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allthisshitisweird2018-07-28 11:05 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2018-07-28 11:05 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE!
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!
Anduin Llane Wrynn | Warcraft
It did not take Anduin long to settle into a reading bench in the library. The days slipped by as he poured over atlases and encyclopedias, drilling himself on the geography of his new home. On one side, a stack of books waited: 'History of the Kingdom of Ferelden," "Guide to the Frostback Mountains," "Glories of Orlais," "Itineraries of Tevinter."
II.
The wine in Lowtown was... interesting, but not... exactly to Anduin's tastes. Thankfully, the tavern was stocked with teas rather like Peacebloom.
III.
His hand hovered over the mangled limb. The man was alarmingly still, perhaps in shock. Anduin would need to act soon. The Light could not reach him here. But there was... the spirit. As they said, he could call upon its aid. What would it do to him? Would it feel like the Light? Would he still be himself? There was no time. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.
"Please," he said aloud. I don't know how to do this, he realized. What does he say? Should he say anything at all? Opening his eyes, Anduin saw the blood, the twisted flesh and exposed bone just as before. Intuitively, he centres himself, empties, reaches out for the Light. I trust you, he sends out into that space. I trust you. Please, help him. Save him.
IV.
"Hello, this is Anduin Wrynn," he spoke to the crystal. "Does anyone know how I can request books be sent to the Inquisition's main library from one of the outposts?"
V.
[Arrival, mid-dream]
Anduin relaxed the reigns and let Reverence pick his way through the blasted lands. The battle was over. Tirisfal lay open before him, break, grey and more than lifeless. A dim clamor of his forces preparing to decamp drifted to him as his charger walked heavily on the cracked earth. Its hoof falls were louder than any other sound in that once beautiful kingdom, now nothing more than a diseased and putrid husk. Plague and death had rolled over the walls of Lordaeron, barrels of green sludge that corroded and killed on contact preparing the way for the Banshee Queen to harvest souls to raise as ammunition for her pointless war against life itself.
Anduin lifted his face to the grey stone walls of Lordaeron and the sickly green mist that boiled around it- the plague mist. Skeletons recently defleshed by the plague and given a second death all but paved the grand approach to the capitol city. No one would be taking the city now, not for a long time, if ever. Above the walls, the purple-grey clouds were limed with a cold light. Anduin sighed.