

 

I ate a few raisins while I considered that. Nine people and one very large dog did not seem an inordinately large number to me, but I did not live in a woodland cottage.

 

"Those I have met seem friendly enough," I said. "A bit large and overwhelming, apart from the Dalish girl and Bartha, but these southerners are all like that, I believe. At least they are not loud. Not compared to Antivan fishwives, at any rate. You seem to be making friends, yes?"

 

"It's too soon to tell, I think, Philomena responded, eyes still roving over the group. "I've only spoken to a few so far, and they have been pleasant enough." She looked back to Fabian, dark eyes with an uncharacteristic hint of mischief. "Anything I should know about any of them?"

 

I looked at each in turn.

 

"Bartha is shy, but charming company," I said, smiling a little. "Tessa, the taller of the two human ladies, keeps her head in the wake of battle. Tempest, the more lithe of them, seems a gentle soul, and very kind. I regret startling her as I did when we first met. I know next to nothing about the two Dalish. Neither has addressed me, but the male seems highly protective of the female. Perhaps they are siblings? Lovers? I cannot say. I have exchanged but few words with Rhys, the leaner of the two blond men. He does not seem too inclined toward gravity. Ser Ox, the heavier, seems amiable enough, if a bit slow of wit."

 

My smile widened.

 

"And now, perhaps you will indulge me," I went on. "How do my assessments compare with your own?"

 

Startled by his request for information she surely did not possess, Philomena, blinked hard a few times, her hands fidgeting nervously with some dried apricots in her lap. Perhaps all of this... xerrada--small talk--was more than she could handle. You're trying to make a change, remember? Open up a little? She sighed, wondering if Fabian was headed too far in the other direction.

 

He looked at her patiently, and she decided to say what little she could. "I spoke to Tempest and I'm afraid I've done little better than you in that regard--it seems she spooks rather easily. Tessa was... rather confrontational with me, but not overly so. Laurelin, the Dalish woman... she was well-versed in local herbs, and welcoming enough. And... Ser Ox? Beldin, you mean? I thought he might be something of a grouch, but he was friendly to me when we last spoke." Her brow quirked and she looked back at Fabian. "He seemed quite astute. I'd assumed he was your leader..."

 

She trailed off, suddenly feeling like a terrible gossip. Perhaps that was Fabian's style, gathering intel about people, or at least not wanting to be at a disadvantage in conversation. Turnabout was fair play, then. "And then there's you, Fabian," she said with a restored confidence. "What I know about you is that you work for a harsh taskmaster. How did you, in fact, manage to escape Coalan's watchful eye?"

 

At that, I laughed merrily.

 

"A harsh taskmaster, indeed," I agreed readily, "and a lout and a drunkard besides. But he is also a heavy sleeper, and I am not bound to him as an apprentice might be. He allowed me to use his forge for a fee, and put a roof over my head for another, but my tools and my talents are my own, and he will benefit greatly from all I left behind. No, 'good' Master Coalan will not miss me, although he might miss my coin."

 

I brushed a few crumbs off my knees and attempted a more sensitive topic.

 

"It seems that neither of us are simple shopkeepers," I said. "Should what we do get back to Vintiver, somehow... but perhaps it is past time to move on."

 

Philomena smiled nervously, both pleased and surprised that she had caused another to laugh. She found herself laughing along with the pleasant sound of his voice. At Fabian's last comment, her laughter evaporated and she hastily looked away. He had implied things--both about her and himself--that neither were what they seemed. She was uncertain about what he meant about himself, but perhaps he had guessed the truth about her.

 

It was her natural inclination to be evasive, so instead of answering an implied question, she asked on instead: "So you're saying you do more than make weapons and armor? What could that be?"

 

Still smiling, I replied, "Telling you would ruin the surprise! Not that it is a great one, nor would telling you rock the foundations of the world. I fiddle with locks and take things apart. More than that? Look at any of us. One carries a staff and another a sword, yet neither is defined by that alone. We'll find out in time what else we're good for."

 

"That we will," she agreed with a quizzical expression. Truly, she did not know what to make of this man who spoke in words that both concealed and revealed his meaning simultaneously.

 

The others were getting ready to head off and she did not want to delay them. Standing abruptly, she offered her hand to Fabian, saying, "Deixa elvent ensporti. Let the wind take us."

 

I took her hand and shook it.

 

"It's taken us a long way already," I said, "and I don't think it's through with us yet."

[berelinde]

Laurelin decides that scaring the living daylights out of warriors is fun and goes for the complete set. 

 

Spoiler

It had been an eventful day, yesterday, and Beldin spent most of the morning turning its events over in his mind and trying to make sense of them. Now that he knew that his boldness in touching Tessa was not some near-death hallucination, he was forced to conclude that the rest of that dream must be real, too... including his completely inappropriate reaction to Laurelin's transformation. It was too late to remedy that, but it was not too late to make amends. He lengthened his stride until he drew level with her.

 

"Good morning, Laurelin," he greeted her. "May I have a moment of your time? It occurs to me that I may have given offense last night, and I wanted to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I was just a bit rattled already, and the... er... flash of light caught me by surprise."

 

Laurelin slowed her pace and turned to face Beldin with a smile "Good Morning Beldin."She said evenly her eyebrow slightly raised in confusion,trying to remember what made Beldin believe that he offended her.Until he mentioned the flash of light...Of course but his reaction if a not bit a extreme, wasn't something completely unexpected.

 

"No offence taken my friend...I understand why you might have been startled,to put it mildly."Laurelin shook her head,smiling faintly "In fact I should be the one apologising,casting this spell in front of the warden's people was reckless on my part and dangerous."She looked at the ground and then back at Beldin.

 

"There, there," he said gently, "none of that. I didn't say that to make you uncomfortable. Besides, with as close as the warden and Eshara are, I doubt that's the first time they've seen magic. They didn't seem fazed by it in the slightest. I'm not saying that you shouldn't be careful in human settlements, because people tend to panic and run for the templars when that kind of thing happens, but in Tarl's house, you're safe. And out here, you've got Mercuriel, Tessa, and me to protect you."

 

He picked a stray leaf off the back of his neck. The nights were getting colder. It would be time to start growing out his hair soon.

 

"And speaking of protection," he said, "I don't know these woods. I grew up in a logging town not far from here, but the forests up on the plateau are nothing like here. I was hoping you might be able to tell me what to expect."

 

Laurelin shrugged,she had indeed spent all her life in the woods to know them like she knew the palm of her hand,but she's never been to that particular forest before and she was afraid that they might meet more than their usual denizens.

However,she didn't have proof that they might meet anything or anyone else in there.

 

"I'd expect to meet wolves,bears that are more likely to be aggressive on this season...They're storing fat for the winter you see,other than that perhaps giant spiders,bandits,hunters some terrible at aiming and if we delve too deep we might even find sylvans."she slicked some dark strands away from her face and then rubbed her temples."Also,we should be more careful about where we tread,there might be traps about...Usually meant for bears but you never know."

 

"But we might  encounter more..."She said hesitantly "This veils is notoriously thin in this forest...Many people lost their lives here so it was significantly weakened."She sighed

 

His eyes glazed when she got to the part about the Veil.

 

Stick to things you can swing an axe at, Bel, he told himself, and mentally revised Laurelin's list to exclude the walking dead.

 

"What's a sylvan?" he asked.

 

"They're eh...Trees...Not normal trees mind you,Sylvans are possessed by spirits."She tilted her head "These spirits spend a considerable amount of time and effort to make their host mobile...Until they reach to the point where the tree's roots form legs and  it's branches stretch into claws."

 

Laurelin looked back at Beldin "The blend perfectly among regular trees and prey upon lost travellers."

 

He was too disciplined to show his fear, but only just. He loosened his axe in his belt and checked that his shield could be readied in an instant.

 

"Walking dead, walking trees," he said wryly. "Doesn't anything stay in the ground like it should anymore? Next, you'll be telling me that birds' voices mimic maidens', and lure the unwary to their deaths. I don't disbelieve you, my friend, but even this morning, the biggest care on my mind was whether I wanted butter or honey on my oatmeal. Is there anything in these woods that won't try to rip my face off?"

 

Laurelin chuckled "There are always  the Dalish,still I'm not saying that my people won't try to rip your face off...But at least you can reason with them, most of the times." 

 

She let out an exasperated sigh "It's a good thing that you asked about the dangers we might face.The forest always appears to be so deceivingly peaceful but in truth if you delve in it unprepared, you are more than likely to meet your death."

 

Beldin shook his head. He and death were becoming better acquainted all the time, these days.

 

"It's a comfort to know that the Dalish will at least let me say hello before they rehang my ears," he said. "Are there any special preparations I should make?"

 

"Just keep your sword arm ready,your wits about you and most importantly your humour, and you'll be fine."She said smiling,the whole situation was rather dire but some good quality humour never hurt anyone,as afar as Laurelin knew.

 

"As for the Dalish,just let me...Or Mercuriel do the talking."She suddenly paused before saying the elvhen man's name

"Preferably me,if the clan in question is the Eladiel clan."She winked."We consider them our sister clan,you see."

 

"And that explains why you're in Vintiver, I guess," he said. "And thanks, Laurelin, I'll heed your advice. And never fear about letting you do the talking. I like Mercuriel, but I've been paying attention. That staff you carry makes you an emissary of sorts, aye? A representative of your clan?"

 

"Exactly,I was sent by the keeper to investigate what happened to the Eladiel clan... We didn't hear from Keeper Orrelis for quite some time, so we sent a message to which no one replied."Laurelin crossed her arms and shrugged "The Keeper of my clan,Galather,suggested that as a his first I should be the one to represent our clan, and here I am."

She sighed and smiled faintly "I thinks this is as much a Test as it is a mission."

 

Beldin nodded slowly.

 

"Maybe for all of us," he said.

[TreeHuggerHannah]

Another conversation between Tempest and Philomena. They apologize to each other for earlier awkwardness. Philomena asks about Circle mage life. Tempest reveals how she escaped Kirkwall and why she chose her name. Philomena ponders a decision she will have to make. (Spoiler tags are not working in this post for some reason; sorry for length!)

 

 

 

Tempest couldn’t help thinking she had overstepped this morning in Bess’s hut. It had not been her intention to pry into Philomena’s personal business. Her conversational choices with Bess had been more driven by awkwardness than any conscious motive. Even so, though, she had been thoughtless, and she was afraid Philomena might have taken it amiss.

 

“Philomena, if I might have a word?” Tempest asked as they walked. “I owe you an apology. I was unintentionally impolite to you in my conversation with Bess. I asked a question that was none of my business, as I’m sure you heard. It was clumsy, but I wanted to assure you it was not ill-intentioned. I am at times unskilled at speaking with strangers because I get nervous, and I was merely trying to continue the conversation so as not to be rude to Bess. I am sorry, though, for my carelessness.”

 

“The old woman talks too much,” Philomena replied with a scowl. “But surely you noticed that.” She sighed and shook her head. “It is I who should apologize to you. Usually when I bring a woman back to our home it is because she needs more… personal attention. She assumed something about you and I could see it made you uncomfortable.” She clasped her hands in front of her heart and said, “Els meus pesars. You have my regrets.”

 

Tempest nodded and looked down. “Thank you for your kindness in saying this. I was merely… startled. Very much startled. It is a sensitive subject to me, and had she deliberately attempted to blindside me, there would have been no other words that could have done so more effectively.”

 

There had been so much feeling wrapped up in a few little words. The suffering of a terrified, abused pregnant teenager. The ceaseless ache of a child lost. Her fears about herself, about her own worth. And that nagging pain that she would never have the choice to bear another child. The latter puzzled Tempest, and she could only assume it would depart soon once she had adjusted to what had happened. What difference did a functional womb make to one who would always sleep alone? Why did the loss of a choice matter, when she never expected to choose it in the first place?

 

“It is my own issue, though,” Tempest said. “I am sorry if I appeared… judgmental. Far from it. I understand perhaps better than many. As I said, I was just taken by surprise.”

 

Philomena had a pained expression when Tempest finished speaking. “I… I had no way of knowing…” she faltered, not understanding what exactly made such an impact. “I hope her ill-advised comment did not sour you on her, or me, for that matter. Though I do admit, we are an acquired taste.” The corner of her mouth turned up in the approximation of a rueful smile.

 

“Of course not,” Tempest said, smiling gently. “As I said, it is merely my own oddness. Most people would have thought nothing of it. I don’t blame Bess, and of course I don’t blame you. I hope that we can put any awkwardness between us and be cordial traveling companions - and perhaps friends someday.”

 

Friend. What a strange word… and one she had only ever used once in her adult life. Fabian had used it earlier and now here was this woman, a veritable stranger, all but offering to be her friend. Philomena blinked hard and said nothing for a few moments, too startled to find any words to say. Was this what was withheld from her, all those years living in the forest with only her avia for companionship? Was it even in her anymore to trust anyone?

 

She bit her lip, still struggling to find words, still hesitant to reveal anything. Perhaps a question would be easier. “May I ask you something? If it is too much, I will accept your refusal. I’ve already trampled on your good graces enough for one day.” She was visibly hesitant again, mulling over what exactly she meant to ask.

 

“Certainly,” Tempest replied evenly, her smile not faltering at all. She saw no reason to be apprehensive. “What do you wish to know?” 

 

“I have the impression,” Philomena began, still tentatively. “That you are with this group… not at the sufferance of the Chantry. That is…” She made a frustrated noise in her throat. “Dir-ho…” she muttered to herself. “Apostate,” she sputtered. “You are… yes?” She cursed inwardly at herself for the mess she was making of it. If Tempest deigned to answer, it would be a miracle.

 

“I would not call myself an apostate,” Tempest said, tone still calm and smile still present. “I am aware that most would, but I do not consider myself such. I am a devout Andrastian. I seek to do the will of the Maker. I consider myself a Circle mage. When I was a wandering mage on my own, it was not what I wanted or needed. I craved fellowship, and the safety of numbers. But those in my Circle… in various ways, we had all reached our breaking point. We had all been ill-served by the system in place, so we made a home of our own.”

 

The description of her companionship, in what she called “her Circle” hit Philomena like a arrow in the chest. She had never known, not even considered the possibility of being with others, forming a rodeja, a circle of companions. The thought was thrilling even as the vulnerability it entailed made her feel ill. “This idea… safety in numbers...it runs counter to everything I’ve ever been taught,” she admitted. 

 

Looking around to the others Tempest traveled with, most of them not magical in the slightest, it was shocking that she allowed them to know her nature without fear. “Are you not concerned these others will return you to the Circle you fled?” she asked in a quiet voice.

 

“Well, it has to be the right people,” Tempest replied amiably. “Not just any numbers will do. She became serious again as she considered the question. “No,” she replied. “Not these people. I trust them completely. They are good men and women who are understanding and would not want to see me get hurt. Do I worry in general about being taken back to… to that place? Of course I do, unfortunately. I must live my life as best I can, though, in hope not fear.”

 

“That… place…” Philomena echoed, her expression dark. “I’ve never even been near Kinloch Hold, nor any Circle.” She looked at Tempest with wide, concerned eyes. “Is it as bad as I’ve heard?”

 

“I’ve actually never been to Kinloch Hold,” Tempest replied. “I’m originally from the Free Marches. I know some mages who came from Kinloch Hold, though, and they say it is…” She paused for how to phrase this. “...It is a kinder place than some. The templars are slightly more understanding, and the mages are granted some small measures of autonomy within their tower. Unfortunately, though, I’ve never heard of any Chantry-run Circle that is entirely free of abuse and brutality, and certainly even in Kinloch Hold there is little real freedom.” 

 

Philomena’s expression darkened and she looked away. “Then she was right to keep me hidden,” she said quietly to the path ahead. “I… I cannot imagine what that life must be like.”

 

This implication that Philomena was a mage too did not particularly surprise Tempest, as it was a possibility Tempest had already considered. Most herbalists weren’t mages, of course… but if one was indeed a mage and wished to hide that fact while still maintaining a semblance of a normal life, selling more conventional healing methods was a natural way to keep a low profile. Tempest’s own Circle did so, making their living primarily by selling potions and remedies, as well as the small amount of surplus produce their garden produced and some handmade items. 

 

“Hiding is sadly necessary,” Tempest agreed. “But not everyone is a threat. Some people are more open-minded. You’ll realize that with this group, if you haven’t already. A mage has nothing to fear in this traveling company.”

 

“I hope you’re right,” Philomena replied in a dark voice. She wanted to believe Tempest, but knew well that allegiances could be hidden, and they could change. But if the other apostate felt safe enough, she would endeavor to trust these people. Or, at least make the attempt.

 

Another question burned in her mind. Tempest had been a member of the Circle, but was no longer. From what Philomena understood about the Circle, anyone who escaped would be hunted to the ends of the earth. She glanced briefly at Tempest’s placid face and concluded that she didn’t seem to be terrified that a Templar would come charging from behind any given tree. “How… how did you come to be free of the Circle?” she asked and hastily added, “if it’s not too much for me to ask.”

 

“It’s not too much to ask,” Tempest replied. Her tone remained calm, but any hint of fun or amusement was gone. Now they were discussing serious matters. “In that city, the Veil is thin. Abominations were a particular danger for mages there. Such things seemed to come and go in spurts. I’m not sure why; maybe just coincidence. In any case, we were in a particularly bad spot, and this was a particularly bad time. Many mages were turning into abominations. The templars were panicked, and slaying any mage showing the slightest ‘suspicious’ behavior more or less indiscriminately to try to root out the culprits. It was chaos. I wasn’t sure if I’d be killed by a demon or one of the templars charged with protecting us, but I knew my life was at risk, so I ran. The templars were too busy to keep careful tabs on each of us as they usually did. I didn’t stop running till I reached the docks. I knew I would likely be hunted, but I decided it was best to take my chances trying to escape rather than dying like a cornered rat.”

 

“That sounds… horrific,” Philomena said in a hushed tone. She could scarcely imagine the terrors Tempest encountered in such a place, with such adversity. She’d never encountered what Tempest called an abomination before, and had a feeling that what they would find in the forest would most likely rival it in terms of sheer hideousness. It would be difficult to face, but knowing that one of her comrades had some… experience with such things somehow made the burden lighter. 

 

But here she was deep in abstractions when the mage had shared something important with her. Still, she did not know how to convey the depths of her feelings on the subject and said softly, “You are fortunate to be alive. You must have a cara valent to have survived such a thing.”

 

Tempest nodded agreement that she was lucky to be alive. “I thank the Maker I escaped,” she said. That night - the night she ran - had been a different sort of terror than the fear she had experienced for the previous sixteen years, sharp and burning hot, not the dull ache of despair that had plagued her during the endless abuse. That night she had truly thought she was going to die. At other times, she had wanted to die, but she had known that he would never let that happen. He would never let it be over.

 

Once again, the unfamiliar world startled her. It sounded like her own former name, and like her child’s.

 

“Forgive me for asking, but what does that mean?” Tempest inquired. “My daughter’s name is Cara, and for that reason it caught my attention as familiar.”

 

“Cara… In my language it means, ‘heart,’” Philomena said, clearly pleased that Tempest had taken an interest in Rivainni. “Your daughter is well-named, I think.” Her mouth quirked into a peculiar smile.

 

Tempest looked down suddenly and bit her lip. Her failure of composure lasted only an instant, though. Then she met Philomena’s eyes again, smiled, and said lightly, “I’m afraid I cannot take credit for that. Her father named her. It suits her, though, now that I’ve gotten used to it.”

 

“Names are important, yes?” Philomena ventured. “In Rivain, ours are considered portents for our future. “Yours means, ‘storm,’ if I’m not mistaken.” She squinted a bit, as if deliberating something, then added, “You are far too calm for such a name, if I may say so.”

 

“It does,” Tempest said. “It is not the name I was born with, but one I chose for myself. I am not - as you say - particularly stormy. Rather, it refers to an event. As the ship left my old home, it was tossed by storms. While those storms rocked our vessel, I decided that I would put the past behind me as best I could, and wholeheartedly embrace a new life. The name I chose commemorates that.”

 

“I… understand,” Philomena replied with a quiet reverence. “Then you comprehend the power behind what we call ourselves, our identities, even.” She met Tempest’s eyes with intensity, a gaze more direct than she had attempted up to that point. “Your name was well-earned, then. I assume you chose it as you left the Circle.”

 

Tempest nodded. “Yes, that is when. It wasn’t easy, leaving. I was afraid to stay, but I was afraid to go, also. It was a tremendous change for me. I knew there would be no going back. For the most part, I didn’t want there to be. I hated it there. There was just… one thing… but at the time I didn’t know…”

 

She stopped herself, and shrugged. “I’m sorry, this is surely more than you wished to know. Suffice it to say that yes, I understand the power in names, and I will always be glad I chose a new one for myself. I was so glad I finally had the opportunity to make choices.”

 

“You have told me exactly what I asked to know,” Philomena responded. “There is much in your words… and perhaps more in the silences between them.” She took a ragged breath, her face telling of a troubled mind. “You did a brave thing, Cara Valent, leaving everything you knew for what you could not possibly foresee. I… can relate to your conflict about it. I think I shall face a similar one soon. I only hope to meet it with your fortitude.”

 

Tempest nodded acknowledgment that her silences spoke as loudly as her words. She had indeed felt a pull holding her back from leaving Kirkwall - and not just that of fear. Knowing that her daughter was still in the city, she’d been so tempted to stay just to be close, even though she had believed her child was better off without her.

 

“May the Maker’s wisdom guide you in your decision,” Tempest said. “If there is anything I can do to help, be it advice or practical assistance, do not hesitate to ask when the time comes.”

 

Philomena had little to say on the topic of the Maker, having been raised in a completely different faith. But she was more than aware of the Andrastian religion, and did not disapprove of its tenets. In the end, she felt that she could use any support, regardless of whether or not  it came from a deity she personally believed in. Besides, Tempest most likely had no interest in a theological debate. Nor did she, for that matter. 

 

“You do me a great kindness. We shall see what the Cadena holds for me,” she said, looking far into the distance where the sunlight was already starting to thin. “And what it holds for us all.”

[berelinde]

Beldin and Bartha discover they're neighbors, kinda-sorta-in-a-way, and he tells her a secret.

 

Spoiler

Most mornings, the mist rising from the earth burned off by midday, but today, it lingered, blanketing the ground and making everything seem muted. The heavy clouds overhead did nothing to lessen that impression. The two combined to make it feel warmer than the day before, but the possibility of rain was not encouraging. 

 

"I think the weather is changing," he said to Bartha, who walked just ahead of him. "Hope you're ready for a bit of drizzle. Those rogues gave you a hard time last night. How are you holding up?"

 

Bartha looked over her shoulder. "Not if I have a choice in the matter, but I'm afraid you're right."  She made a gesture towards her backpack, which was clearly more stuffed than before. "I managed to stock up a bit before we left, so hopefully I can keep things a bit more comfortable." 

 

She smiled when Beldin expressed his concerns about her wellbeing. "It has been a short night, and I'm still a bit sore here and there, but it's fine. I think they gave you a harder time, to be honest. How are you faring today?" 

 

He chuckled.

 

"I slept the sleep of the dead last night," he said. "I don't even remember going to bed. And that is a very full pack. Are you alright with all of that? I've got lots of room in mine, so if there's something you don't want to carry, just toss it over."

 

He glanced around at the wet, drooping leaves.

 

"The forest here is very different from the one I knew growing up," he said. "It's mostly evergreens there. Evergreens, rock, or black-water marsh, with the occasional farm. It's probably snowing already. I never thought I'd miss the place this much."

 

She chuckled as well. "At least you found a bed, so you did better than our new companion." Bartha made a gesture in the direction of Rhys. Whilst glancing over her shoulder at the backpack, she nodded. "Yes, it is heavy, but it is alright for now. Thank you for the offer though, I'll keep it in mind in case it becomes a bit too much."

 

A smile played on her lips when he spoke about his home. "I know the feeling. I already miss all the shades of reddish brown of Redcliffe... where was your home again? I assume somewhere further north?"

 

"Redcliffe, yes," he said. "You did say you lived there, didn't you? On the shores of Lake Calenhad. My father used to go there every year to pick up supplies that the the local merchants didn't stock. I used to badger him to take me with him, but he never did."

 

He fell silent for a moment, thinking about his father's excuses. He said that the roads were too dangerous, but the dwarven tinkers made the trip twice a year, and they had small children with them. His foxy old sire was probably just trying to keep his affairs a secret. He wondered how many half-siblings he had there. But Bartha had asked him a question.

 

"I grew up not far from here, actually," he said, "in a village called Logerwold, a two day ride west of Vintiver, up the Ruswold. When I say two days, what I really mean is that the last one is more or less straight up. It's only thirty miles between the West Gate and Cauldron Mouth Falls, but it's far enough above the plain for the air to be thinner, and winter comes early. What do you miss most about Redcliffe, apart from the brown?"

 

Bartha pondered a bit on his questions. "You are correct, that's where my home is. Obviously there is more fish and more trade with the Circle than up there in the mountains, but I wouldn't know of any specific merchandise from the top of my head. Anyway, I can't recall to have ever visited the Ruswold, so I'll add that to my list of 'things to do'. And what do I miss the most..." She rubbed her chin with her fingertips. "I think the sunset, especially in the autumn months. When the sun is setting and slowly making its way to disappear behind the mountains, the sky turning red, its color mimiced by the waters of the lake and the last rays of sunlight shining upon the castle and the forests on top of the cliffs. And those forests each show their own display of colors before it turns dark for the night. It lasts only for a few moments, but during those seconds, it is like the village is proving why it is called 'Redcliffe' and not 'Browncliffe'."

 

"It sounds beautiful," he said. "You make me wish my father had brought me with him. But you'll have to allow me to disagree with you about having been to the Ruswold. You're walking in its valley now. It starts high above Logerwold at Silver Lake, and passes through Tor Adley and Logerwold Village before tumbling over the Cauldron's Mouth Falls and onward through Vintiver and Woodhall. The Ruswold River empties into the Amaranthine Ocean near Gwaren, I'm told, but I've never been there, either. There's a lot of world to see, Bartha. But you've probably seen more of it than I have, traveling with your family."

 

Bartha felt her cheeks flush when Beldin corrected her. "I see... I'm afraid that topography has never been my strong point. But you are surely welcome in Redcliffe, if you would still like to pay it a visit. And my view of 'the world' has so far mostly been mostly circling around lake Calenhad, with the occasional visit to the gates of Orzammar and Denerim. We'd usually take the west road though, not the north road, as the latter is the most dense with merchants. My parents considered it therefore more attractive for highwaymen and other folks with ill intends. Nonetheless we never got as far south as here, let alone all the way to Gwaren. You are right. There is still so much to see, hence why I am here, I guess. 

 

"You've been to the gates of Orzammar?" Beldin asked eagerly "I've heard they're impressive, the largest all-metal doors in Ferelden. And what I've heard of the Frostbacks sounds stunning. But you've seen more of the world than I have, Bartha. Logerwold is a decent-sized village, maybe about the same size as Vintiver or a little smaller, with three much smaller village around it, one for each of the... er... households, but Stanbridge is splintered to the point where the estate is gone. They're usually just lumped together as 'Logerwold' and most people let it go at that. Eight years ago, I had to leave my home in a bit of a hurry, so I went to Amaranthine and eventually joined the garrison. And that's about it."

 

He fell silent for a moment. Up to now, he had avoided mentioning the reason he was in Logerwold, or if he did, it was only in passing, but it should probably be said. The fight at the windmill underlined life's uncertainty. If he should fall, at least someone should know.

 

"But maybe you'll see Logerwold sooner than you expect," he said carefully. "But maybe as a savior, not a guest. Bandits are harassing the village, disrupting trade and discouraging people from going into the forest. As far as I know, they aren't killing anyone, so Vintiver's needs take priority over Logerwold's, but if those supply lines don't open soon, Logerwold won't last through the winter. The only way into that part of the valley is a switchback so steep it's almost a stair, with a gantry set up over Cauldron Mouth to bring up wagons from the lower Ruswold. Both freeze solid in early Firstfall and don't thaw until Guardian, so if we don't get trade flowing again before then, it's going to be a hungry winter in Logerwold. Which means I've got about a month and a half. I was hoping that maybe, once we're done here, we might be able to move a bit further up the valley."

 

 

She nodded. “Those gates truly are a sight to behold. Along the way there are heaps of rocks, ice and snow, and then one stumbles upon huge statues, carved out of the very mountains themselves, and one knows there are actually civilizations living there.  I just won’t get any further than admiring those gates from the outside.” 

 

Bartha had listened silently when Beldin described Logerwold, and she grew slightly curious and worried when he fell silent. Her expression grew into a mixture of worry and anger when he described the harassment, or in fact, siege, that was befalling the village. “They can’t be serious?! What do they hope to achieve with that?” She spat out. It was not like she didn’t believe him, but she couldn’t comprehend why one would close off a village, leaving the inhabitants starving and freezing.  She placed a hand on his arm, and continued, determined. “I will not stand by and leave those people to their demise. They may be in less immediate danger as the folks around here, but they are in danger nonetheless. Beldin, I promise you that I will help you setting them free.” Her frown softened when an idea hit her. “And if you want, I will set my family to work to gather merchants and get them ready, so we can be sure that the village can be supplied in a short amount of time.” A friendly smile and a bit of a naughty glimmer  in her eye appeared when she added: “And I can arrange a discount, for a friend.” She patted his arm when speaking the last word. 

 

Beldin shook his head.

 

"I don't know if either of us can hope to understand how these people think," he said. "Or maybe we should hope we never do. Maybe they have food enough themselves and don't care if the village starves. Maybe they think people will pay them tribute to stop. And they probably would, if they had anything to pay them with. Wealth in Logerwold is measured by land, livestock, and logging rights. Unless the bandits want to build their own lumber mill, there's nothing in Logerwold they want. But I am grateful for the help you promise. I... I may never be able to live there again, but I grew up there, and I had friends there, and I don't want to see it destroyed. There's a kind of peace in knowing that 'home' is still there, even if it's closed to you."

 

He sighed. He had not intended to burden Bartha with his family problems, but if his last statement did not provoke questions, it would almost certainly be because she believed he had a guilty conscience.

 

"My brother is bann of Logerwold," he said. "He and I have always been rivals, and when I left, he thought me dead. I left in autumn and never arrived at my destination. It was a harder winter than usual that year. He must have thought I perished along the way. And now that I am dead, so to speak, he's purged the Chantry records of my name and forbidden anyone to mention my name. I don't think he'd kill me if he knew I wasn't dead, but he'd probably prefer that I keep my head down while I was there and leave as soon as my work there is done."

 

Bartha frowned. "You're not the luckiest one when it comes to family matters, ey?" She shook her head. "Sorry... I don't want to insult you." She rubbed her neck. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be no longer welcome home... And perhaps it is just my opinion, but I cannot imagine that you would deserve such a treatment. You are alive, probably more than ever with the latest events. And I think he would have to go through all of us if he wanted to harm you."

 

Beldin smiled at her.

 

"I've certainly been blessed with good friends, that's true," he said. "As for Martin... it's hard to say. I don't think he wants me dead, but I don't think he wants me around, either. The important thing for Logerwold is that he won't decline our help. After that... we'll see. Eight years is a long time. Maybe it's time to make peace. No matter how that part ends, I want you to know how much I appreciate your friendship and your support. Thank you."

[Kerridwynn]

"What do you think of our new traveling companion? It seems that our group is quick to attract others despite our destination being one filled with danger and certain death most likely."

 

Rhys glanced at Mercurial as he walked up and then looked around until he saw Philomena.  He studied her for a short time. "She seems comely for a lowlander.  Perhaps she's been waiting for a bit of excitement and that's why she chose to join our hallowed company.  Good she knows the forest though." 

[obsessedwjpn]

"Comely?" Mercuriel liked the way Rhys thought. "I suppose so." He also laid his eyes on Philomena's visage. "We seem to be blessed with good looking women in our group. At least if we die, we can have something good to look at in our last moments."

 

He turned his head up towards the sky and laughed loudly. His laughs were deep but not gruff. 

 

"So how do you know Tessa, messir? I am curious to know if she has any interesting secrets I could needle her with later." An impish grin formed on his face.

[Kerridwynn]

Rhys raised an eyebrow at Mercurial.  "Tessa and I hired on with the same mercenary company, escorting some dwarves to Denerim.  She and I got on well.  She's a good sort.  And no, with Tessa what you see is what you get as far as I can tell.  She doesn't play games."

[BFace]

Tessa helps Tempest and Rhys Tells the Ladies a Story of His People

(It's a little long. )

 

Spoiler

 

When she noticed Tessa briefly walking by herself, Tempest decided to join her. Tempest had enjoyed talking to Tessa back at the manor, and saw the warrior as a potential friend.

 

"Hello, Tessa," Tempest said with a smile. "How do you fare today?"

 

Tessa smiled in return at Tempest. 

 

"I'm well, Tempest-enjoying the fresh air. How're you faring?" Tess was glad for a chance to talk with Tempest.  There was something about the woman that just put Tessa at ease and Tess hoped they would grow to be friends.

 

"I'm well, overall," Tempest replied. "Although if I'm honest, I'm quite nervous about what we'll face, and I miss my family. There's no sense dwelling on that, though. I'm trying to imagine this as just a pleasant walk. What we'll find at the end can wait till we get there."

 

Trying to change the subject to a more pleasant one, Tempest added, "You seemed to have quite the busy social schedule this morning. Did you get to know some of our companions better?"

Tessa looked back on her morning, especially the conversation with Beldin, and rubbed her forefinger down the bridge of nose.

 

"I...maybe?" She snorted then went on, "These kind of long travels are good for that. How about you? Do you feel like you know some of us better?"

 

"I do," Tempest replied. "It's strange, but some of you... we've only met a short time ago, but after all we've been through together in the brief time we've known each other, it seems like longer. It's as if this sort of danger has formed a bond between us. Does that sound ridiculous? Or have you felt that too?"

 

Tessa smiled warmly at Tempest before answering. 

 

"I've seen this happen, yes, with the...with people I have traveled with before, but this is really the first time I've experienced it myself. I feel, already, fairly close to you, and to...some others in the group." Tess wrinkled her nose, before going on. "But even with Rhys, it took a fair bit of time before I would call him my friend."

 

She smiled again." If I'm not presumptuous, Tempest, I feel like you and I may be friends already."

 

Tempest grinned. "I see you as a friend too, Tessa," she said sincerely.

 

Her voice dropped slightly as she added, "At risk of being the presumptuous one myself... speaking of Rhys, I had a question to ask you. He spoke of... a marriage. Your personal life is your own, Tessa, and it is not my place to pry. I merely wanted to ensure your safety. Were you being forced into this wedding? Will the man come after you?"

 

If so, Tempest was prepared to defend her new friend.

 

At the mention of marriage, Tessa cast Tempest a swift panicked look, then she snorted at the remembrance of Rhys' drunken entrance the night before.

 

"Uh. No, I wasn't being forced into any..." she took a deep breath and went on. "I...have you ever felt, Tempest, like there was something you were meant to do with your life, while someone who cares about you has their own ideas of what you should with it?"

 

Tempest thought back over her past to try to offer a situation as evidence that she could empathize, but she couldn't think of anything. In Kirkwall, no one had particularly cared about her. Now she was cared for, but no one questioned her doing what she saw fit.

 

"No," she answered honestly. "But I imagine it would be incredibly difficult to be torn between love and a sense of duty, and that the decisions that resulted would not be easy."

 

Tessa chuckled softly. "Tempest, if only it'd been that simple or romantic."

 

She sighed, then went on. "Daevin was...well, I liked him well enough. He just...He thought that once I'd done some fighting that I would then want to settle down with him and have babies."

 

She hadn't realized that she'd hunched her shoulders as she talked. She forced herself to relax and look at Tempest before she spoke again.

 

"Some people are meant to be parents, like you. I...I don't think I am."

 

She looked away then, and rubbed her forefinger down the bridge of her nose as her face reddened slightly. "So..so I left him in the middle of the night, like a coward."

 

Tempest nodded her understanding. "You were on different paths," she said. "Not everyone is meant to lead the same life. Much as I love my children, I understand that parenthood is not the Maker's will for everyone."

 

She reached over and gave Tessa's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I would not dare to judge your decision to leave as you did. I'm confident that you had your reasons. What's done is done, and I hope you have forgiven yourself."

 

Tessa found herself continually surprised by Tempest. She'd been very worried about how the group would feel about Rhys's outburst, but the woman beside her had just narrowed it down into its simplest form. She didn't have regret for leaving, but she did feel bad for not considering his feelings more. She should have broken it off cleanly, but it was a lesson she'd learned. Everything about that was. Tess realized as she thought that, that she *had* forgiven herself about it, but Rhys's sudden reappearance in her life had dredged all that back up.

 

Smiling, she gave Tempest a sideways look. "Thank you, Tempest. As always, you put things into perspective."

 

"Does this wisdom just come naturally, like your magic, or did you learn it along the way?" Tess asked with a twinkle of humor.

 

Tempest blushed bright crimson. "I'm hardly wise," she replied self-consciously. "There is much I don't know, much I have yet to learn. What I do know, though, comes from experience, or merely reasoning. I know nothing of romantic love from personal experience, so everything I say about it should be taken with a grain of salt, but... people are people, and I suppose I just consider that in any situation the nature of people will be the same. It sounds silly when I say it, but that's the truth."

 

Tessa nodded, still smiling. "I've found that to be certainly true. People are definitely people and will always act how they're going to act. It doesn't always make sense to me, though."

 

She looked sideways at Tempest as some of the healer's words sank in. "I don't want to seem like I'm prying, so please don't feel like you have to answer my questions if they're not something you want to talk about, but you've children. Surely you'd know something of romantic love?"

 

Tempest shook her head, and looked away from Tessa. "My younger two children are adopted," Tempest replied. Though she didn't meet the warrior's eyes, her tone was even and free of emotion as she continued, "My eldest was conceived by rape. No love involved, when it comes to her father - although I love the resulting child very much. Romance is something that would not be possible for me. It is not the Maker's will that I should have that. It matters little, though. I am incredibly blessed to have my children and my friends."

 

It was not entirely clear to Tempest why that was the Maker's will... but it was easier to tell herself it was His will than to tell herself that the Maker simply didn't care. It was not that she didn't desire those things, but that door had firmly closed.

 

Tessa cast the healer a horrified look, quickly schooling her features into neutrality. Maker's ass, Tessa! You're an idiot! Tessa thought for a moment of a dark haired man in templar armor and shook her head slightly. If she ever thought about that day, part of her always thanked the Maker that she'd avoided the worst. She wasn't certain she could bear such a thing and still be as serene as Tempest seemed.

 

She studied Tempest for a moment before speaking. It was too late to worry about broaching terrible subjects now. She reached over and touched her arm gently, but firmly enough to try to avoid startling her. "Do you really think that's the Maker's will, Tempest?" Tess asked softly.

 

Tempest touched Tessa's hand on her arm, a silent gesture of gratitude for the reassuring touch.

 

"I know that to be the case," Tempest replied. It was becoming more difficult to keep the emotion out of her voice. "I do not know why this is His will. His wisdom is beyond my understanding. The fact is indisputable, though. I would not be a worthy lover. Or... or a suitable wife."

 

Tessa stopped walking and turned to face Tempest. She worked to keep her expression neutral because what she wanted to do was fold the other woman into an embrace and pet her hair. She wondered what had happened in Tempest's life to make her believe these things.

 

"Tempest, what would you say to me if I said these things about myself?"

 

"Of course, I would tell you that you were wrong," Tempest replied. "That I was sure the Maker would grant you any happiness you desired. But you have to understand..."

 

The last thing Tempest wanted was to drag Tessa into the mire of darkness that had been her past. She didn't want Tessa to have to imagine those things... and she didn't want Tessa to look at her differently after she had. Still, Tempest felt obligated to help Tessa understand why the polite expression of empathy didn't fit the circumstances.

 

"I'm different, Tessa. I'm not... clean anymore. I haven't been for a long time. What my daughter's father did to me... it wasn't just once. It was over and over. For sixteen years. He made me so dirty, so defiled. Surely that isn't what a good man wants in his bed. But even if that could be forgiven..."

 

Tempest looked away again, her voice taking on a tone of confession. "There's so much else. I have bad dreams. Nightmares. I wake up screaming, crying. I know that seems small, but imagine how tiresome it would get, being woken by that night after night. Even when it was just that, I sometimes thought that maybe..."

 

Tears threatened to well up, and she preemptively swiped at her eyes to chase them away. "But I had to go back to him. I had to go back to the man who hurt me so badly, because I found out he had my child, and it was the only way to free her. He was angry at me for running. And he did things to ensure I would never be wanted by anyone but him."

 

The emotion welled up Tempest, surged, and was gone. She was back to the careful, neutral tone, because it was too late to fix any of it.

 

"He cut me. Repeatedly. Deliberately." She made a vague gesture toward her chest and belly. "It lasted for hours. He made sure it scarred. It's disgusting. He made sure that anyone who saw me would be repulsed. But even that wasn't enough punishment. He tortured me in a very... purposeful way, to try to ensure I'd never have another child. Even that, I can't provide anymore. No one would want to deal with all of this. It wouldn't be worth it."

 

Tempest smiled wearily, painfully. "So you see now. I have nothing to offer. Nothing a person could love like that. This body is too defiled and broken.  I hope that the Maker will use this to teach me patience and perseverance. Please do not be sad for me. I have a very happy life, blessed with children and wonderful friends."

 

Tessa stood in the road as Tempest unveiled the litany of abuses that had been heaped upon her. At first Tessa tried to keep a neutral expression, but as the healer went on and on with the horrors her life must have been, a tiny inkling of rage kindled in the middle of her chest.

 

When Tempest gave her a sad and weary smile, Tessa simply closed the distance between them and enfolded her in an embrace right in the middle of the road.

 

She spoke into Tempest’s hair. “You are wrong,” she said softly but vehemently. “You are filled, not with darkness, Tempest, but with a light so strong people can’t help but be drawn to it.”

 

She stepped back, resting her hands gently on Tempest’s arms and looked intently at her. “What happened to you is horrible and horrific and you cannot but carry it with you.  You cannot, maybe, help but feel defiled.”

 

Tessa released Tempest and stepped back, her grey eyes full of certainty. “You deserve to be loved and cared for. And a good man will know that.  You do have something to offer, Tempest. You have love to share, you are worthy. You are.”

 

Tempest allowed herself to be folded into the hug, desperately craving the comfort of physical contact that didn't cause pain.

 

"Thank you for saying that," Tempest said, her voice muffled by the embrace. "You are kind. And I want to believe that, I do, but..."

 

How could she explain? How to make Tessa understand - without seeming unappreciative - that although she was grateful for the kind words, other words had been carved too deep? That her tormentor hadn't merely abused her body in silence. That much of her ordeal had been the wounds he inflicted on her mind and soul.

 

"He told me so many times. I can't get his voice out of my head. I try to. I want to. But every time I try to think that way, I hear him. And I just can't..."

 

Tempest shrugged helplessly. "He told me so many times that no one would want me like that except to cause me pain. It seemed like it had to be true. Good people don't like thinking about those things. And those things are written all over my body. I just don't see how..."

 

Tessa shook her head sadly. "Tempest, a good man would just tell you so many more times how wonderful you are and how worthy you are of love."

 

She started walking again, gesturing for Tempest to walk with her. She was hoping she hadn't drawn too much attention to her friend.

 

"In the meantime, though, maybe your friends can start by telling you these things until you believe them."

 

She looked sideways at Tempest, not quite smiling. "It seems like the sort of advice you would give me if our positions were reversed, maybe."

 

Tempest paused for a moment and gave the last statement serious consideration.

 

"I... I never thought about it that way," she admitted. "I've met other people who were raped, of course, but not abused for years, and... not the rest of it. Not the scars or the infertility. So I suppose I never though of what I would say to someone else."

 

She fell silent for a moment, but the silence was contemplative, and Tessa would be able to tell she was processing thoughts that were new to her.

 

"It can be hard to have as much compassion for oneself as for other people, can't it? If you came to me with a story identical to my own, I would feel compassion, and I hope I would be able to offer you the same kindness and wisdom you've offered me. I certainly would not believe you had lost your chance at love. So perhaps... perhaps you are right, and I have not lost mine either. Saying that seems so bold. Overwhelmingly so. But..."

 

Tempest summoned some courage, and went on, "If I imagine that a goodhearted man told me that he'd been abused, he had bad dreams, he had scars all over his body, and he wasn't capable of producing children... I would not reject him. I would reassure him. I would keep him safe. So perhaps... that goodhearted man might do the same for me."

 

Anxiously Tempest added, "That doesn't sound foolish, does it?"

 

Watching Tempest think through her words gave Tessa a small feeling of relief. Seeing her new friend so certain in the idea that she was unworthy frightened Tess a bit.  

 

In answer to Tempest's final question, Tessa smiled softly at the healer. "No, Tempest. It doesn't sound foolish at all."

 

Tempest's tentative expression turned into a genuine smile.

 

"And for that I am grateful," she replied. "Of course, it changes nothing at present. I do not know the Maker's will for me. But... it is nicer not to know, than to be certain there is no choice."

 

Shyly, as if confessing an embarrassing truth, Tempest admitted, "I always dreamed of getting married. An impossible dream, I always thought. In that impossible fantasy, though... I dreamed of a chantry wedding. Of finding a good, kind, responsible man who would be a father to my children. I've never been one for showy displays of any sort, but just... something simple and real. I've never told anyone this before. It seemed so ridiculous to imagine something so wonderful could really happen. You're the first person I've ever... but I thought you'd understand."

 

Tessa smiled at Tempest, a brilliant smile that Tempest had not yet seen from the warrior. 

 

"Tempest, when you find a man worthy of your love, I will do whatever I can to help that happen.  Everyone deserves the chance to declare their love in the sight of the Maker, if that's what they want."

 

Rhys had been wandering along keeping a general eye out to the surroundings when he saw Tessa and Tempest pause in the road.  For a moment he thought they were sharing a bit of woman chatter but when Tessa grabbed Tempest in a strong embrace, Rhys realized that it might be something more than that.  He faded back until he was in step with them and smiled at them both.

 

"Hello ladies.  Enjoying the trek?"

 

Tessa turned her smile, still genuine although muted now, toward Rhys.

 

"I think we are, Rhys. Have you met my friend Tempest?"

 

Tempest felt strangely buoyant. Although she didn't share Tessa's certainty that her dream would come true someday, she now felt a faint glimmer of hope that there was a possibility - and that faint glimmer was more than she'd ever had in the past.

 

She gave Rhys a smile and a nod of acknowledgment. Tessa's comfort with him served as sufficient endorsement for Tempest.

 

"Good to see you, Rhys," she said. She explained to Tessa, "We spoke briefly last night, but we've not formally met."

 

Rhys returned Tempest's smile with a wink.  "Ah yes, that was before the dwarf smith took up residence in my skull and proceeded to pound out a whole army's worth of weaponry.  I'm afraid you didn't meet me at my best, Tempest.  I'm not generally a staggering buffoon.  Tessa can attest to that.  I'm usually just a regular buffoon."

 

Tessa snorted at Rhys. "He's right, Tempest. Usually just a regular buffoon. Want to walk with us for a bit, Rhys?"

 

She quirked a brow at the tall man in good humor.

 

"Just...don't scare Tempest with stories about me, alright? I'm trying to make friends here."

 

"Who, me?" Rhys blinked innocently at Tessa.  "I don't have any scary stories about you, oh moon and stars." 

 

He gave Tempest a quick grin and a wink.  "She's harmless.  Just carries that sword around for looks."

 

"I have seen Tessa in battle," Tempest said with a smile. "So I have already seen her demonstrate that her combat prowess is no ruse. And Tessa, I assure you, you have already made a friend. However, Rhys, I look forward to hearing your stories nonetheless. I'm sure you two have had many adventures together."

 

Tessa rubbed the bridge of her wrinkled nose with her forefinger in mild embarrassment. Prowess was not necessarily the right word. She couldn't even stay on her feet against those wolves.

 

Making a face then chuckling, Tessa said, "Yes, Rhys, tell us a story."

 

"Well, there was once this time in mercenary camp..." Rhys started with a wicked grin at Tessa, but then he stopped and shook his head.  "I'll save stories about Tessa for another day, perhaps.  They'd make good fodder for around the fire."

 

He looked off into the distance, in the direction of the Frostback Mountains.  "There was a man in Greenhold, where I am from.  People told stories about him; he was amazing.  Handsome, devilishly so.  Cunning and daring.  Quite impressive to be sure."

 

Rhys looked back at the women and grinned.  "Not as impressive as I am, of course, but this was long ago and I hadn't come along yet."

 

"Anyway, this remarkable specimen of Avaar manhood took it upon himself to fetch a bride worthy of himself.  You might think it odd but where I come from the men are required to steal their brides away from the woman's family and friends by sneaking into her hold and snatching her away without being caught.  They have to return to his hold and she is considered a member of his tribe from that time on.  It's difficult and dangerous because if the man is caught he is likely to be injured if not killed outright!"

 

Rhys was getting into the spirit of the tale now and he went on.  "He had the idea to go to the largest hold in the Frostback Mountains, Valehold, and find the prettiest woman out of all the tribes that lived there to bring home to Greenhold and be his wife.  It turned out that the most beautiful of all the women in Valehold was the daughter of the most powerful tribal elder.  She was under lock and key, never allowed to wander about alone, and she lived in a home at the exact center of the hold itself.  Anyone wanting to steal her away would have to be cunning and stealthy, as well as having the silverest of silver tongues to talk the fair maiden into going with him.  Her father was quite sure no such man existed."

 

"However, our hero felt up to the task.  This was the woman he must have as his wife.  His reputation would soar if he could bring her back to our small hold and their children would be amazing having her lovely face and his best attributes.  Now, most hunters would study their quarry, learn their patterns, stalk them to find their weaknesses.  But this hunter was as impetuous as he was handsome and he decided to stroll into Valehold that very day!  Bold as brass, he strode right into the hold and right up to the elder.  He struck up a conversation with the beauty's father, regaling him with tales of his greatest hunts.  The elder was impressed and invited our hero to eat with the household."

 

"That night, he dined with the family and charmed them all with his tales and demeanor.  You can imagine that it was not hard for one such as he.  After all, he was practically Calenhad himself!  All through the dinner he refused to look at the elder's daughter; he treated her as if she were the air itself and just as invisible.  The elder saw this and smiled, knowing that his daughter was safe.  The daughter, for her part, was saddened by this for she was quite taken with our hero.  Her brothers hung on his every word and shared their own tales, trying to outshine their visitor with their own deeds even though it was useless to try.  But, as with all things, the dinner had to end and he was thanked for the entertainment he had provided and he thanked them all in turn for providing such a fine meal.  He left their home."

 

"Later, when it was dark, he returned to Valehold and made his way quietly past the gate guards.  Slowly, very slowly, he snuck through the hold until he reached the home of the elder, only to find the elder's daughter sneaking out of the house herself!  The two of them stared at the other, each wondering what they should do, and then the daughter put out her hands to our hero and beckoned him.  'Tie me, quickly, and let us go!' she told him.  He pulled her into his arms and they ran.  Our hero had planned to leave the hold in a very different way than he had entered.  They scaled the wall surrounding the hold, escaping into the night."

 

"Of course they reached Greenhold, and they were married, although our hero only had his bride for a few years before they parted ways.  Unfortunately for the world as we know it, their union produced no children.  It is commonly said in our hold that it is a terrible tragedy, for the children of that couple would be awe inspiring heroes."

 

Rhys twirled the quarterstaff he carried in his hands with a flourish and bowed to the two ladies.  "And now, I hope my poor storytelling skills have satisfied." 

 

As Rhys told his story, Tessa's eyebrows went up and a smile grew on her lips.  She'd enjoyed Rhys' story telling in the past and this was no exception.  She thought, although she'd not say so, that she may have just learned more about Rhys than she'd ever known.  

 

Now that the shock of his sudden reappearance in her life had worn off-she was glad to have him along in all this. He'd been a good friend to her, one of few, and it was good to have someone she trusted at her back. 

 

Tessa looked at Tempest to gauge her reaction to Rhys' story and found herself hopeful that the rest of their raggle-taggle group would accept him as well as they'd accepted Tess herself.

 

Tempest knew next to nothing about the Avvar. She had heard vaguely of the custom of kidnapping brides, and the idea had always upset her. She had imagined the event would be frightening and brutal for the woman. Based on her own experiences, it was a natural thought. What Rhys described was different, though. Not only more consensual, but the woman actively working to achieve her own ends, too. It was certainly not a custom Tempest would ever have at any desire to emulate, but it didn't sound horrifying as she would have expected.

 

"Certainly an impressive story," Tempest said with a smile. Then with a slightly raised eyebrow, she added, "And a story you know quite a lot of detail about, for it to be a recounting of exploits you did not witness. Could it be that this hero in fact stands before us?"

 

Rhys placed a finger next to his nose and smiled.  "Oh, I've no doubt should I put my mind to it I could accomplish such feats.  My own bride was happy enough to see me come for her but I didn't have to endure an entire night trying to impress her father and brothers."

 

He grinned.  "I only had to sweet talk her two sisters into keeping quiet while we made our escape."

 

Tempest smiled a little at this, although the whole concept still seemed very alien to her. "That is... very different from anything I had ever heard before," she said. "Thank you for sharing your story. I hope that as we travel together, I will have the chance to learn more about your people."

 

[Aertioc]

Wherein Fabian Behaves Like a Perfect Gentleman and Trades Tales with Bartha

 

Spoiler

Will I never get used to this chill? Each day seems colder than the last, but at least I am walking today, not standing still in the market, hawking my wares. And perhaps my fellow travelers might distract me from my misery. I drew level with my companion of yestereve.

 

"Good morrow, my jewel," I said, "I trust you rested well?"

 

Bartha looked up to the man who had joined her side. “Why hello there. Are you wondering whether your brooch is homesick, or you actually meant me?” She had a cheeky smile and a spark in her eye. “Of course I can’t speak for the jewelry, but I am alright. Not looking forward to spending the upcoming nights in a tent, though. Especially not now the weather is turning for the worse.” She glanced at the clouds looming over their heads. “Ah well, guess all the more reason to hurry up and get back to a warm tavern of sorts…” She looked back at her companion. “And what about you? More plans for visiting the members of our gang in the wee hours of the night, to trade tales?” The smirk had appeared again. 

 

I smiled in return. She had a merry wit, this one. It made a pleasant counterpoint to the directness of her speech.

 

"I abandoned hope of ever being warm again when I left Antiva," I said. "These southern lands are chilly and dark, compared to my homeland, and all of Ferelden smells of wet dog. But it has its compensations! Nowhere in Antiva would I find a woman like you. There are beauties, yes, and all in possession of wit sharp enough to cut sinew, but one grows weary of twice-gilded falsehoods, no matter how pleasing the shape. So the warmth of your honesty will be my fireside this evening, and perhaps we will trade tales, if you will indulge me. But for now, we must economize. I offer you but one story, in exchange for one from you. What say you? Shall we entertain ourselves as we walk?"

 

Bartha laughed heartily at Fabians exasperations about the bad sides of Fereldan. “You poor thing! I can assure you that it is possible to be warm over here, you just need to be a bit more creative.” She was teasing him, and when she realized that her comment could easily be interpreted ambiguously, she felt her cheeks flush a bit. Her thoughts wandered back to her conversations with Beldin, only a few days earlier. ‘Scaring off another man with my ill-planned flirtations, within a fortnight… although it would be a new record, let’s not do that…’ She shook her head to emphasize her thoughts and fight the heavy feeling that was forming in her chest. He was cute, full of kind words, and good looking, but it was better to not fall into the same trap again. She looked up into his brown eyes, and produced a smile. “I already said that I would like to trade more stories with you, so of course that is not a problem. And you may always entertain me, if you like.” She bit her tongue as the words had left her mouth before she had considered them. "Eh, I mean... yes, I like talking with you." 'Idiot!' She scolded herself. 

 

I chuckled at her innuendo.

 

"Alas," I lamented, "my countenance is as disagreeable to the young ladies of Vintiver as theirs has been to me, so my creativity must remain unfulfilled. But we may trade tales, and perhaps ignore my dark and menacing visage."

 

I extended my arm.

 

"Walk with me, and I will tell you of a boy who saw the face of the divine. It was summer, many, many years ago, in a small fishing village just south of Antiva City. This boy's father loved his family very much, but he was a sailor on a galley out of Antiva City, and he was often away. It came to pass that one such absence occurred when the boy's mother was great with child, and her time drew near.

 

"'Look after your mother,' the boy's father said, and he did, being a dutiful son. But his mother was stricken with a fever, and when her labor came upon her, she was too weak to deliver the baby. The boy ran to the village, but no one would help. His mother was a sorceress, they said, for she sold herbs and charms to supplement her husband's income. The boy pleaded that she was not, but the villagers threw stones at him, and told him to come no more among them.

 

"Now, in those days, an old woman lived on an island about a mile from the shoreline. The island was accursed, it was said, and the woman who lived there doubly so, but the boy had no choice. His mother would die if he did nothing. So he took off his shoes, dove into the sea, and he swam, all the way to the island. There, the old woman listened to his tearful tale and took pity on him. She changed first into a pillar of golden light, and at last, into a white swan. The swan took wing and flew. The boy watched the swan and wept, for how could a bird help his mother? But there was nowhere left to go, so he swam home, praying that his mother might yet be alive when he reached her.

 

"And there she stood on the shore to welcome his arrival, with his new sister in her arms. The babe was named Grazia, after the blessings of Andraste that brought her into the world.

 

"And that, dear Bartha, is the tale I would trade for one of yours."

 

She smiled. "You do not seem that dark and menacing to me. Perhaps you think too badly of yourself?"

 

Bartha accepted the invitation, and listened with attentionally to the tale. When he was finished, she found herself quite close to him, and with her free hand resting on his arm. "It's a wonderful tale", she said with true admiration. "One can find help in the most unexpected corners, right? Poor boy, to be turned away when he only wanted to help someone else... but also brave enough to overcome his fears for the sake of his family... Hmmm... it will be hard to trade you something of an equal value, but I will try..."

 

After pondering a bit, absently tapping her fingers on his arm, she started. "A long time ago, there was a Dwarven noble with the name Laina, who lived in Orzammar. She had a good life, she did. And had all she wished for within arms reach. Just to her parents dismay, she hadn't yet found a husband. But in love she fell, to a casteless man with the name Brok. A casteless... a nobody. Her house warned her that he was just trying to use her for climbing to a higher caste, but she waved them away. She loved him, and he loved her, and she wanted to bit with him, no matter what his status was. When she turned out to be with child, she prayed to the Ancestors and the Stone that the child would be a girl, so she could lift the father to a higher ranking.

 

Her father was furious, and got Brok arrested and thrown into prison. 'For harrassing my daughter', he said. But no matter how much either Brok or Laina pleaded, he would not listen to reason. When the child was born, the babe turned out to be a boy, and not a girl as they had hoped for. A boy, and therefore casteless like his father... Laina was heartbroken, as there was nothing she could do to help her lover. On top of that, her father demanded that she would abandon the child, as it was only a disgrace to their house, and it was her duty to upkeep their honor.

 

Never had she felt so alone and hopeless as that night. She laid down with the babe in her arms, cradling it and admiring the little thing. The mere thought that she would be forced to abandon it in the deeproads made her weep for hours on end. She knew she could choose to give up her status and become casteless too, but without Brok, there was no way she would be able to survive in the trenches where the casteless live.

 

A soft knocking on the door. Startled she stared at the door, when the door was knocked for a second time. "Who's there?" She said with a trembling voice. She held the boy closer to her when the door slowly opened, afraid that it would be someone to rip the babe from her arms. In the corner of her eye she recognized the uniform of the guard, and she braced herself when the figure rushed over to her. Slowly she opened her eyes, when moments later the man was still leaning over them. A finger was stroking the babe's cheek. "He looks like you, ey?" Her eyes shut up, and only then she recognized him. "Brok! How... what are you doing here?" He put a finger on her lips, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Sshh, how is not important, but we need to go, and quickly." Too surprised and her mind overflowing with questions, she stood up as he took her by her hand and pulled her along.

 

They left the estate, and the diamond quarters where the important houses live. Luckily there weren't too many guards patrolling, so they could reach the commons without too much effort. However, there they got stopped by a guard. "Where are you going at this hour?" He asked Brok. "To the mines." Brok motioned to the woman next to him. "She's got to make a trip, and well... not too many onlookers now to witness that problem." He made a movement with his head, pointing out to the babe she was holding in her arms. Horrified, she looked back and forth between the guard and Brok. "How dare you?!" She exclaimed. "I thought I could trust you!" He turned around to her. "My lady,  please. I am just following your fathers orders." He looked back at the other guard, with an apologizing look on his face. The guard nodded, and moved on. Brok pushed the furious woman in the direction of the mines. When the guard was out of range, he stopped her. Tears were running down her face, and her bottom lip was trembling. He moved in to wrap his arms around her, careful not to hurt the child. "I'm sorry... I had to lie there." She laid her head on his shoulder, sobbing. "But it is your child. How can you do this to me?" He whispered into her ear. "Because I love you. But you will have to make a choice now: stay here, or trust me and follow me into the deeproads." Angrily she looked up. "To the blight, I'm not going to abandon the child. I'd rather die!" He smiled in return. "Good, I was hoping that you would say that." He reached for a pouch, and produced a note from it. "I've got a map, which should lead us to an exit to the surface. It is dangerous though..." Her expression changed from anger to puzzled. "The surface? But then we fall up into the sky!" He kissed her: "Then we will fall together. But hey, if those humans can do it, maybe we can too?"

 

After that they departed, and within a few days they managed to reach the surface. Travelers took them to Denerim, where the couple managed to start a new life, together. And as far as I know, there had been no issues with falling up into the sky."

 

I listened in growing dismay at Bartha's tale of Dwarven social life. Of course, I had heard of the Castes - dwarves are rare in Antiva, but not completely unknown - but the implications never really sank in until now.

 

"They are fortunate that gravity has proven so accommodating!" I said. "And I love a happy ending."

 

I took her hand from my arm and kissed it before placing it back where it was.

 

"Thank you for trading tales with me," I said. "Perhaps tomorrow, we may share another."

[berelinde]

Plot Post: You arrive at the campsite.

 

The trappers' campsite Philomena led you to is wide and relatively flat. Trees ring it, but they leave a central area open. Two separate fire circles are positioned at either end. Presumably, the cooking happens at one and the tents are pitched around the other, so that it can warm the tents without being seen from the trail. There's a stream not far from the southern fire pit, and dried tracks in the mud to suggest recent - but not too recent - use.

 

Sundown is approximately an hour and a half away. According to your map, your next available campsite will be the Dalish camp itself.

[berelinde]

Combat Drill!

 

Bel walked around the camp, getting the lay of the land and looking for hidden obstacles. There weren't any. The ground was level and free of roots and holes that would twist an ankle or worse. That would change once the tents were up, so if they were going to train, it would have to be soon.

 

"Who wants to burn off some energy?" he said suddenly. "Every one of you is good at what you do, but we need to learn to work together as a team. Let's do a combat drill. No live steel, no spells or arrows. Move to your opponent or shout your attack. Let's form up into two teams."

 

(he waits for folks to shuffle into teams along previously established bonds of friendship)

 

"Great, but let's switch things around a bit," he said. "Merc, Tessa, you're the captains. Everyone can and should use their own discretion, but you'll be up close, in a good position to see who's weakening or who needs taking down quick. Fabian, I know you like those daggers, but please provide missile support for Tessa, and Rhys, please do the same for Mercuriel. Bartha, I'm going to ask you to do sneak attacks for Mercuriel's team. Let's have Tempest cover healing for Merc's side, and Philomena, would you please do the same for Tessa's? Get of that boulder thing when you can, but use your discretion. Laurelin, Mercuriel's team has Bartha covering sneak attacks, but that leaves Tessa's at a disadvantage, so let's have you do the same for her. Nobody ever expects frozen death raining down on them. That puts Mercuriel at a slight disadvantage, but it's important to know what to do when you're at one."

 

He waited for the others to shuffle into new positions and nodded in satisfaction at the mix. It was only natural for friendships to form in a large group such as this, but he tried to split up the pairs as much as he could. It was easy to fall into the pattern of staying by the same people all the time, but it was just as important to learn the habits of the less familiar companions.

 

"Very good," he said. "We're all in this together, but for now, we need to learn about everyone's strengths and weaknesses. Philomena, Tempest, you're the most important people on the battlefield. You're the ones Mercuriel and Tessa need to protect with everything they've got. Mercuriel or Tessa can fall and their team can still win, but if you do, it's only a matter of time before your team falls, too. That means you have to use your heads. If Mercuriel or Tessa go down, or anyone else, wait. Don't run out to save them until you know that you have cover, no matter how much you want to. They can hold on for the few moments it takes for somebody else to engage whatever enemies are looking for new targets. Once all the enemies are engaged, go do what you have to do. Trust me, if they fall, they aren't going anywhere."

 

He glanced at the archers.

 

"Fabian, Rhys, you know what to do," he said. "You'll have a few moments to prepare while the front line is moving into position. Get the lay of the land. Sight in your targets. Soften the front line if you can, but hold off until your warriors are within visual range of the other team's. You don't want to give away your position before you've got shiny things on the ground to distract the other archers. Same goes for Laurelin and Philomena. You've got ranged attacks. Wait for that meat shield to go up before you start waving a flag around. After the initial charge, archers, pick off any stragglers you see, walking wounded or weakened enemies. Never take on an unengaged melee combatant unless you have no other target available. But if your enemy fighters are busy with other opponents, let 'em have it. Your warriors will appreciate it. Oh, and remember how I said that Philomena and Tempest were the most important people on the field? If you get a chance to take one of them out, do it. Fall back if the heat gets too close, but make sure you've got something you can hit them with if it goes to hand-to-hand. Above all, talk to each other! Let others on your team know what you're doing, or if you need help."

 

He stopped moving and gestured at both team leaders.

 

"Is everybody clear on what they're supposed to do? Mercuriel, Tessa, you know what you've got to do. Go out there and draw fire. Push forward until you get to the enemy mage and 'kill' them if you can, but keep an eye on your opposite number. You probably won't be able to move in on the mage while your opposite is upright. Got it?"

[BFace]

"Who wants to burn off some energy?"

 

Tessa smiled at this. They’d walked the better part of the day, but it was true-she always had a surplus of energy to burn off at the end of a trek.  She assumed it was from being on alert as they walked.

 

She crossed her arms and stood, listening to Beldin give his orders. As he named herself and Mercuriel captains, she glanced at her elven counterpart and nodded a grin at him.  She agreed with the way he split the teams-it was important to be comfortable with everyone in the party, regardless of friendships.  It was something she’d learned before-you didn’t have to like everyone you traveled with, but you had to be able to trust them to do what was necessary.  This group was at an advantage because there really wasn’t anyone who stood out or apart, and everyone seemed to get along.

 

“Philomena, Tempest, you're the most important people on the battlefield.”

 

Tessa turned her head to give Philomena a long, appraising look, before turning back to Beldin, to whom she gave a meaningful but guarded look, before putting her attention back where it was needed.  The important thing is that it was good to have another healer. She worried some that Tempest might, sometime, overextend herself dangerously. This made it far less likely.

 

“Got it?”

 

Tessa raised one brow, as well as her hand and tried not to grin.  “Well, Ser Ox, Musterer of Armies, we know where we will be. Where will you be?”

 

Keeping her hand in the air, she stopped trying to hide the smile and went on, “I have a couple more questions, actually. “  She folded her fingers down, all but the first one. “Does it matter the order in which we ‘attack?”

She added a second finger to the first, “Do Mercuriel and I get to shout encouragement or direction to the rest of our team?”

Tessa raised her third finger, still smirking a bit, although the look she gave him conveyed that she was asking serious questions. “When you say that we need to shout our attacks-that’s not very precise. What exactly do you want us to do?”