WHO: Melys, Carver, Alistair WHAT: Honoring the fallen by getting hecka drunk WHEN: Nowish WHERE: Kirkwall NOTES: If your character would also participate in Ostagar Anniversary Drinking and we missed you, let me know!
Kirkwall has come far enough in the last thirteen years that a tavern called the Mad Mabari—as clear a signal of Fereldan ownership as you get—can stay in business with minimal vandalism. Its clientele is mainly who you'd expect: former refugees, made insular and proud by years of malignment, and born and bred Kirkwallers there either because it's cheap or because they want an Authentic Fereldan Experience. Strong drinks. Mushy stew. Dog scent so strong it never fades into the background.
Today it's particularly packed, and particularly-particularly packed with Fereldans in their early thirties or older, maybe their spouses and children or maybe not, trading off between singing drinking songs and loudly recollecting the misadventures of friends who have been dead for well over a decade.
Not the most somber memorial.
Alistair wades into it in plainclothes, because he goes nearly everywhere in plainclothes in the city. Wardens make people nervous, either about impending arrival of darkspawn or the impending departure of their best goods and fighting-age children. And whichever familiar face he spots first, he winds up nearby and looking conspiratory.
"If you let me sit with you and pretend to be my friend," he says, "I'll buy your drinks."
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Today it's particularly packed, and particularly-particularly packed with Fereldans in their early thirties or older, maybe their spouses and children or maybe not, trading off between singing drinking songs and loudly recollecting the misadventures of friends who have been dead for well over a decade.
Not the most somber memorial.
Alistair wades into it in plainclothes, because he goes nearly everywhere in plainclothes in the city. Wardens make people nervous, either about impending arrival of darkspawn or the impending departure of their best goods and fighting-age children. And whichever familiar face he spots first, he winds up nearby and looking conspiratory.
"If you let me sit with you and pretend to be my friend," he says, "I'll buy your drinks."
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