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

Re: II

[mactears]

Alistair, or Rendon Howe's boy. Well. He makes a grudging noise under his breath; he supposes that is only right, all things considered.

At her introduction, he hesitates only momentarily, then reaches out to accept her hand. "Loghain Mac Tir," he tells her. His eyes answer any startled query she might have: yes, that one. As for the rest: "--and, no, but you're kind to ask."

[doneisdone]

The startlement is there for certain, and Teren pauses mid-grasp as her eyes widen in recognition. She's never seen the man before, but she's heard the name.
"Oh, it's you," she awkwardly says after a few moments, withdrawing her hand. "...such being the case, you may want armor a bit heavier than that." The observation isn't unfriendly, but it does accompany a wince. "What's brought you here? Thought you'd find a new army to desert?"
She actually smirks-- there's no real vitriol in the question, but it was clearly meant to be a jab.

[mactears]

He takes it in stride, even smirking back, and gives his head a contrary sort of shake. Jabs like that glance off him now; he's been battered by far worse. "I suppose the night is still young," he replies.

And it is, more or less. There's still plenty of opportunity to bump into either Alistair or Nathaniel Howe, and he might indeed wish for better armour than the scraps he's assembled for his trek across Thedas.

"What's brought you here?" she'd asked.

"To make my report, as I said," he says, grimacing. "To account for my absence at Weisshaupt."

[doneisdone]

"Right, of course," Teren says, pleasantly enough. He didn't take umbrage with her remark, which means he's risen somewhat in her estimation; he may be a scoundrel, but at least he owns it. In that respect at least.

"I wouldn't lose sleep over it," she adds, looking back down at her sewing as she begins to stitch again, "Weisshaupt is a disaster most of us would prefer not to think about, and I won't fault anyone for not being there." It was the worst. "If you like, I can give the lads a heads-up, let them know you're here. Unless you'd rather not give them time to sharpen their swords."

[mactears]

"Unless you'd rather not give them time to sharpen their swords."

He makes a sound of agreement that's almost a chuckle, but not quite. A shade too grim. "Best not," he says instead, and lets the rest of what she says settle over him, considering it. Would it have been worse to be a part of that mess? It's hard to say.

Hoisting the pack up again, he starts to step away. "I'll find them. Thank you," he adds; can't forget his manners just because he hasn't gotten a decent night's rest in an age.

[doneisdone]

"Mmh," comes Teren's dismissal, indicating he needn't thank her. Alistair hates the man, and... so do many others, but she'll see how he fits in before casting judgment. It's nice to have that luxury.