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

[ The problem with a small woman floating quite still along the waterline of a steaming pool in the dimming light is, Ilias is all the way to its edge, in the process of discarding his robe to bare typically-well-hidden scar and tattoo both in preparation for a quick dash into the water, before his eyes parse that the shape behind the veil of fog is--

Oh.

Well. His foot hovers above the water for one bracing, teeth-chatteringly cold moment, before his willpower gives way. Better awkward than freezing, and thank Andraste it's only Derrica. He offers her a sheepish smile as he settles into the water at a polite distance. ]

If more our work took place in hot springs, you would get high marks for stealth.

[ At the sound of his voice, Derrica comes alert. She sits up slightly, posture straightening as she sinks slightly deeper into the water. ]

Hello, Speaker.

[ Her tone is polite and her smile is friendly. Derrica is even careful not to let her gaze linger on his scar, sensing that scrutiny would probably send him fleeing. Her hands twist nervously under the water. ]

I wish our work took place in hot springs. I've lost my taste for just about everything else. [ Derrica admits, slightly abashed about it. Mutinous thoughts are harder to summon when she's so pleasantly warm. ] How are you getting on in the cold? You look well.

[ Though is it hard to look better than the last time they crashed into each other on an assignment? He isn't bleeding, neither of them are covered with the dust of his ancestors, it's practically idyllic. ]

Only because I can temporarily feel my toes again.

[ So: not loving the cold any more than she is. Nevarra is farther south than Rivain, but not by so much. (The rest-- he watches the shift in her features with care, and reserves his commentary similarly, if only for now.) ]

I meant to apologize properly for-- in Nevarra City. It was not my finest moment. I am sorry you had to see it.

[ That she had to see it, exclusively. ]

Oh, there's no reason—

[ The water sloshes slightly as she leans forward, some of the careful politeness leaving her face to be replaced by something far more earnest. ]

I was glad I was close enough to be able to help, [ is what she settles on. ] You shouldn't apologize. I can't imagine how difficult witnessing what happened in the city was for you.

[ Nevermind being stabbed on top of everything else. Derrica knows exactly how it feels to watch something you'd been so certain of for all of your life fall to ruin around you. It was agonizing. It wasn't Ilias' fault he'd been to distracted to notice one of his ancestors trying to eviscerate him. ]

[ Can't you?

It is too forward, to say it this way. It shows in the lift of his eyes all the same, a matching steadiness in the way he holds her gaze. Leander hadn't said much; it does not take much, to guess at a thing mirrored. ]

I ought not to have given up.

[ Let the blade slide between his ribs. Balked from her assistance, even for a moment. ]

I could have put you in further danger, and that is unacceptable to me. That, at least, I would ask your forgiveness for.

[ For a moment, Derrica is quiet. She meets his gaze until she can't, looks down at her own hands as the weight of shared experience presses down on her. She lifts a palm up, lets water spill between her fingers as she waits to feel steady in herself again. ]

It's easier said than done, when something like that happens.

[ She had been so lucky on the day of the annulment to have been so viscerally angry. It was a blessing that the paralyzing grief had come later. ]

But I promise, you're forgiven. [ Her palm skims across the surface of the water. ] Maybe you'll do the same for me in the future. Who knows?

[ Quite swiftly, Ilias regrets implying anything at all, uncovering wounds he has no business baring; his own ache for it in turn. But it is an unexpected balm, to hear a measure of understanding in her words. Unexpected, to find he aches for that, too -- for anyone to share even a fragment of this with.

Gently, a hand reaching beneath the surface just to steady her wandering palm, ] Let us hope that won't be necessary.

[ But he would, he decides. Of course he would now. Self-conscious, he pulls back again, not wanting to impose on her further. ]

You are quite close to Leander, yes? He mentioned-- [ Her, Dairsmuid, ] Well, he does not usually mention anyone.

[ So she is unique. ]

[ That small touch goes a long way to dispelling a fair amount of Derrica's nervousness. She'd wanted so badly to make a good impression on Ilias. Crashing into each other in Nevarra had seemed an inauspicious beginning, and she'd fretted quietly over the possibility of the next meeting until now. Broaching this common ground eases everything.

Or it does, until he mentions Leander.

Derrica's eyes drop to his scar. Common ground. She hadn't needed any visible markers, but seeing their connection illustrated on Ilias' skin underscores what she's understood about them for almost as long as she'd known Leander. ]

Yes, I think so, [ Derrica says softly. The lingering hurt of their argument prickles across her skin. ] It was a blessing to find him here. I didn't think I would ever see him again.

[ Her eyes lift back to Ilias', searching. ]

He spoke of you a little, when I first knew him. He'd brighten when he said your name.

Ah.

[ Ah. It is a delicate dance, to hear those words sharp as the blade between his ribs and try to flinch only beneath the water, stomach pulled in tight. Cracks spiderweb, guilt surfacing instead behind his eyes. A blessing he might have deprived her of in an instant, if he'd had the strength. Finished what the Templars began. Is that what he'd been trying to do?

(Leander, brightening, when the reverse would have had to have been dragged from him bitter and twisting. What's wrong with him, that he can't simply love?) ]

I was not certain-- [ What? Nothing, faltering, ] You were there when he was transferred?

[ The water splashes lightly as she reaches, fingers pressing gently to his knuckles for a moment in quiet apology. Should she not have said? Derrica hadn't thought it would be anything Ilias wouldn't wish to hear, but maybe it is not so easy between Ilias and Leander here.

The missing knowledge still hurt him. It hadn't been her intention to stir up old pain. ]

Yes. I had never been anywhere but Dairsmuid.

[ Until it had been razed to the ground and she driven to the sea. The pressure of her fingers on his hand lifts away. ]

Are you curious what he was like then?

[ Or is there something else Ilias is looking for from her? Some absolution that Derrica likely isn't the one who can or should bestow. What can she tell him? Leander had missed him. Derrica had known the shape of Ilias' absence as long as she'd known Leander. If he asks, how does she soften that truth? She isn't interested in seeing pain write itself in new configurations across Ilias' face. ]

MOD EVENT: WINTERMARCH WINTER MARCH

hot springs;

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