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

[dirth]

[ It doesn't surprise him that she is unknowing about the history of the place; Solas recognises it, and he wonders if she would listen. There is much that he could tell her, so much knowledge of the past that rests on his shoulders, and so few of the elves he has spoken to thus far dare to listen. It makes him feel embittered, and he rises to stand a little taller. ]

There are many ways for you to learn, and much to discover. It is true for many of your people. [ He steps back and away from the painting, tilting his head as he checks for imperfections, failures in the detail. ] No one will fault you for not knowing, only accepting that ignorance is the only choice before you.

[ He looks at her properly, finally, and bows his head. ]

I am Solas.

[wheretheferngrows]

['Your people,' he says, and it makes her blink, perplexed. Aren't they his, too? Then, at his introduction, she recalls her manners--]

I'm Fern, [and juts out a hand for him to shake, if he so chooses. A human greeting, she'd know if she had any knowledge of such things, but she doesn't. The glove covering her hand doesn't completely mask the green glow of the anchor mark in her palm, a likely enough explanation for why one so young might be here with the Inquisition's forces, rather than at home with her family.

She considers him a moment in curious silence, tipping her head to one side.] Are you a hahren? [she asks him at length, the beginnings of a small smile on her face; he sounds like a teacher, a story-teller, his mannerisms making her homesick for her community hahren's occasional visits to her family's farm.]

[dirth]

[ It is said deliberately; Solas feels little to no kinship with the Dalish of Thedas, nor the elves that reside in cities. They are nothing compared to the People, and it hurts him in the depths of his heart. ]

It is good to meet you, Fern. [ He deliberately avoids looking at her hand, uncomfortable with it, and does not reach out to shake it. He doesn't much care if she takes offence to it, but he hopes she doesn't; it's not her that he disagrees with, after all, but the green glow that makes him feel uncomfortable and uncertain all at once. It is not her fault, he supposes, quietly, but he is still at odds with it.

When he turns back to his art her question startles him and he laughs, a short, harsh thing. ] Perhaps, but not in the way that the term might suggest. [ He turns back to look at her, tilting his head. ] I am not the kind of teacher that the Dalish would welcome.

[wheretheferngrows]

[Her smile fades; her hand lowers, is brought self-consciously back to the parcel she holds in her arms, fiddling with the straps of it nervously. Fern can't decide whether to be offended or embarrassed, which only succeeds in making her frustrated. She frowns at him and asks smartly,] Well why not? What's so different about you?

[dirth]

[ He doesn't mean to be as rude as he comes across - he's avoiding most people with green glows for the most part, for his own benefit if not theirs. He has a scientific interest and little more. ]

They do not like the truths that I offer them and, so, they set dogs upon me to hound my steps.

[ Ironic. ]

[wheretheferngrows]

Some Dalish turned dogs loose on you? [Leave it to Fern to interpret his words literally--but to be honest, how else could she be expected to interpret them? She stands in front of him in wide-eyed horror, before skepticism makes her eye him sideways.] I didn't think the Dalish had dogs.

[ >:c ]

[dirth]

They did. [ He looks at her, and for a moment... He just smiles, facing forward. There's no need to correct her entirely, he supposes, and he crosses his arms behind his back. ] Some clans do not seem to care for the truth of their heritage, only the lies that time has twisted.