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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2021-05-06 08:06 pm

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.




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.
notathreat: (123)

[personal profile] notathreat 2021-05-20 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
"For you or for someone else?" Ellie asks, reminded with a pang of Tommy, and she presses on, not letting herself acknowledge it. "And why, do you need either?"

Ellie leans against the corner of the counter, keeping her fingers well away from the merchandise. It's for the benefit of the wary eyes of the indulgent merchant she's been peppering with questions. If she were here alone she'd probably be tempted, but swiping something while representing Riftwatch would be stupid as all fuck.

Her tone's friendly, and her eyes spend just a second on his leg and crutch before coming back up to rest on his face. He's just as friendly, but she'd wager he could be as mean as her if the situation called for it.
hornswoggle: (1195)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2021-05-24 04:45 pm (UTC)(link)
The flicker of attention down and then up is noted. It's nothing particularly new, and John has never pretended that he doesn't draw attention. She doesn't stare, and her expression doesn't contort into pity, so what more can John really ask of her?

"No, but I've always thought a second opinion couldn't hurt in most matters."

With a nod to the merchant, presently studiously devoting his attention to whittling, John lifts a heavy gold ring from the table.

"For instance, I have never been partial to gold, but—"

He tips the ring towards her. It's not suitable, really. John needs particular stones, prefers silver to gold. But there's nothing wrong with this ring on its own, other than perhaps that it's fashioned to invoke the shape of a griffon's beak.
notathreat: (14)

[personal profile] notathreat 2021-05-25 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
Missing limbs aren't so uncommon in Ellie's world, and Ellie herself hasn't managed to keep track of all of her fingers, either. It's a shitty hand to be dealt, but you work around it.

Ellie turns her attention to the ring, tilting her head to have a good look at the way the reddish light glimmers off the worked gold, glittering almost crimson in places.

"Pretty," she answers, with a grin. "Especially for a griffon rider."
hornswoggle: (254)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2021-05-31 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Work around it indeed, though John clearly hasn't been so motivated to make effort to insinuate himself onto the back of a griffon, seeing as his answer is—

"Then I best leave it here, so one if one of our number who has that skill passes they can acquire it."

And the ring is so returned to the glossy stretch of velvet John had plucked it from. The merchant's gaze has narrowed slightly, which John clocks but does not respond to, as he lifts another from the assorted options.

"This? Better suited for a Fereldan, I assume, considering the dogs?"

A band composed of dogs chasing each other round and round is surely meant for someone with a serious fondness for the beasts.
Edited (tacks on one letter) 2021-05-31 20:56 (UTC)
notathreat: (65)

[personal profile] notathreat 2021-06-02 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Ellie keeps her eyes on the ring for the same reasons the merchant does, and her smile widens a little bit when she realizes he hasn't palmed it. Something for the merchants of the area to remember. He's been watching her like a hawk despite her politely keeping her hands to herself.

"S'just as pretty," Ellie says, putting her elbow on the surface, pillowing her cheek in her hand as she looks over the gold. She's never seen a mabari, but they're fierce looking, sturdy things, and the ring's a work of art.

"I still don't get the thing about Fereldans and dogs, but maybe Ellis would like something like this. If he liked something pretty."

Ellie gives a shrug, then reaches out for the sturdy chain of what looks like a silver necklace, picking it up and letting it hang from her fingers. The end is a worked metal pendant shaped like a wolf's head, a small but beautiful ruby clenched between the fangs like a drop blood. It glimmers in the light.

"This one would be cool. If wolves are your thing, anyway."
hornswoggle: (1195)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2021-06-18 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
There was a point in his life where John might have palmed that ring. Or anything from this table. He'd have done it and he'd have been away before anyone had realized what he's done.

Part of him would still like to do it, if only for the simple pleasure of accomplishing something small and meaningless.

But there's the difficulty of being representative of Riftwatch: he can't afford to indulge an urge like that. It's not so meaningless, when they're here trying to curry favor.

"Not mine," John tells Ellie, head tipping to examine first the pendant and then her face as she studies it. "Yours, perhaps?"
notathreat: (66)

[personal profile] notathreat 2021-06-21 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
There was a time Ellie might've palmed it, too. Life took them to strange places. She lays the chain over her fingertips, letting it fall and catch the light, beautiful against her calluses and the lingering road dust, before she puts it back down.

"No," she says, thoughtful suddenly, a very mixed but troubled look in her eyes, even if her expression is far more neutral. "Definitely not mine."

Ellie flickers her eyes upward, meeting his. She holds the gaze for a second, steady but curious.

"More like a knives person than a jewelry person."
hornswoggle: (162)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2021-06-29 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
The look doesn't go unnoticed. John's gaze sharpens, assessing, but ultimately it's the sort of thing set aside rather than drawn out with questions.

"Well, there are knives to be had, if not at this exact stall," John answers. "I've heard dwarf-made weapons are second to none."

As studiously as they have been ignored, the merchant behind the table still preens slightly to hear it.

"James Holden was considering making some purchases. You could see what his findings have been."

In the course of lifting a heavy silver ring, turning it in his fingers to better examine the stones set into the band.
notathreat: (41)

[personal profile] notathreat 2021-07-12 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
"I'll check that out," Ellie says with a nod. "And with Holden. I've met him; he's cool."

Ellie watches him a moment longer, trying to decide whether his interest in the heavy ring is more something to do with his hands than something that has meaning. The silence is the companionable kind; she's not the sort that needs to fill it with anything in particular.

"Who are you, in Riftwatch?" she asks. "What do you do?"
hornswoggle: (1186)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2021-07-14 03:47 pm (UTC)(link)
The interest can be both. (A borrowed habit, a mirror of someone else, perhaps.) The minor delay in answering Ellie is entirely down to John's examination of the stones, trying to assess at a glance.

"John Silver," he says after a moment, turning his focus entirely back to her. The ring is still in hand, and the merchant still very attentive as to John's light tap of the engraved side against the tabletop. "Present Master of Information within the Diplomacy division, and quartermaster of the Walrus, in my off hours."

Such as they are.

"And you?" John prompts, weight shifting, readjusting the set of his shoulder against the padding of the crutch.
notathreat: (14)

[personal profile] notathreat 2021-07-18 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"John Silver" sounds like a moniker rather than a name, and the corner of Ellie's mouth twitches into a smile as she resists the urge to ask. He definitely looks the part of a displaced pirate.

She thinks with a pang of someone who'd have been over the moon to meet this guy, and pushes the thought away.

"No wonder you're asking all these questions," Ellie says, lifting her shoulders, like a few things have settled into place for her. She still has more questions than answers about him, but so far- well. So far, it's enough.

"I'm Ellie. Rifter, scouting." She's aware that the merchant is still listening, but at the same time, she's really got nothing to hide.

"It was a near thing between Scouts and Forces, though." Ellie gestures to the bow she carries. It's standard-issue, but it's already seen a fair bit of use.

"Present master?"