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Intro: Wedding at the Peak
You met the Lady Taverline at her parent's estate just outside of Denerim. After many tears and well wishes, her mother lets you leave. Normally, the family would escort a bride, but her father is very old and very ill, and she has no siblings. It is a precious thing they have entrusted you with. Lady Taverline looks back at her home until distance hides it from view. And that's when the chatter begins.
"Have you ever been to Dragon's Peak, Ser?" she asks Kyle. He shakes his head, eyes on the road ahead. "What about Denerim? Amaranthine? Gwaren?" An endless torrent of questions, almost all directed at Darn, Kyle, and George. It will be three days to Dragon's Peak. Three . . . long . . . days.
Our quest begins on the second night. Kyle and Darn look for firewood, while Hakaan and Lauren start supper. George prowls the edge
Small Victories, Ch 2Orsino knew it was pointless, but he went to the Chantry to talk to Elthina. As always, he was accompanied by two templars, Ser Flynn and Ser Thrask this evening. They followed along behind him creaking and clanking. He wondered sometimes what Meredith thought he would do if she let him simply walk to the Chantry on his own. His life was wrapped up in the Circle; he was a man defined by his duties. At least this evening's escort was tolerable. Thrask seemed a decent man, and Flynn was respectful.
Elthina was alone in her chambers, a book on the life of Ambrosia II lay open beside her. Orsino couldn't help but wonder if that was a subtle message. If so, at least it wasn't Galatea she studied. The Rite of Annulment always made him uneasy, especially in someone like Meredith's hands. He shrugged it off and nodded to the Grand Cleric.
"Orsino," she said wryl
Faith and Reason
Those who oppose thee
Shall know the wrath of heaven.
Field and forest shall burn,
The seas shall rise and devour them,
The wind shall tear their nations
From the face of the earth,
Lightning shall rain down from the sky,
They shall cry out to their false gods,
And find silence.
The city of Amaranthine mourns the loss of Mother Agnes. The Chantry bells toll, a mournful sound, and the populace turns out to remember a woman torn from them too soon. A charitable soul, known for her efforts to alleviate poverty, her kind words a balm to soothe the soul. The Templars are in disarray as well, several of their number dead or missing, including the Knight Commander William. Some rumors say these templars had something to do with Her Grace's foul murder, but if so, there is no word from the Knight Captain or Arl Howe. Already terrorized and in mourning over lost friends and family, this latest blow has left the community stunned.
Hold Faith Quest IntroA few weeks have passed, and Amaranthine has grown quiet. The mabari raids on the alienage have stopped, although the residents were put down hard for the death of the arl's dogs. Several elves died and a few were arrested, disappearing into Howe's dungeons. Despite the facade of calm, resentment and anger boil just below the surface. The cold streets are empty and quiet as frightened people keep to their homes. Several disappearances have been reported to the city guard, and there are no leads. Men, women, children . . . gone as if they never were.
There are rumors of a cloaked figure haunting the Chantry, an unknown agent seen in the company of Mother Agnes. Rumors whisper that it is an Orlesian spy using the poor woman . . . no, a noble claiming solace after some tragedy . . . a Tevinter magister seeking repentance . . . No one seems to know, but the darker rumors suggest this person is tie
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More