faderift | 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.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dress up for Tony comes from a place of pragmatism as well as a hefty amount of when in Ghislain. Acquiring for himself a nice light jacket is practical; that it is made of stiff red silk with gleaming silver embroidery, Orlesian sleeve action, and pearl buttons, is a bonus. It hangs open over his rougher clothes, a bright spot in all the dreariness of the ransacked manor.

The strange glyph-like sculptures cast shadows from the light streaming in from open windows. He'd advised they should get someone mage-like to look at them, and they make for strange company as they take their breakfast.

Tony looks up from where he'd been sawing silverware through leathery bacon. "There's another one?" he asks, no trepidation, just, you know. Fact checking.

"Another one. But only one."

Doki sets her fork to the left of her plate, grouped together with the other silver and tableware that she previously admired and decided, privately, to keep for herself. She knits her fingers together and rests her chin on the little bridge that they make, with a pleasant smile.

"He is very lonely. He has a big heart and it gets very sad and then he gets very lonely. I think to myself, he will like this place. He should come and see it."

"Yeah, 'cause--"

Tony lists back in his chair, enough that it rocks on its back legs, the front ones lifting off the ground by a few inches.

"--this place'll cheer anyone up."

When she does that with her face, it is off-putting. 'Smile', that is. He hasn't quite got a bead on this one which isn't so much a problem as it is a point of focus, when it's in front of him. "Or did you find like an extra big golden chalice you need another set of hands to lift?"

The accusation is devoid of actual righteousness. He would just like to know what is up.

Doki clicks her tongue against her teeth, offended. Her smile drops as her lip pouts.

"My hands can lift big chalices."

As proof, she sits forward and lifts her glass with exaggerated and two-handed ceremony--see?--and puts it to her lips. The water is uncertain here, and there is no milk. Ale for breakfast is very good. When she is done, she wipes her wrist over her mouth.

"I couldn't pretend that I am the one who is lonely. You are pretty good company. I like Alek better, but that isn't your fault. We have known each other a long time, and you and I have just met. Where did you find your coat?"

Breakfast beer is a great genre of beer. And breakfast. Tony has, however, boiled the ever loving shit out of the water he'd retrieved from the nearby well, and so he has delicious and very flat tasting water to imbibe instead, drinking as she does with much less relish.

It makes his teeth taste like tin foil. Anyway.

"What, this old thing?" No answer. He scrapes his fork around the plate, collecting up egg pieces. "Where'd you get your fabulous accessory?"

He lifts his hand, the one with the green shard lodged in it, glowing bright in the dimness.

She lifts her hand, the one with the green shard lodged in it, and in the dimness, its flash answers. Part of dressing for breakfast means unwinding handwraps and exposing her palms, so here it is, plainer than most anyone else has seen it.

"A beautiful party. It was in a big house, like this one, and everyone was dressed well, and there was food and drink, and flowers, and music, and dancing. Good dancing, too. And it went on for days and days, and then at the end, this. It was a party favor," and she turns her hand back so that she can look down at it. "The thing no one asked for."

The green glow underlights her face, sickly and spooky. It is a good trick. She smiles again. "And you?"

That's an answer with a whole lot of nothing in it, none of it very trustworthy at all, but maybe that's just her face, now greenly lit and grinning at him. But it doesn't really matter. These things follow a pattern. She was near a rift, and got unlucky. Who cares about the furnishing.

"Souvenir," he says. Fork scrape, click. "En route through a rift. One minute you're having one of those nightmares where you left your pants at home and then, hey presto, here I am. Can you do anything with it?"

Here is where Doki wants Alek. She is clever. Can she do anything with it, this shitty shard of shitty magic in her hand? Easy. She will say, yes, with confidence. Boast to fill the space.

Alek could make it better than confident. Doki could play to him. Instead she is alone, half her side cut off, raw and peeled, holding her ribs closed and stalling. It feels bad.

"I want to cut it out." Her expression does not blanch when she says it. When she curls her fingers around the shard, trapping it, she's grinning still. Savage enough to distract. The glow shows between her knuckles. "That would be something to do with it."

"That would be."

A meaner streak in him wants to tell her: it'll eat you. It'll grow faster, worser, through whatever's left of your hand. It'll fight back and take you out. It's the kind of confronting information he's had to stew in himself, so maybe everyone should just hop on in, the water's great.

But he thinks he likes this weirdo and wouldn't mind her liking him, that's the current impulse this morning, and besides, they haven't even finished breakfast. "I think it's like a keyhole into the Fade," Tony says instead, as he eats. "Unlock it, and you can do more. I can do a demo later, maybe when you're brother's here."

The underlight glow from her hand stays muted. Doki puts her fist under her chin and props up her head. She looks sharply at her roommate. Then, she smiles.

"I would like that," she says. "Alek will too. A demo. When I meet a keyhole, I break it. I have a forceful personality, you see? So I think I have to be more careful."

She uncurls her fingers so they lay long against her cheek. The glow kisses just above her chin. She drums her fingers against her face.

"And we are very lucky, because my brother is here now. I hear him."

And Aleksei is easy to hear. His progress from the front hall towards the dining table is heralded by heavy footfalls, a few clangs and then a scattering crash—apologies to the ceremonial suits of armor that had once stood proudly in that hallway.

When he appears, he's holding a rapier and balancing a dusty helm in the palm of his free hand.

"You were right, it is a nice house."

As if he is carrying on some wholly different, unfinished conversation. The rapier swings lazily towards Tony as Aleksei walks around the table towards his sister, his head tipping appraisingly.

"That is a nice coat. Did it come from here?"

Ostensibly a question to Tony, though Aleksei is looking at his sister as he bounces the helm in one palm.

MOD PLOT ↠ A THOUSAND WRONGS

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wow a mistake i haven't made in 30 years

arrives in a poof of smoke