TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

TEST DRIVE: ORLAIS EDITION

I. EVERYBEAR I GO

Believe it or not, there are bears in Orlais, too. Stuffed ones posed in noble salons casting intimidating shadows as lords tell unlikely stories about how they bravely stared the great beast in the eye before they slayed it with a single shot. One comtesse keeps bears as pets in large pens on her estate, much to the distress of her nearest neighbors. But most common are the dancing bear acts found on street corners here and there. Perhaps there is some sort of special bear communication network that has passed on a message, because it seems like the presence of the Inquisition has inspired these bears to finally make a break for it out of servitude, and that is how you find yourself being chased by a bear in a belled hat down a narrow cobbled alley lined with street vendors.

II. OUI OUI MON AMI

The Inquisition's efforts are currently focused on Orlais, where a civil war is raging and intelligence indicates Corypheus seeks to eliminate Empress Celene, while the oppressed elven population's discontent threatens to bubble over into a second rebellion. The Inquisition's activities here are mostly political and designed to gather influence and information: endeavoring to make a good impression at the ball of an influential comtesse with ties to the Council of Heralds, or assisting with the reconstruction of the alienage district destroyed by fire. There are rowdy soldiers in taverns to eavesdrop on, and restless crowds listening to streetcorner speakers preach Celene's virtues, or Gaspard's, or lament the end of the world.

But honestly, who cares about any of that? Halamshiral also offers great high-end shopping. Priorities. Gowns, tunics, fur-trimmed cloaks, sleeves slashed and puffed with layers of bright-colored satin. Tall boots with gold spurs to clink as you walk. Veils, lace-trimmed smallclothes, perfumes, necklaces worth your weight in gold. If you have the coin, the shopkeeps have time for you. The slightest whiff of poverty will leave them cold toward you. They might even pretend not to see you, but hey: they work on commission.

Even among decadence and finery, there are signs of unrest. In an out-of-the-way village square, little Orlesian children gather to throw thick gold coins in a gilt fountain, with whispered wishes and giggles. All at once, a thief pushes his way into their circle, breaking the idyllic scene. He leaps into the fountain and grabs a handful of coin. Thin, dirty, ragged, hollow-eyed and, under the hood of his cloak, elven, he scans the now-screaming children -- and then takes off running.

“Stop him!” howls one precious Orlesian cherub, her rosy cheeks streaked with tears. “That dirty knife-ear took my money!”

Kids are just the cutest.

III. SKYHOLD

Skyhold is where people who don't like fun accents and life being a constant masquerade hang around repairing walls, filling out paperwork, and, on rare occasions, engaging in elaborate, color-coded team snowball fights.

That last occasion? Totally over. Now the Inquisition will see you work, work, work, work, work. Working to save Thedas is not all fun and games, and there are plenty of things to keep you busy in Skyhold. See that roof over there? It has a hole in it. Climb up, someone suggests, and fix it. See that hole over there, in the wall? Some drunk from the tavern fell through it yesterday, and it needs repairs. See that floor over there? It’s dirty. And here’s a mop.

If these tasks seem too menial and demeaning, perhaps you’d like to head up to the library and reshelve some books. Perhaps you’d like to meet a special friend there? The stacks are warm and cozy, and at least a little out of the way. Secret spaces are at a premium. But be careful: you aren’t the only one in Skyhold, no matter how many people shipped out to Orlais.

If warm ovens are more your style than warm books, try the kitchens. They could always use a helping hand - especially because one of the baby griffons has made its way down there. A sharp-beaked competition for your plans to pilfer snacks, but you’ll prevail, right? The griffon loves chicken, and the taste of your blood. Get her outside before she gets too comfortable.

Or just feed the dogs, you dirty Fereldan.

IV. WILDCARD

Thedas is a big place. Do something else in it. Maybe in the Hinterlands.

Comments

[watchesandlistens]

"I try to avoid it." Corvo assures him, occasionally glancing over to watch the Outsider as he dealt with his own demons. Which could be a good metaphor, if the demons weren't very literal, and--did that one just spit fire at him?

He dodges the damned fire with a roll to the side, sliding and hoping back up. Another glance is spared for the Outsider, but he seems to be managing just fine. Which is--Well, Corvo didn't know what he expected, really. But it makes sense that he would wield the Void's magic so effortlessly. Once he's sure the other is fine, he resumes his attack on the demon.

There is one thought that occurs to him, as he thrusts his sword into one of the demons, and quickly backs off as it melts into the ground.

"Are there others here, and will they be inclined to burn either of us at the stake for using magic?" It certainly won't stop him from fighting the demons right now, when survival is the priority. But it'll be nice to know if he might have to make a run for it afterwards.

[extramural]

Rude, aren't they? The Outsider is much nicer, as far as spirits go.

"There are others. Humans of the largest faith in this world tend to place their mages in towers so that they can learn and be observed in case they are dangerous, but that system has broken, recently." And much of Thedas with it, though the Circles were hardly the only problem. At least, that's the understanding the Outsider has. "Some may think you're a demon yourself, but you are allowed to defend yourself."

He made certain of that for himself, and as Cassandra has some title and power, he imagines her word is at least Good Enough.

"But they are not like the Abbey, no; magic is common here." That, he supposes, is really the root of the question -- and this is all said as he fights, beheading a wraith with one quick stroke and leaving it to crumple into ash.

[watchesandlistens]

True, the Outsider hasn't set him on fire. Yet.

Corvo is pretty sure that even towers are a step up from being burned alive, but as that is apparently not an issue anymore, he doesn't bother to comment on it. He does raise an eyebrow at the idea of being called a demon, turning to the next one he was fighting. An unsettling fellow, floating around in rags. And that was ice that was being shot at him. This time, he waves his hand, and a gust of wind blows the shards away. The irritating foe is dancing around the field, but Corvo has had enough experience with Daud and his bothersome assassins. He grabs his crossbow, firing shots off as he walks backwards towards the rift.

"I fail to see the resemblance." He mutters. Sure, they both fell from a rift, but he isn't a giant lava monster, now is he? "But I am thankful that magic isn't outlawed. I'd rather not be jailed again." Because, really, if one more person tries to lock him up, he's going to get really irritated. Once he's sure that he's lobbed enough crossbow bolts at the demon, he stows the crossbow to raise his hand and jumps, blinking behind the demon and using the momentum to cleave it.

[extramural]

There are plenty of other things to be jailed for, but the Outsider imagines Corvo knows that -- or will figure it out. Either way, there's a low chuckle, even as he uses telekinesis to rip stones from the ground and slam them into other demons.

"Humans are afraid of what they do not understand. That has always been true."

Even Corvo, a human himself, should realize that. His life since the death of his Empress has been such as it is because, in part, of fear. While it will not be as full of masked sneaking about in Thedas -- well, probably not -- there is still that current of fear that runs through the world.

There is none, presently, from the Outsider, who almost happily decapitates another demon.