Better start with an apology - massively sorry for the drop-off. Especially when I was somehow still lucky enough to pick up new followers for a comatose story. Short version: one manager at work was out injured, and then the other went on maternity leave. So I was effectively running the place single-handed, on top of my normal workload. I just couldn't make a funny chapter, and sat on it forever until one came back and I had weekends off again.
… Well, here I am again. Sitting on a corner in down-town Orzammar, waiting. Rumble-Bum better be appreciative when they return, and none of its complainy nonsense. Maybe they'll be the sane ones – because everyone who stayed seems to be going insane from this city again. Even for two-leggers. And the pig-rat. Don't get me started on that fucking guy... I glance over at my silent new friend, who's still just sitting there. Nothing, huh? I know you're only a wall carving, but would it kill you to contribute a word or two? Otherwise I'm going to look like a mad dog staring at brickwork.
…
No, you're right. You're still a better conversationalist than Qunie. Between us, I don't even know why he's still here. He's got his sword back, and seen enough Darkspawn to haunt his remaining dreams; according to his 'mission', he should have gone home to Qunopolis. Of course, that would require him to actually be a Qunari. I'll give him this, though. At least he's not threatening to kill anyone. Al almost pulled his sword on Morrie yesterday... I thought they were done with their hating each other, but she started needling him about whatever happened with Chirpy, and he was all "Shut up or I'll run this sword through you!" Just that morning, they had a normal talk too. He was checking if she wanted to talk about her dead crazy mother, but she apparently thinks his mother is more interesting and would have rather talked about her. Having met Morrie's mum, I very much doubt it... for that to be true, Al's mother would have to be another super-skilled Mage, and maybe she probably saved the world in secret or something. And while I'm making things up, I'll say she could be an Elf just for the juicy fake gossip of old King Maric getting an Elf up the duff. I notice a crack in one corner. Was that always there, or is Wallis here so scandalised by mixed-blood royalty that he chipped?
Speaking of... here comes the potential half-Elf now. What's up, Al?
"There you are – looking for your master again?"
Mistress, thank you very much. But no, I'd know if she were back yet. I turn back to the carving. I needed some sane conversation, I think... somehow I ended up talking to young Wallis here. I forget why. Noticing my attention on the carving, Al leans down to read the markings. "South End of a Northbound Bronto... Is there a reason you were staring at a picture of a Bronto's butt?"
I... still don't remember. I vaguely recall waiting here for someone but... A gush of hot air rushes out from the central hole in the carving, blasting him in the chest. "... Did the city just fart on me?!" he asks, clumsily swiping away the remaining air. Oh! Now I remember! I found an old note in the Shaperate about this. Apparently a disgraced Artisan facing exile worked for three nights, years ago, to make this as a revenge trap for the nobles and such. When there's enough lava air pooled in a certain cooling tunnel, the air will rush through here like a kettle and blast anyone close enough. I was camping here, hoping to trick Biddy into falling for it... and then I think Cave Madness eventually kicked in and made me start talking to it, when she never showed up. Ergo, it's her fault you got 'farted' on. Let's go get her!
"Let's just go" he mumbles. Don't take it so personally, it didn't pick you to fart on – you just happened to be there! … Because it's Biddy's fault, and any suggestion of Mabari culpability is the ramblings of a disordered mind.
"This city... no wonder the Dwarves are all loopy."
Hey, that's unfair. The exiled Fartisan had such a smart design, the other Caste members who the Assembly sent to dismantle it couldn't figure out how he built it. So they just had to leave it – but rumours suggest the other Artisans admired the work too much to really bother trying. Either way, now the Dwarves mostly view it as a novelty to trick tourists.
Well, let's go to a Proving fight or something. That way, you don't have to mope in your room to avoid Chirpy and I don't have to hear her trying to invent a song about Nugly. Proof she's got Cave Madness as well... especially when there's already a song about a nug. Has a happy ending, too: little shit finally trips the wrong person over, so the Viscount gets revenge by eating the stupid bastard.
"... Is there a reason you're trying to drag me?" Al groans. Let's go see someone get an arm chopped off! If that don't cheer you up, I'm all out of ideas.
… Just get to the fight. It's unnecessary to still stop and wait for the combatants' greetings when the fight is a sparring round between two groups of Silent Sisters. Or is the painful silence of them all staring at each other instead of trash-talking meant to goad them into fighting better?
While I'm looking around the balcony, a familiar feeling makes me pause. I sense something. A presence I haven't felt since... Al! We need to go!
"This was your idea, and now you're going to drag me out before the main event?"
I know it's not as good as Mabari senses, but check your … Wardenly buzzing thing, or whatever you call detecting each other. Mistress is here, or she's coming soon.
We're halfway to the Noble Quarter when he looks up. "You picked a good time to need to pee... guess who's back?" Al asks with a pleased expression.
I noticed first, you stupid f… just follow me. I think she's heading straight to the compound. Even if we didn't have Wardenly buzzing, they make it easy to find them. Braids snorts and rubs his nose every few seconds, and Rumble glares down at him each time.
"May I squish its head yet?"
"What are you bitching about now?" Braids replies. "We just spent forever doing you a favour..." Another snort. He turns, when Scruffy groans. "You got a problem too?"
"I'll squash your damned skull myself, if you keep sniffling... you've been doing it for hours – for fuck's sake, blow your nose!" Scruffy fires back.
Mistress is clearly trying not to listen, when she notices us coming. Sighing in relief, she leaves them behind. "You've no idea how glad I am to see other people..." she says quietly.
"You and me both" Al whispers back.
"I'll blow your nose, if you don't shut up!" Braids bellows from over her shoulder.
"... What does that even mean?" Scruffy asks, throwing his hands up.
"Enough!" Mistress spins on a heel. "Oghren, go get a drink or something." She points to Scruffy. "Take a bath, or a nap. Both. Whatever. Shale... find a servant in the compound to scrub you, I guess. So long as you don't have to be around each other for a while."
They all silently skulk away, as Mistress pinches her nose. "So... not a fun time?" Al asks, shaking his head.
She exhales painfully. "Ohhh... the Thaig was pretty, I suppose. That's all I can say without wanting to hit someone. Anyone in your group kill each other yet?"
Well, Al pulled a sword on Morrie. Almost.
"Not yet, no... but it's only the afternoon. Give them a few hours."
"Right, right" Mistress shrugs. "Next time you and I save the world, let's get a team that isn't insane. Sound good?"
"... I'd rather not have a next time."
It's Cave Madness, I tell yous. If there is a next time, have the team be as above-ground as you can. Like a big Keep. Or a city that was built up the side of a mountain, so the important part is higher than the rest... hell, stick the base up top of a mountain range. I'm sure a squad up that high wouldn't have any weirdos.
That's there I finally gave up... but here's a bonus second ficlet. Max's not quite semi-canon possible future visit to Skyhold, and interactions.
"... I guess nobody will attack them again, being out this far" Bird-Brain gasps, as we round another bend in the mountain pass. Quit your moaning – I'm way older than I was during the Blight, and I've got more feet to feel sore than you. If only Mistress were still here... wouldn't have to come with you, or even stay in the Crestwood hidey-hole... this prehistoric Darkspawn Geezer getting loose was your screw-up, after all. Why am I even here? I bet I won't know anybody in this Skyhole! Why is it even called that? That seems like it should have been the name for that giant arse-crack in the sky that was shitting out demons, or so I heard. "Don't glare at me, dog; wasn't my idea to get back into the drama. But if Varric contacted me, something big must be up. Last person I expected to ever hear from..."
Would have been nice of the guy to arrange a wagon for us, to climb this mountain trail. Or he could tell this Ink-Quiz man about the Darkspawn Geezer himself. He was there, too – so he knows just as much as you do! Sounds like a lame excuse just to get you there, so the two of you can hang out like the old days. "Besides, I hear an old friend of your owner is here. Might be a better place for a snoozy old dog than Crestwood. Especially if he's still being hunted." Sure... you just wait to dump me with a bunch of pungent Orlesians., and some idiot Templar from Kirkwall you apparently know, who they hired to be General. Because who knows warfare better than some halfwit who stayed locked in one building most of the time, right?! I bet this place isn't even as big as they...
"Wow..."
Huh. Okay, that's a fortress! We keep staring across the ravine for a moment, before pressing on to Skyhole. It's a lot bigger than I expected. As we join the crowd filing in, Bird-Brain looks around. "Keep an eye out for a smooth-faced Dwarf – I expect he'll want to sneak us in, away from this Seeker woman of his."
Suddenly, we're up on one of the battlements. How did... I think I could smell turnips and mint, and there was an overgrown hat with skinny legs sticking out from under it. Wasn't there? Did we follow it up here? I glance about, but can't see it now. Bird-Brain looks just as confused as me. "... I hope this is where we're meant to be."
Before I can answer, another voice speaks up. "He wanted you away from prying eyes. Too many people might spook the hawk. You're regret, and pain. But we weren't followed. I made them forget seeing you, you see."
Ah, there's the hat! And it's got more than just legs. Bird-Brain stares at the hat for a moment, before it points across the ramparts. "They're waiting there, for you. Good luck."
We're halfway over there, when Bird-Brain stops and looks around. "Not another... anyway, there's Varric. So the other one must be this Herald." Looks like a massive book-worm, to me. No wonder he's called the Ink-Quiz man. Must be a lazy sod, too... sun's well high, and he's still in his pyjamas! Well, you guys have fun with your talk. I'm gonna check this place out... I must be the first Mabari to visit Skyhole, at least in the last three Ages or so. I should mark such an occasion by peeing on something. Maybe Hat-Legs knows where a garden is. I walk over to where he seemed to be heading, and find a loose-hanging door. This place has seen better deals – no wonder there's so much scaffolding in the courtyard. Someone's singing downstairs, and it smells like a tavern. Well, I know where to come find Bird-Brain later. Before I can go downstairs, someone comes creeping up towards me. Don't mind me, I'm just an innocent Mabari visitor and I'm most definitely not travelling with someone still wanted for Seeker questioning over that Kirkwall business. That would be ridiculous... hey, don't I know you?
"... Tch. Don't block the stairs, mutt. I've got prank pre-plan scouting to do" the Elf woman says, stepping over me. "Didn't think they even had Mabari in this country. Haven't seen one in forever." Wait, it's her. You're you! From during the Blight. I knew I knew you... and you seem to know this place, so I'll come with.
"Huh? … Don't know what you want, but keep it down if you're coming with."
Sure, sure. I grew up sneaking around a castle in search of mischief.
We get to another door, and she slightly cracks it open. "... Nope, Ser Jackboot's not here. Let's go."
She's halfway to a fancy-looking desk, when there's a wooden creak and someone coughs.
"... Yes, Sera?"
We both turn, and look up to see someone climbing down a ladder from the floor above. "Ah, Commandership Cullen... I found this dog, yeah? Just wandering around, all unattended. Thought I should bring it here? Since you're the head of our war... thing, and he's a wardog. Well, all yours."
She's gone before he can resume climbing. "... You must be a guest's." Hang on, I know you as well. I think. ...Weren't you the crazy guy? Wanted to kill all Mages, with or without the purge permit thing? Is that why she called you 'Commander Culling?' "I suppose I better take you over to the Ambassador. She'll know if a visitor is missing a pet." Ambassador, huh? Sounds fancy. Alright then, Culling; lead on. As we're following a walkway, he looks down at me. "I don't think the Chargers would have left you here, if you were one of theirs..." I think he wants to say something else, but we keep going. I bet I know, though, given the Fereldan accent. He wishes he had a Mabari, when he was younger. Well, chin up – fancy position like yours, you'll be able to get your own pup one of these days. So long as you don't try to cull the litter. So was it you, or Elf-Girl who I'm supposed to know in this place? I very much doubt anyone else will be familiar. Culling pushes open a door, and we step into a brick room. This doesn't look fancy enough for an Ambassador... and I think I spoke too soon, about familiar people. I take a second glance at the Elven man who's leaning over a table. Egghead McGiggles?! They said you died in the Werewolf cave...
"Commander" he nods, as we continue into the room. Wait, no. No tattoo. That's not Egghead. Just some other bald Elf... who also smells of old creepy magic. As we pass, he stares down at me and backs up to his chair, like he's trying to sink into it. Someone's paranoid... what, did a dog bite you on the bum a long time ago?
"Ah, Commander. I was hoping to see one of you" another man smirks, from a walkway above us. "Wait there, I'll bring it down." He soon appears from a side doorway... magnificent moustache... and hands Culling a scroll. "A simple proposal, if you could slip it into the agenda for your next little council counsel, hmm? Concerns the Venatori stragglers out by Redcliffe. We'd do well to handle that business quick." He glances at me, and smiles. "Finally, one of these hounds that isn't trying to maul us for approaching a bandit camp. You're one of the famous smart ones, I take it? Expertly bred for the glory of the Imperium, before tiring of their rules... can't say I blame you." A Tevinter, huh? He must be the ambassador. Manners, Max. I hold up a paw for him to shake. He raises an eyebrow, before kneeling to accept the gesture. "Dorian Pavus..." Lord Maxwell Cousland. At your service. "Oddly charming creature, isn't it?" he says to Culling. "Well, I'll leave you to your business... however it involves your fuzzy friend here." He smirks again, when I bark a farewell. "Yes, and you as well." Before we go, I glance back to New Egghead. He's still cautiously sitting down, watching me. Yep... he definitely had a Mabari latch onto his arse at some point. Must have been up to no good, so you deserved it.
We continue out of the room, into a rather ramshackle main hall. Up on a balcony, I can see some fancy furniture. Whoever's up there mustn't waste any time making something their own. Apparently my new Tevinter buddy isn't this ambassador, so I guess I still have to follow Culling here. He leads the way into yet another side passage, which opens into a small library. Ah, that overly-dressed woman must be the ambassador. Definitely not the one with their back turned... never seen a diplomat in full armour. But this is Orlesia, after all, so maybe they're an envoy as well. "Greetings, Commander" Fancy Pants says, standing up from behind a desk. Okay, not pants... but the name will do for now. "We'll begin, once the Herald joins us." That must be this Harold now, I hear coming up the hallway muttering. I turn to greet Harry... and it's just that layabout from earlier. Still in his nightclothes. Picking up a fancy writing board, because I should have known all her stuff has to be fancy, she gives a welcoming smile. "Good day, Lord Maxwell." How did she know that, then?! … Uh, good afternoon to you as well. I bark a greeting, hoping Fancy doesn't notice I've forgotten her... from whenever we apparently met. There's a slight clinking sound, like mail armour brushing against something.
"Oh, yes. This Mabari was found earlier, wandering the grounds" Culling finally announces my presence, the rude sod. "I wasn't aware any of our guests bought one in tow, so I thought you might know, Ambassador."
"I was not informed as such... I'll ask around later." She glances at the door. "Shall we wait for Seeker Pentaghast?"
Harry's face slightly clenches. "No. She knew when the meeting was... and she'll be sure to say what we did wrong later."
Culling and Fancy exchange a brief glance, before following him up another hallway. I'm about to leave the other way, when I finally notice the silent person turned around at some point, and is watching me. Walking over, they kneel down and pull back their hood. "I knew that bark was familiar..." the woman says, scratching my ear. Well, crap! Chirpy! Long time, no see. "Wait right here" she points. "My report won't take long... and then, you and I will go looking for a certain someone, yes?" I bark, as she heads for the far door as well. Good luck with that, Chirpy...
I didn't expect Max and Dorian to even meet, much less get along, but it just flowed that way - a couple of self-assured(obsessed?) peacocks, strutting around Skyhold together, if he ends up there in the main story. Especially once he realises Dorian's a mage.
