faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2022-04-24 03:06 pm

MOD PLOT ↠ Wings of Death

WHO: Everyone (more or less)
WHAT: A trip to Rialto, in pursuit of convincing Antiva to give up its famed neutrality, just this once, pleaaaase.
WHEN: Cloudreach/Bloomingtide 9:48
WHERE: Rialto, Antiva
NOTES: OOC post here. Remember to use warnings in your subject lines for gore, sexual content, or anything else people might not expect to find while casually reading this log on a work computer.




YOUR DESTINATION

Rialto is Antiva's second city in importance and in population, but in many ways it is first in sheer Antivanness. When foreigners imagine Antiva, they often conjure images of graceful bridges arching over turquoise canals, lovers on a romantic gondola ride serenaded by a soprano's aria, fiery young men in vibrant leathers dueling for the honor of their houses in the piazza while down at the docks pirates share tales over bowls of seafood pasta. All of this is to be found in Rialto. While Antiva City is a teeming, bustling center of world commerce, with all the clamor and diversity that creates, Rialto is popular more with the city's uppermost classes than its vast mercantile middle, particularly the old aristocracy who prefer Rialto for its relative peace and its proximity to King Fulgeno's favorite residence. This is not to suggest that Rialto is a Hightown without any Low—like all major cities, for every palazzo-lined canal where the wealthy rest are ten more waterways packed with delivery boats and shops and taverns of every degree and description, from the broad spans edged with rows of fashionable tailors and jewelers to narrow, winding alleys of water overhung by leaning buildings of smoke-stained stucco. The docks, though neither as large nor as busy as the capital's or Kirkwall's, are still large and busy by any other measure, packed with merchants and sailors and fishermen, along with some who—uniquely common in Antiva, a kingdom founded by pirates—skirt the line between honest seamen and buccaneers.

Antivans will argue it's always a good time to visit their country, but everyone else agrees that spring is the ideal. The weather is consistently mild and pleasant, warmer than Kirkwall but without yet edging into the heat of summer the way it is in Tevinter to the north. In the city's parks and piazzas, flowers and shrubby add a few splashes of greenery and warm breezes send occasional showers of petals down from the cherry and citrus trees just finishing their blooms. Climbing flowers and arbors of grapevines are common adornments.

For the king's birthday celebration the city's elegant pale stone buildings are all decorated, with public buildings and bridges hung with bunting in the crown's favored purple and banners depicting the arms of Antiva and the royal house Campagna: a golden ship, sails unfurled, beneath a crown, the shield supported by a seahorse on one side and a stallion on the other. Along the grand canals every palazzo is bedecked in some combination of the occupant's colors and the kingdom's purple, and the theme continues throughout the city, every district finding some means to demonstrate its festive mood. The effect is only slightly diminished by the few areas where graffiti conflicts with the decorations, and Riftwatch, at least, will be pleased to see it mostly takes the form of anti-Tevinter sentiment, ranging from a scrawled FUCK THE VINTS to a few choice quotes from certain popular pamphlets and puppet plays, to a large and surprisingly skillful mural of a dragon and a caricatured merchant prince sitting together on a heap of gold playing with toy ships and dolls while behind them a fire rages.

The king's birthday is always an extravagant occasion, even more so when he hits any age ending in a 0 or a 5, as he is this year. A full week of revelry has been decreed, with each day marked by pageants and parades and games of all sorts, and every night new and fabulous parties in his honor hosted by various houses, guilds, and societies. Knowing the king's love of masquerades, many of these balls are masked, with themes ranging from House Campagna's most celebrated ancestors, to sea creatures, to all gold everything. (While fancy dress is of course always encouraged, many will simply attend in their best finery, with the intention of visiting multiple parties in the same night.) The city is lit with lanterns, torches, and even the occasional bonfire, as the bacchanal spills into the canals and piazzas each evening and continues long into the night.


YOUR MISSION

Riftwatch arrives on this scene by ship, which garners a few approval points from the merchants and pirate-descendants populating the city. The ship remains anchored in the harbor for the duration of their stay, reachable by tender and doubling as a temporary home for the selection of griffons who have accompanied them north.

Griffon riders will make the trip back and forth from the ship most often, as they'll be assigned to shifts that keep one or two of them in the air at all times, day or night. The outward justification for this is to entertain the Antivans below them; they're encouraged to fill some of the time with acrobatics over busy squares or particular parties, at times with banners and streamers to trail behind their mounts. Those with griffons who don't startle easily might be entrusted with a few fireworks to set off from the air. But the real purpose is surveillance, of course, and to serve as emergency back-up or ambulance for anyone who finds themselves caught in a tight spot and calls for help. Riders will be equipped with vials of antidotes to some common poisons, and particularly at night, anyone with healing magic or medical skills might be asked to ride along.

Meanwhile, down on the ground, a steady stream of influential merchants and socialites will want an interesting Riftwatcher or three at their dinners and private parties, each presenting an opportunity to impress upon influential people the importance of the war. These gatherings will range from stiff, formal affairs to wild bacchanals, depending on the host. Of note: a moonlit evening with a chamber quartet on Antonio Luppi's pleasure yacht, famously large enough to have a croquet pitch on the upper deck, a days-long Wicked Grace tournament with rising stakes where Marco "il Calabrone" Molinari defies anyone to beat him, and a race through the canals on gondalas owned by Antiva's who's-who. There are no rules, so finding ways–even magical or new-technological ways–to improve the odds of the more invested racers may win some favor, and a number of competitors are eager to see if Riftwatch has some arcane way to give them an edge.

Outside the city gates, on a grassy cliffside that overlooks the Amaranthine Ocean, there's a faire for the workers and peasantry. There's dancing, a series of field games (tug of war, footraces, horseshoes, wrestling, hammer throwing, blindfolded stick-dueling, mob football, and whatever the heck wallop is), a bonfire each evening, and young people goading one another into cliff diving and climbing back up, sopping wet, using stairs and handholds carved into the cliffside. While no single one of the participants is as influential as the better-heeled set hosting gathering elsewhere, it's still good politics to put in an appearance, play some games, and dispel any lingering perception of Riftwatch as a weird heretical sect or pack of wild demons.

They'll find similar opportunities scattered throughout the streets of Rialto: full tables at taverns who might listen raptly to their accounts of the war further south, minstrels and players who might be persuaded to change their tunes to whip up sympathy or anger for Corypheus' targets, and lower-level independent tradesman who might be persuaded to stop doing business with Tevinter or push for such an agreement within their guilds.

Riftwatchers who are especially active in outreach in these working-class quarters may find themselves approached quietly by representatives of I Figli Della Brace, an underground network of agitators that sprung up in the wake of Riftwatch's prior propaganda efforts and has been wreaking minor havoc by destroying Tevinter goods, carrying on the tradition of vandalism, and hassling those who do the most business with Tevinter and the Anderfels. They're loosely helmed by Vieri Fontana, who already trusts a few members of Riftwatch, and in exchange for Riftwatch's assistance with a few sneaky favors and quick but rowdy demonstrations of disobedience, they'll promise a strong showing of angry common folk outside the palace when it's most needed.

And through all of this, Riftwatch members will need to be looking over their shoulders, watching their drinks, avoiding dark alleys, keeping an eye out for snipers on rooftops, and staying wary of alluring strangers, because an untold number of Antivan Crows are out for their lives and/or anchors.

The purpose of all of this hobnobbing and sneaking around and dodging of murder attempts awaits at the end of Riftwatch's stay: King Fulgeno the Merry and all of the Merchant Princes have agreed to give a contingent of Riftwatch diplomats a moment, the day after the king's largest birthday feast, to plead their case against continuing to trade with Tevinter and the Anderfels. Winning them over would strike a significant blow to the enemy, already cut off from trade with much of the rest of Thedas, and bring Antiva that much closer to actively assisting with the war effort.

Should this meeting involve the support of a few more Merchant Princes, the dramatic unmasking of a traitor among the Princes and a conspiracy among the Crows, and shouts of support from people in the street echoing in through the windows, there's a good chance they'll pull it off.


YOUR ACCOMMODATIONS

The canal-side palazzo where Riftwatch is residing during its visit is the summer property of Merchant Prince Amancio Vivas. Unlike some questionable accommodations provided to Riftwatch in the past, Palazzo Vivas is roomy and lavish, brimming with expensive decor and labelled artifacts and comfortable seating. Anyone needing space to work or plan will find multiple nooks and tables in the library, and Riftwatch has collectively commandeered a secondary dining room (there are several) for meetings.

For those needing a break from work, actually, Palazzo Vivas is well-stocked with books and all of the necessary equipment for parlor games, plus an echoing ballroom equipped with a pianoforte. There's a cabinet of decent wine and spirits available, or a locked cellar full of the very good stuff for the particularly enterprising. The palazzo encircles a central courtyard garden with enough tall hedges and trees that someone might disappear into it. Currently it's in full bloom, including some rare night-bloomers, and at all hours bustling with some combination of insects, birds, and bats. Also featured: two small fountains and a canal-fed wading pool.

The beds, unlike most of the Gallows', involve feathers rather than straw. The sheets are soft. Everything smells like lavender. Everyone can have a bed if they're willing to share with at least one other person; those who are unwilling will find themselves on the floor or a settee.

Everyone will be asked to take on some additional tasks in the palazzo. Most important is guard duty, including some overnight patrols to make sure there are no intruders or disturbances. But as only a skeleton staff is present in the palace, idle Riftwatchers might be sent out to Rialto's bustling markets for food and supplies and/or pressed into making vats of porridge, pasta, or seafood stew to keep everyone else fed while the single cook is attending festivities elsewhere.


YOUR LEISURE

Between assignments, Riftwatch members may find moments–or even several consecutive hours!--to enjoy Rialto. Cautiously, on account of the assassins. But still. In addition to partaking in the merriment, entertainment, and games purely for fun, there are street performances to watch, gondolas to hire for leisurely floats, markets and shops stuffed with goods from throughout Thedas, bath houses, and, only a short hike or shorter griffon ride away from the city, a pristine white sand beach on a calm cove, littered with sea shells, without a single decomposing shipwreck in sight. It's not something they're going to find in Kirkwall, so no one can be blamed for wanting a peek.

hornswoggle: (Default)

john silver.

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2022-04-25 05:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ starters go here. wildcard or request some shenanigans. ]
tender: (Default)

derrica.

[personal profile] tender 2022-04-25 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ starters go here. wildcard or request some shenanigans. ]
heorte: (Default)

ellis.

[personal profile] heorte 2022-04-25 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ starters go here. wildcard or request some shenanigans. ]
icasm: (we cannot kill)

loki.

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[ starters to come. feel free to wildcard me or request something. ]
icasm: (cold in my kingdom size)

poisoning & roommate shenaniganery all in one | closed to abby & benedict

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Loki is drunk.

Not 'very full' like he told Sylvie that one time on Lamentis-1, but well on his way. Everything has softer edges to it, the colors are vivid, and he can't stop humming a song as he makes his way back to the room he shares with Benedict. He makes more noise than he expects to, probably waking Benedict who he can tell is at least sitting up in bed and staring at him.

"'m drunk," he informs his roommate, cheerfully. "It was a lovely party, really, you should have come. There was dancing, and good food, and I only had two drinks? Which..." He pauses, frowns, and thinks about it before he begins patting down his pockets. The room spins, and he grabs the footboard of the bed with one hand while checking his pockets for his crystal with the other.

"Shit."
altusimperius: (lol ok)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-04-25 09:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"That was your first mistake," says Benedict primly, lying on his stomach and sketching with a thin stick of charcoal by candlelight (a decent way to spend an evening, if you're as paranoid as he is), "you shouldn't drink any wine you didn't see uncorked."

It's a throwaway comment borne from experience, and his expression is wry as he watches Loki stumble. "You shouldn't get drunk at these things, anyway."

(somewhere, hopefully, Gabranth smiles to himself)
icasm: (the danger gets me high)

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank you very much," Loki says with some effort and maybe a small eyeroll. Yes, he shouldn't have had any wine he didn't see uncorked. No, he shouldn't have had enough to even vaguely think he might be drunk. "It's difficult at a party." And he thought he'd see it coming. A knife in the ribs he'd have expected.

Poisoned wine, less so.

He's sweating, now, and is more or less certain that he's been poisoned as opposed to getting drunk off of two glasses of wine. He keeps a white-knuckled grip on the bedpost as he searches for his crystal, proclaiming "Ah-ha" once he finds it.

"Abby. Abby. Abby. AB-BY!" Is voiced into the crystal at various pitches and tones and levels of pitiful. He coughs, and nearly drops the enchanted stone. "Abby where are you I need your help."
altusimperius: (what the shit)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-04-25 09:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Abby? What? Oh no, not--

"Why are you calling her? Just eat some bread and go to sleep," Benedict protests, adding an eyeroll of his own. He's not looking forward to further disruption of his peace and quiet, and Abby's presence all but guarantees it.
icasm: (lights be gettin' blindin')

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"Because I trust her, shh," is the murmured response to Benedict. Like. Loki likes Benedict but he has hangups about Loki not being the Loki he knows and he doesn't think being slightly inebriated and rather poisoned is the best time to sort all of that out.
altusimperius: (srsly)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-04-25 10:09 pm (UTC)(link)
"Trust her to what? Hold your hair back?"

There is clearly information missing from this scenario, and Benedict is sleepy and perhaps a bit high and he did not sign up for this.

"If you're going to vomit, at least put your head out the window."
armd: (i dunno...)

[personal profile] armd 2022-04-25 10:14 pm (UTC)(link)
(From the crystal–)

Clearly the sounds of somebody shuffling around. Abby, pulling a shirt on over her head. She was almost asleep.

She says, "What," and when it isn't answered, repeats it, louder, "What, where are you? I'm on the-" Why is this place so fucking big?? "Second floor, I think? Are you okay?"
icasm: (was that this fucking fire)

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 10:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"To hold my hair back, yes," is hissed at full volume before he realizes that Abby is talking back which means she's awake, which means he has to figure out what floor they're on.

"What floor are we on?" He can't remember. Not a good sign.

"I've been poisoned, Abby, and I need you here so if I can't throw up you can call someone or something."
armd: (???)

[personal profile] armd 2022-04-25 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh what the fuck. She is getting ready even faster, jamming feet into boots and already half-way out the door.

Wait. She stalls outside her room because she has no idea where the fuck she's going. Barked into the crystal, "Who are you talking to? Who's there with you??"

Put them on!
altusimperius: (ofuck)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-04-25 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
"You've WHAT?"

The second word is half a gasp, and Benedict is immediately out of bed, slipping down to get a better look at Loki.

"Shit! You never drink the wine!" He glances around for anything useful, then realizes: "--second floor, yes."
icasm: (I got so many feelings)

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"Poisoned," Loki says, slowly, and shuts his eyes because his head hurts now? His everything hurts. He's sitting on the floor. Fuck this whole evening with something blunted and not at all sexy, thanks. "'m not sure I can throw up. Should. Probably. Sorry," this is directed toward both Benedict and the crystal he's holding up toward the other man.
armd: (ppfpfpbpbpt)

[personal profile] armd 2022-04-25 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"Benedict," spoken with infinite patience, "Open the door to the room." Cuz if they're both on the second floor that'll be easier to find them by than banging on all the identical fucking doors, "Loki– is there a bathroom? Or an open window. Go stick your fingers down your throat."

... Though if there was anybody unbothered by the existence of their gag reflex it would be Loki, wouldn't it. Abby guesses they'll cross that bridge when they get to it. "Go."

Stop sitting, she can hear you sitting.
altusimperius: (ono)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-04-25 10:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Shit," Benedict wheezes, "shit. Shit." He sits on the floor, taking the crystal and encouraging Loki to use him to sit up. "Stay awake," he says, wracking his brain for anything else even half-useful that he can do-- and then, blessedly, Abby chimes in.

Perhaps a bit too quickly, Benedict stands and hurries to the door, which he wrenches open to poke his head out and glance up and down the hallway, finding it best to avoid calling for help in the event that an assassin is still about.
Just in case, he casts a barrier over the doorway before turning back to Loki.
icasm: (that you dared dreamed it could be)

[personal profile] icasm 2022-04-25 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"Will do," Loki promises halfheartedly and when Benedict moves (suddenly!) causing Loki to nearly topple over, he then does his level best to get entirely off the floor and head towards the window.

He manages to about his knees before the pain stops him.

"'m awake! 've had. Bigger things than my fingers down my throat and haven't thrown up in centuries, don't think that'll work well," he slurs a little unhappily. It was nice when Benedict was sitting next to him but now he's way over there, and Loki kind of hates it.
armd: (stubborn)

[personal profile] armd 2022-04-25 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"Gross," is the automatic reply, said solely to keep herself from really shouting at him, "Do it anyway! Think about throwing up!"

Abby remembers that drinking lots of warm water can help with throwing up, but it doesn't feel like there's time for that to happen, and then she notices Benedict's head sticking out from a doorway down the end of the hall and she races to meet him.

It's probably obvious she's on the knife's edge of really freaking out about this– and suddenly slamming into some kind of invisible force and getting knocked flat on her back with a confused wheeze really doesn't help matters.
Edited (magic sucks) 2022-04-25 22:57 (UTC)
altusimperius: (not as planned)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-04-25 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Benedict has scrambled back to help Loki to the window when a loud wham resounds behind them, and he turns just in time to see Abby absolutely eat shit against the barrier he put up mere seconds ago.

If only it worked that well in combat, he can't help but think, but instead calls "sorry!" and waves his hand to dispel it.

"I've got charcoal," he suggests, gripping Loki's arm, "you could eat it?" That's a thing, right?
Edited (thought of a better sound) 2022-04-25 23:00 (UTC)
bouchonne: (Default)

Byerly

[personal profile] bouchonne 2022-04-25 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Starters in thread! ]
bouchonne: (side-eye)

open: Wicked Grace tournament

[personal profile] bouchonne 2022-04-25 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Byerly Rutyer is good at Wicked Grace. He's good at bluffing, he's good at lying. So the fact that he's losing to Il Calabrone, a man so insufferable that he gave himself a nickname, is - Well -

Well, it surely doesn't come from Byerly's lack of skill. He's just having a run of bad luck, that's all.

He's walked away from the table to regroup. "Another glass of brandy, gents," he's saying as he goes, and somehow manages to keep from gnashing his teeth when Molinari cackles about how of course he needs something to steady his hands. There's nothing he wants more than a real drink when he stands at the bar, but he orders (as is his wont in situations like this) nothing more than a bit of water to which he adds a few drops of brown dye. And then he turns, and sees -

Someone to help him. Thank the Maker. ]


You.

[ He jerks his chin. ]

I need you to cause a distraction.

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