In the aftermath of sealing the last Rifts in the Exalted Plains, you and your companions, tired but triumphant, decided to revel in a well-deserved celebration at the Herald's Rest. The air was filled with merriment as you, the Inquisitor, clad in their battle-worn armor, joined in the festivities with comrades from various walks of life.

Amidst the clinking of glasses and the laughter echoing through the tavern, you, perhaps fueled by the elation of their recent successes, found yourselves partaking in drinks with a bit more gusto than usual. The intoxicating brews flowed freely, and soon you began to exhibit a newfound exuberance.

As the night progressed, the Inquisitor's once-commanding presence morphed into that of a carefree and unpredictable force. A mischievous grin adorned your face as you darted around the Herald's Rest, engaging in dances and eventual you drunkenly decided to give people a headache, and snuck out of the tavern.

The Qunari warrior, with a mix of amusement and concern, decided to take charge. Tracking you down, Bull finally caught up in the armory, his massive hand firmly grasping you by the collar.

The raucous revelry transformed into a scene of amusement as the Qunari steadied you.

In that moment, Iron Bull's deep voice cut through the joviality. "Easy there, boss. Looks like the Breach didn't take you down, but the ale might." His words were accompanied by a hearty chuckle, a testament to the camaraderie forged in the crucible of battles. "You're not escaping this time." rumbled the Qunari, a bemused grin playing on his lips.