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Post by Lyaera Amavaintria on May 18, 2013 22:28:48 GMT -5
So... it seems no one can solve their own problems these days. Ridiculous nobles... they can have all the coin they desire, all material possessions in which are so meaningless, but no sense, none...
The cloaked figure stood back against a pillar that was conjoined with a tavern; hood up though with a few sunset tresses resting upon the female's chest. Eyes of mauve wandered, inspecting each passers by almost as if she were expecting someone.
What was it? Those fools allowed refuge for Mages... When will anyone learn? Mages are dangerous, and that's not just due to experience, they will always feel as if they need to justify their actions... It's sad, yes, that they live such lives, but it cannot be helped. This matter needs to be tended to, though clearly this is no job for one person alone...
Lifting her arm, the woman inspected the reddish markings on her skin briefly, much like one would look at a watch to pass the time. The situation was this - a noble couple said to have given a safe haven to Mages escaping from the Templars, have now gone missing... if that wasn't enough, odd goings on have occurred ever since, thus causing some people to move from their estates due to the countless whispers and things that go bump in the night.
It's eerie... that much is that clear. My only lead is that servant girl, even though I didn't get much out of her due to her traumatic state, it was clear. Something was wrong and something needed to be done, a reward has already been stated by the fellow occupants and no doubt I'll have to share it out with whoever sad sods that decide to agree to this job. Notices have been sent out to Antiva, Fereldan, Kirkwall, and Orlais a few weeks back... so surely someone must've noticed and be willing to help.
The situation was secure... for now, but today was the day, today would be the day where she'd find out who had decided to come along on this... little endeavor. She was eager if not a little anxious, there was no telling what she might face, but she had a good enough idea...
Here's hoping this isn't all for naught...
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Nathaniel de Beniér
Human
}}Strength{3} Dexterity{2} Willpower{0} Magic{0} Cunning{1}
I'm not paranoid. I'm just careful.
Posts: 40
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Post by Nathaniel de Beniér on May 19, 2013 5:31:09 GMT -5
Looking out from an open window, Nathaniel stared intently at his courtyard, eager to receive any who would answer his poster. His neighbours' mansion had recently become... odd. It began with his neighbours themselves disappearing. Then the sounds began. Whispers in the night, sudden gusts of wind groping you in your sleep, nightmares that woke him up every now and then. Even its appearance was somehow... darker than before.
Nathaniel turned his gaze back to the courtyard as the gatekeeper pushed open the gates for a visitor. The man wore elaborate clothing, carried a sword on his waist(which he had to leave with the gatekeeper), and oddly enough a book hung from his waist as well, tied to it by a rope. He had medium-length dirty blonde hair that hung on his shoulders. Nathaniel rushed downstairs to greet his visitor, thinking that this was the last thing he needed right now. With the rebellion about to take off and all that, of course. But it had to be done, if he was to concentrate on the rebellion.
"I thank you for coming. Please serve yourself to refreshments" - he pointed over to a table, on which there stood a few glasses and a bottle of the second-best red in Val Royeaux - "and make yourself at home." He waited for the man to sit down, pour himself some wine; then he jumped into the matter at hand, almost forgetting to sit down. He was that excited. Upon closer inspection, the man appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
"You're here for the twenty-five royals I promised, yes?"
The man nodded. Nathaniel began to push him with questions.
"What can you tell me about the house?"
"Well, the Fade is clearly linked with the incidents you have been encountering lately. As to what extent, I don't know."
At this, Nathaniel stopped to think. Was it wise to send a man inside, knowing full well that there could be demons there? Why not leave it to Templars? The mysterious man still interested him, however. He decided to milk more information from him before making his decision.
"And who are you?" he asked, all within his rights as a noble(plus as the provider of twenty-five royals, nonetheless).
The mysterious man introduced himself as Seherim. He told Nathaniel that he had squired for minor nobles when he was young, and through that association learned how to use a sword. Later he had employed the services of a Spire-trained Enchanter to magically augment his sword against demons - Seherim's idea was to create a whole new order of people, separate from templars, whose only duty was to destroy demons.
"I got the idea from Grey Wardens - they exist only to kill Darkspawn. The same applies here. I exist only to kill demons. Maybe I can even hire followers. And here is where I hope you could help me."
Seherim's gaze was intense, almost fanatic.
"I need people with nothing left to lose. Teenage orphans, criminals, anyone ready to do anything to escape their fate. And I need something to bind them to my... to my order's cause."
Nathaniel gazed into his cup and took a sip. Then he raised his gaze and asked politely:
"I only promised you twenty-five royals for this job. You have to do something else for me if you want more services. Yes; I can help you gain a following. Yes; I can provide you the necessary equipment. But what will I get in return? That is the question here."
Nathaniel heavily doubted that Seherim had anything up his sleeve that could possibly convince Nathaniel to give him the protection of his name and access to his resources. He needed them for the rebellion. But it was... intriguing. For the first time in a long while, he noticed, he had forgotten his paranoia. It was relieving... and addicting. Seherim looked lost; he obviously had nothing to give in return. He satisfied himself by saying:
"I'll find something. Mark my words, I will." Then he brightened up.
"Better start with those twenty-five royals. For double the amount, I will find the culprit or culprits behind this incident for you - bring them here alive, under guard, gagged and tied up - or dead, in a sack."
Nathaniel hesitated, but finally nodded.
"Do that, please."
Seherim bowed, drank his goblet empty. He stood up, the sunlight reflecting from his book's metallic surface. A rune of some sort had been carved into it. As Seherim made his swift exit from the mansion grounds, Nathaniel's first thought was to research the man's background. He called for his secretary. He was one of those types that bathed every day, wanted to be at their cleanest - he even smelled of perfume. But he was a good secretary nonetheless. Soon enough, Nathaniel turned around to see his secretary waiting for him - not too happy.
"Jacques, please ask around for a man called Seherim. Inspect his background, dig up every detail concerning him. Take anything you need for the mission."
Jacques bowed and left hurriedly. Nathaniel knew that he was relying a lot on Jacques, but he also knew that he could trust him. That's why he gave him these missions.
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Elsewhere, Seherim stood by the gates of the mansion, appearing to concentrate on something. He grabbed his book, opened it on a marked page. It read "Spirit." After studying it for a while, he closed the book again. Now he only had one obstacle - how to pass through the huge gates, bar after bar of hard iron, tightly clustered and completely blocking off any entrance. I need someone to help me, he realized. But I don't know anyone in here. Where should I go? That seemed to be an impassable question. He resolved to wait and think by the gates, look for ways to get inside. But he already knew that the gate was the only one.
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Dante Machiavelli
Human
}}Strength{2} Dexterity{1} Willpower{2} Magic{0} Cunning{1}
Posts: 30
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Post by Dante Machiavelli on May 21, 2013 18:14:48 GMT -5
Quietly sipping at the glass of water in his hand the big man looked intently at the piece of paper on his desk, a poster that he had found earlier during his investigations. The signs were all there for one such as he, an expert in his chosen field. Demons were involved and as the Inquisition's leading expert in demonic combat this was a case demanding his attention, both for the reasons of his duty and his personal pride. Gently placing the cup back on the table Dante Machiavelli, High Seeker of the Free Marches rose to his feet and began preparations to leave as soon as possible...
Scanning the room as he stepped into the tavern the seeker quickly located his contact and strode towards her, his steps eerily quiet despite his plate armour. "Lyaera Amavaintria I presume? Dante Machiavelli, High Seeker of the Free Marches at your service." He stated simply in a soft voice, his slight Antivan twang noticeable in his accent. "Having heard of these... occurrences I found that I could not ignore them, Itrust that others shall be joining us?"
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