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

Er...Library but also Wildcard.

[hugeinorlais]

"Oh no, no this will not stand."

Varric could be quiet when he wanted to be (which wasn't often) and when he wasn't sneaking through wilderness like some Orlesian fop on a hunting adventure. He'd approached the table Solas was reading at with the quiet grace of an alley-cat and, with a surprisingly deft flourish he did three things in quick succession: he snatched the book Solas was reading, dropped a business-card on the open page, and tossed the closed book behind him onto a chair.

"We spend months hiking through the Hinterlands and now that we're somewhere with things to do you are not going to sit around in the library." He leaned forward onto the table and was still shorter than Solas, seated. He grinned, a look that was simultaneously very friendly and more than slightly implied that they might be arrested for whatever he was about to suggest.

"Come on, Chuckles, let me show you the town."

[dirth]

Solas can feel the gently growing irritation as soon as he hears Varric's voice, but he's not entirely upset by it. He knows that the dwarf just wants to do something to get him away from the books and such for a little while, but there's a knot of uncertainty inside of him - he doesn't want to be taken away from his studies and what he's reading. There is so much he has to do, so much to look into, and he feels on edge.

But his book is gone, and he can feel a headache building. He wants to curse, but manages to swallow the urge, leaning back in his chair and turning to look over at the dwarf. Frustrating, but...

"Perhaps I want to sit around and do things in the library." It's what he does for fun, for pleasure, and it just also happens to be his job. He's not sure how far he trusts Varric's grin, either, and the distaste on his face is obvious. "And I am not certain that I want to see the side of the town you wish to show me."

[hugeinorlais]

"Of course you want to sit in here and read all day, that's a given, you practically lived in the library in Skyhold." Varric shifts so he is leaning on an elbow propped on the table. Solas is not quite sneering at him but it's a near thing; Varric grins at him, the expression largely genuine, and raps his knuckles on the table.

"Fortunately, the nice thing about books is that they'll be here later."

He gestures to the open window where the sounds of the ocean and the distant din of Kirkwall pour through. It is a mostly sunny day with hardly any stink of fish. Ideal really.

"Kirkwall is a place to experience, to live a little, and imagine what weird ancient stuff might be kicking around here? I know we're only oldish as far as rubble and ruins go but we've got a lot of thieves and plunderers. Might even find some old elf stuff just sitting in a shop window."

But Solas has always been a hard sell on things like 'fun'.

"At least let me buy you some lunch that wasn't cooked in a prison kitchen."

[dirth]

"That is because there is much to learn and read, Master Tethras. I don't see any reason why that should change just because we have changed location." There will always be work for Solas to do, at least until all of his nonsense has been dealt with. He doesn't want to consider what might come after; those are plans he is still working on.

Sighing, Solas follows the motion and looks out the window. Kirkwall is not the most pleasant place to live, he can admit that, but at least the weather can be nice some of the time. Perhaps Varric recognises the problems in the depths of Kirkwall's heart - he can't not, after how long he had lived here - and wants to make it easier for Solas to shoulder. Misguided, but kind.

"Are you trying to encourage me to go outside by suggesting that ancient artefacts of the People might be sitting in a shop waiting for someone to pick it up?" He raises his eyebrow - but he's sure that Varric can tell he's not entirely serious. No, there's a gentle nudge of something a little more teasing there and, finally, he sighs, heavy and deep, pushing himself to his feet.

It's true that he has spent too much time in the library. It might do his some good to go outside and witness more of the world, of what horrors and wonders Kirkwall has to offer. He supposes he could not ask for any better a guide.

"If you are suggesting we visit your tavern then I am not sure I am willing."

[hugeinorlais]

"Suggesting, no," Varric replies and pushes off of the table as Solas reluctantly stands. "Straight up confirming: I passed at least two shops peddling ancient elf stuff on my way here from lowtown, and you wound me, Chuckles!"

Varric, still in step with the elf as they move toward the doors and crazy things like grass and sunshine, pauses only briefly to press his hand over his heart, dramatically.

"Its your first real trip out to see the city," Varric clarifies and almost skips ahead to open the door with a flourish. "We're eating street-food in the market!"

[dirth]

"Then I will have to investigate." It's likely that they're fake - there are many so-called 'relics' that turn out to be nothing more than trinkets with Dalish markings scraped on them to make them appear realistic - but the idea that there might be something real out there is too much for him to ignore. He can look into the matter and liberate those things that might be somewhat real.

Each step they make has Solas coming close to regretting his choices, and he shakes his head as he breathes out and looks over at Varric. The company is not the worst, at least, and it may only be for a few hours. Even so, his nose wrinkles in distaste; each word the dwarf says does little to make him feel better about it.

"Street food that, I hope, will have no poison in it?"

[hugeinorlais]

"Well, that depends on what you consider poison, but no probably not," Varric answers, waving a hand dismissively as they step outside and he shuts the door behind them. "Everybody knows I have money. Kirkwall may have it's problems, and how it does, but its a predictable cesspool. Dwarf, human, qunari, or elf, if you have money, they like you, if not, they don't.

"It's a mixed bag, being a known rich guy," he says as they amble down the hall toward the courtyard. "On the one hand, a lot of people try to mug me, its something like twelve a day, but on the other, very few people try to actively murder me.

"Sometimes they don't even water down my drinks. So, as long as you're with me, we get the better parts of the food here."

[dirth]

"I think our ideas of poison are very different." Solas doesn't look forward to how disgusting the food might be, but he is willing to trust Varric to a certain extent. Not much, he supposes, but enough that he might be able to eat something and not fear for his life. "You may be safe, then, but I fear for my own life. I am not exactly the type of person people here would be fond of."

He's not exactly rich, given his 'hobo' nature, and he has done very little to endear the people of Kirkwall to his side. At least he has Varric at his side as another form of defence, and he accepts that for the boon that it is. He has nothing worth stealing, either, so all the energy of cutpurses will be passed on to his companion.

"You will have to take me to lunch every time I go out."

[hugeinorlais]

"So, based on how much you want to go right now, I expect that's once a month?" Varric jokes, dryly, as they walk. After a few minutes they are free from the Gallows and into the open air of Kirkwall. Varric takes a deep breath of the ocean air and looks all too pleased about it.

"Don't worry, Chuckles, I'll take you out whenever you want. Any excuse to go out on the town is a good one," he adds and gestures toward the correct path.

Kirkwall is a city that is so winding and obtuse that describing the layout of the streets as a tangle would be a kindness. Varric, having grown up in this questionable place, knows the whole thing like the back of his hand, and strolls down the street chatting companionably with Solas as he goes. He hands out information, useful and less than useful about each shop and landmark they pass. One guy's brother is named Yvgeni, this place makes excellent cakes, that guy has a dog that smells like sausages, this place burned down five times before they became a tavern.

Eventually they arrive at the market. It's not on a sprawling space along the steps, as one might expect, but rather runs through a length of winding, narrow, structurally questionable alleys. There are shades of various fabrics above them, shading the ground in patches of colored light and shadow and you have to shuffle through the throng of people and past tables of all sorts of goods to get anywhere, but Varric leads the way.

He can smell their goal even from a distance and his step picks up cheerfully as they approach. The smell of crispy (with a tang of burnt in the tolerable zone) sausages and bacon, cooking onions and peppers, and strong dark beer wafts over the crowd.

[dirth]

"If you're lucky," Solas replies, trying to hide the just-there smirk that threatens to cross his lips. It doesn't take them too long to fall away from the oppressive air of the Gallows - a place Solas hates all the more each day he has to work there - and enter the main bustle of Kirkwall, where he is ignored. He is at ease with that, he thinks, as he would rather be ignored than given undue attention.

"Master Tethras, anyone would think you were trying to coerce me into something." That, at least, is a gentle tease; he knows that Varric is simply being kind, in his own way, and that Solas is just another of the strays he is more than willing to take care of, for now.

All he can do is follow Varric each step of the way, trying to understand the pathways they take so that he can find his own way back if he needs to. Each little piece of information is filed away as best as Solas can manage it, tucked into parts of his mind in case he needs to use them - brothers and shops and people that might be useful or important for some reason or another in the future, whatever he might decide.

The smells and sights are almost too much, especially when he has spent so long locked away in the library reading and painting and drawing, but it is not entirely unwelcome. Solas had almost forgotten what it was like to live in an exiting, populated area, and it makes something comfortable settle around him, warm and familiar.

"You brought me all this way for bacon?"