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

[samahl]

A demon wouldn't dodge and certainly wouldn't allow itself to get grazed. A demon would fight back, change the beautiful body he was occupying into something monstrous and defend itself.

The sight of the blood shocks Cyril to his core and proves beyond anything that Sam is real. He drops his bow, unceremoniously letting it fall. "Oh, Sam," he says, his face contorted with apology and concern. "I'm sorry. I just had to be sure. You're bleeding..." he moved his hand as if wanting to reach out to Sam but stopped himself before he closed the distance.

[el_tybs]

Seeing the bow drop seems to be enough for him to let loose the breath he is holding, and to allow his body to release the tension of being attacked. Still he doesn't move closer right away, instead just watching Cyril's reactions and then reaching up to touch the spot that he had been grazed. It isn't a deep wound, but anything on the face tends to bleed a fair amount. A little bit of healing magic takes care of it, but he still needs to find something to wipe the blood off.

When it doesn't look like Cyril is going to come at him again, the mage lets out another sigh, taking in the expression on the elf's face; there no longer seems to be anger there. He considers Cyril's actions for a few moments - he had to be sure - and eventually believes that his actions had merit. After all he was supposed to be dead, and he's told Cyril many times before about the dangers of demons taking on forms that would confuse him. Perhaps later he might be proud, but damn that was scary.

"You know, I think I much prefer the other ways to be shafted," he mutters, grabbing a spare cloth from his belt and rubbing at the side of his face.

[samahl]

Cyril makes these noise that sounds like a strangled laugh. There's something else in it though, something deeply broken. He considers Sam's body now, taking in how much he seems like something out of a memory. There's no sign of the last five years.

"Sam... I..." he starts but he isn't sure how to finish. His hand moves to the necklace he wears with the dragon tooth and the old silver ring. He has the ring that Sam made him right before he left on his finger and Taas's old magical arm band as a collar around his neck. "I'm sorry. I needed to be sure. We can't allow demons down here. There's children here." Including Sina. He thinks how much he wants Sam to meet Sina but right now he feels almost like he wants him alone.

[el_tybs]

The reach for his necklace doesn't go unnoticed, but the only conclusion he can come to is that Cyril clings to it as if fighting with himself about the mourning he's done and now the lost mage is suddenly showing up again. That and Taas had found himself a dragon to get Cyril a tooth; that was news he had not heard just yet.

Once more he gives a sigh and raises his hand to tell Cyril to stop with the explanation. "I get it. Demons aren't... exactly the easiest things to deal with, especially if they take on a form you're familiar with." As much as he didn't enjoy having an arrow shot at him, he gets it.

There's a silence at that point as he finishes up wiping at his face, hoping that he got most of the red off of it now. After putting the cloth away he considers Cyril for a moment, the noise he's made, and slowly holds his arms out a bit in a quiet offer for an embrace. Five years ago he would just hug the elf - and he wouldn't have been shot at - but it seemed like a good idea to give Cyril the choice, especially right now.

[samahl]

Cyril feels rooted to his spot for a moment but then he remembers how deeply he had wanted one more chance with Sam to say good bye and let him know how much he was cared for. Eventually he comes closer and settled into the hug.

It's awkward at first, stiff and tentative, but then slowly he melts a bit and reaches up to grab at Sam and cling to him. He sighs deeply and lets himself just enjoy the scent of him and the way his chest feels against his body.

[el_tybs]

When Cyril comes closer, Sam doesn't close his arms right away, giving him time to settle into the embrace considering Cyril felt rather stiff at first. Once he feels fingers digging into his clothes, holding onto him tight, he wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer.

Leaning forward he lays a light kiss into his hair and lets out a deep sigh himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disappear."

[samahl]

"I know you didn't," Cyril mutters softly. "This whole thing has to be confusing for you too." He doesn't pull away right away. Instead he lets himself partake in being near Sam.

[el_tybs]

"Hm," he hums lightly in agreement; everything is rather confusing. "So much has happened... there's so much to get used to. I'm sure there's a lot you need to tell me, too."

[samahl]

Finally, Cyril pulls himself back. He seems a bit like he regrets it but he can't stay in Sam's arms forever. "No," he says after a moment. "There isn't."

There is a lot that could be said, but Cyril doesn't want to put words to any of them. He moves away now to go pick up his bow. He replaces it at his back.

"Have you seen Kirk yet?" he asks, looking up at Sam. Something seems so distant with him. It's hard to believe that this is the same person who was just clinging onto Sam as if his life depended on it.

[el_tybs]

There isn't. He doesn't believe that for a moment, but he does get that Cyril doesn't want to talk about it. Too painful, or still not sure about... him, he wasn't sure. What he does know is that it is a bit unsettling on how Cyril's personality switches to a stoic one. Cyril has always been good at changing subjects, but seeing like this- Much must have happened to have him stomp that flirty and bubbly personality from the past.

"Ah... yeah. I have actually." Remembering that meeting Sam rubs the back of his neck, lips thinning just slightly.

[samahl]

"I bet that was fun," Cyril pointed out. "Does he accept that you're you now?"

[el_tybs]

"Not really," he says honestly. It had gone a bit similarly to this meeting, minus the arrow and a lot more angry shaking. "Just as much as you I suppose. He's still coming to terms with it."

[samahl]

"I believe that you're you," Cyril replies. His voice isn't very reassuring though. "I just don't know what that means."

[el_tybs]

Just took an arrow to figure it out, but even then it is obvious that Cyril doesn't quite know how to deal with this.

He sighs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not sure... Whatever we found didn't kill us, it just sent us forward in time."

[samahl]

"And now you're stuck in this terrible future with the rest of us," Cyril says, his voice getting more cold every moment. "Welcome, though I'm afraid we don't have the resources to hold a grand party in your honor."

[el_tybs]

Sam blinks at that, lips thinning ever so slightly. "Yeah... I suppose so." A fact he's not exactly thrilled about, but trying to make due; he didn't exactly know where he fit in at this point. "I wasn't asking for a party," he says, frowning slightly since he couldn't tell if Cyril was being sarcastic, angry or something else.

[samahl]

Cyril freezes for a moment. Something about Sam looking so sad clutches at his heart and makes him feel like the biggest jerk in the world. After a moment, he sighs. "Look, Sam, I get that this isn't your fault... But I think I need a bit of time. I'll find you, once I figure stuff out, okay?"

That's really the best he can offer right now.

[el_tybs]

As much as he understands what is going on it still hurts, but he tries his best to not let that show; it's not going to help. So Sam simply gives a nod, that he gets that Cyril needs time and space.

"Yeah, alright. I guess I'll... see you around."

[samahl]

Cyril lingers for a moment, as if he might say something else, but he doesn't. Instead, he gives Sam a curt nod and then moves to leave. He doesn't run, but his movements are fast - almost as if he needs to get away from Sam but doesn't want to seem panicked.