Fade Rift Mods (
faderifting) wrote in
allthisshitisweird2020-04-24 01:58 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
[He takes another pensive spoonful, wearing much the same expression as before while the gelatin rests in his mouth.]
no subject
Well. I suppose first I should ask: are you writing a book?
no subject
No. I admit I take an interest in walks of life unfamiliar to me.
no subject
no subject
[He takes another spoonful with a grimace, as if continuing to consume the dessert isn't entirely his choice.]
I'm from Redcliffe. I remember how the Wardens came through and stopped the nightly attacks.
no subject
Yes, that's true. But I meant about how one becomes a Warden.
[ There's always the chance that he knows exactly nothing but there's also the rumors, stories, and pure fictions told about any group, even amongst children. ]
Oh, Redcliffe. [ A place she's not visited but knows some history of anyway. She laces her fingers together and tucks her now folded hands beneath her chin. ] I can't imagine that was easy. How old were you then?
no subject
[It was ten or so years ago, recent enough that it can be clearly remembered.]
Of how Wardens become what they are, I know very little. I've heard rumors of blood magic, but perhaps that was given rise by the situation at Adamant Fortress.
no subject
Well. The Joining is one thing, really, but I didn't mean that specifically. It's just... [ She opens one of her hands, gesturing with it in the space between them. ] Anyone can become a Warden. From any background, any past, any walk of life.
But! We were talking about me. The day I joined the Grey Wardens my husband had just been killed by a Hurlock.
no subject
[Does he mean that? Impossible to tell.]
I've heard of such things happening. Were you Tainted?
no subject
no subject
[There's no judgment in the statement, at least none immediately audible.]
And it's worked out for you?
no subject
[ She weighs her hands in front of her like a set of scales. ]
I'm still alive.
no subject
[He almost digs the spoon into the gelatin again, but purses his lips and thinks better of it, setting it down.]
Do you believe that you'll succeed? That Wardens will kill all the Old Gods?
no subject
Not particularly, no.
no subject
[Is he impressed by her answer? He wasn't expecting it, that much is clear.]
Then what you keeps you fulfilling your oath? Why not... [he waves one hand vaguely,] live the rest of your truncated life in a way that pleases you?
[There is curiosity, rather than judgment, in the question. What would anyone do, if bound to such a force?]
no subject
[ She opens one hand and then tucks them both beneath her chin again. ]
I don't think I could live with myself for long if I walked away without trying.
no subject
[He tilts his head curiously.]
no subject
[ She gives a little shrug; it's not like she can see the future. ]
But I don't think that it means using blood magic and possibly wiping out all the Wardens in one go, either.
no subject
That's fair.
[Falling silent for a moment, he purses his lips, considering.]
...thank you for your candor.
no subject
You're welcome. I'm afraid that I don't have many reasons not to share it, though my compatriots vary from me in many ways.
What's brought you to the Riftwatch?
no subject
[His gaze lifts to meet hers again.]
I'm a medic. I was told Riftwatch was always in need of more.
no subject
That's true enough, I'd expect.
[ But it's not really an answer. ]
no subject
Well. Thank you for your time.
[He presses his hands on the table to hoist himself to his feet, glancing at the shared abomination between them.]
And for. ...that.
no subject
Of course. [ Why not share food abominations with others if you can? ] If you ever need a mage for anything, or, Maker forbid, a Warden... you'll let me know?
no subject
But he smirks, at least until the Warden takes his hand; and then instead Gideon looks profoundly uncomfortable, nonetheless allowing it until Adrasteia has withdrawn her grip, at which point his hand retreats back into his robe.]
Um. Yes.
[sure]
(no subject)