DealsFor.me - The best sales, coupons, and discounts for you


Pages: (2) [1] 2  ( Go to first unread post ) REPLY   NEW TOPIC   NEW POLL   

 A-Huntin' We Will Go, Agatha - 6 Cloudreach 9:30 Dragon
Arabella Rousseau
Posted: Feb 6 2012, 03:55 PM


Orlesian. Templar. Marshmallow.


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 53
Member No.: 238
Joined: 3-February 12



The Knight-Commander insisted that Ser Arabella take the ship to Kirkwall. Ser Arabella stood at the docks, took one look at the ship rocking slowly back and forth over the Waking Sea and nearly vomited. She remembered the trip she had taken a few years before, the ride across the water. Shaking her head, she removed her hand from her mouth and swallowed great gulps of salty air. She had only just returned from Ferelden – the Circle had been in shambles after a blood mage's attempt at rebellion – and now they were sending her off to Kirkwall, something about refugees and apostates. They never told her much, which made doing her job particularly difficult.

It was no matter; once she decided she was most certainly not going on that boat, she returned to the White Spire only long enough to gather up a horse and some supplies. It was going to be a long ride to Kirkwall; perhaps a week and a half, if she rode hard. Taking the Imperial Highway, she would stop at the Cumberland Circle to switch horses and replenish her stores before taking a thin road around and through the Vimmark Mountains to get to Kirkwall. The Knight-Commander was rather put-out by her lack of desire to take the ship, but she insisted she would not make it to Kirkwall if he pushed her onto the floating piece of wood.

And so, with most of the day left, Arabella took off in the direction of Kirkwall. She refused to stop at inns, though she would not have been opposed to stopping at a Chantry if any of them lined the highway. Unfortunately for her, it was more or less desolate.

The “less” was represented by a few bandits here or there. Luckily, they were untrained ruffians not expecting that they had set themselves upon a well-trained templar. She made quick work of them, but she did not kill them. Knocked them out, one by one, and tied them up. She left them off of the road but noticeable, hoping that someone else would happen along or that they would free themselves (unlikely, she could tie a damn good knot) before something else came for them. Their lives were in the Maker's hands now.



Eventually she was able to find herself in the Gallows courtyard; that familiar shiver from years before during her brief interlude there had not gone away with the years. She still very much disliked Kirkwall, she decided. There was no true reason for it, other than a feeling. As a templar, feelings were rather useless. They didn't do much but get her into trouble, but she still could not stop herself from having them. Showing them, though, was a different matter entirely.

Her steed's hoves clipped across the stones of the courtyard and she felt suddenly very out of place, riding high above the other templars. The horse's large stature combined with her own height made her an intimidating sight, she imagined; she felt rather intimidating. After a little too long being stared at by the guards that had allowed her in with a flash of papers with the seal of the White Spire, she finally dismounted and offered the reigns of her horse to the nearest templar. She would expect to keep him and have him at her behest; the templar seemed amused by the idea but did not openly disagree.



She asked after the Knight-Commander and discovered a woman who, some time ago, had probably been quite lovely. She was stern-looking; Arabella found herself a little frightened. Not palpably but noticeable enough in her head.

“I am Knight-Commander Meredith. You must be Ser Arabella; I have heard good things about you from Orlais. I am glad they were able to send you to us for the time being. I have sent for Ser Agatha; she has arrived only some time ago from Ferelden and I would like the two of you to work together; we seem to have a surge of apostates in this city. It's almost impossible to keep them out and in check with all of the refugees of the Blight. A few of my men will be working as well, it will be a small party I send you out with.”

Arabella nodded, relaxing a little back on her heels as she stood beside the chair opposite the Knight-Commander's. She had been sitting for what seemed like a century. Standing and walking would do her some good; not to mention the saddle-sores she was battling.
Agatha
Posted: Feb 7 2012, 08:47 PM


mother hen of the Templars <3


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 100
Member No.: 143
Joined: 26-September 11



Ten years ago, Agatha never would imagine that she would visit, let alone live and work in a city so vast and grand as Kirkwall. Oh, she had spent a fair amount of time in Ferelden's own Denerim and the tower of Kinloch Hold, but neither had the height nor the sprawl of Kirkwall. As a teenager living in a tiny farm village, she likely could not think of what such a place would look like, yet here she was spending more time looking at stone walls and high cliffs than fields and forest.

Ser Agatha had only been in Kirkwall for a few short weeks, and while she was much more comfortable in her new setting, she was sure she would never fully adjust to her new urban environment. Her own fondness for her location mattered little, though, now that she was at least workable familiar with the city. She had a decent understanding of how to get around, and she was sure time and experience would fill in the gaps. Some of the nuances of life in Kirkwall were easing their way into her regular routine. Things like the endless number of steps that connect different parts of the city, the vastly different way they ran their Circle, or the way Knight-Commander Meredith made Greagoir seem kind and grandfatherly. Not that she would complain about any of it. One could not expect the same thing to work everywhere.

After a few hours of patrolling the area around the docks, the young Templar returned to the Gallows to await her next orders. This was the most familiar area in Kirkwall to her, and so far she had seen that the courtyard was often a rather predictable place. There were some fellow Templars (whose names she was slowly learning), occasionally a well guarded mage or two, a handful of Tranquil vendors, and, this time...a horse? Seeing the animal put a girlish bounce in her step, something that looked rather odd on a woman who was wearing heavy armor. She ignored the Templar who held the reigns (he seemed like he had never seen a horse) and went right for the horse. After weeks of seeing only rats and alley cat, the former farm girl was decidedly animal starved.

"Hello, there," she said to the horse in a tone like one might use when talking to a young child. Agatha slowly approached the animal gently blew on the soft skin around around its nose. The horse stretched forward its neck, pleased at the soft caress and let the Templar softly kiss its velvety skin.

"Ser Agatha? The Knight-Commander would like to see you about the Orlesian transfer." At hearing the sound of another Templar's voice, she turned her back on the horse and stood straight and tall once again. However, after petting a horse's soft nose, she could not harden her face.

"Of course, thank you. I'll be right there." Her pleasant tone and sweet smile were heightened after having a bit of animal time, and while she tried to keep her posture and pace strong, there was still some bounce she could not suppress. After only a few steps, Agatha corrected herself, realizing that such a pleasant demeanor would not impress the vigilant Knight-Commander.

Her armored boots struck heavily against the stones that paved the ground as she crossed the courtyard and ascended the short staircase that led to the hall where the Knight-Commander had her office.

After stepping inside, Agatha gave a polite nod to the Knight-Commander, but her attention was focused on the Orlesian Templar. "Was that your horse? He's a lovely animal."
Arabella Rousseau
Posted: Feb 8 2012, 09:55 AM


Orlesian. Templar. Marshmallow.


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 53
Member No.: 238
Joined: 3-February 12



Meredith spoke more as Arabella waited; she listened as closely as a soldier listens to her commander, but did not know how she liked this place. The shiver that had struck her at the sight of the Twins would not leave her, no matter what she tried. She was most definitely relieved when Ser Agatha entered; not only did it mean that she no longer had to endure Meredith's direct gaze but it also offered a topic change.

“Unfortunately, no. I switched mounts in Nevarra and will undoubtedly do so when I return to Orlais,” her speech was thick with her accent; she had little trouble understanding those not from her country, partially because of the traders she had met over the years and partially because languages were something that never seemed to trouble her. However, she knew that her own speech often caused some consternation and thus tried to slow the rate at which words left her mouth. Not so much so that she sounded as if she were mentally slow, but enough so that her normal rapid-fire speech was understandable. “When I was younger, we had horses. They are quite possibly my favorite animal; it would be lovely if we could ride out, in fact.”

Despite her better judgment, Arabella looked to the Knight-Commander as if she had posed a question. Meredith seemed to mull it over for a moment, not breaking the eye contact that Arabella offered her.

“I don't suppose that would be a terrible idea, though you will have to be careful when you return any found mages. The riding might become difficult.”

“I, for one, am capable of riding with a passenger. If Ser Agatha is as familiar with horses as her interest leads me to believe, she may well be also. Your other templars look as though they have never seen one before,” Arabella let slip a small smile. “However, if we have your leave to ride, I think we should be able to make do. Thank you, Knight-Commander.”

The Orlesian turned back to her new Ferelden-gone-Kirkwall comrade. She was glad not to feel the same shiver that the general idea of the city and its Knight-Commander offered her, though she did not profess to be some sort of incredible people-reader. She would leave all definitive decisions on Agatha's character for some time in the future.

((I was going to put more Meredith conversation in about the mage they're looking for but I didn't know if you just wanted them to patrol or have someone they're actually after. You can either steal Meredith to do so, or let me know and I'll edit this one.))
Agatha
Posted: Feb 8 2012, 10:08 PM


mother hen of the Templars <3


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 100
Member No.: 143
Joined: 26-September 11



At first, Ser Agatha was worried she might not get along well an Orlesian. She had never met one before, and from what she heard from her parents and anyone old enough to remember the occupation of Ferelden, she expected them all to the horribly arrogant and snobbish. Yet, aside from the accent, this woman was almost like any other Templar. Almost. since the ones she knew in Ferelden were more familiar with dogs, and here in Kirkwall many were unfamiliar with animals aside from pests or strays. The warmth and sweetness on her face completely hid any feelings of concern she had over meeting an Orlesian Templar.

"Knight-Commander, I may be a bit out of practice, but I was up on a pony's back not long after I learned how to run." She looked back at Ser Arabella with a smile on her face. Even the chance of riding again was enough to make the young Templar giddy. However, her excitement was tempered with a small hint of insecurity. Agatha was accustomed to stocky work animals, not a grand steed like the one that she saw in the courtyard.

"I suppose you guessed correctly then," she said to her new Orlesian ally before turning back to the Knight-Commander to make a more practical appeal. "A mount would give us added speed and visibility, with the extra height."

Meredith paused in thought before giving an answer, pursing her lips in a way that made the lines around her mouth momentarily deepen. Agatha expected refusal. She had already learned that the Knight-Commander here was very particular and demanding, and though Ser Agatha kept that sweet smile on her face, she was prepared for sudden disappointment.

"And is that how the Templars in Orlais conduct their patrols?" Meredith asked in a harsh tone that Agatha recognized as the Knight-Commander's closest thing to a neutral voice. Her pale blue eyes gave each woman a careful look. "If you truly think that a mount would give so many advantages, then naturally, I would expect greater results."

Ser Agatha was always eager to please, and she was especially eager to prove herself to a Knight-Commander who, in her own opinion, still had quite a bit of beauty in her features. She saw it as a challenge, and with an expression that was now more playful she looked back at the Orlesian Templar.

"I imagine after riding all that way, tracking a few apostates on horseback should be easy."
Arabella Rousseau
Posted: Feb 8 2012, 10:30 PM


Orlesian. Templar. Marshmallow.


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 53
Member No.: 238
Joined: 3-February 12



Arabella's disdain grew mildly at Meredith's general demeanor. She had little patience for anyone that thought they knew infinitely better than anyone (or everyone) else. However, she refused to make a final judgment on her character until a serious flaw presented itself. Her face remained stoic with a small smile, keeping up all appearances of politeness and submission. The chance to leave Orlais was one not given easily and Arabella had been blessed more than once; she did not wish to ruin her future chances by irritating the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall too much.

"I greatly appreciate your allowance. Ser Agatha is right; riding does allow many advantages that going on foot does not. Around Val Royeaux we do not ride, but every excursion I have been on beyond the city's limits has included a mount. We can easily cover inconsequential ground while in pursuit."

In truth, Arabella wished to sleep. And bathe. One thing she noticed about the Circles outside of Orlais was that the templars took, what she deemed as, less pride in their appearance. Even some of the female templars she housed with still did their hair in outrageous styles for what little time they had off.

Moreover, her stomach roared beneath her armor as she spoke to Agatha in response. "My skill as a rider is not my worry," she smiled a little, "Though my tracking skills have increased greatly since my first endeavor, that is not my most useful trait."

Meredith was fully aware of what Arabella's most useful trait was. She did not know if she whole-heartedly agreed with the girl's methods, but her results were uncontested. "Your patrol begins in twenty minutes. I will send word for the rest of your party. Until then, I suggest you get your horses ready with whatever provisions you find you may need."

Arabella ducked her head, her templar helm held beneath her arm as she had removed it upon dismounting. After which, she turned and held open the door for Ser Agatha.
Agatha
Posted: Feb 9 2012, 05:05 PM


mother hen of the Templars <3


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 100
Member No.: 143
Joined: 26-September 11



Though Ser Agatha put considerable effort to at least keep her expression pleasantly neutral in the presence of Knight-Commander Meredith (a fully stoic face was nearly impossible for the sweet young woman), a small smile crept onto her face at the thought of going out on horseback. She gave the Knight-Commander a gracious nod, pleased, grateful, and just a bit surprised that Meredith so easily agreed with their suggestion.

"Thank you, Knight-Commander," Agatha answered before trying to straighten her features into something more professional and appropriate. She turned to her new Orlesian companion before continuing. "I'm well practiced in tracking. Perhaps we can enhance each other's strengths."

After only these past few minutes talking to this woman about mostly professional matters, Ser Agatha felt an unexpected interest in Orlesian culture, especially from someone who would see the foreign land in a more positive light. All she had heard so far was negative: the arrogance, the vanity, the excess, and the Chevaliers who acted like they had power over everyone. Surely, not every Orlesian was like that. One thing in particular that grabbed her curiosity was if all Orlesians held the same reverence for horses that this woman did, like Fereldens and their dogs.

With that girlish bounce back in her step, Agatha turned to slip out the door behind Ser Arabella and gently closed the door behind her. Now that she was beyond the view of Meredith's harsh and critical eyes, with a soft sigh she let go of the tension that held her face in that somewhat less giddy expression and a friendly smile reappeared. "Forgive me, I never said that I'm pleased to meet you." So, they twenty minutes before heading out. Between making preparations, this would be a fine time to get to know her knew partner and maybe learn a bit about Orlais. True, it would be more productive to tell her what she had learned about Kirkwall so far, but Agatha knew better than to expect time to talk once they were out on patrol.

"I'd like to hear a bit about Orlais, if you don't mind, Agatha asked as the pair descended the stone steps that led down to the courtyard. As soon as the words left her lips, she realized how hopeless vague her question must sound. "I mean, does everyone there ride like you do? Or what about the Templars in Orlais? I've only ever heard anything about the nobility and the Chevaliers."
Arabella Rousseau
Posted: Feb 10 2012, 11:54 AM


Orlesian. Templar. Marshmallow.


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 53
Member No.: 238
Joined: 3-February 12



Enchantée,” Arabella responded with a small smile as she walked beside her companion templar. “The pleasure is mine. It is a relief to be able to ride out with someone whom I may be able to have some form rapport with.” She walked quietly beside her, aside from the gentle clinking of her boots against the stone as they descended the steps.

“Orlais?” Arabella intoned, raising an eyebrow as she looked over at the other woman. The woman was Ferelden, was she not? Didn't most Ferelden's already know far too much about her country? Perhaps, Arabella decided, Ser Agatha was not quite so prejudiced as she had heard Fereldens to be,

Without speaking, she led Agatha towards her horse and, removing her gauntlets, slipped them into her saddlebag before reaching for her horse's reins. “Best bring him to the stable for a brushing while you pick your mount out. I cannot imagine he will be particularly happy about going out again if I do not clean him up a bit.”

Clicking her tongue, Arabella led the horse a few paces before she stopped. “Where are the stables? I will more than gladly tell you of Orlais on the way. In fact, lead and I shall follow while I tell you more than you could have imagined you even wanted to know.” She smiled easily again, crossing her arms over her chest as they walked. She hated the feeling of them swinging uselessly at her sides.

“Most nobles ride, though more men than women do. Few have a love for horses and more see them as property than companions. Most nobility see people the same way, though,” Arabella frowned a little before she laughed. “The reason you have heard mostly about nobility is that the aristocracy is Orlais.” Shaking her head a little, her amusement at the life she had once lived was apparent, though tempered with something akin to sadness, in only a small amount.

“What you have heard about Orlais is probably not all that far from the truth, unfortunately. For instance, my countrymen are, by and large, exceedingly vain. All members of noble households wear masks to display which house they are from; the only people that do not are those that think themselves above such games or those that are so low on the social scale that they have no reason to do so. Of course, templars do not – even those of us from such families. I always hated them – they are only worn in public, but that did not lessen my distaste for them. I am still loathe to wear helms. They make my face itch, remembering the gaudy and ghastly things from my childhood.”

She paused a moment, the ghost of a smile still on her face as she thought about the garish coverings her mother had lined up on her vanity. “The templars in Orlais are, by and large, much like those anywhere else. I think there is a wider gap in...beliefs, though. There are few that fall into a gray area; most are particularly of one opinion or the other as to the purpose of the Circle and such things. However, I feel it may be too soon in our partnership to begin such a conversation. I would hate to make enemies before I have had a chance to make friends." Her smile was still there, though a little self-depreciating in its curl. "Anything else you would like to know? I do not know what might interest you, as it is all commonplace to me."
Agatha
Posted: Feb 12 2012, 03:57 PM


mother hen of the Templars <3


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 100
Member No.: 143
Joined: 26-September 11



Agatha suppressed a soft laugh as they walked together. Perhaps there was a grain of truth in what she had heard about the legendary Orlesian vanity if this woman thought a horse would care so much about being neatly groomed. Her mind briefly drifted to wonder if the horses in Orlais were as vain as they said the people are, and an image popped into her mind of an elaborately dressed nobleman mounted atop a white horse with braids and ribbon in its mane. However, Agatha quickly chased the distraction away from her mind. Though they had a few minutes of downtime, this was still the time to act professional.

"It's right this way," Agatha answered in a tone that was a bit more neutral and professional than her usually friendly voice. Her sweetness came right back out as she paused for a moment to gently pet the horse on his muscular neck and look into his big, round eyes. She looked over at the Orlesian woman before taking a few quick steps ahead to lead.

She listened quietly and closely as they walked, and the sweet smile on her face slowly began to fade. Agatha had hoped that some of the more caustic things she heard about Orlesian culture were false or at least exaggerated, yet Arabella just confirmed many of the rumors she had heard over the years. The arrogant nobility, the vanity, and the garish fashion all seemed to be very real parts of Orlesian life. What really surprised her was not any of the information this woman shared, but how she gave it. The way she spoke of the mask wearing aristocracy led Agatha to wonder if Arabella started her life in a noble family. Ser Agatha's curiosity was piqued, but it seemed too personal of a question to ask so soon.

Soon they approached the stables, and when they were close enough to smell hay and hear horses whinnying and pawing at the ground Agatha gave her response. "I think that might be enough for now. I am curious to hear a bit about the commoners in Orlais too, but I'm afraid I might not like what I hear." Agatha still kept her pleasant mood, but she was afraid it might vanish if it turned out that some of the more unsavory rumors about Orlais were also true.
Arabella Rousseau
Posted: Feb 17 2012, 09:56 AM


Orlesian. Templar. Marshmallow.


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 53
Member No.: 238
Joined: 3-February 12



"In all truth," Arabella responded, suppressing the slightly judged feeling she was experiencing and offering a smile in lieu of anything better to offer the other templar, "I have little experience with them. I knew some and saw many, but by the time I had any concept of what the difference was I was in the Chantry. It does not matter there; at least, not to most." She cringed inwardly at the separation she had just acknowledged: "them". She did not know how else to phrase it, however; those with less - before her transition to the Chantry and then the Order - had always been a "them". It wasn't until the lines of those that had and those that did not were erased that she realized just how wrong her parents had been. Her father, though she loved him dearly, had still been both a snob and racist. He was never as forthcoming with his opinions or prejudices as Arabella's mother had been, but he was hardly any nicer to elves or humans that had less than his wife was.

She paused at the door to the stable and closed her eyes half a second, inhaling the air - familiar, beloved smells. She caught herself and had the decency to blush as she smiled ashamedly. "I am sorry, Ser Agatha; I miss the stables. But we haven't the time." She continued inwards then, soon finding the dappled gray gelding she had ridden into the city on. He had been stripped of his tack, which was settled outside of the stall he had been placed into. Dipping her hand into one of the saddlebags, she fished out a brush and moved quietly into the stall.

She cursed in Orlesian as she noticed the food the stablehand had dumped into the feeding bucket and shook her head, slowly running the brush over him.

"It is not that I am ungrateful for the help," Arabella spoke, presumably to Agatha, "but you would think these people have never seen a horse before. Horse-bread? Honestly?" Arabella shook her head as she bent over to brush the horse's belly. "That is for working horses, not for the sorts that are meant to be ridden."

With her hand settled gently on the horse's rump, she spoke quietly to it as she walked behind it and started brushing along the other side. After half a moment, she laughed a little. "You must think I am every Orlesian stereotype you have ever heard. It is not as bad as it sounds, I promise. The brushing is to avoid saddle-sores and discomfort. I find that this particular animal does not like to ride while too sweaty. The feeding..." She shrugged a little, emerging from the stall and running her hand over the brush as a tiny shower of dirt and the occasional hair fell onto the already-dirty stable floor before she replaced the brush into her bags. "...it is just the same as some people eat, I imagine. The harder your work, the hardier your meal. To expect a horse to be nimble when weighed down with the sort of food that a cart-horse would require is simply ridiculous."

She brushed her hands on the plate of her armored legs and lifted the saddle over one arm, the blanket that would lay beneath it on top before she returned to the stall. Settling the blanket down, she smoothed it over before laying the saddle gently atop it and ducked her head to buckle it across his slender middle.

"I hope I do not sound preachy. You must think I am the worst sort of person," Arabella laughed a little, returning to pick up the bridle. She found the open water trough meant for public (horse public, that is) consumption and dipped it twice before shaking it dry over the stable floor. "And a talkative one at that. Why do you not tell me something of yourself, instead? Save me from worsening your opinion." Again, she laughed a little and remained smiling.
Agatha
Posted: Feb 22 2012, 04:54 PM


mother hen of the Templars <3


Group: OFFLINE
Posts: 100
Member No.: 143
Joined: 26-September 11



Agatha simply smiled and gave a nod at Arabella's answer about the Orlesian commoners. Her first thought was that it confirmed some of the suspicions she had and some of the assumptions she had made. Was the Orlesian aristocracy really so self-absorbed that they knew little of the less fortunate countrymen's lives? [I]Expect, perhaps, for their servants[I], Agatha thought with a slight degree of distaste. However, whatever negative judgments she made about Orlesian nobility she tried to keep separate from the Templar who stood beside her. She was a woman of the Chantry now, her background did not matter any more than Agatha's own past as a wild farm girl.

A soft laugh escaped Agatha's lips as she watched Arabella tend to her horse. "I might think you were a classic Orlesian stereotype if you fussed over a vain Orlesain horse like this. but I imagine this well-traveled Nevarran steed appreciates a little extra attention after his journey." She lifted her hand to gently stroke the animal's neck. "Especially since he's surrounded with Kirkwall native who don't know how to tend to animals." Truth be told, Agatha still thought that the Orlesian was making too much fuss over the whole thing, but she was not very experienced with nimble, well-bred horses. The horses she rode and worked with in Ferelden were about as elegant and refined as a Mabari.

One of Agatha's favorite old mares stood in the next stall. She was not a beautiful animal by the usual standards: stout with her mane and tail cropped short, but she was even tempered, lovely to ride, and strong. Agatha greeted the mare with a soft blow on the nose and a kiss. "You want to kn about me?," a hint of surprise coloring the tone of her voice. "Well, to start, I don't think you're a horrible person at all, just a bit different from most people I meet."

As she spoke, she laid a blanket over the mare's back, using the same gentle care of a mother dressing her young child. "My life was not all that interesting before I joined the Order. As you know, I'm from Ferelden. I grew up in a tiny goat herding village where everyday was hard work and every night was a few pints of ale and a roll in the hay. I miss the pastoral life, but I'm glad to have more purpose now."

Agatha left for just a moment to retrieve a saddle that she knew was well suited to her gentle mare. "Like I said, not very interesting," she continued as she laid the saddle on the horse's back. "My hometown was quite dull, and as a flighty, wild young woman I needed to do something a bit more meaningful and rewarding than tending goats."
DealsFor.me - The best sales, coupons, and discounts for you

TOPIC OPTIONSPages: (2) [1] 2  REPLY   NEW TOPIC   NEW POLL   



Hosted for free by InvisionFree* (Terms of Use: Updated 2/10/2010) | Powered by Invision Power Board v1.3 Final © 2003 IPS, Inc.
Page creation time: 0.2832 seconds | Archive