faderift | OPEN: The Western Approach

OPEN: The Western Approach

WHO: Everyone!
WHAT: The Western Approach is a terrible place. You should definitely go there.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15 onward
WHERE: The Western Approach
NOTES: This is open to everyone. Characters who would not happily go to the hell desert probably have to go anyway; it's a war, not a vacation.

Once these wastes were a land of plenty. Can you believe it? The rain came north over the Gamordan Peaks, turning the plains green and verdant for three months of the year. Eight hundred years ago, that changed. During the Second Blight, darkspawn spilled out of an enormous crack in the earth, corrupting it with their foul blood... and it never recovered, even after they were driven back underground. The Grey Wardens built Adamant Fortress to stand watch over that chasm, but eventually even they abandoned it to the wind and the biting sand.

What few of us eke out a living in this Maker-forsaken place do so knowing that any number of deaths await us: darkspawn raids, dragons, bandits—not to mention starvation from the lack of water and game. If we stay, it is because we know there are treasures buried in the bones of this place, ruins from the time when Tevinter ruled, and even earlier. We pass tales around our campfires of the things we have seen shrouded in the dust storms. My favorites are the ones about relics that could restore the Western Approach once more... but I don't believe them. Truth be told, on nights when the wind is calm, I can stand on a hilltop and see for miles in the moonlight over a stark beauty of which no other Orlesian can claim to know the equal. On those nights, I hope it will never change.

—From Lands of the Abyss by Magistrate Gilles de Sancriste

I. THE DESERT

When Scout Harding calls somewhere the worst place in Thedas, that's probably a bad sign. Even when nothing in the Western Approach is deliberately trying to kill you, there's nothing kind or forgiving about the landscape: bare and arid, carved through by sharp-dropped canyons, dotted with abandoned mines and signs of the deaths of lost travelers. Winds sweeping through to whip stinging sand into uncovered faces, and periodic dust storms obscure visibility entirely. It's warm enough to be dangerous but not so hot, at this time of year, that heat exhaustion and dehydration can't creep up on you while you aren't paying attention.

And at any given moment, something probably is deliberately trying to kill you. The food chain in the region is top-heavy, with quillbacks, phoenixes, hyenas, and varghests roaming hungrily and as likely to attack one another as the sparse local prey population. Compared to their natural competitors, the Inquisition's forces look like easy marks. The camps the Inquisition scatters at lookout points throughout the region require constant watch, and going anywhere alone is inadvisable. Not only because of the hostile local everything, but also because it is incredibly easy to get lost. One rock formation looks much like another after hours in the sun or bathed in shifting moonlit shadows, and good luck finding many other landmarks. There are a few: chunks of pillars or arches from some ruined structure, or the occasional odd pillar that might, if someone investigates, prove to mark a trail of sorts.

Plus: the only people who seem determined to survive out here are cutthroat bandits and stray Venatori. Double-plus: a high dragon makes occasional fly-bys, scouring the ground below for anything edible, armored or not.

Some reprieve comes at night, relief from both the sun and the area's primarily diurnal predators. But that's when the darkspawn come out.

II. GRIFFON WING KEEP

Bloomingtide 16-17: Taking the Keep

Only a small force of Tevinter cultists remains in Griffon Wing Keep when the Inquisition arrives, seemingly on their way out the door already, but the sight of Inquisition banners is enough to make them stay and fight. There's no need for siege equipment, but there is call for a little bit of patience. With it, a small battalion is able to evade the mages and archers on the walls and storm the doors with few casualties. Fewer than three dozen warriors wait inside. It's a quick, brutal fight; it only takes a night.

Bloomingtide 18 Onward: Home Away From Home

Once the Keep is cleared of occupants, it's ripe for the Inquisition to… occupy… But with implicit permission, at least. Those who aren't needed for fights elsewhere may be put to work clearing out debris and small animals and the remnants left by the cultists, and within a few days the fortress is a serviceable outpost, much more hospitable than the camps out in the sand. Barracks mean even those who don't have beds at Skyhold may have one here, and it takes less than a week for an enterprising merchant to arrive with ale.

III. THE STILL RUINS

Despite signs of recent activity, the lavish Tevinter palace tucked incongruously into the canyons is quiet and still, when the Inquisition discovers it—quiet, still, but not empty. The ancient ruin is brimming with demons and Tevinters in incredibly outdated fashions, all frozen in place, as they have been for hundreds of years. No one breathes or blinks, but their skin is still warm and alive to the touch.

Beyond the entryway and halls and through the courtyard, there are signs of research and experimentation, and one man stood unmoving with his hand clasped around something unseen.

Perhaps someone will discover the cause. Perhaps someone will undo the spell that's been cast over the palace. Perhaps, if someone does, someone will take the opportunity to not immediately murder all of these valuable sources of ancient information, and instead only murder most of them. In the meantime, however, it is unlikely that anyone will ever be able to get this close to a rage demon without receiving a face full of fire. Take advantage.

IV. CORACAVUS

Signs of the Venatori point upward: up the hills, up ladders and towers, and into the ancient Tevinter prison, Coracavus, that was built into the mountainside. The ruin is filled with sand now, with half-collapsed walls and anything not made of stone worn away by winds, and the Venatori are long gone, their hunt for relics from the glory days of the Imperium abandoned when an excavation attempt opened the prison to darkspawn, instead. The darkspawn have retreated as well, but there are signs of their presence. Namely the smell and the half-eaten corpses of slaves—primarily elven and dwarven—who were left behind to their fates when the Tevinters fled.

There's no sign of them now, but digging through their abandoned camps may turn up a name, if anyone would like to see that he pays.

V. ADAMANT FORTRESS

A day's determined walk from the nearest Inquisition camp, Adamant Fortress overlooks the vast chasm—dubbed the Abyssal Rift—from which darkspawn poured during the Second Blight. It stood abandoned for nearly 150 years before the Grey Wardens' recent reoccupation, and it's abandoned again now, emptied out well before the Inquisition's forces arrive. There are signs that the retreat was a hasty one: scattered belongings, opened doors, abandoned meals, and no fewer than fifty bodies left on a mass pyre that only half-burned without anyone to tend it.

The Veil has always been thin here, and it's thinner now, where demons have been pulled through from the Fade. Rifts hang over the battlements and in the corridors, and escaped shades lurk in the dark corridors, siphoning away the willpower of those who linger until they come close enough to attack. Those who visit the Fortress set up camp outside of it rather than within it, wisely.

There are clear signs of blood sacrifice, for those who look: the bodies, blood stains on the stone floors, neat lists of names systemically crossed through. Sorting through documents left behind may turn up vague notes in a mage's runic shorthand or the journal of a trepidatious new recruit (Lourde, a pickpocket, crossed through on the registers). Behind a locked door in the lowest rooms are the bodies of sixteen mages, still in their Circle robes, left lying where they fell when the Joining took them. Mages who were among the rebels in Redcliffe may recognize a face or two as belonging to the hardliners who left with the Tevinters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I.

Now that's a dragon. Korrin pauses, staring upward in awe at the great winged beast overhead. It's thankfully flying high enough above that its screech doesn't deafen her, its attention drawn by something else. Hopefully something edible and filling and not Inquisition people.

"Andraste's shapely ass, will you look at the size of that thing?!? Glorious...."

Her thoughts going to her own dragonslaying battle and what came of it, Korrin grins as she briefly touches the dragon tooth necklace at her throat. It's fortunate that no other wildlife is currently taking advantage of her distracted state, but fortunes can easily change in a place like this. Maybe prod her to move along, before that changes?

II. (17th)

The battle seems nearly done, and the Vashoth mage smirks as she glances around, pleased to carve a path through the Venatori. Encountering them throughout the desert keeps the boredom away, but it's not quite as satisfying as fighting them for a worthy prize. The keep will do nicely, once the Venatori filth are kicked out of it.

Spotting one of their mages readying a spell at a nearby comrade, Korrin narrows her eyes. "Incoming!" She blurs ahead, swinging that spirit blade when she's close enough. Fucking Venatori aren't going to claim anyone on her watch, not if she can help it.

V.

And in another episode of 'things we never need to see again', Korrin tries not to look as sickened as she feels when they pass signs of blood sacrifice. The thinness of the Veil doesn't help matters any, and though Korrin isn't the most attuned of mages, it's enough to set her on edge. She's trying her best to keep focus, but between the stains and bodies, the Vashoth woman is more tense than she's ever been anywhere else in the Approach. Only periodically touching her dragon tooth necklace keeps her calm.

That, and combat. While Korrin can't do anything about sealing the rifts, she'll provide a distraction for those who can, blasting or slicing her way through any shades or other menaces. Never let it be said that battle-therapy isn't a thing.

Edited 2016-05-17 04:57 (UTC)

The heat of the Western Approach might be dry without even a flicker of the sea air but it's still heat, and Araceli might be smug that it doesn't bother her at all, clad in light, loose layers. Still, there are perks to being with someone as tall as Korrin and that means using her shadow to avoid the worst of the glare.

The sound of the dragon has her shivering though, turning her head ever so slowly to stare up at Korrin with such a look.

"Sirena," she says, as sweetly as possible, "no."

Not minding her role as shade-provider at all, Korrin is still staring upward, mesmerized as the great beast soars through the air. Out here, far from any center of civilization, she can enjoy the view without worrying about what nearby civilians it might take. Sahrnia's dragons didn't come with that luxury.

"But Kadan...." Araceli's name for her sinks in after a moment, though she doesn't quite snap out of it. "That's what our name for them means, remember? 'Ataashi', the glorious ones. It's easier to appreciate when it's not aiming that glory right at us." Yet. The dragon isn't entirely out of view, and it wouldn't take long for the creature to circle back.

Ever since the beginning of her bard training, or honestly before - coming to another world has a way of kicking the legs out from under you and really dampening your impulsive streak when you have to weigh so many risks all at once - she's been far more cautious about the wildlife of Thedas. But then she's always been respectful of huge things. Hers just tend to be in the water. Unable to do much unless she swims too far out and behaves recklessly. Even a shark is likely to leave you alone unless you're bleeding or being truly foolish, and a good punch to the nose or eyes can buy you time to escape. But dragons seem so intent upon destruction from what she's read, and heard, and witnessed, and the thought of it out here where they're so far from even token civilisation has her frowning.

"And my name means 'altar of the sky' but you don't see me building a ladder to go challenge the moon." It's only teasing though, not enough heat in it to be anything but when she gives Korrin a prod, holding her thumb and forefinger apart as she tracks the dragon's flight. "Do you think it's hunting right now?"

The prod and the question help snap her out of that entranced state and she darts a sheepish look down at her love. It's a good thing Araceli came along with, and antaam-saars are only part of that. Her gaze soon returns to the sky, though, and she takes a long moment before responding, shaking her head.

"I'm no draconologist, but...I don't think so. There are plenty of creatures out on the sands that would make fine morsels for it, but they aren't being picked off for now. If I had to guess, I'd say it's more likely checking us all out, maybe even showing off. We're the new kids, and it wants to let us know what we're in for. But dragons aren't stupid; it's probably watching us to gauge if we're an actual threat."

Korrin, OTA

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