MOD PLOT ↠ A THOUSAND WRONGS

[faderifting]

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.

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.

Comments

tony stark.

[propulsion]

children of the corn. closed to edgard and flint.

[propulsion]

The skies are dense with cloud, a roiling grey ocean that will give way to torrents of rain at any moment. The field is a blanket of tall cornstalks, waving in fitful winds. It is a bleak summer's day, humid and grey.

They can see from where they're positioned in the path of packed earth there a rift churns high up above the rows of corn crop, a twist of queasy green light. Thus far, they have seen nothing to stop their approach. Although the aisles of dirt that let them walk freely do not run directly to the rift, pushing past the densely growing stalks of green all around them is not difficult, even with respect to the farmer's wishes they not destroy his crop.

The main obstacle is probably Tony, a Rifter man, maybe you have seen him around, dressed in pragmatic leathers, with his shard-bearing hand wrapped in a sort of glove made of leather and metal writing, and a crystal set against his palm. He stops again, that same hand up to bap the back of it into Edgard's chest beside him to stop him moving too. In his other hand is a strange looking device of brass and silver metal, made of dials and gears, with some sort of skinny coppery wand-type appendage that Tony uses as a means of pointing, which he does, holding it up a little. Dials turn, reading off numbers.

"We should do a perimeter," he says, out loud, probably to the two people he is with, but also strangely a little like if they weren't there, he'd be saying this anyway. "Figure out area of influence before we close it. Something hinky going."

Nearby, there is the sound of a demonic screech, concealed through the walls of corn stalks, dense green leaves.

[muckspout]

Edgard has been in a lot of cornfields and not liked any of them. He isn't used to not being able to see where he's going and doesn't like the way things tend to sneak up on you in them. Also, where to look? Down at your feet? Around at the walls and walls of plant? He decides on straight forward, only to start once when one of the men he's with smacks a device into his chest and again when a horrifying noise erupts.

"Whatever we do, maybe we shouldn't separate?" He speaks confidently, but he's maybe a little sweaty.

[katabasis]

Flint draws up in keeping with the pair of them, hardly eager to go diving into the bind wall of the field for the entertainment value. The sickly shape of the rift - visible from here in the row, green light hazy against the bluer sky - paints uneasy shadows across the tops of the corn, and if there had been some value in tacking himself onto this endeavor at the last moment for the sake of picking the brain of Project Felandaris' leader either en route or from the work, the benefit has yet to outweigh

(He cuts a sidelong look at the both of them; Stark's dials and gears; Edgard's apparent estrangement with a wash basin.)

everything else.

"All right," is more of less the equivalent of a stone wall speaking, blatantly unmoved. He looses his sword from its scabbard. To Edgard: "Take up the rear. Try not to shoot either of us."

[propulsion]

With one guy wielding a bow and arrow, and another guy wielding a sword, there is no one Tony can shout at to take notes, something he assesses with a side long glance at both and a twist at his mouth. He has an ear out for the screeching, but until the fat Terror demon sings--

Tony follows some path that is more or less invisible to any of them except for the thaumoscope. It is not a direct trek to the rift, but a wide circle around it, leading the way without outpacing any guys with pointy weapons. He leads the way through one wall of stalks, greenery swaying behind him, before stopping short.

In front of them is a sudden wide open space. The corn itself has been crushed down in a perfect circle that spans a thirty foot diameter, crumpled in a way that suggests it is still being held there by some invisible force. Likewise, there is a drifting green glow of light that hovers over the crushed vegetation like an eerie mist.

"Don't," Tony says, "go into that. But I'm gonna touch it. Spot me."

And he does, reaching out his non-equipped hand to test the air in front of him. He is a scientist. Maybe next he will lick it.

[muckspout]

Edgard's fear dissipates with a laugh. With that one phrase, he's decided he likes this man that will go touch dangerous things. Edgard resists the impulse to go touch it too. Maybe he would have if Tony hadn't asked for cover and Flint not looked at him so sternly.

He readies his bow and waits. As Tony touches the air, he sinks about a foot into the ground. Edgard scans the area wildly, but there's nothing to shoot.

"Stop, its going to bury you!" He yells at Tony.