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allthisshitisweird2021-02-07 07:33 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2021-02-07 07:33 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 9:46, 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.
OOC: We post Test Drives fairly infrequently! But current players are strongly encouraged to track new top-level comments to the post so they don't miss new arrivals, and new folks should not be shy about commenting just because the post has been up for a while.
I. 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 underground network of old mining tunnels inhabited by the disenfranchised and a few violent criminals. Or maybe you can work all the time, and you're in the city to do some official shopping, keep an eye on a suspicious character, or show a potential financial backer a good time. The city is grey, cold, and in places vaguely sinister—but it's home.
II. SUNDERMOUNT: North of Kirkwall lies the highest peak of the nearby mountain range. In more ancient days it was rumored to be the site of unspeakable horrors, but at present prowled by more speakable horrors, like possessed skeletons, shadow warriors, and the rare revenant or varterral. And you've been sent to prowl along with them, inside the winding caves that cut through the peak or over the snow currently coating the paths that wind around it. The reasons vary: maybe you're in search of medicinal herbs, maybe you're tracking a party of suspicious travelers lurking outside Kirkwall, or maybe you just took a wrong turn off the road trying to travel in or out of the city.
III. ORLAIS: Further south, Orlais is weathering the winter and the invasion of its northern territories in its usual style—which is why you're here, in a snow-blanketed manor just outside Val Royeaux, representing Riftwatch at the invitation of a gathering of masked nobility who have gathered to discuss ways to support the war effort while not starving their serfs and alienages. And to play parlor games. Maybe have an occasional chamber concert. Your role may be to actively participate in the planning, or it may be to be charming and noncommital while observing, or it may be to provide an example of a well-behaved rifter/elf/mage/Qunari/Fereldan. Regardless: your best behavior is expected, but that doesn't mean you can't sneak into the Duchess' very well-appointed library at night or slip away to try sliding down the length of a frozen reflecting pool in the gardens.
IV. THE 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 passing near or through the frontline drawn through northern Orlais and now northern Nevarra, where it's possible to encounter enemy bands of dracolisk-mounted soldiers, fire-throwing mages, or particularly nasty darkspawn with red lyrium growing from their bodies.
V. 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.
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 9:46, 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.
OOC: We post Test Drives fairly infrequently! But current players are strongly encouraged to track new top-level comments to the post so they don't miss new arrivals, and new folks should not be shy about commenting just because the post has been up for a while.
I. 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 underground network of old mining tunnels inhabited by the disenfranchised and a few violent criminals. Or maybe you can work all the time, and you're in the city to do some official shopping, keep an eye on a suspicious character, or show a potential financial backer a good time. The city is grey, cold, and in places vaguely sinister—but it's home.
II. SUNDERMOUNT: North of Kirkwall lies the highest peak of the nearby mountain range. In more ancient days it was rumored to be the site of unspeakable horrors, but at present prowled by more speakable horrors, like possessed skeletons, shadow warriors, and the rare revenant or varterral. And you've been sent to prowl along with them, inside the winding caves that cut through the peak or over the snow currently coating the paths that wind around it. The reasons vary: maybe you're in search of medicinal herbs, maybe you're tracking a party of suspicious travelers lurking outside Kirkwall, or maybe you just took a wrong turn off the road trying to travel in or out of the city.
III. ORLAIS: Further south, Orlais is weathering the winter and the invasion of its northern territories in its usual style—which is why you're here, in a snow-blanketed manor just outside Val Royeaux, representing Riftwatch at the invitation of a gathering of masked nobility who have gathered to discuss ways to support the war effort while not starving their serfs and alienages. And to play parlor games. Maybe have an occasional chamber concert. Your role may be to actively participate in the planning, or it may be to be charming and noncommital while observing, or it may be to provide an example of a well-behaved rifter/elf/mage/Qunari/Fereldan. Regardless: your best behavior is expected, but that doesn't mean you can't sneak into the Duchess' very well-appointed library at night or slip away to try sliding down the length of a frozen reflecting pool in the gardens.
IV. THE 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 passing near or through the frontline drawn through northern Orlais and now northern Nevarra, where it's possible to encounter enemy bands of dracolisk-mounted soldiers, fire-throwing mages, or particularly nasty darkspawn with red lyrium growing from their bodies.
V. 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.
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
Either this woman thinks she knows him, as have several at this point, or she is just like that. Or something else entirely, it's difficult to tell in this exact moment; there just are not enough details available. He gestures at her corset with a hand that had been holding a knife just a moment ago which has since... disappeared, for lack of a better word. ]
Well-crafted.
[ Unlike this dead man's mask. Loki sucks his teeth at it in clear disapproval. ]
no subject
(but he'd probably know a thing or two about that.)
it becomes further apparent that the answer is, in all likelihood, that she is just like this when she finally looks up at him properly at his thoughtful compliment to her stylish practicality and very visibly recognizes him only now—there is something about how incredibly easy she is to read that suggests it wouldn't have helped her, if she were still wearing the mask that's currently uncomfortably shoved out of the way.
her eyes narrow. it's possible, with her fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife, that he'd have got an even less warm welcome if she'd caught a proper look at him first—but, ah, it's the slowness of this moment that corrects it before she can think to regret not being able to get a plausibly deniable knife in his leg in when she had the opportunity (it was an accident, Lexie, I was fighting for my life, and anyway, he'll live—). the resemblance is uncanny, down to the appreciation for her waist (all right, for its armor, this time) and the habitual, troubling knife-wielding, but they aren't identical, not quite.
she sits back on her heels, having cut away secreted pouches and palmed the weapon that was meant for her throat. studies him. says, eventually, )
Failing my winning personality, ( dryly, ) there's always concealed steel and weaponry. Apparently, I need to be paying more attention to rifter arrivals.
( she has an anchor-shard in her fist. it'd be easy to mistake her for one, too, but there's slightly too much familiarity here for even the longest lasting of them. )
no subject
She doesn't. He lets go of his breath and makes an expression somewhere between a smirk and a smile, spreading his hands before lowering his upper body into a bow. ]
As far as I know, it's left to ourselves to make announcements about our arrivals here in Thedas; considering how many enemies the Loki you're familiar with may have had, you'll understand my hesitancy in being too boisterous in unfamiliar territory.
Loki [ now he smiles properly, and straightens ] Laufeyson, at your service. The superior version in my own opinion, but since the other isn't here to defend himself perhaps that's all that matters. Do we know why our intrepid assassin targeted you?
no subject
she doesn't dispute the likelihood of his having many enemies; she does make note of how easily he acknowledges it, too. )
I can think of reasons.
( not all of her enemies are strictly speaking her own, either; there's all the people gwenaëlle has pissed off (not an insignificant list) and then there's all the people who might see her as a convenient or opportunistic target for some other reason. the enemies of the people that care about her; people who just want to fuck something for riftwatch.
she frowns down at the corpse. )
I'm Gwenaëlle, ( after a beat, ) Baudin. Previously Vauquelin, which is usually the issue around here.
no subject
A disgruntled former spouse or something more complicated than that? [ There are, as they're both well aware, a variety of reasons why one would change their family name. ] You'll forgive my ignorance on the matter, I hope; I am still learning the history between the various races here and have yet to encroach myself in the details of each nation.
[ He has a difficult time keeping all the names straight. Well, not really, but he doesn't quite understand how humans can fracture themselves into countless courts and cultures for little more reason than lines drawn on maps and changes in language.
There's also the fact that Allspeak doesn't work here, and he's having to learn several tongues as he goes. ]
no subject
( it is probable that she didn't always discuss it with quite that level of bloodless ease; there is a hint of it, still, in the tense lines it sharpens in her shoulders, the set of her jaw. but he's — foreign, so what does he care or understand, it's just context. it doesn't mean anything, so she doesn't have to let it. )
I use my birth mother's name now, ( Baudin, a name not uncommon in the alienages of Orlais, but less so in its hallowed halls of privilege, ) and the long and short of elves and men in Thedas is that children born of the two together are human by every measure but they're only people if they shed half their lineage and no one ever finds out.
Anyway, I'm also very annoying.
no subject
[ Loki knows little of what it means to be elf-blooded, here, but Gwenaëlle paints a clear, albeit brief image. He reads the tension in her body along with her words, and he admires the decision she's made to keep her mother's name in the face of such hypocrisies.
What he does know is something of bastards and of birthright.
It still feels like a wild reason to try to kill someone, but he's done worse over objectively less, he supposes. ]
What should we do with the body?
no subject
Asgard's a mage, ( she says, of the other loki. ) Are you? What've you got in the vein of stealth and illusion?
( if the answer is nothing then, well, she'll have to work with that. but if he could be useful, better to figure out first rather than find out she could have done it an easier way later. )
no subject
[ He doesn't even really know how long he could conceivably hide a body but he suspects he could at least get them through the rest of this evening. If he doesn't attempt hiding anything else. ]
no subject
it is sly and it suits her, a criminal act of unfairness that a person with her personality should have the sweet, bow-mouthed face of an ingenue and say the things that come out of that mouth. smiling like she's thought of something delightful suits her much better than frowning, thinning her lips and it definitely still, just as much, means trouble for someone.
she puts her mask back on. there, it's true: it doesn't make her any harder to read, her body language requiring relatively little literacy. in orlais that's a curse, but at the same time much of orlais (and those familiar with orlesians) can't quite believe that what they're seeing could be true, and that itself is blessing and curse. )
Can you get us to the other side of the party unseen and hide the tear on my dress without losing your footing while you dance?
( while they dance, specifically, leaving the body as a warning and providing themselves with an alibi that is not airtight, but doesn't have to be. )
no subject
And in the next moment, they are on the dance floor, perfectly in step with the dancers around them. ]
Is this what you had in mind? [ He asks, pressing lips just outside of her ear, as they spin on the floor in time with the music. Soon enough, someone will find the body and raise an alarm, but for now?
Dancing. ]
no subject
gwenaëlle uses the closeness of the dance and his loose hair as a visual distraction from the fact she's fastening her own mask back into place hastily, one-handed—it's not graceful but it is efficient, something at which she must have some amount of practise already, able to unerringly locate by feel alone where it's meant to attach to the styling of her hair.
what is graceful is the way she lets him lead; relies on him to do it, in fact, so that they are in sync while she's briefly distracted. and one two, and one two, and there we go, and: )
More or less.
( it's a fast-paced song, and her skirts whirl in amongst the garish pastel rainbow of orlais' glittering ladies, and enough people have been drinking that if they hadn't been there a moment ago—well, surely they had? in fact? )
We weren't going to find anything else useful on him, ( the next time she spins close enough to say it where only he'll hear, ) but I thought we could get a good vantage point on how everyone else reacts to finding him from here.