...who let him even use the network, honestly

[deconsecrate]

[ Travelers, remember when you were recently informed about a terrifyingly organized group of dragons? And how this information was imparted in a manner grave, suitably solemn and noble and stuff?

...this probably won't be anything like that, just as a precaution. ]

Not to interrupt anyone's plans for the evening, but--

[ Hawke does not have any of them fancy image-sharing skills, so you're all just going to have to take his word on this. ]

I probably should let someone know there's herd of dragons on the move here, making a terrible mess of the tournament-grounds between Rivergard & Westgard. Bit bigger than the last ones, although not as many! Thank the Maker for small favors.

Does anyone know what you call a venery of dragons, by the way? I've always wondered*.

*[ no he hasn't ]

Comments

[amadine]

[Not to her; from her perspective, all it says is that he's not a complete idiot.

Cynical fantasylanders represent.]

Threats. Play up the damage the things can do, their reproduction rate, the chance of them spreading out to cover the countryside rather than remaining in a group so they can be avoided...yes, that might do it.

That or raiding someone's treasure room and promising the gold to anyone who takes up arms, or to their families if they fall. Land's an even better reward, but would require people believing you're an official baronial representative...

[deconsecrate]

[ Well, if it's telling that he's not a complete idiot, that's a fine place to begin negotiations. Negotiations of. Hawke's character, or something. ]

Outright thuggery's never really been my strong suit. [ It's just gauche, honestly. Plus elaborate storytelling and lies are so much more fun. Like a game! Where if you lose you probably get stabbed. ] Suppose I'd better start brushing up on my baronese...

[ Whatever process it is that passes thought to thought here practically emanates Hawke's delight; yes, he could get things done by just ...smashing someone in the face with his staff, or--or. Anything more interesting than that. Of course, his bizarro sense of honor would probably dictate he didn't promise land to anyone really desperate and vulnerable, but that's not really the point.

The point is that 'baronese' isn't even a word. ]

[amadine]

[A hint of humour carries across the telepathic connection; that he's not resorting to immediate strong arming puts her in charity with him. It can be effective, but if a softer touch is possible, it's usually better.]

I don't think baronese is a single language. More like a few dozen interrelated dialects of pompous ass.

[deconsecrate]

[ Likewise, a ripple of amusement like a low chuckle wends its way back from Hawke's end of the conversation. He feels perfectly justified in mocking the noble class forever, thank you very much, despite the status he left behind in Kirkwall. Show him another person in Hightown whose path there involved carving his way through a trillion darkspawn and he'll consider it. ]

At least one centered entirely around rouge.

[ Yes. ]

[amadine]

And three centered around costumes with more gilding than a treasury. At least.

[deconsecrate]

Gives new meaning to 'not lifting a finger,' for the nobility, doesn't it? [ Tone suddenly officious: ] 'Well, I would stir myself to usefulness, were I not trapped by the weight of my own pants.'

[amadine]

It's really a very convenient excuse for indolence. And one that makes it all the more amusing to tip them into a canal, every now and then.

[deconsecrate]

All the hot air should keep them afloat.

[amadine]

It has to be good for something. A pity they're not quite bouyant enough to be used for flight, like an alchemist's experiment.

[deconsecrate]

'One hundred and one uses for a noble' sounds like it's just begging to be written. Maybe when this is over I'll look into that.