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 filled with bears. Choose your own adventure!

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

As her hand goes to her bow, Anders takes a step back and holds one hand up, palm open.

"I mean you no harm. I know of a few blacksmiths of varying skills, and two among them who are looking for additional hands. I could show you or, if you're not comfortable coming with me, I could give you directions, more or less."

The marketplace shifts a little through the day, stalls closing as they ran out of goods or opening as new things come in, but maybe she can navigate it.

[earthbones]

Up goes her eyebrow. Twitchy twitchy lot these people, still the bow is removed to be held out for inspection; if he's going to show her blacksmiths then this man has to see what she's capable of making. Beautiful wicked deadly thing that it is, ebony where it doesn't glow the way anything cooled with a daedra's heart glows.

"I wouldn't shoot a man in the street, this is what I'm capable of. Real craftsmanship. Skill." She doesn't offer it out to take - look with your eyes, not with your hands - since the only other things are her hunting knife that really isn't suited to anything but gutting and cleaning, or the wicked dagger that she only likes to use from behind. Sharp thing but not good in close quarters if she's honest. (Neither is she.) "I'll go with to the blacksmiths, someone to talk to so I can stop listening to-"

Her hand waves at herself, the people, the general everything that has her wanting to run into giants and mammoths unprepared on a hunt in a blizzard.

[justice_is_blond]

It's Kirkwall. There are always people wanting to shoot someone else in the street. But he relaxes when she doesn't point the weapon and leans in to take a look at it.

"You make things like this?" He hasn't seen anything that glows quite like that. There has to be some sort of enchantment behind it, but without getting his hands on the bow and concentrating he's not going to be able to place it. ...Not that it matters, really. He's not about to be able to make anything with metal.

"I don't know if the one I've in mind can match this, but there's a chance." He tilts his head toward the side and starts walking, assuming she'll be following. "He does some ornamental work for Hightown, so he may be looking for something along these lines. But..." Anders glances over at her. "You and I both know he might look less at the quality of your work and more at the shape of your ears."

[earthbones]

"Weapons, armour, jewellery. Any metal, fur, hide, bone, scale, glass," follow she does with a glance back to the merchants and since it's good practice. She avoided settlements sometimes. Liked wild spaces. Liked to go hunting then creep into a place to offload goods, do some trading, catch up on the news and use forges then slip off again with an eye watching for things that might circle above her too. If this one knows what she can make...well it might help. Not that she's holding her breath given the fortune shown to her of late.

That's what gets her smirking. "Lady Luck mustn't be able to see all the way here, shape of my ears bothers some elves back home more than anyone but Nords. What's the problem with them? They think it'll be too much trouble to get them off me and use in their alchemy?" Only falmer ears are good for that and how long's it been since they've been anything like an elf?

[justice_is_blond]

At 'Nords' she gets a puzzled look, and then he adds that plus 'back home' to the odd glow of the bow and gives the bow another glance. There might be a very good reason that he's not understanding the magic of that after all.

"If you're a Rifter, I'd make sure he sees the quality of your work before he finds out that tidbit. The city's a little tense." A beat, and then he snorts and shakes his head. "Rather, more tense than usual. It's always a tense mess. Do you have any other examples, ones you don't mind him handling?"

The path through the stalls is twisty, but he leads the way with certainty. Anders is good with finding his way.

[earthbones]

"I'm a bosmer or wood elf," the clarification is required for her because you can't just go calling an elf an elf but while she's seen one at the very least that's put her in mind of an altmer if not quite so golden, she hasn't seen a dunmer. "What city isn't? Left a civil war back home for whatever's going on here, d'you not believe in everyone being dragged up a mountain and made to sit at a table before you deal with the thing that's going to devour the world?"

Yes it's that simple, even someone who spent about a year ignoring her name being called from the mountains then another year getting to it still got it done in the end. Wasn't her war to be getting on with.

Brónach slows as she pats herself down carefully. "Got a knife I doubt I can take out in public without someone shitting themselves and a few trinkets I can't or I reckon I'll be accused of theft, maybe have someone try that on me too." (Some days the theft accusations are fair but there's nothing worth stealing down here.)

[justice_is_blond]

Bosmer, or wood elf. Considering how important the Dalish find it to be specific about not being simply elves, Anders makes a point to remember that. The other gets a chuckle.

"If we could settle matters at a table, things would be far easier. We've one madman who seems to want to destroy our world, two forces that want to invade everything else, a faction fighting for freedom against those who want them captive again, and a country trying to sort out the aftermath of civil war. Most are uniting against the madman, but not all."

His voice is low. They don't need people overhearing what he's saying to her and realizing what she is.

"And we'll see what the smith says and thinks." They're walking up to the stall now, metal poles wrapped around with ornamental vines and a tan canvas stretched across most of it. There's a human standing in the front, large and solidly built, bald, with an earring in his left ear. He watches them approach, and Anders gives him a nod.

"She's looking for a job metalworking," he says, and leaves the rest to her. It should be enough of an introduction, especially when the ironwork at the front of the stall declares this to belong to Jaroes Sprow.