Not to worry, I have a permit

[hlif]

WHO: Asher Hardie; open
WHAT: Catch-all for the latter half of the month
WHEN: June/Justinian (feel free to backdate prior to him being off to the Storm Coast for the mission)
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Probably language, I'll edit if anything in particular comes up and note it in subject lines

i; Fighting with dogs 101
Since going off on a mission alongside Mal and Jayne with Bronson along, and because Asher's never gone into a single battle without his hound at his side, he nails a few notices up and leaves a message with whoever happens to be in charge of the kennels. Anyone looking to learn how to fight with a hound at their side, come look for Asher Hardie. Shouldn't be too hard given the reputation in all honesty, and that a few folks might just say 'follow the noise' or 'follow the smell'.

He does point out that it's fighting with dogs. Not fighting with dogs. Important distinction since Mal Reynolds and Korrin Ataash exist. But anyone that approaches is welcome, Bronson giving them a good sniff because that's his right.

"You might think you know how to do this, but me and Bronson? We've been living this life for a long time, there's more than a few things we can show you."

ii; Avvar Culture 101
Now he might not be a full-blooded Avvar (and his mother might think that Asher clings tight to that side of the family out of spite) but it's the part of the family that accepts Asher for Asher, the part that doesn't go trying to change him, that's always made him welcome. The loud part, the wild part.

Where they happen tends to vary; sometimes by the stables, sometimes by the healers tents, sometimes in the valley camp by the little sprawling collection of tents painted in different colours and designs but all with kaddis in the valley camp that popped up like mushrooms after rain when the Boneflayers arrived.

Some of it is quite frankly scandalous. Particularly the parts that can easily be overheard about just how unwelcome Templars are in the hold and how few shits are given about Andraste herself in particular.

iii; tavern
All that training makes a man work up a thirst, and Asher's still had a cough that seems to keep rattling around in the bottom of his lungs since he got back, one he's not managed to shake off. Most evenings find him in the tavern, usually with his mabari sprawled beneath a table, always willing to regale someone with a tale or two if they're willing to get the first ale in.

iv;
[Wildcard; choose your own adventure here and I'll roll with it!]

Comments

Avvar Culture 101 - By the healers' tents (with the candlestick)

[demonicbeauty]

The only thing worse than the suspicious looks that most of the natives gave Ariadne and the shard embedded in her hand was the boredom. She could go for days on end with nothing to do and very little purpose to getting up, beyond the need to survive. And while she tried to invent tasks for herself where she could, she might go for very long stretches with nothing, in spite of her best efforts.

Fortunately, the healers' tents were often her best bet. Even healers needed unskilled hands to fetch and carry for them. And while Ariadne was anything but unskilled, she preferred to keep the full extent of her abilities to herself.

Anyway, her arms were good and her gait was steady enough.

She'd just brought a jug of water over when she heard a particularly boisterous voice not too far off. One she actually didn't recognize. New was always a novelty, both back home and here as well. And since no one else seemed to need anything from her, Ariadne decided to wander off in that direction.

[hlif]

It isn't that Asher avoids rifters, no one can say that when he's gone and helped make one of their number a Reaver after all, but well, that's all above his paygrade unless they're on a mission with him or something like that. It's only Templars that he avoids and any of his friends can readily list off just why. But there's no judgement for rifters since they're people, people getting a raw deal same as an awful lot of other people after all.

So when he noticed someone approaching (a mercenary always knew or he didn't last long, and coming off another job meant he still felt the extra edge of alertness prickling under his skin) he waved a hand, Bronson's good ear pricking up.

"Come to hear about the wild heathens from the mountains?" He asked with a wide grin. "About Korth the Mountain-Father and Hakkon Wintersbreath? Or have they all told tales about how we're all godless and we just pillage as we please?"

[demonicbeauty]

She smiled slightly. Despite the fact that he--and everyone else here, really--towered over her, Ariadne never let her short stature slow her down or quell her curiosity. Not unless it was all for show.

And she had no reason to perform right now.

"No," she replied, voice light and airy, true to her nickname. "I can't say that I've heard any tales like that. And I'm not entirely sure I know what a 'heathen' is."

She knew. At least in the context of her home. But she'd been taught it was a dirty word, generally reserved for the Darucs who were a fine and decent people, anyway. So it actually sounded more like a compliment.

[hlif]

"For the sake of the lesson? We'll stick to what the Chantry'll call a heathen, and that'd be anyone that have a firm grasp of Andraste's bosom." That was quite frankly terrible, but not technically inaccurate given the sort of curses and the whole Andraste, Bride of the Maker and going to the Maker's bosom but well, the statues were all of Andraste and the artists had a habit of endowing her far better than she probably had been. If the girl was going to be put off, it'd be now or never. "So that usually means anyone from Tevinter, anyone or the horned persuasion, sometimes the dwarves if they're being uncharitable but usually not because of the lyrium, almost certainly every Dalish. And the Avvar. Which is funny since Andraste was Avvar. Well, she was from the people we descended from, same gods, same dirty unwashed barbarians, no one paints her like that."

Watching her carefully, he waited to see how she'd react to that - and if any of the rifters had perhaps been accorded thus since no one had ever accused the Chantry of being good at possessing open minds - since the Inquisition still had plenty to do with Faith. Most civilised natives tended not to like remembering the real origins of tales.

Tavern, open to Mal

[gatheringstorm]

With a round of ales in her hands, Korrin heads over to the table and plops down onto a seat, gently kicking Asher below. She had spotted him from across the room, and now was her chance to pester him outside that tent. That cough still worries her, but she's not about to nag him back there. "You want more, you'll have to sit up here and keep me company. I have a treat for Bronson, too." C'mere, boy. She slips some jerky from her pocket to lure him over.

/kicks in door

[aintwejust]

"What, noth'n for me?" Mal sidles along in, finding himself a chair and Jayne wanders 'bout till he can curl up by Korrin's feet since she's the one that's always got something good. He gives Asher a slight nudge with his boot, just a little 'come up and sit with the city folk would ya' before Jayne leans over to but his head up against Asher's shoulder. Good for scratch'n, this one.

[hlif]

Maybe if Korrin was her dad then she could pester him because Korrin's dad is a beast of a man and Asher will trail along in his wake but alas, she isn't so Asher's cough is Asher's business. He'll drown his cough and sweat it out the way anyone does any sort of cough.

"You make my dog fat I will do terrible things to you," he vows, still not bothering to get up though Bronson does with a huff once Asher nods that it's fine for him to go, scratching Jayne behind the ears because he'll get up when he damn well pleases thanks. He huffs himself before he gets up, sprawling untidily into a seat with as much manspreading action as one man can manage. "I was comfy." Petulant. Petulant overgrown child.

"And I'm with Mal - what do we get?"

[gatheringstorm]

"You both get this wonderful thing called ale. I knew you were joining us, Mal, don't worry." Korrin slides theirs forward and then slips Jayne and Bronson some jerky so that neither will feel left out. They get ear-scratchings, too, and belly-rubs will come later but for now she still wants to sit up.

"There's nothing wrong with a fat mabari, either. Jayne's all fat and happy, aren't you boy?" Who's the best unwanted leftover gobbler in the world? That would be the mabary they call Jayne.

II

[aceso]

Asher had always revealed bits and pieces about Avvar culture, but it only really struck Christine when he had been lying in the healing tent, being worked on by two Spirit Healers. He'd seemed so determined to get it all out; to let Sam and herself know what the Avvar believe about spirits, and it's made her curious to know more.

Of course, the Avvar are seen as barbarians by Orlesians. They wear nothing but mud-splattered fur and spend their days yelling and fighting. Before meeting Asher, Christine had had no reason to learn anymore about those people. But he's so willing to talk about the culture, and she wants to know. Wearing fur, yelling, and fighting are all things Asher does, but he's spoken of the spirits that they call their gods. He's told her how mages let spirits possess them to teach them. It's all so different from the Chantry's ways.

Sitting on a stool outside her healer's tent, she listens to the lesson while rolling up bandages. She's doing it as slowly as possible so no one else around realizes she's actually listening in depth here.

[hlif]

Since he got himself healed, Asher can't really be blamed for wanting to avoid the healer's tents. Too many memories that he doesn't want to linger on, lying there weak and wheezing, at the mercy of the healers tending to him and the gods watching over him. As soon as he'd been able to make a break for it he'd been gone, free, but he hadn't seen much of Christine since she'd gone to the Approach and he'd stayed behind in Skyhold to get back to training again.

If Christine wanted to be avoided, no such luck, no such luck at all because he beams, goes to call her name then has to cough and take a long gulp of water before he swaggers over to invade her personal space, yes, leaving his audience just standing there because he's Asher Hardie, he does what he wants. Besides, people know he was off fighting on the Storm Coast with the Commander, Korrin and Mal, and it's Asher Hardie, they probably think he's got a standing pitch here.

"Christine, radiant as ever," he says with that trademark grin. "Admiring the view?" It's a free pass, if she wants it. He's hoping she doesn't all things considered.

[aceso]

Her lips purse and she raises her gaze to him, knowing exactly what he's doing. She should just scoff and send him on his way; maybe go inside her tent. But he's got her ensnared in the lesson on Avvar culture and he knows it.

"I hardly think you need me to feed your ego, Asher." she states primly, before adding, "Have you come to see me about that cough?"

Dogs 101

[el_tybs]

Bronson does have every right to come and sniff at whomever walks up, and Sam gladly holds out his hands for the hound to sniff when he approaches. He smiles lightly since he knows Bronson will be able to smell the two new furry companions he's picked up, curious to how he'll react.

"Well can't say I know how to do this. I know how to fight with dogs around, but not with a dog." Evident with the three of them going hunting back in Emprise du Lion. Course not having a dog probably contributed to that.

[hlif]

Wagging his stump of a tail, the mabari whines then barks, investigating Sam thoroughly enough that Asher raises an eyebrow as he watches. There aren't too many things that he can't immediately spot that have his dog reacting like that, and when it's Sam? Colour him intrigued.

"D'you rub yourself in bacon grease?" He asks but Bronson would be licking, not sniffing, not looking around like he's expecting something. "Well, I wouldn't expect you to what with you being in a Circle but you did well when you joined me and the lad on that hunt. But you do need a dog for this to really be worth anything, that's the point. How to fight with a dog. Like me and Bronson. Or Mal and Jayne."

Asher and Bronson are just more ruggedly handsome than the other two.

[el_tybs]

"More like covered with fur," he replies with a grin, watching as Bronson circles and sniffs at him. Maker, if he was covered in bacon grease he'd probably have the lot of animals chasing after him. Sorry Bronson, no kittens hidden here.

"I suppose not having a dog would make this rather difficult." Sam nods at that, petting Bronson on the head before turning more of his attention to Asher. "Course I was more curious if you could teach a dog how to fight and hunt."

i. after fighting with dogs.

[elegiaque]

Gwenaëlle doesn't have a dog, or any desire to fight with them - but she is awfully curious about more or less everything that's been going on around Skyhold, and when she'd heard the name Asher Hardie bandied about...it's been a while, maybe a year? Two? It is purposeful that she isn't entirely sure, but the insult is aimed elsewhere - at the affronted suitor who'd caught them - and she does not happen upon this lesson incidentally but comes down from the hold with her spectacles and her pen and observes.

Takes notes.

Enjoys herself, probably, she's always had a soft spot for watching warrior types do warrior things -

And waits until afterwards to say, "I finally met someone taller than you, Hardie, and it's an elf. Who'd have thought?" and simply takes for granted that she'll have been equally memorable.

[hlif]

Friends of Asher tend not to go digging in what, precisely, Asher really gets up to in Orlais. It's how he likes it, torrid romance serials of varying levels of accuracy relating to the Avvar depending on his mood notwithstanding because some things do have to be shared with friends after all. Catching sight of her name when reading one of her bulletins was a surprise and Bronson is the one to spot her, barking loudly.

"Well if it isn't Miss Voclen," he almost drawls if her name hadn't been Orlesian, or if that had been anywhere close to the correct pronunciation but Asher is but a soldier of fortune as she well knows, so he can't be expected to manage such a name as hers. Certainly a memorable young lady though Skyhold? Not where Asher expected to find her, not at all, and he can't really place the whys of it: her and the bulletins, but that won't stop him continuing.

There's a shrug, very expansive, him tossing his braids for good measure. "S'not the size that matters though, it's what you do with it, would've thought a thing like you would know all about that. I know elves taller than you."

[elegiaque]

"Everything is taller than I am," she sighs, choosing her battles wisely and ignoring the appalling butchering of her name. "Everything."

Well, no, but with the exception of dwarves, certainly more people than aren't, on the whole. Asher fairly dramatically, an inch more than a full foot taller than she is, but there is a Qunari here a full foot taller than he is, and she would absolutely love to meet him, too. Possibly on the pretext of learning more about the work that mercenaries do for the Inquisition...

"But I'm flattered to hear I'm considered an expert in the form," a little slyly. "That's damn near a professional opinion from you." And that is a compliment, albeit one her father would rather she not give. Or at least not so publicly, after his furious and flustered efforts to immediately and thoroughly quash the incident in the first place.

avvar 102

[heda]

Lexa doesn't so much attend Asher's class as she happens upon it, slows her steps out of curiosity and continues to slow until she has stopped, hovering just on the edge of the group assembled to hear him.

She ends up standing just beneath the overhang of the nearest tent for the entire rest of the lesson, arms crossed against her chest. She isn't out of sight--the angle of the sun doesn't allow her to linger in shadows--but she does nothing to draw attention to herself other than exist. In leather and mail and yes, a little bit of fur, her clothing may be Avvar from top to toe, but she doesn't fulfill the giant hulking bearded warrior image as well as he does.

Though Lexa had no intention of staying the whole time, she's still there when the lesson ends. Whatever else may be said about him no one would ever claim Asher is not an engaging speaker, and she's curious, too, to see how much he actually knows or is willing to share. How much he makes up, embellishes, dramatizes.

[hlif]

For someone that claims he doesn't give a shit about politics, Asher is speaking about mages plenty. But then he owes his life and the ability to give these lessons (as well as continuing to be a general nuisance to everyone that has any involvement with him) to the mages in his life. Without them he wouldn't have made it from Gwaren to Skyhold. Without Sam and Christine, without their spirits, he would most certainly have died after making it up the mountain.

Lexa is noted; Emprise du Lion unsettled him but a quick glance and back to his audience as he spreads his hands, explaining how things go with Avvar mages with more clarity than one usually expects from Asher Hardie's mouth but well, anything an augur might scowl ferociously at you for means that you try.

And Asher does care. About mages that actually do work with their people.

"Unlike the Chantry," he says casually with a pause that's actually to hide a cough, "we don't need Templars. Which I'm sure we can all agree is an improvement. Because mages are part of the community. And we know what we're doing with spirits because, shockingly, we actually do remember things and work with them, because mages are people. Again, I know that's a concept to that tends to be a struggle in the lowlands. You're all very Orlesian about who gets to be a person and who doesn't."

[heda]

Lexa makes no move to join in, either at the front with Asher or taking a seat in the audience. She just stays where she is, lingering still not quite out of sight and listening. It's no easier to read her expression now than ever, despite that she's un-hooded and clean-faced but it doesn't look like she disapproves. She certainly doesn't make any move to interrupt him to correct or disagree, either.

When the lecture eventually finishes she's still there, and once the class as dispersed she heads nearer, her pace meandering but her path direct and obvious. "What hold are you from?" she asks when she is near enough.

She remembers him from Emprise du Lion, and can tell that he has recognized her as well. Not everyone she met there has. If the face is the same, the demeanor could not be more different. Gone is the cowering, twitchy posture, and in its place her shoulders are straight and rigid, arms folded together across her lower back in a regal sort of posture. Gone too is the subtle wrongness that might have unsettled him before; the role she's wearing now seems to fit her like a first skin.

His dog is the only thing that distracts her attention for a moment, a glance tugged away before she looks back (and up) at Asher. She has no trouble making eye contact now.

Tavern

[sandsofhell]

Ah yes, drinking alcohol. Something that's starting to become a rather bad habit for him; especially after the incident involving tainted water. But the difference tonight was that he wasn't drinking alone like usual. He doesn't mind the company of course, it helped to keep him from wallowing in self-pity for too long.

"Look like you might have some good stories."

[hlif]

Someone to keep him company is always welcome, and as Asher is sometimes fond of saying (usual to a wrinkled nose depending on the company he might be keeping) he tends to have stories coming out of his arse. Rifters probably have stories but honestly, Asher's a selfish arrogant prick, and his stories are the best sort of stories. He lived them after all.

"What gave it away? The hair, the dog, or half the patrons trying to edge around me?" Asher asks with a grin, draining his ale and signalling from another; the elven woman is quick to oblige - Asher tips well, isn't ever rude to her in any way, and if there are a few black eyes for the folks that are rude, well no one takes that up with Asher.

[sandsofhell]

That's fine with him, Walker's stories aren't exactly all that great. Well they are, if you can stomach them. But hey, he's always open to distracting stories of amazing! Besides, there's alcohol right? He should really stop drinking alcohol, but is finding it increasingly difficult to do so.

He might be having a growing problem.

Anyway! He shrugged nonchalantly. "More like you just got that look."

Dogs 101

[nofury]

Maria was hardly a noble, making mabari war hounds a little out of her experience range. But she was Ferelden born and bred, making the offer a hard one to pass up. So the templar has no dog at her side as she approaches the grounds, but she's content simply to watch if nothing else.

"You've had him so long?"

[hlif]

Given Bronson's age as well as the sort of life he had before he ended up in Asher's care, a few soldiers are just departing when spots Maria, busy rubbing the stiffness out of one the hound's joints. He's getting old, that or being up in Skyhold so long isn't agreeing with him too much.

"Seven years now, feels like a lot longer the amount of travelling we've done together, doesn't it old boy?" Ah yes, ridiculous wiggling and slobbering, the classic warhound signal for yes, absolutely of course.