Dragon Age: Origins [IC]

[Sahleb]

The armorsmith had really outdone himself. It was done to your specifications; light, leaving you with a full range of motion, yet it held the heavy, articulated look appropriate for a noblewoman of house Aeducan. It was also comfortable enough to be worn through the hourlong banquet being held in your honor.

As you tightened the final straps, Gorim entered your personal suite, setting down a chest he'd been carrying and leaning non-chalantly against the wall. He's a good-looking young man, broadshouldered, auburn hair hanging down his back in a casual ponytail, leaving a few strands to fall across his face. Gorim kept his beard neat, hiding what's probably a chiseled jaw under a series of small braids. "Greetings my lady. You're dressed and ready. Excellent." His voice is deep and scratchy. He looks you over, eyes lingering half a second. "I couldn't find the armor's matching dagger, but I scrounged up a rather fancy shortsword." He nods at the blade laid out on your table, besides the stand where you'd found your armor waiting for you.

[critfumbles]

Datha stretched a gauntleted hand towards the short sword. As she unsheathed it, a glimmer of candlelight shone off its engraved blade. You've always had good tastes. "If you're disappointed, you should have dropped by earlier," she teased, before sighing. "Why I should be armored for a feast full of whining deshyrs... Well, better safe than sorry."

As she buckled the short sword to her belt, Dasha smiled warmly to Gorim. "After all, I have such a dashing warrior by my side. Is there anything else that we should attend to before the banquet? I wouldn't want to keep my father waiting."

[Sahleb]

He returns your smile. "You could never disappoint me, my lady. Heh. As for the armor, the thought of you charging naked at the darkspawn holds a certain appeal." He winks. "The king does expect you to make an appearence at the feast, but there's no rush. The deshyrs will spend hours, boring your farther with petitions and petty grievances."

"Luckily, there are other excitements. As part of the celebrations, permits have been auctioned off to members of the merchant caste who wish to sell their wares in the Diamond Quarter." He says, voice flat. "Lord Harrowmont has also opened up the provings for young warriors wishing to test their mettle before tomorrow's battle. Rumor has it that Harrowmont hopes you'll be swept off your feet if some well-placed young nobleman wins the proving in your honor."

[critfumbles]

"Getting swept off my feet'd sure be a welcome change," Datha mused as she approached the door, a portal between the privacy of her room and a world of backstabbing intrigue and outward appearances. "If you're worried, maybe you should do something about it."

Datha turned around, her eyes level with Gorim's and her hand hestitating slightly before him. "Once I take up command, I do not know when I will be back. If I will be back. That is why... that is why we should enjoy Orzammar today as if it was our last. Together."

As she brushed her braids aside, Datha resolved to put her worries to the side as well. "Let's go, you sod!" Datha tugged on Gorim's plates. "Time's a-rusting!"

[Sahleb]

His eyes go a little unfocused for a moment. "Enjoy our... Yeah. We really should get going. Besides, we know how that other one goes. I get undressed, and then one of your brothers or cousins shows up and trashes me. I'll take my chances outside the palace walls, thank you. Maybe after the feast. Thoughts for later, I suppose."

He leads out the door, and down the wide hallway. Braziers at regular intervals shed light on displayed artwork, but you rely on darkvision to find your way for the most part. As you pass your brother Bhelen's quarters, the door pops open a little, candlelight flooding from inside. You catch a glimpse of auburn hair and a dress, and a low and throathy "Hi -" that turns into a squeaky "Oh!", before whoever opened it flee into the depths of the suite, door drifting open behind her.

[critfumbles]

"So, bookish Bhelen is already at that age, huh?" A mischievous grin spread across Datha's face. She turned and whispered to Gorim, "I think his special friend deserves an old Aeducan welcome."

Datha steeled herself to be as stern as she could without laughing, and burst through the open doors to Bhelen's quarters.

"You dare leave my presence without introducing yourself? I could see you beheaded for this!"

[Sahleb]

The girl girls stumbles, and comes rushing back towards the door, blushing furiously clasping her hands together in front her and looking down at the floor. She speaks in a hurry. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were prince Bhelen coming down the ha-" She interrupts herself, and takes a deep breath "Please forgive me, my lady."

On closer inspection, it was clear that she had the blocky facial tattoo denoting one of the casteless sitting just above her right cheekbone. It had been warped a bit as she grew, the black ink was fade to almost brown, and the edges had clearly been smoothed over with makeup. It could almost pass as a birthmark, and probably would to someone who did not know what it meant.

Gorim plays along, fixing the brunette with an icy stare. "Shall I call the royal guard?"

[critfumbles]

"No, Gorim, but I suppose she may take her leave of me," Datha said, feigning haughtiness. She's not as funny as Trian or other servants, in any case. "Once she introduces herself. You already know of house Aeducan — and perhaps Bhelen more intimately than the rest — and I'd hate for you to leave the wrong impression."

Sense Motive (hunch, "You'll never be good enough for my brother!"): 1d20+6

Unless something else happens, Datha has no further questions. Once the woman names herself, Datha will wait for her to leave, then leave the palace with Gorim soonafter.

[Sahleb]

"If it pleases you, I am Rica of the Casteless, my lady. By your leave." She bows very deeply, before retreating.

Gorim sighs. "I don't mind the girls, but your brother could at least make sure they keep to his quarters. It could be a risk, letting her have the run of the hallways like that."

You pass through the private hallways, past the door to Trian's suite, a few closed doors you know to hold empty suites, and the portal to the king's private rooms. There's also a discrete panel in the stonework connecting to the servants' tunnels, letting them clean the area and refill the lights without passing through the living areas. As with the servants' entrances to your and your family's private rooms, you know that a guard is stationed on the other side at all times, avoiding infiltration through those routes.

You emerge into the public section of the palace; officials, your uncles, aunts, miscellaneous cousins and messengers stride through the lavish entrance hall with purpose, headed for offices and halls deeper in the complex. From there, the internal affairs of house Aeducan is managed. Indeed, there are more than a few other nobles present - the very upper crust of Orzammar, arrived early to the feast in the banquet hall, hoping to put a variety of issues to your farthers attention.

The royal guards stand attention as you pass out into the Diamond Quarter. The interconnected terraces overlook the central chamber of Orzammar, an immense hollowed out mountain, with a lake of molten rock in the middle. The Diamond Quarter is placed at optimum distance from the magma, benefitting from the light without suffering oppressive heat, as is the case on the lower tiers in the Merchant's Quarter below, the areas open to all. Carefully engineered aqueducts and falls leads additional rivers of lava through the district, providing additional light.

On another day, you would find the terraces serene, nobles followed by guardsmen striding through the streets with purpose, or strolling along engaged in pleasant conversation or insidious schemes, but keeping their voices low nonetheless. You might run across a few servants or messengers, hurrying along unobtrusively at the edge of the street.

Today, however, the Diamond Quarter is teeming with dwarves. Noblemen of all stripes and their retinue makes for a veritable throng of people, and while the merchants who have graciously allowed to set up their stands do not quite dare to cry out announcements of their wares as they might on the terraces below, the air is nonetheless thick with delighted shouts and general jubilation.

"There's those merchants I told you about milady. They've been allowed to display their wares up here." Gorim's posture has straightened, and his voice has grown stilted and formal as he takes up position just behind you.

Just outside the steps of the palace, you come across what appears to be quite the shakedown. A young man in armor befitting a relatively poor or lesser nobleman has cornered a middle-aged dwarf wearing the robes of a Shaper of memories. He's loudly protesting his innocence, but the nobleman appears thoroughly unimpressed.

"Surely that's unreasonable - it's recorded in the memories, there's nothing I can do!"

That's Bruntin Vollney. The house Vollney is as minor as dwarven noble houses can get. Still, they have a seat on the Assembly, and your farther once said something about their Deshyr being an easily purchased vote, useful on many occasions.
That's Gertek. He's a scholar, and aside from shaping the Memories, he spends his time writing editorials and summations of history. His work is quite well acclaimed, and noble houses such as Melni, and even Aeducan enjoy his writings. He recently published a book on Paragon Aeducan, and both your farther and brother, Bhelen, publically acclaimed it.

[critfumbles]

Now this is more like it, Datha thought as she looked on the bustling Diamond Quarter. The few escapades she had to the Merchant's Quarter, dragging hapless Gorim along, ended up with a lot of scolding and not as much adventure as she had hoped. She resolved to find at least something exotic — from the surface, perhaps? — when she checked her belt pouch. It jingled a lot less than she had hoped.

Noticeably disappointed, she was about to leave the palace grounds when the shakedown caught her eyes.

The audacity, Datha thought. She had no patience for dwarves who thought they could bully their way around life... felt too much like Trian. As her hand listed towards her sword's hilt, Datha approached the pair.

"Atrast vala," Datha said, turning to face the Shaper. She intended for her every action, her every word to be a slight against the noble — they usually couldn't stand this sort of thing. "Your presence on this momentous day brings honor to me, and to house Aeducan. Have you come to enjoy the festivities, or do you have business to which you must attend?"

Sorry I don't know your name, you poor sod, Datha thought to herself. Let's get you out of here first, then we'll talk.

[Sahleb]

The nobleman glares at you with undiluted hate in his eyes, as you lead the scholar away. You're apparently hitting a sore spot here. The shaper keeps blessedly silent until you're out of earshot. That's about the same time as you notice Gorim having stayed behind, presumably to have a word with whoever the bully was.

"Thank you, lady Aeducan. That was a bit of a tight spot."

[critfumbles]

"I'll say," replies Datha, tutting. "Do Shapers make a habit of angering nobles, now?"

She pauses to glance back at Gorim. "I must admit, I have not been as much a patron of the Shaperate as I ought to be, nor do I make a habit of acquainting myself with some upstart deshyr or his scion. But I could help diffuse this situation, honored...?"

Datha looks back at the shaper, waiting for him to introduce himself, or at leat explain the situation further.

Diplomacy: [roll0]

[Sahleb]

The shaper looks a little taken aback. "You do me great honor. I am Shaper Gertek, entirely at your service, lady Aeducan. I'm the author of A History of Aeducan: Paragon, King, Peacemaker." he looks at you advance, judging your reaction. "No? Your farther and younger brother both favoured my book with a public recommendation. It was quite the honor, really."

"Alas. I am quite in your debt. Young lord Meino fancied that I had spread lies about his house, hoping to bring injury to their honor and demanding that I declare my latest work slander, which is of course preposterous! I write only what is recorded in the Memories." he stands up straighter, and puffs his chest out a little "Publicly decrying my work would be tantamount to tampering with the Memories themselves."

His voice drops lower. "Truly, there is not much dishonor I could visit on house Meino that they have not brought to themselves already. Their founder ascended to Paragonhood by the smallest margin of votes in recorded history. He passed through just a single vote in majority, and even then, controversy surrounded at least three of the votes cast. Further, three of the lesser deshyrs abstained, on account of their extremely recent assassination. The young lord took exception to me bringing this forward into the eyes of the public, but the truth is a matter of record; the Memories do not bend to politics."

There's a certain fervor to his voice common to those who work for a cause. It is quite uncommon to find amongst the nobility.

[critfumbles]

"Your dedication to the truth is commendable, Shaper Gertek," Datha says, also lowering her voice. "But the truth alone does not dissuade the sharpened blade."

"I could turn around and tell lord Meino how ignorant he is being, but pointing out the obvious will not calm his anger or settle his grudge — and for all his faults, Meino remains a valued member of the Assembly," Datha notes. "I remain sympathetic, but neither house Aeducan nor the public can help you if a young warrior acts rashly. Lord Meino may be unreasonable, but I may be able to persuade him to stop this stupidity. You must try to understand his point of view. We all aspire to become as great as the Paragons of our respective houses. If his hero is brought under scrutiny, wouldn't lord Meino be upset? I would be, were our circumstances different."

Unless the Shaper objects, Datha returns to Gorim and Meino. She will attempt to listen in on their conversation as she walks towards them.

"Gorim! I was wondering what is taking you so long... ah! Lord Meino!" She feigns surprise. "What a coincidence. I thought I saw you as I was walking past — you should have spoken up!"

[Sahleb]

"Paragon Aeducan has done nothing that would bring scorn on your house, my lady." The Shaper seems to debate for a breath, then decides. "Well, as you have helped me, allow me to offer you some advice in return. You offered that young man great insult today, and I'm sure your second has not helped matters. Historically, it has been prudent to remove a small threat before it grows into a larger one. By your leave, my lady."

You catch the tail end of the conversation as you return to Gorim and Lord Meino. Gorim's voice is low and dangerous, and you have to strain your ears to make out the words. "... And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Meino, on the other hand, is loud. "I will not stand for some uppity warrior caste speak to me so. Scurry back to your master, cur!"

"Atrast Vala, lady Aeducan. I would not presume to enroach on your activities on this day. You bring great honor to your house," He spits through gritted teeth, eyes narrow with anger. Most noblemen have the ability to put on a polite mask and speak pleasantries to their bitter enemies. Perhaps Lord Meino was not thaught this art, or perhaps he is merely off balance. He is young, after all, almost of age with you.