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

inej ghafa | grishaverse

[agile]

KIRKWALL — SOMETIME AFTER ARRIVAL.

Inej appears without a sound.

Whether it be from scaling a wall or simply coincidentally following you, she doesn't make a sound. Her slippers are black, and they're soundless. They make her one with the wind, one with the Saints she's certain are still with her. Even her knives are tucked in her long hair (braided neatly down her back) and slotted up her long sleeves, Inej moves like she doesn't exist.

She prefers it that way. Once upon a time, she had difficulty with existence, but now it's her choice to slip into the shadows and become as silent as the air that refuses to whip noisily by someone's ears. Inej Ghafa is a meteor descending to the earth, yet she still doesn't make a great crater.

"You make it easy to pickpocket you," she says.

She's also a creep. What of it?

THE WAKING SEA.

Captain Inej Ghafa comes to life on the seas.

She climbs the ropes as high as she can, moving like a spider up the spout. She hangs there, carefree. Inej Ghafa is unafraid on the seas, even if these aren't hers to command.

She's (un)surprisingly adept at adapting to life on the ship. She helps the crew by tugging rope to manipulate the sails, moving barrels, and ensuring that everything is in place. A more observant person may see the captain in her. Inej never thought she was born to lead, but she sprouted from the earth as one.

She smiles more on the ocean. While she wishes to turn and see Rotty at the wheel, she still smiles. This is freedom. This is everything she's ever wanted.

She wishes this was The Wraith, though.

"You should come up here!" she calls down to you high up in the rigging, elated. She's almost at the crow's nest. (Ironic, isn't it? She's still a Crow.) Looking out at the water, Inej hangs onto the rope with one hand, swinging out toward the air. "It's beautiful."

That's what freedom is to a woman who will never take it for granted again.

NETWORK.

[ Welcome to late nights with one Inej Ghafa. When you can't hear her sneaking up on you, you can't hear her connect with her crystal and pose a Very Deep Question. She's unable to sleep. ]

How replaceable do you think you are?

[ Tell everyone you're thinking about Kaz Brekker (who no one knows, anyway) without saying you're thinking about Kaz Brekker (who no one knows, anyway). ]

WILDCARD.

Inej is from either post-Crooked Kingdom or post-Rule of Wolves (Grishaverse books!), I haven't quite decided yet! Either way, her vibe will be the same regardless. :)

You're welcome to hit me with a different prompt. I wasn't interested in writing an arrival prompt, but I'm happy to thread that out in Kirkwall if it's what you're looking for! I'm good with action spam or prose. If you have any questions, feel free to DM me!

Sorry in advance: I'm bound to get something wrong about DA. 😬

network.

[elegiaque]

( an orlesian accent; slightly on the lower end of feminine, what still after all these years sounds like (as inej won't yet have context for) a high quarter princess. )

Practically speaking, extremely. I don't know that there's much I do that no one else could do here.

( she sounds thoughtful, like she's really giving it consideration now. )

[agile]

[ Had she been anticipating honest answers? Partly. Asking questions like this in the depths of the night often resulted in decent conversations with her crew… or the Crows.

Still, she's surprised—and grateful—for the genuine answer. ]

What makes you not give up, then?

[elegiaque]

Maybe I can be replaced, for everyone else.

( maybe not for all of them. )

But for me— I don't want to die knowing that I didn't try. If we fail, I don't want to have not been here, trying. I can be replaced but no one else can look at me in the mirror for me.

[agile]

[ Inej decides she likes her a lot. ]

I find that when you realise how replaceable you are, you start to offer something that only you can.

[ It doesn't make sense when she gets into the nitty gritty of it all, but she knows her father would have better words for it. It's unfortunate he's not here to pretty her thoughts for her. She'll do her best, though.

With a gentle lift of her shoulder she can't see - ]

A lot of people have difficulty looking in a mirror and seeing what they need to see. That makes you stand out a little more than those who are like you.

network

[overharrowed]

I don't think you can replace people.

[The Fereldan voice is quietly frank.]

Jobs can be filled, of course, but you can't just slot in people the way you'd change out a bottle of ink or a piece of tack. And being able to work around an absence doesn't mean the absence doesn't matter.

[agile]

Do you remember the person who used to hold a position before it was taken over by someone else?

[ ftr, Inej agrees.

But she likes to be contrary, and she likes to think. The Ketterdam crows never talked back when she used to muse on rooftops. ]

[overharrowed]

Me personally, or a hypothetical "you," in this case?

[The person she's speaking to certainly doesn't seem to object to a thought experiment; his voice is thoughtful, clarifying rather than trying to catch her out.]

[agile]

You, personally.

[ Just remember that however this conversation pans out, you offered! ]

:> Kirkwall

[daturameloxia]

(ooc: Gonna link to his WIP App here. Basically Wylan is a native to Thedas and doesn't know Inej. Sad days)

Wylan hears absolutely nothing before the sound of someone landing near silently behind him. He clutches the straps of his bag tighter to himself, trying to hold in the gasp that desires so much to escape him. Instead, he slowly turns to face his would be assailant, looking up and down her to at least identify her to the Riftwatch guards, should she actually rob him.

It's not as if he can do anything if she were to reach out and take his things from him.

"I don't suppose that's meant as a compliment, is it?" his voice is high, thready, scared.

[agile]

Truth be told, it could be interpreted either way. An easy pocket to slip her fingers inside makes her job easier. A pocket that's a lot harder provides a challenge, and on most days, Inej likes a challenge.

As for today? What Inej wants when it comes to thievery remains undetermined.

Her posture is easy, her shoulders casual. Tall and lean, Inej still moves silently, much like she doesn't wish to take up space.

"Are you taking it as a compliment?"

Inej thinks not.

[daturameloxia]

Wylan most definitely is not taking it as a compliment, especially since he's brand new to the Riftwatch and he's trying not to attract too much attention in the process. No need to bring anyone from the van Eck estate knocking on his door.

"Not particularly," Wylan replies, turning in place to face his would-be robber, taking in her appearance.

Oh she is far stronger than him, built for speed, and he only has a few silver pieces from busking earlier.

"This is all I have," he digs into his pocket and tosses his coin purse toward her.

network;

[wythersake]

Are you making a list?

[agile]

Yes.

[ No. Her voice is light; it's clear she's having fun. ]

What column should I put you under? 'Replaceable' or 'Irreplaceable'?

[wythersake]

It should absolutely crumble without me. Just think of it - next that you know, we'd be chased out to the ruins of some cursed prison. A pirate and a demon would take command. There'd be something called pizza served for lunch,

[agile]

[ Tone playful - ]

What's wrong with a pirate being in command? I think pizza for lunch sounds like a great idea.

[ You know what? Maybe Inej the Pirate should introduce pizza for lunch. She'll credit you for the idea, Isaac. ]

network;

[grindset]

[Softly spoken, with an accent that may strike as Ravkan (though it isn't):]

In what sense?

[agile]

[ Finally, the question Inej doesn't wish to answer. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts—and to consider chickening out and offering something else entirely.

But she's Inej Ghafa, and she refuses to be afraid of what lays ahead. ]

Like your place in a group isn't really yours to begin with. You can be slotted in and out, like a book on a shelf. No one really pays attention to where they got their books from.

[grindset]

Library staff might agree with you on that last point.

[After a contemplative pause,]

The replaceable element here is the shelf.

Kirkwall

[armd]

Abby wears her hair braided neatly down her back; her and Inej have this in common but Abby steps loudly, takes up space and can be heard coming, going. Stealth is not her specialty but, in her defense, she can punch anything hard enough that it has never had to be. Because she is used to listening hard for anything left alive (or worse) in the middle of the zombie apocalypse that was once home, she pauses midway down a Kirkwall alleyway, because she thinks she might have heard something. Because she has been away from home for nearly three years now, she ultimately dismisses it and keeps walking—

Only to nearly jump out of her skin at the sudden raise of a voice behind her.

She turns around so fast she whips herself in the face with her own braid, hand in a fist at her side, ready.

She'll ask nice, first. "Give it back."

[agile]

There's always one.

This woman's response reminds her of both Kaz and Matthias. While the former has grown exceedingly and almost uncharacteristically patient with Inej and her playfulness, Matthias always grumbled. (She misses him deeply, even after all this time.) She appreciates the familiarity; it informs her that this place isn't as giving and trusting with information as it may wish to appear.

Holding her hands up, palms open, fingers fanned, Inej smiles close-lipped, trying to appear less like a threat and more like a slip of wind. She's not weak by any means, but her lithe frame is often something she can use to her advantage to lower her threat level.

"I promise, I didn't take anything." Yet.

[armd]

Without taking her eyes off of her, Abby slips her hand into her left pocket. Her fingers press against the edge of a coin, nail catching the thin grooves in the metal; it wasn't her purse that she was worried for, only this specific thing, which is still where she put it.

She doesn't relax.

"Then what are you announcing it for?"

She gives the would-be thief a good up-down. Abby is a tall person, broad-shouldered and hard in the jaw. It is all too easy for her to look extremely unfriendly whenever she wants to; right now, she does.

waking sea.

[brennvin]

The woman who hears that call from Inej cranes her head, and looks up from the deck.

Astrid is tall, with her hair also neatly braided, after it was long and unruly and kept whipping into her eyes; there’s a tattoo on the right side of her face, coiled abstract shapes. Not a seasoned sailor, but she’s been chipping in with the Riftwatch crew wherever she can.

She’s chewing on her cheek. Still a little shaky on this heaving boat — a life lived on land and a distance from the nearest ocean will do that to you — but she’s also never one to turn down a challenge, nor a beautiful view, so she eventually seizes the rigging and starts to doggedly climb.

And this part, she’s good at: she’s scrambled up cliff faces and trees, nimble hands and quick feet, and so she eventually makes it up to the crow’s nest with a white-knuckle grip, as she heaves herself onto the platform and then clutches the mast, careful to not get too far to the edge. “Ohhhh my gods,” she says, then, “You, uh. Can really feel the waves up here, can’t you.”

The height itself isn’t a problem, she’s good with heights, but that swaying movement—

[agile]

Inej remains on the rope at its highest point, enjoying the sway like she's a bird in the breeze. Briefly closing her eyes, she opens them once Astrid is tucked away in the crow's nest.

She can't help her soft laugh.

"Has anyone ever told you to keep your eyes on the horizon?" Inej partially shows off, keeping the fingers of one hand wrapped around the thick rope while she lets the other flutter like a wing. Extending her free arm out, she points toward the clear horizon. It's like one of the expensive paintings she and Kaz stole during her early days as a Dreg: brightly coloured, crisp lines, and the promise of what was once an untouchable freedom.

"It'll help," she says, squinting up at Astrid. "It should, at least." Comforting.

[brennvin]

“They haven’t, no, which is like deeply fucking unhelpful of ’em,” Astrid laments, but buoyed by that advice she eventually manages to move from her dejected puddle and haul herself back up to a seated position. An arm still hooked around the mast, her legs now dangling over the edge. Her stomach still roils, but she looks where the other woman’s pointing, following the line of her arm, and stares off into the distance. The way the light glitters on the water. The way the sky unfurls forever, an open canvas above them. (They’ve got to be closer to the Lady of the Skies here, surely.)

There’s a noise in the back of her throat, a huh! as she takes it all in. “That is gorgeous,” she says, watching that distant steady unmoving horizon line in contemplative quiet as something to anchor herself by, and eventually something settles. Feeling a little less likely for her gorge to rise, she risks glancing up at Inej.

“I’m from the mountains,” she says. “So I kept thinking, what’s a bit of height. But the mountains had the nerve to stay put.”