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

"I've some skill," he says, fairly. What he wants to say is hardly, but even his bedside manner's better than that.

And, also fairly, he does know one spell — and there's more to healing than just magic. He reaches for Matthias' shoulder once he's settled, hesitating just long enough to give him an expectant look.

"May I?"

Matthias shoots an apprehensive look up at him. His usual fidgeting has been curbed by the injury, and now in anticipation of whatever it is Lukas intends to do.

"Yeah, go on," he says. Suspiciously. He's been at the other end of healing enough to know that whatever comes next will likely not feel good.

Lukas has been on the other end of healing enough to know the same, and there's a grim sympathy in the cursory, "This may hurt."

There's no time for Matthias to second-guess (or get in a second suspicious comment) — just the immediate, careful bracing of one hand on Matthias's forearm to hold it steady, hopefully well away from the injury, before his other hand lightly palms the injured shoulder and applies some pressure to test the response. Matthias's, but also the tactile kind: something clearly out of place, a strange click, unnatural tension or give.

It's the kind of quick assessment that'd be easier without a few layers on, but the temperature's low and still dropping. He might've lied about sparing a few minutes.

He is still suspicious, but the immediate welling of tears undercuts the potency of it. Lukas' hand presses against his shoulder, right where it feels soft and disconnected; Matthias chokes, sucks in a big breath. The crying also comes from the pain and the pressure, entirely involuntary. He still feels ashamed.

"Do it," he says, tightly, "if you're going to do something, do it."

He keeps his head down. Under Lukas' hand, under the swathes of wool and linen and furs, the shoulder feels squarer than it should. Placed wrong.

The pressure stops a beat after that quick intake of breath, but the easing off's steady and careful enough to linger uncomfortably on the exhale. Lukas casts Matthias a quick look, trying to walk the fine line of checking his pallor without making eye contact or projecting unwanted sympathy. The second task succeeds only thanks to Matthias' stubbornly bowed head.

"Try to relax." A far-fetched ask that translates, more realistically, to 'don't panic'. The offending hand's re-positioned lower on Matthias' upper arm to hold it fixed against his side, and the other shifts to take a light hold of his wrist and rotate his forearm out.

It's not the dramatic resolution Matthias might've been hoping for. Just a slow and steady twist, gentle as he can manage when it's inevitably putting stress on the wound. It's uncannily like turning a lock until you feel faint resistance and hear the tell-tale click — except this lock's got nerve endings.

He exhales on relax, yeah, all right, good one. The short sharp sound is almost a laugh. Then there comes that slow twist, and Matthias breathes in just as sharply, holds his breath and sets his teeth.

At first he holds. But the twisting goes on, wrenches a grunt of pain out of him, from deep deep down. There would be no stopping it. He would stop it, if he could, but he can't, and he can't get away from the pain of it, white hot and slow and then, click, and that hurts too, Matthias actually gasps at that. Then it starts to clear. His shoulder still feels cloudy, and painful under that, the sick deep feeling of a bruise but by about a hundred. His sight starts to come back into focus and he spends a moment unscrambling himself, breathing, trying to get back together again.

After a few moments, he shoots a glance up at Lukas.

"Thanks."

Surly, but he does mean it. He's sixteen. What do you want.

He holds a moment after the tension gives, backs off as soon as Matthias starts breathing again. Whether it's worth reaching for the Fade to save a few days of heavy aches crosses his mind, for posterity, but there's no real debate. He's got a single rough healing spell, imprecise and only ever employed as a last resort; the situation hardly qualifies.

"You're welcome," comes automatically, faintly amused. He straightens and offers Matthias a hand to help him up, and that's just as automatic — same as he'd offer any equal on the field, with little consideration for whether a surly sixteen year-old might want it. "Now come on. I'd rather not face the worst of the storm or the dark outside, if it can be helped."

Matthias has turned his attention back to his shoulder, squinting down at it as he weathers the feeling of being able to feel it again. He looks around at Lukas, eyes narrowed at his offered hand--but then with a grunt, shifts so he can take it.

The angle is awkward and he does the scrambly fish-dangling-on-a-line thing for a minute, boots scrabbling at the thin dirt and pebbles and pine needles that are gathered at the top of the rock. The instant he finds his feet, he lets go of Lukas' hand.

"Lead on, then."

MOD EVENT: WINTERMARCH WINTER MARCH

HAHAHAHA

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