Just a BioWare Fan

Solas tells us in Inquisition that he’d approached Dalish camps only to be turned away by foolish mortals too superstitious to entertain a stranger in their midst. I got to wondering how those conversations might go. It turns out they fit perfectly into my Questions series. What a coincidence!

Solas: [strolls into camp] No need for alarm. I am merely a humble mage seeking shelter for the night.
Guard: [aims arrow at his eye] Where did you come from, flat-ear?
Solas: I wander the world, exploring the Fade and learning about history. Perhaps I could speak to your Keeper.
Guard: What’s the name of your clan?
Solas: I don’t have a clan. I am a lone wolf, as it were. [smirks]
Guard: How do we know you’re not an abomination?
Solas: [ponders] I haven’t killed you yet.
Guard: [narrows eyes] You…may have a point. What do you want?
Solas: A meal and a place near your fire to put my bedroll for the night.
Guard: You want me to let a clan-less stranger with no vallaslin into the heart of our camp when everyone is sleeping?
Solas: Hence my suggestion you fetch your Keeper.
Guard: How about you fetch your flat-eared self the hell out of here?
Solas: I admire your caution but I think someone a bit farther up the food chain should make that decision.
Guard: I’ll give you a food chain, loser. [brandishes his bow] Make tracks.
Solas: [sighs] Fine.

Weeks later, Solas tries a different approach.

Solas: [from a safe distance] Bring your Keeper, brave sentinel! I have news from another clan.
Guard 2: What clan?
Solas: [making up a name] Clan Va…kar…ian? Yes. Clan Vakarian.
Guard 2: I’ve never heard of them. Who is your Keeper?
Solas: I myself am the Keeper for Clan Vakarian. We’re and old clan, very insular. You wouldn’t recognize the name.
Guard 2: Yeah, because you just made it up.
Solas: Of course not, my good fellow. We simply choose not to go to clan gatherings or…talk to…anyone else.
Guard 2: Or maybe you’re a liar and you’re a spy for some filthy shem?
Solas: Don’t be ridiculous. Do I look like some sort of…of…Andrastian? [gags slightly]
Guard 2: You don’t look like a Keeper, that’s for sure, with that naked face of yours. Why are you here?
Solas: [curses under his breath] I told you, I have news.
Guard 2: So tell me and be on your way. Isn’t that what scouts are for?
Solas: Look, it’s been a long walk and I would like something to eat while I confer with your Keeper.
Guard 2: Do you really think I’m letting some random flat-ear within casting distance of my Keeper?
Solas: [sighs] Fine.

Abandoning subtlety, Solas tries again with the next clan he encounters. He shapeshifts into an enormous black wolf with six glowing, ruby eyes. His paws make no noise as he slowly pads up a game path until he is challenged. The faint smell of roasting meat drifting from the camp makes him drool a bit but he doesn’t mind, as it adds to the image and he’s sure they’ll be feeding it to him shortly.

Guard 3: What business have you with our people, Dread Wolf?
Solas: ‘Tis I, Fen…you recognize me?
Guard 3: I’m Dalish, aren’t I?
Solas: [with as much dignity as he can muster] Take me to your Keeper.
Guard 3: [raises her bow] Fire!
[A hail of arrows pelts from the shadows where half a dozen hunters have assembled at hearing their normally-silent scout in conversation. Solas scrambles into the undergrowth, mumbling guttural curses unheard since the days of Arlathan, only his innate magical talent having saved him from a pierced hide.]
Guard 3: [calls into the forest] How do you like them apples, Trickster?
Solas: [stomach growls as he slinks away] I like apples.