faderift | open | full circle pt 2

Entry tags:

open | full circle pt 2

WHO: Many people, mostly mages and rifters and Templars/Seekers
WHAT: Stop that Circle!
WHEN: Late Solace
WHERE: The College of Magi, Cumberland, Nevarra
NOTES: OOC post! Please note we are not doing the points game part yet. But we will later and your tags will still count then.

I. THE JOURNEY

After the meeting, there's time to talk, pack (lightly), and get a full night's sleep. But after an early breakfast the next morning, everyone heads up to the eyrie at the top of the Gallows' central tower to load onto griffons.

They do it with the sanction of the Division Heads, accompanied by some rules, like no violence, and some mandatory company. A few Templars (and a Seeker) are sent along with them, in Riftwatch uniform rather than their more traditional and more inflammatory armor. Mages and rifters and interested others have the choice of donning their uniforms or not.

The trip to Cumberland is short an uneventful. Trained griffon riders and the animals they've bonded with lead the flock, but other griffons follow cooperatively behind, each carrying one or two riders and their effects. The group lands once or twice in the Planascene Forest to stretch their legs, have a meal, etc., while the griffons help themselves to a buffet of wildlife. A few of those without bonded riders might need some extra persuasion to get back in line, when it's time to go, but nothing goes significantly wrong.

II. THE COLLEGE OF MAGI

It's late and dark when they swoop down on the city, but the College of Magi is easy to spot, because it's a palace with a hammered-gold dome roof that shines in the moonlight. The griffons land and consent to being tethered in an enclosed courtyard that, after years of neglect, is no worse off if they trample the greenery a bit. The doors inside are guarded not by Templars, but by Cumberland city guards assigned to keep looters out of the palace in the mages' absences. Once they've taken in the presence of the griffons and uniforms, they put up no resistance to Riftwatch's entrance.

Inside, the halls are quiet and opulent: in addition to the famous collection of sandstone busts of every Grand Enchanter from the last 600 years lining the entrance hall, there are marble pillars, bright frescoes, vases, art, gilded vines crawling the walls. Everything shines and glitters in the light from the braziers on the walls.

The mage who comes scuttling down the hall to give them a bewildered greeting, robes flapping and a basket of bread on his arm, is Senior Enchanter Erfried Neumayer, noted Loyalist, formerly of Hossberg. He is well into his nineties, spry but mostly blind, and very friendly. He explains, eventually and in pieces, that they have not even started the conclave, unaware they might have needed to rush, and the others are currently having a late dinner and an idle chat in the dining hall. Thus the bread.

The rest of the mages are not glad to see them, albeit mostly in a polite and/or passive-aggressive way. They make a fuss about not being prepared to house or feed any additional participants, but in the end do show everyone to one of the bunk bed-filled rooms that used to house apprentices.

The first night and every night afterwards, Riftwatch has overnight watches—not to watch for danger, but to make sure the other mages don't sneak around and convene while they're asleep. (A few of them might be caught trying to organize exactly that.) The beds are musty from years of disuse but otherwise fine. Food is grudgingly provided.

Before, after, and between sessions on the floor, there's time to explore the palace. Said to have been donated by a Duchess to keep her mage child in the comfort she was accustomed to, the College is an arguably over-the-top display of wealth and comfort, dusty from disuse but still overflowing with gilding and cushions, baths and kettles enchanted to heat and cups enchanted to cool and dozens of other magical novelties that make life a little more comfortable, art and a badminton field and a massive library. The Harrowing Chamber looks like a place where someone would be honored to complete a rite of passage; the dungeon exists but is small, clean, and devoid of spooky skeletons. It's exactly the sort of place that could serve as evidence that living in a Circle was great, actually.

III. THE CONCLAVE

The conclave, such as it is, begins the next morning, in a room whose domed mahogany ceiling has had it dubbed the Red Auditorium. It's designed to hold a few hundred attendees at a time, so the fifty or so Loyalists (and Aequitarians and Lucrosians) and dozen-plus Riftwatchers have plenty of elbow room.

At least in a parliamentary sense, Senior Enchanter Erfried is in charge—to Riftwatch's benefit. The Loyalist Contingent leads with an attempt to ignore Riftwatch's presence and ram their proposal through with no further discussion or procedure on numbers alone, but Erfried is a stickler for the rules. The name of the game is delay, distract, divert.

Fortunately, the mages prove delayable, distractible, and divertable. Creating a record of attendees and participants devolves into a series of short debates about who counts as a Circle Enchanter anymore and whether rifters have any right to be there, which easily take up half a day. From there, arguments about whether the Conclave has met all the finicky requirements to actually count as a Conclave swallow a few hours as well. Unfortunately, two witnesses profess a messenger was sent to alert the Grand Enchanter, and there's no evidence she did not reach it, so Erfried allows things to continue. In theory. Having spent so much of the day on procedural matters, there's no time to get into substance before adjourning for the evening.

Breakfast the next morning is interrupted by the arrival of the small team Riftwatch sent to alert the rebel mages at the front—and by Grand Enchanter Fiona herself, riding behind Ellie on Artichoke. She's only one mage, but she's an angry and important one. And others are coming. She makes a show of being concerned about whether it will be enough people to counteract the fifty-odd Loyalists, to avoid inspiring them to work too hard, but within Riftwatch, word gets around that they'll definitely have the numbers. All they have to do is stall.

The Loyalists do make every effort to resume the proceedings and make progress toward voting on their proposal. How unfortunate that circumstances prevent it. (Invent your own circumstances. Filibustering, general chaos, and minor property damage are all fair game.)

IV. THE CALVARY & THE DEBATE

The Grand Enchanter's people arrive only a few hours later than expected. There are easily a hundred of them—enough to doom the proposal, certainly. There's a sense of doom among the Loyalists when the proceedings resume. A few leave early in defeat. But the rest stick around, as they finally, finally proceed into discussing and voting on the substance of the proposal, and make fairly impassioned arguments on its behalf.

They evoke the history of the Circles: a compromise that saved them from being hunted by the early Inquisition and from being confined in Chantries to do nothing with their gifts but keep the fires lit. The hundreds of years of peace (they say) compared to what's come before and what will come after.

They say there was a mage child in the Nahashin Marshes, turned out by his illiterate and reclusive family, who appears to have lived alone for several years before recently reappearing, warped from possession, to slaughter his entire village. A town in Antiva realized a few of its new residents were mages and burned their house down, killing one and leaving the others with nowhere to go. A young fellow who'd wandered away from the Inquisition's camps once he came of age was caught picking pockets in Ferelden's West Hill and, in his attempts to flee, froze all of the tavern's occupants solid. Several didn't survive the thawing. They report—with no actual statistics, but a few anecdotes—that incidents of (child abuse cw) suspicious child drownings are on the rise. They ask, rhetorically, whether rifters think they will be left in peace by their neighbors when Riftwatch is gone.

And they go on for quite some time about their responsibility to Thedas. The risk of mages amassing power and establishing dynasties—a hundred years stand between that and a new Tevinter, optimistically. The risk of kings and emperors seizing control of the mages within their own borders, if mages are beholden to them rather than to the Chantry, and wielding them against their own people or their neighbors.

They have a reason for every item in the proposal. It's all very depressing and very sincere. A sizable number of the rebel mages from the front are moved by the presentation of the problem, if not convinced that their solution is correct.

But in addition to talking (and talking and talking), they also listen. They don't really have a choice, now that they're outnumbered. While only Circle Enchanters are technically permitted to vote in the College, Erfried will give anyone the floor for at least a few minutes. And between impassioned speeches, there are regular recesses when the Red Auditorium dissolves into more private conversations. Some are quiet, some are loud—but most mages have years of training in keeping their composure, so only a couple get worse than half-raised voices.

V. CUMBERLAND

With the mages from the front, the pressure on Riftwatch lets up somewhat. There's no longer a need for every Riftwatcher to be on-site at all hours of the day to prevent the Loyalist contingent from voting, so there's time to slip out into the city, whether for business—posting messages, buying supplies, running Riftwatch errands unrelated to mages and Circles—or just a break.

VI. THE RESOLUTION

In the end, not much happens. The proposal is voted down. It is not replaced by anything. But a date is set, three months in the future, to reconvene in a more orderly and less underhanded way to consider other options for mages' (and rifters') future. The Grand Enchanter also consents, in good spirits, to this future gathering deciding whether she stays in charge.

Riftwatch is invited. They have until then to do whatever maneuvering and advocacy they can.

It counts as a victory.

NPC NOTES

You can do threads with NPC'd mages, or you can thread around their presence: discuss strategy, complain about a conversation with an NPC that happened off screen, take a break from the speeches outside, etc.
Feel extremely free to make up NPC mages of your own! For natives this can include mages they already know or have history with. If you make up an NPC who you'd like kept in mind in the future, you can put them on the wiki page for this plot.
The Loyalist camp consists mainly of Loyalists, but also some Aequitarians and Lucrosians. They're a mix of mages who sat out the war, Loyalists who fought with Madame de Fer against the rebels, and mages who fought with the rebellion but have since come around to wanting some kind of system back.
The rebel mages who arrive on scene are mainly Libertarians, but also have some of every other fraternity—Aequitarians, Resolutionists, Isolationists, Lucrosians, and a few Loyalists along for the ride. They're all mages who fought with the rebellion and then joined the Inquisition.
Grand Enchanter Fiona is present! If you want your character to have a significant conversation with her, either to get info or try to convince her of anything, do an info request—since she's so important and influential on her own, deciding what she would say or do is a mod call.
You can invent friends/future contacts from either camp for your character to keep in touch with on their own. I don't have any info beyond the scope of this plot to hand out right now, either as a player or as a mod, but for the belated Part III in a few months I will try to gather folks whose characters have Done Work in the interim to distribute influence/information accordingly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well here's a familiar face- but maybe not one you were after?

Abby, noticing Ellie's arrival (but who didn't, that was the point) pushes through the crowd to get to where she's drawing her griffon away from the congregation. Everybody is circling the Enchanter. Abby has something for her (Fiona, not Ellie) but it isn't the right time to approach with something meant only for her eyes; she lists to the side instead, crossing to where Artichoke is finding himself corralled.

When Ellie notices her, Abby lifts her chin in a nod of acknowledge, a silent good job for the work done.

"Hey," she says after jogging the rest of the way over, braid leaping over her shoulder, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

It's very, very good that the eyes are off of her -- Fiona is big and important, and Ellie was here to be a glorified carriage rather than an official escort. Still. She knows plenty of people will have marked her face, and will make a point to put a name to it later.

She notices Abby in the crowd, though. The familiarity is comforting, and for once, she lets it be. They are trying this new thing with being okay with each others' presence. It seems to be going well.

"Sure. Walk with me."

Loosely holding Artichoke's reins, she gives him a scritch on the top of his feathery head and leads him onward and away to where she spotted the others from above.

Once they're away from immediate ears, Ellie glances up at Abby, sidelong, curious. She's learned enough of Abby's tells to see that it's important, but not urgent enough to be anyone in danger.

She falls into step beside Ellie... automatically, really, like they do this all the time, and nobody watches them go. Abby, pushing through the strangeness, watches Artichoke straining slightly at the reins, and realises she's getting more comfortable around him too.

The moment their conversation is better shielded from the others, she says brusquely, "You rode over with the Enchanter. What's she like?"

She spends a brief pause thinking about how she wants to word this, before. adding, "I need to deliver something to her." Surely she can say that much. Ellie won't tell anybody else anyway, why would she bother.

Artie fluffs up his feathers as he hears and scents the others, and Ellie takes off his tack with him dancing alongside of her. She pats his hindquarters and bids him to go off with the others, hauls the saddle over her shoulder to carry it.

"She's not a leader because she beat the others into shape. They're not afraid of her." Ellie pauses, wondering how to phrase it. Ellie and Abby see leadership in different ways than the people here. Or maybe, it's just what kind of people became leaders in their world.

"And they're not following some grand plan she has. It feels like she's in charge because she's trying to protect them." There's nothing wrong with that, maybe- but it does mean that she doesn't have the enormous charisma and force of personality that Ellie and Abby are used to, or the aura of fear. "She feels like she used to be a schoolteacher or something."

Maybe that wasn't so far off the mark.

Ellie glances sidelong at Abby's reveal, a questioning look.

"I can get it to her," she offers, because she knows Fiona won't be wary of her, but then pauses. If Abby's doing this on someone else's behalf, then she'll probably need to do it herself.

"Or take you to her."

Abby turns her head and glances across the top of the crowd off in the distance, skimming heads until she finds the Enchanter's impressive hat. She squints, judging. "... Yeah, I can see that." Not from here, but from what she got in the few moments she saw her closer, and the energy of the others upon receiving her.

At the offer she looks back, and maybe it's the frown that makes Ellie smoothly change tack. Abby shakes her head but answers out loud anyway, "It's fine."

It's something she wants to do on her own, the task that Flint specifically gave to her. Even asking Ellie this much feels a little like cheating. Even so she presses, "Did you talk to her?"

Ellie shrugs her free shoulder, loads up the tack with the rest of the storage, making sure she can find it again later. She grabs a curry-comb and a pick, heading back to the paddock. Scoops a bit of dried meat from the stash.

"Yeah, she rode behind me for a while."

A few weeks ago there might've been attitude in her delivery, but there's not anymore. Ellie just glances sidelong at Abby, genuinely trying to figure out what information will be useful.

"I asked about the front. How her mages were. If anybody was giving them trouble. Seems like they mostly keep to themselves these days, but she makes sure they behave, I guess."

Ellie bites the inside of her cheek. "There was a dust-up between an apprentice and a soldier. I guess the mage held the guy upside down by his boot for talking some shit. Not like I personally see the problem with that, but I guess... it looks bad."

She shrugs again.

"She does care about being fair. She doesn't want enemies for stupid reasons."

Enemies for good reasons, sure. And they're about to make a lot of enemies here.

Abby listens as they walk, looking ahead, taking mental notes. Okay... hey, if she had a chat with Ellie that's a good sign. Means she won't take one look at Abby and ignore her for being too young or a rifter or- whatever.

"Yikes," she says, but sounds darkly amused by the anecdote, "Can't say I wouldn't have done exactly the same thing if I were in that situation." Some people deserve what they get but hey let's not go down that path just yet–

Abby scoffs, and glances back. "Well. Hope she's ready to be disappointed," because of the enemies thing. But also, "Thanks. That helps."

Info for info? "This place fucking sucks, by the way. Welcome."

Ellie tries not to laugh, but a snort kinda bubbles up anyway, an almost-smile that she schools away by heaving the saddle up into place.

"Gee, thanks."

It is kind of nice to see a semi-friendly face here. Something familiar. Who knew that there would be a moment that she'd be comforted upon finding Abby waiting for her in unknown territory?

"Looks like you guys managed to stall them long enough. It was worth the whole flight just to see their faces."

"It really fucking was," Abby agrees savagely, "We've been patrolling nights just to keep them from starting sleepovers. Dicks." That's the kind of situation they're dealing with here, the level of underhandedness. Makes her grind her teeth when she thinks about it.

"The sooner this thing is over the better."

"A-fucking-men."

Ellie grumbles it as she shrugs her pack into a better position; they're still on the grounds, but heading for the doors now, pacing through the lovely pathways through flowerbeds and rich statuary.

"... Jesus christ. Is it like this inside, too?"

"Nah. It's even worse." Was Ellie there, that time Riftwatch as a collective went to the fancy house with the giant library? That was a long time ago now, Abby can't remember.

Anyway, she isn't referring to the finery alone (though that certainly is something), "It's weird in there." Wait she'll actually get this, "You know when you find a boarded-up house that looks unsearched, and you just know there's some kind of infected fuck inside of it. It's like that."

"Fffuck," Ellie mutters, scrunching her face. Everything insulated and blocked off just festers and rots until it's ready to explode, and it often does.

Of course, she and Abby are precisely the people who tend to stumble upon those places, aren't they?

"Well," she says with a sigh, looking up at the building that looks a little too much like a fucking palace.

"Guess it's time to air the son of a bitch out."

Abby looks at her, staring up at the building with her jaw set- and snorts.

"Wow."

But she sounds impressed? "Cool line, Deschain." Gesturing, "After you."

Ellie pauses, mouth open, half horrified and half delighted, because Abby actually knows a thing-

"As in Roland Deschain?" she asks, moving as Abby gestures, glancing back as she goes through the doorway. "You fucking nerd."

Of course, to know that, Ellie would have to have heard of the series, but-

Eye roll, "No, as in Yank Deschain."

All jokes aside. Approvingly, "You've read those books?"

Ellie doesn't seem like the reading type to her. Huh. Wait, "You got my fucking Dark Tower reference, but not my Dracula reference? Come on."

"Oh, f-"

God damn it. That was awful. Ellie resists the urge to give her a quick punch in the arm, like she might have one of her friends back home.

"Yeah, I read the books. And I know about Dracula, but you're the nerd who actually read the book."

"A lot of people have read Dracula," she says, but hissily, because they've stepped into the Conclave together and eyes are immediately upon them. These loyalist fucks wanna know everything, about everyone, and they definitely make the time to stare at two people they know aren't from here. Abby's had her shard out ever since she arrived. If there ever was a time to flaunt it–

See what she means, Ellie? About the atmosphere? "C'mon," she says, at a normal volume this time, clipped, "I'll show you where we're bunking."

The eyes on her make her skin prickle, and Ellie can't stop what rises up into the back of her shoulders, her eyes. For one fucking second, she looks like she's about to pull a knife. She definitely wants to.

These people are more dangerous than a lot of what they've faced.

She meets their stares, then gives a curt nod as she and Abby continue on, feeling the eyes on her back.

"... fuck this," she mutters under her breath.

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