What do you believe gods are Inquisition? Do you indeed believe that there are gods? The Chantry that likes to press and to meddle might not be for all but there are many of those who will still have the name of the Maker upon their lips in a time of strife. The Dalish have the Creators. The Avvar have beliefs about spirits and gods, and the Chasind have gods of a fashion, men and women beloved of them.

Rifters need not be shy in answering, I ask about...what a god is. What it might be. If it is a thing indeed. Something far beyond the comprehension of any mortal being, shifting even beyond the Veil or Fade that we might never know what it truly is, or if it might something else. Something closer to flesh and blood fashioned long ago. Shaped in the way the world is shaped.

[That phrase turned over and over: There is only the subject and the object, the actor and the acted upon.]

Perhaps… [and well she might as well voice a possibility when they're in Kirkwall where the Veil was stretched so thin long ago] once 'twas possible to raise those of ambition and power as high as the magisters of old Tevinter, to leave terror and awe in their wake depending on the mood, the whim, the offering.

[Eventually...well eventually there will be a report, but until she can trust how to write it, can know what the reception might be when it dares to leave the small group that know even the truth of what lies deep in the Tirashan, she can't bring her hand to write it.]

[ There's the sound of movement and a fancy voice (aka Ignis) talking with someone about food. But he's obviously at a bit of a distance from the crystal. When a voice speaks, it's way less fancy. It's Tessa. ]

Heeeey, Tessa here. And Ignis. So I'll bet the Tourney got us all pumped and ready for more sports, right? [ Tessa sounds pretty energetic right now, as if she's had a few coffees, or is just really, really pumped to bring this idea into being. ] Well, I hope so, because I've got a sport from home I'd love to introduce here. It's called football.

[ A pause. ]

American football, before any of you Rifters think I mean soccer. Anyway, football is super cool. You have two teams face off trying to throw or carry a ball towards a goal. They get four attempts to make it at least 10 yards, and if they don't, they have to kick the ball away to the other team so they can try to do the same. There's tackling involved, but I figure if we get a real diverse group together, we should do flag football rules. That's where you wear a sash tucked into your pants, and if the opposing team grabs it and pulls it off, it counts as a tackle. Anyway, there's a ton of rules to explain, but I wanna see if there's genuine interest first. [ From behind her, Ignis adds in that they still need to find someone to construct these footballs too. ] Right, we have to do that. And if any other Rifters wanna help me explain the rules if you know them? Like I'd watch every season on tv, but I'll bet I'll forget stuff.

[ Now she takes a second to gather her thoughts, and Ignis takes the opportunity to lightly say: And tomorrow? His tone is teasing, but he's reminding her to stay on track with what else she wanted to say. ]

Right. Speaking of Rifters, I was wondering if we all shouldn't meet up. Casually. Not as anything political, but because we all share one thing in common and we're all so diverse. I think we could learn a lot from each other, and nobody knows what we face in getting settled here like people who've been through it before. Like if we want to integrate into this world, it'd be nice to know people it's okay to turn to and ask questions. And I get it: we're all so different and some of us are loudmouths, or jerks, and you don't wanna associate with them. That's fine. I can't force anybody to turn up. But if you do, then let's meet up and all hang out. How's tomorrow night sound, in the main courtyard? [ That way anyone can see they're literally just hanging out, not making evil demon plans to overthrow the Inquisition. ] Ignis and I are working on the food situation now, so there'll be stuff to eat. It'll be sorta like a party where we all mingle; not some weird group meeting where we all sit in a circle and talk one at a time.

[ Ignis's voice carries over one last time: Not to disparage sitting around in a circle, but let's skip the formalities for now. There'll be plenty of time for that later. ]

Heh, yeah. This is just hanging out and getting to know each other. Anyway, let us know what you think!


[ ooc: a mingle log will go up tomorrow for just this thing! ]

I lost a bet. [ Just getting that out of the way now, before anyone thinks that he actually wants to be talking to any of you. ] I have to ask you these survey questions. You will not be able to remember them all, so answer whichever you have something interesting to say about.

[ And you know what's really fun to listen to? Nearly twenty questions read off a sheet of paper, rotely and with barely any inflection, by someone whose combination of Nevarran and Orlesian accent gets more difficult to understand the more annoyed he is. ]

One. The weirdest thing you've eaten here.

Two. The most successful quote, international relation, end quote.

Three. The most impressive thing you've seen. —that is horrifically broad, Nell.

[ From some distance away: ] Your mother is horrifically broad.

Maybe.

Four, the strangest banner or coat of arms or nickname. From a competitor, I assume.

Five, the best one of those things.

Six, the most entertaining failure. From a competitor, I assume again.

Seven. Who do you think will win the Grand Melee, and how much are you willing to wage on it? If it is more than ten sovereigns, please let me know.

Eight. The most drinks you've had in one night this week.

Nine. The Inquisition member most likely to get married here and leave the Inquisition forever.

Ten. Best prize.

Eleven. Best facial hair.

Twelve. The competitor you would prefer to swap bodies with for a—this is stupid.

[ Still over his shoulder somewhere: ] For a day! Come on!

A stupid day. Thirteen, the event you wish had been included.

Fourteen, your best guess as to what made the animals so sticky.

Fifteen. The nation here you would most like to party with.

Sixteen. The nation here most likely to be cheating.

Seventeen. Best muscles.

Eighteen. The event you would have won if it existed.

Nineteen, the combat event animal that likely had the cutest offspring waiting for it at ho— [ Rapidly getting louder: ] Maker's tits, that is not on the list—! And wyverns aren't cute! [ There are sounds of a brief scuffle, and then it cuts off. ]

Ser Coupe.

[ sounding entirely as though he's facing her and having a real conversation rather than throwing her name into the ether. ]

What say you about a friendly wager, considering the tourney.  If my Division's members place in more events than yours do, you will have to...

[ a pause to consider. ]

Well, I'm sure someone will have a good idea of what the losing Division Head will have to do. Do the members of the Kirkwall outpost have any suggestions?

Inquisition. [Very somber, very Orlesian.] Especially members of the Scouting Division. We must demand your attention. Our beloved Head of Scouting, Beleth Ashara, has been tragically and most temporarily laid low by an ill-founded and frankly poorly researched experiment. In these coming weeks, please, join us in offering sincere prayers to Andraste for Beleth’s healing and recovery.

But tragedy must not forestall the work of the Inquisition! Beleth Ashara, eternally professional and aware of the solemn charge of her most important position, has temporarily assigned the duties and tasks of leading the Scouting Division to me: Valentine Nicasus Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé.

[A pause, to properly savor the announcement--and then, as a small but gracious afterthought, he goes on--] And to her other dear friend--or at least, I imagine they must be dear friends, as I am with Beleth, for who better to trust with important work and secrets of the Division than friends--her dear friend, Kostos Averesch. You cannot see his face, of course, but he is quite thrilled.

Don't. [ --misrepresent his expression, which is distinctly not thrilled? address him? talk anymore at all? All of the above, maybe. Also: ] It is very temporary. [ If the Maker has any mercy at all. ] If you acquire information of immediate, war-changing importance, direct it to the remaining division heads. If you have questions about your pay or routine responsibilities, direct them to--him.

[ The one with the long name. He refuses to learn it, or at least to admit he's learned it. ]

[Very helpfully:] Valentine Nicasus Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé. Val. And if you acquire any letters of well-wishing for Beleth Ashara, or come across any woodland creatures that need taming, you might direct either to Averesch, who is followed around by a large raven and might, possibly, be able to speak with animals. And if you acquire any interesting gossip you might direct it to us both.

[ Unseen, and unheard, Kostos' head lowers into his hands in defeat. ]

Above all, do not worry, Inquisition! Do not worry, scouts! We are more than capable of handling all that is asked of us. And we are, of course, treating this temporary but quite important reassignment with all due solemnity. In the name of the Inquisition, and of Beleth Ashara.

[ If this sounds vaguely like someone speaking over an announcement loudspeaker, that's because that's how Daniel is treating this. ]

Hi, my name is Daniel Jackson. If anyone has seen, heard, or read of something called a Stargate, please get in touch with me.

It looks like a large metal ring, about twenty feet tall, with roughly forty glyphs around the circumference, and nine chevrons along the edges. It'll probably be very old, maybe found in a ruin somewhere. Uh, it could also have been called a Chappa'ai, Astria Porta, Ring of the Gods...

Anyway, if this rings a bell for anyone, please let me know. It's important. Thank you.

[ thranduil's voice is tight, if still somehow pleasant: ]

I understand that there are a great number of questions and concerns at the moment regarding the Inquisition's proposed policy of phylacteries for Rifters.

If there are concerns that anyone would wish to make known through official channels, the Research Division has been appointed to handle the research of this new, proposed policy. [ very pointed stressing. ] My office is where it has always been, and any concerns should be turned into the box reserved for correspondence of that nature.

I would remind all Rifters that we are yet considered a single unit. [ remember the curfew? ] That poor behavior will affect all of us- indeed, anyone currently afflicted with a Shard. I would advise them that this is never as true as it is now, and that consequences for actions taken in the heat of the moment are the same as those made when rational.

What do you guys miss the most from home? I miss... [ a small, longing sigh ] Decent music and decent booze, mainly.

Hi! Wow, this is just like a Skype call, huh? Have you guys considered getting a video feed on here, because my eyeliner is looking really great today—But my eyeliner isn’t the point. [ This time. ]

Much to my relief, you guys do have coffee, and even caffeinated tea, so you don’t have to worry about me going into withdrawal and, like. Dying. But, uh. How do I say this delicately.

The taste is...lacking. A lot. Of flavor, particularly.

Unfortunately, I’m better at drinking fancy coffee than making it, but I figured I could poll people for ideas? Like—do you guys have caramel? Whipped cream? You have milk, so I’m guessing whipped cream could be made...? And frappes! You have ice, and wizard people who can do wizard magic, so maybe....frappuccino magic?

Man, that would be cool. I wish I could be a coffee witch.