The forest surrounding Arlathan is ancient and naturally looks after itself, however a few of the city gardeners have noticed a small blight beginning to take root in one section. You’ve been asked to investigate and survey the extent of the infection and report back. A PQ+ will be arranged later to deal with the root cause and clear the affected forest.
Reward
A supply of rare plants and herbs for your character (up to 6 months)
A PQ+ will be arranged later to investigate and deal with the root cause.
When they’d left Kirkwall seven months ago, Esme had surely not thought to find work in the ancient elven city of Arlathan. It seemed a fairytale come to life, magic thick upon the air even to her Fade-blind senses. At least Nienke drew less attention here, the wyvern lumbering along beside them.
“We’ve come so far north. I didn’t expect it to be so hot.” As it turned out, even the denizens of magical, fairytale cities needed outside help sometimes. Esme was pleased to be assigned the contract. Moreso, just to be on the road with just Ceren again. It was like old times – except old times had pretty much no traveling at all. Still. However you spun it, out of the Salamanders, the scout and the herbalist were most qualified for poking around in unfamiliar woodlands.
Blighted plants – and that was definitely an uppercase ‘B’ – beyond the usual ailments crops were prone to. It gave her the creeps to dwell on it, to be honest. Regular garden staples often had surprising defense mechanisms. Who knew what to expect if you threw in ancient elven magic and the Blight to boot?
At least fussing with them went beyond the remit of the contract. For now, they only had to post up near the edge of the city and wait for their local guide. Esme figured that wouldn’t take long. Two human women, a wyvern, and an eagle stood out in even this sort of crowd.
Being part of a larger group had its advantages, but it would be a lie to say Ceren wasn't excited for this opportunity to strike out on their own. Before the Salamanders, she'd been a solitary kind of person. Sure, she'd worked with caravans and was around people, but she preferred her own company. That still rang true, though her circle of core comfort -when she could be at absolute ease- had expanded to include Esme.
"I cant imagine it getting hotter, but I guess it must." Ceren mused. Weren't the Qunari from lands full of jungles? She couldn't remember Genthus ever talking about the Qunari homelands, and he was the only Qunari she knew. In any case, she didn't envy his people their home.
As they'd neared their designated rendezvous point to meet their local guide, Ceren called Andor down from his overhead flight. The eagle had warmed to Nienke's presence much faster than Rabbit, thus his presence on this excursion and not the horse's. Still, Andor was wary of late. They were in strange territory, though, and so Ceren wasn't overly concerned for him. And, she'd been told, everything in these lands was dripping with magic. Maybe Andor could sense it where she could not? She really had no idea.
"Who is it that we're supposed to be meeting, again?" she asked, petting along Andor's back.
07-02-2024, 06:46 PM
Rhosyn Gwyllt
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The Blight – it was corruption incarnate and its’ presence heralded an unspoken looming threat. Candidly speaking, it came as no surprise, the confirmation of its’ presence even in a miniscule amount was enough to whirl Arlanthan’s established hierarchy into a frenzy – not unlike a Darkspawn once its’ senses were pervaded with the lifeblood of its’ prey. Orders were issued and flowed freely within the ranks; however, the buck had stopped with himself – the rationale was that he was an adept mage, skilled with in the schools of Wild Magic, Creation and Spirit, but he also possessed a wealth of knowledge as an herbalist and alchemist.
Rhosyn wasn’t ignorant of the unspoken rationale – he was skilled but not enough so that he wasn’t expendable. He’d tamed his unruly mahogany tresses with a moonstone-embedded circlet. His airy robes had been traded in favor of a simple leather affair befitting a rogue, albeit it was accented by a series of bandoliers that contained vials of basic healing potions and antidotes. In lieu of daggers, a rigid alchemist box hung from his side, it contained a few more volatile subjects and a few tools of his trade. He’d elected to sacrifice the protection of steel-layered boots in favor of hardened leather sandals.
The only hint that he was not yet another rogue was the well-worn oaken staff that held an amaranthine crystal within as a foci. Why do you seem so unnerved Rhosyn? This is not your first encounter with the Blight is it? Eros inquired, the short-termed nature of his memory as he’d routinely wiped as equal parts concerning and disheartening. That is a difficult question to answer Eros, the Blight and Darkspawn so often coincide with one another, its’ presence is a precursor of impeding disaster.
Quiet murmuring of the passing crowd contained whispers of two foreigners, the presence of a wyvern and an eagle – no doubt those were the contracted sell swords he was instructed to aid. He’d caught the tail end of their conversation regarding the acrid depths of the woods. Unfortunately, the depths of the forest offer no solace from the heat, the canopies often trap the heat. Rhosyn commented off-hand as he’d offered a polite smile. I believe, I am the guide to accompany you, my name is Rhosyn – I regret that our acquittance was over such troublesome circumstances.
“Oh, uhh–” Esme turned in a slow circle, studying the steady flow of foot traffic. “Him?” She guessed, waving at the mage(?) cutting directly toward them. The notice had not been specific. Wise. What if they printed one thing and had to change it later? Then they’d be here looking for someone that might never show.
He wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured a guide to a mysterious magic forest to be. Too young, for one. Maybe even younger than she was? Certainly not a wizened hermit from the storybooks.
Though, Esme supposed, all those gemstones did add a little mystical legitimacy. Her own outfit felt plain by comparison – sturdy leathers and work gloves, crossbow heavy on her back, hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun.
“Work’s no trouble, Ser. We’re glad to have it.” She offered her hand to shake. “I’m Esme and this is Nienke.” Her other hand went to the wyvern’s frilled nose, patting affectionately. Ceren and Andor she figured would speak for themselves.
“Shall we get to it? Before the worst of the heat.”
Turning, Ceren's eyes followed Esme's gesture, landing on the man who then approached and introduced himself. Ceren pondered his comment, supposing that extensive canopies could indeed block more of the wind, holding the wet air still rather than letting it move along. She preferred the planes of her homeland. More than that, however, she preferred her freedom. There wasn't much of that left for her in Ferelden. She'd take the humidity that came with this payday and her self-determination, thank you very much.
"Ceren. she said, in her turn, with a slight dip of her head toward Rhosyn. "Andor." she added, bobbing the arm that held him. While the eagle's body was shifted up and then back down, his head remained still, one eye staring at the elf.
"Has anything been seen in animals?" Ceren asked, falling into step with the others as they would begin to follow Rhosyn. "Or just the plants, so far?" All that Ceren knew of plants, she'd either learned in the context of what different animals preferred to eat, or from Esme as she'd brew and experiment. But if local animals happened to start eating these Blighted plants... the problem could very quickly escalate out of control. She supposed, then, that it was no wonder the elves were seeking help from whoever might be able to offer it.
07-15-2024, 04:03 PM
Rhosyn Gwyllt
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Rhosyn’s attention drifted freely between the quartet as they’d conducted their introductions, his gaze remained momentarily transfixed upon both Nienke and Andor for a notably longer duration. A hint of envy trickled across his features, despite his natural affinity for the arcana related to Nature, his affinity for animals remained mediocre as best, a shortcoming within his studies. “I fear you may come to regret that sentiment, traversal through the forest is its’ own beast or burden.” Rhosyn replied to Esme with a slight frown, she went onto raise a point, if they wished to make their endeavor at least mildly pleasant, it would be wise to conduct it prior to the sun reaching its’ peak.
Ceren’s question granted the mage a momentary pause before he gave a curt shake of his head. “None of the hunting parties have reported any blight-infected animals during their outings… But I cannot say with certain they do not lurk within the woods – any number of them could have fed on corrupted plants…” Most possessed the capacity to avoid making such a stupid choice, however, hunger possessed the inherent ability to drive one to madness and to the brink of insanity. Denied water, one would willingly drink down something tainted by poison in their fervor.
As they began to depart, some new task fell upon their guide in the guise of a harried page. “Excuse me, Healer Gwyllt. You’re needed in the infirmary ...” Esme watched the young man go, brows pinching in as she contemplated the task before them anew with no local expert to aid them. Well, surely she and Ceren could handle a few hours in the woods. Except Arlathan was haunted – and littered with old magical trinkets, liable to misfire at any time. That would explain the generous pay.
“Ah, well. Maybe next time.” She said to the young man’s retreating figure and swung up into the saddle. Nienke tensed beneath her, wanting to run. Esme instead encouraged the wyvern to match pace with Ceren as they made their way to the city’s outskirts in companionable silence. She rolled the map open on the wyvern’s thick neck. Therein, the forest was divided into a tidy grid. Unfortunately, she knew from their trip in that the map did not account very well for verticality in the ancient ruins.
In all honesty, Nienke was better at climbing than she was at flying. And then there was Andor. They’d manage.
“Hey, Ceren.” Esme hesitated, thoughts drifting in a couple different directions. Mostly trying to put together an idea of what they were looking for. “We were both kids during the Fifth Blight, but I don’t remember much. The siege, I guess, and how wrecked the city was. But you must have been out there in the years after. Did you ever run into anything weird in the Bannorn?”
With their introductions made and her first, and only real question thus far, answered, they set on their way. Andor hopped up to Ceren's shoulder, head swiveling all about to allow his large, rarely blinking eyes, to take in their surroundings. Their escort, however, was rather unceremoniously pulled away by some runner come to fetch him. Ceren blinked after them after he made his quick apologies and farewells.
"Is it a good thing or a bad thing, do you think, that they don't actually seem to care if we have an escort?" Ceren posed the question, not really expecting an answer. "Oh well. Never really cared for babysitters." She shrugged and Andor flapped his wings at being jostled.
Ceren was launching Andor back into the air from her arm a while later when Esme posed her question. Ceren watched Andor beat his wings, climbing slowly through the air as she thought of her answer. "Mostly it was the banns raiding each other." she said, turning and angling her head up toward Esme. "Food and all was scarce, and I guess they figured the best option was to make it scarcer by fighting over it and burning what they couldn't keep. Learned most of my fighting in those years." Ceren's mouth turned down at one corner and her nose scrunched up at what memories that rekindled. Valuable memories... but not good ones.
"I don't much remember the darkspawn, for truth, though I know they must've been about." her expression changed at the words, having someone surprised herself with the thought. "But lots of the Bannorn was burned after, for one reason or another. That's what I remember the most, all the ash." She looked back up at Esme again, unsure if her answer had been helpful at all.
Andor called from somewhere above and Ceren swiveled her gaze in the general direction. Her brow furrowed as she sensed, through whatever that bond was between them, what he could communicate. "Huh..." she breathed, the furrow of her brow deepening. Then she chuckled. "He's hungry, and frustrated. Not a lot to hunt the way we're going. Bad luck for him but... maybe not for us?" Ceren gave Esme a smile and picked up her pace.
