TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Maybe you’ve been around for a while, or maybe you’re new to the Inquisition. Maybe you’re new to Thedas, having recently fallen from a tear in reality and been collected by uniformed rescuers. Whoever you are, you’ve been sent to Kirkwall, to an outpost where many of the Inquisition’s members and allies work on some of the biggest mysteries and problems the organization must solve if it’d like to keep the world from ending, where “ending” means “falling under the power of an ancient powerful corrupted being who wants everyone to bow to him as a god.”

And just to be clear, it would like that. It would like that a lot.

I. THE GALLOWS: The Gallows is an island fortress in Kirkwall’s harbor. It’s been home to, in order: Tevinter slaves, a Circle of Magi, a lot of creepy red lyrium, and now the Inquisition, which has occupied the fortress with the provisional Viscount’s blessing. There are walls that still need rebuilding and corners that still need dusting, but for the most part the Inquisition has gotten down to business. There’s space in the stone-floored courtyards to train or spar; or, if your skills don’t lie in the realm of hitting things, there’s a large library and several offices supporting the Inquisition’s areas of research and diplomatic efforts. If you don’t know what to do with yourself, then by all means, ask; someone will definitely be able to put you to work.

II. KIRKWALL: A quick row across the harbor will take you to Kirkwall proper. The city is built into the cliffs, from exclusive and wealthy Hightown at the top to impoverished Darktown in the abandoned mining tunnels below. In the middle is Lowtown, home to taverns, merchants, and plenty of trouble to keep anyone looking for it happy. You’re welcome to spend your free time and your money here—but try not to annoy the locals too much, please, in case their welcome runs out. It’d be a shame to have to pack again so soon after arriving.

III. QUESTING: Barely had time to make yourself at home, did you, before you were sent away from Kirkwall again—but this time on a mission. There’s a rift outside of Markham, pouring demons into the fields, and the Inquisition has been asked to lend a hand. Maybe literally. If you have an anchor embedded in your palm, you’re needed to close the damn thing. If not, maybe you’re here to fight demons or guard against bandits on the road, or to gather samples and take notes on the rift’s location once its closed, or to speak to Markham’s nobility afterwards to make sure that they fully appreciate the Inquisition’s efforts. Regardless, it’s a long trip, so we hope you like campfire cooking and sharing a tent.

IV. SENDING CRYSTAL: Joining the Inquisition gets you access to the very latest in barely-understood magical communication devices—namely, a crystal, small enough to wear around your neck, that will allow you to communicate verbally with anyone else who has one. Or everyone else who has one. Say hello.

V. WILDCARD: The whole of Thedas is yours to explore, from coast to uncharted wilderness. Choose your own adventure!

Comments

[faithlikeaseed]

There's something a little alarming in Myr's grin as Simon remarks on the day-ruining properties of that much oil. "Absolutely. And it's flammable as anything," he volunteers, cheerily. "Usual practice is to throw a fireball at it right after."

If Simon were anyone but a templar--that is, someone who knows perfectly well a mage's capacity for destruction already--Myr might reconsider being so frank about his ability to turn a battlefield into a firestorm at a moment's notice. (It's something he'd had ample cause to think about on the way from Hasmal, where the restive civilian populace had been very close to finishing what the rebellion had started themselves.) But it is fun to talk shop, especially when "shop" includes area denial and massive explosions.

It's also fun--in a different way--to have someone who asks worthwhile questions. Myr shifts a little where he's standing as he considers the one implied in Simon's words, wrapping both hands around his staff and leaning on it comfortably. "Honestly, unless it's your area of specialization, you don't think so much about the things you could do with a weaker version of a spell," he says thoughtfully. "Or one you've changed the parameters on so it's less flatly harmful. It's easier to memorize the way it's set out for you so you can carry it off in a fight without a flaw, and forget about what else you could do with it."

At least, for most mages. His grin becomes a little more like a grimace as he thinks about his own deficits in that area, then shrugs it off. Better not to dump all that on a stranger. "As for the hows, it's a matter of dipping into the Fade for the--heh--matter you need, and telling it the shape it's got to be. If I want so much grease," he gestures grandly like he intends to drench their surrounds in the stuff, "I have to grab the unshaped potential of 'grease' out of the Fade, tell it what I want, and tell it where to go, burning up mana for all of that. A set spell is the theoretical most-efficient way to accomplish that task, with--"

He pauses, wrinkling up his nose and chewing on his lower lip as he thinks about how to put it into words. "--It's got the right mental shape to it, let's say. Any time you cast a spell, the first step is forming your initial desire--uh, a velleity in technical terms; why they call it that I don't know--into the right shape for altering the Fade the way you want. Like any other tool--sometimes you need a blade to cut through it, sometimes a spade to dig it up, sometimes a hand to pull it around you. Spells give you that proper shape in a form you can memorize, that won't require so much of your power as beating your head against the Fade would.

"Though that's not the only way there is to explain what we do--it's one theory among many. Another says that magic is searching out through the Fade what could have already happened if the world had gone differently, and making that be so. It's the opposite of what you templars do to stop us, when you make the world be more real."

He looks strangely wistful at that for a fleeting moment--then seems to realize he's lecturing and interrupts himself with a laugh. "Which is very far afield from the point. But there you go; that's how you get grease out of nowhere. I could walk you through the spell itself but without being a mage yourself, I can't really show it to you from the inside."

[paladingus]

Simon doesn't know this guy from Maferath, and it's hard not to interpret that sharklike smile as pride that comes from experience, making him wonder just whose day might have been ruined by a massive flaming grease explosion. He remembers the rebel mages out in the Ferelden boonies, raiding villages, destroying crops and livestock, slaughtering any civilian unfortunate or foolhardy enough to come within miles--thinks too, then, about the ex-templars doing exactly the same, and opts to keep his mouth shut just a little while longer and see where this discussion goes.

It's fascinating; he can't pretend it isn't. He's always liked to know how things work, even if this particular explanation is going largely over his head--the mechanical is his realm, the strictly physical, the real, and while that particular focus makes it difficult to grasp the more arcane theory Myr's putting forth, he recognizes that that's actually part of the point of it. He can understand that second theory, when all he needs to do is grasp the perfect counterpoint of what he already knows. It all fits together like well-oiled gears in a clock, and he does love it when an explanation comes together so neatly.

"Can't they both be true?" he asks. "The theories? The second one you brought up--the idea of that you can make what could have been come true, if we don't stop you--that explains plenty that I've seen, but it doesn't seem to have much to do with conjuring grease, it's true. The way you explained that to begin with made far more sense."

[faithlikeaseed]

It's the smile of someone who loves the idea of explosions an awful lot--and hasn't actually ever had to use one against another sapient being.

He wouldn't find it nearly so fun if he had.

If Myr could give Simon a sharp look, he would. A nice voice and he asks smart questions. "That's a good question. We usually argue about them like one has to be true and the other's not, but there's no reason it can't be both," he replies. "I can't think about doing magic the second way--if I tried to imagine a world where this forest was already covered in grease, nothing would happen. Can't wrap my brain around it. But my c--other mages I know can only work the other way.

"Or maybe all this work I've got to do in my head about pushing the Fade around is really just another way of making a world that wasn't more real." He pauses, considering that from all angles, and gifts Simon's direction with an earnest smile. "I hadn't thought about it that way before. Thanks for asking, so I could."