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]

I do not need guidance on how to properly respect Mythal.

[ It's said sharply as he moves forward, standing before the altar with a guarded look. He does not want witnesses to this moment, but he cannot tell her to leave when she was here first. Instead, he stands tall, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the sky. ]

[mythalenaste]

[Less a matter of respect and more a matter of a paper-thin Veil and the mountain's tendency to explode into demons. But from what she understands, Solas is anything but sloppy.

Pel sets her work aside for the moment.]

I'll give you a moment, [she says softly. This is too intimate a thing for her to witness. Her own morning and evening prayers are done in privacy. She pads away softly, leaving her work behind her and vanishing into the caverns.]

[dirth]

[ Solas thrills at how thin the Veil is and he takes the time he can to breathe it in, to think back on the world behind him and enjoy the peace of the moment. He barely notices the woman speaking to him, instead letting himself bask in the moment. It has been an eon since he bore witness to anything akin to the truth of Mythal, and he wishes that the alter was enough - that prayers were enough.

They are not, and regret curdles like disgust in his stomach.

He stands at the altar for what feels like hours, but he knows it is not the case, and when he is done he steps back and away to finally feel as though he can catch his breath. ]

[mythalenaste]

[He can take his time. When he is ready to come back into the tunnel, he will find Pel there, waiting. Not for him specifically, but for him to be done so she can continue her work. But she doesn't slip past him, either, not yet.]

You're pious, [she says quietly, as if coming to a realization.] I wouldn't've expected that of anyone who wasn't raised Dalish.

[And even the Dalish have all sorts. Pel is devout in her worship. Her cousin believes in no gods. They grew up hearing the same lessons and chose the same vallaslin, but only one of them prays. Only one of them actively seeks the goddess whose heraldry they tattooed on their faces.]

[dirth]

[ Solas is quiet, for a moment, wrapped in his own bitterness and frustration. Pel's words do nothing to soothe him, and he is a little more biting than he intends to be when he speaks. ]

I am pious in a way the Dalish cannot possibly understand.

[ In their ignorance, their failings, they have misjudged and failed their heritage. It makes the anger flood his face before he takes a breath to calm himself, to ration his own emotions. ]

I would not judge me by their rules.

[mythalenaste]

[There's a moment of silent consideration. Solas is...more pious than she is? More zealous than the Dalish? She winds up making an odd wince at the end of that thought.]

I don't judge you, [she says at last, although she takes a step back, verbally.] Well. Not like that. There's a lot of things the Dalish get wrong. The important thing is the ones who seek, and keep seeking. I've prayed to Mythal twice a day since I was little, and never felt like I was given answers. Just...an image to aspire to. To be more like her, rather than thinking she enlightened me. And to seek her in everything I do. To...love, others, and protect everyone I can. To be her conduit to this world. Maybe I'll never hear her speak to me, or maybe I've got it all wrong. But if I stop listening, I'll definitely have it all wrong.

[dirth]

[ He sees the wince and he judges it, instantly, from the depths of himself. ]

The Dalish do more harm than good. [ It comes out bitterly, and he has to bite his tongue. He had made offers, overtures, had tried, time and again, to help the clans, but they had refused him and his knowledge. It leaves him bitter and angry, frustrated with their foolishness. ] The images of your 'Gods' are nothing more than illusions that you follow blindly, ignoring the truth that is waiting for you to find it.

[mythalenaste]

[There's a moment of blank hesitation. Her reply is even-toned. She isn't offended, she just has the feeling of being mistaken for someone else.]

So...I left my clan, I have no clan, so that I could research our history properly, through tried and true methods used across many cultures and in universities, without pressure from the Arlathvhen to turn up a certain outcome. Maybe you meant to say that to a non-Inquisition Dalish, for which I'd point you to Clan Ashara probably, they're fairly closeby. Most of us here are sort of on poor footing with our clans by nature of our...direction. Not being around to help out for the winter, and so forth.

[dirth]

You say yourself that you pray to Mythal. Clan or not, you are as foolish as the rest. [ Solas is, as ever, quick to judge and decide on a course, and he shakes his head. He has no things to gather, so he moves forward, prepared to leave. What had been a moment of serene nostalgia is soured. ] Membership of the Inquisition does not mean that you are graced with wisdom.

[mythalenaste]

[Ah. Well that's mildly disappointing, but only mildly (as long as she really insists on it), if the person she briefly thought to relate to is turning out to be a pretentious asshole. She shutters a little, growing more guarded, brows rising a millimeter.]

If your fight is with elven theism, the shems have already done most of the work for you, so I'm sure whatever dreaded logic you're holding back from unleashing will take us all by storm whenever you do get round to unleashing it.

[dirth]

The shems do only what you have allowed them to do. [ He scoffs. ] Your people cling to falsehoods and myths and call them truths, histories, when you are blind to the realities of what came before you. The humans did nothing to you that you were not already doing to yourself.

[mythalenaste]

Whatever you're telling me? [She's not crazy about the accusations, but this is the truth:] is what I want to find out. It's why I'm doing this. And fuck you, if you think anyone is going to...to accuse someone else of victimizing them with proof it was something they could control all along. Nobody wants to be powerless like we are powerless.

[It's naive of her to think that, but think it she does.]

Whatever it is, we deserve to learn from our own history as much as anyone else. We deserve to learn from our own mistakes like every other society pretends to. We deserve to be our own selves, whatever that is, with all the information every other society has about themselves.

[dirth]

And yet you are. I offered many the chance to learn and I was shunned and ignored. I came with the knowledge and I was cast aside. Falsehoods are a comfort and lies allow for easy sleep - the truth is harder to hear and more difficult to accept. It is cowardice and foolishness that prevents your people from recognising that what they have passed down for generations is nothing more than myth.

[ And he cannot trust her to believe any different, considering that she stood before him and worshipped Mythal as a God, that she wears the marks on her face as clearly as any other Dalish might. ]

I have no reason to believe you are unlike your people. You have shown me nothing of that wisdom.

[mythalenaste]

[She shakes her head softly, somewhat baffled by these accusations. But clearly, this man has had a bad experience. Like Herian. Like others. Not entirely unlike herself, even. But none of this is exactly revelation, to her. She bore the child of a flat-ear, and gave up her status as Keeper's First. She found herself at the hands of an extremist clan, over a year ago, and was very nearly murdered, along with cohorts, for joining the human Inquisition. She knows exactly how the very worst Dalish treat the deviant. And this man is clearly a deviant.]

You're right. [She exhales out her nose, not entirely pleased by the admission. She will never be pleased by it.] Everything you say about the Dalish is right. But I can love something even if it's not perfect. I can work toward making it better. Maybe you couldn't because you're from the outside, but I can. And if there's anything you have to share, share it with me, along with your sources. It's not the healthy who need a healer, and all.