faderift | 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

"I thought all human nobles did was sit around and be pretty and throw shit on their servants. Not fight with amazing weapons! That's much more awesome." Now Kas is imagining some fancy warrior queen dressed in armors and silk, wielding Bianca and killing monsters or dragons or enemy warriors.

He would probably be much more okay with that kind of Empress than the dainty noble lady type. Kas didn't know anything about the ruthlessness of the Game, after all. Empress Celene was a bloodthirsty woman, just not with her own hands.

"So Wicked Grace... that's the game with the angel, right? I've seen a few people play in bars before." Probably while cutting their purses. "Why is that game the best? Getting the right cards seem just as random as getting the dice high."

Except both of those were influenced both by skill and by cheating.

To be fair, the kid's original assessment of Orlesian nobility wasn't very far off, but The Game was dangerous enough that Varric let him hold onto that particular misconception. If he thought that "The Game is played to the death" involved actual, portable siege weaponry, he'd probably steer clear of anything to do with it. So, win/win really.

"That's the one and, honestly? It's probably because you can stack the game easier than dice," Varric explained easily and moved to unlock Bianca's arms and fold the weapon back into its safety alignment.

"It's pretty much a game all about lying and tricking your opponents into thinking they've already lost, so...basically it's Orlais, but as a card game. People bet bigger on Wicked Grace than they do on dice or Diamondback because everybody thinks they've figured out how to be better at it than the guy they're playing. With dice, unless you load them up first, it's all chance."

Varric shrugged. "Nobody wants to bet big on pure chance. Too easy to lose that way."

If the young qunari ever got himself involved in the Game somehow, he would probably be running in the other direction and hoping to not be hit by crossbows and warrior Empresses. Thankfully he's qunari and therefore extremely unlikely to even be a pawn. Definitely a win/win.

Varrics explanation of the game makes the teen curious, and he almost jumps a bit when Bianca folds back into the original form with just the slightest click. It was amazing, really.

There's a moment of awestruck staring before he zones in to the game thing again. Basically Orlais, but as a card game. Okay, he could probably imagine that. Tricks and lies and cheating sounds like any noble thing. Just more entertaining in game form.

"Oooh. Now I get why I always lose in dice..." Yup, he's been a sucker.

The teen leans back a bit, smiling. "It sounds pretty fun, though. So you tricked the Empress in the game and won Bianca. That's amazing." Man, why where all the dwarves awesome?

This kid wore his heart on his horns; his attention was on Bianca in an instant, all awe and open interest. He'd be the worst Wicked Grace player in the history of Thedas. Varric liked him already.

"Flattery? Well, I can't say I object to hearing how amazing I am," Varric said, grinning. "I am pretty amazing."

He shifted Bianca and rested her against his shoulder. Despite how small and stocky he was, and how big and generally full of overkill Bianca was, the bow seemed exactly fitted to him. It was impossible to imagine him using anything else.

"Varric Tethras." He stuck his free hand out to the qunari. "You got a name?"

Most likely the worst player ever. He'd been to scared to cheat and too easily distracted to ever see anyone else cheat. Too bad the teen doesn't have any money he could be losing. (Strip-Wicked Grace might literally be torture for a hormonal teen.)

The boy reaches to take Varric's hand, giving it a shake. Not too loose, not too firm with the callouses of someone that has climbed on way too many rooftops and Maker-knows-what. "I'm Kas. I'm from a Tal-Vashoth band in Rivain."

His accent was rather hard to pick up, however, Fereldan lilt overshadowing it a bit. "I'm here to be a scout!"

Skyhold

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