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

d'OLLIES OUT (closed to Hugo);

[heirring]

[The first hour of dinner around the Vicomtesse's table was pleasant enough in that sense that no one had yet gotten up the nerve to pose any questions to the definitely-not-a-demon at the table. But this second hour has been nothing short of torturous, and Wysteria's smile has gotten progressively more and more fixed with each subsequent theological inquiry and side swipe.

But it's perfectly all right. Dinner will eventually be over and then she may shut herself up in the lovely room appointed for her. She has resolved already to leave very, very early in the morning on important Riftwatch business.

At the head of the table, the Victomesse puts aside her spoon and stands. They all stand in sympathy to her. 'Let us retire to the parlor to continue conversation,' the lady of the estate suggests to great enthusiasm (if the word might be applied to people who by and large seem like they might subsist on a diet of plain paper) from the miscellaenous Chantry officials and Exalted Marchers gathered there.

Wysteria slowly swivels her attention from the lady of the house to Monsieur Mercier across from her. With her smile still firmly pasted in place, she attempts to communicate something to him through the power of either her eyebrows or by blinking in code, the meaning of which is utterly a mystery until they move to leave the dining room and—]

Oh, how strange. I suddenly feel very...

[—she swoons dramatically in his direction.]

[fripon]

[ Hugo, dulled nearly into a stupor by the company and conversation (which receive those names on technicalities only) but too well-trained by years in courtly circles not to go through the motions by polite rote, barely catches Wysteria's significant look and most certainly does not understand it until the moment she falls toward him.

Luckily, his reflexes exceed his powers of comprehension, and he catches her just shy of true danger and finally catches on, as well. ]

Dear me, [ he says, a bit louder and more dramatically than he normally speaks, ] she must have become overexcited. Please, give us space! Poor Miss Poppell can't have had much experience of such company, after all, it must all be too stimulating. [ He gets an arm beneath her legs and lifts her with seeming ease ] Yes, she has quite a fragile constitution, I'm afraid. All of her sort do. Of course, I shall take her to the small parlor where it's quiet, please have them deliver the smelling salts there.

[heirring]

[She somehow manages not to snort over 'too stimulating' only by merit of being too surprised by being plucked off her feet to keep track of it. She'd been anticipating a dramatically feeble wobble in the direction of the nearest fainting couch, not having to mime the light headed set of her temple against his shoulder while listening to some Exalted Marcher express some anxiety about the possibility of her turning into a Shade during her collapse—

Et cetera et cetera.

Whether it is out of concern for her well being or their own, the pair of them are hustled promptly away.

Wysteria chances just the smallest of peeks around Hugo's arm as they go, then mouths 'Thank you,' emphatically up at him.]

[fripon]

[ Hugo checks around for anyone still watching, and then winks.

The parlor in question is not far, and he makes it the few steps farther within to set her down, finally, on the fainting couch. And then promptly collapses onto the other side of it, this being a very fashionable double fainting couch, designed so that two might faint from opposite directions and then perhaps converse after they have revived. ]

An excellent idea, Miss Poppell, if a bit precipitous. Perhaps if we are very lucky, they will forget we are here altogether for at least an hour or two.

[heirring]

I think you would have found, sir, [she says, perfectly content to remain collapsed as set, save for some rearrangement of her prodigious volume of skirts] that I was perfectly prepared to collapse fully to the ground were you less quick on the uptake. Better to knock myself insensible honestly than to spend another moment submitting to Brother Dupont's interview.

[She shoots him a sideways look, mouth quirking toward a grin that is terribly self satisfied.]

That said, I must congratulate you on your quick thinking. It was all very well done.