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

[thesteelwolf]

"As-eb vashe-qalab!" And there goes her target. A perfectly good one for distance and rate of burning, startled off because of a strange, painted Saarebas. Issa sighs and flicks a latch in place to prevent the lever on the base of the cannon from squeezing and setting the whole thing off. Now she must wait for another suitably large creature to test the charge on.

"Target of wood does not burn the same as target of flesh and bone. Set tree on fire I know I can burn wood. Set fur on fire? I know I can burn armor. Set stone on fire- I need to adjust charge."

[solveiginvictus]

She relaxes slightly, now that it's obvious she's not about to have to defend herself. She's never actually seen a qunari in person, though she'd heard descriptions of them from traders who ventured into the Frostbacks. Between Issa's accent and grasp on Common and Solveig's, it's a miracle they can even understand one another.

"Don't you know it's bad, ehmm, örlög -mm, luck- to kill a bear without cause?

It still seems wasteful, but why not use a goat if you must test it on flesh. Or just use a prisoner..." She reconsiders that option, "You probably don't have any of those here."

[thesteelwolf]

"Testing charge is cause. I would not waste it on bear." Guess which of the two is more important to her. Guess. With the way she handles the hammered steel of the cannon as though it were spun glass and even now rubs small circles behind the trigger as though that might sooth it? The answer ought to be obvious.

"Goats burn too quick, waste of charge. People scream and flail, spread Vat too much." It is unsafe.

[solveiginvictus]

"Testing charge is not cause enough," The Avvar woman quickly counters, crossing her arms. The qunari's quick dismissal of her perfectly reasonable alternatives is making her feel more argumentative and stubborn than usual.

"Vat?" She narrows her eyes as she tries to substitute in words that might make sense, but she can't come up with anything, "What is that? Describe it to me."