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allthisshitisweird2017-04-21 11:07 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2017-04-21 11:07 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME!
WHEN SKYHOLD'S GONE THEY'LL BEAR ON
How’s the weather, Inquisition? Terrible. Heavy rainfall pelts the plains and the mountains, four straight days of it! Dark clouds block out the sun. It may begin to feel like there’s no end to the storms in sight. When darkness falls, cold evening temperatures turn that rain frigid. Your boots, your socks, they’re soaked through. Everyone smells like wet wool.
And as if all that weren’t enough: the increased rainfall loosens patches of mud and shale, causing mudslides.
1. We’re not in Orzammar anymore…
2. Are you mad? That’s twelve year old scotch!
3. I gotta go, Julia, we got bears.
4. We got 12 skins of water, 56 ales, two vodkas, four whiskeys, six bottles of wine, tequila, hazelnut paste, cheese, bread, eggs, bananas, apples, bacon, steaks, pancakes, dry grain, milk, sweet tomato sauce, half a pudding, half-ounce Sour Wine, 3 1/2 grams Grand Inquisitor Kush, one ounce of 'shrooms, 15 ecstasy potions, a smutty woodcut, a bat…
5. Lots of fish… and lots of weather.
HINTERLANDS ARE FOREVER
How’s the weather, Inquisition? Terrible. Heavy rainfall pelts the plains and the mountains, four straight days of it! Dark clouds block out the sun. It may begin to feel like there’s no end to the storms in sight. When darkness falls, cold evening temperatures turn that rain frigid. Your boots, your socks, they’re soaked through. Everyone smells like wet wool.
And as if all that weren’t enough: the increased rainfall loosens patches of mud and shale, causing mudslides.
1. We’re not in Orzammar anymore…
A recent group of dwarven traders bearing fine crafts and goods were inbound for Skyhold, ready to flood the markets with their wares. Instead, they got flooded out.
Yes, word has reached the Inquisition that the traders have been unfortunately detained by the weather and they are now in need of a rescue. Dare you venture out into the lashing rain and sliding mud to rescue the traders?
If you do so dare, you’ll find some of the traders to be exceedingly grateful for your efforts, ready to bestow handsome rewards on you, O Brave Soul -- just as soon as you’ve escorted them safely back to Skyhold. Or you might find a cluster of more disagreeable traders, grumpy at the water in their boots and the loss of their goods. Some of those goods might still be rescuable, if you want to wade out into a mud field to retrieve a fallen chest, or tug an errant terrified donkey back onto what’s passing for dry road these days.
As you carry these treasures back to their masters, or back to Skyhold, you might consider helping yourself to a sampling of the wares on your way back. After all, your reward might not be adequate, and you are risking your life for these ungrateful sons of mothers. Just don’t get caught. These traders don’t look kindly on thieves, and frayed tempers snap easily.
Feel free to get stuck on your way to the rescue, too. Weather out the storm with a fellow do-gooder. These days, the rescuers might need rescuing just as much.
2. Are you mad? That’s twelve year old scotch!
In Skyhold and the surrounding tent towns, what with the confusion and the panic and the scramble for high ground, market stalls are left unattended and wares are ripe for the taking. For some, temptation proves to be too much. Where there’s disaster, there’s often looting! A few vendors defend their own wares, and those that can’t make desperate entreaties for assistance. Bandits! Thieves!
Are you a brave and hale friend to the Inquisition and to good honest trade, ready to defend the wares of the waterlogged merchants? Or maybe your sticky fingers spot a tempting treasure too great to ignore. If they didn’t want it stolen, they should have taken it with them! Watch out for that Qunari metalsmith with the mean right hook. He’s not to be trifled with, and his blow will leave you toothless in the mud.
3. I gotta go, Julia, we got bears.
The rainfall has disturbed more than the mud. Bears, resting in their caves, have found their caves to be too damp for their liking, and they’ve taken to the open air to vent their spleens. Some people say that the bears are as frightened as you are, but when you’re faced with a six hundred pound beast with huge pointy teeth, their innocence is a little harder to keep in perspective.
The tents surrounding greater Skyhold are especially worried by rogue bears. Make a stand against them, or else help evacuate a threatened campsite. Mudwrestling a bear is a great way to impress the ladies, or the gentlemen… but no one will blame you for beating a hasty retreat.
4. We got 12 skins of water, 56 ales, two vodkas, four whiskeys, six bottles of wine, tequila, hazelnut paste, cheese, bread, eggs, bananas, apples, bacon, steaks, pancakes, dry grain, milk, sweet tomato sauce, half a pudding, half-ounce Sour Wine, 3 1/2 grams Grand Inquisitor Kush, one ounce of 'shrooms, 15 ecstasy potions, a smutty woodcut, a bat…
TIME TO HUNKER DOWN. In the tavern, the barkeep is handing out free spiced wine to anyone who takes refuge behind her door. The din of conversation and lutesong makes a fine lullabye for the careworn traveler, and you might find yourself inadvertently dropping off to sleep. Or maybe someone’s fallen asleep on you.
Who can blame the slumberers, finally safe and warm and dry? In the tavern, the fires have been built up to ward off the chill and the damp, but relaxation is a little more difficult these days. You really have to elbow your way in there to get close to that warmth. Once you get close enough, you’ll find that the hearths are taken up with dozens and dozens of wet socks and wetter boots, steaming gently as they dry. Be disgusted if you want, or else peel off your own and go barefoot while you wait.
Hey! What’s going on over there? Someone’s taking one of your socks! Stop, thief!
If you can’t make it to the tavern, you might find yourself holed up somewhere a little more unlikely. The limited space within Skyhold means there aren’t a lot of free rooms. That door you shoulder open in desperation might have an owner already. Intrusions aren’t always unwelcome, but beware of what -- or who! -- you might find.
5. Lots of fish… and lots of weather.
WILDCARD. Whatever you do, just remember: there’s a lot of rain, you’re very wet, and if you’re feeling amorous, keep in mind that everyone smells like wet wool. We cannot stress this enough.
no subject
warlords. well, there’s the prick. maker if she can guess what’s driven it in: that brief tension, but wars have a way with that. her eyes don’t twinge up, don’t betray she’s caught anything amiss. ]
Reckon you can pick up a ride soon as the roads dry. They’re in and out of here all the time.
[ and orlais. and now the marches. as though the whole world were just a staging ground for their cause. as if they owned it all —
people who act like they do, they’re the ones who always seem to manage it. and people like melys, they’re the ones that get ground between. look at the king, look at the champion, look at an empty sleeve and full pockets and know which one you’ll walk away with.
so it goes. ]
I’ll send word up with you, [ and there it is, the price ] Been a while, but might still be worth something; make sure you don’t get a shit horse, at least. Place is half nags, half top stock.
no subject
No, the words on their signs have meant nothing to her. What more is she going to glean from a letter? Perhaps she'll teach herself to read on the journey. She certainly isn't so foolish as to ask someone else to read it to her-- )
I am happy to say that I know a horse well enough to tell the difference, ( although happy is not what she sounds, really. Not that she sounds, particularly, any other thing either - whatever twitched in her at warlords has been ruthlessly suppressed.
Her hand strays to her flat belly, and she thinks: no, and only that. )
I have lived so much of my life on horseback. I suppose another ride is a little thing, in truth.
no subject
she'll take it for a deal. her shoulders ease a touch, the unconscious gesture of someone squared up for a fight, only to find they've already won. that instinct doesn't touch her expression, her words,
melys probably never even realizes she's been doing it. ]
Puts you ahead of half the folks falling out here.
[ but it doesn't match so neat with — the rest of all this. the wealthy own horses. the wealthy ride and breed and show them. they do not live upon them.
they've got a deal, though. no point to fucking that up by digging. they've got a deal, and that means she might as well act a friend. ]
Guy tried to tell me about something called a motorcycle once. Stupidest damn thing I ever heard. Cart cut in half, no horses at all. Supposed to move it by starting fires.
[ her chin presses forward, eyebrows lift in an exaggerated can you believe that shit? ]
no subject
( Sounds fake. A man earlier rescued her from the back of a griffon, but a griffon at least has all of the appropriate limbs. In fact, an excess thereof, if you ask...well, a horse, probably. Stealing all of their thunder, that. )
Where would the fire go?
( The visual that's coming to mind looks nothing like an actual motorcycle. )