faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2016-04-17 01:31 am

OPEN: Cloudreach Event

WHO: Anyone at Skyhold
WHAT: Cloudreach showers bring weird shit.
WHEN: Cloudreach 15 onward
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: For information about the illness, its effects, and its cure, please make sure to also read the OOC Post.


This high in the mountains, snowstorms are to be expected. But this one is large and lingering, hanging over the valley and the fortress for days. In Skyhold, with its eternal spring, the snow becomes rain before it hits the ground, leaving inhabitants and visitors to wade through puddles and mud in the courtyards. In the valley, snow and ice accumulate under cloud cover—and worse, when the clouds finally thin, a whole winter's accumulation of snow begins to melt in the sunlight.

Within a day, the ground is sodden and mucky enough to give the survivors of the Fallow Mire (or Ferelden in general) unpleasant flashbacks, and those who live in tents are issued additional hastily-constructed wooden pallets to raise their floors above the mud. It is worse outside the fortress: streams and rivers have overflowed their banks, rapids run twice as fast as normal, and flash flooding has made even road travel treacherous.

On Cloudreach 17 a mudslide buries the pass into Skyhold from the west, and on the 19th a sheet of snow loosened from a mountainside collapses into the shadowed passage from the east. An Inquisition supply caravan is caught in the latter, scattering wagons and goods across the hillside and leaving a dozen people and horses in need of rescue and medical care.

Healers may find themselves stretched thin, as in addition to the usual rash of blisters and sniffles that come from days of rain and flooding, an illness begins to sweep through Skyhold's ranks from around the 16th onward. It's marked first by climbing fever, then by flashes at the edges of vision—green light and jagged formations that aren't there, beings of light and shadow gathering around people or clustering in corners—and distant voices, coherent for brief moments if you're quiet and still and not trying too hard to listen.
ombranera: (so if we must speak seriously...)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
"I am attempting to give you an out." He propped his cheek in his hand. "And you are being quite terrible at taking it. You know, for an Orleisan? You are shit at the game. Or at least at lying."

He let this hang for a long moment, eyes narrowed.

"You are Alistair's mother, yes?"
arsebiscuit: (pic#10065044)

[personal profile] arsebiscuit 2016-04-20 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Not in my hammock. Blegh. But the first bits I can do."

It's a testimony to her dexterity that she can wiggle out from around Zevran and slip to the floor without really rocking the hammock or blankets much. Truth is she'd been more or less living on that diet of wine and honey for that past day or so, meaning she just has to nudge open a chest for her for to get the wine skin.

When she hands it off, it surprisingly isn't the cheap tavern wine. Someone's dipped into Josie's reserves.

rebelenchanter: (pic#10026769)

[personal profile] rebelenchanter 2016-04-20 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Being born in Orlais is not a prerequisite for being a master at the game," Fiona said calmly, she'd never been one to take part in the machinations of the ruling class, "and there is no point in taking an out, you will either use the information or you will not."

And therefore it could be interpreted however one wished.

"It was a dream."
noleechesneeded: (thinned lips)

[personal profile] noleechesneeded 2016-04-20 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
And Simon, no doubt causing the demon further confusion, patted Zevran's shoulder soothingly as he reached the table where he'd been making medicine for fevers. There was no lustful longing for skin in Simon's touch, whether or not they had flirted awkwardly before, because now the mage had a job to do.

Another spirit, more solid than the wisps, stood a chance of being noticed as it materialized on the other side of the table. It was tall and broad and straight, unwavering and silent as it watched on...though it did, at one point, look over at the desire demon and giving an unmistakable stink eye.

Duty had arrived to ruin the party before it could begin. Simon had noticed it before but paid it no mind, not even enough to figure out what sort of spirit it was. It didn't get in his way so there didn't seem to be a need to bother it.

"The best way to be rid of demons like that one is to wait them out in my experience," Simon answered, reaching for a bowl that smelled fresh and bitter. "They grow bored if they don't get what they want. Trying to engage them is just asking for trouble."

Simon would know a lot about not getting what he wanted.
lettersfromhome: (pic#8963367)

[personal profile] lettersfromhome 2016-04-20 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
Healing Tents

Of course, when the trouble starts she's in the thick of things. If there's something that needs to be delivered or sorted or simply another pair of hands to bring the healers what they need, she's there. A few blankets and bowls of soup don't go amiss either, tending to the healers as well when they seem overwhelmed by the newest bit of trouble.

The noise is becoming a little troublesome, oddly. The longer she stays at it the louder it seems to grow, though she seems determined not to pay it much mind. She's not as young as she used to be, however, and eventually she'll pull herself off to the side to have a sit-down, looking a little peaky.

No, she's fine. She has to be. There's simply too much to do to start feeling ill now.


Herald's Rest

Oh. She's good and ill now.

Not that she's letting that keep her down and out. No, she's just...sitting very quietly in a corner of the tavern where she's not likely to be troubled, sipping gingerly at some broth and trying to remain semi-upright. What's come over her? What's come over all of them? Is it poison? A plague? Surely there's some reason they're all...

Her thoughts slip away in fragments as something drifts into her head. Voices, nearby. She can't quite make them out, but it seems as though they might be coming from the other table. If only she can rouse herself enough to turn and look.

Or make it back to her room. That might be asking too much, at this point.
samahl: (smiles to the side)

[personal profile] samahl 2016-04-20 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
Cyril reaches out to Sam to help him up. "Are you going to nurse me back to health?" he asks, grinning a bit at the idea.
disgracedchampion: (Default)

[personal profile] disgracedchampion 2016-04-20 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
Michel rolled onto his side, propping himself up onto his elbow as Zevran peeled himself away from Michel's chest. The Chevalier's free hand still rested against Zevran's side, having no desire to be out of arms reach of the elf, thumb stroking a hip gently. He knew Zevran was still bogged down in a fevered cloud, dizzy, eyes glazed over.

"I found you, brought you here...dried you off...you were soaked through with sweat. Then I bundled you and laid with you...are you feeling any better," Michel looked both concerned and somewhat pained beneath it. Concerned for Zevran's well being, pained that he wouldn't expect Michel to be there when he was feeling unwell.
metaari: (050)

[personal profile] metaari 2016-04-20 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
Whiny Man Child (for Merrick)

[ Metaari doesn't get sick. This isn't a thing that happens to him. The last time he was sick he was fourteen and had the worst hangover of his life, so that doesn't even really count. But here they are, just freshly returned from their journey out, and bam: fever.

This is fucking stupid.

He whines and rolls over onto his back with a groan, his eyes closed. ]


'm tellin' you, 'm fine.

[ Says the slurred words. ]
el_tybs: Evan Antin (grin_tilt)

[personal profile] el_tybs 2016-04-20 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
Grabbing hold of Cyril's arms he helps him up from his spot, holding on even after to make sure he doesn't wobble or lean too far and fall over. "Yes, I am." They still don't know what is causing this illness or how to fix it just then, but he's confident that it will get sorted.

There are a lot of others sick as well though so it isn't like he can just sit and take care of Cyril solely, even if he would like to. "Is it just the fever bothering you?" he inquires, leading them to the tent.
samahl: (experienced)

[personal profile] samahl 2016-04-20 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
Cyril hums happily at the way that Sam supports him. Even with the fever he can enjoy this moment of connection. He shifts his body so that he's pressed a bit into Sam. It's not the best for walking, but he manages. "Mm, well now I seem to feel hot in another way," he mutters softly, still managing to flirt when when he feels terrible.
failedfirst: (*ugh* please)

[personal profile] failedfirst 2016-04-20 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
She sees the desire demon, just out of the corner of her vision. Her own demons and spirits are not nearly so perversive.

"I'm sure you're fully up to acting on those desires, too. Come sit down before you fall over." It's not a request. Were she at 100% she might shove him over to the fire. As it is, she just grabs his wrist and tugs him along and hopes he doesn't fall over, otherwise he'll take her down too and then they'll just be two sad sick elves in the mud. Thoroughly embarrassing.
wontforgetyou: (considering)

[personal profile] wontforgetyou 2016-04-20 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
"Don't know."

Whatever it is, it seems to be affecting a lot of people, and...and...and he doesn't know what. The more he tries to think about it, the more it feels like his head is wrapped in cotton, and he lets out a frustrated breath before plonking himself down in a chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Feel like I did that time I was on the moon," he mutters as he rubs at his temple. It's directed more to himself then to Korrin, but then he blinks and looks at her more closely.

"Wait, have you really not been sick in ten years?"
ombranera: (so if we must speak seriously...)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
"Ugh." Zevran scraped a hand over his face, frowning at the feeling of his skin. He'd been- walking down to bathe. As though sweating through his clothing would cause him to desire anything else. He did not become ill quite like this easily but when he did? He felt fit to die. or at least drown. More often than not he spent the entire time bundled around a bottle of wine and waited for it to either kill him or blow over.

"I feel like I am going to die." He mumbled, tugging the blankets away from his body- he's shifted from freezing to burning, throat dry and lips chapped. The least sensual he's ever been around Michel- and Michel was in bed with him. Marvelous.
el_tybs: Evan Antin (smile_side)

[personal profile] el_tybs 2016-04-20 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
Sam smiles softly at that, enjoying how Cyril leans into him, even if it does make walking a little difficult. If only there weren't fevers, and spirits, and what else going on so that he could just enjoy that.

He huffs a bit at the flirt, knowing it's just a tease - it was only ever a tease. Sam frowns lightly at the thought, though easily puts on a smile when he has to look at Cyril again. "Oh, really? Should I be concerned?"
ombranera: (Everything I feel is wrong)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
"Just a fever." That was all. He wasn't seeing things or hearing things, he was fine. Bundled against Sam's side, miserably sweating through his shirts and blankets, and fine. "Yes I can."

It isn't petulant but- it is right on the edge of the same, soft and small and sad.
ombranera: (Oh you)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
"You could kick me off to the bed." It's an option, even if he does not wish to move. Losing her meant losing her warmth but he rolls into the hollow space left behind, vanishing under blankets. Not even the tips of his ears or his hair visible from the pile, at least until he feels the bump of the wineskin against his fingers. He tugs the wine close and takes a swig- freezing at the quality.

"You...sneaky, lovely woman."
failedfirst: (listening calmly)

[personal profile] failedfirst 2016-04-20 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
She's not entirely convinced by his reason for getting her to sit. However she's just tired enough that she only eyes him for a moment before moving to the chair and slumping into it. The second she does she sighs, pulling the blanket higher around her shoulders.

"How are you doing?" she asks, after a moment of trying to coordinate her breathing and swallowing.
colecomfort: (Default)

[personal profile] colecomfort 2016-04-20 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
"It's — not the same." Not exactly. His own gaze wanders upward, into the air, where spirits may or may not be floating. "They seem more real now. Maybe that's why we're not supposed to see them."

His head tips down again, raindrops rolling over the brim of his hat. "You should let the healers help you."
ombranera: (Ho said what)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
"It was a memory." He waves a hand vaguely. "If it matters so little to you, it means nothing. If it has weight? It means something. He may not have skinned knees or battles that need be fought on his behalf- but to know he was cared for, to know he was loved? That you did not give him up without having no other choice? That he needs."
ombranera: (I do not care for the sound of this)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
"I can so-" No, no he can't, and he goes with the tugging without batting an eye. This is probably for the best, the following, the slumping near the fire as he's pulled. Honestly he cannot remember the walk down which is probably a poor sign indeed. "If you just poisoned me Alistair will be very cross with you."
samahl: (Default)

[personal profile] samahl 2016-04-20 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't know. I might need more of your healing," Cyril replies, smiling a bit at Sam. "How much healing are you offering anyway?"
failedfirst: (in profile)

[personal profile] failedfirst 2016-04-20 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
Velanna looks up from her book at the sound of Bethany's voice. She puts the tome aside and crawls forward from her pile of fur and blankets a little to call out to Bethany.

"Spirits of Wisdom and Purpose. They're helping, I think." She'd dreamt of them a few times, so while she couldn't quite focus on the forms, they were familiar to her. There were others too, but she was ignoring them, for the most part.
arsebiscuit: (Default)

[personal profile] arsebiscuit 2016-04-20 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Hehe, wait until Josie holds her next big stupid thing and serves what I switched it with to Lord Snooty-faces. Bet half of them don't know the difference. Not that there's much of one."

Wine was wine was wine and it was all for getting drunk. Or nursing achey bodies during fevers. So doesn't so much as curl up next to him again as flop on top and then burrow back into place. Some ribs may be nudged. But clearly exile to the bed was not on the list.
arachnophobe: (BAWWW NOAAAHHHH)

[personal profile] arachnophobe 2016-04-20 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
For a moment, it doesn't immediately sink in what she says. All he can see is what he remembers, his eyes wide as he stares at the visions of what's echoed in his nightmares for months.

It's not really real.

Alejandro stands up warily, daring to approach as the images start to fade. He lets out a hiss and touches his head.

"What the fuck is this?" His heart is pounding. Is the Veil thin? Is that what's going on?
failedfirst: (annoyed)

[personal profile] failedfirst 2016-04-20 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
Velanna looks up at the sudden intrusion a little sullenly, she doesn't like uninvited visitors even when she's healthy.

"I've boiled and strained this water to keep minerals from the riverbed from interacting with my ingredients. It's fine." It's probably fine. She usually didn't bother with the extra step of straining, but with what she was working with she didn't want to accidentally poison herself.