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

Fern Doirnáin, a city elf | Dragon Age OC

[wheretheferngrows]

III. QUESTING

At some point on her journey from Ansburg to Kirkwall, her dumb mule decides that he's Had Enough with walking, and stops. In the middle of a creek.

It's not so much that there's any immediate danger to Fern or Rooster; the creek is babbling along harmlessly enough, with little fishes in it flitting around eating other fishes or bugs that happened to fall onto the surface. Even if she were to dismount, she'd barely be knee-high in the water. It's the fact that the second she gets off his back, he'll know he's won; Rooster is a clever asshole that way.

"C'mon," Fern encourages him hopefully, clicking her tongue at him. In response, Rooster only angles his ears backward and stomps one hoof in a manner that can only be construed as argumentative.

"Come on--the shore is right there--"

At some stage, with an agitated groan, she flings herself out of the saddle, takes hold of the reins, and tries to lead him towards the bank--only to get yanked backwards when Rooster tosses his head. She tumbles back into the water, landing there with a splash. "What the f--"

Rooster, startled by the water, dances to the left a few steps. Whomever happens to pass by this scene will bear witness to Fern cussing up a storm as she scrambles up out of the water, while Rooster enjoys his newfound freedom to do whatever the fuck it is stubborn mules want to do once they've gotten their way.

V. WILDCARD

(surprise me? :B)

V.

[circleprodigy]

It's mid-afternoon, between meals, which is why the dining area is nearly empty. At the moment, only two souls linger. A pale elven woman in Grey Warden armor sits at one end, savoring her book and a cup of tea, while a grown mabari licks an empty plate as though hoping to conjure more food with his tongue. When he looks up, there's a soft, pleading whine.

"More? You're such a bottomless pit, Garahel...." She rubs that belly with a foot, then sighs. "I suppose I could do with a refill, anyway. But that's it for today, then. You're spoiled enough."

The mabari barks, happy and shameless. More, please and thank you.

[wheretheferngrows]

"Is that a mabari?"

The question comes from a petite, startled-looking elven girl who has paused beside Inessa's table. She looks a bit wind-burnt and tousled, like she's just come indoors from doing a fair amount of activity outside, and carries a tray of stew and tea. But rather than trot over to the seat she's claimed in one of the mess hall's sunnier patches, she stops now to gawk openly at Garahel, her eyes very wide and admiring.

"Is he?" she presses, and gives Inessa a smile that lights up her face, too. "He looks just like them, and I haven't seen one since I was in Ferelden, I didn't think you could find them in the Free Marches."

[circleprodigy]

Inessa gets to her feet as the girl enters, her surprised expression quickly exchanged for a fond smile as Garahel goes up to meet her. He sniffs at this new elven woman and wags his tail hopefully. "Yes, he's a pure-bred mabari. I'm from Ferelden myself, but he came along with me across the Waking Sea. Garahel, show her your manners."

The mabari sit and lifts his paw for her to shake. Even if she doesn't have a treat to give him, that's okay because Inessa will reward him for being polite.

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern quickly sets her tray down on the nearest solid-looking surface (which is, thankfully, an empty table) and goes down on one knee in front of Garahel to take his paw and give it a little shake. "Oh aren't you handsome!" she gushes at him with a wide smile and is only too happy to lavish his little ears and chin scruff with pets and scratches. No biscuits, alas; all she's got on her is dried fruit for Rooster.

When Inessa speaks, she looks up at her again and grins. "It's nice to hear the accent again," she tells her sincerely. "My folks worked a farm outside Denerim for years before the Blight. Then we went to Ansburg, but I never quite lost the accent." A bit of chagrin there; the Marchers teased her for it mercilessly.

[circleprodigy]

Yay, affection! Garahel wiggles happily at all the pets and scratching, licking her in response. It's okay that there's no food for him as long as he has someone to pay attention to him. Because obviously his mistress never does, nope.

Laughing softly, pleased that he's made a new friend, Inessa smiles. "The accent is welcome, trust me. Most of my life has been spent at Kinloch Hold, but I'm originally from Denerim. Perhaps our paths might have crossed earlier, under different circumstances. And since I've already introduced my mabari before myself yet again, I am Inessa."

[wheretheferngrows]

She wrinkles up her nose in laughter, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her face away from all the puppy kisses, but doesn't stand up. The slobber is gross, but it reminds her with a pang of her family's herding dogs back home. Eventually, though she does stand up; with nothing else to use, she just wipes her face off with her sleeve. Inessa won't judge her--she's a dog person, right?

"Fern Doirnáin," she introduces herself, smiling a little, but doesn't lose the curiosity in her eyes. "You were in the Circle?" She looks almost sympathetic, like being trapped in the Circle is the most terrible of fates.

[circleprodigy]

There's absolutely no judgment from the young Warden, who darts her an understanding smile. Garahel eventually calms down, flopping on his back and turning his head to watch each as they speak. At that almost sympathetic expression, she nods but is quick to reassure. "Indeed, for most of my life. It was a fortunate turn of events, in my case. The opportunities given there would never have been possible outside it."

Compared to the constant deprivation of the alienage, a life with square meals, a sturdy roof and an education to rival any noble's is a great gain indeed.

"When the Circles fell, I sought to remain useful. Hence, this." She touches her griffon pendant, grateful for chance to do something other than fight Templars who could cancel her greatest strength.

III

[theexile]

Kattrin witnessed the scene and moved over to catch the lead for mule. She managed to get him tied up nearby before wading into the water to offer her hand to the overly wet elf.

"I have your mount over there. Here."

Not everyone was fond of the Avvar, especially a mage one, but she could at least offer her assistance all the same. Besides, the young woman looked like she could use it at this point.

"I have a blanket you can have while we dry your clothes."

[wheretheferngrows]

Rooster gives an uncertain baying noise as he's led by a stranger out of the creek, dancing hither and thither on the reins; maybe it's fright that makes him more cooperative than he was with Fern. It's hard to say.

For her part, Fern is so startled (and, though she won't admit it, petrified) by the appearance of a strange shemlen that she remains rooted to the spot in the muddy creek, her eyes wide and defensively hostile, one hand pulled up to her chest with the barest spark of fire flickering at her fingertips. Yet when it appears that this strange woman has no interest in either stealing Rooster, nor in harming Fern herself, the fire at her fingertips fizzles out.

Still, when Kattrin starts to wade towards her, she scrambles crab-like backwards through the water a few clumsy paces, until she hears the woman's offer. "I have a blanket you can have while we dry your clothes."

"I don't need your help, shemlen!" she snaps back, but fright makes her voice a high-pitched squeak, rather than the defiant alto she'd been hoping for. She flinches at the sound, swallows, and suddenly looks far more afraid than angry.

[theexile]

Kattrin, for her part, looked decidedly unimpressed with this false attempt at defiance and bravado. She lifted a brow at her then righted herself before actually getting out of the water and going to the mule, offering soothing sounds to help calm him. She even pulled out some dried fruit to offer to him as something to eat.

If the elf didn't want her help getting out of the water then she could calm her mount until she was able to get out of the water. That was fine with her.

"Shhh, friend. You are safe. She will be with you soon."

[wheretheferngrows]

Rooster's allegiance is easily bought, the fickle bastard. His enormous ears swivel forward the moment his snout catches a whiff of the fruit, and he edges nearer to Kattrin to eagerly whuffle it out of her hands. Whatever his mistress's issue is, he doesn't seem to share it now. Fern doesn't give him dried fruit.

"Shhh, friend. You are safe. She will be with you soon."

And much though Fern is loathe to admit it, Kattrin's willingness to be gentle to her mule goes a long way towards reassuring her that there is, in fact, no imminent danger from this encounter. For a moment she remains sitting there in the mud and water, just watching the scene warily. But eventually, she does struggle up to her feet, quickly patting herself down to make sure nothing important dropped out of her coat pockets. En route to the shore, she tugs a leech out of her shoes, and shudders. Eugh.

Tossing it back into the creek, she tells Kattrin cautiously, "His name is Rooster." Now that she's out of the water, she's well aware of how damn cold it is, and hugs her arms to her chest. fuck.

[theexile]

From her pack, Kattrin pulled out a very warm looking blanket and offered it to the cold elf. Though she'd gotten wet herself, the cold didn't seem to bother her at all. A lot of that came from the fact that the chill was welcome given how warm these lowlands could be compared to where she came from.

"Rooster. You have a handsome name, Rooster." She smiled gently at the mule then offered him another bit of fruit.

It was at that moment a little fennec came darting over. Kattrin pulled out a small piece of meat for him and tossed it to him. The creature caught it and settled in to gnaw at the dried flesh while the Avvar woman turned to the elf.

"I'll start a fire to help you dry faster. You can use that to keep warm for now."

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern inches a little closer and accepts the blanket as it is offered out to her, quickly wrapping it around herself--and her wet clothes, which she knows won't make her any warmer, but she's too shy to strip down to her smallclothes in front of a stranger.

"Rooster. You have a handsome name, Rooster."

That is enough to, finally, pull the tiniest of smiles up to the corners of Fern's mouth, kindling a little light in her eyes--but whatever words she has for Kattrin disappear the second she spots the little fennec scampering out from the underbrush. She's startled by it, but not in a bad way.

"Oh--is he yours?" she asks; her fear seems to be forgotten, at least for the moment.

[theexile]

"He has been my companion for some time now. But he has not revealed his name to me." Just to let her know she didn't know it. Kattrin smiled though and nodded to him. "He is wild but he may let you touch him if you would like to try."

To help, she offered the elf girl a piece of meat then went to gather some dry kindling to get a fire started. Luckily that didn't take long since Kattrin had learned this skill as a small child. All Avvar children did. Fire was a key to survival, after all. When it was big enough, she started to pick up pieces of wood and waved for the elf to come closer to get warm.

"Are you hungry?"

III, and I apologize in advance for the Large Shem

[paladingus]

The journey from Ansburg to Kirkwall is one with which Simon is intimately familiar. He'd taken his time about it, traveling as slowly as his limited lyrium supplies would allow just to appreciate the freedom, but he's all too well aware that there are places where it can get treacherous--probably quite a bit more so for a tiny elven girl on her own.

He can't help but feel for her, even as she launches into a litany of swearing that they can probably hear back at the Inquisition camp. (It would be rude to laugh. He's not going to laugh. He'd hate for her to think he was laughing at her.)

"Let me get him," he offers, striding over in full templar armor. "If he won't come, we might have some carrots back at camp to lure him with."

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.

V

[bad_thief]

Kirkwall often has new people arrive nowadays. Well, he says nowadays, but all his life there's been a steady flow of people into the city, and the landwards gates are normally pretty busy all day long, clogged with tired travellers whose only thoughts are about food and bed.

Which means they're easy pickings, and Haelan has been gently lightening the purses of a lot of weary men and women since sun-up.

It's just a pity that there are more Guards than usual at the gates by noon, probably some big-wig Inquisition fellow is expected, and so Haelan decides it's probably best not to push his luck any further. Instead, he's now looking for something to keep him occupied until the afternoon, when he has to help the Mages in the Gallows move their books. He's not looking forwards to it.

Anything that will distract him from that would be welcome, and just as it happens, a young elf woman and a very stubborn donkey head in through the gates. She looks about his age, and has that careful look on her face of someone who has heard about Kirkwall and is wondering how long it will take to be murdered.

"Hello serah," He greets, confidently approaching her and her brav- nobl- steed. "New in town? It just so happens that I'm one of Kirkwall's best guides. I can show you all the sights! The Gallows! The Hero's Mansion! The Blooming Rose! The Hanged Man! All for a few coins. What do you say, serah?"

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern isn't astride Rooster today, though she does look like she's just leading him back to the stables after a thoroughly exhausting bit of exercise through the countryside--not that Rooster looks particularly brave or noble while lumbering about with Fern bobbing around like a cork on his back, but judging by the affectionate way she leans against his neck, they're a good pair.

When Haelan approaches her, however, she stiffens immediately and fixes her wide blue eyes on him with fear transforming gradually into hostility; this is not a young elf who trusts humans. "...what do you say, serah?" he finishes, and she very promptly blurts out, "I don't want a tour," and starts to back up away from him, coaxing Rooster after her.

[bad_thief]

So she's probably expecting to be led into a dark alley and mugged. That's a reasonable fear. It's not what he was considering doing, but he knows there are gangs around here that do that. He understands that. But there's understanding, and then there's earning a living.

"It's a great tour, fine lady! See all the beautiful sights Kirkwall has to offer!" He says, although he reckons this one is going to require the hard sell. Which normally requires a lot of lies about his sick mother and hundreds of siblings who haven't eaten for two days blah blah blah.

Normally, that gets him a few copper coins and he doesn't even have to trudge around the city.

"Where have you come from serah? From Val Royeaux? There's many fine, fancy folk like yourself here from Val Royeaux."