faderift | 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

"Aaaah..." He had come to talk to Bruce about something, but upon seeing the strange creature nuzzling against the man all thoughts had fled his head. That wasn't something you saw every day. The dracolisk seemed rather content rubbing its head all over Bruce like a large cat or dog, but Bruce on the other hand didn't seem all that happy about the turn of events.

After a moment though Sam mutters a 'huh' under his breathe, shifting to put his hands on his hands as something comes to mind. "Well... at least it's not as bad as that bog unicorn." Damn thing would probably be doing exactly this to him if it was allowed to.

"I'm pretty sure there's not much of a competition against the bog unicorn." The wryness of Bruce's remark was probably rather obvious, even if the effect was probably a little diminished with how the dracolisk in question was having a ball of a time playing with the hair on his head.

Bruce let it continue for a few more moments before he sighed and attempted to nudge the creature's snout off his head. "Did you want me for something, Samouel?"

"Yeah. Being a dead horse with a sword in its skull kind of is hard to top," he agrees, continuing to watch as the reptilian creature continues to rub itself against Bruce. It kind of reminded him of a large dog. A large, fur-less, scaly dog.

"Hm?" His eyes move away from the dracolisk for a moment, blinking at the surgeon. "Oh- yes. I was wondering if you had any lotion or ointment made."

Bruce gives a nod in response to the question, although it probably did look a little ridiculous with the dracolisk still pressing its snout against his hair. He does his best to ignore it, though, the only sign of his exasperation a soft sigh as he turns to start rummaging through his bag.

"Is there anything specific you're looking for?" he asks while going through the contents of his bag to find whatever it is that Samouel needed.

"Something to take care of the sunburns." For himself and several others who keep coming to him. "Too many have it, and keep getting burned. It's better that the healers don't use their energy on constantly trying to heal that."

Feeling a bit braver he moves in closer to Bruce, eyes watching the dracolisk as he does so.

Ah, yes, that made sense. Bruce gives a nod and hums as he goes through his bag to find the thing that he has for something like this.

As he does that the dracolisk continues to muzzle at his hair, only pausing when Samouel comes closer. It stops what its doing then and turns to direct its attention to the other human, letting out a low snort and stamping one of its hooves into the sand, pawing at the ground very much like what a dog would be doing.

Seeing the motion, Sam stops moving closer. He isn't sure what that motion means for a beast like that and honestly he didn't plan on being made into a chew toy. "So... how did you get it... her/him?" Did Bruce even know? ~~Did he want to know?~~

The dracolisk continues to keep an eye on the other human, only stopping when Bruce lets out a sigh and taps it lightly on the snout, bringing its attention back to him. He gives it a disapproving look and shakes its head, and apparently that's enough for the dracolisk to pull back, letting out a grunt as it shifts back and plants its snout into Bruce's hair once more.

Bruce more or less takes that with as much grace as he can, returning back to finding the ointment that Samouel wanted. "I didn't exactly get it. It just decided to stick to me for some reason." A soft 'ah' followed that response, and Bruce finally pulls out a container and holds it out for the other to take. "Here, this should be the one."

It's a bit surprising that bopping such a creature on the nose didn't earn Bruce any trouble besides the grunt, but certainly impressive.

"It must be your animal magnetism," he says half jokingly as he keeps an eye on the dracolisk, just in case it did decide to turn around on him. More so when Bruce holds up the container for him to come and grab, eyes darting between the man, beast and ointment.

Bruce sighs at the joke, even as light as it is. "I'm pretty sure I don't posses anything like that." And okay, maybe he was thinking about the many times during his time on the run where he'd end up with some animal or two trailing after him--and there was that one time a dog stayed with him--but none of those meant anything. Out on the run the animals were just curious, and the dog had been a stray that only stayed for the food. It wasn't as if that led to imply anything about him.

And if it did, Bruce would rather not dwell on it.

The dracolisk is more or less content with being occupied with Bruce's hair for now, electing to totally ignore Samouel at this point. Bruce takes another moment to stifle down another sigh and shakes the container in his hand. "I'll make sure it doesn't do anything, don't worry." A pause, and then he adds on. "I'd rather not be holding this for the whole day."

You sure Bruce? There had to be something there since the tall four-legged reptilian certainly was attached to you, and it didn't seem it was just about food. Unless it ate hair or something - maybe watch out for that.

At the prompt Sam does finish walking forward and slowly going for the ointment. If something were to happen he was pretty sure he'd be able to react well enough, but still the idea of being snapped at wasn't pleasant. "Thank you Bruce. Is there anything I can get you in return?"

When Samouel got close enough the dracolisk seemed like it was about to do something - but a sharp look from Bruce stopped it before it could. Instead it snorted and turned away, apparently not interested anymore since its chance had passed.

Bruce gave him a smile once the ointment transferred hands, quick to wave off the gratitude and the offer. "It's fine. I'm alright here. But I appreciate it."

For the best that it didn't considering that it would probably have a rather bad time. It was rather lucky that Bruce was on top of things.

"Hm. Well thank you again then." It never seemed like Bruce needed much in the ways of help, it was always him asking the surgeon. Not that that was an issue, but never hurt to offer assistance. "I better get this to the men who are going to be heading out soon."

"Don't let me keep you." And the longer Samouel lingered the more the dracolisk might be inclined to turn back again, and the last thing Bruce wanted was some unneeded incident on his hands. "I'll see you around, Gareth."

"Likewise. See you around, Bruce." Sam nods at that and begins to turn away though stops when he hears his last name. Somehow it is even more rare to hear that his full first name. It brings a small smile to his face, having Sam give Bruce another nod accompanied by a wave this time before he walks off to find anyone in need.

OPEN: The Western Approach

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