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The Age of the Dragon


Naktis

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The city of Kirkwall, after the devastating destruction of the Chantry as well as the entire city being wrecked by the war between the mages and templars, the citizens of Kirkwall were slowly rebuilding their city hoping that no other troubles would fall upon them...

 

"Here it is. The Hanged Man." Thomas said, pride in his voice.

 

Illadriel stared at the building in front of them. Some strange thing was hanging on what looked like a foot above the entrance. "This is the best tavern in Kirkwall?" She asked, clearly not impressed by the exterior of the building. "Of course! I cleaned the tables of this fine establishment for four years!" The mage replied. He sounded awfully smug to the elf but she had no idea how can someone be proud to clean the tables in this... tavern.

 

The two stepped inside. From what Illadriel heard from Thomas, the tavern was wrecked during the war but was rebuilt soon after. Now, that she saw how the tavern looked from the inside she wondered how it looked before. "Hey, Corff! Ale for me and my griffoned friend!" She heard Thomas shouting. The bartender nodded and started pouring the drinks.

 

Illadriel seated herself at the table which was closest to the fireplace as she was feeling chilly. Few moments later the white haired mage approached the table with the drinks. "What are we waiting here for?" Illadriel asked and took a sip of her drink. It was good. "There are many movements in the city. Some supports mages, some templars" Thomas spoke and looked around. Once he made sure that no one was looking he leaned closer over the table. "As you know, I am helping the mages to flee the city. Someone must have heard of me and if they're looking for me, that's where they'll find me."

 

Illadriel only nodded and looked around the tavern as well. It wasn't as empty as she thought it would be. "We'll see." She mumbled quietly. We'll see...

Edited by Naktis
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A small, petite figure was sitting in the corner of the famous Hanged Man inn, hood over her long, ginger hair, but not completely over her face - wouldn't want to be suspicious. She has been in the town for a while, but the elf still felt out of place, despite Kirkwall being her birth place. Her search was going nowhere - she still had no leads. The mage sighed, thinking of the same options for the 100th time. Not many groups of thugs or smugglers stayed whole and operating after the start of the war and someone must have got her out of town. Or perhaps nobody noticed a single elf escaping the alienage during all that chaos?

 

One thing was certain - her mother wasn't here and Alaila shouldn't stay here for long, either. She feared what might happen if the Templars found her, now more than ever. The mage needed a way out of here and it wasn't going to be easy.

 

Alaila was about to light her pipe when an odd pair walked in - a Dalish woman and a...white-haired man? She recognized the woman as a Dalish right away because of the Vallaslin, representing the God of Vengeance. She couldn't remember the name, though.

 

The elf tried to listen to the pair, but she was too far away. So she lit her pipe and inhaled, her eyes not leaving the Dalish woman and the white-haired shemlen.

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Elvira walked down the fairly dead streets of kirkwall, nothing mutch going on, apart from a little buying and selling in the market. As she walked, her long fingers twitched... she had to control herself from stealing something from the stalls, but she knew these people were trying to rebuild there lives... and despite having no moral codes, stealing from those who have nothing didn't appeal to her.

 

She was about to continue on, most probably to head out of the city, as there was no activity here, when she caught a glimpse of some unpleasant activity by the inn known as The Hanged Man, in the alley around the side of the inn, a large, brutish man, most probably intoxicated with alcohol, had one of the young barmaids up the wall, groping her, as she writhed and wriggled to get away, clearly a victim in this affair.

 

Elivira walked over swiftly, quietly, and the drunkard attempted to unfasten the young woman's clothing. Elvira gripped the man by his pony-tail, and pulled his head back with considerable force. she said coldy into his ear "I think the young woman would appreciate you getting off her." she tugged again, and pulled him off of the woman, grabbing the back of his head, and slamming his face into the wall. She let go and he fell to the ground, dazed by the force, and she nodded her head for the woman to run inside.

 

Elvira proceeded to walk towards the main door of the tavern, opening it with her deft fingers. As she took a few steps inside the drunk man made a run for her from behind, having gotten himself up from the alley. Elvira spun once she sensed him, picking up a glass bottle from the nearest table, and whacking it against the side of the drunkards face. Thump. he fell onto the wooden floor unconscious.

 

Elvira made her way over to the bar and sat on a stool, getting herself a tankard of ale.

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Both Illadriel and Thomas raised their heads as they heard the door opening. Some woman just entered the tavern. Both of them shrugged it and returned their attention back to the drinks.

 

The Dalish Warden looked around the tavern and noticed a hooded figure sitting in the corner of the Hanged Man. She wasn't sure but it looked like she was looking at her. "I think that woman is looking at me." Illadriel whispered to Thomas. The mage grinned and glanced at the hooded woman, no subtlety in his movements. "Well you don't see elves with tattoos like yours everyday and let me tell you, that tattoo is distracting." He laughed and scratched the stubble on his chin. "I'm not kidding." She hissed. "Of course you aren't!" He said out loud and arose from his seat. The elf tried to stop him but to no avail.

 

"Hey there, friend!" He greeted the hooded woman as he approached her. "My friend says that you're looking at her, which is okay of course unless you're a dragon that learned how to shapeshift into a human. Now that would be scary." Thomas added hinting to the fact that he could sense magic in the woman, he was sure that she could sense the same in him.

Edited by Naktis
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Alaila was calmly smoking her camomile - for she despised tobacco because of its stench - when that white-haired man approached her. Good thing she exhaled just a second before or she would have been choking right now. The elf was silent for a long time, enough to make the man feel awkward that he was simply standing there while she finishes and finally extinguishes her pipe.

 

The red-haired elf was a, some may call her that way, cool-blooded person. Never panicking, always cool and sober-minded. The reason she always waited for so long before replying even to as simply questions with yes/no answers was that she thought everything over a couple of times. Often was she called slow or even stupid because of that, but she was simply careful, trying to foresee all the possible outcomes and take the best route.

 

The man was obviously friendly towards her, and a mage, and as he could feel her, she could feel him, as well. The woman wasn't, on the other hand. A strange pair they made. But then again, being a mage would explain the man's white hair. At least partially. An accident in the Fade, perhaps? That's the usual story if the strange hair color wasn't natural, but the mage clearly wasn't an albino.

 

"It is strange to see a Dalish in the town, especially in the company of....such as yourself." the elf finally replied, taking off her hood as a sign of non-hostility. She glanced at the Dalish woman again before starting her next sentence. Her voice was oddly calm considering that a random stranger, not to mention a shemlen, approached her. Well, he was a mage, but still. Alaila's eyes lingered on Illadriel's Vallaslin, however.

 

"I rarely see a Vallaslin of the god of Vengeance on a Dalish." she added a bit quieter, but still loud enough for Thomas to hear her.

 

"And you two make an unusual couple. Makes me think you are not from the town." And if they manage to arrive to the town at this state, surely they would know of a way out. One would never come somewhere unless he knows a way out. Or perhaps they are more ignorant than they appear? The mage, perhaps. The Dalish, she highly doubted.

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Elvira made sure her hood was down over her face, taking one last sip of her ale. From thin air, she created a decoy of herself, which sat in the same position as her, as if it were inside her... it was a strange feeling, yet she had used it often enough to become used to it, more or less. She vanished from sight, utilizing her shadow form, and got up from her seat, her decoy still there, drinking away the ale.

 

She walked silently around the edge of the in, until she took up a spot near the centre of where the Dalish woman was seated, and her white haired companion was chatting to an elf, so she had a good drop of both parties. She listened intently to what the pair of mages were talking about.

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Thomas wasn't really surprised to see that the woman was an elf. There's an Elven Alienage, here in Lowtown after all. "Such as myself?" He thought and scratched the stubble on his chin again. "You mean cunning and handsome?" He inquired with the big grin on his face.

 

The mage glanced at his Warden friend that was sipping her ale, not really interested in what's happening around her.

 

"Oh I am from Kirkwall. Been living in Lowtown for four years. My Dalish friend however came all the way from Wies... Weips... from the Anderfels."

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Alaila's face was emotionless as before, only a subtle hint of a smile visible on her face. There was the long pause again before she answered. A mage comedian. I thought those normally died young. The man, of course, knew what she meant, but Alaila payed no attention to it.

 

"Weisshaupt?" the elf asked, her brows slightly raised in question. "Is she a Grey Warden, then?" her glance wandered again to the Dalish elf, studying her a bit more carefully now. It does not happen everyday that you meet a possible Grey Warden, not to mention a Dalish Grey Warden on top of that.

 

Their presence here was even more intriguing now, especially the Grey Warden's. For a short moment, Alaila thought she could feel something...odd, to say at least around them, but the feeling soon disappeared. It left her feeling uncomfortable, though, but there wasn't really anything she could do.

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"Well I am pretty good at staying alive." Thomas answered with the goofy grin on his face.

 

He glanced around the tavern, before starting speaking again. "Exactly! She's from... that place!" He could never pronounce Weisshaupt no matter how hard he tried. "She's not telling me why she's here though" the mage spoke as he cast a glance at the Dalish "other than: I came to help, that is." He turned his attention back to the elven mage.

 

"You know, I thought that all mages fled Kirkwall. Why are you still here?" Thomas asked quietly as he stared blankly at the table for a moment before realizing something. "Oh right! I forgot to introduce myself! The name's Thomas." He grinned and offered his hand to the red-haired elf.

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