Thread: Scouts of the Inquisition (Alvis & Sync)

I remember a young girlhappy, playing with other childrenliving in the forest with her clan, Clan Fihrallenwatching the craftsmen do their worklistening to the stories of the Keeper and the Hahrenlearning about the Halla and the Creatorswondering when she will get to care for the Halla like others do I remember a young girlwatching the hunters go into the forest to bring back kills for the Clanwatching the crafters forge swards and create bows and make armourwatching the Keeper and his First perform enchantments on the weapons of the Hunterswondering if she will one day be able to fashion a bow as well as the craftsman she watches does I remember a young girllaughing with her parents, tracing her finger along the vallaslin on their faceswondering when she will get her ownplaying the learning games with other children in the Clanbeing careful to not stray too far from the Clan lest she be captured by the hateful humans I remember a young girllearning the Code of Vir Tanadhal , given to the Dalish by Anduil herself Vir Assan , the Way of the Arrow Vir BorAssan , the Way of the Bow Vir Adahlen , the Way of the Forestoverhearing a Hunter speaking of Vir Banalras , the Way of Shadow, and wondering what it meanslearning that the Clans Healer followed Vir Atishan , the Way of Peace I am not that girl. That girl had her life that could have been taken from her when she was eight and came into her magic. The Clan already had a Keeper and a First and a SecondClan Fihrallen did not allow more than three magic-capable within it. That girl tried to hide her magic at first, scared of it, not understanding just how it was she could use it it was an accident, when snapping her fingers during the night had conjured a tiny flame in the palm of her hand, she hadnt meant it. But the talent could not be hidden for long, and the Clan knew soon enough that they had more magic than it could bear inside it. She was given a pack and a dagger and sent on her way to wander through the forest in the north-west of the land called Ferelden. She wandered for days, scared, alone, hidingshivering from cold and hunger, never knowing which step would be her final one. She came upon a village of humans, almost by surprise the humans saw her, saw the pointed ears, started yelling at her to go away, or ordering her to do things as if she was some slave they owned. A flash of anger from her saw her hand covered in fire briefly, but it was enough. The humans were suddenly fearful and left her alone, but the next day two large men in armour found her and took her away from the village. They looked after her but did not treat her well. If the two men had been made entirely of the metal they wore, she would not have been surprised. She was taken to a tower, given a bed, a bath, food and drinkand she was told she would be cared for, taught, educated, instructed. She was told she could never leave the tower, for her own safety. For many years she was a well-taught and well-cared for prisoner, instructed in the use of the magic that scared her. I am that girl. Loriel Fihrallen if she abandoned the name of the Clan that had abandoned her, shed be just Loriel was given to reflecting on the events of her life so farand there were a lot of them. She was a young woman, now, a few months past nineteen years. Like most elves, she stood at just under five-and-a-half feet tall, about the same height as an average human woman her chest-long dark brown hair, normally light and bouncy even in its regular pony tail, hung drab and limp in the rain that seemed to constantly fall in the place they were in her large, pale-blue eyes were bright, and peered out from deep sockets that were accentuated by high and slightly-angled cheekbones her small, straight nose sat proudly in the middle of her small, slightly-rounded face, and was perched just above a thin-lipped mouth that rarely smiled these days. A drop of rain rolled down her nose and she wiped it away in annoyance. Like most elves, Loriel, too, was possessed of a thin frame, a slender figure, long and thin limbs. There was no doubting she was female, though those physical properties that defined a female body were well-present in Loriel, and although her breasts were not large nor her hips wide, they were sufficient in both cases that she could never be mistaken for a male. As to her craft these daysfew would mistake her for being other than what she was a mage. The staff she carried saw to that. She had long ago lost her dagger indeed, it had been taken from her when the two men in armour Templars had found her. These days she carried a staff that was almost as tall as she was, a pole fashioned from a wood she did not know, leather bindings wrapped along much of the shaft for grip, a tapered blade of iron at one end and a small blue crystal fixed at the other. She had used the staff in anger once, and knew that it favoured small bolts of electricity that shot out of the crystal she clearly remembered the soft hum of the lightning fragments as they darted from the staff towards her foe. She was a mage, but her magic still scared her she had only recently passed her Harrowing, but her magic still scared her. She was not necessarily aloof, but shed chosen to sit apart from the rest of the group she was with it wasnt quite her way, to sit apart, but she didnt really feel like she belonged. They were at a camp, a dozen or so of them, in this place called The Fallow Mire it was a dark, dreary place, a virtual desolation of swamp, where the sun never seemed to shine and the rain seemed to be the only constant. Their party was an advance scout led by a dwarven woman named Lace Harding, their job was to make reconnaissance of an area for when the Herald of Andraste arrived. Reportedly the Herald was the only person who could seal the rifts in the Fade that had recently begun appearing all over the place, and there were a few noted hereat least Loriel could understand that much. Her thin robes hung about her, clinging to her lithe form from the soaking given to them by the rain, as she waited for Harding to give instructions to the group. The robes were not about to become see-through, there was no danger of that, but wet, clingy robes were never fun to have to wear. She was starting to doubt shed ever be dry againor warm. The Fallow Mire was in the southern part of Ferelden, not too far from the Korcari Wilds, and southern Ferelden was generally cold. Add a dark, wet swamp to the cold, and the Fallow Mire was looking like being a very unattractive part of Thedas. She sneezed, a small, dainty sound, and rubbed her nose again to get rid of the rain drops that would never leave her alone. Hopefully Harding would have those instructions soon. At least it was only a light rain, and not a heavy downpour.