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allthisshitisweird2018-05-22 11:42 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2018-05-22 11:42 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. TOURNEY: Barely had time to make yourself at home, did you, before you were sent away from Kirkwall again—but for fun! Sort of. You've been sent to Wycome, the party capital of the Free Marches, for the Grand Tourney. It's a week of celebration and chillin', shopping at vendors' stalls or drinking and making new friends while fighters from across Thedas try their hands at friendly (or "friendly") competitions of skill and/or muscle, leading up to the prestigious Grand Melee. Your mission, which you've presumably already accepted, is to put on a good, respectable show for the rest of Thedas—particularly if you're someone like a rifter, or a mage, or an elf, or anyone at all who isn't an Andrastian human—so the Tourney's affluent visitors take only good gossip home to their countrymen. Which is to say: if you get involved in a drinking competition, you better win.
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. 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. TOURNEY: Barely had time to make yourself at home, did you, before you were sent away from Kirkwall again—but for fun! Sort of. You've been sent to Wycome, the party capital of the Free Marches, for the Grand Tourney. It's a week of celebration and chillin', shopping at vendors' stalls or drinking and making new friends while fighters from across Thedas try their hands at friendly (or "friendly") competitions of skill and/or muscle, leading up to the prestigious Grand Melee. Your mission, which you've presumably already accepted, is to put on a good, respectable show for the rest of Thedas—particularly if you're someone like a rifter, or a mage, or an elf, or anyone at all who isn't an Andrastian human—so the Tourney's affluent visitors take only good gossip home to their countrymen. Which is to say: if you get involved in a drinking competition, you better win.
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. Choose your own adventure!
IV, Spectating!
He's much less dressed up than Lakshmi, not even wearing the several layers he'd typically wander the forests at home in, because he's not in the north and it's fucking hot in the summer here. It's much simpler - an unremarkable pair of pants, a loose cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up around his biceps, a leather chest guard to keep said loose shit from catching on his bow string, a leather arm guard on one arm and a glove with only half the fingers to constitute a full glove on the other. Curved, elegant twin swords sit on his hips, but there's not much more adornment than that. Just what's needed for the competitions.
You won't see him strutting onto the field with shiny plate armor, or masterfully worked rogue's gear, half because he hates the fashion show aspect of it, and the other half because he hates money. These games are pomp and politics, besides, and maybe Iorveth's just tired of it. There's a pause, though, after the fighters leave the arena and the next match is getting set up, that he looks over to the woman who spoke up, already having looked her over the same way he does every person he passes, ever paranoid.
"What I'm more interested in, is why the woman who played the bookies with a losing streak, only to annihilate her last opponent is sitting up in the stands in skirts, rather than the arena, with a sword in hand."
no subject
"They will learn when their true wars come, no doubt, as all good sons do of their father's folly."
Her voice is low but exact in how she speaks. She assumes English, rather than her own Hindi and Marathi. Takes the tone her once very expensive tutors have given her, upper class and drawn out.
"Must I dishonour myself as a woman simply because I am a warrior?" It's laughed, low - and then more frankly as her hands lower, shifting under the light material. "It was much easier to find competitors when I seemed an easy target. Now they are not sure... and bookkeepers do not wish to encourage that." Played them, a little too well.
no subject
She isn't an easy target, and while she might've made a good score in the way she'd played them, Iorveth's never seen so much worth in competing for coin. In one of the fights with real standings and bragging rights, she'd do well. It just seems so much a pity that these shiny sons of idiots should get all the glory when there's more common people that could lay them out flat on their asses.
"If I'd seen a male warrior up here dressed in lace rather than out there, I'd say the same. That one in particular, actually." Iorveth turns his head, jerking his chin to where Thranduil (tall, glowy, blond elf all dressed in silk robes) is seated some stands over, alongside some other noble looking people, chatting as they watch the competitions. He's been dying to see what he's capable of with swords in hand, but alas, it is not this day. "I've tried to pry him from his frippery and get a sword in his hand, but he'd rather the diplomats, apparently."
Iorveth is so very tired of all the politics of this place, and how much Thranduil likes to be involved in them, though he supposes someone has to do it. Stupid as it is. But, back to the topic at hand. "The fact they'd assumed you one to take advantage of seems like all the more reason knock down the rest of their champions."
no subject
But playing nice with foreign diplomats?
She snatches her hand to her veil, curling the material around to cover her laughter as it bubbles up. Low, thick, before she lets her gaze fall back on the man speaking to her.
"Perhaps they do. It's been a long time - " since what, she doesn't let it pass. Since any had insisted that it was her right. That she had thrown herself into battles that meant so much. That she deserved more than this. Her fingers tighten, scrunching the material, tugging it a little further down herself. Then let it fall away. "... I have made my reputation enough, for now." No one would be making assumptions about her, not putting her into a box that they found easier to make sense of. They would keep her distance. "But I can promise you. My dress - it is not for them. It is not for any of them. I am myself, that will be enough for me, for now."
no subject
"That's well." Iorveth answers her with a deflating sigh, peering over the edge of the stands to watch some of the spectators milling about. "The people in this world, they don't tend to accept others of such differing origins, if you hadn't noticed."
It's clear as fucking day, so that's said as in a wry drawl. There's racism left and right. Elves in ghettos, shoved around and assumed servants by any passing human. Mages sectioned off in their own arena, far from the main one, restricted the same honor of the melee warriors. The commoners so far below the nobility that it's just pathetic. Anything that looks, sounds, smells, acts different is watched with a wary eye. Iorveth certain a good portion of those in attendance were horrified when not only an elf, but a rifter, took the champion's place for archery.
"I hope you manage to remain yourself, despite it all." And he thinks she will. There's something very unapologetic to her, and he finds it admirable.
no subject
Though she'd have to be blind, to not know what he speaks of. How they behave here, the difference that goes on. "It is... different here. But I know it. I have been victim to it." Mused, to herself, as slight as it has been. "I waged war against it, once." Still, but those aren't things she ventures easily. Not here, when she can't be sure of who and what she's speaking too.
"Powerful men and women, they find a new excuse for old crimes, even if I know it in a different form." Firmly put. She might dress now in draping fabric, light and airy, like a more delicate thing. "I have no interest in their games or their opinions. Not now, not ever."