therookery | crystal

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Morrigan
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Give her your spooky stories, also Flemeth/Asha'bellanar since people are off to Kirkwall
WHEN: Whenever you hear it what is time
WHERE: Skyhold (Morrigan's there, maybe you're elsewhere, welcome to the spoop podcast)
NOTES: Gonna just say oblig horror warnings for the content, if your thread contains anything you feel the need to warn for please stick it in the subject line and I'll update here.

The long nights and short days have passed us, Inquisition, yet I believe a certain appetite remains for some tales no matter the season. Those tales a mother or father told you, an older sibling, some elder grown grey and wise, while you were tucked up in your bed at night with the fire crackling in the hearth so very very far away, your light but that of the candle reflected in their eyes. [Well, there was no such thing in the Korcari Wilds for her but just believe in it. Imagine if you will, dear listener, and let her dark crooning voice lull you off into oblivion if you dare.]

Such tales as to chill and curdle the very blood in your veins. How many tales in Ferelden are told of my mother to have a wayward child behaving or to have those older still falling in line. We turn to Kirkwall now, perhaps that is why I think of where last she was sighted - the one the Dalish know by Asha'bellanar - and all those stories of stealing babes from their beds for her cooking pot that the Chasind will believe to this very day. Indulge me, if you will Inquisition, what tales frightened you as a child? Are there those that quicken your breath still? That send you hurrying along the darkened halls when a stray draft has the candle guttering out? Are those impossible fingers at your window or are they the branches of the overgrown tree? Is it the dreadful howling of a wolf or do the werewolves lope out of the forests once again?

[Morrigan has a talent for this sort of drama, leaning very close to her sending crystal to deliver it in her best 'oh how she dances under the moon' voice, all hushed and breathy when she must, drawing out each and every pause. The last pause before she ends the message is one of consideration. Has she not left out a rather sizeable group?]

Those who come from beyond the rifts, are there such tales you learned as children? Are there those you have learned of this world? Do they compare? I shall tell you a tale of mine own if trade is required.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There are those who believe that you shall catch cold in the heat if you wash your feet in winter yet that is not true. There are always those who will proclaim many things for that fleeting moment of eyes upon them.

[Boys are less likely to cry wolf in Thedas though, not when they really could possibly be werewolves.]

I see. We have corpses that may rise when a demon is unable to tell the difference between the living and the dead. A ravening corpse is one possessed by a demon of hunger, driven to feed upon the living. They may drain even the life from their enemies from being close enough to them. Darkspawn are the ones weaker in the sun, and as the days of the Blight grow longer, darker does the sky grow.

[The idea of how to repel them makes her snort; in her experience, the only good way to deal with things is to actually deal with them. To kill them. To burn the remains that they might never rise and return once again. Then again they aren't real to his people.]

How am I to take your meaning of awesome? Impressive or daunting? Both at once? [What does she say about Flemeth when there are so many who will hear?] Tis hardly the story most children are told of their mothers, perhaps all three.

I definitely had a run-in with your shambling ravening corpses before. That was not a fun introduction to Thedas, let me tell you, being ripped from where I was, falling through a wonderland tunnel, dropping into a gross swamp, and nearly being eaten by reanimated corpses. Ugh. [And dealing with a brand new body. So. That, too.]

Awesome is like...ummm...cool? It's really cool? It's...interesting in a--you know what, impressive and daunting both sound really good. But that story, is it true? Or just a story?

Or a little of both?

The Fallow Mire is where the Inquisition was when some arrived, was it not? I believe I would have heard if any had landed in a swamp I know well since my home for many years was one. The Chasind might take exception. They exact long slow deaths upon their victims, their cries echoing in the night. Quicker with the corpses.

[Sleep well whenever sleep comes Church.

Also what is it with you rifter folk and weird words. Good thing Church can't see her squinting at the sending crystal right now.]

I believed her then. I believe her now. Knowing how she prolongs her life has only made me more certain of the truth though I cannot say what she actually is. There are some parts that aren't true, details that Flemeth confirmed for me.

[As one does, the monster likes to hear it all reported accurately naturally.]

Okay, so, that's a word or...name or proper noun that I've heard before, but I don't really...know. Who are the Chasind? What's that really mean? Other than being protective of their lands and torturing people to death, apparently. [Sure sounds like they're a fun bunch of people right there.]

So you don't really know what your mom is, exactly. Does that mean you're part who-knows-what, too? Any dad in the picture to enlighten you or what? [He's placing bets on 'or what'. She seems very much...an independent woman raised by a wild radical bog witch type. Y'know, like you find alone in bars on Thursday nights.]

The Chasind are the Chasind, they are a group or people, sometimes just called Wilders or Chasind Wilders. They live different lives to the people you might find in a town or a village, worship their own gods, believe their own beliefs, have lived that way a long long time since they split off from the Alamarri who in time became the Avvar. Skyhold has a library, Kirkwall likely has one too.

I am Flemeth's daughter but I am human, that much I know. When I shapeshift I copy the soul of another animal but I cannot become such things as legend and tales would have you believe, but twas only Flemeth and I. [Dad is a husk, like the things spiders leave behind, we don't talk about dad Church.] Perhaps one of the men mother took to her bed, there were many of them.

Yeah, fine, I'll pick up a book and start reading history. You've got kind of a lot of groups for one person to read about everything in a year, okay? I was kinda more focused on the terrain and the maps. And mages, kinda.

['We don't talk about dad' is kind of a Church family motto to be honest.] I mean, I called your mom's story awesome, but it also doesn't sound like she's the kind of........being someone would want to be, so. Being human's not all bad. Not always what it's cracked up to be, but not bad!

crystal

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject