closed / you reap what you sow.

[tender]

WHO: Derrica, Gela, Strange, Vanya
WHAT: The Gang Attempts Public Relations
WHEN: Sometime in Harvestmere
WHERE: Cledwyn, Wildervale
NOTES: OOC Info.

The letter sent to Riftwatch by the castellan overseeing the particular region of Wildervale in which the village of Cledwyn is located is brief. The village, the castellan writes, is suffering from a spate of sickness. Ordinarily, they would of course send their own healers to support the locals. Unfortunately, the great majority of their resources have been committed to aiding the Exalted March. With this in mind, would Riftwatch please be so kind as to send some help their way? In exchange, the castellan promises Riftwatch ten casks of the finest vintage in their cellars in addition to some vague overture of future favors.

It's not a very appealing offer, save for the final detail: 'Please speak to Sister Merran when you arrive. She will brief you on the situation accordingly.'

Sister Merran, to anyone on top of their Chantry pamphleting, is a prominent advocate in the Chantry for the reinstitution of Circles (and, presumably, the imprisonment of Rifters post-war). It would be preferable if something could be done to sway her opinion on the matter, or to at least reduce the strength of her voice in the debate. Seeing a prime opportunity to make a good impression on Sister Merran, Gela, Vanya, Derrica and Strange are ordered to attend to the village. They're to be on their best behavior and exhibit their best bedside manner.

Unfortunately, when they arrive in Cledwyn, they will find the situation considerably more complicated than the castellan made it out to be. It seems this sickness plaguing Cledwyn is just the tip of the Problems iceberg.

Comments

[wearyallalone]

If Vanya has private thoughts about a mage complaining about people fearing magic, they don't show in his face or his voice. (Rifters are different, as he said to Ellis, though the extent to which that's true is well above Vanya's pay grade.) Instead, he's frowning, but his tone is patient as he says, "They might accept it more easily if we could contribute some suggestion or assistance that would offset the additional terror of facing a winter without food. It is already autumn, they cannot grow more now, and prices will be relatively high. If this means they must throw the crop out, it could be their lives as well as their livelihoods at risk."

So maybe a small sliver of compassion to go along with the non-mage explanation that Vanya understands no more than Derrica does.

[sprent]

"We need to sweeten the pot."

Gela is just as in the dark about this contamination theory (for that's all it is to her, another suggestion without any action behind it) as everybody else and so she is also thinking about the more immediate situation: all the people who may shortly find themselves without homes, or food. "Or- the folk from Tantervale, could Riftwatch aid in relocatin' them? Ease the tensions from both sides."

She adds, quietly, "They aren't goin' to believe that there's contamination in the food if they can't see it." Apparently, germs are too small to actually be seen by the 'naked eye'. Gela already knows how she feels about that.

[portalling]

They’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, and for once, it’s not just a situation he can brandish an eldritch sword at.

Can’t let the villagers latch onto the bedtime story of some apostate bogeyman. Struggling to get them to believe in the germy bogeyman. What the hell do they do?

But the others mention those more pragmatic logistics, and it successfully redirects and reins in his irritation; Strange purses his mouth around that question.

“You’re right,” he says. “Regardless of how we convince them about the harvest — do we splash some black paint on it? do we tell them there’s demons in the wheat or does that make it worse? anyway — point being, there’s too many people here and not enough food. I don’t know the local geography: are there any other towns which we think could take the overflow? Decrease the pressure here? Kirkwall itself feels like a pot on the verge of boiling over, I’m not sure how many more refugees the city could take.”

[tender]

"I don't think we can send any of them to Kirkwall," Derrica agrees. "Unless it were to have them become sailors, and join any crews seeking men."

Which isn't unlikely, but adopting an entirely new skillset is—

Well, Derrica knows from experience. It isn't an easy thing to do, even if she does think taking to the sea might be the best path available to them.

"They'd have a difficult time in Orlais, though I think there'd be work for them in the rebuilding. Fereldan wouldn't give them easy welcome either, but they've seen the least of the refugees."

No good options.

[wearyallalone]

"All true, and refugees are seldom welcome at any time, but especially not as winter is coming on." He thinks, sorting through a pile of bad options. "We likely can't send them all the same place as a practical matter, and they're likely to resist dissolving the village. But they've proven themselves pious. Many of their men are already off at the Exalted March. Maybe there's a way to use their faith as a lever to save their lives?" He's not entirely sure how he feels about the Chantry anymore, or the ethical implications of what he's suggesting, but he is very sure that the greater good of keeping these people alive outweighs either.

[sprent]

No good options.

Gela sighs, and twists a curl of hair around her finger. "That could be the answer- we lean into describin' what corruption the magic has done to their crops, and we garner sympathy, easily."

And then the Chantry swoops in to bail the beggars out... but the look on her face makes it clear she isn't happy about the idea.

"Maybe we mark it as the backup option."

[portalling]

While they’ve been bandying around potential landing spots (all noted, all filed away for context), Strange has been staring at the sample grain on the table.

The irritating thing, here, is how it needles at long-absent knowledge: the situation nags at his medical perspective and memories from his family’s farm in Nebraska. He hadn’t ever expected to need to rely on the latter, and he’s having to dig back through his memory for a dusty recollection. Remembering his father, furious, muttering about the cost of seed cleaning—

“If we lean too much on the religious angle, do they start looking around town, searching for someone to burn as the rumoured apostate to blame for all their ills? Honest question.”

Strange glances back at his colleagues. Continues: “It’s a matter of science. If this fungal disease behaves as it does in my world — and it looks very, very similar — then there’s some things they can do. To save some of the crop. Flotation methods, like soaking the seed in a… twenty percent salt solution ought to do it, then stir, and the ergot bodies will rise to the top and can be skimmed off. It’s time-consuming and slow, but they could save some of the yield. Recover what they can, and stop eating the contaminated grain. And then maybe we convince them to dissolve— not the entire town, but the refugee population, and move them on elsewhere in groups.”