Sighing from somewhere deep in the chests of the ancestors that would disown him entirely, Yngvi shakes his head.
"You have much to learn about rats and the etiquette or you're going to wake up trussed on one of their tables with a rotting apple in your mouth, them washing their pink little hands waiting for you, eyes in the dark. Might be a while before they get to you, I've heard they had a glut of Templars after everything. Reckon it's the rifters what need to watch where they step on a dark night." Certain dwarves might have reputations for storytelling but Yngvi can do this sort, the kind of thing passed down from the family when you're little and might wander. It doesn't stop you exactly. It just sorts you. That's the point of the exercise. Rats with perfume though, that's an idea there. Might need to go investigate that one at some point if he ever gets away again.
Accustomed to the life he was leading pre-Skyhold, Yngvi rolls up a sleeve that was sliding back down one arm and puts all his effort into snapping the arm. Not the stoutest of dwarven folk but he works with his hands for a living, pries apart traps and mechanisms that for all they're delicate still have teeth and strength in them.
"What, 'm not good enough to enter these hallowed halls?" He's disappointed that his voice doesn't echo, it ruins the drama but it was only ever the Keep that had a real echo going on at all times. "We had other stuff 'sides the lyrium, all sorts of bits and pieces everyone wanted without the merchant's guild tariffs on everything because they'll gouge your eyes out and sell them because most of them are all really Orzammar still. And that's how Orzammar is. Need to be seen to be seen, you get me?"
no subject
"You have much to learn about rats and the etiquette or you're going to wake up trussed on one of their tables with a rotting apple in your mouth, them washing their pink little hands waiting for you, eyes in the dark. Might be a while before they get to you, I've heard they had a glut of Templars after everything. Reckon it's the rifters what need to watch where they step on a dark night." Certain dwarves might have reputations for storytelling but Yngvi can do this sort, the kind of thing passed down from the family when you're little and might wander. It doesn't stop you exactly. It just sorts you. That's the point of the exercise. Rats with perfume though, that's an idea there. Might need to go investigate that one at some point if he ever gets away again.
Accustomed to the life he was leading pre-Skyhold, Yngvi rolls up a sleeve that was sliding back down one arm and puts all his effort into snapping the arm. Not the stoutest of dwarven folk but he works with his hands for a living, pries apart traps and mechanisms that for all they're delicate still have teeth and strength in them.
"What, 'm not good enough to enter these hallowed halls?" He's disappointed that his voice doesn't echo, it ruins the drama but it was only ever the Keep that had a real echo going on at all times. "We had other stuff 'sides the lyrium, all sorts of bits and pieces everyone wanted without the merchant's guild tariffs on everything because they'll gouge your eyes out and sell them because most of them are all really Orzammar still. And that's how Orzammar is. Need to be seen to be seen, you get me?"