sending crystal;

[inagutterson]

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Yngvi
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Dwarf stuff
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Kirkwall; lurking about some dark corner
NOTES: possible tw for questionable child-rearing and discussions of violence

Right, gotta ask since it's been nigglin' me like a loose tooth for a bit now Inquisition, what d'you all know about dwarves? Rifters you don't get a free pass unless you fell out the skies yesterday, s'not like we're a rare sight but, y'know, 'specially since we've been here a while now and-- [there's a little edge to his voice, he coughs to clear that, can't sound like he gives a shit, just the damp and the smoke lingering yeah?] you've been with lots of dwarves. Lot of my family even!

Might get invited to Sunday dinner if you play your cards right but word to the wise, maybe don't? Politely decline. But not too polite yeah? [Don't know what you'll be served on a Darktown dinner table do you now?]

Comments

[inagutterson]

They make wine too, everyone makes wine but I don't drink it unless someone else is paying and I never trust what a Nevarran gives me because one time my mate went drinking in Nevarra and he passed out for three days and woke up a Reaver. [This is a fact because sometimes in Nevarra you meet mysterious 'benefactors' who apparently drug your battlemaster and head of your company with dragon's blood to see what happens.]

History lesson, clench your buttocks here it's a rough ride: long time ago, person that's responsible for all the things happening right now - well not all the things but the whole sky bit so the worst bit, well not actually the-- right let me start back. There were these lads called magisters and Tevinter still has them because they like big obnoxious words where a normal word would do because that's how they've always done it, lot of lording it over each other and us. Lot of slavery, blood magic, the whole deal. Anyway, a group of these lads were really into their Old Gods, did a blood magic thing, went into the Fade physically and got punished because the Maker wasn't happy about them getting blood on the holy golden Fade tiles I'd reckon and he'd need to take notice of people.

Does a lot of shunning, the Maker does. So he cast them out as Darkspawn. Turned their Old Gods into Archdemons. Blights happen and they're terrible, just filth everywhere and that's just the last one with the doglords turning up in my home and ruining.

[Sarkan are you enjoying the Yngvi revisionist history version of Blights and how we got where we are?]

We're fighting one of them right now. And he's got a dragon. Not an Archdemon accordin' to Wardens but they all went nuts so I mean you can't trust Wardens at all, they're useless and weird and well in with the wrong people, don't ever trust people with as many secrets as Wardens, yeah? So that's why you don't do Vint things unless you want a big sun on your head. Plenty of books to read because people love writing all 'bout that time and Andraste with her big army of freed slaves - she was the Maker's bride, cared enough about her - until the Vints burned her. Pretty much everything'll ignore her elf general lad Shartan, because Chantry hates elves. That's a thing.

[Somewhere people are screaming and crying but is he lying? Is he? No he isn't so come fight him.]

[fireandsmoke]

You make those Tevinter sound like a wondrous bunch. They've got a thriving slave-trade, a culture of extravagant arrogance, and apparently they are full of complete fools, too, baiting and summoning forces that put them in over their heads. [Because arrogance with substance is one thing. Arrogance with foolhardiness just makes you an idiot.] And blood magic, you say?

[Well, embellished or, ahem, slightly revisionist, perhaps... but at least Yngvi made the gist of the story simple enough to understand. This is actually some very good information for Sarkan, and he drinks up every word intently.]

Oh, naturally any second-rate poet would write or sing about the times. That's the stuff bards are bred for, to spin wild tall tales out of a sliver of truth. But if the Inquisition has really scrubbed the books of every notion of blood magic...

[He allows the thought to trail off into a brief silence. Foolish. Restricted information for only the top mages, he could understand, but Forbidden Fruit is just too much. Thoughtful snort.]

What an odd, frenetic dwarf you are, but at least you made yourself useful to me. Now, I've got work to do.

[And with that he'll probably leave the sending crystal aside. Unless you manage to bait him with more carrots-on-sticks.]