Sister of Mercy, Leliana's Recruitment

[Aedan Cousland]

((Directly following Sten's recruitment))

Low on supplies for the journey ahead, and now that he had formally introduced himself to the Hawkes, had accepted Solona and Lorelei, Aedan had chosen to go to the wilderness behind the village. Encountering the Qunari in the cage, however, had not been planned. And so he’d gone back to the village, so that he might convince the Revered Mother – as he wasn’t about to take the creature into his custody without her permission, being a true criminal wasn’t on his agenda – to release him into the Warden’s custody. The Sten seemed willing to atone for his actions, and there was a look in his eyes that seemed to affirm this.

Begrudgingly, the Revered Mother had agreed, and the deed had been done.

He made a beeline for the tavern, beckoning the others to follow. Killing two birds with one stone, maybe he could find some quick ways to earn money for supplies. Or hear some gossip. But as he approached, a friendly villager gave him a warning. “You might not want to go in. Tavern’s full, and those soldiers are a nuisance.”

Soldiers? What were they doing at the tavern? Why weren’t they protecting the fair citizens of Lothering? He had to know more. Chances were, they were from Ostagar. “Would you tell me about these soldiers?”

“They’re not here to defend us. They were looking for someone...before they started drinking. I hear they killed a man because they didn’t like his face. I wonder if they’re deserters from the king’s army...”

Looking for someone? he thought, exchange looks with the others.

“You’d think those soldiers would at least run off the bandits. I hear someone gave them what they deserved. Wasn’t you, was it?” Aedan quickly nodded, and the man boasted, “Hey, everyone!” The dirty faces of refugees and miners turned to face them. “These are the ones who drove out those thieving bastards!” Aedan didn’t like all of the attention he was getting. “More will probably come, but it was good to know some justice is still left here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. He had no real choice but to head into the inn, and hope that these weren’t Loghain’s men, or that they were prepared. Of the latter, he knew for certain...but unnecessary bloodshed was no good. He opened the door, and stepped through, followed by his dog, Alistair, Solona, Morrigan, and Lorelei.

“Well, look what we have here, men,” a soldier said, getting up from the table he’d been sitting at, picking up his blade as well. Aedan’s hands moved to his blades, as he sized the man up. He was a large man with short, black hair, stubble that was nearly a beard, and a slightly swarthy complexion. The symbol on his armour was unmistakably the wyvern of Gwaren. “Didn’t we spend all morning asking about a fellow with this description? And everyone said they hadn’t seen him? It seems we were lied to.”

This post has been edited by Aedan Cousland on Jul 5 2011, 06:46 PM

[Leliana]

The dream had been too vivid... too real. And the rose... What was once dead and ugly now blossomed a vivid red. A sign of hope amidst chaos and destruction. It couldn't have been a coincidence, it was surely the Maker's own wisdom reaching out to her.

But no one would believe her.

No matter. They have no right nor place to judge her. She only has the Maker to answer to. What truly worries her is the message the vision carries.

She has to leave the cloistered life. To take action against the Blight.

She cannot sit idle and let the darkspawn take over and destroy the Maker's creations. It is a call to arms, to protect. To throw one's life into the abyss, armed with only courage and faith... to fly.

Even if it means sacrificing her life of peace and contemplation, she has to do something.

But what? How? The only clue the dream gives her is that she has to jump into the abyss. Surely it is not literal. If this is truly the hand of the Maker at work, then soon she will have to make a risky decision. A decision with no guarantees... just like jumping off a cliff with no wings, hoping to find that sliver of hope, alive like a beating heart... so alive it bleeds red like a rose... so precious that you find none other like it amongst bleak gray lands.

So it's not a matter of what or how? But of... when?

"Well, look what we have here, men."

"Didn’t we spend all morning asking about a fellow with this description? And everyone said they hadn’t seen him?"

"It seems we were lied to."

Leliana has been pondering about her vision for quite some time in Dane's Refuge, effectively shutting out all noise and chatter. But for reason the voices of these two soldiers pierced through her trance as sharp and cold as daggers. She quickly stood up and walked towards the source of the interruption, sensing a possible violent confrontation between patrons. She observed the scene before her, and surmised that the soldiers were simply causing unnecessary trouble again against refuges, drunk as they are. She had already heard rumors of them even killing a man for looking at them funny. Not wishing to allow such a thing occur again, she peacefully stepped in to ease tensions.

"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

Unfortunately, these soldiers had no respect even towards a cloistered Sister. One of them, the darker bearded one, spoke roughly out in disgust and anger, throwing a bit of spittle in her direction,

"They are more than that! Now stay out of our way! If you protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them."

[Aedan Cousland]

Aedan's eyes moved to the woman, red-haired and dressed in Chantry robes. She had an accent he couldn't quite place, a beautiful, gentle voice. She was trying to keep peace, but these soldiers wouldn't have anything of it. Between himself and those that had come with him, they hardly looked like 'poor souls seeking refuge'. In fact, they wouldn't do that even if the tavern weren't full; Aedan wasn't about to take what someone desperately needed. They could always make a camp out in the farmland, once those bandits he'd read about on the Chanter's board were dealt with.

"Do you really want to start a fight in a tavern full of refugees?" Aedan queried. The sister was right; violence should be avoided. Someone innocent could be hurt, and he didn't want that blood on his hands.

"Enough talk!" the soldier snapped. "Take the Grey Warden into custody," he told his men. "Kill the sister and anyone who gets in your way."

Sodding... Aedan thought, drawing his blades.

[Lorelei]

((Jumping in; feel free to remove if it's a nuisance :3))

Lorelei could scarcely believe it.

Had the lowlanders truly forgotten about the importance of Grey Wardens? Did they honestly have such little regard for their future or survival that they were willing to bicker, argue and betray while the darkspawn drew closer - and then try and hold back the only hope Ferelden had against the darkspawn.

"Lady give me strength!" she said exasperatedly. "Lowlander stupidity is going to be the death of us all at this rate."

Aedan and the redheaded Chantry sister may have been reluctant to fight, but they couldn't afford hesitation - especially when it seemed some lowlanders lacked all capacity to reason and therefore couldn't be persuaded. Still, she kept her blades sheathed for now, snarling at the nearest whelp of a soldier, dodging his poorly aimed swing of his sword and lightly tripping him up, causing him to topple into one of his comrades. She punched a second soldier in the face before kicking him below the belt, causing him to double over in pain.

With any luck, this would descend into a bar brawl of sorts rather than a sword fight. She'd hate to deprive the poor buggers from being able to fight the darkspawn another day after all.

[Alistair]

“Kill the sister?” Alistair repeated incredulously, barely believing his own ears. He might have expected that kind of treatment from people outside the city or who were vehemently opposed to Chantry ways. The dwarves and the Dalish had their own beliefs, and he understood things could go into the latrine trench pretty quickly when the Chantry got over zealous and tried to convert them; if they wanted to be or not. Nothing like being hit over the head with Andraste to make a convert. No matter how hard a dwarf’s head might be, that obviously wasn’t the way to win friends. To hear that kind of outrage in the middle of a town settled by humans, with a Chantry and a reverend mother, was outright blasphemy and murder! “Don’t you know,” he snapped as he smashed the pommel of his sword into the snarling leer of one of the men, making a good number of teeth find new residence for themselves on the dirty tavern floor, “the Maker strikes people down with lightning for things like that!” He ducked as a sword whistled over his head, and he kicked the knees out of the owner, making him stumble back. “Just when I wanted to stop for lunch, too,” he mused as he tried to avoid a collision with a bystander.

[Leliana]

She had to agree with the man with the well kept, short hair in his incredulity. How does someone justify killing a Sister or a priestess of the Chantry? She knew such was near impossible to find amongst the Orlesian citizens. Val Royeux with all its slpendor and beauty was both the center of power of Orlais and the center of the Chantry in all of Thedas. One heart that beats for two bodies. It is the spring from which flows the lifeblood of culture and spirituality in Thedas. But despite it's years under Orlesian rule, it seems some Fereldens insist in living like barbarians.

With a heavy sigh, a slight shake of her head in disapproval, Leliana unsheathed her daggers and moved in across the battle. Effectively avoiding stepping into any chairs, tables, sword swings, and fleeting arrows, she moved gracefully without any hesitation. Turning around to avoid an attack, she brought her arm around herself and and unwound it with a quick fluid arch, flicking her wrist towards a far away target. A dagger flew across and embedded itself in the neck of an archer. Quickly taking another dagger hidden in her belt, she quickly parried the attack of the one closest to her, and sunk the blade up to the hilt into the man's side underneath the ribcage. Sensing an incoming attack from behind, she quickly pulled out the blade. Blood followed the curved path of her dagger as she swung around and ducked low to evade a horizontal swing of the enemy's sword; and brought the sharp edge across the back of his knee, effectively crippling him.

She quickly rose up again facing his back as his leg quivered under his weight. With a well placed sideways kick to his ribs, Leliana turned the man around back to face her. Disoriented, his bare throat was left vulnerable and exposed. Her arm arced once more, and rivulets of blood gushed forth from the man's cut open throat. Never loosing her tempo she looked around to see how the others fared.

She didn't fail to notice that indeed, these were no poor souls seeking refuge.

This post has been edited by Leliana on Jul 11 2011, 11:41 PM

[The Sten]

Sten was tired. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He was likely weaker than he should be. In his hand, just his one hand, was a flimsy sword, better suited for the trash pile than as anything near a replacement for Asala. It made him angry, this reminder of losing his soul, of his loss of control, of losing vitality in that cage, of why he was here and following these bas in the first place.

So, when their enemies attacked, he waded in without pause, his frustration shuddering out the end of his sword as it arced (too quickly; the blade was too light!) through their masses. His free hand, bulged into a fist, cracked a jaw as the shoddy blade entered another man's chest. He was not concerned with protecting himself, despite the cloth, and not armor, that cloaked his form, but all he received were minor nicks. He was a juggernaut, his massive form knocking men flat on their asses as he plowed through them.

It made him feel marginally better.

[Aedan Cousland]

If these were the kinds of men that would perform sacrilege, there was likely no convincing them of the mistake that they were making. He wasn't surprised by it, though. He had not found Mother Mallol's body, but no doubt Howe's men would have killed her like they killed that innocent child. When this woman revealed daggers, however, he realised she wasn't so helpless. That was good, though curious, as he didn't think of sisters as being ones to fight, but this one fought like a rogue.

As the fight broke out, people darted out of the way, chairs overturned as they scrambled from the sight of the fighting, the barkeep ducking behind his counter. Another reason for Aedan to hate Loghain; his men endangered the innocent folk of Ferelden. Aedan didn't know exactly how Loghain played his game, but the junior Warden would do his best to ensure innocent did not suffer. He fought the leader as his companions and Leliana took the others. The man was no match for Aedan and his swift strikes, and -- seeing his men falling to the skill of the two Wardens and their allies -- he dropped his blade and held his arms out in front of him, stooping due to an injury in his leg.

"Alright!" he pleaded. "You've won! We surrender!" His men, at this plea, stopped their fighting as well.

Aedan still held his blade at the ready. "I don't want you reporting to Loghain," he said, ready to end the man with a swift bladestroke.

[Leliana]

She knew she must look quite the sight. A Lay Sister covered in blood. Nonetheless, she knew she did what had to be done. To keep the peace and protect the poor villagers, she had to stop these ruffians.

"Alright!" he pleaded. "You've won! We surrender!" His men, at this plea, stopped their fighting as well.

Aedan still held his blade at the ready. "I don't want you reporting to Loghain," he said, ready to end the man with a swift bladestroke.

She couldn't help her gasp, much less her reaction.

"They have surrendered! They were no match for you! Let them be!"

Her face of outrage gave way to one of tiredness with a long sigh. So much death... too much. Oh Maker, how you must weep so when you look upon the world your bride died trying to save.

Leliana pleaded, silently praying to the Maker that this man knows of mercy.

"I do not wish death on anyone."

This post has been edited by Leliana on Aug 16 2011, 08:08 PM

[Aedan Cousland]

Aedan relaxed his blade; the sister was right. Pointless violence was unnecessary, and it would just paint a ruthless image upon him and Alistair. This was just a man doing his job; he may not even have seen the retreat.

The man was of no threat to him. He and his men were wounded. By the time they reported to Loghain, Lothering would be swallowed up by the Blight. Sad, but true. "Take a message to Loghain," Aedan said, not sheathing his sword, but not threatening to attack either. His eyes bore into the soldier's; he could see the fear in the man's eyes. This man did not want to die.

"Of-of course! Anything!" the soldier stammered, straightening up.

"The Grey Wardens know what really happened." It was the truth, and Loghain knew it.

"Yes! Right away!" the man said, he and his men darting out of Dane's Refuge. In his hurry, the soldier had left his greatsword lying on the ground. It was foolish to leave a weapon, like that, but good for him; he could give it to Sten. His spare longsword looked tiny enough to be a dagger in the giant's hands.

Aedan turned to the sister. "Are you alright?" he asked her. She wasn't a normal sister, was she? She'd been fighting as well, and with skill.

[Leliana]

"Take a message to Loghain,"

"Of-of course! Anything!"

"The Grey Wardens know what really happened."

"Yes! Right away!"

Leliana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. So this man, who she now suspected to be Grey Wardens just as the soldier said, was indeed honorable and merciful.

"Are you alright?"

She couldn't help but smile. How kind of him. "Well, why yes, I am. Thank you for your concern. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."Leliana spoke with a thick Orlesian accent.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was." She smiled, as she tucked a soft red curl behind her ear.

This post has been edited by Leliana on Aug 17 2011, 07:02 PM

[Carver Hawke]

Well, OK. Now this was fun. A good chance for Carver to let out some aggression as the brawl broke out started by the stupid people who decided to attack a couple of sodding Grey Wardens.

Not having enough room to maneuver properly, Carver grabbed a chair from a table nearby and swung it around, smacking heads and hardly paying attention enough to take names. He knew where his allies were, and he was seasoned enough that even an improvised weapon was enough of a deadly force in his hands.

He used the bottom of the chair to shove one of the attackers back as the redhead jumped into the fray. He could have sworn she'd been a chantry sister. He'd seen her before. But amidst the chaos she started twirling blades.

Nothing was going to surprise him after a while if things like this just kept happening. Templars armed he expected, but this? Was completely surprising.

He cracked the chair over a head as the fight ended and Aedan let the guards go.

Let them sodding go.

He sighed and threw the chair to the ground as Aedan had a discussion with the redhead. Carver could have sworn he was the only person with any Void-damned sense in this group half the time.

[Aedan Cousland]

A chair...why didn't I think of that? he thought, noticing the way that Carver had been fighting. But the fight was over now, and the place was a bit of a mess. A candle had overturned, scorching part of the bar, but it was put out before it could become anything serious, as the bartended took care of it. As the soldiers left, the people stared at the Wardens, but Aedan had now sheathed his blade, and was staring at the sister, whom he realised, now, had an Orlesian accent.

"You were a sister?" he repeated, then his eyes moved to her blades. Sisters of the Chantry did not fight, and she fought like a professional. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"