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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
Undoubtedly gay he is.
He is still for a moment, with the only verification that his heart hasn't completely stopped - unlike his brain - being the stronger flush in his freckled cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red. There is a moment where he does his best to process what Astarion has said before he can even formulate an answer. When he can finally function, for the most part because he just wants to linger on the feeling of Astarion's hands on his shoulders and the sound of his voice, he starts nodding with small, quick bobs of his head.
"Right. Yes." He clears his throat, another small attempt to get his head on straight. Well. "I've probably had enough."
no subject
This, mind, is distraction work. Time to let the tavern settle back into proper working order. Gamblers back at their tables, the greedy back to their drink, made more relaxed and careless by the second.
“You know, Kirkwall can be quite dangerous for a man left entirely to his own devices.” At times, an elf even more so— though the city isn’t always unkind.
“Next time you get the urge to go exploring, do yourself a favor, take someone else from the Gallows to keep you company.”
It’ll spare Astarion the pain of having all his prey scattered away, if this spirited performance stands as the man's usual fare when it comes to wine or— mm. Perhaps ale. Difficult to tell when the only thing this place deals in is oversized mugs.
no subject
But if he's speaking then paying attention is only polite, right?
"I appreciate your concern," he says, doing his best to be articulate past the slurring of slightly wine-stained lips, "but while I may look delicate I am trained in rapier combat and know some nasty spells as well." The last bit is said a lower, more muttered tone as he raises his eyebrows and gives one of those nods that implies talking about something on the down-low that all parties involved wouldn't want to spread around.
no subject
“Thedas’ very own bladesinger.”
It’s a joke. An inside one, let out with a throaty little chuckle of amusement, no attempt made to offer a little mercy towards a Rifter that no doubt hails from nowhere.
Nowhere— that is— that Astarion cares about.
“But that still won’t help you when you’re down in the drink and can’t tell your head from your ass. Pretty as it might be.”
Which one? Take a guess.
no subject
But that's what almost total amnesia after being in the void plane for thirteen years will do to you. He'd love to trade the memories he has of that place for more of his life before his unexpected trip, but... The line of thought leaves him absentmindedly tracing a silver vein embedded in the palm of his left hand.
"I'm sure flattery gets you a lot of places. You are right though - it's harder to cast spells right when your verbals and somatics are all mixed up." He thinks a moment.
"I wonder if I could even do a decent Mage Hand right now..." A classic spell, one of his favorites. Great for the occasional prank.
no subject
Wondering, after all, might be tempting fate as far as drunken willpower is concerned. Instead he only smiles, flashing the overlong edges of his teeth as he eases down by lazy degrees against the edge of the bar, posture sloped.
"You’ll find a tolerance for magic here more than most anywhere else, of course, but as far as testing the limits of that patience goes— well, I wouldn’t advise it. No, my dear companion, let’s stick to the basics shall we? Such as your name. Your current reason for letting Riftwatch keep you tethered."
He pauses there, the weight of it laced with instinctive curiosity.
"...your blood type, even."
no subject
Ezra would probably like this man. He's very into vampires.
"Right, my name." He considers whether or not he should give a fake name, but if this man is a member of Riftwatch then it would probably be best to be honest. Holding out a hand towards Astarion to shake, he says, "Allumin. Blood type: edible."
no subject
"Astarion. And I've recently kicked the habit, so you'll have to forgive me for not indulging as I once might have."
That's a joke. He's never actually done the deed, so to speak. Not with any sentient, thinking creature. Not even with Cazador's iron-bound influence now gone from all figurative pressure points, a chokehold he no longer even senses as a potentially phantom limb.
Freedom was enough of a victory in and of itself— and one does what one must to avoid being labeled a 'blood magic abomination'.
no subject
"As for myself in regard to Riftwatch..." he pauses to think about what all to say and how to say it. Path of least resistance? Because he is here and may as well make himself useful? Because the work is interesting? He doesn't know where else he'd go otherwise?
He stares into the large mug and the bit of wine lingering in the bottom.
"I don't know how much you heard of my rambling earlier, but where I'm from I studied a variety of magics and specialized in refining teleportation magic to methods that anyone could use, even those who can't cast spells. Joining the Research Division just made sense when I accepted my residency here as something I probably can't do anything about - at least for now. Who knows in the future?"
no subject
And then he's done.
"—at least if you mean here as here, that is. In Kirkwall, I mean. Riftwatch, too. Obviously there's no crawling back into the void just yet, but it's a grand, wide world out there. Nobody's going to shed tears if you decide to simply gather up all your belongings and saunter out for the sake of exploration."
He's goading you, Allumin. Testing the waters of your decision making. Do be aware of it— or don't.
Either sates curiosity, after all.
no subject
Honestly, he was having a hard enough time with the expectation to Save The World in his home dimension. He'd rather just go back to his work and let it be someone else's problem. The hero thing isn't really his idea of a good time.
That aside, putting himself to work means he doesn't have to think about home or people or obligations. Just simple sanctuary in the study of magic.
"But you are probably right, I don't think I'd be missed if I left. I'm here on my own, after all, and I don't owe this place anything," he says, finding humor at his own loneliness with the way he smiles at his own words. "The work keeps me entertained though."
no subject
Before continuing the conversation as if nothing at all has happened, of course.
"Those two words don't belong anywhere near one another in the same sentence, unless the midpoint between them is 'not at all'."
no subject
Allumin is too busy looking elsewhere to notice Astarion take anything from behind the bar, which is probably for the best otherwise he would have laughed and it would have possibly drawn suspicion their way. The giggling of a drunk after a prank well pranked is universal and likely dread-or-annoyance-inducing in the staff of every tavern.
"Unraveling the mysteries of the universe can be quite interesting, I'll have you know!" he says in a playfully defensive manner. "But my mother is a professional historian and my father studies celestial bodies, so I am biased."
"You don't enjoy your work, whatever it is?" Allumin's earnest and curious gaze is directly on Astarion now, waiting for an answer.
no subject
He lifts the bottle in hand, uncorking it before giving it a faint shift in his grip, letting it breathe as much as possible in discretion before drawing over a pair of emptied cups (in a similar fashion as before, though this time nothing is masked) and pouring out a little wine for both of them. A magic trick of his own, as it were.
Now that the poor lad’s not drowning in misery, it seems safe enough to at least let him have a little fun before setting him free into the dark and deadly waters of Kirkwall's Lowtown.
“But seeing as how I’ve been barred from Forces, I suppose espionage is about as good as it gets. And really, it’s better than sniffing at paperwork all day in some dingy little office.”