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

Holland Vosijk | Shades of Magic | Rifter

[somedayking]

I. GALLOWS: LIBRARY

Some things can't be done through sheer stubbornness. Learning to read a new alphabet is one of them. He does try; on the table, beside the book that was handed to him when he asked for something introductory, he's printed out each of the new letters in no particular order, with a few already corresponding to the symbols in a foreign sharp-edged script. Not enough of them, however, to turn the sea of letters on the page in front of him into a breakable code, no matter how long he stares at them.

How long he stares as them is, incidentally, a very long time, reaching for understanding like it might be buried somewhere in his own chest, like his magic was. But he does give up eventually, and when someone passes the table at a pace that doesn't imply they have somewhere else to be immediately, he lifts one hand for attention. "Excuse me." He's soft spoken, but with a voice smooth and weighty like a river rock, which is not my fault, I didn't invent him. "Would you read the first sentence of this for me?"

II. KIRKWALL: DARKTOWN

Holland wasn't here long before someone (presumably, hopefully) impressed upon him the need to hide his inky black eye in public. It's something he hasn't done since he was a child trying to slip unnoticed beneath the noses of hungry adults, and now the thought of hiding rankles his pride nearly enough to outweigh the tattered scraps of his self-preservation instincts. But only nearly. When he ventures out, he wraps strips of linen around his head at an angle to patch it over.

With some additional effort that sort of thing might let him blend in in Darktown, one more one-eyed beggar, maybe there's even a club—but his clothes are clean and his posture is nearly a dare, and when he sees something that catches his uncovered eye, he doesn't hide the flash of green light in the hand that reaches for it. It, a plant growing out of the rotting old wall, a touch of bright green and red. Even here. Even among all this.

It's very pretty. It will also almost definitely cause a rash. If someone points that out to him, he might care enough not to keep touching it.

V. WILDCARD: WHATEVS

Gallows: Library

[justice_is_blond]

Anders, for his part, has been slowly going back between the same four bookshelves for the last ten minutes, wishing he knew if any of these would have any information on Great Dragons or whatever was massive enough to leave a giant hole in the Deep Roads. None were promising, especially when he'd gone through a good half of him, so he welcomed the pebbly tones of Holland's not-mj-invented voice.

"Of course." The guy's eyes suggest Rifter, which means this isn't some sort of Templar trap to get Anders to say something he wouldn't otherwise, and he leans over.

"The author humbly suggests the school of spirit magic be approached with great diligence but no great fear, for in this study one may come to understand themselves as much as the Fade they work with." He shakes his head. "The book itself is rather dry, but it's a good starter text. I learned from it myself, ages back."

[somedayking]

They could be very clever Templars with a multi-step plan that begins with giving Holland a dangerous book and waiting for Anders and his helpful/meddlesome ways to get involved—but no. No trap. While Anders reads, Holland writes, transcribing the sounds into more familiar letters for comparison, scratching it out all the way through the book itself before he realizes Anders is commentating, now, not reading.

"I'm sure it's less interesting if it isn't new," he says, walking with care on the polite side of the thin line between disagreeing and arguing. He sets the quill down altogether, though, and fixes the man with his uneven stare. While he's here: "The Fade is where you—" General you, Thedosian you. "—believe we came from."

1

[ormolu]

Cassian hadn't been planning on staying in the library, he'd been merely passing by on his way to some other place--some place incredibly important, no doubt. But not important enough that he doesn't take notice of a man calling out for help.

Well, hadn't he just been saying the other day that it's such a shame so many people are illiterate, on account of being poor and whatnot? So, he wheels around to gallantly offer his help to this poor, illiterate, destitute soul--

And then he sees the pure black eye. And visibly recoils, like the eye might suck out his soul, or something equally nefarious.

"Maker's breath--what is wrong with your eye!? Is that why you can't read? Haven't you seen the healers? They allow mages here, you know, I'm sure they can figure out... something." He's not sure what that something is, but surely, someone, somewhere, can figure out something for the poor man.

[somedayking]

Holland meets that onslaught of words without blinking or changing expression at all, unless a slow tilt of his head counts. He had been warned—about this, about other things—and he isn't offended, necessarily, so much as unused to anyone so animated and noisy about their discomfort.

After a pause that's just long enough for him to be sure it is in fact his turn to talk, he says, "Nothing is wrong with my eye," evenly, and with almost completely undetectable sarcasm, "but I am relieved they allow mages here."

I

[faithlikeaseed]

It's not a request that anyone would make of Myr if they were looking at him--so perforce the requester must not be looking, he completes the syllogism to his own amusement as he stops beside Holland's table. A length of knotted cord he'd been fiddling with is bundled up and stuffed in one pocket; no need to fidget with it while talking to someone. "I'd do it gladly, serah, if I were equipped for it any longer. D'you want me to find a page to assist you?"

It's an offer kindly meant, with no trace of sarcasm in it. Certainly no one expects a blind mage to be hanging around a library, not if he's new enough to the Gallows Myr doesn't recognize his voice.