SUBJECT: Marauders
PARTICIPANTS: Barrow, Poesia, Isaac, Matthias & Flint
CLASSIFICATION: Private to Division Heads
DATE FILED: Late August
STATUS: Complete
SUMMARY: A team tracked down a band of (allegedly) Ventori mages wreaking havoc through Ghislain, and did some light murder to avoid bad press.

REPORT:

Guided by local reports and in following a rash of violence, theft, and destruction, we were by chance able to locate the dwarven ruin being used by the band of mauraders as both a base of operations and a means of traveling about Ghislain undetected. Under observation it was determined both that their numbers were far superior to our own, and that the claims of their Northern provenance were little more than a ruse; the bulk, if not all, of the gathered assembly there was instead an assembly of Southern mages deserted from the allied force.

Beliving the issue best resolved directly, a fire was set in the tunnels and a number of key passages destroyed to trap and destroy the marauders. I cannot guarantee all of their number were present, but believe the ruling majority to have been caught in the collapse.

In the interest of maintaining peace both in Ghislain and within the allied force, I would recommend that we fail to re-educate with respect to the origin of the mages in question.

NEXT STEPS: Make efforts to identify motivations for and mitigate further desertion from the Inquisition/Exalted March force.

NOTES & LINKS: OOC Info, IC Log

SUBJECT: Going Against the Grain: Forces mission
PARTICIPANTS: Derrica, Darras, Lazar, Colin, Poesia, Edgard, Nell
CLASSIFICATION: Private for Flint and the other Division Heads
DATE FILED: 17 fantasy September
STATUS: Complete
SUMMARY: A team took to the Waking Sea to burn, sink, or otherwise destroy the cargo of two Antivan ships, and break into the privateering game on Riftwatch’s behalf.

REPORT:

[The report is carefully written in a hand that looks suspiciously like the Scoutmaster’s, but only a little. Like perhaps if the Scoutmaster was trying to disguise the handwriting]

The Reaper served us well in our journey and we sailed east, and easily overtook the Antivan ships, the Leonilda and the Uccello Canoro. We approached by night but were forced to engage in combat with the Leonilda while the Uccello took flight. We engaged her with ranged attacks and fire and other magics from our mages where possible which prevented larger combat, but she was destroyed in the process, and her cargo with her.

The Uccello was the slower of the two and we caught her up before she had gotten very far, and repeated that same upon her. She was crippled shortly after our engagement with her and what remained her crew abandoned her.

We thought to commandeer a portion of the cargo aboard the Uccello but her destruction prevented us. The cargo was destroyed entirely. To our best ability and our knowing, no member of either crew survived.


NEXT STEPS: The strike against these ships lays the possibility for privateering if Riftwatch thinks itself able.

NOTES & LINKS: main log can be found here

Oh dear.

[ A "new" presence on the crystal network, in the form of a velvety, fancy masculine voice that sounds a little like a constant laugh is lurking behind each word. ]

Bit of a fixer upper, isn't it? The dining hall is especially rugged. It makes me nostalgic for Skyhold -- you know, back when it was a dilapidated ruin. Nothing like starting from square one.

( likewise, the second voice will not be immediately recognizable to all of their listeners, albeit particularly distinct to those who do know it. Nevarran, feminine, the accent still strong after all this time and about as arch as her companion. There’s a dull thud, somewhere below the crystal they’re broadcasting from, so probably there is some investigation going on, although possibly not in great earnest. )

Is Riftwatch so badly feeling the absence of Inquisition coffers? We’d no idea.

Told you we ought to've robbed the place on our way out. [ --spoken as quiet aside, before the male of the pair directs his attention, ostensibly, back to their shared audience. ] But to the more pressing matter at hand -- when can we expect the staff to come and collect our things? This decade, I hope?

Roomier than Skyhold, I must say. We might have two beds in our quarters, Dorian, the height of luxury. And one for Max. Would you like that, my darling? Would you like a bed of your very own? ( whoever Max is, he does not audibly answer this. Probably he totally would love a bed of his very own.

Then, scrupulously, as she understands that division heads are privy to these discussions, )

We of course did not rob the Inquisition.

Perish the thought! These are my first edition volumes of ancient necromantic spellcraft, early histories of Tevinter magister lineage, and-- ooh, a Chantry-blacklisted volume on demonic possession.

They must be your own, I can’t think what an exalted march might need of them.

You mean, besides kindling. [ Just the slightest hint of grimmer humour. Then, brightly, full of cheer; ] Now, Benevenuta -- what are the chances this little backwater outposting has a library?

[ Maybe he forgot this thing is still broadcasting. But considering it's his thing-- ]

We have the beginnings of a very exciting one, if they don’t. Let’s go look.

Well. [It's a little breathless, trying wholeheartedly for "pleasant" rather than "still a bit shaken and looking for distraction" and mostly managing it.] Now that that unpleasantness is finished:

Could anyone recommend a reputable source for visiting cards? I'm afraid mine have been out of date since I left Ostwick, and I'd like to ensure the replacements aren't out of step with Kirkwall fashion. Are etchings considered tasteful here? And are visiting hours acceptable when printed on the back? I've never thought much of pre-printed messages--it's rather cold not to write something yourself, isn't it?--but I would like acquaintances to know when I'm at home for visitors.

Any suggestions would be most appreciated.

[Speaking over the crystals still feels decidedly strange to someone accustomed to writing and face-to-face communication. And while she's listened enough to know it doesn't require salutations or a name at the close, it feels rude not to end with anything.]

I leave you with great hope that you are well.

A question of great importance: who is the most interesting person in Riftwatch?

I am composing a list, which I very easily could make alone. But that is not amusing. So, the winner of the list will of course receive a prize. An extra point will be awarded to a Rifter, quite obviously. Points deducted for, hm, [totally at random here,] let us say.... Wardens. I have nothing against them. Once I admired them! Then I had my sixth birthday, and I grew bored with them.

All suggestions will be considered.

Hello dears!

I must say Orlais was not half so charming as camping in that lovely jungle, our accommodations left a great deal to be desired. I do hope we can have a more pleasant visit soon.

I did bring back the most delightful souvenir. However, I have the worst sort of problem as I've never had the occasion to keep a thing like this for myself. So I must ask: How does one go about preserving a severed hand?

Good morning, ducklings.

[ It's mid-afternoon. ]

This is your beloved, esteemed Head of Diplomacy reminding you all of two things.

First thing: remember, members of the Diplomacy division always want to hear any rumor you might have heard. Substantiated? Unsubstantiated? Tell us everything. Bring us the latest gossip, the most salacious things you've heard. Shock us. Thrill us.

And second thing: for any of you without any allegiance to a division yet, Diplomacy is a good place if you adore some drama. You won't regret joining us.

[ Oh, and before he forgets - ]

Ah, by the by, recent trade negotiations led one of our trading partners to throw in three barrels of decent Orlesian honey. I'll leave it to the Seneschal to decide the rationing of the stuff, but - ta, my darlings, a bit of sweetness for your lives.

Alright, I'm just going to say it: whoever was fucking in camp last night, you're disgusting. And you're also much louder than you think you are, so I'm sure I speak for basically everyone here when I say for the love of Andraste stop.

[ A pause, as if she might be done. But on second thought, no. ]

I just don't even understand. I thought I had low standards, but you make me look like the fucking Maker. The alley behind the Bloody Racket is cleaner and safer than this fucking jungle. Do you not have a nose? Or even eyes? Have you looked at your fingernails? Have you seen the bugs here? If you won't stop for all of us who are already trying to sleep over the sound of monkeys and giant parrot-snakes and shit, then stop for your own health, fuck.

You know this really has been a marvelous time. We ought to do this again, only perhaps with better supplies and less of this being lost business. Particularly beds. I find I rather miss a proper mattress. I suppose a hammock would be enjoyable, but it also seems terribly limiting in the sorts of things one might get up. I find those delightful berries here are not to my taste as well, which can make things rather dull.

In any case, my darlings in Kirkwall, you really ought to consider what you would like me to bring you as a souvenir. The hunting is absolutely marvelous here, you know, and the forest is full of the funniest little creatures! I do hope we'll bring some of them back with us, in one state or another.