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

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

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

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He could argue that point - even if they did run, maybe they'd find a way to still keep fighting, to make a difference. But then the Doctor goes on, and as he does, something in Jamie's eyes hardens, any faint hint of openness shutting down. If he's understanding the Doctor correctly, there might be a way after all...only the Doctor doesn't want to take it.

"You're no sure you can let them."

That bitter note is back in his voice, only this time there's an undercurrent of disgust mixed in, and he abruptly pushes himself to his feet.

"If there's some way to go back, that sure sounds like it might be a way to do something to me. Only you'd rather just let what's happened here keep right on happening, rather than change things. You'd rather let us all die, is that it?"

The Doctor looks up at Jamie. He looks worried, confused, and maybe sad all at the same time. So, now he has to fight even his friend...

He closes his eyes for a moment gathering his thoughts. Then he opens them before speaking

"No. That's not it. Quite the opposite." He takes a steadying breath. "Jamie, the future is no more malleable than the past. Those of us brought here have become a part of events now. If we go back and change things, then whatever happened to bring us here gets changed. Paradox loop. Everyone's timelines disintegrates. Ripples, into tidal waves, until everyone dies..."

He gestures with his hands to show what might seem like a little change is actually quite big. He shakes his head. "I can't let that happen. You know I can't."

He hangs his head again. It's obviously painful for him to know this future must happen.

This time, the disgust isn't just an undercurrent, but something that's very present, down to the narrowing of his eyes and the curl of his lip - and the noise he makes in the back of his throat.

"We're dead anyway if things stay like this. And I don't mean just them," he says, gesturing emphatically back to the Thaig with one hand. "But you and me and Hermione and anyone who's left around here with a shard. Or anyone unlucky enough to get too close to a rift and wind up stuck with one. Either the Venatori'll capture this place and capture us or someone'll be too tempted by the bounty and turn us in. Sooner or later, it'll happen, Doctor, mark my words."

Maybe the Doctor doesn't care about that sort of thing anymore, though, and as he turns back he crosses his arms over his chest.

"You didn't used to care about interfering before, not when it was important. There were times where we wanted to leave and you wouldn't, because you wanted to help people. What happened to that Doctor? What happened to you to make it so you don't want to do that anymore?"

What indeed had happened? The question took the Doctor off-guard. It shouldn't have. After all, Clara had asked him the same thing when they had been in the Cloisters. He had to think about how to answer. So many different answers he could offer. Which would be the most right for Jamie? He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Confession Dial. He presented it to Jamie for his inspection.

"I was used as a bargaining chip. Between an immortal who wanted to keep the Earth safe from the creatures I left behind and the Time Lords who wanted to extract information from me. My friend who travelled with me at the time was killed because of their game. Then the Time Lords trapped me inside of that."

He knew the next question Jamie would ask, so he started to answer before the question was asked.

"It's a Time Lord Confession Dial. It is meant to be used as a ritual act of purification. It allows a dying Time Lord to face his demons before his mind is uploaded into the Matrix. But... Not for me. For me, they found a way to turn it into a torture chamber."

He looked down and away now. He wouldn't tell Jamie everything. Not yet. It was too painful. Mixed with sending her to her death in the Library, it was too much.

"It took me over four billion years to find a way out..."

Enough of the truth to be the truth without the details that just hurt more than he could admit. Finally he looked up at Jamie again.

"I do want to help. But these days, I'd rather help without causing too many deaths."

Four billion? For a moment, Jamie's eyebrows arched up, far enough that if he hadn't grown out his hair, they would've disappeared under his bangs. As it was, they simply made him seem surprised - in large part because he was. The Doctor hadn't said anything about it being that long before.

Not that was anything new. The Doctor'd always kept a lot of things close to his chest, sometimes promising that he'd explain later and he never did. In the past, Jamie had accepted that - admittedly, with some occasional consternation when he did find out, but he'd accepted it. Today, however, he had no patience for it, and the expression on his face said as much.

"Aye, I see. So now you're thinking that if you do go back to interfering, the cost'll be too high...so you'd rather do nothing at all. All because you were tortured."

Jamie turned slightly, showing a long scar that ran across his cheek. The beard covered part of it, but even with that if someone looked close enough, they could see where it stopped just short of his neck. A few inches longer and it might have very well sliced into his neck itself.

"That's my wee little gift from the Venatori. One of them, anyway. The others happened before you got here, the first time I was captured by them. You're not the only one that's been tortured. I'm not the only one, either. I'm just one of the lucky ones."

Lucky to be alive - as much good as that did anyone nowadays. Still, something in his face softened ever so slightly as he turned back, although his arms remained crossed over his chest.

"Look, I don't know why your own people would've done that to you, Doctor, and it's not right. But this isn't right, either. None of this is. Did you ever think to wonder why there's been a timeslip here? Here in a place where - och, there's a reason why I'd not told most people here about the fact we'd traveled through space and time. People don't just travel through time here - or slip through it, for that matter. Anything that could've caused something like that has to have something powerful behind it. Don't tell me there's not some part of you that doesn't want to do something about that."

The Doctor huffed a defeated sort of sound. He pulled a hand down his face and then looked up at Jamie. His expression was filled with great sadness. If the only person here who had travelled with him had given up on him, what good could he possibly do?

"Jamie... It's not the torture that is stopping me. It's the fact that too many people have died here already. If we go back and change things... Everything could be wiped out of existence..."

But then... Jamie changed the direction of the conversation. The Doctor stood. "I am doing something about it. I'm trying to get people to stay here. I'm trying to prevent any more time travel that might cause more time slips. This entire place might be in the process of ripping itself apart and you think going back would somehow make that all better?"

He paused for a long moment. Time to call a spade a spade.

"I'm sorry I'm not me from when you knew me. I'm sorry that I do things differently now. There is one fundamental difference between me now and me back then. And it's not the age or the regenerations... I now understand that I can't always save everyone. But I make damn sure to save those I can. The thing is, Jamie, sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones. But you still have to choose."

And that's what he does. There is no winning this situation. He knows that. He can only save what he can.

"Aye, I understand, too. Sometimes there are only bad choices. I know that."

It seemed like they'd gone through more than their share of those over the past few years. Bad choice after bad choice, and now all someone had to do was look around to see where they'd wound up. The Doctor hadn't lived through that here, but Jamie had hoped that the abrupt push through time coupled with seeing what had happened would've been enough to get him to want to at least want to try and figure out what was going on.

It wasn't, apparently, and if the Doctor wasn't willing to take that risk, then the only thing left to do was for Jamie find some way to do it, instead. He finally let his arms fall back to his side, but his chin lifted as a determined look came into his eyes.

"You do what you want, Doctor. I'm tired of the way things are, and I mean to do what I can to change it. If that means doing it without you, then...that's just the way it'll have to be."

The Doctor's face fell into the saddest look ever. He's not quite crying. But give him a few minutes, he might get there.

"Jamie? I..." He sighed heavily. "I just don't want things to get worse than this."

And he'll hate himself every minute, but he would absolutely fight anyone if it meant preventing something worse from happening.

"Does this mean we're enemies now?"

"Then take a chance, Doctor. Even if it's a risk, take it."

He doesn't want to be enemies. Far from it. The Doctor's been his best friend for a long time, and even with the strangeness of his new face and the five years where Jamie thought'd he'd been gone, that feeling is still very much there for him - and he reaches out to clasp at the Doctor's arm, clinging onto it in a way that he hopes gets that point across.

"Look, maybe you're right, and going back will make things worse. What if there's something else, though, something we're not seeing? Would you at least consider trying to find out if there's anything that we can do? Even if it's not going back. If you do and there isn't anything, then...aye, well. I'll accept it. But you've not been in this time all this long, Doctor. There's got to be things we don't know yet, and I don't want to do this alone. Could you not help me, Doctor? Please."

The Doctor looked down at the hand on his arm. Twenty-four years ago, it might have been with derision. But not now. Now it was more in confusion as to why anyone would want to touch him. Confusion that someone who wasn't her would touch him like this.

"When did you get so smart?"

It was a rhetorical question. But had to be asked. He sighed heavily.

"Of course. Of course I will see if there's anything else we can do. I don't like happened here any more than you do. But, Jamie, I can't do something that would make all this worse either."

He just needs Jamie to understand that. The Doctor isn't a god. He can't fix everything.

It might have been a rhetorical question, but Jamie shook his head in denial all the same.

"You're the clever one, Doctor, not me."

The Doctor always been the brains out of the two of them, and if there was anyone that could find a way out of this without destroying everyone's timelines, he could. Still, he understood what the Doctor was saying well enough, and he knew they'd just have to wait and see what they could figure out.

"I know you won't, though. Come on, let's get out of here. There's still some places around here to get a drink, although it's not like the tavern back in Skyhold, and I want to see if anyone's turned up around them."

By anyone, he mostly meant Hermione, and he figured the Doctor would probably know that...but even if it only turned out they got a drink...well, that'd be alright too.

Oh the Doctor knew. But he wasn't going to say anything. So he just offered a small nod.

"You know things much better than I - even if I hadn't been transported five years along, you'd still know this place better."

Because the Doctor hadn't been there all that long. But mostly this was to give Jamie an out. Boys were stupid about girls. But, he had discovered with Grant, there were people out there worse at it than he was. The problem was... If things were said here and they went back, what would that do to Hermione.

The thought of what might happen if Jamie said things and then Herimone wound up going back wasn't exactly something that was on his mind. Seeing her again - well, that was a different story, but one that he was able to at least push the thought of to the back his mind for the moment.

"Aye, well, maybe not here so much," he comments, even as he starts back towards the main part of the Thaig. "We've only been in this place a year or so. I know that's not all that much time, especially for you."

He'd not be surprised if the Doctor knew this place just fine inside a week, honestly. For now, though, he willingly led the way until they reached one of the local hangouts. If there was any disappointment that there weren't any long-missed faces around, it didn't show. Instead, he went over to fetch a pair of drinks, bringing them back and offering one out to the Doctor.

"What happened, anyway? I mean when you first realized something'd gone wrong. You'd not said, exactly, just the rift turned up and when it was gone you were here and surrounded. Were the Venatori waiting for you, or did they turn up later?"

He might not be as clever as the Doctor, but as far as he was concerned, he fully intended on finding out as much as he could, because knowing small things like that could be important in the end.

"Because it was that quick, Jamie. One moment we were looking at the bodies in the ruins. The next we were here."

He accepted the drink and took a long draw from it before continuing. He pulled a face.

"What is this?"

He shook his head, didn't matter. He was thirsty enough, he'd drink anyway.

"I got the impression they were as surprised to see us as we were to see them."

"Ale." As he took a swig from his own tankard, however, he wound up pulling a face of his own before amending his statement slightly. "Not very good ale, mind. But ale."

The whole Rifters taking over the tavern hadn't managed to take off before Cosima had vanished, and with her gone and Church dead, he'd decided to let the whole thing go. Maybe if it had he'd have been able to do something to help with what they had here, but since it hadn't, they were pretty much stuck with what they had.

It was only part of the reason why his nose wrinkled as he took another swig of the stuff...but entirely why he set the tankard back down afterwards. He'd have to see if he could find someone that'd smuggled in something stronger later on. First things first, though.

"So they'd not expected people to come through a rift there. That's something. Still seems odd that there were a group of them in the temple in the first place, though. Did you notice anything odd or anything they were doing before they captured you?"

The Doctor didn't like the ale, but he didn't exactly care at the moment. He took another swig before he answered Jamie. He shook his head.

"No. I had the impression they had set up camp just outside the walls and they had been there for some time. There were too many of them to simply expect people to show up there. Maybe they thought it was a darkspawn rift?"

But the Doctor is really only guessing. He doesn't know enough to know what he should or shouldn't know. Or if any knowledge would matter anyway.

"Darkspawn don't come through rifts, just up from underground."

It's said absently, as most of his attention seems to be fixed on the tankard. The fact his brows are furrowed as deeply as they are at the moment, however, means he's not really looking at that either, even if he is frowning at the thing. Mostly, he's just trying to think that through.

"Could be that they wanted to do something with the red lyrium that's in the temple, although there's enough of that around that they'd not necessarily need what's there now. So why stay there for so long, then?"

Could be it was something about that particular red lyrium that they were interested in, but what that might be, he had no idea. After a moment, he shook his head.

"There's got to be some reason for that. Don't suppose anyone came by after you woke up again and said anything odd, did they?"

"Everything here is odd to me."

It was said absently. Almost sadly. He doesn't like all this not-knowing that he has going on these days. But he closed his eyes and tried to piece together anything that was said. Give him a minute, Jamie, he's an old man now. There's a lot to sort through.

"We were in Kirkwall. The Gallows. Covered in Red Lyrium. A Red Templar took two people for questioning, but he was actually helping us escape. Someone called Magister Russo."

He shook his head. "I doubt that's anything useful, though."

While he still wasn't good when it came to being patient, in this case Jamie was willing to give it a go, at least for a little bit. As it turned out, he was glad that he did, because the Doctor's statement wasn't one he was expecting - and the look on his face said as much just before he reached out in an attempt to grip the Doctor's arm. This could be important, and he needed the Doctor to know that.

"A Magister helped you escape? Look, Doctor, that's not exactly how that works with them. Did he come with you or just help in some way?"

The Doctor didn't understand the politics of the place before he was moved forward 5 years, he really doesn't understand it now. Not that he ever had any belief or respect for any class system to begin with...

He nodded. "I... thought that's what they said. Why? What is it?"

"Because they're in positions of power, that's why. And you know as well as I do that people that have power aren't all that keen to give it up. It doesn't make sense that he'd help members of the enemy escape."

Especially not when a whole lot of them had just turned up with shards in their hands ripe for the taking. Given how much they were willing to pay to get something like that in their possession, letting it slip through their fingers seemed so much out of character to Jamie that he would up shaking his head.

"There's got to be something more going on if he's gone and done that, Doctor. Only I've no idea what it could be."

"There might be more going on. Hard to say. You're right about people in power. Just remember that not everyone who has power is against you. Though. There were two that were allowed to accompany us. I don't trust them. They brought a Seeker with them. They traded him to try to earn our trust."

Face it, when has that ever worked on the Doctor.

"I tried to split them up, but I was vetoed."

Between that and how people are talking about changing time, he wonders if anyone will ever like him again. And of course he cares no matter how much he says he doesn't.

Edited (iPad nuff said) 2017-03-11 04:37 (UTC)

It's never really worked on the Doctor, at least as long as Jamie's known him - and he'd be surprised if that ever changed, to say the least.

"Two other Magisters came with you? Aye, well, I'd trust them about as far as I could throw them." Given the chances of him getting close enough to actually being able to throw them were fairly slim, it's pretty safe to say he doesn't trust them, either. "But I'm not surprised folk'd veto splitting them up. Probably wanted to keep them close to keep an eye on them."

Which doesn't necessarily mean that they didn't like the Doctor, just that they don't agree with him, and he shrugged slightly before taking another drink of the unpleasant ale.

"Wonder if they're still around somewhere, though. Could be worth it to see what we can find out from them."

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't think they were Magisters. I don't quite understand who they were, other than they were from Kirkwall. I had suggested we all split up. Send one small team as a decoy to lead those chasing us away from the larger group that would take those who were sick and wounded the more direct route..."

He signed heavily. "Doesn't matter. I was vetoed and we got here anyway." Though he still thinks his way would've been easier on the sick. People here don't seem to think 'big picture' enough. Always focused on themselves. Je shrugged in return. "They're around. Cade is in the healing tents. And Beleth. No idea where she ended up..."

And he downed the rest of his drink in one go. Mostly because even if he could get drunk on anything made by human-types, it was too disgusting to drink slowly. He looked into the mug.

"I'll be right back."

He was. After haggling for some wine instead. Which wasn't all that much better. But it was easier on the taste buds.

Jamie's eyebrows arched quite visibly at those names - they were familiar, after all - but before he could say anything about it, the Doctor'd downed his drink and taken off, leaving Jamie to turn things over in his mind.

By the time the Doctor'd gotten back, he was done with his drink as well, but hadn't made a move to get up again. Instead, the Doctor would find him staring into his empty tankard as though it held all the answers. It didn't, of course, and he knew that well enough. But it let him think, at least, and when the Doctor came back with the wine and he looked up again, there was still something of the expression there even it had nothing to do with the question that he actually wound up asking.

"That any better, then?"

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

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Sorry for the short, on phone tonight

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