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allthisshitisweird2020-04-24 01:58 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2020-04-24 01:58 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE!
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, where the Chantry, aided by the Inquisition, marshalling Orlais and the faithful of Southern Thedas into a new Exalted March against 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.
You're part of (or allied with, recently hired by, imprisoned by, etc.) a new organization that's an offshoot of the Inquisition, dubbed Riftwatch, that consists mainly of the otherworldly new arrivals, rebels and Wardens, and other people who want to prevent the apocalypse without necessarily marching under the Chantry's banner to do it. Their headquarters is an island fortress called the Gallows—formerly a Circle of Magi, more formerly a prison for slaves, but its new occupants have done a good job removing the more grotesque reminders of that past and making the place livable.
Maybe you're here because you want to help. Maybe you need the money (though there isn't much of it). Maybe you acquired an anchor and sticking around is the only way to prevent your hand from falling off. Maybe you've been sent by the Chantry or some other entity to keep an eye on everyone—they're rumored to be a lot of weirdos and troublemakers. Or maybe you're a new rifter and just going where the nice people with swords tell you that you need to go.
I. THE CROSSROADS: This month, Riftwatch members are spending most of their free time in the Crossroads, a pocket of magic-infused reality that connects a network of magic-mirror portals, called Eluvians, that are scattered across Thedas. The roads between them have mostly crumbled, but sometimes the magic can be manipulated or a series of interconnected eluvians can allow reaching one of the ruined buildings or bridges that now hang like floating islands in the distance. The portion being explored now is also densely populated by spirits trying to fulfill some ancient purpose—which apparently largely entails annoying or embarrassing everyone they come across.
II. THE WESTERN FRONT: Riftwatch is no longer part of the Inquisition or directly engaged in the war that it, the Chantry's faithful Exalted Marchers, and Orlais are fighting against an invading Tevinter and Ander force in northern Orlais. But frequently enough, Riftwatch's business—delivering helpful intelligence, spending quality time with prisoners of war that might have information, assisting soldiers with a rift they've found too close to their camps, or passing through on the way somewhere else—requires spending time in camps. After a year, with the weather turning cold and a dragon occasionally hurtling overhead to breathe a few bursts of chaos onto the army in its sleep, morale is middling at best. But there's space around the campfires if you need it.
III. KIRKWALL: Even when enormous evil darkspawn are trying to take over the known world and you and your colleagues might be the only ones who can truly stop him, you can't work all the time. And when you aren't working, Kirkwall is there for you with its dingy Lowtown taverns, its flashy Hightown establishments, its market stalls and street musicians and cellars hosting gamblers. Or maybe you can work all the time, and you're in the city to do some official shopping, try to spy on a suspicious character, or show a potential financial backer a good time.
IV. SEND A MESSAGE: Each member of Riftwatch (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. BANTER: Sometimes the walk is long, the herb-cutting is dull, or the watchtower is quiet, and there's nothing to do but talk to the person next to you. So say something.
VI. WILDCARD: From the Gallows' library to the pirate islands off the coast, from Hightown's high-priced market stalls to the bloody 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, where the Chantry, aided by the Inquisition, marshalling Orlais and the faithful of Southern Thedas into a new Exalted March against 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.
You're part of (or allied with, recently hired by, imprisoned by, etc.) a new organization that's an offshoot of the Inquisition, dubbed Riftwatch, that consists mainly of the otherworldly new arrivals, rebels and Wardens, and other people who want to prevent the apocalypse without necessarily marching under the Chantry's banner to do it. Their headquarters is an island fortress called the Gallows—formerly a Circle of Magi, more formerly a prison for slaves, but its new occupants have done a good job removing the more grotesque reminders of that past and making the place livable.
Maybe you're here because you want to help. Maybe you need the money (though there isn't much of it). Maybe you acquired an anchor and sticking around is the only way to prevent your hand from falling off. Maybe you've been sent by the Chantry or some other entity to keep an eye on everyone—they're rumored to be a lot of weirdos and troublemakers. Or maybe you're a new rifter and just going where the nice people with swords tell you that you need to go.
I. THE CROSSROADS: This month, Riftwatch members are spending most of their free time in the Crossroads, a pocket of magic-infused reality that connects a network of magic-mirror portals, called Eluvians, that are scattered across Thedas. The roads between them have mostly crumbled, but sometimes the magic can be manipulated or a series of interconnected eluvians can allow reaching one of the ruined buildings or bridges that now hang like floating islands in the distance. The portion being explored now is also densely populated by spirits trying to fulfill some ancient purpose—which apparently largely entails annoying or embarrassing everyone they come across.
II. THE WESTERN FRONT: Riftwatch is no longer part of the Inquisition or directly engaged in the war that it, the Chantry's faithful Exalted Marchers, and Orlais are fighting against an invading Tevinter and Ander force in northern Orlais. But frequently enough, Riftwatch's business—delivering helpful intelligence, spending quality time with prisoners of war that might have information, assisting soldiers with a rift they've found too close to their camps, or passing through on the way somewhere else—requires spending time in camps. After a year, with the weather turning cold and a dragon occasionally hurtling overhead to breathe a few bursts of chaos onto the army in its sleep, morale is middling at best. But there's space around the campfires if you need it.
III. KIRKWALL: Even when enormous evil darkspawn are trying to take over the known world and you and your colleagues might be the only ones who can truly stop him, you can't work all the time. And when you aren't working, Kirkwall is there for you with its dingy Lowtown taverns, its flashy Hightown establishments, its market stalls and street musicians and cellars hosting gamblers. Or maybe you can work all the time, and you're in the city to do some official shopping, try to spy on a suspicious character, or show a potential financial backer a good time.
IV. SEND A MESSAGE: Each member of Riftwatch (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. BANTER: Sometimes the walk is long, the herb-cutting is dull, or the watchtower is quiet, and there's nothing to do but talk to the person next to you. So say something.
VI. WILDCARD: From the Gallows' library to the pirate islands off the coast, from Hightown's high-priced market stalls to the bloody frontlines of the war, Thedas is yours to explore.
no subject
[ obviously. maybe he should have thought of that before he stepped on her game. she holds the nug aloft between two fingers, squinting at it. this is her way out of getting called on her skills translating dubiously to thedas, where 'getting lost in the crowd' doesn't work because the crowd is like ten people. ]
What the hell is a nug? It looks evil.
[ when you're a hammer, everything is a nail. ]
no subject
[ Just like that, any whiff of tension is swept away by genuine incredulity at her terrible nug profiling skills. Fitz glances at the figurine — big ears, small eyes, adorable (if naked) bunny proportions — then skips a dubious look back to her. ]
It's a nug.
[ Said with perhaps undeserved finality before he... well, doesn't elaborate. ]
Suppose you think the capybara's a menace, too.
no subject
[ it's not fair for him to drop the names of esoteric animals that she can't immediately google on her phone. god, what's a world without cat videos? is it even worth living in? she hadn't even considered that before now.
she pockets the statuette. maybe it'll bring good luck or something. ]
I thought Game of Thrones critter lore was all cool animals, like dragons and redcaps. I didn't think I'd have to relearn field vermin.
no subject
Yeah, well, [ A short nod towards a nearby offshoot, one of the wider alleys, before he makes to leave the small market behind. The alley's well lit and not particularly ominous, stucco colors and a few spare boxes and barrels lining the walls, some laundry hung out to dry across the windows above. ] You'll prefer the nugs after you've seen a griffon up close.
[ He thought horses were bad. He's dodged any actual griffon-riding lessons thanks to it being more delegated to forces and stealth, but he's watched a few. ]
no subject
[ daisy would prefer the griffon. at least it's determined to be unfamiliar, not a weird mutated guinea pig cum rabbit that veers into the territory of the uncanny valley.
she glances up around the alley, vaguely startled by the closeness of the sky, the simplicity of the clotheslines. this is the biggest city in thedas, from what she's been able to gather, and it still feels rustic. ]
no subject
No, actually, [ He corrects, shoving those thoughts aside and leading Daisy through the row of buildings to a crooked stone staircase at one of the cross-alleys. He knows exactly where he's going; Daisy might have ideas, even without months of experience to fall back on. Kirkwall 101: the more stairwells you go down, the seedier the district. Lowtown's aptly named. ] That's just "I hate griffons" Fitz talking. They're like horses with bloody knives for feet.
[ Not as bad as those horses with people teeth memes. Still not great. ]
no subject
she tries to sink into that. really, she does. but after a few staircases, she asks, ]
Lowtown? Where are we going?
[ because if it's a hack surgery operation, she's got somewhere else to be. ]
no subject
The bar.
[ Signs of excess and aesthetic drop away quickly. The buildings, all monotonous rough stone, start to creep higher — extra floors for extra people, more tightly packed. Between that and the bridges of laundry overhead, that close sky feels a bit more like a ceiling. It only opens up a fraction when they leave the stairwell for a boxed-in square. ]
Act like a local and they'll treat you like a local. Spending too much time at the Gallows makes it a hard sell, but Kirkwall gets fresh faces all the time. The gossip's got a short shelf life.
no subject
[ On the last few words of this question, her tone of voice upticks into what is ostensibly an attempt at a scottish accent. She's doing her best to be fantasy savvy, but the truth is that the nerd just doesn't run that deep with her, and she seems to be linking the entire genre to Fitz's cultural background.
So, yikes.
Anyway, it's all just an effort to deflect from the fact that she obviously did need help and advice on blending in here. ]
no subject
Both.
[ He'd be lying if he said he couldn't use a drink. The small square isn't particularly crowded or particularly quiet, a mix of loiterers and people on familiar treks to and from work (or, of course, bars). The Hanged Man sits at the far side, easily the largest bar in Lowtown and probably the one Daisy's heard of; that's not where they're going, apparently. ]
You're overdue a proper welcome, anyway. May as well toast to your arrival.
[ This doesn't sound overly enthusiastic. The company's great, of course, it'd just be better if they weren't both stranded. ]