[OPEN] FROM RIFTWATCH WITH LOVE: PART ONE

[unshut]

WHO: Everyone and anyone
WHAT: An abomination redecorates the Gallows.
WHEN: Early August
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Part One of FROM RIFTWATCH WITH LOVE. Will include some violence, some general chaos, and some light murderin'.

There is a man in a worn traveling cloak. He is dark haired, with sharp features dominated by a dark horizontal scar near his hairline, and later someone will describe him as having been soft spoken when he asked for directions.

But something in the Gallows' dining hall, with its unreliable population for the midday meal, must catch under his skin; he's found his voice again by the time he steps up onto one of the benches.

"Is this all of you?"

Someone nearby tells him to get his boots off the furniture, so the man climbs higher onto the table and is louder the second time: "Is this really all you are? A few people in a tower on an island?"

Heads are coming up. As his voice rises, he produces an envelope from his pocket.

"Do you think this is funny? Playing at being something, and telling people you can make a difference to them? You were supposed to be helping, but you're all just sitting here! Don't touch me"—to someone encouraging him to get off the fucking table—"You were meant to be helping us. You promised you would, and I told her I believed you!"

Hands are reaching for him. No, really, get off the table. You can explain what's wrong once you're down; you're with friends— The man jerks his arm free, snarling, "Don't touch me! You're nothing!" A stronger hand finds him then and begins pulling him struggling down. With a wrenched cry of, "Livia!" the man slips from the table.

A column of fire pours upward out of him like molten heat from a crack in the earth. It bursts so high that it scorches a circle on the dining hall ceiling, and burns so suddenly hot that it sends those nearest to him recoiling backward as their clothes catch. The fire licks again in random directions, in chaotic fits and starts of light and heat, and the thing that rises up again in the mage's place isn't really a man at all.

The rage abomination will ravage its way through the dining hall and prodigious Gallows kitchens, then out into the courtyard beyond leaving considerable destruction in its wake until finally brought down by Leander. In the charred aftermath, the following can be recovered from among the mage's belongings: a leather corded bracelet with a green bead woven in it (too small for anything but the smallest wrist), a functioning phylactery, and a letter from "Riftwatch" which implies a history of correspondence and familiarly refers to the recipient by name, 'Felix.' An investigation of Riftwatch's files will reveal the log of having received a message from a similar Felix, No Lastname six months earlier. The message itself is nowhere to be found among the Gallows records.

The recovered letter assures Felix that all will be well, and includes instructions to wait in the woods above the crossroads of a small Wildervale village.

'Help will be on its way. Good luck, and safe travels.'

Comments

2

[okayimin]

The stranger he addresses is a dwarven woman, tiny even by dwarf standards with a curious s-shaped brand on one cheek and dressed in a (now completely filthy) Chantry habit. She laughs, pausing in wherever she was bustling off to.

"It doesn't usually happen in the dining hall," she says, giving him an evaluating look, "You don't look too bad. Lemme get a look at your hands. Got pain anywhere?" And fishing in her habit pocket, she produces a small jar that smells strongly of elfroot and mint, "Reckon every other body here busted their hands up somehow."

Re: 2

[muckspout]

Edgard still has to peer down at the woman despite being seated. He’s used to being taller than others, but not quite this much. He balls his hands in fists at first, hesitant and determined to stop their shaking, but relents and stretches them out to her palms up.

“Hands are alright, I think. Something burning hit my ankle, but it doesn’t hurt.”

Re: 2

[okayimin]

Sawbones is entierly unbothered by any shaking. Her hands are steady (for the moment, at least) and expression calm as she does a quick examination of his hands for burns or cuts. Hands were always the worst in the Deep Roads, both small injuries going unmarked and turning to festering puss.

"Hands're clear," she says, giving them a perfunctory pat before she turns her eye to his ankle and then looks up at him, frowning, "Pain's not always a reliable testament. If you can stand and put weight on it comfortably, I'll leave it be. Your gaze looks clear enough, but I'll bring you some tea when I get to that." No, he isn't getting a say in that. "What's your name, Duster?"

Re: 2

[muckspout]

Edgard squints, confused a little at being called duster, but then nods, smiling closemouthed at the woman's kindness.

"Edgard. Thank you, Madame-" He notices her habit and corrects. "-Sister."

He stands up, testing his ankle, grins and then stomps twice on the floor. "I think the ankles' just fine."

[okayimin]

She nods approvingly when he stomps, serious little face twitching into something that's almost a smile.

"All right then, Edgar. And welcome to Riftwatch. We don't normally have abominations tearing through the premises, but I won't venture to say it's especially peaceful."

[muckspout]

“Pleased to hear it on both counts. I’m not one for abominations, but also not one for too peaceful.”

He sits down again.

“Are you a healer then? Can’t be too peaceful if doctors are needed.”

[okayimin]

"Sawbones," she says, automatic correction, "By way of Ozammar, originally.
And none of us get in that profession expecting it to be peaceful. We don't see half as much action as them on the front lines do, but seems there's usually some business going on."

[muckspout]

“Pleased to meet you. I hope business stays busy, but that I won’t be needing your healing help too often.”