Chapter 1 - Griffon Wing Keep

Heroically, if recklessly choosing to leave at night, Knight-Captain Rylen thanks each of you, and loads you up with several days of non-perishable food and wine. He explains that the well water requires boiling before use because of the bodies that had been thrown into it, so wine is better for travelling.

Like any good commander, he checks each of your loads before you leave. He tightens Kelsie's straps a little too roughly, and she sees in his eyes all the mistrust she expects. Rylen speaks briefly with Kelsie, confirming she knows the way - you should be there by dawn, longer if you make a wrong turn.

The keep's gates open, and a blast of sand stings your eyes. Your lantern, hooded against the wind, gives scant light, and you exit into the wilderness.

The day's heat has long passed, and tears run freely from your straining eyes as you follow the lantern. Your tongue feels coated in the acidic sand.

GM prompt: Pausing here to give you a chance to roleplay the journey.

There had been a vain hope for Saara that she wouldn't be back out in the treacherous sands quite so soon, even if it was what she had come here for. She might have been more comfortable now that the sun and its blistering heat had settled into its rest below the horizon, had it not been replaced by a cutting wind and bone-chilling cold. To say nothing of the hail of daggers carried on the air, blasting her skin as dry as the landscape. A far cry from the humidity of Par Vollen, she reminisces bitterly. In the feeble and dusty beams of the lanterns she can just about make out the shapes of the Rivaini, the Orlesian, the mercenary and the redhead. "When you said you could lead us there," she bellows through the cacophonous gale to the latter, spluttering out a mouthful of sand. "I hope you have a good nose because eyes are out of the picture."

Antoine trudged miserably through the dunes, his weathered hat pulled low to keep the sand from his eyes. He squinted at the motley group around him, taking in the oddities. The mercenary was so painfully Fereldan, he practically smelled of wet dog. The Rivaini seemed as out of place as him, but the crossbow she carried told him she could take care of herself. The Qunari was...well. She didn't need that blade on her back to be dangerous. It was the girl, the redhead, that worried him. She wore no armor, and that staff on her back...

"Excu-" Shit, sand in his mouth. Ugh. He spat several times and started again. "Excuse me! Girl! The one leading us through a sandstorm! Are you a mage?"

Kelsie stopped, holding a scarf against her face in a feeble attempt to block the sand. She turned around, bright red hair whirling around her in the storm. She looked briefly at Saara, then Antoine, her eyes watering. "I am a mage, so if any of you wish to turn back, now is the time. I’ll understand." She looks down, scuffing the sand with her toe. "I live nearby, so I can get us to the village." Coughing, she pulls the scarf tighter. " We may wish to wait for the storm to die down."

Carmen's head raises a little as she hears the noble express his concern, and the mage confirm it. As far as the merchant went, said mage had given her no reason not to trust her. The Orlesian, however, seemed to be clinging to old blood. Sensing tension and wishing to sever it before it became uncontrolled, especially in a place like this, Carmen placed a hand on Antoine's shoulder before he could respond to Kelsie.

"Bit late for that concern, your lordship." She said, with what she could muster of a smile in this storm. "Sure, you can turn back if you reckon you can navigate this sandstorm, but right now, I think it's safer if we stick with her. That way, we can get to where we're going, then get back with as little trouble as possible, right? She's not even doing anything magical right now, far as I can tell, so I don't think any of us need to worry about anyone spontaneously combusting into anything." She released his shoulder and kept walking.

Antoine stared down at the old man's sand-caked form. With one deft movement, he snatched Maxwell's discarded wineskin from the floor and finished off the dregs. Wiping the liquid from his mustache, he turned to face his companions.

"Bit rude of him not to offer the bed to us, eh? No matter. Now that we are out of that infernal storm, perhaps we should get to know each other. If we are to face the dead, we should at least exchange names." He gave a pointed look at the Qunari. "Those of us who have them, anyway. Allow me to go first. My name is Lord Antoine de Mournier, of the Lake Celestine houses. Perhaps you've heard of my cousin, Gaspard de Chalons?"

Maxwell gives a snort and jerks awake at the sound of talking. Grabbing for his wineskin he s disappointed to find it lying empty on the floor. Cursing to himself he sits on the bed and waits for the storm to pass. Responding to Antonia's question, Never heard of him. Is that supposed to be someone important? Never mind, I don't really care unless they can help us with are current situation. Though I'm not sure how knowing each other's name will help us face the dead but give us something to put on a tombstone but if you must have one you can call me Maxwell Shadecrest.

Carmen is about to suggest turning back to look for Maxwell when he stumbles into view. The Rivaini cocks a brow as the noble among them snatches his wineskin and downs the last of it, but she says nothing on the matter. Instead, she cracks a smile, glad to be out of the buffeting sands, and introduces herself with a flourishing bow. "I am Carmen Palomo, of Rivain. Nothing much but a simple merchant, mind, but I can't say I don't enjoy it."

"Good morrow to you Jonas. My companions and I heard a tale of some troubles in your cemetery and wish to lend our aid."
She gestures to the old farmer. "This gentleman arrived at the nearby keep yesterday where we were meeting and asked for help dealing with some newly risen village folk." Frowning, she looks around, then back at Jonas. "It seems at peace here though."

"Can you tell us a little more on what this something is, we may be able to help."

"Jonas?" Antoine said, astonished. "From the Lady Cocteau's spring hunt? Good to see you again, my friend!"

He strode forward and clapped the man on the shoulder. "You have my word, sir, that I will do everything in my power to defend you." Antoine paused, smirking beneath his mask. "A village is besieged by the dead at night. How very...Ferelden."

OOC: I'm using the "Bon Mot" stunt.