faderift | OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall

OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall

WHO: Many People
WHAT: Cleaning up Kirkwall
WHEN: Cloudreach 1-21
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: This log post is for characters who go early to Kirkwall to assist in preparing it for the rest of those assigned there. We strongly encourage IC discussion of things left to character discretion—someone should definitely do a crystal post to discuss what to do with the personal belongings left behind in the Gallows or what new form the statues should take!

Kirkwall once lived on the edge of the Tevinter Imperium and was home to nearly a million slaves. Stolen from elven lands or shipped from across the sea, all slaves fed the Imperium's unquenchable thirst for expansion. They worked in massive quarries and sweltering foundries that produced stone and steel for the Empire.

The city's complicated past is not easy to forget, history having earmarked many corners of the stone city. A ship approaching the harbor spots the city's namesake: an imposing black wall. It is visible for miles, and carved into the cliff side are a pantheon of vile guardians representing the Old Gods. Over the years, the Chantry has effaced many of these profane sentinels, but it will take many more years to erase them all.

Also carved into the cliff is a channel that permits ships into the city's interior. Flanking the channel are two massive bronze statues—the Twins of Kirkwall. The statues have a practical use. Kirkwall sits next to the narrowest point of the Waking Sea, and a massive chain net can be erected between the statues and the lighthouse, closing off the only narrow navigable lane. This stranglehold on sea traffic is jealously guarded by the ever-changing rulers of the city as the net trolls taxes, tolls, and extortions in from the sea.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

Establishing a presence in Kirkwall is a delicate matter. First, there's Provisional Viscount Bran Cavin—a man so used to batting back friendly offers of entirely harmless occupation of the battered city-state that his first three responses to the Inquisition's leadership appeared to be slightly personalized form letters. Proving that the Inquisition is here to work and not to conquer will be a process. The first step in that process is the second reason the move is delicate: the only building the Provisional Viscount is willing to part with is the Gallows, left quarantined and unoccupied since Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard's famous crystallization into red lyrium in the courtyard. The Gallows have since overgrown with red lyrium. If anyone is going to live and work there, there's a lot of work to do.

↠ Cloudreach 1-3: The Journey There
↠ Cloudreach 3-4: Arrival
↠ Cloudreach 4-14: Haunted
↠ Cloudreach 14-21: Spring Cleaning

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Tyrion turned away from where he had waved off a group of miners - nice fellows, former Fereldans - and found himself looking at younger man with the longest hair he had ever seen. One corner of his mouth lifted at the compliment, and he dipped himself down into a graceful bow.

Well, as graceful as a man of his stature could do so. He moved over to the young man, nodding over his shoulder. "We all have our survival skills. Mine just happen to include being able to talk people out of doing something stupid - like starting a riot for no good reason. I do try hard to be personable."

"My God, if I could do that I could head off about fifty percent of the headaches my students cause," he replied with a thin grin. The memory of the countless dumb things done by students ignoring warnings and basic sense was a painful one.

"I feel like I should ask how you gained the skill, but the answer is probably the obvious one of a lifetime of experience. Am I wrong?"

"Which would make it a valuable life skill to have then, if you have students flocking about you for knowledge. It does make them more inclined to listen." He smirked faintly, as he gestured for the young man to walk with him.

"Only about half right - experience was a fine teacher, but it is for most things. The other half comes from studying people on an intimate sort of level." He answered, swinging his back up over his shoulder.

"Mine are more hear the bits they like, ignore the important things like say, safety warnings," Waver said as he began to fall into step with Tyrion. There were stories to be told off that statement alone, but all in good time.

"I see. And some people are born with good observational eyes."

Waver took a beat, then gently clapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. "I'm Waver, by the way."

"Well, you are always welcome to let them learn from their mistakes. For example, 'oh well you set yourself on fire?' Then you let them set themselves on fire. I am certain they will learn then. Fire hurts."

Tyrion tipped another bow in the other man's direction, before chuckling softly.

"Tyrion Lannister, at your service. And see? You observed that greetings are important."

"Them setting themselves alight would be normal," he said dryly. "The dumb shit they get into is life or death, and for some reason, I feel some level of responsibility for that."

Some students were not so foolish, thankfully. But the ones that were tended to be the ones who went into a situation hardest, and had no sense that they were engaging in a bad idea.

At the bow, Waver simply extended a hand.

"And allow me to reinforce multiculturalism as well."

"I used to think I had a hard time believing people were that idiotic -- but then I traveled." Tyrion drawled, before he looked up at the man with interest, "Are you a leader, then, of ... stupid people? Or are they students and are truly trying to learn something?"

He took the man's hand and shook it - then clasped his wrist briefly. He'd earned his warrior stripes by now. "Please to reinforce multiculturalism."

"Depending on the day I had, I might say yes to either option," he said with a very dry laugh. "I'm good at analysis and being able to strengthen the natural skills of those that pass into my classroom. Unfortunately a combination of what I teach and the fact many of my students are from well off families who tend towards isolation means there's some particular strains of stupidity."

With hands shook, Waver then returned the bow. "With that out of the way then, may I offer to continue this conversation over a drink? Or am I distracting from prime business hours?"

"Ah hah, yes, I have seen this strain of stupidity before." A shake of the head. "Inbreeding, and wealth, are always a dangerous and idiotic proposition."

Now, he perked, "Ser, there is never any business that cannot be done over a drink. In fact, they are usually preferred. Besides, it will be a good working lesson for you."

"Now, add magical abilities into the mix, and you see the world I occupy," Waver said with too much faux cheer for one man. "And why setting themselves on fire is just another Tuesday."

Drinks were far more important than a catalog of stupid things done by teenagers and twenty somethings involving magecraft though, and to that end, Waver's eyes began to search the street.

"Then question one: do you have a preference on venue, or should we roll the dice?"

"I am not entirely certain I want to imagine a world of inbred magical idiots. I feel like that would be something that would end in a lot of bloodshed." Tyrion tipped his head to the side, as if contemplating it. "Also that is a lot of fire."

He paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, "If you just want something to drink around here - Hanged Man. If you want something good to drink and don't mind the ambiance? The Blooming Rose, in Hightown.

"Shockingly, the bloodshed isn't as much as you'd expect. Outside of ritual, families are kept in check by certain needs for secrecy, and the fact that politics let the adults get the murder urges out of their system." Which wasn't to say that bloodshed didn't happen. It was just mercifully tempered by certain expectations. "And it really is."

Waver took a beat, coupled with a thoughtful hm. "The Hanged Man then. I need to get back to wrestling ghosts later on, and don't want to stray too far."

"I see - so it is 'civilized', to use the loosest form of the word." His lips twitch up at the corners, before he follows out after down a side street.

"Then we will want to head this way." Yes, he also knew out to get there easily enough.

"Oh, I'm borrowing that for when I'm home. Although I think I'd require more disdain in the tone." Perhaps as much as humanly possible.

Waver doesn't question why or how Tyrion knows the way. He's probably used the venue for business before, and to comment or question the knowledge would be nothing short of dickish.

"Just make sure to add a sneer. Disdain always goes across better with a sneer." Personal experience, right there. He shifted their direction through the back-alleys, so he could nod from one spot to another.

"If you want to learn about the people, go to the worst parts of the city. That will tell you more than buying up any drunk in the local tavern. Although that's useful as well."

"I don't think I would have forgotten it, but I appreciate the reminder." He had that down, although Waver's forte truly lay with being absolute exasperation. The latter came up more frequently in his life.

"Mmm. Although I might ask how do you balance the safety element since you know it is, indeed, the worst part of the city. Obviously carrying minimal money, but you know. Not everyone's good in a fight."

Waver was a beanpole, there was little doubt he was talking about himself.

"Well, one good sneerer must always help another." Tyrion stated solemnly, before he smiled softly and slyly, "Very simple. Look any person here directly in the eye. Do not break eye contact -- and then smile."

He tipped his head up, "Nine times out of ten, they think you have something in your pocket that can kill them. The tenth time - I tend to just flash my green, glowing hand. It works wonders."

"And for that tenth time, I would imagine that a green glowing hand would instead invite a swift punch in the face rather than people fleeing in terror," he admitted. But that was the part of Waver that tried to anticipate for the worst case scenario, so he had plans to work through it.

"Although I am always willing to bow to experience. Hopefully it hasn't come to that for you though, has it?"

"You would be surprised - these people do not have a very strong 'fight' instinct. They tend to flee when they see magic. I believe the Templar and Mage war assisted with that paranoia." He shrugged elegantly, "I have yet to meet the tenth time, if that is what you are asking me."

"Hm. That is useful to know. I can't say I would have thought to test that out myself, given how I've heard magi are treated." It had given him full body shivers when he first learned.

"And it was, yes," Waver confirmed. "But I'm also rather glad you haven't."

"Yes ... it is quite unnerving. I mean, I come from a place where magic is so rare that we only have fragments of it left in the world. I think the return of magic would be cherished, not locked away in a tower." He muses, before he snorts, "Or ... they all might panic as badly as those here. Who knows?"

A faint smirk. "Let us hope our luck holds then."

Waver paused, then tilted his head slightly. "I'm going to take a shot in the dark and assume your world has nobility. I think the actual response is best determined by pondering this hypothetical: would they be inclined to want to destroy the return of magic in infancy before those with powers can threaten their own holds, or would they recruit powers to themselves to cement their position?"

It was a fun thought exercise, in a way. Of course, that was providing that Tyrion was game for it.

"In this place? I'm inclined to doubt it will."

"Oh yes, my world thrives on nobility, and all that it entitles." Is Tyrion's rather dry response, "And I can answer that easily - they would recruit them. Every noble house is looking for the proverbial edge against another. Beyond that, we are at war with one another. No one would turn down magic if it would turn the tide."

That much he was certain of.

"Yes, I rather have to agree."

"Lovely. Because every poor mage would be a quick mark for assassination from rival houses." The idea of it causes Waver to wrinkle his nose. Something like that could all to easily have transpired back home if magi didn't decide to hide themselves. "Do I want to prod at the cause of this war, or is ignorance bliss?"

Good to know that a dim view of fortune seemed to be near universal.

"I presume you've been here longer than I have to make that kind of assessment?"

"I could see that more easily than anything else." He paused, then sighed, "Why does anyone really fight a war in earnest? To get a crown, of course. So you can wear it for a few years and feel like you are somehow blessed on high -- but I have seen enough kings without heads or lives these days. They seem a paltry sort of reward."

No kingdom for him, thank you.

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kartereo - 2017-05-16 18:00 (UTC) - Expand

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