faderift | MOD PLOT ↠ Endlessly Far Beneath My Feet

MOD PLOT ↠ Endlessly Far Beneath My Feet

WHO: Open
WHAT: A visit to Orzammar
WHEN: For about 10 days in early Bloomingtide
WHERE: Orzammar
NOTES: OOC post. Please use content warnings in your comment subject lines as required.

Orzammar is not all that far from Kirkwall: a short trip across the Waking Sea to Jader, then an even shorter (though much more exhausting than it seemed in dreams) hike up into the Frostback mountains brings them to the great stone doors that stand between Orzammar and the surface. Once those doors creak and groan shut in their wake—and the next set of doors, too, designed like a waterlock to keep the sky from reaching the city—it is no easy thing to open them again. No one's going to see the sun until they leave.

The great thaig within the mountains is much warmer than the chilly pass through them, thanks to the molten lake beneath it, which also keeps many of the open streets at least dimly lit 24 hours per day, until they wander off further than the glow can reach. The thaig is magnificent, brimming with distinctive angular architecture and statues honoring dwarven Paragons and ancestors. It's also sprawling. Despite giving the deceptive impression at the entrance of a hollow dome that can be taken in with a single look around, the thaig is home to one hundred thousand dwarves, give or take a few thousand. And that's with a dwindling population. It was built for even more. Buildings with narrow facades burrow and wind deep into the stone behind them. So do side streets that branch away from the Commons at every level. Most of them are lyrium-lit and safe to travel. But given the absence of any sun or moon, the way they ascend and descend and loop through the rock, they can be very disorienting to navigate without stone sense.

Among the locals on the street there's a lingering, palpable sense of relief that the worst seems to have passed, so far as the darkspawn at Orzammar's doors is concerned. It's put most people in a particularly good mood, and made them a bit more disposed than usual to treat the influx of visitors from above as an entertaining novelty. That won't stop the occasional dwarf from being suspicious of outsiders here to interfere with the Assembly or bitter that they want something when Orzammar never asked them for help, but friendly interest will be more common by far.

ACCOMMODATIONS

Riftwatch's Division Heads and Project Leaders will be the personal guests of House Bemot and put up in the house's sprawling, mazelike estate in the Diamond Quarter. The residence is brimming with artwork: statues of the house's prominent ancestors, dazzling stonework on columns and doorways, mosaics on the floors, and art both dwarven and imported lining the walls. They're given private rooms—many far from each other, down different turning corridors carved back into the stone—with large beds and hot water piped up from nearer to Orzammar's molten depths. The rooms are nice but don't mistake this for only an unfair perk; there are servants listening and marking their comings and goings at all times.

Since visitors from the surface are much rarer and their stays usually as short as possible, Orzammar is minimally equipped for large swells of visitors, so the rest of Riftwatch's personnel will be packed into one of two inns located in the tier of the Commons where merchants and other surface-dwellers typically reside when they're permitted access to the thaig.

The Paragon's Rest is the nicer of the two. Two ages ago it was the grand home of a prominent merchant house that has since died out; its name comes from the fact that two (two!) paragons have stayed there since the time it was converted into an inn. It boasts a modest number of small, private rooms and shared rooms with artful dividers, all with stone walls that have been carved with intricate geometric patterns. Meals and drinks are available in an expansive hall where local well-to-do merchants frequently play Diamondback and make expensive deals. The inn's position near the gates and something about the design and directions of the corridors minimizes the heat from Orzammar's molten center and even allows for a breeze to reach the common areas now and then.

Unfortunately, the Paragon's Rest doesn't have room for everyone, and the Buttered Nug is less pleasant. The inn was more recently a shop with expansive back storage for its inventory. The shop is now a cramped, sweaty tavern room, where no matter the hour a nug is always roasting—and constantly being basted with butter—over the fire, while more nugs snuffle in a holding pen in a corner, awaiting their doom. The proprietor tries to encourage everyone who passes through to have a plate. It's his grandmother's recipe. You're going to love it. The diners and residents are mostly merchants of the struggling and/or shady variety. The former storage rooms are unadorned, nearly more cavern than room, and large enough to be shared by large numbers of people, with stone lattice-work dividers between beds that provide very little actual privacy. Choosing the room deeper into the stone will make the temperature less sweltering but significantly increase the number of spiders in your bed.

Fortunately, no one has to do more than sleep there if they don't want to. And maybe try just one plate of grandma's buttered nug?

WORK

Riftwatch's primary objectives in Orzammar are sharing information about the war and making a good impression. While speaking to the Assembly might be the centerpiece of those efforts, it's not the extent of them. The noble caste may sit at the top of the dwarven hierarchy, but they're not the only ones with sway or useful resources and nudging public opinion more generally could have its benefits.

There are some specific ways Riftwatch can make itself visibly useful to Orzammar, to help counter the argument that the surface is asking for help without being willing to provide any in return. Assisting with red lyrium removal, installing cleansing runes, and teaching members of the mining caste how to do both for themselves will be priorities. And while the enemy's retreat to the north has lessened the pressure on the thaig, Orzammar lives in constant fear of darkspawn all the same. Riftwatch members suited for combat will be assigned shifts with the dwarven troops on patrol in the near sectors of the Deep Roads or standing watch at the great doors that block off the ancient tunnels.

Meetings with various members of the middle-rank castes (warrior, smith, artisan, mining, merchant) have been arranged and assigned, some with an explicit focus on discussing the war effort and providing information about what Riftwatch has learned and experienced, while others are focused on building trade connections or exploring potential opportunities to collaborate on research—and if opportunities to tell them more about the war effort in the process just happen to arise, all the better. These castes span a wide swathe of dwarven society between nobles and servants, and the meetings will reflect that, ranging from elaborate dinner parties with merchants as wealthy as any lord to casual chats over a pint with a busy blacksmith in a lower-tier tavern. Reactions will also vary, but most are interested in hearing what Riftwatch has to say, even if they're not necessarily disposed to agree. Nearly all visitors to Orzammar are merchants, and having access to this many surfacers and non-dwarves is a novelty.

Members of the Shaperate will take a more pointed and professional interest in their work. Shapers may set up appointments to talk to anyone who's able to speak about their experiences in the war so far, taking copious notes. (On paper. You're not special enough to go straight into the Memories.)

For everyone Riftwatch set a meeting with there are ten more they didn't, so a major part of the company's work in the city will be cultivating more casual interactions and both gathering and dispensing information that way. Someone might be assigned to frequent a particular tavern popular with Warriors and make connections there and find opportunities to discuss what's going on above. Someone else might be asked to drop in on a series of armorers and try to get a sense of current prices, how busy they are, and where most of their stock is being sold. Other assignments might be even more general--spend time in this cafe, or at the nug races, or chatting up merchants in this sector of the market, and see what conversations you can strike up or overhear. Talking folks into support for the war effort is great, but any generally positive interaction counts at this point, so Riftwatch members will be encouraged to pitch in wherever they see help needed, but also to be careful not to get entangled in controversy.

To coordinate all of this work, Riftwatch will have command of a private dining room in the Paragon's Rest to use as a meeting room, where everyone can come back to report, regroup, and strategize after a meeting or outing.

LEISURE

Anyone who finds themselves with downtime will also not have trouble finding things to fill it with. The Commons is lined with merchant stalls selling street food and a wide variety of fine dwarven crafts: metal goods ranging from knives to toys, clothing and bags covered in carefully placed little beads, intricate jewelry, and mechanical and enchanted inventions rarely seen on the surface. There's also an artisan who will hammer your likeness into a sheet of metal while you wait. It's all cheaper than it would be in an above-ground marketplace, as long as you're willing to haggle. Shops and smithies built into the stone sell weapons and armor—or do custom work, though getting anything completed before Riftwatch leaves Orzammar will require paying a premium.

The centerpiece of the Orzammar Commons in the Proving Arena. Currently there are no ongoing provings, but there are warriors and aspirants hanging around the surrounding areas to practice and posture. They might invite a competent-looking newcomer to spar.

An alternative to violence is nug racing, where hungry, specially-bred nugs are painted with house symbols and raced through open-topped tunnels, dug into the ground to allow spectating from above. With little happening in the Proving arena at the moment, this is the more popular spectator event in Orzammar, drawing observers from every caste to cheer and gamble on the outcomes of a series of bracketed races. House Etoras' Deep Fried (called Fred) is favored to win, but House Aratack's Hops & Grain (Hoppy) isn't a bad bet, and Keltar's Perfect Baby (Baby) might pull off an upset.

And there is also, of course, an enormous pit of lava below the Commons. (This is not deadly somehow. We don't know.) A favorite game of some of the local children is collecting trash and inviting newcomers to guess or wager on which items will burst into flames before they hit the lava and which will not. These demonstrations usually end by either a fake attempt to toss a friend over the edge as the final object, or a gleeful (and disprovable) explanation that this is why no one in Orzammar is ever found murdered. They only vanish. Fun!

If they'd like to explore beyond the Commons and the Diamond Quarter, no one will actively prevent Riftwatch members from venturing into Dust Town, the dilapidated sector of the city where the casteless live and the Carta rules. Outsiders might even be able to stumble into the area without realizing it, if they get turned around in some of the narrower back streets carved through the rock. But however they arrive, visitors to Dust Town are unlikely to make it very far without running into trouble.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of all things he might have said, that does seem to surprise her. So much so that for a moment, Wysteria lapses into silence.

And then she sucks in a great breath, a radiant good cheer bursting forth in her face. She laughs, a bright bell ringing sound.

"How flattering, Mister Burton! I hardly took you for the sort. Oh but really, I would like you to explain it to me. What makes you think the Blight is something which might successfully be warded, pardon the pun it was entirely unintentional I assure you, against?"

The answer, to Amos, is as simple as walking into a brick wall. He spreads his hands, a gesture he's seen people do when they'e pleading, but also trying to make a good point. He thinks this one is a good one.

"Because we gotta."

Edited (HAMDS.) 2021-05-16 18:16 (UTC)

A beat, as if anticipating some further reasoning, and then Wysteria tips her head and makes that fairly universal face for Well yes, there is that.

"I suppose if anyone will know anything about properties successful at reducing the effect of the Blight, it will be either the dwarves of Orzammar or the Wardens and we've plenty of both to reference here. But I do think it would be prudent to test it on the handling of lyrium rather than in an altercation with a darkspawn. There are dangers to both of course, but—"

Well, in any case.

"We might consult with a scholar of the Shaperate, and look into acquiring a measure of lyrium—red, refined, and otherwise—to test. Oh, I wish there were my dwarves in Riftwatch's company. We might call on Warden Digiorno to assist us, but these are all concerns for after the correct supplies have been assembled."

A deep breath, followed by, "How does hazardous material armor work where you come from?"

Amos just... listens, trying to index the relevant information. Since their weird chat, she's starting to get better about just barfing up pure intel, which is good. It's just a lot. Not for the first time, Amos wishes he had a hand terminal; it's just the first time he's missed the record function this much.

"Gamma radiation," Amos starts, "it fucks with your DNA, breaks down cells, causes cancer. Irradiated shit only decelerates in half-lives, so it's never not irradiated again. Usually a lot of concrete or lead can shield you from it. But Blight's different, more like... poison. I dunno, maybe airtight lead could do it. Seems like a crap idea to fight magic with magic, y'know?"

She is nodding, not because she is comprehending quite yet what things like DNA and half-life deceleration but because she is mentally recording the shape of those things. Memorizing them so that when it is time for them to make sense, they will. But here at this very last remark, she stops nodding.

"Does it?"

"I mean..." Amos sighs, and reaches for a blank scrap of paper and some charcoal. He thinks better with diagrams, no matter how simple.

"See? It's all too connected. I'm betting the lines are even more crossed than this."

Edited (thERe) 2021-05-16 20:12 (UTC)

She watches the movement of his hand, attention very fixed, and after—when he has turned it toward her—she takes a serious moment to consult its form, however basic.

"There are naturally occurring materials which protect against the elemental effects of primal magic. Gurgut skin, wyvern scales. Fire and cold magic. But their protection is against the element, not the...Fadiation, as it were. Versus, say, a barrier spell which absorbs the quality of the casting."

She is thinking aloud. There isn't really a question there.

"Well, you could simply Undo the magic of course. But in most cases it would take far too much time. Oh, but we might introduce various materials to an enchanted object and see which weakens its power most. That would be measurable...—But yes, Mister Burton. I suppose I see your point."

"My feeling is, if it was that simple, the Wardens would'a done it by now, right?"

Amos puts the paper down.

"Problems stay problems because the solutions real fucking hard. That's where you come in, Doll Eyes. You get the data, I make it." A thought. "And I can get data, but I'm not what you'd call a people person."

"Are you not?" It seems like a genuine question, though she dismisses it with a prompt wave of the hand. "Perhaps Riftwatch has skewed my perception of the thing. In any case, we are well positioned to look into the thing here. I can look into arranging an appointment with a scholar, or at least finding a contact with whom we might exchange correspondence should it be necessary to pursue the thing once we leave.

"But the lyrium. That we had better procure while we are here. The refined stuff Riftwatch has enough for experimentation. But the raw and the red stuff—that we will need to source while we're still here. Dust Town would be the best place to begin asking questions, I think."

Amos nods. This, too, is simple.

"You know the dealers? I'll be the muscle. Dust Town's... I know how to handle it. Just need to be pointed where."

The idea of doing this sort of operation with the Cap still leaves him a little weary. He has no idea what kind of freakshow it'll turn into with Wysteria.

Probably funny, though.

"Oh yes, one or two members of the Carta. I have dealt with them in the past."

Because of course she has.

"If we can locate an establishment frequented by the right people, I should be able to provide them with a name which will grant us an opportunity to meet with the relevant parties. Both minds of lyrium will be expensive and dangerous to procure and transport, but there is no harm in establishing an interest today. We may as well give them full warning so there will be plenty of time to package the samples safely for transport by the time we leave."

Here, a (very brief) thoughtful pause.

"Though, there is the issue of us both being rifters."

Amos lets out a long sigh.

"Who do you think's the least annoying? Sawbones or the Warden dwarf?"

She opens her mouth, an answer clearly ready— And then pauses to gently revise its contents. More diplomatically:

"I suspect Warden Digiorno would be a greater asset to us given that he might wield a sort of dual function for us as an expert on the Blight. But my concerns are not with Dust Town. It is with the handling of the lyrium itself."

"So, how're we gonna get a lyrium-proof doggie bag. Got it." Amos rubs one of his temples. Isn't there a riddle for this? Get the eggs from the chicken to give to the fox to take it to the zoo...

"What's your idea? I know you got, like, eight."

Maybe flattery will work?

The thoughtful sound she makes is a placeholder, a thing to fill a silence with as she mentally aligns various obstacles in her mind and then—

Shrugs.

"There is little need to make it complicated. Let us see what leads can be scrounged in Dust Town and make our way from there. No need to imagine expertise where we have theory; it is fully possible that whatever contact is willing to provide us with red lyrium will also know some way of transporting it safely. From there, we will make arrangements to have it delivered into our possession the day before we are to leave Orzammar and in the interim discuss the project with some scholar of the Shaperate and the Provost, and then inquire after Warden Digiorno's assistance. We can worry about whether handling the lyrium will strike us instantly dead or not later."

She looks to him, the folio of notes tucked jauntily under her arm and something very decided in the set of her shoulders.

"Agreed?"

"So, that's what I call complicated. For the record."

It's almost a joke. Slowly, he's getting used to Wysteria's general... presence.

"But I'll back you all the way to Pimlico."

There is a question living right there, visibly caught behind her teeth, which is subsequently dismissed. She has spent too much time with the likes of Tony Stark to ferret after every—

"Pimlico?"

Well. Sometimes one's basic urges do get the better of them.

Amos shakes his head. He forgot, for a moment, but he forgets all the time, worlds away and in the same universe all at once.

"Where you bet on horses," he says, "saying I'll back your bets."

"Oh," she says, clearly pleased to have received such a straightforward explanation. "Yes of course, that makes perfect sense. How kind."

And how pleasant to have that sort of confidence given to her. If she puffs up a little from it, it is surely only a very temporary state.

"Well Mister Burton, if you will allow me just a moment to stow a few things then I believe I will be perfectly well equipped to begin this adventure. —That is, of course, if you care to begin the work immediately."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

MOD PLOT ↠ Endlessly Far Beneath My Feet

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