Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2020-08-22 07:56 pm
faderifting) wrote in faderift2020-08-22 07:56 pm
Entry tags:
- ! mod plot,
- darras rivain,
- derrica,
- edgard,
- ellis,
- gwenaëlle strange,
- james flint,
- john silver,
- julius,
- nell voss,
- val de foncé,
- wysteria de foncé,
- yseult,
- { aleksei ar waslyna o bearhold },
- { athessa },
- { benevenuta thevenet },
- { daisy johnson },
- { dorian pavus },
- { freddie durfort-lacapalette },
- { hugo mercier },
- { ilias fabria },
- { ket perrino },
- { madi },
- { marcoulf de ricart },
- { maud van klerk },
- { poesia },
- { richard dickerson },
- { tony stark },
- { yevdokiya an waslyna o bearhold }
MOD PLOT ↠ A THOUSAND WRONGS
WHO: Everyone!
WHAT: Assisting with the aftermath of occupation
WHEN: August through Kingsway
WHERE: Field of Ghislain
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your comment subject lines as needed.
WHAT: Assisting with the aftermath of occupation
WHEN: August through Kingsway
WHERE: Field of Ghislain
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your comment subject lines as needed.
The Fields of Ghislain are, as the name suggests, broad open plains, more flat than not, more grass than trees. There are famous orchards around Arlesans at the southern end, but they fade into grassland and farm land, wide fields of wheat and corn separating quiet farming villages and the occasional bustling market town, the even more occasional country estate.
High summer here has always meant long hot days, dusty roads, and preparations for the harvest. Now it also means recovery from the sudden end to the area's year-and-a-half of occupation by the forces of Corypheus. On first glance, the area appears to have escaped relatively unscathed. There are a few burnt villages here and there, a few new rifts, and the scarred valley where the Battle of Ghislain took place, but there are also crops growing strong in the fields and markets open for business, people going about their lives.
On closer inspection, there's more work to be done. The immediate threats are obvious: an unusual number of rifts and the general thinning of the Veil they signal, small bands of enemies—including bands of darkspawn with red lyrium growths—still marauding through the region, isolated patches of red lyrium to be destroyed and Blight to be contained.
Most places have at least one building that's been destroyed by fire or force, some practically essential—a grain store, an infirmary, a watch tower—some invaluable in other ways—a chantry, a mayor's office, a monument to heroic ancestors. Some places showed more resistance than others, and there whole neighborhoods or even entire villages have been gutted by fire and the ruins shoved over like block towers. Some survivors fled and now return to pick through the debris, while others remained, living in shanties in the ashes waiting for a chance to rebuild. Despite the crops ripening in the fields there are signs of malnutrition in many places as well, stories of crops confiscated to feed the invading troops and only meager rations returned, worse off even than those affected by shortages elsewhere in Orlais.
And it's not just the material that the enemy has taken or destroyed. Every decent-sized village has its missing, people who were arrested and taken away in wagons or simply vanished one day out of the blue. Where there was resistance there were executions to discourage it, and while the inhabitants have already taken down and buried the displayed bodies, there are a few places where there is no one left to do so, or where magic placed remains out of reach but always in sight.
There are opportunities too: the enemy lived and worked here for 18 months. They did their best to cover their tracks when they left, but it was a hasty and unexpected withdrawal, and there is a wealth of information to collect and work through. There are houses they occupied that haven't been entirely cleaned out, papers only half-burned in an abandoned office, a storeroom in an outpost basement they forgot to empty. And there are the people who have been forced to live and work alongside them all this time to be spoken with, the names they've learned and the conversations they've overheard, the training exercises held on their village greens, all to be teased out and taken down.
One abandoned operation commands particular attention: the site that Riftwatch—then the Inquisition—observed on the eve of the Battle might be a shrine to the Old God Dumat. At the time this was a newly-discovered ruin and little could be discerned for certain, but during their occupation the Venatori have undertaken massive excavations. They've uncovered not just a shrine but a significant temple complex, much of it underground. Exploration of the lowest levels will be handled by a particular team, but there is more to see and do besides. The warren of ruins and the remains of the camp outside them must be searched for clues as to the Venatori's purpose here, and a preliminary study made of the site's contents. There are also the slaves who did the back-breaking labor of digging out the complex and now need assistance. Many are locals, who simply need a ride back to their homes. Others the Venatori brought with them from Tevinter, and they will need to be interviewed and local communities persuaded to take them in.
It is an unimaginable amount of work, but Riftwatch isn't doing it alone. The Inquisition still has a large number of noncombatants, many of whom have been sent to help with outreach and rebuilding in particular. The Exalted March, too, has plenty of volunteers that aren't exactly fit for the front lines. There is enough ground to cover for everyone, but there will be times when Riftwatch agents will be working with—or at least alongside—those from the Inquisition and the Exalted March, and orders are clear that they are to maintain good working relations and not start any trouble.
In between all of this there will be long rides by horse or cart from this village to that one over dirt tracks with cicadas buzzing in the sun, sweltering afternoons broken up by sudden, drenching thunderstorms, warm evenings playing pétanque on the green with the locals over a pint of cider. There will be as many wary as grateful, but hopefully by the end of the summer Riftwatch can tip that balance a little bit.
Meanwhile at the Laundry, Closed to Colin and Darras
The stench of cleanliness wafts through the sticky air of the attic above the laundry. Edgard hates it. Besides the obvious, it is too small for him, much less himself, Sunbeam’s owner, and Darras. He is sweaty and tired from the day’s events and sprawls his arms and legs out knocking into his roommates. The floor feels damp. He cringes up and takes his shirt off, throwing it, not caring where it lands.
“This place is wet and the smell is unbearable!” He wails.
pt. 2
The time is 4 am. Edgard is started awake by giggles and a loud rendition of a children’s tune that he can’t quite place. He doesn’t remember all the words, but he does remember that the point of the song is to count something to pass the time. It will loop continuously. Oh no. As the chorus rings round and around for the fifth, sixth, seventh time, Edgard throws a pillow at the roommate nearest.
“Réveille-toi! Wake up! Do you hear this? It won’t stop. We must stop them.” He says the final phrase at a deadly whisper.
pt 1
He spares it a glance over his shoulder, then kicks the wet shirt back the way it came. It scuds against the floor, and does not get very far.
"Surely you've smelled worse."
The room is small enough that he reaches the window in just two steps. When he shoves on it, it doesn't move. He tries again.
no subject
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"I smell fantastic all of the time! I smell natural. This place smells unnatural."
Edgard uses his shirt to try to wipe up the damp with his foot and then addresses Darras again.
"Does it not open?" He speaks like a kicked puppy.
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"It's soap, it's not unnatural. More'n a bit strong, aye, but we're above great vats of boiling clothes. 'Least it's not," he casts around for a moment, searching for a good contrast, but the heat has boiled his brains, and he settles for, "unnatural."
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“I don’t think soap is natural. I have never found it on a tree or in the ground.”
Edgard takes off his pants, wipes the floor with it as well, then throws them behind him. He grabs a pillow and then resumes his stretched out position on the floor.
no subject
He hits the window again, sharp, with the heel of his hand, and then tries another shove. Some joy: the window scuds slightly--not open, but at least there's some movement. Darras makes a pleased sound, and tries another shove. Nothing, again.
"Unless you think one of us charming enough to stop 'em from using soap for a few weeks, I think we're going to have to learn to live with it."
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He frowns as Darras continues to struggle and stretches his arms over his head, knocking into something or someone (who cares?). He smells very very natural.
pt 2
"Wait. What?"
Re: pt 2
"The music! The singing! The women downstairs! How do we stop it? It won't end!"
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“IT DOES NOT! It continues on and on and will never stop. We must stop them! We must take their cleaning things.”
He speaks darkly like a man planning murder. Edgard pulls the blanket off.
“Come on, griffon man, let’s go.”
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Everything in this room is nearby, so that's not exactly a feat. He's a deep sleeper, and he's slept plenty in mixed company, but no one's going to sleep through a bloody shouting pillow fight.
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“The singing! We’re going to stop them! Take their things. You will help too. We will silence them one way or another.”
The singing heightens as if in response and Edgard puts his hands over his ears groaning.
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"We're not taking their things or stopping them," he says. "We're going back to sleep."
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“You won’t be sleeping! Do you hear it? I will dispose of them myself if I have to!”
Edgard does not want to do it himself, but he will surely die if he hears that chorus again.
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"You're not disposing of anyone," he says to the wall. "Stop abusing him over it. Honestly, mate, did you live your life in a soundless chamber? Everything's noise. Get used to it."
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"Take this," he grumbles to Edgard. "It'll put you right to sleep and you won't hear a thing."
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Then he opens his eyes. "Now I can hear it."
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"We have to do something about this." He states a little louder. "And keep your poison for someone else." He sniffs. Edgard was not born yesterday.
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"We can," he says before flopping back down in his bedroll and folding a pillow over his ears.
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“Now that I have everyone’s permission,” He rolls his eyes hugely, “if we are going to just ask, I might not be the one best suited to the task.”
He looks between Darras and Colin, both still in bed. His eyes are all threats. Don’t make me come over there.
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"Oh, aye? Dunno why you'd say that. If you came around to my door three hours before the dawn, sure and I'd let you in, with a face as trustworthy as yours." A joke. He shrugs back on his shirt and vest, and grabs for his boots. "If you're neither of you feeling confident, I think I'm awake enough to do the charming."
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“You’re alright, Darras. If you make that music stop, I will owe you a debt.”
He blows a raspberry at Sunbeam’s Owner, still in bed.