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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: (200)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2024-12-08 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
At no previous point in this conversation has Gwenaëlle been particularly off-put. Frustrated, baffled, groping in the dark to figure out what version of her Calpernia is disagreeing with in her head, yes; prepared, on the face of what she appears to be, to try and be patient with someone who probably has good reason to react harshly to someone who looks and sounds like Gwenaëlle does.

But that little uptick of sweetness earns wariness that nothing else had. Throughout this entire exchange, her only interest has been in tactics; that doesn’t change now, she’s just suddenly foreseen an immediate future where she actually has to engage with the difficult part and briefly considers just trying her luck with the rift on her own to avoid it.

“We’re the only people closing rifts,” she says, just this side of pointed.
foramen: (scutum)

[personal profile] foramen 2024-12-08 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
That's the only throughline she needed. Calpernia would prefer to avoid trying to walk to Kirkwall without any aid, and submit herself to Riftwatch's judgement like a peasant. She nods, curt, and turns toward the treeline of a forest over a sloped hill. "How fortunate," Calpernia says. "The rift is that way. There's a ridge I can conduct myself on, if you can keep yourself out of imminent danger while I climb it."

One may reach the conclusion that condescension has been baked into her over the course of years. One may also just shrug and decide she's just a bitch. Both are, invariably, true.
elegiaque: (197)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2024-12-08 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
Gwenaëlle could not be more transparently relieved that that’s the extent of that conversation—

and, by its tone a genuine question: “Is that the sum total of information you’re planning to share about it?”

For a cunt notoriously disinterested in what other people think of her, this is honestly just the normal conversation she was hoping to have in the first place.
foramen: (verberabilissime)

[personal profile] foramen 2024-12-08 05:29 am (UTC)(link)
Calpernia decides she's not going to exert any more energy toward trying to gauge this woman's motives or judge her. Maybe she's used to being judged and weighed, maybe not; it doesn't matter. Withdrawing is a kind of release. Calpernia realizes she needs to better remember what it was like not to be a general, a leader. She's just anybody, now. She hates it, but she is.

So she answers, voice flat, "what else do you want to know?"
elegiaque: (008)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2024-12-08 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
It is entirely possible, Gwenaëlle thinks, that this woman has heard about one word in three of everything she’s said and filled the rest in with hon hon hon frilly baguette. Sufficiently possible that she doesn’t bother reminding her she’d already asked (probably serving only to ruffle her already puffed up feathers), but simply repeats, prompting,

“The landscape around the rift. So we’ve got a ridge— tree cover? Uneven ground, wide flat space, anything nearby?” To either keep in mind or to make use of. The nearest settlement’s further out, and probably if there were anyone nearby then Livia wouldn’t have been alone when she’d come upon a fire, so at least they likely don’t have to worry about hysterical civilians.

(Or they’re dead. She should have died, nearly a decade ago in a broken carriage, a thousand times more helpless than she is today.)

“We might have to make do with keeping the demons too occupied to focus on singular targets,” is thinking aloud, the likelihood of this fight ending up a bunch of people who aren’t exactly plate-wearing siege engines, something for Livia to factor in as well with where she places herself. “Scatter, distract. It’ll be faster if I don’t have to wait for the field to clear.”

Riskier, too, but if back up means a sprint rather than a marathon, that sounds better for what it looks like the state of Livia’s stamina might be.
mournwitch: (thedathenais414)

b.

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-09 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
Publia is not, exactly, in Athénaïs’s charge. Which is to say: she’s not at all in Athénaïs’s charge, but there’s a distinct difference between Tevene defector we can’t trust yet and the Mourn Watch vouched for this one. She, too, is not yet officially entangled enough to have her own crystal and unfettered access to the Crossroads; she does have sufficient cachet with the organisation that the need for their official accompaniments to step out and respond to an urgent crystal message hadn’t been enough of an emergency to warrant ushering Publia out as well.

And she’s sort of curious to see how this goes.

“Hang on,” she says, easy, not reaching out for Publia’s arm because she worked too hard on her eyeliner this morning to waste it taking a backhand from a stroppy vint. “Take this,” she says, loosing a coin purse from her hip and sliding it across the table. “If it looks like you’ve been at it already, you’ll do better.”

She doesn’t expect to get that money back, but that’s fine. It wasn’t hers yesterday.
aberratic: (𝟏𝟒𝟔.)

[personal profile] aberratic 2024-12-09 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
"That depends on what you mean by promising," because Ness is not self-absorbed enough to think everything of interest to her would carry the same value to others. "I've found interesting diaries, accounts of battles, record books lifted from towns and villages lost to Venatori or blight."

She lists these while scrutinizing the shelf in front of her, though nothing really catches her attention. On a shelf above, though—an interesting spine catches her eye, gold leaf peeling off aged leather. Ness raises herself on her tiptoes to try to get a better look at it, but at 5'2" she's just too short, and she rocks back down onto her heel with an annoyed huff.

"Haven't found anything older than this age, yet. Where's the ladder, this is ridiculous—"
verminius: (Default)

vandren verminius | native oc

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-12 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
1. QARINUS

“You’re short.”

Two men at the end of the dock, one in simple merchant’s cloth and the other in soldier's regalia, robes and armor and staff agleam in the low early light. A captain, from the look of it, or some other rank of middling consequence, shaking dregs of coin about the bottom of the open purse he has in hand.

The rest of his detachment is nowhere to be seen. Investigating enemies of the Imperium elsewhere this morning, it seems.

“I’m good for it.”

“Hmm.”

There’s a docked boat bumping gently against the buoys beside them, low in the water and strangely still amidst the great bustle of fisherman and merchants and sailors making ready before dawn. It’s not a very large boat -- room for a dozen or so refugees below deck if they were, say, packed into large crates with holes drilled in them.

Verminius turns to look at it, a contemplative tilt to the crest of his helmet.

For just a moment, there’s an opening: his back turned to land, and the handful of crew standing anxiously by for the go ahead to unload.

2. A BATTLE

It’s been a very run-of-the-mill clash in the field for whatever conflict this is over the past ten years: bloodcurdling screams and shouted orders and the ozone crack of magic. Gore on the grass, bodies caked with dirt, blades on shields etc etc etc until the howling shriek of something larger and more terrible pierces the air. Demon, dragon, or darkspawn -- it’s hard to say.

The energy in the scuffle goes slack; the fighting peters. A few heads turn.

Near the front, a vint with scythes bolts from the field.

In closer quarters, Verminius lowers his staff, raised as it was with murderous intent, and proposes very politely through the muffle of his helmet:

“Truce?”

3. I FREW UP

A rustle, a hiss of cloth over cloth, a shape in the night.

A man crouched in your tent when you wake.

“Hello,” he whispers. “Your watchman fell asleep.”
Edited 2024-12-12 06:35 (UTC)
altusimperius: (ofuck)

3

[personal profile] altusimperius 2024-12-12 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
Fucking Lazar—-

A high-pitched gasp acts as prelude to the tent’s occupant folding in on himself like a jackknife, immediately throwing out his hand to cast a little glowing barrier around his bedroll.

“What the fuck,” he squeaks, whispering only because he can’t seem to find his voice.
dissolving: (pic#17253560)

2

[personal profile] dissolving 2024-12-12 06:50 am (UTC)(link)
Fuck that —

He might articulate, were his shield not lifted, veins not afire; braced to step into the blow and slash for the soft strap of armor joints, as in any other day and battle.

Fuck you — another top contender, were that shriek not followed by the thunderous flap of wings. Hair prickles, lifts; the smell storm gone sharper, seconds before lightning bolts through the air. Private Scythes fries like a spit lizard. Cedric's looking at it, which would be a great time to brain him with a spell,

"Yep," Everyone's looking at it. It's a fucking dragon. "Run."
Edited 2024-12-12 06:51 (UTC)
verminius: (Default)

:3

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-12 07:13 am (UTC)(link)
A second barrier flinches to life, an answering sheen of blue that muddles what little light there is pinched between them into a swirling film. Difficult to see much at all between them in this tight of a space.

“Don’t get excited.”

His reproach peaks just above a whisper, pressing for civility.

“Who are you with?”
altusimperius: (the fuq)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2024-12-12 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
An incredulous twitch-- wait, why do you get a barrier-- and it's enough to take the still sleep-addled Benedict out of the moment of adrenaline.

"What?" you can't just ask someone who they're with
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man strikes a pose that suggests he's about to lecture helpfully (Professor)

Emmrich Volkarin | Canon Character (warning for Veilguard content)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-12 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[OOC: Obviously everything here has to be a little flexible as this is before Veilguard and the mod call on how Veilguard will be implemented, but I wanted to start to get a grasp of how he'd fit into this universe.]

I. Library (alone)

Genitivi, Genitivi, and look, Genitivi.

[A very tall, greying, thin man (who is obviously a mage, because a skull with green sparks spilling out of the top of a staff is pretty distinct) runs his fingers about an inch from the spines of shelved books, sounding slightly disappointed. His multiple golden bracelets jingle as he pulls down one of the books that has seemingly let him down. Emmrich looks around as he tucks it under his arm.]

Excuse me. Are you familiar with any works by local authors regarding the veil and Fade here? Papers? Books? Or do you have any personal familiarity with the situation?

[The book he's pulled down, oddly enough, is not about the Free Marches. It's about Nevarra.]


II. Nevarra (with Manfred)

[Perhaps your character got lost. Perhaps they deliberately wandered off from the group meeting Johanna and Lukas. Either way, they've found their way to where Emmrich is working along with several ambulatory skeletons, one of which, Manfred, has emeralds for eyes and a unique-looking backpack. The other skeletons are clearing debris, while Emmrich and Manfred kneel over a human corpse with a crushed skull.]

You'd think they'd learn,

[Emmrich says with a sigh. Manfred the skeleton hisses in agreement.]

There is no loot worth one's life, and--ah.

[He's caught sight of your character.]

Can I assist you?


III. Book

These are truly incredible.

Hello, Riftwatch! I'm Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch. I am a scholar of the Fade, and was informed that my studies and research could be of use to you.

I'd like to ask what you would have liked to know before joining. What would be helpful to know that may not be part of the official brief?



IV: Wildcard

[ooc: Toss me a thing? Let me know if you want Manfred or not, though anywhere outside the Gallows or Nevarra poses a risk to Manfred.]
mournwitch: (thedathenais449)

book.

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-13 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
Small world, Professor Volkarin, although I suspect you were encouraged here in a different tone than I was. Athénaïs Tavarys, more errant Mourn Watch and likewise recent arrival.
aberratic: (𝟐𝟎𝟖.)

i

[personal profile] aberratic 2024-12-13 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ the young woman he's turned to blinks up at him, owlish, startled by the sudden attention. she recovers quickly though, and glances to the book in his hand. ]

Well, [ ness says, depositing her own two books on the runed slab hovering at her side, ] you haven't given me very many specifics to work with.

[ though like any good librarian, she is undeterred. she begins scanning the shelves, pulling books down, checking spines—one she pulls down, looks at his staff, then purses her lips and puts away again. at the end of her hunt, she has a tidy stack of books cradled in the crook of her arm. ]

These are all the books on the Fade by local authors that I could think of—at least, ones that were a bit more advanced, it doesn't seem like you need basic theory. I went with Marcher-local, not just Kirkwall, but if you want just Kirkwall you only need the bottom two, the academic scene here was... stunted, I guess you could say.

[ what with meredith's draconian iron fist preventing the mages of the gallows from doing anything interesting.

she holds the stack out to him, smiling. did she do good?
]
corpsestuff: (Conspiring)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-13 02:29 am (UTC)(link)
Perhaps so.

[Definitely so. He's not entirely certain this Tavarys graduated.]

Well met, Athénaïs Tavarys. How do you find matters here?

[How are they about necromancy specifically, he'd love to ask, but he will not do so publicly.]
mournwitch: (thedathenais327)

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-13 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
( athaliah wishes the problem with her sister was just not applying herself. the gossip, of course, disagrees in seventeen different directions. )

Nevarra's surprisingly well represented, for a start. I'd have thought Thevenet would have put them right off.

( there's no call to be rude about benevenuta, it's just fun. )
verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-13 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
“Who are you here with?”

Verminius shifts his weight with a grunt, and an audible creak at one knee. The beat of quiet that follows is laced with impatience.

“The March? The Qunari?”
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man holds a bleached skull in his hand with a pensive expression (Yorick)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-13 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
[Stunted is a very polite word for it, and a wise choice as it says nothing of her opinion either way. The look at his staff hadn't seemed negative, at least. Emmrich nods his head to her.]

Thank you.

[She clearly works here and is competent. Emmrich considers offering back the top ones as he takes the stack, but other Marches could provide greater insight after he finished the Kirkwall-specific ones.]

I apologize for casting the net wide; I didn't expect there to be many options, considering past events.

[He sets the stack of books down on a handy table and holds out his hand.]

Professor Emmrich Volkarin. I am indeed a little past basic theory, though when it comes to the Fade, basic theory is ever-shifting.
aberratic: (𝟏𝟑𝟓.)

[personal profile] aberratic 2024-12-13 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
Perfectly understandable, given the givens!

[ which is where ness thought they'd leave things, so she's turned halfway back to her hoverboard when the professor holds out his hand—she's not used to making friends over books. she blinks at him again, then hastily takes his hand and shakes it. her hands are a little cold, but her smile is warm. ]

Quartermaster Ennaris Tavane, [ working at riftwatch, yes, but not as a librarian! ] how do you do, Professor? I didn't know we had any visiting academics coming, I would have helped welcome you. What do you teach?
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man strikes a pose that suggests he's about to lecture helpfully (Professor)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-13 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
I'm unfamiliar with the name, but every country has its wide array of personalities. You cannot judge them by one or even two examples.

I am surprised that there are a few of us here. Are many mages?
corpsestuff: (Mischief; Fondness)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-13 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
Quartermaster, [he echoes with a squeeze of her hand; his own hand is as warm as his voice. It's good to meet the backbones of any operation early, and quartermasters absolutely filled that role.]

And not to worry, not to worry at all. I don't need anything in the way of fuss. I'm an expert in the Fade and spirits, and lecture on them primarily.

[Hence the books. He has other specialties as well, but everywhere other than Nevarra can be somewhat tense about death and necromancy. It's tricky to figure out how and when to introduce such things, but he may be here for some time. A testing of the mood may be in order.]

I cover other classes at the Necropolis when the need arises; I've worked there for some time.
mournwitch: (thedathenais380)

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-13 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
( she reads the first part, irresistibly, in her sister's reproachful voice. small wonder athaliah admires him so much, she thinks, not immediately charitably to either of them. )

And Templars, and neither. A veritable cross section, you might say.
aberratic: (𝟏𝟏𝟔.)

[personal profile] aberratic 2024-12-13 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
The Necropolis—you're Mortalitasi?

[ ness sounds excited, not apprehensive at all, and her smile only grows wider. ]

I know someone who'd love to meet you! Our Head Healer, Doctor Strange—he's not strictly a necromancer himself, I don't think, but he's always seemed to have a fascination with the practice. He'll be so excited to pick your mind!

[ which, hang on, to clarify: ] I'm also excited, of course. Not specifically about the necromancy, though not not about that, but—

[ she gives a breathless huff of a laugh, rolling her eyes at herself and her own inability to finish a sentence. slowly, deliberately, she starts over. ]

I'm very interested in spirits, both in theory and practically. In my previous life, we didn't have anything like them!
corpsestuff: (Mischief; Fondness)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-13 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
One might.

[He would not. That was entirely imprecise unless a great many other groups were represented. To have anything approaching even a 'veritable' cross section of any population would require dozens upon dozens of Nevarrans, if not hundreds.]

Would you say anything specific was difficult to adapt to?
Edited 2024-12-13 04:56 (UTC)

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