[Closed] The Road to Jader ...

[sunshinethroughgrey]

WHO: Bethany Darton, Aleron Darton, Carver Hawke, Fenris, Alistair, and Inessa Serra
WHAT: Looking for the Champion, high and low
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: The fine Orlesian city of Jader, and small town just outside of Jader.
NOTES: Warnings for ...well. The DA2 Crew. You know how these guys are.

For weeks, Bethany Darton had been searching for some hint of her older sister's whereabouts since she had heard about the demise of the Hero of Fereldan. Her determination only mounting when Carver returned home with Dog, she remembered one of Marian's last letters, sent from a trader in Jader. She rounded up some people who were actually willing to track down Marian again, and as soon as she had returned from the Island of Red Lyrium, she gathered them all up and headed down to the docks as quickly as she could manage it, to Jader itself.

Comments

Jader

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Ah, lovely seaside Jader. With it's fine markets, and open shoreline, and almost pleasant speaking Orlesians who are as much interested in Trade and Commerce as to find that coin is a more valuable resource than getting snippy with Fereldans. After the Inquisition ship lands, the small group will be able to meet some of these merchants or in the local taverns to ask questions about whether or not they had seen The Great Champion Marian Hawke....

[lifeofendurance]

Charming, charming Orlesians. They never fail to smile nicely and play nice when it's in their best interest to and disdainful when that also suits. So far, the merchants that Aleron has spoken to have been very interested in selling wares and making coin, hoping that being helpful with this 'looking for the Champion' business will aid in securing a sale. At least, on the surface.

Sneaky snobs that they are, however, they switch to Orlesian when addressing each other. While looking for the Champion is a thrilling tale, they don't actually care beyond convincing 'this Marcher bumpkin to buy something or stop wasting my time.'

Aleron doesn't so much as crack a hint of a smile. But he does lean over slightly and lowers his voice, "How long do I give them before informing them I understand every word they're saying?"

[sunshinethroughgrey]

So very charming. Bethany herself is smiling the smile of someone who has absolutely no idea that people would be saying horrible things about her, oh no, why in the world would they be doing that? She puts one hand on Aleron's arm, her expression giving nothing away as she murmurs back to him.

"Wait until they say something useful and then we can see what we can do about using it to our advantage." Then raising her voice, she spoke as she gently picked up a piece of lace, "Such information is worth it's weight in gold, you know. All things considered. What pretty things you have here ..."

[lifeofendurance]

Aleron nods his agreement, as that's a sensible suggestion, but at the same time he looks uncomfortable. That involves a modicum of deception that isn't a part of his genetic makeup. Diplomacy and lying will never be tools at his disposal.

The distraction of Bethany shopping, whether it's in earnest or not, helps greatly however. He snakes an arm around his pretty wife's waist and leans over to inspect the lace in question. "Do you like it, beloved? Mother says I do not spoil you enough."

Because there's not enough dresses and lace and baubles awaiting them at home already.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

The Orlesians look at one another, then back at the lace in Bethany's hand. She looks directly at them, holding their gaze, "I do rather, my darling. It would look so sweet on Pel's little Sina, and of course I could make something fine for myself and your mother and sisters... I may need yards of it."

She watched them do the calculations in their heads, and then smiled the same sweet smile as they talked about jacking up the proverbial price for the lace - and what little information they had.

She turned that smile to Aleron, "Now you can, dearest."

[lifeofendurance]

Ah it's a good thing Bethany doesn't actually know what they're saying. Aleron has a sneaking suspicion she'd be hopping mad. As it is, he's not all that pleased himself, though his ever neutral expression doesn't give it away. His lack of readability is already frustrating to the merchants. And then he drops the language hammer on them.

"Excusez-moi. Ma femme s'intéresse à la dentelle. Et je m'intéresse à votre 'très petite information'. Combien pour l'information? Je devrais détester décevoir ma belle épouse et devoir passer sur la dentelle."

Their jaws drop in reply and looks of having been caught out are exchanged. Time to calculate their merchandise quickly, or they'll shop elsewhere for the physical goods. Aleron's not about to pay a single copper more than anything is actually worth.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Bethany doesn't need a translator to see how their faces are falling right down. Instead, she simply smiles that dimpled smile of hers, and wraps her hand through Aleron's, tipping her head at the two merchants. Her expression is clearly waiting for them to finish their negotiation.

[lifeofendurance]

This is not how his mother would have handled these merchants, nor any of his sisters. That much is evident from the reactions coming from the pair of merchants. The one is wretchedly unhappy and more than a little embarrassed at being caught out. The other is disappointed and well, a touch angry at what seems like a deception. Or more precisely, being outplayed by someone she was convinced was not a player of the Game. There's some bickering between the two, in Orlesian. Then they angry one flounces to the back room, presumably to calm down though she insists it's to bring forward the totality of their stock in lace. A parting shot is fired, "I hope you intend to spend some coin, ser."

The remaining merchant is still flushed red and stammering, "I do not know much. It is so little it would would be a sin to charge for it. But if your wife would like the lace, I can share what I know." Sly lady. Offering information in exchange for a sale.

Aleron gives Bethany a look, waiting for her affirmation if it's worth it to her or not. Though he doesn't mind spoiling her with whatever pretty items she's found to her liking. "What do you think, dearest?"

[lyriumcarved]

Orlesian isn't a language that Fenris has much experience with, though he has a good ear for picking little things up here and there... Inflections, tones, that sort of thing. That knack had helped him considerably to learn Qunlat, back when he was among those who spoke it all the time. For now, he can only observe, but he definitely is catching plenty of their snobbery in their exchanges.

"Oh, I don't know. I tend to enjoy drawing it out for as long as possible. It makes the payoff all the better when you reveal you understood everything."

[lifeofendurance]

That reply actually coaxes something resembling a touch of a grin out of Aleron the ever lineface-y. He turns his back to the merchants to it's harder still for them to overhear him with his voice lowered.

"They're more interested in making a sale than anything else. Would that I had Mother or one of my sisters here to assist with that." After all, there is only so much leather goods any one person can make use of before it starts to drift into the realm of kink. The Seeker does not do kink. Ravonild on the other hand? No, he'd just as soon not even entertain that line of thought.

[lyriumcarved]

"Maybe that would have helped. Their buying something might have made one of these merchants more willing to talk."

He hopes that's not what it comes to, having to just buy something for the sake of making the merchants warm up to them, but, well, maybe there's some other tactic they haven't thought of yet. There really is... so much leather... and Fenris gets the idea that they really do cater here to people of a very, very specific taste.

"Do they seem to be withholding information or do they really know nothing? That's the real question." It's a bit hard to tell from their tones alone.

/puts both guys in a suddenly uncomfortable situation haha

[lifeofendurance]

"I would venture they know nothing more than she browsed their wares. And that if they thought for a moment what she did or did not buy would make them a sale, they would pounce on it like a cat on a mouse." Aleron gives them another long look, not even attempting to pretend that he's interested in shopping. Doing so backfires spectacularly.

The sales clerk loops around from behind, assessing these foreigners who are talking and looking but not buying. One is married and the other a knife-ear. Probably a manservant of some sort. Or a married man with a shrew of a wife and certain tastes. It's not unheard of and if it makes coin, who are they to judge?

"Messere? Have you found something to your liking? Maybe something for your friend?" A look is shot at Fenris and clearly the clerk is angling for more information.

Does Aleron look mildly stunned at the implication? Because he cannot believe his ears and just stares blankly as a reply, uncertain he's hearing what he thinks he's hearing.

ahahahaHAHA!!! YESSSS.

[lyriumcarved]

It also takes Fenris a moment to register just what had been said. He'd been expecting them to carry on in Orlesian, after all, to continue snubbing them and not suggest anything such as... such as...

"Just what do you think you're implying?" Fenris asks, in the cool tone of someone who definitely knows exactly what's being implied and is less than enthused to hear it. His dark eyebrows shift downward in to an expression of aggravation, as he watches the sales clerk, almost daring them to answer that. It definitely wouldn't be the first time he was mistaken for something he's not, and unfortunately, he knows well that it won't be his last.

[unshadowing]

Why. Why did it have to be Orlais? What was wrong with Marian?

At the very least, there aren't as many sneers as Carver was anticipating, so he's a bit more relaxed as he speaks with the local merchants. For once, he actually tosses his name around much more than usual, hoping to spark something. Most know of it, but only a handful mention something about the Champion coming through, some time back. Nothing definitive, but it's... something, he supposes. At least they're on her trail.

Still, he's a bit frustrated by the time he walks away from the eleventh? Twelfth? merchant he's spoken to. "And Orlesians continue to be entirely unhelpful."

[circleprodigy]

"Perhaps we ought to have brought an Orlesian with us. They might have responded better to one of their own, not some Fereldans with mabari." Inessa remarks dryly, as she gives Garahel a comforting pat. The mabari seems a little put out that those they've met haven't been dog-lovers. He won't be down for long, though, perking up hopefully with each person they pass.

[byblow]

"I can do the accent," Alistair offers as he comes up behind them. He doesn't have a mabari, either, and if he looks enormously and unmistakably Fereldan—well. That's not his fault. His mother was Orlesian, but somehow it didn't help.

He is serious about the accent, however, and proves it by sliding into said accent for his continued rambling:

"I cannot do upper class Orlesian accents, or whatever it is the Marsh people speak, but Jader is not so difficult. It has changed hands so any times that everyone sounds like a Fereldan attempting an Orlesian accent." He catches all the way up—all the better to elbow Carver in the ribs. Not too hard. Alistair cares about Marian Hawke a great deal, and the longer they go without word of her the worse it is, but he's not her sibling. It has to be worse for them. If he can keep their chins up—or make them angry instead of sad, sure, whatever—then he will. "Try it."

shhh no one that saw. nope.

[unshadowing]

Poor Garahel. He's with you on that one, buddy. Orlesians have no taste. "It does sort of loudly proclaim 'ensemble of dog lords, coming through'. Still, we have coin, and that should be all that concerns them." At least they're not turning them away, which is something.

Alistair gets a cocked eyebrow, followed by something akin to horror in his expression as Alistair keeps talking. Maker, why. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS ALISTAIR. WHY ARE YOU SLAUGHTERING YOUR HERITAGE-

Okay but in all seriousness, he's not sure he wants to know why Alistair can wing an Orlesian accent. "Maker's breath, I'm not gonna ask anyone to have to try a bloody Orlesian accent. I'm not cruel." The elbow to the ribs is met with a congenial side-eyed look. "You don't want to hear me try it. Trust me, it's bad."

[circleprodigy]

Hearing Alistair, Inessa's lips twitch. She shakes her head, amused as she is by his talent for a Jader accent. "I...think it's safest for all that I not make an attempt, but I approve of your own attempt. Between that and the coin Carver mentioned, we might manage a little success. Either that or people will pay us to leave." That still counts for something, as long as they get answers.

[byblow]

"Cowards," Alistair accuses, still sounding born and bred in Jader—so like Riordan, which only doesn't cause a pang of sadness if he doesn't think about it. "It isn't like making a face. Your voice won't be stuck this way."

Whereas the face thing is definitely true.

"No one's ever paid me to leave," he goes on. And he does have experience. He can wing an accent because Ferelden kicked him out twelve years ago, and where was he supposed to go? Antiva? Too warm. Too assassiny. Orlais is at least somewhat less assassiny. "I'd have capitalized on that if they did. Maybe now that there are dogs involved..."

[lyriumcarved]

No luck so far. Fenris is close to giving up on the taverns when he spots one more, a little out of the way from where most of the others seem to be clustered. Well, fine. Maybe he'll get some answers here. If nothing else, this has been an excuse to sample the wines they have. Orlesians make some fine wines, he'll give them that.

He sits at the bar, placing an order for something he has yet to try, listening to the conversations going on around him. Someone sitting nearby is boasting about... well, damn near everything. Soon enough, the boasting man starts talking about this and that person they've met, who are all supposedly famous in some way. Orlesians. It's typical. Now there's a fitting place to start asking questions if he ever saw one, though.

"What about the Champion of Kirkwall? I heard she's even been here recently."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

The man looks up, and puffing out his chest some, states proudly, "Well as a matter of fact, I did meet her last year. I bumped into her on her way from the marketplace, and back to her inn out of town. She said 'Excuse me', nice as you please."

[lyriumcarved]

"Did you?" That definitely catches his interest, and now Fenris is seriously hoping he's on to something here. It could all be a lie, of course, more boasting, but he's hoping for otherwise. Maker knows they need to catch a break here. "What did she look like? Can you describe anything else about the encounter?"

[sunshinethroughgrey]

"Yes I did - are you calling me a liar, k -- " and then he realizes just how well armed this particular elf is with a gigantic weapon on his back and switches swiftly to - "- kindly stranger."

Keeping a wary eye on the odd ... Dalish? he frowns and states, "Well - she had dark hair, cut short, with the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. Red streak across her nose. Uh - she appeared to be quite drunk?"

[lyriumcarved]

Well, it does sound a bit like her, from the physical description, and... well, let's face it, how many nights had they spent in the Hanged Man, their party in various states of inebriation? The red streak matches up too. So all in all, it's a plausible sounding description.

Fenris nods, satisfied enough with that answer that the man knows what he's talking about. "That could be her," he tries to keep his cool, still wanting to seem... not overeager, almost as if he's playing an intense game of cards. "Did she say anything, or do anything else? Even an offhand remark of some sort?"

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Too many to count, all of them would say, and Varric would Grin that Grin and Isabela would leer ... enjoy those memories, Fenris.

"I. Ah. Well. She did ... she did say she was staying out of town. Just - just came in to get the local color. She said she hadn't planned on stopping here but - ah - here we are?"