AurianaValoria1

I'm fine with it. Might want to go back over his sheet though and update anything that you think needs changing.

Honestly, your best character(s) was Markas, with his hound, Fang. If you can get back into the groove you had with those two, I think it'd be fine. Whatever characterization or RP style you had going with them really worked. Might I suggest going back to them? Also, do ask Grue about Realmslore. He really is the group resource on a lot of things, especially things that the wiki doesn't elaborate on. Lastly, just like you have an "open door policy" concerning PMs, so do I. If there's anyone you should contact when you have questions about the RP in general, it should be me; you should never be afraid to talk to me when you need to.

Mac, as far as I remember (and this was a long time ago, so forgive me if I'm mistaken), you didn't want to be a part of the Steam group chat we had going because we were too boring; you left it voluntarily and never came back. But you've still got PM avenues to reach us. The point is you're not applying logic to these situations. Trying to pull off something like the theft at the gala was against all sense if you understood where the town was, who was there, and what nation it was in. First off, something that I noticed: Dragon Age policies towards elves don't apply in the Realms. You're mentioning DA prejudices in a world that doesn't behave in that way towards elves for the most part. Aglarond itself is a nation of half-elves, so the whole attitude towards elves thing was off by a mile in that situation. Furthermore, Furthinghome is a town where magic users are on top right now (like much of Aglarond), meaning everything is naturally going to be warded beyond belief. Bring on top of that the fact that Thayan corruption is something that makes Aglarondans paranoid, and it's really, really, really not a good idea to try to implement what you did (or have Sparrow say what he did) and solve it in 2 posts - because it just wouldn't happen. A character can't be expected to get away with it. The concept wasn't thought through; you didn't do the research and it shows. That has happened on multiple occasions in this RP. If you do a little studying up, you can avoid occurrences like this, but it requires application of logic and common sense. That's the biggest issue here. Your writing itself, technically, is good for the most part. Lately, you've been following the rules. But the lack of actually paying attention to the environment and how your character logically fits in is still lacking, and that's what's driving us nuts, I think. We feel that we're expected to go along with these plans of yours and not have other characters (even NPCs) appropriately react for the sake of getting these mini plots done, even if they make no sense at all.

At the Marshal's threat, Rhaine's lips went thin, and her brow rose. "Pardon me, Marshal," she said, her tone flat, "I did not realize I was accepting a common thief into my company. I was under the assumption he only wished to earn back gold which was taken from him by joining our cause in the Realms, as was the implication when we first met. I did not understand him to mean he merely wished an opportunity to steal it back." Pausing, she glanced to Sparrow and then back at the Marshal, "He will receive no clemency from me. I do not take well to being deceived. Thus, I freely deliver him into your custody without protest." Sighing heavily again, she shook her head, "If that is all, Marshal, I have a wedding I promised to attend..." ----------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, Maydiira was first startled and then rendered speechless by We'tak's insistence that she and Lucas dance together. At the squire's protestations, she took a breath and replied, "Neither do I...at least, not like you surfacers."

Celeste's brow furrowed at Abraham's reply. She could tell he wasn't fine at all, but she decided to say nothing further about it, deeming it best not to press the issue and risk angering the warrior. Lips pressed tightly together as he stood up, she, too straightened and remarked, "That offer for potions is still open, by the way." Pausing, she added quietly, "And...thanks. I just...never encountered people who so ardently hated mages before. I've lived a sheltered and, perhaps, lucky life compared to some others. I knew I was sent to the tower because people didn't understand those like me. But I never expected the hate to be quite this...extreme." At that moment, the Crow in question appeared in the stables, and Celeste gestured to the elf, "Right on cue. I think I recall our employers' representatives were supposed to be waiting on us at the old mill here in town. We should go there and get this business over with."

As Rhaine followed the oddly absent-seeming servant, she glanced to Rameses and sighed, "Hold off on that offer...I might take you up on it later if the evening continues to deteriorate as rapidly as I feel it might." Finally, the servant opened a door, and within the room beyond was Sparrow, having been presented to the marshal himself. The Doomguide, who halted mid-stride, had to stop herself from physically putting her hands to her temples, and she muttered, "Actually, I might need it sooner rather than later." Then, addressing the marshal, she added, "Goodsir, you requested my presence?" --------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, Maydiira turned to see a well-dressed Lucas speaking to her. Raising her snowy brows, she looked around, turning about in a circle, before shrugging, "I...am not entirely sure what to do, myself. I have never been to one of these surfacer functions. It seems so...strange. But it's almost like the Underdark, too. All of this posturing and pretense. It makes me slightly nervous, if I may be honest."

Rhaine glanced to the side to see a rather plain-looking man - or what seemed to be a plain-looking man - speaking to her and asking her to follow him. Her concern raised at the man's words, her brow furrowed, and she excused herself from Maydiira and Conall's side, moving towards the servant with cautious steps. "Very well, lead on," she replied, gesturing ahead. Looking backwards, she added to the paladin, "Keep an eye out for anything unusual, friend." Conall merely nodded in response, returning his attention to the crowd of guests around them. It seemed things were already getting interesting...

Celeste knew not when she finally fell asleep on the small cot. At some point, either one of the resident sisters or a Templar slid a tray of bread and cheese under her door, and this she had eaten ravenously. She wondered as she ate who had convinced who to give her food - surely none of them wanted to feed a mage? Her thoughts were bitter, and they plagued her mind even as exhaustion pulled her into the Fade to dream. There, Duty haunted her with Gabriel's face...and with rage she ran from the spirit, who most assuredly protected her every night, until she woke with tears streaming down her face. She left the Chantry before even the sisters awakened, her heart heavy and sore. As she began her search for Abraham, who was nowhere to be found in the Chantry itself, she glanced down and noticed with utter horror that her silk robe was stained with beer and grease from the conflict the previous evening. Clenching her fists, she first marched to the now deserted tavern and then towards the stables, not giving one wit who saw her even as her pale cheeks reddened with embarrassment. Surely the old man couldn't be far? Peeking inside the dimly-lit stables, she finally glimpsed the armored hulk sitting in the aisle, his face a sickly pallor. Had he been there all night? "Abraham! What are you doing here? Are you all right?" she rushed forward, kneeling beside him. Frowning, she added, "I should have been the one sleeping here instead of you...since everyone seems to see me and my kind as beasts."

The lieutenant and Celeste watched Abraham's agitated mannerisms for a moment before the former inclined his head, "I will. Enchantress, elf, if you would follow me, please." The mage's brow furrowed as she sensed Abraham was being less than honest, then nodded to the Blight veteran next to her, "Of course. Thank you, ser." Her mind was still reeling from her experience as she let the small squad of Templars lead herself and Wind to Redcliffe's Chantry - everything from the smiting she'd received to the insults hurled her way and now Abraham's moody and unsettled behavior. In an attempt to redirect her thoughts, she glanced around at the buildings about her and marveled at how some of them still stood. She had not been in this town since she was a small child, and many things had changed; yet an equal number of things had not. It had weathered an undead infestation and the darkspawn horde, and though it was obviously still recovering from them, the town had largely emerged from the disasters marvelously intact. Fitzgerald, that was his name. "Lieutenant Fitzgerald, yes?" she suddenly asked, looking to the lieutenant with a quizzical gaze. "Aye," he replied, "I was at Denerim, same time you were. We met briefly before the battle...I thought you might not remember me." She chuckled, "I'm surprised you remember me." He snorted, "My dear Enchantress, I am fairly certain there's only one mage in all of Ferelden who dresses in silks to fight darkspawn." One of his men snickered inside his helmet, the sound hollow. "Shut up, you." Redcliffe's Chantry was small but comfortable, and Lieutenant Fitzgerald escorted her and Wind to two tiny, vacant guest rooms near the door before departing to speak with the sisters about their accommodations. In the meantime, Celeste set herself down on the creaky cot in her own room and waited...for what exactly, she wasn't certain. Her mind was fuzzy and her limbs numb with fatigue, and all she really wanted to do was sleep.

Rhaine was about to open her mouth to confirm to Rameses that yes, there were in fact lines like this in the afterlife, but was stopped when the atmosphere seemed to get significantly more humid, and the crowd began to act more agitated than they already were. Thus, she decided to keep her focus on them. People stood on tiptoes to view the progress they had made, looking out over perfectly coiffed heads of hair and ladies' elegant hats. The guards checking everyone at the door sped up significantly, now committing only a half-hearted effort to examining patrons for weapons and the like. The Doomguide did her best to ignore both the haughty jeers and the gawking that was happening all around them; the best thing to do in these situations was just let everything roll off.... At last, they were inside. The guards paused a moment at Maydiira's presentation, but a few whispered words from one of Rosalinde's ladies and they nodded her through. The estate was as beautiful within as it was without, and it rivaled even the finest mansions Rhaine had seen Waterdeep; marble columns, gilded with gold, held aloft a tile-decorated ceiling above a grand entrance-way, which led into an even more spacious guest wing beyond. Crystal chandeliers glittered with magical firelight, and countless paintings and priceless woven banners hung along the walls between stained-glass windows. It was a gorgeous setting for Gregor and Rosalinde's wedding, which would commence in less than an hour...

The Templar lieutenant looked flabbergasted as the three told him about their reasons for being in Redcliffe, "The Deep Roads? Your employer must be insane. The Blight just ended, there's no way all the darkspawn have retreated deep enough for it to be safe, yet." Glancing to Celeste, he added, "I'm surprised to see you un-escorted from the Hold, considering the danger. I would've thought Delaney would have been with you." Giving the lieutenant a forlorn look, she replied quietly, "He was. He died with the rest of our team, covering my escape." This seemed to shock him to silence for a moment. Then, he answered, "Maker's breath. I'm...very sorry to hear that. You have my sympathies, Enchantress." Shaking his head, he looked between Wind and Abraham, "Tell your employer that his or her greed caused the death of a fine servant of the Maker. They might not be so quick to put the Chantry's finest in harm's way once they are charged with his death via reckless endangerment. There would have been no reason for him to have been there had they not required a Circle scholar for their foolish ambitions." Turning back to the mage, the lieutenant sighed, "Well, a sad business all around. You three don't need any more harassment, so might I suggest you stay at the Chantry, tonight? It's only there that I can guarantee the rabble won't bother you anymore. It's the least I can do, considering the situation." Celeste thought his offer rather generous, but she glanced to Abraham and Wind for their opinions before giving the lieutenant an affirmation.

Right when Abraham had cornered his foe, Celeste felt something she had never experienced before wash over her in a debilitating wave - a chilling agony, gripping and life-draining, sapping the strength from her limbs, coursed through her veins and burned even as it felt like ice. She felt powerful gauntleted hands grasp her firmly by the wrists and pull them behind her back as a blue-limned sword point flashed in front of her throat. "Don't struggle, apostate," she heard a metallic voice echo behind her. Her vision blurred, and she struggled to regain focus as her knees weakened. So this was what it was like to feel a Templar's wrath. This was why mages feared them - the power to render a caster completely and utterly useless in one single move. City guardsmen stormed the tavern, surrounding Wind and Abraham even as three Templars detained Celeste. A fourth entered behind them, helmetless, glancing around at the mess before turning his attention to the Enchantress... And even in her weakened state Celeste recognized his face. Heavily scarred, one eye missing and patch-covered, slightly receding hairline, middle-aged... "Wait," the Templar moved forward and squinted his one good eye at her, looking her up and down, "I know you...you were with Lieutenant Delaney at Denerim, weren't you?" Celeste's gaze went in and out of focus as she mumbled, as if through mud, "Enchantress Celeste...LeVenoisel...of Kinloch Hold..." Gesturing to his subordinates, the Templar lieutenant spoke firmly, "Unhand her at once...she's a veteran of the Blight and stood with us at Denerim against the Archdemon's horde." As if scalded, the Templar who held her immediately backed off with hands raised, as did his fellows. Celeste instantly fell to the ground on her hands and knees, feeling warmth flood back through her once the invisible chains of lyrium power were released. The lieutenant then looked over his shoulder at the guardsmen, "Get those mercenaries out of here but leave those two to us," he gestured to Wind and Abraham, glancing back at Celeste for confirmation as he added, "I'm supposing they're with you, since you three are the only ones standing?" When she nodded, the guards picked up the remaining wounded sell-swords and none-too-gently removed them from the premises. As they departed, the lieutenant bent and offered her his hand to the weakened mage. Celeste flinched reflexively, and he quietly reassured her, "It's all right. I do apologize for the confusion and for my men's treatment of you...we were overhasty." Sighing, she took his proffered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet; when she wobbled a bit, he steadied her and asked, "What brings you here to Redcliffe with these two? Were you granted leave from the Hold again, or has another disaster befallen the place?" Slightly breathless, she replied, "The former. We were on an expedition to the Deep Roads." At that point, she looked to the others to help fill in information for the lieutenant; the smiting she'd received had almost rendered her unable to think properly.

Everything happened so quickly, Celeste could barely keep up. The next thing she knew, Abraham had been thrown to the ground with the force of the blows that were now raining on the warrior who had dared to defend her; two, three, now four people were taking advantage of Abraham's prone position... And the spectre of Gabriel came back to haunt the Enchantress as flashbacks of the Deep Roads threatened to consume her mind. Not again...never again! Immediately abandoning her plan to not use magic, Celeste let out a cry and emitted a wave of power that slammed into three men advancing towards her - more mercenaries, it seemed - and sent them flying backwards over tables and crashing into chairs, reducing the furniture to splinters on impact. A rune flashed upon the floor around Abraham, paralyzing the former Templar's assailants before she used the same trick she had on the others, turning the very air into a wave that hit like a fist and propelled them into the far wall. At this, many of the unarmed patrons - farmers and artisans, likely - began to flee the increasingly-chaotic establishment, shouting curses and screaming for Redcliffe's Templars. It was only a matter of time before they arrived, and Celeste felt her heart grow cold with dread. Yet part of her didn't care; she would endure whatever punishment they devised if it meant her companions lived. And besides, it was her fault they were threatened to begin with, she thought as she knelt by Abraham's side, a soft blue glow radiating from her hands as she attempted to heal the injuries dealt him. In the meantime, some of the other mercenaries now saw the Crow as fair game, eager to claim his possessions for their own, and three jeering humans surrounded Wind with weapons in hand...

Celeste wordlessly stabled Chevalier in the stall next to Abraham's aging Revas. She was slightly worried that the elder horse's irritable nature would be problematic for Chev, but, fortunately, the calmer stallion seemed unfazed by Revas's fidgeting. The mage quickly unloaded the horse's tack and, after thinking a moment, removed Gabriel's robes and rolled them up, putting them back in the saddle bag. They were obviously too big for her, and she didn't want to end up accused of impersonating a Chantry official... Unfortunately, she forgot about the buckle on the belt atop her sash that was formed in the shape of the Circle's emblem. She hadn't had a staff to worry about hiding, but the buckle alone was enough to more than make up for it. She had followed Abraham into the rowdy tavern, dodging waitresses and smelly patrons all the while, when someone inevitably noticed she was wearing robes...and then saw the buckle. "Hey! We got an apostate in here!" someone shouted. The deafening roar in the tavern almost immediately dissolved into unnerving silence. Steeling herself, Celeste paused in her entry, smiled, and replied calmly, "I assure you, I am not an apostate. I am a Circle mage granted leave by-" "Bull! Circle mages aren't allowed to leave their towers!" "Yeah, what he said!" "I bet you stole those robes, apostate!" Within seconds, the naturally boisterous atmosphere of the tavern had quickly turned sour, even downright hostile, with some patrons even beginning to stand up and advance towards her. Celeste's pale eyes widened, and she began to back up, her hands up defensively. "Quick! Someone hold her down so she can't cast anything!" "Get the Templars!" Oh, Maker, help me! she thought, determined not to cast a single spell; if someone fetched Redcliffe's Templars, the last thing she needed was to feel one's wrathful smite. Desperate, her gaze found Abraham's silvery bulk at the bar and silently pleaded across the room for aid...

Rhaine thought a moment, considered the stranger's words, then sighed and replied, whilst taking his proffered hand, "Very well, Sparrow. You may accompany us for the time being to see what fortune brings you. And what we're about. You may not like what you see, but I feel I cannot deny you the opportunity to witness what we do." Maydiira raised a brow, "Showing is better than telling...isn't that the surfacer phrase that applies here?" "I would say," Conall nodded beside her. "Coin is becoming scarce, I must say," Rhaine added, agreeing with Azuris's observation, "We've managed to eke by on luck and the graciousness of our hosts thus far...but there is only so long that will last." Sighing, she gestured to the path ahead, "But, in the meantime, we have an event to attend. Shall we?" It wasn't long before they reached the grounds of the estate where the gala was being held; the beautiful courtyard - decorated with statues, lanterns, and topiaries - was packed with attendees, and they actually had to join a long, long line of people waiting to get inside. It seemed that guards were checking the attendees at the door before letting them enter...

Celeste smiled as Abraham considered her offer, "I pride myself on the quality of my alchemical elixirs. I can assure you I will give you nothing less than a perfect tonic, should you but ask." His subsequent response to Wind, however, rendered her speechless. His words earned her respect, more than she already held for the old ex-Templar, and she found herself wondering if it was his raising, his career in the Chantry, his own personal code, or all of the above that led him to think in such a manner. She had much time to contemplate it; the sun had just dipped below the horizon when they finally arrived on the outskirts of town. Chevalier huffed loudly as Celeste slowed him down to an easy amble, looking for a spot to stable their animals. "Well," the mage said at length, fatigue lacing her words, "Here we are."

Rhaine stopped in her tracks as the stranger addressed her again; she had forgotten about him in her frustration and eagerness to get this event over with. As Conall and Maydiira caught up to her and halted to either side of her, the Doomguide crossed her arms and raised a brow at the half-elf, "You wish to join us to earn back your lost coin? I must tell you now that the work we do is quite dangerous, and joining our number could very well result in your death - that is not an exaggeration. What other skills can you offer, and are you willing to risk such harm to your person for a cause you know nothing of?" At her side, Conall couldn't help but keep glancing to the darkening streets. Though still healthily populated, with many guards well within earshot, the werewolf paladin still felt somewhat uncomfortable...and for what reason, he was unsure.

Celeste's response to Wind was merely a raised brow before she clicked her tongue to urge Chev into a trot down the road towards the town. She was eager to get this meeting over with, and something told her it was not going to be a pleasant one at all...

Fed up with the ridiculousness that permeated the tavern, Rhaine immediately departed the inn, heading in the direction of the estate where the gala would officially be held. Whether or not the others followed her was entirely their prerogative at this point; they had been made aware of the hour and importance of the gathering - including the mysterious words spoken to her by the old man - but attending was their choice. The Doomguide understood if some of them were less comfortable than others in such a social setting, and she was certain that Gregor and Rosalinde would understand, as well. Maydiira wordlessly followed her fellow Favored Soul, though when she glanced to the side, she noticed Lucas looking at her, and she paused to meet his gaze quizzically. She was used to staring, but his stare seemed to be a bit different than the others she had seen before. It was difficult to read, but perhaps that was just her problem; she always had some trouble understanding surfacer ways. The drow offered a small smile in response before ducking out of the tavern door after Rhaine. Despite Rameses's efforts to ease the situation between We'tak and Conall, the damage had already been done to the former. After the thri-kreen left the inn, the werewolf paladin sighed, shaking his head and leaning on a nearby table. "Sometimes the most valuable lessons are the ones that hit the hardest," he muttered to no one in particular before following the two winged women into the evening streets.

Only when We'tak entered and erupted in a barrage of bizarre commentary was Rhaine in the least bit flabbergasted. The fact that he was wearing a dress was merely amusing; what came out of his mouth was positively bewildering - both his conclusion and how he arrived at it. The Doomguide was not the only one left momentarily speechless by his words...Maydiira cocked her head and stood with mouth agape as she, too, tried to comprehend what exactly he was talking about and why. Once the mindless chattering reached the subject of children, Conall tugged at his formal jacket and strode forth with a loud, "That is quite enough, We'tak. You've made a lot of assumptions based on your own culture's customs...your ways are not the ways of all others, remember?" He gave the thri-kreen a stern look with his icy stare, "This is not a matter of 'mating' or children, and we do not discuss such matters in as public a place as a tavern's common room, for Selune's sake!" At that moment, Leif's words registered in Rhaine's head, and with a sudden, deep frown and a flash of her eyes, she backhanded the dress-clad half-elf in the mouth.

Rhaine was about to answer the half-elven stranger as she straightened the velvet sleeves of her Gala gown when she looked up and saw Leif marching towards her... ...in a dress. Her dress. It was an exact replica, all the way down to the white silk skirt and the beaded black velvet bodice. A thin red brow rose, and she bit her lower lip to maintain a serious expression, crossing her arms and answering in a deadpan tone, "Well, it sure as the Nine Hells won't be me."

Celeste, upon hearing Wind's remark to Abraham about "local girls," curled her lip in distaste at the same time she felt a blush flush her cheeks a bright pink. Then, when he went on about his own plans for Redcliffe, she smacked her palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. "Maker...we've failed our employer, barely escaped the Deep Roads with our lives, and all you can think about is food, drink, and women?" she sighed. Then, at that moment, they broke through the treeline and found themselves on a high ridge overlooking the rest of the Hinterlands. There, in the distance, a shining grey spot just below the horizon, was Redcliffe.

Conall's brow furrowed again after Kaji's mysterious disappearance and reappearance, and he wondered just what exactly the mage was talking about; yet, before he could get anything out of his mouth, the spellcaster was marching back towards the tavern. Back at the inn itself, Rhaine became more disconcerted after the man left with his parting words. Glancing to Lucas, she replied, "I don't know, squire. Best be on your guard tomorrow...and don't go anywhere alone." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When the morrow came, the festivities only increased tenfold. Gregor and Rosalinde were absent, preparing for the afternoon wedding; the gala itself would not begin until sundown, but the overall celebration was day-long. Furthinghome was abuzz with life even more so than in the previous days. Good cheer and high spirits infected almost everyone in the city - helped along by the fact that almost every tavern had a special on drinks that day. Rhaine decided to conserve her energy for the gala proper, staying in the Cheerful Sage and well away from the knife-throwers, fire-breathers, jugglers, jesters, and other entertainers. Maydiira, however, found herself unable to stay away from the festivities - donning her cloak, she disappeared into the crowds to observe these human customs more closely and sate her ever-growing curiosity. To ensure that she stayed safe, Conall was always a few paces behind her, whether she knew it or not. After hearing first about Rameses's concerns, then seeing Kaji's odd behavior, and then finding out about the old man from Rhaine, the paladin was more than a little wary. Knowing the Doomguide could more than take care of herself, especially with the others present, the werewolf took it upon himself to act as guardian to the much more curious drow. Maydiira's energy seemed endless. Indeed, it was fueled by the celebratory atmosphere - much more than it had been in the last tenday. By the time she had her fill and returned to the inn in time to ready herself for the gala proper, Conall's nerves were sufficiently frayed, and yet she seemed as fresh and cheerful as she had been when she woke up that morning.

A light at the end of the tunnel, perhaps? ;D

As with SOC, Mason's tied up with school stuff, so he's excused from posting until all that is over.