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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.

amaizing: (ah!)

[personal profile] amaizing 2023-08-30 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
Finally! Someone with sense! Lia briefly glances with interest at the tattoo on Astrid's face and leans in to discuss.

"It was far too high in the air to be another ship, unless ships can be four or five times taller than the one we're in." She doesn't rule this out.

"But it's much more likely it's something in the air. I suppose it could be land, but that would mean we were very off course because we're not supposed to have reached land yet. The crew is very rude but do seem to know what they're doing."

Lia then rolls her eyes as if in revenge.

"I don't suppose it could be our colleagues on griffons?" She doesn't sound confident.
amaizing: (yes of course)

[personal profile] amaizing 2023-08-30 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
Lia links arms with Barrow as if this was an invitation and nods once at his decision. Just so.

"It does seem like the more exciting looking people are going that way."

She leans into him.

"You are very large. Does it take an awful lot of drinks for them to affect you? Do you drink often? Have you gotten into fights? You seem like someone who might get into fights. I bet you win them. Is it very far where we're going?"

She'll keep asking questions. You better interrupt her, Barrow.
thereneverwas: (my bad)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2023-08-30 06:27 am (UTC)(link)
Not entirely loving the way she leans into him, Barrow laughs again to disguise his discomfort-- it's all right, he'll probably never see her again after this.

"As the most exciting person of all, I'm glad to hear you say that," he remarks, and is about to open his mouth to answer one of her questions when he is, instead, barraged with more of them.
He could try to talk over her, or tell her to be quiet, but after several moments of deliberation he decides instead to just let his mind wander. It's late summer, there's a light breeze, the air doesn't smell too intensely of sewage, what's not to enjoy about a little stroll?
Edited 2023-08-30 06:27 (UTC)
amaizing: (ah!)

[personal profile] amaizing 2023-08-30 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Lia after a few moments realizes he hasn't answered and circles back to what he did say.

"Most exciting? Oh, do tell me why!"

She gazes up into his face giving what can only be described as puppy dog eyes. Who could deny that face?
brennvin: (pic#16621922)

[personal profile] brennvin 2023-08-31 03:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Astrid’s face has been a little impassive and stony, all of her attention fixed on maintaining stubborn composure, but now a kind of fleeting alarm crosses her expression. “Not in this storm. Birds hate this sort of weather,” she says slowly, measured. Griffons aren’t exactly birds, but it’s close enough, no? They’ve got feathers. Her fingers tighten and flex on the mug, wondering what in the world could be out in the sky in this storm.

She’s never seen one herself, but she’s heard tales from Riftwatch’s experiences with Tevinter —

Uttered with the sort of superstitious wariness which jumps to the worst case scenario: “Do you think it could be a dragon?”

Our Lady of the Skies, please let it not be a dragon.
thereneverwas: (Default)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2023-08-31 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Not Barrow, certainly. His time with Riftwatch, and more notably with Wysteria, has equipped him well for situations like this.

"Well," he muses cheerfully, "butchered a sea monster with my bare hands, have endured countless days of torture and misery, fell off a griffon from a great height and lived, and just the other day came back to life after being dead for." He pauses, his eyes glazing over momentarily, "a while." It's no big deal. We don't have to dig into it.

"And I'm devilishly handsome, of course."
amaizing: (sly)

[personal profile] amaizing 2023-09-04 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Lia's warm smiles flickers slightly at this comment about being dead, but only a moment. She glances at his facial features, indeed handsome, and more importantly no tells that he is lying to her. Her mind races through several possibilities.

"Do you mean you were poisoned? Or--concussed?"

They walk past a particularly seedy looking venue. She squeezes his strong arm affectionately.

"Oh, can we go in there? It looks positively dreadful!"
amaizing: (shock)

[personal profile] amaizing 2023-09-04 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)
A dragon! Wouldn't that be a sight! Lia's eyes widen and takes in a short breath.

"Do you suppose that it could be? I have never seen a dragon, so it isn't a complete guarantee that it is. It was just a shadow very high up. But, a dragon is an excellent hypothesis--" She realizes she doesn't know her name. "What did you say your name was?" No matter.

"What other things might indicate that it was a dragon?" A hypothesis needs testing!
thereneverwas: (my bad)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2023-09-05 06:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"No," Barrow says simply, pleasantly: not poisoned or concussed. Dead. But he doesn't elaborate, because she's already onto something else.

"How eager are you to poison yourself, my lady?" he asks in the same level tone. He could go either way, really.
amaizing: (coy)

[personal profile] amaizing 2023-09-07 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
"A curious question from a dead man."

She responds, uncertain if it's a threat or an invitation nor which would be more fun.

"I can handle my corn whiskey if that's what you're asking."

She pauses, tilts her head, and waits.
thereneverwas: (chat)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2023-09-07 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
"That's not what I'm asking at all," he replies frankly, "I'm asking how well you can handle your... variety of ales, liquors and backwash combined into one communal pitcher and redistributed."
Edited 2023-09-07 19:56 (UTC)
brennvin: (pic#16584508)

[personal profile] brennvin 2023-09-08 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
The woman says something, a name accented with heavy Avvar inflection — Ástríður — but then pauses and reconsiders. “Astrid,” simplified. “New. You?”

New to Riftwatch, that is, and evidently still finding her sea legs here in several different ways. When called upon to hypothesise on dragons, Astrid looks contemplative again. This ain’t in her field of expertise, but fuck it:

“They’ve not got feathers, do they? Won’t get water-logged, and rain like this’d just roll off the scales or leathery skin or whatever. Could fly through this storm where something else couldn’t, maybe.” Her expression is thoughtful. This topic is helpfully distracting her from her queasy, topsy-turvy stomach.

“I’ve never seen one though, so fuck if I know. I did think I killed a small dragon once but it was just a very big gurgut.”
bribon: (Default)

desidério amanza | native oc

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-11 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
THE SEA.
Once, when Desidério was a boy, he took passage on a ship all the way from Antiva City to Val Royeaux. It had been him and two other boys—Sacristán and Vels, those ravenous dogs—, and they'd spent the whole of the summer doing their very best to either be gut from nose to navel in duels, or to fuck in similar proportion, all preferably without entirely ruining the reputation of Vels' very Orlesian cousin. Not on Desi's accounts, Maker no. It would've taken four or five generations of Amanza money to send their boy around in that kind of style. But he has long had a habit of finding himself in strange places, under odd circumstances, taking advantage of a certain kind of hospitality to which he isn't entirely entitled.

Take this hat for example. It's not his, but he's puking into it anyway.

Had the sea been this bad when he was a boy, and his stomach had just been more fit? Or maybe the season had been very different, and the winds simply lighter. Or maybe he can blame the food (miserable), or the drinking water (unpleasantly slimy). Regardless, this is the second straight day of this up and down and side to side nonsense, and it is coincidentally the second straight day of his being nauseated beyond what is humane. He has actively been considering whether one of the ship's ballista might be turned straight down and shot through the bottom of the deck. Sinking and drowning would be preferable at this point, and it would console his injured pride a little if he were to arrange to take everyone else on the ship down with him.

"There's a prison ship anchored in Rialto Bay that I've never much understood the threat of until now."

THE CITY.
Two hours ago, the Lowtown gambling house had been doing a very good impression of the more prestigious kind of establishment which might be found higher in the city. Now, the fire that had been set in it had burned so hot and so fast that it's little more than smoldering campfire. At some point, the bucket brigade attempting to put the gaming house out and had instead turned their attention to safeguarding the neighboring buildings in the hope that the blaze would simply chew its way through the last vestiges of the parlor and decide to be finished.

In the way of most disasters that are slightly under control, a large crowd has gathered to watch while the Kirkwall Guard makes paltry efforts at discouraging stray embers from floating off an wreaking havoc elsewhere. Sat on the crowded window sill of the pawn broker nearly opposite the smoldering remains, Desidério Amanza is considering finding a better view. He's a slight man, and if the crowd grows any thicker, it seems unlikely he'll have much of a view when the second story collapses in on itself—an event he has some money riding on, and so should be monitored with some care.

But doing so would involve releasing the sullen orphan he presently has in a headlock, and it's in everyone's best interests to avoid that.

"You could at least let me sit on your shoulders, Messere," the little boy, who is maybe a large seven or a very small ten says. Difficult to say with grubby orphans. "I could narrate the proceedings or what have you."

"And later find you've stolen a patch of hair off the back of my head? No," Desi says, amiably tightening the joint of his elbow. "We'll make do."

CRYSTAL.
[These wages are disappointingly shit for people who are meant to be saving the world from demons falling through little pinholes in the sky. Ergo:]

I've heard half of you recently died. I wager there's no one here who can take me in a fight either.
notathreat: (63)

Crystal;

[personal profile] notathreat 2023-09-11 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)
If you want to get your ass beat there's cheaper ways to do it.
prelest: (💅)

boat bc i know you want boat

[personal profile] prelest 2023-09-11 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Sitting off to his side, eating a bag of toffees she clearly brought with her, is a cheerfully (obnoxiously?) unaffected woman. It is not impossible that this woman is sitting near the vomiting man because the toffees are the only acceptable bit of food on this ship and she doesn't want to share.

"Well," she says, pragmatically, "I'd expect that a ship anchored in a bay sees a lot less weather. That's the point of bays, as I understand them. Not that I'm a sailor or anything, just - " A shrug, and she pops another candy into her mouth.
Edited 2023-09-11 22:56 (UTC)
bribon: ([092])

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-11 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)
So I'm wrong in saying a stack of you just finished eating Tevinter shit? My mistake. You should tell 'Doctor Stephen Strange' to update this report I'm reading.

[He's not reading it right now. But the point is he's done his homework.]
notathreat: (27)

[personal profile] notathreat 2023-09-11 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
You keep that shit up and you'll deserve what happens.
bribon: ([066])

bless u

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-11 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Maybe that's true. What the fuck does he know about ships, or the difference between a bay and the sea, and how a boat might behave in one versus the other? Let them talk about the Viverna and he might have one or two things to say.

—Although not at this moment. Right now, he would instead like to sincerely imagine a world in which he knows nothing about rivers, or canals, or canal boats, and maybe not even a single thing about the bridges that pass over them. In fact, take all water.out of the equation entirely. If he doesn't vomit himself into nothingness, he's going to drink only beer and wine for the rest of his days and die happy for it.

Desi straightens, cautiously crumpling the hat shut to avoid contemplating the contents of his stomach. Not that he can smell it. The whole ship stinks so terribly of sweat and salt and pitch.

"I'd prefer it if you were wrong."

Misery loves company, even the kind imagined in ankle chains.
prelest: (☠)

[personal profile] prelest 2023-09-11 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Her smile is a little incredulous and, well, a little amused. As a former resident of a prison ship - one thoroughly tossed by wind and sea - there's only so much charm that sentiment holds for her. But, well, even if it doesn't hold much, there's still some. Jerks can be pretty funny.

"I might be," she agrees. "Maybe the ships in the bay sway and pitch, and every day for dinner all they serve is stinky old herring, half-rotted, I'm sure it's rancid - "

- And the funniest part of jerks is that you feel completely justified in being a jerk right back to them.
bribon: ([008])

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-11 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
It's starting to sound like you might be broke and can't afford it either way.
bribon: ([027])

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-11 11:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Beside her, the narrow slip of a man—he really is quite petite in every direction, though the shape of his clothes and the way he's presently holding his elbows and has planted his feet in defiance of the healing ship somewhat minimizes that impression while sitting—opens his mouth with the intent to discourage her.

And then he closes it. And pauses for a long moment, squeamishly considering the crushed hat between his hands, before making do with a sidelong look and the kind of single held up finger that translates to Don't in nearly every language.
notathreat: (18)

[personal profile] notathreat 2023-09-11 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
It's Riftwatch. We're all broke, genius.
prelest: (👒)

[personal profile] prelest 2023-09-11 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
She smiles sweetly in response, and sucks on her toffee, and bats her eyelashes as she watches to see whether he's going to puke again.
bribon: ([066])

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-12 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
No wonder recruitment numbers are so low.
bribon: ([054])

[personal profile] bribon 2023-09-12 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
He is not going to throw up again. His stomach is perfectly empty, and steel enough besides not to be troubled by simply the mention of rancid stinking half pickled fish jiggling in the gel of its own rot, pearlescent white gobbets of mucus textured fat oozing up through the—what color is herring?—white flesh of the fish, and bursting under the teeth and across the tongue.

So anyway, when he has puked again and has folded the hat back between his hands, he says very genially (if one can be genial and so green) to her, "You might just kill me. It would be kinder."