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allthisshitisweird2017-04-21 11:07 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2017-04-21 11:07 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME!
WHEN SKYHOLD'S GONE THEY'LL BEAR ON
How’s the weather, Inquisition? Terrible. Heavy rainfall pelts the plains and the mountains, four straight days of it! Dark clouds block out the sun. It may begin to feel like there’s no end to the storms in sight. When darkness falls, cold evening temperatures turn that rain frigid. Your boots, your socks, they’re soaked through. Everyone smells like wet wool.
And as if all that weren’t enough: the increased rainfall loosens patches of mud and shale, causing mudslides.
1. We’re not in Orzammar anymore…
2. Are you mad? That’s twelve year old scotch!
3. I gotta go, Julia, we got bears.
4. We got 12 skins of water, 56 ales, two vodkas, four whiskeys, six bottles of wine, tequila, hazelnut paste, cheese, bread, eggs, bananas, apples, bacon, steaks, pancakes, dry grain, milk, sweet tomato sauce, half a pudding, half-ounce Sour Wine, 3 1/2 grams Grand Inquisitor Kush, one ounce of 'shrooms, 15 ecstasy potions, a smutty woodcut, a bat…
5. Lots of fish… and lots of weather.
HINTERLANDS ARE FOREVER
How’s the weather, Inquisition? Terrible. Heavy rainfall pelts the plains and the mountains, four straight days of it! Dark clouds block out the sun. It may begin to feel like there’s no end to the storms in sight. When darkness falls, cold evening temperatures turn that rain frigid. Your boots, your socks, they’re soaked through. Everyone smells like wet wool.
And as if all that weren’t enough: the increased rainfall loosens patches of mud and shale, causing mudslides.
1. We’re not in Orzammar anymore…
A recent group of dwarven traders bearing fine crafts and goods were inbound for Skyhold, ready to flood the markets with their wares. Instead, they got flooded out.
Yes, word has reached the Inquisition that the traders have been unfortunately detained by the weather and they are now in need of a rescue. Dare you venture out into the lashing rain and sliding mud to rescue the traders?
If you do so dare, you’ll find some of the traders to be exceedingly grateful for your efforts, ready to bestow handsome rewards on you, O Brave Soul -- just as soon as you’ve escorted them safely back to Skyhold. Or you might find a cluster of more disagreeable traders, grumpy at the water in their boots and the loss of their goods. Some of those goods might still be rescuable, if you want to wade out into a mud field to retrieve a fallen chest, or tug an errant terrified donkey back onto what’s passing for dry road these days.
As you carry these treasures back to their masters, or back to Skyhold, you might consider helping yourself to a sampling of the wares on your way back. After all, your reward might not be adequate, and you are risking your life for these ungrateful sons of mothers. Just don’t get caught. These traders don’t look kindly on thieves, and frayed tempers snap easily.
Feel free to get stuck on your way to the rescue, too. Weather out the storm with a fellow do-gooder. These days, the rescuers might need rescuing just as much.
2. Are you mad? That’s twelve year old scotch!
In Skyhold and the surrounding tent towns, what with the confusion and the panic and the scramble for high ground, market stalls are left unattended and wares are ripe for the taking. For some, temptation proves to be too much. Where there’s disaster, there’s often looting! A few vendors defend their own wares, and those that can’t make desperate entreaties for assistance. Bandits! Thieves!
Are you a brave and hale friend to the Inquisition and to good honest trade, ready to defend the wares of the waterlogged merchants? Or maybe your sticky fingers spot a tempting treasure too great to ignore. If they didn’t want it stolen, they should have taken it with them! Watch out for that Qunari metalsmith with the mean right hook. He’s not to be trifled with, and his blow will leave you toothless in the mud.
3. I gotta go, Julia, we got bears.
The rainfall has disturbed more than the mud. Bears, resting in their caves, have found their caves to be too damp for their liking, and they’ve taken to the open air to vent their spleens. Some people say that the bears are as frightened as you are, but when you’re faced with a six hundred pound beast with huge pointy teeth, their innocence is a little harder to keep in perspective.
The tents surrounding greater Skyhold are especially worried by rogue bears. Make a stand against them, or else help evacuate a threatened campsite. Mudwrestling a bear is a great way to impress the ladies, or the gentlemen… but no one will blame you for beating a hasty retreat.
4. We got 12 skins of water, 56 ales, two vodkas, four whiskeys, six bottles of wine, tequila, hazelnut paste, cheese, bread, eggs, bananas, apples, bacon, steaks, pancakes, dry grain, milk, sweet tomato sauce, half a pudding, half-ounce Sour Wine, 3 1/2 grams Grand Inquisitor Kush, one ounce of 'shrooms, 15 ecstasy potions, a smutty woodcut, a bat…
TIME TO HUNKER DOWN. In the tavern, the barkeep is handing out free spiced wine to anyone who takes refuge behind her door. The din of conversation and lutesong makes a fine lullabye for the careworn traveler, and you might find yourself inadvertently dropping off to sleep. Or maybe someone’s fallen asleep on you.
Who can blame the slumberers, finally safe and warm and dry? In the tavern, the fires have been built up to ward off the chill and the damp, but relaxation is a little more difficult these days. You really have to elbow your way in there to get close to that warmth. Once you get close enough, you’ll find that the hearths are taken up with dozens and dozens of wet socks and wetter boots, steaming gently as they dry. Be disgusted if you want, or else peel off your own and go barefoot while you wait.
Hey! What’s going on over there? Someone’s taking one of your socks! Stop, thief!
If you can’t make it to the tavern, you might find yourself holed up somewhere a little more unlikely. The limited space within Skyhold means there aren’t a lot of free rooms. That door you shoulder open in desperation might have an owner already. Intrusions aren’t always unwelcome, but beware of what -- or who! -- you might find.
5. Lots of fish… and lots of weather.
WILDCARD. Whatever you do, just remember: there’s a lot of rain, you’re very wet, and if you’re feeling amorous, keep in mind that everyone smells like wet wool. We cannot stress this enough.
Celinie Beaudonet | Rifter, FFXIV OC
[Of course Celinie is helping escort the traders to safety and shelter. She couldn't possibly leave them to fend for themselves in the deluge. The only benefit to the utter downpour is it discourages bandits and highwaymen from picking a fight with the group. Which is a small mercy, but it's something.
Although that poor donkey stuck in a rut and stubbornly refusing to move. She glances over her shoulder to pass a message.]
I'll go fetch him. Wait here where the ground is solid.
[Fortunately, she's got a knack with animals. Shame the Echo doesn't allow her to understand Donkey as well as Beast Tribes.]
4. Tavern
[At last, warmth and dryness! So much water is still foreign to Celinie, even after all her time spent adventuring across the face of Eorzea. It's not the first rain she's seen, but it does qualify for the worst, though she doesn't consider it so. Having been raised in a a stripped portion of the mine reserved for the indentured workers, marvels like rain and trees are still points of fascination for her.
She wriggles into a small space against the wall, not too far from the hearth. And before long, a stranger is dozing off using her shoulder for a rest. It's of no bother to her. She's waterlogged and if someone can take their repose against that much wet, more power to them. Her only true concern is assessing the condition of her belongings, meager though they are.
Pawing through her bag, she extracts a leather wrapped bundle. It is laid carefully on her lap, gently unwrapped. Within is a decrepit book, binding fraying, pages yellowed with age. An odd thing to treasure so dearly. However, it is the only item on her person which is not entirely soaked through and Celinie means to keep it that way.]
Thank the Twelve. It made it.
[When there are lulls in the music, she'll read aloud from the precious book. It's a play of some sort and she joyfully reads each part with different intonations.]
Wildcard!
((Celinie has a gift that allows her to see brief moments from someone's past. Usually things their soul wishes to share. If she gets a sudden headache, it's your history about to be laid bare to her.))
Tavern/Wildcard
[Inessa's seated comfortably at a table by the hearth, enjoying a moment off her feet after all day of touring the Hinterlands. When she wasn't helping stock Inquisition camps and caches, she was sidetracked by various requests made by the locals. It's nice to be needed, but the day has been something of a blur and now she just wants to enjoy her cup of tea before retiring to do it all again in the morning.
The elven woman gets her notice quickly enough, given her height -a foot taller than her own- and that she's soaked through. A small frown forms as she can't imagine that's comfortable, especially with a stranger leaning on her, so she beckons to the young woman.]
I have room over here, if you'd like. It's closer to the hearth. Garahel, move.
[She gently nudges her dozing mabari with a foot, prompting him to yawn and stretch before rolling over a bit.]
no subject
Once she stands, she's all too aware of her height in relation to other Elezen- no that is not correct, Elves- here. She is unused to towering over her own, being remarkably short among the Elezen. It serves to remind her that she is out of place, and that kindness from a stranger is most welcome. Her eyes fall to the slumbering dog as she minces around people and approaches.]
What a handsome creature he is. [There's a burning urge to pet him, but that wouldn't be wise lest she startle him. But she does so love animals.] Thank you for the invitation to join you.
no subject
You're quite welcome. It's not as though I couldn't afford the space. An elf and a mage? No, most would rather keep their distance.
[Which is just fine with Inessa; more tea and legroom to herself. She doesn't mind sharing it with this woman, though.]
My name is Inessa. Garahel is my mabari companion and lives off affection as much as he does food.
no subject
[So naturally Gaharel will receive all the pettings his heart could ever desire. Well, a lot of them, for is he ever truly sated of affection or food? Although a cursory sniff at her bag will turn up disappointing: fruits, vegetables, a crust or two of bread, and a small bit of cheese. Not a lick of meat in sight.
Celinie glances up at Inessa while playing the Provider of Pettings, more than just a little perplexed. Prejudices are not unknown to her. After all, she was raised within a family of Duskwights, and indentured workers at that. Not to mention that Gridanians are... firm about their xenophobia. She herself had only been given leave to live within the city because the elementals said so. So far, she's only seen a smattering of the prejudices at play in this place and has yet to fully grasp the breadth of them and their nuances. The loudest to date has been Rifter, and that aimed at herself personally.]
I'm not sure I understand. Why would being a mage and an elf cause others to keep their distance? You are not Duskwight.
no subject
That comment prompts a raised eyebrow from Inessa.]
Duskwight? I don't know what that is. You must be a rifter, then. [It figures, all the rifter elves are so tall.]
Elves and mages are second-class citizens in nearly all of Thedas. Non-mage folk fear our powers and the chance of possession, and...no one fears elves, but we're either seen as servants or bandits, rarely anything more. The status quo is less fixed than usual thanks to our present upheavals, but I've found it's during such times when some dig their heels in even further, fighting any sign of it.
[Hence another reason why a tiny elven woman brings a large dog with her everywhere. He's good deterrent.]
no subject
[Adventurer. Outsider. Unbeliever. Whelp. Monster. They've not a one prevented Celinie from reaching out to others, and this newest will be no different.]
Forgive me, I'm still learning what I can of the lands here. I am surprised, however, to hear this. Elezen are the ruling race of Ishgard, and nigh on to every Wildwood Elezen is a proud and respected member of their communities, wheresoever they go. The Duskwight Elezen, however, are... [Ah, what's a gentle way to explain it?] ...marginalized and oft driven to crime or subservience to make ends meet.
A fear of magic escapes me entirely, unless you speak of practitioners of Black Magic.... or White.
[Both are formally forbidden arts, believed to be extinguished, though Celinie knows better about practitioners of the White. She does rather wonder where the Adventurers Guild is to provide strong arms to put down voidsent before they might possess someone, however.]
no subject
[Her lips form a thin line, a brief hardening of her gaze as a mild hint as to just how much she personally detests it. But her curiosity is such that it overrides any chance of sending her mood spiralling downward. She sips at her tea, relaxing anew.]
I would stay the state of elves in your world is a surprise to me, but it seems such a high station is the norm for everywhere but Thedas, or so it seems. It used to be so for us as well, at least according to legend, but times have changed much.
Why are duskwight marginalized? What makes them different?
no subject
[There is a tiny sigh from Celinie and a shrug. It is how it is, even if it feels wrong.]
Anything different is suspect, especially in the Black Shroud. And the majority of the Duskwight still living there do not abide by the will of the elementals, so they are shunned lest the people also draw the Greenwrath.
[Feeling she's provided a satisfactory reply, Celinie furrows her brow and inquires softly:]
Blood sacrifice is not truly practiced here is it?
no subject
[Mabari are a good antidote to dark thoughts about blood sacrifice, and she leans forward to stroke hers.]
Elves, underground? A strange thought. Only the dwarves have any interest in doing so here, and only a small portion of them. The majority now live on the surface.
The...Greenwrath? Elementals? They are...spirits, correct?
no subject
[Not even children are exempt from the consequences of offenses against the elementals. Celinie has seen one turned to stone as punishment for his sins.]
Still, I think I could never condone marching against another nation, no matter how depraved their practices...
[After all, Garlemald can and has marched against the city-states claiming their beliefs in the Twelve to be a depravity, in a bid to "educate" the heathens. Before Celinie has a chance to express such a sentiment, however, a boom echoes in her ears and stabbing pain jabs at her head. She grabs hold of her temples just before dropping to the floor.]
no subject
The Inquisition's cause is not centered on any Exalted Marches, so you might not be tested in that area. Even so, the amount of upheaval present in Thedas at this time makes such matters difficult to predict.
4 + WILDCARD, he is probably a headache waiting to happen SORRY
[But more and more his attention is caught by the strange tale the woman is telling... it's not something from Thedas, or that he recognizes, anyway. It doesn't take too long to get the idea that she's not from around here. After she's finished a section, and the music starts back up again, he addresses her.]
That's quite a story... Where does it come from?
no apologies! she's used to it!
This is a tale of Thanalan, the work of the greatest playwright in Eorzea.
[Biggest fangirl, right here. And the play is all the more cherished for being one of the only three books her family owned when she was a child. In fact, the beloved script is given a loving hug to her chest, even as she smiles for the compliment to the work.]
This one is my favorite. There are others but this one is special. It's how Mama taught me to read.
[Celeste did all the voices too, but so much better.]
hehehe awww, ok! <3
I can tell that it holds great meaning to you.
[He can just picture her hanging out with Varric, trading stories and the like.]
You would probably get along well with a friend of mine.