From atop the spiraled staircase, the foyer below brimmed with life. The circular stained glass window shattering sunlight and throwing manic specks of color across those in attendance. The stone walls warm to the touch and inlaid with shelf upon shelf of tomes, maps, curios and keepsakes. The well worn floorboards shined to a mirror despite the treads of all walks of life carved into their fibers. Visionaries, diplomats, mauraders, preists, all men were equal in Fort Draleth. A man cannot control the content of his character but rather the merit of his action. Man is strong when he chooses to be. Man is weak when he allows himself to be. These were the guiding tenants of High Lord Varric Draleth II, son of High Lord Commander Varric Draleth the Greater and father of the foppish dandy atop the stairs.

"Gentlemen, I do hope you'll excuse me for just one moment." Kind grey eyes cooled to steel as they climbed the spiraled steps to his son's. "Varric, if you are intent to pry into family affairs then I will be more than happy to put you to work. If you would kindly, come entertain our guests while I see to theae documents."

Red face and shaling hands trotted down flights, smirking faces illuminating his path as men clad in ornate robes awaited the fruits of this intrusion smugly. "Varric the Lesser, I presume." The boy did not answer, did not look, did not dare breathe until he had reached the raised platform near the back of the foyer.

Eyes fixed on the harp before him, the boy choked out his rehearsed introduction. "If it should please those gathered, House Draleth welcomes all in attendance with a melody carried in the hearts of all who share our blood, a song that has been passed down since the Crusades of High Lord Commander Varric the Greater, Patriarch of our House and Loyal Hand of the King." Before his esteemed guests could interject, the boy began to [url=https://youtu.be/1IAsTuPWXF0?t=80]play.[/url]

Shoulders eased against the strings. Fingers collapsed through notes of time. Steady. Ease trickled from his brow as the men disappeared. The foyer fell away until only the large window remained. The filtered light danced merry and gay through the brimming stained glass. Shards colored and shards spectacular, cut in such exquisite majesty. The image of his grandfather carved into glistening sun. Brave. Noble. His warm armor beaming unto the boy. From amidst the shelves, a voice spoke.

"You've been practicing."

The boy continued, a slight smile creeping through his polished veneer. It was subtle but he knew Father was proud. The man approached, his smile widening. The men in turn began to smile. As the music softened to silence, their death mask grins remained. Varric stood in stunned silence as their faces contorted. Their mouths opened wide, wider than any mortal could achieve. The screams were deafening as the sick crunch of bone gave wave to the rush of water. Frothing and tinged red from the blood, water burst forth from the three men's mouths, their eyes, their ears, all senses taken by the rushing water. The men as fountains, filling the foyer almost immediately, maps ruined in the the tide, books floating aloft desperately trying to save stories yet untold.

Panic gripped him as Varric tried desperately to stay above the coming flood. Pushing hard against the swirling current, his vision of his father obscured by the welling water, he kicked hard against the churning sea. Violent waves pushed him this way and that as he found himself surrounded on all sides by water, ever rising. Where was the fort? Where was his father? His body lamented as ragged breath and sea water clashed in his lungs, his strength waning swiftly as the sea continued to rise. As he tried desperately to scream out, to call for someone, anyone, to save him only the sea responded-its deafening waves crashing down his throat and sending him to the dark below.


[b][center] *   *   * [/center][/b]
With a gasp, the ornate wooden man creaked back to life, water and bile retching from his lungs to the sandy shore he lay sprawled upon. His vision was blurry and his breathing was ached with constant choking and cursing. Utterly undignified. As the assault subsided, Lord Varric remained prone in the sand as his vision cleared. All around him were strewn bodies and scraps of hull. The ship was gone. The fort was gone. Varric felt a weight in his chest as he turned from the scene before him.

[color=#7851a9]"And so I die."[/color]

His fists clenched. His legs stood. It was unspeakable.

A man of his stature, a master of man and beast, to die atop some pockmarked shoreline in the eye of the abyss. What cruel fate was this? What manner of foul luck? To be destroyed so completely by a foe one could not confront. It was unspeakable! His wobbling knees steeled themselves, his breath once a pale green now shone red in the moonlit night.

Storming across the beach he cursed and berated the bodies cast haphazardly about the waves. [color=#7851a9] You imbeciles! You guttural disappointments! You've run ashore and all died and left ME to pick up your scraps![/color]

With a grunt, Varric lifted his ruined robe and ushered a swift kick into one of the corpses, a crooked specimen with unnatural proportions to its limbs and a primate's brow. Fumes of hopelessness and petulance steamed from Varric as he paced between the dead until a loud bleating tore him from his own concerns.

[color=#7851a9]"Well." [/color]

He sighed and stared defeated at his new guest.


[color=7851a9] "At least there's food."[/color]