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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] allthisshitisweird2021-10-02 11:29 pm
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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 9:47, and the war continues. An enemy force partially occupies Orlais and has decimated several Marcher Cities, while the Chantry, aided by the Inquisition, has marshaled 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. 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 newer organization that's an offshoot of the Inquisition, dubbed Riftwatch, that consists mainly of these 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. Their goal is to do what the Chantry can't or won't do, to go more directly after Corypheus and the dark magic he employs, and to keep the Veil from coming apart entirely.

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 killing you. 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 SIEGE OF STARKHAVEN: North of Kirkwall, Corypheus' forces have occupied Hasmal, laid waste to Tantervale, and has now besieging the city of Starkhaven. An army of Marchers led by Sebastian Vael has returned from the Exalted March to press against the Tevinter force, but Riftwatch's aid is still needed. With the assistance of Riftwatch's griffons, you might be doing aerial surveillance of the enemy force or swooping into the city to provide supplies and news to the people holding the walls, then bringing news and valuables back out to deliver to the Marcher force outside. Or you could be engaging directly by harassing enemy camps from the air or dealing with mages the Marchers are less equipped to face.

II. THE WAKING SEA: When Riftwatch isn't traveling by air (or magic mirror), it frequently travels by sea, courtesy of allied pirate ships. So welcome aboard. The sea is choppy and frequently violent—violent storms, violent enemy ships, or both at once—and the crew may not have much patience for incompetence, so either make yourself useful above or try not to get sick below.

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. 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.

bcpd: (k262)

[personal profile] bcpd 2022-01-20 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
There's listening, and then there's listening to shit about her health. If she could get herself over the Vimmarks, she'll manage a renovated Circle.

"Joining," Kristin says, arms having folded across her chest at some point. "If you're looking for complaints, though, I can come up with a few."
armd: (really)

[personal profile] armd 2022-01-20 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
Oh Abby bets she fuckin' could.

That's fine. Sometimes revenge can be subtle, "Okay. Her name is Wysteria deh..." Hold on. Let her try that again, "Wysteria de Foncé. Sometimes she hangs around the training yard. You need directions?"
bcpd: (k336)

[personal profile] bcpd 2022-01-20 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
"Wysteria de Foncé." If there's doubt in there, it's mostly in service of the fact that Kristin's never heard the name before. On the other hand, it might just be repeating to remember it. Hard to tell! "All right. Show me to the training yard."
grindset: (do it faster)

[personal profile] grindset 2022-01-20 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
No, no mouth. I think.

[Unlikely, but as possible as anything else that's happened so far. (His accent stops just shy of turning think into tink.)]

Uh, please, excuse my flippancy. I was referring to the red crystal—the infectious one that feeds on living things. Changes them.
bribon: ([030])

[personal profile] bribon 2022-01-20 08:26 am (UTC)(link)
To his credit (in a situation where one earns credit for taking it like a champ), Desidério has neither been knocked unconscious or totally flattened by the blow. He also isn't bleeding when he comes scrambling back towards upright. There is still the knife clenched in his fist, and some glint of cold fury in his eye. And while it's evident that given a further twenty seconds he'll be sporting an impressive lump, it becomes instantly apparent in the narrow beat where they make eye contact that if it weren't for the interruption he would be roaring back up to try his luck again.

Luckily, the beat does occur. It affords the dwarven woman—who may not have been prepared to receive a bottle, but has the prudence not to bludgeon a second person right away—the opportunity to takes a full step back and out of his range. Thief One, bleeding profusely from the gash rent in his forearm, has ripped the coat from his head, and the general tenor is 'Get out of dodge with this coat and bottle—'

"If you take my coat," Desidério snarls from down on his knee, extending his knife threateningly toward Thief One. "I will find you."

Obviously, they both turn to skedaddle—
rebellionyell: (pic#15262047)

[personal profile] rebellionyell 2022-01-20 01:38 pm (UTC)(link)
I spend about eighty percent of my time killing demons and engaging in operations, the other twenty percent I've reserved for contemplating all kinds of things. Why is grass green, why is the sky blue, how do dragons fly?

...but you specifically asked for strange.

Well strange is relative, isn't it?
niminypiminy: (010)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-20 02:33 pm (UTC)(link)
The hard, displeased look that Linden turns on Barrow says, what's your angle? Which is, perhaps, a sign that he's not lost, because Lowtown is the place where everyone has an angle. Up in Hightown, if someone approaches you and asks are you lost, they might genuinely want to help; in Lowtown, it usually ends with a knife in your kidney.

(Or, well. That's his assumption. Admittedly, he doesn't know the nasty parts of Kirkwall like he knows the nasty parts of Starkhaven, but he suspects that nasty is nasty, regardless of the city.)

"Why? Are you going to show me the way?"
niminypiminy: (006)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-20 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
And Linden lifts his shoulders in a shrug. It does seem inevitable that his life would come to mopping up vomit. Riftwatch, the home of heroes - and the occasional magical vomit-mopper.

"Where's the mop?" he asks. He has, evidently, resigned himself to his fate depressingly quickly.
grindset: (15390255)

[personal profile] grindset 2022-01-20 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Obviously.

And what's he going to do to stop them? What can he do, really, other than—once again—stop whatever he was about to do and stand there.

"That's vinegar," he calls after the thieves, in toneless resignation, and maybe it's not quite loud enough to be heard over their footsteps, and maybe they deserve that. The torch is going with them. He's about to be left alone in the dark in an alley with a furious man holding an already bloodied blade.

He sighs.

"That could have gone better."
niminypiminy: (005)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-20 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Why is this happening to him? Really, why is this happening to him. Linden had no interest in getting into trouble today. He's not even here for a good time; he's here because he has to be. If it were up to him, he'd have been meeting Jeanette in a nice, Hightown park, but instead, he had to be here, and now he's having to go through this.

"And why is that supposed to be my problem?"
oscura: (and the world that sleeps in its lunacy)

:3

[personal profile] oscura 2022-01-20 08:17 pm (UTC)(link)
The first thing he does is survive. The battle he finds himself in, the realization that most of his powers are gone, the fact that he's a new fuckin' species—it's a whirlwind, and he barely makes it through his first day. A lotta close calls before he makes it to the place they call The Gallows. He should probably be more rattled. He should probably care that he's changed yet again. But hey, it's not so different than everything else in his life, right? Besides, the armor is cool.

The second thing he does is look for his brother.

Not that he has any real reason to think Seth is here too. He knows it's stupid to hope. But Richie never gave up on Kate, despite all evidence to the contrary; for that matter he never gave up on getting Seth out, never gave up on himself either, even when everyone else called him crazy. So maybe it's not hope; maybe it's just stubbornness. Whatever. It works.

It works now too. Hours of searching every nook and fuckin' cranny of this place, he finally loops back around to one of the main halls and that's when he hears it. Fantasy fuckin' bullshit. His heart rate spikes and a huge grin overtakes him before he can stop it. He always said he'd recognize Seth's bitching anywhere, and now he knows he was right. A quick scan finds the sloped shoulders, the messed up hair. Richie walks over and stands behind Seth in time to hear his comment. Wiping all the softer emotions off his face, Richie crosses his arms and says,

"I thought Geckos were supposed to make their own fun."
thereneverwas: (lol)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2022-01-20 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
In response to that look, Barrow holds up his hands in a defensive, 'whoa there' sort of gesture-- he's not here to grift on anyone.

"Could," he amiably replies, "where're you trying to go?"
niminypiminy: (019)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-20 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Sure. Not here to grift. Precisely what a grifter would say.

"I'm meeting someone."
thereneverwas: (my bad)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2022-01-20 09:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh. All right." Seemingly convinced without much effort on the elf's behalf, Barrow shrugs his enormous shoulders and wanders some feet away, heading for a sausage-on-a-stick vendor.
There's a bit of a line, so he's patient about it, lighting up a pre-rolled cigarette as he occasionally glances across the square to the testy newcomer-- if one didn't know better, they might think he's checking in on him.
niminypiminy: (007)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-20 09:51 pm (UTC)(link)
The first time, it's annoying. The second time, it's outright obnoxious. By the third time Barrow glances over to Linden, the elf has lost his temper; he grips his staff and bites out -

"You can go away now."
thereneverwas: (concerned)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2022-01-20 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
With his eyes large and plaintive, Barrow gestures at the sausage stand, for which he is next in line. Have mercy, grumpy elf.
niminypiminy: (Default)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-20 10:21 pm (UTC)(link)
The grumpy elf sighs heavily. Then he turns his back on this...who-knows-what. Criminal, probably. Do-gooder, possibly, though he doubts it.

No more than a minute later, a man comes through the crowd. This man looks dangerous. He's missing one finger from his left hand, and a long scar runs down his cheek, and he moves like someone who's used to getting jumped. And he's coming straight for Linden.
thereneverwas: (my bad)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2022-01-20 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)
A missing finger doesn't necessarily a villain make, but something is definitely about to happen, so Barrow is here for the long haul. Having acquired his lunch, he leans against a wall nearby to devour it and watch the exchange-- it was their choice to do it out in a street full of people, after all. That's basically the theatre.
niminypiminy: (005)

[personal profile] niminypiminy 2022-01-21 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
The sinister man approaches. Linden turns - and looks over at Barrow, his lips pressed together in very real annoyance - and then turns towards Messere Sinister. The man jerks his chin up in greeting; Linden nods; and then they turn away and start walking in the opposite direction.
thereneverwas: (Default)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2022-01-21 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
Barrow smiles cheerfully and offers a wave of farewell.

After the pair have made their way away, he hangs around for a while, listening for a commotion. It's not like it's any of his business, or his job to put a stop to any foul play, but. Well. A man's got to entertain himself somehow.
apocalypsegrown: (38)

>:3

[personal profile] apocalypsegrown 2022-01-21 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ Don't think she can't see through your acting Fenris; but at the same time the little bit of resistance is more fun. Sylvie arches an eyebrow, leaning forward as she scrunches up her nose at him. ]

That is my correct title actually, and I'm not about to tell you just so you can snatch it and walk off with my choice to make a point.
doggish: they're just not funny (talk ⚔ they're not bad jokes)

[personal profile] doggish 2022-01-21 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
[That's actually fairly interesting— and honestly, he does want to ask? He understands so little about the rifts, save for the most basic of facts. To speak to someone who has experienced them quite literally firsthand would be immensely useful, so, yes, he'll ask her in a minute.

But first, this.]


Is it? I have not heard anything of the sort, save for tales about the Herald.

[He's also been here for, like, a day.]
heirring: ([087])

[personal profile] heirring 2022-01-21 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
It is, [is as pleased as it is brisk. Clearly she's quite proud of being well known in some capacity, even if the requirement to earn that recognition was—

Well, somewhat less than ideal.]


But come now, you have yet to answer my question! Ordinarily someone might perceive that as an insult, sir. But as you must be newly arrived—for I know everyone—, I will forgive the injury and pretend not to have noticed.
doggish: ever, no matter what, ever (talk ⚔ i will never be your friend)

[personal profile] doggish 2022-01-21 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Was that what he was planning? Maybe so.]

Indulge my curiosity. Theft is not in my nature, and even if it was, it isn't as if I have anywhere to go.

[Where's he gonna hide it, his room? Please. He's too old for that kind of thing.]

But perhaps I wish to know what royalty reads in their off-time.
illithidnapped: (15)

[personal profile] illithidnapped 2022-01-21 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
Clever thing.

Not that he'd have bitten her, anyway.

Oh, there's charm to doing the deed on sacred ground, of course, but given the fact that most— if not all— people that roam through here are allies in one way or another, and given the far far more important distinction that Astarion would like never to be caught in the act and subsequently burned or hunted down as a demon, he knows restraint these days.

A few flicks of his dagger over stone (a thin chip of it, quick to spark), and he's knocked enough embers her way to set the candle alight.

"Do I look Andrastian to you?"