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

ii. alienage

[supersonic]

They are not blind.

[ The young elf who answers is similar in stature and bearing to those around them, but his accent isn't Ferelden. This isn't his alienage. Nor, he suspects with an upward glance, is it this new tall elf's. (Are any of the alienages his, anymore?) Pietro reaches for a bucket near the stranger; he's here for the well, not the conversation, but he doesn't seem as uncomfortable with this subject as many of his kin. You might even say he's intrigued. ]

Complacent, some of them — afraid of the cost of change, but no one grows up in this, with an easier life right in front of their faces, and believes their own suffering is justified.

[aenseidhe]

Accepting, then. Which is hardly any better.

[ The same in Iorveth's book. If you aren't opposing it, you're agreeing to it, and that's as bad as enforcing it. He's ever been unforgiving and immovable in that sense. The children can't help where their parents put them and what they teach them, but they aren't all that's here. ]

Even with the Dalish just beyond the forests, they'd rather live in squalor here. Some things I will never understand.

[supersonic]

Yes, because taking thousands of elves who have never lived off the land out into the wilds to starve sounds immeasurably better.

[ Not that he disagrees with the impulse, but. Practically speaking, it's complicated. ]

If you'd like them to improve their lot, they'll need the means to do so. Right now, they barely have the means to survive here.

[aenseidhe]

That being why you'd seek the Dalish first. Or do they turn away their city kin?

[ Iorveth wouldn't exactly be surprised. The Scoia'tael tend to think of those in the cities as practically human, but they take in and train deserters. Children can't help what they're born into, but adulthood brings the chance to think and decide for yourself. Even the elderly can come to a point where they've had enough. Tilting his head some, Iorveth seems to contemplate the idea of 'the means to do so', eye straying from the children to a pair of guards passing through, up to the gates that signal the entrance to the alienage, and to the city before. ]

I could imagine a few ways to amend that. Food and supplies they'll never be given enough of, so long as they're depending on the dh'oine to provide.

[supersonic]

[ He gives a small scoff, for their chances of getting help from the Dalish. The Dalish are many things to him -- his mother's people, customs he struggles to remember, a history slipping further through his fingers every day, but most of all they're a fantasy he might once have hoped would save them, before he learned to accept that no one would. He wouldn't hold his breath, let's say.

But his eyes follow the other elf's gaze to the guards, to the gates, and a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. Yes, he could imagine a few ways, too. He shakes his head, moving again to hook the handle of his bucket on the well rope. ]

You are not from a place like this at all, are you? You speak very boldly. [ He says it like a compliment, more than a warning. People have told him he speaks too boldly, too, and they don't mean it as a compliment. ] I wonder if you act the same.

cw: mention of gross violence :D

[aenseidhe]

I come from a place exactly like this. [ Iorveth seethes to him, but his lips are pulled into something like a sharp, vicious smile, single good eye lazily contented with that information. Back then, over a hundred years past, there was no Dol Blathanna, no Scoia'tael yet waiting in the trees for deserters. Just impoverished Aen Seidhe trapped into disgusting little villages, trying to survive and forsaking their dignity and liberties to do so. ]

I grew up in a hovel just like that as a boy. [ He lifts a hand, pointing to one of the slums a little Elven boy skips off into, mother rushing him in and closing the squealing door tight behind him. ] When I was old enough, I skewered a few dh'oine on pikes like the swine they were and set them alight, before I walked off into the forests.

It isn't hard to learn which berries you eat and which you don't. Pick up a fucking book. [ the curse not meant towards this man particularly, but then again, he did just accuse him of living something more luxurious than he's critiquing. ]

:D thank

[supersonic]

You would have to teach them to read first, [ Pietro points out, mild. Just saying. He lets his bucket drop into the well. He didn't imagine this elf lived more luxuriously, actually — he imagined he lived without community, without family, without every step he takes toward freedom coming at the cost of someone else's and at the risk of those he loves. Impale a few humans, and you may as well string up a half dozen elves alongside each.

Not that he hasn't considered it anyway. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be standing here listening to this elf talk about skewering shemlen like he was telling the tale of a very good hunt. ]

Do you intend to do anything about any of this, or simply complain? [ —as if he, personally, has never complained a day in his life. ] Apart from feeding children, of course.

[aenseidhe]

[ he had, actually, had family in these places. a mother who'd called him mad, now sequestered away in Dol Blathanna, but she'd been about the only one he'd cared to look after for backlash of his actions. beyond that, the theory was just 'if you're afraid of what our rebellion will cause for you, come join it and you'll be protected.'

it's a very 'for us or against us' set up. not the easiest to reason through, but letting others being held hostage keep you from fighting means you'll never make it up from the bottom of the gutter, as far as Iorveth and his Scoia'tael felt. ]

It depends. Perhaps. [ he isn't here for them, and he has his own people back home to worry about. besides, he's still an outsider here, no matter how much is similar. If they need skills, he can teach them, but... ] You can't force a people to revolt that don't have it in them.

[supersonic]

[ Perhaps. Hmm. Not exactly the level of commitment he was hoping for. Pietro shakes his head and starts hauling his bucket back up again. ]

I wonder if they used to say that about mages before one blew up the Chantry. [ Probably. Not as often as they'd say it about elves, though, he would bet. ] They say sometimes all it takes is a spark, but other times— [ A shrug. ] who knows.

If someday you would care to find out, perhaps you will find you are not the only one with such hopes.