Varric Tethras (hardinhightown) wrote in the100, @ 2016-02-18 16:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !network post, cassandra pentaghast, sera, varric tethras |
So, in between the drinking and the storytelling and the weird little everythings happening around here that's working its way into my memoirs (otherwise known as Shit is Still Crazy), I decided I could put some efforts into the next chapter of Hard in Hightown. I usually do these in nine parts, and if you haven't read the first eighteen chapters, sorry - I didn't manage to snag them before getting carted off into the wild blue whatever it is that pulled me here.
Still, I've seen weirder shit, so they might show up here at some point. Don't hold your breath or anything, but considering I've personally seen a chapter I didn't write yet in the Fade, anything's possible.
[attached] Hard in Hightown: Chapter 19
Chapter 19
The sun rose over the harbor like a Seeker on the trail of an apostate. The sailors were already hard at work, loading and unloading their boats, more than used to the angry morning light that bore down on them, already threatening to bake exposed skin.
Over the usual musical sound of swearing and the groan of ropes stressing under the weight of cargo, you’d be hard pressed to carry on a casual conversation. This is what the dockside taverns were for, unless you wanted to move further north into Lowtown. Calling them seedy was something of an insult to seedy places everywhere, but they served their purpose.
The Drowned Rat was the most popular of these, and this is where the guard leaned against the wall with the hood of her tattered cloak drawn into her face. Some of the clientele here had her briefly regret leaving her armor back at the barracks, but the whisper that she might get a lead here might make it worth it.
A dark-skinned Orlesian in a bright tunic was speaking in rapid, hushed tones to a surly-looking dwarf. In any setting, they looked like a mismatched pair, and it didn’t help that the Orlesian looked in a panic. The dwarf, however, looked like he was considering seeing if the insides were as bright as the outsides. Things weren’t going well for the Orlesian.
“They are not a myth!” shouted the Orlesian, slapping his hand on the table and standing. The guard focused her attention and turned to face the pair. After all, their conversation was now getting attention from several people. “The Executors are coming to Kirkwall, Messere. There is unfinished business. If you will not help me, I will find someone with larger stones, yes?” He sneered the insult as only an Orlesian could.
Shit. The guard stepped away from the wall as the dwarf and some of his friends got to their feet, some drawing steel. She quickly pushed her way to the table where the dwarf and Orlesian were standing around and drew back her hood.
She didn’t have to say anything. Steel started whispering back into scabbards and sheathes and people returned to their business. The dwarf, whom she knew as Kaster, began to melt away, excusing himself to other tasks. Even out of uniform, Guardsman Polena Hendallen and her fiery shock of short red hair was like a beacon of recognition.
Before she could even speak, the Orlesian grabbed her arm. “Ah, Guardsman! You must help me find Donnen Brennokovic. He is in mortal danger.”
[FIRST EIGHTEEN]