allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He makes a brief, amused noise at the remark on his generosity. "We're all in this together, in the Inquisition. Even if--especially if--you rifters didn't have a choice in the matter, you deserve all the help we can offer getting your feet." Earnest and uncomplicated--he genuinely believes what he's saying.

"Myrobalan Shivana, serah. I'm a mage, lately of Hasmal Circle, and the Inquisition employs me primarily in research on the rifts. I also work with Ser Wren Coupe in Chantry relations." He pauses to run back through all of that in his head, and adds, "And I'm sure that made as much sense to you as Serah Niehaus explaining what she does makes to me, so where should I begin explaining?"

It's still something refreshing to have directed towards him, Reaper being far too used to dealing in cloak and dagger politics, and hiding behind literal masks. But everything said does get quietly filled away in Reaper's memory for reference - names especially.

Myrobalan certainly isn't wrong in his assessment of how much sense it all makes to him, and it gets a soft chuckle in acknowledgement from Reaper. “I’m unclear on what the Circles are aside from being groups of mages? And the Chantry as a whole. Whichever you’d prefer to elaborate on.”

"That's the most neutral way to talk about the Circles," Myr acknowledges. "As 'groups of mages'. They are--were," (he's getting better at this, doesn't wince at having to make that correction,) "schools and lifelong homes for most of us mages here in the Free Marches--and other countries where the Chantry holds sway. We're--we were--brought into them shortly after our magic manifested, for our own safety and the safety of those around us. Magic is a gift, but it's meant to serve men, not rule over them, and the Circles saw to it we learned to use ours for mankind's benefit."

And magic isn't something all rifters seem to know about. He checks his headlong rush of words on that thought and asks: "Are you from one of the worlds that doesn't know of magic or the Fade, serah?"

"I've never heard of anything called the Fade, but I guess my world has magic, but rarer than it is here. Just one group that I recall." Not like Reaper has a more reasonable explanation for Omnic Energy, or the Shimada clan, whatever the true origin of either are. He keeps his tone even, mulling over what Myr has said as he answers in turn. It's certainly more than he's gleaned from listening around so far.

"When does your magic manifest?"

That's something, at least. It might even make Myr's job of explanation easier...if the rules of magic in this fellow's world aren't so strange as to make it harder. That's always a risk--might even be the case here, if they've got magic without the Fade to power it.

"The youngest I've heard of was four," he says. "But that's an unusual case. I was seven; my cousin was eight. I haven't heard of many older than we were."

"So mages are brought into the Circles as children." Reaper makes a thoughtful noise, drumming his fingers again on the book under hand. Schools and homes, and related the the Chantry. Things to maybe further focus on.

"Brought in for your own safety, you mentioned. How dangerous is magic here?"

That's worth a laugh out of Myr--wry and quiet and sad all at once.

"How dangerous to the mages, serah, or to everyone around us? A skilled mage can be the ruin of dozens of fighting men, if she's clever and knows the right spells. And many of us are trained for war." His tone is matter-of-fact, neither boasting nor ashamed. This is how the world is.

"Which isn't to say that's the only use of magic; it can be used to heal and encourage growth, tame animals or let a mage take their forms. And we still haven't exhausted all it can do; I don't know if we ever will.

"But we pay the price for power--we're awake in the Fade when we dream, and demons seek us out. If they can, they'll take our bodies by force or guile and use them to wreak destruction however they can."

He lapses silent, expecting more than a few questions in response to that.

Training mages for war certainly isn't unexpected - it sounds like a significant advantage to have regardless of how it's used. And advantages are certainly something to be pressed where they can be. The fact that demons can possess mages causes Reaper to pause drumming his fingers.

"The Fade being a sort of barrier which the demons are on one side, and want into this side, I'm assuming? Do only mages see the Fade in dreams?"

"Something like that," Myr says, encouraging despite the grim topic. "Though that's more the bit we call the Veil, that draws the line between our waking world and the Fade. Demons will do anything to cross it; there's nothing they desire more than to be in this world, after it was denied to them.

"Not just mages--everyone who dreams, dreams in the Fade. Even, I'm told, rifters--now that you're here. Though if you aren't a mage yourself, demons aren't likely to bother you," he's quick to reassure. "But those who aren't mages seem to pass their time there without much control over what happens."

There's a pause and a huff of a sigh as Reaper mulls over that information, thoughts going off in several directions. There's a half formed thought of comparing his recent dreams to ones before he showed up in Thedas.

"Mages get to be awake in the Fade, face potential possession, and this starts when you're children?"

It's tempting to editorialize, to over-answer instead of simply confirming Reaper's understanding. (Perhaps because laid out, right there, is all the justification for the Circles and how terribly they can go wrong...) But Myr bridles his tongue and says, simply, "That's the shape of it, serah. Those of us who make it this far have been fending demons for a long time."

"That's a lot of pressure put on a child." And Reaper's not quite sure how he feels about it. There's the soft creak of leather as he clenches his hands, careful not to do it to the spine of a book, and then forces them to relax.

"Aside from developing enough will to temper steel, is there anything else done for mages in the Circles?"

There's something rueful and sad to Myr's smile, there a second and gone again. "Like so much else we're born to, we haven't got a choice in it. Though I've long wondered why the Maker's gifts always seem to come at such a high cost.

"We're fed and clothed and given a proper education to rival most secular ones--and protected from an outside world that fears us, rightly or wrongly." He pauses to consider, weighing carefully, before continuing in a neutral tone:

"Which came at no small cost of our freedom."

Someone would bring it up, sooner or late. He might as well take on the task.

TEST DRIVE MEME!

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