The Village of Redcliffe is buzzing with activity on the 27th day of Cloudreach as the people prepare for the wedding of Donnal and Irenia on Summerday, four days away. Everyone is doing their part, and the five friends Loran, Mikhail, Fost, Richard, and Orlin are no exception. The butcher needs them to check on the nug snares they set out yesterday, and bag as many as they can find.

“We’re gonna have something other than fish to eat at this wedding, if I have anything to say about it,” he said when he dispatched the group.

And so, the young men of the village head up the hill to the high plains above to inspect the snares and find whatever nugs they can.

The day is warmer than usual for the late spring season - though not oppressively so - as the group approaches a small outcropping of rock along the walkway that skirts a large rocky hill on the left.

(Opportunity for banter/roleplay. Introduce us to your characters!)

Orlin was really the man... coming to think on it: the dwarf... to blaze the trail. Fost had chuckled at first, behind the dwarf's back, of course, about the short stumpy legs but after about an hour of hiking up the steep incline he had to admit that those legs were obviously made for walking. Orlin might not be as quick as his longer legged companions, but he sure made up for endurance and plain stamina.
Fost thought that Richard's talking had become less, maybe he was busy taking breath, but having made a mistake on the dwarf when they set out, Fost made sure not to comment in any way.
Loran might not be the toughest of the group but he kept walking just as all of them, balanced in his faith it seemed to Fost and thus no complaint coming from his lips.
Mikhail was still an enigma to him, but Loran had sort of vouched for him, so Fost had no issue with the mage either.

Fost took a deep breath, the air up here was brisker and felt invigorating and so he enjoyed the trip, perhaps only because of the occasion. A marriage ! Always a good occasion to relax and cherish life.

Brother Loran kept pace with the others though a lot less muscular his wiry body held an endurance that any man of the cloth would want.

The young man helped himself along with his staff. It was solid and plain apart from a simple carving of the makers mark at the top.

Though not a violent man it was still the talk of the village when he had come out of the chantry house to be confronted by three local drunks. They had called him a girl for wearing his robes and attempted to remove it from him when he took up his staff and within seconds had all three unconscious on the floor....after that no one bad mouthed him.

Now he looked at his companions and had to admit if there was any trouble to be had he'd be pleased to have this bunch at his side.

He carried the bag for the nugs once they'd been freed from the traps so at the moment it was not a burden for him.

Nugs? The strange rodents would appear to be the choice piece for a feast. How curious. Although, curious was the name of things with this village. It's not as if they were in a rush, but there were several grumbling behind his back as he was asked to help. Maker's breath, he hoped this would not continue for much longer.

"I can't say I have ever whished to renounce my youthful hatred of the months spent saddling and taking care of horses, but I would not mind having one right about now." He was only slightly regretting taking the nicer of his staves with him. He didn't want to track dirt into the homes here, regardless of who they were.

"Practical animals, and smart too," Orlin glanced back over his shoulder. "And there's no denying their capacity to carry heavy loads from one place to another. But without a carriage or cart to pull behind them, I'll pass. Damn things are too high up for my humble tastes." Orlin turned full around now, walking backwards so as not to stop entirely, and took stock of his companions. "Brother Loran, how're you holding up, friend?"

"do not fear my friend I am able to keep up as an initiate I spent many an hour walking in the woods around the chantry monastery" replied brother Loran to the dwarf

"You know this reminds me of a time... so there I was at the end of the cliff my back to the edge, staring down 6.. no 10 man at arms. Now, remember, I was unarmed and had no clothes on other than my undergarments, they were all on the floor of Lady Rosias the rude men wouldn't let me dress before chasing me out, I had two choices the way I saw it. Face the men and die a warrior, or jump die from the jagged rocks or swim to safety. Well, I'm no idiot, so I jumped. Thank goodness I understand the tides and knew that it was high tide, or you all wouldn't be blessed with my acquaintance."

He continued telling stories until they all had been walking for about an hour, the stories lessoned. His breath getting harder, though he tried as best he could to not be loud, though he really wanted to.

"Brother Loran and Mikhail, why don't you let me be in the back, you know I can back us up, keep an eye on things better from back here."

One thing is for certain, Orlin can walk better than I.

"At least the men had the decency to allow you to take your underwear. Or did you mean to imply that you were caught before you were able to remove them?"
"A shame, for sure. I hear Lady Rosia is an impressive woman. Easily my weight, though not as tall.", je said innocently.
But he failed to keep a straight face and started to guffaw.

Later he pondered the rogue's last sentence.
"Blessed? Now that's one way to name it.", Fost chuckled at the exaggerated confidence of Richard.

Listening to Richard's story was slightly embarrassing. Although Mikhail was certain is was mostly for comedic effect, it still took a little getting used to. However, it was Orlin's response that caught his attention. "I wouldn't be so sure of that. There are breeds that you would find to be quite comfortable atop of. However, those were not the ones we tended to up in Highever. Most of what we ended up taking care of would eventually be cavalry mounts. We were just the in between place. But... well horses aren't really as popular here as a good mabari hound. More of a luxury, really." As sad as it was to say, it really was true. Orlesians were the primary buyers for his family's horses, and the cavalry they provided Teryn Cousland was never looked down upon. It was just not as large a fighting force as others. It did deter bandits, though. For his father, that was enough.

Brother Loran blushed slightly as he listened to Richards story, not from the fact that it indicated Richard was about to sleep with a woman but from the care free way he told it.

Brother Loran wasn't a virgin he'd laid with a woman himself but he believed it should be a commitment between two people a gift from the maker but he also understood men like Richard had sex for fun and that made him blush.

He tutted under his breath and continued on

"Ah, now a hound is a beast ya can trust. Smarter than most people, they say. Not that horses aren't intelligent animals, mind you. A mabari is just more useful in my line o'work I suppose." Orlin paused to listen to his surroundings beyond the conversation, attempting to sense any unfamiliar sounds other than those he heard every time he came to the forest.

This overland area between the village and the crossroads is mostly quiet, as trade usually comes in via one of the more established routes along the lake shore. You folks know that a few outlying farms dot the landscape beyond the long rock formation that splits the course. The nug traps are around to the right, near the far end of the dozens of yards long formation.

The banter is interrupted by a sudden noise on the left side of the rock formation. Moments later, a fair-haired elf girl in a simple linen tunic bounds into view and tumbles into the party’s midst, landing at their feet.

“Help me!” she whimpers through her exhaustion. “They want to kill me!”

Ahead, an unseen voice calls out, “Come on; she went this way!”

OOC: What do you do?

At first alarmed, Fost relaxed as he saw that it was only an elf causing the commotion.
His mood changed again as the girl mentioned being attacked which perplexed him as he could not fathom why someone would try to kill this seemingly harmless girl.
His frown deeped as he realized that her assailant might just be allied with those whom he had worked for before... and who were now on his heels for quite some time.
Still, all this could be just a misunderstanding so caution was not unwise.
Nevertheless - for exerting caution was not really a trait of his - he drew his one-and-half sword and stepped in front of the girl to shield her from immediate harm.
He waited, ready, for the assailant to appear...

Breathing heavily, convincingly hiding his shortness of breath, his thoughts trail on about the story he was telling before how could I get back at those guards maybe syrup in their boots? or maybe soak their undergarments in cow piss. Both ideas made Richard smile, then shaken awake from his thoughts, completely missing the elf women's plea for help he watches Fost draw his sword. Quickly Richard takes off his bow and knocks an arrow. "Do you expect trouble, my friend?" Looking about Richard tries to find higher ground to set up for better aim and view.

At first glance to this whole situation, Fost seems to have the right idea. Of course, protection could be the wrong move, but they were working with limited information. A woman ask for help, she should be given help. Tevinter's roots dig deep, even after the overthrow by Andraste in this country, and it was good to see people willing to stand and help this elf. Mikhail, gripping his staff in a more authoritative manner, gave the woman a lookover. He just wanted to protect himself, as the constant warnings from his lessons on responsible uses of power and manipulation by others was still ringing in his ears.

07:50, Today: Mikhail Loren rolled 15 using 3d6+1 (6 stunt points) with the AGE System.  Perception.

Without taking his eyes off the direction they had heard the voices from, Fost replied.
"If someone wants to kill another there is always trouble. I mean to see if it's worthwhile to become involved."
While this did seem to imply that Fost would actually be willing to just ignore the whole scene if he came to the conclusion that he better not become involved, Richard - as the one he had actually spent the most time with - knew that Fost would in fact never just walk away. Maybe it was just stubborness, maybe it was just plain stupidity, certainly it may be unwise. But that was just the way Fost was. Did Fost care that it was an elf ? Did he care that it was a female ? Did he care that she appeared to be harmless ? Quite honestly, Richard could not tell. And none of the other companions could either. Orlin, maybe the most practical among their uncanny group, wondered if Fost knew himself. Fost was strangely silent about what mattered to him.
In fact, the warrior's reaction might be one of the few glimpses into his personality, maybe one of the strongest he had provided ever since he had come into town.

Hmm, admittedly I have to adapt my writing to represent Fost's attitudes as I keep stumbling into that trap of providing views from you guys in relation to Fost. Delicate, as that is actually a severe faux-pas. My aim is to provide some material to the relations among us.
My apologies if you feel offended, it certainly it is not my intent and I will adjust... next time ^^

Brother Loran heard the woman's plea as she stumbled into their midst. Seeing he others draw weapons and the wizard stride forward the brother moved swiftly to the last and taking her gently by the arm pulled her behind him while he gripped his staff in a practiced fighting stance and gave a prayer to the maker to protect them all

This girl, who can be no more than 16, has calloused hands and feet. With the simple clothes she wears, there is little place where a weapon can be hidden. And her pleading eyes seem genuine. She's not a threat.

On the other hand, the heavy footsteps approaching may well be.

OOC: Going to give Orlin a chance to post before I continue.

OOC: Moving on, since Orlin hasn’t been able to respond...

The elf responds to Mikhail’s scrutiny with a confused expression, but it doesn’t last long as Brother Loran pulls her behind him and sets up in a defensive stance. Richard climbs up the edge of the rock formation to get a better look at what’s coming, and Orlin positions himself near the good brother, his dagger in one hand and a throwing knife in the other.

The heavy footfalls ahead are revealed to be three men-at-arms in foreign garb. Two are armed with a maul and a shield, and the third a crossbow. They skid to a halt about 11 yards from Fost (and a little more than 8 yards from Richard’s perch). The lead man notices the elf behind both Fost and Loran and points at them with his maul.

“That one belongs to our master,” he says with an accent that Mikhail believes to be of Tevinter. “Give ‘er here!”

OOC: We have a map!

I created a map for the scene. I left a small measure in the bottom left corner, and each character counter is 2 yards by 2 yards (reflecting body positioning).

The light colored irregular shapes in the center are the rock formation, and the areas between them are higher elevation than the rest of the middle green landscape; they’re low enough, though, that the rocks can provide some cover while standing.

The dark area on the left of the map is where the terrain starts to sharply rise (hillside).

And the center part of each tree provides some cover.

"And who would be that master you talk about?", Fost demanded.

Brother Loran gentle pushed the girl back slightly but keeping in front of her " stay behind us my child. If things look to go against my friends head in that direction follow the path and you will find a village tell the chantry brother Loran said to give you sanctuary"

"I wouldn't waste too much breath on that question, Fost. Slavery is still illegal here." This was starting to turn out fantastically, he sarcastically thought to himself. "And if Tevinter is all the way down here, the Arl should be told as soon as possible."

Now, with some amount of knowledge at hand, he readied his staff. "Now, this is a little bit of a curiosity. On a day of celebration of a new life, we have the opportunity to provide twice over." He reached out to tug at the power at the edge of the Fade, reading his mind for spellcasting for when, not if, this turned violent.

Richard Smiled to himself, few things in this world truly delighted him, food, drink, women, song, and a good fight, okay so a lot of things make him happy. A good fight though that was something that got his blood pumping. His bow up and ready, arrow knocked his eyes honed in on the crossbowman, he will be the first to go down. Fost will take care of the men-at-arms.

Fost frowned, his companions were way too eager to start a fight.

---

09:08, Today: Fost rolled 16 using 3d6+3 with the AGE System with rolls of {4}, 3, 6.  DEX (Initiative)

Brother Loran held out a hand towards the new comers " my good sir please put any thoughts of violence aside I am sure this can be worked out."

The brother took a step forward "I am a brother of the chantry and a servant of the maker this girl has asked me for sanctuary and as such I must abide my my faith and the teachings of the maker ."

He took another step forward "there is a chantry house in the village yonder the mother superior there will have to judge the validity of the girls request. I ask that if indeed she is part of your masters house then the mother superior will take your words into account but I must warn you to attack a member of the chantry or one who has asked for sanctuary will be an attack on the church itself and your master will be called to task on your actions. The decision of course is yours to make but would your master thank you for the eyes of the chantry turning into his business"

Brother Loran hoped that his words would at least give them time to think of a plan of action that didn't involve death

The girl nods weakly, and rights herself enough that she can flee, if needed, not that either of them thinks she’d actually make it if she had to run much further.

“We don’t recognize your woman-led heresy, ‘brother.’ Our master is Lord Magister Diadumens, visiting from Minrathous, and the elf is a member of his household,” the first man-at-arms replies. “Just give her over, and you won’t be harmed.”

To emphasize his point, he taps the head of his maul on his shield. Behind him, the crossbowman says something in their native tongue, nodding toward Brother Loran, which the first man shrugs off.

"Visiting from Minrathus, you say. Well then, have him come to Castle Redcliffe and claim her himself, if he dares. Afterall, he is the one skulking about in the forest, hiding like a common criminal. And do you honestly believe I'd think she was apart of his household in his eyes. No, I bet you view her more like his property, am I right?" Lord Magister... that would imply mage, right? All mages from Tevinter were blood mages, at least according to rumor. No Circles and the Mages lord their power over the people, clearly a violation of the Chant of Light. This could be bad news, and something the Circle should be made aware of. If Tevinter was here, where else where they? Damn, now he wished he had actually taken some more language books for study.

He kept his voice low as he spoke to Brother Loran, keeping his focus on the men nearby. "Well, that makes a certain sense. Not recognizing Val Royeaux proper place, and following their own Black Divine. Still, they do themselves no favors by simply threating and demanding action."

16:31, Today: Mikhail Loren rolled 14 using 3d6+2 (2 stunt points) with the AGE System with rolls of {2}, 5, 5.  Initiative. Just in case.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Mon 30 Mar 2020.

Mikhail was treading treacherous terrain there.
He had no idea what or where Minrathous was and he could not really evaluate the importance of Lord Magister Diadumens. He simply was not educated enough, but these fellows sure wore unusual clothing.
Clearly the circle mage had a much better picture about the situation.
Even so, Fost did not think it prudent to call someone who commanded at least three men-at-arms as someone 'skulking about in the forest' like some wretched thief. The man might be offended. And if hot temper were added to the mixture there might be trouble coming their way.
If these men had any honour they would defend their Lord and attack them. Anticipating exactly that, he adopted a defensive stance.
"In case you still have not gotten the gist of what we are telling you: We will not release the girl into your hands. Do what you will about this, it's your blood that will paint this place red not ours."

14:43, Today: Fost rolled 12 using 3d6+4 (3 stunt points) with the AGE System with rolls of {3}, 2, 3.  STR (Intimidate).
Sheesh...

The thug pulls back slightly at Fost's posturing, a facade of confusion accompanying the fear in his eyes as the intimidator suddenly realizes what it feels like to be intimidated.

"I - This will not be the end of this! Our master will hear of your impudence!" he growls, and takes a step back.

However, neither his fellow man-at-arms nor the crossbowman appear to be cowed, and they begin to quarrel with their compatriot in their native tongue, seemingly ignoring the locals entirely. With their attention elsewhere, the elf girl decides this is the best time to follow Brother Loran's advice and begins to back away from the assembled group.

Brother Loran notices the girl move out of the corner of his eye and slowly backed up to.

He was concerned that there might be fighting and he was prepared to be the last line of defences to allow the girl to get to the village

Unsure if to react or not, it was obvious the men were distracted and therefore an attack might be jarring to the men, however, other the Fost, he hadn't fought with the others, and did know their minds. Furthermore was it smart to make such powerful enemies?

Quietly, "Fost, shall we like at the bar show these men a good time?"

"Listen you men."
"This is a matter for our betters to decide. Why spill blood in what we think may be to their best interest ? They are the lords and ladies, we are just the soldiers. And I believe neither you nor us have explicit orders as to how to handle this matter."
"I suggest that rather than fight this out now you withdraw and report to your Lord. Maybe he will order you to take the girl by force if needs be. Fine by me, we'll be seeing each other then again on the field of battle. By my lord's orders. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be injured because of a misinterpretation of my lord's will that might even anger my lord anyway. Are you certain your Lord will not have your guts if he hears that you fought us ? Is the girl worth it ? I seriously doubt it. She's just an Elf. Want to lie in the dirt screaming for your mother because of an Elven girl ? I sure don't. Regardless, we will not release the girl to you unless our Lord explicitely tells us to do so."
Maybe they are not free thinkers, nor free men, maybe they are just soldiers doing what they are told, maybe sowing some doubt will get us out of this mess... for now, Fost thought as he tried to reason with the men seeing that his intimidation attempt had failed.

---

14:22, Today: Fost rolled 16 using 3d6+2 (4 stunt points) with the AGE System with rolls of {4}, 5, 5.  COM (Persuasion).

The trio stop their bickering and look in unison at the warrior. They exchange a glance and turn back to the group; the lead man-at-arms opens his mouth to speak, but closes it in thought. After several moments, the lead one blurts out, "I don't need to bleed today."

The others seem to agree with the sentiment, and the crossbowman suggests, "Maybe we go back to our lord magister and tell him locals have found a missing member of his household, and that he can petition for her return from the master of the village."

"The Arl of Redcliffe," Orlin corrects.

"Uh, yes."

The other man-at-arms gestures at the chantry brother. "Make sure she stays with you."

With that, the three men back out the way they came, leaving the girl and her rescuers. She straightens up, confused by the sudden turn of events. "That - that's it?"

Jumping down from the rocks Richard puts away the arrow and bow. "Well, that was nice, I would have loved to stick those men full of arrows like a pin cushion. In the end much wiser. Well done my friend!" He pats Fost on the shoulder, "Didn't know you had it in you." He turns to the she-elf now that the threat is gone and gives her a wink. "Well, shall you all return with our newest guest? I should think it wise that Orlin and I follow those boys. I would think the Arl would like to know there location, and number if possible."

Waiting first, to let the men get further away, their tracks will be easy enough to follow, and Richard doesn't wish to get to close without proper backup.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:30, Thu 02 Apr 2020.

Fost just shrugged.
It looked like he had not particularly enjoyed doing the talking but had acted simply out of necessity.
"We need to know how many foreigners are on the Arl's lands and what threat they pose."
"Mikhail, Loran and I will bring the girl to the Arl."
"You stay safe and don't get too reckless.", he added with a less rough tone.

Mockingly Richard says, "Yes mother," As he turns to leave smacking Orlin on the shoulder, come on my diminutive friend we have tracking to do.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:32, Thu 02 Apr 2020.

Brother Loran looked at Richard "may the maker protect you" he said giving the sign of the maker.

He then turned to Fost. "Well played master Fost. You showed restraint which will be rewarded in the yes of the maker. It is good that you are with us"

Finally he turned to the elf girl"for now it would seem you are under the protection of the chantry and our lord. You have nothing to fear from us but I would suggest we make haste and get within the walls of the chantry chapel or the castle before too long in case those brave men decide to come looking for you again"

He slightly relaxed his grip on his staff, not entirely sure about the next few steps as they played out in his mind. "Before we move ahead of ourselves, perhaps introductions are in order." Nodding to her in a simple bow and planting his staff in the ground, he smiled, changing his tone to something far more pleasant. "I'm Mikhail, a mage of the Fereldan Circle." He waited for the others to introduce themselves, but there was much more to discuss before they drop this whole situation on the Arl's doorstep. Oh, this was had the potential to be really bad for all of them, elf maiden included.

Fost frowned, more in puzzlement than anything else.
Ferelden may have ruled against slavery but that did not mean that lower people were treated well. And few cared about Elves anyway.
He scoffed at the notion of wasting time on introductions.
"Hurry up, we have to leave this immediate area, maybe they change their minds. Richard, Orlin, we will meet in the village."
"Stand up girl, you are safe for now. And will be as long as you stay near us. We will see soon if you can be released from your master's clutches."
With long strides he turned back down to the village, assuming that Loren would handle the girl in case she balked.

As they move slowly -- too slowly for Fost's liking, it seems -- toward the village before the two rogues split off, the elf responds to Mikhail's introduction. "I am called Sexta," she says, her Trade Tongue a bit halting. "Thank you for protecting me."

The dwarf dips his head to the girl. "I'm Orlin, and this is Richard, Fost, and the kind one is Loran," he says. "And you're welcome."

As he turns to leave with Richard, he adds, "We'll see you three back in the chantry?"

A curious name, but a more curious figure. He nodded to Orlin and Richard as they departed, giving a small wave. "I'm sure we will all be needed at least as witnesses soon. Stay... not safe, I guess, but quiet. That works."

He took up the rear position in their group so he could ask Sexta some questions. Trying to be as respectful as possible, he felt that now was as good a time as any to start asking question. "Sexta. What are you allowed to tell us about your.. no, about that Lord Magister. Please understand, we want to help you, but we do owe Arl Eamon a proper explanation." As sad as it was to admit, there was also the discrimination against elves to consider. Within the Circle, he was mostly insulated from such talk and practices. However, it could be difficult to get anyone else to listen to the words of an elf. Especially with the Dalish still out and about... somewhere.

No, it would most likely need to come from Fost. It stands to reason he had the best chance of getting someone to listen to what ever she would say.

Brother Loran walked next to the girl giving her an arm if she stumbled or just for comfort.

As they set off he took his light walking cloak off and places it over her shoulder and reached for his water skin to offer her a drink along with a small hand of dried fruit he kept in a pouch.

"Mistress Sexta I am brother Loran I am a member of the chantry and a servant of the maker. I promised you that you have the chantry protection and I'm sure our lord will cover that protection with his own once he hears your tale. For now we must make our way as quickly as we can once in the village you can rest and gain your strength"

OOC: Going to move to separate groups after this post.

"I don't know the master very well; I am a servant to his senior servants, and have not had much interaction with the household," she says. "I heard from the men-at-arms that we're traveling to a place called Lothering, to visit an acquaintance he made in the Free Marches some years back. I can’t say more.”

She nods appreciatively at Loran’s promise of protection. “Truly, I thank you for your kindness. I was left alone at our camp, and took the chance to flee. Unfortunately, the men-at-arms saw me as I reached the open land and gave chase. I only just made it to you.”