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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] allthisshitisweird2019-01-22 11:09 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME

TEST DRIVE MEME

While in some alternate, tidier timeline, the War against the Elder One ended years ago, you're not in that timeline. It's 9:45 and there's a war raging in northern Orlais between the Inquisition and its allies and the army of demon-bound Wardens, Red Templars, Venatori loyalists, and darkspawn Corypheus has amassed over the last four years. Rifts are still scattered across the continent, periodically spitting out strangers from strange worlds with green-glowing anchors embedded in their hands. There's no Herald of Andraste to save Thedas. Someone else is going to have to do it.

Under the leadership of the Herald's advisory council and Seeker Pentaghast, the Inquisition remains in Skyhold and manages an army of thousands. But you're not going to Skyhold. You've been assigned to the Inquisition's outpost in Kirkwall, one occupying an island fortress called the Gallows—formerly a Circle of Magi, more formerly a prison for slaves, but the Inquisition has done a good job removing the more grotesque reminders of that past and making the place livable.

Maybe it's an honor; they're doing important work. Maybe it's an insult; they're rumored to be a lot of weirdos and troublemakers. Or maybe you're a rifter and just going where the nice people with swords tell you that you need to go.


I. THE GALLOWS: Welcome to the Inquisition. Here's a broom, and there's a mess: a shattered window, a splintered pile of wood where a wardrobe was thrown out that window into the frost-encrusted courtyard, a whole shelf of jars containing rat hearts and deathroot and other miscellanea that exploded like firecrackers. The Gallows doesn't house much in the way of a cleaning staff, so it's up to whoever doesn't have anything better to do, and whether you like it or not, at the moment that person is you.

The source of the mess—an apparent invasion of ghostly spirits—has already been dealt with, but a door might still slam, and the shards of glass might still rattle. It's harmless, though. Probably.

II. KIRKWALL: The Marquis d'Lussard is very heavy, as you discover when it becomes your job to fetch him from the Hanged Man, where his sightseeing tour has ended in a drinking contest that he decidedly lost. Now he's swinging between unconsciousness and mumbled drinking songs, apparently a hugger when he has control of his arms, and heavy. He's also, diplomatically speaking, worth his weight in gold, so getting him back to the Gallows' guest quarters in one piece is worth the effort.

That means making your way through the streets of Lowtown and down to the Gallows at night, on ice-patched streets, with a masked Orlesian nobleman whose entire slumping, singing presence screams please rob me blind. Try to resist any and all urges to drop him into things, including ditches, uncovered drops into Darktown, and the harbor.

III. THE WAKING SEA: The island is too small to have a name, a dot of land off of Kirkwall's Wounded Coast that's traditionally only seen use by fishermen who wanted a guarantee they wouldn't be hassled for a few days. But in more recent years, it's been a permanent home to someone, people say, until the last few months, when the nightly fires stopped appearing. Nervous whispers from the coastal bandits and explorers who ventured out to see if its resident left anything worth stealing have reached the ears of Provisional Viscount Bran Cavin, and as a personal favor to him, the Inquisition is sending a couple of people to have a look.

And here's what you're looking at: a rocky, sandy stretch of land with a few dozen scraggly trees, each of them decorated with dolls in various styles, in various states of decay. All of them give off energy—some friendly, some malevolent, some despairing—and if you're very quiet, it's possible they whisper. Or maybe that's the wind through the masts of a nearby shipwreck. Either way, they're definitely home to bound spirits, and probably more than one spider.

There are more in the wooden hut at the island's center, which is also where the bones and tattered robes of the island's former occupant can be found. (There's no sign of blood magic or ill intent. Just a lot of dolls. Everyone needs a hobby.) Box them, burn them, have a funeral or don't. As long as someone can tell the Viscount that he doesn't have to add an island of possessed dolls to Kirkwall's list of tourist attractions/nightmare fuel, the mission will be a success.

IV. SEND A MESSAGE: Each member of the Inquisition (or rifter, or ally) is assigned a blue crystal, small enough to wear around the neck, that can transmit voice messages, as well as an enchanted book tied to that crystal that can be used to exchange written messages. They're secure enough to discuss the war, if you'd like to get down to business, but loosely controlled enough to ask a question or play a game with only a few rolled eyes from people who hate fun.

V. WILDCARD: From the Gallows' library to the pirate islands off the coast, from Hightown's high-priced market stalls to the frostbitten frontlines of the war, Thedas is yours to explore.

versicoloured: ((163))

gallows-

[personal profile] versicoloured 2019-01-27 08:00 pm (UTC)(link)
He really isn't one to just abandon a duty he's been given, even if only because he feels there's little other choice but to do it. Directions are directions and a sword is a sword, human body or not. ...That doesn't mean he'll be at all enthused about it, though, nor does it mean he'll take kindly to being left to it on his own. Even back at the Citadel, such things were done in pairs and groups.

So Souza accepts the broom thrust at him, but he also quickly notes where the nearest exit is and steps over to a bit of the mess that's closer to it, Just In Case he needs to trip this man on his way out.

"It's quite the amount of work for one person," he says, one brow slightly arched as he continues- "And I must admit, I have little idea what parts of this are worth saving. I'm certain it would be on both our heads if anything were swept out that still had some value."

He absolutely does not want to touch any of this if he doesn't have to. Getting rid of the whole mess is a viable enough option.
coquettish_trees: (letters 3)

Book

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2019-01-27 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[in a rather lovely curling script]

Serene.
krem: (CA39541)

[personal profile] krem 2019-01-27 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Normally that answer wouldn't sit well, but the man is right. There is no way someone who looks like him will be difficult to spot in any market. Sticks out, just a bit, which Krem suspects is not accidental.

He would prefer to avoid doing business with him at the Gallows, around everyone else he works with, but (as a man with a taste for the bizarre company to be found in the Hanged Man, if not for the regrettable drink and food) Lowtown he can do. Here as well, obviously. He nods, then, business-like. "Works for me. I'll find you."
krem: (CA43535)

[personal profile] krem 2019-01-27 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Krem looks thoughtful. His introduction into mercenary work had been, uh, not standard. Everyone in the Chargers' was, honestly. Comes with the territory of having such a non-standard boss. "Every company is different, but with most, you'll have some proving yourself to do."

Probably not many out there would take someone so young—or at least, not many of the more professional outfits that Krem would prefer the goofy kid fall in with even after just this one short conversation. Maker, the Chief's bleeding heart must be rubbing off on him. Terrible. (That's his story and he's sticking to it.)

"You're in a good spot for it, though. Concentrate on making an impression in the Inquisition. Earning some decent recommendations from an organization like this should make it easy enough to get your foot in the door with a good company."

He looks over the kid again, curiously. He's a far cry from Ben-Hassrath, but Krem is still pretty observant. And a decent enough judge of character if he does say so himself. Kid looks scrappy, which is a good trait for someone who wants to fight for a living. Obviously very idealistic, though, which could easily do him more harm than good out there. "What can you do?"
irreverently: (pic#12833665)

liam | native oc

[personal profile] irreverently 2019-01-27 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
II. KIRKWALL
The most galling part of this entire thing, Liam thinks as he bats Marquis d'Whatever's hands away from trying to pull him into a hug for what must be the thousandth time, is that he would make a perfect target. Just a month ago, he would have been the bandit lurking in the shadows, waiting to kill his escort and rob this man absolutely stinking blind. Not that Liam hadn't already liberated the man's coinpurse and a shiny trinket or five from him the last time he slumped over unconscious directly on top of him, but it's not like he won't also be looted when the inevitable happens. (What? It's not like the Marquis will remember any of this, and if anything, someone at the Hanged Man will probably get blamed.)

He is just reaching the end of his rope, where the urge to drop the nobleman and book it to save his own skin almost overpowers him—diplomatic worth be damned—when he spots someone else from the Inquisition. Someone Inquisition-adjacent, at least.

"Hey! Help me with this idiot," he calls over as forcefully as he dares, given how rife the streets of Lowtown are with... well, his own sort of people, this late at night.

He duly ignores the slurred, indignant and heavily accented "how dare you!" from the drunk man, as well as the subsequent, tremulous: "I thought we were friends."
III. WAKING SEA
For someone so allergic to any real worthwhile work, Liam seems downright delighted to be here. He hasn't even looked at the body, or the house they were sent to inspect, except a brief and cursory glance around to try and find anything valuable to loot, but instead he seems to be knocking dolls aside and studying the spiders that come skittering out from behind them.

"Have you seen anything black with a red mark on it? Or with a yellowish-brown body?" A beat, and then he actually looks up from where he is crouched in front of a particularly nasty looking spider web teeming with activity. "Don't touch it if you do."
IV. SEND A MESSAGE
How much would one of these things sell for, do you think?
meds4sale: (Haughty and cruel)

[personal profile] meds4sale 2019-01-27 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"They are not tsukumogami," he said, turning the doll over in his hand, its one good eye staring glassily at the sky, "destroying the vessels would probably set them free."

His lips twitched into a cold, unpleasant little smile.

"...Though doing that-"

He paused, as something caught his attention, and then turned his frigid gaze back to the other man.

"-You might get cursed."
meds4sale: (Sharing is caring)

[personal profile] meds4sale 2019-01-28 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
The Medicine Seller selected an empty silk pouch, dropped in about six scoops of the mixture into it, and pulled the drawstring until it closed. He passed it over to the other man, along with the handsome wooden scoop. He was clearly confident in his remedies that he had no problem giving away samples in such fancy packaging.

"Then I look forward to your future patronage. I hope this will suffice."
versicoloured: ((113))

[personal profile] versicoloured 2019-01-28 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
"Understandably so, I would think."

Few took kindly to the destruction of what they'd made, after all, and even some bound spirits might not care for their vessels to be broken. The feeling some of them gave off was, to say the least, less than friendly.

For a couple moments he remained silent, considering something before continuing on. "If none of these are tsukumogami..." and he'd have to keep note of the fact this man knew the term, most likely- "then what happens to the vessel should have no bearing on the spirit, I hope? It would be best to let them break quickly in any case, but..."

But being used to feeling any damage to his own weapon made it hard not to consider it being the same for these spirits.
reshapes: ([038])

[personal profile] reshapes 2019-01-28 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
Here he perks up visibly behind the edge of his bowl. The boy swallows hard past the piping hot mouthful of stew and rearranges his limbs into rather less sullen angles.

"Is that all? Easily done. In fact, hurry up with that hot meal and-- oh, here comes your hot chocolate-- and we can go back to your rooms straight away and be done with it. Do you have any chalk? Paint, even. Or should we get some on the way?"

And thank you, amenable barmaid, for the drink. Ignoring the heat, he knocks it back entirely in one go. Places to go! People to no longer be!
rathercommon: (unsympathetic (maybe sympathetic))

[personal profile] rathercommon 2019-01-28 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
She feels a bit guilty for even mentioning it. "Don't get your hopes up too high," she tells him. "It's not going to work. I'll try it, but I can just about promise you that it's not going to work."

Now that she's got her hot chocolate, though, she's not going to move till she's good and warm. And she makes that quite clear by the way that she circles the mug with her hands and sips. She's not scalding her mouth like he doubtless just did.

"Anyway, we can't go back to my rooms, not at this point. We've almost certainly missed the last ferry back. We'll have to find rooms here."
reshapes: (Default)

[personal profile] reshapes 2019-01-28 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
It'll work. Because if it doesn't, things go back to being rather more complicated than he's fond of. There's only so much fumbling around in the metaphorical dark room of a new world he can take before he snaps and pulls someone's arms off. Besides, if he knows one thing it's that the sudden resurfacing of a responsible party always means something. He can feel that expectant, half poised tingle running through him now. It feels like possibility, like the universe somehow aligning to make things correct, like--

No, maybe that's the roof of his mouth burning. He sucks in a few breathes in an attempt to minimize the sting.

"We can do it here just as easily as there. We'll just need something to draw the-- you know what with."
rathercommon: (pensive)

[personal profile] rathercommon 2019-01-28 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
"Well," she says, "given that I'm not going to gulp down my drink and get blisters all down my throat - " Unlike some people - "I'm going to be here a few more moments. So - why don't you go and find something?"

He's not going to run off; she's sure of that. And she could take a few moments to herself to try to sort through all that he's just told her. Because - her, doing summonings...So giving him something to do might be good, at least for a little while.
altusimperius: (ofuck)

The Gallows

[personal profile] altusimperius 2019-01-28 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
"It's you."
They don't know each other, not well. But upon glimpsing the strange-looking man, Benedict is struck with a pang of sadness like a punch in the gut. He was Kit's friend. Kit, who never said goodbye, who left him here to fend for himself, who was selfish enough to die.

Benedict is visibly doing better now than he was the last time they met: his clothes are fine, Marcher-made but still styled and colored in a way that suggests Tevene. He carries a scroll under one arm and is clearly on his way somewhere, or at least was.
playdolls: Commissioned, please DNT (illu | oh please)

[personal profile] playdolls 2019-01-28 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
They had fed her many, many humans. They had ascertained that the humans were the most nutritious, and that those humans who had strong life energy even more so. When the ants had learned of the existence of such an energy, their King had determined he would not eat any but the most powerful. All others tasted like trash.

Pitou's prattling trails off for a moment as they watch the elf. Alert to his movements, although much of their own senses have been direly curtailed by this body. They want to know, what he smelled, what he saw, what he thought. Their golden eyes widen and dilate with the extreme of their interest.

"Yes," like a dirty confession. "I do not like it. It is not as strong."

And in the end, strength was their calling. They needed the strength to defend their King from all threats. In a body like this, they were all but useless.

"The others would eat me, if I appeared like this."
altusimperius: (ugh)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2019-01-28 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
The broom is promptly returned with a sneer, which may in fact mean it clatters on the floor between them.

"Please," scoffs the young man unlucky enough to receive it, who is dressed finely and clearly passing by on some important business, "I don't know who you think you are, but it would seem I'm not who you think I am. Run along."
playdolls: (illu | heh)

[personal profile] playdolls 2019-01-28 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
This statement troubles Pitou in a way they would struggle to articulate. Fills them with thoughts of what will happen to them now that they are also masterless; there is no ant King here to guide their path. Expression shows openly on the qunari's face, a pinch of sorrow as they reach out to stroke the face of a little doll.

Whatever magic is going on here, they don't understand it, but not understanding something has never really stopped Pitou. There was always time to learn, and their intellect was voraciously hungry for all the world had to offer.

"I don't know, but they should be cared for. They've very pretty."

They are not. They are dirty and crawling with spiders, damaged from wind and rain. Pitou finds them all unique, even the ones whose uniqueness is in what grotesque way their porcelain or cloth body parts have been reattached and reassembled.
wont_be_me: (059)

[personal profile] wont_be_me 2019-01-28 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
"I am, at best, an alien," she corrects him. "I am from another planet, possibly another dimension of reality. I am bipedal and approximate the human appearance, though I suspect we wouldn't have much DNA in common."

Especially not considering her homeworld has been pioneering genetic alterations for hundreds of years. They were far apart on the scales: he exposed to a world with magic, and she perfected over hundreds of years and inter-alien mixing. Sure, they might look like the same species, but that was unlikely empirically correct.

"What is in Kirkwall that I should be so eager?" She'll humor the notion of going there quietly, if there's something in it for her.
Edited 2019-01-28 03:35 (UTC)
wont_be_me: (pic#12313737)

[personal profile] wont_be_me 2019-01-28 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
A rock... No.

[ Also: no! ]

I want things like money, jewelry, ammunition, medicine, liquor, smoke, etcetera.

[ She rattles that off rapidly. She knows exactly what she'll take and she has these kinds of conversations with people often. ]

Things people want.

[ Things she can use to get other things that she wants. ]
reshapes: ([027])

[personal profile] reshapes 2019-01-28 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
He all but tosses the empty bowl aside. In an instant, the boy is on his feet and dusting his hands of the comfort of the hearth.

"That suits me just fine. Meet you at-- you, where's the closest room for rent?" This, to her burly tattooed neighbor. "In an hour?"
inkindled: (09)

[personal profile] inkindled 2019-01-28 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
"I--" Shit. He goes to actually swear aloud before he catches himself. The sweetness of freedom sours almost instantly. Matthias was just turning to gloat right as he realizes what he's done, right as he sees he look on Nub Arm's face.

Shit.

Preservation kicks in. "Do what?" He lifts his chin, stubbornly. "Tell you to piss off? You'd better man up, mate. You'll hear rougher language than that, hanging around the Inquisition."

The templars here are different. Assholes, but different assholes, ones that must follow the Inquisition's rules. Even in the camp, attacking your fellow mages certainly wasn't tolerated, but at least everyone there knew the reality of the situation. That it happened, sometimes, which is completely what went on just now. But will the Inquisition know that? And the fact that this happened in the Gallows, which is stained with the blood of how many mages--and Matthias isn't superstitious, precisely, but he folds his arms over his chest in a way that he hopes invokes an air of superiority. Instead of just to ward off evil, and protect him from the little chill he's just felt.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. Only you better get to sweeping. Maybe your withered baby arm can help with the worst of it. Otherwise put it away. Makes me sick, looking at it."
versicoloured: ((70))

[personal profile] versicoloured 2019-01-28 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
The dolls strike a chord or two within him for similar reasons-- he too has always known a master, is still adjusting to the idea of not truly belonging to anyone, though he thinks it's something he may come to enjoy. These are not the same, but thinking of them being abandoned to eventually be destroyed by the elements... he lingers near the one he'd touched, quietly keeping an eye on the dolls nearby.

"...You have an interesting idea of beauty. I doubt anyone else would feel the same about them-- but do you only wish to care for them because you find them pretty?"
playdolls: (illu | cute)

[personal profile] playdolls 2019-01-28 05:19 am (UTC)(link)
"That's why everyone cares for things," Pitou replies. What they mean to say is something along the lines of 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' or perhaps that 'all things become beautiful when loved.' Something like that. But it is not a thought they have ever attempted to express aloud before.

They had once described a girl as precious to them because she was precious to their King. That Komugi had become a beautiful doll girl to Pitou through the admiration of the ant King-- through seeing with Meruem's eyes why the girl was touching. Why there might be something charming in humanity.

All of that is significantly too insightful to be spoken on.

"They will be more beautiful, if I care for them."
Edited 2019-01-28 05:20 (UTC)
inkindled: (04)

[personal profile] inkindled 2019-01-28 05:23 am (UTC)(link)
[lady pls]

It's the answer to a riddle that we're bargaining for, yeah? Not the keys to the Winter sodding Palace.

[Like let's just all adjust our expectations, okay.]

It's a rock of gold. Does that help it any?
wont_be_me: (pic#12313735)

[personal profile] wont_be_me 2019-01-28 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
It's not uncommon to wager on little games.

[ Her tone is airy. She is not doing anything unreasonable or manipulative why would you ever even insinuate that gosh! ]

I accept. One gold rock, one riddle answer. When do I get it?
Edited 2019-01-28 05:28 (UTC)
inkindled: (06)

[personal profile] inkindled 2019-01-28 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
[...oh.]

Two hours. Or, I dunno. When do I get my answer?

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