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it takes strength to live this way
WHO: Iron Bull and OPEN
WHAT: General summary of events during the end of the month. Drinking, fighting, more drinking, maybe a little flirting.
WHEN: Mid-to-late Wintermarch
WHERE: All over the damn place. Mostly the tavern and sparring ring, though.
NOTES: n/a
WHAT: General summary of events during the end of the month. Drinking, fighting, more drinking, maybe a little flirting.
WHEN: Mid-to-late Wintermarch
WHERE: All over the damn place. Mostly the tavern and sparring ring, though.
NOTES: n/a
He was starting to feel a little restless. By now, the boss would have taken them all out on some exploit or another, and even if he was glad to be at Skyhold again? Sitting idle could grate on the nerves a bit.
The best way to counter that seemed to be throwing down in the training ring just outside the tavern, taking on all comers as well as training those that seemed of a mind to ask. Cullen had most of his people following their own regime, but if they wanted a swing at something else? He wouldn’t refuse them. Not everyone fought like a templar.
The rest of the time, Bull made himself easy to find. Easy to avoid, too, if that was the preference of some. And he knew it was, from the glimpsed he’d gotten of the Vashoth inside the keep. But it was no hardship holding court inside the comfort of the tavern, indulging heavily in drinks and working his way down the menu of available meals and snacks.
It was business as usual, for the most part. Even if he did feel a little more restless than usual. Had to find a way to get out, hit something that really had it coming.
Or find someone to pass the evening with. That might help.
no subject
Moving from place to place with a caravan usually works out well enough for them, and the Inquisition's provided them with horses when they need them. It's a luxury they'll leave behind when they leave this place. After the job gets done.
"Heard rumor about finding more than just horses for the stables. Dennet didn't look too happy at the prospect," he adds, cocking an eyebrow at the woman.
no subject
“You mean the dead one?” Melys swipes her mug back from the table, takes a long drink. Deer, she doesn’t mind. Makes no damn sense to take one over a horse, but mend and make do, so she doesn’t mind. Brontos, sure, those’re fine too — she’s got experience.
The corpse horse with a sword rammed through its skull, however.
“Dennet ain’t the only one unhappy. Gonna build myself a lot of character before getting near that thing.” She points a finger off her forehead, mimicking the blade. “Demon in a horse. What’re we gonna do next, start building with sylvans?"
no subject
"But nah, not talking about that. Other things. Harts, for example. Dalish are pretty fond of them, from what I hear. Avvar, too. Big deer things with racks out to...well, here."
And he gestures to his own horns with a smirk. Yeah, alright, walked right into that one.
no subject
"Well, thank the Maker, ain't gotta get them through the tavern." She gestures, broadly, to Bull's chest. "Y'know, someone less refined and particular in their conversation'd make a joke right about now."
She shakes her head.
"They ain't so bad, though. Little more sure-footed, little more liable to spook. Don't tell the fuckin' Dalish, of course, not unless you want a lecture — but I reckon we'd get on just fine with them, if all the proper horses up and vanished."
no subject
"Never been domesticated, really. They've got spirit, sure, but they're loyal. Dangerous enough to anything that means its rider harm. Got to respect the dedication it's got to take to ride one of those things."
He shrugs again. "Of course, the Qunari have their own horses. Heavier stock, used to war so they're less likely to freak out and start attacking anything that gets close."