player plot: thorns of the rose (2)

[fightingale]

WHO: Alistair, Shale, Zevran, Dorian, Bethany, Bruce, Christine, Eirlys, Sina (closed.)
WHAT: Gathering rare herbs, slam poetry night with a tree, and other things.
WHEN: Departing 24th and returning 27th Justinian
WHERE: Brecilian Forest, mostly
NOTES: This is one of the missions for the Thorns of the Rose player plot. Potential themes of death and attempted murder, also an intense forest, violence, other things to be added as necessary. If something heavy comes up in a thread that isn't mentioned here, please add relevant warnings to the subject line.

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TRAVEL & CAMPS.

[fightingale]

It is not an easy journey, but it is one that must be done fast. The Left Hand is wasting; dark vines of scar tissue twist around her neck, reach towards her shoulder and up to the opposite ear, she can hardly swallow to eat or drink. Suffice to say it is rather grim, and leave it at that.

They have maps, rations and supplies were readily seen to, and the trip began as soon as it was safe to travel the road away from Skyhold.

On the way to the Brecilian Forest they are attacked by bandits posing as a group of Chantry brothers and sisters. There far more bears than are ideal, and one bridge they would have used to cross a river is broken. The group does, however, make it in one piece, more or less, to a very large and very creepy forest. Yay, congrats on getting to go to there.

( OOC; mingle, chat, be awesome, feel free to just do whatever. I'll be adding more comments below for particular adventures where there will be some NPCing and such. Make good choices, pls don't upset the halla )

[eolasemah]

A favor for a favor: emboldened by her ability to continue living while away from Skyhold on one mission, Sina has made it her business to embark on another. She may not necessarily owe Leliana, but Sina is as shrewd as she is honorable and has assigned herself the responsibility of finding the right herbs for the task. She is, after all, one of Skyhold's most dedicated herbalists.

This is the bulk of her usefulness, although she also proves quite adept at navigating a forest, even if it isn't her own. She has a keen eye for game trails, subtle landmarks, and other helpful assets of a terrain not too unlike the one from which she hails. She's the only Dalish here, and her vallaslin honors Ghilan'nain; it'd be more than a little embarrassing if she couldn't competently navigate the wilds.
Especially since she can't fight.
What she can do is cast protective wards over the party as they do so, healing on a moment's notice, taxing her energy to maintain a bubble of protection around the lot of them as they dispatch the bandits. After the encounter, she collapses from the overexertion. This happens periodically, and, like the expedition to the Deep Roads, it often results in her having to be carried to prevent slowing down everyone else. It's not very dignified, and she asserts that she could catch up to them just fine, but also recognizes that this isn't about her and staying together is important to the mission.

Bears she tries to pacify. She doesn't speak to animals, per se, but she understands their behaviors to a degree, and tries to head off conflicts before they arise. Just give him the sodding fish, we can catch another.

[amygdalae]

Though Bruce can fight if he absolutely has to, he's more content with sticking to the sidelines as well; he's never been one for combat, and even if he can use his magic freely now, he'd rather focus on healing and defence since almost everyone else has offence covered.

And that's probably a good thing as well, since Sina possibly can't handle it all by herself.

After what seemed like the millionth encounter with more bandits Bruce is at her side once the fight is over, doing his best to support her before she collapses entirely.

"Do you need a moment?" he asks quietly. The dracolisk he had with him could carry them both if need be, but he understands that Sina needs her space too. He doesn't want to push things unless absolutely necessary.

[eolasemah]

Sina's eyelids flutter as he catches her, but she offers a small smile of gratitude. It quickly turns into a wince as the shard crackles, magic thrumming all through her body, rendering her limbs powerful in one way and nearly useless in another.
"Serannas," she breathes, her head lolling against Bruce's shoulder. If she were too proud to accept assistance, she wouldn't have lasted this long.

[amygdalae]

Bruce manages not to wince at the crackle of magic that runs through her, the inside of him roiling at the sensation of a part of the Fade so close to him physically. He soldiers through that feeling, however, just as he soldiers through most things these days. It hasn't been that all great since his status as a mage became common knowledge in the Inquisition.

It takes a moment for him to translate the word, but once it clicks to him he gives a small nod. "No problem," he returns, voice still soft. "We can both stop here for a bit, then catch up to the rest once you feel better."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

On The Road

Bethany was unbelievably grouchy, no lie. Her stitches hurt, her ribs hurt, everything hurts and she's been on a horse for more hours than she wants to think about and Now...

Now these bastards - These Bastards were dressed as the Chantry folk. So yes, she pulled her staff out and she froze as many as she possibly could, with one sweeping Cone of Cold, her expression pulled as closely as possible into a pout of pain.

At Camp

If not for the dire circumstances of Leliana's condition, Bethany would still be sleeping on her cot, trying to heal her wounds and reading as many books as she could her hands on.

Now, she was in the woods, reading through volumes on herbs and potion making, not to mention whatever Brecilian Forest she could find. Which was remarkably little. She occasionally put one hand to her chest, or put the books down with a sigh to pick up her knitting.

If her needles moved a little harder and faster than usual - well, she had to work out her worry and frustration with something. Right now it was a nug sweater.

[ancarrow]

Eirlys spends much of the journey in relative quiet. The attack on Leliana is a sobering wake up call, and she's rather subdued as she tries to fathom what it will mean for the elves both in the Inquisition and in general if their biggest supporter at the top were to die. There'd be riots, she's sure of it, and the shems who stand against them would just use those as proof that they weren't at all worthy of having a voice in the decisions the Inquisition was making.

In the evenings she takes herself to the edge of camp to pray for the gaze of the Maker to turn upon the Left Hand of the Divine, although even as she says the words they feel hollow, and she feels only the vacuum that had developed within her in the Fade, where her faith had previously held strong.

She also takes time to practise her reading, though she struggles without Korrin here to guide her, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she quickly hides the book if anyone sees her.

closed to zevran. don't worry, no smut happens.

[liberalum]

It's pre-dawn. The trip into the dampest part of Ferelden barring, naturally, the infamous bogs, accommodate only the most efficient of pauses, but pause they must. To sleep, to eat, to dry their boots after that one surprisingly deep stream they had to cross, knee deep in water that has the same colour and taste as earth. Dorian is on watch.

First light pokes fingers through the trees. Soon, they'll be moving again.

Currently, Dorian is on watch inasmuch as he is watching a mirror he has set against a fallen log nearby camp, to better shave his face with a sharp, flat razor. Naturally, his mustache is preserved, focusing only on the growing shadow bristled down the elegant slope of his jaw. Crossed legged, bare-backed, occasionally pausing to swat away an insect with understated murderous intent.

we promise

[ombranera]

He's never slept easily in the forest- no walls, no real cover, all manner of creatures and insects to bite and wander about making noise? Give him a city any day, with buildings and cutpurses and muggers. Normally it would prompt no end of quiet complaining to ease the strain but with Leliana thus poisoned...

Needless to say he has been quiet for most of the trip, uncharacteristically so. Zevran does not speak often-

Nor does he sleep well. "This poison-"

He murmurs from the shadows, for that is the one benefit to the woods, the shadows, the test of skill in wandering about without being heard. "How long do we have, truly?"

[liberalum]

Dorian hesitates, mostly to steady his own hand, when that voice slithers out from the darkness. Whatever wards he'd set up around the camp aren't broken by the movement of friendlies, but still. He doesn't look up from his task, lowering the blade to clean it before leaning back in to continue.

"For most? A little under a week. Leliana? A little longer."

He brings up his other hand to check for bristle, fingertips gliding along soap slick skin. "I've left her healers with instructions if we're delayed. There's a method of puncturing the throat to permit breathing even after it closes completely. A person can stay alive for nearly a month, if they're lucky."

[ombranera]

"Fed through a tube, with sufficient care, one might live like that for three." A beat, then he explains. "It is agony, of a sort."

Why else would an assassin know such things?

But to think of Leliana existing like that, hovering between life and death with a hollow needle, wan and ashen- The shadows hide the way his face twists in the moment, only his voice betraying him as he swears, low and heated.

A moment. Only a moment before he scrapes it back in. Hardens his heart. "And you are certain of this supposed cure?"

[liberalum]

There is a glance of grey eyes in the mirror, seeking out Zevran in his shadows. And away again.

"The components seem sound, and I have confidence in the research. Beyond that, I'm relying on faith, rather than certainty. It hasn't been done before, but cosmic firsts are rather the Inquisition's thing."

The razor is cleaned, closed, a cloth brought up to pat his face dry. "I had an ancestor who went this way, you know. It wouldn't have been enough to simply silence him with a fatal push down the stairs or a shitting tonic in his wine. They aren't really killing a person; they're killing a message. An idea. A voice."

[ombranera]

He steps from the shadows, then, finding somewhere to perch within a respectable distance of Dorian. It is much to consider, the murder of an idea. How they came to have this poison, how they managed to get to her rooms, how none of them noticed. There is a sudden visceral moment of empathy echoing whatever Leliana must have felt when he was taken by the Crows.

And she had not even known what was being done to him.

"...So the retaliation might as well send a message all its own." The way his lips curls isn't kind- it's sharp and angry in a way he hasn't let anyone aside from those he's closest to see in years. "Thoughts to keep me warm at night, those."

[liberalum]

"Quite so."

In reply to both parts, then. If Dorian is at all queasy about this little ugly bit of Tevinter culture slithering like a serpent into Skyhold, well-- it's kept quashed down along with his own worry for Leliana. His own bitter anger. But it's all there, for those who know him better, and can detect the nuances in his sarcasm, his banter. "I'm not certain if they're truly sending their regards from Tevinter, or if the potion's been making some rounds beyond the Imperium, but I'd wager the intent translates. Leliana is not without some outlandish opinions of her own."

FOREST SEARCHING

[fightingale]

Nothing says welcome like a spooky forest full of gnarled trees so ancient that they look like they might just come close to buckling under their own weight. It smells like pine needles and a pervasive, clinging damp. Ferns and moss gross in abundance, creeks flow and bubble, and sometimes there is a tremendous sense of quiet.

Other times, the trees come alive. NBD.

The list of plants characters are looking for is relatively short, but challenging all the same. Some are difficult only because they are so vaguely described, others because they are simply challenging to locate. The first, for example, is only described as a blue power with white stamen that smells of rancid meat and honey. It may grow in bushes, or in vines, or only in the shady parts of riverbanks - accounts vary. The second is called stellae atra, which roughly translates to “poison stars” but doesn’t seem to have a name outside Tevene. The "star" blends into surrounding foliage annoying easily, looks like ivy through the day but at night little red flowers bloom amongst them. The last has something to do with minstrel leaf, and remains a bit puzzling. Who knows what that could be?

Whatever they are, best to grab as much of them as possible - it'd be terribly inconvenient to head back this way.

( OOC; this will be one thread that is GMed! Tagging order isn't strict, but please don't boomerang a bunch so anyone gets left behind. )

[aceso]

While Christine isn't looking forward to smelling the flower that is said to be reminiscent of rotting meat, at least the odor will easily lead them to it. She may be a mage healer, but in her time with the Inquisition, she's slowly been familiarizing herself with herb lore as well. It's good to be well-rounded, especially when a patient requests no magic be used. Therefore, while this mission is about saving the spymaster, it's also a learning experience for Christine. If only these necessary herbs weren't in Ferelden. She's quite all right with the country as a whole, but she's Orlesian and therefore has to pretend she isn't.

"Only in Ferelden would a flower that smells of rotting meat grow." She clicks her tongue and examines the leaves of a nearby bush, because they need three kinds of herbs, and she doesn't want to miss one of the others while waiting for the smell to hit her nose.

[byblow]

"And if we needed something nice-smelling and useless we'd go to Orlais," Alistair says.

It's quiet, musing but not particularly cheerful. He's not in a good mood. But he is trying, for everyone else's sake, not to be a furious storm cloud hanging over an already gloomy setting. Being home--in Ferelden, not for the first time but certainly further east than he's dared since he left--helps, a little. At the moment he's crouched beside a tree, examining a plant he doesn't recognize but that looks odd enough that it ought to have a name. Probably not minstrel leaf, though. It isn't very leafy.

"Maybe they sing," he says, half to himself. "Singing plants wouldn't be the weirdest thing here."

[aceso]

She shoots him a withering look before informing him in a prim manner: "Orlais has an abundance of useful plants. Amrita vein, rashvine nettle, vandal aria, dragonthorn. I could go on, but that is not why we are here." So there.

This journey has yet to show her anything truly weird, but she doesn't know anything about this forest. Tales of the Hero of Ferelden leave much to be desired in Orlais. But this is the least she can do to help Sister Leliana after all the support she's given Christine's research.

"Perhaps the leaf resembles a lute in shape?" she suggests. It's all she can think of at the moment.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

"And Fereldan has elfroot, embrium, prophet's laurel, dawn lotus, black lotus ... " Bethany murmured under her breath, as she carefully edged herself around another tree, using her staff as a balance.

She arched an eyebrow over at Christine, before looking over at Alistair, "I thought there was a singing tree here. Or at least a rhyming one." She angled towards him, to peer at the other plant. "Or if it is minstrel, it could look more like a pipe."

[ancarrow]

"It could just be that it's favoured by minstrels for its effect." Perhaps it amplified the voice if prepared in a certain way, as well as the healing properties they needed it for. Eirlys hopes not, as it will make it even more difficult to find if it looks similar to the other leaves surrounding them. "It's probably wise to take at least one sample of everything, just in case."

[aceso]

"Perhaps something to sooth the throat?" Christine guesses. It seems why a minstrel would take it, at any rate. She gestures for Eirlys to go ahead. "A good idea. It will be easier to compare notes back at Skyhold. There may be books with diagrams of these leaves."

RUINS: an optional sidequest.

[fightingale]

The Ruins are ancient, elven, and either have been thoroughly invaded by the forest or have drawn the forest in and claimed it so they are both unavoidably the same.

The halls here are scattered with bones and dirt, and though many of the halls are shadowy there are abrupt shafts of light where dust can be seen dancing on the air in slow spirals, and ivy and leaves flourish, dappled by sun and shadow alike.

Ancient energy runs through this place, and there are unusual plants growing even here. Will you find what you need?


( OOC: pick your own adventure, however! leave a note in the subject line or an ooc comment in your threadstarter if you're open for some GMing of shenanigans and STUFF in your thread C: )

WEIRD BEWILDERING CAMP THING: an optional sidequest.

[fightingale]

TO BE ADDED.

( OOC; this will be one thread that is GMed! Tagging order isn't strict, but please don't boomerang a bunch so anyone gets left behind. )

POST-MISSION, ON THE WAY HOME

[fightingale]

( to be added )

EPILOGUE

[fightingale]

( i will make terrible slides

or i won't

who knows )