faderift | 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

"We're not in Orlais. Though...I know a couple of people who'd turn that into a story, probably make a tidy sum off it."

Might not be the most accurate thing but Orlesians have a funny relationship when it comes to accuracy and the when and where of it all in his experience. "Romance" novels tend not to trouble themselves much over it until it comes down to the more trifling details that you can spend several hours (or letters) arguing over instead of the flimsy excuse for a plot. Unless you're with the right person.

Anything else Yngvi might be about to say is interrupted, or not so much interrupted as cut off when there's snow that falls with a heavier, wetter thump than it should, his head wanting to twitch enough that something twinges in his neck. One hand flaps, halfway to making a sign of the fuck was that because if this is how the snowmonsters show up it isn't how Yngvi wanted to be notified.

Athessa's head does snap around, looking for the source of the schlump of snow that fell, but all she can see are the trees and more snow. Snow, snow, snow and ice, more snow, trees covered in snow, a pair of eyes, more snow--wait.

But when she looks back, the eyes are gone.

"Well that's fucked."

Without thinking about it too hard, Yngvi has his axes in hand; the Frostbacks were where he spent more time in the snow and there weren't many things there that'd come for you but the things that did come rarely had good intentions in mind.

"Was it--" he swallows. "I've not seen those things. But they'd be bigger, yeah?"

His voice is soft as he looks up at Athessa then around, rolling his shoulders, trying to listen but snow is weird, he never knows if he's really hearing what he thinks he is or just echoes, another soft wet sound that might be snow falling or-- no a crunch? Footsteps breaking through snow?

"I'm gonna throw something." Just a quiet warning even though there's no real direction for him to aim the handful of caltrops he's digging out, axe lodged under one armpit, naturally.

She watches as he fishes the caltrops out, at first nodding, good idea, but then shaking her head, wait, what?

"Won't they just get lost in the snow?" She whispers, drawing her daggers all the same. "Or sit on top and be spotted from a mile away?"

"There's only one way to know. And it's that or--"

Opening his coat is such a huge mistake because Andraste's titties it's cold, there are bits of him freezing and he's trying to keep oil under his clothes so it'll be useful and won't freeze but you know, just a quick flash; traps with teeth which are even heavier or exploding traps.

Yngvi isn't about to set off an avalanche just yet because they're not the burliest pair out here.

So bundled up again he takes a good swing and the caltrops are flying, flying, flying-- sinking. Sinking down. But it's enough to catch the attention of someone because snowmonsters probably don't say 'fuck' unless they've been raised by uncouth snowmonster parents.

"Oi! Who's there?" Athessa hollers, then drops into a crouch to start ever so quietly skirting around to where she thinks she heard the swear come from. She gestures to Yngvi to keep talking, make noise, or whatever while she sneaks through the snow.

She also gestures her intent to him, but the chances of him understanding aren't the best, what with her hand signals being at best a game of charades and at worst unintelligible pointing.

Hand signals in the Carta aren't an art form considering it's Darktown. It's dark. It's something you have to be able to see and sometimes you poke someone in the eye and that usually undermines the whole point of it; Yngvi got better with Gunnar but when it's you and your brother then that probably doesn't count because Gunnar could wrinkle his nose and lift an eyebrow which would be a whole conversation.

So he's pulling a face that probably makes him look constipated (maybe he is, it's not like the food in a freezing camp is the usual standard) as he tosses an axe lightly and raises his voice.

"I have no idea if a trap here can cause an avalanche," he calls out in a voice loud enough to get the job done if the trap doesn't. No half-measures and it's keeping his teeth from chattering. "But I reckon it'd be a laugh to find out yeah? So I'll count let me know if you want to go on three or three and then go, don't know why that's always a bone of contention but it always seems to be a big deal."

He starts the count. In Nevarran. You know, in the interest of helping and maybe bamboozling who knows.

Before Yngvi says whatever three is in Nevarran, Athessa delivers a swift kick to the would-be snowmonster, right in his ass. He said fuck before, but this time he doesn't say anything, just yelps with surprise as he's catapulted out of his hiding spot and into the path beyond where Yngvi's caltrops sank into the snow.

"Three," Athessa finishes the count, standing over their shadow.

MOD EVENT: WINTERMARCH WINTER MARCH

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject