(no subject)

[el_tybs]

WHO: Samouel and Anyone
WHAT: Doing odd jobs around Skyhold, and everyday life stuff.
WHEN: Anytime during the first two weeks
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Anything and everything can happen. Prose or brackets welcomed

There was always something to be done around Skyhold, which was perfect because without having any missions to go on, Sam would have probably slowly gone insane. As it were Sam threw himself more into his practices.

On most days Sam busied himself with dedicating his time to his magic.  Mornings often found him in the library picking out a book and later taking it to the dining hall to read as he ate his food, or finding a secluded spot in what was being turned into a garden. Always to himself, invested in the pages, and trying to be out of the way of everyone.

Afternoons he took to actually practicing his magic. A good part of the time he would offer any aid he was capable of doing down at the tents where they cared for the injured and sick. He wasn't nearly as skilled as the more practiced healers who had trained most of their lives in the Circle, but he made up for it with determination. Or if he seemed to just be in the way, Sam found himself testing out spells on the practice dummies behind the Herald's Rest.

The other days that Sam didn't dedicate to magic, he dedicated to manual labor and honing the skills his father taught him. It was also a way to make a few coins here and there. While he did spend some amount of time helping with the stables, Sam primary kept himself to the forges housed behind the tavern. It was hot, rough work, but it didn't both him in the least. It reminded him of things before the Conclave, or even the Blight. Didn't hurt that it was warm and he got a fair workout in the process.

Evenings Sam always found himself at the Herald's Rest. He never drank, except maybe once in a while when Cabot pressed that he try the new "special" of the day or a friendly suggestion by another was made. For the most part he simply just spent time in the tavern because there wasn't anywhere else to go. Especially on those nights that sleep either would not come to him or he just didn't want to face his dreams.

Comments

Afternoon

[equanimiti]

If Skyhold wasn't constantly busy and bustling with activity here, Sauveterre would've surely gone mad. During the early hours of the day, the Knight-Commander would be assisting in training the new recruits of the Inquisition. While none if them could hope to be as well trained as his Templar, Sauveterre trained them nonetheless in swordsmanship.

Once the afternoon arrives, his recruits say their farewells and take their leave. Sauveterre does the same normally but today he finds himself wandering through the garden instead. There's something comforting about laying his gaze upon nature. It reminds him that not everything in the world is in peril.

He continues with his stroll towards the tavern until catching a glimpse of the mage nearby. The telltale signs of sorcery lingers in the air as the Templar draws nearer. Dressed proudly in his ceremonial silver and red armor, Sauveterre lingers there for a time an watches the mage practice. He is a quiet voyeur, a respectful one at that since most Templar are eager to show their dislike for mages these days.

Re: Afternoon

[el_tybs]

"Huh." The word is quick and curious as he leans on his staff and studies the dummy. For the most part the dummy looked unharmed, save for the small whiffs of smoke disappearing into the air along the edges of the arms. Singed but not on fire.

"Took one hit more to take it down..." he mutters to himself, rubbing at his chin before squatting down on the balls of his feet and using the staff as a balance point. For a while Sam continues on like that; standing up to pick at the dummy then finding some odd position as he contemplated, all the while muttering things to himself.

At some point though Sam is vaguely aware that he's being watched. He doesn't react at first, but eventually he turns slowly to look over his shoulder. By the look on his face it's obvious that he's a bit surprised, intimidated? at the armored man staring at him. Just to be sure Sam looks around him to see if there was anyone else the man could be looking at, but it's clear that he was the target.

Turning around fully, Sam raises a brow. "Can... I help you?"

[equanimiti]

It took the mage awhile to realize that he had gained an audience. Sauveterre takes some amusement from that. Not even a looming masked Templar is enough to disenchant a mage from his practice. The Knight-Commander leans against a nearby pillar and crosses his arms. He continues to watch the spellcaster until the young man finally glances towards his direction. The entire affair is comedic at best as the mage nervously glances from one side to another. A faint chuckle escapes him briefly but not else until the mage speaks.

"Pray do not fret. I mean no harm." That Orlesian accent gives away the Knight-Commander's origins well enough. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the horned helmet he wears.

"It's not often I see such talents on display without earning a few glowers for watching. You remind me of the young apprentices of my tower." There's a hint of nostalgia in his tone that the mage could clearly note.

[el_tybs]

Orlesian. Not quite like the others though. Wearing a mask was familiar, but the man - an older man if he could hear right - was not like the dignitaries that filed in from day to day. The armor for one, and the fact that he had traveled to this part of the fortress another.

Sam raises a brow at the mention of apprentices and a tower. A Templar? The thought makes Sam tense up a bit, but keeps his grip loose on his staff and his gaze leisurely. There seemed to be mirth in the man's voice with a hint of nostalgia, that made Sam to believe he was merely curious.

"This is the Inquisition," he pauses, eyes wandering the walls for a moment then back to the man, "if there is glowering it is well hidden. There isn't much room to practice and I don't think they would want it inside."

[equanimiti]

Sauveterre can feel the youth's eyes upon him. The mage is trying to analyze whether or not he should be wary. It makes sense since Sauveterre did just give himself away as a Templar a moment ago. He could tell that revelation made the boy tense ever so slightly. Nevertheless, the Knight-Commander isn't put off by the mage's reaction.

If anything he's even more determined to speak with him now because of it.

"That much is true but the dissent is palpable." He answers quickly before glancing at the mage's staff. "Are you a novice in your craft?" That's an odd question for a Templar to ask.

"I've noticed during your practice that you seemed somewhat discontent."

[el_tybs]

Sam tilts his head to the right and his brows narrow in curiosity at the question. It wasn't unusual to have a Templar question your magic, but it wasn't followed with the usual bite or venom. It was genuinely curious? Also the way he asks is unusual.

Discontent...?

Sam's brows raise in surprise. The Templar hadn't just happened upon him, he had been watching for a while.

Looking to his staff, Sam twists it back and forth a few times. It isn't the best looking staff, but it was simply for practice. Nothing more.

"Not a novice. Though I'm not an expert either," he says coolly. "I wouldn't say it's discontent. I'm just seeing what my skills are progressing and what I need to change."

[equanimiti]

To be frank, that staff is quite bland in his opinion. He seen some of the staffs and canes the other mages use and most of them are quite decorative. This is why he had thought the youth to be a novice at this, an apprentice who has yet earned his place amongst the Magi. But Sauveterre won't mention the Harrowing anytime soon in fear of scaring the mage off.

"Are your skills progressing well?" Another curious question escapes the Templar. "You were barely able to ignite that wooden dummy." Is that criticism on his part? Certainly could be. Though, what could a Templar possibly know of magic?

[el_tybs]

At the mention of the dummy, Sam turns half way to look at his practice target. Besides the slightly darkened edges where the hands would be it looked completely unharmed. It was then that it occurred to Sam what the Templar was referring to.

Turning back around with a grin and his free hand resting on his hip, Sam gave a chuckle.

"I suppose if that was what I was trying to do then I did spectacularly fail at that." He supposes he probably looked quite amateurish with the current state of things.

"The point was to shoot it head on and it NOT get set on fire."

[equanimiti]

A sound of awe is heard from the armor-clad man. It would seem the Orlesian hadn't expected that to be the objective of the youth's practice. Now he feels somewhat asinine for his previous comment. Just how could he tell? The Templar didn't even think that a mage could do that.

"I am humbled." The masked Templar says as he pushes off the pillar. He walks forward with an even stride to observe the practice dummy up close. It's then that the Templar finally unhooks the clasps that secures his helmet.

"Then am I correct in assuming you've done just that?" A pair of pierecing grey eyes now lingers upon the mage with muted wonder.

At the Forge

[ombranera]

Leather armor has long served Zevran well when it came to keeping himself unstuck- it was light, silent, pliable, and hard enough to deflect most blows to less vital areas. But with demons on the rise and what most assuredly will be a war against whatever it is that is creating the rifts?

He will need something better. To the smiths he wanders, peering at the various wares. It is made as well as can be with how much they must put out so quickly- any examples of mail or daggers will hold his particular interest.

And long spiked nails. But that was for something else entirely.

"You would not happen to have any scale or splint mail would you? Something durable but relatively light?"

Re: At the Forge

[el_tybs]

He almost doesn't hear the other person over the hammer, but there's something about the accent that catches his ear. Keeping his hands on the hammer and the metal, Sam looks over his shoulder. Sure enough there was someone there. Raising a brow at the questions he turns his gaze to Fergus-

Who doesn't want to deal with anyone it seems and continues on with his work. Sam rolls his eyes.

All for me I guess.

"One second," he calls over his shoulder before tossing the piece of metal he was bending into a box, and setting the hammer on a nearby table. His work gloves follow suit and he tosses them on a different table as he heads over to the man. Grabbing a towel on the way he gives his face a quick wipe then sets it around his neck.

"Can I-" he starts but stops, his brows raising. And Elf isn't all that rare in the Inquisition, but Sam hasn't seen anyone quite like this. "-help you? You'll have to repeat what you said. I couldn't hear you over the hammer."

At the Forge

[ombranera]

Ah, incredulity. An elf that knows what it is he is looking for and more or less demanding it. Humans never did seem to know what to do with those. His smile takes a faint edge, but he does not speak unkindly. It is unwise to anger one's smith, after all.

"Splint mail or scale mail." Those he knew he could move in without making too much noise. "Something more substantial than leather but not so heavy as full chain or plate. I am not precisely built for those as you can see."

He gestures to himself, lithe, lean and dressed mostly in leather save for the Antivan embroidered vest and cotton shirt laced beneath. Armor isn't something he has had to worry about but if he means to make a few rounds beyond the walls? He will need better protection.

Re: At the Forge

[el_tybs]

Sam smiles back, tilting his head to one side as he waits patiently to hear what the man wanted, oblivious to anything possibly being wrong.

He cannot quite place the accent, but Sam can see why it had caught his ear. It was pleasant to say the least, though a bit more curt this time around. It doesn't change that it is distracting, because it takes a bit more concentration for Sam to listen what is being said instead of trying to take it apart as to why it was pleasant.

At the self gesturing Sam laughs lightly and rubs the back of his neck. "Yes, I can see. I think we have some over here..." He gestures to a wall behind the Elf before starting to walk over to it.

At the Forge

[ombranera]

Innocent incredulity, Zevran amends to himself. There did not seem any condescension or malice forthcoming and that much has the tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. Good. It is not a fight he is willing to have at the moment- or ever. Now that his knee jerk irritation has passed the usual tells of fascination seep through for him to notice.

It may be his voice- there were some in the camp that had never heard anyone from Antiva before.

As it is he waits a moment before following- if only to get in a good oogle. Mm. Smith shoulders and smith hips. Lovely things, them. "How fortunate. I was nearly afraid I might have to beg one of the merchants to put an order in for me elsewhere."

Re: At the Forge

[el_tybs]

Sam lets out a bark of laughter at that, stopping just so he can turn around a bit to look at the Elf with an amused grin. "If you find yourself having to do so, please let me know how that works. I've been pressing Bonnie to bring in a few things and I still haven't seen hide or hair of them." Shaking his head with amusement Sam turns back around to cross the last bit of the room to where they had armor hanging.

He's quick to find the types of armor the Elf is requesting and starts to file through them. Every once in a while he looks up and gives the man a once over then goes back to his searching. "I take it you just arrived recently?"

[ombranera]

"Coin or favors tend to work best. Or information if any is to be had- the trick with merchants is to make certain you have something that they need more than whatever it is you want of theirs." Further from the hammering and heat of the forge it's easier to focus on the rather sturdy lines of the smith. Tall. Tall and broad and likely Fereldan with that accent- charming in the way of most common smiths. Perhaps he should find a reason to linger.

And perhaps lean oh so casually against the wall in such a way to make himself alluring.

"A few days ago, yes. I had leather armor but, alas, it is beyond repair. So I think to myself that perhaps the very fine smiths here may have something better, yes?"

[el_tybs]

"Well unfortunately I have none of those things..." he trails off for a moment as he studies one piece of armor and tosses it over his shoulder then continues to the next. "But if she wanted anything besides my money I cannot tell. Probably because of the mask. Honestly, those things creep me out just a bit."

Feeling he's grabbed enough Sam turns around and walks over to where the stranger is standing, though it's hesitant as he takes in the way he's standing. He clears his throat.

"Few days, huh? That explains why I haven't seen you around." Sam motions for the man to follow him to the table where he lays out the armor. "I must admit you caught me off guard when I came over. You're rather exotic, if you don't mind me saying."

Smithy stuff! (assuming we had that talk)

[nadasharillen]

Nahariel had come to the forge looking for something else, but the thought fled briefly as she recognized the rumpled head of the mage she'd rather unwittingly spoken so much to. What had his name been? Fenedhis.

Finding herself at a loss, she maneuvered herself into his general field of vision as he worked, hoping to catch his eye between swings of the hammer.

Re: Smithy stuff! (assuming we had that talk)

[el_tybs]

It wasn't unusual to see someone walking into the forge room while they worked. He made sure to keep track on where the person was going, but unless they spoke up, Sam would continue working. At least that was the plan until the person started to come a little too close.

"Careful there." Pausing in his work, Sam looks up, about to explain that it's dangerous to get too close. He stops though, blinking at the Elf. "Oh... it's you."

Re: Smithy stuff! (assuming we had that talk)

[nadasharillen]

"It is," she agreed, flashing a smile quickly that disappeared just as fast. "I came to see if there was any work I could do in exchange for some silver. I need some, for a gift." She leaned back against the wall and cocked her head. "Do you know where the master of this place is?"

I'm assuming they talked, just never used the stone

[el_tybs]

What was her name? Sam remembered seeing her when he was Redcliffe a while ago, but he couldn't think of the name. Seeing as he wasn't dealing with hot metal at the moment, Sam finds it safe to leave his things on the anvil and walk around to talk to the Elf properly.

"Silver? Like coin or just the ore?" He blinks. If it was the latter they certainly had some, but it was in short supply. "Master Harritt is in charge of the blacksmiths. He does his work in the Undercroft."

Re: I'm assuming they talked, just never used the stone

[nadasharillen]

"Like the ore," she said, filing the blacksmith's name away for later, "Not too much. Enough for a brooch, or a cloak pin." Nahariel held her hand up and circled an area on it slightly larger than half her palm. "For someone who helped Sina and I. I couldn't really tell him so then, but I want to do... something." She leaned back on one of the supporting beams and crossed her arms self-consciously.

"We didn't even tell him our names, and if we're going to be part of the Inquisition, I'd like to start off better than that. The which by the way," she continued, a wry self-deprecating smile twitching her lips, "is just a continuation of bad behaviour, considering that I can't remember yours."

Re: I'm assuming they talked, just never used the stone

[el_tybs]

Sam chuckles at that, crossing his arms as well, only because he needed to do something with them. "Well I cannot really blame you since I didn't remember yours. A fault on both our parts then. It's Samouel."

[nadasharillen]

That sounded familiar. The elf nodded.

"Nahariel," she replied, and then, with interest, "are you a smith as well as a mage, then? I thought human mageborn children were put in the Circle as soon as they showed and taught magic and history and things. Didn't imagine there'd be much call for this kind of work."

[el_tybs]

"Nahariel," he repeats back, nodding his own head at remembering that some now.

At the next part, Sam gives a small bark of laughter. "You know I'm getting that a lot." His shoulders shake with mirth. "Well you aren't wrong. As soon as certain people found out I could use magic I was thrown into a Circle, but I was about 15 by that time. My father was teaching me to be a blacksmith before that happened."