revivalproject | New Arrival

Entry tags:

New Arrival

Who: Lerith & whomever
Where: Next to the fountain
What: Lerith realizes he’s not in Thedas anymore, let alone Haven
When: Mid-November
Warnung: Possible mentions of slavery

There had been a dragon.

Smoke, flames, and Lerith remembered coughing as he was helped from the burning tavern, The Singing Maiden by Inquisitor Trevelyan. Well that had been gone. Then, as he had been escaping with others to the Chantry, the elf had tripped and everything had gone dark.

When he had woke, Lerith had no idea where he was. He had seen cities before. This was nothing like the Imperium, or any of the cities he had seen between it and the Garrison in southern Orlais. He sat up, looking around with bright yellow eyes that contrasted the dark teal tattoos on his heavily scarred face. Quickly the tall elf pulled up the orange scarf as a hood before noting a bright orb of light. As much as Lerith wants to ignore it, his hands move to touch it —

A few minutes later he stared at his hands in horror. He knew of magic, felt it’s pain through electricity and blood, but this was nothing like that. It didn’t hurt? He pulled off his scarf to wipe his face. Still here. Strange city. The scarf was looped around his neck, hiding a strange looking metal collar that was right around his neck.

Standing up and looking around, what could he do? The city seemed empty. On the positive side, his owner wouldn’t be able to find him here. His work boots scrape against the strange stone as Lerith begins walking, trying to figure out where in Thedas this is. It’s very difficult to call out for someone when you can’t speak, too. It hasn’t occurred to him that there was a new device in his pocket, even as he picked up a worn leatherback journal with a stick of charcoal in it.

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Even after the nightmarish changes, things had resumed as they have always been, even if always, for him, had not been so long here. It both felt like longer and not much time at all had passed, but the latter would hold true for him in any place, he suspected.

He had watched this newcomer move away from the orb by the fountain below. It was a lot to take in for anyone, he understood this. Such was why he didn't simply 'blink' himself outside of the security tower to drift down to the ground. He was learning subtlety. He also knew some tended to find his appearance startling, with or without his helmet.

Eventually the sound of heavy booted footsteps could be heard coming down the worn and cracked walkway. The helmeted warlord looked prepared for cold weather at least, wearing a heavy greatcoat that flapped lightly after his steps.

Edited 2021-11-22 20:39 (UTC)

Lerith had walked a little bit before stopping. None of this had to be real. Maybe he had passed out and died in a fire instead of making it to the Chantry. Was this the afterlife? The elf thought there'd be at least halla.

Quickly turning, he went back to the fountain. There was some water left in it from a rain and Lerith removed the scarf to keep dry and set it on the ground. It bared his metal collar covered throat, but no one was around, right? The water was in his hands, scrubbed on his face. Then a pinch.

No, not dead. Well, if he were dead the collar would probably be gone.

He froze at the sound of bootfalls coming from down the lane and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Who was that? A squint and... he saw what looked like... horns? Was that a Qunari? Short, if The Iron Bull was anyone to compare to. Quickly the scarf was around the collared neck again, with the back pulled up as a hood. Did this person mean harm? Maybe he should run.

Despite thinking he should run, Lerith's feet didn't move from where they were. [Who,] his fingers asked where his mouth could not and it was only then that the elf realized that the journal was on the ground from where he had dropped it.

He'd purposely kept from masking his approach, not that he didn't think it would keep any uncertain newcomers from feeling any less wary about his arrival. At least this person stood his ground rather than turn to run. Perhaps it was just as well that Felwinter had none of his weapons here.

Felwinter carried some aura of menace despite not being nearly as tall as some in the city. He wore armored gauntlets and light armor on his boots, but perhaps it was the lack of a visible face with the grilled visor of his helmet that lent more to his imposing appearance. Yet he paused as no audible inquiries were raised, though it took him a moment to realize that he'd actually been spoken to. His own gloved hands lifted, not to sign, but in signal that he meant no harm, for as much good as that would do, anyway.

"My name is Felwinter," he replied, his voice sounding strangely filtered through the helmet. "Just like yourself, I have been brought here by the Agrii, as everyone in this city has been."

While it was certainly not always the case, Kaz was often easily heard long before he appeared with the staccato sound of his steps and his cane punctuating them. He was on his way elsewhere but his path took him by the fountain. There he found someone that did not look particularly lost but definitely bewildered. Kaz was of about average height and though slim he was also wiry despite being a cripple. Even still, this guy looked to be so much skinnier. Even to the point of looking like a famine victim.

"It's a wild guess, but I'll bet you're new."

When he spoke, his voice sounded like he gargled with whiskey and broken glass; a grizzled old man speaking from a teenager's mouth.

"So what is your name?"

Too bad Felwinter didn’t realize that Lerith wasn’t running because he was brave. It was because he was too scared to move. This new person looked menacing and very… No, that couldn’t be a Qunari. They were very tall and built, and this one was just a little shorter than the elf. But were they friend or foe? If they were still in Thedas, would the not-Qunari take him back to Tevinter? The man came closer. The distance shortened between them and Lerith pressed against the broken fountain like he would melt to it. He hated that he was shaking.

When the man paused, the escaped slave just stared at him like a deer caught in torchlight. Then there was a signal, one he had seen the Inquisitor use that seemed to be universal. ‘Not a threat’, it told the mute. His hands were empty of weapons and from what Lerith could see, so was his side and back. But maybe he was a mage, which was far worse than a warrior.

The Agrii? Those strange things seen when that orb was touched. He rubbed the back of his head, at a hidden scar. [What city? Still Thedas?] again his hands asked. Lerith winced, knowing this person - and most everyone else he came across - probably didn’t understand his signing. With yellow eyes moving between the newcomer and the journal, the object was scooped up to be written in. The shaking made his handwriting worse, but it was legible.

‘What city is this? Are we still in Thedas?’ He knew the answer, the orb had given it to him, but seeing and believing were two different things.

Footsteps. Lerith had gone back to the fountain, thinking to use it as a base point and draw out a map maybe in his journal. It wasn’t ideal, but it had been a start. Then he heard the steps and froze, looking in the direction they came from. It didn’t look like he had any weapons, but that didn’t mean anything. Mages didn’t necessarily need a weapon to be deadly. The mute knew that from first hand experience. Still, this man didn’t look like what Lerith knew to be a slave trader or a magister. But this wasn’t Thedas. So he watched, yellow eyes suspicious.

Hands went up. Pointed to himself, then tapped the side of two fingers against the other hands matching pair, then spelled something out with one hand. Done so quick and natural. Then he held up a finger for [wait] and opened the journal to a fresh page.

‘My name is Lerith. Is this Thedas’ Even though the orb had shown him it was not. It had to be some sort of magic trick played on his mind.

Lerith wasn't wrong in that line of thinking. The warlord could summon the void or solar fire in an instant if he so wished, but there was no need to do so at the moment. There was nothing he had against this person, and they shared a common problem now, whether they liked it or not.

He kept a respectful distance as he saw how anxious the elf was, helmeted head lifting slightly as those hands once again flickered in movement. It was...familiar. He knew these movements, and it felt like he had uncovered some dusty, long-forgotten box within his memories as he threw open its lid. It wasn't too difficult a thing to jog. Whatever he'd gained with the communications data point acted as a jumpstart. He looked down at his own hands, gloves creaking faintly as he tested out the motions, an echo of the name of the city that had just been spelled out.

"No, not Thedas," he said as he lifted his head, looking then at the scrawl on the journal held out then. "Likely you will not find that place here. This city is called Temba, on a world known as Agra Ten. ...but you know that much by now, do you not?" He pointed at the glowing sphere there.

Anxious was certainly a way to put it. He hadn't been on his own long, and being dropped into a new world while your original one was literally being burned down around you was a bit of a shock.

The answer to his question didn't help matters. This place, this Agra Ten place with the city Temba, wasn't Thedas by any means. He was far away from Haven or any other town. The point to the bright sphere, like a small star on earth, and the question had a solemn nod.

Lerith did know. He just didn't want to believe. It was easier to be scared and think it was all a nightmare than to believe. More scribbling on the worn pages filled with other one-sided conversations.

'Maybe... this is better. The home I came from, the one I just made... burning. Dragon attack.' Yellow eyes stared off into the distance at the memory of it. 'I did not want to believe the light. This is too much.'

A long pause after Felwinter had read it, he turned to the very first page of the journal.

'I am Lerith,' it said simply, and he tapped it for attention.

Edited (what's in a name) 2021-11-23 02:16 (UTC)

A dragon attack... Given the situation, Felwinter was surprised that being told such a thing could still sound unbelievable to him. He let this sink in. There could be worse than dragons, he thought as he considered the Risen warlords back home. But that was neither here nor now, and to lose one's home in such a way, to lose anything so violently, well it was understandable that this sudden instance would be more preferable.

He read, nodding as he looked towards the orb again, if only to glance back once the elf tapped at the journal that now bore something to call him by.

"Lerith." He lifted his hands as he dredged up perhaps centuries old knowledge from another life, his signing somewhat clumsy, slow, but the improvements were quick for the repetitions of words once he had them down.

It is a lot to take in. This situation is not permanent, but uncertain. We have been called to help, and help each other while we are here.

He paused, wondering if any of his motions were off, but he felt confident that he remembered them correctly at the very least. The Sidartha Golem had been created to interact with people, to gather samples of human culture and art. Perhaps he had picked up this hand language some time during the Golden Age.

"I am Felwinter," he spoke, spelling it out with succinct gestures.

His journal was his communication lifeline, since in Thedas it was rare for people to understand Sign. Trevelyan had been learning, but now… would she even notice that the mute was gone? Hm, Varric might, if only to miss calling him the ironic name of ‘Mouthy’. Once it was read, the book was pulled back to his chest so it could be written in once more.

Those yellow eyes watched Felwinter for a long moment before they widened. He… he knew Sign? It looked like the other was remembering how it worked, what signs went where but…

Felwinter knew.

The journal landed on the ground with a loud plop, the charcoal stick breaking in two.

[You know sign?!] Lerith was absolutely floored by this information.

Maybe this city wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Unfortunately, Kaz had at least three different blades secreted about his person at any given time as well as his cane which could also be used as a blunt force weapon. This was also not the first time that Kaz had seen sign language so he didn't bat an eye at the written answer and spoke to Lerith as if things were holding a normal conversation.

"No, it isn't. The city you are now in is called Temba, and it's on Agra-10. You are now another captive along with the rest of us. There is some debate over which species is holding all of us prisoner but we are definitely being held against our will."

Kaz had a scar on his left eyebrow, and a much lighter scar on the left side of his lip, It was also his left leg that gave him a limp without his cane, and yes there's a correlation to them.

"If you're new then it's probably better if you find the Datapoint close to the fountain. Just know it doesn't cover a few things that us captives have worked out for ourselves."

A captive.

When he arrived at Haven it had been his first semblance of freedom. Now he was captive again. No matter if he was in the magister's villa or a new realm entirely, it seemed he just couldn't escape it. Was he to be a slave until he died? He looked away, feeling the weight of the information.

[I already saw the data point. I touched it. So much information.] It was almost too much information. His head hurt, right where a scar was that he started rubbing at under the hood. Wait, no this person didn't understand sign damnit.

More writing in the leather-bound book. He crouched down to make himself smaller, hopefully less of a target, as he wrote. When he finished, the book was handed over to Kaz, head looking up and the hood falling back. The light was now shed onto his heavily scarred face, marring skin and the teal face tattoos there. The words written on the page were the same he had signed. Seeing the data point, touching it, all the information.

It is an old language, Felwinter signed. I have not made use of it in...a long time.

He would probably pick it up faster the more he saw Lerith use it. At first he wasn't sure what to make of this reaction, and he paused, looking down at the things that had been dropped. So shocked by such a revelation. Was it so rare? But then perhaps it was. It was so easy for people to take things for granted.

There was something almost cathartic in communicating this way. There was an odd comfort in silence, but then he knew it well, and he knew that some found his manner of speaking somewhat strange, like something was off, a disconnect with emotion, but he could not help what he was.

It was enough that someone could actually understand what his hands were saying. It was rare enough in Thedas. It had been somewhat common in his owner's villa for them to communicate with him. At this point, the elf wasn't even sure if the sign language he was taught in Tevinter was prevalent everywhere in Thedas.

But here, in this strange place of ruin, there was one person that could understand.

[I can hear your words. I cannot speak in return. Are you very short Qunari?] And the word for Qunari was just the word for 'horn', though he put more of a curl into it. Then gestured to the back of his own head to indicated Felwinter's own.

There was obvious hesitation as Felwinter parsed- or at least tried to parse whatever Lerith intended by his curling gesture. It was clear what he was referring to, but the context implied that it was something very specific than just horns. The warlord shook his head.

"I am not sure what you are referring to. I assume it is something that pertains to your world." He paused. "It is a helmet. I can remove it, but I would ask that you try not to be too startled."

So Qunari didn't exist in this world then. Hm. He held up the [wait] motion again and brought his book out again. 'Qunari,' was all it said before he motioned for horns again. Apparently his word for Qunari, or what he had been taught. Maybe if he ever met one, he could ask them what their sign was for their race.

[You do not have to remove it.] Especially if he was going to be startled. There was already so much to adjust to, Lerith wasn't sure how much more he could take at the moment. [A lot to take in right now. Is this city safe?]

He wanted to ask if slavers were in the city, but why give that info to a stranger? Especially if he didn't know if Felwinter was a slaver or not.

Kaz may not understand sign language but he was more than willing to learn if only to have a silent way to communicate. The fact that Lerith felt the need to make himself less of a target by making himself look smaller did not escape Kaz's notice but he said nothing about it right now. Again Kaz read the written words and again spoke to Lerith as though they were holding a normal conversation.

"Yeah. All the Datapoints download information straight into your brain. You'll find that other Datapoints will delete any knowledge you gained from one Datapoint and trying to use another. Meaning whether you like it or not, you are limited to one Datapoint at a time."

Kaz shrugged.

"I'm not a fan of them at all and resisted using them for a while. Eventually, I had to take one just to try and make sense of the alien tech around here. But you've already learned of the reason we're supposed to be brought here, but what it doesn't mention is that the Agrii were invaded and conquered a long time ago. Now there's a question of whether or not this is even the planet they started out on, or if the conquering species, the Atroma, transplanted them here along with a third species, the Graq."

Edited (Bah wrong icon) 2021-11-23 23:07 (UTC)

Lerith may be willing to teach, but not today. Probably not tomorrow. He needs to come to terms with where he is now, and the danger presented to him. Just getting to the Inquisition had been a task and now this.

The elf did like how this person took his journal in stride, without making him feel weird for using it to communicate. He wished he didn't have to, that more people knew sign, but this was better than being mute. At least here, his owner couldn't do anything to stop him from communicating again.

So he was going to hope, even just a little bit.

He glanced to Kaz, then away... and then back again slowly. He wrote something else down. 'by the way, i am Lerith. You are?'

Tapping his knuckle against the chin of his helmet, Felwinter peered at the word that had been written there before shaking his head. "No, I have never heard this term. Some sort of people..?"

He nodded, signing that he understood. The warlord certainly couldn't blame Lerith for wanting time to process things, especially if he was suddenly pulled from a very pivotal situation back home. The next question asked was given some thought.

"The city itself is fairly safe. No one comes from outside and the only other known settlement has long since been abandoned. I have heard something of a few infestations of large insects but they have been taken care of and nothing has caused trouble of that sort since."

Lerith straightened up just a little, feeling ease at the moment. This person really didn’t seem to be a slaver, or a Qunari that might turn him in. Hell, if he wasn’t even on Thedas anymore, that meant his possible slave bounty (because he had to have one by no) didn’t follow him here. That little sliver of hope that had nearly been suffocated by this change of place brightened. If only a little.

Insects? He could probably handle that, but Felwinter mentioned ‚large‘. [How large insects?] Were they the same size as nugs? Or maybe as big as halla. Or worse yet, as big as bears! Dragons!

[Also where is there a place to stay? I don’t think I have my gold.] Lerith patted his pockets and nope. No gold pieces here. Damn.

"I believe the local spiders that silkweb is gathered from are about the size of a dog," the warlord noted. "They do not seem to venture outside of the factory, at least. Some other type of insect that seems more aggressive has been described as smaller. I believe those entries are in your tablet. You have received one, haven't you?"

He wondered at that. The elf had been writing in his journal, so perhaps he had not yet gotten one? Felwinter reached into his belt pouch to pull his own device out, a sleek rectangular and very flat object as long as if not perhaps a little longer than his hand. "You can use this to communicate with others over a distance," he explains. "It also provides information and a map of this city."

Demonstrating, he brings the map up on the screen, pointing out the central square. "This is where we are. As for where you can stay, you are free to choose any place that is vacant. There is also a hotel just across from us," he says, turning to point to the building in question. "You need not worry about payment."

Silkwebbing, that was usually gathered for fabrics. He heard the Inquisitor talk about making clothing from them, but if it happened, Lerith never saw it. Not that he actively went looking either. Too many eyes, too many suspicious people lurking about in Haven.

Wait, a device?

A frown and he checked his pockets. Nothing in there. The yellow eyes observe what Felwinter showed him and a tilt of the head. He didn't have anything like that, did he? The elf looked around and then spotted it on the ground. It must've been tucked into his journal without him noticing. Picking it up and comparing it - yes that was the device.

He moved a little closer to the other to watch him work the device. How strange. Fingers moved to imitate, bringing up the map. Tucking it under his arm, Lerith signed again. [I can use to write maybe? Brighter than journal, easier to see in dim light.]

If the elf was using a journal then perhaps such technology was uncommon to him. This was not an unusual thing to Felwinter. Even where he was from, such novelties and tools were long lost and forgotten or rendered unusable from age and decay.

Lerith proved to be a quick study however, and Felwinter nodded encouragingly as he brought up the map on his own device once he had located it.

"This will be faster than writing, once you get accustomed to the layout," he said before showing with his own tablet how to get back to the main menu of colorful icons that corresponded with the specific functions. He tapped on the icon that opened up the program entitled Mass Sages. "The Agrii are not good at translations. Their attempts to use our words often turn out to be constructed of multiple ones with similar sounds. But this is the messaging program, usually to send private messages to someone else's device. The keypad will show up like so- and you can make your words by touching these letters. This will space them."

They had noting like this in Thedas. Well, maybe they did but Lerith didn't want to listen to Solas drone on about the Dalish elves again. The bald elf was nice but Lerith looked to him more like a teacher than a friend. He focused on the device.

He could use this to communicate! Skinny fingers hit buttons, marveling at the letters that popped up. Eyes bright with excitement, Lerith looked to Felwinter and the device. The device moved from Mess Sages to the home and then other places as clumsy fingers hit other sections. No, he didn't want that.

Back to Mess Sages.

'this si net i like strang book'

It looked like it would take a bit to get used to the typing.

'i can messge anyon like this' He frowned, tapping around until he found the '?'. It was so strange to be writing like this!

Kaz glanced quickly at the page.

"I'm Kaz Brekker.".

And because Kaz did not ever worry about being rude.

"Were you born mute, or did this happen later in life?"

Kaz had seen what looked to be the edge of got scar tissue on Lerith already but would it be spelled out bluntly.

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New Arrival

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