So, [ begins a rather self-important sounding Antivan, also known as an Antivan, ] Let's recap, shall we?

Orlais is— moderately on fire, let us say, for the sake of Orlesians, [ There's a sloshing splatter — liquid being poured out onto something that is definitely not so harmless as a lawn. Is it more or less respectful to pour one out if you stain the rug? ] Tevinter is both floating through the air and on fire, which I imagine was quite incredible to behold, and Nevarra is— what? Torches lit over an acre of kindling everyone is still pretending they've only laid out to count their stores? Or have they stopped pretending at this point? I suppose that doesn't matter.

[ This metaphor is getting out of control. Pietro doesn't usually drink. This is probably why Pietro doesn't usually drink. ]

The point is— [ What was his point again? ] Ah yes, the point is, things are on fire. Metaphorically. Literally. Whichever. It makes one wonder— especially us, the ones running around trying our damnedest to put them out before the rest of the world burns down, and if by some miracle we manage that and live long enough to have an opinion about what comes next—

Well, what do you think the world ought to look like after all that?

If anyone cared a whit what you think, that is. Let's say they do. Let's say you get to pick at least one, maybe two things, of all the things that are recently, currently, or likely soon to be on fire, to rebuild better. What do you pick? What do you do with it? What do you think other people should do with it, at least?

—Obviously, [ Obviously, he adds as an afterthought, ] if you are neither elf nor mage nor in possession of more complex hopes than returning to your settee cushions, I may care less about your opinion, but by all means, let us test that theory — or perhaps someone else will have the typical biases, and you can bore them instead.

The next time any of us— [ That isn't an all-inclusive us; he means, specifically, mages and rifters and maybe templars, but everyone can figure that out on their own. Or not. He doesn't care. ] —is in the position to make demands, I think we should make sure we have a say in which rifters go to which Circles. We could pick in turns. Like choosing teams.

[ That's all. ]

Hello, everyone. This is Scoutmaster Beleth Ashara, and this message has been sent to everyone who has, for their own reasons, not gone to Tevinter with the rest of the Inquisition.

I've stayed behind as well, and I want to thank all of you for the hard work you've been doing to make sure that our work here continues to go smoothly while the others are gone. I know that it's not easy making up for lost manpower, and I'm grateful that we have so many dedicated people doing their best.

In fact, I'm grateful enough that I thought we could do something special, something fun, to help make up for missing the things they're doing in Tevinter.

Since this would be for everyone here, and there's not many of us, I figured I'd open the floor for suggestions. That way, everyone can have their say, and we can make sure that we have something that's fun for everyone.

To get the ball rolling, possibilities include a small party, everyone getting a day off, or we could do a gathering where we participated in activities to get to know each other better.

[ There's a little laugh of wonder and then - ] To think I spent all my time hungering after Tesla's machines... [ Clears her throat with the end of that wistful sigh, no time for what-ifs, and she adopts a far more even a tone. Dry, clipped and careful to not muddle her words. Not Tesla's machines, no, but she has heard plenty of poor announcements across radios, to want to make sure that she doesn't do the same. ]

Greetings. I am... Rani Lakshmibai, the, ah.. widower of the King, Maharaja, of Jhansi. [ There's a hesitation, unsure. But like the titles she just gave, she brushes over it quickly. ] I have a request for an individual, who would spend a few hours telling me of this place and its manners, so I might be a better guest of this... Inquisition. I have no more than what I am to receive you, but I can provide honest company in return for yours.

[ pause, and then a moment later. ] And where may I exchange jewels and gold for coin, find a decent cloth merchant and tailor, and whether the weapons the armies here supply are worth the metal they're made from. I prefer a shamsher or talwar, by preference, but any long, heavy blade suffices if its decent enough quality.

A few updates.

[ The accent is Nevarran, the tone is measured bordering on bored, or perhaps resentful of the need for this, or both. ]

There are several thousand darkspawn in the Anderfels who are—organized, to some extent, and appear to be corrupted with red lyrium. More corrupted. Than their usual—Blight. [ What even is a darkspawn. ] The Warden mages who were bound to demons appear to be alive, with their demon companions intact. The border is closed. Everything is shit. It is possible that the locals have not noticed the difference.

—this is Kostos Averesch. [ Belatedly. ] I'm currently organizing our efforts in the North.

[ And back to business: ] Nevarra is somewhere between five minutes and three months away from a civil war, which I am sure our enemy will make use of if we do not. We are still determining the cause of the problems in the Necropolis and the people responsible, if it was not, in fact, all of you.

[ Just kidding. But also: not kidding. If further investigation reveals that the Inquisition chopped up any of his family members, he's going to be pissed. He doesn't care if his family members were trying to eat everyone's faces. ]

Antiva and Rivain are—fine. To the extent anywhere can be fine.

And, as far as we are aware, Tevinter remains Tevinter. It has not transformed overnight into something that is not Tevinter. That is an ongoing problem.

If you are without enough to keep you occupied and have average or better common sense, we can find something for you to do. If you are unfamiliar with any of the words I have used here, there is an extensive library in the central tower, and you should visit it. If you have other questions, you can ask—someone.

Me.

I suppose.

[ For a long several moments, silence broadcasts over the crystal, Iorveth having just activated it after reading the announcement on negotiations results posted, lost for words. When they do come, it's like they're being spoken through a snarl. ]

You left to end the blood leashing.

Not push it off on the next lesser group.

[ there is a deafening thud that sounds before Iorveth's voice goes out, and anyone physically standing by the Gallows announcement board will have just witnessed Iorveth pull a dagger (with at least a foot worth of blade on it) free, and slam it through the notice and into the board, metal and splinters jutting out the opposite side, before walking away.

He mad. (And he'll come fix the board later, leave him alone) ]