I've got my kit bag, my heavy boots

[hlif]

WHO: Asher Hardie; open
WHAT: Asher arrives in Skyhold, John Cena's theme plays in the distance
WHEN: mid-late Wintermarch; feel free to just bump into him later than his arrival
WHERE: Skyhold, by the healing tents and the stables but if you want to wildcard bumping into him then go for it
NOTES: language most likely, if you'd like to assume past CR then hit me up.

The rest of the Boneflayers make for the tavern almost immediately, a collection of rogues and one annoyed mage abandoning their leader with a pouch of coin to leave Asher alone, just through the main gates of Skyhold trying to coax a tired grumpy bronto to the stables, the wagon behind it groaning with supplies. Meat, vegetables, leather, wool, some wheels of cheese, even some home-brewed ale, all packed high and lashed into the wagon, a gift of support from his family they've all been complaining about since they rumbled through the Hinterlands and up. He might be a big guy but he can't do everything himself, not when there's also a grizzled looking mabari plodding along too.

Most of the people he makes eye contact with seem to be looking away quickly, which y'know, rude but unsurprising when you're Asher's height and tend to look half-feral.

"Look if someone will just point me to the bloody kitchens so I can get rid of this I'll be grateful." Only no one is helping, please help him before someone gets punched.

Comments

[hlif]

Sometimes ignoring a man like Asher is a smart plan: make eye contact and he'll pay attention, look at him too long and he'll have a hand on his weapons, but let your eyes slide past him - rare given the size of him and the volume - and honestly he'll let you do your thing. Talk to his dog though and his face breaks into the kind of soppy grin strangers don't think him capable of but man and dog, a more honest love will never be found. And honestly, he's just as quick to crouch down to a less imposing height with a hand outstretched for the dog behind the woman saying hi to his, patiently waiting to see if it'll come over to him.

Asher never rushes a dog, you don't do that when you've pulled a dog out a fighting pit and bonded with it.

"If you're willing to help," unlike some bastards he could name, "then you can grab a share of whatever you please, I can vouch for all of it seeing as it's come from my family. All for the Inquisition, courtesy of the Hardie Holdings."

Dad'd probably want him to do some namedropping.

"Who's your friend back there, doesn't look quite like what I'm used to with old Bronson here."

[unbrokenoath]

The dog raises his nose, gives a few sniffs Asher's way, then strides on over, and favors the man by licking the outstretched hand. A vicious beast of a wardog, no doubt. Kaisa just snorts, looking amused, and completely unwilling to try correcting the behavior. Instead, she turns her attention to the task at hand, gesturing off down the courtyard.

"Yonder over there, if you pass by the barn to the left, you'll see a set of stairs. Right up them is the kitchens. I'll help you haul the cart there and get the food--Your family made all of this? Nice.--up the stairs, no problem." Particularly if she's being paid in homemade alcohol. The Wardens should consider a similar set up, honestly. And the Inquisition.

At the mention of the mastiff, she grinned down at him, patting his head affectionately. "This guy? Name's Puppy," She waited the customary moment after his name, to let it sink in that yes, the dog was named Puppy, and followed it up with the customary explanation. "I gave him a real name, honest. Some heroic Warden name, but so many people just called him Puppy anyway," Including her. "That he just started responding to it. Figured he knew what he was, and left well enough alone. He's no mabari, obviously. But he's a good 'un. Got him free 'cause his mom was a purebred and his dad was an enterprising mutt that managed to hop the fence."

She sauntered to the cart, putting a hand on it and getting ready to help him push, though she took a moment to look Asher up and down, and shoot him a smirk. "If you ask me, being particularly enterprising about getting what you want is just as good of a trait to pass on as any."

[hlif]

The most vicious because that sort of bravery deserves behind the ear scratches, Asher uncaring of getting slobber everywhere because whatever, he's been covered in much worse in his life. Maybe he'll finally bathe instead of just scrubbing some snow on his face the way he'd done on the journey.

"Everyone except me? Farmers or involved in farming-related things. I chose the interesting life where I'm not shoving my hand up a cow's arse to earn my living." Alas dear brothers, you will share the joy and splendour of that job as Asher goes about hacking off heads and limbs with swords and axes, covered in blood and screaming. "But fair is fair, even I was taught that much so once we've unloaded you can take a share and I can tell my parents honestly that their gifts were very much appreciated."

Puppy is still better than some of what Asher's heard in his time. Biscuits was pretty memorable for something that wasn't a little ratty Orlesian thing. "I don't know if Bronson here even had a name before I found him, I didn't let his 'owner' talk long enough to find out, preferred feeding the bastard his teeth instead." There aren't honestly that many things that really set Asher off but hurting an animal you're not going to hunt for food, or hurting them just for your own twisted enjoyment? That's low and disgusting. "But most of the time I think people think he's called lad or old boy. A dog's a dog, if you're good to it then it's going to be loyal and love you and keep you warm when it's cold, you only worry about breeding when it's a horse so you know not to get one that spooks when a twig snaps."

With a grunt, he gives the cart a shove, ignoring the complaining noise from the bronto because guess who isn't taking it back home again and doesn't care if it's even grumpier than before? This guy. "This world? Gives you nothing for free unless you know exactly where opporunity lies," he agrees, giving her a smile that actually looks like a smile instead of a prelude to violence.

[unbrokenoath]

"I never could get my head wrapped around farming. Never could get my head wrapped around the country in general. I was born and raised in Denerim, didn't so much as see a cow that hadn't been pre-butchered for two decades." That might be a slight exaggeration, which Asher can probably tell if he bothers to look over at the smirk on her face as she helps steer the cart and the bronto off towards the kitchens. Having to deal with the country was something new and confusing, when she'd joined the Wardens. Having to deal with small villages that you could spit across, and all of that weirdness. No, she preferred bustling cities, that had a pulse and a beat to their movement.

Still, either way, farming sounded like it sucked.

She looks down to inspect the mabari in question, eyes now critically examining his various injuries with a new light. At first, she'd thought that the mabari had won his scars by being the companion of a man who looks like he'd wrestle a bear in a second. Her lips twist in disgust at the idea that these were wounds that had been inflicted by sport, and she pauses in her leading to give Bronson another scratch behind the ears. "Good. I hope he choked on them." As a woman who had led her whole life with the direction of protecting others, the idea of letting hurting an innocent animal didn't settle well with her, either.

Particularly dogs.

"Well, sometimes opportunity can be pretty obvious." She tries to sound perfectly innocent, but as they stopped the cart, she reached to grab a barrel, making sure to pass by Asher as she started for the stairs. She hesitates just long enough to continue her thought. "You just have to jump the fence and take it." Just in case she thought that she was not being quite clear enough, she wiggled her eyebrows at him, then hefted the barrel on her shoulder and sauntered off, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

[hlif]

"Some of it isn't so bad. Peaceful, I was in Kirkwall for a few years and the constant noise drove me mad, and food tastes better fresh." Asher you big dirty hipster, though he's seen some of what people eat and meat should never ever be grey. "My old man was from Denerim originally, I've only ever stopped through for work, you don't know the Pearl by any chance."

Everyone should know the Pearl much like everyone in Kirkwall should know the Blooming Rose only in the Pearl Asher is less concerned about blood mages trying to kill him before he gets his trousers off because well, a man hears stories and Kirkwall has always been pretty spectacularly messed up.

Bronson leans in to the petting, the good eye closing and even as Asher smiles he can remember that anger, how Melisende hadn't even tried to stop him. Actually she'd joined in that night and they'd made out pretty well from the loot they picked up and flogged too.

"Nothing at all wrong with obvious, I like knowing where I stand." And that's quite the view so he's going to take a good long look because it'd be rude not to. "Just say the word and I'll ask how high." Subtlety can be Asher's thing but usually it's not and he follows after her with a grin, hefting a few crates out of the wagon; definitely a good idea to come to Skyhold and sign up if this is the welcoming committee.