AurianaValoria1

Conall listened intently to Eirene as she spoke, leaning with one armored shoulder against the wall where they stood in the shadowed nook. Once she reached the part about the attack, his electric-blue eyes widened, and everything suddenly made perfect sense... The paladin leaned forward, surprise and concern evident in his tone, "You're...a werecrocodile?" Shaking his head, he added, "An unfortunate curse, indeed, Eirene. You have my most sincere sympathies. And I understand why you wouldn't have wanted to speak to anyone about this before now...but," he took a deep breath, "Hells, Eirene...the next full moon could put us all in danger." Sighing, he glanced off towards the common room and then back at her, rubbing the stubble on his chin with one hand, "Look...I might as well get something straight with you, now that you've made such a confession to me. I'm a werewolf...born lycan. I was once part of a whole clan of werewolves who dedicated themselves to Selune...or Mother Moon, as We'tak calls her. She has many names. Selune is goddess of the moon and patron to all goodly lycanthropes - those of us who wish to master our blood and use it for the benefit of mankind, not succumbing to our beastly natures. Because I was born with lycanthropy, I have more control over it than most. But those of us who are afflicted," he inclined his head to her, "such as yourself, are not so lucky." As she listened to Conall's immediate reaction to her confessed lycanthropy, Eirene anxiously ran a hand through her short-cut mess of hair and bobbed her head in a weak nod. Upon his explanation that he too was a lycanthrope of the werewolf variety, however, the young Mulhorandi's eyes widened with surprise, and she took a brief instance to look the natural-born lycan from head to toe. "I would have never guessed..." She muttered, hoping that such a more experienced bearer of their mutual curse might be immeasurably helpful, "Do the others and the Lady Doomguide know what you are? And do you believe that Selune might be able to... help me in any way?" She took a moment to ponder on her own inquires before a flustered redness bubbled up in her cheeks; she sounded as hopeless as she felt concerning her curse. Once again biting her lip, Eirene sighed quietly and nodded dreadfully in agreement when Conall remarked how those afflicted with lycanthropy had comparatively little control of their curse in comparison to those such as himself. "Until now, I've always made sure I was as far away from others as possible before a full moon, but now that I've been accompanying Lady Rhaine's company, I've felt a sense of purpose that I haven't had the luxury of in a long time... Please, is there anything you think I could do that might help?" Conall chuckled, "Rhaine has known for a while now. Most of the others should be aware, as well, though I wonder how much of them pay attention," he paused before adding, "I don't take great pains to hide it, anymore. Rhaine is all right with it, and that is all that really matters to me." Sighing again, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "If it will ease your mind, perhaps you should cast a few prayers Selune's way, tonight. She is a benevolent goddess, caring for all those who suffer the plight of lycanthropy, and especially those who do not want to fall victim to its darker side. Be earnest in your supplication, and maybe she will lend you more focus and strength in the coming days. I will pray for you, as well, for what its worth." Nodding silently, Eirene was cautiously open towards the paladin's advice, but the young woman couldn't stop recalling the sour turn of events that resulted from the last time she had naively trusted the divines. "I will pray to Selune if doing so might be of any benefit, thank you." She soon affirmed with a delicate nod, although following up with a persistent concern, "Should I do as I've always done and leave the city before the full moon rises? I would hate to desert your party, but being such trouble to you all does not settle with me much better." He glanced down, "That...might be for the best, Eirene. I know it's not what you want to hear, but until you gain more control over your curse, by whatever means, then it is something that must be done." He paused, then continued, "I...will have to tell Rhaine about this, you know. She'll want to know, and she has every right to." Conall's answer didn't surprise the Mulhorandi, but she was still greatly disheartened by it. She nodded feebly, wondering how many more days she had until she would take these measures to ensure the safety of her companions. "Very well. She does have the right to know." Eirene stated solemnly in agreement, adding more to her statement in the case of future matters going awry, "I may not be able to find my way back to you all as easily as I hope to depart... You might not experience it often thanks to your control, but I sometimes awaken with little idea of my bearings. At least, you and Rhaine will know why my return might be delayed." At that, he reached forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I hope with all my heart that things improve for you, Eirene. Such a curse is an unfair burden for one such as yourself. If ever you need to talk to me, I will always listen. I wish I could do more." The uplifting gesture brought a meager smile to Eirene's face. "I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this, Sir Conall." She insisted quietly, "If it hadn't been for you and We'tak to an extent, I would still be at a loss of what to do." Closing her eyes, she sighed quietly and noted finally, "We should most likely get back before we are missed..." He smiled, gesturing back towards the commons, "Aye, let's go." ============================== The following morning, as Maydiira rose early and made her way down the inn's hall, she passed by one room and thought she heard frantic hissing. Wondering if it was the insectoid's little snake pet, she pressed her ear against the door and spoke tentatively, "Ahhh, We'tak?" That was his name, wasn't it? "Are you all right in there?"

Celeste, who had just carved herself a small piece of juicy meat, stood stock still and stared slightly open-mouthed at Abraham and Wind's suggestion. It was very quiet as she ran over their words in her head, but then she replied quietly, "I-I would love to do something for him. It seems only right...even if it's just," she glanced at the ground, "making a placeholder pyre in his name." Grease and glaze dripped from the piece of meat she held in her hands as she continued, "I don't even know if I will be welcome back without him. But...if I stay away too long...they have my phylactery..." She shook her head, "The First Enchanter granted me leave for this expedition, but I don't know if it really is an indefinite one or not. If they decide I need to go back at any time, they might track me down." She fell silent, then, as she ate the chunk of meat she'd carved, trying to be discreet in licking the juices from her fingers; she didn't want to appear like a common barbarian, after all.

Rhaine inclined her head to Leif's proposal, "That seems like a sound idea. I think we would do better gathering information split up than as one large group. It should be safe enough." "We should also see if there is a dress code, of sorts," Conall added, crossing his arms, "Is this a queen's tea party type gala or a grand ball type gala?" "Either way," Maydiira sighed, "Shopping for clothing is going to be a chore, I think." It was at that moment that Eirene approached them; upon being addressed, Conall stood, squinting at her as he listened to her request. Cocking his head curiously, he replied, "I...am. Would you like to speak somewhere more private?"

Is there any way to preserve the face of a custom-made Hawke as a preset for future playthroughs? I've basically made my "canon" Hawke, and I really don't want to go through the hassle of trying to recreate her again in future pt's. I'd love to be able to load it up as one of the preset head options, maybe make a few tweaks, and then go. Can I get to this slider data somehow and then replace one of the presets with it?

Celeste shrugged, eyeing the meat on the spit to find an idea place to carve, "He's missing more than a few marbles, I think...not sure he'd be capable of anything deceptive due to his compulsive need to shout everything at the top of his lungs. Besides, if we go by that logic, none of us are trustworthy. We all could be lying about who we are."

Drinks were calmly finished at the table where Rhaine sat; the Doomguide observed the activity and sighed again, "I think this is the first time I'm not quite sure what is going on...and still we are missing key information we need to proceed." "Don't think we'll find it here, milady," Conall remarked. "Especially after we're...what is it you surfacers call it? Evicted," Maydiira added sourly. Rhaine shook her head, "I thought Leif had that handled." "Well now it looks like Sin's handled it, too," Conall replied. Maydiira's head cocked curiously as she watched the others from afar, "I think an innkeeper is going to be filthy rich before this is over..."

Celeste's eyes widened when Volhammer practically screamed his declaration to the world. Staring at him slightly open-mouthed, she then shook her head rapidly back and forth and answered, "I...ah...well. I thought I had a goal. At one time. But I don't, really. Not anymore. I...lost it." A forlorn look swept over her face, and she glanced down at her toes. Sighing, she added, "We're actually on our way to report back to the merchants who hired us. Beyond that...I can't say."

"You have a business?" Maydiira asked Leif incredulously, unable to stop herself. Rhaine cast her old comrade a disapproving look, but May threw up her hands in protest, "What? Is it rude amongst you surfacers to be skeptical?" Before Rhaine could reply, Conall gestured to the crowd with a slight, "Oh, dear...would you look at that." Both Favored Souls followed the path of Conall's finger, which indicated the speedy flight of Sin as all remaining conscious patrons of the tavern followed her out in an angry horde, food staining their faces and clothes. "Cue guards in three, two..." Rhaine sighed.

"The Grey Wardens?" Celeste asked, standing closer to the fire and wrapping the Templar robes tighter around her, "I hear the Queen is trying to rebuild their ranks here in Ferelden, with the new headquarters at Vigil's Keep. I'm sure she'd appreciate volunteers. That's likely where you'd eventually have to go, if you truly want to join them."

Rhaine was unamused as the fight escalated, and she sighed heavily, "I suppose we'll have to tend to the wounded once this is all over." "Lucas seems to be doing well enough," Conall noted, pointing to where the squire was casting beneficial spells here and there. "Can't we just have one...normal...day?" Maydiira asked, snowy brows raised. "Without odd random fights and gods-know what else?" The Doomguide shook her head, sipping her wine, "Unfortunately, it seems to be an odd curse of mine. Or, blessing, depending on the way you look at it. At least we're never short of entertainment."

As the fight broke out in the tavern, Rhaine was thankful for a shadowy corner seat; the Doomguide leaned back in her chair with wine glass in hand, observing the brawl but determined to stay out of it. Next to her, Maydiira sipped her own wine and remarked, "So...things seem to have gotten significantly more...lively...since I was last in your company." "That's one way to put it," Rhaine replied flatly. Conall took a deep swig of his freshly-brought ale and sighed, "Anyone want to take bets?" "Pass," Rhaine and May answered simultaneously.

Since we've had everyone on such good behavior, I'm making an alteration to the posting rule. It is now as follows: All members are expected to post in three weeks' time. Members who do not post within three weeks of their last one without mentioning RL issues, etc. will be removed from the RP. Due to this extended period of time between posts, warnings will no longer be issued. See rule 16 on the front page.

Since we've had everyone on such good behavior, I'm making an alteration to the posting rule. It is now as follows: All members are expected to post in three weeks' time. Members who do not post within three weeks of their last one without mentioning RL issues, etc. will be removed from the RP. Due to this extended period of time between posts, warnings will no longer be issued. See rule 17 on the front page.

While the others worked, Celeste coaxed the embers of their fire to blaze a little higher, setting a good portion of the fresh pile of wood alight with a snap of her fingers. As they bantered, she merely listened, though when Wind began butchering the deer, she could not help crinkling her nose in distaste. She remembered her mother dressing smaller animals when she was little, but never something this big. The sight of blood and entrails did nothing to help her appetite.

As if answering her inquiry, the huge man wandered into their camp right on cue, generously offering breakfast from the kill slung over his shoulders. Despite her hunger, however, Celeste's curiosity was greater, and she couldn't stop herself from chattering away once he seemed to pose no threat to them. "You are of the Avvar?" she asked, blue eyes wide, "How wonderful! I've always wanted to know more about your people. Please, share our camp and tell us from where you hail and what brings you to these parts! I'm Celeste, by the way. Celeste LeVenoisel, Enchantress of the Circle of Magi. Pleased to meet you!"

Celeste's eyes strained through the fog when Abraham said that he thought he saw something, but she herself saw nothing at all. Returning her gaze to the former Templar, she was about to respond that they could move on when her stomach growled... ...loudly. Looking down at her abdomen and then back up, her cheeks reddening, she glanced back and forth between Wind and Abraham sheepishly, "Uhh...maybe we should eat first?"

The slow scrape of steel against scabbard woke Celeste from her deep sleep, and the mage sat straight up, pale eyes wide as she saw Abraham standing ready in the fog. She shivered and drew Gabriel's robes tighter around her, even as she cautiously stood, her breath coming out in cloudy puffs from the cold. "Abraham?" She asked tentatively, wondering whether or not to ready a spell, "Is everything all right?"

Rhaine, Conall, and Maydiira managed to find a table in the farthest corner of the tavern...in the shadows under the stairs. It was just as well for Maydiira; she'd get less attention that way. The drow was caught between not wanting to be ashamed of her heritage and yet being forced to hide it for the safety of her comrades. It was frustrating, to say the least. She had wanted things to change, especially with her renewed life, but it was more difficult than she had anticipated. If she were more selfish, it would be easier, perhaps... Conall glanced over towards where some of the others had gone and noticed that one of the barmaids was conversing with their new friend Kaji and the fire elemental who accompanied him. Sighing, he inclined his head in their direction, "Well, who thought that would work out well?" Rhaine sighed, "I can't say as I blame the staff. They've every right to be concerned. I know I would be. Should the elemental lose but the slightest bit of control, the whole place will be in flames."

All right, thanks for letting us know. Hope you feel better soon. :)

The Cheerful Sage was a respectable establishment, with a warm, cheery interior and lofty ceilings, a common room full of sturdy tables, a crackling hearth, and - with the advent of the gala - banners of rich colors. As the group entered, they noticed it was also already well-populated, waitresses hustling from one party to the next with orders of food and drink. "Well," Conall remarked, glancing over the crowd, "Looks like a lot of the other guests are already here, too." "Guests of all sorts," Rhaine noted as her eyes took in a variety of clothing styles from the middling and upper classes. There were so many people around that the majority of the guests did not seem to even notice when the front door was opened and the Doomguide's companions stepped in. All the better to Maydiira, who pulled her hood down lower for all their sakes.

***Lisnpuppy is receiving her second official warning due to not posting within a week's time of her previous post.*** As always, let me know if you have life stuff going on. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- In other news, I've cut Argyros, Abby, and Quar from my major and minor char lists. For the first two, just pretend they went off on their own somewhere. :tongue:

Celeste heard the abrupt clank that was Abraham passing out, and with concern on her face, she glanced in his direction. The soft snoring that followed set her mind at ease rather quickly, however, and she returned her attention to Chevalier whilst shaking her head. Sighing heavily, she moved to the saddlebags and slowly began to open them, one by one. The first bag contained mostly items that pertained to Chevalier's care: combs, picks, small vials of salve, and the like. There were even extra tack pieces in case the originals were broken. The second bag seemed to be a catch-all for coin, merely holding a handful of coppers and silvers... Upon opening the third and largest bag, though, she could feel a lump gather in her throat. Inside had been neatly folded a set of Chantry robes, cut and embroidered in typical Templar style. Gabriel likely brought them along for extra clothing in cold weather, and the shiver that coursed through her when a breeze wafted through camp made her wonder if she should not put them to good use herself. She quietly passed her hand over the heavy but soft fabric, tracing a finger along the golden embroidery. Would he care? Snorting, she mentally scolded herself. Of course he wouldn't. He would have put them on her himself if he knew she was cold. Swallowing, she unfolded the layered garment, taking it by the shoulders and letting it fall loose...and then something shining dropped from it and clinked on the ground. Curious, she frowned as she peered at what lay in the grass, and as she bent to pick it up, her eyes welled with emotion. There lay a two-sided silver amulet; on one side, the Templar Sword of Mercy had been embossed, and on the other had been engraved the face of Andraste, her hair flowing around her countenance like flames. Celeste held it reverently in her hand for the longest time, turning it over and over again as silent tears tracked down her cheeks. Then, wordlessly, she clasped it about her neck alongside her other medallion before donning the robes - first the scarlet underlayer and then the dark blue coat on top, tying both at her waist with the crimson sash. Save for a bit of her pale blue hem at her ankles, her own garments were swallowed whole by the too-big robes, but it didn't matter to her. Re-securing all the saddlebags, she then found a place near the fire and lay down to sleep, curling into a ball facing away from the others and not caring what anyone thought. No doubt that towards morning, she would be glad for the extra clothing, especially since their blankets had been lost at their camp in the Deep Roads.

Celeste nodded at Abraham's advice, "All right, then." Taking a deep breath, she flexed the reins and clicked her tongue, "Let's go." Chevalier's ears flicked backwards a moment before he took a step forward. Trying her best to imitate Gabriel's practiced movements, the inexperienced rider slowly guided the horse down the path that led away from Orzammar. As her steed's hooves crunched the finely ground pebbles with every footfall, Celeste tried her best to banish the haunting ghosts of memories that hovered in the back of her mind. Listening to every little sound, every bird call, every stone shifting, every breath and snort of the horses served to numb the urge to let the tears flow again. It was going to be a long ride to Redcliffe. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ By the time night fell, they hadn't even made it out of the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. They were forced to pitch camp by the roadside - no tents, merely a small fire and a few logs to sit on. Celeste had made short work of the fire, lighting the minuscule pile of wood with a snap of her fingers. As she silently moved around the camp with light steps, following whatever impulse her grieving mind came up with, she hoped her talents would be perceived as useful...and perhaps give the others the hope that she'd actually be of some help to them, and not become a moping and weeping liability. To keep her mind occupied, the mage decided to stay near Chevalier - feeding him, brushing him, and petting him as she spoke soft words that he didn't understand. It was a few minutes before she thought about the things that Gabriel might have left in the horse's saddlebags, and as her eyes wandered over the leather pouches, she felt a bit sickened. She wasn't certain she wanted to look. But what if he left letters or something? Correspondence of some sort? Maybe even to his family? They would want to know what happened... Celeste absentmindedly traced the Chantry sunburst that was engraved on one of the brass bosses of Chevalier's bridle, swallowing hard as she tried to muster the courage to search the steed's meager cargo.

Rhaine inclined her head, "Anyone who does not wish us trouble is welcome to accompany us." "Aye," Conall agreed, "Though, I think it would be beneficial for someone to show us around a bit. I don't think any of us here have been in this part of the country before." "Shops, landmarks, places of interest," the Doomguide nodded, "Even residences of prominent figures. We're here for the gala, as Rameses has said, and any information regarding it or the people involved would be appreciated."

Celeste held up her hand to shield her pale gaze as she stepped into the light beyond Orzammar's entrance. Even then, she squinted so hard she could barely see where she was going for a few minutes, knowing only to follow the brilliant sparkle and measured clanking of Abraham's silverite plate as her sight adjusted to the startling brightness outside. When he mentioned the mounts, however, her sky-blue eyes went wide, and she rushed past him with purpose in her steps, silk robes swishing about her ankles, "Gabriel's horse and anything with it is mine! I don't care one wit what you do with the rest, but that one..." The mage made a beeline for the sorrel stallion in the makeshift stable nearby; the dwarven groom had kept all the accompanying tack with each respective beast in their separate stalls, which included any and all saddlebags brought along by the expedition. Celeste remembered exactly the number of saddlebags Gabriel had brought with him, and she made note to count them when tacking up the horse. In the meantime, she held out her gloved hand to the stallion's velvety muzzle, letting him sniff at her with flaring nostrils. He huffed loudly at her and looked down with large and gentle mahogany eyes, and she quietly rubbed the stark white blaze that was splashed down his coppery countenance before saying softly, "I'm sorry, Chev. He's...he's not coming back. I have to take care of you, now." Chevalier bumped his nose into her shoulder and met her tearful eyes; it was uncertain how much the horse understood, but he seemed to smell the sadness that enveloped the mage like a cloak. The stallion was very quiet, and he let Celeste absently stroke his golden mane as she hugged his thick, arched neck. "I'm not going to sell you, or give you away," she said resolutely, "Gabriel wouldn't have wanted that." With that, she opened the stall door and began awkwardly tacking the knight's stallion, trying to remember exactly how Gabriel had done it from all the times she had watched him on the way to Orzammar. She had never before taken care of a horse in her life, but she was determined to do it for Gabriel's sake. That, and she would have no one else other than stable-hands so much as touch Chevalier. Once she had made sure all of the saddlebags were accounted for, she led Chevalier out of his stall, tacked and ready to go. She stood there for a moment, biting her lip to hide her nervousness. The mage had no idea how to ride. Yet, she had no choice but to improvise. Steeling herself, she put one slippered foot in a stirrup and sideways-hopped up onto Chevalier's back; her robe would not allow her to ride astride, and so she sat cross-legged in a half sidesaddle style. She half-expected Chevalier to bolt or buck, but the horse miraculously stood still, even when her weight landed rather awkwardly on him. "My father once said he thought Chevalier had some Orlesian Courser blood. He's proud, but he's smart. He almost always knows what to do, even without cues." Celeste swallowed hard as she remembered Gabriel's words, and she reached forward to straighten the scarlet reins, patting the knightly stallion's neck with her other hand, "Good boy, Chev. That's a good boy." Addressing Abraham, she then added with a shy smile, "Unfortunately, I have no idea how to ride. But I think if Chevalier here behaves, I can manage. Might need some help at some point, but I'll let you know."