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

"Ah. I understand then. All I have ever heard was how lucky I was not to live in an alienage." She snorted, again as her lip curled up into a small sneer, "As if I was privileged to grow up in an orphanage."

She also couldn't say that she'd been warned away from attending a circle, even if they were no more. "You managed to find freedom, though. Freedom and a purpose." A hint of a smile returned as Marilaine looked down for the first time at Garahel. "And a life-long companion."

It's not an explanation Inessa often gives, mostly because few really seem to understand the Circles from an elf's perspective. But that she doesn't have to explain further for Marilaine to understand prompts a smile. A rare lack of judgment is always treasured.

Ah, an orphanage. That answers some questions, though Inessa does her level best not to let her curiosity get in the way of her manners. "I suspect an orphanage would carry its own set of challenges, rather than privilege."

She follows through the short corridor leading into the enclosed garden. It's relatively quiet at this time, a few Chantry folk milling about near the chapel, and assorted others just walking around. As Garahel runs off to sniff at everything, Inessa smiles fondly. "That last is the part I love most, I admit it. Pets were foreign to my life, or most of it. But now, I wouldn't want it any other way."

"There were challenges, yes. And few opportunities. Pets were a luxury few could afford or even want." Why would they? Pets were a responsibility. Food and care that went to them could easily be used on one's self instead. "I find that I get along better with wild animals myself."

It was odd for her as well to share things about herself so freely with a stranger. Yet, she could just as easily had the same sort of fate as Inessa had her life turned out differently. The moment of sentimentality faded soon enough, replaced again by purpose as she took in the surrounding Garden with an intent focus. Without preamble, she sank down onto one knee and drove her fingers into the ground, feeling the soil.

Letting Garahel wander, Inessa pauses to watch Skyhold's newest gardener at work. She barely knows anything about it herself other than how to store cut herbs, which doesn't really count at all. If she were here a little longer, the elven Warden might have actual names to pass along but as it is, Marilaine will doubtless find out for herself.

"Will it suffice?"

"Hm? Oh, possibly. Mountain soil is difficult to work with sometimes. Only hearty plants thrive in it. Those used to hardship and struggle." She stood up, brushing the dirt off her fingers against her thigh. Little dark crescents remained under her nails, though she hardly noticed.

"The gardeners here have done a good job in tending this place. it should be easy to make the rarer seeds I have bloom."

She smiled slightly towards Inessa, quite pleased with her first observations of the garden as she again looked around. That it was decorated with Chantry symbols was only a minor annoyance. The well caught her attention, and she pointed with her chin towards it. "Do you know if that is the main water source of this place?"

Inessa turns to glance at the well. "I believe so, though water can be carried in from the other wells nearby. I haven't heard any complaints, the times I've visited the garden. But elfroot and spindleweed tend to thrive in nearly anything; I can't say the effect it will have on plans more delicate."

At least she assumes elfroot and spindleweed are hardy, having seen them all over in her travels. Her opinion is far from a professional one.

Marilaine chuckles softly as she gestures Inessa to come with her to the well. "I was only curious if I will have to fight a line to get water in the mornings. I am glad to hear there are other wells too."

She leaned against the well, looking down into its depths thoughtfully. "Water is water to a plant, so long as it does not come from the sea. It is the soil and the amount of light a plant needs that makes the difference."

She follows along, not having anywhere specific to be and able to better keep an eye on Garahel further from there. As for the well itself, it gets a brief glance, and she doesn't send her gaze lingering downward. "From what I've seen, the garden seems to have its fair share of light and shade so that ought to preserve a good variety.

I didn't think of it at the time, but perhaps I should have brought some seeds with me from the Western Approach, to add to the collection here. Perhaps someone else already did so."

Marilaine looked up from the well, fixing her cobalt colored eyes on Inessa with sudden intent curiosity.

"I've only read of the plants there in books. I dared not risk venturing west across Orlais by myself. What is it like there? Is it as desolate as they say?"

"Some parts of it were, definitely. But there was a surprising amount of water above ground, in a small canyon near the keep. I remember seeing spindleweed and blood lotus growing there. Deathroot, too. But overall, there were long stretches without any vegetation whatsoever."

"I read Deathroot is notoriously hard to grow outside of the Approach. It would have been a challenge to grow it here."

Brushing back the curtain of brown hair along her lefs cheek, she looked over to where Garahel was roaming about. Now that she was here, the pressure was off for her to see the garden leaving her with the ability to enjoy other persuits. "How did your hound fair in the wastes? I imagine it must have been difficult to provide for him."

Garahel is behaving himself, no digging or jumping on people, just inspecting everything and wagging his tail at people who look friendly. When they respond with petting him, that tail wags even harder. Crossing her arms, Inessa observes all this with a small smile.

"It wasn't easy at first, no. Supplies at the keep were limited, and I was unfamiliar with the area itself. The only upside was that we were used to harsh terrain, thanks to the Anderfels. But some exploration yielded resources, and clearing the area made it easier for more supplies to come through. Caravans tend to not want to be ambushed by darkspawn, and I can't blame them."

"I've only heard of Darkspawn and never seen one. Are they as twisted and corrupt as the tales say they are?" As much as Marilaine never hoped to see one, the pragmatic side of her knew it was better to be prepared.

After seeing other people offering pets to the dog, Marilaine would do the same, if the murder machine ever made his way over to her. It was after all a rare treat to pet a Mabari-- at least where she was from.

Inessa nods solemnly. "Yes. I haven't seen the worst of it, during a Blight, but even so, what I have seen is enough for me to confirm that. Their taint can spread fast, as well, for those who aren't Grey Wardens. That's why it's best to keep as much of yourself covered as you can, to prevent accidentally coming into contact with their blood. The tales of those suffering and dying because darkspawn blood got into their mouth or eyes are absolutely true."

A gruesome end, and one she hopes never to witness again. Once was enough, and is enough for her to give that warning to any non-Warden who might combat darkspawn with her.

Garahel eventually wanders over, presumably after ensuring that the garden is squirrel-free. He lets out a friendly bark, plopping down on his hind legs upon reaching them.

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