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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] allthisshitisweird2023-05-02 05:40 pm
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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 9:49, 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.) an organization, dubbed Riftwatch, that split off from the Inquisition several years ago. Riftwatch consists 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.

NOTE: This is a static test drive! We post them once per year or so and continue to use them for a long time, so you're never late. Current players are encouraged to track new top-level comments.


I. THE FREE MARCHES: Hasmal, Tantervale, and most recently Starkhaven have all fallen to the Tevinter incursion, leaving Kirkwall the largest city-state in the Free Marches to remain unoccupied. For Riftwatch, that means the war is closer to home than ever, and traveling anywhere north of the mountains runs the risk of running into enemy scouting parties. Perhaps you've been sent out to find these scouts before they find the unwary, or perhaps you're just trying to pass through unnoticed to Antiva or Rivain when you run into trouble. Or maybe you're more in the thick of it: joining the Free Marches armies in harassing the occupying army as best they can from outside the city, or slipping your way into one of them to gather intelligence or meet with an ally.

II. THE WAKING SEA: When Riftwatch isn't traveling by griffon or magic mirror, it frequently travels by sea, courtesy of a small assortment 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 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.

elegiaque: (222)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2024-05-16 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
More powerful than a head on a spike makes Gwenaëlle's mouth tighten, an expression that lingers as she casts a dispassionate eye over the assembled elves who could — in her opinion — feel free to apologise more sincerely to him any time they like, though she neither says so nor expects they will. She says, “Great, we're now relying on the strict reasoning capacity of someone who was shit at that in the first place,” and

that, at least, is not exactly unfamiliar when she'd pulled approximately none of her punches when she felt Herian needed to hear something during their years of friendship. Whether it's entirely essential right now is another story, and her tone hasn't changed at all. Maybe the next thing she says is more unsettling for the flat, matter of fact delivery,

“We may have to test their theory on that spike thing, when we meet these knights. Guilfoyle, make a note; I want at least twelve spikes before that happens.”

That it's going to, obviously, goes without saying. He inclines his head in acknowledgment, his gaze not moving from the tableau in front of them.

Considering that matter settled at least for now,

“Right now, I need somewhere to work, a basin of water, and clean cloths. Decide amongst yourselves whether someone is making that happen here or if we're leaving now.” No, there are not other options on the table.
dashing: (♛ leth-chothrom.)

[personal profile] dashing 2024-05-16 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
Good day, serah.

( Manners are not lost to her. Even so, she thinks a few moments on the question. What does she need? )

I was ordered to Riftwatch. I used to be familiar with this place, but I do not know the correct location to report to.

( Reporting would, she reasons, be the path to food and to rest. The physical fatigue from her travels is catching up to her, even as she bows to the stranger - polite, although less stiff than she was before the Rite. )
favoriteanalyst: (ashes ashes dust to dust)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2024-05-16 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
That depends on who you're meant to report in to.

[Used to be is telling. Like Isaac, then? Used to be, then was elsewhere, now back again? There might still be recovery from the Rite (who actually performs those anymore with the vast majority of Templars meant to be on the March?) that doesn't seem to have been adhered to, so that's either something urgent that can't wait (a message, a warning?), or a distinct lack of care.

Tranquility, then an immediate order to Riftwatch? It doesn't feel right. But Tranquil don't exactly make good spies. ...He doesn't think they'd make good spies. There's a line of concern forming between his brows, but the smile remains. Polite.]


Under whose orders have you come here?
inmycare: (Way down yonder in the meadow)

[personal profile] inmycare 2024-05-16 02:50 am (UTC)(link)
[There's a brief flash of surprise when he sees the brand, but it doesn't put him off so much he hesitates over his reply.]

No inconvenience. It's only hard for me to ignore a distressed animal. Professional hazard of being a veterinarian. Siegfried Farnon, very newly of Riftwatch.

[He glances down at Franklin, assessing.]

Has the uneasiness extended to unusual behavior, that you've noticed? Off his food, not sleeping or sleeping a great deal, that sort of thing?
dissolving: (look)

[personal profile] dissolving 2024-05-16 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
Hand over jaw, Cedric runs through all the heresies he can name: Empty Ones, Blades, Disciples. Masked Andraste, and that always seemed a tall tale,

Tastes more political. Political, and unsanctioned - folks in the March got opinions, plenty he wouldn’t air around here, but the March needs troops. Needs them bad. Sure, someone might take a pot-shot, neglect a helping hand; write off a wound that could’ve been saved. Opportunism.

Not organized like this, premeditated as you've got to be to take on a pack of fucking mages. Maker knows they lost enough men to it. Herian-that-is apologizes, and,

"It's well," It's not. "He’s just looking out for you."

(Must've smelled the lyrium. It's not a secret; it's not the time. Marge might start screeching again any moment, and Gwen looks about to split her jaw. Twelve spikes.)

"Infirmary," He decides. Gallows'll be safer. Herian means something to the people here - but she’s not the only person here. Doesn't need to get uglier. "Serah Amsel, we'll escort you to Riftwatch."

Strict reasoning can't be all of it. There’s something in there, a system. Courtesy, maybe. A code. What're rules, anyway, but a list of expectations? What're orders, but what you find past feeling?

"Let's go. You can come back and thank these folks later," Without shifting his eyes from Guilfoyle, "I’ll see to it."

Don’t get another bag, he’s already moving.
Edited 2024-05-16 04:51 (UTC)
dashing: (♛ iochd.)

[personal profile] dashing 2024-05-16 04:52 am (UTC)(link)
Herian Amsel, recently returned.

( Siegfried Farnon. She commits it to memory, as Franklin hops around restlessly. He sits on her foot briefly, licks her leg, then shuffles around and making a soft, whining grumble. A bit too anxious to fully commit to it as he restlessly hops about.

Herian looks down at him, brow furrowed as she thinks. )


Eating less. He seems unable to settle.

( A pause, and— ) He bit a man. Cedric. I’ve only seen him do that once before.
dashing: (pic#14737542)

[personal profile] dashing 2024-05-16 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
They’d both tended to lash out when something cut too deeply, like wounded animals. It had been a pattern of theirs, coupled with strained patience or outright frustration, depending on who was dealing with what kind of disaster.

She’d come to the conclusion that wasn’t in her best interests some months back, but it is quite another thing, now: looking at it without the pang of guilt or the head of personal entanglement. Had she not torn her own life apart with that same instinct?

Herian doesn’t make any comment on it. That seems like it would be equally unproductive.

Rather than turn to pay her thanks as she ought, she follows the directions given, moving with the current she is caught in. Without hesitation she begins the familiar walk, carrying the dog that’s peering through her hair, nose accusingly pointed in Cedric’s direction.

She proceeds in silence, unless addressed.
elegiaque: (125)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2024-05-16 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
The infirmary, she decides, is preferable; she can make this Stephen's problem and she can make virtue of preference by making sure she takes this news to Niehaus before someone else does while she's on her way to figuring out where to start digging up everything they can feasibly find out from here about knights of the sun. Sounds like the sort of thing people who have no meaningful cause commit themselves to, she thinks, uncharitably.

Cedric is bleeding. There is not much thinner her mouth can get.

“Keep the dog under control,” she says, flat enough that the absence of threatened consequence doesn't mean she hasn't got any in mind, and jerks her chin at Guilfoyle, who correctly interprets this as an instruction to walk at Herian's elbow and not hers.

There's no threat in his affect, beyond that he is an unavoidably unsettling presence; on the contrary, it's clear from the way he falls in step with her that he expects to be there to accommodate if holding a wriggling corgi makes any part of this journey challenging, particularly as the fact of an open wound on her face might well mean aches and disorientation in and of itself. That it's also an open discouragement of anyone trying to accompany them is a side benefit rather than the outright purpose.

Gwenaëlle catches Cedric's elbow, “Don't think I've forgotten how many knocks to the head you've taken recently. You're going to the infirmary as well.”
dashing: (pic#14737546)

oof sorry, I thought I’d replied

[personal profile] dashing 2024-05-16 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
I know not.

( She thinks. Has they specified, and she forgotten? Unlikely, when the order was simple. )

I used to work with Diplomacy. The instructions did not specify, but it was indicated that they wished for my presence to cause distress.

( Perhaps that was why she lingered here, rather than approaching any of the locations she knew to house - or to have housed previously - appropriate offices. The awareness that her past self would not wish to inflict distress upon those that has known her, hindering her progress. )

The Knights of the Midnight Sun, serah. Templars whose ties to the Chantry are severed, it seemed.
dissolving: (pic#16989693)

slaps a bow on unless there's anything you guys wanna do

[personal profile] dissolving 2024-05-16 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'll keep an eye on her,"

Will pass for agreement. Not about to argue when she sounds like that, can wash out the bite while they check her head -

Thinks of those names again: Niehaus, Seershaw, Sabine,

A sidelong glance; they won't be news to Gwen. She catches his elbow. He folds a hand over it, squeezes light before releasing.

At least it’s a short walk back.
inmycare: (Blacks and bays)

[personal profile] inmycare 2024-05-16 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, we can't have that. What happened just before the bite? Recently, or either time, really?
dashing: (♛ leth-chothrom.)

[personal profile] dashing 2024-05-17 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
The first time was—

( A pause, squinting as she tries to recall. The memories are messy and disjointed. )

The Rite of Tranquility. He bit two Templars in the struggle.

( Franklin whines and noses at her leg, and she leans down to gently scratch behind his ears. )

Circumstances were far more favourable to him barely two weeks ago.

( No regret or sorrow. Only the facts. )
inmycare: (they should never take so long)

[personal profile] inmycare 2024-05-20 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Well. It sounds like that was a moment of extraordinary stress, so not necessarily a sign of anything wrong on its own.

[To Franklin:] Quite a few of us snap when we're upset. Isn't that right, old man?

[Looking back up to Herian, he asks,] What happened this most recent time? Was there another struggle of some kind?
iamfree: (Run like a river)

Evan "Buck" Buckley | 911 | Rifter

[personal profile] iamfree 2024-05-21 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
I. Arrival – Outside of Kirkwall

[So Buck has questions. Many questions, actually. What is that green portal thing he just fell out of? Why is there a sliver of green something that kind of glows like the portal thing that spit him out embedded in his right hand? But probably the most important question on his mind right now is: is that a sentient molten lava creature and is it heading straight for him? (It is, in fact, heading straight for him.)]

Shit.

[He, of course, doesn’t have any of his gear, given that, before this, he was still at the hospital for Maddie’s wedding. And from what he can tell, he seems to be in the middle of some kind of forest, without any easy access to water that he can see. But he does have his blue hoodie, and that’s not nothing, at least.

So he does what any reasonable firefighter would do when confronted by what seems like a magical creature intent on killing him and also trying to avoid thinking too hard about all of the magic surrounding him right now: he sheds his hoodie, holds it out in front of him, and charges at the molten lava creature.]


I don’t know what you are but I’ve totally got this!

II. Kirkwall – Low Town

[Buck still has questions, after arriving in Kirkwall and getting the whole speech about Riftwatch. He feels more than just lost; he feels entirely out of his element. What do you mean he’s now in a place called Thedas that seems like something out of a mediaeval fantasy? What do you mean magic is real, and demons are real, and both are especially dangerous? Part of him is curious but mostly the rest of him is struggling to keep up.

He finds himself in an area of Kirkwall known as Low Town, in what looks like some kind of open market area. He has no money, but he finds himself drawn to various stalls and booths anyway, studying the different baubles, trinkets, and wow, this stall sure does have a whole lot of daggers, knives, and swords.

He knows he sticks out; he can feel various eyes on him, and he wonders if he’ll even notice if someone tries and picks his admittedly empty pockets.

He’s got this, he tells himself, taking a quick, deep breath. He can do this.

He turns to the person standing next to him at a both and decides to at least strike up a conversation.]


So…you come here often?

[Well, he rationalizes after those words leave his mouth, it’s not the worst thing he’s ever said.]

III. Wildcard

[If you want a different starter, DM at Buck’s journal/let me know! Buck is coming from after episode 7x06, “There Goes the Groom.”]
dissolving: (pic#16989694)

i - pls feel free to change around the action in this however suits ur tag

[personal profile] dissolving 2024-05-21 06:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Well, fuck.

The rage demon barrels towards him in roiling, molten bulk. This close, the heat scalds lung, eye, lips; a familiar, furnace blast. Buck charges. The demon roars, lifts its dripping limbs before the strike,

And something smashes into his side: Two bodies tumble, the hard punch of steel-on-flesh-on-dirt skittering them both into a ditch. Farther up the hill, grass ignites in the demon's lumbering path. This clearing is a tinderbox, the canopy already summer-dry.
]

Your hand, [ Cedric bellows, lifting his own. ] The rift. Focus on it,

[ Pointing (like that means anything) to the portal. Then he’s up and running, bizarre in a knight’s armor and drawn blade. If he intends to apologize for that flying left tackle,

Well, it’s gonna have to wait. The Rift sparks with a discordance that resonates in the Anchor, hums against bone. Calling. A shimmer tears free of it, light stretching into an almost-human shape. As it stretches ethereal towards the treeline, the spirit sights Buck: Its face flickering into the brief impression of -

Something, someone familiar.
]
iamfree: (But I'm not fine at all)

Let me know if I misread that tackle!

[personal profile] iamfree 2024-05-22 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Buck rolls into the dirt, startled, but he manages to pick himself up quickly, years spent fighting fires and disasters coming in handy for whatever sort of situation this...is. He stares for a moment, hearing something about his hand and the rift, before understanding dawns on him and he nods. He also doesn't miss the grass catching fire around them. Shit, he thinks to himself. Well, he can only put out one fire at a time, he figures.]

Got it!

[Buck turns and aims his right hand, the one with the sliver of green in it, at the glowing green portal, rift, apparently, in the sky.

But as he tries to focus on the rift, Buck's attention catches on what at first looks like some kind of spirit but as he stares at the shape, he realizes that he's looking at...]


Maddie? Is that you?

[His concentration breaks, and he starts running toward the being he assumes to be his sister.]
laruetheday: (we'll ask Powerpoint.)

ii

[personal profile] laruetheday 2024-05-22 03:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ Clarisse doesn't come here often, especially not now that there's a tavern (not as well-supplied, sure, but that doesn't bother her) just a handful of steps outside her own front door. Or... tent flap, for now. But sometimes getting away from the Gallows is what she needs, so she'll cycle through the taverns in Lowtown, avoiding any she's gotten into trouble in within the past several months.

Currently she's slouched in a booth, nursing a whiskey that's supposed to be infused with cinnamon but tastes mostly like it's been infused with dracolisk pee. She isn't intending to talk to anyone, and so far that's been going to plan. Until—

At the sound of a question next to her, she looks over, taking in the question asker with a furrowing of her eyebrows. She straightens up from the slouch. ]


Are you serious right now?
sprent: (grandma the water)

II

[personal profile] sprent 2024-05-22 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
To... the market? Or this stall?

(The one that has a whole lot of daggers, knives and swords?

Gela is actually waiting patiently to get toward the neighbour of this stall, one that bears colourful fabric and nice spools of thread and wool, a very good stall that is currently over-attended to by a crowd of people all determined to stand there, stroke the wares and refuse to get out of the way. That's why she is here. By the knives.)


If it's the latter: no. Why? Do you need help with picking something out?
dissolving: (listen)

all good! <3

[personal profile] dissolving 2024-05-22 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ Her face ripples, for a second near enough human. It's too weak to hold, shuddering into flickers of emerald, the ghost of a figure; poorly-sketched.

The shadow of a hand reaches for Buck, fingers forming and falling away: Five, three, seven. They close for his throat, pass through clean. The thing screams. It can't seem to touch him - not truly -

Halfway across the clearing, ozone cuts sharp; the burning creature shrinking before a blade blazing white. For the moment, Cedric's preoccupied.

Not-Maddie draws back, driving again at Buck, trying to drive him from the rift.
]
Edited (i dont know what words mean) 2024-05-22 04:33 (UTC)
favoriteanalyst: (cause they're not worth fighting)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2024-05-22 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah. Yeah, I can see why it'd cause distress. [If she was here previously, not muted in her abilities (and, arguably, personality). The smile vanishes.] Which means if that's the reason you were sent, then these Knights are no friends of ours.

[Shame, really. Templars broken off from the Chantry would be useful. But not if they're the kind who decided to take matters into their own hands and have kept doing so for years.] Did they make any demands, entreat you to deliver any messages beyond your own self? [He makes a motion as he speaks, a wave of his arm to follow him.] I think your first stop no matter what you were told, serah, should be to the healers. Doesn't look like they were interested in making sure your brand didn't get infected.
brennvin: (pic#16933844)

i

[personal profile] brennvin 2024-05-23 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ Really, she’s got to respect the balls.

Being unceremoniously plunged into any perilous situation, ‘run directly at it’ is usually Astrid’s M.O. — she knew more than a few men like that back in the mountains, and her brother had undertaken his own share of absolutely batshit stupid reckless daredevilry — but this, right here, with that molten fire demon ahead of them, is probably not actually a good idea.
]

What the fuck are you doing!? [ Astrid shouts, trying to derail the rifter. He’s strangely-dressed, his sweater a far brighter blue than she’s used to seeing: crisp machine-woven fabric, artificial dyes, a glimmer from another world. The tallish woman with unruly braided blonde hair is running between the trees, down the forest slope towards the new arrival and the demon, trying to reach them in time. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she hollers: ]

Is it an enchanted shirt??
iamfree: (I am an alien)

[personal profile] iamfree 2024-05-25 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
[Buck has plenty of regrets in his life, but he's mostly learned to live with those by now. But he sure does wish he could take back those words that just left his mouth right now when the woman straightens up and asks if he's serious right now. Well, he thinks to himself, it's probably impressive that he hasn't managed to piss off too many people just yet.

He offers an awkard flash of a grin and hopes he doesn't come off like a jerk.]


Sorry, I was trying to think of something to say and uh, the worst possible combination of words just left my mouth? Didn't mean to intrude if you're looking to be left alone. I'm still trying to figure this place out.
iamfree: (But we gonna raise hell anyway)

[personal profile] iamfree 2024-05-25 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
The market in general, I guess? But maybe also this stall?

[There is no way to make any of this any less awkward, so he might as well lean into the awkwardness, and maybe he'll stumble into being charming somewhere along the way. He can hope, at least.

When she asks if he needs help picking something out, Buck shakes his head.]


Ah, no. I'm just...kind of browsing? Or window shopping, technically since I don't have any money. I'm trying to learn the lay of the land, you know?
iamfree: (You'll lose your mind)

<3

[personal profile] iamfree 2024-05-25 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
[Buck blinks, and suddenly Maddie's face is...not Maddie's face, and he stumbles as he tries to prevent himself from running into whatever creature this not!Maddie happens to be, but instead, he runs right into it. Or, rather, the creature reaches for him, but seems to pass through him. The screaming seeps into Buck's bones, and he winces as he pulls back.

Of course, the creature follows him, and it's at that moment Buck realizes that this creature is trying to keep him from getting to the rift itself.

Glancing over at the other man, Buck thinks he should figure this out himself. He still has his hoodie, he realizes. It probably won't prove any more effective against this creature than the giant lava molten creature, but that doesn't mean Buck can't try.

In a quick movement, Buck throws his hoodie at the creature, hoping for a few moments of distraction. That being done, he turns and aims his right hand at the rift, hoping he's doing this right.

He turns his head to Cedric briefly.]
Like this, yeah?
iamfree: (Following the seasons)

[personal profile] iamfree 2024-05-25 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
[Buck turns when he hears another voice, and his eyes widen.]

Uh, trying to put out the fire...monster...thing?

[Look, it sounds better in his head than saying it out loud. Most things usually do, given his tendency to sometimes choke on his own foot. Something, something, it's a gift, and all of that.

Still, when he catches sight of the woman who called out to him, he realizes that maybe he should pay attention to her and not, you know, pull his usual daredevil firefighter routine towards a creature that he's still trying to process even existing.

And then she asks if his shirt is enchanted, and, man, does he have questions.]


No?

[A pause.]

Should it be?

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