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

[gatheringstorm]

Well, here's one person who definitely makes eye contact. The taller Vashoth mage grins broadly as she spots the big bear of a human and his mabari companion. Her pace quickens and just in case a huge horned woman doesn't stand out enough, she raises her voice. "Asher! Over here, you big hairy loser. It's about time you showed up! And your better half, of course. Who's a good boy?"

Those last question is of course directed at the mabari, as Korrin has to pet him fondly first. She's still not that interested in getting one of her own, but that's all the more reason to spoil her friends' instead. And Bronson deserves it, for putting up with Asher.

[aceso]

Christine's days are often spent at the healing tents in the lower courtyard, and so she has a good view of the motley crew that ventures into Skyhold with their supplies. Since none seem to need medical attention, she thinks nothing of them, really, but after a few minutes she realizes that one is trying to unload his wagon without any assistance. Surely his crew is coming back to aid him, yes?

She approaches just as he's yelling, and a barmaid on a break scurries away. Dealing with customers at the tavern is better than this! She isn't getting paid enough to get yelled at outside the tavern. Christine, meanwhile, stops nearby, but not too close. This person could probably do with a bath, after all.

"The kitchens are up that set of stairs," she says, pointing nearby. He at least came close.

[aintwejust]

"Well shit, it's like they're lett'n just anyone wander in through the gates now. Where did the standards go?" It's been awhile since he last saw this particular shade of rough and noisy, but not so long as he can't pick out exactly who's gett'n cranky in the courtyard. He and Jayne are hang'n back for the moment- well Mal's hang'n back and hold'n Jayne steady otherwise there'd be a mite less on the cart of food. Gett'n it taken care of without him eat'n a side of beef is gonna take some do'n.

[aforethought]

If you've got to pick between fighting a short guy, and fighting a tall guy, common sense is that you always, always pick the guy who knocks his head on the ceiling standing up. So many tall guys, they don't know how to fight. They've never had to learn. Someone gets pissed enough to size them up, a second later realizes: Never you mind now, he's huge. He'd break me in half.

(A pause, please, for the obvious joke.)

Short guys, though, short guys are mean. They have to be. Always pick the tall guy, that's a policy that Melys firmly believes in. It's also one that she's considering revising under present circumstances, because this guy moved out of big several weight classes ago, and securely into huge.

Of course she's gonna stare. It's like one of those curiousity wagons, with the two-headed calves, and the jars full of what-knows-what. Is he half-Qunari, or something? Is that even possible?

"Here," Melys shoves off the rail she's been idling against. It's less that she wants to help, than that she wants an excuse to get an eyeful up close. "They're a real bitch to get to, but there's always folks hanging around. Come on with me. I can take the big guy, after."

She jerks a thumb to the Bronto. Andraste knows the Orlesians won't know what to do with one.

[judgemewhole]

James and his men had been going through their exercises when the rowdy bunch rolled in, and it was only pure discipline and James's stern gaze that kept the six of them finishing their sword (and maul, and greatsword) swings. However, even James stopped the practice to watch the singular man trying to get the bronto, and supplies, towards the stable.

He made a soft 'tch' nose and then jerked his head towards the others as he headed down the stairs, and across the courtyard to where the man was struggling. He called out, "Here, let us help you lighten the load, my friend. Troupe, take the supplies to the kitchen. Anamaria, Murtogg, take the non-pershibles to the quarter-master ... oh, wait."

He paused, looking back at the man, one corner of his mouth lifting up, "Who should they be told to thank later?"

[unbrokenoath]

It's the mabari that catches her attention first. She swoops from wherever she'd been hanging out, completely ignoring the man to kneel down and coo over the old codger of a dog. A mastiff, not mabari but still a decent dog, lurking behind the woman, sniffing curiously at the mabari as his owner lavishes attention on it. "Look at you. Aren't you a cutie? Aren't you a cutie? Yeaaah, you are. Tough old bloke, huh? I bet the other guy looks even worse."

Eventually, she does notice that the mabari has a man next to him, and she stands up to eyeball him. She's tall for a woman, but he's even taller. Still, she seems as unbothered by his appearance as she had with his dog. In fact, after sizing him up, she gave him a cocky smirk, eyes wandering towards his cart. Particularly the ale. Though some of that cheese looked good, too.

"I can point you towards the kitchen, no problem. But you know, if you wanted to lighten the load right now." She jerked her head towards the cart. "I'm sure that I can lend a hand with that. Just out of the goodness of my heart, of course." Because Kaisa is the sort of kind, generous soul who will be there to eat your food and drink your alcohol whenever the need arises, and sometimes past that.