Wherein I get a whole chapter, and an unexplained murder scene, out of "wasn't this map in that other DLC?"
Hmm. I'm feeling a hunch in my haunches – there's something interesting here. I just can't see it yet. While sniffing for it, I glance around the beach. The echoing of Braids' snoring faintly sounds from the cave he found. I'm not sure where Nail went, but it mustn't have been comfortable; he's already awake. And Scruffy's with him, I see... and they have a fine stick! Is that what I need to investigate?
"Even so, nobody taught before you were taken?" Nail asks, while he's fiddling with some string. Oh, are you guys gonna go fishing? Good call. It's pretty much dawn, so having breakfast ready will help get the others moving when they wake up. "You lived in a port city."
"It was probably beneath House Amell" Scruffy says, wiping sand from his hair. "Too close to work." We warned you that you'd get sand everywhere, champ. But you were all 'I've never been on a real beach before! I'm gonna sleep outside in the dunes like an easily-impressed dimwit who grew up locked in a Tower!' I mean, sure – you are one, but have some dignity.
Satisfied, Nail gives the stick a few swings. "This should do... now, we find a likely spot. The good thing about obvious bandit locations is that the locals can't fish them dry. I expect there's plenty for the catching."
Ah, like that 'nobody comes here, because too many people come here' business Mistress said?
"... So, what do we do?" Scruffy asks, staring out at the waves.
"Watch me, and you take over when you think you've got it" Nail replies, pointing at a large pile of rocks further up the beach. "That looks promising."
Scruffy frowns for a second, then glances up at the cliffs. "Huh..." Is that where the rocks came from?
"Don't worry – we didn't leave anyone up there to make it crumble down on us" Nail concludes, with a quick look.
It looks like an even worse fall, when you see it from the bottom. I bet there's plenty of neat shit down here. The bandits get drunk, lose stuff over the edge, and don't dare come staggering down here to find it. Is that what my bones want me to investigate? I surrender to the calling, and being sniffing about. I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul...
Well, this is a tricky one. I know there's something around here, but damned if I can find it. Wait... ha! It's in this dune. I expect it fell right off the cliff, up by the old Chant Tree. Now for the easy part – digging. Dig, dig, dig! Buried treasure, on a beach. Just like the pirate stories Grandma used to tell, about the Armada and the Raiders. I wish I could meet a pirate. I'd bite their butt and shove them overboard, so I'd be the new Captain! Captain Maxwell, Mabari Terror of the Amaranthine Ocean and literal sea dog. I like digging. I bet it's like gardening, except you don't have to waste weeks afterwards nursing plants until they grow up and take responsibility for their own lives. Stupid hobby, really. I suppose I could order my First Mate, Jenkins, to fill my dig-holes with plants, and do all the tedious botany shit while I take the crew out plundering. I mean, it only makes sense – Jenkins is a useless bastard. No sea legs at all. Honestly, I should just shove him overboard; but his Uncle took a crossbow bolt meant for me, when Ostwick sent those stupid Valo-Kas mercenaries after us. Promised him I'd take care of his idiot orphan nephew, that day. It's decided, then – after I burn Ostwick to the ground and salt the ashes for revenge, I dump Jenkins on the Val Chevin docks so he can open a flower shop as a front for our smuggling. That seems a good place, to leave First Mates who prove useless? I stop, and check the dune. I've made a start, but this will take a while. Oh well...
Ha! I just felt something. With proof I found my unexplained something, I resume digging, determination and vigour restored.
"Max?" I hear, over my efforts. Maxwell is occupied; please try calling me again later.
The same familiar voice splutters. "...Max!" Oh, Mistress?! I stop, and glance back. Whoops... I didn't kick too much sand onto you, did I?
Mistress exhales in annoyance, trying to brush her face clean. "What the hell are you doing?!" she spits. Literally, to get sand out of her mouth. I... found treasure. Trust me, it'll be worth getting some sand on you. I hope. Or I probably won't see any bacon for a long time, judging by her angry eyes.
"... Pirates. Do not. Bury. Treasure" she glowers. "That's a stupid story people made up."
My seeking sense knows there's something here! Remember all the neat stuff I found, during the Blight! That nice staff, the one Scruffy used until Biddy taught him the Magic Sword stuff she learnt in the Werewolf cave. And there was some booze, for Braids... that was supposedly dangerous. The idiot was fine, when he drank it, so where was the harm?! The old pants... which you hated. The old cake... which you hated. The old yarn... I think you gave that to Biddy, so you must have hated it. Well, I'm sure I found something you liked! Elfroot, some more elfroot... a paranoid letter, insisting reality is fake and all that we know is just the machination of unseen hands. Hello, Dusty!
Hello, Max! Keep digging, you're almost there.
I guess Mistress didn't hear that, because she's still just scowling. "This better be good..."
It will, it will! Dusty, tell her? ...Dusty?! Figures – he's probably off cooking dinner or something instead of writing. Boy has the attention span of a dead weasel. No wonder he's never finished his other stories.
"What's going on?" I hear Scruffy call.
"... I think he's found something" Mistress sighs, brushing more sand from her stomach.
"Whoa" he whistles. "And I thought I had sand everywhere, from last night." Scruffy stops, and runs over with a grin. "Is it pirate treasure?!"
Mistress rolls her eyes, as he kneels next to me. It might be. That or it fell off the cliff, bounced off those boulders and embedded itself in this dune.
"This beach has everything" he proclaims, pointing back to Nail. "I even caught... some kind of fish." I admire your enthusiasm, Scruffy! I'm gonna make you my new First Mate. After we ransack Ostwick, we'll sail on Kirkwall and punish your deadshit parents for abandoning you. Sound good?
"Hang on" First Mate Scruffy says, standing back up. You better not be trying to quit already. I'll dump you in Val Chevin, next to Jenkins and Casavir, if you do!
"I'll make a wind spell, and blast the dune down. I felt metal, so it'll probably be too heavy to lift out."
Oh? Oh! Brilliant! This is exactly why you're First Mate. And it'll be super useful, once we steal a ship! If someone tries chasing us, and we hit a lull, you can just summon up our own personal winds while those other idiots are stuck, eating our wake! My man, we are going to own the seas before it's all said and done. Lord Maxwell and Admiral Scruffington.
"Okay, back up" Scruffy announces, gesturing everyone to move away. His hands begin shaking and dancing about, as a breeze funnels down the hill trail. Slowly, almost surgically, the sand gently slides as the dune flattens out. Good, good – Jenkins would have sent the sand everywhere in a big blast, possibly making us miss small coins and things. The Admiral is more strategic.
I can see the tip of something metal, so we're almost there... huh. We found a dead guy.
Frowning, Nail reaches down and drags it clear. "... A skeleton." It's more than you found, so spare me the judgement, old man! If I knew ahead of time what I was seeking out, it wouldn't be called 'seeking'.
"They've been there a while, by the look. Wasn't one of the Snake's victims..." Scruffy assumes.
"This all looks like custom-made armour" Mistress says, leaning down for a look. She digs a little herself, and pulls out a dented shield. Flipping it over, she stares at the emblem. "I've never seen this heraldry, though. Loghain?"
Nail moves it further into the sunlight, and holds it up. He looks stumped- so I guess I better take command of this investigation. We need to have this beach declared off-limits, and then I need a team of diggers to check for further victims. Scruffy, contact the Tower and get an Entropy Mage out here. I'm guessing it means they study decay and shit, right? I expect everyone to work until this is solved, so no bullshit out of you, Braids.
"... The Hard Line?" Nail suddenly asks. I prefer to think I'm firm but fair – however, yes I'll take a hard line if it means this investigation operates efficiently.
"What's that, then?" Scruffy enquires.
"They were a militia group. Years ago."
"Like the Blackstones?" Mistress looks up, as she gives the sand one last sweep with her foot to see if we missed anything.
"Sort of. They were well-regarded at first... but their methods became too extreme. Maric eventually had to step in, and seize the commander's lands. He'd snatch and torture anyone he suspected might be trying to help Orlais, after the war." Scruffy makes a slight noise, and a sceptical face. Nail just sighs. "I never tried to shut down the Denerim market because people had imported Orlesian silk, boy. He seized their shipping manifests, and was demanding to interrogate the dock-master when Maric intervened."
"I never heard about this" Mistress ponders. "They were just Denerim-based?"
"Mostly" Nail nods. "Urien hired him, afterwards. We tried to keep an eye on him, but he got smarter about it. There was still the occasional rumour, like he apparently took some Elf woman for having 'an Orlesian-style name' and threw her in the Estate's dungeon."
"... Sounds like he was a big influence on that Kendalls arsehole, then" Scruffy mutters.
"What are you all whispering about?" Braids suddenly interrupts, appearing beside Scruffy. "... And who's the dead guy?!" he adds, scratching his gut.
"I'm fairly sure it's him" Nail answers. "Harwen Raleigh." I checked, buddy. That's a proper skeleton. So it is Harwen, really. Or 'rahley', since you apparently turned super-fancy with your enunciation in the last three seconds?
"So... what the fuck is a Denerim estate guard doing all the way out here?" Scruffy notes the obviousest question.
"Decomposing" Braids comments. Looks like he already did. He glances about, at the various annoyed noises everyone made. "What? Not like he can do much else, at this point."
"... Be that as it may" Mistress groans, pinching her nose. "Can we cover him back up, now? Before Eileen wanders down, preferably. She seemed alright, for what she went through, but I don't imagine finding a rotted corpse will be fun for her. In fact, I'll go make sure she doesn't come down here, while you guys handle it. Do the wind trick again, or whatever.." she orders, as she walks away.
"Fair enough" Nail mutters. "I always wondered why he suddenly vanished... but we aren't going to learn anything from him, now. Beyond the fact he went over the cliff and bounced down here."
Oh, maybe he was fighting a dragon and tried to pull Perv's mid-air combat tackle dive! The Acrobattle Attackle, as I imagine he called it.
"When was this, anyway?" Scruffy asks, as he and Nail drag the body back to the dune.
"... Six, maybe seven years ago? We suspected Orlesian agents were involved, due to some other things that had happened in the city around the same time, but nobody was sure. When Raleigh didn't resurface after a few months, Maric eventually had his people stop spending much effort on it. I think he was glad just to see the back of him. 'He's never stayed quiet this long before, so he's hopefully dead' was how he put it."
King Ricky had a point, if you ask me. This whole Dirt Laden Corpse story was kinda pointless, beyond letting us find some fancy armour, so we don't need to bother with it ever again. Stupid 'D.L.C', you got my hopes up that I found something interesting, but it was just boring... oh well. Maybe something fun will happen, when we get back to the Keep. Like we round out the Team – apart from Scruffy, everyone's a Warrior. We should go find a Rogue or two, real soon.
We've got him buried again, when Mistress returns. "Good" she says, looking at the dune. Right? If you weren't here at the time, you'd never know it had been disturbed at all. "You can cook up those fish, please? I'm going to find that stream we passed on the way down here, and wash this damned sand off me." She gives me a look, and continues. "Eileen should be down, in a moment... so just let her be, if she's nervous. I suppose."
"Was she... alright?" Braids hesitantly asks. "... Y'know?"
Mistress gives a slight nod. "They may have been scumbags, but Mosley didn't let anyone touch her. If that's what you mean..."
"Aye" he answers, with a smile. "Good, then. I'll just be quiet, instead of blatantly awkward."
"... That's a good way to put it, Oghren. Do that. If I remember right, she likes horses – Loghain, casually mention the Keep is buying some Forders, to one of these two. If she wants to talk, that should get her started."
"So you know her well, then?" Scruffy asks. Shut your gob and let Mistress go wash up! The sooner she forgives me, the sooner I can get bacon again. "I wondered why her father would ask Wardens to handle it..."
"Sort of" Mistress shrugs. "We met at a few of Delilah Howe's birthdays and such, over the years. I didn't expect her to recognise me, honestly. Especially not that quickly."
You forget you're awesome – of course you make that kind of impression!
As she walks off, Nail slaps Scruffy by the shoulder. "Now you get to learn how to clean a fish..."
Ugh, gross! I've seen this before... so I'm gonna go check on Eileen Two-Legs instead.
"They live in a giant bath" Braids opines, as I wander up the hill. "Bloody things should be plenty clean already."
As always, thanks to everyone reading; and Melysande for her thoughts.
Geez, Max - I'm working on the other stories! Not cool, man; I thought we were buddies? And you bash Leliana's Song, too? I kinda liked that one...