Dragon Age: Blessed Are They [IC]

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

---

OOC | IC | DISCORD

---

CHAPTER I: AND SO WE BURNED

---

"And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars,
We dreamed up false gods, great demons
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you."
- Threnodies 1:8

---

Nevarra, South of Hunter Fell
9:41 Dragon

The sun beamed down from up high, looming over Hunter Fell. It was here that, centuries ago, the Third Blight was defeated at the hands of the combined armies of Tevinter, Orlais, and the Grey Wardens during one of the bloodiest battles in history, ending with the death of the Archdemon Toth. Where once there were piles of slain darkspawn, said to reach as high as a hundred feet, now the fields surrounding Hunter Fell were calm and quiet this early in the morning, and free of corpses. The city and its surrounding lands are ruled over, now, by Duke Tythas Pentaghast, a former military hero known for his open-minded attitude, assisted by a secret network of old adventuring companions - and, allegedly, lovers, with the so-called "Five Belles of Hunter Fell" rumored to be beautiful women, all. Among them, reports sent to the Inquisition's stronghold, Skyhold, claim, an agent of the Venatori - servants of the so-called Elder One. Agents have been dispatched, and now they search for information that may help identify who exactly this agent is - but another group of the Inquisition's agents moves elsewhere within the region, with a different goal in mind.

Emerging from behind the trees of the sprawling woodland that lay ahead of this particular group were the withered spires of a necropolis, dating from the time of the Third Blight. Nevarra had, as a country, always been fixated with death more than any others. Perhaps this was owed to how the ruler of Nevarra had handed over the prophet Andraste to the Tevinter during the Ancient Age, before repenting, or perhaps the roots for this lay somewhere else entirely. Regardless, Nevarran belief holds that when the soul of a deceased individual crosses into the Fade, it displaces a spirit native to the Fade. To provide safe hosts for these spirits, the bodies of the deceased are mummified and placed into elaborate crypts at the hands of a secretive order of mages, the Mortalitasi. Nowhere else across Thedas, but for the Tevinter Imperium, are mages this influential, and many unpleasant rumors surface about them, especially outside of Nevarra, perhaps in part due to their experimenting with necromancy. Unfortunately, only the elite of Nevarran society can afford for internment in Nevarra's Grand Necropolis at the hands of the Mortalitasi, and many of those who fell during the Third Blight were not as fortunate to get their eternal rest among those sacred halls. Their final resting place was more humble, most certainly not well-known, and rather tucked away, hidden amidst the trees of the forest that had grown around it as the land recovered from the devastation wrought upon it. Still, the Mortalitasi maintained even this place, making sure no disturbances took place among the dead, here.

Or, at least, that was how things were supposed to be. From this place, its name forgotten now to all but perhaps the Mortalitasi themselves, not a word had come for weeks - the members of the mysterious order of death mages strangely quiet. At the same time, undead creatures had been sighted, indicating that at least something had gone wrong, here: several farmers from the area had been felled by ancient weapons borne by mummified remains. While that would've simply been reason for the duke to dispatch a group of guardsmen with, perhaps, one of the death mages, more troubling reports had come - strengthened only by the fact that the guardsmen that the Duke Pentaghast had indeed sent never returned. Several of the locals claimed that they had seen creatures resembling the hated Darkspawn. Thus it had become a matter of the Grey Wardens - yet they were nowhere to be found, save for one: Blackwall, of the Inquisition. It was through him, too, that the Inquisition had conscripted people to their ranks through the Wardens' Right of Conscription. That, then, was the reason that a handful of individuals of the Inquisition found themselves in Nevarra, making their way towards an old, crumbling necropolis: someone had to investigate, and through its actions, the Inquisition had inherited a certain degree of responsibility for this, even if the people that had been dispatched had not been conscripted through the ancient right of the Wardens, themselves.

They were a varied bunch, from all walks of life and the different corners of Thedas. Steeds had been provided to them for their journey, even if some of them might not have wanted one. It was halfway through the morning as they arrived at their destination, the treeline parting and making way for the centuries-old necropolis that they were destined for. It was a large: high walls with even higher spires, some of them half-crumbled made for an imposing, if somewhat weathered away, facade - and it would continue further deep below the ground, where most of the dead had been interned. It was quiet: here, by the necropolis, there were no birds one could hear singing their songs upon the wind, nor any other woodland creatures announcing their presence. Similarly, there was no sight of any of the undead - or Darkspawn - the group had been sent to investigate.

Raising a hand, the woman that was in charge of the group, at least for the time being, commanded them to halt. Clad in a chevalier's armor, she had the appearance of an Orlesian through and through, save for perhaps the masks they were often seen wearing. With a light grunt, she climbed out of the saddle, taking her horse by its reins and tying them to a nearby tree. "This should be it." She announced, plainly, a thick Orlesian accent present in her voice. Natalie Rochette, would-be chevalier, now a soldier of the Inquision, turned around to look at the group she had been dispatched with. She had not spoken much with them during the journey, but they'd have to do - even if she had little trust to spare for those that wielded magic. "I see very little dead things from here, but we'd best keep an eye out. Get yourselves ready. We're heading in there soon." Reaching for her canteen, she drank some water from it, using her free hand to indicate towards the necropolis, and the darkened hallways that its entrance, like a gaping mouth, would soon lead them to.

[The Litan Imperium]

"Of course Ma'am." Darius replied to the woman with his thick orlesian accent.

Darius dismounted the horse that the Inquisition had given him, a grade horse that he hadn't gothen used to riding. Unlike his Orlesian Courser, Laroche, that has been his steed since he first started horse riding at the Academie des Chevaliers. Unfortunately, Laroche had broken one of his legs and had to stay at Val Royeaux. Meaning Darius had to settle for the impure Beast that the Inquisition had provided.  He proceeded to take his large crossbow off a harness on the saddle. This crossbow had practically become a part of him after how long he's used it. Many people, even some of those he was travelling with, were baffled by the strange crank device on his crossbow. It's purpose being to help pull back the string on the crossbow due to the high draw weight. It's craftsmanship and ability to defeat dragon hide and plate armor has made it Darius' pride and joy. Darius then took a small warhorn from a sack attached to the horse saddle. The horn was a family heirloom, passed down from his ancestors who served alongside Ser Gaston De Montfort at the battle of Ayesleigh during the fourth blight. He carries it both for good fortune and it's magical ability to boost the strength of those who hear it. He put his helmet on to complete his set of armor, made with plates of bloodstone and tunic and trousers of highest quality leather and silk dyed red. The chevalier then grabbed and slung on his rucksack that had all his personal effects and his crossbow bolts.

After gathering his equipment off his horse, Darius took a moment to look at those He had been travelling with. Namely the woman who had acted as their de facto leader during their ride to Nevarra. She hasn't spoken much to the group, save for the occasional order or command towards them. He had heard her name muttered, Rochette, it was minor nobility whose wines filled the cellar of his Family's estate in Val Royeaux. He had also seen her armor, fashioned after that of the Chevaliers, but she wore no yellow feather which served as the mark of a chevalier. Meaning she never finished training, though after seeing how she handled a group of raiders earlier it was clear that wasn't due to a lack of skill. She clearly showing to be much more skilled in melee than him. While many chevaliers would call her a pretender, him included were he not travelling with her, he still held a degree of respect towards her for her skill and the honor she seemed to still uphold. Until she gave him a reason not to, he would continue respect her but also keep an eye on her.

Darius had been given the same information, at least to his knowledge, as the rest of the group. Some kind of undead creatures were skulking around the necropolis and killed several farmers. They also are either the reason or at least part of the reason as to why a group of Duke Pentaghast's guardsmen disappeared. Darius had dealt with the undead before during his time as a chevalier. Often it was to deal with apostates dabbling in necromancy. The Templars had given the chevaliers knowledge on how to deal with mages, and by extension some of the constructs or beings they may summon. Darius was relatively unfazed and somewhat disappointed by the idea of combating the undead, wishing to instead fight something worthwhile. The rumors that the creatures were darkspawn had piqued his interest however and made him eager for a fight that would help him achieve the glory he sought.

Darius decided to ready himself before entering the pitch black entrance. Taking a seat and taking a set of tools out of his bag and doing maintenance on his crossbow. He then decided to try and make an "attempt" at conversation with the one person whom he at least knew he had something in common with.

"Lady Rochette, I see that you wear the armor of a chevalier and even fight with the skill and discipline of one as well. Yet you don't have the yellow feather, why is that?"

[Theyra]

Keten Jarul

"And very little Darkspawn too," Keten said right after Darius replied to her. Dismounting his horse, he wished he could have brought his old mount but, she was too attached to his father. It was better not to bring her but, Keten will miss that nuggalope. The horse that the Inquisition gave him was good enough and he has no trouble with it so far. Keten tied his horse to a nearby tree and gathered his gear. Keten was wearing his battle mage mail which covered most of his tattoos. Only the ones on the left side of his face could be seen. Getting his stave and careful not to accidentally cut his horse in the process. Most mage's staves do no have a blade at the end but, Keten likes to fight on the frontlines and that blades have been useful in the past.

Keten after getting his things walked to get a good view of the land. Sticking his stave into the ground and held it with one hand was he surveyed the land. He had never been to Nevarra and wanted to see what he could. Breathing in the air, he took in the sight and took time to look at the necropolis. Keten does not know much about Nevarrans, only bits and pieces from his mercenary days. Only that the Nevarrans treat death with more care than most and his old mage teacher, Sofia Avonal did not like them. Not the people or the rulers or the nobles, she hated their mages. Something about what she saw while in Nevarra one time that left an impression on her. Even after not being in Nevarra for years she still will not talk about it and Keten only got was a style of magic that some of the Nevarran mages practiced. It certainly does not leave a good impression with Keten and who knows, maybe he may see what disturbed her.

Though what worries him the most was not the prospect of fighting the undead but, of fighting Darkspawn. Keten still has nightmares about them from that day. The Battle of Denerim and while the nation was saved and the Darkspawn were beaten back into the earth from where they come from. He lost alot that day and maybe this mission, he can get some payback for what the Darkspawn took from him that day. Still there have not seen anything of note which could be the reason that the Inquisition sent them here. Guess it lied in the necropolis he thought and he took a brief look back to see his companions for this mission. He had not talked to any of them during the trip and it was mainly humans. He had worked with humans before, his mercenary band had humans, elves, dwarfs and fellow Qunari like him and his father.

Well, let's see how this group stack up to his mercenary band in terms of working together. They will not last long if they don't and continued to watch the necropolis.

[Insaeldor]

Maëlys Houet

I approached slowly, my steed ever moving. Trotting through the forest I could feel the pain in the forest. The absolute hellscape this must have been. I’d read about the third blight as a young man. I was lucky enough to have been spared seeing the actual as a child. To me the blight only brings back memories of women and children on the imperial highway, marching north to escape the darkspawn. The stone of the necropolis came into view. Natalie was first to dismount, as she was always the first to do anything. She had a drive in her, a fiery spirit I could only envy from afar. A woman of grace yet a warrior at heart. A woman able to stand in front of odds she would naturally be unable of handling, yet through determination and willpower is capable of overcoming them. She walked with a gait that was an odd mixture of postures. She still had the naturally swaying hips you see with a woman yet the large steps of a man. Elegency and prowess.


I dismounted as she spoke up. Simply informing us of our  job in the necropolis. Hiding in the tight corners of a building was something I’d done countless times. However I'd never done it against the living dead. Whatever it was in there it gave the area an aura of dread. I could feel a toxic miasma of fear surrounding us. Although the messaging from the locals wasn’t clear, as it always was. Villagers were always too uneducated to give effective information on things of unnatural origin. That was usually the case that villagers or locals, even scouts.


Keten and Darius were also on the ground. I Grabbed my arrows, inspected them quickly, I put different types of cloth with different textures that way I could pick out arrows by feel. I had mostly broadheads and bodkins, The broadheads had a bit of burlap, the Bodkins have some woven cotton near the notch. I left the other specialty arrows on my horse. I had a few swallowtail broadheads, purpose built cage arrows. That sort of thing. I did however take a leather pouch full of incendiary packs. Simple linen pouches with saltpeter and sulfur, sealed with wax and a small wick. I also had a small glass bottle of oil. It help to kill these things a bit faster, if the local superstitions were to be believed. I took out my small flask and took a sip from it, a bit of Mosswine in it. It wasn't a well regarded drink but it was cheap, it was easy to get a bottle after a day's work back on the storm coast. I’d grown to like it, the tart bitterness became more enjoyable with every sip. I finished up and tied my horse down. Looking upon the necropolis still gave me a sense of unease, maybe a sign of the the possibility of something dark. Afterall, the undead were nothing more than demons in corpses, fades, rage and sloth demons. They could all be misguided to a dead body, going insane in the process. The human bodies natural senses could pick up on this, normily to steer us away from threats. We'd have to take the trip into the bowels of the Void. I felt a bit if hesitation rise up, but i suppressed it, the alcohol made that a bit easier.

[Magnoline]

NEPHRAM
As the familiar spires of a Nevarran necropolis stretched into sight over the horizon, Nephram took a deep breath, and chased the knot in his throat with a swill from his copper flask. To him, this place once represented something holy, something sanctified. Something that, in the damned chaos of this world, had order. Purpose. Meaning.

Now, though, Nephram sees only pain, and the ruins of a grand tradition now marred by blood and ash. He was part of a group of Mortalitasi death mages in the center of the Grand Necropolis when the breach first appeared in the sky. The veil between Thedas and the fade was already weak there - but when the breach burned rifts into the fabric of that great city of the dead, it became a battleground. He was marooned for days, with no supplies, fighting off both demons and the dead he vowed to maintain stewardship over. He watched as his uncle, and mentor, was dragged into a rift by the grasping hands of fade beasts. He witnessed things that no mortal should ever have to stand - and then, when his favored young apprentice was corrupted by a demon, it was Nephram who drove the ritual knife into his throat.

No, the Necropoli of Nevarra were no longer a sanctum and a vestige of the natural order anymore, at least not to Nephram. They are nothing more than scars on his heart, but perhaps this eclectic band of wanderers and warriors would be able to restore the old image of the Mortalitasi's creed to him. A selfish thought, but one just hopeful enough to hide behind.

---

The journey to this place gave little time for platitudes and introductions - even still, Nephram knows that he isn't in the company of fools. He hasn't revealed that he is, or was, a Mortalitasi... but a quiet and scarred Nevarran mage with a staff adorned by a skull is sure to pique both interest and dread in both equal measure. It is already apparent in the eyes of his companions, the curiosity. Especially Keten. A certain distrust, or perhaps just benign inquisitiveness, seems to lie beneath the surface. Either way, the closer the party gets to the Necropolis, the less feasible it is to hide his past. Nephram knows that opening up about his role with the Mortalitasi may lose whatever trust he has garnered with his comapnions, and may drive a wedge between the group as a whole, but allowing these people to venture into a necropolis without proper guidance would not only be irresponsible - it would be inhumane.

Nephram listened to the front of the group as Natalie dismounted laid out the plan, and began to engage in conversation. He would have to speak to her before the proper sendoff into the Necropolis began.

"And very little Darkspawn too,", Nephram smirked as Keten spoke.
"I'm not so sure that's good news for us," Nephram replied plainly "The edge of a shattered necropolis, no dead or demon to be seen... leaves only one place for them to be." He nodded towards the city of the dead and took one last drink from his flask before tucking it under his tunic.

[The Twelve Isles]

SIONA WILLUN
Siona hurt from riding, and sighed with relief the party stopped before the grand walls of the Necropolis. She had never been much of a rider, and had never planned to be one, but it seemed the Inquisition had other ideas for her. It seemed no matter which way she shifted in the saddler, her legs or back or somewhere would hurt, and she would be forced to try and swap positions again. She had even felt a twinge of jealousy as the watched that Orelisian woman, Rochette, who seemed to be in charge. She seemed the most comfortable in the saddle, years of serving as both a warrior and an aristocrat would teach anyone to ride. But alas, Siona had chosen the life of an itinerant mage, not a court mystic or to lead a coven, and so she wobbled when her feet hit the ground after dismounting.

She gave the horse a quick pat however, liking it nonetheless for its no nonsense personality. If horses could have personality. She didn't really know, and as she pulled her staff from where it had been secured between her bedroll and blankets she thought about that. It was a simple staff, not as flashy or as mystical as most mages staffs were, but it held a dignity of its own. The black wood was rubbed smooth by her hand, and glinted in the light, the runes carved up and down it little shadows. Siona was quite fond of it, even down to its tattered bottom where she had used it as a walking stick.

Siona watched the others as they dismounted, stretching her legs and leaning on her staff. Darius for one gave her pause, though she held no ill will against him. He seemed to by the type to fear mages, not the type to accept them. And he looked at the Necropolis like it was something to fear, and to combat. She worried what he would say to Siona's magic. Sure, she used her skills as a necromancer for the opposite affect more often than not, putting the dead down and sending them back to death, but she still summoned the souls of the dead. At the very least that other mage, Nephram, would likely be on her side. He was a necromancer too, as far as she could tell. Siona sighed again, and stood a little to the side as the others spoke. "This whole place is off," she piped up, looking over the party. She had to flick her eyes of to catch the eyes of Keten, his large Qunari frame like a powerful brick in her vision. "I can feel the presence of death, but its not quite right. Not restful."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Natalie Rochette

For a moment, Natalie peered at the Necropolis and its sole, dark entrance. Idly, and somewhat nervously, she lightly scratched her cheek with a hand, standing there in silence for a moment. Her training at the Academie had dealt with the subject of the undead, but in practice, she'd never faced anything of the sorts before. Truth be told, it was unnerving, even if she did her utmost to not show the fact that she thought as much. It'd reflect poorly on her as a person, and even more so as a leader, if she'd show anything of the sorts - especially considering some of the people with her, as she had been told before getting dispatched with the lot of them, had significant experience with these sort of apparitions in particular. Mercifully enough, momentary distraction arrived in the form of a question, courtesy of the Chevalier who, curiously enough, worked with some sort of a crossbow. "Lady Rochette, I see that you wear the armor of a chevalier and even fight with the skill and discipline of one as well. Yet you don't have the yellow feather, why is that?"

She turned around, and bowed her head. "It took me quite some time to be accepted into the Academie, unfortunately. I've trained there but unfortunately, before I got to fully complete it this... disastrous Civil War broke out." She shook her head. "My trainers there opted to side with Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. My family, and I, continue to support the Empress. This Breach, this Inquisition... 't is a better thing to occupy one with than killing one's countrymen, or simply sitting by, idle. That would be why I fight like a Chevalier, despite not having earned the feather." Her words felt rather defensive, she realized, but at the same time, and more importantly, they were true. Trying to become a Chevalier, as a woman, had been met with plenty of questions, and it was perhaps something she had little patience for these days, at least when it came to that topic. "Although your own choice of weapons is certainly unconventional, for a Chevalier, I must say. Not that I am objecting, of course - it looks quite lethal, but I must wonder how it came about, if I might ask?"

The would-be Chevalier nodded in agreement as the others spoke, her eyes naturally wandering back towards the Necropolis' entrance. "It does mean the only place they could be is in there, indeed." She tilted her head, taking her shield from where it was strapped to her steed's harness. She let out a soft 'hm' as Siona spoke, mentioning how the place felt off. Damn right it did. "Well. At least we know we are in the right place, and where we're supposed to go then, no? There's something to be said for the straightforwardness of this all."

Taking in a deep breath, Natalie looked around the group she'd come here, to this Nevarran necropolis, with. Her eyes lingered on the Nevarran mage for a moment, before they moved on. "In case there's any Darkspawn hiding in there, make sure you don't get bitten by any rats. Nasty things could happen, I've been told. That said, whether there's Darkspawn in there, undead, or just a Mortalitasi too afraid to admit his experiments ran out of hand for a while, we'll need torches, seeing just how dark it may be in there. Light a few up and get ready to move. We know what we're here for and where we're headed - no point in stalling. If anyone has anything they think might be worth sharing, do it now. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

[Nuxipal]

Vizu Kanaxai


The Necropolis, Vizu had declined an offer for a promotion early in her career to transfer to Navarra within the Templar order specifically to avoid coming here. She knew that some members of her family at one point were interred here. It was an unpleasant thought to have heard potential undead had risen from the same grave site as members of your own family. However, now that she was here in person, she was a bit unnerved at the prospect of seeing her family crest on some walking corpse that was swinging a sword at her. She was sure that she could put down any foes, even if they were her ancestors, but she knew from her experience that the undead would be the least of their concern here.

Dismounting with the others the Inquisition had sent north, she had long ago noted that there were a good number of mages in their group, including at least one necromancer. Some of the mages she hadn't seen in Skyhold before and was completely unsure as to what their talents were. She pulled her shield from its resting place on her saddle, its downward facing sword matched the one on her armor she gripped it firmly while listening to the others. Mentions of what may lay ahead, the scent of death. While no one was looking she took a quick sip from one of her lyrium potions, just to keep herself fresh. As she turned to join the others, her eyes looked over each of the mages out of habit. It didn't matter how much she reminded herself they were allies, her Templar training kept her suspicious of mages.

The Orlesian warrior seemed to have taken charge of the operation, which was perfectly fine for Vizu. She had no intention of disputing that, she was ready to get into some action and clear the necropolis of its infestation. "I'm ready for whatever we find in there." She nods to the Chevalier, ready to go.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

It had been a long and exceedingly uncomfortable ride. Cunoan was used to discomfort, and her barbarian attire was in fact well-suited for horseback riding as much as its daily use otherwise, yet she greatly preferred to keep her feet on the ground. As a hired scout and sword, she had neither assumed nor wanted the Inquisition to bestow her with the crude beast she now sat upon. Its ceaseless swaying and constant bumping was a tough price to pay for not having to walk around, something she found to be a symptom of the weakness of these pampered Orlesians. All the same, however, she did as told. There was a contract in place, after all, and she took her contracts very seriously.

Nevarra was a warm country. Far warmer than she had been used to. Her Chasind kin had, for countless generations, endured the cold of the south with brave hearts. They defeated the need for excess by creating their special balm, which kept one warm under nearly any circumstance. This far north, however, one might assume, and perhaps rightly so, that such a balm would be utterly useless. She still carried a jar all the same, for one could never be too sure about circumstances of the land and sky. Certainly, with how her life had been thus far, she could only assume the spirits of nature had put her in deep disfavor at some point. Thus, it was just her luck that something bad would happen, a blizzard in the warm north or a narrow mountain pass funneling the party through, a supernatural cold within the ruins even, that would cause great problem were she not sufficiently prepared.

As the ancient necropolis came into view, it was finally time to dismount. Ever-thankful for the chance to gain some solid footing once more, she eagerly hopped off the beast and, with all due haste, tied it to the nearest tree. Feeling the rocky soil beneath her soft-soled boots, closing her toes to a satisfying crunch, it was good to be grounded once more. Cunoan witnessed as her new companions chattered among one another about the state of things, making note that the lack of enemies thus far means that they would more than likely be all clustered within the ruin. It was a fairly sound pattern of logic, of course. However, she noticed that their party leader, the captain of the Inquisition meant to lead the group into the depths, seemed hesitant. She showed no outward signs, apart from her refusal to move, turning into idle chatter with the other Chevalier of the party. Cunoan sighed as this Natalie took a deep breath and declared there was no point in stalling, before then taking the choice to stall even further.

"Let's go," Cunoan said in response to Natalie's statement with an impatient tone, taking enough steps so as to get ahead of the Orlesians, but close enough that the pungent smell of her self-tanned leather was within clear range, alongside small hints of roasted meat. She turned to look back at the rest of the party, and particularly Natalie: "They don't care who we are, what we've done. They don't care for idle chatter. Neither should we. Whatever needs to be said should be damn important, otherwise it can wait until we've finished up: cowards are most often maligned by fate, more than any others. No more stalling." She punctuated that last one with a bit of a harsh tone. The Chasind, in truth, had incredible patience - one had to in order to live their lifestyle - but she had little tolerance for the cowardly decadence that the so-called civilized peoples of the world seemed to share. Everything from her gait to her stench to her lilting accent, quite similar to those of the Dalish, was a constant reminder to the outside of her savage origins; this, she was proud of - and hoped that they might learn from it just as well.

[Magnoline]

Nephram
Nephram's eyes shot over towards the combative Cunoan as she spoke of haste and cowardice. While not the refined Nevarran Noble, or the cold husk of their dead, Nephram was used to dealing with, he couldn't help but crack a small smile at the barbarians words. Truth be told, Nephram did not like being led by Orlesians. They are petty, superstitious, and feign a sophisticated superiority until challenged with the reality of the world - and with death magic, in particular. Though as much as Nephram enjoyed the stabs at the Orlesians delivered by Cuonan, he also saw what could turn out to be her fatal flaw. While he was entertained by her words, he could not hide his distaste for her brash determination to forsake the streets of the Necropolis.

Nephram unlatched his staff from his horse, and began to dust off the skull at the top.

"You would do well to watch your step, child," he replied, his Nevarran accent thickened by the warm air of his homeland, "A necropolis is a sacred place, one with which I am perhaps too familiar. The citizens of this city will take delight in extinguishing your pride."

He looked at Natalie as he said this, hoping the words would echo throughout the rest of the group.

Nephram has spent decades tending to the dead, and has seen far more on those black streets than many Mortalitasi before him. Demons are patient creatures, and like a spider preparing her web, will take full advantage of a mortals predictable folly.

[The Litan Imperium]

Darius acknowledged Rochette's query about his crossbow and responded with a small smile and chuckle.

"If you're expecting a grand and and adventurous tale as to how it came into my possession, then you will sadly be disappointed. It's a rather dull and boring story that truly isn't worth telling. Though if you want, I can tell you a much more interesting version of the story that may have some fabrication."

Darius then took some time to look at the other members of his group. The Qunari mage, Keten, was certainly a curiosity to him. Darius had heard of what the Qunari do to mages, having heard stories of their Saarebas when he traveled to Kirkwall one time. The fact that Keten was also a tal-vashoth further Intrigued him, though he knew better than to discuss such matters with a Qunari. Maëyls was someone that Darius somewhat felt genuinely challenged by due to his usage of a bow. Though Darius was rather confident that his skill as an arbalist was superior to the skills of the archer that travelled with them. Willun, an apostate mage, was the only person in the band that Darius held a slight degree of fear towards. He personally saw her as an unpredictable element due to her not siding with either the templars and the chantry or the rebel mages. While she certainly didn't seem like a maleficarum, he would make sure to his eye on her and a hand on his blade whenever she came came close. Nephram made him less nervous due to him at least being one of the Mortalitasi instead of being a wandering apostate. Though his usage of necromancy and other "death magics" did make Darius somewhat uncomfortable. Darius hoped that he would be a great asset to the group as they were currently entering an area that may be familiar to the Nevarran. The female templar Kanaxai made Darius much more comfortable around the mages. She, like Rochette, seemed an honorable and skilled warrior. Finally there was the primitive and uncivilized Chasind savage named Cunoan, who made her presence known rather bluntly and abrasively. "They don't care who we are, what we've done. They don't care for idle chatter. Neither should we. Whatever needs to be said should be damn important, otherwise it can wait until we've finished up: cowards are most often maligned by fate, more than any others. No more stalling."

Darius simply looked at her with a hint of disgust and annoyance. But conceeded that she ultimately had the right idea.

"Perhaps the savage is right, all of this standing around and making idle chatter will accomplish little. Lady Rochette, we stand ready to enter at your command." Darius said after finishing cleaning his crossbow and readying himself to enter at any moment. "Don't worry, I can regale you with my made up story about my weapon at another time, perhaps after this little endeavor and back at skyhold."

[The Twelve Isles]

Siona Willun

Siona brushed her hair out of he face as the others talked, and glanced over her shoulder at the necropolis. Even in its current state, crumbling and a little decrepit, it projected a power outwards into the world. As Siona studied its rising towers and high walls, she wondered about what secrets could be hidden inside its halls. She wished she could have come here under more academic circumstances, to write down her findings and bring back artifacts for further study. The other necromancer, Nephram, he was one of the Mortalitasi. He would know about this place, or places like it, and Siona made a mental note to seek him out later. Though, she didn't particularly want to. While she didn't think he was a bad person per se, she did think he came across as a little better than thou.

The Chasind woman, Cunoan her name was, dropped down off of her horse with a heaviness that indicated she was even worse at riding than Siona was. She seemed grumpy, and gave the impression of looking down on them just as much as they may look down on her. Siona couldn't find much fault however, she was in agreement that walking was better. Sure, it was slower, but she was able to take in the scenery, and it kept her humble. She like that. She knew she had a tendency to let her skills as a mage get to her head, and so she tried to avoid that when she could, and always tried to keep her feet in the dirt. She spoke abrasively, scowling around in a way that reminded Siona of a cat, admonishing them all for standing around and talking when there was work to be done. Siona would have rather spent more time outside though, and taken it slow. She didn't want to get jumped by any monsters or undead beings, and she would prefer to not rush things, and she made that clear.

"We shouldn't rush in," she said, her voice a soft but forceful one. "We don't know whats in there, and if we go in banging around we could draw out who knows what."

As Siona spoke, she saw as Vizu the Templar and Darius glanced her way. Vizu watched all of the mages with equal discomfort and distrust, but Siona noted that Darius seemed particularly wary of her. She couldn't really blame him though, she was not exactly the most forthcoming about who she was, and to most an itinerant necromancer did not look good. She nodded at him, leaning on her staff and thinking the names of spirits. She knew many, and was trying to keep them at the forefront of her mind as they prepared to enter the necropolis. Whatever was in there, she didn't want to be unprepared.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Natalie Rochette

"Well, if you insist on the latter, I suppose we'd have to live with th-" Before she could finish her sentence, the would-be chevalier found herself interrupted by Cunoan, whom she primarily responded to with a displeased stare at first. The Chasind's personality turned out to be about as bad as the way she reeked. Natalie didn't like her already. "There is very little cowardice in preparing oneself, Chasind. Some need to prepare their weapons, perhaps recover from the ride courtesy of their absolute lack of riding skills, timely warnings to help avoid Blight sickness..." The woman gave a nod towards Nephram as the man spoke even as his words were, essentially, echoed by Siona. "While barging would certainly not be cowardly, it also comes with unnecessary risks that I'd rather we don't take." Stowing away her shield, Natalie reached for a torch, handing out some to those who would take one, before quickly lighting her own - and offering to light the torches of those that'd taken one.

"Now that we have light to carry with us, I suggest we do head on inside. I'll take point - unless our Chasind friend would rather mark the way through the darkness inside of that place?" She indicated for the Necropolis with a nod, giving Cunoan another displeased look as she drew her sword, pacing for the structure's entrance. She was agitated, certainly - and for once, that might've been a good thing, the Orlesian using it to focus on that rather than getting nervous at the prospect of what they could find inside of that house of the dead. "So," she contined, speaking as she made her approach, "I have not set foot in a Nevarran Necropolis before, but chances are there will be some tight hallways in there. For our more... magically inclined compatriots, that means it would be appreciated if you would refrain from making things... explode in such situations. If you're used to fighting with a bow, that means you might have to get ready to fight with a sword, dagger, or some other weapon of choice. Everyone ready? Good. Let's get a move on..."

With one final, deep breath, Natalie stepped forward, and into the darkness, lighting the way ahead of her with a torch in one hand, the other tightly holding onto her blade. The Necropolis' entrance lead the way into a single, lengthy hallway - wide enough for everyone to stand next to each other, if they'd so desire, if only barely. Unlit sconces lined the walls ever so often, and upon passing them, Natalie would light the ones on her left, closest to where she was moving and also on the side in which she held her own torch, to light up the hall. The flickering light provided by the flames from sconces and the torches in held in the hands of those in the group who had chosen to carry one sporadically shined light on splatters of blood on the tilework of the Necropolis' stone floor - although they did not leave a simple trial, with splatters only appearing once every while, rather than forming an easy path to follow.

Several minutes passed, and the air became more and more stale, the stench of death becoming ever so slightly more prevalent. The hallway started getting 'paths' to the side now, leading towards smaller hallways lined up with the mummified dead, nestled in their catacomb-like graves. Their remains appeared to be undisturbed, the dead quiet and showing no signs of wanting to change that particular aspect of their current status. Eventually, however, the group would stumble upon one of these alcoves that looked quite different. A group of bloodied bodies lay scattered throughout, and as the light of Natalie's torch fell upon them, it became evident that these were - up until their deaths - guardsmen of the local watch. "...the Duke's men, I presume." The woman stated, simply. She blinked. Did she hear something? Surely not. Peering at the bodies, an eyebrow raised questioningly, she blinked again. And then, the dead rose.

There were eight of them in total, clambering to their feet, hands grasping for their blades and the Inquisition's agents alike, eyes aflame with eerie green light.

[The Litan Imperium]

"Seems That these corpses are not quite as dead as we thought!" Darius exclaimed as the bodies began to rise.

Darius immediately got to work spanning his crossbow as the the reanimated dead began moving towards group. In under 10 seconds his crossbow was fully spanned and loaded, Darius then sent a bolt straight into the chest of one coming straight towards him. The corpse was only momentarily knocked back by the sheer force of shot before continuing its advance towards him.

"Damnit all!" Darius said before the corpse raised a rusted blade and brought it down towards his head. Darius ,however, was quick to respond and blocked the strike with his crossbow. Darius then held his crossbow as an improvised weapon and swung the end of the prod into the temple of the corpse, sending it to the ground and the light dispersing from its eyes.

"Ha! Would you look at that, I don't even need bolts to kill these shamb-" Darius floated before he was then interrupted by a corpse swinging an axe, hitting him in the chest and sending him to the ground out of breath. The corpse raised the axe again and brought it down with Darius barely rolling out of the way. Darius grabbed his crossbow, which the corpse swung its axe and embedded it into. Darius and the corpse began struggling, with Darius trying to hold on to the crossbow and axe while the undead was trying to wrench both away from him.

"I could use some assistance here!" Darius then called out to the group as he continued to fight for control both weapons.

[The Twelve Isles]

Siona Willun

When the dead rose up from where they lay, Siona quickly stepped back. She was surprised, but made sure to keep her cool, taking in her surroundings before she entered the fight. The dead were those of what appeared to be a militia or local guard, and Siona ducked quickly as one swung at her from the side. She stepped back again, and smacked her staff against the ground, summoning spirits from the Necropolis itself. Blue hughed ghosts peeled themselves away from the dead who lines the walls, reaching forward for the shambling corpses who attacked Siona and her teammates. They would do for crowd control, but Siona did not have the concentration to maintain a link with this many spirits for long. As the dead soldier swung for her again, Siona swung her staff and parried its blow. As the corpse recovered, she spun her staff around and jabbed it into his stomach, hitting the corpse with a blast of wind from the tip of her staff. The corpse was picked up off its feet, and flung across the hallway into a wall, the wind rustling the tapestries and clothing of her companions, and tearing the clothing off of the corpse she had attacked. It struggled on the ground, not dead but clearly wit broken bones. Siona took the time to compose herself, and cast a mark onto the dead soldier to direct the spirits she had summoned to it.

Before she could choose another target however, Siona heard a cry for help from besides her. She snapped her head around and saw Darius, locked in combat with a corpse wielding an axe. He had managed to block its attack, but it had lodged its weapon in Darius's crossbow. Siona struck the top of her staff against the wall like a match, setting it ablaze. She grasped it near the bottom like a great sword, and swung it at Darius's attacker with a grunt, hitting the corpse in the side. She channeled the wind with her strike, creating centralized shock wave like the one she had used on the previous corpse. Its armor crunched in, and the fire from her staff exploded across its body, burning flesh and breaking bones as she sent the creature down the hall. It was not dead, but it was incapacitated, and Siona watched as the fire she had lit on it slowly engulfed its whole body, leaving it to try and stand while the flames ate away its muscles.

"Are you Ok?" she said to Darius, extending her hand downwards to help him up. She glanced back at the fight, and dispersed the spirits she had summoned. There was too much happening, and she could not maintain them right now. It would only serve to drain her mana. She kept one around, and marked another dead still shambling through the door, before looking back at Darius.

[Theyra]

Keten Jarul

"Well at least it is not Darkspawn", Keten said and twirled his staff into an attack stave He motioned with his left hand and letting loose a spark of lighting at one of the undead before charging to the front. Stunning an undead carrying a sword and shield. He stabbed the undead with bladed part of his staff into its chest. The undead came to its senses and took a swing with its sword and Keten dodged it while taking his stave out of the undead. Stepping backward, "Okay you can take a hit so how about this!. He yelled as an unleashed burst of intense cold at the thing and froze it in place. It tried to move but it decayed muscles were slowed by the cold. Slow enough where Keten moved in and with a single swing of his stave, sliced off the head of the undead and it fell down.

Keten took a step back to get a feel of his teammates if they needed help. He saw that Siona had helped out Darius with his undead problem. Good thing too since it is hard to fire a crossbow with an axe in it. He was slightly disturbed by the undead spirits and that Siona has summoned to help them and the undead themselves. But he did not have time to focus on that and know that if he did, it could go badly of him. "Okay, some are undead are down with more to go", He moved back to the front and stared at the rest of the undead."Come on, let's finish this", he said to his companions as he fired a fireball at one of the undead.

[The Litan Imperium]

Darius Woldeau

Darius looked up at the mage offering her hand. What was her game, does she think that saving me once is enough to change my convictions? Is this some sort of ploy just to make me lower my guard around her? Darius has never been one to give away his trust easily, especially to those who he already doesn't trust. And it would take far more than her saving him from a shambling corpse for him to not view her as a threat. Though somewhere in his mind he felt that he should at least not be so quick to judge, he then quickly mentally reprimanded that thought. Don't be foolish Darius, I lower my guard and start to believe the facade she has. The next minute I'm some sacrifice as part of some ritual to the demons of the Fade. As Darius was thinking to himself, he noticed a humanoid form dragging itself towards the two of them and holding something resemblings a sword. Darius took a double take and quickly grabbed one of his bolts and scrambled to his feet without her help. Pushing her out of his way and almost knocking her to the ground had she not caught herself.

Darius had then jumped onto a corpse that Siona had wounded earlier but dispersed the spirits that were attacking it. The corpse, still holding it's blade, was crawling towards them and almost grabbed her leg. Darius then jammed the bolt into the crown of its head, violently jerking it around until he heard the distinct cracking of broken neck. The lights dissipated from it's eyes and Darius yanked the bolt from the creature's head and stuck it back into one of his quivers. He then moved back towards Siona and picked his crossbow back up, finally managing to pull the axe out the butt. Darius then took his windlass and spanned and loaded his crossbow before walking over to Siona. "Next time you wish to save someone, finish what you start yourself." Darius said to her before moving back into the fight towards another corpse, only to jump backwards after a fireball struck it and exploded. The fireball came from the Qunari mage who was standing beside a decapitated body with a bloody blade at the end of his staff. Darius then turned to see the corpse that was hit with a fireball was, miraculously, still alive. Granted it's entire lower body was blown apart and it was missing one it's arms, though all it was doing was violently thrashing around on the floor. Darius promptly fliped his crossbow backwards and repeatedly struck the corpses forehead until it it caved in. It's Blood spurting the head and covering his Orlesian mask and armor.

Darius then decided to use his trump card to help his group. He then took a small warhorn off his belt and took a deep breath before blowing into it. Making a corpse that came near him stumble backwards from the force of horn itself. The warhorn was a magical heirloom that greatly boosted the strength and stamina of those who heard it. Darius had always used the horn when he was fight alongside a group, and now seemed like the perfect time.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Natalie Rochette

Natalie threw her torch to the ground as the undead guardsmen rose, quickly reaching for her shield from her back and taking on a defensive posture. Things were happening quickly, now. One of the undead kept on battering against her shield, seeking to smash its way through with the heavy blade it was carrying, but she would not relent, keeping her ground. Darius, she noticed, had found himself into a particularly tight spot but, before she could make moves to help the man get out of it one of the mages, Siona, stepped in, at the same time revealing just what kind of magic it was that she employed. Nevertheless, it seemed that the magic was directed at their enemies, and there was little time nor reason to object at this very moment.

With a grunt, the Orlesian bashed her shield into her assailant, quickly following it up with a blow of her sword, driving it right into the flesh of the guardsman's neck. Alas, where he a living man he would've been either killed on the spot or sent falling to the ground to bleed out, the body in front of her definitely wasn't beholden to the rules of the living any longer and as such simply stood there, raising its blade ready for another attack. Quickly, she brought her shield back up again, just in time to block the fallen soldier's blow, at the same time pulling her blade from the man's cold flesh. Pushing his sword as far aside as she could, Natalie quickly slammed it back into the opening in his neck that she had just made, hacking into it once, twice, thrice until she finally hit true, the body stiffening as she hacked straight into its spine, before it finally dropped to the floor, the eerie, glowing green light fading from its eyes as it fell down, properly lifeless once again.

The space in front of her empty, now, she quickly assessed the situation. The one that had been attacking Darius lay incapacitated, furiously trying to get closer to him and Siona even as flames encapsulated his body and while for a moment it looked as if it still had some fight left in it, the flames proved to be quick, consuming its flesh at a rapid pace as it, too, fell into a deeper, presumably more permanent, slumber. The Qunari mage, meanwhile, had decapitated another one of the undead guardsmen a bit more smoothly than she herself had managed to do, even as Darius bashed the head of yet another one in with the butt of his crossbow - her own kill was less messy by comparison then, at least.

She turned her attention back to those that were left, four of the guardsmen still advancing on the group of Inquisition agents. From close by, she heard a horn being blown - likely by one of her compatriots - and curiously enough, Natalie found herself just that more vigorous than moments before. Putting all of her strength behind it, she once again slammed her shield straight into the body of one of their assailants, sending the undead woman backwards, falling down on the floor. Four down in barely any time at all, and only four more to go. It was almost too easy.

[Insaeldor]

Maëyls Heuot

The smell of the necropolis reminded me all to fondly of my days in the court of Serault. However the cold air put my hair on edge, my skin contracted. I stayed closer to the back to give myself room to move and to put a little more distance between me and the enemy, if it was to arrive. I kept a slow and methodical pace to my step, the same flow to my feet that I’d use to stalk around old Orlesian estates looking for a rumor, a target, or a possible informant.


My eyes stayed more or less locked onto Natalie. She led the group deeper into the crypt and would presumably be the first to get attacked in the event of a fight. Hopefully it was nothing, the figments of an uneducated mind. The thought didn't settle too well, I’d read about the mummification process these people perform, how it opens up a body to those that cross over from the fade. The light of the torch was all that lead us. My sight impaired by distance, I couldn't exactly see what was up ahead, yet the  barking of the men gave me an idea of what was there. I pulled a broadhead from my quiver, a tight space but nothing I hadn't been able to do before. I pulled back with a split thumb grip, ring finger and thumb wrapped around the string, my index on the other side along with my thumb. However the dimness of the necropolis made getting a clean shot difficult. The movement of people back and forth made the chance of hitting a friendly all to real.


I let back on my string and moved up, i them pulled one of those waxed linen tube pouches from my leather holder and placed the broadhead back, grabbing a bodkin instead. I shimmed the linen sleeve over the arrow shaft as I got closer. Natalie dropped her torch as she fought with a deathly looking black and blue skinned abominations. She dispatched them quickly and effectively, I took my arrow and let it into the fire of the torch, it lit with no issue and soon the whole of the pouch was engulfed, I pulled back again on the string and took aim at one of those things, as soon as the string reached its limit I released and set the burning arrow straight into its sternum. The pouch burst upon impact, igniting the mixture. It cover the damned thing and set him ablaze.


I couldn't see much, really i could only see Natalie through the dim orange glow of the torch that still lay on the ground. All the others were shrouded in the veil of darkness, the other undead only faintly visible.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Natalie Rochette

From the corner of her eye, her attention focused on her own opponent primarily, still, Natalie witnessed one of the undead guardsmen catching fire as an arrow engulfed in flames struck it, whatever substance that had been attached to it making sure that the creature was engulfed in flames in its entirety in no time. With that distraction removed, the undead body quickly sinking back down to the ground as the flames rapidly started consuming it, she redoubled her efforts against her own foe, whom kept on hurling its decaying body against her shield, unable to move past or through the Orlesian steel. It came to a halt, finally, as the woman drove her blade into its neck once again, as she had done with her previous assailant, before she kicked the fiend into the still-burning body of one of its fellows. As it fell down into the fire, it swiftly began consuming the flesh of the undead guardswoman, too, and the light faded from her hollow eyes.

The other undead were swiftly dealt with by the rest of the group, and once it became clear that no other corpses were going to clamber back up onto their feet, Natalie put her shield away again, although she kept her sword brandished as she picked her torch back up. "I don't think these will be the last undead creatures we'll see in here..." She announced to nobody in particular as she glanced around the area, checking for any strange, out of place items. She found none and, indeed, even to the keenest of eyes and minds, there didn't seem to be anything particularly out of the ordinary items present - at least for a necropolis. The Orlesian let out a relieved sigh, softly, glad to have made it through her first actual encounter with the undead. Even though her training at the Academie had prepared her for it, experiencing these things in reality always was different from simply understanding the theory.

Stepping out of the alcove, she looked to her left, the braziers she had lit on their path here marking the way outside, while on her right, the Necropolis continued, dark as ever. With a low, displeased grunt, the would-be Chevalier ventured into the darkness once more, leading the way. "Let us know if you see anything out of the ordinary, or if anything rotten starts reaching out for you, hm?" The halls of the Necropolis remained eerily quiet and, save for the group's own movements, void of any movement. Eventually, however, the group came to a halt, the light of Natalie's torch revealing a stone wall in front of them, reaching up to the height of the Orlesian's waist, roughly. She stepped closer towards it, holding out her torch. Peering at what was behind it, she found there to be a staircase leading downwards, starting at the back of the room they were in, now. There were no other turns or corners in their current surroundings, and the stairs appeared to be the only route onwards - the network of hallways and tunnels continuing down below. Natalie turned her head, looking at the others she was with, here. "...shall we, then?"

[Theyra]

Keten Jarul

After the undead were beaten, Keten briefly went to clean the blade on his stave. Taking only a few moments to get the blood off and went to follow Natalie. Without saying a word, he looked at his teammates to make sure that they were okay. He summoned a flame to illuminate that area from his stave when Natalie asked to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. He could not see anything out of place as they press onwards in the necropolis, but what is out of place in a necropolis. This is his first time in such a place and being surrounded by the dead and fighting the undead was not a good feeling for him. He kept himself in a battle ready-stance since an ambush could happen at any time. Which was not the first time he had gone through a mission and not knowing of where the enemy could strike.

Fighting undead that was a first for Keten and that experience would stay in his mind for a good while despite it being a small fight so far. The rotten flesh, the drive to keep going despite losing body parts and the glowing blue eyes. Maybe that was the thing that scared his old mentor into silence, the dead rising up and attacking .people or maybe the thought of purposely rising them was enough to dissuade her from taking up such an art. Though he did had heard that some of his teammates, two of the mage with him deal with raising the dead. "So this is what it looks like," he thought to himself. "This is something that I would rather not learn how to do. Maybe somethings should not be known". A thought he had never had, he was always eager to learn more about the world and magic. This is an exception, and hopefully, the fighting would be just as easy. Though he knew that might not be the case.

As the group approached the staircase and with no other means of continuing forward. "Into the Breach," Keten said and descended the stairs into the unknown with his stave alight with fire.

[The Litan Imperium]

Darius Woldeau

This bout with the undead guardsmen was nothing new to the experienced Chevalier. What did impress him was the competency of the Individuals he was travelling with, specifically the mage, Siona, when she saved his life during a struggle. He could tell just from the way she looked at him outside the necropolis that he made her uncomfortable. The fact that she was willing to actually risk her life and save him, someone who was rather...aggressive with her kind, was rather surprising to him. Why would this apostate save me? Was this some kind of act just to make me lower my guard? Or was she genuine in that she enjoys helping people?. This was something Darius would have to think on at another time among other things. Lady Rochette's capability was unsurprising for someone from the Academie. Had she not left the knighthood for political reasons, she would have made a fine Chevalier.

Darius quickly checked to see if his crossbow was still spanned and loaded. He took his war horn and placed it back into the pouch on his belt, waiting for the oppurtunity to use it again in a pinch. He took the bolt off the crossbow and unspanned it, slinging on his back. He decided that the current area he was fighting was ill suited for his crossbow and took his buckler off his rucksack and orlesian steel blade of his belt. Not my strong suit, but I'm sure I'll do better with this.

He watched as Rochette made her way towards a low stone wall. Behind it being a descending staircase that lead into total darkness. While many would be reluctant to delve into a dark abyss such as this, if it meant gaining respect and fame then Darius was all for it. He heard Rochette utter something along the lines of Shall we?. Darius nodded and began making his way down the stairs with the others.

"Into The breach." He heard Keten say as they moved towards the darkness.

"And unto glory." Darius responded.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Natalie Rochette

"Into the breach." "And unto glory." The Qunari Mage's staff aflame, and Natalie's torch held out in front of herself as ever, the group descended down the staircase presented before them, and further into the depths of the necropolis. The staircase leading downwards was plain, but sizable - from where they started, it was impossible to make out where exactly it ended, the light provided by the torch and staff too little to reach the floor that awaited them ahead. As they descended, however, the stonework at the end of the stairs came into sight, the necropolis continuing below the ground in a similar fashion as it had on the floor above. The walls, however, were covered with rough paintings - they were intricately detailed, once, but time had blurred the outlines of the figures depicted on them with the rest of the colors, and some of the other details had withered away with the passing of time. The light provided by the torch and flaming staff made it hard to make out everything, but to those that took a good look at it, it was obvious that the scenes depicted in these mural paintings showed the tale of the Third Blight and its ending.

Natalie's eyes immediately went for these murals, lingering on them for a time, an old interest reignited, if only briefly - as the party moved through the darkness, the stench of death became worse with every second. "That's-" She started, quickly reaching for a piece of cloth to wrap around her head, to go and cover her mouth and nose to prevent at least some of the rank odor to come through. "- not how places like this are supposed to smell, no?" The source of the stench remained unseen for a time, even as it grew worse. Nothing seemed to move in the darkness, and all that could be heard were the footsteps echoing through the halls as the group kept their move up. After several minutes of moving through the darkness of the necropolis' hallways and the ever-present stench of death, however, the source of it all became apparent.

Bodies lay scattered across the floor, and no small amount of them, either. Natalie came to a halt, hesitant to move on - who could tell if these would rise up out of nowhere, like the guards earlier, after all? She held her close to some close by, three corpses right by one of her boots, squinting as she looked at them. They were old - the corpses, that was, not the people that they had once been, as far as she could tell, at least. All of the bodies laying sprawled over the floor in front of the group had been mummified well over a century ago, at the very least, and none of them appeared to be holding onto any weapons. Indeed, the entire area seemed to be surprisingly void of any sort of weaponry at all - a surprise, perhaps, considering most of the people interred here had been fighting during the horrors of the Third Blight long, long ago. Further ahead on the path, however, came a corner, warm light coming from around it - the only light the group had been able to see here, this deep into the necropolis, save for that which they had brought with them, themselves.

The Orlesian glanced around, looking at the others that had come with her. The corner with the mysterious light was the logical place to go, but at the same time, there were heaps of ancient corpses laying in front of them, in the place they had been sent to investigate following rumours of, among things, the undead. While Natalie herself was unable to tell, others that would take a look at the corpses laying about could notice that these bodies, mummified long, long ago had been disturbed - and indeed, many of them had been cut into with sharp, bladed weapons: perhaps the reason they were laying here, now. Those especially knowledgeable on corpses and the dead would be able to tell that many of these 'wounds' were far more recent than the internment of these departed souls. With the Duke's men found much closer to the entrance of the Necropolis, it begged a question: what had happened here, and who exactly had done this, if not the guardsmen they had found earlier?

[Theyra]

Keten Jarul

Keten, as he moved down the hall with his staff alight. He took a moment to study the wall that bore the mural paintings of the Third Blight. Moving his staff close to the murals to get a better look at them. He was well enough and had experienced the end of the Fifth Blight. But, that Blight ended before it became a threat to the world. Only Ferelden has the bears the scar of it and he wondered to what happened to the Gray Wardens that ended the Fifth Blight or even who they were. Those were questions for another time and he had to be focused on the task at hand. He stepped away from the wall and moved forward with the rest of the group.

The stench of the dead got to Keten was he moved closer to the bodies on the ground before them. "That reeks", he covered his nose and mouth with his free hand. The smell was even worse than before when they found the deceased guardsmen. Though at least these corpses are not moving or trying to kill them which is a good thing Keten thought. He took a closer look at the bodies and questions formed in his mind. The bodies are definitely old and mummified. Plus, they had cuts all over their bodies which means that someone had already come and dealt with this undead. Not to mention the strange light coming from the corner. Did the guardsmen kill this undead and were later killed and sent to the entrance or did someone else make their way inside? If the latter then things just became interesting in a bad way and turned to the Orlesian in charge of the group. "So I take we are going towards the light and you have an idea of who killed these mummies?

[The Twelve Isles]

Siona Willun

Siona strode along at the back of the group, looking around as they made their way down the halls. She could smell death on the air, though it was faint, and she questioned weather that was normal or not. This was her first time in a Necropolis, though she would have liked to be here on different terms. As exciting as it was to be in this place, she felt too nervous here. Always looking over her shoulder for undead, and walking on eggshells around the other agents. They didn't trust her, she could tell, though she couldn't blame them. An Apostate Mage was always met with suspicion. Tie in that she was an Apostate necromancer, and there was little chance that they would have taken to her immediately. She was ambivalent to their opinions though, despite the fact that it would make everyone's lives easier if there was more of a sense of trust between them all.

As the others glanced over the little wall around the stairs, Siona looked behind them at where they had come from. Who were those guards they had killed? They were dead, that was certain, but they were fresh. These were no corpses summoned from the walls, they had been killed by someone else, someone from outside. But why? And to what purpose? Siona rubbed her eyes, trying to see in the dark, and followed the rest down the stairs a little behind. At the bottom, was corpses. Strewn everywhere, in every nook and cranny and piled on top of each other like cord wood. At first glance, Siona thought they were more guards, but upon inspection she quickly saw that they weren't. They were mummies, thin and skeletal like they had been in the ground for a long long time. But, here they were, scattered across the floor like rag dolls. As the others moved on, Siona stopped, and lit the top of her staff for light before she crouched down the study the corpses. There were no weapons, but they all had cuts, slashes and broken bones. One in front of her had its head caved in from front to back, like it had been struck with a large sword. Whoever had killed the guards above it seemed had killed these corpses. Or rather, had re-killed them. But who had summoned spirits to inhabit them to begin with, and were they still alive? Whoever had attacked this place was clearly not welcome here, but was clearly capable as well. Siona felt her unease rising in her as she stood again, and strode to catch up with her companions.

They had begun to get closer to a warm, soft light that shone in a corner. The only other light in the room besides the torch Natalie Rochete carried, or Keten and Siona's staffs. It was more steady though, not the flickering of fire. It was around a corner, and Siona rested her free hand on the hilt of her sword as they approached it, and spoke up. "Is there any information as to who may have been here? Because these bodies were killed, I believe when someone gave them life to defend this place. Meaning the attackers might still be here."