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

[pittance]

"If Oullins treasured Darkspawn."

You never know. It's Orlais. He shakes his head,

"Door's Dwarven, gotta be older than Towers. Anyone chucking gold down here —" A faint shriek, still far off. It's probably not the scholar. Vance winces, repeats: "— Down here, knew what they were doing."

Doesn't rule it out: There are worse defenses than a sturdy door, and the threat of hideous death. Just makes it hard to try on your tiaras.

[degenere]

"Is it!"

Val takes a half-step back and cocks his head, studying the door more closely. He does not show a reaction to the shriek. Nor does he get any closer to resume his shoring work.

"I shall need to make a sketch of it," he announces. "My friend the Baroness has a special interest in dwarven artifacts and architecture. She will be very jealous that she was not here to see this for herself. I wonder, before we close the door... should we not check to see if the scholar is correct?"

[pittance]

He hesitates —

How long could it take? Throw open door: No treasure. Shut door. Done.

"Don’t see why not," If they’re quick. They’ll be quick. "If you wait on the sketch."

[degenere]

"The door can be sketched later. And if the interior should prove to be worth sketching--" He makes a gesture, toward himself. Voilà. "I have an excellent memory for such things. I shall need only a glimpse, and then I can make the sketch."

There is another shriek, but it is still farther off. Or so Val supposes. Difficult to say, with a door between them and the far-off. He sets down his materials and claps his hands together.

"Come, let us open it."

[pittance]

It’s heavy. Of course it’s heavy, but the chains and locks and bars have rusted through — and that’s why they’re here, aren’t they? It’s waited this long, they’ve got it in hand.

Vance steps aside, hauls the latches up, and pulls. Rock grinds on rock. It’s the smell that hits first: An earthy, primordial stench. The air tastes stale, preserved in a hundred years of stone and rot.

Not home. But close enough. Vance leans his head in, squints enough to spy no twinkle of gold (or barrelling ogre). Block faces frown over the entry, expressions smoothed into geometric disapproval.

“Think we’re good,” For now. The shriek is still farther off, or so Vance supposes. “But you’re gonna want a light.”