#ameridan:ic

[skyheld]

plotted starter for @ferinehuntress

The hall is full of smells.

Sour terror, thick and heady fury, wafting from deeper within the fortress where prisoners have been held and cultists reigned. Closer, coming off of the survivors of the battle: the lighter scents of relief and triumph, the heavy one of grief over those lost. A deep, seeping hatred lingers even though most of the ones who hated are dead, and permeating all is the many-headed smell of dead things; what was in them and what they were and what they're becoming, flesh and rot and larvae. Then there's the dark, wet smell coming from down below — a smell of meat and blood and innards, but not good meat and blood and innards, not the kind that makes saliva drip from Little Dread's jaws. He knows instinctively that what's down there isn't for eating. Something off, something unnatural.

That bad-meat smell lingers on Ameridan too, long after he's tried to wash it off. He's heavy with weariness and sadness and more complicated things which Little Dread can't quite understand — the kind of feelings wolves don't have to worry about because they're wolves — but he knows they're bad feelings. Little Dread keeps close to him, even though he wants to go off and investigate some of the good smells ( especially the good meat-smell that doesn't come from down below but from the corpses. That meat-smell makes his jaws drip.)

The thing about Ameridan is that he notices, so after some time he sits by one of the fires and tells Little Dread he can go off on his own if he wants. Little Dread doesn't leave Ameridan alone, of course, but the large elven druid is nearby and Little Dread trusts him ( he gives good head scratches ) and the red tiefling with the loud voice and the kind hands ( who gives even better head scratches ) so it feels safe. He pads off quietly, first to find some of those good-smelling corpses and still his hunger, then for other interesting, but less edible things.

There's one scent that stands out, a mixture of many things. The sharp, metallic scent of dragon. A cold moonlight scent, something that makes his ears stand up in a similar way to when Ameridan channels his goddess into his most powerful spells — but stronger, far stronger. Mixed with it, more weariness, an even heavier weariness than Ameridan's, one that would crush anyone who stood beneath it.

He's not sure if he should investigate. She smells powerful, more powerful than anyone he's met. Divine. But as he gets closer to her, following the scent of dead orc around the room, he catches something else on her.

Wolf. Yes, wolf!

it's old, faint — but it's there. And not enemy-wolf but friend-wolf, which makes her a wolf-friend. He gives a happy bark, suddenly excited, and leaps over the dead orc ( he wasn't hungry anymore anyway ) to find her.

"Wolf-friend!" he greets her, then stops, wondering if something more respectful would be appropriate for divinity. But then, what could be more respectful than that?

His ear twitches, curiously. Ameridans' smell is on her, and that bad-meat smell from down below: they've been close to each other. "You've met him", he says, not knowing if he'll understand. "My friend. Ameridan. You've fought his enemies beside him!"

[skyheld]

"It is good to hear there are still places like that, even among humans", he said, pausing to push back his sleeve which was coming down towards his wrist. "I was living in Orlais when my magic manifested. My parents brought me back to the Dales where it was the same as on your island --- mages were given education, but they weren't taken away. In Orlais, there was nowhere for mages to exist."

That had been before the Circles, when the Chantry only preached that magic was a curse upon the world. Compared to that they'd been an improvement, if not what he had wanted.

"She must have been knowledgeable." He looked around at the small garden, thinking of the skill it must have taken to make anything grow around here. "And kind, I am certain."

Niamh was mostly embarrassed because she was worried she had been overbearing. His words soothed her worries, though, and she felt the tension leave her shoulders. His question did succeed in distracting her and she shook her head.

"I wasn't. On the island where I grew up, we didn't have a Circle. Mages were allowed to just...be. It was nice."

She smiled, then, adding, "Everything I learned about gardening I learned from my grandmother. She raised me and taught me everything she knew. It was because of her I became a healer."

[skyheld]

@championsofthegate asked: i admire your optimism. (from Isseya to Ameridan? I'm not sure how they would meet but we can figure it out lol) | AS SAID BY SOLAS | accepting!

How strange it is to find another awakened out of time just like he was, another relic to be gasped over by historians and questioned by doubters. How strange that she is so similar to him: she too an elven mage, she too a warrior of the Blight. The difference, he thinks, is that she has purpose. Isseya has the griffons. Ameridan joined the Inquisition in their fight against Corypheus because he was needed, but now that it is over, he has nothing.

"I don't know that I would call it optimism", he says, looking straight at her scarred, ghoulish face. He has seen other Wardens as close to death as she looks; he doesn't flinch from it. "I am stubborn, I do not bend easily. Even when all I see ahead of me is darkness."

His hand reaches for an amulet which hangs always around his neck - hidden safely underneath his armour when he wears it, but visible now that he's not. A griffon feather, perfectly preserved as though its owner dropped it just a year or so ago.

"In this, though, I see more than darkness. I see griffons dancing in the air above a Grey Warden fortress. We can make that true."

[skyheld]

@moonprayed cont. from x

"it feels cold to leave them here." fely'ene's eyes fill with tears as she gazes at the ambushed tieflings. she knows they cannot do anything for them or even to just move them. it feels like just a few days ago they had all shared camp together. and here they were...

she knows ameridan is right, and that he is being practical. but it hurts. how many innocents would need to die to sate this damned absolute? "give me a few minutes." she asks, softly, and move forward towards the corpses.

she kneels by each, placing a hand over their eyes, closing them if they weren't already. she says a few words to her goddess in prayer at each - asking for eilistraee to keep watch over their souls and those that remained safe.

"okay." she stands and looks back at ameridan, resolve on her face. "let's go."

It seems as though every victory they've had has been followed by a setback, or been so costly it hardly seems worth it anyway. They saved the Grove from the Shadow-druids, but it will never be the same; dissent will cut its line through it forever. They saved Halsin and killed the goblin generals, but they waded through so much blood to do it. They saved the tieflings from being cast out of the Grove before the goblin threat had been dealt with — and now they find this.

"Go ahead. I'll wait." He feels guilty now for suggesting they move on without even the barest ceremony. But he says no prayers himself. Luck abandoned these people long ago. Tymora never even looked at them twice while they lived; why would she do it now that they're dead?

Instead he wipes his own tears and counts the bodies. "These aren't all of those who left the Grove", he says when she's done. "Some of them must have either been taken — or they escaped. Though how far they could have gotten, with these Shadows..."

[skyheld]

@championsofthegate asked: “the fates already fucked me sideways.” (Alras @ Ameridan lmao) | MEME PROMPTS | accepting

"Not exactly elegantly put, but I see your point." He smiles, amused. It's not the worst he's heard. Drakon's Ciriane lords prided themselves on their cunning and wit, but pour enough wine down their throats and they became as vulgar as their uncivilized Alamarri or Avvar counterparts (or, indeed, as any elven general who'd spent more time in an army camp than at a palace).

Things are different now, and not so different. Even at this small, peaceful gathering, a soirée seemingly held for pleasure, there's an undercurrent of violence: the nobles drifting around the lavish room all too prepared to shed their rustling silks and pounce like beasts at the first sign of weakness. "But was it fate? You've come a long way from your clan, and not, perhaps, in a direction you wanted. But it was you who touched the orb, by your own choice, was it not?"

[skyheld]

"If I tried and failed, clearly it was not enough. All we could do, maybe, but not enough."

Gale was close to the truth, if not quite there. It was not that Ameridan wanted to play the hero, but he had a tendency to shoulder every responsibility come his way, whether it should be his to bear or not. They'd only stumbled on to the hag's lair in an attempt to save their own lives. No one would have expected them to save everyone else in there, and yet he loathed that he hadn't.

"...ah. Thank you." The words of comfort didn't quite reach him, but their intent did. He gave the wizard a rueful smile, the hand on his shoulder warming his heart. "There is no point in dwelling on it, is there? We simply move on."

Ah. Ameridan did like to play the savior, didn't he? And it wasn't that Gale didn't agree. If they could have saved more of the hags victims, he would have happily done so. But unfortunately, most of them had been too far gone to save.

"You can't save everyone," Gale answered softly. "Although that doesn't mean we shouldn't try, don't get me wrong. But you did more than enough, here. You saved a mother from becoming the hags next victim, and likely saved countless more people from her clutches."

After a moment, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on Ameridan's shoulder. "Would that there were more people like you, in this world. It'd be a much kinder place, I believe."

[skyheld]

@daelgar asked: "What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of the world could learn to use?" - Ameridan | EPIC: THE MUSICAL | accepting

He's glad to be out in the open after standing for so long in the great hall, breathing fresh air instead of smoke from the braziers and the sweat and perfume of the gathered crowd. And he's glad to be away from that very crowd, for a moment alone with Kali. He said something to her as they walked out the doors. It was low, only for her to hear — he realizes now she may have misunderstood it.

"I agree with you", he assures her as soon as they are out of earshot. Not because that is a secret, but the rest of what he has to say is not for everyone to hear. "I wouldn't have chosen differently. But this — this whole... procedure. That was no trial. It was a farce. THAT is what I do not like."

He does not fault her for it, for she's had no choice, but watching the new Inquisitor as she sat in judgement over the Inquisition's prisoners has left a bad taste in his mouth. She seated on her throne, above everyone else — the accused before her in chains, already condemned. A few words they were allowed in their defense, and it cannot be said they used them well — but is that what should decide their fate? How eloquently they spoke for themselves, how correctly they read their accusers and their judge? There was no deliberation here, no discussion. The Inquisitor alone passed judgement.

He descends the final steps down to the courtyard and turns, discomfort plain on his face. "I try not to compare my time to yours too much. It's no use, and it doesn't help you, but..." He frowns, seeking a way to explain his dislike that will not sound like an accusation. "My world was in shambles. In many places there was no law, or the law was whatever suited the local warlord. We had to make up our own rules then — but we did so carefully, reason weighed against reason, mercy against justice... and it was never just one of us deciding what punishment to mete out."

"Thedas is no longer a lawless land. The Inquisition has simply placed itself above it. I do not think that's wise."

[skyheld]

@tragicvictories asked: "You're surprisingly fragile for someone who fights so fiercely." // for ameridan from ziphrane After-Action Patch-Up starters | accepting!

He sighs, letting one shoulder drop while holding the other perfectly still to allow a healing spell to take hold. For a while he's been stoic, the very image of an age-old warrior unfazed by any injury, . Now that illusion breaks; he makes a face, and becomes real.

"I used to be stronger. I would have been able to parry that blow - before." Before Hakkon, that is, before the time spell. At least he thinks so. It was a powerful blow, admittedly, and he's never been able to rely much on physical strength. "I've yet to learn my limits, I suppose."

There's some bitterness in those words, some resignation - and a grudging acceptance that he must work with these new limits, because he cannot work against them. He's still stronger than he looks, more dangerous in a melee than people tend to assume, but he remains ill-equipped to take heavy damage.

"But I like how you said that." He twists to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "I have been told something similar, but the other way around: for a mage, I fight surprisingly well in close combat."

A smile flits past, thoughtful. "I like your version better. You saw the strength before the fragility."

[skyheld]

@mercysought cont. from x

She doesn't agree to speak as equals. So be it, then. He is hardly going to change her mind. Ameridan has no illusions that the Priestess wants to speak to him, now or ever. Even on the most trivial subject their opinions tend to differ, and if they don't --- if, for once, they both agree the best spot to camp would be right there, or that such and such is the most effective way to take down a particular enemy --- they can still only speak in either the most formal tones, or in veiled insults. The impatience and frustration he feels for her is rare. She brings out a side of him Ameridan himself hasn't often seen, an unwillingness to see things from her perspective, a complete resistance to understanding.

It hurts him. It tires him. They should be allies, should they not?

"You may drop the title. I am Inquisitor no longer. I think the current holder of that position is entitled to it." But there's some purpose to removing his name, he supposes, just as she has removed her own. It adds distance. It isolates her as effectively as her position out here watching the mountain pass.

He sits across from her. The wind chills him to the bone, but he is always cold up here, as though his body requires more warmth than ever to keep even the bare minimum. At least this is neutral ground, more or less. No crumbling ruins, no monuments to their peoples' fall save those they bear themselves.

"I cannot help but feel that Vivienne is right", he says, meeting her gaze evenly. "We are acting like children, picking fights even when we know exactly how they will end. You have your opinions and I have mine. Clearly they are not changing." He'd hoped to change her mind. Nudge it a little bit in a different direction, at least. He'd hoped patience and tolerance could turn her from the dark path she walks, make her see reason, make her... believe in a different way. And maybe he could, if that was what he was doing, but this arguing isn't that.

"But perhaps there's still a possibility of understanding", he says. "Perhaps we could but speak, not argue, and then... make a truce, I suppose." And agree never to speak of it again.

[skyheld]

He was glad to leave the topic of Ketheric behind for a while and turn to something a little less dark. They would have to return to it eventually --- even if they didn't, she would one day have to face the fact that her father was dead. But for the time being there was no point in repeating the evils he had done and would keep doing until they stopped it.

"It may not have been a large city, but I can tell it was beautiful once." Even with the streets broken up and giant roots reaching up out of walls and roofs to choke the houses, that was still possible to see. The now-ruined stonework had been subtle but decorative, the houses large and comfortable with arched windows and sweeping stairs. Moonrise Towers must have been it's crown jewel. It was hard to see past the bloodstains on the floors, evidence of prisoners being dragged and even cultists slain by their own for disappointing superiors. But if one did, it was possible to imagine the place filled with servants and noble guests, or selûnites in the robes of their order.

Ameridan watched Isobel's finger move across the map, memorizing the locations she pointed out. Some of it might not even be recognizable, but from a distance he'd clearly seen the houses still standing, only ruined. It would help to have seen it like this, even if some streets were entirely blocked off by rubble and vines.

"The house of healing is where we're hoping to find more information about that Flaming Fist below --- the one found in the shadows. Halsin thinks he may be a clue to breaking this curse, if we can only find a way to wake him up." Breaking the curse couldn't be their priority, truly. They had to defeat the Absolute; they had to find a way to kill Ketheric and defeat his army, and they didn't have endless amounts of time. But they still didn't understand his immortality, and they couldn't march on Moonrise with their current numbers. With no goal to walk straight towards, taking detours may even help them in the end, for it could lead them to important knowledge they wouldn't otherwise have had.

It would come down to time and resources in the end. Breaking the curse, if it was even possible, would be a good thing to do, a fantastic thing, but not at the cost of defeating Ketheric or the Absolute. If they did fail that, it would hardly matter for Reithwin if the shadows were lifted. The town wouldn't be spared Ketheric's wrath.

"Do you know if your family has a mausoleum somewhere? The commander I spoke of, the half-orc, wanted us to go there to find something of importance to Ketheric. It may be a chance to get close to him if we can find it."

“Indeed, he has cursed this land and all those who once lived here. How many souls are trapped within the shadows?” How many has her father tortured and harmed? It was unforgivable. Isobel took a breath as she rested her hands on her lap, just wondering how they could end this. Ameridan gave them a way though, and it was the only way they had. “Hmm,” A half-orc, Isobel didn’t know of anyone, though there were hundreds at moon rise. Isobel’s hands wrapped around herself at the idea of some kind of filth within Moonrise. So much of it was decimated already, and one tower no longer stood gloriously as before. “I can’t believe my home is that now. A war ground. And to think something else is in the walls... it’s terrible,”

A breath left her lips as she slowly unwrapped her hands from around her body and stared at the golden fire burning in front of them. It crackled and flicked around as she raised her hand to feel the warmth in her hand. She feared the idea of going anywhere near moonrise, and yet.... She wanted to go to confront her father. A part of her worried the only answers she could get were from him.

The request allowed her mind to rest as she looked over at him and smiled. “I wouldn’t mind talking about it, in truth,�� Isobel stood up and walked over as her fingers brushed over some books before grabbing one. “Here we go,” she returned and set down and opened up the book to find a page that had all of reithwin drawn out like a map. “Reithwin wasn’t a vast city. It was primarily a town with selunites, but we allowed anyone to come in as long as they did not mean harm and we helped everyone. This place is the tollhouse,” Isobel said, pointing at the first building. “Visitors never had to pay, but it was for those who did trading often, there were small tolls to pay for porting in the town. Afterward, this is the center square. We had many events held here, and many parades or others things. If you ever get lost, get to the center and you’ll be able to find your way,”

Isobel continued to describe Reithwin, talking about all the places, from the hotels, the market places, the house of hope and more. So much of it had been home. She knew all the locals and everyone who came through. It’s how she met Aylin, as she was there when she first arrived. “Reithwin was the jewel of the Chionthar River. Everyone wanted to come trade here, to rest and recover,” She passed over the book, Allowing Ameridan to explore it and ask questions he might have.

[skyheld]

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off. (+ Ameridan. Food? Dirt? Blood? Who knows;; )

BEYOND THE STORM | @winterfollows

"...I am making a mess, aren't I?"

He laughs, tilting his head slightly (being taller than his companion is a rare but pleasant change) so Haleir can reach to wipe whatever it is off his cheek. The small kitchen towards the back of his house in the Lower City was a mess before and is even more of a mess now. But he hasn't made food for anyone else in so long. It has just been him and Little Dread and the wolf would much rather have a raw steak from the butcher's than anything that has ever been close to an oven. So what if Ameridan gets flour everywhere and the pie crust is uneven; he is distracted from baking by the fact that he has someone to bake for.

"Thank you", he says as Haleir steps back --- meaning less for the clean-up, and more for the company. "Whatever would I do without you?"

[skyheld]

" There are some things that do not die no matter how many blades we put into them. " + Ameridan, dnd/bg3. Campfire musings of a dotty old elf, clearly. ;P

BEYOND THE STORM | accepting | @winterfollows

"It would be so much easier if we could put a blade into anything that troubled us, wouldn't it? Grief. Self-doubt. Love, when it is unwanted." He can think of a thousand more things as he reaches for a stick, already burnt at the end, to stir the dwindling fire. They have been sitting here a long time. "And yet, imagine how many cuts it would take to carve all the grief out of such long lives as ours. Maybe it is better to be grieving but whole, than to have lost so much of ourselves."

A small smile. "Or you were talking about liches and I have embarrassed myself with philosophical nonsense."

[skyheld]

@accultant cont. from x

It is tempting to leave, admittedly. Vivienne would be furious and their mage allies probably offended, but truly, nothing they will be doing here cannot be done through a polite letter. Or an impolite one, if necessary. They are here so they're seen being here, that is the only reason he can think of. So it's tempting not just because of how unsettling it is for the both of them to be here; it's also that Ameridan dislikes the message this is sending. The Inquisitor (and the former Inquisitor) visiting the last standing circle, willing to ally with it --- people will read so much into that.

But backing out of what they've started is no option. The Inquisitor can't be seen being frightened by the presence of templars. They are holding together remarkably well under the circumstances --- he has noticed them staying close to him, the glances over their shoulder, but they are here, walking calmly through what must feel so much more like a nightmare for them than it does for him. He turns to give them an encouraging look, and that's when they drop their final comment.

Well. That's a terribly inappropriate thing to say. It brings the tiniest smile to his lips.

"I am sure we need not worry about that. Our allies would not allow any accidents to befall us." There's a hint of a warning there; it may be unwise to speak of accidents, even if it seems Vivienne is the only one close enough to listen. No one would truly dare to touch them, at least no one who isn't a fanatic for some ideal or other (they've had enough of those to be mindful of the possibility) but that doesn't mean they aren't being watched. That's probably the point, isn't it? To be seen, to be observed. It always is. Always has been.

Ameridan is fortunate in that he was born into status, and held lesser positions of command long before he shouldered that of the entire Inquisition. He got to navigate the Game before the outcome really mattered to anyone but himself, and he got to rise through the ranks (skipping some, because the emperor's friend doesn't have to go through all the hoops a lowly recruit does, but not all of them) instead of being put at the head of an army almost at once. He knew what it meant to be something more than yourself, a symbol instead of a person. He knew what it was like when every word spoken and every action taken was scrutinized, analyzed --- and used, by whoever could find a way to twist it to their benefit. It is familiar, like old armour worn through many battles.

It still chafes.

"But they really have no reason to keep us long", he says, as though to reassure both himself and Iago. "Should they try to, I don't know, invite us on a tour to the the dungeons we will simply have urgent business elsewhere. We are the Inquisition, we always have urgent business. Everywhere."

[skyheld]

"I know how armour works, yes", he can't help but quip, though he has to admit (to himself, at least) it wasn't the most clever of comments. Leather would make less noise than mail or plate but offer less protection, so it would somewhat ruin the idea that Paerin is to take the heavier hits. He's not dragging Paerin into this with insufficient equipment. "The point still stands that I do not think noise will be such an issue."

He smiles again as the paladin gives in --- sincerely, with no trace of mischief this time. "Thank you. If anything happens I will do what I can to take the blame. I have a reputation in this city --- I may get off lightly." Though with the recent state of affairs, that may be unlikely.

The second question Paerin raises is a good one, and he ponders for a moment before answering. "I can see in the dark, but you do not. A light would show anyone looking through the window exactly where we are. And there is the risk that he actually has those refugees thrown out before then. No, I think we should move as soon as possible."

Paerin gives a little snort, his incredulously amused, " —— least clinky —— " uttered under his breath and with good humor. A smile haunts, and when he glances across the table he gives a wry little smile. " Y'know the clinky part 's usually th'part that keeps me from gettin' stabbed, right, " he muses, but he ponders it over for a minute.

The argument's fair, and the justification more so. And, well, he's been a soldier, a guard: not for awhile, but he could probably bullshit his way into at least looking like he's supposed to be somewhere if they were caught.

" Fine, " he sighs, and it's not without a little strain under the words — he doesn't really have an argument to the contrary, and he won't deny the guy's sparked some suspicion in him, too. " Y'wantin' to do this while he's distracted, or wait 'til 's dark? "

[skyheld]

plotted starter for @torntruth

Stepping into the Guild's headquarters, Ameridan is keenly (hah) aware of every sightline leading from the guild's members to himself and his companions, every chokepoint on the path ahead where an attack would be launched and every dark corner where additional members might be hiding. They are watching, he's sure of it, even though they make an effort not to look like it. Some of their faces he knows, most he doesn't, but even if they don't know him he has no doubt they are all prepared to attack any stranger walking into their midst. And he's not exactly a stranger.

As for Keene herself, he has no idea what to expect. She once made it abundantly clear he was never to interfere in her business again, and he cannot be certain she'll consider the cult of the Absolute enough reason to retract that statement.

He studies her, seated behind a desk as lavish as that of an upper city merchant. She has aged, but for once, so has he. Aged past her, he thinks, just over the course of the last weeks since the Nautiloid took him.

"You have never invited into your office before", he says. It's a peace offering. The joke is on both of them, making light of the time she threw him out of her headquarters. If she's willing, they can move past it with nothing more than some quick wit. "Should I be honoured, or concerned?"

[skyheld]

@championsofthegate liked for a test starter

The boar stew is thick and hearty, smelling of herbs and vegetables. Everyone has told him there's absolutely no need for him to cook for them — it's his first night with them, his first night, really, in a hundred years; he's been through far too much to think of cooking. But it was better to do it than to do nothing. Easier to go through the familiar motions of cutting and stirring than to think about what he's lost in years and in people.

Maybe it's shock. He's seen that in other people. Woodsmen who lose a finger to their own axe and keep working, unable to process the need for medical aid. Generals raving about going back to the battlefield while their guts are spilling out over a surgeon's table.

In comparison, cooking seems pretty harmless.

"Please eat", he says, handing Ayla a steaming bowl and sitting beside her. "And... forgive me for not being very talkative. If not for you I wouldn't have known where to go. I'll try to answer any questions you have."