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allthisshitisweird2017-09-30 08:13 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2017-09-30 08:13 pm
Entry tags:
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!
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!
no subject
[ Still, his attention is, mostly, on the glamour and the images in front of him. The world is beautiful, just as his own had been, and the pangs in his chest make him feel as though he is going to fall apart and crumble from the inside out. It's too much for him to carry alone but he has been left with no other option - there is no one else that can undo what he has done.
He is the only one left.
The elf beside him looks well dressed and fine in the memory, and Solas recognises it for what it is - kingliness, lordship, authority. It had been his own mantle, once, before, and now he has let it all fade into nothingness. He cannot imagine picking it up again, wearing another crown, another name, but he cannot determine the path in front of him. It may yet come to pass, and he wonders if he will look even half as regal.
A son. Solas cannot picture that for himself, in any world. ] No. I have none of my own. [ He has not had the chance nor the reason. ] He seems like a good child.
no subject
[ he freezes the glamour, dissolves it, though he lets legolas linger, cheerful and young and safe in the halls of the elvenking, occupied wholly by thoughts of when he would be allowed to learn to shoot, and ada look here. but that too falls into dust and they are once more before solas' mural. ]
He is my son, [ thranduil says, and that ought to be everything that needs to be said, to imply all the love that is there, still. ] Though he is not so small anymore.
[ and not here, but safe. that is a balm to everything else. thranduil releases solas' hand, and turns to face him rather than stay by his side. ]
I fear I have stolen too much of your time, my friend.
no subject
[ Water is fine, he thinks, and it means he could be somewhere more comfortable, more relaxed, with the tension of memories and glamour to hold him back. Even now looking upon the image of Legolas makes his chest ache in a way he cannot possibly begin to consider, not when there is a world ahead of him. ]
Children grow slow in the eyes of their parents. [ He makes a soft noise, thoughtful. ] But then they are grown, and far from you.
[ It's a set of distracted words, and Solas shakes his head, focussing back on Thranduil. ]
It is not stolen if it is freely given. I am better for it.