Merchant Trouble at the Wardens Home

((Characters:

Emil Reinhardt
Roskio Cornelius
Garoll Stonebrach
Kassina


"Damned Dog Lords." To someone not of Kirkwall, it would appear that the spoken words were slandering the native Fereldens. But context means everything. For the Dog Lords that were mentioned was not meant to be a Ferelden, but rather a gang of Ferelden refugees who took up residence in Kirkwall. Or rather, used to. For the past couple of weeks, the Dog Lords have found themselves on the run, chased down by a sole pursuer with near insane determination to eliminate the gangs and even hate, anger, and despair to sustain his blades.

That man was a noble of the city-state of Kirkwall, fled from the city for slaying an Orlesian noble. He is Emil Reinhardt. And now he found himself following a group of merchants heading towards one of the oldest fortresses standing in Ferelden, Vigil's Keep. Some of the merchants have talked about the entire Arling being given to the Grey Wardens for stopping the blight.

He had heard some other talk that some of the new merchants who joined the group don't appear to be genuine. But they seem to be silenced as more merchants arrive. Emil has reason to suspect the Dog Lords are silently replacing their kinsman and planning on raiding the Vigil.

The keep was now in sight. It was impressive looking, but run down. The civil war and the blight may have done a number on it. The entered the surrounding houses before coming to the main gate. Emil came forward as a representative for the merchants to allow them in the gate. He hoped his suspicions were wrong and he wasn't delivering the Dog Lords the key to their goal.

"Hey, someone come forward. We need someone to open the gate. We have merchants eager to peddle their goods here."

One of the guards on top of the battlements looked down upon the caravan with cold grey eyes and seemed to be counting the amount of people who were there. He glanced towards the road then back onto the men and yelled down, "It is too late tonight. You will have to camp out in the keep's outskirts and come back in the morning when we open the gates."

That was hardly the words the freelancer wanted to hear. Now he'd have to tune out the merchants complaints. He could almost hear them now. Could it really inconvenience the wardens or their guards to open the gates? He looked around and saw some possible routes he could take to circumvent the gate, but he couldn't open it without alerting their guards.

He looked behind him at one of the more influential merchants, a man by the name of Marcus Richter, and his employer. "They aren't going to let us in. They want us to camp out till morning."

The gray haired man stroked his beard and looked back at the group. "Discontent has been spreading through the caravan. They've been complaining of the cold and lack of a warm bed. Being this close to the keep will only make things worse. There are also rumors going on about darkspawn in the area."

"That's troublesome. Sorry to say, but few of your guards are competent and the ones that are haven't dealt with darkspawn before, myself included. But...perhaps..." He yelled back up at the guard, "Would it be possible to provide us with a few experienced guardsmen? Morale is low and rumors of darkspawn are going about. I don't expect trouble, but it may help alleviate their concerns and help them cope."

A soft giggle drifted down from the top of one of the caravans.

"It's true that rumors can seem far scarier when viewed through the lenses of hunger and fear. Yet camping outside of our walls needn't be a chore. In truth, your temporary exile is as much for your own good as it is a symptom of my Mistress's caution. But if you wish for protection..."

The speaker slipped lightly from her perch, the dying light flickering across the white ribbons wrapped tightly around her arms. She dipped a polite curtsey to the merchants and their caretaker, her smile warm and welcoming.

"... I would be more than happy to oblige. No doubt my fellows within the Keep will be more than happy to lend a blade or two of their own once they realise just who has decided to pay us a visit. The Keep needs supplies, its inhabitants need news. No doubt you're all widely travelled enough to provide both.

"As for the worries of your men... warmth, we can provide. Beds, on the other hand, will make no difference once you're actually asleep..." She paused, cloudy eyes surveying the nearby landscape. "... set up camp here, to the side of the road. The ground is quite firm, and there's plenty of space to set up your wagons in a ring if you feel you need extra protection." A glance over her shoulder at the knight who appeared to be in charge, a questioning tilt to her head. "Shall we get started?"

The guardsmen at the gate seemed to be considering the request when the one who did not look like he was in charge disappeared. The one in charged watched at Sophia showed up and shook his head as she spoke. He'd heard tales of this one from folk who had seen her and was sure that she must be part of the warden's troop as they never said anything against her presence. In fact, the word was to not worry about the one with the ribbons.

"That's just fine." He spoke out, "Camp to the side. We will have ten men to keep guard over your camp and two to check your loads and take your names to quicken your entry in the morning."

Nightfall began squeezing daylight out of the landscape creating eerie shadows rolling across the field leading towards Vigil's Keep. Sounds became muted or quieted except the sound of hoofbeats clomping upon the soil. With even strides the animal came closer until finally one could see a large horse which could have been a draught or a war horse. On top of this horse sat a person wearing robes over it's form hiding the structure of the body and face.

The chestnut mare changed it's stride from a trot to a walk then stopped near the people at the front of the merchant's line. The hood came down to show a young woman with short, wavy auburn hair and deep blue eyes looked at the group of people with mild curiosity.

"Do I take it that the doors are closed for some reason?" She asked in a gentle voice but her eyes were not still as she wondered what was going on here. Had she come at a wrong time or was this only a slow progression into the keep? It was hard to tell except for all of the people who were grumbling; however, that could mean anything as people tended to grumble if they were not allowed something and also grumbled when they were held up and going slow.

"I was looking forward to entering the keep tonight."

Garoll was out on night patrol on the walls, idly staring out into the Amaranthine countryside. It just wasn't the same as being around the Stone, however, the surface had its own beauty to it, he supposed. As he patrolled the walls, he heard a commotion by the gate, and peered over the ledge as Sophia addressed the small group below. His blue eyes watched the group, scanning their faces. No one looked particularly familiar. "Well, if it makes you lads feel better..." he jumped over the wall, landing with bent knees to absorb the shock of earth meeting him from such a distance. He grinned beneath his bushy orange beard. "I can keep watch fer ya till mornin'. The Darkspawn won't surprise ye that way." he said. His Warden senses only enhanced his ability to detect nearby Darkspawn, so he would better be able to warn them. Not to mention his countless decades of fighting the blighters beneath the Deep Roads.

He got a better look at the faces of the visitors, and his eyes beheld a pretty girl, as well as a stout lad and a gaggle of merchants behind them. He clapped a fist to his heart in salute. "Garoll Stonebach, Grey Warden." he introduced himself, and tapped his very battered and tarnished armor displaying a worn-out Legion of the Dead symbol. "Former Legionnaire."

Now that Dartmoor was awake and Kassina knew he would be all right she had duties to attend to. He was still weak and she didn't like leaving him, but he was asleep and things couldn't wait anymore. She had been out in the forests implementing a plan of hers and Nygozy's to train some of the wolves for the benefit of the wardens.

Kassina and her three new pupils were heading back to the keep when they heard and scented the strangers. All four moved silently to the edge of the forest. When she picked up some familiar scents amoung the strangers Kassina headed for the group. Anyone watching the way she came would have seen the largest wolf, a large silver-grey female turn into a young blond elf a few steps from the forest's edge. The other wolves stayed at the forest's edge so as not to frighten the group unfamiliar with their presence.

"What doing?" She asked curiously as she approached the heavily armoured dwarf. She wasn't sure if they'd officially met yet, but she'd seen and smelled him around. Same with the human woman nearby. "Who these all?" She asked with a gesture toward the group of merchants.

Emil glanced over at Richter upon the arrival of the woman from the keep. She seemed to be more than she let on, but that did make it seem that she had experience that their own guards lacked. The guard watching the keep also promised a small detachment of men to assist as well. The expression on Richter's face was that of hesitance. "It's not like we have much of a choice," Emil commented.

"Still, I'd prefer a..." Richter started, before the dwarf had spoken up and jumped down to join them. They turned to look at him, oblivious to the new arrival from outside the keep. Richter watched the man and seemed to like what he saw. And what he said. He turned his head to Emil and nodded in approval. "I'll let everyone know."

He crossed his arms across his chest and bowed to the dwarf. "Emil Reinhardt, free lancer. . .Former nobility." He turned to the new arrival, noticing her for the first time. "Please excuse my poor manners, serah. It appears the keeps gates have been barred for the night. We were just about to set up camp. You're free to join us, if you so choose."

The guard was wondering if there was going to be trouble and hoped that the people could be wise and just accept that they could not go into the keep proper. It wasn't like there was no cover in the outer city limits. Sure the walls were not rebuilt but when it was it would be an area no one would mind staying in. Then again, the thought of darkspawn running around was a worrisome situation and he was on the wall where he was fairly safe from any outside incursion.

More people started showing up and he hoped that things would quieten down. Thankfully it had. He spoke to one of the younger guards who took off and turned to the others.

"Very well. I have sent a man to get guards and we will allow people in as soon as possible in the morning." He noticed Kassina coming up and it gave him a chill to see the young woman. She was a shape shifter and that was startling but she also was a great help so he shook off the cold sweat of fear, "Ah ... serah Kassina. We have merchants who will be staying outside the walls. Will you be able to have your brethren help with watch?"

This was a strange situation to come upon where merchants were not allowed into the keep but Roskio kept her thoughts to herself at least for now. First a dwarf came into view acting like someone who thought he was the Hero of Fereldan with all the bluster he put out, then a wolf showed up changing into a woman and made even her war horse shy a bit from her and ...

"Please excuse my poor manners, serah. It appears the keeps gates have been barred for the night. We were just about to set up camp. You're free to join us, if you so choose."

"It would be a pleasure, good sir. I thank you for your hospitality." Roskio stopped to listen to the guard then looked at the wolf woman, "I am Roskio Cornelius sent from Denerim. It is a shock to see a lady of the woods here. It is a pleasure, serah Emil and Garol. I may even have stories to trade for supper and a touch of ale if you can be parted with some. "

Garoll was appraising those gathered carefully with his intent stare. They were frustrated from being prevented from entry, that much was obvious. A few of them had introduced themselves as well. Also, the strange wolf girl had peered out of the nearby woods to see what was going on, and the old dwarf gave her a nod of greeting before turning his attention to the newcomers. "Well, near's I can figure, the gates are closed for the time being under the Warden-Commander's orders. That said, she intends to let you in soon." he reassured the mass of merchants. Then he turned his attention to Emil and Roskio. "Pleased t'meet you two. 'Serah' is it? Must be a Marcher." he grunted to Emil. He grinned beneath his beard at the offer of shelter and ale. "Music to my ears." he said before removing his flask of ale from his belt and tossing it to Roskio first. "Found that one in the cellar of the Keep. It ain't bad at all, compared to the sod we have back home in Orzammar." He observed, since human ale didnt taste like it had dirt in it.

He shouldered his battered shield while his gaze went to the woods again. Kassina was asking him something. "Eh? Oh, I got bored and decided to keep these merchants safe from Darkspawn if any are nearby. I can't sense any yet, though." he explained to the wolf girl. "They're all merchants and travellers, trying to establish trade and seek shelter in the Keep, I imagine." he shrugged. His own experience made him slightly cynical to it, as in the Legion you made do with whatever location you were in.

"Must be a Marcher? Mon cher monsieur did you just say I must be a marcher?" Emil replied, throwing a little Orlesian into the mix to try to throw off the dwarf. Whether that would work or not, he'd be best to come out and say it regardless."I may be a Marcher where you're from, but where I'm from, its the wonderful little City of Chains known as Kirkwall. I've heard your people built it." That little retaliatory jab came with the sudden sight of a blond elf appearing out of nowhere and the sight of some wolves just behind them.

He dashed behind the young elf and quickly threw a few warning knives in front of the wolves."Stay behind me elf. Don't be alarmed but I think these wolves were following you."Emil warned as he reached for the dagger on his back with his off hand as his main hand held several more throwing knives. He stared the wolves down, but they didn't seem to be threatening him back. He didn't quite know what to make of it. "S'agit les loups amical? Theses wouldn't be yours, right?"

Emil's determined look started to falter. They aren't growling back. He must be missing something. In fact...where did this elf just come from anyway? Could she have lead them here?

Kassina looks at the man who gets between her and her pack and smiles as he tries to protect them. "They mine not. Pack they are. We watch danger not come near." She says then changes into a full wolf, howls and runs off with them into the wild startling many of the merchants in that area.

Hoofs beating hard against the ground, despite the softness of the soil, as the horse went galloping towards the keep. With every leap taken forward, heavy mail hit on the beast’s sides, ringing like a thousand little bells announcing the approach of a man who clearly wasn’t concerned about discretion. Fortunately for the sturdy warhorse, its rider was a lightweight despite the armor he was wearing – a composite patchwork of lamellar, scale and plate armor over leather-reinforced clothing; a helmet covered his head and ears, bearing a mask-shaped visor that completely hid the man’s face: only three finely carved holes in the polished steel allowed openings for the eyes and the mouth. A sword and shield strapped on his back, the left hand was firmly holding the reins while the right one was clasped on the handle of a spear; behind their veil of metal, worried eyes were scanning the horizon, watching as the sun slowly crept down to his usual hideout.

Dammit, I’m going to be late!

Finally, the entrance to Vigil’s keep was in sight. There was no mistaking: the number and disposition of the towers, the surrounding area, even the repair works still going out – everything matched what he had read and been told. There were people waiting at the entrance, though, and that was definitely not good: in all likelihood the rider was too late, and the doors to the keep already closed. Still, he kept his horse on the run, hoping to slip through the gates; the beast was getting tired but the destination was growing closer. Anxious as he was to get in time, almost standing in his stirrups, his spear pointing onwards, the man looked like he was head-on charging the castle by himse- did that girl just turn into a wolf?

Suddenly the warrior’s posture fell apart, and his head lost its focus to follow the wolfshifted woman as she disappeared in the forest. The horse, feeling the tension vanish, had started slowing down, coming to pace at which the armor’s weight was more bearable.

Okay, what? A witch? Here? Nobody’s running after her?

He quickly shook himself back to reason: more than anyone else in all of Thedas, the Warden Commander liked to surround herself with “unusual people”, as he’d been told. It shouldn’t be a surprise that a shapeshifter could find refuge in her vicinity; and, after all, he himself had travelled in the company of less recommendable people.

Mph. At least now I know I’m in the right place

The horse carrying his rider eventually reached the keep’s gates at a much slower pace than the gallop it was first ordered. There, a large group, quickly identified as some merchants’ caravan, was beginning to set camp on the side of the road. Just as he had thought, then. Still, in front of the gates, detached from the rest of the crowd, some people were discussing – two men, two women, a dwarf. He didn’t immediately pay more attention to them, other than the fact that, standing as they were before the doors, they could be of some help. The man rested his spear in his right stirrup, tip pointing to the sky. He did not yet bother taking off his helmet’s visor, but when the voice came out from behind the mask, it was clear enough to be heard, sounding slightly annoyed:

“Closed, isn’t it? I knew it. I knew that shortcut was a bad idea. Dammit! Anybody knows at what time they’re going to open them up again?”

The words were aimed at no one in particular, as the mask was first turned upwards to the top of the gates, before finally settling down on the small group in front of him.

Florence Aeducan moved through the night, she liked the nights here on the surface they reminded her greatly of the darkened caverns she was so use too. It had been no more than three days since the dwarf emerged from the deep roads and still she felt like she might fall into that big open sky. There were no literal limits reminding you of the ancient traditions and those set in their ways that held their society together. At least this is the way the exiled princess had began to see it.

The rogue moved closer to the group, her weapon held at her side for safety as she heard the starts of a scramble ahead of her, in the direction she was informed the warden's keep, was in fact located. Curiosity got the best of her though, and she wondered why a large group seemed so confused over a wolf, she had not seen the transformation before.

Florence kept out of sight, watching between the caravaners (I made up a word? Lol?) and the wolf, realizing this had nothing to do with her and did not wish to over extend her own authority, seeing that she couldn't possible know what the hell was going on in front of her and thus she could not justify a blind action to herself, perhaps it was just the diplomatic neutrality she was always taught to possess.

Roskio watched what was going on with some interest and took her time to come up with answers. The first was thinking of the way the wolf lady took off and she figured that this person was not likely to return any time soon. "She did say that she and her pack were going to watch out for us so that should help the merchants to remain calm. And ... oh. No they did not say when the doors would open. Just that they would open.

The bard was curious about the way the man in the mask looked down on them, "Maybe you should come to tell tales with us around a campfire and warm up. You must be tired after that ride. Your horse is lathering from the running."

Garoll was casually stroking his beard while he matched wits with the Marcher. The boy was clearly trying to nettle Garoll with switching between an Orlesian accent and a Free Marcher one. When Emil made a curt response to the shapeshifter's presence, Garoll grunted his displeasure. "Relax. She's with us." he said and then saw yet more people coming to the Keep. One of them was a rather impatient elf, the heavy eyebrows of Garoll furrowed. "Things are a bit messy inside for the time being. The Warden-Commander is making sure it's safe before allowing visitors in. I'm here to keep things orderly." He said curtly. Garoll's hackles were getting up from all the questions from the newcomers. Should have sent someone more patient. I'm half as likely to tell these people to clear out. He thought to himself, whilst frowning behind his orange beard.

He could sense more people coming up, but paid them no mind as of yet, no one was directly approaching the gate with him and Kassina there speaking to Emil and Roskio.

His eyes must be deceiving him. That girl did not just become a wolf. Emil must have been imagining things. Either the girl, the wolves, or both, it didn't matter. None of that must have been real. He had attempted to convince himself that what just happened wasn't real, and if he was on his own, he would have succeeded. But he wasn't. Others nearby reacted to the wolves. The dwarf and woman acknowledged that the woman was there, the dwarf even believing Emil threatened the girl.

He was frozen, almost in shock and denial of what happened, and didn't even realize his weapons slipped from his fingers. He dropped to his knees, and finally snapped out of it. The impact of his shins on the daggers was sudden enough to bring him back to earth. Emil's gaze shot right to Garoll. "What in the name of Andraste was that?! Who is that girl and how did she transform like that? That can't be magic, at least not Chantry approved. And why does she see nothing wrong with that?

He had been answered. The fact that he had asked a question went almost unnoticed by himself, but now Damien heard voices, and they were answering him. His eyes strayed away from the door and landed on the first person, a rather nice looking girl with reddish hair and blue eyes, seemingly younger than him, mounting a horse the same kind as his. Oddly enough, her face looked vaguely familiar, as if someone he might have caught a glimpse of back in Denerim; but Damien, never having had a good memory for this, dismissed the feeling. She didn’t look like a warrior, and if he’d seen her in the city indeed, that would certainly mean she was no mage either. For now, she seemed as clueless about the situation as he was.

“Mph. I guess they’ll keep the doors closed for the night, at least.”

Partly because it was slightly obstructing his sight, partly out of simple formalism, Damien decided to take off his visor, gloved hands reaching behind the mask in fluid, mechanical gestures. The cover went off with a few clicks and squeaks, revealing a youthful face marked by a perpetual scowl with a pair of fine blond eyebrows furrowing over dark brown eyes. His hair and ears were still hidden under the dull steel of his helmet, but the elegance of his face and his short stature easily gave him away as an elf. Upon hearing the young woman’s second remark about… what, telling tales? Damien’s scowl worsened slightly, surprised and annoyed, as he snapped:

“What, do I look like a troubadour to you?” He then let out a short sigh, shaking his head in an attempt to cool down, the closest thing to an apology he could afford to give “But yeah, I wouldn’t mind lying down by a good fire. As for the horse, don’t worry, it’ll have plenty of time to rest: now that I’m here, I don’t plan on going back.”

Damien then laid his eyes on what appeared at first as a steel-clad mass of orange hair, adorned with a pair of eyes and a nose. Miracle of miracles, the elven warrior was meeting someone who seemed to be shorter than him – and that could only be a dwarf. The armor looked old and had obviously been worn through a lot of fighting, and bore a symbol Damien remembered seeing in some book. The dwarf himself radiated with strength and confidence. Also with the slightest hint of impatience, but he apparently worked with the Wardens, so he was for now too valuable for the elf to make any comment about it – not that he had any lectures to give on the subject either, for that matter.

“Messy?” he asked, curious at the warrior’s words, “messy how? Been attacked recently?”

Almost immediately, his attention was drawn to the third member of the little group, a young man wearing a rather fancy but otherwise impeccable outfit, hinting to a rather noble background or similar; the one detail that stood out the most to Damien, however, were his eyes, which looked as dark as all the nights the man most likely did not enjoy. Maybe that was the reason he freaked out like that at the sight of the shape-shifter. Or maybe that was simply his first time witnessing such magic in the act. To that feeling, the elven warrior could relate: no matter how much you read about it, nothing can prepare you to seeing a live display of magic, especially from a witch.
But for now, the young man seemed to focus on the dwarf, and Damien drew his attention back to him as well, waiting to see how he would react. The elf slightly raised his eyebrows, simply noting:

“That kid needs to go out more often.”