allthisshitisweird | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Saarebas. And none of the southern armored Arvaarad to control her? Issa spends a moment to glance at the mage before diving back in, meeting the meaty swing of flesh with another decisive blow of her fist. This thing is large and angry and dangerous, but it need not be put to a blade if it can be calmed.

If it cannot? She can break the neck of this thing as well as she might any other.

She also had not desire to kill the bear; merely stun it until it could be captured or subdued. As the Qunari continued to fight the bear bare handed. It was an impressive and slightly daunting technique. It also meant that Sadira couldn't attack again for fear of causing the other woman harm. Instead, she took a few steps back, crouching down to wait for her next opportunity. Her biggest concern was making sure no one got hurt.

The grapple does not last- the bear busy burying teeth in Issa's shoulder, Issa busy trying to twist it away from vendors and their wares. Why do they not flee? They find this entertaining? Such things she had heard of southerners that she put no thought to for how foolish it made them seem. Perhaps she ought to have paid better mind. She tears herself away and shoves the bear back with a spiked boot to the ribs, gesturing to the Saarebas. "Adaar, vinek kathas!"

Common, she must remember to use Common. "Shoot it!"

Sadira needed no other invitation as power once more surged through her body, causing small arcs of lightning to spark and crackle along her skin and over her clothes. She did not dare to try another bolt so instead flexed her hands and envisioned a cage made of lightning to surround the bear to keep it immobile. Sweat beaded on her brow as she wove her magic forcefully into shape with will alone. It took seconds, but to her, it felt as if an eternity passed before her fragile creation of energy snapped around the bear, imprisoning it in a static cage.
"There... that should hold it!"

If the bear were truly enraged, this would not last for long, and she was loathe to see what might happen then.

That is a new trick. Then again when she spends most of her time around Saarebas having them work with her rather than watching them fight it may not be that new. Within the cage the bear thrashed and roared helpless against the binding of light and power. Not so bad a tactic so long as it can hold long enough for the bear to tire. Issa stands at the ready, waiting for the bear to fail or the cage.

Whichever came first.

Her magic continued to sing through her veins and bleed off in small pops and crackles from her person as she was charged both literally and figuratively with energy still. The static cage would not hold for long, especially as the bear lashed against it then recoiled. Meant to hold smaller, more humanoid creatures, it was already beginning to fray at the edges.

"if you're going to do something, do it soon. It will be free soon." Sadira could conceivably hit it with another lighting bolt, but all this casting without a focus was draining her faster than she would ever care to admit.

"Do not zap me." It has happened before, in the forge, and she did not care for it then, she certainly would not care for it now. Issa circles around to the flank of the bear and reaches through the cage- or rather swings through, punching it in the back of the skull.

The first blow seems to daze it. The second? Knocks it out cold.

"We are finished."

"I've better control of my magic than that." Sadira huffed, crossing her arms over her chest to show that she had no intention of doing so. Little flickers of lightening continued to bleed away from her, dissipating harmlessly into the cobblestone street while she watched the ox-woman and the bear carefully.

Once the bear was out she nodded to the other woman curtly, "You're welcome."

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