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Simone, Davne and Wallace all stand in the courtyard of Stenhold fortress. Each of them have been escorted here and told to wait for the steward. They are all here for their own reasons, their own agendas. But word is that the arl of Stenhold is seeking mercenaries for a small job, and regardless of your political affiliations or religious beliefs, in this world, silver talks.

It's the thirtieth year of the ninth age--known as the Dragon Age, according to the Chantry calendar. Stenhold Fortress is the seat of a small arling in the Hinterlands, near the edge of the Kocari Wilds. In other words, this is as far south as one can go before leaving 'civilized' lands altogether. The rumor is that Darkspawn have appeared in the wilds and many are raiding the arling's farms and small villages.

The fortress of Stenhold has seen better days. A hard, chilled rain pummels the crumbling stones and thatched roofs, exposing the cracks and gaps as water pours through them. Soldiers drill both in the courtyard and in the field outside, no doubt preparing to soon ride out to face the Darkspawn. A few masons struggle to patch holes in the wall. They ignore the rain the best they can.
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(OOC: While you wait for the steward to arrive, take this opportunity to introduce and establish your characters and get to know each other a bit, if you like.)

Wallace sticks his hand out. "Wallace." he says. "Traveling mage and money maker extrodinare" he says with a grin.

Simone is standing under an overhang to protect herself from the rain that was falling within the courtyard. To keep herself as warm as possible, she is wearing a dark green traveling cloak. Her weapons are either strapped to her back (her crossbow), or hanging off the belt around her waist (short sword and dagger). Occasionally, she fixes her brown hair, as she wants to look as presentable as possible for the Arl. It just wouldn't do to be presented to the Arl looking like a drowned rat after standing within his courtyard. "Ah, the manners of Fereldan," she comments absently, but softly as she was surrounded by Fereldan men and women. Her accent is strong (think French), suggesting that she is not naive to Fereldan.

As Wallace approaches, she sizes him up careful before he introduces himself. Though, the way he introduces himself causes her to laugh lightly as she shakes his hand. "Colorful title," she says in her thick accent. "I am Simone."

'someday I might have a quarters as impressive as this... To see it in it's heyday... ' Davne was caught thinking to herself when introductions brought her mind back to the present.

She draws herself to her full height to shake hands with the others, "Good to meet you Simone and Wallace, Davne" She replies. Being taller than most women and able to see eye to eye with the shorter men round here, her slender figure avoids being too gangly with the mail she wears fleshing out her shillouhett. "So Alenka summoned me here with the promise of some mercenary work, but hasn't said exactly what we are to do. Oh, I should ask are we all here for the same purpose?"

"Make money and kill time? You betcha. How did you all hear about this job?"

(OOC: No quick reply?)

"It looks like we are all here to make some coin," Simone says. "Though, I could really do without standing out in the rain waiting for this Arl."

"At least we're standing and not drilling like those lot." Davne remarks, she picks up her single braid of black hair and inspects it while watching the soldiers for a moment, before putting it back on here shoulder resigned that it's soaked through. "Unfortunately it doesn't look like we've anything better to do that wait for this promise of coin." Davne adds with an amused sigh.

"You make it sound as if this Arl is giving away free coin," Simone laughed at the very idea. Oh how she wished making coin was that easy!

"Mmm we're allowed to dream. Say Wallace can you magic coin out of thin air, being a money maker and all."

As the three converse, a middle aged male elf carrying a dozen sheathed swords in his arms hurries past them. However, he trips in the mud, dropping the weapons and splattering mud on the boots of the three. "P-P-Pardon me, sers!" he cries, trying to pick the swords back up, but finding some of them stuck in the mud.

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Codex: Ser - A gender-neutral title used for knights. Of course, none of you are knights, but to a lowly city elf, you probably look like you are.

Codex: City Elves - While some elves still live out in the wild, defying the teachings of the Chant and the humans who live here (the Dalish), many have been integrated into human society, usually as servants or (where it is still legal), slaves. Often called 'knife ears' as a slur, city elves are second-class citizens at best.

Simone looks down at the mud that was splattered upon her boots, which makes her frown slightly. She looks to the elf curious as he struggles with the swords, then sighs and moves help him. "Here," she says softly as she tugs one of the swords free from the mud.

Davne extends a leg out in front of her, exposing the boot to the rain in an attempt to clean it. As she balances she remarks, "You must pull from your knees, not from your hands. Stronger that way. What cause gives you such haste?"

Wallace pulls a few swords out of the mud. He turns to address the others. "If I could, I would, and not be standing in the rain waiting."

When Simone and Wallace bend down to pick up the swords, the elf visibly flinches, as if having expected to be struck. He seems stunned in silence when they instead aid him. "Forgive my haste and clumsiness, sers," he say when he snaps out of it. "I am to take these swords to the arl's men before they ride out."

"Hey, get the lead out, knife-ears!" calls one of the soldiers from across the courtyard. "We need those swords some time today!"

Once the elf has reclaimed all of the swords, he bows to the three--which nearly causes him to drop them again, then hurries off to the soldiers.

"Well, well now," says a woman's voice. "They say that you can judge a person's character by how they treat the lowest of us." The voice belongs to a woman approaching them. She is dressed in the uniform of a Circle Mage and she wears it proudly, carrying an elaborate mage's staff which she also uses as a walking stick. She wears a heavy cloak to keep the rain at bay, but locks of red hair can still be seen from under the hood. "Ah, welcome back Davne," she says, nodding to the warrior. "And you must be the other two who applied for the arl's little job. I am Alenka, the steward. A pleasure to meet you."

Simone quickly heads back to stand under the overhang to protect herself from the rain, and runs her fingers through her hair. It wasn't soaked through, but it was going to look a mess. "Ah, a pleasure to meet you steward," Simone says with a small bow. "I am Simone."