Chapter 2 The Meeting
The Meeting
Recruiting her closest allies, the party ventured out with Morrigan. Meeting with resistance, from the seemingly always present bounty hunters and challengers that wish to make a name for themselves, by defeating the Inquisitions leader. The party keeps their fight sharp and focused. It was odd not face fade rifts anymore. The world seemed eerie without the ghastly battles. Had they truly become used to a world of demon fighting?
"Boss, please tell me we are going to fight something big." Iron Bull expressing his excitement of another mission with the Inquisitor Lavellan.
"I'm just more curious of why we are following the witch?" Dorian always places his pieces in the game.
"Dorian, tell me, what exactly do you do to keep the look of perfection while in battle?" Morrigan reminds him of her cunning plays.
"Never mind, Inquisitor. Carry on." The finely groomed mage replies in self-adoration.
"So, Morrigan where exactly are we going?"
"Honestly, I do not know, precisely. But, I do know we will know it, when we get there." Morrigan openly admits.
"Wait, so you don't know either?" Dorian sighs. "I just love our little adventures sprung out of nowhere, to nowhere."
"You see, the person or spirit that we are trying to find is not known to be real, persay. Where we must go is a place no one – until recently – has even known existed." A playful avoidance, Morrigan steadfast in her refusal to give any information further.
"So we are chasing a myth? Right when you think there is no sense someone comes along and shows you there is even less." Iron Bull weights in.
"Morrigan, can you tell me more of what we are attempting to meet." Lavellan containing the conversation, says with intent.
"As we know it? It is a tale spun to keep the fearful away, though I feel a more fitting explanation awaits, and this we shall see."
"And how do we know if we find it?"
"It finds us, Inquisitor." Morrigan refuses any further discussion.
Trekking up a mountain path, the land opens to a vast valley. It's imbued with emerald trees, filling the valley like a green sea. Nothing particular stands out beyond the vast forest. Nothing that would draw anyone's interest in any matter.
"Ah, a forest. I should have guessed." Dorian mumbles disclosing the assumption he had secretly made.
As they walk down a narrow path, the open green lands begin to cover in shade and boast the emerald trees that fill this forest. Entering this dense land, they are overcome with a heavy sensation.
"This place feels wrong." Lavellan breathes out, knowing this disturbing magic.
"They know we are here." Cole whispers, meaning to warn his friends.
"They protect this forest well." Morrigan sets the mood.
Traveling down the narrow and sparsely worn path, rocks and roots make the terrain unbalanced. The forest tops send shining green light down to meet them, as the wild forest boasts its untouched splendor. For a time, they seem absorbed in this forest, surrounded indefinitely. Glimmers of golden armor seen sparsely along the path, raise awareness. Within moments however, the trees part ways and reveal a small fortress; slight in the valley of large snow-covered mountains. A splendid glow – falling from the peaks – sends light down on the greenery, covering the village. Like a spotlight, lit just for the party of friends. The stone village, worn with age, still standing in beauty among the surrounding forest. Figures stand, carved in stone, tower over the village. Guardians, elven hunters with wolves at their sides.
"I can't believe a place like this still stands. Morrigan, how did you find this place?"
"I find many places in my travels, inquisitor."
"I've never seen so many elves in one place before." The Inquisitors eyes scouring the area she had pictured from stories of legend. As if transported in time, the group walks toward the forgotten village. During this age better-off, forgotten, than suffer the fate met by many other clans, left wondering the lands. These elves were different, protecting the area, perhaps for ages; they survived, unknown.
Morrigan leads the way to her contact, a small elven mage. Dark hair rests long, pulled from his face, his light eyes search over the faces before him; his own free of vallaslin. He introduces himself as, Tirith and leads them to meet with the village Keeper. Inside the fortress, surrounded by the painted images of old elven kin, maybe they are the ancestors or gods? Left to loose interpretation, as this culture has remained lost, to most. Woven baskets still boasting the plants of the roots they protect. Magic still weaving its song. It's alive, it's not a tomb filled with worn and broken down remains, or a book written in someone else's hand. This is all real, but how can it be?
"Andaran atish'an Da'len, it is an honor to have you among us, I am Keeper Beren." A sense of pride fills the white-haired elf's eyes who stands adorned in the ancient elven robes of a mage. Though his voice holds age, his face remains youthful and strong.
"Ma serannas Hahren, I am happy to meet you. It is surprising to see that a place resembling Elvhenan, exists."
"The adahlen and durgen hold well to our arla; however, we are losing what protects us, da'len. The humans have found us as you have and we struggle to endure, suledin. It is good that you have shown up as you did. We may need your halani da'len."
"Whatever you need, Hahren Beren, all you need is to ask."
"Bandits in our woods threaten our survival. Our hunters are disappearing. The magic that held us has become infected, leaving us vulnerable. Any help you can provide would do us much good."
"I will do all that I can."
"I thank you. Dareth shiral."
Clearly they were aware of the parties plan to visit as the elvhen do not look fondly on visitors. Upon exiting, they are met by a worried elf, she asks for help in finding a hunter who has not returned home. "We must show our support, Inquisitor. They hold much knowledge of your people."
The group explores the area killing bandits, clearing caves. As they do, they begin to find traces of information. Leads, pointing them in the form of shaky handwritten notes.
"It seems there is a mage encampment in these woods near. I wonder if that is what is bringing in the bandits?" Lavellan reads one of these notes as she stands from the body of a warrior who had just met her blades.
"We must look into this." Morrigan encourages.
Continuing up the narrow dirt path, they meet with a steep bank, overgrown with foliage. Stone steps still holding their place in the incline. A clearing at the top gives way to a smooth stone surface. Elven carvings line the stone floor that leads to an entrance, a large opening of an unusual cave. The mage's have indeed secured a well-established encampment. They will put up a heavy fight, so the group must advance with caution. Lavellan cloaks herself in shadow, signaling Morrigan to cast a barrier. Cole turns invisible as he enters his spirit form. Dorian begins to twist the fabrics of the fade, preparing to cast his spell on the enemy. Siphoning its life force to aid them in battle, when it falls to Lavellan's blades.
"The air feels dark here."
"Indeed." The simple reply.
"We should stay mindful."
The party undivided on the darkness they feel in the air proceeds closer, cautiously. Met with the realization the entrance to this cave is covered in Lyrium. The blue crystals shine brightly against the reflecting snow. It's as if the mages had covered the cave entrance and inner walls with lyrium.
"Now that is a lot of lyrium" Iron Bull states cautiously.
"What in all Thedas do they need that for?" Dorian expresses concern, knowing the power drawn from that much lyrium.
"It is not safe here. They are cold… wills twisting, voices screaming. No, it's not the way! They don't listen…I don't like it here." Cole twisting his ever moving hands, completes the fears.
The opening – guarded by a few mages and their guards – marks the beginning of the battle. The fight is challenging, but the party overcomes, without rousing the attention of those inside. Looking for any clues or items pointing to answers, they find the missing hunter, his body lies like a mummified corpse, drained dry. There is obvious dark magic used here, blood magic. Piles of bodies – drained dry – line the interior walls of the cave. The group makes its way into the cave meeting with more force, the rogue elf stabs her blades into the first victim, covering her in his blood. Dorian raises a wall of fire to divide the room. Iron Bull is steadily beating down the largest guard with his massive hammer. Cole, stunning his foe, now cuts him with a quickness unseen. Even with Morrigan's help, the group struggles through each section as they make their way through the cave, filled with powerful mage's. Small breaks between fights and random caches allows the party to rest, clean off, and wrap up wounds before meeting the next. This also permits time for the group to look around and take notice of the cave. It resembles a ruin, but covered in the lyrium, making it difficult to see much else. Walking up to the rear of this lyrium enveloped ruin, a large stairway, wide and steep meets their eyes. The steps glisten with a stone never seen before. It sparkles and shines, radiating warmth.
"Inquisitor, I'd be careful. I do not think that is normal stone, nor steps. There is a magic here. The whispers tell me – Tel garas solasan, Dirthara ma."
"Yes, Inquisitor, maybe you should go first." Dorian says, always hiding his worry in jest.
Lavellan takes a wary first step, the stone lights up golden sending the magic up into the air. A trembling wave echoes throughout, stirring whatever lay within.
"Well, she didn't blow up, that's good."
"Dorian!"
"Well, it's true."
"Someone is calling to me, it hurts. I must get to it." Cole says as he is pulled at hard now. Making their way up the long stairs, a door meets their gaze, like the ones seen in Solasan Temple. The door already holds the keystones, yet is shut tight.
"Curious." Morrigan says enjoying the irony.
"Well, Morrigan, does the well whisper anything to you now?"
"Yes, knock."
"Knock? "Lavellan turns her face in the mannerism of question, checking to see if it was jest.
Morrigan nods, in the suspicious way she does.
Lavellan looks the door over and uses the handle of her dagger against the stone door.
A voice echoes with might, "So you dare to come here. To knock on my very door. Very well." The door opens to a scene none prepared for. Above, in a cage, a bright golden light shining hard and full. Small spirits are falling, like rain, around this large entrapped sphere. Below is a powerful mage, grimly corrupted. Darkness in his eyes, set behind his human form, shows his sickness.
"What is going on here?" Lavellan shouts out.
"Pretender, you have come too late! With the power I am about to gain, you will never stop me from reaching the fade. I will walk among her kind and they will give me the secrets I wish for or perish."
"Ar tu na'lin emma mi. This ends now!" The battle cry answered by her companions.
The fight does not come with ease, even for the party whose skills dominate the otherworldly. Magic spells constantly striking the mage, blades slicing, twisting, and stabbing; everyone at their limit, facing death. As a moment allows pause, Iron Bull knocks the Mage into a wall, crumbling behind the dazed mage, revealing a lever. Abruptly in a hushed moment, the mage becomes trapped in a glowing light, frozen but not by ice.
"Inquisitor, get to the lever" Morrigan shouts!
Pulling down on the heavy lever, the cage opens, releasing the light above. The light comes down hard on the trapped mage. Shaking the entire cave and swallowing the corrupted, spirit and all. For a moment the light sits in stillness, before becoming absorbed into a slight female frame. The elf's long glowing hair turns from golden to white. Her skin, to a brilliant pale, and her eyes no longer shine gold, but return to a deep dark gray. A grey that stir the feelings deep inside those who look into them.
"Ir tel'him … then! Thank you". Her voice like a sweet whisper.
She stands, small, silk robes trimmed with gold wrap around her tiny frame, in the manner of royalty, letting just a slight view of her golden armor underneath shine through. Her features show a youthful beauty as her ears expose her race, pointing out of her white hair.
"Holy Shit! It's a…woman…or elf…or…person." Bull states no longer able to contain his thought.
"She is happier now." Coles face reflects the delight he has in this moment.
"Are you, a spirit?" Trying to grab at some clarity, Lavellan's word's lost to the moment.
"This is the one we came for." Morrigan's astonishment is clear as her face holds the look of adoration for what now stands before them all.
"Yes, Keeper of Sorrow, I am glad you heard my calls." Meek and simple, the elf breaks her silence.
"Indeed." Morrigan still looking on as if she just met the Maker. These moments always please and excite Morrigan, her joy is ill kept, like a child given a gift.
"Compassion, I am sorry they blocked you, come here to me." Cole walks over to this mysterious elf, without fear. Her hand placed on his face, she moves to place her forehead on his, barely reaching from her tiptoes, Cole bends to meet her. A soft light leaves her and lightens his total being.
"There, it will be harder for them to control or block you." She whispers in a calming motion.
"I… I can hear. More… I can feel, like it's real with form. I can move it!" Coles says with a tone of excitement! "Thank you." A heartfelt appreciation expressed.
"You have been weak, holding this world as you do, but we can exist and still be strong here."
"So you are a spirit like Cole?" Lavellan asks again, grasping for an explanation.
"My existence is not so easily defined, Lethallan. We are all spirits and also with form. So, I am more like you, than I am a spirit. I hold the blood of ages, I hold the song our people once sung. I can exist physically in this world for as long as needed; as well soften my physical and join with my people in spirit. I am here and there, above and below." Her voice like a song you can't stop listening to, soothing and strong.
"And so tiny, too." Bull says with endearment.
"We are meeting an ancient being and you focus on is how tiny she is?" Groaning over his giant friends comment. Dorian rarely mutes his point on any topic.
"I am called, Muin." She takes a bow in delicate grace. Returning to her warrior disposition she makes sensible demands in a surprisingly unexpected command. "I must leave this place, my presence once protected, now puts the people in danger. I fear more may come."
"We would be honored to have you join us, Muin."
Before the group departs, Muin accompanies the group in releasing the control of the wards and barriers set around the valley, repowering them with her light. As she casts the last one, the village disappears into the forest, against the mountain. "Our people are safe again." Her ancient voice like a blessing.
(Muin joins your group. Her talents include, a mixture of dual blade, stealth, and magic healer/destruction with light. She does not need a staff for her ability, but can switch between staff and blade or cast in one hand and blade in the other.)