faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2019-05-15 11:04 am

EVENT: TRUTH BOMB

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.


It’s an ordinary day—so not a very pleasant one. The weather is dreary and muggy, and the day’s lunch is a soup that’s a little too watery and bland. The griffons are being their usual level of noisy and swoopy. The work is its usual level of urgent and difficult.

But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.

Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.

The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.

A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.
katabasis: (whatever this is that I am)

wildcard-ish

[personal profile] katabasis 2019-05-25 04:31 pm (UTC)(link)
It's what he'd do, were he in the position to make such decisions. But that doesn't change how it galls coming at it from the other side of things: the folding of the project in tight under Force's wing is as irritating as it is perfectly sensible in light of the Kirkwall contingent's departure from the Inquisition's official ranks. Even now, as they sit reviewing the chart books and maps between here and Brendel's Reach, Flint can't help but feel the prickle of Coupe's metaphorical shadow looming in the doorway.

"We'll need both Reaper and Walrus, and at least a dozen Inquisition" --or whatever-- "hands to be divided throughout," he's saying. Strategy, even with regard to a fucking Qunari dreadnought, is the safest topic of conversation for any number of reasons. "Which means the best we can hope for in keeping this secret will be for Kirkwall to burn to its foundations before anyone can get soused enough in some Lowtown public house and tell the closest ten people about what we have."

Faith in humanity at a real all time high today, apparently.