OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall

[faderifting]

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

Comments

[meds4sale]

"In my defense," he said slowly, "I have never heard of a duffer, so I wouldn't know what it would be thinking."

Still picking up that slang. He could probably figure it out from context, but it was more fun to see if the dwarf had more interesting things to say.

"I will do that. I am sure you will be easy to find." All he needed to do was follow the odor of halitosis and damp privy carpet.

He'd seen the nuggalopes once - he really didn't have much desire to again. The hands were a bit... off putting. And given his line of work that was tough to do.

Though speaking of Stroganugg...

He opened the drawer where the little nug had burrowed more deeply into the scraps of papers.

"I trust you will want this one back?"

[inagutterson]

"You've never met one of the elderly? You lucky bastard." Translation acquired. Maybe it's from one of his very Starkhaven relatives rather than it being strictly Kirkwall.

Glancing at his nug, somehow apparently related to monsters, his face softens. Stupid things to care about. Should've palmed them off on folk before coming here and yet.

And yet they're his. That's the thing.

"He's the one that keeps the rest in line, let me move some things about." A carta coat is a coat of many pockets, most of them buried deep in the lining of the coat and it's one of these that Yngvi fidgets with after he's balanced the outer pocket on the other side so he won't be walking strangely. A nug is always a fat little thing. "C'mon you chunky little pest, time to be shoving off."

Yngvi is perhaps surprisingly gentle, scooping up the nug. It doesn't even stir when he tucks it into the inside pocket so it'll nod off against his chest before it can roll back into the pile up in the Gallows with all the rest.