Marethari came alone, or at least she entered the Alienage alone, another thing that Ithilian felt an urge to grumble about. The Keeper could defend herself, of course, but Lowtown was a safe place for very few people, and none of those people were elves, certainly not elven mages. Surely bringing a few of the clan's hunters along could not have hurt. She was a stark contrast to Arianni's frantic lack of composure, coming down the stairs with slow, measured steps, taking in the sight for Ithilian had to assume was the first time. She paused at the base of the steps to gaze up to the heights of the vhenadahl, with an expression he couldn't place. Not sorrow but... pity? That such a beautiful thing should have to live in a place like this? If that was it, then Ithilian knew the feeling well.
The elves that recognized her for what she was stopped and gave respectful greetings, some bowing, others falling to a knee, a few children waving shyly at her. She moved elegantly to the base of the great tree, touching it for a moment with the palm of her hand. Ithilian knew not what connection her magical abilities gave her to the tree, but she did not seem rushed. He expected she would have been if the situation required extreme haste. When she was satisfied, she turned and made her way to the group standing before Arianni's house. The elven woman bowed before her Keeper briefly in greeting, before indicating that they should all head inside.
Arianni's home was as humble as any in the Alienage, the sparse interior decoration an indication that it had been hardly lived in over the past few years, as Feynriel and Arianni both had been spending most, or all, of their time among the Dalish outside the city. For the moment, Feynriel rested seemingly peacefully in the room that must have once been his. The group gathered in the living room around Marethari, awaiting her explanation.
"I apologize, Arianni. I did not wish to tell you by letter how grave your son's situation is. The magic he possesses makes him what the Tevinters called 'somniari,' a dreamer. Dreamers have the power to control the Beyond, what humans call 'the Fade.' Feynriel is the first in two ages to survive."
Ithilian kept his eyes fixed on the sleeping boy as he spoke. This was indeed the first time he'd seen Marethari since departing her clan years ago, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He had been... quite different then. At least, he liked to think so. "Controlling the Beyond? What does that entail?" He had no familiarity with magic, other than the knowledge that it was dangerous, and needed to be taught carefully to avoid needless destruction.
"Dreamers are unique for their ability to enter the Fade at will," Marethari explained, "without the aid of lyrium. In the Fade, they can shape dreams, and even affect the world beyond the Veil. Tevinter somniari used to enter the minds of sleepers, and slay them in their dreams."
"And you know how we can help him?" Arianni asked. Marethari nodded uneasily. "The elves of the Dales were experts in the somniari arts. They could even help those with no power enter the Fade. I have done my best to recreate the ritual. We will use Feynriel's childhood home as a focus to draw him back through the Veil."
Going into the Fade. Ithilian crossed his arms and sighed quietly, but made no complaint. He would certainly be willing to trust Marethari's knowledge of the magical art, moreso than anyone else, and if she had chosen to take Feynriel into her clan, then it was Ithilian's responsbility to assist him, regardless of what he might think of the boy's race. "Still looking to come along, shem?" He said rather harmlessly towards Ashton. He certainly couldn't deny that he'd prefer it if the human weren't here.
Nostarielās jaw was tight as she took in the sight of the poor child laying there. Sheād not heard of somniari before, butā¦ the consequences werenāt hard to figure out. If someone like that, someone like Feynriel, ever became possessed by a demonā¦ the Warden shuddered. It couldnāt happen. What theyād deal with in the aftermath would be something no amount of Templars in Kirkwall could fix. A demon with the ability to manipulate the Fade, to bend reality itself? No wonder they plagued him so often. His very existence was like dangling a fresh kill in front of a starving wolf.
Iām so sorry, Feynriel. I should have come sooner. But I promise you, I will save you. No matter what I have to face to do it. She was done being too late, or not strong enough. Turning from the youth to the Keeper, Nostariel nodded. āIām going. Itās been a while since Iāve walked the Fade, but itās not wholly unfamiliar.ā The last time sheād been in there while awake was her Harrowing, and it had been aptly-named, but that was still one more time than any of the others had.
A cocky smirk spread across the lone shem's face. Once inside Arianni's house, Ashton had posted up against the wall, away from the elves and the the one dressed in midnight (which he had come to recognize as Amalia, Sparrow's... Friend? Acqauintance? Anyway, he vaguely remembered the woman) and generally stayed out of their way. He was certainly the fish out of water. "Dreamwalking? We certainly live charmed lives, but you'll find I don't scare easily," He said, pushing himself off of the wall and putting himself back into the gathering proper.
Even six months away, he still remembered Nostariel's mannerisms. He could see the worry hitched in her shoulders and written plain as day on her face. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and nodded, first looking at Nostariel, and then Arianni, "We'll pull him out." His tone was sure and as optimistic as ever. Like diving into the dreams of a mage wasn't as dangerous as it sounded, and just another chore that needed done.
The Fade, was it? More smoke and mirrors, and hissra. Amalia knew well enough the power illusions could hold, however, and she did not envy the boy his torment. If this, to enter the realm where nothing was real and everything was dangerous, was the way to save him, then she would do it. She knew not the consequences of doing otherwise as well as the mages in the room would, but even she could understand that a Saarebas of such a sort possessed would be a problem. The thought of possession brought her thoughts around to Venak hol, and if anything, this solidified her resolve. She would not allow this boy to become like him, tormented unendingly by a creature who could make the impermissible seem reasonable, even enticing.
āIt would appear that we must make ready to face what he does, then,ā she pointed out flatly. She did not suppose for a moment that the matter would be as simple as tracking him down in the dream. There were bound to be such creatures about, and, illusion or not, they would not be simple to deal with. Of late, nothing had been simple at all, much as she might have desired otherwise.
Ithilian nodded as well, seeing as the others were all in agreement. "Let's have it done, then." Arianni smiled at the resolve of them all. "I told you their courage was legendary!" Marethari nodded her approval, but did not seem as heartened as the boy's mother. "Now, Arianni, please excuse us. We must prepare." Arianni jumped slightly, as if she suddenly realized she was trespassing in her own home. "Oh, of course," she said, taking her leave.
When she was beyond the range of voices, Marethari sighed. "There is more I must tell you that is not for her ears. Feynriel... he cannot become an abomination. The destruction he would cause is unimaginable. If you cannot save him from the demons, you must kill him yourself. A death in the Fade will make him as the Circle's Tranquil are. He will be no threat after."
Ithilian nodded his understanding. "If it must be done, we'll handle it. I won't allow him to endanger the Alienage." Marethari nodded approval, knowing she could count on Ithilian to do what needed to be done.
Nostariel had spared a smile for Ashton, but it quickly fell away, and what Marethari had to say thereafter wasā¦ discouraging, to say the least. āIt wonāt come to that,ā she said firmly. She would save him. She would. She must. On some level, she knew that she was making this into more than it was, that she should be thinking about the consequences. But despite herself, all she could really consider was that this was another opportunity for her to save someoneā¦ or let the worst of ends meet them. And this time, she couldnāt let herself fail.
"I wish you luck," Marethari said to the four of them. "Be strong. All will face temptation in the Fade. Now, let us begin."
The Fade felt... surprisingly natural. Perhaps that was what the ritual was meant to do. But dreams, after all, felt normal until the dreamer awoke, so maybe only afterward would Ithilian recognize the strange nature of the place he currently inhabited. Apart from being in the Fade, he did not recognize his surroundings. He had thought to see the interior of Arianni's home, only different, but this was not there, nor anywhere in the Alienage. They were surrounded by cold stone, statues of the Tevinter slaves hung from the pillars, giant bronze peons covering their faces.
It was definitely somewhere in Kirkwall, then. No other city made such a point of how the low were trod upon than Kirkwall. But this specific location must have had some significance for Feynriel, else why would they be here? "What is this place? Is this the Gallows?" He had yet to see the inside of it, though he imagined Feynriel hadnt either. Maybe it was simply what he thought the Gallows would look like.
Ashton's first instinct was to look at his hands. A light orange-greenish hue overlayed his vision, giving everything a sickly kind of look about it. What else he noticed was the faint blur surrounding everything from the edges of his hands, to the tiles at his feet. It was almost dizzying in effect, but fortunately, nature sought to give him impeccable equilibrium. He wouldn't fall down in heap because of his eyes. His next instict was to take in the visions from around them-- which was something to be expected in the nightmares of a mageling. The Gallows were unique in their oppressiveness, and made quite the metaphor for newly minted mages. He took a couple of steadying steps forward, pulling away from the party and taking in his surroundings.
"No doubt about it. These are the Gallows, I can't think of anywhere else statues cheery as these would be. Depressing that his nightmares would-- Umph!" He wasn't able to finish his sentence. A book had come from somewhere inside the dream and rammed itself into his belly, doubling him over and then passing over him unimpeded. Ashton took the moment to go to his knee to avoid getting attacked by another dream book, and to catch his breath. Once the initial wave of pain was gone he spoke again, though irritation twinged in his voices. "Dangerous flying books I do not remember. Pretty sure that the Templars would throw a fit over that," He said, retreating back to the party with sharper eyes this time around.
Amalia raised a speculative brow as the unwary man was hit in the abdomen by a flying book. She might have smiled, even, but truthfully, nothing about this place was inclining her to it. She had a strange feeling of vertigo, like this place could at any moment turn upside down and that would make as much sense as anything. Being someone quite grounded in reality and even science, she detested it on principle. Magic was not something she ever desired to be involved with, but she had committed herself to this course of action, and she would see it through to its end, no matter how bitter that turned out to be.
She would not, however, stand around and waste time in this place. The blurs at the edges of everything, the nonsensical floating furnitureā¦ all more illusion designed to pollute the mind, doubtless designed to ensnare, to placate them with muted colors and sleepy surroundings. She would not be lulled. This was not the world, this was not of the Qun. Her truth lay long and far outside such farcical fantasy. āLet us proceed. It does not matter where we are, only where the boy is.ā As good as her word, she strode forward, down the strange hallway that lay before them.
Amaliaās irritation was palpable, and any amusement that Nostariel would have felt at her friendās not-so-cordial run-in with the floating books swiftly dissolved. She supposed she could understand the Qunariās reluctance to be hereāthe Fade could beā¦ unsettling, especially for those unused to it. She supposed that Amalia must dream as every human and elf did, but that didnāt mean she dreamed quite like this. Nodding quickly, the elf scurried after the Qunariās longer strides, past several alcoves and other roomsā¦ she supposed it might be a representation of the Templar quarters, from the dĆ©cor, but it was as Amalia said: it didnāt really matter where they were, only that Feynriel was here. Her Harrowing, she remembered, had taken her to a dark tunnel. She probably should have thought about that a little more before she decided to become a Grey Warden, really.
They passed rooms asking to be explored, peculiar puzzles begging to be solved, and time-wasting endeavors various and sundry, all strangely tempting. Perhaps this part was the realm of a demon of Sloth, then. It would explain the faint sleepiness she could feel, the vague inclination to take a short break, that Feynriel could wait just a little longerā¦
Nostariel slammed the door on the thought with an exercise of willpower. There was no way she was making that boy wait any longer than he already had. The hallway, which had seemed to stretch before them, led at last out into what appeared to be a replica of the Gallows courtyard. It was empty, but as they descended, she spotted an approaching figure. Dark in color, it had the typical amorphous shape of a shade, its single glowing eye sitting where the head would be on a more human creature. It floated towards them languidly, with undulations of its dark form.
āCareful,ā she warned, āWe have company, and itās not Feynriel.ā
"Well... it's rare to see--"
āNo,ā Amalia answered the Warden tersely, eyeing the approaching creature and drawing something from her boot, āWe do not.ā She threw the knife with a lash of her hand, burying it in the demonās eye. Assuming arrows would work just as well in the Fade as they did in reality, Ithilian's bow was in his hand the moment he saw Amalia move to attack, the arrow released and thudding into the demon's chest. Another followed side-by-side Ithilian's, pinning the demon likewise in the chest, though opposite side of Amalia. Ashton lowered his bow and spared an eyebrow raising glance for the nearby elf. Apparently, they had the same idea.
Nostariel blinked, then shrugged, finishing the creature with a spike of ice. It would have been rather unimpressive to hit slightly off center mass next to these particular archers, after all. "Well... I suppose he didn't have anything good to say anyway. Perhaps we should try the stairs."
The elves that recognized her for what she was stopped and gave respectful greetings, some bowing, others falling to a knee, a few children waving shyly at her. She moved elegantly to the base of the great tree, touching it for a moment with the palm of her hand. Ithilian knew not what connection her magical abilities gave her to the tree, but she did not seem rushed. He expected she would have been if the situation required extreme haste. When she was satisfied, she turned and made her way to the group standing before Arianni's house. The elven woman bowed before her Keeper briefly in greeting, before indicating that they should all head inside.
Arianni's home was as humble as any in the Alienage, the sparse interior decoration an indication that it had been hardly lived in over the past few years, as Feynriel and Arianni both had been spending most, or all, of their time among the Dalish outside the city. For the moment, Feynriel rested seemingly peacefully in the room that must have once been his. The group gathered in the living room around Marethari, awaiting her explanation.
"I apologize, Arianni. I did not wish to tell you by letter how grave your son's situation is. The magic he possesses makes him what the Tevinters called 'somniari,' a dreamer. Dreamers have the power to control the Beyond, what humans call 'the Fade.' Feynriel is the first in two ages to survive."
Ithilian kept his eyes fixed on the sleeping boy as he spoke. This was indeed the first time he'd seen Marethari since departing her clan years ago, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He had been... quite different then. At least, he liked to think so. "Controlling the Beyond? What does that entail?" He had no familiarity with magic, other than the knowledge that it was dangerous, and needed to be taught carefully to avoid needless destruction.
"Dreamers are unique for their ability to enter the Fade at will," Marethari explained, "without the aid of lyrium. In the Fade, they can shape dreams, and even affect the world beyond the Veil. Tevinter somniari used to enter the minds of sleepers, and slay them in their dreams."
"And you know how we can help him?" Arianni asked. Marethari nodded uneasily. "The elves of the Dales were experts in the somniari arts. They could even help those with no power enter the Fade. I have done my best to recreate the ritual. We will use Feynriel's childhood home as a focus to draw him back through the Veil."
Going into the Fade. Ithilian crossed his arms and sighed quietly, but made no complaint. He would certainly be willing to trust Marethari's knowledge of the magical art, moreso than anyone else, and if she had chosen to take Feynriel into her clan, then it was Ithilian's responsbility to assist him, regardless of what he might think of the boy's race. "Still looking to come along, shem?" He said rather harmlessly towards Ashton. He certainly couldn't deny that he'd prefer it if the human weren't here.
Nostarielās jaw was tight as she took in the sight of the poor child laying there. Sheād not heard of somniari before, butā¦ the consequences werenāt hard to figure out. If someone like that, someone like Feynriel, ever became possessed by a demonā¦ the Warden shuddered. It couldnāt happen. What theyād deal with in the aftermath would be something no amount of Templars in Kirkwall could fix. A demon with the ability to manipulate the Fade, to bend reality itself? No wonder they plagued him so often. His very existence was like dangling a fresh kill in front of a starving wolf.
Iām so sorry, Feynriel. I should have come sooner. But I promise you, I will save you. No matter what I have to face to do it. She was done being too late, or not strong enough. Turning from the youth to the Keeper, Nostariel nodded. āIām going. Itās been a while since Iāve walked the Fade, but itās not wholly unfamiliar.ā The last time sheād been in there while awake was her Harrowing, and it had been aptly-named, but that was still one more time than any of the others had.
A cocky smirk spread across the lone shem's face. Once inside Arianni's house, Ashton had posted up against the wall, away from the elves and the the one dressed in midnight (which he had come to recognize as Amalia, Sparrow's... Friend? Acqauintance? Anyway, he vaguely remembered the woman) and generally stayed out of their way. He was certainly the fish out of water. "Dreamwalking? We certainly live charmed lives, but you'll find I don't scare easily," He said, pushing himself off of the wall and putting himself back into the gathering proper.
Even six months away, he still remembered Nostariel's mannerisms. He could see the worry hitched in her shoulders and written plain as day on her face. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and nodded, first looking at Nostariel, and then Arianni, "We'll pull him out." His tone was sure and as optimistic as ever. Like diving into the dreams of a mage wasn't as dangerous as it sounded, and just another chore that needed done.
The Fade, was it? More smoke and mirrors, and hissra. Amalia knew well enough the power illusions could hold, however, and she did not envy the boy his torment. If this, to enter the realm where nothing was real and everything was dangerous, was the way to save him, then she would do it. She knew not the consequences of doing otherwise as well as the mages in the room would, but even she could understand that a Saarebas of such a sort possessed would be a problem. The thought of possession brought her thoughts around to Venak hol, and if anything, this solidified her resolve. She would not allow this boy to become like him, tormented unendingly by a creature who could make the impermissible seem reasonable, even enticing.
āIt would appear that we must make ready to face what he does, then,ā she pointed out flatly. She did not suppose for a moment that the matter would be as simple as tracking him down in the dream. There were bound to be such creatures about, and, illusion or not, they would not be simple to deal with. Of late, nothing had been simple at all, much as she might have desired otherwise.
Ithilian nodded as well, seeing as the others were all in agreement. "Let's have it done, then." Arianni smiled at the resolve of them all. "I told you their courage was legendary!" Marethari nodded her approval, but did not seem as heartened as the boy's mother. "Now, Arianni, please excuse us. We must prepare." Arianni jumped slightly, as if she suddenly realized she was trespassing in her own home. "Oh, of course," she said, taking her leave.
When she was beyond the range of voices, Marethari sighed. "There is more I must tell you that is not for her ears. Feynriel... he cannot become an abomination. The destruction he would cause is unimaginable. If you cannot save him from the demons, you must kill him yourself. A death in the Fade will make him as the Circle's Tranquil are. He will be no threat after."
Ithilian nodded his understanding. "If it must be done, we'll handle it. I won't allow him to endanger the Alienage." Marethari nodded approval, knowing she could count on Ithilian to do what needed to be done.
Nostariel had spared a smile for Ashton, but it quickly fell away, and what Marethari had to say thereafter wasā¦ discouraging, to say the least. āIt wonāt come to that,ā she said firmly. She would save him. She would. She must. On some level, she knew that she was making this into more than it was, that she should be thinking about the consequences. But despite herself, all she could really consider was that this was another opportunity for her to save someoneā¦ or let the worst of ends meet them. And this time, she couldnāt let herself fail.
"I wish you luck," Marethari said to the four of them. "Be strong. All will face temptation in the Fade. Now, let us begin."
The Fade felt... surprisingly natural. Perhaps that was what the ritual was meant to do. But dreams, after all, felt normal until the dreamer awoke, so maybe only afterward would Ithilian recognize the strange nature of the place he currently inhabited. Apart from being in the Fade, he did not recognize his surroundings. He had thought to see the interior of Arianni's home, only different, but this was not there, nor anywhere in the Alienage. They were surrounded by cold stone, statues of the Tevinter slaves hung from the pillars, giant bronze peons covering their faces.
It was definitely somewhere in Kirkwall, then. No other city made such a point of how the low were trod upon than Kirkwall. But this specific location must have had some significance for Feynriel, else why would they be here? "What is this place? Is this the Gallows?" He had yet to see the inside of it, though he imagined Feynriel hadnt either. Maybe it was simply what he thought the Gallows would look like.
Ashton's first instinct was to look at his hands. A light orange-greenish hue overlayed his vision, giving everything a sickly kind of look about it. What else he noticed was the faint blur surrounding everything from the edges of his hands, to the tiles at his feet. It was almost dizzying in effect, but fortunately, nature sought to give him impeccable equilibrium. He wouldn't fall down in heap because of his eyes. His next instict was to take in the visions from around them-- which was something to be expected in the nightmares of a mageling. The Gallows were unique in their oppressiveness, and made quite the metaphor for newly minted mages. He took a couple of steadying steps forward, pulling away from the party and taking in his surroundings.
"No doubt about it. These are the Gallows, I can't think of anywhere else statues cheery as these would be. Depressing that his nightmares would-- Umph!" He wasn't able to finish his sentence. A book had come from somewhere inside the dream and rammed itself into his belly, doubling him over and then passing over him unimpeded. Ashton took the moment to go to his knee to avoid getting attacked by another dream book, and to catch his breath. Once the initial wave of pain was gone he spoke again, though irritation twinged in his voices. "Dangerous flying books I do not remember. Pretty sure that the Templars would throw a fit over that," He said, retreating back to the party with sharper eyes this time around.
Amalia raised a speculative brow as the unwary man was hit in the abdomen by a flying book. She might have smiled, even, but truthfully, nothing about this place was inclining her to it. She had a strange feeling of vertigo, like this place could at any moment turn upside down and that would make as much sense as anything. Being someone quite grounded in reality and even science, she detested it on principle. Magic was not something she ever desired to be involved with, but she had committed herself to this course of action, and she would see it through to its end, no matter how bitter that turned out to be.
She would not, however, stand around and waste time in this place. The blurs at the edges of everything, the nonsensical floating furnitureā¦ all more illusion designed to pollute the mind, doubtless designed to ensnare, to placate them with muted colors and sleepy surroundings. She would not be lulled. This was not the world, this was not of the Qun. Her truth lay long and far outside such farcical fantasy. āLet us proceed. It does not matter where we are, only where the boy is.ā As good as her word, she strode forward, down the strange hallway that lay before them.
Amaliaās irritation was palpable, and any amusement that Nostariel would have felt at her friendās not-so-cordial run-in with the floating books swiftly dissolved. She supposed she could understand the Qunariās reluctance to be hereāthe Fade could beā¦ unsettling, especially for those unused to it. She supposed that Amalia must dream as every human and elf did, but that didnāt mean she dreamed quite like this. Nodding quickly, the elf scurried after the Qunariās longer strides, past several alcoves and other roomsā¦ she supposed it might be a representation of the Templar quarters, from the dĆ©cor, but it was as Amalia said: it didnāt really matter where they were, only that Feynriel was here. Her Harrowing, she remembered, had taken her to a dark tunnel. She probably should have thought about that a little more before she decided to become a Grey Warden, really.
They passed rooms asking to be explored, peculiar puzzles begging to be solved, and time-wasting endeavors various and sundry, all strangely tempting. Perhaps this part was the realm of a demon of Sloth, then. It would explain the faint sleepiness she could feel, the vague inclination to take a short break, that Feynriel could wait just a little longerā¦
Nostariel slammed the door on the thought with an exercise of willpower. There was no way she was making that boy wait any longer than he already had. The hallway, which had seemed to stretch before them, led at last out into what appeared to be a replica of the Gallows courtyard. It was empty, but as they descended, she spotted an approaching figure. Dark in color, it had the typical amorphous shape of a shade, its single glowing eye sitting where the head would be on a more human creature. It floated towards them languidly, with undulations of its dark form.
āCareful,ā she warned, āWe have company, and itās not Feynriel.ā
"Well... it's rare to see--"
āNo,ā Amalia answered the Warden tersely, eyeing the approaching creature and drawing something from her boot, āWe do not.ā She threw the knife with a lash of her hand, burying it in the demonās eye. Assuming arrows would work just as well in the Fade as they did in reality, Ithilian's bow was in his hand the moment he saw Amalia move to attack, the arrow released and thudding into the demon's chest. Another followed side-by-side Ithilian's, pinning the demon likewise in the chest, though opposite side of Amalia. Ashton lowered his bow and spared an eyebrow raising glance for the nearby elf. Apparently, they had the same idea.
Nostariel blinked, then shrugged, finishing the creature with a spike of ice. It would have been rather unimpressive to hit slightly off center mass next to these particular archers, after all. "Well... I suppose he didn't have anything good to say anyway. Perhaps we should try the stairs."