player plot | when my time comes around, pt 1

[cozen]

WHO: Abby Anderson†, Byerly Rutyer†, Clarisse La Rue†, Cosima Neihaus†, Darras Rivain†, Ellis†, Evelyn Farrier†, Florent Vascarelle, Gwenaëlle Baudin†, Jayce Talis†, John Silver†, Josias di Jaconissa†, Jude Adjei†, Julius, Marcus Rowntree†, O. Barrow†, Peter Parker, Tiffany Hart, Valentine de Foncé†, Xiomara Novoa†, Yseult
WHAT: A bad end.
WHEN: Solace 21
WHERE: Granitefell, Free Marches
NOTES: This is the first log for this plot. Use this for fight scenes, death scenes, poignant (or not) last conversations before anyone knows they're going to die, etc. Characters who are not dying or on the limited list of survivors can't participate in person or be on-site during this log, but they can appear via sending crystal as needed/desired. (Or you can inbox that stuff, but please link it somewhere so I can find and read it.)

I. BEFORE

The attack that brought them here happened a few days ago, leaving the village of Granitefell a smear of ashes on the plains between Starkhaven and Ostwick and its surviving population scrambling for shelter, food, and medical supplies. That's what Riftwatch is doing here, mostly. Helping. There's also a report that the dracolisk-mounted soldiers who burned their way through the village were looking for an elf in particular, whom they searched out by name and plucked out of the flames to carry off into the dark, and looking into that—questioning the elf's family and acquaintances, examining the belongings that survived the fire, searching the surrounding cave- and ruin-dotted landscape she used to hunt to see if she might have stumbled across anything in the process—is helping, too, in a bigger-picture sense.

The first day they spend there is hot and quiet. Even the injured villagers succumbing belatedly to their injuries do so without much noise and fuss, and the survivors not strong-backed enough to work alongside Riftwatch hide in the shade and talk quietly about what they could possibly do now that everything is gone.

The night is a little noisier. First in a normal way: the heat lifts, people are more willing to move about, the children and teenagers who spent most of the day in heat-induced dozes are suddenly full of energy. So while all or most of Riftwatch, having forgone naps themselves, may be asleep in the early hours of the morning, someone is awake to shout in alarm when something dark briefly blocks out one of the moons. Which is all the warning anyone gets.

II. DURING

The sky rains fire, and once the camp is burning, the flames light the dragon from below, glinting off the red lyrium crusted along its joints and ridges.

Not long after, attacks come from the ground as well: Tevinter and Ander soldiers, some mages, some mounted on dracolisks that breathe fire or electricity, others effective enough with their swords and morningstars, coming at the camp from multiple directions to sweep anyone who tries to flee back toward the center. They're not surprised to find Riftwatch there; perhaps that's why they came back in the first place.

But they're not distinguishing between soldier and civilian in the carnage, indiscriminately crushing bones with magic or running bodies through with swords, taking the time to pause and kill anyone who cowers and screams rather than focusing only on those who put up a fight. They're led by Itaeus Ferra, a figure who may be familiar to some, riding a dracolisk that seals the fate of many of the injured by spewing poison over their burns and other open wounds.

Still, it's a closer thing than they expected. What begins as an obvious plan to wipe out everyone they find transforms, as time wears on, into an attempt to merely take out as many as they can before their own losses become too great and their remaining soldiers withdraw. When they do, the dragon lands to guard their retreat, with a tall figure—not Corypheus, but a cackling and corrupted man of similar stature—riding astride it, urging his dragon into giving the encampment one last torching while inviting whoever may be left alive to come out of the dark and try their luck against him. (Maybe someone takes him up on it, but if they do, it does not end well for them.) It is only after a long lull when no one stirs or answers his taunting that he announces they're boring him and departs.

III. AFTER

The survivors are much fewer this time. A handful of Riftwatchers; only a slightly larger number of villagers, mostly children whose protection was prioritized. The numbers will dwindle further over the next few hours, as the sun rises and people succumb to their injuries before even the fastest-flying help can arrive.

Comments

[laruetheday]

"One or two," Clarisse says, and the look on her face—something softer, with a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth—is a contrast to the casual tone of her voice.

She's thinking about flying, with her arms wrapped tight around Ellie's waist. It's a huge contrast to the heavy work they've all had to do today, helping this town limp its way forward under the hot sun, and there'll be more of the same tomorrow.

It's nice, though, thinking about what will be waiting for her when she gets back home.

"You like it here?" she asks Jayce after a few moments. "Not here here, but. The Gallows?"

[pathlit]

That genuine softness on her face softens his own disquiet, helps him to release it with a gentle exhale. Their attention naturally drifts as the conversation lapses: Clarisse to said goodness and Jayce to begin contemplating the logistics of acquiring enough scavenged material to create a second distillation set-up (because what is worse than waiting months for a single project to ripen, only to find the result utter horseshit?). For him, it's an intentional attempt to realign his mood onto something less grave.

Her question comes as he's testing the temperature of his coffee, the rim of the mug against his lips. He makes a sound of acknowledgement, lowering the mug briefly to offer the equivalent of a facial shrug. "To be honest, not really. The name could be less fitting, you know?"

Dreary as the architecture is.

"But the griffons are pretty amazing."

[ sorry for the delay, totes ok to drop/handwave a conclusion if you prefer! ]

[laruetheday]

[ no worries! sorry for MY delay tbh ]

"Yeah," she says.

The Gallows... well, it could be worse, right? But even dressed up like it is, they're still living in what used to be a straight up prison. The wind off the water gets freezing in the winter, and having to take the ferry just to get into the city is a massive pain. And the stairs... Fuck.

She agrees that the griffons are pretty cool, though.

"Have you ridden one yet?"

[pathlit]

Fuck the stairs.

"Yeah," he says with a chuckle. "Ellie showed me the basics. We've got airships where I'm from, but flying on a griffon..." Jayce shakes his head. "It's something else."

[laruetheday]

"It's so cool."

Clarisse leans forward and takes another drink of her coffee. It's still not the best she's ever had, but it's one of those things that tastes less gross the more you try.

"Ellie used to take me flying, too, before I started taking Blunder out on my own. It's not hard to learn. Harder to get one of the griffons to let you ride them, I think." She scratches the side of her neck, idly.