It can sometimes get a little dull when left behind at Skyhold, or when the
Inquisitor is in meeting's all day and you just can't drink anymore beer otherwise you'll be useless for weeks.
It was a warm summer's evening and Blackwall was in his stable room, admiring his newest carving he had just completed. It was a small statue no bigger than his open hand, of an elf. It was dressed in mercenary garb and even had a little war bow made from sticks and twine.
His collection had started with a Gryphon, which proudly stood atop the table, and, as a challenge to himself, now included several of the Inquisitors mounts, Horse, Heart, Dracolisk and even a Giant nug. Each with little saddles and bridles.
He sat cross-legged on the straw covered floor and reached under the table for wooden box, packed with yet more straw. Nestled in the straw was other similar sized carvings. He carefully took them out one by one and stood them in a line beside him.
There was a muscular Qunari made of a stray birch log he found in with the firewood.
A Mabari, his personal favorite, posed in a fierce snarl and another laid down peacefully asleep.
A human man and lady dressed in robes, complete with staff's tipped with a shard of colored glass.
Two other human ladies, one in a frilly dress that had taken hours to carve each ruffle, and one in basic square armor and a third in a hood and cloak.
A dwarf that could sit on the fierce Mabari's back and not fall off, and also stand on its own, if somewhat oddly.
Two elves, a lady with short hair and a man with a smooth, almost perfectly round bald head.
A slightly smaller human man with a floppy straw woven hat.
A Templar Knight with feathered paldrouns, if viewed from the side it kind of looked like an abomination hunched over.
A Human man with a glorious beard and a small collection of weapons and shields.
He had debated on painting his creations but decided to leave them as plain worked wood, mostly because he couldn't decide what color do paint most of the cloths.
"What will the story be this time?" Blackwall mused to himself.
He picked up his newest addition. "You can't always save the day, can you?" He put the mercenary elf on the table then the box upturned over it.
Thus began the tale of The terrible Gryphon of Table Mountain.
"The Gryphon's got him! It flew up there!" The Dwarf exclaimed.
"But there's all these baddies in the way." Baldy elf pointed out.
"Oh no!" Squeaked the lady in the ruffeled dress.
"But not for long!" Growled the Human Man Mage.
"Die!" Roared the Templar charging forward.
A full blown battle against straw stuffed sock abominations was imminent. With a muffled war cry he made the dwarf stab a spear into the sock monster and the angry mabari finish it off.
Five vanquished sock deamons later, the others having running off in fear, the group of wooden hero's faced the maze of despair.
What a rubbish name. The Grey Warden thought to himself, but he couldn't think of a better one at the time.
The maze of doom? Was constructed of the few books he owned, propped up on the pages, spines in the air, like little tents.
"We could just walk around it."
"Or go though."
"Looks easy enough."
The companions entered the maze of doom with trepidation, the hound leading the way with its superior sense of smell.
Pressure plates activated by an unwary foot split the group. Only the human Robe Man and GloryBeard made it out the maze of doom safely. The others momentarily forgotten, trapped. Rescue them later in another story perhaps.
Having gotten tired of waiting the mercenary elf had picked the lock on his box cage, slain the gryphon and used it's intestines to repel down from the table mountain.
"I thought I'd lost you!"
RobeMan and Mercenary Elf smooshed their smooth, featureless faces together. Making kissing noises.
"So that's what we do." Dorian said leaning against doorway, recognizing the wooden figures robes as one his own innumerable robes and the statuette of the Inquisitor.
Blackwall jumped at the sudden intrusion.
"Dolls? I thought so." Varric said.
"Brings a new definition to 'playing with yourself.'" Dorian chuckled.
With a huge grin the archer and mage bumped fists at the sight of the Grey Warden's rapidly reddening, embarrassed face.