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

[goodforsaken]

Anyone invested in the status quo. Which is nine out of every ten nobles and twice as many of the clergy.

[ 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. ]

[catphishing]

[Now that's a viewpoint Oliver's never heard much of. Even a hint of it would have been cause for trouble back home. He looks completely horrified by what he's telling him, disbelieving even. Once he's processed that, yes, he did actually just say that he looks around to take a check of who else is around before he leans forward, voice dropped to a furious whisper.]

Are you completely out of your mind? You can't say things like that.

[goodforsaken]

Mmm, maybe. If I weren't the tenth noble.

[ 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.

[catphishing]

[That admission (claim?) just makes matters more confusing.]

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.]

[goodforsaken]

[ Look, his AU is a Gordian knot of trying to translate the youngest billionaire tech mogul in the world to Thedas. /sweat bubble ]

Have they made being both a crime while I wasn't looking?

[ Like. That's not remotely the point. He sighs and abandons the dagger narrative swears it didn't completely forget he was working on. ]

Serious question: How many nobles have you met whose weightiest daily task wasn't 'which dance step do you think makes my hat look most fashionable?'

[catphishing]

Not exactly...

[It simply isn't done. It's more than a little difficult to wrap his head around.]

I don't know. I haven't met many nobles at all.

[If he has it's just been to make sure their armor fits right. Most of them hadn't put much more than the minimum effort into conversation with him. ]