faderift | Skyhold

Skyhold

WHO: Anyone & everyone
WHAT: Open post for business as usual around Skyhold
WHEN: The first couple weeks of Harvestmere, 9:41 (aka October)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Please mark any necessary content warnings in thread subject lines. Also, make sure to check out the other log posts already made!

Far from the glamorous adventurous world-saving people signed up for, most of the hustle and bustle in Skyhold at present is cleaning. The Great Hall is a disaster, and crews are assigned to haul out the cracked and rotting planks fallen from the wide-open roof, and tear down the vines covering the walls. Ivy encrusts the main staircase outside and many of the fortress walls and is cleared in section while other groups assess or begin shoring up the stonework as it's revealed. There are scaffolding to build, materials to sort, crates to unload, tents to stitch together or set-up, and on and on and on, endless mundane chores vital to the survival of the organization.

When not hard at work, people cluster around fires across the courtyards. Many mingle freely, going about their business, running errands and messages, planning scouting missions, tallying up supplies, distributing or playing with the sending crystals that were found in a basement vault and which a group of mages have just today finished preparing for use. Once a good number have been passed around and the first Inquisition-wide transmission made messages start being broadcast; maybe you can help someone out.

The rebel mages and renegade templars mainly keep to themselves at opposite sides of the complex given the choice. Mages assist with healing and research and bicker amongst themselves about their options and their fate. Templars help train recruits in swordforms and basic combat techniques or spar with the more advanced and bicker amongst themselves about their options and their fate. Despite having all pledged themselves to the Inquisition, they still feel like separate factions and tension between them is palpable wherever they cross paths.

Like at meals, or the communal message board in the courtyard, or at the Herald's Rest. The mess hall/tavern is so new it still smells of sawdust, and its stock has been limited to one type of strong ale until today, when a shipment of West Hill brandy has finally arrived. The mood in the place is convivial in celebration of that, but there's still plenty of muttering, especially as the night drags on and the discontented get further into their cups.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ah. I blame that entirely on the other person writing. And for the fact that you were the only one responding." Sam chuckles, and with feeling a bit more at ease he leans forward on the table.

"I wouldn't dream of trying to beat Iron Bull's flex. If I was capable of doing that I probably would have a lot more to offer." The imagine is amusing at the very least. "Ah, guess I'm not good at defining what I do..."

Wait.

Sam blinks and tilts his head at Krem. "If I can be an asset- what seriously?" If he seems excited it probably is because he is. A little bit. Not like you get a deal like that with The Chargers any day. Could he be an asset?

"It's like this," he sighs as he sits forward, "we lost several good men in the battle at Haven, and another couple from there to here from the cold and injuries that we couldn't see to properly while we were walking. Chief can take a look at you, get to know you enough to know you're trustworthy. I want to assess what you can do first."

Krem wouldn't offer if Sam in any way looked like he objected, but he was observant enough to spot that immediate excitement. "I've got all night, you let me know what you can do, and what you'd like to learn."

Well that wasn't intimidating or anything. Sam had just come in to apologize and talk, maybe get to know the Charger a bit more. He wasn't expecting an interview. Krem had all night? Oh good, he had a completely free evening, too.

"You're very proficient." Sam suddenly wishes he had the forethought of getting a mug of water or something. Mainly water. Something else might kill him.

"Well I'm working with the blacksmiths right now. I grew up working the forge, and I'm starting on homing the skill a bit better now. I can't make you weapons or armor, but I know decently well how to fix them."

"Always good, having someone reasonably adept at repairs. Might be better kept here, working with the smiths. Could teach you how to make your hammer a weapon, or put you to work in the undercroft. Harritt might appreciate the help." Krem was clearly thinking seriously about this. He rubs his chin, leaning his elbow on the table and looking Sam over again.

"Except you didn't come to discuss business," he sighed. "Speaking to far too many people about jobs lately, it's becoming a reflex."

Sam makes a face, a curious amusement as Krem tells him he'd be better off staying in Skyhold. Learning under Harritt would be very promising, but the idea obviously doesn't seem appealing to him.

He raises his brows when Krem leans on the table and seems to relax. The stern, business look was attractive, but this was a nice change. Obviously Sam keeps those thoughts to himself.

"No, I didn't. But you did dangle a very tempting offer." Sam grins and tilts his head to the other side. "Though the idea of being stuck in Skyhold isn't what I'm looking to do. Master Harritt is a very talented man and while I'm good with a hammer and steel, I think my hands are more talented in other things."

"We need people no denying that. But everyone needs people, even if they don't realize it. Placing everyone, keeping their minds and hands busy, that is going to be a full-time job.

"For now though?" Krem raises a hand, and almost like magic a bottle is placed in it. He puts it down in front of Sam then raises his own. "It's time for quiet and drink."

Sam tilts his head at Krem raising a hand then blinks when it returns to the table with a bottle in it. Surprised and curious, Sam turns in his chair to see where the bottle might have come from. Eventually he turns back and raises a brow at Krem.

"What is it?"

"Just ale," Krem assures him. One of the other Chargers was sitting down a few feet away, a table full of bottles in front of them. People were just keen on dispensing the alcohol to whoever wanted or needed it at the moment. "If someone ever offers you something they only tell you is 'drink', I'd advise against taking it, for the sake of your throat's wellbeing."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind." For the longest time Sam just just stares at the bottle. Just ale he says.

Eventually he picks up the bottle and holds it under his nose to smell it. Well it smelled better then the other stuff Cabot often tried to put in front of it. "You drink often I take it?"

"Fairly regularly. Not enough to get utterly plastered, but I'm sure my liver isn't exactly happy with me." Krem tipped him a small smirk at that, then took a few swallows from his bottle. It was nearly empty by now, and it was getting toward his personal cutoff point. He would rather be able to get back to the crumbling room he'd claimed as his own without falling on his way up the stairs.

Sam wants to make a comment that Krem should take better care of himself, but stops. Working for the Chargers and fighting for a living was pretty risky for ones health. Alcohol seemed like the last thing to worry about. Sam snorts in amusement.

It helped that Krem was giving him a smirk rather then watching him with a stoic expression.

Shrugging, Sam follows suit and takes a few sips from the bottle given to him. Well at least it wasn't making him cough as soon as it touched his tongue. The taste still made him make a face. "An acquired taste I take it."

"Something like that." That face is amusing, but Krem keeps his laughter strictly internal. No reason to go making fun of the guy. "You don't have to finish it; some people don't care for it, nothing wrong with that."

Sam wrinkles his nose, waits a moment, then takes another sip. Yep, still didn't taste good. He looks at Krem, still sporting the disgusted and unhappy expression, and puts the bottle down. He pushes his tongue out once to scrape the top of it against his teeth to try and get the flavor off his tongue but it doesn't help.

Sam gives a snort. "I see." He glares a bit at the bottom as if it's his enemy. "Still. I would at some point like to find something that I like."

"When we get more coming in trade, I'm sure you'll have plenty to sample." Krem polishes off the last of his ale, then picks up the discarded one and rubs his thumb around the lip before starting in on it. Clearly not afraid of germs, this one.

There's a comment on Sam's lips as he watches as Krem starts on his discarded bottle. Again he refrains. He's finally gotten the man to talk to him and he didn't feel like messing it up. Instead he tilts his head. "What are we getting?"

"You've seen the nobles wandering, they'll probably demand Orlesian wine. We'll probably be able to start brewing something of our own here when things settle down more. Can't really say otherwise at the moment. You'll probably find something you like, if you don't make yourself sick trying everything."

That look on Sam's face has him curious as to just what he's about to say. Personally, he just prefers not to waste the ale, and Sam doesn't look sickly, so he doesn't care.

"Oh, I'd be a lovely sight, wouldn't I? Bottles surrounding my body as I make a lovely footstool." He's obviously joking, but rather than smiling Sam sticks out his tongue in minor disgust at the idea.

"What does Orlesian wine taste like?"

"Too sweet, not enough kick for my taste," Krem replied with a mild shrug. "At least if you ended up on the floor here, the worst you could expect is bored elves drawing on your face."

Sam raises a brow at hearing about elves drawing on people's faces. "That's reassuring." Not really. He'd rather not have anything drawn on his face that he didn't know about.

He tilts his head at the mention of sweet. "Sweet huh? That sounds interesting."

The interest in the sweet drinks makes Krem smile faintly. "There's also a honey mead from the Hinterlands you'd probably like. Burns a little on the way down, but good for savoring, or for basting roasted pig." Already he was making plans in his head to try getting at least a bottle of it for Sam to try.

"It... burns on the way down?" Sam raises a brow, wrapping his head around the concept. "Good for savoring what?" He scoots his chair in a bit closer so that he can lean on the table a bit more comfortably.

At first, Krem's pretty sure that Sam's joking, just trying for smalltalk. Then he realizes he doesn't care what it is. "It's...warm. Tingly, kind of. Makes you want to clear your throat but not choke on it." He isn't exactly the most poetic person ever. "Drink it on a cold night, you start forgetting you're cold. Especially after a couple of bottles."

"Sounds like a good drink for around here." Sam smiles. The prospect of a drink warming you up during a cold night sounded good. "You know a lot about different drinks. One of the benefits of traveling around I take it?"

"Something like that. Could also teach you how to make something father showed me when I was younger. Lemony thing, with honey and whiskey warmed up over a fire. Good for beating back a cold, or just helping you sleep."

The last part seems to really grab Sam's attention. Both of his brows shoot up and he stares at Krem with such wonder. "Really now? It helps you sleep?" He wouldn't mind having a drink like that at all. It all sounded good, but having something to help him sleep that wasn't a Maker awful potion? He wanted to try that.

Skyhold

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