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[theirondragon]

Who: The Iron Bull & You!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: HS Marsiva, SS Heron, SS Iskaulit and beyond!
When: 4/30-5/4 (Marsiva and that broadcast), 5/5 for the Heron, anytime in the month of May for the rest!

↨ Arrival aboard the Marsiva/his first week ↨

[Before the seven foot, heavily muscled and grey-skinned (which is obvious due to the fact he isn't wearing a shirt)...man with exceptionally prominent horns stirs on the plush bed on the Hospitality Deck, he sniffs and immediately frowns.]

Weird.

[His voice is a deep, slow baritone, with a slight accent that's difficult to place. The transmission is coming from his blind side, though, which is obvious by the eye-patch over where his left eye should be.

He hasn't noticed the camera. He moves to a sitting position, large hands on the edges of the bed and sniffs again, this time himself. And then he snorts.]

Weirder.

[He shakes his head (which is impressive with those horns) as though to clear and stands, giving a look around. To say the big guy looks uneasy is an understatement...and then he notices the huge viewing bay.

It's hard to say what's more disturbing to the giant: the idea that he somehow knows he's drifting through the fast openness of existence, or the simple act of looking at it, but he swallows. Hard. And turns away from the window, taking a seat back on the cot, which creaks slightly but holds.]

...shit. That's...a lot of nothing out there.

[Right out there. Through some glass. Shit.]

(OOC: If you want to just continue the TDM thread, that's cool! Just let me know, and you're totally free to PM this journal)

↨ Arrival aboard the SS Heron, Bridge | Saturday (5/05) ↨

[You know, it's one thing to keep a guy locked up on some weird ship after you kidnapped him, shoved something in his head, and gave him a bath. It's another to randomly move him to some other place surrounded by consoles and glowing lights, shower him with confetti, and just leave him there. Without a warning.

The Bull was a massive form to suddenly appear on the bridge of the SS Heron, and the startled cry and step back did nothing but rap his horns sharply against whatever delicate instrument was behind him at the time and send a painful vibration through his skull.]

Shit! [He took a heavy breath to calm his rising panic. It's fine. No weirder than what was out there.] Tight quarters in here. [The remark was muttered to himself for than anything as he carefully moved a hand to the top of his head to massage away the beginnings of a headache and gave a look around.]

Wherever the hell here is. [He could only assume it was one of the ships in the fleet, but which one? He'd been told there were several of them.]

↨ SS Iskaulit | OTA and Whenever ↨

[He couldn't be more relieved to know this ship existed. Getting there was weird, just knowing how to fly the shuttle, and if he thought about that too much he started to get real twitchy, so he decided to just think of the thing in his head as...like knowing where to aim a swing to take off a guy's head in one blow. You didn't think about where to swing. You just did and off it popped. Yeah. Flying the shuttle was like that.

Bullshit, but it was enough of a comfort to keep him sane, at least for a little while. Now this place? It was going to take a lot of exploration to really get a feel for it. It was almost possible, wandering the random collections of establishments, to ignore the fact that this was all in a giant ship floating in the middle of space. He wasn't difficult to spot, at 7'5" tall and at least three feet wide (with some really impressive horns), and as he gets more acquainted with the fleet over the course of the month, between travelling to planets and whatnot, he'll be found here on off-hours more often than not. You know, if he's not enjoying the fact that there's actual air somewhere.

He can be encountered at a number of establishments throughout, actually, though being the only naturally occurring mountain in a place that's completely fabricated, he steers clear Maab's Sceptre...because there's just something not right about that thing. Maybe it's because it's the only thing around that is right, but...yeah. Space Bar's a nice dive, and he's there pretty often, willing to chat up anyone to walks in, and share a drink...or a few...more. The smells from the Melting Pot get his attention, too, and something other than the fake crap on the Heron is always welcome.]

↨ Wildcard ↨

(OOC: Want to do a thing that isn't here? Awesome! Drop me a line through PM, at vikael, or on Discord at prettyvikael#0221! I will most likely be doing some stuff with the system and I'd love to plot something out with people! Otherwise, I'll probably throw him at other peoples' things!)

Comments

[samahl]

[Cyril doesn't respond right away, he takes a drink instead and tries not to think too much about that world. It doesn't work.]

To say the least. But it wasn't just the ones who were taken. It was... It was a bit like how I imagine people lived during the First Blight. The constant fear, never knowing if you or your family will be next, fearing the end but also knowing that it would at least mean a stop to the fear...

That kind of living wears you down. You could see it everywhere you looked. We built up defenses and took out as much of those bastards as he could... but... There's nothing really that's going to make them okay.

But we did what we could. Just like how the Inquisition did what it could to protect the people of Thedas from another wound. The scar might still remain, but at least we did some good. [Another drink, this time a sip, as he grips onto a change of subject.]

And you haven't yet told me about your Inquisitor. At least tell me her name, hm? [The tone is gentle, still suffering from the wake of the seriousness of the topic they had been discussing. The 'hm' is more of a way for Bull to decline if he wishes.]

[theirondragon]

[Bull knew full well exactly what Cyril was talking about. In a way, the civilians on Seheron had been the same, a bunch of innocent people caught between several opposing forces for a few generations, they start mistrusting everyone, and forgetting what it meant to be happy. When you're worried when Death's coming for you, the finer things in life sort of...stop mattering.

He was glad for the topic change, himself, honestly.]

Brionne Trevelyan, from Ostwick, in the Free Marches. A damned good woman, and kick ass when her bow. [He chuckles and takes a long drink from his mug.]

And shit she can hold her liquor.

[samahl]

Trevelyan.... That's a noble family isn't it? [He feels like Josie would be proud that he was able to remember some of the names from the Free Marches, but honestly living in Hightown has given him little else to do.]

I feel almost as if that's as far from a Dalish elf as one could get. [He seems to think that's funny more than anything.]

But she's an archer? A woman after my own heart then despite the class differences. [Because fighting style is ultimately what matters here, right?] If she shows up here we'll have to take some target practice together.

[theirondragon]

[He nods.]

Yeah, it is. [He chuckles.] On both counts. He's a damned good shot, though, gives Sera a run for her money. If she ever shows up here, I'll send her your way.

[samahl]

It would be fun to compare notes.

[A pause.] So, a noble archer who can drink. What else would you like to share about her? Perhaps a story or two?

[theirondragon]

Let's see...shit...she can get anybody to fight for her.

[He chuckles.]

You ever heard of the Blades of Hessarian?

[samahl]

Yes. They were recruited to the Inquisition.

[He chuckles gently.] I suppose she fought and defeated their leader?

[theirondragon]

Yeah...and it was badass.

[He shakes his head.]

Those guys are weird, but I like the way they think.

[samahl]

There's something to be said with having your code so clear that a stranger could follow it.

Now all we have to do is make sure the Inquisitor is never defeated with someone wearing Mercy's Crest.

[theirondragon]

[He smiles, shaking his head.]

That's not going to happen on my watch, Cyril.

[samahl]

I've never doubted that, Bull.

[He's careful to leave any lingering affection out of his voice, but there is a bit of a thoughtful smile on his face.]

Lady Trevelyan is lucky to have you around.

[Which of course implies that he is too.]

[theirondragon]

[At that, the Bull laughs.]

I know, right? I'm the best bodyguard to have around.

[He takes a slow breath, though.]

Brionne's feisty, she doesn't pull her punches, and she can laugh at shit when it goes sideways. She's a damned good boss.

[samahl]

Laughter can get you through the worst of things. [He really does like this woman without even knowing her.]

If she shows up here, let me know. I'd love to grab a drink and compare notes.

[theirondragon]

Shit, yeah it can.

[you know, like this place. It's helped a lot. So has the booze.]

If she shows up here, everybody'll know it. Great tits, too, and she's a red-head. Ha! That explains everything right there.

[samahl]

A red-head, huh? So have you two...

I mean, I know how you feel about red-heads, Bull.

[theirondragon]

[He laughs at that one. A lot.]

Shit, I would if she asked, but she's way more into drama, apparently. Brionne likes to spend her free time in the stables, if you follow me.

[samahl]

[Cyril chuckles gently at the implication, but he can't help but feel a little worried for Brionne.

He also marvels at the fact that that is three female Inquisitors he knows of who managed to find love - with men who were pretending to be someone they were not.]

A shame. I didn't mind spending my time in the tavern. If she had done the same she might have had the time for her life.

[theirondragon]

[The Bull raised his eyebrow in Cyril's direction. It's not as though Cyril's nearly as subtle as he's pretending he is at any rate.

But ultimately he smirks, running a hand over the scruff on his chin before chuckling.]

I don't know. I don't think I've got enough beard for her. She'd got a thing for those deep-woodsmen types, I guess. If they don't smell like pine and bear dung, they're not good enough for my boss.

[He rolls his shoulder in a shrug, though.] Still, Blackwall's a good guy, better now that he's not lying about his past anymore if you ask me.

[samahl]

[Cyril relaxes a bit when Bull talks openly about Thom's lies.]

And she was all right with all of that? I'd imagine... It hurt to find out about Thom's past as someone who was merely his friend. It can't have been very easy for her.

[theirondragon]

[He rolls his shoulder in a shrug.] They're working it out. In the grand scheme of things, yeah. What he did was pretty shitty, but the Inquisition's all about second chances, right, and he threw in with us. You can't change the past, but you can work on where you're going.

[He nods.]

The boss agrees. I can't argue with that.

[samahl]

That's it exactly! [Cyril replies, grinning as he talks about it. This is something that meant a lot to him and to hear other versions of the Inquisition mean the same means a lot to him.] A place to set aside the chaos and pain of your past and focus on building a new future together.

[A pause.] Though now that I've said it aloud that probably comes off as very soppy.

[theirondragon]

Yeah, we should put that in the pamphlets. 'Join the Inquisition and build a new future. Together!' I bet the Chantry would eat that up.

[And he's not even kidding.]

Nah, you can pull it off. People came from hundreds of miles and all across Thedas to hear you, and Brionne, and Leilani say that shit. Me? They see the horns and assume I'm brainwashing them with a lack of free will or something.

[samahl]

[Cyril looks over Bull and feels a certain level of affection building in his chest. He manages to let some of it show with a smile.]

No one who matters thinks that of you now, Bull. The rest... Well, I'd say fuck them but you doing that is way too much fun.

[theirondragon]

[He chuckles at that, a deep rolling sound, from the depths of his chest.]

Nah. A lot of people think they want to ride the Bull, Cyril, but a lot of people don't really know what that means.

[samahl]

They don't do they?

Maybe they should talk to someone who knows.