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

[aenseidhe]

Welp, Iorveth's pleased with himself. It's nice to have the familiar feeling and ease of using this bow while so much else around him is foreign and strange. At least, he remains who and what he remembers himself to be, regardless of everything else shifting around him.

Lifting up the bow in question, he holds it more forward, offered for inspection. Archery nerding will always be a welcome thing for him, no matter how grouchy he is. Some things are just freaking cool, and even more so when they have to do with his heritage.

"I did. It's a design only seen wielded by Aen Seidhe, in my world. Elves. The ones that still bother to fight, anyway." Which aren't fucking many. Not for themselves, anyway. The elders in Dol Blathanna already cowed to the Nilfgaardian emperor when they agreed to had over their young to the slaughter. Those living in cities shuffle around with their heads down, trying to avoid human gazes and get on with their meager, pitiful existence. Perhaps it's more accurate to say 'only seen wielded by Scoia'tael'. But that's neither here nor there, as this man knows nothing of his home.

"The design extends the draw space for a longer shot, or more leverage for a closer, powerful one." Also, compresses the length of the bow, giving the power of a much longer bow into something more easily wielded and maneuvered.

[itzalbadnews]

"...Elves. The ones that still bother to fight, anyway."

Itzal keeps his expression carefully neutral, an affectation managed without too much difficulty given the exquisite craftsmanship of the weapon in front of him. It receives the focus of his eyes, even if his thoughts wander. Elves. Yes. He's more familiar with ones that bother to fight than he would like to reveal.

"My mother was an elf of the Tirashan forests." This revealed without any particular shame or pride; he states it as a fact, as conversationally as one might reveal some other bland character trait. "As my sister tells it, she was a master hunter. She would have made good use of a weapon such as this."

[aenseidhe]

A single brow quirks, And Iorveth glances from the man's face, to his ears, and back down to the bow between them.

"I wouldn't have guessed it of you." Not only for the fact he doesn't particularly look Elven, but that he's a Templar as well. It doesn't seem like a rank very inviting to the considered lesser races. Perhaps the fact he doesn't look it played in his favor.

"Aye, the Aen Seidhe were hunters before they were warriors, but that's much fallen to the wayside as well for many of my kind. City life does that, I suppose." There's a tint of drawled disdain in his tone for it. City life. Depending on fair prices in a market rather than just picking up a bow and hunting in the woods for something to feed your children, or living in a community that doesn't expect profit before sharing. "Had you ever lived with your mother in the forests?"

[itzalbadnews]

The scrutiny of his ears (and perhaps his allegiance) is expected. Itzal doesn't react to it visibly, or to Iorveth's audible disdain for the elves who live within the walls of the alienage. Perhaps that neutrality should be a warning sign, but Itzal masks his reaction well. He's good at that.

"Had you ever lived with your mother in the forests?"

"No," comes his short, clipped response. For a moment, he considers leaving his answer at that; he's taken another arrow from his quiver and knocked it onto his bowstring, staring down towards the target ahead of him. He lifts the weapon to take aim, then lowers it again. Perhaps this man would benefit from knowing the other side of the elves here who choose to fight. "I wasn't given the opportunity to know her, as her clan forced her to take me into the woods as an infant. To expose me, you see," he adds, turning to meet Iorveth's single eye, both of his own unflinching. "For being a half-breed."

He turns his attention back to his target, takes aim again, and lets the arrow fly. It hits its target with merciless accuracy. "She disobeyed them, and left my sister and I at the Abbey of the Bans instead. I never saw her again." He reaches for another arrow. "My sister tells me the clan killed her."

[aenseidhe]

It's nothing particularly shocking. When a community has rules, bringing in something forbidden is a grave offense, and seeing what humanity had wrought on his own people, Iorveth's reaction is an unchanging neutrality.

His Scoia'tael would occasionally, in special cases and after proving themselves genuine, take in half-elves, but never had a full blooded human been permitted to walk with them. Would someone try to bring one along, well meaning or not, the both of them would be cast back to whatever village they came to them from. Perhaps Itzal would've benefited from a place like Saskia's dream for the Pontar Valley, but those places are rare in that they go against the nature of things to exist.

Regardless, he'll make no judgment on either the man's mother or the clan that had ordered the children abandoned.

"Why did she not stay with you at the Abbey? Instead of return to the clan that wanted her children dead." The abandonment seems to make little sense to him. Even if you didn't want to live in the prosecution within the cities, surely you'd have to know the children would suffer tenfold on their own for it.