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allthisshitisweird2023-05-02 05:40 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2023-05-02 05:40 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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.
Evan "Buck" Buckley | 911 | Rifter
[So Buck has questions. Many questions, actually. What is that green portal thing he just fell out of? Why is there a sliver of green something that kind of glows like the portal thing that spit him out embedded in his right hand? But probably the most important question on his mind right now is: is that a sentient molten lava creature and is it heading straight for him? (It is, in fact, heading straight for him.)]
Shit.
[He, of course, doesn’t have any of his gear, given that, before this, he was still at the hospital for Maddie’s wedding. And from what he can tell, he seems to be in the middle of some kind of forest, without any easy access to water that he can see. But he does have his blue hoodie, and that’s not nothing, at least.
So he does what any reasonable firefighter would do when confronted by what seems like a magical creature intent on killing him and also trying to avoid thinking too hard about all of the magic surrounding him right now: he sheds his hoodie, holds it out in front of him, and charges at the molten lava creature.]
I don’t know what you are but I’ve totally got this!
II. Kirkwall – Low Town
[Buck still has questions, after arriving in Kirkwall and getting the whole speech about Riftwatch. He feels more than just lost; he feels entirely out of his element. What do you mean he’s now in a place called Thedas that seems like something out of a mediaeval fantasy? What do you mean magic is real, and demons are real, and both are especially dangerous? Part of him is curious but mostly the rest of him is struggling to keep up.
He finds himself in an area of Kirkwall known as Low Town, in what looks like some kind of open market area. He has no money, but he finds himself drawn to various stalls and booths anyway, studying the different baubles, trinkets, and wow, this stall sure does have a whole lot of daggers, knives, and swords.
He knows he sticks out; he can feel various eyes on him, and he wonders if he’ll even notice if someone tries and picks his admittedly empty pockets.
He’s got this, he tells himself, taking a quick, deep breath. He can do this.
He turns to the person standing next to him at a both and decides to at least strike up a conversation.]
So…you come here often?
[Well, he rationalizes after those words leave his mouth, it’s not the worst thing he’s ever said.]
III. Wildcard
[If you want a different starter, DM at Buck’s journal/let me know! Buck is coming from after episode 7x06, “There Goes the Groom.”]
i - pls feel free to change around the action in this however suits ur tag
The rage demon barrels towards him in roiling, molten bulk. This close, the heat scalds lung, eye, lips; a familiar, furnace blast. Buck charges. The demon roars, lifts its dripping limbs before the strike,
And something smashes into his side: Two bodies tumble, the hard punch of steel-on-flesh-on-dirt skittering them both into a ditch. Farther up the hill, grass ignites in the demon's lumbering path. This clearing is a tinderbox, the canopy already summer-dry. ]
Your hand, [ Cedric bellows, lifting his own. ] The rift. Focus on it,
[ Pointing (like that means anything) to the portal. Then he’s up and running, bizarre in a knight’s armor and drawn blade. If he intends to apologize for that flying left tackle,
Well, it’s gonna have to wait. The Rift sparks with a discordance that resonates in the Anchor, hums against bone. Calling. A shimmer tears free of it, light stretching into an almost-human shape. As it stretches ethereal towards the treeline, the spirit sights Buck: Its face flickering into the brief impression of -
Something, someone familiar. ]
Let me know if I misread that tackle!
Got it!
[Buck turns and aims his right hand, the one with the sliver of green in it, at the glowing green portal, rift, apparently, in the sky.
But as he tries to focus on the rift, Buck's attention catches on what at first looks like some kind of spirit but as he stares at the shape, he realizes that he's looking at...]
Maddie? Is that you?
[His concentration breaks, and he starts running toward the being he assumes to be his sister.]
all good! <3
The shadow of a hand reaches for Buck, fingers forming and falling away: Five, three, seven. They close for his throat, pass through clean. The thing screams. It can't seem to touch him - not truly -
Halfway across the clearing, ozone cuts sharp; the burning creature shrinking before a blade blazing white. For the moment, Cedric's preoccupied.
Not-Maddie draws back, driving again at Buck, trying to drive him from the rift. ]
<3
Of course, the creature follows him, and it's at that moment Buck realizes that this creature is trying to keep him from getting to the rift itself.
Glancing over at the other man, Buck thinks he should figure this out himself. He still has his hoodie, he realizes. It probably won't prove any more effective against this creature than the giant lava molten creature, but that doesn't mean Buck can't try.
In a quick movement, Buck throws his hoodie at the creature, hoping for a few moments of distraction. That being done, he turns and aims his right hand at the rift, hoping he's doing this right.
He turns his head to Cedric briefly.] Like this, yeah?
sorry for delay! out of town last week
Distracted. ]
Like that!
[ Affirmed. Cedric's shout strangles into yelp as flame passes far too near his face. Another shudder of that other place. The Rift stretches, calling to the anchor in Buck’s hand.
Lava collapses, sizzling into ash and some stranger ooze. Cedric heaves for breath, his own hand lifted in a mirror of Buck’s. The gauntlet surges sick-green. He urges: ]
Focus on the real.
[ Behind him, still poring over fabric, Maddie’s lost her face and form entire; a chaotic tangle of plasming energy. ]
No worries I've been slow myself! <3
(no subject)
ii
Currently she's slouched in a booth, nursing a whiskey that's supposed to be infused with cinnamon but tastes mostly like it's been infused with dracolisk pee. She isn't intending to talk to anyone, and so far that's been going to plan. Until—
At the sound of a question next to her, she looks over, taking in the question asker with a furrowing of her eyebrows. She straightens up from the slouch. ]
Are you serious right now?
no subject
He offers an awkard flash of a grin and hopes he doesn't come off like a jerk.]
Sorry, I was trying to think of something to say and uh, the worst possible combination of words just left my mouth? Didn't mean to intrude if you're looking to be left alone. I'm still trying to figure this place out.
no subject
She wouldn't absolutely bet her life on it or anything, but she has a pretty good idea that when he says "this place" he's not just talking about Lowtown. ]
Where are you from?
no subject
He imagines it's pretty obvious he isn't a local by now, too.]
Los Angeles. So uh. As you can imagine, this place is an adjustment.
[He is curious though, and he wonders.] And you? Are you local?
[He doesn't want to assume. Kirkwall seems as diverse a city as any that Buck's lived in or traveled through over the years. Although admittedly the cities he knows don't have Elves or Qunari.]
no subject
I'm from Arizona. Phoenix. Been here like two years now. [ It's not something Clarisse thinks about a whole lot anymore, so when it does come up, the amount of time always throws her a little bit. First it'd been six months, then her one year anniversary, and now it's not even something she's counting in any conscious way. Which in itself is freaky. ]
When did you, you know... [ She whistles and twirls a finger in the air, like the guy got blown here via tornado. In a way, he kind of did. ]
I laughed so hard at Rifterdar thank you! XD
II
(The one that has a whole lot of daggers, knives and swords?
Gela is actually waiting patiently to get toward the neighbour of this stall, one that bears colourful fabric and nice spools of thread and wool, a very good stall that is currently over-attended to by a crowd of people all determined to stand there, stroke the wares and refuse to get out of the way. That's why she is here. By the knives.)
If it's the latter: no. Why? Do you need help with picking something out?
no subject
[There is no way to make any of this any less awkward, so he might as well lean into the awkwardness, and maybe he'll stumble into being charming somewhere along the way. He can hope, at least.
When she asks if he needs help picking something out, Buck shakes his head.]
Ah, no. I'm just...kind of browsing? Or window shopping, technically since I don't have any money. I'm trying to learn the lay of the land, you know?
no subject
'Window shopping'?
(She glances at the stall, which clearly sells knives. She looks at him again. When Gela first arrived in Kirkwall to knock on Riftwatch's door she often heard people say that there's something to Rifters, that you can always tell them. There's some kind of shine about them, they always stick out in a crowd... at the time she hadn't understood that (even ignored it because it felt like assuming) but it's moments like these that really cement that line of thinking. Sometimes you really can tell.
Plus it helps when they tell you they are learning the 'lay of the land'.)
First time in Kirkwall?
no subject
He rubs his hand on the back of his head, as if the physical act could magically gift him with the perfect response.]
Er. Well, I'm mostly just looking without buying anything which...I can't say the vendors are thrilled with. And I can't blame them. But I really am just trying to get a better understanding of this place and how the city runs and all of that.
no subject
Do you see?
(no subject)
i
Being unceremoniously plunged into any perilous situation, ‘run directly at it’ is usually Astrid’s M.O. — she knew more than a few men like that back in the mountains, and her brother had undertaken his own share of absolutely batshit stupid reckless daredevilry — but this, right here, with that molten fire demon ahead of them, is probably not actually a good idea. ]
What the fuck are you doing!? [ Astrid shouts, trying to derail the rifter. He’s strangely-dressed, his sweater a far brighter blue than she’s used to seeing: crisp machine-woven fabric, artificial dyes, a glimmer from another world. The tallish woman with unruly braided blonde hair is running between the trees, down the forest slope towards the new arrival and the demon, trying to reach them in time. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she hollers: ]
Is it an enchanted shirt??
no subject
Uh, trying to put out the fire...monster...thing?
[Look, it sounds better in his head than saying it out loud. Most things usually do, given his tendency to sometimes choke on his own foot. Something, something, it's a gift, and all of that.
Still, when he catches sight of the woman who called out to him, he realizes that maybe he should pay attention to her and not, you know, pull his usual daredevil firefighter routine towards a creature that he's still trying to process even existing.
And then she asks if his shirt is enchanted, and, man, does he have questions.]
No?
[A pause.]
Should it be?
no subject
[ That one little sweater isn’t going to do anything to douse a living roaring flame like this. The rage demon surges closer, dripping molten trickles onto the ground in its wake. The forest is thankfully wet from recent rain, so the heat is sizzling rather than setting the greenery around them ablaze, the moss and loam underfoot steaming with evaporating water.
It’s big, though, and that means it’s slow enough to track. Its arm winds up, and it starts to fling a blast of flame straight at Buck’s head. Sliding down the rest of the slope, the woman hollers, ] Duck!
no subject
Seeing the lava monster aim straight at his head, Buck has no problem listening to the woman and doing exactly as she says; he ducks and jumps into a roll right out of the monster's path.]
Okay, what now?
[He glances around, trying to find anything he might be able to use as a weapon.]
no subject
There’ll be more reinforcements along eventually; Riftwatch had cast a wide net through the forest, awaiting the rift opening up somewhere in the vicinity but without the mathematical precision to tell exactly where. She and the rifter just need to hold out in the meantime; maybe take down this one demon first. ]
Here, [ she says, detaching a shortsword from her hip and holding it out to him.
This is a normal thing for people to know how to use, right? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
ii.
It might be that he's taller than most — a collection of spindly limbs hunched under a half cape. A little better dressed perhaps, if more in the quality of the fabric than any trendy drape. He's armed only with a black staff lashed to his back, and while that might be enough to earn him a few sidelong glances, surely the sight of a mage free-roaming the streets of Kirkwall has become less remarkable in the years since the Inquisition's offshoot took root there.
No, no one of those things is especially shocking, but— The stall owner is a poised, burly woman with a too-freshly burned forearm and blade-flecked hands. The latter begin to curl against her table, nails digging between daggers and knives.
Maybe it's the way the sharp cut of his cloak mimics the Gallows' brutalist planes, or the point of his hood its spiked ramparts — or that the shape of the shorter staff on his back precisely matches that of a cracked and charred specimen for sale in front of her.
His own fingers recoil as an urchin's spines, eyes darting for an exit and finding -- You come here often? ]
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
[ Dry, flippant. Delicious metalwork?
He doesn't pause for a laugh track, instead turning shoulder toward the stranger like they're about to be friends, or at least convenient vehicles for escape. ]
You're not from Kirkwall, I take it?
no subject
He arches an eyebrow at the man's response, glancing back at the stall.] A lot of iron in your diet, I take it?
[Maybe not the worst joke he could have made but not exactly his best effort either. He wonders if he should be considering his chances at escape at this point.
At the stranger's remark about him not being from Kirkwall, Buck chuckles.] I'm guessing I don't exactly blend in with the crowds around here.
no subject
You don't balk like the crowds here.
[ Weird, he can handle. Angry mobs setting on the nearest Vint? He'd rather not. ]
Tried the crab cakes yet? [ A nod in the direction of— not here. There's bound to be a stall somewhere. ]
no subject
Are the crowds here not a fan of dramatic entrances or capes? Seems like their loss if you ask me.
[He arches an eyebrow at that.] There are crabcakes here?! I must have definitely walked past that stall.