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

[justice_is_blond]

There. There's something left still. It hurts to see Nate in this state, but at least he's still Nate. Anders closes the distance and kisses his love's temple.

"I'm glad to see you." His voice stays quiet and gentle. There's no need to startle Nate or stress him out. "We destroyed one of Corypheus' supply depots. Stole what was needed here that we could transport, and blew up the rest. It's a solid blow." It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But he won't stop, can't stop.

"Can I get you anything? Water or food?" It's delusional to think that Nathaniel might still have wants that are more than the song. He knows it. He hopes anyway, because he's learned how to hope again and isn't quite ready to give up.

[pinprick]

An arm circles Anders' waist. Parted lips move briefly.

"No," he answers, slow and careful but definitely present of mind. He clears his throat. His lips and mouth are dry, but he does not want water. Too much effort for them both. If he does not die in battle, he will waste to death, and he knows it. That is not as he wants.

[justice_is_blond]

He leans in close, holding Nate as if the archer might shatter into a billion tiny pieces.

"All right." Guilt and fear mingle together in his heart. This is hard on Nate. What sort of a person is he to insist on this? "Are you upset with me for wanting you to stay?" Would Nate rather go, and stop suffering?

[pinprick]

Dry lips part. The rattle in this breath becomes clearer.

"You don't have to be the one to do it," he whispers. "You don't have to come with me. But any day will come when I'm dangerous."

[justice_is_blond]

His breathing is shaky for entirely different reasons.

"I know. I know." And he also knows he can't do it. He can't kill Nate until he's gone, completely gone, just like he hadn't been able to kill Karl before he'd been lost to Tranquility again. "I wish I was stronger, love. But you've been my strength and my anchor, and I..." And he's still leaning on Nate and needing him. He doesn't know what to do.

After giving Nate one more squeeze, he tilts his head toward their house on the edge of everything. "Why don't we go home? I'll wrap you in a blanket and we can sit together."

[pinprick]

"My darling boy," Nathaniel sighs, relaxing against his husband. "That sounds magnificent."

Lying in bed is the one thing he can still do perfectly. He would say he is needed here, but he isn't. He is approaching the time when he will be more dangerous than he is helpful.

[justice_is_blond]

Nate gets another gentle kiss on the temple before Anders turns them and starts heading them back. They still have this, and it makes it worth it. Doesn't it? And it's not like they're living in the center of town or something. It's... It's a pile of justifications and self-denial that he's willingly built up and not even Mercy is trying to tear it down.

"I love you." He can't say it enough, especially now that time's getting shorter.

[pinprick]

The spark of alertness appears to weaken, as if Nathaniel is tiring himself with words longer than a syllable. A number of thoughts come to him, though he cannot quite sort them, let alone put them into words.

But he knows the pain is too much. He wants to die. But he does not want to die alone.

"Time means nothing when you are pressed against the beating heart of the Maker," he says aloud, though he does not know which thought it is tied to. Only that it speaks of the longing he will feel for Anders if he goes without him.

[justice_is_blond]

The Maker. For a short, blissful time Anders had almost believed that there was comfort to be found, that not everything in his life had to end in pain and loss, that maybe he could have faith in something. But that had been naive, in his opinion. It had been foolish. And it set him up for this many-months-long agony... which he wouldn't trade because there had at least been joy. But when that's the reply to telling Nate he loves him, he can't help but resent the Maker yet again.

"Or it hurts less when I'm pressed to where I can hear your heart." He hadn't needed much in life. Freedom, a cat, Nate. And he'd gotten them in such short supply, but at least he still has a little longer with Nate.

Their house is ahead of him and he clears his throat as he opens the door, pushing back tears. Nate's not fully gone yet, even if he can see the visible changes in Nate as his energy wanes. Tears will be for later.