OPEN ↠ FALSE GODS, GREAT DEMONS (OPEN LOG 1)

[faderifting]

WHO: Living Residents of the Horrible Future
WHAT: Ah ha ha ha stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
WHEN: ALTERNATE FUTURE, 1-15 Cloudreach 9:48
WHERE: Anywhere, but especially Orzammar
NOTES: This is the first open log for False Gods, Great Demons. Anything that happened prior to Cloudreach 9:48 should go on the flashback meme. Most members of the TTT and their friends in Kirkwall will be arriving in Orzammar on approximately Cloudreach 7. In the meantime, feel free to make your own adventures. If you want to blow up an bridge, assassinate an NPC of your own invention, steal supplies, or anything else--it's all yours, go for it!

SOUTHERN THEDAS is a wasteland. The Blight crawling across the Orleian countryside and into Ferelden leaves nothing alive in its wake, scarring the land like an insatiable fire until no birds sing and the only things that grows is the Red Lyrium that speckles cliff sides and crawls up dying trees until they look like rows of jagged bloody teeth. And where it's still green, where people can still survive, the atmosphere is nearly as stifling. Every city and settlement is watched over by a Venatori or trustworthy collaborator. Those who don't keep their heads down and their dissent a whisper may vanish without warning. They may take their whole families with them. There are flashes of hope--an assassinated lordling here, a village rousing itself to brief and doomed rebellion there--but for every man the Imperium loses, they seem to find two to take his place.

NORTHERN THEDAS is at war. The worst of it doesn't reach west into Tevinter or the Anderfels; the line between the Qunari and the Imperium is drawn straight through Antiva, with Nevarra and Rivain on either side quiet and calm as only lands under martial law can be. The Free Marches vary between complacency and rebellion, but the rebellious ones risk ruin--there are murmurs it won't be long before a whole city is made an example. A steady stream of desperate refugees is fleeing north to the Qun, but plenty are picked off and punished as traitors before they can cross into Qunari-controlled territory. Your best best for a clean escape are the pirates who still hold Llomerynn free from both sides of the conflict.

ORZAMMAR is the only kingdom in Thedas that looks much the same--and Kal-Sharok, but they're not accepting outsiders. The heavy doors at Orzammar's entrance are sealed and guarded, as much against the steady flow of refugees asking for help as against the Venatori. The refugees are turned away. There's no way to know who can be trusted, and even if there were, there's not food enough for people who can't fight. Orzammar Thaig is still the dwarves' home--though with stealing shrinking numbers and poor prospects, King Bhelen has been amenable to allowing casteless surfacers some leeway--but the once-abandoned Ortan Thaig is the Inquisition's. Quietly. The only things stopping a full assault on Orzammar is the Venatori's need for dwarf-mined lyrium and the plausible deniability that the Inquisition's remaining rebel bands are using the Deep Roads with Bhelen's consent.

An hour's walk through caves and deepstalker swarms, Ortan is a city in its own right. A crammed city, one where cots and bunk beds crammed into shared housing are the norm no matter how important someone is and you occasionally have to protect your dinner from a restless, swooping griffon, but one where you can still find a pint of ale or a game of cards if you've time to waste on them. It's just that not many people do. There's the watch to keep; the tunnels that creep further into the deep teem with darkspawn who are held back at barricades, while the hidden, narrow tunnels that lead to the surface are watched at all hours so anyone coming or going can be identified. There are weapons to forge and sharpen. Plans to make. Bands to lead. Maybe you weren't a leader five years ago, but these days, there aren't that many people with more than five years' experience still alive to give orders. Fewer every week.

And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars,
We dreamed up false gods, great demons
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you.
Threnodies 1:8

Comments

ii

[serannas]

[ After escaping Kirkwall, Ellana returns to Ferelden on a boat, sitting up on the crow's nest as a tiny sparrow. She isn't taking any chances of being recognized as an escaped prisoner and being dragged back. There are a lot of thoughts in her head about the time travelers she saw in prison, but she felt it best to separate from them. She needs a break. One month incarcerated was enough for her, and as she approaches the dwarven kingdom she makes the snap decision to not go back down just yet. She needs the open air.

Right now, she's in another of her shapeshift forms -- a fennec -- which allows her to scout out the area for the enemy while being overlooked. As she approaches the elves' retreat, she slows, sniffing the air. The glamour hides Thranduil from her sight, but her animal senses tell her someone is here. ]

[rowancrowned]

[ unless he is much mistaken, neither the red templars nor the venatori have managed to turn the wildlife into their personal spies. animals exposed to red lyrium become ugly, misshapen things, and this little fox is (adorable) unharmed, if, perhaps, lost.

he sheds the glamour with the ease that some men shed cloaks, and looks at the tiny fox with an ageless sort of curiosity that has him kneeling down and offering his fingers for inspection.

for all that the creature is not a pincushion of red crystals, it doesn't feel right. ]

[serannas]

[ Ellana comes over to press her nose to Thranduil's fingers in a show of trust, before she turns and scurries a good distance away to shift back. No need to do it all up in his face. In a cloud of purple and black smoke that quickly dissipates, Ellana steps forward, looking practically the same as the last Thranduil saw her with her blind eye and deep facial scar. There is a slight change, however. The pinkie finger on her left hand is missing. Damn Venatori. ]

I would have visited earlier, but imprisonment tends to change plans unexpectedly.

[rowancrowned]

[ then, ah-- not a fox at all, but an elven woman, and one he is very glad to see. he takes in her injuries with an unphased expression-- one finger is better than the whole hand-- and does not tamp down on the pride at seeing her alive once more. ]

I feel inclined to forgive you, Ellana.

[ he rises from his crouch slowly, unspooling his whole height, rolls his shoulders to work some of the ache out of them. he softens his usually expression for her before he asks: ] Are you here to see the clan?

[serannas]

Somewhat. I don't really like the idea of being confined again so soon, and down there with no windows or breeze...

[ She shakes her head. There were some dark thoughts in that prison cell, and being down underground will just kick them all up again. She's no longer the naive Ellana she once was, so she doesn't expect this camp to be a salve for her soul or anything so ridiculous, but she knows she'll be able to sleep at night without thinking about keeping one eye open. As she only has the one eye now, she really can't spare it for the task. ]

I'd like to stay here for a bit before I head off again. There are still plenty of Venatori to kill.

[rowancrowned]

[ he does not need to nod, to show agreement, to let his voice tighten, to think of the smells, the lack of sunlight-- ]

I have been told he says lightly. that the dwarves are great architects. That promise does not wholly erase the reality of cave-ins.

[ he has not survived thus far to die under a rain of rock and the stink of darkspawn in the back of his throat like tar. he has survived to offer what refuge he can, to take a few steps and wait for ellana to fall into place behind them, for both of them to pick their way through the woods, the layers of protection he's weaved crumbling away like so many layers of pastry. ]

You are always welcome. I know you are a knife in their side- you deserve rest, and a warm meal.

[serannas]

After all we've done, scraping together what resources we can to keep the fight going, it would be typical if the Inquisition literally collapsed due to a cave in.

[ She would look at the rubble and say "seems about right." ]

Ma serannas. Speaking of knives, I'll need a new one. Mine was taken when I was captured. My staff too, but I don't need a staff to do magic.