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Oh Maker's Breath-

[Alistair pauses. His voice sounds like it's a bit far away; he's holding this new alien device far ahead of him, trying to figure out exactly what it is, nevermind the fact he already knows how to work it.]

Not Ferelden. Definitely not Ferelden. One would think they'd remember coming to a foreign place, just a night before a big event that could determine the fate of the world, but no, I've got no bloody remembrance of anything. Dwarven ale is great, Oghren said. Put hair on your chest, he said. Not wake up in a weird place and nearly nude. Horrible pranks, really. This must be some witchy plot. Swooping everywhere, I know it.

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I don't think there's a witch to blame. Or your...dwarven ale?

[There's a lilt of curiousity there. She's familiar with dwarves, of course, but as far as she's aware, their ale doesn't differ a jot from anyone else's.]

I'm pretty positive it's dwarven ale. Have you had any of it? Curls your ties and makes hair grow in places.

I haven't had that particular adventure. And you aren't talking like your only problem is unusual hair growth. Are you on the ship?

If one calls this a ship. Quite an unusual one, if you ask me.

It's not a very traditional sort of ship. It doesn't travel the ocean, it journeys between worlds. Or it did, at least. It's a bit broken, now.

[a new voice comes over the comm, as is someone's leaning over the other man, on account of being convinced his comm is a giant paper weight.]

Sure. Right. Blame the mage. Why am I NOT surprised? A Templar blaming a mage. How original. You couldn't come up with another option in that lyrium addled brain of yours?

And it's your own fault for drinking Oghren's ale. That dwarf drank darkspawn blood like it was whiskey.

Hold on a moment! [Excuse you, Anders. :| ]

First of all, There hadn't been lyrium in some time, really. That stuff makes me go crazy. Second of all, I said it could be some witchy plot! And by witchy, I mean Morrigan, because I'm pretty sure she's hiding as some animal somewhere waiting to swoop in.

[Pause.] When did he become a Warden?

Of course it makes you go crazy. It's lyrium. Don't you need lyrium? How are you getting away with that? And there is no swooping. I'm pretty sure the only wildlife here is actually wildlife. Look, a rabbit!

[When did he hit his head?] A few seconds before I did. Surely you heard about it? There were Darkspawn, Templars. Sadly they all died. And then I was forced to drink darkspawn blood. Personally, I think I'd rather have gone back to the Tower. At least I know the way out.

{pause]

I'm dead by the way. Keep it that way.

I haven't taken lyrium since before I was conscripted. I am lyrium-free, thank you.

[Alistair always acts like he's hit his head.] I am pretty sure I would have heard about it. He's not one to be quiet about things.

[And there's another look.] You surely look alive for being 'dead.'

While that is a known side effect of too much drink, [That and time travel!] that's not exactly what happened here.

Then what exactly did happen here?

We're not entirely sure how anyone wound up in the pods, but we've all been brought here from very different places.

These things are called pods? [Alistair's not sure how he feels about this, really.]

I'm assuming from different countries, but my gut is telling me that I'm probably wrong.

That's what we call them, anyway. Gotta think a bigger scale than just countries here though.

[At last, someone he recognizes! Zevran, currently ensconced in some unguarded attic in Poseidon with a good view of other people's business, flips open his own communicator (still disguised, impractically, as a grimoire) and settles in to prod at that familiar voice.]

My friend, we have both seen far more of Oghren's chest hair than any sane man needs to see. If you are attempting to charm dwarven women, there are other ways. I believe I heard some considering mountain climbing when we were in Orzammar.

[Wait a moment. He knows that Antivan voice.]

Zevran! Thank the Maker that there's more of us here.

[And then he's lucky this is audio, because his face screws into a DNW face. EW. He's going to need brain bleach for this.] I did not need that image in by head. Ever.

And there were no dwarven women! Not that I have anything against them.

Indeed, I am here. I have been so for a little over a month, by my reckoning, but some mornings I still swear I can smell the scent of a wet mabari. Your country does not leave one easily, it seems.

[If there's a bit of a teasing gloss on the your part for Ferelden's new king, well, it goes with the territory. He doesn't seem too worried by Alistair's jaunt into places not the throne, but it's a) Zevran and there's b) Anora.]

I believe I am now entirely outnumbered by Wardens, however. If you should find Wynne and her magical bosom while you're in the ship, I would welcome even the attempts to save my soul that seem to go along with it.

Ferelden does leave a certain scent in your nostrils, doesn't it? Doesn't easily leave, that's for sure.

[He can completely understand the teasing. but tell him he's the next King of Ferelden and he'd just laugh.]

Being outnumbered by Wardens is certainly better than being outnumbered by Darkspawn. [A pause. Did he just say Wynne's magical bosom? Um.] I'll search high and low, but I am pretty sure she wouldn't call her bosom magical.

Edited 2013-12-16 00:00 (UTC)

No, she most certainly would not. [And Zevran pauses, then promptly smirks, the expression nearly audible.] Which is why it's so delightful to refer to it as such where she can hear.

To matters more practical, this world is possessed of devices and conveniences that would make a qunari or dwarven artificer weep, but there is a good sized town a day's walk from the place we awake, and a military outpost closer to it. They have ways to travel much more quickly than by foot, or by horse, and if you show them your earnest face they should help you.

Or I could see if they'll loan me one of their 'trucks' again...

[You should not trust that tone at all, Alastair.]

Why do you think a witch behind your arrival here?

[ Since it's been mentioned, Helga is going to ask. She's open with her magic but better safe now than sorry at a later date. ]

Edited 2013-12-09 03:16 (UTC)

Because a certain witch I know would not hesitate to send me off into a far off land.

[A pause.] Not that I have anything against magic. Quite a few of my good friends are mages.

May I ask what it is that you did to her that would cause her to cast such a spell?

[ Helga is somewhat doubtful of his last statement. She will continue to use a bit more caution. ]

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