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

i apologize for the smol terrified elf

[wheretheferngrows]

Simon might as well be a great bear, given how Fern reacts at the sight of him. (Realistically, he might just be big enough. Pointy enough to be a blighted one, with all the armour.)

White-faced, her legs are already shaking as she pushes herself up to her feet with a piece of metal and wood that could not possibly be mistaken for anything other than a staff. It had been submerged under the water when Simon first strode onto the scene, but in her sheer terror at the sight of him, she needs it to lean against now. She opens her mouth, jaw working, but can't get any words to come out.

Completely unaware of his mistress's anxiety, Rooster has his ears swept backward in annoyance and is walking his way backwards away from Simon, looking very much like he plans to keep his newfound freedom, thank you very much.

[paladingus]

Simon has met his share of elves who were wary of him, but nobody's ever been flat-out petrified. He looks momentarily taken aback, holding up his hands as if to pacify--ah, but the staff explains it, or so he assumes. He's not wearing Inquisition insignia along with his Chantry garb. He could, for all the poor girl knows, be completely rogue and hunting mages for sport.

"No, it's all right," he says earnestly. "We're all just out here on Inquisition business. We've got mages. It's fine." Apostate or no, there's nothing to be done about them for the time being, so there's no sense in frightening one who's not doing anything visibly illegal.

The mule will clearly not respond to sweet-talking. Simon weighs the benefits of making a quick grab for his halter, but decides that sudden movements would probably not be the best thing for anyone here.

[wheretheferngrows]

"We've got mages. It's fine."

"What do you mean you've got mages," she blurts out at him, and is infuriated at the tremble in her own voice. Damnit, she shouldn't have said anything to him, she shouldn't have said a word--

Rooster, at that point, seems to finally have caught wind of Fern's agitation. Rather than come to her defence, the stubborn, skittish animal starts trotting for the shoreline through the shallow waters. He's near enough to Simon that his reins could likely be grabbed, but Simon would have to be quick--

Eyes widening further as her mule starts to take off with all her worldly possessions strapped to his saddle, Fern cries out, "Rooster, no, stop!" but that doesn't seem to deter him in the least. Torn between her fear of the Templar and losing her pack animal, she ultimately starts to slosh through the water after him.

[paladingus]

Simon is nowhere near as quick-reflexed as his smaller, more lightly-armored colleagues, but one doesn't survive templar training without learning how to prevent something from escaping at all costs. He dives for the reins, coiling them securely around a gauntleted hand and only getting somewhat more winded when he hits the dirt than he would have when he first came to Ansburg.

"Now that was just uncalled-for," he tells the mule, giving it a tug once he gets back to his feet.

He can't tell, not knowing where she's come from, whether this girl is a former Circle mage or not. She can't be Dalish, or she'd have the face tattoos--unless she's too young for them; do they put those on children? He doesn't know, and he can't tell how old Fern even is, but his gut says just about Harrowing age. You can't get attached to the ones around that age. You can't get attached to any of them, but least of all not the apprentices, when your most sacred duty is to be ever-prepared to kill them.

But it doesn't work that way anymore; the Inquisition has ensured that much. It's a dangerous skill to have to learn and unlearn at will, but it does nobody any good now. He jerks his head in the direction of the camp. "Working with us. I don't mean under guard, or any such. I don't know what exactly you know of the Inquisition, but nobody means you any harm, I promise."

[wheretheferngrows]

She stumbles to an unsteady stop in the water when Simon manages to seize Rooster by his trailing reins, and manages to blurt out another hasty, "Don't yank on him!" before she remembers just who, exactly she's speaking to. For his part, now that his game is apparently up, Rooster just dances this way and that on the other end of the reins, but doesn't try to escape again. He makes a distressed sort of baying noise and looks Fern's way, awaiting rescue.

"...I don't know exactly what you know of the Inquisition, but nobody means you any harm, I promise."

In the thick of things, it's hard for her to remember if this is how her aunt told her it would happen, if the Templars would try to convince her to surrender, or if they wouldn't. It's so hard to remember any of what she was taught--she's never had cause to fight a Templar before, or fight anything that wasn't just scaring a fox out of the hen house or spooking a few lone wolves away from the sheep. And he hasn't attacked her yet; he has Rooster's reins in his armoured hands, but hasn't tried to hurt him, to injure her only means of escape...

Fern swallows very hard and takes a few tentative steps closer to Simon through the water, still clutching at her staff like it's a bit of rope and she's dangling from it over a cliff's edge. "...let me have his reins then, if you mean what you say," she demands, voice wobbling, and forces one hand to let go of the staff and reach out for the reins.

There's an anchor mark in her palm, mostly covered by a beaten up old gardening glove, but still visible through the leather.

[paladingus]

He suppresses a brief stab of annoyance at the shouted order, but the girl does have plenty of reason to be both upset and wary. He lets it go without comment. The mule is secure and none the worse for the wear, and even if it does try to bolt, Simon is a pretty immovable object.

When he'd been tasked with chasing down mages, either new or escaped, there was never any sweet-talking or deception. He hadn't been one to resort to brute force unless he'd exhausted all other options--and there had been one or two that he'd ended up literally tossing over his shoulder and carrying off like a sack of potatoes, but he swears he'd tried to negotiate a peaceful return first--but never has he lied to a mage to lull them into a false sense of security.

Giving her back the mule's reins doesn't have to be a battleground; there's no reason to withhold them. He offers them back without hesitation--until that faint green glow makes itself visible from under the glove, and then he looks sharply up at her again.

You're going to have to come with me would be the worst possible thing to say, but nor can he just let her go on her way now without letting her know what's happened to her and who can help. His mind races.

"How'd that come about?" he asks, indicating the shard. "Got close to a rift, did you?" There's some newfound respect in the question. Anyone who could be close enough to one to be marked by it and escape otherwise unharmed deserves that much.

[wheretheferngrows]

"How'd that come about? Got close to a rift, did you?"

She jerks her own hand back from the reins before Simon can offer them back to her, pulling her palm close to hold it protectively against her chest.

"Yes," she tells him, defensive, and takes the tiniest of steps backward. "...Why?" It hadn't been an especially epic battle; Rooster hadn't needed much coaxing to get the hell out of dodge as soon as demons started spilling out of the green rift in the sky, and Fern's hand had ached so badly that she'd only been able to cling to his mane and saddle for dear life, trusting her mule to lead her away from danger, rather than back into it.

Looks like she hadn't returned the favour. Fern cuts her eyes from Simon's intense (possibly even worried) gaze, to Rooster, then back again. "What's it matter where I got it?"