the first rule about scout club is...

[lacere]

WHO: Inquisition Scouts
WHAT: It's Harding's birthday, the scouts turned it into an excuse to party. And to shoot flaming arrows off the fortress walls. Why? Why not.
WHEN: Backdated to Wintermarch 20
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scout signups and scout mingling is go! Warnings will be updated as appropriate.

In Skyhold, today was a day like any other.

It was cold, and it was sort of snowing, the worst of it strewn about in clumps with some attempt made to at least clear the path to the fortress gates. Troops and scouts trained, ravens cawed, some mages and templars gave each other the stink-eye, meals were served, nobles tutted, and runners went abut their business. Exceptionally ordinary - if it were not the Lead Scout's birthday.

Not that Harding had told them that. She had made a point not to do so, but let it not be said that the Inquisition Scouts were nothing but decent at their jobs when it came to hard fact. Gossip, on the other hand? Debatable.



( THE TAVERN )

The second floor of The Herald's Rest has been claimed in the name of the scouts for the occasion for schmoozing. Several mercenaries lounge on the stairs to permit or deny entry, all for the easy money, but as long as you look like a rogue and have a bow, they'll probably wave you on through. There are banners hung with the Inquisition logo here and there, draped across beams and nailed into place, which is about as festive as they've been allowed to be in order for the lead scout not to become aware as to their plans. Ale and mead and wine are brought up from the bar and several tables have been pushed together for the food, or nibbles, but it's just standard Ferelden kitchen faire and seems to have been an afterthought. At least there's a lot of it.

Card games spring up across the board and a game of wicked grace is sure to get out of hand eventually; a bored scout (who keeps dozing off) mans a table near the entrance to the floor with what looks to be a sign-up sheet for those interested in joining the scouting operation. Several slogans have been crossed out at the top, all written by several different hands (eat it, Coryphispit!). One or two bards and their lutes have been roped in to the whole affair to provide atmosphere on the chance the scouts can't provide entertainment for themselves, though their songs of choice involve the nearest person and made up ditties on the spot. They also break into rounds of wishing various Skyhold denizens a happy birthday, whether it's today and whether they're here or not (the Commander comes up a lot).



( THE CONTEST )

When night falls, the scouts head up and out onto the walls of Skyhold with enough arrows to fell a dragon and then some - ask and you'll be told it's an archery contest, which might have been conceived right now, or hours before, no one's really sure, but it's happening. The arrows, by the way, are on fire. On fire and aimed into the snowbanks below, yes. Whomever fires the furthest is the winner, apparently, though that does depend on whether anyone can see the flickering light in the dark and the potential for everyone to argue about their perception of distance. There are many good archers and most of them are far from sober at this point, so it can only end well. They're also not exactly going to turn away anyone that isn't a scout, but are you going to win? Best be prepared.

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