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Entry tags:
[CLOSED] WHAT'S YOURS IS MINE
WHO: Tertia, Ellis, Barrow, Clarisse, Tiffany, Ellie
WHAT: Riftwatch agents raid a Venatori red lyrium mine with the intent to disable the operation and kill the Venatori mage overseeing the work.
WHEN: Now-ish; whenever that makes sense.
WHERE: The Blasted Hills, the Anderfels
NOTES: OOC information is available HERE at the sign-ups post. The objective/points pool spreadsheet with relevant instructions is located HERE and should be open to editing. Please include any necessary content warnings in your subject lines. If you want some image inspo for a medieval fantasy mine, there's a great reference HERE.
WHAT: Riftwatch agents raid a Venatori red lyrium mine with the intent to disable the operation and kill the Venatori mage overseeing the work.
WHEN: Now-ish; whenever that makes sense.
WHERE: The Blasted Hills, the Anderfels
NOTES: OOC information is available HERE at the sign-ups post. The objective/points pool spreadsheet with relevant instructions is located HERE and should be open to editing. Please include any necessary content warnings in your subject lines. If you want some image inspo for a medieval fantasy mine, there's a great reference HERE.
THE BRIEF
As Riftwatch is currently divided between the Gallows and a gloomy Hightown mansion in Kirkwall, the assembly (with their gear and their griffons already prepared) meets in the old Qunari compound turned Riftwatch stable yard on the Kirkwall docks to receive their assignment in person. With paper at such a premium these days, the only written copy of the orders is sent with them rather than filed among the towers' records. There is a silent implication not to lose it. Neither Flint or Julius is keen to reproduce it from memory.
That sheet reads:
For Immediate Dispatch,
Members of Forces and Project Sashamiri are to proceed to the foothills above Alhoven. Reports suggest the trading post there supports a nearby mining operation in the Blasted Hills, and that supplies are typically conveyed to and from by a mule team with a distinct spotted animal among them.
Follow the team and its return to the mine. From a reasonable distance, assess the state and organization of their work. Intercepted correspondence suggests the operation is being overseen by Augustus Naevius, a Venatori mage. What other opposition forces may be present is unclear. Upon completion of your evaluation, proceed to: disable and destroy the workings of the mine and its overseers; to recover any items or records of value; and then, to make your withdrawal.
Supplementary: should any opportunity present itself to damage the reputation of Tevinter in the region, or to discourage Alhoven from further trade relations with the Venatori, see it done.
-J. FlintRather than attempt to assess the value of any notes or correspondence, bring back anything you can reasonably secure without compromising the primary objective of disabling and destroying the mine. Even if a document turns out to be relatively useless, we can at least use the reverse side to supplement our paper supply.
- Julius
ALHOVEN
The village of Alhoven began life as a trading post. Nestled at the base of a rugged cut of the Blasted Hills, it primarily serves to supply logging, mining, and itinerant trappers with a line back to the wonders of civilization: hot meals cooked by someone else, protection both from the elements and the dangers of the wilderness, and carnal satisfaction for purchase. Observation or stealthy investigation may reveal the additional following information:
- Alhoven is currently hosting a modest detachment of Tevinter infantry.
- The village's central square, likely the footprint of the original trading post, is reasonably well fortified thanks to a wooden palisade. While it has no formal gates or portcullises, there is only one distinct (albeit unguarded) point of entry.
- A watchtower on the edge of town hosts a lookout, and braziers are kept burning at night to illuminate the main thoroughfares of the village. It's rare to see individuals in the streets alone after dark. A series of traps found in the foothills above the village where Riftwatch is stationed suggests there's been recent trouble with bears or wolves.
- The population skews older and rougher, with a majority qualifying as seasonal. That said, the village has begun to sprawl outward and there are signs that the rough and tumble lifestyle of the remote outpost may soon shift toward a more hardily domestic one. There is at least one very cute Anderfels baby bundled up against the winter weather, and one of the permanent structures is a Chantry chapel.
- The lack of agricultural infrastructure buried under snow and ice suggests Alhoven is entirely reliant on trade and its collected stores. They don't appear to be doing poorly for themselves.
THE MINE
The targeted red lyrium mining operation isn't much of a journey from Alhoven up and into the unforgiving Blasted Hills. Composed of just a few permanent triangular outbuildings and an array of equipment, the mine isn't all that expansive. What it is, however, (in total defiance of the weather and cold), is awfully productive. Careful observation, stealthy investigation, or the general chaos of the melee may reveal the following details:
- The camp's workforce predominantly consists of animated corpses being controlled by the Venatori mage overseeing the operation, Augustus Naevius. While it would ordinarily be impossible for a single necromancer to accomplish so much on his own, those familiar with other cases of corpses being animated and directed by the power of red lyrium may easily rationalize that's how Naevius is managing as well as he is.
- There are no more than ten non-corpses guiding the work, including the driver of the mule train. Where the animated dead are responsible for the bulk of picking and shifting stone down in the pit mine and for driving the treadmills of the various heavy machinery, the living workers are responsible for the finer work of keeping everything running smoothly. It's impossible to tell from observation if these harbitten living workers are non-mage soporati, mages in their own right, Tevinter soldiers who have become too apathetic to wear much of their armor, or enslaved men and women with a considerable amount of autonomy. That said, they are living in an apparent abundance of comfort. No one seems to be going cold or hungry, although the mood is deadly (ha ha) serious.
- The majority of the corpses are Anderfels natives. Though the residents of Alhoven must be unaware of it, it's likely that this, rather than hungry wildlife, may be the actual cause motivating the anti-predator precautions being taken in the village.
- There are also a number of corpses wearing Tevinter armor/fashions.
- In what is probably a totally unrelated note (it's definitely related), there are three bunkhouses in the compound. Only one seems to currently be in use for that purpose; the others have been turned into a barn and storehouse.
- The animated corpses work day and night without rest, overseen by living workers in rotating shifts. Naevius himself spends most of his day repairing damaged members of the undead workforce, re-allocating the division of undead labor, consumed with some weird red lyrium experimentation, or shut up in the outbuilding that serves as his quarters-slash-office (where through a window he can be seen to be feverishly writing).
Once the attack kicks off, it will quickly become apparent that Naevius is as dangerous as he is industrious. To make matters worse, if he isn't taken out of commission quickly, Riftwatch members will soon find themselves facing an army red-lyrium infested undead; if Naevius is successfully killed, the red lyrium will continue to make the spirits possessing the undead aggressive, but they'll be much easier to corral, kill, or weaponize without someone guiding them.
For Clarisse (battle aftermath, cw: injuries)
Ellie has some of her own to deal with, but nothing immediate or pressing. Adrenaline's high, and they make it nearly back to camp before Ellie realizes that the back of Clarisse's light plate armor has dent and deep gouge in it... and that it's slowly growing dark and shiny with blood.
"Shit," she whispers, catching up to her and laying a hand on her back, over the wound. "Clarisse." Ellie pulls her hand back, shows her her palm, streaked with crimson.
"You're bleeding."
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She remembers getting hit—the heavy thunk of the axe hitting her armor as she just barely skirted out of the way, and how she'd even thought that was close before continuing on. Her adrenaline had been high, and there'd been no time to stop and check out what at the time had seemed like nothing.
Huh. Guess that was a mistake.
"We're almost back at camp," she mutters. "We can take care of it there."
She's not dumb enough to say "I" with Ellie right next to her, knows there's no way that Ellie will let her find an isolated spot and try to fix it up by herself.
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They're obviously going to have to take Clarisse's armor off, so Ellie lifts her chin at one of the tents as they enter the camp, and she's already taking her pack off as she follows her in, retrieving the med kit she carries with her with her clean hand.
She flips it open, puts a hand on Clarisse's good shoulder, kneels down behind her to start helping undo her breastplate.
"Easy," she mutters, almost to herself, fits her palm in the plate to pry apart where it's crushed together a bit.
"Shit. Looks like the armor caught most of it."
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Now that she's sitting, with the fighting over and the walk back to camp complete, she feels the first minor shakiness of blood loss, the start of pain as she breathes and the muscles in her back move. Not the first time she's dealt with an adrenaline crash after getting hurt, of course, but it's annoying that she can't even see what's going on back there, much less try and stitch herself up.
"How's it look?" she asks as Ellie gets the mangled backplate off her.
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The pause before Ellie answers says a lot.
"I'm not sure yet, but it's bleeding like hell. Arms up, so I can get your shirt off."
Ellie's hand smooths over Clarisse's shoulder, gripping gently, but she's too much of a survivor to do much more in the way of comfort. There'll be time for that after she's taken care of.
"Deep breath-"
Ellie eases up Clarisse's shirt from the bottom, gaping it out from behind so it won't rub over the wound, guiding it over her head.
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That great, huh.
Clarisse does as she's told, pulling in a deep breath and lifting her arms. There's a quick, reassuring squeeze to one shoulder before Ellie starts pulling her shirt up and over her head. She does a good job not touching the fabric to the wound as she works, but Clarisse still finds herself holding her breath until the shirt is off and placed off to the side.
She exhales and lowers her arms and glances over, trying to assess the damage. The entire back of her shirt is dark, soaked in red. She swallows, blinking back the deep, instinctive unease that goes along with seeing so much of her own blood, and looks forward again.
"If you need it, there's nectar in my bag," she says, in a tone of voice that isn't really leaning in either direction. But, you know, she figures she should at least mention it, just in case.
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Ellie smooths her clean hand over Clarisse's shoulder, leaning past her with a nod to pick up some of the bandages from her bag.
"Let's see what we're working with first."
Ellie takes a cloth and mops up the blood, following it back to where it seems to be coming from. It's mostly a sheen on the skin now, encouraged to spread due to how trapped it was under the armor, soaking into Clarisse's shirt.
She's gentler as she gets there, where the armor was dented in, gives a hiss as she uncovers what's sure to become a huge bruise. "Sorry, babe. You're gonna be black and blue."
Dabbing at the wound, it seeps a little, but doesn't quite trickle.
"Looks like a... sword, but shorter. An axe?" she says, her voice evening out. "It didn't go that deep, actually. Your armor did a good job."
She doesn't want to think about what might've happened if she hadn't been wearing it.
"I think you can save the nectar. But it'll need stitches."
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But she can handle being bruised up, getting stitches, waking up tomorrow feeling like she nearly got axed in the back, as long as she wakes up. And she feels herself relaxing, a little, her breathing slowing as Ellie runs the cloth over her back.
She trusts Ellie, of course, but even if this weren't her girlfriend Clarisse would still find herself responding to the way Ellie handles this. Calm, but not cold, taking charge without making it too obvious. Reminds her a little bit of the way Will always was, back in the infirmary, and how much she'd ultimately come to trust in him.
"Can you do them?" Not is she able to, but will she. Because Clarisse isn't a prude or anything, but she's still sitting here with her shirt off and doesn't really feel like dealing with anybody else right now.
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"Way ahead of you," she says wryly. Because yeah, anybody here could probably do them, but it's them.
Ellie hands Clarisse a vial of elfroot potion, identical to what Jude offered her on her first day here, parking herself behind Clarisse to start disinfecting the wound.
Ellie's quiet as she concentrates on the task, preparing the sutures first before she settles a hand on her bruised back, easing the skin back together.
"Breathe." Ellie's voice hushes, and she starts the first stitch. She's no professional or anything, but she's done this enough that it's not clumsy or unduly painful.
She hums under her breath as she does it, almost too quiet to catch.
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There's a slight hesitation, but unlike when Jude offered it to her, this time she reaches out and takes the vial of potion. What the hell, right? She's going to sleep in a tent tonight, so she might as well do it semi-comfortably.
This is probably Clarisse's 500th time getting stitches, and she's an excellent patient. A sharp intake of breath as the needle first goes in, and she holds it for several seconds before letting it out slowly. Her next breath in is easier, a little calmer. First pinch is always the worst.
She's quiet at first, because in her experience it's better not to distract the person stitching you up, but then she can't help it. "Um. What are you humming?"
Because she's pretty sure she recognizes it.
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Hot of her, actually.
"Mm?" Ellie blinks, has to think about it, because the name doesn't come to her immediately, but when it does she snickers under her breath.
"You ever hear of Ke$ha?"
Because it very much does sound like Clarisse recognizes it.
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Come on, don't make her laugh while there's a needle poking out of her back. Clarisse presses her lips together and manages to resist, barely.
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"Look, you have to admit it's the funniest possible song I could bring into this right now."
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Clarisse shakes her head, but she's grinning, and it's clear in her voice that she finds Ellie's choice in songs hilarious, actually.
"Quit laughing and stitch me. It's cold." Her shirt is off. She has goosebumps.
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Ellie leans forward and drops a light kiss on her shoulder, well above the blood and bruises, and reaches up to undo the clasp that holds her cloak together. It's still a little warm from her body heat, and she drops it into Clarisse's lap with one finger before she gets back to work. Maybe her bedside manner is questionable, but hey, she made her laugh for a moment, and it makes the rest of everything easier to get through.
Silence falls as Ellie gets through most of the stitches, before she finally asks.
"How's Tertia?"
She saw that Clarisse went to go talk to her after that.
And Clarisse knows that Ellie had been the one to steal into camp with Templar backup to kill the man that Tertia once knew.
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Then Ellie asks that, and she doesn't know what to say. Has to fight not to tense up or move and fuck up Ellie's stitches. Her fingers curl into the fabric of Ellie's cloak.
"Pissed," is what she settles on, and it sounds bitter.
She gets why Ellie's asking, and why it's probably on her mind more than anyone else's right now. But still.
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"Yeah." Ellie figured, but still. From Clarisse's tone it hadn't gone well, and Ellie can't say that she's surprised by that either. Not because it was Clarisse, but because who wouldn't be pissed?
She's out here risking everything and got shut down hard, over something that she really cared about. A man is dead, and even if it was objectively the best and safest choice for Riftwatch...
"I'm glad you tried." Talking to her, she means. Even if it didn't go great, it still means something that she did. Maybe it'll eventually mean something to Tertia too, even if she isn't willing to let it. Not yet.
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There's a long pause, and it seems like Clarisse is done, but then she speaks again:
"So what, she knew that guy before." She's staring down at Ellie's cloak, not even blinking. "He made his choices. Everybody makes choices. It didn't exactly seem like he was regretting his. You had to kill him, Ellie."
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"If he wanted to join us instead of the Venatori, he could have. He wouldn't have been the first."
She's thinking of Benedict when she says it, but she's thinking of Tertia too. Obviously she joined Riftwatch instead for a reason.
"One more stitch," Ellie says, and hooks it in. Leans down to bite off the thread with her teeth, so she won't get blood and antiseptic all over her things, and her forehead brushes against Clarisse's back.
Next is an elfroot salve, cooling. Taking a little more of the pain off.
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She closes her eyes at the brush of Ellie's forehead against her back and then keeps them shut as she spreads the salve over the wound. It stings, for a few seconds, then fades into a numbing coolness.
With a sigh, Clarisse turns to face Ellie. She keeps the cloak draped over herself, which is kind of ridiculous, considering who she's with, but she wasn't lying about being cold before.
"Thanks." She can't see the stitches, but she knows they're good.
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She looks over Clarisse, more subdued than she normally is, cuddled up under her cloak, and reaches for a blanket to draw around the both of them. Beneath it, she slides an arm around Clarisse's waist, where it won't hurt so bad, pulls her in closer.
They don't have all the time in the world, but she does want to hold her, at least few a few minutes. It may not have been a huge or scary battle, but it's another one they survived.
"You bet."
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Her back hurts, and no potion's going to get rid of that completely, but the pain is distant enough not to distract her from this. She feels like she could go to sleep, if Ellie let her. She gets like this sometimes now, after fighting—drained and tired in a way she never used to feel back home.
"Hey," she whispers after a minute.
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"Hey," she says back, turning her head to put her face in her hair.
Just one more minute.
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It hadn't quite registered at the time, since she was still a little bit freaked out that she might be bleeding to death. But now... And also, it hasn't escaped her notice that, yeah, Ellie called her "babe" and then Clarisse turned around a couple minutes later and called Ellie both "dick" and "asshole" in very quick succession.
Whoops.
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"... yeah, I did, didn't I?"
Ellie grins into Clarisse's hair, a laugh welling up because she can feel Clarisse smiling, too. As they both remember what Clarisse called her. Which honestly just makes Ellie want to crack up.
"I'll do it again, too."
Like it's a threat.
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