faderift | Rifts and the Veil/Elven Artifacts Meeting

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Rifts and the Veil/Elven Artifacts Meeting

WHO: All members of the Rifts and the Veil and Elven Artifacts projects are invited to attend.
WHAT: A joint discussion, trying to solve a puzzle together.
WHEN: Early Firstfall, after Satinalia
WHERE: The Elven Artifacts laboratory in the Gallows.
NOTES: A follow-up to the island elven ruins quest. WTF was that map, anyway? Takes place after this announcement.

Tea and refreshments are offered--nothing elaborate, just something for people to gnaw on in case they get peckish while thinking. The mosaic has been drawn and painted as accurately as possible and hung on a wall for examination. It is a map of Thedas, with most of the south broken away and pieces missing, with green slashes--some straight, some curved oddly, all tapered at the ends and thicker in the middle--cutting across here and there. Where the green lines cross, they are bright red.

"All right," Pel says, pointing to one of the intersections. "Our goal for today is to reckon out what these are, or at the very least, come up with a plan for reckoning it all out. This is obviously a map, but what's it a map of?"

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...Well, that's rather more than Myr thought he was in for coming to this. He keeps silent as he digests Morrigan's implicit warning, fidgeting at the corners of his map for something to do with his hands--until he becomes aware he's doing it and stops himself.

"Seems wise enough--though what're we do with places that haven't got locals living near enough for anything actionable?" He tips his head toward Morrigan, adding: "And forgive me for being obtuse, but however it is you travel through these eluvians--can you tell anything about a line that's been shut up just by going...toward it?"

His voice is hesitant on "toward;" that may not be the most appropriate description of what one does in the eluvian.

"There are some places I have been that are paths seldom travelled. There are things not so easily committed to the page." Circles take grimoires away after all, for as long as some here have known her they can't mistake that she has two on her person at all times after that.

To Myr then, since he asked the question. "No." Forgive her for being short but them being what they are? Morrigan leans forward, steeples her hands, and perhaps she might take Myr aside at a later point to speak of them in more detail. "Let me be clear so no doubt remains: eluvians are from long before the empire was lost. Those were in the ancient days, now 'tis a matter of understanding what is left to us.

"Say an eluvian is a door," she continues carefully one hand held up for the benefit of the rest. "A door might open both ways but for eluvians 'tis not so simple. From one end, without a key, 'tis closed. Some can be opened only from one side. Knowledge is required as much as power to be certain of where one might go with it. When Merrill and I went to Kirkwall, I had seen her eluvian prior, she knew where hers was, that was how we were able to venture between." Both sides open, no one becoming trapped.

(Until the Venatori happened, she's said much so if someone else would like to speak up about certain problems lurking in the field each time eluvians have happened? She'll maybe give you wine.)

"Locals also lie, are wary of the Inquisition, or work for the enemy," Ellana points out bluntly. "Plain clothes scouts are our best bet on learning anything." She gives Inessa a brief nod. Low profile is the way to go. And a scout knows risks. It's how they live their lives. "But we're not learning anything by sitting around here guessing."

Sure, they're throwing around ideas, but ideas aren't results. It's hard to look at -- or feel, in Myr's case -- a map and be able to determine what it's marking as significant. So far all they know are locations, so the locations have to be visited; simple as that.

"For now, we can come up with theories that the scouts can test out, as well as them being on the lookout for anything unusual. They're scouts; they know the risks involved, so if there aren't locals around, they'll have to search without any prior information." She's sure Leliana would agree with her.

"So we aren't meant to accept any theory proposed here as fact without further evidence?" Kostos says, not quite quietly enough to count as under his breath, because he's an asshole. "Why did I even come."

Answer: to be an asshole, probably. (Exhibit B is the look he gave Melys, initially, with all the crumb-spewing, but it softened as she asked actually interesting questions.) To be an asshole and to learn way too much about magic mirrors. But, having managed that many words, he clears his throat and tries a few more, this time louder.

"Maybe it's a map of Eluvians. Maybe it's a map of what made putting an Eluvian on a small island in middle of the sea worth the trouble. There was also a rift, red lyrium, a dormant volcano, an astonishingly thin veil, signs of human and Tal-Vashoth settlements in the ruins—"

To say he trails off would be charitable. There's no trailing, just an abrupt end and new observation.

"On the ground, those intersections will cover miles."

[ ooc | the thing about the intersections covering miles seems sort of unfair for me to use because i know it but y'all, not having an actual map to look at, could not have! but i'm trying to keep things clear and help the discussion progress, so forgive me please. and if anyone wants to check visual details with us for the sake of this log (pending us having time to actually make the map, somedaaaay) you can add to the questions being asked here! xoxo ]

Edited 2017-11-11 05:40 (UTC)

Quiet until now, watching the meeting from a seat towards the back rather than participating, Thranduil stands once Pel dismisses the group. He did not bring parchment or a pen with him, no mechanism by which he might take notes, but the map is easily remembered and transferred to one of the many he has of Thedas back in his chambers, and it will be no grand feat to return later, after everyone has been dismissed, and take a closer look for himself, resolve any curiosities that linger without needing to distract the group.

He catches Morrigan’s eye as the gaggle starts to move towards the door, and takes a step back besides, gesturing for her to join him, if she pleases, once she makes her way over to this side of the room. They have not spoken in some time—and if this is not a time where she might bestow upon him some wisdom, then he has no solid measure of her.

Sundermount to settle into, Gwenaëlle to catch up with then the Templar that interferes on the edge of her life enough to turn her mouth to a thin line; Morrigan would be busy enough without feeling as if she draws closer to something regarding her mother.

Her own notes aren't yet tucked away when Thranduil catches her, the scowl smoothing out into something less severe, the edge of a smirk without the usual good humour.

"Thranduil," the warmth is there at least, "there is a matter or two we might discuss given...all this. I hadn't planned on it to come tumbling out as it had."

“Would you prefer my office,” benefits of the job, and a lovely new tapestry from Gwenaëlle to admire on the wall, but upon second thought, “—or should we make use of this room?”

Everyone else seems to be filtering out, and he supposes he could commandeer it, especially if she needs access to the mural to illustrate her point.

How bothersome it must be, to have ordered your plans and kept them contained, quiet and sure of yourself and your path, only to have someone else stumble upon a trove of information by accident, and be made to watch as they attempted to assemble them, like an infant given a nesting doll.

"Your office," let her be away from this room, everyone in it, and the migraine building in her temples. "If you are to come to my home for dinner, 'tis only fair."

As secure as this room might be, going to where it'll be just her and Thranduil settles her more since there's less chance that someone might decide to lurk, that any interruption will be known, will be announced. Who knows what measures he's taken to secure his rooms but Morrigan trusts it to be well done.

And she's curious, truly.

Nodding to the papers in her hand (one is indeed a sketch of the map) she says, "If you wish a copy, I can see to that as soon as possible." More detailed than what she'd share with others too.

“I would hardly compare my office to your home, my lady,” no, not when he’s far fonder of the room he has in Gwenaëlle’s estate, of the sound of Kieran running down the halls in the morning, of finding Hardie napping outside her door, of Bill, in the gardens. “But it will do.”

He opens the door for her, gestures her in—a very clear invitation, as he gives to anyone who enters here, verbal or physical, and closes the door behind them. He was never as gifted with the craft of Girdling as Melian was, but protecting one room? He could do such things as an elfling.

“I would. It will be kept safe,” he says, and puts weight behind it.

Next to the fireplace is a tapestry—the Inquistion’s symbol, made of woven vines and branches, the background a mimicry of some of the patterns she has seen on his finest clothes, the ones from Arda. There is a small table, and chairs beside it—he pulls one out for her, and then, before taking the other, goes to his desk and comes back with a journal and a map of Thedas. The journal is filled with long scrawls of Tengwar—if she remembers her lessons, she may read on the page several phonetic spellings—Eluvian, which translates quite well, and Cercwal, which does not—which should give her an idea which entry he’s chosen to have at hand while they speak.

"There's no geographical correlation, nothing the locations have in common that are clear from comparing it with a map of modern Thedas, nothing like that. It could be there's intent in these lines, rather than a characteristic. This is what I keep coming back to--if it was made for the purpose of the intersections alone, why not simply have points on the map? Instead, there are lines, all of different shapes. That's why I don't think it's simply a map of locations."

She waves at Ellana in acknowledgement--they'll get to a plan of action when they've reasonably analyzed the information they already possess.

Morrigan's explanation neatly aborts the next question Myr would ask; he inclines his head in mute acknowledgment, lower lip between his teeth as he works to assemble what's been put forth into some kind of reasonable whole. (Damned frustrating, still, that he can't see everything written down, or the original map and what Kostos describes--)

"They'd cover miles if the map's scaled right," he observes. "It's a mosaic, so it wasn't meant for precise navigation--and they might've been freer with distances if whatever those lines depict doesn't need to be measured exactly. Or can't be, as might be the case if it's something to do with the Fade."

"There are things that are enemy and his followers have shown interest in at one time or another: rifts and rifters - enough even to kidnap them, red lyrium, eluvians as I have said." With her gaze fixed on Kostos and Myr, the two with the wits in their heads to put together what Morrigan is saying without it being used to sharepn the edge of ones tongue, Morrigan continues.

"Much might make the Veil thin, 'tis thin here from the work of old Tevinter. Blood washes away sooner than what might make it, unless this is a recent thing. Corypheus believes himself a magister of old Tevinter, now," to Kostos, to Myr, intent and willing them to come up with something worth her while so as not to disappoint, "what sit that by the power of the eluvians, what might the enemy wish with it?"

Considering, she smiles. "No, you needn't bend your head to step in here." Practicality means you build just enough for planning around the possible growth spurts of what's almost a teenage boy. If he gets some height from her, some from Alistair the Kieran's sure to cut a figure either way.

So she settles, claps her eyes on things as a bird does before it alights upon a branch, head tipped to one side. The sigh could come from deep in her bones

"The eluvians and their true purpose coming to light in such a fashion 'twas not what I intended, let us hope the Inquisition dredges up some discrection from some reserve not yet made public." All this time with the truth sworn to secrecy by the few who did know because of the risks, when they were all comfortably housed in Skyhold of all places--

No longer a simple trip to see it with her own eyes. To step into the mirror, into the Crossroads. To trust the words of others who swear all is well with both. Nodding to the word, she looks to Thranduil as her mouth twists. "The Crossroads, you recall them? The place where we went through to go from my eluvian to Merrill's. That is likely what Corypheus seeks: the ancient elves made it, and though not the Fade? It is close. Close enough for him."

Since the matter of how to proceed is put on hold for the moment, Inessa doesn't verbally pursue the matter but she does nod at Ellana's perspective. Either approach has its merits, but they can discuss once they have determined more about this map.

She sips her tea and stares at it with a furrowed brow, silent as she ponders while everyone speaks. Kostos gets a reluctant nod; she'd been considering the same about the intersections, which hardly narrows things down. But mention of the lines has her glancing to the map and tilting her head. "I agree. The shapes of the lines has to be significant; what they imply could be just as important as the intersections. Everything on that map has purpose, or we must treat it so until proven otherwise."

Mention of Corypheus has that frown of thought returning, as she leans back in her chair. "He has a singular great purpose, one which has not been achieved. It must link to that, beyond a doubt."

Corypheus believes himself a magister of old Tevinter, now, Morrigan says--and the strangest look flits across Myr's face. Part fear, part he couldn't--

But of course he would; the magisters' besetting sin was pride, and pride didn't admit to failure. "He intends return to the Black City," he says, carefully, tasting the words. "Which means tearing the Veil open wider than it's already been--and that requires a colossal amount of blood--"

He stops in the middle of that thought, head tipped a little to one side. "They're wider in the middle of the lines and narrow at the ends?" To confirm.

"Perhaps a little like a map of a train system," he muttered softly to himself, finally looking up from whatever long contemplation he'd been having.

"Morrigan," he said, his voice no longer a whisper, "may I ask - when one passes through an eluvian. Do they simply come out the other? or is there more to it?"

"They are thick in the middle and tapered at the ends. If that is Corypheus' purpose, and we have reason to believe he has a use for this map, that does lend credibility to the hypothesis that they are places where the Veil is especially thin. Somewhere where he can tear through to the other side." Pel considers for a moment, then looks back at the list.

Eluvians
Elven Ruins
Ley Lines
Weakened Veil
Other old, cursed as fuck civilizations

"Don't they look like tears in the map?" she muses. "Isn't that exactly how you would portray a giant tear in the Veil, if you could? Although they don't look anything like the Breach. But they don't look all that much like each other, either."

"Hey, uh, so this is probably a stupid question, but that's what I'm here for. Shouldn't we also consider who made this? Like, okay, it was in some creepy elf ruins, right? But to just say 'elves made it' doesn't help...super a lot? I mean, they help us think maybe it's to do with these transporter doors."

Listen, if he ever goes through an eluvian and comes out covered in black stuff on the other side, he's quitting Thedas forever.

"But I mean like societies make different things for different reasons. One group of elves isn't gonna have the same ideas and ideals as another. For all we know, this could just be like...a big map of trade roads. I know it's not, but I'm just saying. What do we really know about the people that might have made this, and how does that influence the possibilities of what it could mean?"

“Are they yet your own, or have the advisers indicated that they are… under the Inquisition’s protection?” he asks, careful phrasing to underscore the truth. It is not so much that he doesn’t trust the Organization, moreso that he doubts the training of several of those involved, those in Kirkwall. Revelations like this ought to be kept under lock and key, advantages guarded. And now—well, they have some notice. Some time to get ahead of loose lips.

“I remember it well,” Thranduil confirms. The oddness of that liminal space, compared to the restoration he had known in the Fade. “What is your desire? To secure the remaining Eluvians, or to fortify the Crossroads as best we are able? If they are a hub, as the name suggests, we might well identify what used to be the central places.”

In response to the Medicine Seller (what is a train?) she shakes her head slightly. He'd put the puzzle of the eluvians together far faster than any other from them talking together previously but there's still more to discuss. "A door requires a key. So does an eluvian, if you have the key then yes you will proceed as you will but if not, if you choose blindly, there is every chance to become trapped. So many are sealed. Gone dark."

Church if you go through an eluvian and come out covered in black stuff you might have to talk very nicely to your local Grey Wardens but that's still not a guarantee about not leaving Thedas forever.

"As for the maker, the ancient elves have a-- poetic vagueness to anything written that makes it near impossible to interpret meaning. I have studied long years through ruins but never have I come across something such as this. Whereas elves after the fall of Arlathan then the Dales have tales that overlap then change in the telling." The look of irritation on her face isn't directed towards the question, more an older thing, remembering long days and nights poring over the same phrases to find a meaning lost to time. "If there were those who did recall the eluvians perhaps they attempted to repair one. 'Tis no small task, let me assure you, and to attempt to find the way back..."

Had they tried to find the Crossroads? Somewhere else? Had their doorway been sealed shut behind them?

"My eluvian belongs to me. I forged it alone, in Serault, for the other I wished was beyond my reach. As for Merrill's, I believe that one would fall under the Inquisition's protection. Given that she is Dalish and I was only given her leave to watch over it when other matters called her attention away." Morrigan is deliberate; her eluvian will always be hers, if that comes into question they will be welcome to attempt prying it from her fingers but as for Merrill's she can about imagine the uproar when there has been resistance in the past no matter how she has tried to be open. To ask for aid. To leave the way open that they might learn themselves.

Attempt to lay a claim to Merrill's and wait for the howling to come no matter how safe it might be with the person who knows them best. Morrigan forged her own.

Who else can say that?

"The remaining eluvians might not be so easily secured: you will recall that I spoke of them requiring a key? There is more. When the elves fell, they sealed the ways behind them. There are paths through the eluvians that shall remain shut for all time, from what Merrill told me of her clan's misfortune with her eluvian at first I do not doubt such a way was found though to encounter the Blight from it..." The Blight, the Old Gods, Magisters and something so old and very definitely elven? A piece doesn't quite fit but here she has it. "The Crossroads shall not last forever. Eventually they will collapse on themselves. 'Twas but a name I gave to them for their true name has been lost to time itself."

As ever that saddens her. How much have they lost in this world? Ground to dust beneath them? All the wonder stripped away to leave but bare dull rock? A world that so many would call better.

This is all out of her league, not that she's about to admit as much. Melys slouches in stubborn place, tries to play catchup —

"D’you get stuck in the Fade? Or in," Her face screws up, "Void?"

She finally offers, for lack of better word. It falls a little flat. Who understands elves today? Let alone dead ones. Church's point seems half-reasonable:

"What purpose is there t’opening the Veil if you ain’t Corypheus?" Why would they care about weak spots? Maker, all this magic nonsense. They'd be welcome to keep it for themselves, if it didn't go messing up life for the rest. "An' if we're worried on him using them, why not just. Seal the ones what still work?"

Edited 2017-11-20 00:30 (UTC)

If Morrigan is sure in its safety and the good behavior of the Inquisition, he will not push. She has known more of them for far longer than he could ever lay claim to.

"This... key," Thranduil says, looking at her, head tilted at a slight angle. "It is not a key. Not something one could hold in their hand."

Why would it be? The gates to his Halls needed no keys- they opened by his will, and that alone. The Elvhen would not have been much different. They had been so far similar in enough ways that this was just one more.

"Why would my kin bother with such a thing, when they had the skill at hand," he muses, looking beyond her for a moment, then refocusing.

"Each eluvian is different. I cannot say if that is fortunate or not; you recall when we ventured to Kirkwall through mine? I know the key, the touch of magic required that I might activate it and allow myself or others passage through it. I know another that I have used in the past in the Dragonbone Wastes though it took much effort to learn it. Knowledge and power, as I have said before, is often enough."

His kin, he says, and again she looks at him as she must from time to time for all that they jest, that he's the one her dear Gwenaelle loves he is so impossibly old. Not of this world. Uthenera would be possible for him even now, if there were any who remembered all of it.

"Not all lead back to our world - can you imagine such a thing?" A dare, almost, he can imagine such a thing. Elves able to do it. Of course Thranduil also knows what happened to the elves. He knows the elves that live now, either in the cities, in the Circles, in their clans. "But of course there were the Magisters, the Fall of Arlathan, the Creators locked away from them; a great many things befell the elves and their history is as difficult to piece together as what we speak of now."

"It's all just guesswork." Church slumps back a little, rubbing his chin. "God damn I miss the internet and crowdsourcing information. Okay, so end of the day, we can do whatever booklearning research we can, but we still have to send people out and see if they can physically see anything. Maybe some mages, a Rifter or two? The most likely people who could sense a disturbance in the force. Or the veil, or the fade, or the whatever."

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Rifts and the Veil/Elven Artifacts Meeting

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