faderift | Taint Brigade Potluck Party

WHO: Barty and all the Wardens who can come, and their plus-ones
WHAT: Taint Brigade Potluck Party, bring ur own booze, or don't, whatever
WHEN: Mid-September, a good time for Harvest prices and celebrations
WHERE: The Gallows I guess?
NOTES: language/alcoholic content

The table was not the largest one in the Gallows. The largest table in the Gallows was an enormous monster at which a high dragon might comfortably have dined, and which had once served as the mess for nearly every mage in the place, long ago. That the original table now served as six or so smaller tables subdivided was not relevant to the measurement; once a thing is, even if you cut it into pieces, it remains that thing in the same way that a nickname remains, regardless of objections.

Some things just seem to stick.

Potatoes, for example. A mountain of potatoes, just like the ones whipped into a tall white peak in an enormous bowl at the center of the table. And next to them an equally impressive roast, which was once comprised of two thick-limbed nugs and goose, and which now consists of a platter of neatly separated dark and light meats, crackling with seasoning, and the nug-steaks slightly pink at the center.

There is a cake. It is amateurishly frosted with a griffon in blackcurrant jam. There is a bowl of pudding to rival the mashed potatoes, full of something sweet and whipped and smelling of wild strawberries and cream.

There is booze, oh yes, though only the harsh mushroom-based stuff Barty brews himself, doled out into suitably tiny glasses and arranged in a little crowd of future drunks.

And what did you bring, to the party?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Name: Barty
Dish: Mashed Potatoes, Strawberry-based Ambrosia Pudding, Frosted Griffon Cake, Roast Nug & Goose
Drink: Mushroom Moonshine

Teren walks in the door and stops, immediately narrowing her eyes at the mounds of food everywhere, scrutinizing them carefully until her gaze lands on the shortest silhouette: Barty.

"What," she says flatly, perhaps short for 'what's this' or 'what are you looking at' or even 'what should I eat first', but the answer will be lost to time.

And Barty, who is currently engaged in sitting back and surveying his starch-crowned kingdom gestures with a shot of mushroom moonshine, downs it in a gulp, and salutes Teren with the result.

"Welcome t'you, Miss Teren," He calls, cheerfully, "What we gots here is a good old fashioned pot-luck dinner. You can brings your own foods and drink, and-slash-ors you can just eats your fill. Used to do's this with the gang back in Antiva alls the time; everybody's welcome."

The gang is a totally appropriate way to phrase 'every warden not actively engaged in combat, including the Warden-Commander' right?

She still looks at a bit of a loss, glancing to and fro between items.

"...I haven't got anything," comes the gruff response, possibly even slightly self-conscious. Then, narrowing her eyes, she turns and walks back out without another word.

...only to return about half an hour later with a keg of something or another under her arm, which she plants on the table with her usual no-nonsense aplomb.

"Saveds you a plate," And promptly Barty appears at her elbow, platter in hand and loaded with an esoteric sampler of nearly everything present, "Ooh, what's haves we here?"

Take the plate Teren. It's that or let it splatter across your boots.

"...Well, this is right neighborly ofs you, Teren. Thanks you for joinings us."

"Frostback whiskey," she grunts, and takes the plate without comment. Then, with only a strange look to Barty (he's probably getting used to those by now), she turns to go sit down where she can pick at the contents of the plate like an ominous bird.

Name: Ashen Touisant
Dish: Apples, lemon tart, some very fresh looking rabbit
Drink: N/A; he didn't think to bring any

Arriving at the... Potluck came with a certain edge of uncertainty to it for Ashen. It had been an awkward amount of time since he had been around other Wardens, and he had yet to engage himself with many of the ones here - not by choice, necessarily, but because he was still attempting to make himself some kind of comfortable as part of Riftwatch. He was fighting with that ever-present longing for home (not the high, rolling scape of Orlais but the blissful, quiet mountains and a stern, strong hand in his own -)

He places the apples and the tart he has brought on one table, sliding the rabbit nearby, hovering with some hesitance as he looks left and right, wondering what he ought to do with himself. Dressed down for the occasion, no leathers or daggers in sight, only his Warden sigil around his neck to call him out, he resists the almost overwhelming urge to pace and distract himself with his own intensity, lips pursed and frustration colouring his features completely.

He has never been good at this, and if Bran was here -

Slinking to a corner, Ashen leans against a wall, eyes flicking as he waits to see what kind of people arrive. Perhaps if he had truly followed his heard and become a bard, perhaps if he had not been his mother's son, perhaps...

But all the same, here is here and that is what matters.

"Here, you looks a tad bits ah, nervous, there," Barty interrupts Ashen's pointed lack of pacing with a hearty cup of what he calls mushroom wine, "Drinks that, you'll feel betters in no-time."

It does originate in fungus, of course, but what is in this cup is not wine. It is moonshine. You could polish boots with it. You could kill rats with it. You could drink it instead, and have a very fine night indeed.

"Seen you abouts, and all, but I don't think we've beens introduced. Bartolomeo Bjurnsen, Wa- Ah, Senior Warden," He sniffs at the slip, then takes a sip from his own cup, full of something not water, then offers his hand for a shake, "Out of Orzammar by ways of Antiva. Call me Barty, everyones does."

Name: Inessa Serra
Dish: Fereldan Turnip and Barley Stew, Orlesian fudge platter
Drink: Dandelion wine

The role of cook is usually one given to other people, but Inessa refuses not to contribute. She can follow directions and may have bribed a cook to observe her, just to make sure she wouldn't accidentally poison anyone. The result is a passable stew...which leaves barely enough time to purchase wine and dessert.

She's present on time, minus the mabari who usually shadows her. Garahel would never stop giving people soulful looks every time they took a bite, and Inessa wants people to enjoy a meal guilt-free. (Or hassle-free, if they aren't dog-people.) And though she dresses down, wearing simple mage robes, her Grey Warden sigil is plainly visible around her neck. Even in the Gallows, she doesn't feel comfortable without some sign of her affiliation.

It is wise of her not to being Garahel; Barty cannot resist a soulful eye, nor the temptation to offer companion animals the experience of drunkenness. Best for all that the war-dog stay home.

Best for Inessa that she take this heaping scoop of soft and fruit-smelling dessert that Barty is exchanging her for her load.

"Well hellos to ya there, Miss Inessa! Fine time of day for a nice potlucks dinner, wouldn't you say?" Of course you would. And here is how the buffet should be arranged, apparantly. Welcome to being Managed, Inessa, "How are you, now?"

Taint Brigade Potluck Party

Interact With Barty (ota)

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ashen | ota

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Inessa | OTA (will be slow, sorry)

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