open | full circle pt 2
WHO: Many people, mostly mages and rifters and Templars/Seekers
WHAT: Stop that Circle!
WHEN: Late Solace
WHERE: The College of Magi, Cumberland, Nevarra
NOTES: OOC post! Please note we are not doing the points game part yet. But we will later and your tags will still count then.
WHAT: Stop that Circle!
WHEN: Late Solace
WHERE: The College of Magi, Cumberland, Nevarra
NOTES: OOC post! Please note we are not doing the points game part yet. But we will later and your tags will still count then.
I. THE JOURNEY
After the meeting, there's time to talk, pack (lightly), and get a full night's sleep. But after an early breakfast the next morning, everyone heads up to the eyrie at the top of the Gallows' central tower to load onto griffons.
They do it with the sanction of the Division Heads, accompanied by some rules, like no violence, and some mandatory company. A few Templars (and a Seeker) are sent along with them, in Riftwatch uniform rather than their more traditional and more inflammatory armor. Mages and rifters and interested others have the choice of donning their uniforms or not.
The trip to Cumberland is short an uneventful. Trained griffon riders and the animals they've bonded with lead the flock, but other griffons follow cooperatively behind, each carrying one or two riders and their effects. The group lands once or twice in the Planascene Forest to stretch their legs, have a meal, etc., while the griffons help themselves to a buffet of wildlife. A few of those without bonded riders might need some extra persuasion to get back in line, when it's time to go, but nothing goes significantly wrong.
II. THE COLLEGE OF MAGI
It's late and dark when they swoop down on the city, but the College of Magi is easy to spot, because it's a palace with a hammered-gold dome roof that shines in the moonlight. The griffons land and consent to being tethered in an enclosed courtyard that, after years of neglect, is no worse off if they trample the greenery a bit. The doors inside are guarded not by Templars, but by Cumberland city guards assigned to keep looters out of the palace in the mages' absences. Once they've taken in the presence of the griffons and uniforms, they put up no resistance to Riftwatch's entrance.
Inside, the halls are quiet and opulent: in addition to the famous collection of sandstone busts of every Grand Enchanter from the last 600 years lining the entrance hall, there are marble pillars, bright frescoes, vases, art, gilded vines crawling the walls. Everything shines and glitters in the light from the braziers on the walls.
The mage who comes scuttling down the hall to give them a bewildered greeting, robes flapping and a basket of bread on his arm, is Senior Enchanter Erfried Neumayer, noted Loyalist, formerly of Hossberg. He is well into his nineties, spry but mostly blind, and very friendly. He explains, eventually and in pieces, that they have not even started the conclave, unaware they might have needed to rush, and the others are currently having a late dinner and an idle chat in the dining hall. Thus the bread.
The rest of the mages are not glad to see them, albeit mostly in a polite and/or passive-aggressive way. They make a fuss about not being prepared to house or feed any additional participants, but in the end do show everyone to one of the bunk bed-filled rooms that used to house apprentices.
The first night and every night afterwards, Riftwatch has overnight watches—not to watch for danger, but to make sure the other mages don't sneak around and convene while they're asleep. (A few of them might be caught trying to organize exactly that.) The beds are musty from years of disuse but otherwise fine. Food is grudgingly provided.
Before, after, and between sessions on the floor, there's time to explore the palace. Said to have been donated by a Duchess to keep her mage child in the comfort she was accustomed to, the College is an arguably over-the-top display of wealth and comfort, dusty from disuse but still overflowing with gilding and cushions, baths and kettles enchanted to heat and cups enchanted to cool and dozens of other magical novelties that make life a little more comfortable, art and a badminton field and a massive library. The Harrowing Chamber looks like a place where someone would be honored to complete a rite of passage; the dungeon exists but is small, clean, and devoid of spooky skeletons. It's exactly the sort of place that could serve as evidence that living in a Circle was great, actually.
III. THE CONCLAVE
The conclave, such as it is, begins the next morning, in a room whose domed mahogany ceiling has had it dubbed the Red Auditorium. It's designed to hold a few hundred attendees at a time, so the fifty or so Loyalists (and Aequitarians and Lucrosians) and dozen-plus Riftwatchers have plenty of elbow room.
At least in a parliamentary sense, Senior Enchanter Erfried is in charge—to Riftwatch's benefit. The Loyalist Contingent leads with an attempt to ignore Riftwatch's presence and ram their proposal through with no further discussion or procedure on numbers alone, but Erfried is a stickler for the rules. The name of the game is delay, distract, divert.
Fortunately, the mages prove delayable, distractible, and divertable. Creating a record of attendees and participants devolves into a series of short debates about who counts as a Circle Enchanter anymore and whether rifters have any right to be there, which easily take up half a day. From there, arguments about whether the Conclave has met all the finicky requirements to actually count as a Conclave swallow a few hours as well. Unfortunately, two witnesses profess a messenger was sent to alert the Grand Enchanter, and there's no evidence she did not reach it, so Erfried allows things to continue. In theory. Having spent so much of the day on procedural matters, there's no time to get into substance before adjourning for the evening.
Breakfast the next morning is interrupted by the arrival of the small team Riftwatch sent to alert the rebel mages at the front—and by Grand Enchanter Fiona herself, riding behind Ellie on Artichoke. She's only one mage, but she's an angry and important one. And others are coming. She makes a show of being concerned about whether it will be enough people to counteract the fifty-odd Loyalists, to avoid inspiring them to work too hard, but within Riftwatch, word gets around that they'll definitely have the numbers. All they have to do is stall.
The Loyalists do make every effort to resume the proceedings and make progress toward voting on their proposal. How unfortunate that circumstances prevent it. (Invent your own circumstances. Filibustering, general chaos, and minor property damage are all fair game.)
IV. THE CALVARY & THE DEBATE
The Grand Enchanter's people arrive only a few hours later than expected. There are easily a hundred of them—enough to doom the proposal, certainly. There's a sense of doom among the Loyalists when the proceedings resume. A few leave early in defeat. But the rest stick around, as they finally, finally proceed into discussing and voting on the substance of the proposal, and make fairly impassioned arguments on its behalf.
They evoke the history of the Circles: a compromise that saved them from being hunted by the early Inquisition and from being confined in Chantries to do nothing with their gifts but keep the fires lit. The hundreds of years of peace (they say) compared to what's come before and what will come after.
They say there was a mage child in the Nahashin Marshes, turned out by his illiterate and reclusive family, who appears to have lived alone for several years before recently reappearing, warped from possession, to slaughter his entire village. A town in Antiva realized a few of its new residents were mages and burned their house down, killing one and leaving the others with nowhere to go. A young fellow who'd wandered away from the Inquisition's camps once he came of age was caught picking pockets in Ferelden's West Hill and, in his attempts to flee, froze all of the tavern's occupants solid. Several didn't survive the thawing. They report—with no actual statistics, but a few anecdotes—that incidents of (child abuse cw) suspicious child drownings are on the rise. They ask, rhetorically, whether rifters think they will be left in peace by their neighbors when Riftwatch is gone.
And they go on for quite some time about their responsibility to Thedas. The risk of mages amassing power and establishing dynasties—a hundred years stand between that and a new Tevinter, optimistically. The risk of kings and emperors seizing control of the mages within their own borders, if mages are beholden to them rather than to the Chantry, and wielding them against their own people or their neighbors.
They have a reason for every item in the proposal. It's all very depressing and very sincere. A sizable number of the rebel mages from the front are moved by the presentation of the problem, if not convinced that their solution is correct.
But in addition to talking (and talking and talking), they also listen. They don't really have a choice, now that they're outnumbered. While only Circle Enchanters are technically permitted to vote in the College, Erfried will give anyone the floor for at least a few minutes. And between impassioned speeches, there are regular recesses when the Red Auditorium dissolves into more private conversations. Some are quiet, some are loud—but most mages have years of training in keeping their composure, so only a couple get worse than half-raised voices.
V. CUMBERLAND
With the mages from the front, the pressure on Riftwatch lets up somewhat. There's no longer a need for every Riftwatcher to be on-site at all hours of the day to prevent the Loyalist contingent from voting, so there's time to slip out into the city, whether for business—posting messages, buying supplies, running Riftwatch errands unrelated to mages and Circles—or just a break.
VI. THE RESOLUTION
In the end, not much happens. The proposal is voted down. It is not replaced by anything. But a date is set, three months in the future, to reconvene in a more orderly and less underhanded way to consider other options for mages' (and rifters') future. The Grand Enchanter also consents, in good spirits, to this future gathering deciding whether she stays in charge.
Riftwatch is invited. They have until then to do whatever maneuvering and advocacy they can.
It counts as a victory.
NPC NOTES
- You can do threads with NPC'd mages, or you can thread around their presence: discuss strategy, complain about a conversation with an NPC that happened off screen, take a break from the speeches outside, etc.
- Feel extremely free to make up NPC mages of your own! For natives this can include mages they already know or have history with. If you make up an NPC who you'd like kept in mind in the future, you can put them on the wiki page for this plot.
- The Loyalist camp consists mainly of Loyalists, but also some Aequitarians and Lucrosians. They're a mix of mages who sat out the war, Loyalists who fought with Madame de Fer against the rebels, and mages who fought with the rebellion but have since come around to wanting some kind of system back.
- The rebel mages who arrive on scene are mainly Libertarians, but also have some of every other fraternity—Aequitarians, Resolutionists, Isolationists, Lucrosians, and a few Loyalists along for the ride. They're all mages who fought with the rebellion and then joined the Inquisition.
- Grand Enchanter Fiona is present! If you want your character to have a significant conversation with her, either to get info or try to convince her of anything, do an info request—since she's so important and influential on her own, deciding what she would say or do is a mod call.
- You can invent friends/future contacts from either camp for your character to keep in touch with on their own. I don't have any info beyond the scope of this plot to hand out right now, either as a player or as a mod, but for the belated Part III in a few months I will try to gather folks whose characters have Done Work in the interim to distribute influence/information accordingly.
no subject
Who is outlining a sentiment that falls familiar on John's ears.
"Has Petrana told you what brought us south?"
Us. John. Flint. The entirety of the Walrus crew and their battered ship.
no subject
He shakes his head, no, and waits.
no subject
Perhaps. (He has been speaking on Flint's behalf for a very long time now. He knows the words.)
Still, there is a moment of quiet. Gathering himself. Choosing the words.
"We were in the midst of a rebellion," John says. "Throwing off Tevene rule, claiming that island for ourselves. Nascere was..."
A trailing pause. Genuine. John is still struck by how much opportunity there had been in that place. Flint and Madi's vision had opened it up, and so much potential had flowed forth.
"It could have been many things. A haven. A beginning, to something else. But we were fighting an empire, and circumstances required us to find an ally to aide us. It is why Flint and I came south, first to the Inquisition, and remaining when it became Riftwatch."
Flint and Silver and the Walrus crew. All those years ago, when it had felt like a fleeting detour rather than willing stepping into a sucking slog of an organization that had given them—
"It carried on for a time without us. That was the trade off, really. We remained here, serving Riftwatch while scraping support to be directed back to Nascere. Perhaps if we could have raised more support, swayed more to our cause, the outcome there would have been different."
Or if they had left, when it became clear that they would not receive what they needed. But John does not give this thought any breathing room. It simply cannot be permitted to take root.
no subject
A haven is one thing. A beginning is something else.
Not every mage felt like the negotiations at Redcliffe were the end of their own beginning. Many could see it as an opportunity. They weren't wrong to. It's been years, and this is the first time Marcus has seen the insides of a Circle, besides the Gallows themselves. But then again, here he is. Here they are all are.
"I'm sorry," he says, first. Aware, that while they've found a pocket of space and time to speak privately, it's hardly a quiet stretch of road or a corner of a tavern, and any number of individuals might try to take an opportunity to join them. (At least, Marcus has found, that he acts as something of a repelling presence for those of the Loyalists' faction.)
Still, curiousity is even clearer and brighter than condolences, and so he is moved to add, "I'd like to know more Nascere. What it would have begun."
no subject
How many here would take the word of Nascere as inspiration? As hope? There are many among Fiona's people, perhaps, who would burn for it. Perhaps even some of Riftwatch.
How many more would see it as a thing to prevent?
And then there is the broader truth of what kind of beginning they had hoped to kindle. John feels the words to describe it all. They come easy to him.
"We might find a time to speak at length," is what John settles on. "Perhaps in my office, upon our return."
Implicit invitation to Petrana, and the guarantee that John certainly won't be describing the shared vision of northern pirates on his own.
no subject
Knows, pretty well, that Silver's office is secretly just Petrana's office, which Silver attends to occasionally, and so takes on that meaning as a given. Despite this deferring to speak more at length at a later time, Marcus still has enough of the shape of it not to abandon the conversation simply there, as he asks, "What failed?"
In his dreams, there was an island, and the island was ravaged by a storm. But that storm should have been something else. It should have been an army of Templars, or a ship of Qunari beresaad, or disease, or any other frailty.
"I know of the rift," he adds. "But of your cause."
no subject
"Not failed," is mildly put. "But shifted, from the form we first envisioned."
Broadened, as it became enmeshed with southern politics. With the Inquisition and then with it's splintering. With the endless trade off between what Riftwatch required and what could be redirected, bartered and begged to be parceled off to Nascere.
It was never enough. And now, by necessity, their cause has changed.
"We mounted an attack," John tells him. The beginning of an answer. "It was meant to drive the Imperium from our shores. We believed we had the numbers to accomplish it, and that the element of surprise would carry us through to some sort of victory. If not a complete victory, then enough of a death knell that we might have forced them into the sea in a week's time."
Speaking of the thing draws close that round table in a darkened room. Reminds him of the faces there, the discussion that had wound between them. What Billy had made of him, and how he intended that to be used. The map, water-stained and creased, under Flint's hands, the glint of rings in the lantern-light. Madi's stillness opposite him, how intent she had been.
It should have been something other than what it became.
"We had to retreat. It wasn't just the rift. We found ourselves outmatched."
John has looked away from Marcus, eyes tipped up to the artwork adorning the ceiling. Remembering.
no subject
He remembers the way their numbers had dwindled when those who called themselves Loyalists, of all things they could call themselves, abandoned their post in wake of an unsuccessful vote. An army of Templars marching their way to Andoral's Reach.
Outmatched.
"Shifted," a prompt, a question.
no subject
Only the barest flex of—
Irritation? No, not quite. Some shade of frustration that doesn't quite come to a point but lurks in an undertone.
"We are obliged to wait," is more measured. "And gather allies, and prepare ourselves as best we can for what waits when Corypheus is cleared from the table and we might turn our attention back to our business. Nascere is gone, but..."
A second turn of the hand.
"Tevinter remains, more or less. There is change to be forged there still."
no subject
Marcus is quiet, thinking, before saying, "Corypheus has sunk deep his roots, hasn't he. Tearing him out again will leave something behind."
And perhaps there's opportunity, in that something, while the fragments of the remaining Magisterium consolidate. He sounds more like he is sounding it out himself as opposed to telling Silver anything the man has not already circled around himself. He adds, a little wryly, "Given the calling of the Exalted March, no doubt there are those of higher power who understand the same."
Necessitating, a little, this fight from the south. The south is not waiting around.
no subject
Corypheus is only part of what need be uprooted. But what is planted in his place—
"I believe so," John says, considering their location before lightly saying, "And we are understandably invested in what is installed in that vacant space when this is over."
Is the southern Chantry an improvement? In some ways, yes. In others, John can only see ruin. What occurs when the Chantry takes hold of all of the continent? Would the Qun take that moment of instability before the transition took hold to sweep south and launch their attack?
These are all possibilities. John would prefer to avoid them all.
no subject
After a moment, he says, "That village that we negotiated with," is a lateral move, but he's known Silver so far to be a patient kind of conversational partner. "It wasn't unfamiliar. After Redcliffe, after paying our way back to the Free Marches, we didn't have anywhere else to go. Eventually, we fell upon a settlement, near Wildervale.
"We were poor neighbours," he adds, an easy confession to make. No Riftwatch to come in and massage the inevitable tensions. Perhaps it would have been he, belligerently getting in the way. It had all felt only necessary at the time, this pack of half-feral mages descending, starving and weary, on a place easy enough and out of the way enough to bring under their power. "But it began almost as we'd envisioned, once. As I had," an amendment, avoiding the trap of speaking for more than only himself. "Living apart from society, secluded from it, to keep our own business. That was what freedom was, for me."
Marcus pauses, as if reaching some decision in real time, before adding, "It still is, I suppose, but I think it came about from a lack of faith that anything could be changed. Changed forever, and not only destroyed. Days like today have me doubt it still."
And Silver speaks of changing the Imperium. How far seeing, that vision.