CLOSED: a prayer that will be answered

[byblow]

WHO: Adelaide, Alistair, Anders, Hercules, Kaisa, Lena, Sabine, Teren, Velanna
WHAT: Some safety precautions
WHEN: Solace 1-7
WHERE: The Deep Roads beneath the Western Approach
NOTES: OOC post.

Comments

( the gang takes a hike )

[byblow]

There's no definite way to measure the passage of time, here, except for footsteps and hunger and sleepiness. The last glimpse of sunlight comes before they've even entered the Deep Roads proper, when they finish the climb down the rickety scaffolding off the mining platform and venture into the unlit tunnels. That brief hike is the only portion of the journey that's truly cold and dark. The Deep Roads themselves, accessed through a crumbling breach in the walls, are kept warm and illuminated by a network of flowing magma and lyrium-laced pillars--and fire, lit torches and pit fires recent enough to still be burning. The roads have been closed, but they aren't abandoned.

The first small band of darkspawn attacks within the hour, and after them come deepstalkers and spiders and more darkspawn, always, felt ahead and beneath by the Wardens in the group, who are sensed in return. Some attack. Most retreat. They're on a mission down here, too, and the further everyone goes, the more the highway is dotted with primitive shrines made of bones and animal skins, broken weapons, crude barricades.

Still, it's a quick journey. They have maps at their disposal, and there are signs along the trail in the form of symbols etched into the stone walls, Paragon statues, and ancient road signs. They only have to stop to make camp once (and are only attacked in the middle of the "night" only twice, a small blessing) before they begin to hear a very faint song--familiar to some, redundant to Hercules--from ahead.

The closer they get, the more darkspawn there are and the less stable the stone is. A bridge has crumbled and needs to be patched, and at one point the roads are half-blocked by an old cave-in. But at the end the tunnel opens up into what looks like a thaig, a city-sized cavern, where the song shakes the ground and vibrates in the pillars.

That's as far as they get.

OOC | Make your own adventure time! Top-level and kill darkspawn/spiders/deepstalkers, sing campfire songs, complain, don't get the blight (please), clear the way ahead, get briefly lost, etc. etc. etc. If you aren't sure if you're allowed to do something, the answer is 99% likely to be yes, so just do it.

we're off to see the wizard | ota, suckers

[twelvelabours]

( Wandering and Thaiging. )
Beautiful, isn't it?

( The place is a mess, but you'd be hard pressed to deny there wasn't beauty in what the dwarves had created, and a tragedy in its being lost to them. Once he'd thought they might be able to take back a Thaig, give them back some of their kingdom.

He'd been a lot younger and a lot more idealistic, then. It's not that he doesn't still believe, but it's more duty now and less daydreams.

Alternatively, here - as Herc easily climbs over some rubble, he turns and offers a hand to the next person along. ) Watch your step. Don't want you to hurtle into lava, or anything. Probably bring the mood down.

( :') )



( Attack at camp, the second. )

They're coming again.

( Hushed, that, rolling his shoulders as he spins Striker Eureka in his hand. He's been fighting with the kind of ferocity that comes when your team's life is all that matters, confidence without recklessness that seems freer for the fact that he's accepted his decision.

Not announced it, not yet, but accepted it. His shield, Rebellion, rests on his arm, metal warped and twisted and vicious, all the better for beating faces to pulp, and in his hand flame lick over Striker Eureka's blade, unfurling and twisting around it. The Darkspawn don't reach the party first; they reach Hercules, battering the first full in the face as his sword runs another through. )


( Resting up. )
( He can be found doing two things. One is writing a letter on thin parchment in poor light, squinting at the paper and ink, or just staring it down without doing much of anything at all.

Or he's drinking wine from a skin, and holds it out obligingly, without prompting. )


( or wildcard me )

attack

[fightingdirty]

Fuck's sake.

[ It's exhaled on a sigh, and Lena pulls her kerchief up over her nose again, making sure it's still tied tightly behind her head. Then she draws her daggers and positions her left hand down at her belt, using her thumb to pop off a cork and her ring and pinkie finger closing around the small vial of poison there. Fifteen years as a mercenary and she can coat her blades with poison as easily as blinking.

But she doesn't want to waste its potency, so she waits until the Warden has slammed forward before dumping the poison on a blade and tossing the vial aside. Then she flanks the group of darkspawn and stabs the nearest one in the back. ]

hi I'm here too

[doneisdone]

And from nowhere comes Teren, her vicious, needle-like blades puncturing the lungs of a briefly bewildered genlock before she withdraws again to find a new vantage. She doesn't speak a word, and somehow manages to look prim and mannered as ever while fighting as dirty as Leonard Church's mouth. When she's visible, anyway.

resting

[unbrokenoath]

[ Kaisa isn't surprised he heard her walking over. She's not quiet in anything she does, and that includes clanking up behind him in her heavy armor. She accepts the wine, and in a show of her great and boundless respect for Herc, she only takes a sip of it, before returning it to him.

Then she sets her head right on top of his head. ]

How're you doing, ser?

[twelvelabours]

( With a huff of amused laughter, Herc accepts the skin back and tips some back. It's good stuff - Orlesian, actually. It's a sign of his great and boundless respect for her that he didn't pass her a skin of the cheap stuff.

He's unperturbed by the contact, glancing her way. )

Not too bad. ( Easily said, but that doesn't make it any less a lie by omission, does it? ) You? Keeping out of trouble?

ota

[doneisdone]

(travelin')

Despite her years, Teren is often one of the first to volunteer when a task requires someone lightfooted. It's at one blockage that she spots an alternate way out of the corner of her eye, mentions it idly, and then absconds to investigate, making her way up and down the deadly, crumbling rocks as nimbly as a mountain goat. In this way, she makes for an excellent scout, identifying weak patches and barking admonishments at anyone who ventures too close to them. Or falls into them.

(campin')

Maintaining her temporary-turned-apparently-permanent duties as Warden quartermaster, Teren ensures that everyone is fed and sufficiently watered when they stop for the night. She also, as with Skyhold, has a tendency to keep the ... well, "night" watch, not that anyone can really keep track.
Anyone who drinks too much or seems about to is offered her blunt assurance that if they stumble off a cliff, nobody's going after them.

(fightin')

Teren always seems to disappear during fights. This isn't because she isn't present, but because she invariably gets herself quickly out of the way so she can commit all her murders from behind and in secret. Usually she reappears a while later with a sack or two of scavenged supplies.
Honor is for Templars.

campin'

[justice_is_blond]

He joins her on the second 'night' watch, slipping out of his bedroll to sit next to her and peer out into the darkness. His dreams are dangerous again. It's taking a lot of work to adjust.

"Anything exciting going on? Or is this where you're indulging in the best snacks?"

aggressively plays travel montage music

[unbrokenoath]

Traveling

[ She'd told that pretty rifter Araceli about the Deep Roads, once. She remembered explaining how it was both expansive and claustrophobic all at the same time. That she didn't particularly care for it. She'd thought that the one bright point in the mess with Clarel and Corypheus was that the Deep Roads were not a necessary part of dealing with them.

Alas, she was a fool.

Still, she handles it well enough, willing to chatter to anyone nearby about her other experiences with the Deep Roads. This was nothing, one time she had gotten her sword stuck in a Hurlock's spine and had to fight an ogre with her bare hands, honest! She also offers little encouragements, helping anyone who has trouble climbing around. She's not particularly agile, but she's like a tank, slowly and steadily rolling over whatever obstructs their path. ]

The worst part about the whole fight wasn't not having a sword, honestly, it was getting close enough to smell the ogre's breath. That hit worse than the punches.

Resting up

[ Berserkers are not known for their wisdom in battle. Or the ability to avoid injuries. The fact that Kaisa doesn't have to worry about getting the blight and others with them do only makes her more reckless, getting in the way of darkspawn that try to target anyone who isn't a Warden. Sometimes that means tackling darkspawn to the ground, sometimes that means getting in the way of one of their swords.

She's recovering from one of the latter instances, sitting on a boulder with her armor off, and her shirt rolled up just high enough to preserve decency, a long cut decorating her stomach. Nothing overly serious, but needing healing, and Kaisa is patiently waiting for someone to give her a hand. She doesn't seem overly bothered by the injury, focusing on twirling around the strange, garish sword pommel that was, apparently, actually a garish greatsword. She wasn't sure what kind of magical bullshit let the sword work, but who cared? It looked awesome. ]

Alistair

[ Kaisa is not particularly skilled in the fine art of debate, it's much easier to either threaten to punch someone, or actually punch them. But she will do neither of these to Alistair, and the subject at hand is of enough import for her to give debate a shot. ]

Alistair, you don't understand. This is an archdemon--or it's gonna be, maybe, some day. Do you know how long I've wanted to kill an archdemon? For forever, basically. It's my life's goal. And this one won't even kill me.

[ She clasps her hands together. Please, Alistair, think of the children. Or just her. ]

And then it won't ever be an archdemon! Once punch in the face, or maybe like ten, and bam! One whole blight avoided. It'll be the top high score for finishing a blight ever!

the one helpfully labeled Alistair

[byblow]

[ Alistair glances at her clasped hands. He's smiling a little--only a little, because he's Angry and has been for weeks, but not at her. He's also not yet considering this a sincere debate. ]

Why would I help you beat our record?

Traveling

[justice_is_blond]

So when was this again, exactly? Simply for clearing up the timeline.

[His voice is a little amused despite everything. Hearing voices helps him keep adjusting to the silence in his head, so encouraging Kaisa to talk more can only be a good one.]

And how did you manage to not pass out from the stink of his breath?

Let's have a caravan | OTA

[fleurdesel]

[ Hobbling Along ]

The best treatment for her leg at this point is rest and truthfully, she ought not have come. But this was something that needed to be done, an opportunity to perhaps wring out more answers from the Wardens, and an excuse to leave Skyhold. She'd been twisting herself in knots going slowly mad with the inactivity that came from spending her days hunched over a desk. It'll be amusing, later, when she remembers that is simply how she'd been in the Spire, that was life for her. To be stir crazy hadn't ever occurred, but now? Now she was active enough that simply sitting all day without a moment or two to walk or train was aggravating.

The hovering of her students did not help all that much either.

Even so there are times when leaning her weight on her staff and moving stiffly simply is not quick enough to keep up in the massive halls, when weaving through the rubble makes her stumble, when the effort of keeping pace without jarring her leg causes her to slow and stop for a moment, leaning against whatever is closest to take the weight off for as long as it takes her to catch her breath before she hobbles along. Perhaps coming was not the wisest choice, but she's come all the same.


[ Fighting Darkspawn ]

Never let it be said that limited mobility would hamper Adelaide's effectiveness in battle. So long as she kept to the middle were they surrounded or the rear as long as they were not, she could work; ice crackling along her fingers and spidering across the ground to erupt in walls to defend her allies or impale, the wispy blue glow of rejuvenation soothing hurts and urging them on to cut through the darkspawn. Afterward she makes a point to check everyone over, to mend cuts and bruises- and to make certain no one was spattered with tainted blood.


[ Insomnia's a Bitch ]

The few hours they have in camp to rest should be used for just that- resting. But be it the environment, the discomfort of the break, or her general unease with the possibility of darkspawn attack at any hour- Adelaide finds sleep does not come easily. She writes by wisp her observations- of the Thaig, of the wardens, of the darkspawn. If she is to be awake? She might as well attempt to be productive.


[ Wildcard ]

hobbling.

[twelvelabours]

"Councillor."

Herc isn't blind, and her struggle over a particularly rubble strewn, treacherous slope in their path isn't lost on him. She's barely made any headway on it when he's jogging a few paces from his place in their procession to catch up with her. "Can I offer you some help?"

Quite how much help she accepts is up to her, but he's watching her carefully. They need her, but Maker be damned if he doesn't think they've set her up for a bloody difficult time, if not outright failure by dragging her down here in this state.

insomnia.

[byblow]

Sleep is for the weak. Alistair is weak. (Or he has nearly a year of tossing and turning and nightmares to make up for. Or both.) But down here he manages to sleep less like a rock than he has been on the surface, periodically opening his eyes to scan the bedrolls and make sure everyone is present and accounted for, the watch is still being kept, the fire isn't at risk of burning out. And when he wakes up feeling vaguely alert, he heaves himself up and stumbles to sit next to Adelaide, bag in hand.

However mild and respectful his dislike, it is dislike. He isn't here for a friendly chat. But he does start with, "Are you all right?"

insomnia

[doneisdone]

As most in the warden camp have discovered, Teren likes the night watch. Between the song and her age and the darkspawn blood roiling through her veins, she doesn't find a lot of rest these days, but that's no excuse to not make herself useful.

Spotting Adelaide by her strange light, Teren approaches, her footfalls silent as she pads along the stone. "Lady Leblanc," she says, gruffly but quietly, shrouded in darkness beyond the wisp, "we will know before any darkspawn arrive." There are dreams. And she, well, she'll be awake to hear them approaching. They're not tremendously subtle.

Hobbling along

[justice_is_blond]

He glances after her when she slows, eyes on her leg. It's not just that it's his fault. It's that she's a friend and she's in pain. Anders heads over and jerks his chin toward her leg.

"I'm guessing it's giving you trouble. Can I give you an arm? ...Or a back. I'm rested enough, I could carry you." Maker knows she's carried enough for him, really.

( the gang tries not to die )

[byblow]

The bottom of the thaig glows orange with fire and is teeming with darkspawn. That's not unexpected. Whatever is down there, making the song reverberate off the walls, it's their life's work to reach it--and the Wardens would have felt the horde, anyhow, even if it hadn't been logical to expect them to be there. It's a long way down, a way that would require traversing levels of bridges and narrow walkways along the walls of the cavern, and an equally long way up. The vast sea of monsters below won't be a problem (probably, if they leave quickly enough), even though the roar from beneath when the darkspawn sense the new presence above sounds like a battle cry.

The problem is the wave from behind, the direction they entered from--only a tickle, at first, in the head of the Warden nearest the entrance, half-buried beneath the sensation of so many more connected minds down below. But it gets stronger. Quickly.

OOC | This one is GMed. Fill out the form in this post unless you want me to assume I can burn your character's face off.

[twelvelabours]

Nice spot they've found. Cheery.

Herc takes in the cavern, the breadth and scale of it, and lets out a long, slow breath. It really is spectacular, in its way. Terrible, gruesome and terrifying, but spectacular. The surge of bodies, from this high up, feels like watching ants. They're too big and too loud, but ants are still what he's reminded of. This is where he'll come - where he'll stay. This will be his ending place.

"Behind us." No time to say Alistair or Kaisa or the names of either of the other Wardens present. They'll know, same as he does.

This is where he will stay. Not them, though. Not a one. Herc moves forward, striking the pommel of Striker Eureka against his shield and working up a racket. He's always been a bit of an attention stealer. "This way, come on." Enough to give the others breathing room, to ready themselves, to draw fire so they don't. Enough for that, he hopes.

[fleurdesel]

Light flares at the tip of Adelaide's staff, arcing between that point and her hand as she pulls on the Fade- in a moment glyphs burst into being underfoot, fading quickly. Barriers ripple in the air to shield Herc, to shield all of them from the incoming spawn.

( the gang wrecks some shit )

[byblow]

After leaving the thaig they're pursued for a time, darkspawn coming out of the stonework in force to make sure they really do leave the Old God alone in its prison. But the darkspawn taper off along with the echoes of the song. Back to normal, band-every-hour-or-two levels.

The way back takes longer than the journey down. The Wardens who came before scratched symbols into the walls to mark the way, noted statues and landmarks, and left behind signs of exploration. It all needs to be scrubbed: the symbols obscured or re-scratched in the wrong tunnels, the statues torn down or moved. The weaker bridges can be collapsed. So can the tunnels themselves, sometimes, where they're already looking unsound. Signs of an ancient camp where the Deep Roads branch in one direction are carefully moved to another. Traps and wards, both magic and not, are set along the way.

Someone needs to take notes: follow this symbol, not that one. Disarm that trap first. Find a way across the chasm without a bridge, sorry. The nontainted of the group are charged with more than their fair share, sent to branching paths to decide how to mark them and keeping their own set of notes, half of the information on the way forward kept segregated--constructing a long puzzle that the Wardens, not even the ones here, can't easily solve on their own.

Their original entrance into the Deep Roads, a hole torn in the dwarven walls and the long dark mining tunnel, is collapsible, too. On the other side of it, there's sunlight.

OOC | More make your own adventure time! Top-level and kill more darkspawn/spiders/deepstalkers, get trapped in minor cave-ins or almost fall off a crumbling ledge, set traps and wards/seals, complain more. If you aren't sure if you're allowed to do something, the answer is 99% likely to be yes, so just do it.

herc | ottaaaa

[twelvelabours]

( it's a trap. )
Look, he's not a rogue, but he can work his way around mechanisms. Twenty-odd years of combined soldiering and Wardening means you have to pick up a few different skills, and he holds out some wire attached to a very elaborate looking trap to the nearest bystander.

"Hold this, will you?"


( turn off the clock. )

When they see the light at the end of the tunnel - literal, as much as metaphorical, Herc stops. There's fresh air to breathe, now. The sun's beating down, and part of him's almost dreading knowing how bright the world outside is, in case it corrodes some part of his nerve for doing this.

It couldn't. He's too much himself for that to happen. No matter the ache, duty is duty, and the Calling is ringing out.

He stops, looks to the way out. They're home free, now. They're getting out safe. They're getting out all together. It takes him a moment to speak. Words have never been his forte.

There's a moment where he has to clear his throat, to make sure they all hear him. "This is as far as I go."

The dog beside him stops, looking up at him, but he's looking to the others before he looks at Max. "This is as far as I go," Hercules repeats, a little more quietly.


( ooc: for this last prompt I am thinking it works best for a group thread for part of it, but I am happy to do some one on one threads for it, too! If you want to do a closed thread just indicate in the subject line of your reply that it's closed so no one else hops in. )

Clock, Closed plz

[fleurdesel]

"..." Adelaide turns from where she'd been limping up the incline to light and fresh air and life, never so happy for the idea of being in a desert in all her life-

When Herc stops and says that. That single, chilling, impossible thing.

Well.

Not all that impossible given his age, given what is supposed to happen to wardens. But that is in the tales, in the rumors, in whispers of people she has never met. Men she has never loathed on principle and come around to actually, perhaps, being somewhat fond of. Men she's come to respect.

"I beg your pardon but- what the fuck did you just say?" Because he cannot mean that.

clock, open for jumping-in!

[byblow]

The moment of incomprehension is a very brief one, but it's still there, followed by a moment when it looks like he might argue, followed by--looking down at the bag he's carrying, and opening it, and rifling through its contents for any leftover provisions, passing smaller bags of dried meat and nuts into his free hand as he finds them.

Alistair isn't really that practical a person. It isn't really a very practical decision. They still have the journey back to Griffon Wing Keep and across Orlais, and Hercules may not last long enough down here to need to eat. It's just the urge to do something. Anything.

"We would have sent you off better," he says--you should have told us.

tickticktick

[doneisdone]

It almost seems like Teren won't say anything, or acknowledge him at all. But she stays behind after the rest have gone, with the assurance that she'll bring up the rear.
Perhaps she and Herc have never seen eye to eye, but she can say that for many. And, in the end, they're all destined for... well, this. There's no sense in holding onto hard feelings against the dead.
She turns to look at him, quiet and contemplative, after the others are out of earshot. Then she approaches to extend her hand in a warrior's grip. There's no apology, no final concessions: it would be pointless, and wouldn't make either of them feel better. She has too much respect for him to say things she doesn't mean. But he's still a person, and deserves validation of his existence, of the work he's done.

"I'll look after her," she says, hesitates, and adds, "give them the griffon's wrath, Hansen."

Turn off the clock, one on one please

[justice_is_blond]

Back to the surface. Anders exhales with relief when he sees it, glad they're heading out, and then Herc's voice draws him up short. He stops and closes his eyes for a moment. There's no mistaking what that means. Turning, opening his eyes, he looks over at Herc.

"Some people give some sort of warning." The Calling claims them all in the end, but there's grief in Anders' expression despite how this isn't the most surprising thing. Herc's older. He's been a Warden for some time. It's to be expected, and yet it still stings. Having someone to follow, to respect, to sit down and chat with, is something Anders values greatly. He doesn't know about Blackwall yet, and Blackwall hadn't put himself out there for Anders the way Herc did.

"Maker, Herc. You know this puts me at third senior again? Are you really going to do that?" He's not serious. He just doesn't know what to say. Goodbyes aren't his strong suit, and he hasn't really had to practice them much in all of his running away.