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
Growing UpZara jumped from the window ledge, landing in a crouch, fearsome expression spoiled by a delighted giggle. She'd been working on that for days now and this was the first time she made it down without a stumble. Too bad there was no one to see her do it. Why was it that any time she failed, there was always someone watching? She sighed, and stood, checking the straps on her practice blade and shield. Still secure, thank goodness. She'd had to mend the leather three times already and she didn't think another braid would help if it split again.
Zara took off down the alley at a run, skidding to a stop before she hit the busy thorough fair. Was Aunt Eulalia out there? She didn't see her but that didn't mean anything. The elf held her breath and waited, listening - after a few minutes, she was sure it was safe. She darted out into the street, weaving between shem and elf
Quest Intro: Squatter's RunYou've been traveling through countryside that would normally be full of farmers at harvest this time of year. Instead, all you see are fields burnt black. Every so often you pass what used to be a village, now just piles of blackened rubble and ash. When you encounter any standing buildings, Ezra stops his wagons to do business. The prices he charges are outrageous for basic food - rice, corn, beans, dried meat - but the starving villagers pay what they can. Many of the people you meet speak of rampant sickness and death. Most talk about moving on as soon as they can, but a few swear they will stick it out no matter what. On the door of a burned out inn, a scrap of parchment dangles in the breeze.
By Order of the Magistrate
Residents are hereby notified that this
land is now held by Bann Geryn.
Pursuant to his wishes,
the land will be cleared,
all existing structures and peoples removed.
Amaranthine is a pit of unrest, ruled by the ungentle Arl Howe. It is here that you are called to investigate the death of a merchant's son. Luciele Montreve welcomes you to her modest home, a well appointed, if small house in the nicer part of town. The walls are hung with religious decor, careful images of Holy Andraste and artistic renderings of her favorite canticles. The parlor is warmly lit, with several chairs arranged specifically for this visit. A large, dark furred mabari lies on a rug by the fire, ignoring the lot of you. "Please sit," she says, eyeing the group; her accent is faint but clearly Antivan.
"As you know from my notice, I have lost my son, Stefanos. I've always expected to lose him but not like this." Luciele stops for a moment, turning to stare into the fire. When she looks at you again, her face is a mask of stern composure. "Let me be clea