Nathaniel Howe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
noble_son) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-03-21 02:41 pm
noble_son) wrote in entrancelogs2016-03-21 02:41 pm
[OPEN][Arrival]
Who: Nathaniel Howe & OPEN
Where: The Mansion
When: Nowish
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: The worst thing is he actually has some dignity to lose.
---
By the time he makes it to the mansion from the forest edge, Nathaniel has stopped panicking. He heads for the building as the one source of apparent civilisation in the entire place, slowing his pace as he walks through the gardens and draws closer to the grand entrance doors.
It's here that he hesitates. The last that Nathaniel can recall, the Battle of Kirkwall was over and they were carefully picking up the pieces of their fallen comrades. The Chantry was in ruins, the Knight-Commander was dead, First Enchanter Orsino was dead, the Gallows courtyard was littered with fallen templars and mages and such a stench of blood.
Then, he'd been in a forest. A breeze had ruffled through his hair while the scent of death faded in moments and from that moment he had considered himself Fade-bound. What other explanation was there?
Nathaniel pushed open the mansion door, fingers drawing tight around the body of his bow. If there were demons to be found here, then he would face them.
Where: The Mansion
When: Nowish
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: The worst thing is he actually has some dignity to lose.
---
By the time he makes it to the mansion from the forest edge, Nathaniel has stopped panicking. He heads for the building as the one source of apparent civilisation in the entire place, slowing his pace as he walks through the gardens and draws closer to the grand entrance doors.
It's here that he hesitates. The last that Nathaniel can recall, the Battle of Kirkwall was over and they were carefully picking up the pieces of their fallen comrades. The Chantry was in ruins, the Knight-Commander was dead, First Enchanter Orsino was dead, the Gallows courtyard was littered with fallen templars and mages and such a stench of blood.
Then, he'd been in a forest. A breeze had ruffled through his hair while the scent of death faded in moments and from that moment he had considered himself Fade-bound. What other explanation was there?
Nathaniel pushed open the mansion door, fingers drawing tight around the body of his bow. If there were demons to be found here, then he would face them.
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"Ahh. Hello?" he calls a little uncertainly to the unfamiliar man, hoping he doesn't manage to startle him.
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He is still not entirely convinced that he isn't somehow in the Fade.
"Identify yourself," he states, not lowering his weapon but not yet drawing the arrow.
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Of course, he couldn't possibly mistake that accent. While Nathaniel had never directly had dealings in Ostwick, he had spent more than enough time in the Free Marches to have heard of Bann Trevelyan.
"Nathaniel Howe. I don't think we've met."
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Usually a safe bet. Most people don't prowl the mansion with weapons out on a regular basis.
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Said somewhat wryly, with the long-suffering air of someone far too used to dealing with strange and difficult situations. His bow drops completely, grip around the wood easing. Even with those few words there is something common between them - it's been a while since Nathaniel was last home, too.
"I don't think our families had many dealings together, but I spent many years in the Free Marches under Ser Rodolphe Varley."
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"The bow might have given you away. The rest of us tend to prowl hallways without weapons drawn most days, unless there's good cause."
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The bow, though, gets a glance.
"It's brought me through some tough situations, though I'm glad to not have to use it."
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He nods, relaxing further when the man finally lowers the bow entirely. "I'm sure it has. And I'm not saying you may not have to use it here, but everything seems all quiet at the moment. Wonderland is behaving itself today, other than adding to its roster of unexpected guests, it seems."
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None of this really boded well. He isn't sure if he trusts the familiarity of an accent he recognises, even if he doesn't know the face.
"Anyone I ought to watch myself around?"
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"Here? Mostly the place itself. Am I the first person you're encountering or has someone else already enlightened you about the wonderful charms of Wonderland? Your current location by involuntary means and magic, by the way, if that wasn't explained already. Just about everyone else you'll encounter here have been plucked from their worlds and times without warning to be an extended guests here for an undetermined amount of time. They don't pose much of a threat normally either. Most of them are just confused and annoyed about being here."
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What Brennan does say, though, is much of what he has already heard and it doesn't sound any more reasonable or reassuring after hearing it more than once. He just nods, letting out the kind of long suffering sigh of someone used to finding themselves in annoying situations.
"I wonder if I really want to know why we're here."
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"As for the why... we're still trying to figure out that part too. The popular theory seems to be that this place's magic feeds on memories - mostly the ones we make here, as when we're returned home it is without any of them - but occasionally the magic in this place will replicate an event or something similar from someone's memories for all to experience. it seems to pick these memories at random and only every few weeks, but things always go a bit strange when it tries to recreate whatever memory it's plucked."
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"How does that kind of magic come into being?" he wonders aloud. Rogues and archers generally didn't know all that much about magic, but he's sure that this kind of thing is... well, impossible.
"Some kind of blood magic?"
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"But," he adds, as he pushes open the kitchen door in invitation for Nathaniel. "Thedas also isn't the only world represented here. We're actually in the minority, I believe."
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"Is that so?" he questions as he moves through the door, only to pause in dumbstruck amazement at what he finds on the other side.
There's no end to the surprises here, it seems.
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"Yes," he grins as he takes in Nathaniel's reaction, having had a similar one himself upon arriving. "There's a handful of us here from Thedas, but the rest seem to come from worlds where rooms like this are more the norm. And then there's the magic of this place. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Think of anything you might be craving and then go check the ice-box over there."
He motions to the refrigerator.
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His mind catches up - something about a handful of people and magic the other man asking if he was hungry. He shakes his head slightly to clear it and looks no less baffled in the aftermath.
"Think of anything?"
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"I've seen enough of magic to not want to mess with it when I don't know what it might do."
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"I'll do it."
There's a stew his favourite cook used to make, back when he was a child. He hasn't had it in years, but it's firmly in his mind as he approaches the indicated door and opens it.
The scent is entirely unmistakeable.
"Maker's breath, what kind of magic is this?"
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Still, he settles back against a counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Nathaniel's surprise at finding what's inside.
"The strangest sort. And impossible, apparently, if you listen to any of the mages from our world. But there you have it. Wonderland's own brand of making things comfortable for us. It responds to what we crave or wish for and gives it to us. Short of sending us home, of course. But the closets in our room work the same way - you can get almost any item out of them."