TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

TEST DRIVE: ORLAIS EDITION

I. EVERYBEAR I GO

Believe it or not, there are bears in Orlais, too. Stuffed ones posed in noble salons casting intimidating shadows as lords tell unlikely stories about how they bravely stared the great beast in the eye before they slayed it with a single shot. One comtesse keeps bears as pets in large pens on her estate, much to the distress of her nearest neighbors. But most common are the dancing bear acts found on street corners here and there. Perhaps there is some sort of special bear communication network that has passed on a message, because it seems like the presence of the Inquisition has inspired these bears to finally make a break for it out of servitude, and that is how you find yourself being chased by a bear in a belled hat down a narrow cobbled alley lined with street vendors.

II. OUI OUI MON AMI

The Inquisition's efforts are currently focused on Orlais, where a civil war is raging and intelligence indicates Corypheus seeks to eliminate Empress Celene, while the oppressed elven population's discontent threatens to bubble over into a second rebellion. The Inquisition's activities here are mostly political and designed to gather influence and information: endeavoring to make a good impression at the ball of an influential comtesse with ties to the Council of Heralds, or assisting with the reconstruction of the alienage district destroyed by fire. There are rowdy soldiers in taverns to eavesdrop on, and restless crowds listening to streetcorner speakers preach Celene's virtues, or Gaspard's, or lament the end of the world.

But honestly, who cares about any of that? Halamshiral also offers great high-end shopping. Priorities. Gowns, tunics, fur-trimmed cloaks, sleeves slashed and puffed with layers of bright-colored satin. Tall boots with gold spurs to clink as you walk. Veils, lace-trimmed smallclothes, perfumes, necklaces worth your weight in gold. If you have the coin, the shopkeeps have time for you. The slightest whiff of poverty will leave them cold toward you. They might even pretend not to see you, but hey: they work on commission.

Even among decadence and finery, there are signs of unrest. In an out-of-the-way village square, little Orlesian children gather to throw thick gold coins in a gilt fountain, with whispered wishes and giggles. All at once, a thief pushes his way into their circle, breaking the idyllic scene. He leaps into the fountain and grabs a handful of coin. Thin, dirty, ragged, hollow-eyed and, under the hood of his cloak, elven, he scans the now-screaming children -- and then takes off running.

“Stop him!” howls one precious Orlesian cherub, her rosy cheeks streaked with tears. “That dirty knife-ear took my money!”

Kids are just the cutest.

III. SKYHOLD

Skyhold is where people who don't like fun accents and life being a constant masquerade hang around repairing walls, filling out paperwork, and, on rare occasions, engaging in elaborate, color-coded team snowball fights.

That last occasion? Totally over. Now the Inquisition will see you work, work, work, work, work. Working to save Thedas is not all fun and games, and there are plenty of things to keep you busy in Skyhold. See that roof over there? It has a hole in it. Climb up, someone suggests, and fix it. See that hole over there, in the wall? Some drunk from the tavern fell through it yesterday, and it needs repairs. See that floor over there? It’s dirty. And here’s a mop.

If these tasks seem too menial and demeaning, perhaps you’d like to head up to the library and reshelve some books. Perhaps you’d like to meet a special friend there? The stacks are warm and cozy, and at least a little out of the way. Secret spaces are at a premium. But be careful: you aren’t the only one in Skyhold, no matter how many people shipped out to Orlais.

If warm ovens are more your style than warm books, try the kitchens. They could always use a helping hand - especially because one of the baby griffons has made its way down there. A sharp-beaked competition for your plans to pilfer snacks, but you’ll prevail, right? The griffon loves chicken, and the taste of your blood. Get her outside before she gets too comfortable.

Or just feed the dogs, you dirty Fereldan.

IV. WILDCARD

Thedas is a big place. Do something else in it. Maybe in the Hinterlands.

Comments

iv;

[hlif]

Advantages to having your crew in Skyhold: generally sending them off as your minions on the jobs you'd rather not bother your arse with, such as sending your weapons to get repaired. Which is why Asher is in the forge, making the smiths sweat because no one really likes part-Avvar mercenaries glowering at them (Asher only knows what he likes in weapons, doesn't mean people need to know that) but when both his dwarves appeared with unusually serious expressions, asking him to pass on a message?

Well it was worth his while. Since the message wasn't 'that's Carta business, Asher remind them that we're Boneflayers too and you'll kill them if they want their money back'. A man has regrets about hiring ex-Carta dwarves and bringing them to Skyhold to mingle with a whole new crowd of idiots. But they were oddly specific for them, and so the smith breathes a sigh of relief when Asher leaves him alone after a good solid half hour of silent glowering.

"Yngvi and Gunnar say hello." Asher himself doesn't say hello because Asher is too intrigued and wants to see what reaction that'll get before he bothers passing on the message.

[goodforsaken]

Even Lex is capable of surprise, and he's not expecting to be spoken to by the uh, glorious bastion of Avaar that has graced the forge's presence, but that shows mostly in the lift of his eyebrows. Once the statement addressed to him actually gels in his brain, they ...go up some more. "Yngvi's still alive? Gunnar must be up for some kind of--fraternal medal."

(He has no idea if they're brother-brothers or Carta-brothers either, but. It serves the purpose.)

[hlif]

"Yngvi is like a son to me." That's going to come back to bite him, they already know, they're already demanding pocket money and shoulder rides, Asher will know no peace until he's taken to the Lady of the Skies. "You volunteering, heard that was sort of your gig after all. Even if you seem a bit young for it." Surprise, Asher is actually younger but well this is life out in the elements, hardens you to a fine leathery crust of a man before your time.

(As for the the dynamic dwarven duo no one knows. Asher assumes they just congealed somewhere about the same time and probably ate everything else that did at the same time.)

[goodforsaken]

Lex's eyebrows go up, which is a thing they are basically ...always doing; he's equal parts preternaturally disposed toward every minute feeling showing on his face, and then ruthlessly drowning those feelings in a pond and putting up an occasionally believable facade of like, anything but feelings. Those are for suckers.

Anyway, amusement is apparently all right to display, as the curve of his mouth indicates. "You know, I've never actually made a medal. Maybe I'll tinker a bit in all my spare time."

He is like, ankle deep in raw metal, so he has just tons of that I guess? "Did they have anything to say other than hello? I don't owe either of them money, which seems like it would strongly narrow the possibilities."