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a dragon age roleplay
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Four years strong, we are a literate to advanced Dragon Age roleplay that focuses on the events post-Trespasser, while also following the timelines of the Warden, Champion and Inquisitor.

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 More, Give Me More [C], Bug — 28 Guardian, 9:42 Dragon
played by CAT
est    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GDeceased
A42
AThe Griffon
P362 posts

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The parchment is folded three times over, edges sharp and creases crisp. Wax seal sat at its center, the depiction of a Ferelden heraldry, not so grand to sit conspicuous, but enough to warrant the idea that its sender is of a considerable enough wealth. Red. Precise as the rest of it. No script on the outside, enticing, breeding the curiosity that begs it be opened. Passing between only two sets of hands, delivered with the haste of near urgency and placed with care atop a menagerie of scattered papers and tomes, careful to hold its place in sight. Demanding.

Opened, the penmanship is careful, curved to suggest entitlement. Large and embellished, rich ink eased between strokes, refusing to bleed and only petering off when opportune. A date to admit its rushed travels, less than a week from when it was penned. For all of its subtleties and hints at refinement, the signature is blotted and fails to be decipherable——

23 Guardian, 9:42
Your Most Established,

I find myself in need of your services. At dawn on the first night of Cloudreach there is incentive to have in my possession a steed of value. Strange a request as this may seem, attempts to seek alternative routes have proven fruitless and I assure you the compensation for your troubles will be steep.

The specifics are limited to an Orlesian Stallion of pure breed, unbroken and untethered. Preferably sable, however I am willing to relinquish that desire if it is too cumbersome for your organisation to come upon.

My colleague will be in contact, awaiting your response.

[an unintelligible signature]

Impersonal, a series of indentations litter the lower left corner, indications of a hidden aggression the letter was unsuccessful in betraying. Punctured only the once, a telling sign that ought have shown the ruse for what it was, no efforts to hide it functioning as the challenge. The warning before canon fire. His duties snuffed, Benoît'd managed to resist a frenzied urge to put sense at his flank, charge into a stronghold filled with shadowed eyes, opting to humor this contact, assured the obscurity of it all would dissuade suspicion.

Bold, this... presuming they'd not see it coming.

The Bellwether with all of their shifting gazes, cast out to all corners of the chart, not a one the weak link and each as glinting and omniscient as the others. A serpent in the briars, too arrogant to be caught.

played by milk
est    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GMage
A29
Abellwether
P33 posts

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The Bellwether's response comes written on a vellum scroll tied inexpertly with red string. On its center, doing a better job at keeping the scroll from coming undone than the string, sits a wax sealing bearing the symbol of a wether donned with a large bell around it's neck. The seal is bronze, imbued with the sense of old, subtle elegance. Upon unrolling the scroll, however, the reader is met with... a mess.

The aura is all wrong —an odd simulacrum. The script inside is scribbled hastily, almost distractedly. The sender, clearly left-handed, clearly inattentive, had accidentally smudged the first few letters with the side of their palm. They'd been outdoors as well; hints of wet earth and lavender leaves having been left on the page, their scent mild.

5 Drakonis, 9:42

IWe must first apologize for our tardiness in getting back to you, and hope this letter finds you in good spirits. We at the network urge you to worry not; odd though your request may be it has always been in the network's best interest to see a client's needs met. We have, since the arrival of your letter, been in contact with several Horsemasters and their acolytes —no word as of yet, but we are undeterred.

Off chance we have opted to caution you: Due to the nature of your request —the specificity of it— the chances of finding your unbroken purebred Orlesian stallion (and this sans the preferred coat color) in the allotted time are rather slim.

Again we (or, rather, I: the informant you have come into contact with) urge you to worry not. The task you have given us is difficult, yes, but so are most things worth doing. I amWe are confident we shall have your steed for you by the date specified and, as a sign of good faith, will take no payment until the horse is procured.

If you would: Please provide us with a time and place to meet for when the aforementioned is found.

the bellwether network


Breathing a sigh of relief Bug closes shut the inkwell and places her writing pen to the side. Hoping she hasn't come on too strong, she skims the contents of her letter once more. Decaisne had always warned her about her tendency towards letting her personality pervade into her writing, but that shouldn't be the case now. Best not overthink it, she decides.

The request, interestingly enough, is a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stifling pile of demands. A great distraction.

It never does occur to her to ask what the horse is for.

played by CAT
est    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GDeceased
A42
AThe Griffon
P362 posts

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Judging by the state of the response, it hadn't been received with kindness. Stripped of its bindings and nearly tattered in the process, what ought have chilled his simmering disdain had done little save bolster it. A mockery of a response, spilled from a quill that stuttered and stammered. No consistency. No elegance. Sullied parchment and an untrained hand, it promised more of a joke than the threat he'd caught wind of. Such precious information in the hands of the inept...

What lay on the desk of the Bellwether for the finding is dark. A stained sheet, turned so from an unknown source, though judging by the richness in tone, it had been pressed with beet. Red. Dark and consistent, though not so overpowering that the ink should fall unseen. The same practiced script from before, somehow sharper than it was previously, though no less pervasive. As though what lay in the words themselves is less important than the letter's presence on its own.

An old bard's warnings.

16 Drakonis, 9:42 Dragon

Your response was most appreciated and, I assure you, whatever arrangement we are able to make, it will culminate in satisfaction. As the stallion is needed by the eve of Cloudreach's first day, I would greatly appreciate a meeting in the days prior to this. Though I am aware that upon the couriers reaching you, our time will be limited. Due to the nature of this exchange, I fear I cannot travel far from my estate, as I would not wish to put more strain on the steed, as well as my resources, than necessary.

At your leisure, I will be upholding a temporary residence at the Thin Hart Inn across the ways from the Crooked Whale tavern near the Cumberland port until the journey home is necessary. If you should find success, I will make my presence known, there, every evening when possible. I will alert the chamberlain of the establishment to keep ear to the ground for your arrival.

I look forward to our, finally, making one another's acquaintanceship.

[yet again, the signature remains ilegible]

Where the first had harbored the promise of a nobleman's opened pockets, this second steals it back. With no mention of the sum to be offered and the withholding of the name of the homestead, there is hesitation before sending it. A wariness to ask if, perhaps, the act is too obvious. Littered with threats and warnings, a glance towards the Bellwether's own example eliminates his concerns. The renewal of his peaking irritation only fuels the stamping of a dead man's signet over the wax firmer. Nearer to the paper than it ought be... another sign of aggression.

Making their acquaintance is the least of his desires.

played by milk
est    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GMage
A29
Abellwether
P33 posts

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The words this time are gushing, almost buoyant, its letters poorly withholding the writer's barely-contained excitement. With the creature found, the request well-nigh fulfilled, the sender pushes the insidiously disquieting letter she had received some hours ago to the back of her brain —her mind refusing to entertain scenarios where the letter is more than what it seems, where the words within somehow hint at something far more nefarious. Thinking more on it the missive had withheld much, giving very little away in terms of any personal information. Odd that.

Should she press for more? No. There was simply no time. She is too sensitive a person, she decides, if she is suddenly seeing shadows where there are none. Yet despite her resolve a tentative half-fear manages to etch itself into the back of her mind, its presence instinctual.

Unfortunately its existence ends up making an iota of a difference.

Taking in the afternoon sunlight she continues her writing, unperturbed and unwavering. Her mirth congeals and she hums, continuing to relay her message, growing bolder with every stroke of her writing pen. She does not stop until, suddenly, with a flourish, the document is signed.

The end result is this: her third and final draft.

Thankfully no detritus makes it onto the page this time.

22 Drakonis, 9:42

News!!

Due to a stroke of luck, and some sleuthing on the network's part, we've now a joyous update concerning your request. I somehow Your Orlesian purebred (with all its other addenda) has been found and, as of the nineteenth, been acquired by us. We've since, as a precaution, inspected the creature for any foul play and found that it is, in fact, the genuine article! Due to this we shall be making our way to you at the Thin Hart Inn at first light tomorrow and should arrive in Cumberland in no less than a week if weather permits. No matter what we promise that we shall get this horse to you before the first of Cloudreach.

We look forward to meeting you.

Until then!

the bellwether network


The high wears off the second she seals the letter shut.

Something's been overlooked, but what?

It hits her then, quite suddenly, and she immediately blanches at the very thought. Her worst fear realized: a day at sea. That is, if she is to make it in time, the trip requires her to go through that blighted, fathomless expanse of saltwater for a third time. The Waking Sea. She groans, hissing out an expletive, and remembers just how miserable and bilious she'd been the last time.

No, crossing that ocean is the last thing she wants to do.

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