faderifting: (Default)
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.
archademode: (It’s time to rise)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-20 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
"I do not understand," Gabranth murmurs, his expression dark beneath the shadows of his own helm— despite the fact that Erik cannot see it. It bleeds through in his voice all the same: if the man is royalty, if his lineage is true, why would he mask it?

Why was he kept from it?

clawings: (But rest-assured)

that image, i'm dying

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-20 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
If Erik had a speech bubble from a JRPG above his head right now, it would read [ ...sigh ]. He doesn't, to his credit, actually sigh but he does look at Gabranth before shaking his head a little.

"I didn't grow up wealthy, for one thing. I mostly grew up in state-run foster care. Being a prince did me no favors beyond giving me the right to face my cousin in ritual combat.

For another, these people here? In Thedas? Don't give a rat's ass who I was before. I'm not one'a theirs."
archademode: (This is the moment I am born)

;>

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-20 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
He remembers Alexandrie's words: 'A Bann in Ferelden holds no title in Orlais, but he is no less a Bann when he visits, yes?'

His helmet feels heavy on his head, an insult in present company, he now realizes— though he dare not remove it in the middle of bustling, narrow streets where they've cut away a small portion of space for themselves. Something for later, then.

"Yet royalty you remain, and respect you deserve, no past trial lays claim to your dignity." If he sounds vexed, if his posture seems restless, it is because it is. "You ought embrace it."
clawings: (Given away)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-20 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
Erik notices the restlessness, realizing that this? Is more important to his friend than it might be for him, at least on the surface.

"I've got no experience runnin' a nation. I'm a fuckin' assassin, not a king." His hands are in the pockets of his pants as they walk; the ring on the chain around his neck feels heavy during this conversation. "Besides, if they didn't make a holiday out of my death I'd be fucking surprised."

Now he sighs. "What would embracin' it even look like?"
archademode: (Leaving traces of emotion)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-20 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
What would it look like?

A man of rectitude stands already before him, this much he knows from all prior experience, something he'd not wish to see buried beneath deference and deflection. Yet the ability to give voice to that assertion evades him, and for a moment that shadowed helm is silent in its evaluations.

"With armor, we'll start." The smallest of determinations, a desire to see him kept safe. "Something finer, if need be I will offer my own coin to support this necessity."
clawings: (I deserve to do these numbers)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-20 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, Gabranth's assertation that he needs better armor is unsurprising, considering how they got to this conversation. Erik sucks his teeth and nods. He could maybe get new gold fronts, if he can find someone willing to work with the pair he's got and copy the grooves inside the caps exactly.

"I got dragon scales I brought with me from the Stormrider; figure I could put in a rush order for somethin' to be done with that." Strongest shit in this realm, anyway. Erik scratches at his beard, considering. "I got the coin enough for that. Save yours for what you need, yeah?" What does Gabranth need?
archademode: (we return)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-21 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
"I need little."

It hardly answers much, but the fact that he concedes without any further argument likely means Erik's solution satisfies some small portion of his own concerns— if not all of them. He'd been told Orzammar holds some of the finest craftsmen in all of Thedas: if this is so, Erik will want for little by way of fine-forged security.

"Who else knows of your title?"
clawings: (I'd be more inclined to bow)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-21 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
Erik snorts, softly. Keep your damned money, Gabranth. Don't make him have to break into your room to repay you or some shit.

"Athessa knows my real name, and what it means — it's N'Jadaka, by the way, and don't tell nobody about that neither — but I haven't, like, come out and said that shit to anyone. Not even her." He's made a few throwaway comments about royalty and his feelings about aristocracy before, on the crystals, but that's about it.
archademode: (Default)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-21 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
Again he is bewildered by it. Again, he cannot comprehend what it is that drives Erik— N'Jadaka— away from his own blood, his own line...but perhaps, given what he'd said of his cousin, it is a mirror to his own feelings in regards to Basch. To Landis. Some kind of sting, not easily forgotten.

"I will say nothing if you so bid it. Yet you realize there is influence to be had in your claim. Your heritage. It would open doors, would you speak openly of it."

He thinks of those fluttering Orlesians at the fete, desperate for any kind of excitement.
clawings: (Y'all can't match my hustle)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-21 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
Erik is nothing if not capable of nursing a hurt to his own detriment. So he swallows, nodding at the words that come from Gabranth's mouth, even though he can't see that. He glances left, right, and then turns a corner towards the vendors and smithies in the Commons.

"How important is that, really? I'd rather make a name for myself as myself. I don't act like a prince, you've fuckin' met me." Sucking his teeth again. "I ain't sayin' I won't never, but I had my claim for like. Forty-eight fuckin' hours and then I got ganked."
archademode: (bring it to bear)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-21 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
"The circumstances are different here." He says, shaking his head, leaning forward across the center of his own gravity by measured degrees. "It is as much a part of yourself as your face, your hands, the sweat you expend in battle. There is no difference."

"And I would see you guarded against a repeat ruination."

He would guard him against it.
clawings: (If you let them fuck you)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-21 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
"You can do that without me tellin' all and sundry that I'm a fuckin' dethroned king." Erik smirks a little. "Don't tell me you couldn't, I've seen ya fight.

Look," he pauses, and peers at Gabranth seriously. "I'll think about it. Ain't makin' no promises. I hate most rich people, and most rich people is who'd be interested in that shit anyways, so. We'll see."

archademode: (Leaving traces of emotion)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-22 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
It is a fair point. Too fair of one to argue against— which irritates more than he cares to admit in this moment, dedicated as he always is to his own determinations: that he is right, that he knows best.

But he’ll not gnash his teeth with Erik— and not just because the man is royalty.

“It is not a stain. It is not your antithesis. It is you, that is all I urge you to consider, and shall say no more unless you will it.”

He swears oaths over less; your secret is safe.
clawings: (Look at my check)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-05-26 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Thanks, man. I mean it." Erik nods a little. "Our friendship is important to me, yeah? So, here we are."

Here is one of the various smithies selling their wares and capabilities to craft find weaponry and armor for those willing to pay the coin. Erik looks over a few schematics with the vendor and Gabranth before they settle on something similar to this, done in blues for the chest piece and dark colors and shiny metals for the rest. He shells out most of what he'd brought with him for the rush on the job, but, well.

"Think it'll be worth it?" He asks Gabranth, after handing off his gold fronts to also be duplicated in whatever scrap metal is left. The dwarven smith had looked confused and then entertained by turns at the prospect of making metal to fit in someone's mouth for decoration.
archademode: (It’s time to rise)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-05-26 07:47 am (UTC)(link)
“It will suit you.”

All of it, he thinks, just as fascinated by that final addition as the dwarven craftsmith had been: he more than most can appreciate finer embellishments when it comes to the matter of a carefully hewn visage.

“And I will rest easier, knowing it will keep you safe. Though I wonder at just how easily they'll be able to accommodate your final request in all its accuracy.” Even the slightest bit of difference seems as though it might cause discomfort, by Gabranth's own estimation.

“I suppose that will be the truest test of their capabilities.”
clawings: (And fly past the sky)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-06-02 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
There's nodding from Erik as he shoves his hands into his pockets and turns to leave the storefront. "I figure they probably get requests all the time for armor 'n shit; the fronts, that's a challenge, an' I'm interested to see how they do."

Everyone deserves a challenge, after all, and if Erik can get several pairs of fronts in fucking dragon bone metal, that's pretty badass.

"You gonna help me train in that shit?" Probably won't be too much worse than basic and training for JSOC. Probably. A damn sight heavier, at the very least.

archademode: (with bated breath)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-06-02 06:05 am (UTC)(link)
"Until you cannot move, and your knees buckle, I shall prepare you for all that is to come."

He sounds...grim. Of course he does, such is his way, and there is no masking it by now, but beneath that harshness lies genuine investment: he would not push so hard nor half as far if he did not care about the outcome.

Those who lie beneath him in his eyes, he spares not even a thought for.

Erik is different.
clawings: (Prison of sleep)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-06-03 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
"I'mma regret this shit, I know it already." And yet, Erik is grinning. Everything has been a challenge, in a way, since he woke up here, but there's something about a specifically tailored hell of half his own making that appeals to him.

He's never been one to shy away from the hard work, as he sees it.

A hand comes up and pats at Gabranth's pauldrons, roughly where one presumes his shoulder to be.

"Aight. We got the armor, we got the weapon, we got the plan. What else we need?"
Edited 2021-06-03 03:04 (UTC)
archademode: (When the fire starts)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-06-03 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
Normally such familiarity would be rejected, bristled against by way of a sharper shift in posture. Instead, he bears it without so much as a stiffening throughout his shoulders: relaxed, in present companionship.

Trusting.

"A drink."

That is a joke, Erik.
clawings: (Never to be found again)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-06-03 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"You might be kiddin', but I'm serious about drinking 'n so are these people."

He gestures to the city around them, encased in stone. They have horrible food but good alcohol, and Erik will take it.

"What about you? You need anythin'?"