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

[kartereo]

"I'm not cleaning up the mess after you do!" Waver volleyed back.

The shop was a tiny thing, no bigger than a studio apartment, with counters taking up much of the space. A single human man stood at the counter, two assistants running back and forth to get the dwindling stock. The meat had already been parceled out into cuts - now it was a matter of waiting to see who got the cuts you wanted first.

No order in the line meant that Waver had zero qualms ducking and weaving towards the front. Ten people deep, then five, until Waver was content to be third in line.

[universal_charm]

"I"m not Iskandar, I have manners!" he retorted as he continued to work towards the front, people seeming to naturally move out of the way from his intensity. Sometimes it was just wiser to move out of the way and not keep between a man and his meat. Kirk could see the pieces set out, all neatly packed and weighed. The butcher knew what he was about.

Kirk practically wedged himself flush against Waver's back to add his weight and help them keep moving forward. Nothing was to awkward in the name of getting fresh boar meat.

"I am considering picking you up and throwing you," he informed Waver, and baring that letting out a piercing whistle to get the butcher's attention, maybe with a flash of coin to help. It worked at bars, why not here?

[kartereo]

"He does too, just ancient Macedonian warlord ones." Which was a terrible defense, come to think of it.

As Kirk managed to make his way up the front, Waver elbowed him. That kind of comment deserved it. "I am not a javelin, don't you dare."

But for all the light exchanges, Kirk's method works. There's a yell from the butcher - That'll get you two pounds of what's left! and the unspoken question of is that amount acceptable. Waver nods in approval at the amount, given that the transaction is now in Kirk's hands.

[universal_charm]

It really was. Table manners in ancient times weren't exactly a thing, you know?

He laughed at the other's elbow, taking it with good nature and smirking when the flash of coin worked. If nothing else, believe in the power of coin (especially in Thedas). Kirk shouted his approval back, working around Waver so he could make his way to the counter to hand over the payment and grab their precious prize. He tucked it against his chest like a football, motioning for Waver to make his way out so they could go home.

"What do you think? A stew? Or maybe grill it?"

[kartereo]

"If it's a good cut for stewing, then stew. It'll last longer."

A stew could go for half a week if they played their cards right, and Waver clamped down on the part of his twenty first century mind that screeched about food poisoning and lack of adequate refrigeration. He always had to ignore that part of himself in Thedas.

Waver elbowed his way out of the shop without any issue, and once on the street, the crowd seemed to be dying down. There were either fewer cuts left, or else another shop had another catch and the crowds were now split.

"Nice job, by the way."

[universal_charm]

It had taken Kirk at least a year to get over that, and he had peculiarities about his food that had made eating in this world an adventure, to say the least. He had learned to loosen up some, but like Waver he was always concerned with the preparation of food and water. He hadn't caught anything yet and given his augmented blood factors he was fairly sure he could fight off most anything they might catch. But he hadn't had to yet and wasn't wanting to test that theory.

"Heh, thanks, but it was really good teamwork," he grinned, pleased with the prize in his arms. "I didn't know that meat could be such a good motivator, to be honest. And when I'm determined to get something..." He shrugged with a charming little quirk of his lips. "I hope we have enough for when Iskandar comes home."

[kartereo]

"The issue is pacing out the portions, I think," Waver said, his eyes now scanning the market to see if anything else jumped out at him. Root vegetables mostly, and it wasn't as if there weren't bags of potatoes and carrots back at the house.

"I'd kill for a freezer right now though."

[universal_charm]

It would be nice to add something new if they could find it. There wasn't an abundance of color or variety these days when it came to fruit and veg, not to mention the prices were starting to rise. All from war, of course,

"You would think with their magic they would have figured out something like contained and continuous cold storage," he agreed, tapping Waver's shoulder to point out the bright orange of some carrots and what he thought might be the darker purple of some beets.

[kartereo]

"I guess their approach limits what we would think qualify a obvious developments. The only other solution is to generate ice every so often, and that's too much effort."

Waver also hated that plastic storage containers didn't exist, but that was neither here nor there. The carrots were much more important, and Waver shuffled over as casually as possible.

"See if there's any turnips lurking."

[universal_charm]

"But can't the infuse items with their magic? Why not make boxes infused with ice magic?" he asked, though even five years on he still didn't quite understand the aspects of magic in this world. It wasn't his area of expertise, and he was not able to perform it, so to some degree he had simply stopped trying to figure it out.

"Turnips? Really?" Kirk wrinkled his nose much like a child, but did at least give a cursory glance across the stacks of vegetables.

[kartereo]

"Honestly, I would have thought that too," Waver said with a sigh. "But I think that's just a matter of how the magic works here and no one has thought to put the effort into the matter. We should find a mage and have them do weird refrigerator experiments for us."

It was not exactly a productive use of time. But it might while away the hours and provoke a little bit of progress.

"What do you have against the turnip?"

[universal_charm]

"Heh, yeah, if we can find one with the energy to spare." He shook his head. He doubted they would, given the state of things, but maybe, one day, if things ever got better. It would certainly help with standards of living. But those were frivolous dreams for a more frivolous time.

"It's a tasteless vegetable. As a vegetable it's like white bread - no flavor and no nutrition," he wrinkled his nose.

[kartereo]

"It's on the to-do list when this particular part of Hell is over." Waver wasn't good at optimism, really, but he did feel compelled to make an effort. A conversation couldn't have two cynics in it, then it became a mere echo chamber.

"Well that's kind of the point. Keeps you full, and it isn't hard to get."

[universal_charm]

"I know it's the point, but I would kill for some real color and flavor now and then," he sighed. "And we just got this amazing meat. It feels like such a waste just to pair it with turnips of all things," he pressed. "Even the pig this came off of would be offended to be used in such a manner."

[kartereo]

"Fine, fine," Waver said, letting the argument go. "But we're replacing them with parsnips, and I will defend the noble parsnip since it does have flavor and texture.

[universal_charm]

He laughed, but nodded his agreement. "Okay, okay, parsnips it is. Just so long as it's not a turnip you won't hear complaints from me!"

End thread here?

[kartereo]

"Deal."