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

Julius | da oc

[overharrowed]

I

Depending on how closely one is looking at him, Julius could be anything or nothing. He's tanned and dirty from many weeks of travel -- really, they could have let him catch his breath in Skyhold before pushing him out the door toward Kirkwall, he thinks -- and he dresses in an amalgamation of garments he's gathered in a few years on the run.

But for anyone who knows what to look for, the mix of pride and uncertainty found in a former Circle mage dumped out into the world is probably easy enough to clock. That and the staff. The staff tends to be a giveaway. (Depending on one's familiarity with Lake Calenhad, his face may be even more familiar still.)

Still, beneath what is clearly the exterior of a refugee, Julius manages to hold his head up and walk with a purposeful step. He's here to help, and the Inquisition has made its reputation on not turning away that sort of offer. He's late, but he's here now.

He is trying very hard not to think too much about the history of the place he's entering.

II

He's gotten familiar with taverns, these past few years. Julius still isn't at east in places like The Hanged Man, exactly, but he's found it useful to remember that the vast majority of people in such places are content to mind their own business. He's more than happy to talk if someone approaches him; while alone, he wears an absent frown, but it fades nearly instantly if he becomes conscious of someone glances his way. Whatever his troubles are, he's well practiced at tucking them out of sight.

V

[Wildcard me!]

I

[puravida]

"Ah — !" A flurry of motion sends her driving up, hands flapping to fit a chicken's squabbles. "Stop right there!"

A pause, while the paint-stained figure before him grapples briefly with an upended easel — there we go. Right. Vida tries again, awkwardly shuffles her sleeves back, (slops veridium green all over one in the process),

"My, ah, my apologies Monsieur. Do not move a muscle —" She hastens to add. "— Please."

The cause for all this fuss isn't immediately apparent, but whatever it is, it must be terribly important.

[overharrowed]

As bid, he stops, raising his eyebrows. After a moment: "May I speak, or are those muscles included?" His tone is dry, but not sharp.

For all he looks travel-worn, his eyes glint with interest. Whatever else is going on, she certainly has his attention.