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allthisshitisweird2016-07-22 05:47 am
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2016-07-22 05:47 am
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME!
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.
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You're making that up. Being born holding a hammer and anvil sounds more believable than an Orzammar dwarf willingly showing you their craft.
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[ Actually, he did. Dagger blade apparently sufficiently foundation'd, he switches to a much smaller hammer to begin tapping out warping and small imperfections. ]
Refuse to go away long enough and someone will let you in out of sheer irritation. In my experience.
[Also: those are some fine arms of your own, sir. ]
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[He still doesn't quite buy it, but the thing is the dagger does look dwarven. He might not know how they make them, but he knows exactly how to identify them. If he hadn't seen him working on it himself he wouldn't have suspected for a moment this was human made.]
So you... basically annoyed them into it? You'd think that would have the opposite effect.
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[ Which is pretty impressive, considering nothing about smithing looks glorious in the first place, save the satisfaction at the end. Mostly it's just hot and filthy. ...in the literal sense, not the sexy ones. Although really who is to say it can't be both. Lex addresses Oliver mostly with his eyebrows. ]
All that said. No one took me into the bosom of their greatest secrets, either, and why would I want them to? If you want something dwarven, get a dwarf to make it. Not some human pretender. I like to think I've put my own spin on things.
[ Which is true; the dagger certainly bears dwarven influence, enough to blur the average eye. Someone with Oliver's expertise, however, would with long enough to view it probably note all the places the craftsmanship differs. ]
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[He probably shouldn't sound hurt considering he's talking to another smith who's just said he'd been eager to do them. He is a little though. It's an underappreciated art, and while no one's going to dismiss something so crucial that doesn't mean it isn't sometimes looked down on, or that he doesn't wish he could convince more people to see it the way he does.]
Can I see it when you're done?
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Good. Makes you less likely to send a soldier into the field with a blade that will crack down the middle the first time he swings it.
[ Also the correct response: gently, if inadvertently, fluffing his ego. ]
You're welcome to observe, if you can find anything to sit on without scrap metal all over it. But if any of my work shows up in yours later I'll have your fingers broken.
[ Haha! What a gruesome joke! He's smiling when he says it so it must be a joke, right? Definitely! Ha. Ha. ]
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I wouldn't do that. My family have a reputation. I know better than to gamble with that. That, and dead soldiers don't usually give you repeat custom.
[Lex obviously has a sense of humor. Oliver grins as he pushes scrap to one side and takes a seat. What's the point in letting someone watch if you don't want them to learn from you?]
I'm starting to see what those dwarves saw in you.
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Really. And what's that? Persistence? Comparable heights? [ he knows what he is, okay. ]
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[He takes theirs a little more seriously, if only because he's less sure of how to read them than he is humans. Maybe they would break his fingers. Maybe they have connections to the Carta.]
lol u know where to find me if i need to edit this
[ This is a friendly murmur, so surely he means ha ha, let's enjoy this joke together and not 'that was a promise,' right? I'm. Thus begins a lengthy list of apologies for Lex, probably. He changes the subject, at least, as my guitar gently weeps.]
You sound like a Marcher. Not Markham - my old stomping grounds, I'd know - Tantervale?
[ Lex just. May in some cases be an annoying ball of walking info mod, but if it's likely he'd be wrong than by all means. ]
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[ He's sort of impressed, but also disappointed at the accuracy. Is he really that obvious?]
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[ Nothing as terrible as visible waves of repression, Oliver, it's okay! ]
More ah, nasal than Markham, too crisp for Kirkwall. Leaves just that and Ostwick. I've never met anyone from there who hasn't made sure I know it in under a minute.
[ And Starkhaven for some absurd reason is Scottish, so. ]
Wow that was the wrong icon last comment. Whoops.
[That leaves him feeling more impressed, but does he really sound nasal? There's a definite attempt to stop that when he speaks now.]
I can only tell when someone's from Tantervale or Starkhaven.
[Which is an easy one even for someone who's barely left his home city.]
we'll just pretend ollie is so thrillt by lex's presence he can't help it
Well. The Inquisition doesn't lack for variety, that much can be said for it. Soon you'll be learning all kinds of new and interesting quirks of speech.
Oh right yeah. That was obviously my intention.
[It's probably good he's saying that to Lex and not... someone from either of those places.]
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[ He waves a hand like he's shooing smoke, sort of resigned and fond all at once. ]
Difficult to tell these days, what with the Free Marches being the motley crew of misfits it is.
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You make it sound so disorganized.
[Exciting even. It doesn't sound like the city he grew up in at all.]
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It is disorganized, on a profoundly ingrained level from which there is no recovery. Although generally we can get our ducks in a row to fight off invasions, that must count for something. If you really want to see disorganization try Wycome. Assuming it hasn't been finally razed to the ground. ]
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[He has to bite back the "Tantervale isn't" that's on the tip of his tongue. He's not unaware of the reputation it has, and he knows it's not without cause either. He doesn't want to list anywhere too close either. The furthest he'd been before joining the Inquisition is Kirkwall, which was a motley crew of misfits. He'd never been more glad to leave somewhere.]
You're from Markham. I've heard that's nice.
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[ Says Lex, whose goal is probably someday to own all of it. ]
The university in particular is at least trying to drag us forward into the current age. Makes for a nice change from the old guard determined to crush even the smallest sign of progress under its fancy gilded boot.
[ But tell us what you really think, Alexander! Don't hold back because you met this person five minutes ago. Have you even exchanged names. ]
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[ Guess who thinks fucking with the Chantry by blowing up buildings was a radical and brilliant idea. The only flaw in Anders' plan was lacking a fall guy. ]
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Are you completely out of your mind? You can't say things like that.
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[ He makes a languid, filmy hand gesture, mimicking rubbing two coins together. Money is padding from...a lot of things. Which again was Anders' problem, aside from like, all the death, peasant uprisings are far more dangerous than the upper class speaking out of turn. ]
Not to mention the ongoing influx of demons probably takes precedence over reprimanding little old me.
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You're a blacksmith.
[Blacksmiths aren't nobles. They don't need to be. It's dirty, heavy, time consuming work and they have money. Maybe once in an age he could see one expressing enough interest to start tinkering, but it wouldn't last. The man in front of him is an expert. It doesn't add up.]
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