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allthisshitisweird2019-01-22 11:09 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2019-01-22 11:09 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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.
Sandy | Rise of the Guardians | Native AU
A ship bearing Rivaini colors docks in the Gallows, and a small retinue of Rivainis dressed in bright colors comes out, escorting a strange little being. The person in between them clearly isn't a dwarf, though he's small enough to be. He also probably isn't a particularly short human, because his eyes are vibrant gold, his skin has a golden sheen, and magic hums around him. As he follows the humans, he picks up little scattered potion ingredients on the way, dropping them into their proper barrels with a smile.
The retinue approaches the Quartermaster, one Rivaini sitting down with her to discuss their golden friend volunteering. "This is the greatest contribution our town can give," the representative said. "He's the source of our prosperity, and you should treat him with respect."
The little golden man, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be paying attention. He's wandering around the courtyard, taking in all the people silently with a big smile on his face. Then he seems to choose a wall, placing his hand on it and then letting it change.
A beautiful design shimmers to life on the wall, a mural too dreamy to be real, like it only exists in the mind of the observer. It shows Kirkwall at the best it can be, but the design is a little different depending on who is looking at it. What does 'the best Kirkwall can be' mean to the observer?
Waking Sea
Sandy is a friendly but silent presence on the way to the island, spending his time running his fingers through the water and playing with a hunk of clay that he found somewhere in Kirkwall. He's made a majestically detailed model of a sea serpent by the time they make it to the beach, and he wastes no time climbing over the edge of the boat and wiggling his way onto the beach.
While most would probably be put off by the possessed dolls, Sandy perks, then makes a beeline right for them. One doll, seeming a little sad as it sags on its tree, is the first he reaches. The whispers rise on the wind, but Sandy just cups the doll's head in his hands, examining it as his gentle gold light that always seems to emanate from him intensifies into a true glow.
He's talking to the spirits in the dolls. Not with words, but in another way. Then, as if he's made a final decision, he rips the doll's head off its body and smashes it against the tree, releasing a bright flash of light and the smell of ozone and magic.
waking sea
It is unlikely anyone else on this expedition agrees with that sentiment.
no subject
There was someone trapped in the doll. He was saving them. It was necessary.
gallows
No, wait. They're banners. It's just that the mural makes everything look small. Towers that should rightly tower over Matthias and make him feel like an ant, those are rendered small, and everything else is in proportion to those. Including the bannersin every color of the rainbow, which are fluttering, merrily, over the whitest and shiniest version of Kirkwall on an impossibly sunny day.
The air on this day, in this Kirkwall, would smell like fresh-cut grass, and smell of the sunshine baking rocks in a shallow stream-bed. The mural makes it look so real that Matthias thinks for a moment that he can smell it, really feel the kiss of sweet breeze on his face. Nothing like the real Kirkwall which, as he's experienced it, smells like wet sewage, stagnant water, old rot, and sweaty armpits.
It is beautifully im-bleeding-possible, both as a city and as an experience, and Matthias goggles at the little golden man in a way he wasn't doing previous to this moment. Previous to this moment, he'd been avoiding looking at the man, because he didn't know what to do with him and didn't trust him and didn't like how he felt, looking at him, whatever the weird thrum in the air around him was that made the blood in Matthias' veins go tingly. Now he's looking at the man because he still doesn't know what to do with him.
He points to the mural. It's a big gesture, especially in contrast to his quiet awed, "What is this?"
Nothing he's ever seen, is what. But like actually what. The rest of the Inquisition and the Rivaini in all their bright colors might well not even exist. Everything has narrowed.
no subject
He shows a gold Matthias looking at the mural with a tiny real Kirkwall behind him, then he turns around, and in a cartoonish exaggeration, he shows the gold Matthias moving buildings around and straightening them out like they're a model set until Kirkwall looks just like the mural.
The mural is a vision of what Matthias could make, or at least thinks he can make.
no subject
"Maker's breath..."
The buildings move so easily under the gold Matthias' hands. Whole parts of Kirkwall changes: low buildings built high, roads made wide. The Gallows is rebuilt entirely, beautiful spires and gleaming walls, and all of it shimmering with an unearthly light when the work is done, a beacon out on the water.
Matthias looks at the gold man. "This is amazing." And he gets it, he thinks. It's the look of the Gallows that tips him off. A place where they used to keep mages now polished up and changed, a place of sanctuary built proud on the ruins of the old. It's what he would want. What it should be. A dream come to life. "I've never seen magic like this before."
gallows idk go with it?? hi
Rivain has always been too warm for him to visit often, but Jack occasionally made the effort anyway during cold spells, because Sandy had been one of the few things able to see and hear him through all the hundreds of years he spent flitting around before he got a sliver of magic in his hand... though admittedly, the little golden guy wasn't the best conversationalist in the world. Still.
Jack ruins the moment by poking at the wall with the tip of his shepherd's staff, grinning when some of the golden grains turn silver as they frost over. He's helping! "Missed me, big guy?" Sure that's probably why Sandy is here, not because of the Inquisition or anything.