Private Character Introduction: Meredith Stannard
Aug. 24th, 2015 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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fadewalkKirkwall was falling to pieces.
Meredith sighed, safe in the privacy of her office. No one to sniff at her, tut over her, or make sly little comments about how tired she looked. Never mind that her Templars were still helping the Guards pull bodies out of collapsed Darktown hovels. Never mind that the sight of the docks going up in flames had sent two apprentices into such fits of terror that the resulting abominations had taken three Knight-Lieutenants and their respective squads of recruits to subdue.
She marked a note in her personal ledger to promote the four surviving recruits at the Chantry services tomorrow for the mages and Tranquil who had not been so lucky.
And certainly, never mind that she'd been forced to appease those melodramatic fools the Ox-Men had corralled in the Viscount's throne room, and had bestowed the title of Champion of the City on a half-dead Dog-Lord criminal, who was like as not to let the Blood Mages run rampant through the streets.
Meredith inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. Her troubles, Kirkwall's troubles would not be solved sitting and stewing in a bureaucratic nightmare. Action was needed, as always, to pull together the squabbling children that composed the City of Chains' nobility.
She pulled Certainty from it's place of honour atop her sword stand. A red shimmer seemed to run through the blade as the sun glinted over it, and she could feel it's ancient, righteous power settle into place just under her heart. A small smile curled at her lips as Meredith considered it's edge and, deeming it acceptably sharp, sheathed Certainty over her shoulder.
Elthina first, she decided. Of anyone, the Grand Cleric would understand the need to delay the appointment of a new Viscount. Time would be needed to consider all options, and with the city still reeling from the Qunari's brutal attack, the hasty appointment of some perspicuous noble could be far more dangerous than having no Viscount at all.
She had just put her hand on her door when she felt it. Gone in an instant, but she was sure it had been magic. Her Holy Smite cracked the door in it's frame just as the sound of windows shattering hit her ears, and it knocked her sideways into-
A balcony?
Certainty was in her hands, and Meredith turned slowly. A balcony indeed, coming out from a finely appointed bedroom. She couldn't hear anything, neither people nor birds nor insects. The air was dry, and when she looked up... well.
Meredith sighed, rather than curse. Whatever mage had transported her to this strange fortress probably thought themselves clever.
When she was through with them, their parents would regret being born.
Meredith sighed, safe in the privacy of her office. No one to sniff at her, tut over her, or make sly little comments about how tired she looked. Never mind that her Templars were still helping the Guards pull bodies out of collapsed Darktown hovels. Never mind that the sight of the docks going up in flames had sent two apprentices into such fits of terror that the resulting abominations had taken three Knight-Lieutenants and their respective squads of recruits to subdue.
She marked a note in her personal ledger to promote the four surviving recruits at the Chantry services tomorrow for the mages and Tranquil who had not been so lucky.
And certainly, never mind that she'd been forced to appease those melodramatic fools the Ox-Men had corralled in the Viscount's throne room, and had bestowed the title of Champion of the City on a half-dead Dog-Lord criminal, who was like as not to let the Blood Mages run rampant through the streets.
Meredith inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. Her troubles, Kirkwall's troubles would not be solved sitting and stewing in a bureaucratic nightmare. Action was needed, as always, to pull together the squabbling children that composed the City of Chains' nobility.
She pulled Certainty from it's place of honour atop her sword stand. A red shimmer seemed to run through the blade as the sun glinted over it, and she could feel it's ancient, righteous power settle into place just under her heart. A small smile curled at her lips as Meredith considered it's edge and, deeming it acceptably sharp, sheathed Certainty over her shoulder.
Elthina first, she decided. Of anyone, the Grand Cleric would understand the need to delay the appointment of a new Viscount. Time would be needed to consider all options, and with the city still reeling from the Qunari's brutal attack, the hasty appointment of some perspicuous noble could be far more dangerous than having no Viscount at all.
She had just put her hand on her door when she felt it. Gone in an instant, but she was sure it had been magic. Her Holy Smite cracked the door in it's frame just as the sound of windows shattering hit her ears, and it knocked her sideways into-
A balcony?
Certainty was in her hands, and Meredith turned slowly. A balcony indeed, coming out from a finely appointed bedroom. She couldn't hear anything, neither people nor birds nor insects. The air was dry, and when she looked up... well.
Meredith sighed, rather than curse. Whatever mage had transported her to this strange fortress probably thought themselves clever.
When she was through with them, their parents would regret being born.
