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

[fireandsmoke]

"I must."

Flat. Unappreciative. Dismissive. Yet it is her confident, even tone that relaxes his frown into a thin-lipped, almost satisfied look. He doesn't much differ from an amused tomcat. At least this girl is clean and presentable. There is another girl he knows that is farthest from presentable as can be, a loathsome, insufferable idiot that consumes his very mind if he lets it slip, unguarded, for just long enough -- but never mind her. He banishes all thoughts of her by force of will alone.

"Well, now you have." He regards the Madame closely, arms akimbo. "And there is plenty more 'strangeness' I can see on my own if -- if--" he inclined his head meaningfully, "You will stay your flames and not roast the others when you see them."

[ipseite]

"Of course," she agrees; it costs her nothing to do so, assured now that the greatest threat presented here is like as not the stranger's ego and not his sentinels. "Though I must-"

her repeated use of that word almost certainly a barely there slyness, an undercurrent of her dry humor, clocking the way he objects to it and well he might, at even a glance

"-counsel more caution. The people of this place may not approach a new thing so carefully as myself, nor listen so sympathetically to an explanation. I understand that people such as ourselves," rifters, practitioners of magic, both, "are viewed with less suspicion than we once were, but not none."

They might apologise for overreacting. Then again, they might not. Rifters are owed no more than they earn.

[fireandsmoke]

The man gave an elegant, flippant shrug. He doesn't give much of a care what the others think of him. He has no need to explain himself to them, no reason to make efforts to 'fit in' when he is acutely aware he does not belong to this society. This place, to him, is a way for him to keep himself occupied with some other nebulous evil until he can find his way back through a rift and take care of the corruption still running rampant back in Polnya.

"I already told you they're harmless," he brushed off. "Other people will discern that quickly enough." The people of his own valley grew accustomed to his sentinels with time. So will the people here. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, again examining her with a piercing, dark eye.

It is awfully strange and off-putting to him that magic in foreign lands and foreign peoples is difficult to feel and measure. The people here draw upon a different kind of power than simply an innate one. This girl's power is not quite something he can make sense of, fully, like he could an apprentice or an advanced wizard back home. He would have to read more about magical discernment, find out if any of the tomes here described a swift method of assessment.

"What's your name?"

[ipseite]

Some people, she is aware, cannot simply be told. Either consequence will continually spare them, for whatever infuriating reason, and they will always think you an over-cautious fool, or they will learn for themselves the least gentle of ways. So she does not press him further; she has done as her conscience dictates, and he will listen to her experience and observation or he won't, but she is -

she is done, she thinks, taking responsibility for the actions of men who must always know better, best.

"Madame de Cedoux. Petrana," after a short pause, "de Cedoux." None of the titles that she might have claimed; what do they matter in Thedas, torn adrift from anywhere they meant anything? La princesse was a matter of violent dispute in Lamorre, nevermind trying to wring influence out of it here. "I have been here a little while. A matter of weeks."

[fireandsmoke]

"Yes, a little while," he quips quickly -- rudely, even, though to his credit, he qualified it with, "I arrived early in the week." Not much longer than himself. Not long enough to know a substantial amount more than him, but then, she is a witch... and he acknowledges that it is good to become familiar with others that know magic.

And judging by her name and title, seems this girl is a true Lady just as he is known as Lord, or at least she is well-kept, handsome, and neat. The Dragon continues to stroke his chin, arms folding across his slim body. He does not offer his own name unprompted, and instead moves on to his next question.

"Do you practice a specialty?"

[ipseite]

A not unnoticeable oversight; Petra is in no great rush to pull him up on it, inclined to choose her battles carefully.

"Battle magic," after a slight pause, "with a bent toward defense. I've not often had cause to use it in truth; such focus was intended to ensure that in the event I was left without defense I would not, myself, be entirely helpless. In practise I most often use hearth magic, of the home, small things only. My study has been more extensively esoteric - I find magic fascinating for its own sake," and by this point she's beginning to warm a little to her subject if not the man in front of her, an eager student of the form.

"The study is outlawed in my homeland - between us my husband and I had hoped to lay the groundwork to rebuild what burnings have taken from the world. We wrote extensively."

[fireandsmoke]

"It's an asinine outlaw!" the Dragon bites, outraged and horrified at the thought. In Polnya, it is the opposite; the last king long ago decreed that all those with even the barest hint of magic must be set apart from non-magical households and trained properly in the arts. Before they hurt themselves or worse. "If your regents want unchecked and untrained apprentices unwittingly tearing holes through the realm, that is their sword to fall on! Your country will have far bigger problems if you don't school your wizards. You are right to preserve and rebuild."

He barely even discerns that this witch-woman's love of magic and learning warms him to her--just slightly. At the very least he is modifying his opinion to bear some pinch of respect for a fellow magic-user thirsty for knowledge. Perhaps she can be a decent resource for him... for the time being.

"Have you read much from the Inquisition libraries, or the ones down in Kirkwall?"

[ipseite]

"I'm afraid I don't know your term, but Lamorre does not leave its witches untrained," the slight tilt of her lip connoting no warmth and no pleasure in what she says, "it burns them with their books."

At which point it may be apparent why a soft thing like this witch in particular speaks of having been kept under such guard, of her magic as last line of defense -

there was much to defend against.

(And if it was her husband's fucking fault that she was in that position at all, well, there are matters Petra is not yet ready to address with herself, much less anyone else.)

Nevertheless, it's important to remain calm in the face of such outbursts. To keep one's chin level but not allow it to rise too high; to speak steadily, and where possible to deflect anger. Not to flinch, never to step backwards. Be conciliatory but not, if possible, too obviously so, and so when he gives her something else to talk about, she is glad to do it, though it occurs to her with a sinking feeling a moment later her answer may be far from satisfactory.

"As for the library, I am - unfortunately I am not so lucky as some here, my grasp of local language has not extended naturally to their lettering. But I am an educated woman and it is only a matter of time before I gain proficiency, I have made a small collection of books on all local subjects, magic included. I've an arrangement with a young maid who reads aloud to me what I have not yet mastered for myself." Petra does her share of the mending, and she reads the words aloud, and everyone gets what they want. "It is a different practise of magic than my own, but not without similarity."

[fireandsmoke]

That is enough to sober him with a small shudder. "A big mistake," he murmurs quietly. He is still of the opinion that burning wizards and witches is not only an heinous idea, but a stupid one. It only takes one desperate incantation from a magic-user facing his death to deflect the flames and turn it on a bloodthirsty crowd...

The Dragon's brow lifts in mild surprise, and his lip curls in a cross between befuddlement and amusement. Really? A maid to read aloud? He isn't above having a girl-servant around, but that is one step too far for his pride. "Language is your worry?" he says silkily, head cocked, "If you wish to read and avoid the humiliation of maids reading potentially dangerous books to you, there are translation spells for that. But it takes maintenance and it will drain you mildly after a time. It's also imperfect. Not everything makes sense."

[ipseite]

"I am familiar, yes," in a tone polite but not much swayed; it neither drains nor humiliates her to seek aid in something she can learn for herself, patience and practise and someone to ensure all is translating correctly and sensibly seeming to her the far more reasonable solution.

She's disinclined to argue the point, but her view on wasting energy is a firm one.

"My lord the Duke de Coucy was generous with his books and his time before Orlais recalled him, and the Wardens Howe have given me much assistance. It will not be needful long."

She will simply learn to read their trade language the hard way.

[fireandsmoke]

"Have it your way."

Learning the common language here would be the most accurate, but not the quickest method to achieving the kind of knowledge the Dragon seeks. It is a trade-off. He recognizes that digging deeper will be inevitable to discern some of the precise nitty-gritty details of complex magic spells, but he knows there are resources available for that should he need them.

He strides to the window and bends out to watch the landscape and town below.

"I'll certainly remember you and your battle-magic, Petrana, when the next demon attacks." He presses his lips together thinly. He's only heard of them from the authorities; he has yet to examine one himself yet.

He utters another clipped, precise incantation and conjures another mist sentinel in his palm. With a broad, long pitch, he chucks the thing as far out the window as he can manage, where it catches a gust of blustery wind and drifts away.

May as well test how far his eyes can travel here. The Dragon has already sensed that it may not go nearly as far as in Polnya, but he will not know for sure until he tests the limits.

If you have any more questions, Petrana, you best ask them now, because he doesn't have much else to discuss with you for the moment.

[ipseite]

"I recommend you not," she says, wryly -

(clinging to the wall, shocked to tears by the foreign violence, reaching for the hand of a man who is not here and will not come to her aid, whose unread letter burns an ever-present reminder in her bodice)

- but that is as well, and for now her curiosity is satisfied. Namely, that she was not about to discover some new and dreadful product of the Gallows that would require reporting to the...

You know, that might well have been what happened. It remains to be seen, but she inclines her head politely, and sweeps back the way she came.