allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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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 filled with bears. Choose your own adventure!

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DARKTOWN

[ Surprisingly or not, Darktown is the safest place for her to be more often than not. When she peeks higher than the dangerous, stretching pathways she is a target, not just from the shems but by other elves, too. Her ears, cut and scarred, show the knife she had taken in shame to her heritage, and the vallaslin on her face scream something far more deadly to her person. It's not well designed nor is it well drawn onto her skin, and it doesn't match much of the familiar Dalish tattoos that worship the great and wonderful pantheon. Her markings represent Fen'Harel, chosen for her own worship, her own desire to support the so-called trickster.

It is why she has no clan, no people, no heritage, nothing much to call her own.

Walking through the depths of Darktown, she rarely makes her way higher, and only to visit the Lowtown markets to gather what little she can with what little she has. She trades mostly in potions, in salves, things that can be given to help and heal, and the entire time she has her body covered in robes and gloves, her head bowed as she moves place to place. If her gloves are gone people see the marks of blood magic, and she has no energy to deal with ignorance most days.

It's rare that she travels higher, fearing the Gallows, but she hopes if she keeps to herself she can slip in and out of Kirkwall without too much trouble. There are mages that go undiscovered here and no one has suspected her of anything yet; there are many elves lost in the depths of poverty in the alienages and the darkness of the lower rungs of the social ladder, and she does nothing in public. People rarely speak to her once they realise where her fascination lies - herbs, planets, her chosen God, all things that do not make her popular with anyone.

The only time people tend to come to her are if they see her around, with her potions and plants, or when she is reccomended by someone else; there aren't too many people that are willing to venture outside the walls of Kirkwall to gather supplies for less than savoury exploits, and she is one of them. ]

❰ well, darktown sure is shit. sometimes literally, adalia considers as she steps around a pile of droppings from who knows what. she's been working on her alchemy, and somebody who know somebody who knows somebody recommended a girl down in darktown for her herbalism — they're complimentary disciplines, and adalia's been experimenting trying to figure out which native ingredients to sub in for the things called for in her recipes from home. she could use the guidance of a native acquainted with the various properties of native plants.

still, darktown sucks. she had to leave charis back at the gallows with kain out of fear of what might happen to him down here. if adalia can't find this girl soon she's just going to give the expedition up as a wash and try again later.

luckily, not long after making that resolution, adalia catches sight of a figure dressed in the way she was instructed to keep an eye out for — gloved, robed, and head kept down. relieved — but still cautious — adalia makes her way over to the figure, smiling. ❱

Hello, are you Laurelae? I was told to search out a Laurelae for potions and herbalism skills.

[ Darktown is Darktown, and no matter where she is in the scummy parts of the underground of Kirkwall she is on her guard. She knows what she is - elven, apostate, blood mage - and if the Templars or the citizens above heard a single whisper of what she was doing, simply existing down here, then she would be dragged kicking and screaming from the depths and brought up to face questioning and imprisonment.

She can't think of anything worse after her years of quiet, carefully cultivated loneliness.

The stranger's smile does nothing to soothe her rattled nerves and as soon as she's approached she's instantly on guard. She knows her name, which means she comes for a certain reason, and Lauralae isn't sure if that is something she wants right nor or if she should flee to protect herself. There is no choice now, however, and she breathes out a slow, soft noise, trying to stand as tall as she can despite her short stature. ]

That is my name. [ She turns her head, watching, face pale under her hood. ] What do you require?

❰ the smile isn't helping, but that doesn't deter adlia — she just keeps smiling, even as she stops moving any closer and very conspicuously moves her hands from her sides, demonstrating their emptiness (and showing off her anchor shard as she does so) before clasping them in front of her. she's not a threat unless she has to be, and she'd prefer not to have to be if she can avoid it. ❱

I'm a Rifter, friend, my name is Adalia. I was studying the alchemical arts in my home, but I was brought here before I could learn too much about them, and I'm struggling now to find native substitutes for the required ingredients of some recipes I know. I wondered if I might work with you, so that you could teach me the properties of the herbs you use, and I could repay you with the things I can make.

[ Lauralae, at least, has no interest in the Anchor beyond what it might be able to do to strengthen things - these strangers only hold appeal for what they can give her, the knowledge that they might be able to bring, and that is what keeps her attention focussed and her eyes boring into the woman opposite her. It was brave of her to come and seek her out, true enough, but that does not make her entirely willing. ]

Do you have them with you? [ The recipes, she means, and she frowns, tilting her head. She's careful to keep herself angled well enough that she can hide her face and her blood markings from the strangers. ] So that I might read them.

❰ adalia is honestly at least a little oblivious to the risk she took coming down here, not even bothering to hide her anchor or bring a weapon. she was told darktown was a shitty place, but the true extent of the danger it poses was never made clear to her — or if it was, she assumed it was all exaggeration. surely nothing could really be that bad. consequently, it wasn't really bravery that brought her here, but ignorance. ❱

I do! ❰ adalia turns to the messenger bag at her side, reaching slowly into it, careful not to move in a way that might alarm anyone skittish. she pulls out a worn yet ornate book, and holds it out with a smile. she won't let it go, but she'll hold it while lauralae looks it over. ❱ They're mostly rather simple, there's a sleep aid and a pain reliever, a hangover cure, spark gravel — which is used as a kind of perimeter alarm, as it sparks and makes loud noise when force is applied to it — and a smokestick which disrupts magic casting. That last one's not a priority, I think sorcerers here have enough to deal with, honestly.

[ There's a moment where Lauralae wonders what on earth this Rifter is doing; what she thinks she is going to achieve, wandering around Darktown with no hesitation and no fear in her step. There are so many people here that would take her down for her possessions, ripping her hand off and stealing her worldly items... And they would have no guilt for it, in the end. Darktown is about survival, and all they must do is fend for themselves.

Frowning, she leans down, staring at the pages. She can read it, at least, and she lifts her hands to push her hood back just enough for her to look at it properly. ]

Elfroot will replace the pain relief. It is used in healing potions throughout Thedas. Mixing it with Spindleweed will make it more portent, if you are able to access it. [ The rest makes her think, leaning back. ] You might use Blood Lotus for Spark Gravel, as it is a means of creating confusion. If you wish to make the potency of the healing stronger then you will need to use Arbor Blessing or Vandal Aria.

❰ adalia isn't really in the business of caution. the nature of her existence is such that she acts and expects the world to conform to her will, simply because as a sorcerer she can usually make it do so.

also, if anyone tries to attack her, she'll hit them with so much lightning they'll be set on fire. that helps her confidence.

as lauralae rattles off ingredients to replace those suggested in her book, adalia pulls a piece of charcoal out of a pouch on her belt and begins marking down the substitutions in the margins of the book. when lauralae gets to spark gravel, she looks up, brow furrowed. ❱

Hmm... I hadn't considered that. I suppose I could doctor the recipe, I can find ignitable substances anywhere, and add in the blood lotus to confuse the intruder for a time. That's... actually ingenious!

❰ back to scribbling down notes in the margins, a bright smile on her face as she does. ❱

[ She has grown to embrace caution as a way of life - there is no other option for her, not when she is shunned by her kin and shems alike. She must do what she can just to survive, simply so she can live her life and offer her time and energy to the Gods she has chosen. It is a miserable existence, to be sure, but it is better than being under the thumb of a clueless keeper or idle humans.

Lauralae can defend herself, but she chooses to sink into the shadows. She chooses to hide herself because it is easier than the threat of something more.

Watching, she notes how much the woman writes down and nods her head. At least someone listens when she offers advice, and she is curious about what the plants in this other world may be. ]

It would be easy to substitute. Blood Lotus is not too difficult to find, should you search, and Elfroot is common.

❰ it'd be rather rude of adalia to ask for advice and then refuse to take it, wouldn't it? she's learning quite a bit about this world, but she's not nearly to the level a native would be yet — being able to recite off a bunch of dates or general facts is merely a function of memorization, she doesn't understand the context for many of the things she's studied. better to find a willing teacher and defer to their expertise as much as possible, and then find their rival and learn from them as well, to get a fuller picture of the subject.

as it doesn't seem likely lauralae will have any sort of rival here, adalia's perfectly content to listen to her and take notes on her suggestions. ❱

Blood lotus and elfroot, common, ❰ adalia mutters to herself, noting it down in her book. ❱ And you said arbor blessing, vandal aria, or spindleweed to make pain relief more potent, yes? How common are they?

[ Lauralae is well versed in herbs now; she has been forced to learn more and more independently because she had no other option. This is how she survives in the world, with Darktown boring down on her like a solid weight around her shoulders. Growing and sharing plants earns her enough to scrape a few meals together, and that's more than enough for her. She is content to live that life, just as it is, and accept it for what it is.

The notes, at least, are nice; it shows someone cares enough to take notice of her, which is novel. She is not used to it. ]

Yes. [ Lauralae frowns, leaning forward to check over the notes. ] They are rarer, though not impossible to find. Spindleweed can be found at lakesides and the others in glens, often where people do not tread regularly.

Ah, Darktown, it's been a while.

[Varric had absolutely not missed coming down to Darktown. Sure, the sights were always unique and you couldn't get a better price on most things, but he wasn't generally in favor of being stabbed and that was pretty likely. He'd almost been stabbed twice already and he'd only been down here for like an hour.

Still he has somebody to find and search he does. The little piece of cardstock in his hand has a name and a vague address, but all he finds at the end of it is a ramshackle little garden tucked between two hovels. He doesn't see anybody around, but hey, it's worth a look.

He knocks on the fence with a gloved hand and calls:]

Hello, anybody alive in there?

[ It is not the best place to live, but there are few options for apostates in Kirkwall that wish to stay far, far away from the Gallows and the intense, whispering eyes of the newcomers. Whatever there is that might be said for progress - and she sneers at the idea, not trusting it an ounce - it usually does not includes elves in the nature of the phenomenon. No, she is designed, now, to hide and survive, to read her books and think upon her God as best she can, scraping the copper she needs to eat a little each day.

The knock to her fence - what she has left of a door, thank you, Darktown - startles her and she is quick to move. There's a tiny set of walls that makes up a bedroom, barely enough to call it a room, and she scrapes together her things, throwing them into a bag and shifting to hide them under the single creaky floorboard. There's not much that she has that she considers valuable, but the knife she uses for magic and the wolf bones she keeps are particularly important to her and she will not have them taken if someone has come to harm her.

After a few moments, she gathers herself, pushing herself up and stepping around the bare shape of her home, peering out at the stranger that has come to her garden.

A dwarf. She shouldn't be surprised, what with the nature of strangers around Kirkwall, but she still blinks for a moment in shock before she walks out, covered completely in her robes and gloves. ]

I am alive. [ It's said gently, with a low, cool voice. ] What do you want?

[Varric hears someone scramble to hide their valuables, a few thunking noises, and then nothing as they suspiciously approach the door, or as he likes to call it: the Kirkwall Scramble. He's not a guard, so he's used to that suspicion tapering off pretty fast but this elf looks a bit on the 'might be extremely dangerous if cornered' side.]

Hey, imagine that, someone alive and willing to admit it. Personally I just tell everyone I'm dead but they never seem to believe me, or go away.

[She is not looking charmed. Right. To business then. Varric folds up the paper he'd been handed and tucks it into his shirt.]

I am in need of a wide array of really questionable plants for this...thing they've got me doing dow--up in Lowtown. Somebody said I should ask for the elf who lives, well, here and see if I can't get a hand.

[ She is careful simply because she does not want her things stolen. She doesn't want to lose what little scraps she has left to her name - and they're not dangerous, not really, just little trinkets that remind her of a world she had long left behind. ]

Perhaps they do not believe you because you are using your voice.

[ Lauralae is not charmed, but she watches all the same, content to listen. He had come all this way to speak to her and she knows it would not be done if it was not important, or seen as necessary. ]

I can offer assistance. [ She steps away from the hovel, motioning to her garden. ] If I do not grow them then I will be able to obtain them.

[Varric leans and glances into the garden. Unfortunately, even though he spent months afield, the only plants he can really tell apart from one another tend to be grown in fields and even then...eeeee he's only okay at it. He stares blankly for a second and nods.]

Right, that sure is a garden--hey, tell you what...You're name was Lauralae, right? I am total shit when it comes to telling which plant is what.

What I am pretty decent at, however, is paying people well enough that they don't screw me over in the short or long run.

So, I need these--[He pulls a small scroll from his pants pocket and extends it to her.]--and for each one you grab I can pay you--[How much would buy loyalty here? Probably silvers, but then again some of these were tricky to acquire. If she screwed him he'd probably poison somebody on accident and that was unacceptable. Varric only poisons people on purpose.]

How's a sovereign a piece sound?

[ It's not a particularly grand garden, but it does what she needs; there are a few plants growing side by side, but most of the plot is still being developed. She hasn't had the money to buy much in the way of seedlings and she fears that if she leaves Kirkwall for too long to go and hunt her little home will be stolen from her. ]

Yes. I am Lauralae. [ She is concerned about how much he knows about her, but at least he is not threatening her or doing something to make her feel as though she must defend herself. Her curiosity is getting the better of her, and she lifts her head, watching him carefully.

His offer is more than just a little tempting. She reaches out and takes the scroll, looking at the list quickly; she has to know what she is agreeing to before she can say yes or no. It's not too awkward a list, and most of things she can grow or find somewhere without a great deal of trouble.

The payment... That is the most tempting aspect, and she swallows as she forces herself to look at him again. ]

That is a great deal of money for something as simple as herbs. [ But, still... She considers. With money coming she might be able to save, might be able to eat better, might be able to find an actual home somewhere. Even if it is not a long-term plan, it is enough, and it makes her skin prickle. ] I will accept.

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

lauralae | native

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