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

II

[pinprick]

Loghain is eventually directed to Nathaniel's office, though no names are mentioned. Perhaps the helpful Warden giving directions knew Nathaniel is less likely to fly at Loghain's throat on sight than Alistair will be.

Less likely.

The door opens; Nathaniel looks up. He takes a moment to recognize the man. It has been years, after all, and Nathaniel wasn't that familiar with his face to begin with. He almost asks the Warden's name, but it clicks before the question comes to his lips. His brow lowers, a brand of scowl that marks a person who just got things cleaned up and now someone has come to tread all over the floor in muddy boots.

"Warden Loghain. Sit." Technically Loghain has seniority, but he just arrived. Until things get sorted out and Loghain has been properly briefed, Nathaniel will continue in the job he has been working for the better part of a year.

[mactears]

If it's any consolation to Nathaniel, Loghain looks as enthusiastic about this debriefing as he does, though less pissed. Mostly he resembles a man who has been on his feet for a solid sixteen hours, and will gladly take a seat across from a Warden who wants to verbally eviscerate him if it means his bones get some rest.

He sits.

"Warden Howe," he replies in greeting, almost marvelling over the title in his reply. There's a touch of admiration there, too. Then he clears his throat. "Apologies for arriving without sending word ahead, I... was unsure to whom I should announce myself."

[pinprick]

"You chose the correct one," Nathaniel says, voice a bit chilly though not completely ice just yet. "Frankly, had you sent word, you would have left me with the task of telling Alistair about it. At least this way the amount of complaining I have to hear about it has been cut as short as absolutely possible."

For the past twelve years, Nathaniel has seen Loghain as Rendon Howe's chief enabler. It's not a pretty title, but it is of utmost importance now that Nathaniel make that resentment as low a priority as possible. Alistair cannot be rational about Loghain. Nathaniel can. This is why they work together, two men with different capabilities and, for the most part, different baggage. Nathaniel lost a father and a brother in Loghain's war, but he can deal with this. And because he can, he must.

"Very well. Give me your report, Warden."

[mactears]

Dealing with Alistair is an inevitability that Loghain can't avoid, and the part of him that owns his (world-changing, life-altering, beyond catastrophic) mistakes knows that he wouldn't choose that option even if it were presented to him. No, he won't turn his back on his shame, and he won't foist the task of handling it off onto anyone else, either.

He lets Nathaniel's commentary about Alistair slide off his shoulders, waits for him to ask for his report. And then he provides it.

It's short but sweet, and accounts for his absence from Weisshaupt during the events that led to the Wardens' coup in the Anderfels. Loghain had heard the false Calling as well, and had devoted most of his energies to evading the old Warden-Commander's Venatori agents as they hounded him across the Western Approach. When he'd heard about the coup, he'd ventured back long enough to verify for himself the Wardens' actions--and then he'd left, to come here... and to kill as many Venatori as he could on the way. On foot or on horseback, it was quite the long journey, and he met with some delays while struggling through war-torn Orlais.

When he lapses into silence, it's clear that he's finished. He sits quietly across from Nathaniel, considering him pensively.

[pinprick]

It's that way Loghain looks at him that gives him the greatest number of creeps. That morbid fascination, as if waiting for him to remind him of someone he actually knows. Nathaniel thinks it highly possible that Loghain knew his father better than he ever did.

He lets the moment pass, absorbing the information given. Then he gives a faint nod. There is no clear path forward, when it is Loghain. Loghain fought an Archdemon, which all other living Grey Wardens but one can only dream of. That earns significant dignity.

"I'm glad you finally turned up." Nathaniel can help the backhanded compliment, but he doesn't feel like the extra effort is worth spending on Loghain. "Regardless of your record with the Grey Wardens, you are still among the greatest generals in history. I don't believe it would be in your character to side with a darkspawn Tevinter, at least, so the chances of you being a double-agent are slim, in my estimation. Which leaves us only one order of business, beyond any manner of question you might have for me."

Nathaniel purses his lips and waits for Loghain to look him in the eye.

"I don't know what the queen has told you, if she has had the chance to tell you anything. Jonas Cousland was found. He was badly wounded by darkspawn and passed away shortly after. We could not save him."

[mactears]

Compliments, backhanded or otherwise, rarely affect Loghain; his service record could involve restoring the Golden City to its former glory, rendering it a worthy seat for the Maker again, and it would still never be enough to make up for the dead in the fields of Ostagar, Maric's son hung like some grisly war trophy on a tree for the darkspawn to defile and degrade. There is no amount of penance in the world to wash away those sins, but that doesn't mean penance shouldn't be done anyway. Loghain meets Nathaniel's eyes through his description of his history and says nothing.

It's news of Jonas Cousland's death that registers a reaction from him. For a second, he looks like he's been punched, exhaling, winded. He reaches up a hand to press his fist to his mouth.

"Oh, Anora," are his only words, weighted with sadness for a daughter who should not have had to bury one husband, let alone two.