audio;

[swoopingisbad]

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.

Comments

[Audio]

[tallymarks]

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.]

[Audio]

[swoopingisbad]

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

[Audio]

[tallymarks]

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?

[Audio]

[swoopingisbad]

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

[Audio]

[tallymarks]

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.