MOD PLOT ↠ ALL SOULS WHO TAKE UP THE SWORD

[faderifting]

WHO: Nearly everyone
WHAT: Retaking Val Chevin
WHEN: Late Firstfall into early/mid-Haring, 9:47
WHERE: Val Chevin, Orlais
NOTES: Generated injuries here! CWs for violence, slavery mentions. Use content warnings in your comment subject lines as needed.

THE BATTLE

The battle begins just after dawn, once the distraction at the harbor has drawn as much of the enemy force to that end of the city as possible. Bombardment (magical or otherwise) is fruitless while the elvhen shield artifact continues to magically reinforce the walls and gates, but a Riftwatch team is on its way and will soon have disabled it. In the meantime, while the enemy's attention is focused on the harbor the assault begins. The first waves of soldiers are sent up ladders to try to fight their way over. Some make it, and fight their way along the battlements to try to reach the gate below, in hopes of unbarring it from within even before the shield is broken. The attacking force very nearly manages a lightning-quick victory, numbers pouring over a section of the wall left unmanned by the harbor distraction. They might have managed it when, suddenly, a rush of magic descends down onto the walls, physically, enough to blow their hair back and everything, and a glowing dome spreads over the city—essentially an enormous magical barrier.

Those at the tops of ladders suddenly find their blows absorbed by the magic rather than landing on the overwhelmed guards along the wall, while the defenders' blades still pierce through from within. The tide quickly begins to turn in favor of the Tevinter defenders. Some of the attackers are caught already within the walls when the barrier drops, and without more following behind them are quickly outnumbered, either killed or forced to flee deeper into the city to try to avoid capture. There is traffic jam at the top of the wall as forward progress abruptly halts, and at least one ladder accidentally falls in the resulting confusion, taking a dozen or so attackers with it. Attacks from the walls above now rain down with impunity as the attackers attempt to force their way through the barrier, reasoning that all barriers break eventually and it's just a matter of applying enough force. For a short period that feels longer, the battle stagnates, all the damage being taken by the allied forces, the Tevinters on the wall able to regroup and reinforce their ranks.

It takes longer than anyone had planned but finally the Riftwatch team inside the city is successful and the barrier dome dissipates as abruptly as it had appeared. A cheer goes up, flagging morale restored, and the assault takes on renewed intensity. Without their magical protection the gate is no longer unbreachable. Rams are aimed at it and magical force as well, protected by archers and more mages, with assistance from some griffon riders above. The enemy throws down scalding stones, oil, even Antivan fire, but their force is stretched thinner and thinner, and more and more attackers make it over the walls to harry them back. Finally the gate splinters, and the armies of Orlais and the Divine stream into Val Chevin.

The Tevinter and Ander forces don't give in that easily. They make a stand in the central square of the city, fighting on the steps of the Chantry and the lip of the great fountain itself with its four leaping seahorses. They retreat through the streets, broken up into smaller groups, some barricading themselves inside a building, others seeking to hide in a home, more running, or looking for chokepoints they can defend, mages tearing stones out of walls to block pursuit. Some of the people of Val Chevin, sensing an end to the occupation at last, join the fight, driving soldiers out of their homes and shops with pitchforks and butcher's knives, raining trash and debris down on them from windows, calling out warnings and directions to friendly forces, offering water or aid where they can.

By mid-afternoon, it's over. Some of the occupying force have managed to flee into the countryside or into one of the few ships remaining intact in the harbor. Many more are dead. The remainder, perhaps as many as a thousand, are gradually cornered at various places around the city and give themselves up. Not all surrenders are honored--some, particularly Orlesians and locals caught up in the fighting, are eager to dispatch the enemy occupiers once and for all and unless someone intervenes may ignore the laying down of arms. Stragglers still attempting to hide or escape are rounded up throughout the day (some even later), tracked down by searchers or turned in by locals.

THE "SAFE AND SECURE" SHIP

Anchored at what is believed to be a safe distance just up the coast to the northeast of the city, Riftwatch's shipboard base of operations provides a landing and launch area for griffons, triage for wounded, and on large tables and boards a collection of detailed maps of the area and of the city and its various districts on which action is tracked as crystal reports come in. Some are assigned to shifts manning the crystals: taking in reports, asking questions, soliciting aid, sending griffon riders where they're most needed. Others analyze the information provided, plot it on the maps, or coordinate with allied movements. Supplies are doled out from the ship as well, from spare weapons and armor to food and water, grenades, lyrium potions, healing poultices. Though the breeze only intermittently carries the sounds of battle out here, the ship is still a buzz with activity throughout the day.

Disaster doesn't strike until the afternoon, when a group of Tevinters fleeing the city manage to commandeer one of the remaining mostly-intact ships and somehow make it out of the harbor despite not entirely knowing how to sail. They straggle out into the bay, catch the wrong current, and are suddenly on top of the Riftwatch ship. Though smaller and already beginning to sink, the Tevinter vessel manages to tangle itself with Riftwatch's anchor cable, and the couple of mages on board make a doomed attempt to trade up for the bigger, more seaworthy model. They fail, but not before managing to do some serious damage to Riftwatch's ship, sufficient to sink it as well.

A hasty evacuation follows by griffon and longboat. The ship sinks rapidly, leaving just barely enough time to get all the wounded ferried to shore and still come back for the healthy before they go down with the ship.

THE AFTERMATH

IMMEDIATE NEEDS

First things first: the wounded from the battle need to be attended to, including not only those from Riftwatch's ranks, but also members of the Orlesian military, local civilians, and Tevinter and Ander prisoners—though opinions vary about whether or not to provide them with any assistance. The Orlesian military has supplies and surgeons, and Riftwatch will be welcome to either seek care or help provide it in medical tents that are set up on the outskirts of the city even before the fighting has fully concluded. During this first evening, this area is not a peaceful place to be, filled with shouts and moans and blood-spattered people darting between emergencies. Even with Riftwatch's help (and magic), resources are stretched thin enough by severe injuries that those who look like they're going to survive without help might be turned away to deal with their pain and cosmetic concerns the old fashioned ways: finding elfroot sprouting up between the cobblestones to chew on, or gritting their teeth and getting over it.

Throughout the night, paranoia persists about the possibility that belated reinforcements—or, worse, a dragon—might arrive to prolong the battle. Soldiers keep watch along the walls and at some forward locations, and Riftwatch's griffon riders are sent to observe the portions of the occupying force that fled north and ensure there's nothing amiss. Nothing seems to be, but continuing to lightly harass the Tevinter and Ander forces to hurry them on their way and keep them from pausing to ransack anything won't hurt.

In the morning, back in Val Chevin, those who look strong and uninjured are enlisted to help with clearing debris from the places where the fighting was heavy and magical enough to collapse walls and roofs or topple statues, or else loading bodies onto carts bound for the pyres outside the city. By mid-morning plumes of smoke streak the sky. The bulk of the damage and death is concentrated on the docks, where the dreadnought crashed and where the initial smash-and-burn fighting took place. Meanwhile, throughout the harbor, griffons will prove useful in examining the water for concentrations of floating bodies—which need to be fished out to avoid a walking dead problem in the future—or debris that's potentially either useful or dangerous. Given what the dreadnought assault team reports, there's also a careful search for any red lyrium-infested sea creatures in the harbor, but while other pens like the one that contained the very large red lyrium octopus they encountered, all have been destroyed in the chaos and no other beasts are spotted.

TAKING STOCK

Over the course of the week, supplies arrive by land and by sea from across Orlais—some from the government, some from charitable patriots who put together donation drives as soon as they heard the news. About eighty percent are practical and useful: winter shoes and clothing, flour and preserves and other long-lasting foods, bolts of fabric, apothecary supplies, a few dairy animals and chickens. The usefulness of the rest varies, including a crate of used toys (labeled FOR THE SWEET PEASANT CHILDREN), an assortment of expensive hats that were in season last winter, and collections of plain masks and face paints in case Tevinter was cruelly forcing anyone to go barefaced. Riftwatch is given leave to distribute these to people as they find needs to meet.

The surviving Orlesian civilians who have been trapped in the occupied city for the last two and a half years haven't been as starved or brutalized as popular imagination may have assumed, but the experience has been plenty miserable. Outside of a few public executions, agitators and those who fomented rebellion against the occupiers have by and large disappeared more quietly. Due to its collective general experience with the Tevinter language and magic, Riftwatch is given the fairly depressing task of sorting through the cells and torture chambers in Val Chevin's central keep, where records and other evidence of executions remain. It's enough to determine who died and how. Some had quick deaths; others were tortured or used for blood magic rituals. A handful appear to have been removed from the city and sent north to be held in Tevinter instead. Relaying the specifics to family members will generally be the responsibility of Orlesian officials, but family members eager for information may corner Riftwatchers coming or going from the fortress to press them for details.

Over the next couple weeks Riftwatch is also called to assist with handling other remnants of the Tevinter occupation, such as translating documents, evaluating evidence of blood magic, and sorting through relics and enchanted objects accumulated by the Venatori. Among the things left behind is a trove of elven artifacts seemingly extracted from nearby temples. None are as powerful as the shield; most seem to be completely unmagical cultural relics.

Elsewhere, many locals were evicted from their homes to make room for Tevinter occupiers. While Orlesian officials sort through claims to those homes, including several contentious competing claims, Riftwatch is sent into them to sort through what the enemy left behind and make sure they're safe for their occupants to return to. In many they find the ashy remains of hastily burned private documents and a variety of fairly mundane magical objects: spoons that stir themselves, hats that are always cool on the inside, candles that light and extinguish in response to clapping.Each is the work of a bound spirit that can be released or destroyed—or left to continue its eternal work, if someone wants to pocket an object rather than restore it to its original inanimate state. Throughout the city, there may also be opportunities to reunite grateful civilians with appropriated belongings ranging from fine art to beloved old horses.

Orlesians aren't the only ones in the city in need of assistance. A small number of Tevinter slaves—exclusively those performing menial tasks, as far as anyone can tell—remain in the city now that their masters have been killed or captured. With the Orlesian populace and military inclined, on average, to consider them threats and collaborators, Riftwatch's intervention on their behalf is necessary. Interviewing them and checking their stories against witness accounts and Tevinter records, to ensure none of them are Venatori mages or gleeful torturers in disguise, will allow Riftwatch to vouch for them confidently. They may also be able to find sympathetic locals willing to shelter and hire those who would like to remain in the city, though there aren't that many who do want to stay.

Throughout their time in the city, Riftwatch representatives are asked to report what they find regarding the treatment of the locals and any practice of blood magic. While Orlesian officers ask for Riftwatch members to give this information to them directly, it's quickly clear that it's likely to influence Orlais' decisions about how to deal with the thousand-odd Tevinter prisoners. Individuals identified as responsible for atrocities are being tortured or executed, especially if they're unlikely to have or provide information, and there is nothing ensuring the entire group won't be ultimately executed after the dust settles. With that in mind, Riftwatch receives instructions from the Division Heads to instead bring the information to them so it can be compiled, double-checked, screened for any individuals Riftwatch may need to question themselves, and delivered with a diplomatic touch.

GOING HOME (OR NOT)

Approximately a week after the battle, as the majority of Riftwatch is preparing to leave, Empress Celene and members of her retinue arrive in Val Chevin. They're greeted by a restrained military parade and less restrained enthusiasm from the civilians, who will line the streets to catch a glimpse and celebrate the symbolic return of the city to full Orlesian control. Riftwatch's attendance is not mandatory. Most of the organization leaves that day to return to Kirkwall and their other work. However, a small number remain behind for a few more days, overseen by the heads of Diplomacy and Forces, to provide administrative support while the Ambassador and Commander liaise with the Empress' people about their plans for the Tevinter prisoners. As thanks, they might be invited to endure a few stifling fancy dinners.

Comments

[tender]

The urge to reach back, take her hand and lace their fingers together, stops Derrica's work for a beat. She considers it, and then considers whether or not it would be a kind of pressure, invasive despite her best intentions. And so instead, her face turns up to Ellie for a moment, fond and tender, before she accepts another length of bandage from her.

"Yes," Derrica tells her, serious despite the quirk of her mouth. "But I think I've asked enough of you today."

It's taxing to speak of what's been lost, or of what hardships have been survived. Derrica knows that. Her gaze is cast down, attentive to the weave of bandage over Ellie's wound. The gauze is laid loosely over the injury. Just enough to protect, not pulled tightly enough that removing it later will be a hardship.

"You should ask me something, in exchange," is a little bit teasing. "While I finish this. Something you want to hear."

[notathreat]

With a half-smile, Ellie watches her back. She appreciates the breathing room, the space, but it wasn't so bad as she thought it would be. Telling her. She doesn't believe Derrica would tell anybody about this, either. She understands how such things could be used to hurt someone.

The trade-off for the effort of telling her is now, she knows. She doesn't have to explain.

Ellie considers her as she wraps the bandage, searching her face, her eyes. Considers what might hurt, what might be interesting. What there will be joy and pain in telling.

"... tell me about the first time you healed somebody."

[tender]

Richard would tell her she should be keeping her arm in the sling. Even the very careful, slight movement is sparking up little twinges of pain that Derrica suspects should be reserved for far later in the healing process.

But she works the bandages into place instead, giving some attention to smoothing the length of fabric as she considers Ellie's question before she takes the next strip. Derrica could distract from the question at hand by trying to qualify it. The first time she'd healed someone intentionally. The first time she'd done it at the request of an Enchanter. The first time she'd done it accidentally.

But Derrica takes the question to mean the first. The first time she'd done this sort of magic on purpose. The first time she'd understood what she was doing and tried for a particular outcome.

"Enchanter Iria had brought me with her into the city. We'd been practicing together, and she told me this was the day I would demonstrate what I had learned."

As she speaks, she draws a new length of bandage from Ellie's hands to add to what she has already loosely woven around the injury.

"There was a boy about the same age as me. I think he'd broken his arm. Enchanter Iria pulled the bandages away, and put my hands on his forearm. And I..."

Here is the difficulty. How does she explain what it feels like to draw energy from the Fade, and set to right something that was broken? Derrica is quiet for a moment, her fingers rest at Ellie's ankle.

"I fixed his arm. I felt it happen, under my hands. It was the first time I'd ever fully done what I'd meant to do."

[notathreat]

Ellie keeps her eyes on Derrica's face, on her arm and how she handles it. This is something she can strictly do herself, but she's coming to realize how important it is for Derrica to do with her own hands. How important it is to her to be able to set things right.

So she holds still, holds bandages in place for her, and doesn't fuss.

Instead she watches her face, and tries to listen to the thing she isn't saying.

"Was Enchanter Iria your teacher?"

[tender]

"One of my teachers," Derrica tells her.

She takes such care with the bandages. Burns are delicate things to treat. The gauze is layered loosely, then smoothed into place with gentle swipes of her fingers before laying the next strip.

"There is one First Enchanter in a Circle, and then there are the Enchanters beneath them, most times many, sometimes few, depending on how many apprentices and mages live there. They'll all teach, according to what is needed."

This is the greatest expression of care Derrica knows to give: the attentive, neat application of bandages and salve to an open wound.

She smiles up at Ellie, promises, "Just one more, and then you'll be able to get some rest."

Which sounds optional, but is actually not at all a suggestion.

[notathreat]

"... it sounds nice. That part, anyway. Having people there to teach you."

People like themselves, who understand the weird shit that comes with magic. Ellie didn't have that, when she came into her powers. Little bits and pieces, sure- but her real teacher was her own experience. Hard-won. And Derrica had plenty of that, too.

For a second she looks baffled when Derrica suggests she rest, like she's never considered the concept.

"The battle's still going on."

[tender]

The look Derrica tips up to her is—

Exasperated. Fond.

She shouldn't be surprised. This seems to be a shared trait among everyone she cares for. Of course Ellie is shocked by the idea of rest.

"And you're hurt," Derrica reminds her. "You need to stay off this foot."

[notathreat]

"I can still fight."

Ellie flushes at the look, knowing it well, even if it hasn't always been coming from Derrica. And she leans in, reaching up to lightly touch her hand.

"I'll try to stay mounted as much as I can, but I can't just stay here. I have to help."

[tender]

"Help us here," Derrica presses, hand turning up beneath Ellie's so that she might keep hold of her. "Can you tie bandages? Apply salve?"

There are greater injuries, yes. But another set of hands to see to the wounded streaming in, even if they are only tending to less grievous injury, will be a help.

And because Derrica has too little strength left to heal her properly, to return her to field whole. She knows that walking on the burn will aggravate it. There's no way to lace her into the boot that won't make taking it off just as painful. They would have to repeat their ministrations all over again and Ellie will have to suffer through the treatment all over again.

[notathreat]

"I can do more good out there than in here," Ellie insists. She can heal, if clumsily compared to those around her, but she can fight far better.

She gropes for justification, a tightness in her chest.

"I can stay on Artichoke and bail people out from the tight places. I can attack from the sky. Bring back people with injuries who can't make it on their own."

[tender]

There are so many things that can go wrong. Derrica knows all of them. They spring so quickly to hand, all the ways good intentions might still end with Ellie tossed from the saddle. Her eyes search Ellie's face, hesitating.

"You have to promise me," Derrica says slowly. "Promise me that's all you're going to do."

Derrica has no reason to think Ellie won't keep her promise, even if it goes against all her instincts to let her leave this tent.

"I don't want to try to regrow all the skin on your foot."

A joke, except not really.

[notathreat]

"You won't have to," Ellie says stubbornly, kneejerk. She pulls her hand back, setting her jaw, and instantly feels like an asshole, but it's not enough to make her back down. Instead, she tries to gentle her voice.

"I've had worse. Way worse. I can't justify sitting this one out. And I can't-"

Ellie takes a deep breath, lets it out.

"I can promise to try to keep off it. Okay?"

[tender]

Way worse doesn't come as a surprise. Nothing about what Ellie's told her indicates she's passed through life without seeing the inside of an infirmary once or twice.

"Ellie," Derrica says softly, but the stubborn tightening of Ellie's jaw keeps Derrica from pressing further. Instead, she folds Ellie's hand between hers, holds there for a moment while she lets the silence settle between them.

"Okay," is the only answer, really. Whether or not Derrica likes it, this isn't something she can argue Ellie out of. "Will you come find me after?"

[notathreat]

Ellie knows she doesn't like it, but when she relents, her shoulders relax. She knows it's about wanting her safe, not about wanting to control what she does, but parts of Ellie still chafe under the memory of Joel's overprotectiveness, and they're hard to shake.

So she nods, and wraps her fingers around Derrica's again, breathing in the scent of the salve, the clean linen and the smoke from fires. The scent of Derrica's hair, and the look in her eyes.

"Promise," she says softly, and squeezes her hand. Later, she'll find her in the aftermath of the sinking vessel, where Mado hovered for so long in the twilight before she was sure she'd pulled him back from the brink. Later, she'll walk too much on her foot, set it bleeding again because she can't bear idle hands in the wake of a battle, and desperately needs her mind to be still.

But she can promise this now.