faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2017-11-19 11:21 pm

A SEA OF DEATH

WHO: Anyone/Everyone
WHAT: A trip to sunny Nevarra
WHEN: Mid-Firstfall
WHERE: Nevarra City
NOTES: Undead cw. OOC post. We highly encourage using the OOC post for plotting and especially for coordinating strategy among characters participating in Part III.



Following the successful defense of Perendale, the Nevarran crown has extended an invitation to the Inquisition to send representatives to Nevarra City to enjoy its hospitality and gratitude. Most signs point toward an uneventful, perhaps even pleasant, stay, one that could foster a closer relationship between the Inquisition and the Northeast's premier military power. Other signs, however, point toward trouble. The Inquisition has previously addressed early Venatori attempts to influence the king, but reports from agents embedded in Nevarra City indicate that these attempts have resumed. While no immediate danger is expected, everyone will be advised to be on their guard during the visit and keep an eye out for potential enemy activity.

I. TRAVEL & TAVERN

The swiftest route to Nevarra City is to first travel by sea to Cumberland, an uneventful voyage followed by half a day to rest and eat before heading up the Imperial Highway toward the capital. It isn't a large group, consisting only of staff from Kirkwall's outpost who volunteered or were ordered to make the journey, so once on land they're able to move swiftly with horses and carts and spend only one night sleeping aside the road in tents. If there are bandits along the highway, the sight of a uniformed, armed, and relatively organized force on the horizon makes them disappear long before they're reached, and the Inquisition is troubled by nothing but bad weather along the way. The paved highway makes for quick travel despite the rain, except for those who are tasked with detouring off the main road to collect a new party of rifters.

Still, the Inquisition reaches the Nevarra City well after nightfall on the second day, with no time to explore before heading straight to the tavern and inn where they'll be residing during the visit. The Crooked Bone is a large establishment near the center of the city and built for crowds, though it is clearly unprepared for quite this large a number of overnight guests, and the staff may be heard debating the wisdom of taking such a contract, having to cancel and refuse other guests to fit the whole Inquisition contingent, but apparently making a pretty penny and earning favor with some unnamed royal courtier in exchange. Even though the Inquisition has been granted exclusive use of the inn for its stay, it fills up the available rooms without anyone, no matter how high-ranking, permitted a room of their own.

But it isn't an altogether uncomfortable arrangement, and definitely preferable to sleeping in tents. There's hot food downstairs at nearly any hour, not to mention ale and wine, served at long tables in a large room with space at the center for dancing—when there's music, which there won't be now unless someone among the Inquisition wishes to provide it—and a cheery sort of atmosphere lingers despite the decor, which tends toward dark wood and skeleton motifs. It's warmed by the proliferation of lanterns of all shapes and sizes, and the fire burning merrily in every grate, which combined with the full house lends the place a surprisingly cozy feel. Plus, the Inquisition's takeover of the inn means it can maintain its own security and thus genuinely relax indoors, something that won't be so true upon venturing out into the city.

II. NEVARRA CITY

Nevarra's capital city sits on the banks of the Minanter, where the river winds down through the hills that mark the border between Nevarra and its rival Orlais. The city is tucked into a high valley, surrounded by sharp cliffs and studded with rocky spires. The few tributaries of the Minanter that once flowed through have been rerouted into a central channel that tumbles down a fake falls into a large reflecting pool in the city's main park, feeding a fountain in the shape of a trio of water-spewing dragons. The City is renowned for its art and culture, grand buildings and meticulously manicured landscaping, unusually clean cobbled streets and soaring halls carved with intricate adornment. Though no longer as large or as busy as Cumberland, it is a wealthy city, and the immaculately dressed majority will not hesitate to stare at the Inquisition interlopers in their midst. They are frank about their curiosity and also about their suspicions: Nevarra has no love for Orlais, and the Inquisition has far more close ties to the southern Empire than anyone here is comfortable with.

Originally a Tevinter stronghold, the oldest parts of the city are distinctly Imperial in style, all polished, seamless black marble, like the columns that line the boulevard leading from the heart of the city up to the Castrum Draconis, where King Markus holds court. The way to the royal fortress is lined with statues, the finest examples of the hundreds of figures that exist throughout the city, likenesses of every hero and dragon-slayer, kings and generals. At this time of year, each noble family honors its famous ancestors with processions, marching through the city to drape their family's statues in the house colors.

These parades take many forms, from the loud and gaudy to the solemn and torchlit, attended by thousands or just a handful. The richest houses hire troupes of actors to man the streets beside the statues of their predecessors, costumed and acting out the most famous triumphs of their subject's life. This year, as the king's health declines, the competing efforts of the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams and their respective supporters take on a new urgency. Every theater in Nevarra has been emptied and some further afield too, to fill the long, black marble boulevard before the castle with players staging elaborate recreations of dragon hunts and historic battles. Accusations of sabotage, petty turf wars, or players making impromptu cameos in their rivals' shows raise tempers ever higher and the unlucky or unwary may be caught in the midst of a street brawl as tensions threaten to spill over.

The situation in the court itself is no less fraught, though the simmering anxiety is more successfully kept behind closed doors. The King is old, and that he is failing is no longer a secret. His mind has not gone, but his strength has, and he is only capable of brief spates of sharp attention before the effort exhausts his resources and he begins to drift or doze. He is constantly attended by a rotating trio of Mortalitasi, his most trusted companions. He holds court for roughly an hour a day, perhaps two if he is feeling especially hale, and courtiers are in constant competition to be among the few blessed with the king's personal attention. All other business is handled by a handful of advisors, most of long standing. While the Inquisition's representatives are welcomed, and official gratitude expressed for the assistance at Perendale, they may find the reception rather cool overall. The nobility is particularly wary, of Orlesian influence, foreign or Chantry factions meddling in the succession, of the potential threat to Nevarra if the sleeping dragon of the Imperium is poked too hard. It will take careful and strategic mingling indeed to begin to truly win anyone here over.

III. THE NECROPOLIS

Toward the end of the Inquisition's stay, a rare invitation will be extended to its members: an opportunity to tour the Grand Necropolis outside of Nevarra City, proffered out of awareness that its customs are seen as barbaric to outsiders and in hopes that a better understanding of Nevarra's customs will facilitate a better working relationship. The Inquisition will not require any particular person to attend the tour. It is a delicate subject, and one that may rightly make many people squeamish or afraid. But it would be rude not to send representatives, so those who are willing and curious enough to agree will be sent to meet Tivadar Nancollas, one of the Mortalitasi, at the entrance.

Within the walls, the Necropolis is nearly large enough to be a city of its own, were any of its population alive. It is divided into a warren of countless crypts, wound through with passageways. Those maintained by Nevarra's ancient families are enormous and ornate, paths as wide as real streets leading through a maze of oversized statuary and gilded rooms fit for living nobility. Others are smaller and simpler. Some belong to families that have since died out entirely and have fallen into disrepair, though the Mortalitasi see still to the remains within. There are vast public crypts as well, where the inexpertly mummified bodies of Nevarra's poor and nameless are housed en masse if delivered to the Necropolis from outlying communities. The one constant is the smell: the pervasive spicy-sweet aroma of the incense burned in censers throughout the Necropolis, heavy enough to cling to clothes and hair for hours afterwards, and give headaches to those unused to the scent.

As the group passes each crypt, Tivadar names its owner and perhaps some of the better-known figures residing within. The Pentaghast crypt is particularly enormous, and he guides the group inside, past the crowd of still and staring dead, for a brief glimpse at King Caspar still and silent on his throne, crown atop the wispy remains of his hair, finery conspicuously new yet crafted in the style of ages past, the blade of the sword laid across his lap still razor-sharp.

In contrast to the enraged corpses that may have climbed out of bogs or emerged from caves to attack Inquisition agents in their past travels, these possessed corpses are remarkably sedate. They do move: they may blink or turn their heads to watch someone pass, eyes (or eye sockets, depending on the age and wealth of the deceased) glowing with the presence of something otherworldly. But they seem content with watching, until—

(There's always an until.)

—deep in center of the Necropolis, where some of the oldest crypts are falling into ruin and even the Mortalitasi's careful work can't keep all the skin on the corpses' bones, Tivadar disappears—magic, perhaps, or a trick door, or some combination of the two—and the sealed door to a nearby crypt creaks open.

The corpses that lurch out of it are not sedate. They're rabid and grasping, red-eyed, and ready to claw and bite and pursue the Inquisition through the Necropolis' streets. These first enraged mummies count among the poor and poorly kept—they're numerous, but unarmed, brittle. As they push the Inquisition back through the streets, however, their presence seems to awaken the mummies that had previously sat or stood calmly elsewhere. Some of them retreat deeper into their crypts as if frightened. Others do not retreat, but join the swarm in attack. And the further the fighting progresses toward the doors, with the red-eyed corpses stirring each crypt they pass too close to to action, the better preserved and better armed the dead become, until they are wielding swords with names and clad in the dragon-scale armor of the royal houses themselves.
earthbones: (Default)

[personal profile] earthbones 2017-12-09 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
Well someone's had a bad experience then though who hasn't when it comes to the destruction that some mages can wreak when they put their minds to it? Too many times delving into something or somewhere or someone and then there it is, magic, a ritual, a spell, a cult, and all it means is bad news. If it means the tightening of a jaw here she'll be on her guard for those. "Plenty of things can walk around looking human or mer until they're not." Werewolves, vampires, briar-hearts if you don't catch the chest, cultists who stopped being anything but what they became when they signed up.

Then Inessa asks that and a thing cracks inside of Brónach.
Her jaw works. She sees faces almost forgotten, the features already blurring out of necessity because sometimes the mind is kind, tucks a thing away until the moments come when you want to lie down to scrape open every old hurt, peering right down to the bone. "Nords go to Sovngarde and their ancestors. Daedra have their planes in Oblivion so a soul promised to them goes there in the afterlife. I don't know about everyone, I'm not a scholar but," she pauses, chews her lip until there's blood in her mouth, her heart heavy with it somehow.

The space between one breath and the next holds echoes. Their names would be scrubbed from the story Y'ffre is telling and replaced with silence. Her childhood returns to her again, the first tale ever told, the most important above all others.

When she continues, her gaze is distant. "The Dreamsleeve to return again, but we - Bosmer - we saw Y'ffre first of the Ehlnofey die and become part of the earth, become the Earth Bones. I think...I think that. But I'm not a priest or a shaman or anything like that. I have a long time before I go and now I'm a long way from anyone who could tell me."
arcaneadvisor: (Default)

[personal profile] arcaneadvisor 2017-12-09 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
"A fine choice, I hardly expected a mage who lived all his life in a Circle to have such candour about him." When speaking with her at least, then again her company is rather strictly chosen to avoid the Circle mages at the best of times when so often they want to leash themselves and insist on making the leash too. There's a shudder of revulsion she doesn't bother hiding at the mention of red lyrium; why should she, it horrifies all and she has a child to consider in this world.

(She has a child who had the most terrible nightmares each night he had to spend in the Gallows before he moved to Gwenaëlle's.)

"Alistair then, he might have a suitable list of those he would trust to travel to such a place without my wishing to leave them there or to arrange for a tragic mishap on the way."
doneisdone: (smile)

[personal profile] doneisdone 2017-12-09 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
Teren has never met Flemeth, and likely never will, which means she can find Morrigan's response funny. She barks a laugh that she quickly quiets, for fear of waking anyone, and replies, "you must've been quite the babe, if that's the case."
serannas: serious (revas)

[personal profile] serannas 2017-12-09 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah? That's really good to hear." As opposed to these worrying shouts. Ellana spots a ripple in the crowd as several people push forward. It's not close enough to them to disturb anyone, but she hears the shout of one as he moves to the front. With so many voices, it's hard to determine what's being said, but Ellana isn't sure they should stick to this particular area if it's going to get rowdy.

"Do you want to go to a quieter area?"
exequy: (05)

[personal profile] exequy 2017-12-09 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
He mentioned that.

[ It sounds a bit—well. Kostos feels the same way about that as he would feel about a utopian mage commune in the middle of an Orlesian city. Good luck. Hope no one declares it illegitimate and wrecks it. In the meantime he'll be somewhere else, doing something that is not that. ]

Even if he weren't, I doubt he would beat anyone with anything. [ A pause, then the that very serious and thoughtful drunk tone: ] Maybe if I wore Chantry robes.
galvanising: (029)

[personal profile] galvanising 2017-12-09 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ Nell snorts. ]

Maybe. I doubt it, unless you were also threatening a mage child or something. He seems very focused on children. When I heard he was here this is not what I expected.
sulena: (59.)

[personal profile] sulena 2017-12-09 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
"Yes, I think that might be a wonderful idea." Saoirse says with a careful smile as she leads them away from the middle of the sea of people crowding around and shouting, toward the outer edges.

"Shall we go see to the river? I think there are still some markets stalls set up along the banks."
meds4sale: (Telling it like it is)

[personal profile] meds4sale 2017-12-09 04:34 am (UTC)(link)
There was a long silence from the Medicine Seller. For a moment, he considered telling the tale.

"I have never known truth to be easy. But the hardest to have told is not a story for such a gathering."

He poured a glass and downed the contents easily, seeming none the worse for wear.

"I do not mind telling it another time - but not here or now."

Ochou deserves better than that, he thought wryly and turned his gaze to Beleth.

"Miss Beleth, you failed your prior task. But perhaps a chance to redeem your honour and a chance for us to embark on an adventure - can you guide us safely to something good to eat?"
exequy: (58)

[personal profile] exequy 2017-12-09 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
Why do you hate children, Nell?

[ He starts to drink what’s left in his mug, then changes his mind. He’s had plenty. ]
rowancrowned: (003)

[personal profile] rowancrowned 2017-12-09 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
“I do not know if such things would be more or less bearable than what we have here,” he says, because there, wherever her there is (Skyrim?) sounds just as rife with kinslaying as Thedas is. Glad for once that he needn’t make a choice, he traces her smirk to the spire and settles himself.

“Good,” Thranduil says, and means it. He holds tighter to the bonds of kindship between them—between all of them—because he holds to purpose. To order, to interlocking as vines use a tree as a ladder to reach sunlight.

“I hope you will come to me if you find yourself in need of a sympathetic ear, or should you need more mundane than a blessing from your Lady.”
utulien_aure: head and shoulders (Fingon)

[personal profile] utulien_aure 2017-12-09 07:13 am (UTC)(link)
And that... did not seem entirely normal, though admittedly so little about life in Thedas was.

"It is possible," Fingon agrees. "The craftsmen here seem to save their best work for other things than tavern benches. Still, would you mind a bit of company on these uneven chairs?"
misdirection_hex: (huh)

[personal profile] misdirection_hex 2017-12-09 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
It is strange. [Just the agreement is a concession, in some small way that someone less preoccupied with power struggles than Vandelin might not think to consider one at all. It's tantamount, in a roundabout way, to admitting that maybe his pointedly introducing himself as being from Hasmal and not its Circle is not a fully thought-out stance. But he'll leave that idea unspoken.]

You could frame it as an act of defiance. There aren't many cities who'd want to claim us, but there's no fun in making it easy on them.
Edited 2017-12-09 08:01 (UTC)
galvanising: (091)

[personal profile] galvanising 2017-12-09 02:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Because I'm a terrible person, clearly.

[ Inspired, Nell looks into her own mug, and when she finds it empty she reaches across for his and drinks. Restraint is overrated. ]

I hate children. So much. I hope all mage children are left alone to accidentally light themselves on fire every day for the rest of their lives and never receive any training of any kind.
circleprodigy: (pensive)

[personal profile] circleprodigy 2017-12-09 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Observing Bronach's reaction, Inessa's expression becomes apologetic. She asked as a point of curiosity, not to tread upon a sore spot. Still, as Bronach continues, she listens and tries to keep those names and terms in mind. Even if it's not at all relevant to Thedas, it's still interesting and helps her understand the newcomer better. Even Garahel peers at her as though following every word.

When Bronach finishes, Inessa nods slowly. "I wish I could confirm, one way or another. I knew -passingly- some rifters that were killed in battle, but what came of their souls, I can't be certain. I like to think there is a place for them in the Beyond, but I don't have the breadth of experience to say."

She is pensive for a moment, wondering about the fates of that other Kain and Martel. What kind of afterlife would await them, without the shard they had in life? It's a question she'll never be able to answer.
circleprodigy: (finger tent)

[personal profile] circleprodigy 2017-12-09 03:13 pm (UTC)(link)
That shudder is met with a grim nod, Inessa just as repulsed by the substance. That's why she's a part of that project as well, to see to its eventual destruction. Morrigan's comment on the Circle is not unexpected; it would be stranger if she had a positive opinion to share, given her apostate status. While Inessa doesn't share it, she has no interested in starting a debate when there are far more important issues at hand.

Her lips twitch, knowing that the Wardens have an...interesting collection of personalities, to put it mildly. It's a wonder they aren't more dysfunctional at times, given the potential for clashes. "As Senior Warden, he will be able to best advise on such matters. If I had to guess, the Hawke twins might be mentioned. I get the impression that whatever rough edges Carver has, his sister will be able to provide balance."

She smiles as friendly passerby ask to pet Garahel, pleased when people take the time to ask instead of just assuming. So she nods, and her mabari basks in the attention.
crowncitizen: (I am done with my graceless heart)

[personal profile] crowncitizen 2017-12-09 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Luckily these shamblers are chumps, scarier looking than they are actually. While he still wishes he had his bow (or better a ding-dang gun, but that's a pipe dream), Prompto's still making decent work of them with his sword. When the last of them falls, he heaves out a breath, a bit winded. But he's still got a long way to go, so he doesn't dally long before he's running off after Inessa and Garahel.

"I'm a man of my word!" he says as he catches up, shooting her a little wink before strolling along. "Sounds quiet up ahead."
rowancrowned: (043)

[personal profile] rowancrowned 2017-12-09 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)
“No,” Thranduil says slowly, suddenly and fiercely enraptured by Alistair and his wit, one elbow on the table curled gently against his cheek as he watches him. “But that is far, far better than anything ever given to them before.”

And, because they have the time, and it’s not as if he can complain about them to anyone else: “Maedgon the Tall, Maghros Harper,” he cannot remember the rest of Alistair’s names for them, so, “—Fingon, which would translate roughly to ‘commander with fine hair’, and Elros—‘elf of the sea-foam’.”

The four of them have been spilling secrets Thranduil would have preferred to keep close, and it is hardly as if Alistair will care to tell anyone. But then, back to the reason while Alistair deigned to join him, his tone a bit less jovial. “I love her, as we do not love frivolously. I am hers. But—thank you for the warning."
rowancrowned: (028)

[personal profile] rowancrowned 2017-12-09 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
“There are seven of us here,” Thranduil notes, because on bad days he counts Bill and his elk as one half person each, and Elros not at all. “None of us is inconsequential.”

Silvan lacks in some areas where Sindarin might better suit, but he favors the simplicity of it, the way it lends itself better to cleverness than his more poetic mothertongue. “And it is hardly a burden if I am asking, yes? We speak as equals. I have no kingdom here, and what rank I hold is of the realms of Men. When have you ever been leashed by such a thing?”
serannas: serious (14)

[personal profile] serannas 2017-12-09 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, that'll be fun. I'd like to pick up a souvenir." It's become a tradition the more she travels. It usually ends up being clothes, but she'll buy anything that catches her eye. A market stall by the river probably has more seafood than clothes anyway, but hopefully they're selling some sort of trinket.

Once the noise fades behind them, Ellana releases a breath. "There; I feel safer over here. I think a fight might break out between rival houses."
circleprodigy: (smile)

[personal profile] circleprodigy 2017-12-10 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
Garahel barks happily and rushes over to bump Prompto, affectionately. Inessa gestures for the mabari to keep it down but is likewise relieved and her smile says as much. "I'll take that as a good sign. Let's see if we can catch up with the others, at the very least."
unshadowing: (5)

[personal profile] unshadowing 2017-12-10 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
And this is why he doesn't understand why people bother with cats, outside of using them as mice hunters on farms. Damned felines just get into everything and unlike with a dog, they climb places so it's next to impossible to hide anything from them. "You've condemned yourself to a life with cats. And two at that." He shakes his head. "At least you can enjoy having no mice around."
unshadowing: (2)

[personal profile] unshadowing 2017-12-10 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
Of course he was a blood mage. It's really a sad statement that Carver doesn't find that the least bit surprising.

"Well, naturally. Magister from Tevinter and all. Not to mention the rotten luck our sister rubbed off on all of us." Yep, blame Marian. He's mostly joking about that, honestly, but sometimes he really does wonder if the Hawke name is cursed.
unshadowing: (6)

[personal profile] unshadowing 2017-12-10 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
Wardens come and go with the wind. Or, well, with the orders and where they're needed. They don't make the easiest friends or partners. Honestly, to Carver, it's strange for there to be so many Wardens in one place for so long, outside Weisshaupt and the other major keeps. "True enough. All walks of life here in the Inquisition." Both good and bad.

Carver snorts, though a small part of him is actually glad to hear that. "Good to know. Guess that's one less person I'll worry about making sleep outside the door." ...was that a joke? With him, who knows.
unshadowing: (8)

[personal profile] unshadowing 2017-12-10 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
He does love the teasing, he has to admit. So Carver gladly keeps playing along. "Do you now? Itty bitty baby dragon claw marks?" He knows they won't be small, but he can't resist. "I'll believe it when I see them." He throws in a challenge with that tease, too. See if she decides to take the "bait". "I suppose that's all that matters, that you walked away. And you got your name for it, too."
unshadowing: (12)

[personal profile] unshadowing 2017-12-10 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
"Then why not just tell him anyway? You're the one who insisted on not." What are you hiding, Anders~ Now he's just downright curious.

Though he does narrow his eyes at the next bit. Damn it. Still, he's gonna keep calling the bluff, whether it is one or not. That's a lot of healing he'd have to do to get enough portraits. "Right. I'll believe it when I see it."

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