faderift | MOD EVENT: WINTERMARCH WINTER MARCH

Entry tags:

MOD EVENT: WINTERMARCH WINTER MARCH

WHO: Anyone & Everyone
WHAT: Winter adventures as Riftwatch heads up into the Vinmark Mountains to do some work for (Provisional) Viscount Bran of Kirkwall
WHEN: Throughout Wintermarch and early Guardian
WHERE: Vinmark Mountains
NOTES: OOC post

Still-Provisional Viscount Bran has received a number of requests for aid from communities in the Vinmark mountains outside Kirkwall. He wants to keep them happy so that they continue to pay taxes to Kirkwall and don't become problematically independent or allied with some other state. But he also doesn't want to deal with this shit, and the City Guard isn't really equipped to go tromp around the mountains in the winter. So he has asked Riftwatch to deal with this, casting it as a shared danger (if any communities were to break away, they'd be more vulnerable to enemy collaboration, or hampering travel through the passes, and things like that) but if necessary will imply that Riftwatch's refusal would weigh unfavorably against the decision to allow them to remain in the Gallows for free.

This work isn't done at the exclusion of all else--other normal (and especially high-priority) work continues. Any work that isn't especially time-sensitive may be postponed, and otherwise agents will simply have to forfeit their free time and fit this work in on top of their other responsibilities. Something for people to complain about while they're tromping through the snow.

It's not a long trip back and forth to the Gallows, so people can come and go if they want, but Bran has also agreed to allow Riftwatch the use of the Viscount's hunting lodge, a rustic mountain retreat traditionally used for hunting parties, which happens to be in a roughly central location. As Viscount Bran is both Provisional and profoundly not the sort of man who holds hunting parties, the lodge has gone unused for some years now, and Riftwatch is bringing in its own supplies and a skeleton support staff to man the place for the duration. Those traveling up in the first group will have to help escort supply wagons through snowy, muddy mountain roads, unloading casks and crates into the cellar, and pitch in cleaning, making minor repairs, and generally getting the building set up after a decade of neglect.

The lodge is organized around a central hall with a massive fireplace, and a small library and study that will be used as offices shared between those visiting. Up the grand wood stair is a mezzanine level that looks down on the hall and leads to three corridors, each with a couple rooms. Rooms will be shared by groups of 2-4 people, the exception being the two suites generally reserved for the viscount and his wife, which will now be assigned to whichever of the Division Heads are in residence (and if there are more than two at a time, then to whichever Division Heads win a coin toss or something). Each room has basic furnishings, heavy and rustic, and its own fireplace. Bathing facilities are communal, provided by natural hot springs pools. While these are outdoors, there is a roof, and there is also a small springhouse alongside for changing, as well as a separate sauna.

The stables contain a number of sleighs in varying states of repair, which can be signed out for use. They're often the best way to get around this area in winter, and can be pulled by a team of Vinmark Goats, a big-horned shaggy breed of unusually massive mountain goats that are often used in place of ponies in this part of the world. The Viscount had a herd of them, which has since run more or less wild on his land and will need to be rounded back up for use.

There are a few communities with different problems, spread out some ways apart through the mountains:

ICE RIFT: The village of Erith has been plagued by shades and despair demons, which can be traced to a rift that has opened under the thick mid-winter ice of the frozen lake just outside town. Trying to get at it from above would mean cutting into the ice and fighting off demons while underwater and very likely freezing to death in minutes. So instead they'll need to traverse the ice caves beneath the lake to reach it, which will be complicated by the nature of shades, which leech off the energy of the livings' psyche, causing confusion, fatigue, and fear.
SNOWMONSTERS: Cragfield has been cut off by an infestation of what's only been described as "snowmonsters," that have been harrying travelers around the village or anyone who strays too far from the edge of town. They will prove to be some unknown variation of giant, even more aggressive, though a bit smaller and nearly covered in white hair. They have some resistance to magic, especially ice magic, and one seems capable of using ice magic, if crudely. They can be tracked through the forest and picked off a few at a time, or traced back to one of their lairs, usually in a cave or tucked into a rock formation.
THE GRIPPE: Galssop has sent an urgent request for healers to help combat a particularly virulent strain of the illness many in Kirkwall are suffering. Most of the town has fallen victim to it, including their only healer, leaving the rest without care. Complicating matters, reaching the town in winter (especially while transporting supplies) requires traveling up the frozen Wye river, using skates and iceboats. The villagers there will be wary of magical healing, and Bran as urged trying to use non-magical means of healing first if possible, though he and the sick will ultimately come round to the necessity of using some magic rather than see dozens die.
THE GRINCH: Lerwick's trouble is a young man who recently inherited Touraigle, the fortress above the village, and who firmly believes that Lerwick is also his inheritance. When the Mayor of Lerwick refused to enforce Lord Bertrand's taxes, the lord's guards ransacked the town, helping themselves to most of its winter stores, among other things. Riftwatch diplomats have been asked to help entreat the lord to be reasonable and return what he took. But the road up to the castle has been blocked by a combination of overzealous defenses and weather, forcing all visitors to climb a treacherous hill of downed trees covered in ice and the occasional, possibly-frozen (if they're lucky), booby trap.

In addition to these specific issues, Rift Watchers can expect to encounter the usual Vinmark winter hazards: unpredictable weather, hungry animals, bad roads, scarcities, and so forth. Once news of their presence in the mountains gets around, they may be asked to take on similar small problems for others, like dealing with wildlife issues, helping search for a missing child, rescuing a hunting party trapped by a minor avalanche, etc. There are also basic chores to keep the lodge running that will always need extra hands, like chopping firewood, hunting down dinner, safeguarding supplies on their way to and from Kirkwall, and so on.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Never heard the one about the fellow that sat too long in a hot spring and melted away, did you."

Matthias, following behind, is careful to keep his voice low. Really he shouldn't say anything at all. The best way to keep from getting attacked? Keep your lip buttoned, idiot. And he knows that--learned it hard, kept the lesson because it was practical. But they're between monsters now. Haven't seen one in a bit. This part of cave is so quiet as to be almost tranquil, just their footsteps and the occasional drip of cold water off of cold ice. And they've been crawling through frigid tunnels for ages now. Surely they've earned a bit of levity.

Matthias ducks under a row of low-hanging stalactites all shiny with ice, and pops up again on the other side with his hood fallen over his head. Impatiently, he paws it out of the way with his free hand. Other hand is gripping tight to his staff, half for advance defense and half because it can be used to keep him well grounded on the icy bits of floor.

Continued: "Water was so hot he got cooked right up. Turned him all to soft skin. And his squishy inner bits like when you boil chicken's livers in a bag. You don't want to be like him."

She can't not give him a look over her shoulder, which makes her slip slightly, but she doesn't fall so it's fine.

"Matty, that shit didn't happen. Hot springs are hot but the ones you sit in aren't boiling," Anyway, didn't she say baths? Those are even less likely to cook anyone. "And the baths aren't even hot enough to cook an egg."

But wait. She narrows her eyes at him, stopping this time to keep from ruining the look by falling on the ice. "You haven't been avoiding the baths because of that story, have you?"

A little insulted by the question, Matthias wrinkles his nose at her. "What? No. Honestly, I'm not Fereldan. I know how and when to wash. S' not as if I smell, do I?"

Well, actually. Does he? He'll have to wait for Athessa to turn around again before he does any cautious self-sniffing, to make well sure. Nearly positive that he won't come to any unpleasant realizations after that test. But it's good to be sure.

"Anyways, that's the point, innit. Hot springs you sit in aren't boiling as a rule, but if you don't know how hot they really are before you climb in, you could be in for a nasty surprise. So you've got to be careful. Or else it's chicken livers in a bag for you."

"The point is that I said baths, not hot springs. You know, the ones at the Gallows? So I don't have to worry about becoming a sack of chicken livers, mysteriously without bones."

She does turn around, to watch where she's going as they progress through the tunnel, so he's free to sniff away if he so chooses.

"Anyway, pretty sure Laura would tell you if you stank." Laura was able to tell that Athessa and Derrica were sleeping together just by scent, which is still fascinating and embarrassing to think about.

The thing is, he's wearing so many layers that it's hard to smell anything but the wool and fur lining and damp. So when Matthias lifts one arm and gives a quick sniff, there's nothing except all of that, and he's left without a real answer.

Oh well. He keeps tromping after Athessa, trying to keep flat-footed and straight-legged to keep from falling. The cave floor is unpredictable, with spurts of rock breaking clear of the ice, sudden and surprising. Got to be careful not to bite it.

"What's Laura have to do with anything?"

"Nothin', she's just the most likely to smell you," They're approaching a corner, so she slows. Best to be able to look around it rather than to slide into a mess of shades and demons. "Right?"

"I guess?"

But surely anyone could smell him if he smelled really bad. Hang on, did he tell Athessa about Laura? Officially? Or does she mean just in general, like. Laura is well good at smelling. Matthias pinches up his mouth as he debates what next to say.

Then again, they're meant to be actually doing something down here, not just talking about smells and girls. So. Perhaps he ought to shut up. He stands on his toes, trying to peer over Athessa's head, and sort of around the corner, all without overbalancing and falling onto her and knocking them both to the cave floor.

"See anything?" As he begins to wobble a little, he leans a bit more on his staff, to ground himself.

He doesn't have to tell her about them, because it's obvious. Matthias called Laura brilliant and marvelous, and Laura flat-out told Athessa that she likes Matthias, when they talked on the roof after their shared nightmare.

But yes, back to what they're meant to be doing.

"Uhh...I see something," She says, stepping around the corner. "But it's not shades and demons."

The next stretch of tunnel starts out as rock and ice, no different than the tunnels behind them. But gradually the stone disappears and the ice takes on a certain luminescence as light from the surface filters through it. It's really quite pretty, like a river of lyrium glowing above their heads.

And Matthias is right there after her. No way is he going to let Athessa face anything alone, and no way is he going to be left out of something. He steps around the corner and sucks in an awed breath.

"Maker's balls." Anticipation had put a tightness in his shoulders. Now it goes out of him, as they walk along the tunnel, and come up close to the sight. "S' like colored glass, isn't it. I could live down here and look at that all the time."

"You'd freeze," she points out, "but I bet it'd be well worth it. How d'you think this happens? It doesn't look burrowed out, but if that's sunlight, we're probably under the lake."

It's idle musing, more than a mystery she needs to solve. Mostly, she's just taken by the sight. She doesn't even need to be able to see red and green to appreciate it, all just shades of blue.

"Should be able to see the light from the rift through it, once we get close,."

"Dunno. Could be to do with the Rift, yeah? Maybe this is something that happens. I've only ever seen a few of 'em myself, and none of them below a lake."

He stops when he's a few steps beneath the shimmering frozen ceiling. It feels more than a bit daring to be under it. A risk, like. The blueish light colors him blue as well--even his hands are tinted blue, when he peels off his gloves and holds them out in front of him to see. Matthias grins, pleased with the effect.

"If I gave it some fire, d'you think it'd melt, and all come crashing down?"

Her first reaction is to boggle at him. Are you insane?! But then her expression turns thoughtful and she looks up.

"Maybe. Or maybe it'd only melt a hole and the rest would stay up. Or maybe the lake itself isn't frozen, and just the top and these caves are, and if you melted any of this, we'd get pummeled with the contents of the lake and drown."

"But if we got out of the way," Matthias counters, wise and all-knowing, and accurately reading the thoughtful turn Athessa's expression has taken, "like if we went back there--might be able to get a spell off sort of blind, even. I've done it in the dark, and sort of around corners--obstructed vision--"

A very official-sounding term, that. He squints back up at the ice.

"Maybe just a bit. A tiny bit of fire. 'Cause how else will we know what this is? We can't very well go back and say, oi, we found a mysterious cave what was empty of water and we think it was beneath the lake but we dunno how it was happening--that wouldn't be useful."

"Neither would going back saying oi, we found a mysterious cave what was empty of water and decided to destroy it to see what would happen," she imitates his accent, not too far off from her own but more rural-sounding. "You know what would be useful, is if we found out where these...ice caves, where they go first. We can melt them later."

One last look up at the luminescent ceiling and she nudges him, leading the way further down the tunnel.

Matthias casts one last look up as well, letting the bluish glow bathe his face. It'd be easy, to break it apart. But Athessa's right, of course. It would be stupid. He sighs, and follows after her, into the tunnel.

"S'ppose it's a good idea, seeing where these go. Only when'd you get to be so sensible?"

Athessa considers quipping back with what, like I wasn't sensible before? but she knows she wasn't. Instead, she shrugs as she walks, not turning to walk backwards like she'd really like to because this new, sensible elf knows she's just asking to fall if she does.

"Since being un-sensible makes me a liability and a disappointment," said quite lightly, blithely even, as if it's good news and not soul-crushing at all! Which, paradoxically, says more about how soul-crushing it actually was to hear.

He snorts. The cold makes a little cloud of his breath. "You what?"

The tunnel twists, and their path with it, leaving the blue glow of the ice at their backs, casting only the dimmest light, and then--another twist to their way, and it's gone entirely, as if it had never been.

Matthias turns a look back over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the light. "Isn't Riftwatch full of liabilities?"

"Yeah, well," for her part, Athessa is looking ahead, keeping a watch out for baddies and more ice with her special eyes. So far, suspiciously good. "I guess I was just unlucky enough to be complained about, then."

The further into the cave system they go, the colder it gets, and the quieter. Where there is bare stone, their voices echo, and whatever shades and demons they happen upon are announced by their racket before they can be seen, but anywhere with ice ends up strangely muffled. Unnaturally muffled.

"You hear that?" Athessa asks, stopping and angling her head to try and get a sense of where the sound of running water is coming from.

Matthias has managed--against all odds--to keep rather quiet as they've gone. Partly because talking will spoil their position and give them away, and partly because he's been turning over Athessa's answer in his head as they've walked along. Who would complain about Athessa? And to who would they do the complaining?

Wait, what?

"Is it water?" Matthias stops walking and stares suspiciously up at the ceiling. There's nothing there. No more ice hanging weirdly over them. "It's not dripping. Sounds like a stream, or something? Like... Well, there's underground streams and rivers and things, right? Lakes where the fish haven't got any eyeballs. That sort of thing. I've heard about it."

There's only the way they've come from, and the way forward. But there might be other caves beside them, somehow. Like rooms. Matthias gnaws on the inside of his lip. "Can you tell which direction it's in? We could just... keep on forward, like. It's only water."

She levels a flat look at him.

"Matty. We're under a lake." So yeah, of course it's water. But the chances of it being an underground river? Slim. "Any underground river is gonna be the lake melting into the caves, so it better not be an underground river, yeah? Anyway. It doesn't sound like very much water so we're probably fine? But still keep an eye out for those eyeless fish."

The ground ahead slopes upwards ever so slightly, which makes the next leg of their trek a little treacherous thanks to, ya know, all the ice.

A little color comes into Matthias' face, and it has nothing to do with the cold. "Well--yeah. Yeah, I know. I mean, I know, just that--there's no water here, so it's not very lakey at all, is it? More like--I dunno."

He can feel how warm his face has got, and getting warmer. Impatiently, he shrugs one shoulder up and rubs his cheek against it, as it to scrub the flush from his face, scowling all the while. Stupid.

He's so busy with this that he doesn't notice the slope as well as he ought to. As he switches shoulders and cheeks--right side now, scrubbing angrily--he steps wrong, and there's the ice, and now he's bloody well fallen. He tries to catch himself, but only ends up smacking his knees against the ice and grit of the tunnel--and the wind gets knocked out of him--and he slides down the short distance he'd managed to follow. Cursing, he begins trying to stand up again, using his staff as leverage. The string of swearwords and the furious mumbled apologies he gets out in between pretty well cover the sound of the dripping water.

No eyeless fish yet, at least.

Athessa stifles a laugh.

"You okay?" And then she gestures to the side of the tunnel she'd walked on. "Try that side, there's not as much ice." Or maybe she's just got better grip because she's barefoot.

"How are we supposed to close a rift that's under water anyway? Like, I get that we have to reach it through these caves, but...it's at the bottom of the lake, not in some cave, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Matthias mumbles, furious with himself. It's a response to both questions: yeah, he's okay, and then yeah, he sees it now. The lack of ice. Mostly he trusts Athessa to take the piss out of him to his face, not lord about it to someone behind his back. And he'll be all right with being called a clod, once he's pride has recovered. Just, it sucks, doesn't it.

Anyways. His knees smart a little and the heels of his hands are a bit hot where he'd caught himself on the grit and ice of the floor, but he's following after her now, up the other side of the tunnel, keeping close to the wall to avoid further disaster. And they can move on.

"I thought it'd be like-- I dunno. Maybe the demons would come out of the water. And then they could be fought on the shore, and one of the shard-bearers could close it up. Here," and this has been bothering him, "what is it we're meant to do once it's found anyways. 'Cause I haven't got a shard. Do we mark it on a map and go back, or just, like--give a yell? Wait round the corner and hope the demons don't realize we're there? I thought someone would say before we left, but they didn't say to me."

"They didn't tell me, either. Here, roll this between your palms," For once, the elfroot she has on her isn't all dried and primed for smoking. She hands him a couple of leaves, which should release some nice pain-relieving oil and juices when crushed.

"Maybe there'll be another ice bubble cave thing conveniently right below the rift, and we can...do something. Maybe we just need to fight off the nasties from below while someone up top closes the rift?" Athessa squints,her pace slowing just a tad. "This doesn't seem very well planned at all."

Matthias, without question, accepts the leaves, pulls his gloves off with his teeth, then does as he's told. Habit, that. He's spent whole months of his life walking in a column and accepting whatever herbs and plants handed back to him that's meant to help with pain or injury or weird rash or toothache or something else that's befallen him.

Only as he's rolling the leaves around between his hands (a little sticky) and listening to Athessa's speculations (all possibilities), a thought comes to him. It's a little horrible. He's still holding his gloves between his teeth, and his staff is pinched in the crook of his arm and pressed flat to his chest so he can contort himself and rub his hands together without dropping it. This leaves him very little space to tell her the horrible thought he's just had, and he isn't sure that he wants to, but once his hands are free and he can pluck his gloves out of his mouth--

"I think it's my fault." Shit. A memory of some lists are coming to mind now. His own cramped handwriting, tiny letters, painstakingly neat, done up a third time so as to be presentable. Flint hasn't ever critiqued his handwriting. Matthias isn't even sure that he's looked at it, properly. But what if he does? "I think I was meant to requisition some Rifters, or-- a Rifter, or a shard-bearer, or-- oh, shit."

i

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject