faderift | SHOULD GLORY COME AT SUCH A PRICE, Part II

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SHOULD GLORY COME AT SUCH A PRICE, Part II

WHO: Characters in Minrathous
WHAT: Daring escapes
WHEN: End of Solace
WHERE: Minrathous
NOTES: OOC plotting post!

It's become a running joke that wherever the Inquisition travels, disaster follows. It stops being funny somewhere around mid-afternoon: not long after a cadre of Inquisition representatives departs to speak with the Archon at a secretive location, the atmosphere in the palace shifts. The staff is watching the Inquisition's movements more openly, and guards are watching their own colleagues with more interest. In the late afternoon a woman arrives with a small entourage, and while she doesn't visit the visitors' quarters where the Inquisition is housed, she might be glimpsed through a window or cracked door, with twin blonde braids looped behind her ears and serious eyes above a gap-toothed smile. Only those who were at Haven would recognize her for certain.

In the meantime, back doors and side exits that were previously open and unguarded begin to close, here and there, with enough subtlety that it would be easy to miss at first, until the scattering of guards throughout the palace suddenly doubles. Most remain tight-lipped, offering only the most cursory explanation: routine security response. A few are willing to offer more, but their stories vary: rumors of a potential intruder on the grounds, a visiting petitioner causing trouble, unrest in the city over a recent vote, some sort of controversy in the Magisterium. It's increasingly clear that something is happening, but equally that those in the palace willing to speak of it have no idea what it is.

The main doors remain unbarred, and members of the Inquisition are not stopped from leaving, but warned that once they do, they're on their own. Those who venture out will find the city in a similar state: thrumming with unfocused anxiety, gossip flying, wild stories about attacks on the city gates, the harbor blockaded, a purge in the assembly, a slave revolt, armies on the march, fires on the mainland--too much to parse through and find any kernel of truth before it's too late.

Thankfully, there are sending crystals. Eventually, there comes a whispered warning: leave the city, now, without anything that might slow them down. There is no way for the entire delegation to safely meet, so instead spots are chosen both within the palace and without, places that small groups can congregate without drawing attention to arrange an escape toward the city gates.

It's as much advance notice as anyone could hope for, but it still isn't enough to make this simple.

Threaded | Flat

It is understandable, Radonis hopes, all of this cloak and dagger inconvenience, in a city where the walls may have all but literal ears, and where a man in power has no one he can rely on outright, only those he can rely on to be afraid of him and those he can rely on to take the first opportunity to stab him in the back, with significant overlap between the two groups. There is nowhere in the city to speak plainly, and nowhere in the palace to speak at all. A touch of symbolic flair, then—to match his sweeping robes and towering hat—that it's a mute slave who comes for the Inquisition's representatives, unable to share anything with them except the Archon's seal and a gesture to follow.

The streets she leads them down are labyrinthe, some as old as humanity's first Thedosian rulers, often unmarked. At night they might be intimidating, but the sun is bright, and at one point a pack of barefoot children runs through the group and ahead of them, pursued by a playful dog.

Beyond a high black-stone wall and a creaking gate, there's a spot of green and an enchanted fountain, shaded by a single draping tree, attached to a house whose deed Radonis' name does not appear on. A house beneath him, and rarely occupied, except for the cat, which comes and goes but has currently come to sit beside him on the bench and have its head scratched. The cat startles, when the gate opens, but Radonis does not, rising with his back to them to place his (ridiculous) hat on his head before he turns to face them.

"I apologize," he says, "that it has taken me so long to greet you."

OOC | this thread is closed to the chosen team. no tag order, but tag at least once a day or we'll have to leave you behind. this is set prior to the escape things below, but depending on the outcome here, your characters may not be able to participate in those prompts freely, so wait until we give you the go ahead!

The chaos and confusion in the city crest suddenly, as rumors and warnings suddenly crystallize into activity. Soldiers appear in the streets, most traveling in organized packs, but otherwise not easy to pick out on sight: many are robed, others in plain clothes, and some wear the uniforms of the city guard, or a noble's private force, or even the Imperial guard itself, making it all the more difficult to tell friend from foe (foe from foe?). Their numbers swell as they move through the city, shepherding people back into their homes. Those who go quietly are left with a stern warning to close their doors and remain inside until further notice. Those who do not are made examples of, surrounded without warning and beaten within an inch of their lives.

If the Inquisition is going to escape the city, it will have to be done fast, and carefully. There are still enough people milling in the streets in most neighborhoods for them to blend in, assuming they ditch anything that marks them as Inquisition and travel in small groups. Disguises of any kind would be wise, plus whatever other precautions people are capable of: stowing away in wagons, posing as people either too significant or too insignificant to be hassled, traveling over rooftops or through sewers, staying out of sight one way or another.

Making it through the city will not be easy—more and more of the enemy roam the streets, and it is clear by this point that no one can be trusted, no matter what their dayjob. As time passes the streets grow emptier, making discreet travel more difficult. The exceptions are the city's main market, which is filling with a crowd that has been steadily increasing in both size and anger. Violence breaks out in a flurry of lightning and fire, and spills rapidly into the surrounding streets. Smaller acts of resistance and riotin are scattered about, disorganized and opportunistic, a skirmish here, an ambush there. The streets are littered with shattered window glass and magical ice, chunks of half-melted cobblestone and charred wagons, random possessions dropped in the rush to comply or escape.

At first it's just a matter of avoiding being locked in somewhere, then of avoiding capture: word spreads through the populace that any known members of the Inquisition are to be captured and delivered alive to the palace. Finally, news comes via crystal that a few teams of agents, in the right place at the right time when all this began, are securing passage out of the city. All agents are directed to rendezvous at the nearest of three locations: one near the docks, one in the catacombs beneath the city, and the third at the dwarven Ambassadoria. Escape is possible, but first they have to get there.

Despite the many distractions, only those underground will miss his arrival. It's heralded by the dragon's bellow, the red lyrium that encrusts it glowing in the afternoon sun as it rears back in the air to announce his return. The beast's massive form casts shadows broad enough to throw entire blocks into darkness. It circles as if surveying the scene below, then stops above the palace, the dragon's wings sending great gouts of wind down onto those below as it hovers. Atop it, Corypheus lifts a hand.

Just for a moment, it may seem an empty gesture, but then the shaking begins, a humming in the earth even those in the catacombs and the Deep Roads will feel in their teeth. And then, the Archon's palace rises, new stone sprouting up out of the earth, pushing its foundation upwards, the entire complex lifted as one to meet its new master. He waits, arms outstretched as if addressing an orchestra, until the Archon's private terrace atop the main tower has been carried upwards high enough to brush the dragon's feet. It perches on the rail, stone crumbling between its claws, and the Elder One disembarks.

OOC | make your own top-levels and have fun. (and there's time here for our tevinter citizens to quietly and sneakily check on their families if they need to be sure they're not in immediate danger in order to be willing to leave.)

The catacombs beneath the city are, for once, not a maze: while there are plenty of nooks and crannies in which to hide and corners to duck around at the sound of footsteps, they're systematically laid out, organized, home not only to death but to life, with enough stored and preserved food to feed the city for a year. That's the difficult part. Not finding one's way through the tunnels toward the outer edges of the city, unseen, but deciding what to do with the torch in your hand like a dagger and the stores of grains and cured meats before you like the city's exposed back.

The first to starve if the city were under siege would be the poor, the undervalued slaves. But they wouldn't be the last. Corypheus might be able to maintain order in the face of that threat, might make harsh choices to ensure his continued rule, or he might face a widespread revolt by citizens whose immediate interests suddenly are threatened after all, or even the capitulation of his own men--there's that old saying about armies and stomachs, after all.

Someone will have to decide which risk to take.

OOC | one thread, open to anyone who tags in. progress it on your own, but we may sneak in a gm tag or two to complicate your lives.

It is a reasonably safe bet that whatever is happening on the surface, if a Darkspawn Magister is involved, the dwarves will want no part in it, and those who make that bet will be proven correct: the ambassadors at the Ambassadoria usher them below with protective alarm, eager to offer respite from the chaos in exchange for news of what's occurring overhead.

But no one can linger here—for their own sake and for the dwarves', should they be found harboring fugitives if the conflict reaches them. The map of the Deep Roads they're provided lays out the safest known route beyond the Tevinter border, far enough that they can pop up in Nevarra if they're eager to get back above ground, or in the wilds of the Free Marches if they would like to be cautious.

That's a long walk, however, and safest is not the same as safe. Only hours away from the embassy, there's a contingent of twenty darkspawn, moving with unusually organized and determined purpose in the direction from which our heroes have come. The embassy is likely not entirely unprepared. Dwarves deal daily with the sort of darkspawn activity the surface sees only during Blights. But it also wouldn't be the kindest thank you for their assistance to let the troupe pass uninhibited.

OOC | one thread, open to anyone who tags in. progress it on your own, but we may sneak in a gm tag or two to complicate your lives.

The bridge is blocked, but the ports are still moving. Not freely: papers are being checked, boarders hassled, cargo inspected. But there are Antivans here, attempting to come or go with their trade vessels, and one of Thedas' cardinal rules is that antagonizing Antiva is a bad idea.

One ship in particular is nearly prepared to depart, when those among the Inquisition who have chosen this route arrive to spy on the harbor. It's small enough that they could man it themselves should the crew not prove cooperative once they make it to open water, with enough cargo crates still on the dock to promise places to hide, and a burly man missing half his jaw still managing to make perfectly clear how little he intends to let this Vint and his little clipboard interfere with his schedule.

The sun is setting, the shadows are long, and the port is riotous with noise. Move quickly.

OOC | one thread, open to anyone who tags in. progress it on your own, but we may sneak in a gm tag or two to complicate your lives.

Threaded | Flat

THE ARCHON (Closed)

THE CITY (Open Free-For-All)

ESCAPE: THE CATACOMBS (Open, One Log)

ESCAPE: THE DEEP ROADS (Open, One Log)

ESCAPE: STOWAWAYS (Open, One Log)