faderift | OPEN: this will be a better year

OPEN: this will be a better year

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: First Day
WHEN: Wintermarch 1 (forward-dated)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scouts from both the Western Approach and Emprise du Lion are welcome (but not required) to have returned to Skyhold in time for this event.

There have been better First Day feasts, and less crowded ones, and cheerier ones. It isn't a good year for many to look back on, and this one isn't starting any better. Reports from both Eastern and Western Orlais are grim. Many in the Inquisition can't afford to take more than a few hours away from their work, if that.

But for those who can, the ambassador does her best. At lunchtime some tables, hot food, and finery are reserved for visiting nobility and wealthy pilgrims--cause for grumbling in some quarters, perhaps, but they're the people filling the Inquisition's coffers, and allowances must be made--but there's plenty of stew, bread, and ale for everyone, even with the soldiers and refugees who stay outside the fortress invited inside for the holiday. The recently repaired garden and its carefully tended plants aren't off limits, but anyone noisy and holding a drink will be stopped at the door; the battlements, with their potential for deadly falls, are blocked by Inquisition guards. But the courtyards brim with people, most of them happy despite the possibility that the world might end before another First Day arrives.

If the courtyards are too full of tipsy visitors for comfort, there's also the valley beyond the fortress, expansive, barren, and covered in snow. By the river the soldiers help the refugees make a bonfire larger than would ever be allowed inside Skyhold's walls, and some lend their shields to use as sleds down the embankments. A group of scouts start the most intense game of hide and seek Thedas has ever seen, with snowballs to the face for whoever is found first. In the camp, a refugee girl with her hand wrapped in a green scarf chases other children around the tents, shouting raaar, I'm from the rifts!

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"I'm glad to hear that too," Taas says softly, and he means it. Alayre was a good man, someone the Inquisition needed. All the templars here seemed the good kind, to be honest. Better than any of the crazed bastards he'd seen on the roads, just out to murder and destroy.

The qunari follows the other man's gaze towards the bonfire and smiles as well. "A united Skyhold. I like the sound of that. Let's kick some ancient darkspawn ass!"

Surely Alayre comes across as "too good" at the very least in the eyes of some. Not many are willing to a Celt the notion of there being earnest Templars amongst that legion of rapid dogs. Too many seem convinced that the only good Templar is a dead one and that shouldn't be the case.

Then again, the people mentioned are typically Mages screaming the words "Injustice" more often than they should. They scream it so often that they often seem as rapid as their alleged oppressors. Quite the irony there.

" Eager for us to wage our war against the Darkspawn, are you?" This truly makes Alayre grin. "As am I! I merely desire for Skyhold face then as a united force and be done with these brutes. The Order certainly will paint our swords black with Darkspawn blood."

"Damn right I am! Demons, ancient magister darkspawn, a possible old god? I'm all for that." In truth, it did wig him out a little - but hey, he left the Qun so he could continue fighting. What better way to keep sticking it to them but fighting something like that?

It would be glorious.

"How are you getting along with the new templars that arrived recently?" The warrior then adds, eyeing the other man.

A light-hearted smirk settles upon his lips as he regards Taashath. The proud qunari is honestly a refreshing man to speak with in these somewhat stressful times. Alayre is just as eager for battle as he is, but his eagerness is tempered with worries. Only the Maker knows what awaits them and Alayre is fretful of what may transpire. He had to be given the title he wields now. Between himself and Cullen, Alayre wields unfathomable sway here now in Skyhold as a representative of the Order.

"This sounds something likened to a novel from the way you put it." Alayre states with a chuckle. "Us fighting Darkspawns and deities both? Goodness, we'll be immortalized as heroes for generations to come once we seize victory." There's confidence behind his words despite his worries.

"Ah, so you've heard." Alayre glances up at Taashath again. "All seems well so far and I welcome my brothers and sisters with open arms. It's just merely a shame that Knight-Commander Baratheon is no longer amongst us."

He's a bit quiet for a moment, enjoying the easy comfort around the Knight-Commander. They'd been comrades for a while now, after all, and sparring with the man had been an experience he was eager to try again.

All good things for a qunari friendship.

"Whatever happens, I'm pretty sure it will end up in the history books, so why not be making a mark and be sure to at least get a footnote in?

He starts chuckling a bit at his joke, but there's a bit of a frown on his features when Alayre mentions Baratheon. He sighs. "Yeah. He was kind of a grouchy bastard, but I liked him."

Joke or not, Taashath certainly has a good point. It's too late for Alayre to get cold feet now that he's helping herald this new age. He might as well see his obligations to Thedas through and hopefully gain someplace in history as one of those who aided in progress.

"If history's scribes care to remember me, I certainly hope they let me write my own biography." A faint chuckle ensues. Alayre's sense of humor is still intact.

"Wasn't he?" He says in reference to the former Knight-Commander. "He had his reasons for his unfriendliness but still, he was quite the asset." Alayre explains. "I fear the Inquisition is still not quite ready for combat yet, a fear I shared with Baratheon when he was present." The Templar takes up a pensive expression now.

"Training is one thing but morale is another. The Inquisition isn't acting as a whole yet but I digress on matters I cannot readily change yet. I should just focus on myself first."

Suddenly, a grin appears upon Alayre's lips as he glances at Taashath. "With that said, I do believe I owe you another spar, friend."

"Ah, the troubles of a hero. I wonder if the Champion of Kirkwall ever got to read the book before it was published." He smiles again, knowing full well that if there was ever any positive mention of him in any history books, it would probably not include the fact that he was qunari.

Listening to Alayre, he then shrugs at the mention of the combat readiness. "I don't think I agree with you there. These soldiers are doing damn well, and saving the world is a really good motivator for working together as one. We could take on an average army by now. Maybe even win." They'd take losses, but they had an impressive team of scouts, soldiers, templars and mages. What other army could say the sported that kind of variety?

"...fuck yes. I'd love to take you on again." He adds, beaming.

"You think so..?"

There's a hint of disbelief in his tone as he questions Taashath. Maybe his opinion of the Inquisition is too negative. They do have an impressive slew of Mages, Templars, Scouts and everything else under the sun. However, there's not much unity amongst them but maybe that's what makes them unique.

"I think...you might be onto something." Alayre says with a thoughtful hum. "Food for thought."

A smirk dances upon his lips once Taashath accepts his invitation. Another contest of steel and blades is about to begin anew. Alayre is more than thrilled about dueling him again.

"Very well. Let us quit this place and head towards the open fields. There's too many drunkards lingering around the courtyard. " He's not lying about that.

Food for thought, indeed.

Grinning, he walks with the Knight-Commander to find a better place to clash their blades. He didn't have his axe around for the party or much armor, but it's only a brief detour to grab his weapon and catch up with Alayre.

The human wasn't wearing armor either, so he forgoes his own for a nice steel against flesh vibe. That meant he just had to avoid any skull smashes like last time.

Shrugging off the large bear fur, he weighs his axe a few times and then nods. "I'm ready when you are!"

The eagerness in Taashath's reply doesn't escape Alayre's notice. He chuckles when the bodyguard rushes off to find his axe. The Templar has a habit of always being armed even when outside of his usual armor. It's mostly habit but some of it is paranoia. You just never know when something will go wrong.

"Ah, ready now?" Alayre questions once Taashath returns. He's secretly grateful of Taashath's willingness to forgo armor for now. It would take Alayre too long to get dressed in armor right now. Therefore, the two best be careful with their sharp and pointy objects lest risking a limb or worse.

"Let us begin! Come at me!"

"Damn right! The qunari bellows, grinning widely as he steadies himself, moving his axe loosely in his hands to limber up. This time, he charges without that deafening roar, knowing that it wouldn't be a surprise anymore to Alayre.

Instead, he goes for the offensive this time, using brute force to slam towards the templar and those quick double blades, knowing speed wasn't in his favor. Overwhelming the other man would have to be his defense.

Alayre manages to nimbly whirl out of the way of Taashath's surprising charge with a well-timed side step. The qunari might be able to tell already that Alayre is slightly faster than before due to the lack of armor by a second or two. The Templar viscously parries Taashath's axe briefly against the heavier blade of his ice sword before attempting to dart towards the qunari's side to strike at his left with his smaller sword.

The Melody Moon has no known effects enchanted to it yet but it still has a nasty bite. It's in Alayre's best interest to keep close to Taashath so the man cannot smack him with that axe. Trying to play the distance game with a man doubled his height and with a longer reach will be the death of him. Alayre must be within close quarters to strike quickly and hard.

He knows the speed and the sting of those blades by now, and sidesteps to get out of range just in time. There's a dance of Alayre trying to get close and Taas keeping him far apart, using his longer reach to switch from defense to offense.

They had sparred once like this, and he's not about to make the same mistakes. That's how you ended up dead.

he was stronger, Alayre was faster. It had to even out somewhere - and then he could push through it.

This is a deadly game they play.

Something about dueling Taashath with a prospect of possibly getting maimed excites Alayre. His blood is pumping through his veins, his heart is beating erratically and he could feel the sweat pooling upon his brow as he narrowing avoids that incoming axe. He's literally dancing around this behemoth of a man while attempting to get close enough to strike.

Eventually, Alayre almost does just that when he thrusts the smaller blade forward. Keyword there being almost. As soon as the Templar extends to strike, Alayre finds himself precariously too close to Taashath's axe for comfort. In fear of possibly losing an limb, Alayre nimbly rolls to the right and springs back up on his feet quickly like a hare. He takes up a defensive stance now and keeps his gray eyes upon that accursed axe.

Taashath has the upper hand here. Alayre is being cautious now.

Taas slows his axe a bit when the templar nearly gets caught in the swing, but he heaves it back again when Alayre withdraws out of his range. That was close! For all the enjoyment and adrenaline that pumped through his veins, he didn't want to seriously hurt his... well, friend, wasn't it?

Just a bit of bleeding, however? Part of the game. He still had the thing scar where one of those blades had scratched him last time.

The fact that he has the upper hand doesn't mean he's losing his cool, having been in far too many battles to give into excitement quite yet. Alayre was far too quick for him, even when defending, and he doesn't want to lose his head when he was in a good stance.

Swinging his axe, he lets go of the haft halfway with one hand to aim a surprise punch as well.

Alayre couldn't figure out a way how to break Taashath guard and the frustration shows upon his face. His brows are furrowed down and his gray eyes fiercer than ever before. Sweat slowly slid down his brow and the loud drumming of his heart blocked out all sound. Alayre has never been this sorely tested by anyone until now. He's grateful for this feeling of adrenaline racing through his veins and for the slight hint of trepidation that follows.

When Taashath swings that massive axe again, Alayre darts over with a piercing strike aimed at the qunari's side. He's fast, too fast. The Templar must've found his second wind for he's daring to get close against this behemoth again. However, the sudden punch totally catches him in surprise. Alayre let's out a grunt when Taashath punches him square in the nose. The Templar whirls out of the way of that swinging axe on instincts alone and lingers on the side. Drops of crimson dots the ground as Alayre wipes off the blood upon the back of his hand.

Straight hit, and this was why fighting dirty saved your life.

Taas withdraws a bit to make sure Alayre was okay. he had pretty much felt the cartilage bend under his fist. "Shit, I've almost broken your nose twice, now. Or did I manage this time?" Speak to him, buddy. He's not going to attack again until he's sure the templar was in (mostly) one piece.

There's nothing like a swift punch to the nose to make you come to a screeching halt. Alayre lets out a pained gasp as he tries to stop his nose from leaking crimson. He wouldn't be so injured if he hadn't literally charged right into that jab. Taashath nailed him perfectly like a hammer to the face. Alayre is actually having difficulties breathing now and with good reason since Taashath indeed broke his nose.

"Y-You thrashed me quite good!" Alayre lets out an agonized laugh as he drops to his knee. "A little too good but I'll live." He'll live, of course. However, this duel has met it's end. The Templar stabs his swords into the ground and forgets them as he tries to ease the pain with little avail.

"Ah, shit... come here." Taas puts down his axe and walks over to the templar, reaching down without warning to grasp the bleeding nose and twist it right. If he could do that, at least Alayre could breathe better.

"Let's see if the healers can but some elfroot on that, it should help heal it nice and straight," the qunari continues, clapping his friend on the back.

It took all of Alayre's willpower not to scream when Taashath brutally snaps his nose back into place. The agony left him a tad speechless except for a few whimpers. Once the pain subsides, Alayre playfully swats Taashath's arm.

"Oh, if I end up with a hawkish beak of a nose, I'm going to return the favor." He jokes as he gladly walks with Taashath.

"Hah, you think my nose looks like this naturally? Already way ahead of you, friend."

He keeps a close eye on the templar to make sure Alayre was managing as he took the man to the first available healing tent. Looking a bit sheepish, he wiped some of the man's nose blood from his hand.

"Sparring accident."

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OPEN: this will be a better year

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