darrian_anner (darrian_anner) wrote in thedas, @ 2010-05-18 21:18:00 |
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Fingerprints and footprints
Who: Anyone currently in G3, Tam, Cicero & Puck
Where: Denerim Alienage
When: Morning, 18 Molioris.
Summary: Slavers are hard to find, the Grey Wardens less so.
Rating: Safe for now.
Three long hours, and they had nothing to show but disappointment. The two elves had searched and searched for the slavers persistently, and all for naught. Darrian had started out as tense as a tightly coiled spring, and the tension had grown with every location they investigated, as each one turned out to inevitably be abandoned. Every time it felt like a physical blow, knowing that they could have already left, already vanished to Maker knew where – Orlais, Tevinter, Nevarra, the list was endless. They could have left by ship, or by land, and no one would have been the wiser. The thought of having been so close to revenge and having it slip through his fingers was almost more than he could bear.
The elf’s face was grimly expressionless, lips pursed tightly together, speaking as little as possible, lost in his own gloomy thoughts even as his eyes remained constantly on the alert. The fruitless search was also telling on Dolain, who had started out matching him stride for stride, but was starting to slowly lag behind. Meanwhile, Darrian pushed himself even harder with every disappointment, unable to believe, unable to accept that he could have lost them, his face growing darker with every empty building.
There was only one last location now, and that was a small warehouse right by the docks. But it, too, proved empty, with nothing but empty boxes inside. The elf stood for a moment within, recognizing it clearly, far too clearly. He’d been kept here until he was actually forced aboard the ship that had taken him away to Orlais. There had been other slaves, then, and all of them under the watchful eyes of the slavers, who had treated them like cattle at best.
Darrian cursed loudly, suddenly, slamming his hand savagely against the wall. He’d lost them, he’d lost his chance, and – more importantly, had been unable to save the slaves. Kay, and Naien, and Maker knew who else. Even if the slavers returned and he could get his revenge, they would never be able to find the slaves already sold off.
No.
It wasn’t possible, they still had to be around. The letter the shem had written had been intended to be delivered before the slavers left, and it was unlikely that it would have been sent so early in the morning. They had to be around somewhere, another location that hadn’t been detailed in the ledger, for safety perhaps.
“The alienage,” he said curtly, grabbing Dolain’s elbow and almost literally dragging him away. Noticing that Dolain was growing steadily more tired, he eyed him worriedly, but he couldn’t falter, not now. This was far too important.
The alienage had to have some clues. One way or another, he would find them, find them before it was too late.
Dolain didn't know why he was still following. Every place they went to was empty and the elf was starting to wonder if the letter Darrian had was truthful. He stayed fairly quiet as they searched through Denerim. Dolain was reserving his energy in case they did come across what they were looking for. Over the course of the hours, he had begun to make connections to the group he had left and the slavers Darrian was looking for. He wondered if they were actually connected or if it was a coincidence. Either way, he didn't bother mentioning it to Darrian. Darrian seemed to be completely lost in the hunt and Dolain didn't want to get in his way, not now. Though, with all the time they were wasting wandering around they could have easily gone back and made a plan instead.
Yet, he stayed quiet. He followed Darrian, the silence between the two awkward yet he wasn't going to try and start up small talk. If Shiv's sister was truly kidnapped by slavers, well... Dolain wanted to be there to help the best he could to get her back. He wondered where Shiv was and if the other elf knew that his sister was missing. As they stood in the small warehouse, Dolain leaned against the doorway. His muscles burned and his clothes were starting to feel burdensome. He wished he had his weapons, but figured he could always fight with his fists if need be. Dolain started when Darrian suddenly cursed. He stepped away from the doorway, a rush of adrenaline going through him until he calmed.
"Maybe we should---" Dolain's suggestion was swiftly cut off as his elbow was grabbed and Darrian began to drag him along. He didn't bother trying to move away, "The alienage?" He repeated, sounding a bit confused, "Haven't we gone through all the places on the list?"
"They have to be somewhere," Darrian stated, in a tone that brooked no argument. "The alienage should have some kind of clues, whatever they are." He was clutching at straws by this time, and he knew it, but he refused to give up. What he would do if searching the alienage turned up nothing was a different matter. Probably go through the city with a fine comb, although Dolain would most likely throw his hands up and abandon him by then.
The alienage itself posed a few problems. An elf with his hood up would be a curious enough sight already, so he'd stick out like a sore thumb, but taking it off might give his identity away if any slaver was around and remembered him. After some hesitation, he decided he'd take the risk of being recognised. Being so conspicuous in a hood would definitely draw attention and suspicion, so he pushed it off, feeling curiously vulnerable, almost as if naked without the hood to hide within. But the sensation faded to the back of his mind almost instantly, as he focused on finding clues to lead him to the slavers.