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TDM #6
It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:
As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.
"Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
And you most certainly do.
Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.
WIDOWS KISS A velvety red-black wine. One sip fills you with irresistible charm.
FOOL'S ECLIPSE A deep, glossy black drink with a golden swirl that never fully mixes in. Every sip tastes slightly different: sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, sometimes oddly salty for no reason at all. After one drink, the drinker's speech becomes hilariously jumbled, replacing random words with completely unrelated ones.
BLURBERRY FIZZ A deep blue liquid that constantly fizzess with tiny silver bubbles. When poured, the bubbles briefly form random shapes: sometimes a cat, sometimes a shoe, sometimes... a tiny screaming face (but only for a second). The drinker will also hiccup tiny, harmless floating bubbles for five minutes.
VEIL OF MIDNIGHTA crystal-clear vodka cocktail with shifting black, shadowy swirls that never settle. Causes the drinker's shadow to detach and do whatever it wants for five minutes.
As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:
You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:
The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.
The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white-capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray-hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.
The last portal is adorned with broken shells and torn seaweed, the glow of blue around it flickering like a dying flame. Beyond it, you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, its once-grand spiraling towers cracked and crumbling in places, encrusted with coral and debris from the destruction that came before. The streets are bustling, but an underlying tension lingers. Outside the bubble, merfolk swim, but some still bear the scars of battle, and the deep waters beyond are darker than they should be, as though something still lurks in the abyss. A sanctuary in the sea, one that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid in rebuilding what was lost. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you, the remnants of a catastrophe yet fully understood that bids you explore it.
Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.
The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.
If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.
But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.
If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. However, signs of destruction mar the once-thriving marketplace. Some windows shattered, stalls bearing scorch marks, and a few buildings reduced to rubble. The scent of cooking food still lingers in the air, but so too does the acrid smell of smoldering wood. Watchful guards keep an even keener eye out for pickpockets and opportunists in the wake of the recent chaos. Citizens go about their day, some with a newfound wariness in their eyes.
From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring ships transport people and goods, though repairs are ongoing in some areas. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers, where efforts to rebuild have begun in earnest. The Hearthstill, the main residential area, bears the scars of collapsed roofs and damaged homes, with families working together to restore what was lost. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means, has been hit the hardest, and aid workers scramble to provide relief to the displaced.
Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.
In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.
If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble-covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you, buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, but some are marred by cracks, with scaffolding and patches where reconstruction has begun. The backdrop outside the dome is a deep blue, but lingering shadows in the depths hint at what once emerged from below. People with gills on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin move with a determined purpose, their curiosity toward newcomers now mixed with cautious wariness. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?
The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.
If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.
In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.
In Salt Spire, the bubbled underwater city, the heart of the celebration takes place. The bioluminescent glow of deep-sea creatures lights the festivities, their soft illumination casting a peaceful glow on the gathering, even through the haze of darkness beyond. Tables are laden with treasures from all three cities—gifts of wood and stone carvings from Grey Ward, textiles and plants from Salt Spire, and intricate glass orbs from Heaven’s Bow. It’s a moment of unity, as everyone, native and visitor alike, celebrates their survival and the hope Vesper now represents.
Above the sea, in Grey Ward, a quieter but equally heartfelt celebration takes place. The city, normally known for its steady hands at rebuilding, hosts a gathering of its people and the Visitors who have come through. Lanterns hang from the buildings, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Music from the land flows through the air; melodies of hope, of survival, of community. The people of Grey Ward offer their craftsmanship, beautiful wood carvings, practical tools, and heirlooms passed down through generations. Their gratitude runs deep, though they know the fight ahead will be long.
Heaven’s Bow, distant and high above the rest, holds its own subdued gathering. The people here are quieter in their celebration, reserved in their gratitude. Though they were not as directly involved in the summoning of Vesper, their support is evident in the delicate glass orbs they offer, each infused with starlight—a symbol of their unwavering faith. Their contribution may be less physical, but their presence and belief in the unity of Caldera is no less important.
In Salt Spire, the people raise their glasses high. "To those who fought to protect us," they toast, their voices rising in harmony. The people of Grey Ward join, their songs and music a reminder of the resilience of the land. Even Heaven’s Bow contributes with their delicate, glimmering orbs. The Visitors, new and old, are welcomed with open arms, gifted with tokens of appreciation. No one is excluded, for their presence, newly arrived or not, is valued deeply.
"I was born of your sacrifices," Vesper says, his gaze sweeping over the Visitors. "I will not forget what you’ve given me. But our fight is not over. The darkness that birthed me still lingers, and Triton’s influence has not been erased. We must prepare. I will stand with you, when the time comes. And together, we will face what threatens this world."
The mood shifts slightly, a quiet understanding passing between the people. The celebration, while still joyful, carries the undercurrent of an impending storm. Triton’s return is inevitable, and though Vesper has emerged as a beacon of hope, his power is still growing. He will need the strength of those who summoned him, those who sacrificed for him, to confront the coming challenge.
As the night wears on and the festivities continue, the people of Caldera remain united in their shared resolve. The threat of Triton still hangs over them, but for now, they take this moment to honor the Visitors—those who sacrificed so much, and those who have only just joined the fight—and to strengthen the bonds that will be vital in the days to come.
Vesper welcomes conversation, yet it does not come naturally to him. His words are brief, precise—always tethered to his purpose, the reason for his existence. And therein lies his quiet concern: that something is missing. He yearns to connect, especially with the Visitors—the ones who gave of themselves so that he could become what he is now. A new star god. The light meant to stand against Triton’s encroaching darkness.
He speaks with certainty: he is the good that Triton once was, the lost brilliance of a god now twisted by corruption. But he does not wish to be merely a reflection of what once existed. He wants to grow beyond the shadow of the past, to forge an identity that is wholly his own. And so he seeks help—not only in understanding what he is but in becoming something more.
"Find memories," he says. "And craft new ones with me."
Memories of Triton’s past linger in the world, echoes trapped in places of significance. These must be sought out, for they hold the key to understanding Vesper’s origins.
◾MEMORY ONE: THE DESCENT:
Near Salt Spire, a Violet Crystal Shard hums softly in an ancient ruin. When taken, it pulls the mind into a vision.◾MEMORY TWO: THEM:
Triton falls, a streak of violet fire tearing through the sky to Caldera, a barren wasteland below. He crashes, sending stardust into the air, his form radiant with light, deep indigo skin marked with glowing lines, and eyes burning violet. He touches the earth, rivers of light spread, and the world begins to take shape.
But he is not alone. Aella, the sky, sweeps through the heavens, breathing life into the winds. Cordelia, the sea, shapes the waters and the depths. Terra, the land, molds the earth, forming mountains and valleys. And in the shadows, another lingers, a distant vision, hard to define, their presence felt but not fully understood. Together, they craft the new world.
"There will be law where there is chaos," Triton says. "Light where there is shadow. Justice where there is none."
The vision fades as the Violet Crystal Shard is given to Vesper. He holds it, feeling its pulse.
"He did not come to rule," Vesper murmurs, "He came to protect."
The shard dims, its purpose fulfilled. Yet its memory lingers, a quiet ember.
"Caldera was formless," Vesper whispers, "And they shaped it into something just."
He lifts his gaze, something stirring within him—understanding or perhaps the weight of his path ahead.
In a cave deep within Ignacia's Cradle, a faint Violet Crystal Shard pulses softly. When a Visitor holds it, they are pulled into a distant memory—one of doubt and rebellion.◾MEMORY THREE: THE EXILE:
The world is young, full of light and order. Triton stands with his companions—Aella, Cordelia, and Terra—shaping Caldera. But in the shadows, something stirs.
A figure, hard to define, stands apart. Their form flickers between light and darkness, their eyes filled with uncertainty.
"This world was meant for something more," they whisper, voice tinged with frustration. "Why does it feel so controlled?"
Triton watches them, sorrow in his eyes, but they step further into the shadows, their form dissolving, lost to doubt.
"Maybe it should burn," they murmur. "Maybe it should fall apart and rise again—wild."
The Violet Crystal Shard pulses as the figure vanishes into the darkness, leaving only the echo of Triton’s sorrow: "They were never meant to follow the order. They were always meant to fall into the shadows."
The memory fades, the figure still a mystery, their true nature lost in the shadows of the past.
On the broken cliffsides near Grey Ward, a Violet Crystal Shard lies half-buried in the earth, its faint glow drawing the Visitor in. Upon touching it, a vision fills their mind—Triton stands, his form radiant with celestial light, yet his expression is one of deep sorrow and rage.◾MEMORY FOUR: THE LAST STAND:
A shadowed figure, barely discernible, is ripped from the land. The figure’s volcanic home follows, both hurtling into the sky. The moon is born from their exile, the caldera formed in the center of the realm all that remains.
"You cannot do this," Triton’s voice shakes with grief. "They were meant to shape, not to be cast away."
The figure fades into the distance, and Triton’s grief transforms into fury. "They were not yours to remove," he says, the words heavy with loss.
As the vision fades, Vesper holds the shard, feeling the surge of sorrow deep within. He breathes in slowly, understanding the weight of Triton’s loss.
"I was not meant to be a reflection," Vesper murmurs. The echo of Triton’s voice lingers: "I should have protected them."
The memory settles into Vesper’s heart, shaping his resolve. The past will not bind him; he must grow beyond it.
At the foot of Cordelia's tower, the final Violet Crystal Shard rests upon the weathered steps. It lies half-hidden, barely visible to the eye, as if waiting for the right moment to be found. Only now, as the Visitors approach, does it reveal itself.
Triton stands before Cordelia, his violet glow dimming as his power fades. The air between them crackles with tension, and his voice trembles with disbelief:
"You would strike me down, Cordelia?"
Cordelia stands tall, her sorrow evident but her resolve unshaken. "You leave me no choice."
With a final, desperate lunge, Triton reaches for the stars—the same stars he had once shaped—but they remain silent, indifferent. Cordelia’s blade pierces his chest, the sound of shattering power filling the air as Triton’s body cracks into violet shards, scattering across the land.
His final words echo through the vision, filled with regret: "Was I wrong?"
The vision fades, and Vesper stands on the steps, his hand still holding the shard. The weight of Triton’s question lingers, heavy in the silence.
Vesper’s breath catches, the sorrow of the moment settling deep within him. "He was more than just a fallen god," he whispers, his gaze searching. "He was a part of this world—his doubt, his pain. And it shapes me now."
The shard pulses one last time, and Vesper knows this memory is not just a reflection of the past—it is a part of his own journey, one that will lead him to forge his own path.
When all shards are given to Vesper, he stands in silence, the weight of Triton’s past pressing upon him. Then, he speaks:
"I was born from a fractured god. But I am not him. The past shapes me, but it does not define me. So I ask you—what will I become?"
Visitors may influence his choice:
◾Option 1: Embody Triton’s Lost Virtues
Vesper embraces Triton’s virtues of justice, wisdom, and light, becoming a beacon of hope for Caldera. This choice grants him the strength of a god, with a deep understanding of the weight of justice. He will fight against the corruption Triton once embodied, drawing on the wisdom of the past to prevent its recurrence. "By standing for what is just, I will be ready to fight against what Triton has become."
Option 2: Forge a New Path
Vesper rejects the past, creating his own identity free from Triton’s shadow. This choice grants him freedom and strength, allowing him to reinvent himself as a new kind of star god. He will fight against Triton’s darkness, symbolizing the triumph of free will over legacy, and gaining the power to face both external and internal battles.Option 3: Balance Light and Shadow
"I will not be a shadow of what came before. I will become something stronger."
Vesper accepts both the brilliance and downfall of Triton, walking the path of balance. This choice gives him the strength to wield both light and shadow, allowing him to understand Triton’s corruption and fight it from within. Vesper’s knowledge of both sides of existence will make him resilient in his battle against Triton’s darkness.
"I will fight with the strength of both light and shadow, knowing each part of me is necessary to stand against the darkness."
Once the Visitors make their choice, Vesper will stand in silence, the decision settling within him. He is no longer just the fractured god he once was, but something whole—ready for the battle ahead. Triton’s darkness still threatens Caldera, but Vesper is stronger, more prepared, and more determined.
"Thank you," he will say. "With your help, I’ve chosen my path. When the time comes to face Triton, I will bring the light he lost—or create something new to stop his darkness."
[With Vesper's awakening, shadow abilities have been unlocked for the Undine faction]
Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.
Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.
Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.
For OOC questions, please direct themhere.
To Choose Vesper's Path, please state which option you would like to choose here. prospective players are encouraged to weigh in!
The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.
The following pages have been updated:
◾Additional rewards have been added under the Undine section of the rewards page.
◾Vesper has been added to the NPC page.
Have fun, Visitors!
Kion 'Rook' Aldwir | DA: Veilguard | Sylph
While it wasn't the first tavern Kion had been in, it was the first one he'd been to here. And he was discovering that even though he'd only known his new companions for a comparatively short time... it was weird. Being alone felt strange, beyond the normal novelty of it, he was used to the others talking around him, being able to turn to any one of them either to chat or to joke around.
Not that it really showed- the place was busy enough that the energy of it bolstered him no matter how weary he was- the elf had been dearly looking forward to a nice long bath and then bed before he'd found himself here, and that sort of thing didn't lend itself to encouraging a nap just yet.
Oh well. A little time off his feet with a drink would keep him going for at least a little longer! Enough time to sort out a place to get cleaned up and sleep.
Not that any of this really showed in him, Kion peering at the drink he'd been given curiously, sniffing it before shrugging and taking a nice long pull. Only when he sensed someone lingering near him for longer than it took to wander past did he turn his attention to them with a cheerful smile, and a gesture towards the nearest free chair. "If you need a spot, this one's open."
((ooc: If you've got a request/fun idea for a specific drink, let me know or I'll likely default to veil of midnight for my dorky boy))
II. Solemn Celebrations
While he'd chosen to align himself with Heaven's Bow, something about the reserved air to the celebrations was too quiet for him in the moment. Not that he had the werewithal at the moment to be overly wild, but he just needed to be surrounded by more energetic people. Block out how tired he was, any rogue concerns or worries that had chased him hear from home. And underwater as it was? Admittedly Salt Spire was right out.
Luckily Grey Ward, grounded and stable as it came across, filled their streets with joyous people, bright lanterns, exuberant music. It settled Kion somewhat to walk the streets, though he hadn't expected the approach of anyone to try and offer him gifts. He was uncertain about accepting them, as he'd had nothing to do with their hard-earned victory- and he could tell it was hard-won and tenuous by the shadows still lingering behind smiles and laughter- but they were insistent, and it wasn't anything that seemed overly dear to give away. So rather than spoil the mood of the occasion, he decided to just accept the gifts with gratitude.
"Wonder if folk'll ever come together like this without some world-shaking disaster to prompt it..." Did he know there was someone within earshot paying attention while he spoke? Nope, he was more talking to the little carved wooden bird in his hands than anything.
III. Questboard
"Those ones there are straight out..." Kion muttered consideringly as he was looking over the options on the board. Did he have his axe? Nope. But he still had his armor, and despite being barely over five feet, he was still pretty strong. He felt fairly confident he could manage a good number of the quests on offer.
At least if they didn't involve swimming, that was. Whatever the case, he cast a cheery smile towards someone else who was on their own and perusing the quests. "Feel like teaming up on something? Seems like a good way to get this done, yeah?"
(Feel free to suggest a quest! This orange cat of an elf is definitely down to get mired in a shitshow with a new buddy!)
IV. Wildcard
((ooc: Got another idea? Want to hash something out? Feel free to drop a reply, or to dm/discord me so we can plot something! I'm atomic_kiwi on discord and plurk.))
Questboard (Tiny Troubles quest?)
Sounds good!
A shift to offer a hand to shake, smiling. "I'm Kion, by the by. Or Rook, whichever you prefer."
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(Then again, Bel has them, and he's a drow, so who's going to stop him? But we digress.)
"Barcus," he says. "Barcus Wroot. Well met, saer--wait, Rook?" He has heard this name before, but never seen the person to whom it belongs. There's a momentary pause and a faint frown. "...have you punched anyone since you got here?"
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The recognition? Not expected. He was starting to get a Reputation back home, one he wasn't quite sure what to make of... but this wasn't home. So that had him stopping briefly to blink, head tilting slightly like that might make things make more sense. "...No? I mean I punched someone back home, but that was an unfortunate life or death situation."
He didn't like it, but it had been that or continue arguing while the whole goddamn keep was torn down around their ears.
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Arrival
Thank you for the offer but that chair would not hold Gadriel's weight. Not much of this place is rated for him, but he'd gotten used to it. So he dropped to one knee instead. "Have you already drunk anything?" He looked concerned.
(ooc: it's-a me, Drift-mun wearing my other dorky paladin)
Re: Arrival
Yeah this guy probably can't make use of the chairs. But his concerned question had Kion blinking before looking down at the drink in his hand, mostly clear other than the swirl of dark liquid tracing around the glass.
"Not much, but yeah?" Oops?
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"Important question: What are your thoughts on sorcery?" Because, new person, you have just been sorceried.
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"I mean so long as it's not blood magic then we're fine?"
He hasn't yet noticed that his shadow has, the second it was able, absolutely taken the fuck off like a bat out of hell.
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As someone who cannot eat dairy I find this cheese talk hilarious
XD
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Or, he was yet another of Solas' old friends, and he'd turn out to be an ancient elf thousands of years old, who would let her chat away with him, assuming he was a random Dalish man. Like certain Slow Arrows.
The chances were low, but once bitten twice shy. Still, when he turns to her, she realizes that she's been contemplating the possibilities a little too long, and, embarrassed, quickly smiles warmly at the man. Dalish, ancient elf, or whatever else he could be, courtesy was still called for.
"Aneth ara, I would be glad to take it, if you would have me. I am glad to meet another of the People." Even if she had allowed her vallaslin to be removed, she was still Dalish, after all -- and it was always comforting to be around others.
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"Ahn?" More a noise of surprise than anything but the accent of it was definitely familiar as his gaze skipped over her briefly. No vallaslin... but maybe she'd never taken the markings. Some simply couldn't bear the pain of it silently. Or maybe a city elf who'd sought out the Dalish. Whatever the case, Kion's expression split to a sunny smile, immediately reaching to pat the back of the chair a bit more emphatically. "Didn't expect to find any of us specifically here. Sit, please? You been here long?"
Kion wasn't the most deeply adherent Dalish, but like her, he was absolutely soothed by the idea that he wasn't on his own here.
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But Kion seems nice enough. Beleth accepts the seat with a grateful nod, returning his smile. He hasn't questioned her, for which she's thankful -- though Davrin and Bellara had never asked, either. Which, after Sera, she certainly won't be complaining about. Speaking of which --
"There are a few other Dalish here, and many elves besides, though most are from a variety of worlds. It is fascinating, to be honest... some worlds feature nothing but the shemlen, some feature races that I've never heard of, but know elves. It's been fun, getting to hear about them all. And sometimes... a little envious." None of the other elves were forced to live as nomads, lest they be enslaved, shoved into filthy slums, or murdered at the whims of the shemlen. They were equal.
But things were changing in Thedas. And the other elves here have proven it is possible.
"I've been here since the start of the year. Not as long as some of the others... the Visitors started arriving in Solace of last year, from what I've gathered. It doesn't feel like a long time, but I've already grown used to it." The place her and Solas are living feels like a home. The people she's met feel like friends. As much as she dislikes being held captive... it could be worse.
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Well, he hadn't noticed a single shemlen giving him any sort of look that he might get back home, especially for the 'affront' of being in their cities. It was refreshing, and the idea that others of the People could enjoy that sort of air to a place, see what all the work they were doing back home was towards.
Whatever the case, he settles back in his chair with his drink when his new companion sits, listening to what she was telling him. Unable to help a fission of concern at how long she'd been here. And given he had no face for Wicked Grace, it was immediately clear in the concerned draw of brows that had ears twitching ever so slightly downward with the tension. There wasn't anything immediately that he and his friends were doing yet, but the threat looming meant that alongside all of their planning and preparing and searching, problems could arise at any moment. He couldn't just be gone. He just hoped that it not being here meant the dagger was still where he'd left it in the Lighthouse.
"That's a long time though... I know it's not like we can tell from here but people surely have noticed?" A shake of his head as he caught up with himself, a smile replacing concern though a bit apologetic and sheepish. "But here I am, rude as a drunk nug. Mamae would pinch my ear if she heard."
A hand offered to the other elf. "I'm Kion Aldwir. Or Rook, whichever you prefer. Fancy a drink before I unload all my questions on you?"
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Solemn Celebrations
This one was new; an elf, and a Dalish one, or at least one who was wearing Vallaslin, it may be wiser to say. Felassan was proof enough that time and mortality were no barrier here, and this young man could have been any of a thousand elves Solas had known, or none of them at all.
He himself has very little of gifts bestowed upon the Visitors: a ribbon tied on one wrist, with an embroidered series of moon-phases worked into it, a small wooden lantern on his belt, a wooden pendant hung on a leather thong, hand-carved, of a black wolf with eyes painted red... and a glowing orb cradled in one palm, his concession to the ceremonies at hand. He looks at Kion with mild interest, but no recognition, straight-backed and proud-eyed in his cream-colored tunic and leather trews, free hand folded formally behind his back, and feet as bare as any proper elvhen might wish.
There he is. The Dread Wolf. Fen'Harel himself. Solas.
Re: Solemn Celebrations
He didn't even need to look up to know who was speaking to him, and he was torn as he always was in speaking to him. Always wary because their goals were so very similar, but they clashed over methods. Kion always went into the strange dreamscape aware that while he wanted so badly to be able to reach Solas, to find that common ground, that the god was making his own plans in turn. Their conversations had been civil at least, almost friendly if one ignored the stakes and the looming threats.
But this... Kion doubted this was part of his plan. If he'd managed to slip free of the Fade prison, surely he wouldn't be wasting time chatting, not when Kion didn't have the dagger. Since he was here, he clearly wanted... what? The younger elf had no clue, but he hoped it was a good sign.
It felt longer than it was to Kion, between realization and looking up from the figurine in his hand. Wide eyes meeting the other's gaze, and yet there was no familiarity there. Interest no, but none of the exasperation he'd become familiar with. His own armor, that rich blue green with golds shot through, barefoot as he was more comfortable with, made him feel almost overdressed compared to the simplicity of the other's outfit. And it was... strange too, to be so close, without the chasm yawning between them.
"Mn... I know you're right," Kion mused tentatively. "Sorrow makes joy all the sweeter in the long run, but I suppose I'm a bit of a soft touch. Hate seeing people suffer like that."
He couldn't stop staring. Solas looked so normal. If Kion didn't know who he was, he wouldn't even think twice seeing the man in a crowd. Did he not remember? Did this place mess with his memories? Was that even possible? (The idea of someone playing with another's memories had a spark of anger lighting in him, on Solas' behalf or no.)
Should he just come out and ask if Solas was alright?
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Of her tenacity and strength, at least.
"Compassionate," He notes, without judgement, "You are new-come to this Caldera, are you not?"
He would, he thinks, have taken note of a new face amongst The People, were he to have been here before. But he isn't omniscient, despite his best attempts. It is not impossible for something to have passed beneath his notice. But this man: did he recognize Solas somehow? Was it possible that even the common man could identify at a glance the face of the Dread Wolf? And here he had gone to such pains to dress without pretension, and go unnoticed.
"I am Solas, if there are to be introductions. And you are?"
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And yet...
How could he ask for Solas to trust him to come up with alternatives if he couldn't offer the same in turn?
"Are you alright, Solas?" It wasn't just practical reasons that had him blurting that out rather than answering the question, clear enough in the worry painting his features almost as plainly as inked lines. "It's... me, Kion Aldwir. Rook."
"I know we don't exactly see eye-to-eye, but..." A tilt of his head. "What do you last remember?"
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questboard (and hello!)
He's both unarmed and unarmored, himself, having ditched plate and pauldrons quite a long time ago, and any propensity for military formality along with them. He's holding a twig in his mouth like a toothpick, one little spring leaf still attached to the end. His posture slouches crooked and his head cocks to one side as he glances over the postings.
"Ghosts, fish, wind, demonic bats... I have already asked about this aetherbloom. Would you consider yourself stealthy?"
The bright colors on his armor might suggest no, but what does Felassan know.
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"Definitely no fish, I'm about useless in the water," A considering hum as he skimmed the posting about the bloom. He was wearing armor to be sure, but the noisier parts? Easy enough to shed, leaving leather and fabric. Between that and bare feet, he should be fine. "It's not entirely unlike nicking eggs from nests really from what I'm seeing. I'm no rogue or assassin, but I've done that plenty growing up."
Not that he was thrilled with the idea of heights, but honestly? He'd be fine.
"Kion Aldwir, by the by." He offers a hand. "Got a name yourself, friend?"
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He has opinions. Not necessarily good ones. Don't mind him.
"Felassan," he says, shaking the offered hand. "Aetherbloom it is. If we die, it's probably not permanent." He signs his name to the paper and steps aside to let Kion do the same. "We'll have a walk and a climb," he adds, "so we have plenty of time for you to tell me about yourself, Kion Aldwir."
His story could just be raised in the woods by a loving clan while nothing of much note happened, then brought directly here, but given the Visitors Felassan has met so far, that seems unlikely.
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Not that he was nervous. He wasn't some nihilist, but there was a practical streak under his cheery demeanor. Dying happened. Especially if you went poking around taking risks, so you did what you could to stack the odds in your favor. But the idea of it not sticking... was that some sort of necromancy thing? Or something else this place did? Better to find out now, before he goes flinging himself into trouble more complex than flower theft.
And yes, 'swapping' definitely means he expects to hear something about you too, Felassan.
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Solemn Celebrations (also hi!)
"Maybe not quite to this degree," he says after a moment. "But they can come together in different ways. Tragedy is always shows someone's true nature, after all."
Heyooo
Well, Kion's wandered enough to be aware that there's more races and kinds of people here than he'd ever find back home. The blue skin of the man who replied though was striking.
"It just seems a shame that it almost seems to require a tragedy sometimes," A wry smile as he shrugs lightly. "I mean I'm glad they are, don't get me wrong, I just don't like seeing others hurting, you know?"
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He lets that sit for another moment, then shrugs a little. "At least, that's what I think."
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"I like your outlook on it better."
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