allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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! test drive

TEST DRIVE MEME!

WHAT A GLOOORIOUS FEELING

WE'RE STILL IN THE HINTERLANDS

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.

Threaded | Flat

[ brackets or prose are a-ok, feel free to assume CR, mostly finished app here ]

1;

"Bloody fucking dwarves," Andra growls under her breath as she sits just inside the mouth of a cave, attempting to coax a fire to life from some damp kindling and debris found in the back of the cave after giving it a sweep to make sure it was devoid of bears. She is generally not someone sent on a rescue mission. She infiltrates, and gathers information. For some foolish reason, she volunteered for this. Maybe it has something to do with one of her companions.

Either way, she's regretting it, now.

"Have you found anything drier than this? I can't catch a light."

3;

It's not often that a rogue will face off against a bear, but Andra found herself in a position where she had no choice. It was too far to run for someone with more weapons, and there were unarmed refugees in the tents she stands with her back to.

"Maker guide my arrows," she breathes as she hastily dips her arrowheads into poison she'd prepared for much different reasons. She's hoping it'll be enough to stop the bear.

The first arrow loosed goes wide, as she doesn't take time to line it up. Swearing she grabs another and takes a moment to get the charging bear in her sights. That one hits, but it doesn't seem to do much beyond make the bear angrier.

4;

Taverns are more Andra's natural habitat, regardless of how crowded they are. She can slip between and under outstretched limbs and thick bodies easily, and find a comfortable perch just about anywhere- even someone's lap. She'll smile and flirt with just about anyone who speaks with her, especially if they keep the drinks coming so she doesn't have to go and get them herself.

The smell doesn't even bother her, although she might make fun of particularly odorous individuals. Any who reject her friendliness for being a knife-ear may find a pint cheerfully smashed over their head.

5;

[Wildcard! Soaking wet, cold elf lady, looking for warmth in whatever shape or form. take pity on her she looks so sad.]

Edited 2016-04-17 16:05 (UTC)

{ bear, motherfucker. do you speak it? }
Lena is on her way to Skyhold, and is warned about the increase of bears coming from their caves. And Lena does not tussle with bears for fun, so she'll just avoid that area. Simple, right?

Or not, as the sounds of cracking branches, bear roars, and a woman swearing can be heard filling the air around a smuggler's cave. Hey, it'd snuck up on her, all right? There was foilage everywhere, it looked like a rock formation; she didn't know it was a cave. And the day had started out so calm and peaceful too. Well, no that's a lie. It's wet as fuck out here, but besides that, it had been nice.

"Fucking Maker-damned, pile of tusket shit bears!" A tall, horned woman comes running out into a nearby clearing, grabs a pair of daggers off her back and whirls to face what's coming, only giving the person already standing there a short glance. "Run or fight," she instructs whoever it is she's come across.

{ 99 bottles of maraas-lok on the wall... }
Taverns are places to unwind, have a few drinks, and celebrate the latest successful job. At least, that's what they're supposed to be. But not long after Lena arrives several patrons are getting mouthy and voices are being raised over socks of all things. She sits in the back with a tankard, rolling her eyes at the display. She swears, if anyone knocks into her and spills her drink, she is knocking heads right back.

The shouting match is entertaining enough, but it's not really going anywhere. She's literally seconds away from yelling out "Fight or fuck already," when one man swings at the other and it's on. From her spot, she's safe enough, so maybe you gravitate towards her to stay out of the way, or maybe you get caught up in things and lay sprawled out at her bare feet. And if it's not either of those things, then when a good deal of ale sloshes onto her hair, you'll see a Qunari get up so fast her chair goes flying and next thing you see, her fists do too.

{ wildcard }
Lena is soaking wet, and not the good kind of soaking wet either. X-(

1;
[ The people in this strange new land seem completely unused to weather of this specific magnitude. At the very least, they seem completely unprepared -- perhaps this happens every year and no one has the foresight to try and fix the roads. It wouldn't surprise him. Human beings seem remarkably similar to those in his own world, and so far the other races he's caught glimpses of also seem to have similar thought processes.

Perhaps that is why he's in the middle of a mud puddle talking to a donkey.

Granted, the Outsider isn't standing in the puddle. He's floating above it, just as a wraith might, except he appears completely solid. Terrifyingly pale and with all black eyes, but solid. The donkey, at least, hasn't bolted in fright. ]

You are a bit different, [ the sort-of-a-man seems to be saying to the beast, one broad hand sweeping over its neck as it shivers. ] Less savage, perhaps.

2;
[ The best vantage point is often the high one, and so that is where the Outsider is -- sitting on top of one of the market stalls. This stall, specifically, sells potions and poultices, and any would-be thieves are keeping their distance from the odd Rifter sitting atop what passes for a roof over it. Whether that was his intention or not is hard to tell, as he has absolutely no problem with examining the bottles and pouches himself. Some are sniffed, others tasted, and all sorted into piles with seemingly no order save one: any items he has already examined are put back into place, just as they were.

Someone should probably stop him from tasting the lyrium. Or the poison. He also seems to be humming -- perhaps it's a somewhat familiar tune. ]

[Relevant info here. Yeah, I know, she can't be apped right now. But come get your sample/extra AC reward point if you want?]

3. Well, shit. That's an especially large, especially irritated bear and one far too close to a campsite. Danae takes only a moment to stare uneasily before shifting forms, speeding ahead as a fennec. This isn't going to end well if she doesn't give people some warning.

Upon reaching the edge of the camp, purple smoke rolls outward from the fennec, coupled with what looks like purple lightning. She's an elf again, straightening and unslinging that staff from her back.

"Bear! A large one! Get ready."

4. Honestly, Danae stopped caring about the smell a long time ago. Bone-weary and just grateful to be out of the rain, it doesn't take long for the Dalish woman to start nodding off. Slumbering while surrounded by strangers -and shemlen at that- isn't one of her usual habits, but it sneaks up on her before she can even attempt to fight it.

It's also possible that she's awakened by the sensation of someone falling asleep on her, instead. Depending on how large the person is, though, the slight elf might not be able to support them. Expect a surprised gasp and some tumbling to the ground, in that case.

5. Danae is soaking wet and can either be encountered as an elf or possibly shapeshifting into/out of fairy wren form, attempting to cut down on travel time.

Edited 2016-04-16 20:50 (UTC)

1.

"Hey! A little help?" This is probably not the group of dwarves you were looking for. For one thing, there's only one Dwarf and she's perched on top of a piece of some old and crumbling building. The group of five does have a wagon, though, and it is stuck in the mud on the road. Maybe help them out? They don't look too shifty.

3.

She'd had to try.

When life has you holding a large saddle and there's a bear right there that's far more fixated on your traveling companions than you in the tree above it, what else would you do?

Her only regret, as she runs laughing, is that she didn't find a place to run to before trying this. Maybe get between the tiny dwarf and the large bear?

4.

She's cold. The adrenaline's worn off, her fellows are curled up in a mostly dry, mostly slumbering pile, and she's not invited because she's still soaking wet because she had to try riding a bear.

Mairead is flashing anyone who looks her way a hopeful smile because she'd really, really like to sit next to them and soak up some heat because there's no way she's making it through the wall of bodies near the fire.

"I'll buy the next round of free wine?" Now there's an offer you can't refuse.

5.

[ooc: wildcard me? She's headed for Skyhold with her other rogues, friendly enough, not really flirty, but very small, very cold, and very giggly.]

Edited 2016-04-16 22:06 (UTC)

1.
Rydia never disliked rain and mud so much before, even when she was in her world all seemed... okay, mostly because she had people helping her out when the weather was too unpleasant in her village and in the Feymarch she had no rain at all. Now? The summoner was covered with wet clothes and dirt, busy trying to pull a large barrel out of a puddle of mud. Without success.

"To think I used to adore dwarves more than anything else..."

She wanted to help, that's true, she always offered her support whenever she could but Rydia was starting to regret her choice. Ugh, she could feel even her underwear being totally soaked, it was just so unpleasant! "Come on..." Another pull with all her strenght and instead ot moving the container out of the mud she managed to fall face down in it.

"Okay... I need help."

4.

Taverns weren't exactly a place where Rydia loved to be: people were usually loud, smelly and, sometimes, flirty, all things she didn't appreciate too much. The woman usually avoided large groups unless she had some difficult mission to deal with but after a long day in the mud collecting heavy crates the promise of a warm drink (Nothing with alcohol, she wasn't going to poison herself. Ugh, she couldn't understand those strange habits) had been enough to lure her out of her room.

Wrapped in a warm, beije robe that covered her from neck to toe and only smelt 'bad' but not 'too bad to stand near you' that was gently provided by one of her roommates she was just... there. Sitting on a stool and waiting for her warm milk. What a glorious life.

5. Wildcard for everyone!

III
The steep rise in soldiers around the Hinterlands hadn't escaped Blackwall's notice. The few locals he spoke to had told him they were Inquisition forces, but rumors about what their true intentions were was more muddied. Naturally, he was wary of them, keeping to the more remote areas of the Hinterlands. Despite being off the beaten path, there seemed to be no shortage of people who needed help in this constant rain.

No shortage of people needing help, and no shortage of bears.

The traveler, who seemed to be struggling up a muddy slope, was easy to spot, though through the rain it was difficult to tell whether it was an armed bandit or a farmer. The hulking bear hadn't been so easy, the beast almost seemed to take shape as it emerged from the trees only yards from the person.

"Hey!" Blackwall tried to get their attention. For the moment it didn't matter who the person was, instinctively breaking into a jog in their direction and pulling out his sword, "Bear!"

IV
These were exactly the kind of places he tried to avoid. Taverns were full of people who talked too much, people who pried and tried to figure you out. His gambeson had been soaked through for three days straight though and getting a fire started outside had proved impossible, not to mention most of the drier caves were now occupied by rather grumpy bears. So, here he was. The tankard of ale didn't exactly seem unwelcome however.

V
[Choose your own adventure. He's damp, but, as always, he's quick to help anyone who seems to be in need of it. I'm assuming he hasn't joined the Inquisition yet, so he'll be a little cautious, but curious around them. BUT if anyone wants assumed CR for TDM fun times just let me know and I can switch things up and assume he is part of the Inquisition etc.]

Edited 2016-04-17 00:16 (UTC)

B is for bears

Bears, it's always bears. Currently Jowan was doing his best to keep a group of them away from small, orphaned children-- no joke. As one of them grew nearer the mage would fire a bolt of arcane magic towards the antagonizing animal to force them back. But the creatures were growing bolder with each attack.

Suddenly he was starting to rethink some of his life choices here.

As another bear drew closer, he launched a wave of lightening towards the animal, prompting one of the others to move on in. Help?

The Library's warmer than the tavern anyway....

Jowan knows when he isn't wanted somewhere. The tavern, though it looks inviting, was still a tavern and crawling with drunks and other troublemakers, no place for a mage. Even less so a mage with his...talents. Knowing and using blood magic doesn't really win someone many friends, after all.

Thus, cold, wet and tired he took to the one place that brought him some form familiarity; the library. It was decently warm at least, and quiet. Smiling as he noticed what looked like some fine wine and a comfortable chair and table.

Would you like to come and join him? He could probably use the company.

1.

Normally when Will thought about things getting stuck in the mud, it was usually figuratively speaking and it came with a 12-step program. This, this had given that idiom an entirely new meaning.

He still wasn't at all certain if any of this was real, it felt real, but a lot of things felt real to him in one moment and not in the next. Dwarves and elves for example, definitely firsts for him, typically his imagination was geared toward less whimsical things and more unsavory things. Still, he found himself out here staring down a field, prepared to do the bidding of some random dwarves growling about lost treasures to him.

Normally Will could care less, he wasn't attached to material things and he wasn't inclined to be sociable. Not willingly anyway, but when one of them just happened to mention a donkey, well, what could he do? He wasn't one to idly sit by while lives were in danger, much as he might have liked to at times...and he had an affinity for animals. Dogs especially, but donkeys as well, and this one was braying right at him in distress.

Those dwarves might not be getting their treasures back, but they were certainly getting their donkey, if Will didn't get caught up in all of this as well. This had to be one of those FML moments that was becoming increasingly popular these days.

4.

Will could handle the smells that winded around the tavern, wet people, drying socks, the potent aroma of ale. It was the crushing atmosphere that he had difficulty with, so many bodies in one place? So many people crammed in one place? There was always this ever present temptation to run for the door and brave the storm, far better than what was happening now.

There was a reason Will lived in isolation, there were no people. He could turn all of the lights on and walk across the field to gaze at it from a distance. Like a boat at sea, it was the only time he felt safe. Stable. Now he felt neither safe nor stable, but for the moment at least he wasn't picking up on any evil intentions.

Not evil intentions, but after a while someone did find him comfortable enough to fall asleep on and that came pretty close.

5.

From an observational standpoint this might seem more than just a little peculiar, in fact it was just about as unnatural as things could get. A man, wearing what amounted to smallclothes, foreign smallclothes, (boxers and a t-shirt in his world) leaving the comfort of his quarters to brave the outside world. Nothing on his feet, nothing to protect his body from the rain or the cold.

In fact he didn't seem to register any of it at all, he seemed to feel nothing, regardless of the fact that he was moving with a purpose. What that was, one could hardly guess unless they followed him closely, whether curious or concerned. He didn't look right either, almost like something else had taken possession of his body and was forcing him to move. That's how it might look from the outside perspective.

If you follow him he seems to know that there are obstacles in his path, has a vague awareness of what is going on around him even if he's going through the motions of actually moving his limbs. His peculiar behavior will take you on an adventure, you're not quite sure where you are going, or where he is going...only that you are going. How he manages not to be spotted or attacked by anything untoward? Is a mystery.

Perhaps the untoward things know that this is wrong as well. Perhaps he's just lucky.

The journey ends only when you and this stranger find yourselves standing at the precipice of some ancient structure. Almost unstable, but it will hold, and the peculiar man is standing on the edge, toes just over. Is he contemplating suicide? Is he even aware? Do you watch? Or do you pull him back?

(1)

Luke never thought he'd complain about rain. Okay, Dagobah had been unpleasantly swampy, and humid, but it had honestly been kind of a relief after the extremes of Tatooine and Hoth. This, though. This was just obscene. (And to someone who'd once been part of an industry devoted to saving the most minute bit of H2O from the air, that was literally true. It was a grotesque waste.)

Still, it'd have been more of a waste had he resigned himself to sitting around and keeping warm, so Luke was out, defending traders' wares from all manner of opportunists. He just hoped somewhere in part of this deal was a pair of warm socks.

(4)

Luke had never been much of a drinker. But there was something oddly reassuring about the fact that no matter where you went in the galaxy or, okay, the multi-verse, taverns and cantinas were pretty much alike. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, peopled by all manner of beings. And maybe, in most groups of scum and villainy, Luke's fresh-faced youth stood out. But it wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself, at this point. And it sure beat the downpour outside, for which he'd been woefully inadequately prepared.

(wildcard)

[Come at me, bro. Luke is just-post-ROTJ so still young, but seen a lot.]

ii

[ the young man is a shifty thing, who with good reason looks frightened by the very tall qunari with a staff that crackles with electricity. He clutches the silverite dagger and flask of Antivan brandy, looking from stall to the one who had apprehended him.

Kaaras sighs. He was starting to regret choosing to stay out, and for what - watch over goods for little gratitude? Honestly, he was starting to regret leaving the Free Marches. Less mud and rain. ]

This can be very simple, just hand over the dagger and I promise not to electrocute you. Does that sound like a fair trade?

[ He has no intention of actually hitting him -- but the man hardly knows that. Regardless, he's convinced because a moment later, he puts the goods back with a terrified look and disappears into the night. Kaaras lowers his staff. Seeing nobody looking he picks up the brandy and takes a long pull from the bottle. ]

That wasn't so hard now, was it.

iii

[ of course, a bear wouldn't be so easily swayed from attacking. This one wasn't -- Kaaras didn't want to have to harm the beast that was only protecting its home, probably had a cub or two waiting for it.

But it was angry, and charging. He doesn't turn around, even knowing someone else is nearby. ]

You may want to stand clear for this.

[ It's all the warning they'll get as a blast of light rains down from his staff, towards the bear. It hits the animal with a loud roar of pain. ]

I'm sorry, friend.

4

[ It's been days since he's felt this dry, this warm. He's hunkered down near the fire, boots shed, by his bare feet. Would anyone be foolish enough to try and take his footwear? He didn't seem to notice if anyone happened to stare in his direction, and despite everything didn't mind the crowd or smells. His tankard was almost untouched -- Kaaras seemed more lost in his own thoughts at the time being. ]

4.

Antonin is not enamored of rain. England had come with an excessive amount of it, and the fact that there are theoretically charms for getting rid of the damp doesn't make the damp more pleasant. The free wine was some consolation, at least, and it makes him inclined to be friendly to those around him. It isn't the most pleasant atmosphere he'd ever enjoyed, but it isn't the worst.

Unfortunately, Dolohovs are not incredibly skilled at quiet, which means his inclination to swap a tall tale or two - or maybe a drinking song - is probably less than fully appreciated by those trying to doze in the warmth.

4. (redux)

Dolohov is not terribly picky about which door he shoulders open. As long as the room has a fireplace, he doesn't mind sharing. (The original occupant, however, may feel differently, presented with a large, dripping man who looks anything but reputable forcing the door. No matter. Antonin is thoroughly convinced of his ability to charm or brawl his way out of most things, usually in that order.)

2.

There is rain all over her glasses.

Not that Cosima isn't grateful for them - imagine if she'd been a contact lens wearer, as good as blind as soon as a lens popped out - but glasses are not really ideal accessories in a torrential downpour.

That's what she'll blame when someone nearly knocks into her. It definitely is not that she knocks into them first because she can't really see where she's going. When they drop what they're carrying, she reaches down to pick it up, though, because that's polite. "You shouldn't really be carrying ironwork in the rain without a cloth or something," she starts to say... and then registers angry shouting getting rapidly closer. That can't be good.

4.

Cosima is barefoot, cross-legged and itching for some way to take notes. She knows her laptop would be impractical, but a simple notebook would do. Being warm for the first time in days has restored her optimism in good measure and everyone taking shelter at the same time presents her an array of people to interview - or at least chat with.

That is, she would chat with them, except the warmth and the wine are pushing her toward drowsiness. It would be completely embarrassing to pass out on the nearest shoulder, so she firmly resolves not to. She's just going to rest her eyes. For a moment.

1.

The merchants have been unhappy all the way, up to and including when Hissera (and you, probably!) have found them. It might be mildly amusing how these dwarves make the tall Vashoth look abashed as she shrugs her shoulders helplessly as they complain.

"I'm sorry. We're sparing as many as we can. And we'll do everything to make sure you're on your way!" Hissera smiles hopefully at the merchants, but they're not impressed with her optimistic attempts.

Some people are just good at taking the sugar out of lemonade, sometimes. She'll do her best to put it back in, though.

Will the trip remain uneventful? Probably not.

4.

Taverns are a funny thing, because while there's an abundance of beer and good joy, Hissera sort of feels like she sticks out a bit much and smiles sheepishly. She's not too fond of beer to begin with, but at least everyone seems like they're in a good mood.

Out of the corner of eye, she spots a mabari. Her eyes widen.

She really wants to pet the mabari.

Gross.

The word was replaying in her head, like she'd set a song to auto-repeat. The weather was gross, the smell was gross, even she felt gross. She missed L.A. desperately. It wasn't just her friends and her clothes (although last season's Burberry trench that hung in her closet would have been mighty handy right now), but it was heart-wrenching to think of all that sun and beach and palm tree just going to waste. If she ever got out of here--no, when she got out of here--she vowed to herself that she would never let a single day of sunshine go by unappreciated.

At least she could comfort herself with spiced wine, which was admittedly pretty tasty, in a sort of Renaissance Festival way. With the drink in her hand, Cordy settled herself in a window seat to wring out her hair and look out at the gloomy environment.

"I'm not saying this is catastrophe on a Noah's Ark level," she said to no one in particular as she peered out at the rain, "But if I start to see any nugs or druffalo go marching two-by-two in the direction of a boat, I'm buying a ticket."

3. Dar is not a fighter, and when a huge bear attacks all her instincts scream for her to run. It would be so easy, so quick, to take to the skies and be out of reach in a flash, leaving the bear and the ground and all this mess far behind...

But not everyone has that option. And if Dar's not a fighter, neither is she the sort to ignore people in trouble if there's something she can do to help. She can't do much. But when tents full of evacuees are screaming, and a lone mother with too many children tries to gather them all up and flee, Dar sees something she can do. She takes the smallest baby (it has to be the smallest, she's small herself) and runs, leaving the mother free to pick up the toddler and take her oldest daughter by the hand and run herself. Maybe in other circumstances the woman would object to seeing an elf (and a less than clean one, as well) holding her baby, but she doesn't have a chance to complain now.

It may not be enough; the bear will need to decide they aren't worth chasing, or get distracted by something else. And there are too many other refugees who need similar help. Dar curses herself under her breath, swearing that when she's away from this she'll practice the spells she used to know, the ones for freezing creatures or putting them to sleep, she really will, but right now there's no time and she runs as fast as she can with the precious burden in her arms. If nothing else, she'll save this little one, whatever it takes.

4. Taverns aren't Dar's favorite place to be, but they are useful. In her mabari form she can wander where she wills and be welcome; Fereldens love their dogs, and mabaris are treated with respect. She can't usually get into the kitchen, but who needs to when half-drunk patrons are always happy to leave a bit of jerky or the remains of a bowl of stew out for her to eat? Who needs to sit on a bench attracting unwelcome glowers from shemlen when you can lie under the bench or in the corner and be sure of staying unmolested?

She doesn't like the smell of stale alcohol (worse to a dog's nose than to her own), and it's a little tiring to hear "Andraste's Mabari" played so often, but the advantages are still worth it. She's warm and dry and safe, and it's amazing what useful tidbits you can overhear in a tavern sometimes. The Mage's Collective is quietly supportive of the Inquisition, but when a group is allied with both mages and Templars...well, it's a good idea to keep a close eye on them. Dar rests near one of the table, the very image of a dog having a bit of a snooze, but quietly listens to as much as she can. So far it's mostly complaints about the weather, but you never know...

It looks like the rumors about the Inquisition are true so far, though. She can see all every race in here, and mages as well as Templars. If people are in their own little groups, and if people aren't exactly friendly towards everyone...well, people are people. The point is that no one's killing each other. Maybe she could be sitting here as herself and be all right after all...

5. Wildcard me.

Edited 2016-04-26 10:55 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

Andra Riveris | dashing city elf rogue

Lena Meravas | Valo-Kas mercenary, rogue, potty mouth

the outsider | dishonored | rifter

Danae Ghilain

Mairead Ivo, surface dwarf, mischievous rogue

Rydia | Final Fantasy IV (Post TAY)