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Lia Tael

"If you want a place to call home in this world, you have to fight for it."

0 · 1,283 views · located in Orlais

a character in “The Canticle of Fate: Silver Lion Stanza”, as played by AugustArria

Description





Taking one step forward, two steps back
Still I believe there's a thread through the thorns
And I believe that somewhere it's warm
And I believe that it's ever bright beyond this black.





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Full Name: Lia Tael Mordallis
Titles/Nicknames: Scout-Captain, or Lieutenant, if ranks need to be employed.
Age: 25 (9:45)
Race: Elf
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Class: Rogue
Specialization: Ranger

Hair Color: Buttery blonde.
Eye Color: Light blue.
Height: 5'7"
Build: Svelte.

Appearance: At first glance, Lia would most likely be pegged as a former member of the Dalish. She has the lean, lithe build of the graceful forest huntress, armed with a whitewood bow decorated with markings of Andruil, goddess of the hunt. She even has the vallaslin to match, a minimalistic design curving under her eyes and down her cheeks to represent the bow and string, a straight line cutting vertically over her lips, feathering out on her chin. Whether Lia is actually Dalish could be a matter of some debate, but her history would tell you she is not.

Beauty is of course a subjective thing, but Lia's history would also suggest that she has it, something she is distinctly aware of. Despite the almost constant outdoors nature of her work in recent years, her skin is still remarkably pale, a result of her habits of dress, which include full coverage and often a cloak and hood. Her hair is a soft and buttery blonde color, straight and long enough to reach the middle of her back. She'll leave it loose when not working, and ties it up in simple fashions when she is. It isn't something she puts a great deal of effort into, as she feels she has no one but herself to please with her appearance, aside from a somewhat subconscious desire to blend in.

Her hands and feet are callused and toughened from years of physical work, and while her limited role in fighting has left the rest of her mostly free of scars and other damage, she still has some to speak of. The line cutting through her left eyebrow is the most obvious of these.

She could embody that sort of ideal elven grace and attractiveness if she chose to, but she very much does not. Her typical clothes are intentionally plain and not especially flattering, and she really doesn't have anything to speak of that could be considered fancy or extravagant. Her race has always excluded her from needing those, and in the rare event she does, there are few situations where her Argent Lions uniform would not be appropriate. She'll wear gear that identifies her with the company while on duty, but prefers to return to her own clothes when she's on her own time. It's something that has helped her integrate into the Val Royeaux Alienage, as it gives her a much less noticeable appearance, something she believes has the effect of making her more approachable.

And she is approachable, at least among her own kind, be they Lucien's mercenaries or just city elves in general. Her confidence is the quiet kind, one that shows more in the certainty of her motions than in her words. While she may not be entirely comfortable in her own skin sometimes, she is comfortable with her abilities. It's a subtle thing that separates her from most city elves, something that can make them naturally look to her when in need of help, or a friend.

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ā€œIf it's not too much trouble... turn your eyes elsewhere.ā€

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Personality: Lia's demeanors have vast differences that are enacted in part by where she is, and who she is surrounded by. Among friends, the Argent Lions, the Inquisition, the elves of any city, or even the Emperor and Empress of Orlais, she is carefree, quick to smile and joke and tease and dance and all the things that someone relaxed and vibrant would do. But many don't fall into these groups, and when it's them that surround her, Lia can be wary, quiet, even tense. It used to be an uneasiness that extended into nervousness and timidity, but Lia's time as a mercenary shored up her foundations of confidence into a firm base. That doesn't change the fact that she is cautious around strangers, or that she comes to trust the average shem very slowly.

She's not one for attention. The eyes of crowds of strangers on her make Lia deeply uncomfortable, and even among her own kind she'd rather someone else be front and center. She's humble, and won't be caught bragging about her deeds, as she'd much rather point out the magnitude of things that others accomplish. It's enough for her to have helped someone, and to know that. That person knows, and will spread it if they so choose.

There are some things she picked up in Val Royeaux that none of her mentors felt the need to teach, like how to lie and how to steal, how to pick pockets and occasionally, how to scare someone. She'd rather not use these skills and live honestly, but she'd also rather help people, and sometimes that requires doing what they cannot. Her father did it for her, when she was younger. Laws didn't get in his way, or in Amalia's way. In this, she follows their lead.

There are some things Lia cannot be, at least not yet. She is not sophisticated, she is not especially well-mannered, and though she knows how to lie, she does not have a silver tongue. Her lies divert attention, make her as invisible as most of the elves in Val Royeaux. They don't change anyone's beliefs, and they don't open doors. She has lockpicks for that sort of thing.

Her view on life is cynical in some ways, and yet hopeful in others. Her experiences have taught her to distrust until she has evidence to do otherwise, not the contrary. She firmly believes that many people are inherently evil, and that no amount of chances given will change them. She has seen some of the worst things humanity has to offer, and some of the best. When confronted with that wickedness she loathes, she responds in kind, and seeks to destroy it. Meets hate with hate of her own, but tries always to do so in response. She is not always successful.

Like many elves, Lia is still split between the desire to love, and the need to fear. Fear, and all the prudent things that stem from it have kept her alive, but they have also whittled away at her. A worthwhile sacrifice, she feels, for being able to do what she does.


ā€œTo be who I am, and to help who I want...
I have to accept some ugly truths. I have to do some ugly things.
But every time I see the look on someone's face, when they thought no one would be there for them...
Every time, it reminds me that it's all worth it.ā€





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āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [5/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [9/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [6/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [7/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [8/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [0/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [8/10]

āŽ§ ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ā–‡ āŽ­ [4/10]


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Equipment: The shortbow is Lia's weapon of choice, and hers is carved from whitewood, making it light, flexible, durable, and not lacking for strength. Her Argent Lion training required her to become familiar with a wide range of weapons, and though she is proficient with many, she doesn't excel at all of them, and larger weapons in particular have proven less than ideal for her to use. In melee she prefers smaller tools, specifically Parshaara, the fire-enchanted dragonbone knife crafted by Amalia originally as a gift to her father, which has since been passed on down to Lia. Her choice of armor and gear depends on the time of day and the situation. She'll wear the Argent Lion maroon when working in the open and with others, but if she's on her own or not working in an official capacity she'll change to her personal gear. That means darker colors and better ability to conceal her identity. Whatever the case, Lia wears a minimum of actual armor, mostly just leather, and never enough to hamper her stealth.

Fighting Style/Training: Lia's many mentors molded her into a capable combatant who finds herself most effective when positioned at range, with room to maneuver and flank. She's no sniper with the bow, preferring to take quick shots and be on the move, close enough to skirmish and harass. Her resourcefulness was only enhanced by her years of training and experience, and she will always look to make the most of her surroundings, as well as find and exploit enemy weaknesses. She has a sharp eye, and a mind both quick and cunning in combat.

She won't hesitate to engage in close combat if an opening presents itself, and she has the skill and aggressiveness to deal a significant amount of damage in a short span, especially if her target doesn't see her coming. If she can't immediately defeat an enemy up close, however, she'll look to disengage, to get out of arm's reach before the enemy can return any attacks. She lacks both the armor and the endurance to survive prolonged melee fights, so she has to rely on her speed to retreat, or make good use of her allies to keep herself covered. While she has some years of experience, most of it was alongside large groups, and acting as support for the army and the Inquisition Irregulars. Lia's very much still a developing fighter when it comes to small-group combat, with no backup to speak of.

ā€œNever hesitate. Take every advantage you're given.
Then find the one they're hiding and take that too.ā€

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Place of Birth: Kirkwall, Free Marches
Social Status/Rank: City elf, mercenary lieutenant, and Inquisition captain. Often in that order.

History: Lia was born with only one name, of the three she would eventually collect. 9:20 Dragon was the last year of Perrin Threnhold's service as Viscount of Kirkwall, as he would go on to attempt throwing out the Templar Order the following year, to disastrous results. Marlowe Dumar may have been made the new Viscount, but it was a widely known fact that the City of Chains belonged to Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard after that.

A very young elven girl could hardly be concerned with city politics, though. It was hard times for the elves of the city's Alienage. Sickness was often rampant, and it was one of these that claimed her mother, so early in Lia's life that she has almost no memory of her. Her father Elren was a humble merchant, barely able to support the pair of them. The Blight struck nearby Ferelden when Lia was ten, spurring huge amounts of refugees across the Waking Sea to seek a new home in Kirkwall. Darktown filled with the desperate, crime was rampant in Lowtown, and the elves were all but forgotten, left to fend for themselves.

In 9:31, Lia was the latest in a string of young elven girls to be kidnapped, by a troubled magistrate's son named Kelder Vanard. Though the other girls were killed, Lia was rescued in time by an unlikely pair: the Dalish hunter Ithilian Tael, one of those many Fereldan refugees, and a human woman called Amalia, who at the time belonged to the Qun. It was Ithilian at first that Lia was in awe of, a personification of elven power and strength she'd never seen before.

In the years that followed, her father was claimed by a similar wave of sickness, leaving Lia yet another orphan to be looked after by the community. It was to Ithilian she gravitated, and in time she became his ward, more by her choice than his. In time she learned of his losses, how his wife and daughter had fallen to the Blight. Getting him to accept her was not easy, but Lia proved relentless, and before long she had made herself known to many of Ithilian's acquaintances, including Amalia, the Warden Nostariel Turtega, and Ashton Riviera, a shemlen hunter and shop owner that first came to offer her work outside the Alienage, tending to his shop while he was away.

At 15, Lia was on her way back to the Alienage from her work when she was assaulted by a group of men, including some city guardsmen. In self defense, Lia was able to kill one of them, a "crime" which earned her the Gallows, which for most elves either meant indefinite imprisonment, or death. Ithilian and Ashton spared her from either, but in the chaos that followed, Lia and a group of other young elves felt threatened enough to seek the Qunari for defense when the Alienage was pressured by templars.

It was a traumatic event that led Lia to seek a path that would make her strong, self-sufficient. Mentored by the likes of Amalia, Nostariel, and Ithilian, she came to join Lucien Drakon's fledgling Argent Lions the moment she was of age, and put her skills in scouting and hunting to immediate use. The work was everything she'd dreamed of, and it made her a great many new friends, not to mention greater skill and confidence in herself. After Sophia Dumar reclaimed her position as Viscountess from Meredith, Lia was among the Lions to accompany Lucien to Orlais, and Val Royeaux.

There she became a Lieutenant, first and foremost among the company's scouts. She continued to grow into her own during the time in Val Royeaux, but it was at Haven she began her greatest journey. After the disastrous Conclave Lia came to join the newly formed Inquisition on her Commander's orders. Given her skillset and potential, it wasn't long before she was made Captain of their scouts, ranging ahead of the Inquisitors, the Irregulars, and the army itself to provide information and support.

In this way she traveled all over the south of Thedas, participating in battles and fighting back demons and doing things she'd never dreamed of as a child. When she was reunited with Ithilian and Amalia, the former officially took her as his daughter, offering her his family and clan names, though the clan he belonged to had all but perished. When he lost his arm hunting the Venatori leader Marcus Alesius, a man that had been a nightmare for Amalia since Lia was a child, Lia took his place in the hunt. She was no match for Marcus in combat, but she was able to do just enough to enable Amalia to finish the kill, and free them of a seemingly endless circle of violence.

With the Inquisition defeating Corypheus and achieving their original purpose, Lia's work for them has become less steady, her skills less necessary. But threats still linger, and when one of these seems to be stirring in Val Royeaux, she and her friend Corvin Pavell are sent back there, to serve the new Emperor and Empress, their old friends, in investigating the issue.




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Image| Corvin Pavell |

"We've been in this together almost since we were kids. There's no one I'd rather work with."

Cor was one of Lia's first friends in the Argent Lions, and all things considered he's probably her best friend. While they didn't really get to know each other in Kirkwall before Lucien's company brought them together, they both joined up as soon as they were old enough, they both have the common experience of growing up a city elf to draw upon, and their personalities mesh quite well too. Their trials and experiences with the Inquisition only helped build their bond. Few people have Lia's complete trust, but Cor might be one of them, and she's glad to be stuck with him for this assignment.


Image| Evie Lafleur |

"Quote."

They haven't met yet.


Image| Vito Sansone |

"Quote."

They haven't met yet.




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ā€œEvery time I've been helpless, someone's been there to fight for me.
It's my turn to do the fighting. I won't back down from any of it.ā€



So begins...

Lia Tael's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lia Tael Character Portrait: Corvin Pavell Character Portrait: Vitorio Sansone Character Portrait: Evelyne Lafleur
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The 'Switchback,' as this particular Riverbend neighborhood was called, was more or less exactly what Vito expected it to be. The whole area was in a similar state of shoddy repair to the rest of the districtā€”roofs missing shingles and patched with straw, crumbling foundations, and buckled cobblestone alleyways narrow and reeking. But there was nevertheless a certain order to it: the streets were clear, mostly free of refuse and debris, the uneven windows in poorly-made frames were clean. A few flower boxes supported wilting blooms or herbs.

There was nothing well-to-do about the place, but the sense of pride and community was there. Subtle, hard to detect, but present. If the Captain was to be believed, it was a criminal organization that provided at least some of this unity, and Vito had no difficulty believing that at all.

He had seen it before.

There were a few people out and about; late morning as it was, though, most had already settled into whatever their work would be for the day. The echo of a forgehammmer rang down the street; a few merchants reclined under their awnings, already done with most of their business after the morning grocery runs. Rough-looking men and women loitered on a few of the corners, apparently preoccupied with dice or cards, but Vito knew them for eyes and ears, probably with a direct line to someone who could pass the information up to the area's boss.

"It is almost like being home." He grinned. "I think we'll want to be careful with our words, yes?"

Lia's hand didn't linger on the hilt of her dagger, but the keen-eyed could notice that it never wandered far from it, either. This was not the Alienage nor the Harbor District; being an elf or an Argent Lion would afford her and Corvin few advantages here. Still, it was a step up from being a city guard.

"We shouldn't split up, either," she advised. "No need to make ourselves any more vulnerable than we have to. And there's a foul mood here today besides."

"Glad I wasn't just imagining it," Evie noted. Her eyes had been drifting to their flanks ever since they entered the neighborhood. Fortunately, she too kept her hands away from her weapons, and even decided to forgo her helmet this time.

Still, her body language was rigid, and her shoulders were stiff. "I second not splitting up too," she said, glancing back at them for the moment, before returning to their vigil.

In contrast to the overt wariness of Vito's other two companions, Corvin looked as at-ease as ever, apparently unconcerned with the tense mood, though from his lack of surprise at their words, clearly not oblivious to it.

"We need to know where in the sewers this fellow is, right? Bad mood or not, I think that's going to take some asking." He did frown slightly then. "Probably better not to pick someone at random though. What d'you think, Vito?"

"I think we need to find the kind of person who doesn't mind talking to an outsider." Or who might not yet know how to pick one out of a crowd. There was a sort he had in mind, but it might be as much a matter of luck as anything. Still, the first thing to do was find a sewer entrance, or an area nearby one. Chances were, the average person here didn't know much about what was going onā€”they could be as charming as they liked, but it would be a waste if their target didn't have the information they wanted.

Val Royeaux had a decent infrastructure for these things, but in places as old and worn down as this, it was obviously not in peak condition. What had once been efficient channels cut into the sides of the streets, funneling runoff into grated openings, was now interrupted by uneven ground, bucked by years of alternating heat and cold, broken cobblestones, weeds sprouting from the cracks, and general neglect. Some of the water had come to rest in still, stagnant pools, the smell nearly enough to wrinkle his nose.

But Vito had grown up in worse slums than these. He followed the street, pausing only to glance over each grate for hints of tampering. A few were rusted or missing a few bars, but not enough to admit a person. All were still relatively secure in their housing.

It wasn't until he rounded a corner that they struck pay dirt, so to speak. Just what he'd been looking for. A cluster of three young children, somewhere between seven and twelve, were crouched in front of another grate, peering down or cocking their ears as though listening for something very particular.

"I'd be surprised if they don't know anything."

Lia approached first, squatting next to them, propping her elbows on her knees. "What're you kids doing?" she asked.

The one nearest her, a small boy who had to be the youngest of the group, shifted away from her by about a foot, little eyes quickly sweeping her up and down. "Papa says I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"No?" Her eyebrows lifted. "And why's that?"

"You're an elf," the child replied. "Papa says your kind are dirty."

Lia didn't react much, only looking as though she'd just smelled something foul. They were next to a sewer grate, after all. "Ah. Well, I'd bet a silver your papa's gone longer than I have without a bath. You too, for that matter." The child had no reply to that, instead turning his gaze on the others in the group of strangers, and examining them as well.

Vito, well aware of his obvious foreign-ness, glanced for a moment at Evie, but had second thoughts almost immediately. Antivan he may be, but he was willing to bet he still knew better how to speak to a child of this sort than someone raised to nobility.

So he too crouched, on the other side of Lia, for once not too worried about dragging his sleeves through muck. He'd worn more fitted ones for this, though the tunic to which they belonged was only slightly less vivid in its colors than usual. He leaned a little further forward, the better to make eye contact with the kid around his companion, and arched a thick brow.

"Rat hunting, eh?" He smirked in a knowing sort of way, and jerked his chin at the grate. "Probably didn't let you come with, right?" It was just a guess, but it was an educated one.

The boy's eyes widened fractionally, but he nodded. "Papa says I can't go till I'm big. But I know that place just as good as Thom does!"

Vito hummed, bobbing his head in an agreeable way. "I think your papa is forgetting that brains are just as important as being big." Propping an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, he continued very seriously. "Are they doing it right down there, you think?"

The child's little face scrunched in thought, but after a while he shook his head. "The rat's got the place all rigged up, I bet. They went down from the big entrance by Kerwen's."

Extrapolating the likely implications, Vito stroked his goatee. "I bet lots of people know that one, including the rat." He paused a moment, as if in consideration. "Which entrance would you have used?"

The boy hesitated, his eyes flicking between the four of them. Vito didn't push any harder, keeping his expression open and friendly. He wouldn't get an answer if he applied too much pressure.

"Why're you askin'?"

Vito shrugged, a loose motion with no particular urgency. "We've got a rat to hunt, too." From one of his sleeves, he produced a silver coin, palming it, then holding it halfway out towards the boy between his thumb and forefinger.

This seemed to be an acceptable motivation at least. No doubt the bribe helped. After a moment more thought, the boy snatched the coin as though it might disappear at any moment. "I'd use the one behind the cathouse. Rat used to be sweet on one of the girls there."

It certainly stood to reason that this mysterious fellow wouldn't trap a passage he intended to use. Perhaps he still did.

Corvin's eyebrows were somewhere up near his hairline; he'd grinned through much of the exchange between Vito and the boy. "Looks like we've got an in," he remarked with a vaguely-perplexed smile. "What say we take it before our window of opportunity gets shut in our faces, eh?"

"A most apt suggestion, Mattone." Vito pushed himself back into a stand with his hands on his knees, then dusted himself off a bit by reflex. As promised, the day was apparently going to include an expedition into the sewers. How lovely.

Finding the 'cathouse' in a neighborhood of this size was at least partially a matter of asking around, and he was sure they made an unfortunately-memorable group of inquirers, at that. It was difficult to imagine that none of the Switchback's more criminally-inclined had not observed at least part of their progress; he honestly wouldn't be surprised if the boy they'd spoken to had immediately told just such a person about the conversation. It was just good business sense, after allā€”he might find himself with another few coppers for the trouble.

Having once been such a child, Vito knew the stupid ones rarely survived all that long.

Still, even in a neighborhood like this, there were plenty of people apathetic enough to point them in the right general direction without batting an eyelash at the picture they made, and the four of them had just entered what he suspected was the right block when a pair of shadows detached themselves from the close alley walls and blocked their way forward.

Ah. This would be the other shoe falling, then. Kotter ran an efficient operation, it seemed.

The first was a dwarf, young, female, with more than enough brawn to make up for her lack of height, while the other was an older human man, at least fifty, with greasy long hair and a full beard, the type that looked like he'd been in this sort of life forever. It came as no surprise that Kotter's outfit attracted more of his own kind, as they were very likely to share some of his experiences and relate to him in a way they never could with a Val Royeaux local.

But neither of them spoke at first, perhaps hoping their message would come across nonverbally, and while it did, the effect was negligible. Lia crossed her arms. "We're going this way. Move."

"I'd advise you go the other way," the dwarf responded, "straight back home. The Untouchables know why you're here. Kotter only wants to gut one person today, but if you force the issue he has no problem making it five."

"Gruesome," Corvin observed, though he didn't sound particularly threatened. "Thanks for the advice; I do like my guts best inside my body." He shrugged a little. "But... we're still going this way, if you'll excuse us." He took a step forward as if to emphasize the point, looking for all the world as though he fully intended to keep walking right into the pair of them.

Whether it was merely the utter boldness of this move, the strangeness, the elf's considerable build, or something else, they both shifted out of his way. "Fuckin' knife-ear," the man muttered, but it sounded more like confusion than vitriol.

For his part, Corvin gave a careless little salute in response, a clear indication he'd heard the words and was ignoring them as surely as the warning.

Vito just barely resisted the urge to laugh at the looks on their faces, managing only to constrain his mirth into a light chuckle. There was something to be said for a sense of self-possession so robust as that. He and the others followed the path their warrior friend blazed for them, and they were harassed no further on their way to the brothel.

As their erstwhile informant had promised, there was a grate set into the alley behind the building. It smelled exactly as he expected it to, considering that a large residential building disposed of waste here. Rank.

"I suppose I should be grateful a city of this size has a consistently-functional sewer system at all." The observation did not stop him from wrinkling his nose. Thank the Maker he'd worn boots and trousers today. The idea of anything down there soaking into the hem of a robe was nauseating.

Glancing around briefly, Vito observed no watchers. So he reached for a gentle application of a telekinetic spell and used it to shift the grate aside, so as to not need to touch it. It scraped with a dull rumble over the broken cobblestones next to it, before coming to a stop a few feet back. "All right then. Who would like the honors?"

"Can't be any worse than Darktown," Corvin observed, moving up to the exposed gap in the street and peering down to confirm the distance. "Bit of a jump, but the end looks pretty clear, actually." It certainly stank regardless, but it was a degree better than the alternative.

Lowering himself down, Corvin disappeared a moment later. It took a couple seconds, but he called back up. "Bit slick on the landing; rain I guess. I'll stand close so no one falls."

"Rain... right." Lia finished tugging on a pair of leather gloves, full-fingered rather than the open style she seemed to prefer. She was also prepared enough to have a cloth mask she could pull up and fasten over her mouth and nostrils. She lowered herself through the opening after Corvin.

"That's what I'm telling myself, anyway," Evie replied, as if saying it would make it true. She too had already pulled up her scarf around her nose and mouth, and had ever since Vito began to move the grate. She stared at the gap for a moment, internally struggling and before sighing and resigning herself to her fate. "Never saw myself in this position a year ago," she muttered before following behind Lia.

"Well I certainly hope not." Vito, without a scarf or any other such protection against the stench, was simply going to have to make do.

He lowered himself as far as he could before dropping the rest of the way, landing and immediately steadying himself as his left foot threatened to slip out from beneath the rest of him. Fortunately, Corvin was present as promised, and a hand on the sturdy elf's shoulder was more than enough to keep him upright.

The sewer was as ripe and dank as expected; it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, punctuated only occasionally by shafts of weak light from grates in the street. And better to keep away from those, lest something be deposited through the slats at an inopportune time.

"Best be on the lookout for these traps, then." Soft purple light bloomed over his hand, and he sent it to move ahead of the group, hopefully a little bit of warning before they stumbled across something deadly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Lia Tael Character Portrait: Corvin Pavell Character Portrait: Vitorio Sansone Character Portrait: Evelyne Lafleur
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Lately pretty much nothing had been able to turn Corvin's stomach, and he wasn't terribly surprised to learn that this was no exception to the new rule. He supposed he'd always had a pretty good oneā€”the first time they'd both seen a charred dead body, Donny had puked his guts out on the Coast, but Corvin had been fine to run all the way back to Kirkwall for help. Not for the dead bodies, of courseā€”for the one among them that wasn't quite so dead.

Maybe it came of being raised in a place that didn't smell too much better than this.

He led the way through the sewer tunnel, occasionally sidestepping something that looked particularly rank, but runoff rainwater mostly did its job in washing the worst of things into the deeper trough at the center of the passage, where it was eventually carried to places he'd really rather not think about ever. There was still enough light coming in from the grates overhead to occasionally illuminate their way, but Vito's magelight was a much more consistent, welcome aid to vision.

If the hints they'd heard so far were correct, there was every reason to suspect that parts of this passage were trapped, so Corvin kept his eyes moving, looking for tripwires in particular, as they were the easiest kind of mechanism to set up on short notice and in a place like this. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to stay here long enough to install a pressure plate, but magic was always an option too, so he wasn't going to be stupid and careless.

"Which way do we want from here, exactly?" he asked, pausing at an intersection. It seemed pretty systematic down here: north-south tunnels met east-west ones, and they were pretty much all arrow-straight. He had a pretty good sense of direction most of the time, but it was a lot harder without being able to see the sky.

Evie spun on her heel, taking a look down all four tunnels, even the one that they had come down moments ago. Her facial expressions were hidden by the scarf pulled up over her nose and mouth, but it was still obvious she was just as flummoxed as Corvin was. "Dunno..." she said, eyes lingering on the left-hand tunnel, "They all look the same to me. Any of them particularly look like they've seen more foot traffic then the others?" she asked over her shoulder and directed the query to Lia.

"I remember when my assignments took me to faraway forests," she said instead. "Snow-capped peaks, vast deserts... now I get why Dad needed to get out of Kirkwall so often." Lia wasn't unfamiliar with Darktown or Kirkwall's sewers, Corvin knew, but she'd barely been old enough to serve with the Argent Lions back in the city, and when she did start the scouts were more often employed on the coast, where they had more room to operate.

"We should go this way, by the way," she added, turning them east, her eyes rarely leaving the ground in front of her feet. "This has to be dwarven." She pointed to a print in a disgusting bit of something, the shape of the foot too wide to be human or elven. "Suppose that means we need to pick up the pace. Just watch your feet, we know Kotter doesn't want to be followed."

"This should be interesting." Vito's murmur from the back was just loud enough to pick up on, and then a field of very slightly purple-tinted translucency appeared in front of Corvin. "I'm no barrier expert, by the by. That's more likely to slow something than stop something."

Corvin took the warning for what it was and hefted his own metal kite shield on his arm, leaving his sword at his hip for now. It'd just take up space if he held it, and he really didn't want to assume that this was going to turn into a bloodbath or anything. He wasn't sure exactly how it was going to go instead, but that was for figuring out later.

Bearing Lia's advice in mind, he quickened his steps, hustling them down the passage at a shuffling jog, not wanting anyone to lose their footing on the slick stones down here.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," he said abruptly, holding up his free hand to repeat the signal and drawing to a stop himself. "Tripwire. Careful over it."

Vito's magelight had hit it just the right wayā€”he could've easily missed the thin length of metal twine otherwise. The trap was quite crude besides that, though, and clearly rigged up in a hurry. That too seemed to suggest they were headed in the right direction.

Carefully, Corvin stepped over the wire, taking a couple of steps forward to give the others more room to do the same.

He snapped his shield up by reflex when his foot caught on the second, more cleverly-concealed wire, and it was probably only that which saved him injury: the twin arrows launched by the trap hit Vito's barrier at nearly the same time. It deflected the first, but the second punched straight through, smacking into the metal face of the shield with a clang.

"Oh forā€”" Another look proved that there was a third wire in the sequence. Fortunately he hadn't triggered that one. He wasn't sure if it was the sewer rat or the crime gang that had fashioned all of theseā€”probably a bit of both, Kotter's agents building on what was already there to make it harder to follow them than it already was just to navigate.

Lia rose slightly from the crouch she'd dropped into when Corvin set off the trap, making herself a smaller target in case any of the arrows came her way, but nothing did. She scooped up one of the fallen arrows, perhaps examining its quality, but apparently found it less than remarkable, for she tossed it aside where it was no threat to anyone.

"Probably better to just ease through rather than try to disarm these," she decided. She would know how to get that done, but it would take time they didn't have to do it safely, and if the Untouchables planned to come back through this way, they'd either have to do it themselves or suffer the consequences.

Lia led the way herself past the third tripwire, but hadn't made it more than a few steps before finding yet another trap, this time in the form of a pressure plate well concealed beneath her feet. The result of stepping on it was a sudden cascading stream of fire flung down from above her, spanning the entire width of the hall. She was caught by it a little, enough that her right sleeve caught alight, and she was forced to roll forward to smother it in the muck.

It was hard to see through the constant flames to where Lia was now cut off from them, but she seemed to be all right, though more than a little disgusted. Anything she thought to immediately say, however, was cut off by the deadly whistling of a crossbow bolt that narrowly missed her, flew through the flames, and nearly hit the rest of them.

"Ambush!" she called back to them. "I've got no cover."

A jet of water flew over Corvin's shoulder, aimed for the source of the flames. It wasn't enough to extinguish them immediately by a long shot, and the contact hissed and steamed, adding spoke and droplets of scalding water to the mix. With some time, it would probably douse the cloak of flame between Lia and the rest, but considering her predicament, that may well be time they lacked.

Corvin didn't wait for the smoke to clear or the flames to gutter outā€”he just went. Pulling in a quick breath, he held it and plunged through the dying sheet of fire and hissing water, unflinching even as some of the latter fell into his face and scalded his cheeks and brow.

The trigger of another crossbow sounded just as he reached Lia, reaching forward with his empty hand and gripping her firmly by the shoulder to pull her back and pivot himself forward into the space she occupied, leading with the shield. Desperation and close timing made his deflection less than ideal; the bolt and its immediate successor clanged into the metal face of the shield hard enough to jar his arm, and he hissed on the exhale, releasing his friend and drawing his sword.

The walkway was narrow, but the angles were a disadvantageā€”they were coming up on an intersection in the passage, and there seemed to be enemies positioned both to the right and left ahead, giving their bolts and arrows a lot of places to come from relative to what his shield could protect from.

"We've got to get up thereā€”now. Evie, take the right with Vito. We'll go left. Don't let anything get our backs." At range, two of them were near useless with the kit they had, so the only way to do this was to take the fight to the ambushers.

Corvin advanced at a jog that verged on a run, narrowly knocking another bolt out of the air with his sword.

"You got me?" He heard Evie ask Vito. Unlike himself, her kit didn't include a shield and she was unlikely to dodge all the bolts shot at her without a little intervention. It didn't sound like she waited for his answer however as metal scratched on metal, the unmistakable sound of her estoc leaving its sheath.

Her footsteps, still behind him, added to his. Her pace was quicker by the sound of it, perhaps in order to try and use her smaller frame and agility to avoid some of the the bolts. Still, they were on a narrow walkway, and there weren't many places for her to go, and eventually a bolt leveled itself in her direction.

A gust of wind buffeted Corvin's back near the split, knocking the bolt enough askew that it glanced off Evie's shoulder sideways instead of point-first. "Not the best with shields, Amatrice," Vito reminded her, but their progress forward seemed to allow him to cast more offensively, too, and a swell of filthy water rose up from the channel cut into the passage and doused the first visible ambushers, sending several of them reeling back in some combination of surprise and disgust.

Vito chuckled softly, saying something under his breath that was difficult to hear over the din but sounded suspiciously like how's that for fighting dirty?

Lia kept close behind Corvin as he made a swift advance, close enough that her arm was actually in contact with his back most of the way. Bolts and arrows kept coming in, but at one point Lia found an opening to shoot back, sending an arrow right over Corvin's shoulder no more than a foot from his left ear. It sailed forward and thudded into the upper body of the nearest of the ambushers, sending him staggering backwards with a loud, pained cry. Lia ducked back down behind Corvin's cover.

"Leave him for me," she said roughly, her tone some mix of a foul mood and the need to be heard clearly. There were several more at least positioned farther back, but Lia was already replacing her bow with her dagger, intending to deal with this first one herself.

Corvin wasn't about to question it. Lia knew exactly what she was doing, and he trusted her besides. Lengthening his stride, he accelerated, shield forward, and ducked around the arrow-stricken ambusher. That put him on a pretty clear path to the others, and he took it with a fleet, almost reckless stride, heedless of the slippage of his boots on the wet stone beneath him.

They got the idea pretty quickly, abandoning their crossbows and drawing melee weapons. The first didn't get her own shield up in enough time, and Corvin slammed into her, leading with his own. She lost her footing, falling into the filthy water behind her, and he swung the shield in enough time to intercept the next blow, aimed high.

The one that cut low, from the dwarf in the trio, was more of a problem; he had to parry at an awkward angle, softening the hit instead of turning it back entirely. Kicking out, he staved off the follow-up just long enough to slam the rim of the shield into the human man's chin, sending him reeling a few steps back.

A fluid, powerful stroke disarmed him, and the second blow from the shield knocked him cold, toppling him like a sack of stones. By then the dwarf had recovered, and the woman was pulling herself from the muck, swearing in a florid blend of the trade tongue and native Orlesian, only some of which Corvin understood.

He got the gist, though, and grinned.

"Well I think that's at least third-date kind of stuff, and I don't even know your name yet." She lunged for him, and the clang of the parry was accompanied by the ring of his laughter.

The distant clash of other weapons was a different sort of ring, no doubt caused by Evie contending with some of the foes on the other side of the passage. The hum and rush of magic was there underneath it, too, blasting water and air the obvious cue as to Vito's contribution. From the fact that the grunts of pain were in unfamiliar voices, it seemed likely that they were holding their own.

He figured he should finish things as soon as he could, then. Staving off another blow from the woman, he turned into the dwarf's axe, letting his armor absorb the brunt of the damage. It hit hard enough that there was sure to be an impressive splotch on his ribcage tomorrow, but that was hardly unbearable. With a flourish of his sword, he slid the blade between the axe's haft and head, twisting suddenly enough to disarm and delivering another solid hit with the shield, taking its wielder out of the fight.

Angry as she was, the remaining fighter was almost trivially-easy to deal with: he tripped her as she charged, bringing himself down with her as she fell, knee planted on her back. The shield bludgeoned her until she was out, too, but none of them was dead.

As he preferred it.

Of course, not one of them was in a position to do much talking, either, but Corvin figured Lia had that under control.

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Character Portrait: Lia Tael Character Portrait: Corvin Pavell Character Portrait: Vitorio Sansone Character Portrait: Evelyne Lafleur
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Lia descended on her target as soon as she was in the clear, landing a strong right hook across his jaw that spun him around to face away from her. "I want this back," she growled, reaching over his shoulder, grabbing the shaft of the arrow she'd put into him, and ripping it free. Blood spattered the wall in front of the thug, and his scream of agony echoed as she replaced the arrow into her quiver. He dropped his crossbow, and didn't seem to have the presence of mind to reach for the knife openly sheathed at his hip. Lia eyed it a moment, then pulled it out herself, tucking the blade under her belt. Not a bad piece of work.

She was in a very bad mood, admittedly. This place was disgusting, she was filthy, the people here hated her, and she was working a difficult mission with little information to go on. She had burns on her right arm, and this shem attempted to put several bolts into her without a second thought.

With an angry little snarl she planted her free hand against the back of the thug's head and smashed his face into the sewer wall. There was an awful crunch of the nose breaking, and Lia seized him by the shoulder, hauling him back until he lost his balance and fell backwards to the ground. In an instant she descended on him Parshaara practically hissing in her hand like a dragon.

She straddled him, planted her elbow across his chest near the neck, and flipped the dagger backwards in her hand, letting the point hover near one of his eyes. Good to prevent sudden movements. "You might be the most worthless life this dagger has ever taken, you know." Her tone was dark, angry, but quiet and serious. "And there's a fair bit of competition for that. But if you spill something useful, I might let you go in time to get help before you bleed out."

The man's expression had shifted as she spoke, from something like indignation through a familiar spectrum that passed surprise, incredulity, and landed on a still-disbelieving sort of fear. It likely had something to do with the dissonance between the threat Lia seemed to present and the threat she actually was, like it was slow to get through his head that she was in fact pointing an enchanted dagger right at his eye.

He went completely still under it though, probably helped by the fact that he'd surely be able to feel the heat of the dragonbone blade at the distanceā€”enough to be more than a little uncomfortable. "W-what the fuck d'you want?" he managed, not quite stammering, but near enough that the failing of his courage was audible as well as visible. Whether it would actually yield anything remained to be seen.

Her elbow was near enough to where she'd pulled the arrow out of him. Without letting her gaze waver she shifted it ever so slightly, and pressed. Subtle enough that it might look like she didn't even notice she was hurting him. "How many of your people are with Kotter?" she demanded to know. "How much further is he? Are there more traps ahead? I don't have time for games, and neither do you. And if you lie to me and I live through today, you'd better expect an arrow in the back of your skull sometime soon." She'd do it, too. Lia didn't need anyone's permission to hunt down a worthless thug that no one would miss.

A pained hiss left him; he squirmed under her hold, struggling to hold his head still under the knife. His eyes started to water. "Don'tā€”don't know how far he's gotten." His throat worked as he tried to swallow, not entirely successfull from the way he choked as he continued to speak. "Rat's supposed to be holed up 'nother mile in orā€”nngh."

"And how many of you are there after him?" Vito remained at a fair distance, his expression quite neutral. It was a rather sharp contrast to the usual pleasant smile he wore.

"Uhh.." He clearly had to think a moment about this. "D-dozen? No traps of ours what I know about. Rat might have some?" His eyes shifted from where they'd moved to Vito back to Lia. He swallowed again, thickly but well enough that his next words came out slightly clearer. "You with M or somethin'?"

"Not in the slightest," Lia answered dismissively. She was inclined to hurt him more for having the gall to ask her a question, but if she was going to let him live, she didn't want even the false rumor going around that they were aligned with someone on Leta's side. Cast off or not.

Holding silent a moment longer, Lia decided that she'd heard enough. She pushed off of him and got clear a step, allowing him to get up if he was still capable of it. "Get out of here, then. Try not to kill yourself on a trap on the way out." His friends could sleep in the shit a while longer, for all Lia cared. From the sound it they didn't have time to deal with them any further.

The man looked rather surprised to actually be allowed to go, struggling to his feet immediately. The wound in his shoulder looked to be giving him some trouble, but between his other arm and his legs, he managed. "Uh... yeah." His brow furrowed for a moment when he considered the still bodies around him, but he must have reached the same conclusion she had about letting them come around on their own time.

He wasted no more of his own, beating a hasty shuffle back from the way they'd come.

Cor clicked his tongue against this teeth, arms crossed over his chest. "If it's only a mile they're probably there already," he noted, eyebrows furrowing. "I guess we're going to have to try anyway. Maybe they won't mind negotiating." He didn't sound especially hopeful about the prospect, but that he'd mentioned it at all was a fair expression of the optimism he at least tried to maintain most of the time.

Lia would've been more optimistic, if their position had been more advantageous. Criminal leaders were rarely zealots in the way the cults she'd fought were. They lacked ideologies that would lead them to throw their lives away even when it was unnecessary, instead seeking survival at all costs, and profit after that. But if this was going to play out how Lia expected, it wasn't Kotter's group that would need to negotiate for survival. They were four, in their enemy's territory, and they were very likely too slow to get what they wanted.

They pressed on another half-mile, a little more recklessly than before, but the thug Lia interrogated proved to be good to his word, and there were no more deadly traps they needed to navigate around. Instead she could focus on the trail, and before long it became quite fresh. They were getting close.

"No one draw first blood," she suggested, sheathing Parshaara. "We're not here to bring down the gang, just for the Venatori."

"Mhm," Evie agreed quietly. The estoc remained perched on her back, and her shortsword hadn't budged from her side. The same thought that crossed Lia's mind must've crossed Evie's as well, and though the mask still obscured much of her face, her body language wasn't that of a relaxed individual. "Think this'll work?" she asked aloud for the others. Her own tone was rather uncertain however.

"No." Vito's reply was rather solid; he offered a small shrug and an apologetic smile. "Doesn't mean it isn't worth trying, however. Gangs like this are often committed to their own senses of justice and fair reprisal for misdeeds, but they're fundamentally pragmatic, at least. Shouldn't try knifing us in the guts unless we're too disrespectful to tolerate. Or try to press the point too hard."

They were definitely getting close nowā€”there were raised voices ahead, just loud enough to hear as they approached.

"Just kill me then, if that's why we're all here!"

The plea came from a young man, his accent plainly Tevinter. They rounded the corner into a convergence of the sewerlines, a large rounded chamber lit mostly by torches, though some natural light filtered down from a grate above, where a steady drip came through and plinked against the stones underfoot. The torchlight belonged to the Untouchables, who were gathered here in force and armed to the teeth, all surrounding their dwarven leader and his bound and bloodied captive.

There were no less than twenty of them, and Lia was sure more would be in the shadows or on watch down the other paths. Kotter, the leader, would be a difficult fight on his own. He'd fled from a previous encounter, but here he had the advantage, and he had a fearsome maul and the strength to wield it. With twenty of his best, including his blood mage, a fight wasn't an option here. They were good, but Lia guessed they could only take half of them in these tight quarters before they were overwhelmed and killed.

No few of them reacted in surprise to their arrival, and the rather unstealthy manner in which they made their entrance. There were shouts to get Kotter's attention, and he stepped back from his prisoner to face them. The prisoner had to be this 'M' they wanted; he looked as much a Vint as he sounded, even without the telltale white robes of his cult.

"I remember you," the tattooed dwarf remarked, gesturing with the head of his maul towards Cor. "One of the mercs that crashed the meeting with that Castle-town tin can." He tilted his head a little, as if trying to see past him into the blackness beyond. "You lot kill any of my people getting here?"

Cor, who'd stowed his blade like the rest of them but kept his shield on his arm, shook his head. "Not unless someone got really unlucky." It could be hard to gauge exactly the amount of force required to knock someone out, and Lia knew he'd had a few odd mishaps recently hitting much harder than he'd intended to, but unless there'd been an accident, it was pretty obvious that no one should be dead.

His eyes flickered to the young Vint, brow furrowing faintly. He didn't look like he'd been having a great time of things, from the blooming black eye and the smears of blood visible on his clothes and skin. It didn't seem to be that in particular that perturbed Cor, though. Maybe it had more to do with what it meant for their chances of getting M out of here alive. "I'd uh... really prefer it if no one was dead at the end of all this, actually." He tried for his customary good-natured smile, which looked rather natural on his face despite the circumstances. It might've even been strange if she'd not known him beforehand.

He looked for all the world like an elf expecting a positive answer, though he surely wasn't.

"You might be surprised to hear that I'd prefer the same," said the dwarf. His accent, like most surface dwarves, was still thickly that of Orzammar, and he made no efforts to hide his origins there, his brands and tattoos identifying him as both former Casteless and former Carta. "I try not to kill too often. Takes the enjoyment out of it. So I really only kill when I have to, and today is one of those days. I've waited quite a while to get my hands on this Vint piece of nugshit."

"We're not here to save him," Lia assured him. "He's as much our enemy as yours, but we need him alive. He's no head of his organization, but he could help us get to them. We'd be more than willing to take the fight to your enemy for you, in that case."

"I've got nothing for you, or any Argent Lion," spat M, with disdain. "Little more than lapdogs of the Inquisition."

"He called me worse," Kotter said, apparently amused. "But you see? Fucker wants to die. He's been cut loose and he knows it. I've already pried at him, gently by my standards. Nothing. Even trudging around in the sewers you lot look too clean and shiny to do worse. He's useless to you."

"You don't know me very well," Lia said, her tone almost a warning. She didn't look like a torturer, and maybe she wasn't, but her years and her experiences had given her a will and resolve to do what she had to. Especially where the Venatori were concerned.

"You're right, I don't," Kotter conceded. "I also don't know who sent you. You are fancy sellswords, right? Is it true what the Vint says? Inquisition pulls your strings? Or is this personal?"

Cor raised a hand, tipping it back and forth in a 'so-so' motion. "Fancy sellswords, yes. Bit of both on the other part," he admitted freely. Nodding at M, he explained a bit more. "This blighter's with the Venatori, and the Inquisition has quite a lot of reason to want to root that sort out, you understand. But uh... we're none too pleased with his most recent side project, either. Riot in the Alienage; I'm sure you heard about it?" Given their reason for the first confrontation with dwarf, it was all but a certainty that this would connect several dots for him.

It wasn't uncommon for Cor to walk this particular line. Everything he said was true, but he also left enough out that the elements most likely to irritate Kotterā€”in this case, the Guard connectionā€”were absent from the explanation entirely. Lia knew he wasn't fond of doing it, but he was also very good at it, and tended at least to let people do most of the work of filling in the gaps themselves, letting them reach an incomplete or slightly-off understanding that he seldom corrected.

Nevertheless the dwarf did seem a little irritated, or perhaps just tired of speaking with the unwanted guests. "Too smooth by half, you are. I'll tell you straight who sent me and mine here: the people. The people of the Bends." He nonchalantly allowed his maul's head to fall to the ground, and it just so happened to smash the Venatori's toes, eliciting a pained groan. "The people found this fucker out for me, and the people have demanded a corpse. I intend to deliver, because I prefer having the people on my side. I made a mistake before, one that gets rectified right here."

Lia grimaced. This wasn't going particularly well, and they were probably lucky Kotter didn't feel like attacking on sight. Safe bet he didn't want to lose the people it would take to bring down the likes of them, though he had the numbers to do it.

"Here's the compromise," Kotter continued. "If one of you wants to kill the Vint and make it quick, go right ahead. Otherwise piss off and leave me to it. The people want one corpse today, not five."

They were going to move him from this, it seemed. Tactically it was a nightmare. The Untouchables stood ready with arrows nocked and crossbows loaded, knives and axes held in steady hands. Lia had an arrow already free of the quiver herself, but didn't dare nock it yet. "Not sure there's a choice," she said to her allies. "I can do it, I'll make it clean. None of this is worth dying for." There were times not to give ground, but this wasn't one of them. She waited only to see if there were any objections.

"About as good as it's going to get, I suppose." Vito didn't seem especially perturbed by this, and actually went as far as to offer Kotter the slightest nod, as if in acknowledgment of something. The bargain, perhaps.

Cor looked markedly less satisfied, but it was obvious enough that there was no getting anything better out of the deal than that, and a merciful death was probably better than whatever M was going to get at Kotter's hands. He met Lia's eyes, and gave her a tiny nod.

That was all she needed, but Lia still lifted a hand before she thought of lifting her bow. "Might want to take a step back, Kotter. Don't want anyone to think I'm about to shoot you."

The dwarf obliged, though he gestured to her hip with his maul. "I like the look of your dagger. Sure you wouldn't rather use that?There's something so impersonal about the distance an arrow provides." He wasn't wrong about that, but Lia figured it was for the best. Killing a defenseless prisoner wasn't something she'd done before. Even if he was Venatori, her enemy. Even if it was mercy.

M never broke eye contact with her, even as she pulled the arrow back until her breath touched the fletching. Only when it whistled into his heart did he flinch, and then his head did lower, and his eyes closed. There had been no look of thanks there, just the steady burning gaze of an enemy to the last. Lia lowered her bow.

Kotter approached the body to confirm the kill. "Seems that concludes our business here. I'd prefer if we didn't have business again but... somehow I doubt that. Until next time, then."

He didn't have to tell her twice. The dwarf probably considered this a good day, with the Venatori dead, a prize to deliver to the poor and outraged of the city. He was a bad man, there was no doubt about that, but Lia wondered if it wasn't for the best. He was no friend to their enemies, and while he had power their enemies would find it difficult to regain a foothold in Riverbend. Not what the guard captain wanted, exactly, but she and Kotter could battle it out another day.

Somehow Lia suspected the Argent Lions would end up in the middle on that day, too.

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Character Portrait: Lia Tael Character Portrait: Corvin Pavell
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Guard Captain Bernard wasn't happy with how things turned out in Riverbend, but as far as Lia could tell she wasn't mad either. As guard captains Lia had known went, she wasn't half bad, able to remain reasonable and disciplined when she didn't get what she wanted, when the people she'd hired were forced to compromise with her enemy. But as crime lords went, Kotter wasn't half bad either. Obviously one was preferable to the other, but Lia was determined not to get involved again in the near future.

She was after bigger fish.

Winter was making its last feeble grasps on the city, and steadily losing to spring. Some parts of the city practically came to life when the weather warmed, flourishing green and every other color that flowers could have, but the ways in and out of the Alienage were always dull and dead. Inside the walls they did what they could, but it never shook the feel of a ghetto, where the people had more important concerns than aesthetics.

Lia waited hours sometimes for Arrin, every few days like she promised, and always in a different spot on his route from the last time. So far he hadn't brought her a thing, at least nothing useful, and sometimes their meetings consisted of a subtle head shake before they were on their way. But he seemed determined, confident he'd be able to help her soon.

Today she took a spot on a bench under a still-dead tree, eating lunch in the form of a sandwich. She'd taken to not wearing Argent Lion colors; better to be thought of as just another city elf. Granted, a city elf with vallaslin, but there wasn't much she could do about that.

Today it didn't take her particularly long to encounter him. Arrin always had a sort of energy about him, a lightness of step that made him suited enough for his job; he seemed like the kind of person that would fidget a great deal if he didn't get that energy out doing something else. At he moment he all but hummed with it, something that might've been harder to notice if she didn't seem him quite so often. There was a clip in his step, though, an abruptness to movements that were usually longer and smoother, and rather than the casual acknowledgment he usually met her with, he seemed to be actively looking for her. More subtle than he'd been a while ago, but still hardly all that difficult to spot.

He very consciously made himself not hurry to where she stood, it seemed like, actually slowing down a little and flipping through the few letters left in the bag at his hip. He stopped on the other side of the bench, taking out what seemed to be his delivery manifest and parking himself in a seated position, drawing his legs up so he could rest the manifest on them at an angle.

"I, uh... think I have something." He paused there, clearly waiting for some sign that it was a good time and place to speak.

Lia didn't see why not; she picked either quiet places or quiet hours to wait for him, and this was the former. His approach made it difficult for anyone to follow him without being spotted, at least from Lia's angle.

She didn't react much, because she wasn't too surprised. Arrin had talent that he was putting to use, and she didn't expect her enemies to sit around waiting for long before making a move.

"I'm all ears."

Arrin raised a hand to his brow, rubbing absently at one of his temples. "Q's got something planned, near as I can tell. Not sure exactly what she's trying to do, but I know it involves getting someone on the cast or crew of a play, of all things." He furrowed his brow, shaking his head faintly. "Some fellow named Tethras is casting for a show. I don't know who her people are or why she wants them there, but apparently she's pretty set on it."

Lia tried to hide disappointment, and probably did well enough stuffing it under her surprise. She'd hoped and sort of expected to hear something about the Vhenallin and Braven, maybe even something they knew or were doing for the Venatori. Q was... well, she wasn't an ally and she wasn't a friend, but as of their last meeting they weren't enemies, and at least a few of their goals aligned. Lia had no desire to have the Ashfingers on her back, but... this didn't sound good.

"Tethras?" she repeated. "Varric Tethras?" There really could be no other, if this was about a play in the city. She'd forgotten about it with everything else that had been happening. "He's from Kirkwall," she explained, for Arrin's benefit. "A writer and a friend of the Emperor and Empress. The play's about them, I'm pretty sure. They might even be there for the premiere."

They were a busy pair, obviously, but few things were as important to them as their friends, and Varric went way back with both of them. Lia knew they'd want to support him. The idea of Lucien watching someone play him on stage almost made Lia laugh, and she would have if the rest of the news wasn't so troubling.

"If they're there, any number of important Orlesians would show up too." She looked up at him. "You're sure about this, then? That she's trying to infiltrate the cast or crew?"

Arrin looked faintly put off for some reason, but it wasn't clear what was doing it. The frown was only a small one, in any case. He sighed quietly and shoved his ledger back in his bag a moment later, humming quietly. "She's probably already done it," he said, but it sounded like a guess. "Maybe you could just warn the guy, but I think she wants it done bad enough that she'd just find a way to get someone else in the second time, you know? I don't know who all she's got or I'd tell you. I'm not exactly in her inner circle or anything, but I know she has a lot of people. She's probably the only one left with much chance of swaying people away from what the Vhenallin are doing."

His tone was unusually hard to read, there, some ambiguity in it obfuscating Arrin's thoughts. Still, he seemed quite sure of the information, little as it was. He stood, dusting down his trousers and resettling his threadbare cloak forward over his shoulders. "I'll let you know if I hear anything else, but..." He shrugged.

"This is really good, Arrin," she said, standing, and trying to sound reassuring. "More than enough to go on, and Varric will trust it if it comes from Lions. Find out what else you can, but be careful. I'll be in touch as usual."

"Sure." Arrin nodded a bit, an indescipherable look passing only momentarily across his face before he mustered a faint smile. "I'll see you around, Lia."





Explaining everything to Cor was awkward. She started with the information itself, relaying that Kestrel was apparently going to infiltrate Varric's cast or crew for the upcoming play, for an unknown but certainly nefarious purpose. From there it didn't take much to convince him of the need to go and speak with Varric about it, and figure out the best course of action. Before long Lia had cleaned up and changed back into the company gear, and the two were on their way to the Castle District.

"This came from Arrin," she explained on the way, knowing she'd need to give him her source eventually. Cor was perhaps the only person she trusted enough to give the name to. "I... asked him to keep an ear out for me, see if he could bring me something useful on our enemies. Ashfingers aren't exactly that, but this is important all the same."

Cor fiddled with the fastenings of his mask; like her he wasn't inclined to wear it unless absolutely necessary. His face was telling in its absence. Contemplative when she'd mentioned Kestrel, resigned when the rest hadn't been clear, then ever so slightly skeptical when Arrin had come up. But, as always, he was willing to trust her intuitions about things, and so he let out a sigh as they headed for the Castle District gate.

"Definitely better to know what she's up to," he said, lips compressing into a thin line. "No idea what she'd want with a play, but I guess it's going to be a pretty important one, with big names around it."

She appreciated that, that Cor was willing to follow her lead on things when she wanted to take the initiative. For someone who often seemed prideful and bullheaded on the outside, she knew he was anything but. Whatever this was with Varric's crew, it was real. She trusted Arrin's word. All that remained was to figure out what they could do about it.

Lia didn't bother with her mask in the Castle District, simply carrying it as Cor did, and no one bothered them over it. Better things to pay attention to than two elves on their streets. The Grande Royeaux Theater was where Lia headed, expecting to find Varric at work there, doing... whatever it was one did this far in advance of the play. He was directing matters in addition to writing the thing, so he had to be busy.

They were allowed entry into the foyer, but there they found the doors barred, and they were forced to treat with an attendant, who needed some convincing that they should be allowed to speak with Varric, who was indeed somewhere inside. In the end they got the young Orlesian to pass a message along, a request that Varric come out and see them when he was able. She hoped the attendant would remember to mention their names.

Thankfully, Varric didn't make them wait long. He emerged looking a little grumpy, in a long leather coat with rolled sleeves, his shirt unbuttoned near to his abdomen as usual, the still lingering winter weather be damned. Lia supposed the fur on his chest kept him warm. For once he didn't have that strange crossbow with him. He looked a fair bit older than the last time they'd seen him, but he clearly recognized them both, judging by the way his face lit up.

"The Emperor's finest, in search of a humble storyteller!" He swept into a cheerful bow for them. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's good to see you, Varric," Lia greeted. "It's... a bit of a sensitive matter, actually. This might not be the best place."

He took that in stride, no doubt having some experience handling such things. "I've got some time, just finished for the day here. How about you show me where Argent Lions prefer to drink, and we'll talk there?"

The trip back to the Smiling Lion was a bit of a trek, but Varric had a way of filling time with anecdotes and jokes that was impossible not to notice. The dwarf had facility with words, and a penchant for knowing just which story would go best with which situation or surroundings. Probably good that Varric was that good with those things, as it seemed to be his profession these days.

The tavern was fairly clear at this time of day, and as they were accustomed, the Lions were shown to whatever seats they should want. Cor chose the ones on the balcony againā€”he'd confessed to like looking out at the water. Many of the Lions had at least a touch of wanderlust, but in him it seemed to be particularly strong, somehow, and he was drawn to things like that, sometimes it seemed without really being aware of the fact.

Once they were all situated and suitably provided with food or drink to their preference, Cor took a draught from his and leaned back in his chair. "You're uh... you're at least passing familiar with the Ashfingers, aren't you, Varric?"

"I hear lots of things, old habits dying hard I suppose." The dwarf half-grinned as he said it, looking relaxed as ever. "Not the most pleasant group to deal with, as I understand."

"Not the worst, either," said Lia. "But they're the probably we've got currently. I got a tip today that the Ashfingers are looking to infiltrate your play, either in the cast or crew."

"My play, really?" He seemed... almost amused to Lia, or perhaps more intrigued. She supposed he was the sort to react to these types of situations with anything but fear. At least on the surface. "And I take it they're looking to do more than sabotage the performance."

"I don't know what their goal is, but Kestrel doesn't aim small. Whatever it is, we need to find a way to stop it."

Varric hummed thoughtfully and took a drink from his cup. "I can double the checks on everyone we bring on still, and make sure those already hired get them too, but it's not like Ashfingers sign contracts. And I can't just refuse to hire any elves."

Lia imagined plenty of Orlesian nobles wouldn't have any problems with that, but even if it happened it would necessarily solve the issue. "Might not even be elves we're looking for. The Ashfingers have money and resources, they could easily hire outside help for a job they want done."

Cor leaned back in his chair, wearing an obvious grimace even as the front legs lifted off the ground. "I mean... I guess the other way to do it would be uh... watch the watchers, or something?" He shrugged, elaborating after another swallow. "I'm guessing it'd be hard to keep an eye on that many people, even for you, but if you had some help, we might be able to figure out who the likely candidates are and go from there? We could be stagehands or something, undercover ourselves." He sounded a little intrigued with his own ideaā€”most likely he found the notion of out-spying a spy sort rather agreeable.

Lia thought it was an absurd idea. Her ability to be sneaky was largely limited to staying entirely out of sight, not actual spycraft. Her people skills were only marginally better than her dad's, a rather low bar to clear. Still... the right thing overheard, the right conversation eavesdropped on, and they could possibly put a stop to this before it started.

Varric seemed to be actually considering it, and didn't try to hide that some kind of ideas were brewing in that head of his. "I expect you'll be made quickly," he said, "if the Ashfingers are half as good as I've heard. You're both... well, even without the mercenary uniforms you're not going to look like many other elves around here." Lia's vallaslin were a painfully obvious identifier, and she didn't think Cor could make himself small if he tried.

But he waved his hand dismissively at that after another moment's thought. "Bah, but what does it matter? Having you sniffing around could easily make it hell for troublemakers to make trouble. I'd be glad to bring you on. Last round of auditions is in two days' time at the Grande Royeaux, we'll be filling out the rest of the team there as well. Stop by and I'll find a place for you."

"This should be interesting..." Lia made no attempts to hide her uncertainty about the plan, but Varric ignored it.

"Wherever you end up, I'll expect your best work on the play too. We're putting on a show for royalty, after all."

Cor seemed rather pleased with this development, from the rather satisfied smile that took up residence on his face. "Well I've never been accused of lacking panache, at least." He wasn't like to need it, if they were in fact going to be stagehands of all things, but it might at least help him fit in a bit with the crowd, so to speak. At least that seemed to be where his thoughts were heading.

"...and we've got a couple friends that might be a little more anonymous than us, I suspect. So if there's room for two extras, maybe we can be the obvious protection and they can hide behind that smokescreen."

"I'd be happy to meet any friends of yours. Should be able to find them places." His eyes darted between them for a moment, before Varric picked up his drink and lifted it with a grin. "Here's to your new careers in theater."

Lia rolled her eyes, but indulged the dwarf, lifting up her own cup. "May they have less drama than mercenary work."