faderift | All Mortals Shall Know

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: A hit close to home
WHEN: Beginning of Cloudreach 9:50
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: OOC post! General CW for war-related violence, NPC death mentions, and significant peril to PCs. Use other CWs in your subject lines as needed.

Just after sunset, an hour or so after the news begins to arrive of mass Venatori action in Minrathous—a second coup, if it can be called that when the power already behind the throne finally steps out in front of it—comes another alarm, this not through the crystals at first but from Kirkwall itself. The watchtowers Riftwatch once helped repair burst with signal fires. Just one at first, to the northeast, and then after a time two more at once, and a fourth, bright against the falling dusk. On each the shutters begin to flash, two short interruptions and one long: the signal for a dragon attack.

Not even a high dragon like the one Corypheus's has tainted with red lyrium and enthralled could cover the distance from Minrathous to the Free Marches so quickly. But the watchtowers continue to blink the signal until, one by one, they're snuffed out.

I. THE CITY

Griffon riders and ranged fighters are called out as soon as the dragon signals come in, taking flight to wing across the harbor and spread out to locate this dragon, still not visible even from the roof of the Gallows. In the time that word is spread, lift ridden or stairs climbed, griffons mounted and launched, the watchtowers go dark, the sun falls deeper below the horizon, and Riftwatch arrives in the city proper just in time for a massive explosion at the Viscount's Keep to light up the twilight. Silhouetted against it, and now seared into the backs of everyone's eyes, is the shape of two small draconic creatures with riders on their backs wheeling away from the Keep.

Now that they know what they're looking for, Riftwatch's griffon riders will realize there is no single large dragon over the city. Instead there are a dozen or more of these creatures, smaller than griffons, bodies like large horses between leathery wings. The first time one wheels close, its rider flinging a spell or a grenade, they'll recognize the shape of the heads, the shrieking cries, the burst of fire or ice or acid poison from their mouths—they're dracolisks, now with wings.

Below, a hue and cry in the streets brings citizens with bows and buckets, joining the fight against attack and fire both. The city guard mobilized as soon as the first watchtower was lit, and arrows and crossbow bolts spray from atop the walls and roofs, but their range is too-easily evaded. The enemy on their dracolisks wheel above the city, some attacking Riftwatch's griffon riders, attempting to herd them into the path of a spell, others breaking off to drop explosive grenades on the city below, pillars of smoke rising beneath them.

Just as Riftwatch's griffon riders are beginning to come to grips with what they're dealing with and engage the enemy in the skies, another explosion lights the falling dark. Just as large as the one that has taken the top off Viscount's Keep, this comes from the stairs to Hightown. The noise alone is tremendous, the sound of the explosives almost drowned by cracking stone and the earth-shaking crash of buildings tumbling down from the edge of the cliffs above as Darktown splits open and sends a slice of Hightown cascading down into Lowtown. As it falls, a cadre of dracolisks breaks off from their current paths and heads for the Gallows.

While much of Riftwatch will need to follow them to defend the Gallows and the work contained in its towers, others may remain in or over the city to continue assisting with defense there. The remaining dracolisk riders will attempt to target the Twins—the large statues outside the entrance to the harbor, connected to the chains Kirkwall uses to control ship traffic through the Waking Sea—in an apparent attempt to down them and block that passage entirely. But between Riftwatch and the force of guards and civilian militia members mustered by Guard-Captain Aveline to shoot arrows from the walls and skybridges, they'll be driven off without success.

II. THE GALLOWS

At the Gallows, those who don't ride griffons have also been instructed to prepare to assist the city. As the explosions in the city are felt, large enough to rattle the furniture even from this distance, and news of the flying dracolisks arrives, all hands are ordered to get themselves to armor or infirmary and make ready to venture across the harbor. Those who can provide healing are an obvious need, but just as urgent will be assistance with evacuating damaged buildings and protecting those on the ground, especially if this proves to be followed by a ground attack. But the first ferry hasn't yet left the Gallows dock when the battle comes to them.

There is barely time for a crystal alert of incoming dracolisks before they arrive. They wing circles around the towers, flying close enough to touch the sides, hovering for seconds here and there in pairs as if trying to look in the windows. Almost as soon as they've come they draw back–

And then the Mage tower explodes. A burst of light and force engulfs the uppermost floors, flinging stones the size of a man outwards. It is immediately apparent to anyone remaining within (though there should be few, given how lightly occupied it is to begin with) and those watching from without that the blast has destablized the entire tower, which teeters for only a moment or two, just barely long enough to allow for a race to safety, before toppling over with a thunderous crash. It tips outwards before it drops, crushing a chunk of the outer wall and flinging the remains of its top floor into the sea. The impact sends out a shockwave, followed by a cloud of dust and debris that sweeps across the Gallows courtyards.

The other devices—because now that they know to look, there are devices fixed to the sides of the other two towers, up near the top—do not explode immediately. The dracolisk-riding Venatori continue to circle above, throwing spells and arrows and the occasional small grenade down at the denizens of the Gallows, while two of them also appear to be focused on the devices, trying to get near enough again to hit them with some sort of spell. It quickly becomes clear that there is a chance to save these towers, if the attackers can be fended off long enough to remove or disarm the magical devices before they're triggered.

Of course, it's not going to be easy. The devices are each attached to the outside of the tower between the top two floors, meaning they must be accessed by climbing out a window or off the roof and rappelling down to them. Once there, they'll prove to be attached with some impossibly sticky substance, such that trying to pry them off would damage the workings and risk explosion. The only option is to deactivate them where they are—whether by lowering someone knowledgeable down a rope, or by conveying instructions to someone good with heights by crystal or from the nearest window. The insides prove to be a complex combination of machinery and magic, clockwork mechanisms, enchanted or carved with delicate runes, panels inscribed with glyphs, glass tubes full of Maker knows what volatile compound, brass spinners like thaumoscope sensors, and so on. If attempting to defuse a bomb while dangling from a rope weren't difficult enough, the Venatori on dracolisks remain active overhead, doing their best to wreak havoc below while trying to hit the devices with the activation spells, which (thankfully) require concentration, time, and very precise aim.

They succeed in activating the device on the Templar tower first. Unlike the Mage tower, it doesn't immediately explode, but instead begins sending tendrils of ice racing out along the stone, finding its way into every crack and fissure, every weak patch of mortar, forcing the tower apart stone by stone. But the interference of those working to stop it has done something—weakened the device, or distracted the mage on dracolisk-back sufficiently to throw off the spell she casts to detonate it—and the ice only spreads so far.

But it does spread. Those defending the Templar tower will have to abandon it as the uppermost floors begin to crumble, aided by force and telekinetic spells that can target the frozen weak spots without needing so much precision. Climbing down, catching a griffon ride, or jumping across the gap to the main tower (if someone's good enough at jumping) are all rational choices, under the circumstances, but those who choose none of the above and take the stairs may be able to make it to the lower floors before the upper three collapse.

In the meantime the Venatori shift all their focus to the Central tower, home to Riftwatch's painstakingly-assembled library of rare volumes, records of all of its work, and storerooms full of irreplaceable artifacts. There, a third type of device. When an activation spell gets through, it at first seems to do nothing, but then the stones of the tower begin to shake. At first just a tremor, but the shaking intensifies and spreads, like an earthquake spell amplified throughout the building. Those trying to defuse the device must race to deactivate it before the building rattles to dust beneath them, taking most of Riftwatch's resources with it.

The Venatori do their best to disrupt this work, trying to pick off those on the outside or top of the tower, lobbing spells and explosives at those on the ground, and doing battle with the griffon riders in the air, but eventually, the device is disarmed, its shaking stopped before it can bring the tower down, and the enemy forces retreat.

III. THE AFTERMATH

The sun rises on a changed, chaotic Kirkwall. While the attackers didn't manage to inflict all of the damage they'd planned, Viscount's Keep is still rubble—with reports indicating Viscount Bran Kenric is among the dead, caught by debris while trying to organize an orderly evacuation—and Hightown, Lowtown, and Darktown alike suffered losses from the decimation of the staircase. The gap in the stairs is quickly bridged to facilitate movement, but the solutions begin makeshift, starting with a rope and wood bridge only wide and reliable enough for a few people at a time, and will take days and weeks to progress into sturdier scaffolding and wooden stairs to cover the missing piece. In the meantime, travel between the high and low parts of the city is slower, often involving long queues for either the narrow bridge or a ride on the industrial lifts straight up the cliffside from the docks.

Despite the damage, the mood in the city is more defiant than anything, anger primarily directed at Tevinter. There are some who blame Riftwatch, claiming that it's only their presence in the city that drew the attack, that they would all be safer if these foreign troublemakers took their problems elsewhere. But this idea doesn't get a whole lot of traction, especially not after the warning system they helped repair and Riftwatch's efforts to fight the enemy above the city at the expense of leaving the Gallows vulnerable. Their assistance with clean-up efforts in the city doesn't hurt, either.

In the Gallows, meanwhile, things might feel more destroyed than not, with the dust and debris from the collapsed Mage tower and the upper sections of the Templar tower scattered across the rest of the island. On the side of the Mage tower, the damage is extensive, with a whole section of the outer wall collapsed and a significant amount of the debris—including the residents' belongings—spilled across the rocks and down into the harbor. On the Templar side, stone walls from the upper floors have fallen more or less straight out and down around its perimeter, blocking walkways, with a large chunk of wall nearly flattening the smithy and all of its doors. Debris litters the training yard and has knocked a few holes into the thinner roofs of outbuildings and covered alcoves.

The Central tower is least affected, save the eyrie, which had previous holes and damage from the mage rebellion in Kirkwall and fell further apart, in turn causing the ceilings of the Scouting and Research division offices to partially collapse and bringing the structural integrity of the entire floor into doubt. The brand new lift, on the other hand, has come through largely unscathed. So too has the new tavern, as yet unnamed, and its first shipment of ale. So there is some good news.

The first two days after the attack, while the extent of the damage and possibility of further collapses are still being assessed, Riftwatch members are barred from sleeping in or near any of the standing towers, instead directed either to Riftwatch's warehouse near the docks or to tents set up around the debris of the Mage Tower, which can't really fall any further than it already has. As days pass, other options will open up: setting up cots in the outbuildings, dragging mattresses from the groups quarters into library alcoves, staying with various Riftwatch members and allies who have space to offer in the city, or continuing to camp out in the courtyards and among the debris as the weather warms enough to make it more or less pleasant. But between the time for reconstruction and the need to fund it, it will be at least a month before anyone can move into the remaining residential tower.

Assisting with relief in the city and sorting through the scattered debris in the Gallows or helping the hired labor brought in to help clear and rebuild will be an ongoing effort. In the meantime, everyone still has as much—or more—of their usual work to do as ever: adjusting plans and forming new ones to account for Corypheus' open takeover of Minrathous and the problems and opportunities that provides, or dealing with the news of other attacks that begins to arrive through contacts and field agents.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

during.

The debris from two towers—maybe one and three-quarters, but who's being technical in a time like this?—either has tumbled into the courtyard of the Gallows, or is presently in the process of doing so, and even if these newfangled Vint explosives have thankfully provided enough warning for everyone to get out of the way, that doesn't help when there are blasts of magic throwing chunks of stone around and grenades destablizing heaps of rubble and acid-spitting dracolisks chasing folks through them. So it's understandable that somebody might end up slipping and falling between one rock and another, or ducking into a hidey hole that suddenly became a bit too hidey, or getting an arm pinned by a miraculously intact filing cabinet or whatever.

Good news: Evelyn and Caballero, a small-ish (in bear terms) bear wearing an apparently custom-made leather jerkin, are here to help. "Hang on!" shouts a Kirkwall accent over the general din, as they scramble towards a frantic wave or a cry for help or whatever may have alerted them. "We're coming!"

Bad news: although Evelyn is carrying a bow and Caballero is a bear, neither of these things are all that helpful against flying mages on horror horses. (Horrorses? Horrses?) "Shit!" comes the next shout, "Hang on, incoming!"

after.

There's no getting back into the city overnight, at least not at the moment, the ferryman having understandably run off to probably check on his family or apply for employment elsewhere or something. Evelyn sits on the lowest bit of the battlements (maybe a bit lower than it was this morning) and stares out at the lights of Kirkwall, brighter than usual in some places, others an uncharacteristic void. She's somehow gotten the bear up the stairs, and Caballero snoozes at her side with a softly whuffling snore.

Once the dust has settled in the morning, it's time to stir it up again by picking through the rubble field that now fills half the Gallows. Evelyn's search is more systematic than it looks, drawing objects up out of one area until she gets a sense for what's there, and then delivering her finds to whatever central Lost & Found has been set up before moving on to the next.

"You looking for something in particular?" she might ask, if somebody seems to be searching in vain, "Which floor?"

It’s like a dream. So: It’s fucking absurd. A cabinet’s caught his foot at the exact wrong place to pin, forms in triplicate spilling about this crater in bureaucratic snow.

Tethered by his own leg, Cedric's grunting half a bear himself - shifts high and sharp when the real thing lumbers into view. His eyes go wide as dinner plates, scrambling back so far as the furniture will allow.

"Is that a -" Motion, over Evelyn’s shoulder, and she’s seen it; she’s shouting, and he’s waving, yelling back: "- Get down!"

Toward him, hand thrusting out on some dizzy, unnameable impulse. Green light ripples forth, hardening the air. Too small to cover them, really, but the angle shades Caballero -

"Dracolisk? YEP!" the word rises as she drops to the ground, aiming for the lee of a rock that isn't quite big enough for even an elf.

Caballero is more exposed and she's about to whistle for him to move when the shield appears, just in time for a couple projectiles to ping off of it, ricocheting to leave divots in the rock where Evelyn was a moment ago, near enough to earn a yelp. The third explodes a wooden end table between them and Cedric, adding a layer of sawdust and fine splinters. (The arrow she fires in reply isn't near enough the target to be merit description.)

"Was that your anchor?" Evelyn's only slightly quicker on the question than on the move, swinging her bow over a shoulder and neatly hurdling another rock. She whistles to get the bear to follow her, which he does, gaining speed after a lumbering turn. "Come on boy, before they come back."

Blinking against a spray of powdered furniture -

Was that the anchor? Maker, maybe, the bones in his hand ring a struck bell. But then Evelyn’s after him, and,

"That's a fucking bear,"

Sure, there’s a dracolisk but that’s a fucking bear. Does he really need this leg? Cleave through the knee, and he could drag himself off (it’d only smell the blood). Caballero advances. Some stupid, distant piece of Cedric registers that this is gonna be a bad way to die.

The smarter bit catches boy. His hands thrust out, pre-emptively placative.

"I don't have any," Dull. What was it they gave the circus bears? "Peanuts."

Rather than being among the forlorn in search of their belongings, Loxley has more or less followed Evelyn's cue—to occupy himself, to be useful and out of the way. He's stashed his heavier weapons and coat somewhere, down to a butter-yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled high up his wrists and a fine pair of pants that, nevertheless, have a brand new blackened burn streaking across the outer thigh.

"Here," he says, drawing her focus.

He stands over where a half-collapsed wooden wardrobe is tipped over, door jammed closed against the rubble. Hands set against the side, he gives it a slight rattle, having already tested the backing to see if it was an easy thing to break through—and, not necessarily. "Help me with this, will you."

Promising for someone, anyway, whoever tidied their clothing and sundry into this before it was flung out into the open.

Evelyn is perched atop a miraculously-intact chair, shading her eyes with a hand as she looks out across the debris field and those toiling in it. Loxley's tugs her head immediately round, and she hops down unthinking and very nearly rolls an ankle, catching herself just in time and executing a little hop-step to try to play it off. She pushes up the rolled cuffs of her shirt (still dust-streaked across her forearms) and brushes hands briskly together in further service of the image of businesslike competence.

"What've we got here?" more of the same, as she steps up to the wardrobe, circling round to the corner that seems most likely to help shift it. "This yours?" She doesn't say it like the answer's going to be a dealbreaker.

Edited 2024-04-22 02:13 (UTC)

Whenever Astrid’s overwhelmed, there’s often that itching urge to get up high, to take in the landscape from above and see the shape of things spread out beneath them like a map. There’s some morbid curiosity, too, to get a look at what’s changed since the day before. See the damage, as much she can.

So she climbs the stairs to seek out the top of the battlements, but it turns out someone else already had that same idea, and so she almost collides with that furry wall of Caballero. From behind the snoozing bear, there’s a quiet startled “Oh!” as the woman tries to scoot around him.

She pokes her head out beside him, and sees Evelyn perched on the edge. Her mind runs through a few quick contradictory impulses (company would be nice alongside what if she fucking hates company and she got here first) and then it just grinds to a halt instead, unable to make a decision whether to retreat downstairs or not. “Er. Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

All Mortals Shall Know - Part II

evelyn | ota

during, change this around however

no subject

did i lose this for a month? yes. im sorry pal

after.

no subject

after; evening