Participants:

Varric_icon.gif Carys_icon.gif Bronan_icon.gif Aelia_icon.gif

Scene Title Going Batshit
Synopsis A Traveling Hawker in Hightown
Location Hightown
Date Justinian 19, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Bats and bright clothing
Logger Varric


Built at the height of the Tevinter Emperium's slave trade, Hightown's mansions were where wealthy slavers. Wide walkways lead to main doors while narrow alleys give access to service entrances, all of this perched within viewing (and sometimes smelling) distance of Lowtown, though no one seems to pay the narrow stairs that connect the two much mind. Here, too, can be found merchants catering to more sophisticated- and sometimes more questionable- tastes.


Varric never actually LIKES being in Hightown, no matter how much better the air is up here. The manors are stuffy, there are nobles everywhere, and none of his contacts would ever feel comfortable out in the open like this. Unfortunately, once in a while he has to make the trip to hash things out with is brother. Now that he's done? Well, he's just going to stroll right along back to where he belongs. Not quickly- he's well aware that humans think it's amusing when Dwarves hurry- but at the pace of a leisurely stroll. It's even a good time for that stroll, since the early evening breeze has started to waft in and even the areas closer to the stairs haven't started to smell bad yet. There's even enough light to deter the pickpockets. At least the not-so-brave ones.

Or the not so smart ones. Which Carys is not (usually) part of. Not that she's here trying to pick pockets. No, she's just a good little citizen or whatever, and she has a perfectly legitimate excuse for being here. … Then again, most people probably wouldn't find 'having found a good spot to watch the comings and goings of a mansion in HIghtown' (aka what's so casually refered to as 'casing a joint') legitimate. Which is why she's got the bag of laundry here. She's obviously just leaning against this wall because the damn thing's so /heavy/. Ah, the life of a servant. SEriously. Really. Totally heavy bag and that's why she's standing here looking dumb. For the most part, in her relaxing lean, Carys doesn't really acknowledge people passing by her. Save maybe Varric because… wow, obviously that dwarf must /not/ get cold in the winter with the carpet he's supporting on his chest. Yeah, there's a doubletake from the woman at that, before she blinks her eyes and goes back to what she was doing.

That's fine Dwarven silk, Varric's just sharing it with the world. Sharing it while he strolls and, since he's noticed Carys leaning over there with that sack, he gives a nod in greeting. See? We're all friends here. In fact, he's so relaxed that he's going to take a moment to admire the scenery as he adjusts Bianca's strap- for comfort, not ease of reach.

If that's silk, then obviously, Carys is sporting melons. The nod from the dwarf is met with a bright, impish grin before she readjusts the tie on her laundry sack and she hefts it up. "Oof," she grumbles to herself, followed by, "Who knew one lady could go through so much underwear."

There is probably a joke somewhere about dwarves and higher elevation and the exponential increase of falling to the sky risk to be made about Hightown. Which is why Bronan goes about his business as briskly as he can. Succesful or no, his is not a particularly savory trade, and the potential social benefits of moving into Hightown were long ago weighed and found wanting by the Kodas. Too many prying eyes and wagging tongues, the rent was too high, and there was something to be said for keeping the extended clan in one place. He does stop by Worthy's shop, a bit of dickering over runes before the doctor hands over coin, satisfied he is not being cheated /too/ much. He's a few bottles and flasks and vials short of his usual cacophonous kit, its probably not a stretch to imagine that he's got a few tricks handy. He pauses, flipping the the stout and diligence runes in his palm before he strolls into eyesight (or crossbow if you will) of a certain 'laundress' and another dwarven institution of Kirkwall.

Perhaps the only person who looks at home in high town is the visting Altus. She's eschewed her guards for the moment, perffering to travel about hightown on her own. Really, the quards were for the Qunari and not much else, and she doubts that the oxmen will come to stir up toruble here, and, if they do the City guard will be /much/ more prompt in their responding. Aelia is clearly a mage by the staff she carries, using it simply as a walking stick at the moment the haft of the weapon is blackwood with a jade painted dragon coiling around the head. The magister to be wanders about the various stalls looking here and there at thigns she might find interesting. Her clothes are tevinter in style a green silk dress which is held in place by a set of silver clasps at the shoulders and belted at the waist.

Well, isn't this an interesting mix. So interesting that Varric is going to stop to enjoy the scene for just a few seconds- leaning against the back wall of one of the buildings- likely the mansion of one of the less wealthy in the area- all the while. You just don't see high status Tevinter mages every day and this could have the makings of a great story. You never know. That there's another Dwarf there is given no special notice- there are Dwarves everywhere-and he even takes a second to pull at his glove to make sure it's on snugly.

Bronan's given a toss of a hand in greeting, though Carys probably couldn't remember his /name/ if her life depended on it. AS for the Tevinter strolling about? All that /sparkling/ has caught her attention the way a scurrying rodent catches the attention of a cat. Lips purse slightly as she does a quick appraisal in her head on the woman's outfit.

Well yes, there are dwarves everywhere. If you count Carta and sun touched and all those other things. It may be part of why the Kodas have never bothered to join the Merchants Guild. That might as well be admitting they were getting use to being up here…so perhaps Varrick's lack of interest is forgiveable. Carys's toss of the hand gets one in turn as Bronan ambles past in that quick shuffle made slightly less comical by longer legs. Your mileage may vary. He too pauses to study the Altus for a few seconds, then looks up at Carys. "Some part of me is imagining that somewhere, off in the Gallows, the Knight Commander's eye is twitching uncontrollably right now and she's not entirely sure why." He muses with a chuckle.

"Ladies and gentleman! Dwarves, elves, humans of all sizes and ages! Please gather 'round!" Calls a voice touched with a Ostwick accent. A man, standing upon a colorfully painted cart, pulled by two dark horses. A young attendant leads the horses through the streets of Hightown, his long hair bundled up under a simple hat. Simple in general, really.

By contrast, the man whose voice carried through the streets is dressed almost violently. Reds, blues, yellows, greens, it's a panoply of hues. A cloak of shining cloth of silver catches light. "Come one and all, and see the wonders in store for you, Kirkwall! Cures for all that ails you, mysterious relics from far off lands, gems the likes of which have never been seen this side of Tevinter!"

Varric barks a laugh. "I bet the nobles'll shitting themselves over the amount horseshit left behind," he comments to no one in particular. For now he's just going to watch the guy who looks like he wet himself with molasses and rolled himself over a pricey whore's floor. At least, that's what his gaze would indicate. He may very well be watching that unassuming fellow leading the horses or one of the previous people in the area.

Aelia can't help but smile a little, well used to the notion of being watched by a crowd, though the temprature of it is different than in the markets of Quinaris back home. Bronnan, Carys and Varric all get a polite wave from the Altus in turn. Bronnan even gets a flash of an ammused smirk for the commen which Aelia catches on the wind. However, with the arrival of this… merchant the smirk for Bronnan becomes more of a permeant fixture on her face. She wanders away from the stall to watch the charletan and his audience from a far. It lands her nearby Varric. "I always wonder why one side of Tevinter or the other is the distinquising factor of something's worth." She says to the dwarf. "Particularly when 'the other side of Tevinter' is largely shit."

Carys can't help but snort at Bronan when he mentions the Templar leader. "If you summon her by mentionin' her, I'm drownin' you in used old lady knickers before runnin' for my life." She pats her laundry bag. However, any further commentary is halted by the arrival of… whatever. And she can't help but snort. "If he's got anythin' that really works, I'm secretly the heir to the throne of Antiva," this is said low enough that onlyc arries to those nearby. "Which, let's hope that's not the case 'cause… poor Antiva at that rate, right?"

He listens to Carys and gives a shrug. "Neither of us are mages, are going to overturn the social order, and I'm pretty sure unless you are the most mellow desire demon I've met you arent possessed. Add that to her reluctant understanding of my family, insofar as she is aware of us, and I think we shall be alright." Bronan's gaze tusn towards the traveling salesman and there is a visible groan. "In most cases you hope it doesn't work. When it does, its seldom in the way it advertises on the bottle. Still, worth a look, no?" He asks, rolling shoulders back. "Horseshit and snake oil….though I would hardly seek to besmirch a perfectly good reagent with that title."

Look, the guy might have snake oil and colored glass, but he is spry. Spry enough, in fact, that when he disembarks his cart, it is with a full jump, tuck, and flip through the air, landing in on his feet with a flutter of silver cloak. Reaching back to the cart, he pulls a chain, opening curtains on the cart, revealing… All manner of baubles, vials, powders, feathers, leathers, stitched together taxidermy, even a small creature in the back, shadowy corner, moving in a cage that is covered by gauze.

Varric never trusts anyone that agile. It's gotten him to where he is today, to a certain extent. He nods to Aelia, laughing at her take on the other side of Tevinter. "Maybe, but how impressive does 'this side of mid-Tevinter where all the nice things are' sound?" But look, he saw that cage and moving things in cages are usually bad unless they're birds.

Carys shrugs. "There's more reasons than that to run away from someone with the Knight-Commander's reputation," Y'know, hard-ass, stern…the kind of person someone like /Carys/ really should give a wide berth. "I'd probably do the same if the Captain of the Guard showed up, too." But she's suddenly distracted by all the shinies in the cart—bullshit they may be or not. However, her attention is kind of drawn towards that back corner and the cage there, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Factually, much more impressive than 'here's some crap I dug out of a blighted hole in the anderfels', but I suppose facts aren't really the point." Aelia remarks to Varric casually. The spry flip is noted with perhaps a slightly impressed expression, but really, any showman can do acrobatics. Aelia continues to rest at her perch against the wall, watching the conman and his wares curiously.

"Come, come, now, no need to be shy!" The showman says. "You, miss," He says, pointing Aelia, "Have you a dream of great beauty and undying love?" Taking up a vial, holding it to the light, it scatters multicolored sprites across the ground in the fading sun. "I have just the thing!"

Meanwhile, his little assistant has slipped off into the crowd, quiet and unassuming. Looking over people, smirking.

"Blighted holes are….bad. "Bronan agrees, stepping closer, trying to see over the mass of bodies. "Devils you know and all that." He says off side to Carys. He kind of has to go on tip toe to look towards the cages. That is of course before Aelia is accosted by the 'curiosity' salesman. He doesn't have his equipment with him but he's already studying the liquid intently. The assistant is ignored for now, mostly because its less of a potential affront to his profession. His hand though strays a little closer to the sword at his hip. Lack of use should not be mistaken for lack of familiarity. "Spoken candidly Messere, I think she's going to be fine for a little while yet."

Carys is, for some suddenly convenient reason, very glad she keeps whatever money she carries on her in a place that she is sure to know damn well when someone's trying to pickpocket her. For Aelia getting called out, the woman just snorts and shakes her head. But for the moment, she remains quiet, keeping her opinion and thoughts to herself. Do feel free to check the sky for flying pigs.

Varric grins. "You hear that? Undying love. I bet it gets real inconvenient around the time you start to want them dead." He's watching you, assistant. In fact, he's just going to ease Bianca to rest against his side while he watches the show. "Why don't you go for one of those, Scissors?" is asked of Bronan. "You never know, you might get lucky and attract a pretty undead thing."

Did he miss the staff or something? Aelia smiles wryly at the showman as he singles her out for his performance, surprised. Where she's from such a move is reserved for the the particularly audacious… then again, that outfit. "I like to think I already have one of those covered, Messere." The altus replies, shifting her staff in her hands so she leans on it. "The ultimate goal is to find a husband I don't want or need to have offed." She remarks at Varric before turning her attention back to the showman. "As for undying love, I don't need a bottle for that."

The showman laughs, jovial and bright, it rings against the walls. "Oh, my lady," He says, "Surely, you do have one of them already. Perhaps that is not what I offer you, though." He pauses, turning a circle, a swirl of color and silver, "For in this vial is pure, undiluted luck." Raising it again, he taps against the crystal vial. "The very tears of a High Dragon. It's true. Hard won, much sought, passed from the hands that found them to the hands that will deliver them and meant for the hands that deserve them." Such boldness.

As for young assistant? Well, he's noticed Bianca, that's for sure. Though, it seems, for now, that hes keeping his hands to himself.

It should be noted again, that outfit. What claim may be made are dismissed, the /presentation/ of a fraud is just as intriguing as the fraud itself. He looks over at Varric and gives a roll of the eyes. "Dead tissue can be useful, Master Tethras, but I find it no more charming than that with the blush of life. Considerably less so in fact." His arms folded as others seem to be on the look for shady assistant. He's not entirely unaware, its just he's a thief and a scoundrel only in the most tertiary sense. "You will pardon my suspicion at anyone able to distill probability, let alone in a suspension material that looks like it would obliterate such a sensitive element as a dragons tear." Its true, he's never had the chance to harvest a dragon but accounts are that blood and bone keep poorly if not treate just so, and even then its a crap shoot.

Varric is still so casual he may as well be kicking back in a chair by the fire and Bianca? She's relaxed, too. Everyone's relaxed. "You didn't tell them what kind of luck it is. Pure, undiluted bad luck is usually what you get from a run-in with a high dragon." He glances at Bronan. "You're using a lot of words to say bullshit, aren't you Scissors?" Then again, he's never been one to stop the well to do from spending their money.

Aelia trues to stifle a laugh, but finds her luck with that to be not particularly great. "There is no magic known to Thedas, Messere, that can be said to change one's luck." The altus refutes, with all the aplomb of an expert. "And even if there was, for all of the properties of High Dragon tears that have been discovered /that/ is certainly not one of them." Sure she's no fun, but poking and magic plebs was so enjoyable for her. Sharp green eyes dart to the assistant for a moment, with the situational awareness afforded to someone who has spent time in the army. The altus is not just a pretty face in a pretty dress.

"Not at all, if he's done it I'd be very curious to know how he managed it." Bronan replies toward Varric even as something else seems to grab his attention. For all of his candor though, Aelia is the one who puts nails in the coffin. "I suppose you would be the expert on draconic materials. Personally I find ores and herbs far more accessible and slightly less risky." He's all for science, but even the doctor know his limits.

"Thieves!" Comes a call down the street from a noblewoman. "Somebody stop them!"

Turning, the showman puts on his best confused expression. "My lady, whatever do you mean? I am a respectable businessman!" None the less, he is climbing back onto the edge of his cart. His assistant is returning to the horses, and the cart is beginning to move.

"Lying thief! You've stolen my mother's necklace. Cease at once or I shall call for the guard!" The woman continues, coming now out into the square. She does not look pleased.

Aelia levies a pointed glare at the showman as he retreats. She pushes up from her perch, staff in hand in a not quite overly threatening manner, but certainly an implied one. "You may wish to reconsider fleeing with stolen property, Messere." The altus warns him, and will only be warning him once.

Bronan meanwhile jogs ahead of the wagon, one of the pouchse at his side flicked open and a flask with a thick, black, tarry mixture within. He avoids drawing it though, just in case the showman sees reason…or if the Tevinter fails in whatever unspoken threat she renders. There is still time enough though for things to go well…and let us be honest his method of dealing with problems can be rather collateral for Lowtown.

The showman really doesn't like these odds. Not a bit. The guards? Maybe he could outrun that. But this lady with the staff is scary, and that flask of goo doesn't appear promising. "Ugh… Fine." The man says, the Ostwick accent falling away for one distinctly Orlesian, "Take your damned necklace then." Reaching into one of his many pockets, he tosses the heirloom at the noblewoman who, perhaps luckily, has the reflexes to catch it. It's then, however, that the young assistant kicks the horses into really moving and the cart is off with gallopping hoofbeats, clattering vials, and a swinging cage.

If that was stolen than how much else might be? The most inoffensive spell in Aelia's arsenal is Spirit Bolt, thus that is what is sent flying at one of the back wheels of the cart. She doesn't put her hips into it, or anything like that, there's no desire to send the thing flying, just skidding to a halt. She could explain herself to grunpy templars later.

"You can make more than enough on your 'curatives', Messer." Though Bronan barely gets the words out without distaste. He keeps an eye out to see the effect of the Spirit Bolt, to see if still more drastic measures are required. Besides, if the Tevinter is confident enough to cast in public maybe he shouldn't compromise his own name in the process.

Look, okay, cartwheels are not the sturdiest things in the world. Especially when they're attached to carts owned by conmen. The wheel falls apart. The cart drops to one side, there is a terrible screeching of axel on stone. Screeeeeeeech. Screech. Screech. Okay, that's more than the axel on stone, that's something inside the cart too, something that is very unhappy. The showman is cursing, the assistant is slipping from his seat and running, the noblewoman is laughing. It's a comical, and unfortuante, time.

And hey, no one is throwing a fit about the mage casting a spell in public. Ah the magic of looking like someone with status. Aelia brings her staff back down to a neutral position at her side, satisfied the outcome for now. she'll take a shot at casting at an object, not casting at criminals. While she'd have as much right back home, here they call that 'assault' or some other nonsense. The guard can deal with it from here.

Bronan looks inside the overturned wagon out of curiosity more than anything else, though he's ready to toss the inferno if something tries to maul his face. "You really should scan your audience better, master showman." The doctor notes. "If you are injured I can see to you…maybe even before the guard begins manhandling you." Bronan tries not to dwell on the prospect of the laughing noblewoman. Some people you do wish you could /unhelp/.

The guards are already moving in to apprehend the conman, who is mostly just spitting curses at this point. He does not appear to be injured. That's something, at least. In the cart are… All manner of things. Mostly junk. Okay… All junk, aside from a couple of vials that appear to actually be crystal. And whatever the hell is screeching in that small cage in the back.

"His assistant ran that way." aelia supplies to the guards, along with a point. All that said and done though the altus begins to turn and walk away, content to return to her mansion unless anyone should wish to stop her.

Curiosity is not completely subsumed by good sense, so Bronan hops into the wagon to find out what could possibly cause so much racket. His hands are gloved and his tunic is fairly thick, so hopefully his attempts at exploration and mercy won't be punished. "I won't lie to you and tell me I'm your friend, but I hope my choice of wardrobe doesn't offend your sensibilities. He says to….it.

The guard are off after the assistant now too. He's a harder catch. They'll figure it out. But in that cage, some of the gauze has been knocked loose. And there, in the cage, is a fluffy, white bat with a large ears and a turned up nose.

Bronan looks left, looks right. Then comes closer to the cage, A glove hand moving to test the soundness of the cage, his eyes scrutinizing the creature for injury or signs of muscular atrophy from the caging. Still, this is probably a poor environment to perform veterinary medicine, so he looks for some manner of handle on the cage. "Lets go home, hmmm? Got a nice loft you can nest in." Bronan promises to the beast as he too slips out of the cart before law and order takes its course. Also taking a few vials…its not like they were being used for real alchemy anyway.

The cage is small, but the bat seems to be in decent condition. Hard to tell, really. The cage being small, it's easily carried, taken down from its hook in the cart. Vials taken, bat in hand, doesn't look like anyone is going to say anything, either.


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