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

It wasn't something Ellie had planned to reveal or use all that openly, especially outside of Riftwatch. The general response towards mages wasn't great, and Ellie didn't have the greatest grasp of her more versatile powers.

Best not to fuck around with it -- but when it came to staying alive through something, she'd choose that over getting gutted.

She hears the remarks of the dwarves, and gives a filthy curse under her breath, still catching it. She sees Adrasteia coming, so she doesn't flinch when she feels her hand on her shoulder, grounding.

"Fuck yeah," she mutters back, feeling guilty. She should've at least given her a heads up.

"You okay? Didn't mean to freak you out."

"Let's go, then." Adrasteia squeezes the shoulder beneath her gloved hand and then gives Ellie a smile. "I'm just glad you're alright. I think you'll like ale. Sirgrek's Darkcoat." Not so strong that someone her size, or Ellie's for that matter, would be put out by one glass.

Two, however. A different story.

She waits until they've put some distance between the dwarves that are with them before speaking up again. Which takes a minute considering they have to get all the way back to Orzammar's proper streets before the various members of the group disperse and Adrasteia takes a breath, interlacing her gloved fingers together.

"That was quite something."

Managing a nod, Ellie focuses on catching her breath and keeping up. Their dwarven escort are giving them a bit of space now, but she takes Adrasteia's lead and stays quiet on the way back up to the streets, out of the roads.

The fatigue does pass fairly quickly, and she gets her breathing under control. Color's good, and even before they're back Ellie's no worse for wear. She might've put in an overly long sprint or just stayed underwater past what was strictly wise.

"Thanks," she says, looking somewhat guilty. She really should have warned her beforehand. Of anyone, Adrasteia would've understood. She's a mage, herself.

"I kinda keep the glowy shit under wraps," she admits, referring to the way her chest had shone a bright blue before she'd winked out of apparent existence and started an invisible rampage with her blade. "Because if I tell people what it is, it sounds sketchy as hell, but-"

And she's babbling.

"Basically- I can turn invisible as long as I'm holding my breath?" Yep. That's the main thing. "And a couple other things. I'm not actually a mage or anything, I'm just-"

Ellie winces.

"They called it god-touched."

The eleven woman is glad to see the color return to Ellie's face as they walk and a more even breathing tone, but she holds her questions and her desire to fuss until they're alone and in the clear.

"God-touched," Adrasteia repeated with no little reverence. She can imagine it; what Ellie did seems impossible, even by her own standards. "Tell me about the rest. Here, that's where we're heading." She points out a tavern further down the pathway they're on. "We'll get something to eat while we're there so that the ale doesn't completely take us out."

Ellie winces at her tone, slightly. The reverence was always her least favorite reaction.

"Don't say it like that," Ellie says quickly, but nods, angling toward the tavern. The street is loud enough to sort of mask what they're talking about as long as they're not shouting, and she doesn't figure they're being followed, so she lets herself speak freely.

"It's a long and stupid story," she grumbles. "Basically, there was this guy named Jimmy, and he lived in a world where there were a handful of gods, right? They were supposed to have created the world, all the things in it, whatever. Anyway, they'd all been asleep for a really long time and everyone thought they were legends. But he decided he was gonna wake one of them up and like... fucking lasso it or something, I don't know. Jimmy's a moron."

Yes, she's fully aware this all sounds batshit insane, thanks.

"Anyway, he accidentally killed it, and that's where it gets complicated. Because you can't actually kill a god. So instead he just... fractured the shit out of the power it had, I'm fuzzy on the details. And he opened up some kind of one-way Rift, like what you have here, and all these poor assholes from other worlds started randomly falling through, and..."

Ellie nibbles her bottom lip.

"Well, I was one of those assholes who fell through, into his world from mine. And everybody who came through ended up with a shard of the dead god's power."

"Lasso-ing a god sounds dangerous, moron or no," Adrasteia murmurs, but beyond that she allows Ellie the time and space to finish her story.

Not that it makes much more sense as poor Ellie goes on, but a world in which people fall in through reality is a familiar enough concept at the very least.

Adrasteia still needs a moment, so. She nods, squinting a little as she ponders this and Ellie's attitude towards it all and decides, well, she can continue to treat the girl as she has been which is... friendly, and not at all aware of any god-granted powers. She does wish she'd had a little bit of warning, but the guards they were with might spread the tale nonetheless. It won't hurt them, she doesn't think, and either way, they've arrived at the tavern.

She orders a flagon of the mead they're known for and settles them in a quiet corner where they're away from prying eyes and ears tuned in their direction, hopefully. "Does it work like that for everyone, or did everyone get something unique from the experience?" Of being god-touched, that is.

"Yep," Ellie answers, popping the "p" sound as they slide into a booth in the corner, heaving a sigh and giving her a nod of thanks for getting the ordering taken care of. The murmur of voices is loud enough here to drown out their conversation, so she doesn't feel too worried.

"And yeah, everybody had something different, and it got stronger over time." Ellie pauses, thoughtful. "I had a friend who could play back music or sounds or voices from nowhere but his memories. Another one who could reach her hand through solid objects. Me, I turn invisible when I hold my breath."

She pauses, then gives Adrasteia a significant look.

"I can do it to someone else too, if I can touch them."

Which is... useful. Very useful.

"I think I've got another couple of things going on too, but I'm still figuring those out. Everyone had the blue glowy powers, but before I ended up here, Lance was saying-"

Ellie pauses.

"Well, there was more than one god. And it definitely touched all of us too. I'm still not what it did for me, but it was supposedly the god of war and beasts, so."

"Good to know," about her ability, and that it extends to further than just Ellie. Though clearly, Adrasteia hopes it won't be necessary for her to use it anytime again soon.

She continues listening, hands folded under her chin as Ellie speaks, and she remains silent for a moment after Ellie has finished, processing all she's been told.

Time for a sip of mead.

"What does it cost you? Other than holding your breath?" There's always a cost, isn't there?

Time for more than a sip of mead. Ellie takes a small, slow drink, but then a bigger swallow. It tastes good, if nothing like what she's used to.

"The invisibility? Just the breath." Though the way she says it, she wonders. It would be just like a power like this to be some kind of creepily awful, like stealing a literal breath away from her life every time she uses it, or-

Best not speculate.

"The other stuff makes me tired, though. I'm not sure how it works, but there's definitely times when I'm way stronger and faster than I've ever remembered being before. Or that I've taken a hit that would've broken something, but barely left a mark. Or even hit a target I wasn't sure if I had the right angle on."

Ellie runs her tongue along her bottom lip, catching a taste of the mead.

"I had it down there, for a bit. After they got me in that corner. Felt like I'd been running for miles. But I feel better now."

Adrasteia wraps her hands around her flagon as she listens to Ellie, finger running along a worn groove in the side of the container.

"You might want to consider training with any of the templars enlisted." Her abilities are unique, certainly, but running out of stamina, temporary invincibility, things like that? Definitely within the realm of things templars would be used to dealing with and training for. "It might help with extending how long you can maintain that sort of power."

She's nothing if not mindful of how an inherently useful thing can become more useful.

"You were very skilled, back there." Adrasteia won't name her relief at finding that Ellie had disappeared and not been actually overtaken, but it's all there anyway in her face, in her voice as she speaks. "And I'm glad you feel better now." Another sip. "Thank you, for telling me. You didn't have to." She didn't have to explain at all.

Ellie's mouth goes tight at the thought, but it says something of the respect she has for Adrasteia's opinion that she doesn't immediately reject the notion outright.

Instead she accepts the praise and thanks with a softer look.

"I don't mind you knowing."

Considering, gathering her thoughts, Ellie turns it over in her mind enough to phrase how she wants to ask.

"... you think that's a good idea? Training with the Templars? I haven't exactly heard... good things. About them and people who use magic."

It's true enough, but Ellie doesn't trust easily.

"I think that if you find ones that aren't too... invested in what they'd been taught, by the Chantry, about the inherent nature of magic and those who use it? Then it should be all right." A beat. "But you're not wrong to be concerned about it."

She merely sees it as an avenue worth exploring if Ellie is up for it. There'd be no judgment if not.

"Sometimes it's useful to practice fighting with someone who might be an enemy before you have to face off with the real thing. But." She puts up a hand, stretching her fingers out from her palm. "You don't have to do it, especially if it feels too risky." There's no promising whomever Ellie does do combat training with would keep their mouths shut about what she can do.

Ellie nods; it's easy to see the sense in what she's saying, and she guesses that if they're with Riftwatch, and she gives her seal of approval, they're probably more than safe enough to work with.

It occurs to Ellie that she's far too used to infighting, to watching her back, to petty disagreements and tangled hurts. Riftwatch, she's realizing, takes good care of their own.

"No, you're right," she decides firmly. "Easier to get some practice than to just... get thrown into the fucking deep end. Especially when it comes to magic."

She pauses, then gives a laugh under her breath.

"It's kinda backwards from how I've always done that. The fighting. Usually we just... run into something big and ugly and have to figure that shit out on our own."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

MOD PLOT ↠ Endlessly Far Beneath My Feet

Shhhh

no subject

chest not eyes augh lore

that's okay we're all good

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject