Fade Rift Mods (
faderifting) wrote in
faderift2021-05-06 08:06 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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.
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?"
no subject
"Aye, these are better," Ellis agrees, and undercuts himself with the practical observation that, "They'll hold up well, better than scrollwork would."
It goes without saying, as far as Ellis is concerned, there's no need for her to yield them up. What use would they have in the Research office?
"You should try to arrange yourself a meeting with some of the smiths, and charm them as well. You could get yourself one of those clocks out of the conversation."
This as they pass a trio of children half-wrestling each other along the street. It occurs to Ellis that he shouldn't be surprised if the Provost divines more reasons for business ventures in Orzammar in the future.
no subject
"There is rather a difference between a clock and a stack of painted tiles, Mister Ellis. Not that I would be opposed to such a meeting. I have a half dozen questions with respect to lyrium which I should like to press a smith or six with before we go. Mister Burton and I--well, primarily him; he has only asked for my help--has conceived of a rather interesting project which I think might benefit from their expertise. Do you suppose they might look well over one of the doorways in the front hall? I think that would be very striking should we ever manage to use the main door."
She is careful about how she re-wraps the bundle, her focus entirely devoted to the lay of the paper and padding about each tile rather than where they are or the bustle of the street about them. So long as she stays more or less at his elbow, she doubts she will be steered into any obstacle.
"No, what I would like to do is see if I can obtain a recommendation for a set of little tools. The one I have in Kirkwall isn't quite fine enough to open up either of your lovely birds, and I've been wary of cracking the casement."
no subject
"That should be easy enough," he supposes, the pressure of his hand drawing her a few steps to the left to give the laundress emerging onto the street wide berth. "You might not need to wait for a meeting, and see if someone in the market has a spare set they'd give up."
Surely not an impossibility.
"I'm glad you liked them," is quieter, a self-conscious note layered in beneath the genuine warmth of his tone.
They'd been meant as a different kind of gift. But that they'd been well-received is the point, as Petrana de Cedoux had been kind enough to remind him.
no subject
The project.
"But the birds are, I think, my favorite. I have been contemplating how I will exact my revenge and have yet to decide on anything, but be warned. Retribution will come eventually. Would you mind terribly putting these in your satchel, Mister Ellis?," she asks, the parcel at last fully secured even with her elbow so studiously in his custody. "I'm afraid they won't fit in my pockets and I worry about dropping them as we go."
no subject
"Consider me on guard," he replies, warm over the words. Bent over his satchel as he is, the expression on his face is momentarily obscured. A smile, maybe.
It's something to remember, while they're here. Mechanical birds, far and away the best thing he's given her.
Straightening, and readjusting his satchel to hang between them, Ellis is quiet for a few moments. He needn't ask. Maybe the only thing that need change is the way Wysteria signs her letters. But he draws in a breath, asks her despite wishing to talk about any other thing.
"Will you tell me about your wedding?" he prompts, steady over the question.
no subject
"You will have heard all about the spirits by now of course. But perhaps no one has told you about the possessed helmet we discovered in the ruin's crypt. It's a shame it had to be destroyed. I should have liked to have brought it back to the Gallows with us for study. And perhaps if the spirit had been successfully calmed it might have made an excellent companion for the Skull."
With her hands liberated, they begin to float toward her pockets. It is only at the very last moment that she stops herself; it is a terrible habit to walk about with one's hands so engaged, particularly in a place which is unfamiliar.
"No, the loss of the helm aside, I must say that I was quite pleased with it. Warden Adrasteia did a singularly fine job of the thing, and even de Foncé put on a rather good show of it. He had a new coat made. In a color I told him I liked, even. Can you imagine? But I'm very sorry you weren't there. The dancing was very good. You will have to tell me all about what kept you away."
Here, finally, a more full breath and a(n admittedly) brief pause so she much consider which of all the myriad little things she might first describe to him and instead lands simply on, "Which parts would you like know the details of?"
no subject
But yes, he'd heard about the spirits. Not about the helm, but the general chaos the festivities had devolved into had reached him even with everyone so preoccupied with Orzammar and their work here.
In truth, he cares very little about the details of the reception. The questions that come to mind are more narrowly focused, and harder to ask because of it. In the space of that brief pause and in the wake of her question, Ellis takes the time to sift through all the possibilities before he asks, "Did Tony make a speech?"
As good a place to begin as any.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
free pass to handwave the rest of this cronchy thread
je refuse
(no subject)
Blanket permission to timeskip this technomancer gobledegook
lmk if i yada yada yada'd too far and i will rewind accordingly
perfection tbh
noice noice
looks at my typos, sighs
vrrrrrrrm
Richard is checking over the trigger mechanism of a borrowed crossbow as they walk, currently unloaded and unprimed, in accordance with the (supposed) lower risk of confrontation. The weapon is lighter in his hands than some of the models he’s hefted in the markets of Kirkwall, and markedly less fraught to consider than the familiar overlay of these dark bedrock halls.
He looks over to Ellis in inquiring aside -- mild, at the memory of whatever shared anxiety keeps his face drawn and his cat crouched on edge across his shoulders.
makes you tag me, then makes you wait a whole week for reply
Thot, at least, has done nothing wrong, ever, in her life.
There are things Ellis thinks to say, pieces of advice that Richard likely doesn't need to hear a second time. Instead—
"Did you volunteer for this?"
it was important to make sure the other one turned into a fight first
So yes and no.
Thot licks through her fangs at the sound of her name, the arch of her skull twisted back to Ellis at an angle that seems anatomically unlikely. Richard, by contrast, has looked pointedly away, ahead to the rest of their escort.
“I thought it prudent to familiarize myself with the process directly.”
good work team
Which doesn't really matter, considering they're here. Richard certainly isn't going to turn back, and Ellis can't exactly hold Tony responsible for saddling him with an assignment involving the issue of red lyrium.
And yet—
"I'd like to try not to repeat what happened the last time we were down here together," is a sincere entreaty. He'd like to think Richard will take it into account.
no subject
Richard furrows his brow, as if unaware of the facility Ellis is referring to, or otherwise clueless as to its contents. If only he had known this before.
“Now that you mention it,” the dream, he must mean, as he stops to hitch a boot down through the stirrup of his bow, and draws back, “I can’t help but realize you seemed to have more faith in my capability when you weren’t sure who I was.”
Thot wobbles on his shoulder with the stoop and pull, ever watchful.
no subject
Richard's observations on Ellis' faith in his ability to handle crisis goes completely ignored. What is there to say about it? The reasons for why feel transparent to Ellis, and he assumes Richard can divine them.
"You might have asked," is practically a joke, deadpanned between them with the full weight of all the things Ellis doesn't care to talk about behind it.
no subject
“Obviously I couldn’t have anticipated we would be put on the same cleansing rotation.”
Unfortunate, he’ll acknowledge in another glance.
“I will go out of my way to avoid making myself useful if the worst should occur.”
no subject
"Good," is said without inflection, deceptively tepid. Irritation is not going to serve anyone, would make him sloppy and he can't afford to be brash when there's other people involved, who shouldn't deal with the consequences of Ellis being less than completely focused.
Which is apparently all Ellis intends to say, which leaves the burden of conversation to their companions. Stig, at least, seems inclined towards chatter. The increasingly convoluted story of his sister's cousin's pet nug and it's resemblance to Thot carries them through the first leg of the journey, only interrupted when Jorunn knocks his hammer against Ellis' armored shoulder, producing an audible clang, and points ahead to the sickening red glow slanting faintly across the walls at the tunnel's far end.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
free pass to handwave the rest of this cronchy thread
survey
Ellie can at least get behind the latter thing.
"I've got some notes to compare for dagger commissions and how much the different types go for," she adds, a little more seriously this time. "And I dunno know shit money, but they're definitely hiking up prices for people who aren't local."
no subject
Riftwatch boasts three Wardens within the ranks. Surely not enough to sway any bargains meant to serve the organization as a whole, especially when none of them are especially gifted negotiators.
"You're thinking of daggers now, aye?" is a more pleasant topic, Ellis' eyebrows raising as he looks sideways at her before dropping his attention back to the paper to consider which of the remaining merchants are worth chatting up next.
no subject
Ellie's chest gives a little lurch, and she knows she's been too honest. She knows who two of them are at least, and even if they're the best suited for such a grim job, she doesn't like the fact that it's laid out on their shoulders. Seems fucking unfair. That, at least, she's going to keep to herself.
"Yeah. They make good stuff, but kinda heavier than I'm used to. Good thing is they've got all kinds of stuff they're willing to make arrowheads with. I didn't even know most of it existed."
no subject
But instead—
"Don't think poorly of them," is what he tells her, solemn. "They've shared the keeping of the Deep Roads with us. And they've suffered, and lost as much if not more than anyone living up above has during the Blights."
It's not an admonishment. But it is something she should understand, and delivered gently.
"They're our partners in this, you see?"
no subject
"If it's not during a Blight, are they the only ones dealing with the Darkspawn? Other than the Wardens?"
no subject
But it's hard to be charitable.
"Yes," is a true answer. The Wardens have never had to beg the dwarves for their help. The dwarves have always called this fight their own.
Ellis does find it in him to add, "The war has changed things. Maybe it will change that too."
no subject
"Maybe," she says softly, and kind of hates how it comes out. Like she doesn't believe him. She doesn't, but she doesn't want to be an asshole about it. She'd like to believe him.
She would have, once.
Maybe, kiddo.
"Maybe now that they're seeing what they're up against. And that they can't make it alone."
Mutual survival. That much, people will team up for every time.
no subject
"They've seen before," he tells her. "But it is easy to put it aside, when the danger is so far from the surface."
What a luxury, to be able to forget what a Blight looked like. What a blessing, to never know what it was when darkspawn tunneled forth from the ground.
"But it's not for you to worry about," is meant as some sort of kindness. "Or something we'll solve between us today."
Not that Ellis has such lofty aspirations of solving the problem of realigning surfacer perceptions of the darkspawn problems either.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
shall we put a bow on this y/n
Y!