faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2020-01-19 06:04 pm

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.



sulahnan: (036)

Athessa | OPEN

[personal profile] sulahnan 2020-01-20 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
I. ICE RIFTING SEASON!
The only good thing about fighting in the snow is that you're not stuck in one place, shivering your ass off. Athessa doesn't have any spare ass to give, so she's trying to keep it all attached if she can.

Which, at this moment, means ducking and weaving between shades and despair demons in the cramped underground caves, using the ice to her advantage at times to slide quicker than she can step, and being hindered by it in equal measure.

"When we get back to the Gallows, I'm gonna spend a full day in the heated baths."


II. ICY GRIPPE
Skating up the river should've been simple. Especially for someone as petite as Athessa, who was banking on her size to ferry her up-river without so much as a creak from the ice.

But of course, leave it to her to find the one patch of thin ice while her companions stay safe and dry above. One minute she's there, the next, there's a hole in the ice and a splash.


III. WILDCARD
[ You know what to do! ]
heirring: (Default)

wysteria | ota

[personal profile] heirring 2020-01-20 04:01 pm (UTC)(link)
a. ice rift
The instrument case at her side isn't heavy, but it bulky against her hip. It and the strap across her shoulder require constant rearrangement, and frequent removal and re-donning as they make their way through the narrower passages winding down under the frozen lake. She is often the last one through any particular chamber - an arrangement, she explains, which suits her just fine.

"After all, it's hardly as if I've a sword to wave around. No, the rest of you can take care of the demons and shades, thank you. I'm merely here to observe. And to help with closing the rift, I suppose, should worst come to worst."

b. ice hockey croquet (threadjacking and group hijinks welcome, but not required)
There are no croquet mallets to be found in the Viscount's lodge. There is, however, a truly spectacular selection of largely ornamental fire irons of various shapes and sizes. This in combination with the discovery of a petrified box of biscuits in one of the lodge's storerooms, made while doing inventory in her most solemn duty as Seneschal's assistant (after all, someone must handle the paperwork in Messere Pizzicagnolo's absence), and the assortment of skates with no occupation in the aftermath of the return from the stricken village, is simply too fortuitous to be denied.

Wysteria is by no means a good skater (someone has either taken pity on her or advantage of the opportunity to boss her around by teaching her very recently), but what she lacks in skill she makes up for enthusiasm:

The biscuit ricochets off her miniature shovel with a tin CLANG! and hurtles across the ice, bouncing fantastically off one of the pick markers. She cheers, over balances, wobbles desperately on the blades of her skates-- and somehow manages to recover enough to stay upright.

"Did you see that? Impeccable work, if I do say so myself."

c. wildcard
[you know what to do]
Edited 2020-01-20 16:03 (UTC)
esquive: (Default)

iii

[personal profile] esquive 2020-01-20 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
They are sitting on a cold stone above a craggy, slate and snow-washed dell. In it, sheltered from the cut of the wind and feeding on yellowed shoots of grass and by stripping bark off stick thin trees, is the herd of Vinmark Goats. They are all shaggy, their topcoats matted with ice and snow.

Marcoulf lowers the little spyglass from his eye and passes it to Athessa.

"The big grey just there— that seems to be the leader. Pizzicagnolo said to deal with her directly."

As if the animal is someone they must parley with.
sulahnan: (:()

[personal profile] sulahnan 2020-01-20 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
"Who?" Athessa asks as she's lifting the spyglass to look for herself. Once she spots the big grey goat in question, she purses her lips and chews on a thought.

"You thinkin' we should nab her first and use her to lure the others? Or just nab her and deal with the others later? We are aiming to get all of them, right?"
esquive: ([ 009 ])

[personal profile] esquive 2020-01-21 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
The low, skeptical noise he makes could mean anything. Yes, he'd like all of them. No, he doubts they'll get them. Can a few stragglers be left behind if necessary? What will they do if they scatter? It would be a shame were the herd to be divided and the leftovers too stupid or too unused to thinking to mind themselves properly.

He holds his gloved hand out to receive the little glass back from her. "They should follow where she goes."
sulahnan: (:[)

[personal profile] sulahnan 2020-01-21 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
She hands the glass back and makes her own hm sound.

"Well, do we wanna try luring her with bait, or take a more active approach? I mean ideally we'd just herd the whole lot of them, right?"
esquive: (Default)

[personal profile] esquive 2020-01-21 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
The glass is tucked deftly into his belt.

"We approach from there and there. If one of us can get close enough fetch her directly, all the better. But if she spooks, it will likely be up this embankment and in the direction we'd prefer her to go."

He seems quite certain.
sulahnan: (007)

[personal profile] sulahnan 2020-01-21 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Wait, wait-wait-wait," she frowns and looks at Marcoulf. "Goats are fucking morons, you can't use logic to predict which way she'll spook."
coquettish_trees: (hat happy)

b naturally

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-01-21 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
Alexandrie transfers the sturdy little fireplace broom from the set—a tool she holds for the first time in her life, it must be noted—briefly to the crook of her elbow so she can properly applaud the effort.

"Magnifique, cherie! Now where has mine gone?" In contrast to Wysteria she moves quite well on the blades lashed to her boots, having had ample opportunity to practice at court in the winters, although to her consternation her friend has proven better at aiming the biscuits. "I put jam on the top, it should hardly be a difficulty to keep track of."
degenere: (55)

jumps onto b also it's an infestation

[personal profile] degenere 2020-01-21 05:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"It went that way, dear madame. I saw it myself."

Val, court-side, gestures with the slightly larger shovel he has extracted from the cache of antiques Wysteria had first extracted from their forgotten storage-space. He is not playing. He would ruin the game, if he played. Never mind that ice croquet is a new sport: he is too good a skater and too good at croquet. To combine both of these skills would be to shame anyone else who wises to play.

And all of this he announced before the game began. He is here only as Wysteria's skating instructor and friend. The shovel that he holds? Ornamental. He would never take over the game. And so on.

"Mademoiselle Canon, your aim might be admired. But your technique on the ice is the very opposite. 'Pecable', to oppose the 'impeccable'. See how well the lady skates, in pursuit of her biscuit? Smoothly, gracefully. Admire it. If you are diligent and practice, and pay attention--ah, no, look now, your left foot is drifting, take care--"

He points with the shovel, this time at the foot and skate.
taxonomy: (2740515 (7))

Tavin | ota

[personal profile] taxonomy 2020-01-21 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
snowmonsters
There might be a bow with him but mostly it's there as a necessary precaution, less for actual use as Tavin creeps through the snow. Quiet enough for a scholar with his spyglass in hand, stopping every so often to take notes, breath visible in the air as he huffs over his notebook.

Yes, it's ridiculous to be creeping behind trees and peering out to get a decent glimpse but this is how you get the job done.

Apparently.

"How close do you think we can get to where they call home?"

wildcard
[A noodly scholar who is up for anything, he is used to the rustic outdoors.]
filthydipper: (pic#12823027)

Yngvi | ota

[personal profile] filthydipper 2020-01-21 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)
the grippe
Once upon a time when Kirkwall froze, Yngvi might've lashed things to his feet and done a good solid bit of trudging about where he was needed as well as up and down the Frostbacks and honestly, he thought it'd all be over and done with. But at least he's not stout. Or maybe not. He'd be shivering less. Or in fewer layers. His warmest woolens all worn at once, all of him bundled up.

"Buggering--" And he's down again, starfishing out over the ice, arms and legs flailing in an attempt to get himself back up.

"Little help? Rather be back in Nevarran than out here." Rolling over is about as graceful as you'd imagine it'd be, blades on his boots skittering about, hands not finding purchase as his fingers scrabble away all with a background of curses. "Didn't leave Nevarra with a bruised arse."

wildcard
[He's only a dwarf, don't lose him in the snow.]
inkindled: (02)

i

[personal profile] inkindled 2020-01-21 10:09 pm (UTC)(link)
"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."
sulahnan: (008)

[personal profile] sulahnan 2020-01-22 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
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?"
okayimin: (still waiting for the sun to fall)

Sister Sara Sawbones | OTA

[personal profile] okayimin 2020-01-22 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
Snow Day

Sawbones has no love for snow. It's very cold and then once one manages to get somewhere warm, it all turns very wet. Furthermore, it comes from the sky, which still strikes her as unnatural. It's also incredibly difficult to move in. Particularly when one is roughly the size and weight of a child.

So Sawbones isn't really surprised when she manages to get herself trapped in a snow drift. But she's not happy either. She looks a bit like a holly berry lying in the snow, debating whether she wants to call out for help or try and dig her way to freedom.

WILDCARD
[ Prompts to be added as they come to me. Sawbones will be spending the bulk of her time attending to Glassop and generally bullying every healer she can find to help her. And then bullying the township to accept magical healing for the more vulnerable cases. HMU if you want specific starters. ]
inkindled: (09)

matthias || ota

[personal profile] inkindled 2020-01-22 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
Chores.
"Stupid--"

From one of the suites comes a loud CRASH, and the sound of something breaking. And within the suite, Matthias is now sitting among a great wreckage of glass. There's even glass in his hair, and he's at present shaking his head irritably, trying to clear it off. Among the first of Riftwatch to arrive at the viscount's lodge, eager to get out into the field, he's now been doing chores, finishing to ready the place for the larger contingents of Riftwatch members and division heads that will soon be here.

"Who's ever heard of a glass paperweight in a hunting lodge, anyways? And you saw it, yeah? It was massive--lucky it didn't crush my head in. How many papers would anyone have to weigh down at once? I don't care if this place does belong to some geezer viscount, no one needs a paperweight that big. And honestly? I'm glad it's broken." Which he might be saying to comfort or convince himself, and perhaps he realizes how hollow it sounds, because he looks about and bites at his lip. "Er... but getting rid of the evidence can't hurt either. Look--d'you mind helping?"

Chores, or, Not.
As Riftwatch becomes a more permanent presence, Matthias can be found doing little chores--washing up, folding blankets, chopping wood with surprising accuracy. Afternoons, he's usually sat at a table somewhere pretending that he knows how to organize papers, or else scratching out reports for Forces. Usually then he's got smudges on his face and ink streaked in his hair, from having rubbed at his face in stress.

When he's not working, he's skiving off work--taking a nap in some out-of-the-way nook and folded up so small it's a little scary--or making little fires out of nothing and magic out in a courtyard, burning away some of the snow and melting cool patterns into its soft face, and scorching the old brown grass buried somewhere beneath--or jumping into one of the hot springs in a moment that was otherwise quiet, disturbing the water and anyone trying to have a nice relaxing bath. He's a little sheepish when he surfaces after that, but not actually sorry. Your fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Avalanche.
It's chaos. There's the snow, first, thick and deep--up to your waist in some places--clean white mixed with a slurry of ice chunks and rocks that came down with it. The avalanche tore its way down the side of one of the peaks, spilled its way into the clearing, where it overtook the sentry line of the forest and crushed down like a heavy wave.

And there was a hunting party--that's what they've been told--six strong. One of the six had grabbed hold of a tree and had not been carried under. A woman, her hair matted with blood. She'd been half-frozen to the branch that had saved her, when the first rescue party had come. One of their number is seeing to her now, settling a blanket around her shoulders. Neither are from Riftwatch. They're wearing these thick coats common to the region. Only the woman looks cold, her face gone a pale gray.

Matthias is watching her. He has a shovel. That's what will save these people. But the spill of the snow is foreboding, all gray with the rocks that it tore down with it, and there's no sign of anyone, nothing to show where the people might be buried. I saw him there, the hunter is saying, to the villager, with this crack in her voice--and she points, dead ahead. I saw him there, he went under.

With his free hand, Matthias reaches around to touch the staff that's strapped to his back. He's wearing his heavier cloak over it, to hide it--could be anything, maybe a sword. The villagers are wary of healing magic; they'll be wary of anything he might do. But he's seeing it in his mind's eye already: a great bloom of fire that eats up the snow, melts it bit by bit, and frees those that are trapped inside of it. He wants to do it. It would be easy, to help.

He shakes his head, trying to loose that idea. Looks around him, for anyone familiar, for anyone of Riftwatch. Someone who might help him get out of this. Give him direction, tell him what to do.

Wildcard.
Like, what it says.
inkindled: (05)

closed to lukas

[personal profile] inkindled 2020-01-22 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
"It's gone this way."

Matthias jerks his chin to show the way he means: across the narrow stream, off into the dark line of the trees. He's crouched on the rocky bank with his staff laying on the ground beside him, ready to be picked up again. Which he does now, and hauls himself to his feet with it, as functional as a walking-stick as it is a way to direct his magic.

He knows what he's doing, and he knows what he's talking about. He's used to this weather. Spoiled by the Gallows, if anything. Out here, he knows how to dress for the cold: two cloaks over a thick coat, cotton shirt closest to the skin, socks on socks under heavy boots and gloves that round his hands to soft dollops. He's been tromping along behind Lukas for most of this mission, and back there, hidden from view, he'd peeled the gloves off once or twice, gotten himself a little handful of flame just to bring some warmth back to his fingers--first the left, and then the right, just long enough to feel the burn before he'd winked out the flames. Idiotic and pointless, but it had helped. It's always helped him.

Now it's the other end of the afternoon, and they're still out here. The sun sets quicker up in the mountains, like it tires quicker. Matthias spares a glance up toward the sky. Clouds are hanging low and fat. Might be snow in them. And they've still not had any real sighting of what they're hunting--not a real sight, only tracks and broken branches, and the stories from the villagers. Shambling. White. Thick leathery feet, hard like horn. Crisped with ice on its hair.

And now this sign: a great stonking footprint, sunk deep in the soft mud that lies between frosty rocks and running water. Matthias drops his gaze to it again, and gives it a study.

"Too small to be a giant, I reckon. But it did go this way. The branches are all broken back over there. See?"
okayimin: (listen here duster)

The Grinch

[personal profile] okayimin 2020-01-22 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
In fairness to her, it actually takes the better part of the day and a great deal of slipping, sliding and near booby-trapping before Sawbones' temper hits its limit.

"Right," she says with a great deal of conviction and Dust Town drawl, "New plan. We get in, break the little sod's kneecaps, shove 'im in the cellar and clean the place out. We can tell 'em he fell down the stairs."
okayimin: (anD ANOTHER THING)

ii

[personal profile] okayimin 2020-01-22 05:55 am (UTC)(link)
This is why no one should make water the main way to travel. Frozen or otherwise. Sawbones doesn't so much manage to yell for help as she starts swearing furiously, slipping and sliding towards the hole.

"Duster down, I need hands over here!" is what she manages in between the swearing, kneeling at the edge of the hole and plunging her arm into the freezing water to see if she can grab Athessa. Rotten fucking time to be the one with the shortest fucking arms.
inkindled: (Default)

[personal profile] inkindled 2020-01-22 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
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."
sulahnan: (057)

[personal profile] sulahnan 2020-01-22 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"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.
filthydipper: (Default)

snow day

[personal profile] filthydipper 2020-01-22 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)
One thing having a feral part-Avvar for a leader does for you: gets you prepared for snow because guess what the only family he'll ever want to visit is up in the mountains and he will want to go there in the winter instead of normal places like Antiva or Nevarra or even the bits of Orlais to go spend money in. All the beasts are back in Kirkwall because no Yngvi's not subjecting them to this though the goose wouldn't mind, Foie Gras is hardier than any soul he's met.

But being a dwarf he's used to the fact that you get lost and this time he can't rely on someone tall and burly to hoist him out. So maybe, just maybe, he's treading extra carefully.

"You s'posed to be down there? Someone sign off on it and everything?" Hi what's up he has the high ground even in his big coat with too many pockets and Lady knows what in them that should be weighing him down.
filthydipper: (pic#12823023)

iii

[personal profile] filthydipper 2020-01-22 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Thing is that camping and travelling and all of it is, generally speaking, pretty shit unless you're a well-oiled machine and Riftwatch? Riftwatch definitely isn't. Yngvi's not sure what it is yet but it's too big and too loud and too messy, probably the thing that'd piss on the floor if you ignored it too long really which doesn't fit with what he's constructing in his head but does that matter when a dwarf is frozen to the bone and trying to work?

No. No it doesn't.

"Oi," he can just about spy Athessa if he cranes his neck. "There's word about some of the supplies needing folk to watch keep an eye, make sure no one freezes or starves. You in? Beats losing fingers and toes here."
okayimin: (anD ANOTHER THING)

[personal profile] okayimin 2020-01-22 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
She scowls up at him and doesn't even try to keep the even tones inherited from Orlais in her voice.

"Ah, get fucked, ya shitty Duster." It's more friendly greeting than earnest insult. Her arms and legs flail, trying to dislodge herself, "How are you not up to your ass in this stuff anyway?"
inkindled: (10)

[personal profile] inkindled 2020-01-22 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
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?"

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