meredith_fadewalk: (Default)
Greetings. I am Knight-Commander Meredith of the Circle of Kirkwall.

From what I have read in this enchanted book, it would seem that we have all been drawn here by magic of an unknown origin. I don't imagine any of you are the type to panic, so I ask only that any mages who are unharrowed or feel themselves at risk of possession present themselves to me for their own protection.

I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade
For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

The Canticle of Trials, 1:14

Cullen )
rememberthearticle: (Default)
You folks know you've got a demon wandering around?

Couldn't tell what kind it was. I was alone and didn't want to stick around to take a closer look. But it was big and ugly as sin.

Probably don't want to go walking the place unarmed and alone until it's taken care of.
cullen_fadewalk: (Default)
Private post )

Public post
My name is Cullen, and I am the commander of the Inquisition's armies and Skyhold. I've taken inventory of the armory, the smithy, and the requisitions office and gathered all weapons and armor--including enchanted items. If you require weaponry, please see me.
hallianna: (Default)
Looks like we're stuck here together, so I say we drink.

Heavily.

If you're anywhere near the tavern tonight (the big, slanty-roofed building), come on by. I've got the boys bringing up every cask, flask, bottle, and glass we had on the Siren's Call II. I think after all the shit that's going on, everyone needs a good stiff drink.  And other things.

Do come, sweet things.  I'm in desperate need of new company after being stuck on a ship for months with men whose vocabulary consisted of single-syllabic words.  Maker.

Let's make it a party, shall we?

legacyofhousepavus: (Default)
 "Look at this book, it's probably a demon's trap. Let's write in it!" Yes, Dorian, this is one of your best ideas yet. Write in the demon journal for no other reason than to satisfy your own curiosity. You haven't learned anything.

I amend: Write to yourself in the demon journal. That's better.
varricmod: (Default)
So here's the thing.

Whatever the running theory is (Fade, demons, alternate worlds, Eluvian fuckery), for right now, we're stuck here. Someone else can take charge of all the perimeter checking and puzzle solving and magic book reading--that isn't where my skill set tends to lie.

I'm the guy you go to for a beer and a good story. And, in this case, food and a bed.

I've started taking inventory of basic provisions. More details on that later. I've also started pulling together some general necessities, like blankets and changes of clothing. I'm sorting them in the great hall--grab what you need, but please mark down what you take so we can keep an accurate count. If you need help finding a place to sleep, let me know and I'll help get you settled.

Okay, all that shit aside, I think we need to try to gather together--all of us--and start getting to know faces and names. I'm Varric Tethras--short guy, blonde hair, can't miss me. I'll be cooking a group meal for anyone who wants to come to the grand hall to get it. I'll also pull out some cards. We need some levity pretty damn fast.

The military sort can worry about keeping us safe. Me? I'll work on keeping us comfortable and sane.
keelah_selai: [Tali, looking at the camera head-on, in cool colors] (Default)
(OOC: Edited slightly to reflect Quarian culture. Click here to listen to the unedited song, sung by the lovely Julia Ecklar!)

[Tali has filled another page in the journal with mechanical diagrams, this time of the Medbay's medi-gel dispenser. A section of the page has been boxed off with softly curling vines and swirls, and contains what appears to be a quarian lullaby. It's written once in the angular script that appears to be Tali's native language, and again in Galactic Common. There is a grumpy sounding note about "losing something in translation" at the very bottom.]

I've tried to be so careful,
I've not spoken of that day.
That the sky’s sweet winds seduced me
And swayed us from our way.

We've walked only midst the star's bright shine
And banished all thought of our father’s times. 
We can't go home, must forever fly
Mid the stars that are blocked by a ship’s confines

Our world at night, like sirens,
Tries to call me from my sleep.
And I long to shove the shutter back
And listen while she speaks.

Can you tell me if our world is well,
And sing me of that which you cannot tell,
And weep for the travelers who left their place,
To be trapped for all time out in lonely space.

But our world, she sings too strongly,
Of the home I might never know.
Though we chose to live our lives out here,
I want so to choose to go.

So I can't see the light of the flames of spaces,
Or I’d wander the night with my tears on my face.
I’m sorry we roamed from our garden walls
To be lost, mute and cold, out in space’s halls.

I wish on the stars I chose not to see,
Praying no more will be lost like we.

(OOC: If anyone is interested in seeing the Quarian script version, have a link!)
cole_fadewalk: (Default)
[ Rather than begin by writing, Cole seems to have drawn a bunch of tiny flowers in his journal: Andraste's Grace. ]
varricmod: (Default)
Well...shit.

If this is Corypheus's way of saying he's back in business, Bianca and I have got some words all locked and loaded for him.

And most of those words end in you Maker-taken asshole.

Anyone else here? Curly? Inquisitor?

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