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.

Comments

Harding, ota

[lacere]

Harding suspected something was amiss with the skittish looks and the cuts in conversation when she came close, but she didn't exactly expect to be strong armed into attending her own party when she had other things to be doing. Things such as writing and filing reports and final Emprise preparations to make, for example. But nope, here she was, because someone had to threaten revealing someone else's first name to the rank and file if she didn't show up for at least thirty minutes. Thanks Katniss.

So, here she was, despite her intent. For Harding's part, her mingling comes from people approaching her as she sits on the sidelines with drink in hand; she shows plenty of interest to those who want to become a scout, casually asking questions of import and engaging in general chit-chat (is she screening them? She's screening you.) The bard gets a look the first time her birthday tune is strummed, but she ignores it after, soaking up the night and trying not to think about what else she should be doing. She can manage one night off. Can't she?

(She'll be breaking out to hide in Bruce's tent soon enough.)

Re: Harding, ota

[the_effect_she_has]

She's not escaping the paper crown. Katniss didn't get away with it, and neither can Lace. So down Katniss drops, a cider in hand, and the crown in the other, as she plops it right on Harding's head and slouches comfortably in her chair.

"You thought you'd get out of it, but no, I found you." She smirked over at her friend, as she reached into her leather jacket, to pass Harding a simply wrapped package. "And? You have to take this too."

[lacere]

Harding groans as the crown is placed upon her head. She doesn't even care to straighten it as it drops down over her hair, just in her eye line - no point. The blasted thing is already on her head, that's not going to make it any better.

"I think I'm feeling a reason to remind you who your boss is, Scout Everdeen," Harding mumbles, wryly. She doesn't really mean it, though; rank pulling is for more serious offenses than paper crowns. Running off down to mires without telling anybody you're going, for example.

Harding takes the package, half smiling but not making to open it. "I shouldn't be surprised you didn't listen to the no presents request, either. Given all of this," she gestures to the room, the scouts. It's not bad, she's just busy. Always busy. She shakes the gift, gently. "Any clues to what it is?"

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss snorted softly, as she folded one booted leg over the other. "My boss is that scary red-headed lady we call the Nightengale, Lead Scout Harding. And I would never put a paper crown on her head. She's my hero."

In more ways than one. One of these days she was going to get around to thanking Leliana personally for what she had done for Redcliffe. Just like she had embarrassed Zevran and Alistair about it.

"I would have -- but then I remembered I'm your oldest friend here and if I didn't get you something you'd give me those big sad eyes." She said with a straight face. "There might even be crocodile tears. Then I also remembered that you made me wear a paper crown not a week ago and made me take that jam from your mother. So ... memory serving me well, you're getting a birthday, Lead Scout Harding."

[lacere]

"Leliana might be above both of us, but only one of us is the Lead Scout here." The one of us being her, as you know. The one wearing the paper crown on her head. So awful. "You'd be better off skipping the crown altogether with her and going with shoes instead."

Who knew, though, she might be amused by the crown, but Harding isn't going to recommend anyone should try it. But she is aware of what Leliana is to Katniss, as were the others that passed through Redcliffe ten years prior, so she doesn't push the mater.

"Since when have I ever given you big sad eyes?" Harding scoffs. No one gets big sad eyes. Said eyes might have rolled if she still wasn't teasing and the humour was clearly there and in the smirk that might as well have been a fixture. "And you've always liked the jam. But if you insist, I guess I can do a present for you."

Birthdays. So often inconvenient to scout operations. Anyway, she's committed to the present, now, so instead of shaking it plops it on the table in front of her and begins to tear the edges, neatly.

[the_effect_she_has]

"That is true - you are Lead Scout, Lead Scout." Katniss stated with am absolutely straight face. "But I will keep the shoes in mind."

Honestly, Katniss might actually just buy the woman really nice shoes in thanks for what she did at Redcliffe. Thanking them head on seemed to be ... well. Both Alistair and Zevran seemed downright uncomfortable with it.

"Hmm, fair. You usually just stick with, 'I am mocking you with my mocking eyes'." Katniss's lips twitched up at the corners, "I have. I love that jam. You should give me more of it."

She watches as Harding starts to open the package, keeping her expression completely straight. When she finally unwrapped it, she'd find a pair of rather ... intricate hair combs. Sharp eyes would see the twist knobs at the top, and the thin blades that pulled out of them. "Something practical, that just looks pretty."

[lacere]

"If I had anymore, you'd be sure to get it. I'll ask mother. Might take a while, though." She's finally managed to persuade them to move further away to safety in Denerim, and Harding would rather they focus on that and their professions than worrying about sending jam along to their errant daughter.

Harding does open it, slowly, her expression set to bemused, maybe a little wary. She knows its likely to be more than it appears, even if she's not against some pretty things - with a seamstress for a mother, it's hard not to like ornate dresses, to have an interest in baubles and glitter - it's just finding the what that makes it different. Her hands fumble with the twists, and out pulls a thin, sharp blade. Very nice. "I'm all for the practical part," she voices. "Solves the problem of being without a bow at an Orlesian party, if we ever get invited to one of those."

They might, if influence keeps growing, and nobles keep coming.

"Thanks, Katniss."

[the_effect_she_has]

"As long as she has the time, and the inclination. I don't want her putting herself out." She knew that Lace's parents made their livelihoods off of the products they made just as she had.

She smiled a little into her drink, before she looked up at her. "Well, I wouldn't put it past any of us at this point. Considering how far and wide we're casting the net for Corypheus." She lifted her drink to her. "Beyond that, even Lead Scouts need something nice."

One corner of her mouth lifting.

"You're welcome, Harding."

[issala]

Oh look, it's a baby scout trying to look inconspicuous and failing badly. Kas wasn't really sure what was going on other than that it could be Harding's birthday, so he had spent some of his coins of his very first birthday gift to someone else that wasn't just food.

Sneaking from the place where he had been talking with Atisha and waiting until the calamity had settled a bit, he approached the dwarf nervously. "Um..." Yes, great start there, Kas.

"I got you a... um... birthday thing, Lead Scout."

[lacere]

He was, indeed, the babiest of scouts. Even though he was also a good head taller than most of the humans in the ramshackle bunch and several heads taller than her, and he likely had plenty of growing to do. Harding, not so much.

It's the height that gives him away, even if he does do a pretty good job of getting to her unnoticed. It could be because she's plotting means of escape. That's a good time consumer, but when he does speak, he has his full attention.

"Scout Kas," she says in acknowledgement. Then her eyebrows raise, marginally. She hadn't expected gifts in earnest, after the large, sudden party in her honour. "Did you now? You didn't have to, Kas." Not that she'll turn him, or a gift, down. But he seems nervous enough as is, so she nods to the seat opposite. Might as well sit.

[issala]

The teen flushes at her words, sitting down and awkwardly holds out a little package wrapped in what looks like parchment picked up from a discarded pile due to ink blots.

It's not fancy, but he did his best.

"I... don't really know much about birthdays and celebrations, but I wanted to give you something. B-because you're a great head scout and being a scout really changed my life." Kas puts the package on the table, and looks at her with both worry and excitement. Would she like it?

Inside the somewhat haphazardly wrapped package is a carved mabari necklace made out of a piece of stormheart. Fairly generic, but he had waffled about it for a long time.