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allthisshitisweird2021-10-02 11:29 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2021-10-02 11:29 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 9:47, 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.
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.
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( it could be drier, but if he's still in quarantine then it might well still be new information; she provides it as such. )
Mine is almost certainly bigger than yours.
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( He’s been blazing through the introductory lessons as quickly as he can, but it's still early days. Sometimes it’s an annoyance to his instructors, since he keeps trying to skip ahead, but others seem to appreciate the doctor’s obsessive attention-to-detail, his careful notes and questions with each lesson. Pros and cons. )
So, ‘try not to look like a fish out of water’ in general, then?
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but, neatly, )
And be sure you trust your companion. Hightown will have a better class of establishment and fewer cutpurses, but you'll have to make particular friends to go there without drawing a different wrong sort of attention. Lowtown is the standard, and you don't go to Darktown or the alienage.
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What’s the other wrong sort of attention in Hightown? Extreme judgment if my shoes aren’t polished enough?
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We don't want the people who decide if they're still happy for us to be here to be afraid of you. And you might be thinking, gosh, that sounds so powerfully obvious as to be insulting, so imagine the sort of bullshit rifters must have done for me to feel moved to illustrate basic cause and effect.
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( Which is, frankly, painful for a man who had grown used to it as a crutch; who once used it like breathing; who dipped into magic for everything as banal as telekinesis to write notes or knot his tie. )
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It isn't just 'don't do magic'.
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Duly noted.
My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, by the by. Newly-arrived, as is apparent. I'm assuming you're a local?
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Gwenaëlle Baudin.
( it's a slightly odd pronunciation of her given name; a guh sound, the w almost entirely silent. )
About six years ago, a rift opened above my carriage and a rage demon tore it apart. That was how I got an anchor-shard, though sheer blind luck is how I survived.
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I believe mine was considerably less dramatic; they said I was lucky that it was primarily wraiths. The closest thing to a demon was a giant eyeball-thing from my dream.
Sheer blind luck plus Riftwatch? Are they always there in advance to catch the rifts opening up, or do people ever slip through the cracks?
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We previously relied on a rift mage we can't trust any more, but Provost Stark designed an early warning system that anticipates new rifts. We're at as many as we can be, but look around you at how many people Riftwatch has and guess if you think we can be everywhere in Thedas we need to be.
( there aren't even a hundred of them and the eluvians they have access to don't go everywhere. )
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( Strange’s voice is carefully neutral: bland commentary, no longer tongue-in-cheek and taking the piss, but not suffused with cloying pity either. He’d preferred the middle-ground when discussing his own worst day.
He had started off this experiment somewhat aimless and bored in the dormitory, intrigued by the technology behind these crystals, simply intent on playing around with the new toy and getting a feel for it, plus a recommendation for drinks. But as the conversation goes on, he can feel his attention being piqued. Like something clicking into place in his mind, shifting gears, turning more serious.
Provost Stark designed. Of course he did. He’s going to have so many questions for Tony. Strange had had his own eldritch early-warning system back at the Sanctum, which alerted for otherworldly visitors, and had hollered when the Asgardians came to call and then when Spider
-man’s villains came pouring through. Riftwatch’s dilemma is actually a familiar one. )
Do the rifts truly appear anywhere at any time? Say, it materialises in the middle of the ocean and it just vomits demons and rifters into the water? Although— I suppose it’d be hard to tell if it had happened, unless someone saw it in the moment. Or some inexplicable skeleton washed up on-shore later.
( He sounds thoughtful, contemplative, ruminating over the possibilities. )
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( hm.
fucked up. )
Rifters aren't guaranteed, though. You lot have slowed down substantially and every rift doesn't cough them out— most rifts don't.
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( And it doesn’t sound like a platitude; Strange is interested, he’d practically be grabbing a piece of parchment and jotting down notes if he were able to hold a quill. )
If it was in the lake, I would’ve pictured it swallowing up the whole lake of water, like a giant drain — but I suppose it doesn’t work that way. Out of curiosity, has anyone ever gone through a rift in the opposite direction? Tried to physically go back into the Fade through it?
( A moment, a beat, and he doesn’t quite apologise for turning this into an impromptu history lesson, but: ) We can change the subject whenever you’re sick and tired of my questions, too. I’m just still in information sponge mode.
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in which she is curbing a much sharper and much harsher response because he said tried to go back into the Fade, which is what actually fucking happens, and not tried to go back where they came from, which is not. it takes her a moment not to unload both barrels completely unwarrantedly—
she's not subtle. he can likely hear the self control in the very neatly said, )
I have. I don't recommend it.
( thisisfine.jpg )
The reason that I have been in it is because a thoughtless bitch who imagined she knew better never bothered asking any questions and launched herself into a rift thinking it would take her home. It would have been well-deserved if she were left there to die.
I prefer you ask the questions.
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Hm. Well. I understand the urge to try to go home, but jumping half-cocked into a demonic dimension seems like a prime candidate for the Darwin Awards.
( —goddammit, they have no idea what the Darwin Awards are here. Strange readjusts. )
Award for the stupidest way to cause your own death, I mean. I’ve seen portals accidentally open up to hell dimensions. Not exactly a good place to vacation.
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( the problem is really when will she stop telling you how she really feels. it's like banana, you write that nana and something in your heart just thinks there should be more of those. )
There'd be stiff competition for those awards here, I think, in any event.
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Seems like life in Riftwatch offers a particular set of hazards, at least.
What sort of work do you do here?
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( he may or may not have seen her in person at any point before this; her voice is pleasantly low, as feminine voices go, but doesn't particularly sound like it's attached to someone you'd expect to be attached to a mission as the protection detail. )
Close rifts, kill things, protect people. Occasionally I can make use of connections that I have from a previous life, ( which is a metaphor, albeit one that's more unusual to use when rifters are around, having actual previous lives, ) and I was briefly Master of Information before John Silver.
I wrote propaganda for the Inquisition in its first year, but I did it...semi-independently. I didn't sign anything to take orders for some time, I wasn't trained in combat and I didn't trust them not to send me into it and get me killed. I have an unpleasant personality.
( like, she's not wrong. )
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( So many people had declared how difficult Doctor Strange could be; he gets it. They’re too early in their acquaintanceship for him to agree or disagree either way about her, but he won’t try to offer an empty platitude. Gwen knows herself better than he knows her. )
You sound like a busy woman. Propagandist, spy, and eventual fighter? Is it muscle by way of, say, a giant shitting warhammer or magic?
( From his little exposure, she hasn’t seemed the type — but he learned long ago to stop judging books by their covers, considering the people in his world with superstrength, or when a waifish Celtic sorceress had run magical laps around him. )
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( that sounds more like a joke at a friend's expense than an accusation— it's funny because he's a shady fucking bitch, that's why. ideally placed for the propaganda job that she doesn't want to do any more. )
But I'm also not a mage. Or a reaver, for that matter. I've got a lot of knives and I found a magic bow in a swamp. Might have been a religious experience. Hard to say.
And my anchor-shard is more powerful than most.
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Did an arm appear out of the swamp and throw you a magic bow? Does that sort of thing happen here?
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That sounds a curse that should not be fucked with, actually. No, there were crows and I might have been hallucinating from the blood loss.
( #justriftwatchthings )
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( it's sick as hell. )
It's called Hakkon's Wrath. It's an Avvar piece, and I've never seen one like it.
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→ action.
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