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.

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(I)
He has to squint against the blazing sunlight and the sand, breathing out against the strip of cloth covering the lower half of his face before letting loose a true arrow. It embeds deep in the thigh of a quillback that lets out a pained squawking sound.

He readies another arrow to bring the best down for good, but the distinct leathery flap of wings sounds, and he jerks, flattening himself against the ridge. A dragon, of all things, swoops down and snatches up the injured quillback, carting it off into the distance.

"...Well, that's one arrow down," he muses. "And here I was hoping for some easy leather and a chunk of meat for tonight."

(II) 17
Once the doors are breached, he's ready. Though they've mages in their group, he still makes a point of ticking arrows at the other archers above them, if not downing them then at least to wound them or get them to hesitate and duck out of the way. Arrows from above can be just as deadly as a sword. When he's satisfied there won't be any immediate danger from the battlements, he transitions from bow to sword, ducking into the swing of a closing warrior and slamming into their side before hacking away in short, efficient strokes.

He feels a swell of pride when the flag of the Inquisition goes up, taking a few long moments to himself to stare at the waving material. They're making progress. But when he snaps back into action, it's to help clear out the bodies they've dropped.

"Can just dump them in the massive gash 'round back," he suggests with a grim smirk, hefting a stripped down rogue onto the cart. "Seems convenient to me."

(V)
Blood magic. It twists something awful in his gut, kneeling by ritualistic red stains on the floor. Why else have so many bodies, everything so neat and in order and, more or less, planned? The order of the Wardens...if this is their doing, the mage Wardens, he's not sure if they can be saved. From the Venatori, he could understand, but now...? What of the camp of Wardens in the shadow of Skyhold?

"We could use a few shardbearers, here," he calls down the corridor, the sickly, snapping, waving green light casting morphing shadows. There are things lurking nearby, and he gets the feeling that he'd really rather just find a cozy spot here out of the sun and rest for the next few hours. It's not a good sign.

"They're coming."

Bethany states, as she follows down into what she can only consider a pit of degradation. She looks at the blood stains on the floor, all around, and closes her eyes, whispering out softly, "Maker ... "

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, before she looked down at the dimly lit green flares. Something in her jaw tightened. "Tell them I have gone ahead." She can feel the magic picking up, and she turns sharply to the dark-haired man. "Do not fall asleep. Focus, Seeker!"

Edited 2016-05-18 03:49 (UTC)

He wants to snap that he is focused, that he's a little more experienced enough than she must think he is to think he'd succumb so easily to the sapping of his will, but that's not helpful and not the point. He readies an arrow, though keeps it pointed downward until he can spot an actual target.

"Don't run off," is what he barks instead. "We go together." Maker knows how powerful demons might be if lured by the power of blood magic.

It's almost her turn to snap - this is her responsibility, this is what her own people did to not only to their own, but to countless innocents. However, the man was not incorrect. She had to keep herself back or sacrifice herself for nothing.

So she held her ground, casting a shield over both of them.

He understands the weight of responsibility for what ones own has done. The Seekers have been involved in questionable things, and now they have mostly disavowed everything they stood for. But he doesn't run off into the wild looking for them, or chase ghosts to correct mistakes that cannot be corrected.

One of these days he'll follow his own advice not to dwell. Today isn't that day. But he stands at the ready, even though the tug of shades casts a sensation of ill-will, tiredness, doubt.

"No doubt the use of sacrifice and blood has made this fortress a prime spot for tears in the Veil to appear. The shardbearers will have their work cut out for them."

He shifts, standing beside her by not looking at her. "They will be found. Wherever they have run to."

Bethany held her ground, her jaw tight and hard as she looked around them, in the sickly green light. Knowing that she would have to keep the shield up as soon as it fell again, as they waited for the shard-bearers to come, and start closing up these rifts.

She did not look to him, keeping her focus on the area around them, but something in her chin lifted. "I know. The others heading to Weisshaupt will be sure of that."

A breath, as she shifted to take a lyrium potion and down it, before putting up another shield around them. Her voice is quiet, but the emptiness makes it carry. "They built the entire Warden contingent in Fereldan from two Wardens. Can we rebuild all of Thedas with just thirteen?"

She did not look at him, "Can you rebuild the Seekers with just three?"

If (perhaps when, if timing becomes an issue) she begins to be weary, he will suggest she save her strength and mana. A helpful magical barrier is, after all, helpful, but he is no stranger to going into battle without one, of course. He's more focused on shifting shadows, shapes in and around the light.

The Wardens rebuilt. It's in question, now, if that was a good idea. For the next Blight, of course, but they might destroy themselves completely at this rate. Are those with the Inquisition even truly safe?

And if not, then what of himself, of Aleron, of Cassandra? It's a question he has only in quiet moments considered to himself. Can they rebuild? And should they? It's no easy road to become a Seeker, and Templars feel threatened by them, and seen by mages as just another brand of Templar. But their work is just. When they do as they are meant to. After a lengthy pause: "There is a world to save, first. We are the Inquisition before anything else." That includes before being a Warden. "Our specific groups and titles must be secondary until Thedas knows peace."

It's not necessarily an answer, and he knows it. Hates it, with a tightening line of his jaw.

Bethany finally glances towards him, because the barrier will last a little longer and for that, they are safe from surprise attacks. She can see the tightening of his jaw, and feels her own mouth twist into a grim little smile as she turns back to the shadows. They are being wary, these demons, so she will let the barrier fall and see what comes first.

The man next to her is clearly ready.

"Then let the Inquisition stand, and let the rest of it fall. For now." Which is her quiet way to say - I fight with you, serah, so please do not shoot me in the back for being a Warden..

It must be hard on them both. To say it is one thing, but to live it is another. There are more Wardens in the Skyhold camp than Seekers, but despite the hurtful betrayal, the Lord Seeker did no more than simply disappear. That the majority of Grey Wardens would resort to blood magic...? Betray their own order so harshly? Perhaps it's easier for her to think of herself as Inquisition, but that much harder to see the situation objectively.

He does not envy her position. There are few good thoughts about the Wardens right now. "For now. I pray the future will hold something different, when we are done." Rebuilt Seekers. Redeemed Wardens. He doesn't sound hopeful (and he's glad the illness has passed, or one would see Hope with its hands upon his shoulders, betraying his tone).

"Perhaps," he suggests, switching gears, "they are baiting us. Are they smart enough to do that? Trying to lure us closer so they can catch us in a way they have the advantage?"

She admired his determination, despite their circumstances. She had a feeling that Seeker Reed, despite his rather glum expression, had some sort of faith in the situation. Otherwise, he would not be here, with the Inquisition.

After all, was that not why they had all gathered? The Seekers, the Wardens, the Templars and the Mages? They had lost hope - they had found it here. Perhaps now Hope could solidify them into something whole.

But Maker ... she never wanted it to be this. Never this.

Her gaze narrows thoughtfully, "Some demons - abominations, absolutely. Unless ... there are still Venatori here, holding the demons at bay." Another pause, "Or they simply could be spirits instead, caught on the wrong side of the Fade rift."

Where else was there really to go in the wake of Haven? Where else in the wake of the Herald's death? He couldn't just keep wandering the lands hoping to find clues about the Champion and the Hero, not on his own. Here he can do something.

Even if that something is debating the intelligence of demons in an old fortress filled with the remnants of Grey Wardens practicing blood magic. "Perhaps we should consider assigning a certain number of shardbearers to any given outing. So there may always be two or three on hand for such a situation. I can't say I envy their powers if it means having the pain of having the Fade etched into their skin."

Perhaps that was all the reason any of them needed. They needed to do something. Perhaps that was all the difference between heroes and normal people anyways. What was done, and what was not.

Right now, they were in a dungeon, doing something like tracking demons when there was just twp of them, so ... sometimes doing something was terribly dangerous.

"I do not envy them either, but it may be the only way we can make this fortress safe again." She paused, "Or we can simple bring the whole thing down about our ears."

She is not sure she would ever want to go back to Adamant as long as she lived.

"Bury it and forget it," he muses with a shake of his head. "I think that is something you may suggest to the advisors, but once it's stable and cleared out, it could still stand for something. Even if all it might stand for is a reminder of something terrible. Could even be used again, someday."

"Why not? Haven't enough souls died here?" She sighed, her gaze flickering here. "It would be a proper tomb ... I think even your former Lord Seeker died here as well."

She glanced over at him again, before she looked around. "A reminder ... I suppose it could. There are worst things for a building to be outside of a cautionary tale."

He stares at her sharply. "I think you may be mistaken." Surely he would have heard something if Lord Lucius had been discovered. And Seeker Lambert--the less spoken of his deeds, the better. "In any event, we will not bring this structure down unless the will of the Inquisition orders it so. If you'd like to argue for its destruction, you are more than welcome to, but I think it would be a waste."

She frowned at that, before stating quietly, "My apologies. I heard from the other Wardens that Seeker Lambert was last seen from other Wardens. Clearly, that was just a rumor."

And now, she let out a soft noise of weariness. "The Inquisition would no more listen to a Warden now as they would fly to the moon. So no worries, this place will not be wasted."

"When I see a body," he said, simply. He must be out there somewhere, and the rest of the order. The possibility that they're all dead does play out in his head, but with their skills and their...unclear mission, he doesn't think it a terribly likely possibility.

"Those of you who live in the camp. You are still members of the Inquisition, or helpful to the cause. You aren't part of...this madness. You may be unpopular now, but your say has just as much as any other, if the advisors are worth their salt."

Her mouth twisted slightly at the corners, sighing softly. She knew about the hope of not wanting someone to be dead. Twice over, now.

She looked over at him, her gaze thoughtful, before she looked around. "Perhaps you are right. At least it is something to hope for, and sometimes all we need is hope."

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OPEN: The Western Approach

Malcolm Reed | open

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