[OPEN] Welcome Back! Now Take a Bath.

[scalethewall]

WHO: Blackwall and you!
WHAT: Blackwall returns to Skyhold after being away for a few months
WHEN: Current?
WHERE: Around Skyhold, mostly the stables and the tavern
NOTES: none that I can think of... his intro is over here. prose or brackets are fine

i. Just arrived
It's midday when Blackwall and the small group of scouts and soldiers who'd been with him in the Storm Coast are spotted by one of Skyhold's lookouts making their way back up the mountain road. They're definitely not in a rush, but getting inside of the fortress' high walls and out of the whipping mountain winds is a relief. After weeks in the constant drizzle of the Storm Coast, dry clothing felt like an unattainable fantasy.

Muddy, damp, and worn out, Blackwall was looking even more unkempt and wild than when he'd first arrived in Haven. The Storm Coast seemed to have that affect on people; the others with him didn't look like they'd fared much better. He's a little surprised at how glad he is to be back, but why wouldn't he be? A change of clothes into something that isn't already soaked through with rain and a proper place to enjoy a drink, what's not to love?

ii. Sparring/Beating up practice dummies close to the stables
It doesn't take Blackwall long at all to fall back into a routine, which means getting some time in with a dull sword and a stuffed potato sack on a stick meant to look like a person. It's unusual for him to be in anything less than his full armor, which includes the puffy gambeson he always wears, but it's still hung up to dry by the fire in the stables, so this morning he's settled for a loose tunic and trousers.

Unlike some of the others whacking away at the dummies, his movements are calm and devoid of emotion, simply going through training exercises and focusing on form and technique. Training exercises are all well and good, but if someone actually offered to spar he'd be hard pressed to turn them down, especially after fighting nothing but bears and spiders in the mud for the past few weeks.

iii. Tavern
"Oh, pardon me," Blackwall offers, managing to sound completely genuine while fighting back a chuckle. It's late evening and the tavern is apparently the place to be. It's surprisingly easy to misjudge how close you are to someone after a few drinks and Blackwall misses the mark as he leans over the counter to signal for another pint, bumping a few people.

"Ale, like the last one," He tells the barkeep when he gets their attention before offering a slightly intoxicated smile while waiting.

iv. or choose your own adventure!
[Walking around Skyhold or find him in the stables... demand he come tour the Warden encampment and watch him squirm, or comment about how much he needs a haircut. I'm down for all the things :3]

Comments

iii

[gatheringstorm]

Given how crowded the tavern can be some nights, Korrin's long ago stopped caring about any intrusions into her personal space that weren't of the groping kind. More often than not, she more conscious of her relatively larger frame and the possibility of bumping into others instead. So the apology is met with a headshake after she drains the last of her own pint.

"It's alright, I--" She pauses mid-gesture, glancing back upon realizing she recognizes that voice. Sitting up straighter, the Vashoth Woman's eyes widen. "Warden Blackwall! Andraste's ass, it's been forever." Since before Haven was destroyed, she's sure of that much. A smile quickly forms, glad to see another familiar face from earlier. "Let me get you a round, and you can tell me where the hell you've been all this time."

[scalethewall]

He squints slightly, leaning back (and probably into the poor person who's sitting beside her) to get a better look at her. He honestly hasn't met that many Qunari, and once her features become less fuzzy he remembers her immediately.

"Maker, you remember my name?" He laughs in surprise, shaking his head. "No, no, no, don't trouble yourself. I've a running tab anyway."

He pauses to thank the bartender when they walk by and a full stein appears in his hand. "Alright, give me a moment. Uhhm... Karin? No. I know that's not right. I'm so sorry. Am I close, at least?" He asks apologetically.

stables

[serannas]

Ellana likes coming to the stables to pet the mounts, though some have made it onto her list of favorites, and today she can be found sneaking a hart an apple. She holds onto the large, red fruit so the animal can take a big bite, and she laughs as she watches him chew.

"Good boy," she tells him, but turns her head when she spots Blackwall out of the corner of her eye. Still sounding amused, she asks, "You're not going to tell on me to Master Dennit, are you?"

[scalethewall]

He stands up a little straighter when it's obvious the young woman is talking to him and not the animal any longer.

"I beg your pardon?" He hadn't exactly been watching her, or paying attention. Peering from her to the hart, he still can't figure out what she might be referring to, "And what've you done that you think might garner Master Dennit's ire... aside from stepping foot into the stables that is?"

He'd barely been back a few days and had next to nothing to do with the animals and already had managed to get yelled at twice by the old man.

i.

[wickedchase]

On and off, he's heard about the infamous bearded Warden Blackwall, and admittedly he was immensely curious to meet the man himself. For all the time Twisted Fate has been here, he's never had the pleasure. Off on some majestic Wardeny adventure on the Storm Coast for awhile, it seemed.

Which is all fine; Fate had no desire to get covered in the spray of salt water anytime soon. That was one thing he didn't miss from his pirating days.

In the courtyard, Twisted Fate had been in thought, trying to figure out the mark on his hand, frowning at its faint green glow. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Warden. There's no real mistaking him, not from how Sera's described him. The unkempt look is almost endearing, but the beard is indeed majestic in its way.

Twisted Fate works on his gloves, preferring to pretend that there's no shard of anything there before he goes to bother someone. For a moment, he laments to himself for not being single anymore. Nerva is more then worth his time and love, but he still can admire from afar.

"Blackwall, isn't it? Seems a welcome back is in order. And a hot drink, probably."

[scalethewall]

Only the most majestic of Wardeny adventures. Honestly, trudging through mud in search of long gone Warden tracks was better than he probably deserved. It was just unfortunate that others had been sent along with him and had suffered the same dismal conditions.

He pauses and gives the elf a curious once over, but if he does know him, he can't place his face. Yet, the man obviously knows who he is, which immediately makes him wary.

"It is." His tone doesn't hold the same easy friendliness as the stranger's.

i

[laurenande]

Lothlorien was not a land that often took in travelers but, when they did, they always had the same look about them: bone-weary, road-worn, and more likely injured than not. The party of soldiers that returned to the Keep this day were that same sort of traveler. They each looked harried and exhausted, their clothing matted and muddy, their expressions drawn, and while she had no particular love of the Inquisition (at least not of late), Galadriel was courteous to a fault.

She debated the merits of assisting them, or what might be done, but it wasn't long before she made up her mind.

In the end, she decided that she would offer to take the mounts of those who had returned. To brush and dress them while the scouts saw to themselves and their own comforts. It was a courtesy that didn't grate upon her and one that she could offer with ease. She had never met the horses but, muddied and windblown as they were, it took only a few gentle phrases in Sindarin before the creatures happily followed after her. She collected them, one by one, until she came to Blackwall and his own.

"I shall take him, if you like," she offered without prompt and motioned to his steed. "I am fond of horses and, I expect, you might relish a moment to rest after traveling such a long road?"

[scalethewall]

He'd seen a lot of beautiful women, from beautiful farm hands to poised and flawless noblewomen, but the elf, or maybe she was a half elf from the look of her ears, still stunned him into silence. He could always blame the dumbfounded look on the deep seated weariness, but in reality, she was striking.

He flushed slightly when he realized she was waiting for a response.

"I, um..." Perfect. Very well done. "I'm headed... there. -To the stables, I mean."

He clears his throat, which seems to help somehow. "It'd be my privilege to accompany you, m'lady."

ii

[universal_charm]

It was only recently that Kirk had taken to coming around to the sparring grounds. It wasn't that he was shy, it was just most of the time he saw people with rather sharp objects practicing, or groups, and he had though it wiser to keep out of their way than intrude. He would watch now and then, though, but otherwise seemed content to take his lessons from Sam. Which had been stalled in the past few weeks thanks to the sickness that had swept through Skyhold.

He had come at a time when he didn't think anyone would be around, snagging a dummy for his own and using it for a rather different type of sparring - hand-to-hand. He had worked up a good sweat when Blackwall came out, pausing in order to watch him. While he might not have the skills him, he found sword fighting to be a rather entrancing thing to watch. Not to mention it was a good enough reason to take a short break.

"Your style got a name?" he called to Blackwall, hands on hips as he panted, both hands wrapped in bandages.

[scalethewall]

As usual, Blackwall was paying little attention to anyone else using the practice dummies, focused instead on what he was doing. A very discerning eye might've recognized the exercises as vaguely Orlesian even with Blackwall's own unique take on them.

He pauses when it becomes obvious the young man is speaking to him, straightening up and out of his fighting stance for a moment to consider him and raise his sword arm to wipe some of the sweat off his brow. No weapons, he notes. Odd.

"Sure. Swordfighting," He replies evenly, though he's obviously being a smart ass.

Stables

[aintwejust]

There's a hammock set up off to one side, near the stalls for horse and hound and suchlike. Normally it's wound up out of the way, bothering nobody, least of all the bay mare that snuffls her way through hay and what apples that ain't been eaten by the Mabari dozing next to her. Today? The hour's long and the day's half done and yet there's still a long limbed sprawl of someone draped in the hammock, grunting at the beam of sunlight through one of the cracks in the wall.

It's been there since he took up this spot and usually he's up and about by this time 'a day, but he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before or night before last and there's one foutu plank missing and it's beaming the sun right in his face no matter where he turns. Fed up, Malcolm swings down, shirt rucked up, hay in his hair, boots on his feet, sleep in his eyes. Squinting and stumbling he hunts about for a hammer, some nails, and a plank. And- as he's not rightly look'n where he's go'n, bumps right into whoever's wander'n about. Words ain't a thing yet- he manages an apologetic grunt. Better than nothing.

[scalethewall]

Blackwall wasn't much of a morning person either. The time could barely be called morning at this late an hour though. The realization that yet another person was sleeping in the stables wasn't a surprise. The Inquisition was growing, he couldn't expect to have the stables to himself forever.

"I beg your pardon," He mutters, sounding both polite and annoyed at the same time. An art form. "You might as well go back to bed. You've already missed breakfast."

He carried on, gathering a few pieces of wood from a neat stack to feed to the small brazier in the center of the room which kept them and the animals warm.

ii

[sistertohermen]

Training just isn't the same without teacher Zevran around. Oh, sure, she can give some of the rogue trainees a few lessons in disarming traps or picking a basic lock or how to really sink in some blades through the back from the shadows, but she is, in the end, still also a student.

So, that's a thing that's been a little bit disruptive. A lot of the dummies are taken up already, but there's a couple by the stables she remembers. Might as well to go through the motions, work out some worried energy, keep herself sharp. She isn't fighting darkspawn (or whatever else needed killing for the king), and she's not roughing it in caves picking off for the Carta. So aside from a few outings in the name of the Inquisition, she finds herself almost less active than before.

No, that's not true. Just less stabby. She's plenty active otherwise around Skyhold. She takes up next to some furry fellow who she doesn't recognize, which isn't uncommon at all, takes a few slow and steady practice hits with a few pretend dodges.

"I'll be honest," she starts, unprompted, taking a spin behind her dummy and giving a kick right around where a back of a knee might be, "I don't think I've ever seen a human as hairy as a dwarf before." She spins back to the front, a little faster as she loosens up, giving the imagined enemy a few imagined cuts. "Well, that sure sounded a little better in my head."

[scalethewall]

The comment makes him pause midswing before shaking his head and continuing.

"Glad I could broaden your horizons, miss," He says with a sigh. It's not as though he's unused to off the wall comments like that. He does, after all, spend time in Sera's company... or Dorian's for that matter. All things considered, being compared to a dwarf is a far cry from the worst things he's been compared to. Certainly nothing to take offense to.

He takes another few swings himself before dropping behind his shield, bracing himself for imaginary strikes. It gives him a moment to think though and his brow furrows. "How did that sound better in your head?"

IV Your welcome back package!

[sunshinethroughgrey]

"Hello?"

Bethany called out into the stables, looking around with a curious gaze. She had been sleeping here previously, until the majority of the Wardens had been, ahem, asked politely to decamp. So when she heard an honored member of the Wardens had returned, she made sure to grab the things she had knitted, put them into a bag, and went to find the Warden named Blackwall.

Who apparently had taken up his old digs, but she had no idea what he looked like, outside of 'giant bear of a man'.

[scalethewall]

Since getting back, he'd had a few visitors to the stables, but in general the people who wandered into the stables were looking for someone else.

And, at the moment, there was no one else around, so he might as well offer to point the young lady in the right direction. Setting down the wood carving tools, he clears his throat to get her attention, turning to face her.

"Looking for someone, miss? Or did you get turned around?" Also a distinct possibility. Skyhold was worse than a rabbit warren.

ii.

[dragoon_pride]

Beating up dummies definitely gets old after a while, in Kain's experience, so after a while of that, he's definitely looking for something much more lively to face. Despite wearing unusual armor clearly identifying him as an outsider, his moves are rather reminiscent of a Reaver's... because, of course, they are.

He pauses after a time, glancing toward one of the other fighters nearby, he seems to be going through the motions of training, pretty much. "Looking for more of a challenge?"

[scalethewall]

Because of his long stint in the Storm Coast, Blackwall hadn't met many rifters. Unlike some of the others here, they were still a novelty to him to him, a cause for curiosity and, as always, caution.

"Am I looking for more of a challenge?" He echoes Kain's question to himself, mulling the it over. The exercises were slow and deliberate, making him break a sweat, but only just. He straightens, adjusting the practice shield on his left arm. "Alright, I could probably use some sparring."

Tavern

[easternseaqueen]

It's admittedly sort of hard to not bump into Isabela in the tavern, but she raises an eyebrow.

"Just ale? Oh, Kitten. It'll get you drunk well enough, but might kill your taste buds along the way. You sure you don't want the good stuff?"

[scalethewall]

"Well, I've certainly had worse, so I'm sure they're long since dead," He smiles in thanks at the bartender as his stein is returned, full again.

"I don't need anything fancy... unless that was your attempt at offering to buy me a drink," He chuckles, obviously assuming that hadn't been her intention.

IV. Warden Camp?

[doneisdone]

Camp Shady Fucker is a friendly little family situated not too far beneath the Keep proper, and it is where the Wardens have been shooed off to live in the wake of Anders' little... situation... coming to light.
One of the Shady Fuckers, Teren von Skraedder, has appointed herself the camp's quartermaster and, in some ways, den mother. If anyone comes and goes from the camp, she knows about it, and thus she becomes aware of Blackwall's return. This is a pleasant surprise; she's heard things, and has been looking forward to meeting him.

"Warden Blackwall," she greets, approaching him with her writing tools in hand, perched on a board. "I am Senior Warden Teren von Skraedder. I keep track of the provisions around camp, and mend uniforms. Have you any special requirements?"

[scalethewall]

He'd avoided The Camp as long as he possibly could, always finding another pressing matter that he'd had to attend to and running out of time to walk down to the encampment of Grey Wardens. He couldn't avoid it forever though.

Gambeson dry, he was back in the puffy armor with the Grey Warden chest plate secured over top, the shield at his back. Still, he felt nervous. It'd been at least five years since he'd last had contact with a Warden.

"Well met," He offers, inclining his head slightly, "Special...? Uh, no."

iii

[justice_is_blond]

"No apology needed." He'd stiffened at first, certainly, but the apology sounds authentic. The man hadn't bumped him in an attempt at provoking a fight. If so, he wouldn't be smiling now. Anders raises his mug as soon as the other man has his.

"A few in already, I see. You're staying nearby?"

[scalethewall]

"Of course, the night's not exactly young," He says with a friendly smile, though, honestly, it isn't that late either. His stein is returned full and he happily raises it, mirroring Anders, before taking a shallow drink.

"Sure. I have a small setup in the loft of the stables," A smile tugs at his lips again, "What? Worried I won't make it home alright? How very sweet of you." He chuckles in obvious amusement.

iii;

[hlif]

Usually Asher tends to be the one bumping into everyone which is a hazard if you're (1) six-four and (2) drink as much as Asher tends to drink, so the cursing that comes from him tends to come from someone else when his elbow bumps into them. Then again, Asher might get into scrapes but normally he's not fresh from a job that involved an abomination to the ribs, and if a certain pair of spirit healers catch him in need of healing coming out of the tavern, it's not going to end well for him.

"Easy there mate," he manages through gritted teeth right as the world swims out of focus, one hand gripping the bar because he's not going down, he's not. Probably because the only person who could drag him out is of the Vashoth persuasion and he'd never hear the end of it if she had to do that.

[scalethewall]

Mostly focused on when his stein will return full of ale, he wordlessly reassures the stranger with a friendly pat on the shoulder. It's a miracle he notices the man's reaction at all.

"You all right there? I barely touched you," Even sitting down, he has a few inches on Blackwall and certainly has the look of a warrior. He also knew he wasn't nearly drunk enough to be causing accidental injuries. Not yet.

ii!

[unbrokenoath]

Kaisa doesn't approach Blackwall as much as she just kind of suddenly appears behind the training dummy, grinning broadly, and as soon as it looks like he isn't going to smack her with a sword, she dodges around to the front of the training dummy. That she's one of the numerous Wardens that had been popping up is fairly obvious.

Mostly because she's. Wearing Warden armor.

"You're Warden Blackwall!" The enthusiasm matches the grin, and she's even bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I've heard all about you, about how you tried to get the Wardens to go to Fereldan during the Blight and wrote a letter about what an asshat Loghain was, that was kind of hilarious, and I heard that you volunteered to come here and help out! I'm so glad that we've all had some good rep going from the very start, you know? Although things have kind of gotten turned around but honestly I think that's just people being narrow-sighted and not thinking about the bigger picture, but I mean, that's what it is to be a Warden, you know? Anyway, I've heard a bunch about you, so I'm glad to finally meet you."

She pauses for a moment, presumably to take an actual breath, and then sticks out her hand. "Warden Kaisa Daesun! From Fereldan!"

[scalethewall]

The exercises are measured and deliberate, using the dummy mostly just to give him some perspective as he moves through the different techniques. When someone pops up behind the worn practice dummy, he slows to a halt and straightens up, dropping his guard and his sword.

"I am," Her enthusiasm is almost intimidating. He raises an eyebrow at her excited proclamation. "Well-" He makes an attempt at saying something, but ends up nodding as she continues his list of "achievements".

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," He pauses to stick the dull practice sword into the dirt before reaching out to grasp her hand, "When the Inquisitor mentioned that Grey Wardens were under scrutiny for what happened at the Conclave there was no way I couldn't offer to join. It's, um, reassuring to see so many other Wardens have joined as well. How long have you been here?"

stables

[shieldwalls]

Sometimes, Aveline will tire of beating on dummies. Sure, good practice to be had -- all practice is good practice, really. But there's little to no challenge to be had with it after a while. She brushes a strand of hair that had slipped out of place and takes a drink of water as she watches the other man go at the dummies.

Not sure she's ever seen this one -- hardly a surprise given that she'd been here only less than two months now, people come and go often.

She watches, assessing his skill and techniques as she would often do with her guards for a few minutes from her vantage. Hefting the battered Templar shield, Kirkwall guard insignia on her armor blazing in the sunlight, she steps forward.

"Good day, soldier. Could I interest you in a match?"

[scalethewall]

Blackwall straightens up, dropping his guard as he paused to look at the stranger. He definitely didn't know her, but she looked... oddly familiar. Where had he seen a red headed guardswoman like her before? He'd place it... eventually.

"I think, I could be convinced," Unlike her, he wasn't wearing any armor, just the practice shield at the moment, "Long as you aren't going to beat me to a pulp mercilessly like Cassandra does."

He went over to the water pump to get a quick drink, studying her as he did so. Cassandra... "Maker's balls. You're the lass on the front of those books she reads. Uh... or... you know... you look just like her."

Wanders in two weeks late with starbucks to the tarvern

[arsebiscuit]

Sera isn't bumped by Blackwall. In fact, she isn't even bumped by the guy next to him. It's a chain reaction of bumping that finally reaches the tiny elf at the end of the bar. She'd been too busy chatting at a new bar maid (that Bull hadn't gotten yet. She thought) to pay much attention to the world around her, but she did hop up on the bar to tower above the crowd and glare at the source of her bumping-

And let out a happy cross between a cackle and a screech as she saw the bearded root of her ills.

"You!"

better late than never!!!

[scalethewall]

It takes him a moment to realize the 'you!' was directed at him, but the voice was definitely familiar and made him look up to search for the source. Sera gets a beaming smile when he spots her.

"Sera! Maker's Balls, what are you doing on the bar?" As if by magic his full stein is returned to his hand as the bartender passes by, so he can make his way over to where she is.