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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.

verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-16 04:33 am (UTC)(link)
“Obviously.”

This is a Tevene voice disinclined to take responsibility for himself with no concept of fair pay.

“Do you think I could demand enough for you to make it worth the trouble?”

One must be open to opportunities as they present themselves in these trying times. Verminius sharpens focus to study Benedict as well as he can in the dark and through the barrier. Still.
altusimperius: (processing)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2024-12-16 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
A bitter laugh: "no. I don't." More likely the intruder would be paid off to get rid of Benedict forever, but that's not information he's going to just volunteer.

But even he isn't stupid enough to actually think that's why the dramatically hooded figure is here, so he bides his time, comfortable enough behind the barrier.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're looking for a job."
mournwitch: (thedathenais263)

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-16 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
“Who you are,” she prompts back, an eyebrow raised on the paler side of her forehead. “Though I’m drawing some of my own conclusions, I will say.”

The nature of this conversation being what it is. They’re being very civil with each other, one of them in armour and one of them not, both of them armed— and it’s a mistake to assume that every vint is a mage, Maker knows, but it’d be a stupider one to assume that he isn’t just because she can only see the blade.
mournwitch: (thedathenais484)

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-16 11:52 am (UTC)(link)
He’s politer than she is, though her pleasantly direct gaze is more measuring than immediately lascivious: it is a well established habit, by now, to take every advantage offered her. She isn’t going to fail to take in all the details she can about a person just because they’re naked and that’s weird. You’re weird. Don’t worry about it.

“Athénaïs Tavarys,” she introduces herself, settling close enough that they can pass the bottle between them without too much difficulty, and far enough that they’ve both got a reasonable amount of personal space in which to be publicly naked.

It’s a delicate balance.

“And this,” tilting the bottle, “certainly earns me an introduction in return, I reckon,” as she offers it to him. It’s not the first sip; she’s definitely been drinking already.
succise: <user name="chiffonnier"> (17465115)

[personal profile] succise 2024-12-16 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"I see."

She has not perfected the art of keeping her face carefully blank; an eyebrow rises. Think of all the people who would love to hear this happened and would repeat it salaciously until half or more of it was wrong—

"You'll be wanting the Gallows, then. I know the way. I'll take you."
extortionate: (pic#13310904)

imperial tavern;

[personal profile] extortionate 2024-12-17 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
Good news: His contact's here. Bad news: That contact's being thrown into the street.

Lazar staggers backward out the tavern door, one massive mitt still clinging to frame. There's a whole crowd on the other side, a good five or six hands shoving (one tiny fist beating insistently somewhere above his kidneys).

"Oh, fuck off," A glance over his shoulder, to the guy in the hood. "No one needs a lett–"

That's cut off as a lucky elbow finds his jaw.
Edited 2024-12-17 00:58 (UTC)
verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-17 07:52 am (UTC)(link)
“Well then no.” Reassuring, low. Mildly disappointed. Vandren Verminius isn’t planning to throw this mystery Altus(?) across the back of his dracolisk for a ransom. They only have to worry about surviving this one conversation with each other.

“This feels like progress, doesn’t it?” He reflects on the last few minutes of their relationship, here in this tent. “All the way back to the beginning.

“You could say that I’m considering my options.”
verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-17 08:19 am (UTC)(link)
It’s hard to say. He’s missing a finger, scarred at the lip, absent a tooth on one side near the back, but he doesn’t really hold himself with the discipline of a strictly martial combatant. He could be inebriated. He could simply be feeling his age.

It’s late, after all, and he’s far from his own bedroll.

“Fulfilling as the work is,” conquering and pillaging, murdering, blood sacrifice and the glory of Tevinter woven inextricably into the glory of an eight foot tall glowing bird man, “I confess I’ve had doubts of late.”

Just between the two of them. It’d be more fun with a bottle of wine to dish over.

“How did you find your way to them?”
mournwitch: (thedathenais347)

[personal profile] mournwitch 2024-12-17 08:57 am (UTC)(link)
Now, there’s a story that benefits from a wineskin and a friendlier campfire than this,

she’s got voices for the best bits and some well refined comic timing. She at least half-heartedly considers making the effort, here, either to keep her hand in or just to see what happens, but it hardly seems like the time to finesse her tight five.

“I was late of the Mourn Watch,” is a ballsy thing for her to say, all things considered including the fact that it’s not untrue, but since none of her colleagues past or present are in this tent to spit cheap wine into a crackling fire, she about gets away with it, “though not lately. I lent them my efforts as a favour to my sister, more recently. They were so thrilled with my work,”

drolly,

“that they encouraged me to offer my services to Riftwatch, ideally, not in Nevarra.”

And seeing as she’d been flirting with a southern noose immediately prior to that Nevarran favour,

well, she’d seen the sense in a beneficial outcome for all involved parties.
altusimperius: (srsly)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2024-12-17 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
A little scoff-- figures-- but Benedict accepts the answer without complaint. It is, in its way, comforting to see someone shift his priorities so visibly.

"Your options being... stay with the Venatori, or...?" He inclines his head slightly, arching an eyebrow.
verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-17 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
The end of a hissed “Maker’s anus--” thumped out of him by the abrupt shove of Cedric into his hidey-hole, the Vint is crumpled like a sandwich in the bottom of an over-full lunchbox and about as well-positioned to protest. His own (lighter) plate pokes here and there, mostly into his own ribs; he hardly has a chance to think about reneging and reaching for his dagger to make room before that shimmer of green overhead saves them both from being flattened.

Gravel lifts around them with the shock of the impact.

It gives him pause.

Not so much that he fails to track the fling of Cedric’s arm through the slats of his helmet

“Broken?” he shouts to inquire helpfully, and maybe a little hopefully. Someone else making for their shelter catches a slap of ice full to the face for their efforts, no-scoped into tumbling back downhill in a flash of Vandren’s staff. Hard to say whose side they were on.

No vacancy.
verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-18 09:26 am (UTC)(link)
“I’d make an excellent farrier.” He doesn’t have to think long at all before saying so. “I’m very patient with animals.”

And, added without a trace of irony:

“So you haven’t taken up the Qun.”
Edited 2024-12-18 09:29 (UTC)
verminius: (right)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-18 09:49 am (UTC)(link)
“Quite the endorsement.”

Verminius has listened very seriously, without any little frowns or furrows or twitches to suggest doubt. A few smudges here and there are all part and parcel on a resume, but she wouldn’t betray his trust, surely.

He shows her a sliver of his teeth, almost friendly, despite having all the markings of a grimace.

“What manner of services were you performing for them?”
Edited (idk which is correct ) 2024-12-18 09:51 (UTC)
altusimperius: (processing)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2024-12-18 07:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"...huh."

That's not what Benedict expected to hear, but it bothers him less than would 'I'm a wanted assassin'. He pauses, glances over at his things, sighs-- reaches to get his writing board and begins to take notes.

"No, not the Qun," he murmurs, "what are the circumstances of your..." He glances up, trying to assess the stranger and coming up short, "...what you've been doing?"
portalling: ᴛʜᴏʀ: ʀᴀɢɴᴀʀᴏᴋ. (pic#15613385)

i.

[personal profile] portalling 2024-12-18 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
‘The situation’, [ the other man in the aisle repeats, ruminative. He’s middle-aged, grey-streaked, also with trim and tidy facial hair, and wearing well-tailored robes. Doctor Strange isn’t in the library quite so often these days, but it’s still one of his favourite places, and he’s got a medical textbook jammed under one elbow even as he cranes to look at the newcomer’s selection. ]

Which particular situation about the veil and the Fade? There’s simply so many. I’ve got stacks on stacks of magical theory back at my office, but they’re presumably fairly introductory if you’re already from Thedas. I liked Enchanter Mirdromel’s account, though; it’s more well-rounded on magic compared to Genitivi’s outsider perspective.

[ He might be younger and shorter compared to the professor, but there’s a similar talkative scholarly air to the dark-haired— mage? He seems like a mage. He also can’t stop staring at Emmrich’s staff (we don’t mean that as euphemism) with something alike raw envy. ]
interroga: (003.)

[personal profile] interroga 2024-12-19 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Surprised, Cassian looks down at the offered food; then gives a small laugh before he pops the jerky in his mouth and then sinks back down beneath the edge of the rise, safely out-of-view from the Venatori. The dew in the grass is damp on his clothes, seeping into his trousers, but he doesn’t seem to mind the discomfort as he chews, ruminative. ]

You’re never finding out my nameday, [ said easily. In truth, Cassian doesn’t even know his exact date of birth either. ]

But I meant our work here. Each message is another brick in the wall of the rebellion. Small pieces in the whole. Hopefully it makes a difference.

[ Some days he was certain of it, with the fervid fire of almost fanaticism, his devotion to the cause. Other days, he woke up and wasn’t so sure. The years went on and on and nothing changed. ]
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man holds a bleached skull in his hand with a pensive expression (Default)

I'm so sorry, I somehow entirely missed this notif!

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-19 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
[Ah, this must be one of the group that's visiting today, going off that reaction. He'd heard something about them coming through but he hadn't expected to run into any of them. Emmrich stands.]

Pardon me, I didn't quite catch that.

[Manfred hisses, tilting his head as he looks at her. Emmrich nods.]

Quite right. My apologies. I'm Professor Volkarin, this is Manfred, and are you lost?
corpsestuff: (Conspiring)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-19 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
[Emmrich's gaze briefly goes to the book the other man is holding, but his attention is more on his words.]

It is quite a lot, isn't it. I meant in particular the clear weakness here, though first-hand accounts of any interesting peculiarities someone has encountered would be welcome.

['Outsider' in this context clearly refers to someone who is not a mage, and that combined with how his new company is looking at his staff suggests the other man is a mage. Due to that, this man can doubtlessly feel how thin the Veil feels in Kirkwall compared to elsewhere.]

Do you find Enchanter Mirdromel's account... thorough? I find Chantry-approved texts on the topic often dance away from any deeper conclusions.

[Emmrich's already looking over the shelves for Mirdromel's name and pulling down the suggested text, though. He holds out his hand once that's secured with the Genitivi book on Nevarra.]

Emmrich Volkarin, Professor with the Mourn Watchh.
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man holds a bleached skull in his hand with a pensive expression (Default)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-19 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
Considering the situation at large, it's unsurprising that personal safety is a priority. When survival is a struggle, one's world narrows significantly.

Your advice speaks well of you.


[It doesn't quite fit the stories of her, but he's never put much stock in the gossip around the Necropolis. He prefers to take people on face value when opportunity allows.]

The cremation is unfortunately no surprise, though the Dalish burying their dead is. Interesting indeed. Thank you, Athénaïs.
buttsbuttsbutts: (she said she loved me)

library

[personal profile] buttsbuttsbutts 2024-12-19 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
( a woman sits alone, surrounded by a stack of books. if she giggles to herself, it's almost certainly because she's just ever-so-delighted by the wealth of knowledge she's uncovering here in this house of learning. if her quill moves in large, looping shapes it's probably because she writes in a particularly fanciful cursive and definitely not because she's drawing dicks and balls in the margins. or tits. definitely no tits.

it takes her a moment, focused as she is on absolutely-not-drawing-tits-in-margins, to realize that she's being spoken to. her eyes are immediately drawn to the jangly gold bracelets when she glances up, and her brow furrows. then she sees the rings, and her nose wrinkles.

tailored clothing? lip curl.

a mage's staff? full face scrunch.

by the time she's noticed the mustache, her expression is completely contorted into a mask of visceral disgust.
)

Eugh, ( she says, succinctly. )
reparo: (Default)

That's alright!!

[personal profile] reparo 2024-12-22 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She had thought she'd seen it all, but this skeleton - Manfred! - is not coming at her poised to attack. He - he? - might hiss, but it's not rude. More like language.

Which is fascinating. Nevarra is bloody fascinating.

And as for the professor -]


Pleasure to meet you, I'm Hermione Granger. I came here with the Riftwatch but I believe I've gotten lost.
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man holds a bleached skull in his hand with a pensive expression (Yorick)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-22 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[Well. This isn't entirely unexpected. He is what he is, and the Free Marches are not known for being welcoming to mages period, forget necromancers.

Emmrich gives the woman a short nod, turns, and walks to the next book case. She can be as rude as she'd like; he knows full well he looks good.]
corpsestuff: (Mischief; Fondness)

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-22 07:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Madame Granger, a pleasure. Please give me one moment, and I can assist you.

[He pulls a folded white cloth out of Manfred's backpack and gestures with long fingers. Green magic swirls around him and the skeletons. Four break off to spread the white cloth out. With another swirl of magic the human corpse gets up to lay on the cloth before the skeletons pick up the cloth by the four corners and trot off, carrying their load somewhere south.

Emmrich gives a nod, dusts off his hands, and turns his attention back to their guest.]


There. Now. I fear with the way the tours work there's no catching you back up to it, so I can offer you two options. One, Manfred and I give you a shorter, personal tour,

[Manfred claps,]

or two, we guide you back up to where you came in and you can spend time with Vorgoth and Madame Myrna. I find both to be excellent company.
corpsestuff: A distinguished-looking middle-aged white man holds a bleached skull in his hand with a pensive expression (Yorick)

Dining Hall

[personal profile] corpsestuff 2024-12-23 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
Emmrich laughs as he sets down his silverware so he can reach for and pass the pitcher.

"There's hardly a need to go quite that far, though I've no idea what it is." He's still getting a sense of this place, so he's keeping his head clear and drinking water. "Now I find myself curious."

He leans back in his chair to watch the stranger's reaction to whatever the drink may be.

verminius: (Default)

[personal profile] verminius 2024-12-23 09:25 am (UTC)(link)
There is a patience to him, albeit more akin to the patience of something long accustomed to waiting around, as opposed to any kindness of spirit. He’s sat on his heels like an old lion on a log, oddly still for all the slope to his shoulders, though he turns his head to follow that reach for the writing board.

“I’m a soldier,” he says. “I’ve been soldiering.”

Use your imagination.

“How involved is the Orlesian Chantry in your work?”

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