Chapter 1: New Beginnings
Our tale begins in the year 9:40 Dragon. The lands of Orlais have been plunged into a bloody civil war, nicknamed the War of the Lions for its two main belligerents. Empress Celene Valmont I, known to many as 'the Lioness', is the current ruler of Orlais. Considered by some to be illegitimate, Empress Celene has nevertheless maneuvered the courts adeptly since her uncertain ascension to the throne. Now, her rule has been openly challenged by Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, a noble Chevalier with many a victory at his back. With influence stretching from his estate at Verchiel to as far as Val Firmin, he is a considerable opponent for the still relatively young Empress. Nobles both great and small have taken to the 'Grand Game', as they call it, with vigour.
The Empire is now soaked in blood. The common man is drafted into a war he knows little about. Peaceful hamlets and prosperous vineyards now suffer from starvation, lawlessness and ruin. Culture and trade have been ransacked for tools vital to the war effort, be it in coin or knowledge. Perhaps the greatest Empire in Thedas now teeters on the edge of calamity, with foreign eyes turning anxiously for an outcome.
However, it is not only the great powers of Thedas who are interested in this conflict. Myriad bands of mercenaries, brigands and other fortune seekers have swarmed into the country. Gold and glory is said to be had in equal measure, for those with the audacity to claim it. Some seek such through contracts with the noble lords of Orlais, earning coin for their hard earned troubles. Others simply take it from the defenceless towns, left barren of their defenders as they go to fight further afield.
In the small port town of Emmonmin, nestled by the mouth of the river Celestine in the Heartlands, yet another band of hopefuls find themselves in the middle of this war. Cautious looks and muttered voices greet them as they settle in for the time being. The scant watch of the town, huddled feverishly on the wooden stockades, either too young or too old to be of use on the front, give them little trouble. Market stalls lay thin on goods yet high on hope; prices bloated by a lack of fresh trade. A single, two-story taproom graces the dockside. A weathered sign battered by the coastal winds reads 'the Twinned Trouts', accompanied by an apt carving of two fish. A small Chantry chapel sticks out like a sore thumb in the center of town, its stained glass windows and solid stone construction tell a tale of heavy donations from the local Ser. Where the white sails of wealthy trade vessels might have heralded better times, now sits a few empty piers, save a couple of fishermen's rowboats.
A simple job led our group to this place. Escorting some foreign merchant to the port so they might escape the soldiers of either Lion on the prowl. Wishful thinking. No amount of gold can buy both them and their goods safe passage now, not without a proper ship. A few coins earnt, spent swiftly on resupplying and repairing. Now with empty pockets and no immediate work in sight, the group must find a way of not only surviving, but thriving in this war torn country. A challenge not easily overcome.