#messerefingers

[sscolariwords]

You ever work a night shift? I used to. Emphasis on the past tense.

[sscolariwords]

She was only three, the first time it happened.

[agentt3xas]

messerefingers replied to your post: The other night I had a dream that I had a cold...

Find a way to bottle and sell this to other Markimoo fans and you could retire by June.

I suppose making my weird ass dreams profitable is helping in it's own way.

[glassshard]

Ooph. Sette reeeally let's her mouth get ahead of her sense, doesn't she? I mean, considering the attack zombie threw her into a shelf like twenty minutes ago. Also, compared to anyone else in the series thus far, Duane's really the only one that's had a wardrobe of sorts. Are we going to get a whole Galit Seasonal Line through the run of the comic? XD

Haha, Sette's had a few different looks! She just always defaults back to her "brand" ;3 I should make Duane paper dolls though, shouldn't I. He's just so fun to dress up, I can't help it.

[tlrvakarian]

Q?

Q - Question your always asked?

uh uh a lot of people see my tattoo and ask what it's from, that's about the only thing i can think of

[glassshard]

Is Elka EVER not scary? I mean... poor Jivi and Matty.

She's actually trying NOT to be scary in that last panel, but her face won't cooperate. She needs more experience with kids :3

[isabelaexplainsitall]

Isabela, in following the trail of mayhem left in the wake of your paramour, I've heard many versions of what happened when, though the most common subjects debated are Hawke's gender and choice of bedfellow(s). The Champion was initially described to me as a sly bloke of magical inclination, and still I've heard others describing "their" Hawke possessed of differing temperaments, abilities, and sexes. Have you ever heard these variations regarding the Champions legend?

Of course, my lovely messerefingers, of course. I’ve heard all sorts of tales about the Champion of Kirkwall while I was on my… extended vacation after that whole Qunari mess. I had heard stories about the Champion of Kirkwall in every tavern, in every port, in every brothel, and they all amused me to no end because each was wilder and crazier than the last. The Champion was a traitor and agent of the Qun. The Champion was a hulking barbarian who swung a two-handed sword larger than a man. The Champion was a useless vagabond who was never able to do anything as events unfolded around him. The Champion was a noblewoman so beautiful that she caused the Qunari to revolt because the Arishok was smitten with love for her.

So I did exactly what anyone in my position would do, especially when other tavern patrons would offer to pay for my drink if I told them about the real Champion of Kirkwall. I tried to tell even more outlandish stories than before.

In Ostwick, we drank to the Champion of Kirkwall, a dainty, willowy, and beautiful blonde who had quick hands, but a peaceful demeanor. She was always trying to solve problems with diplomacy, and would only use her bow as a last resort. Nonetheless, she could place an arrow in the eye of a dragon at three hundred paces, and she rocked the town by daring to take an adorable Dalish elf for a lover. She sympathized with the plight of the mages, believing that all people deserved freedom, and despised the iron grip the templars held over her city. 

In Hercinia, over a game of diamondback, I told the tale of the Champion of Kirkwall, a ruthless sell-sword who cared little for honor or scruples, and whose ultimate loyalty belonged to the one who could make his purse jingle the loudest. He had many lovers, from the brooding tattooed elf from Tevinter, a driven and revolutionary mage, and even a gorgeous, free-spirited pirate wench, but he merely used each of them for his own pleasure before abandoning them when their goals no longer matched his own. He cared not for the petty squabbles of templars or mages, as long as his purse was full and his appetites slaked. He crushes his enemies with an iron fist, leaving a pile of bodies in his wake.

In Rialto, I told the courtesan I hired at the brothel about the Champion of Kirkwall as payment for her services. He was a charming, suave pickpocket who was great with a blade and better with his tongue. Always glib and a lover of stories, he always wished he could be one of the great romantic heroes, a swashbuckler extraordinaire, and he took on a lover in the driven and romantic mage with a mission. While I surmise he knew that it was doomed from the start, it didn't matter to him. He always seized the day to the fullest, and always tried to offset the melancholy of his lover with cheerful optimism. Alas, it was all a great tragedy, because, as they say - the candle that burns brightest is the one that extinguishes first.

At the Pearl in Denerim, I spread the story of the Champion of Kirkwall, a lay sister who had been touched by the spirit of Andraste herself. She was an agent of the Chantry, and did what she believed to help serve the light. She followed her conscience, and while she was fun to be around, she always did the right thing. This blue-eyed, red-headed woman fell in love with the right-doing Captain of the City Guard, and the two fight for justice and truth in the City of Chains.

After all, telling the same story over and over gets dull after a while... especially if it's the truth. Besides, I have a reputation to protect, and it's fun to see how the rumors spread and evolve. It continues to this day, actually... I've heard variations on the stories I created as far as Val Royeaux, and even as far as Dairsmuid, and I've continued to tell them as I go, trying to make them wilder and wilder. It's especially entertaining when she's right beside me as I tell them. It starts with eye rolling, followed by sighing, then when I start talking about things like her slaying armies of Qunari by swinging a high dragon tied to a Dragonthorn club like a dragon flail while breathing fire, she typically skips to the pinching of the ridge of her nose and shaking her head. It's a game, I speak as long as I can before she shuts me up somehow and drags me away from my enraptured audience. All in all, an enjoyable way to spend an evening.