Test Drive!

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

Lady Vega Arany, Native OC

[succise]

ARRIVAL: FERRY
Kirkwall is quite dirty. It smells heavily of alcohol. The stables on the ferry-side are cramped and unimpressive. The mental list of things Vega does not like about this place is getting long; she assuages her traveler's fatigue by selecting somebody to argue with.

"She isn't heavy." Her voice is sharp, demanding. "Would you look at her?"

'She' is a light-grey, dappled mare, standing with great patience down the end of the dock and lacking any opinion on whether or not she should be allowed to board the ferry to the Gallows. But Vega's cheeks are flushed with irritation, twin spots of bright colour in her pale face. She adds peevishly, "I suppose it costs more! Fine—I will cover it."

KIRKWALL
The seat of the Orlesian Chantry once resided here.

There is a book tucked in under Vega's arm (Tales of the Destruction of Thedas, a beautifully embossed tomb), purple ribbon limply marking her place. She had come here to sit and read within hallowed halls, but now she stands, confused, in front of a beautifully abundant garden. It takes up most of the square.

Squinting at the bronze plaque to the side of it, parsing through a green patina, her voice rises sharply in a screech of horror.

"In memorial?"

MESSAGE (BOOK)
(In an elegant, sloping hand,)

I will have some questions answered.

One, how far will a single message travel, via the sending crystal?
Two, how many crystals are we allowed, each?
Three, with their own crystal, could one shape it even smaller than it is now without breaking it physically or destroying the magic?

... Wait, one more—where exactly do these come from? Who collects and makes them?

Kirkwall

[untiltheyarent]

On a bench nearby sits an elf, bundled against the cold in a fine-looking cloak that matches those worn by any Riftwatchers Vega has seen about; it rests over work clothes, the kind typical of a servant.

Hearing the exclamation, the woman turns her head to fix the newcomer with a patient but slightly exasperated look. Yes, memorial, her face seems to say, and you're being rude.

[succise]

Vega, in her great outrage, did not notice Fifi at all until her head turned toward her. Now she gives her a very obvious up-down, lips pressed together in a tight, trembling line, eyes round.

"Please," she says, clawing together some manners, biting back the urge to sob like a child. "Where might I find the Chantry?"

[untiltheyarent]

It's difficult not to take pity on such a spectacle. Fifi gives a minuscule sigh through her nose and rises to approach, allowing the girl to speak more privately in what is clearly a time of need.

"The central Chantry is gone," she informs her delicately-- yes, this is where it used to be-- "but there are smaller chapels scattered about the city and in The Gallows. There's one not far from here, in Hightown."

[succise]

Smaller chapels?

Vega's eyes get even rounder. She is very clearly thinking hard, standing completely still while she does. The only thing that stops her from muffling a petty scream of frustration into the arm of her coat is being in public.

She huffs a breath through clenched teeth. "Why is it gone? I came here to see it!"

[untiltheyarent]

Fifi's stare hardens almost imperceptibly: oh, is she about to get yelled at? She's on the verge of tuning out when the question comes, which is so baffling it brings her right back into the moment.

"...it," she says, blinking rapidly in confusion, "exploded?" A beat. "Over ten years ago?"

[succise]

Ten years ago, an entire decade, gone all that time. No wonder the garden looks overrun. Vega casts a furious glance back toward it, scanning. Who maintains it now? Did they have a special design in mind, or did they plant any old thing and leave it at that? Terrible. Awful.

"Well," she says, trying to recover from this great blow. "I suppose I shall visit these... smaller chapels instead."

How disappointing.

[untiltheyarent]

Trying to conceal her wonderment at someone with Thedosian bearing simply not knowing about the Battle of Kirkwall, Fifi doesn't press the issue, instead offering a sympathetic bob of her head.

"As I said," she gently replies, "there's one just down the way. If you look over that rooftop there," and she points to the Hightown skyline, all quite visible from where they stand at the top of the stairs, "you'll see the flags."

[succise]

Vega lifts up her chin. She casts her gaze in the direction, seeking out the little flags in the distance to stare at for a long moment.

Releasing some of that tension, her shoulders drop down, breath coming somewhat easier.

Confessing now, to this elf who will surely be sticking around to listen to all of her woes: "I would go down further south, to Ferelden, but that is impossible for me right now."

[untiltheyarent]

Ah, here it is. Fifi's expression relaxes somewhat as she folds her hands in front of her, attentive and polite, preparing to do a lot of nodding. "Is it," she asks mildly. Maybe when she gets back to the Gallows she'll tackle that stain in the central tower's entryway-- but what's the point, if people are just going to track mud all over it? Is it a pride thing?

[succise]

"Yes," Vega says, working herself up again, fixated on the flags. "And apparently it wasn't enough to come all the way from Tevinter, on my mare who is unused to such long distances, all alone, with no company. I suffered, to make it here, such terrible weather and road conditions, only to arrive and realise the Chantry is gone.

"Exploded—" she corrects, looking to Fifi for confirmation and sympathy, her hands squeezing up into tight fists. "Exploded! And because of this," she is brandishing her left fist now, shaking it in Fifi's direction, "I cannot leave, and must stay here until the war adjourns! This is a terrible inconvenience!"

[untiltheyarent]

It's not until Vega looks her way again that Fifi nods emphatically, meeting the girl's eyes with nothing behind her own, though that gradually changes as a fist enters the picture and the possibility of violence emerges.

A little slow on the uptake, because she fully has not been listening, Fifi blinks at her. Then, politely, "have you thought to join Riftwatch?"

[succise]

"Have I thought—" is half-laughter, tight and incredulous. She brandishes her fist again. "I must join it, apparently!"

ferry

[laruetheday]

Clarisse isn't paying attention, until she is. The woman trying to board the ferry is doing nothing except wasting everyone's time, but she's not going to lie and act like she'll be annoyed to have a legitimate excuse to give Flint about why she's late for guard duty, so she's letting it go, letting the complaints wash over her and the ferryman handle whatever... this is.

The sharp retort of "She isn't heavy" is what finally gets Clarisse to pivot her attention to the woman and the woman's horse. Does she really care whether the horse comes onto the ferry? No. Is she always ready to argue with someone when she feels like they're wrong? No question.

"She's a horse." Like maybe Vega won't know who they're talking about all of a sudden, she gestures to the mare. "All horses are heavy."

[succise]

The ferryman is probably relieved to relinquish this impossible conversation, as Vega snaps her attention onto Clarisse, eyeing her importantly. One glance is all she needs to ascertain that this is not a serious person.

"My mare is not as heavy as a steed," she argues, brightening. Warming to the disagreement, "She was clearly bred for jumping, so she couldn't be."

Duh.

"But I wouldn't expect a ferry-worker to know that from a single glance." For all Vega knows, this is the first time the poor girl has ever seen a show mare. "Now you do."

[laruetheday]

"I know the difference between—"

Wait.

"I'm not a ferry-worker," is clearly the more important thing she needs to be yelling.

[succise]

"Oh. Aren't you?"

She looks her up and down. "I just assumed it, after you decided to make this your business."

[laruetheday]

It takes every ounce of effort in her for Clarisse not to poke a finger into this girl's chest.

"It's my business because you're making me late for work with your bitching." She gestures wildly, beyond the ferry, in the vague direction of the Gallows. "You can explain to the commander."

[succise]

Vega follows the gesture, and some of her haughtiness drops away.

"No," she says, lip curling when she looks back at Clarisse, "Confrère, you will explain to the Commander why we're both late; you can use me as an excuse."

Now she has no choice but to help.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse's scowl turns to something more confused. Truly, she doesn't get people. She'd rather hang out with the horse.

"Wait, so you're helping me now?"

Why we're both late, the woman said. "Do you work for Riftwatch?"

[succise]

"I am to be part of Riftwatch."

Whether or not she works for them will remain to be seen. "This is my first visit. Will you escort me?"

[laruetheday]

"Oh," Clarisse says, not sounding all that thrilled.

She isn't sure how she keeps running into these people and having to be the one who brings them in, but apparently that's her thing now. Anyway, she'll do it, but only because she's already going that way. Besides, it makes her look good. (Well, maybe. In this instance she's not sure how welcome the addition she's bringing is going to be.)

"Yeah, I guess."

[succise]

Vega's smile broadens, easy and keen. She gestures with her chin toward the ferryman. "We're both coming on board. Riftwatch has given the all clear!"

Turning back to Clarisse, she holds out the back of her hand expectantly to her. "Lady Vega Arany. Pleasure to meet you."

[laruetheday]

Clarisse gives the ferryman a little shrug, like, oops. But it's just one horse; the ferry's not going to go down because of it.

Turning back to Vega, she looks at the offered hand. Is she supposed to kiss it? Because she's not fucking doing that. After several awkward seconds, she reaches out and gives Vega's hand an abrupt little shake, mostly to get her to put it away.

"Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, god of war." She hasn't pulled that one out in a while, but this situation seems like it calls for a little flair.

[succise]

Vega, waiting patiently, looks at Clarisse and then down at her own hand. It is not the one with the shard in it. That one is too special to be touched by other people; then Clarisse shakes her hand instead, quite firmly, and she sputters, caught off-guard.

"Stop that." She yanks it away, eyeing Clarisse with renewed interest, a touch of disbelief. Clearing her throat, turning her head away to look instead at her mare, she says, "I have never heard of Ares."

Clicking her tongue calls Sweet Lavender down the pier to them both.