faderift | ( open ) one shitlord arrives

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( open ) one shitlord arrives

WHO: Antonio Stark and you
WHAT: Arrival in Skyhold
WHEN: 16 Harvestmere
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: n/a

Gates
Most people of a certain level of wealth and/or nobility would have sent word ahead of their arrival to make sure the Inquisition would have been suitably prepared for someone of their standing. Antonio did no such thing, he found it much more amusing to watch people scramble. Instead he and his retinue rode up to the gates with no fanfare other than the spectacle he naturally was. Dressed in the finest and latest of Antivan styles he instantly stands out from his well-equipped, but far more modestly dressed guards.

"I thought this place would be bigger."

He climbs off his horse and walks away leaving the care of the horse to his retinue. He's got bigger things to do like waving over the first person he sees.

"Hey you. Come here!"

Tavern
While he had someone off securing accommodations and other little details he didn't care to know of, Antonio decided to pass the time with a bit of alcohol. His guards watch unobtrusively from the sides while he stands to his full-not-so-impressive height with a small crowd around him. Approaching makes it clear why he's attracted a crowd.

"Five gold coins to the person with the best story! Come on, who thinks they'll get lucky today."

Although it was even odds that everyone walked away with heavier pockets or he changed his mind and decides he's not interested any more.

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The news about some newly arrived Antivan noble had been causing quite a stir in Skyhold today, but such news really didn't have much effect on Bruce - nobles were always a group of people that never made sense to him for the most part. Thedas was still in danger and most of them tended to just continue with their gossip and play their Games or whatever. It's as if they didn't care at all what would happen.

No point wasting energy being annoyed about it though. It wasn't his business anyway.

What was his business right now, instead, were the elfroots in the garden. The batch he had helped to plant with Cyril not too long ago needed some looking over for some reason or another, and Bruce had just attended to that. With that done he steps back into the hall, the door swinging shut behind him as he takes a moment to wipe off the sweat from his brow. Despite the relative coolness of the place, working under the sun for a few hours always did cause him to work up a bit of a sweat.

Edited 2016-10-16 09:35 (UTC)

There were a surprising number of familiar faces in Skyhold. He'd done business with a decent number of the people hanging around and that meant having to stop for small talk every now and then, although he easily ditched them if he felt himself lose interest.

He just finishes extricating himself from another tedious (and clingy) conversation when the side door opens and Bruce walks in. Antonio doesn't even notice him at first, more concerned with smoothing out his clothes and wiping his hands than one dirty mage among far too many.

Bruce doesn't notice the other either, mostly since there are always nobles loitering around this area for some reason he can never truly fathom. Maybe nobles had a preference for large halls for some reason - Bruce certainly didn't at any rate.

What he did prefer right now was some quiet time back in his tent before hie round of patients later. He starts to make his way, mind so focused on his tasks for later that he doesn't quite notice where he's going until he bumps into a person by complete accident.

"Sorry--" he quickly begins to apologize, but then pauses when he looks at the person he just bumped into and pauses because--because there was something about him that was incredibly familiar. There was just something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Whatever annoyed insult Antonio was ready to throw is forgotten as he sees who bumped into him. Unlike Bruce, there was no way he could ever have mistaken the other man. He had to hope Bruce wouldn't recognise him when he wasn't grubby and unshaven. That was far too much information for one person to have on him.

"Watch it." He sneers and looks away. He has to get out of there right now. He pushes past and starts to walk away, willing himself not to look back.

He has to figure out what Bruce is doing here and make sure he never finds out who he is.

Once the surprise passes by the recognition settles in, and Bruce finds himself rooted to the spot for several moments. That was him, wasn't it? Even though he looked very different when he was all cleaned up now, he was pretty certain of who he had just seen. That was--

He moves before he even thinks about it, hurrying to close the distance between them, reaching out to grab his shoulder once he's close enough. "Rhodey, is that you?"

Eirlys is heading across the courtyard, having just finished her shift in the healing tents and planning on getting something to eat, when she hears Antonio call her over. She cocks her head to one side curiously as she approaches, wondering what he could want.

"Who, me?"

Obviously Garahel thinks Antonio should be talking to him, since the mabari darts ahead of Inessa, wagging his tail happily and circling around him, letting out a friendly woof. Pet him? He's a good boy, right?

The slight, pale woman in Grey Warden armor steps forward, eyebrow arched. Her expression is more curious than warm, not exactly accustomed to random people ordering her about, but nor is it hostile. He's obviously new, so she can spare a little time, at least for directions.

"Yes? What do you need?"

Considerably taller, Korrin stands to her full height upon going to the bar for a refill. She's been here for a while, but the alcohol has yet to make any visible effect on her, aside from perhaps a touch of mellowness. Flashing a smirk, she snags her tankard back and heads over.

"I'll give it a shot. If there's one thing my company's good for it's gaining more stories than you know what to do with. Any rules for this 'best story' or just whatever?"

"What kind of story are you looking for, Ser?" Lucci balanced upon his hip, Zevran sauntered over, smile rakish, head held high, and tone thoroughly dramatic. Just behind one of his Kestrels strummed a mandolin in appropriate accompaniment. Drama. Antivans did so adore it. "Something true? Something sad? Something with swashbuckling action or a tragic romance? Perhaps something sultry and fantastic? Or perhaps something that is all these things and more might satisfy you."

A rich man with guards? Offering gold for stories? Anders doesn't think he can give what the man will think of as the best one... but he's being given a chance to tell a story to someone who clearly has a lot of means and likely a comfortable life. There's no reason to not give it a shot.

Anders wanders over, purple robes swishing around him, and takes a seat.

"And what sort of a story would you like to hear? I've no idea what your taste runs to."

Antonio tenses at the contact, grateful that his guards were waiting outside for once.

"Shut up." He looks around to see if anyone heard that. While there's a few people who might be watching them, it doesn't look like anyone heard that.

"Don't say anything and follow me." He steps back out through the door Bruce just came through without waiting or looking to see if he'll follow.

"Am I looking at anyone else?" Antonio crosses his arms and taps his feet impatiently as she walks up to him.

He's only marginally taller than her, but he acts as if he's at least a feet taller and certainly like she has little to offer.

"Where do all the people like you stay?" Oddly enough, he means in terms of social standing rather than racial. He doesn't care enough to be abrasive in the right way.

It's a dog, jumping around and trying to slobber all over him. He leans away from it and nudges it with his foot to get it to stop and go away.

"A place for my guys, but I'll settle for getting your dog far away from me."

He's clearly uncomfortable with anything this far into his personal space.

If he's disconcerted by the Qunari towering over him, Antonio doesn't let it show as he looks up at her.

Technically her boobs since he doesn't even reach there.

"Bonus points if it'd scandalise a Revered Mother. Although a Qunari already has that one down easily."

"Garahel, come here." Whatever her opinions on those who do not cherish the company of mabari, and they exist, Inessa won't force his presence on someone. Garahel whines softly, but obeys, tail still wagging a little.

"You might wish to speak to Ambassador Montilyet regarding accommodations, though I believe private rooms are scarce and often reserved for visiting dignitaries. I cannot say how many are currently available, if indeed there are any. Otherwise, the barracks behind the castle might have room or...as you see." She gestures to the tents in the courtyard, people basically snagging whatever room they can manage.

Oh a fellow countryman.

Antonio makes a show of inspecting his nails as if disinterested. In truth, he already had high hopes from the level of drama this elf was already displaying.

"So you think you're the one to satisfy me? Make me swoon."

Only one type of person wears stupid robes and they were the people who could kill him with their mind if he pointed out how stupid their robes were. Why would anyone constantly wear dresses all the time?

"No magic stories, funny or raunchy is better, but I'll take anything that'll entertain me. And please take that off, purple is not your colour."

Okay so the possibility of being set on fire was not actually enough to stop him from speaking his mind.

Ah, this game. This familiar and all the more joyful for it dance. Zevran presses his position, the mandolin strummed with a flourish as he steps from floor to stool to stand upon a table, half cape swirling as he stamps down a heel to cut through the chatter of the tavern.

A solid crack from his well made Antivan (but of course) leather boots and he has space to speak. "Of course, Bello mio, no one else can compare and you know it to be true."

The confusion lasted for a few seconds longer on Bruce's end. What was with his reaction? And the way he looked now, all washed up and the clothes he was wearing--

--was he actually a noble?

...that did make a lot of sense, now that he thought about it. It would certainly explain a lot of the peculiarities back then. And considering their situation then it would make sense why he wouldn't have talked about it. But now...

Questions swirled in his mind, some of this Bruce felt he needed answers first before proceeding. So he follows Rho--the noble, heading right back out into the garden. There were a fair number of people here - the Chantry sisters had situated themselves here after all - but it was easy enough to eke out a small corner for themselves where people would notice them if they looked hard enough.

"I like the way you think." Korrin snickers at that. Boob weight is whatever, she won't care unless he makes a big show of staring. "And yeah, I tend to do that just by existing. I'm a member of the Valo-Kas company, full of heathen Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth. We tend to stay the fuck away from Chantries and Chantry-folk, unless they've been assholes and we want to make them uncomfortable."

What, a little looming is good for putting the fear of the Maker into them.

"It's not a long one, but I remember the time when we were forced to seek shelter thanks to this storm and came upon an abandoned Chantry. It was in decent repair and that's really all we could ask for. We settled in for the night, when we began hearing odd noises off the main room, in those tiny cells that aren't fit for living spaces. Shokrakar kicks the door open, prompting screaming from two very nude people inside...well, nude except for those distinctive Chantry hats.

As it turns out from a little questioning, they weren't Chantry people at all, they just liked to sneak off and, uh, roleplay. I guess even bad weather isn't much of an obstacle, if you're horny enough. We would have sent them off, but the storm was getting worse so they had to stay put.

To make things a little less awkward, we passed around some maraas-lok, which if you don't know, is qunari hooch renowned for its potency and really nothing else. So, we sat around, got blind drunk with the pair, and passed out in the main hall until morning. Upon which the Chantry was increasingly less abandoned, because a small group of holy folk on a pilgrimage showed up. Things got awkward all over again, but those kids saved our asses by pretending to be Chantry folk 'taking in these poor souls from the storm'. It probably worked for all of five minutes, but that was long enough for us to haul ass out of there, before they sent guards to arrest us for trespassing."

"What, strip naked in the tavern? I would, but then no one would ever sleep with you again and I'd hate to do that to someone I've just met."

He can meet snark with snark, though he settles down comfortably enough. Nate likes this on him. He's going to keep wearing it.

"No magic, though. You've just eliminated some of the very best stories there are. Especially considering the pranks one can get up to with it. But some aren't... enlightened... when it comes to its possibilities, so I'll give you something else." But what is there that doesn't have any magic in it? That's almost everything he knows. ...Wait. He can tell a story that isn't about himself.

"I know a woman, tall, stern, strict, fights with a sword and shield, who fell for someone she worked with. Now, most people, when they wind up interested in someone, tell them. Flowers work, things with some clear sentiment behind them as well. She chose to have a mutual friend give the man copper marigolds."

He pauses to let that sink in. "When the man didn't clue in, she considered goats and sheafs of wheat. Because when I think romance, I think wheat. We dissuaded her from that idea, so she sent our mutual friend to talk with him. And he thought our friend was hitting on him. After all, the friend was giving him things and meeting with him... though thankfully we worked through that and arranged a nice, long walk on a nearby beach."

A beat. "Very long. Hours long, as we dealt with wandering bandits in the area and sometimes came and eavesdropped on their conversation. He didn't clue in. Because she couldn't manage to tell him. He was half-convinced she was looking to fire him, in fact. So finally our friend blurted out that she was interested in him, almost getting a punch in the process, and then they started courting. Wheat. Goats and wheat, truly icons of romance."

He's just about done with cleaning up and putting everything away after his sword practice when he hears someone calls out. It's honestly curiosity that has him looking over shoulder at 'hey you', though he pauses when it actually does appear to be someone motioning to him.

Raising a brow he waits for a moment to see if he was indeed being the one motioned at. It certainly looks like it is. Sam hums thoughtfully to himself at that, grabbing his shirt from off the fence and working it over his head as he walks over.

"Can I help you?" he offers, figuring this was someone new seeing as he doesn't recognize the face.

No preamble, no asking what kind of stories, Church just rolls up his sleeves and sits on the edge of a table. Not in a seat like a normal fucking person, no, because this requires a little more than just sitting around.

"So me and my guys are shooting the shit where we're parked, a snowy, icy hell hole. Jimmy's talking about his girl back home, y'know, we're milling around, cuz there's fucking nothing there but snow, and snow, and more snow. Not super unlike here," he says with a thumb over his shoulder, because these mountains are nothing but god damn snow. "Nothing weird, but Jimmy stops in the middle and looks a little spooked. I ask him what's up, he says he thought he saw something. Just something, real descriptive, right? But there is, I say it again, nnnnothing out there, so we keep talking."

Nice pause, now drop the beat. "And all of a sudden, across the way, one of the guys just starts freaking out." Here's where his vigorous hand gestures are gonna start coming into play. "He's shooting off and yelling, and then he just-" smack "-drops, right dead in the snow." He's treating it like a ghost story. "And then the next guy closer to us starts freaking out, and then drops. And the next. Everyone's getting spooked because they're seeing something we're not, and whatever it is is killing them. By the time you heard or saw anything, it was already too late--so when we hear the faint crunch of snow, and see a blurry not quite there pocket of air, we know we're done for. Jimmy just starts screaming as this black armored figure appears where that off pocket of air was, kicking his ass like nothing, until it rips out his skull and beats him to death with it. When he drops, they just fade back into invisibility, and left me, the only one of my squad still alive."

He lets that hang in the air for a few moments. "So that was the first time I saw my ex-girlfriend after we'd broken up."

"I have one!" Yael was naturally soft-spoken, and were she anyone else the crowd would probably barrel right over her and keep talking. However, people tended to shut up when a large Qunari wanted to speak, so they quieted enough for her to get her story in.

"We were up north a bit, in Nevarra," she began.

Edited 2016-10-18 03:00 (UTC)

Benevenuta doesn't need five gold coins. Nor does she look as if she needs five gold coins; severe in shades of silver and grey, she is nevertheless too finely dressed to mistake for anything but the gently-bred thing that she is. (And, to those familiar with the Mortalitasi and the freedoms they enjoy in Nevarra, she is very obviously of their ilk - but without a staff in her hand and dressed in a gown that plunges down her sternum beneath a fur-trimmed coat that is her concession to 'being on a mountain', that she's a mage is less obvious to the layman.)

However.

She is in the mood to share a story. One that she might have shared at the wake, if she'd been ready - it's a good story.

"A little more than a year ago, now," she says, thoughtful, "I traveled here from Nevarra. It is a difficult journey. Indeed; I set out from Nevarra City with an entourage, and I arrive here only myself. Somewhere in between these two places - near to Skyhold - I am a lady alone on the road, further from my home than ever I have been before, and I meet a Warden."

A brief pause. Does she have his attention?

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( open ) one shitlord arrives

i pick option c

delete it

too late its here forever

why are you the way you are

because you made me this waaaay

Gates

Gates

Tavern

Tavern

Tavern

stop dragging me into your cliches!!!

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i didn't mean for it to become a cliche, it just happened

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Gates

Tavern

tavern

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