Fade Rift Mods (
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Entry tags:
- ! mod plot,
- alexandrie d'asgard,
- bastien,
- benedict quintus artemaeus,
- byerly rutyer,
- derrica,
- edgard,
- ellie,
- ellis,
- gwenaëlle baudin,
- james flint,
- john silver,
- julius,
- wysteria de foncé,
- { adrasteia },
- { amos burton },
- { beth greene },
- { brother gideon },
- { erik stevens },
- { gabranth },
- { james holden },
- { jone },
- { laura kint },
- { mado },
- { nikolai lantsov },
- { richard dickerson },
- { sidony veranas },
- { sister sara sawbones },
- { thranduil },
- { zoya nazyalensky }
MOD PLOT ↠ Endlessly Far Beneath My Feet
WHO: Open
WHAT: A visit to Orzammar
WHEN: For about 10 days in early Bloomingtide
WHERE: Orzammar
NOTES: OOC post. Please use content warnings in your comment subject lines as required.
WHAT: A visit to Orzammar
WHEN: For about 10 days in early Bloomingtide
WHERE: Orzammar
NOTES: OOC post. Please use content warnings in your comment subject lines as required.

Orzammar is not all that far from Kirkwall: a short trip across the Waking Sea to Jader, then an even shorter (though much more exhausting than it seemed in dreams) hike up into the Frostback mountains brings them to the great stone doors that stand between Orzammar and the surface. Once those doors creak and groan shut in their wake—and the next set of doors, too, designed like a waterlock to keep the sky from reaching the city—it is no easy thing to open them again. No one's going to see the sun until they leave.
The great thaig within the mountains is much warmer than the chilly pass through them, thanks to the molten lake beneath it, which also keeps many of the open streets at least dimly lit 24 hours per day, until they wander off further than the glow can reach. The thaig is magnificent, brimming with distinctive angular architecture and statues honoring dwarven Paragons and ancestors. It's also sprawling. Despite giving the deceptive impression at the entrance of a hollow dome that can be taken in with a single look around, the thaig is home to one hundred thousand dwarves, give or take a few thousand. And that's with a dwindling population. It was built for even more. Buildings with narrow facades burrow and wind deep into the stone behind them. So do side streets that branch away from the Commons at every level. Most of them are lyrium-lit and safe to travel. But given the absence of any sun or moon, the way they ascend and descend and loop through the rock, they can be very disorienting to navigate without stone sense.
Among the locals on the street there's a lingering, palpable sense of relief that the worst seems to have passed, so far as the darkspawn at Orzammar's doors is concerned. It's put most people in a particularly good mood, and made them a bit more disposed than usual to treat the influx of visitors from above as an entertaining novelty. That won't stop the occasional dwarf from being suspicious of outsiders here to interfere with the Assembly or bitter that they want something when Orzammar never asked them for help, but friendly interest will be more common by far.
ACCOMMODATIONS
Riftwatch's Division Heads and Project Leaders will be the personal guests of House Bemot and put up in the house's sprawling, mazelike estate in the Diamond Quarter. The residence is brimming with artwork: statues of the house's prominent ancestors, dazzling stonework on columns and doorways, mosaics on the floors, and art both dwarven and imported lining the walls. They're given private rooms—many far from each other, down different turning corridors carved back into the stone—with large beds and hot water piped up from nearer to Orzammar's molten depths. The rooms are nice but don't mistake this for only an unfair perk; there are servants listening and marking their comings and goings at all times.
Since visitors from the surface are much rarer and their stays usually as short as possible, Orzammar is minimally equipped for large swells of visitors, so the rest of Riftwatch's personnel will be packed into one of two inns located in the tier of the Commons where merchants and other surface-dwellers typically reside when they're permitted access to the thaig.
The Paragon's Rest is the nicer of the two. Two ages ago it was the grand home of a prominent merchant house that has since died out; its name comes from the fact that two (two!) paragons have stayed there since the time it was converted into an inn. It boasts a modest number of small, private rooms and shared rooms with artful dividers, all with stone walls that have been carved with intricate geometric patterns. Meals and drinks are available in an expansive hall where local well-to-do merchants frequently play Diamondback and make expensive deals. The inn's position near the gates and something about the design and directions of the corridors minimizes the heat from Orzammar's molten center and even allows for a breeze to reach the common areas now and then.
Unfortunately, the Paragon's Rest doesn't have room for everyone, and the Buttered Nug is less pleasant. The inn was more recently a shop with expansive back storage for its inventory. The shop is now a cramped, sweaty tavern room, where no matter the hour a nug is always roasting—and constantly being basted with butter—over the fire, while more nugs snuffle in a holding pen in a corner, awaiting their doom. The proprietor tries to encourage everyone who passes through to have a plate. It's his grandmother's recipe. You're going to love it. The diners and residents are mostly merchants of the struggling and/or shady variety. The former storage rooms are unadorned, nearly more cavern than room, and large enough to be shared by large numbers of people, with stone lattice-work dividers between beds that provide very little actual privacy. Choosing the room deeper into the stone will make the temperature less sweltering but significantly increase the number of spiders in your bed.
Fortunately, no one has to do more than sleep there if they don't want to. And maybe try just one plate of grandma's buttered nug?
WORK
Riftwatch's primary objectives in Orzammar are sharing information about the war and making a good impression. While speaking to the Assembly might be the centerpiece of those efforts, it's not the extent of them. The noble caste may sit at the top of the dwarven hierarchy, but they're not the only ones with sway or useful resources and nudging public opinion more generally could have its benefits.
There are some specific ways Riftwatch can make itself visibly useful to Orzammar, to help counter the argument that the surface is asking for help without being willing to provide any in return. Assisting with red lyrium removal, installing cleansing runes, and teaching members of the mining caste how to do both for themselves will be priorities. And while the enemy's retreat to the north has lessened the pressure on the thaig, Orzammar lives in constant fear of darkspawn all the same. Riftwatch members suited for combat will be assigned shifts with the dwarven troops on patrol in the near sectors of the Deep Roads or standing watch at the great doors that block off the ancient tunnels.
Meetings with various members of the middle-rank castes (warrior, smith, artisan, mining, merchant) have been arranged and assigned, some with an explicit focus on discussing the war effort and providing information about what Riftwatch has learned and experienced, while others are focused on building trade connections or exploring potential opportunities to collaborate on research—and if opportunities to tell them more about the war effort in the process just happen to arise, all the better. These castes span a wide swathe of dwarven society between nobles and servants, and the meetings will reflect that, ranging from elaborate dinner parties with merchants as wealthy as any lord to casual chats over a pint with a busy blacksmith in a lower-tier tavern. Reactions will also vary, but most are interested in hearing what Riftwatch has to say, even if they're not necessarily disposed to agree. Nearly all visitors to Orzammar are merchants, and having access to this many surfacers and non-dwarves is a novelty.
Members of the Shaperate will take a more pointed and professional interest in their work. Shapers may set up appointments to talk to anyone who's able to speak about their experiences in the war so far, taking copious notes. (On paper. You're not special enough to go straight into the Memories.)
For everyone Riftwatch set a meeting with there are ten more they didn't, so a major part of the company's work in the city will be cultivating more casual interactions and both gathering and dispensing information that way. Someone might be assigned to frequent a particular tavern popular with Warriors and make connections there and find opportunities to discuss what's going on above. Someone else might be asked to drop in on a series of armorers and try to get a sense of current prices, how busy they are, and where most of their stock is being sold. Other assignments might be even more general--spend time in this cafe, or at the nug races, or chatting up merchants in this sector of the market, and see what conversations you can strike up or overhear. Talking folks into support for the war effort is great, but any generally positive interaction counts at this point, so Riftwatch members will be encouraged to pitch in wherever they see help needed, but also to be careful not to get entangled in controversy.
To coordinate all of this work, Riftwatch will have command of a private dining room in the Paragon's Rest to use as a meeting room, where everyone can come back to report, regroup, and strategize after a meeting or outing.
LEISURE
Anyone who finds themselves with downtime will also not have trouble finding things to fill it with. The Commons is lined with merchant stalls selling street food and a wide variety of fine dwarven crafts: metal goods ranging from knives to toys, clothing and bags covered in carefully placed little beads, intricate jewelry, and mechanical and enchanted inventions rarely seen on the surface. There's also an artisan who will hammer your likeness into a sheet of metal while you wait. It's all cheaper than it would be in an above-ground marketplace, as long as you're willing to haggle. Shops and smithies built into the stone sell weapons and armor—or do custom work, though getting anything completed before Riftwatch leaves Orzammar will require paying a premium.
The centerpiece of the Orzammar Commons in the Proving Arena. Currently there are no ongoing provings, but there are warriors and aspirants hanging around the surrounding areas to practice and posture. They might invite a competent-looking newcomer to spar.
An alternative to violence is nug racing, where hungry, specially-bred nugs are painted with house symbols and raced through open-topped tunnels, dug into the ground to allow spectating from above. With little happening in the Proving arena at the moment, this is the more popular spectator event in Orzammar, drawing observers from every caste to cheer and gamble on the outcomes of a series of bracketed races. House Etoras' Deep Fried (called Fred) is favored to win, but House Aratack's Hops & Grain (Hoppy) isn't a bad bet, and Keltar's Perfect Baby (Baby) might pull off an upset.
And there is also, of course, an enormous pit of lava below the Commons. (This is not deadly somehow. We don't know.) A favorite game of some of the local children is collecting trash and inviting newcomers to guess or wager on which items will burst into flames before they hit the lava and which will not. These demonstrations usually end by either a fake attempt to toss a friend over the edge as the final object, or a gleeful (and disprovable) explanation that this is why no one in Orzammar is ever found murdered. They only vanish. Fun!
If they'd like to explore beyond the Commons and the Diamond Quarter, no one will actively prevent Riftwatch members from venturing into Dust Town, the dilapidated sector of the city where the casteless live and the Carta rules. Outsiders might even be able to stumble into the area without realizing it, if they get turned around in some of the narrower back streets carved through the rock. But however they arrive, visitors to Dust Town are unlikely to make it very far without running into trouble.
adrasteia, a grey warden | ota | wildcards welcome
on the road (again); ota but also specifically for Gabranth
They're heading up the mountain now, and she's got a man in armor at her side (whom she's never seen take off the armor, not even the helm to eat, which is its own weirdness but she's not gonna ask) who is walking. She does some calculus about weight and height, based on the sounds his armor makes, and leans over the pommel to tilt her head at him.
"A horse this size could handle carrying you." Just for the record.
She is fine with other people riding him, even. Maybe someone else can think of a name for the poor beast.
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the buttered nug; ota but also specifically for roommates in room 1
Her eyes almost rolled out of her head with that one. Needless to say, she doesn't spend much time in the room and sleeps lightly when she does.
elsewhere in Orzammar; ota
The thing about Orzammar is that not a lot of it has changed. It feels... almost frozen in time, in a way. Part of her keeps expecting to turn a corner or enter a doorway and find herself face to face with Warden Alphonse, being irritated at her for something or another. It's an odd feeling, for sure.
That, combined with being unable to see the sky, has led to a quieter, more reserved Adrasteia on the whole.
As a Warden, she feels more than a little obligation to help keep the city protected from darkspawn; as such she can be found on patrol more nights than not, though usually not alone, so feel free to join her either by choice or assignment. During the day she can be found at various merchant stalls, discussing how a particular piece of jewelry is made or haggling over the price of a set of very sharp knives. One can't have too many knives.
She's not even a rogue, y'all.
Other places Adrasteia can be found include assisting with red lyrium removal and talking to people in the Commons about healers and where they're needed, red lyrium, the war, etcetera.
commons.
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merchant stalls~
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meeting room, at some point;
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merchant stalls.
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james holden | ota | open to wildcards
gabranth.
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open.
LEISURE
work
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leisure
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work.
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l e i s u r e
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benedict | ota
ROOMIES (for Isaac and Val)
The question is which trousers and boots will go the best with it, but there's something else on the forefront of his mind.
"...congratulations, by the way," he says over his shoulder to Valentin, a bit sheepishly at that-- it's the first large, official group mission he's been on in over a year, and the last time he spoke to Val was before the mess that kept him out of commission for so long.
He has yet to say a word to Isaac, the last time they spoke having been in the shared dream, which is probably best left swept under the rug for both of them.
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Gabranth
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amos burton.
a
"Who did?" He glances around.
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a.
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a
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FOR JIMBO.
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b.
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jone | mostly ota.
b
"I'm no good at spitting," he informs her with a wary smile-- Maker forbid, the indignity-- but the yarn has him intrigued.
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a
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FOR JULIE.
Better late than never
fff ur fine.
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Sawbones | OTA
1. Dust Town.
Sawbones goes to Dust Town every day there isn't need for her elsewhere. It's the same and different, in ways that dig under her skin like sand grit in a bandage. She can be found talking quietly with other casteless women, passing small bundles between each other as they speak. They don't welcome interruption. Anyone wandering around is as likely to meet an irritated Sawbones asking, "What are you doing here?" as they are trouble.
Occasionally she can be found in the backstreets that bridge the Commons and Dust Town, washing blood off her clothes and hands in a stalagmite pool.
2. The Commons.
The Commons is exactly the nightmare she expects it to be. It doesn't matter that she's effectively a surfacer now. It doesn't matter that she's a Chantry Sister. She's Casteless, branded and all. So the treatment isn't actually that unexpected.
Merchants at best eye her suspiciously. At worst, they inform her outright that they will not sell to her, because they know her coin is ill gotten. The only merchant ("""merchant""") who seems to give her the time of day is a shady looking man who lurks near the main road between Dust Town and the Commons. They seem to spend a great deal of time arguing about the value of teeth.
As for the lava: "They don't toss bodies into the lava. They feed 'em to the nugs."
She doesn't go anywhere near the Diamond Quarter.
3.WILDCARD
[ hmu, sawbones is here to have a very bad time. ]
1. Dust Town
So she avoids it -- but the surprise of seeing someone who is actually a halfway familiar face breaks her concentration, and Ellie gives a small gasp of surprise.
It makes her visible, suddenly, when she wasn't there before -- like she appeared out of thin air in the sooty gap between stone pillars. A young human with freckled cheeks and plain clothes and plenty of scars, palms wrapped to hide the shard.
"Any of that yours?" she asks, indicating the blood the Sister's scrubbing off her clothes.
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commons.
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1
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dust dust dust
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Gabranth | OTA
II: FRESH AIR
III: DEEP ROADS
IV: LEISURE
V: WILDCARD
[OOC: will match any format! I also have a plotting post here if you'd like to talk specific ideas, or feel free to hit me up on plurk or discord. I want to do everything. RP everything with me.]
✨not here✨
She lied, when she said Denerim was a small city. It's not, that was a joke, one Gabranth couldn't have possibly understood. But Orzammar? Orzammar is a small city, especially when you're both as tall as they are, towering over the average inhabitant. It feels as though she can see Gabranth coming miles away.
The forth time she turns to avoid him, she lingers in the street, meeting his eye. She assumes he's watching her. That is probably vainglory. He has other concerns, all far more important than the crush of her throat against his gorget.
She disappears into a smaller, twisting street, and will not be found through sheer bloody-mindedness. Orzammar, however, is filled with orphans and street sellers. This one sells ribbons. A small child offers one to Gabranth, bright and colorful green, assuring him that 'm'lady' has bought it for him.
Someone has written KNOB across the cheap silk.
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THE BUTTERED NUG
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leisure.
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fresh air
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leisure.
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Buttered Nug
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I'm really sorry for this, truly I am
Are you???
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CLOSED:
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that image, i'm dying
;>
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ye olde wildecarde.
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1: how dare you 2: how dare you though
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leisure.
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leisure
fights dw in the pit for not sending me this notif
zoya | ota
WILDCARD
proving arena;
"Still, a good show." He shrugs a little. Winning isn't everything. "You eat yet?"
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wildcard.
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wildcard;
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Edgard
The Buttered Nug Room 2, Closed to Erik and Thranduil
He groans and clutches his stomach.
"Either of you eat the food? What was that?"
Edgard's stomach gurgles loudly in distress.
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OPEN
I (lava) you
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Patrol
Re: Patrol
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Ellie | OTA
Even if the Paragon's rest is physically more comfortable, it's far fancier than Ellie's used to. She looks distinctly out of place to begin with, all whip-thin corded muscle and freckles from a sun nobody here's ever seen. She doesn't have armor on, just leatherwork, mismatched but fitting, hands wrapped to securely hide the shard in her palm.
She leaves her forearms bare; though she doesn't have any tattoos that look like the ones sported by the casteless, a moth and two ferns span from wrist to wrist to elbow on her right arm, laid down over scar tissue.
Ellie learns quickly to play cards, and otherwise keeps to herself. The Rifters are familiar faces, even if she doesn't know all of their names; if she gets a chance she may sidle up to one of them and take a place nearby.
"There's a breeze a foot to your left," she tells them, her smile wry. "What'd you get up to today?"
b. THE DEEP ROADS [cw: violence]
Though Ellie's technically part of Scouting and not Forces, she's managed to prove herself to be a force to be reckoned with in the training yard, and she invites herself along on more patrols in the Deep Roads than she's assigned. Between her knives and bow, she fights with a dirty, ruthless efficiency, throwing herself with almost worrying zeal into the fights with the Darkspawn.
Her arrows rarely miss, and if something gets too close, she's far from shy about pulling a blade and going for something vital. She keeps herself keenly aware of any allies in trouble.
Might even be that she's pushing herself a little too much.
One particularly vicious wave of Darkspawn has them pressed, and Ellie nearly goes down under a close call with four on her at once. She dodges them at first, but she's tired, her movements lagging from too much time spent on patrols, and she takes a hard blow in her shoulder. She staggers with a yelp and a curse -- and then her eyes glow a sudden, bright blue, and she blinks out of sight.
A second later, something rips the throat of that Darkspawn right out, spraying blood everywhere. Once they're dispatched, Ellie appears again some feet away, gasping for breath, leaning heavily on her bow like it's a staff, her legs trembling under her.
c. ORZAMMAR PROPER
Eventually, Ellie's command will make her take some time off, but resting can only occupy her for so long. Instead she wanders through the merchant's quarters, taking in the intricate weapon and metal and armor work, bright-eyed as she watches it be made. Anyone willing to entertain her questions will get a barrage of them, though she does her best not to actually interrupt.
Most often she is content with simply watching -- but there are times she'll sit and bullshit with the merchants, always tactfully making herself scarce when they have business to conduct. She doesn't wear out her welcome in any one place.
"You getting anything?" she asks, if any of the Riftwatch members approach the stall she happens to be at.
d. WILDCARD
a.
It takes a moment to ascertain that she's the person being spoken to, but there is a draft nearby--she can smell the difference in the air. There's not much shift in her face, the suggestions of confusion and understanding difficult to register without knowing her.
"I talked," is her response, flat and with a faint accent to it. Having taken this as an invitation, she seats herself across from the girl. (Ellie? A fighter, she knows this much from her presence in the training yard. Laura has not challenged her to a fight yet, preferring to take the measure of other small, swift people from afar first.) She's brought some dinner with her, tearing up a hunk of bread and dropping it into a bowl of soup. (Under other circumstances, she would use her claws. Away from the Gallows, however, it's an unwise choice.) "What did you do?"
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b.
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a
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I know we already have a thread but (b)
Shhhh
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chest not eyes augh lore
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c.
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c.
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b.
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Byerly Rutyer
closed to flint
So: a cheery rap on the door, in the rhythm of a recent tavern song, and when Flint opens, a bottle held up for his perusal. ]
Drink?
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bastien | ota, brackets are rad if you prefer
ooc: i want to try time skips + rolling dice to see how the meeting goes in between those skips so if you want to try that with me (1) bear with me experimenting on you and (2) feel free and maybe a little pressured to help improvise details.
A few hundred feet and one corner away from their destination—the door of some middle-caste dwarf in need of schmoozing—Bastien stops, shifting on his feet in a way that's more energetic than awkward, like a boxer on the edge of a fighting ring, and considers his partner-in-charm.
"Are you nervous?" he asks. "I'm nervous."
(He's not nervous.)
ii. MARKET
On the surface, a market this crowded would be easy to get lost in. Here, Bastien can see over everyone’s heads. Over the tops of a lot of the canopies, too. So despite the crush of dwarves weaving around one another, he has no trouble spotting a familiar face at a distance and waving for them to come closer.
The market stall he’s in front of is being manned by a ginger dwarf with a neat goatee and very impressive mustache. He looks like someone who might normally be merry, but his hand his on his hip while Bastien smiles faintly at the metal pitcher in his hands.
Once he has an ally, he holds it up. “Would you pay fifteen silvers for this in Kirkwall?”
It’s a fine piece. Good artistry in the embellishments hammered into the sides. Someone would be entirely within their rights to pay fifteen silvers for it. But one of his eyebrows—the one the merchant can’t see—twitches down, like something between a wink and a glare, in a way that suggests the answer he’s looking for is absolutely not.
iii. TAVERN
No one is ever completely off duty, during a diplomatic mission. Not when anyone can see them. But Bastien's as close to off-duty as possible, at the moment, sitting crooked in his chair at a table in the back and staring into a mug of murky, black dwarven ale with fascinated apprehension.
"I heard nothing ever tastes the same, after dwarven ale," he says. "Cheese tastes a little like cake and cake tastes a little like mushrooms and mushrooms..." A handwave that means you get the idea. "... for the rest of your life."
iv. MEETING ROOM
He is—or was, until just this moment—the only one in the meeting room for a few minutes, and he’s spent them dozing on his folded arms on one of the tables. The door creaking open has him sitting straight up, but the evidence is still there in the way his mustache is going this way and that on one side and there’s a shirtsleeve crease on his cheek.
He doesn’t look sheepish, though. As soon as he’s sure it’s someone from Riftwatch, instead of the staff or an intruder, Bastien folds his arms and puts his head right back down. Eyes open, this time. “Bonsoir,” he says, and assumes they’re back from something that warrants asking, “How did it go?”
v. WILDCARD
ii
I'd pay a hundred silvers for that. Maker, look at that craftsmanship! The quality of the metal! It's stunning.
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Lady Alexandrie d'Asgard
Out and About | ota
Days she spends at the markets, sometimes sitting for hours at a time with the gruff older fellow doing sheet-metal portraiture either simply watching, discussing the art of it, or discussing it generally— if she sees you, she may well attempt to pull you in: "Do you think it is more striking from this side, or this side?"
If not there, at the Shaperate volunteering to be interviewed. On this particular occasion she looks rather tense and drawn after leaving her meeting and can be found staring out over the city.
[ ...Or something else! ]
shaperate;
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crystal; for Cosima, Miriam, and Diana
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for byerly
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Sleepover - in medias res but his me if you want adjustments
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PRECIOUS CARGO / CLOSED
Nikolai turns back from watching Gwilid's rapid retreat towards what may or may not be the source of the trouble to raise eyebrows at the rest of the party expectantly.
"What is the usual course of action for being adjacent to—"
Whatever descriptor Nikolai had intended to say is cut off as Molvena lifts the control rod and sends several golems creaking to life. There's a split second to register the development before they begin slinging the heavy crates from the demonstration in the direction Gilid had fled.
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He’s wordlessly resumed jotting notes in an altogether different hand, more rune than text, lines of ink slashed and wobbled with the rock of the stone shuddering under their feet.
This is fine.
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ellis.
yoinks
The clear delight which had shon bright in her face upon the receipt of the tiles has somehow brightened to a staggering two-fold now that they have exited the workshop, as if that initial pleasure had been unbelievably somehow been her true feelings partially masked. Out here in the—well, it is not really open air really, but one gathers the point—street, it takes all her willpower to stop clutching the packet of the tiles to herself for long enough to delicately unwrap them so she might grant Ellis his request to survey them.
"I love them entirely," she confesses. "This one especially with the wheel. There is something about it which reminds me of the great spinning houses in Somerset. I should like to put them in the Hightown house somewhere, I think. If they aren't needed by the division, of course, though I can hardly imagine why they would be. —Oh, look at this one! I have such a fondness for the geometrical quality of it all. It so much more pleasing than any scrollwork, don't you agree?"
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vrrrrrrrm
makes you tag me, then makes you wait a whole week for reply
it was important to make sure the other one turned into a fight first
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survey
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derrica / ota.
work;
Mages aren't. Rivaini aren't. Beautiful young women who are neither married or related to them aren't, etcetera.
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play
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gabranth.
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bullies you into this thread, then vanishes. pro strats
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Bad Times at the Buttered Nug (closed)
(He has been pressured into at least one plate of the inn's namesake dish and his face gave no indication of whether he liked it.)
He does his best, as in the Gallows, to keep out of the way of his companions and make himself as unobtrusive as a muscular man over six feet tall can manage. His bed and belongings are very neat, and the latter take up as little room as possible. The real problem is that he can't pretend not to hear a direct question, even when it's arguably a pleasantry.
"...well enough, today, I think. I was mostly standing watch and nothing happened, which is generally the outcome one wants when standing watch."
nikolai / ota.
john / ota.
/puts hand over date of this tag
time is fake
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