Nathaniel's finger and thumb pinched at the bridge of his nose at the news relayed by Roland. Sooner or later, he knew the time would come when they would need to see one another again. He had sent her away for a reason and those reasons should have been less important now. Nathaniel had Fergus. He had Velanna. And yet, hearing her name stung all the same. The hurt had lessened but not ebbed entirely.
There would be no sending her away this time, though. It was Nathaniel who planned to leave Denerim. Thanks given to Roland for the news, Nathaniel dismissed the warden and proceeded to make his way to his office. His personal issues with Cauthrien would need to wait. He had preparations to make for his trip to the Circle Tower along with Adara and Carver.
News of the Wardens’ return from Gwaren traveled quickly through the compound, the fire within Nathaniel’s office freshly lit before his arrival. A tray of food, hearty stew along with a hunk of hard cheese and bread, awaited him on his desk. Until he saw and smelled the food, he had not realized how hungry he had become. While their journey from Gwaren was less eventful than the trip to Gwaren, the food on the ship did not improve.
He sank into the seat behind his desk and drew the tray toward him, letting the rich smell of the venison stew fill his nose before he dipped his spoon into the bowl and took a first bite.
Talking with Niamh and Joffrey had taken the edge from Cauthrien's irritation at her superior, so after a quick glance through the papers on her desk, when he did not come in search of her, she went to him.
It was another telling sign that things had changed between them, perhaps irrevocably, but if Nathaniel allowed his personal feelings to affect his professional conduct, Cauthrien was determined not to do so.
She knocked at the door to his office, waiting for his invitation to enter, and found him eating. “I can come back later,” she offered, holding back the 'ser' that she knew would wound him. They had been friends, before the ill-advised attempt at romance, and she still considered him as such. Whether he felt the same, she was unsure.
Post by Nathaniel Howe on Jul 26, 2017 15:31:00 GMT -5
A knock at the door interrupted Nathaniel’s meal. He called out, “Come in.”
Cauthrien stood in the doorway, not at all the person Nathaniel expected to visit him soon after his arrival. But he should have. Just because he was reticent to seek her out did not mean the feeling was mutual.
“I can come back later,” Cauthrien said, not quite entering the room fully yet.
With a shake of the head and sweep of the hand, Nathaniel beckoned her in. “Now is fine.” There were things they needed to discuss regardless of his own personal discomfort he had yet to fully work through. A bitter pill, duty.
“I needed something to wash the taste of fish out of my mouth,” he said with a wry grin and the dip of his chin in gesture to the steaming bowl of stew atop his desk. “Sea travel is not my favorite way to travel.” Too many uncertainties, too little control as the trip to Gwaren more than proved.
He inclined his head toward the chair opposite his desk and pushed the food aside for now. “Sit if you like,” Nathaniel said, more an invitation than order. “I assume you’ve heard of Alden and Anders by now,” followed on the invitation’s heels, his jaw tightening faintly. If Roland had relayed news of her arrival to him, Roland or another no doubt shared with Cauthrien the news of the men’s deaths.
Nathaniel shook his head at her offer to return later. “Now is fine,” he told her, gesturing for her to enter. “I needed something to wash the taste of fish out of my mouth,” he went on with a rueful smile and a tip of his head toward the bowl of Tobias' beef stew. “Sea travel is not my favorite way to travel.”
“I got used to it after a while,” Cauthrien replied as she shut the door behind her. “Now I miss it a bit. I ran into my old captain at Highever.” Once she would have mentioned Brighton's offer of a spot on the crew. Once, she would have been sure that he would understand the satisfaction of having hard earned skills acknowledged. Now, she wondered if he might take it as an expression of dissatisfaction, and held her tongue, saying instead, "They do eat a lot of fish in Gwaren, as I recall." Which was putting it mildly. Pickled fish, smoked fish, fried fish, roasted fish, fish stew and fish pies ... she'd eaten them all in her years in Gwaren, and for the most part, hadn't minded, with the exception of lutefisk.
“Sit if you like,” he invited her, setting his food aside. “I assume you’ve heard of Alden and Anders by now.”
“I have.” She kept her tone even as she settled across from him, seeing the slight tensing in the line of his mouth. “Muriel told me, when I was at Vigil's Keep.” She met his eyes, her own gaze calm but questioning. “I was two days out, not even to Silvercrest; I could have come back.”
Post by Nathaniel Howe on Aug 7, 2017 17:59:06 GMT -5
“I have.” Cauthrien confirmed, her tone even. She took the seat opposite of his and continued, “Muriel told me, when I was at Vigil's Keep.” Questioning eyes looked to his. “I was two days out, not even to Silvercrest; I could have come back.”
Nathaniel drew in a slow breath. The question went unspoken, but he knew what she truly wished to ask.
One letter was all it would have taken and Nathaniel could have had Cauthrien at the compound to help him with all that happened after Anders and Alden’s deaths. One more letter amongst all those he wrote during the days. One letter he considered only briefly writing before he decided otherwise.
Nathaniel rubbed the knuckle of his thumb against his brow, tension stiffening his movements and the lines of his face. He did not make it a habit of lying to Cauthrien nor would he now. With her, Nathaniel was more honest than wise. Such honesty had set them on the path on which they currently treaded; somewhere between the friendship they once coveted and an awkward true founded within their sense of duty. This duty pulled them together even when other forces mandated a distance between them.
“I know,” he admitted. “But I did not want you here.” He rolled back in his chair, hands dropping to rest upon his lap beneath the desk. A coward might have turned away, sought safety in regarding anywhere else such as the hearth or window behind the desk as he spoke. He kept his eyes upon her no regret within his expression or tone.
“I know.” Nathaniel acknowledged Cauthrien’s words calmly before answering the question she had not given voice to. “But I did not want you here.”
Just like that. He had not wanted it; all other considerations out the damned window, and Cauthrien could feel the equilibrium that she had achieved in the past few hours beginning to fray.
“I see,” she said, tension bleeding into the words, then, “No, I don’t,” as she pushed out of the chair and paced the length of the room before looking back at him. “You were not the only one involved, and you had no right to act as though you were. I was needed here. The other Wardens needed someone besides a Commander too wrapped up in his own grief to pay attention to theirs!” Spinning, she stalked back to the chair, one hand resting on the back as she glared at him accusingly. “You read the letter that Anders left for Niamh, but didn’t bother to read it to her! She’s held on to it all this time with no idea what it said!
“And no memorial at all?” She shook her head, still unable to comprehend it. “They deserved better than that. Anders deserved better than that!” What little she knew left open the unsettling possibility that Alden had lured the mage to his death. She drew a slow breath through her nose, trying to rein in the frustration. “What happened?” she asked him in a calmer tone. She'd gotten the bare bones from Muriel, but she knew good and well that Nathaniel would have held back some details.
Post by Nathaniel Howe on Aug 15, 2017 15:54:24 GMT -5
“I see.” One did not need to be a mind reader to see the lie in those words. A lie, Cauthrien soon corrected as she abandoned the chair claimed moment’s earlier. “No, I don’t,” she confessed, anxious steps carrying her about the room in a manner more typical to Nathaniel than her. “You were not the only one involved, and you had no right to act as though you were. I was needed here. The other Wardens needed someone besides a Commander too wrapped up in his own grief to pay attention to theirs!”
Nathaniel expected her anger, even deserved some of it. There was only one decision he made in the aftermath of Anders’ death that he regretted and not calling her to Denerim was not it. He made no move to share his litany of reasons for not recalling her. Not yet.
Cauthrien was right on one point. He was not the only one involved. Anders had seen to that. The calm Nathaniel projected cracked in the twitch of his mouth and the faint, but brief, wrinkle of his brow. His rage at his friend had subsided some but was not entirely gone nor would it ever be. No wound was harder to heal than one caused by betrayal.
Her pacing came to an end, Cauthrien stopping at the chair. Anger narrowed her eyes, an accusation in her tone, “You read the letter that Anders left for Niamh, but didn’t bother to read it to her! She’s held on to it all this time with no idea what it said! And no memorial at all?” Disbelief suffused the shaking of her head. “They deserved better than that. Anders deserved better than that!”
The words came before Nathaniel could stop them. Indignant, bitter, he spat out, “No. He did not.” Anders abandoned the Grey Wardens. He abandoned Nathaniel. The two crimes blurred, no definite line between them. Anders knew what he was doing, the pain it would cause in Nathaniel, the pain it would cause in others left behind and did it all the same. Such actions did not merit a memorial.
Slowly, Cauthrien drew in a breath she exhaled with equal measure. “What happened?” she asked, a bit of the bite in her tone gone.
What Anders deserved was his rage; Cauthrien did not. Nathaniel bit down, a calming breath of his own drawn in. He reached into a drawer upon his desk and withdrew the letter Anders wrote him and slid it across the end of the desk for Cauthrien to take.
A small portion of his ire faded away in an exhale but did not diminish his bitterness entirely, “He meant to runaway and abandon the Grey Wardens and take his lover, Alden, with him. Then he turned into an abomination and got them both killed. That is what happened. I will not honor deserters no matter the person.” Aedan would receive no memorial. Neither would Anders.
Nathaniel listened to her in silence, his expression impassive, until she made her claim that Anders deserved a memorial of some sort. The composed mien vanished, anger bubbling to the surface like white hot magma bursting through a cooled crust.
“No. He did not,” he snarled, rage suffusing face and voice. The emotion did not surprise her; she'd known that he would take Anders' intent to desert as a personal affront as soon as she had read Niamh's letter, known how it would affect the man who had been betrayed by too many that he had trusted. But between Muriel's account, Joffrey's information and Niamh's letter lay a vast area of unknowns that Nate would have the most complete answer to, and Cauthrien wanted answers.
He made a visible effort to rein in his emotions before replying to her question, but he did not quite succeed, spite touching the edges of every ground-out word: “He meant to runaway and abandon the Grey Wardens and take his lover, Alden, with him.” Cauthrien blinked. That was news to her, but was it even true? “Then he turned into an abomination and got them both killed. That is what happened. I will not honor deserters no matter the person.”
She straightened, taking in what she had been told, trying to mesh it with what she knew … and failing. “So … he deserted the Grey Wardens,” she began slowly. “He had the freedom he always wanted, and a lover to share it with … and he was so damned happy that he became an abomination?” She glared at Nathaniel. “That's bullshit and you damn well know it!” Stepping forward, she braced both hands on his desk and leaned across, eye to eye. “What … happened?” she demanded again, enunciating each word deliberately. “Not what you've told the others. Not what you tell yourself to justify your anger. What do you know?”
Post by Nathaniel Howe on Aug 28, 2017 17:24:13 GMT -5
“So … he deserted the Grey Wardens,” Cauthrien said slowly after taking a moment to parse the information. “He had the freedom he always wanted, and a lover to share it with … and he was so damned happy that he became an abomination?” Narrowed eyes honed in upon Nathaniel. “That's bullshit and you damn well know it!” She stalked toward him, pressing her hands into the flat of his desk to lean forward and catch his gaze pointedly. “What … happened?” The words pulled from her, each syllable emphasized as she spoke. “Not what you've told the others. Not what you tell yourself to justify your anger. What do you know?”
Nathaniel took great comfort many times in the past in how well Cauthrien knew him. Her understanding had been one of the reasons they developed the close friendship that lead to his attraction to her. Her understanding was important to him. And now? That understanding was infuriating him.
The calm he managed to find melted away under the weight of Cauthrien’s glare. Tooth gritted tooth and his jaw visibly tensed. But for as much as Cauthrien knew Nathaniel, he had one question for her. He loathed lies. Lies were the weapons of choice from men like his father. He had not lied to Cauthrien before nor would he start now even in spite of all that happened between them. “Why would I lie--” he started, a melange of anger and hurt suffusing his tone, “to you about this?”
A rising temper always brought with it a thirst for whiskey. Unable to quench such thirst in Cauthrien’s presence, he pushed away from the desk, rising from his chair to move toward the hearth choosing movement over drink. “He told me he was off to help someone with the Collective. I imagine things did not go as planned and that is why he turned abomination. There were templars involved. Templars I am told were not there by sanction of the Chantry.”
He grew quiet for a moment, shoulders slumping forward with the press of his hand against the mantle atop the hearth. The regrets were still there just as loud as the morning Nathaniel learned of Anders’ fate. He should have stopped him. He should not have let him go. He might have left anyway later but he would be alive. A deserter still, but alive.
A breath sucked in, Nathaniel turned away from the hearth and looked to Cauthrien once again. “I did not learn until later that Alden was Anders lover. When packing up Alden’s belongings, I found a pillow that Anders’ mother gave him. That damned,” his breath shook before he pushed on, “pillow was his most prized possession. He would only give it to someone he cared deeply for."
Anger flashed in grey eyes at her challenge. “Why would I lie--” he ground out, “to you about this?”
“You’re not telling me everything!” she shot back, feeling her own temper rising anew. He prided himself on his honesty, but he never seemed to count the lies he told to himself.
He shoved his chair back and stood, pacing to the fireplace and stopping, his back to her. “He told me he was off to help someone with the Collective,” he said without looking at her. “I imagine things did not go as planned and that is why he turned abomination. There were templars involved. Templars I am told were not there by sanction of the Chantry.”
“And the Chantry always tells the truth?” She didn’t bother trying to soften the scorn in her voice. “They’ve been after him for years; they’re certainly not going to tell us that they finally got what they wanted. Are they dead, at least? Did he kill them?” She hoped so. The ember of hate in her chest was something that she had rarely experienced, but she had seen in his face, and Adara’s, when she had given them their phylacteries, what their years in the circle had done to them. What the templars had done to them.
He remained motionless, supporting himself with a hand on the mantelpiece, head down, shoulders sagging, and she knew what was going through his mind: he was blaming himself, whether it was true or not. The instinct to touch his shoulder, offer him comfort, was stayed by the suspicion that it would not be welcomed. That she had been the one to seek him out suggested that his wounded pride had not yet healed.
Drawing a breath, he turned to her. “I did not learn until later that Alden was Anders lover. When packing up Alden’s belongings, I found a pillow that Anders’ mother gave him.” Her brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he went on. “That damned,” he drew a tight breath, comtinued, “pillow was his most prized possession. He would only give it to someone he cared deeply for."
“That’s quite a bit to hang on a pillow,” she told him frankly, but the edge was gone from her voice. “And if it was so important to him, why leave it behind unless they intended to return? None of it makes sense,” she exclaimed, shaking her head and throwing out her hands in exasperation. “Anders was afraid of templars.” She thought back to the encounter in the market. “Terrified, though he wouldn’t let them see it. He wouldn’t have gone among them knowingly. Could Alden have betrayed him? Joined the Wardens and gained his trust, just to lead him to slaughter?” It fit what was known, but she didn’t like to think that they could have been so easily misled. The man had seemed sincere … but he would have known to present such a face.
Post by Nathaniel Howe on Sept 5, 2017 14:48:15 GMT -5
“That’s quite a bit to hang on a pillow,” Cauthrien noted bluntly and she was not wrong. A pillow seemed a rather important item really. But Cauthrien had not known Anders the way Nathaniel did.
“And if it was so important to him,” she continued, more calm than before, "why leave it behind unless they intended to return? None of it makes sense.” She shook her head as her hands jutted out frustrated. “Anders was afraid of templars. Terrified, though he wouldn’t let them see it. He wouldn’t have gone among them knowingly. Could Alden have betrayed him? Joined the Wardens and gained his trust, just to lead him to slaughter?”
“Terrified,” Nathaniel started, agreeing with Cauthrien. His arms laced across his chest, “But determined,” he added. How many times he played the conversation of that night over and over in his head.
So, can we just accept that you and I both know I’m going to do something I shouldn’t, and it would be best if I didn’t drag anyone else into it? For old time’s sake?
Old time’s sake certainly had run out.
“I do not know if Alden betrayed him. I am not sure if we will ever know.” The thought was a troubling one and not the first time Nathaniel was considered such. How better to capture Anders than through someone that he loved? But as plausible as the idea seemed, Nathaniel’s gut told him that had not been the case. Traitor or deserter, in the end, it did not matter, Alden’s fate was the same and his memory as a Grey Warden tainted by the events of that evening.
His arms unfurled so that his hand could dig into a pocket within his pants. “The scene was—“ His expression tensed with the slow draw of a breath. “gruesome I am told." From within his pocket, he pulled a small golden earring. “This was found amongst all the carnage.” He held his hand up for Cauthrien to see the piece of jewelry. “This, along with the letter he left me,” his chin motioned toward the letter atop his desk he withdrew earlier, “and my conversation with him just prior to him leaving are why I believe what I believe about that night."
“Terrified,” Nathaniel agreed tersely, arms crossed tight over his chest, “But determined.”
“Determined to do what?” Cauthrien demanded irritably. “You don’t know, do you? Not with any certainty.”
“I do not know if Alden betrayed him. I am not sure if we will ever know,” he admitted, relaxing his stance to root in a hip pocket. “The scene was—“ He sucked in a slow breath, his expression bleak, “gruesome I am told."
His hand emerged from his pocket, cupped to contain the gleam of gold within his palm. “This was found amongst all the carnage,” he told her, holding it out. The gold earring was nondescript; if not for the topic of conversation, Cauthrien would have been hard pressed to place it. “This, along with the letter he left me,” he nodded toward the folded parchment that he had tossed on the desk earlier, “and my conversation with him just prior to him leaving are why I believe what I believe about that night."
Stepping to the desk, she took up the parchment, scanning the contents. “He knew it might mean his death, but he went anyway. Why? What did they have that was so important? Who did they have?” She knew so little about Anders, about his relationships outside the Wardens.
She glanced back at Nathaniel. “You’re not angry at him because he left the Wardens. You’re angry because he left you.” There was no anger or scorn in her words; she knew how much Nathaniel had lost in his life, how much he dreaded further loss. “He wasn’t like Aedan: a spoiled noble refusing to accept his responsibilities. He was a man who had never known freedom in his adult life, and I can’t begin to imagine what that was like. I chose to join the Wardens; his only other choice was death or Tranquility. Deserting couldn’t be excused, but he’s already paid with his life." Turning, she faced him, composed but determined. "If you want to pretend that he never existed, that is your choice, but you have no right to deny the others the chance to remember him and say goodbye. Memorials are for the living, not the dead.”
Post by Nathaniel Howe on Sept 12, 2017 15:41:19 GMT -5
Cauthrien plucked the letter from the desk. It did not take her long to read what was there. “He knew it might mean his death, but he went anyway. Why? What did they have that was so important? Who did they have?”
Nathaniel shook his head, “I do not know. But it was important enough to him. He—“ His tongue scraped against lips parched for a drink. Still, he held back, not quite pushed so far as to slip in Cauthrien’s presence. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what he did and why.”
The pad of a finger tapped the side of his head, “I’ve been replaying conversations with him, looking for clues or answers.” A picture had begun to be painted though the landscape still quite uncertain.
Cauthrien looked to Nathaniel, the anger gone, only understanding left. “You’re not angry at him because he left the Wardens. You’re angry because he left you. He wasn’t like Aedan: a spoiled noble refusing to accept his responsibilities. He was a man who had never known freedom in his adult life, and I can’t begin to imagine what that was like. I chose to join the Wardens; his only other choice was death or Tranquility. Deserting couldn’t be excused, but he’s already paid with his life.”
"He had the same choice many of us faced during those days. My choice was not wholly different than his. Death or," Nathaniel swept a hand in gesture to the room in general, "or this. For all his faults, Aedan was faced much with the same."
The set of her brow was one Nathaniel recognized well. Determined, she would try to steer him on a different course. "If you want to pretend that he never existed, that is your choice, but you have no right to deny the others the chance to remember him and say goodbye. Memorials are for the living, not the dead.”
“Am I angry that he lied to me? That he left me?” To say otherwise would have been an easily transparent lie. “I am,” his jaw tensed, “livid at him. He knew probably better than maybe only you what effect his actions would have upon me.” The thought enough to stoke the slumbering embers of his anger and push him toward his desk.
He set the earring down and reached for the drawer where he kept his whiskey. A calming balm, he told himself, as he poured himself a small measure of the amber liquid into a glass. “But you are wrong if you think I want to forget him. To deny he ever existed."
Nathaniel's gaze panned down, the simple golden hoop atop the desk eyed. Every day since Anders’ passing, Nathaniel carried the memento within his pocket. A reminder of his friend. A reminder of betrayal and a trust misgiven. A reminder of a duty greater than a single person. “I do not want to forget him,” he replied, a quiet sadness kissing his tone. “I won’t,” he clarified, eyes uplifting to find Cauthrien once again.
A slow breath drawn in, he swallowed down a small sip of the whiskey, eyes closing with the swallow of the liquid. Clarity and a resolve to match Cauthrien’s earlier filled the gaze he set upon Cauthrien. “I’ve not forbidden people from mourning him as they would. I simply will not honor him as a Grey Warden. He made his choice and forced me to make mine."
Post by Cauthrien on Sept 16, 2017 20:10:00 GMT -5
“I do not know,” Nathaniel admitted when Cauthrien asked who Anders might have been trying to help when he was killed. He shook his head, his frustration plain. “But it was important enough to him. He—“ He licked his lips, the hungry look in his eyes one that she knew. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what he did and why.”
Thinking and drinking? She thought it, but did not ask aloud. She still considered herself his friend, but she did not yet know if he wanted her friendship, along with the concern that would go with it. So long as his drinking did not interfere with his duties, she would remain silent until she was more sure of where she stood.
“I’ve been replaying conversations with him,” he told her, one finger pressed to his temple as though trying to coax out knowledge that refused to come forth, “looking for clues or answers.”
Her suggestion that Anders' desire for freedom, and his death in its pursuit, might warrant a less harsh judgment was rejected.
"He had the same choice many of us faced during those days,” he told her. “My choice was not wholly different than his. Death or," a wave of his hand indicated the office and all that came with it, "or this. For all his faults, Aedan was faced much with the same."
“But you were free before that, as was Aedan,” she countered. “It was something that he'd never known, could barely comprehend. When the phylacteries were returned, he actually thought that we had intended to keep them, use them as the Chantry does, to keep them chained.”
“Am I angry that he lied to me?” Nate responded to her assertion. “That he left me?” The muscles in his jaw tensed. “I am livid at him. He knew probably better than maybe only you what effect his actions would have upon me.” The admission seemed to spur him, and he strode to his desk on a mission, setting the earring down and pulling the bottle of whiskey from the drawer where he kept it, limiting himself to a scant two fingers in a crystal tumbler.
“But you are wrong if you think I want to forget him. To deny he ever existed." He stared down at the earring for a long moment. “I do not want to forget him,” he asserted quietly, deep sadness touching his voice. “I won’t.”
Grey eyes lifted to hers, and Cauthrien nodded her understanding. “All right,” she said, accepting his words.
He took a sip of the whiskey, closing his eyes as he swallowed, then opening them again, his features settling into an expression of resolve. “I’ve not forbidden people from mourning him as they would. I simply will not honor him as a Grey Warden. He made his choice and forced me to make mine."
“That doesn't seem to be the impression they've gotten,” she told him, no accusation in her voice. “I'd like to have a gathering, let them mourn together and remember him. It will help to bond them, especially the new recruits.” She forgot at times that he'd never been a soldier, never learned the rituals and customs that helped to forge individuals from all walks of life into a cohesive whole that could withstand the rigors of combat. “He saved my life three times that I can think of off the top of my head,” she added. “I'd like to honor that.”
Cyn: No posts this weekend, sorry! It's D&D crunch time and I've gotta write half a campaign by noon tomorrow or I'm so very screwed
Sept 9, 2017 20:49:59 GMT -5
JWhitey: Is anyone around?
Sept 10, 2017 1:11:36 GMT -5
Innes Cameron: Hello, JWhitey! If you need to speak to someone, PM one of the Staff directly (if you haven't already!) ;D
Sept 10, 2017 4:39:25 GMT -5
JWhiteyGames: Hello! And thanks! I did. I was just looking to see if anyone was on in general. After reading the guidelines and peeking a bit more though, I realized the box isn't used the same as before.
Sept 10, 2017 13:58:14 GMT -5
ann: *peeks head in* So, returning rp'er to the dragon age universe. I was wondering who of the staff one should poke about character concept? Just to run it by and get and oki.
Sept 17, 2017 11:35:05 GMT -5
Innes Cameron: Welcome to WV, ann! Feel free to PM any of us about a character concept and we'll get back to you shortly. If we need to consult with the other Staff about the idea first, we'll let you know ;D
Sept 17, 2017 14:01:09 GMT -5
Marius Whitby: If you're looking at a templar character, hit me up!
Sept 17, 2017 20:28:15 GMT -5
ann: I was originally but given the current state of timeline I went with a slightly different route^^ will keep it in mind, Marius!
Sept 18, 2017 12:00:52 GMT -5
Cyan: Wow I'm surprised this site is still active. Good job people.
Sept 19, 2017 20:49:59 GMT -5
Cyn: Don't thank us, thank Kahrin Quirke Ainsley, she's the one running around here putting out fires and fixing up hull breaches with duct tape.
Sept 19, 2017 21:52:11 GMT -5
hanamene: New to the game! Just wanted to say hello whilst I build my char profile. Any updates to the game's world state I ought to know about? In addition to the OOC info threads, I mean - i.e. active/major story-lines to consider. PM me for the latter.
Sept 20, 2017 12:07:39 GMT -5
Leliana: Welcome to WV, hanamene! If you check out the various links beneath 'Site Links' on the left hand side, that will give you all the information you need to know! If you have specific queries, however, please contact a member of staff.
Sept 20, 2017 12:55:22 GMT -5