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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Christine gives Bruce a look at that first comment. If that's the case, then this one is an anomaly among dracolisks.

"I am sorry to say, I do not envy you your new friend." Were this happening to her, she would do nothing short of beg someone to keep the animal away from her.

"What if it follows the Inquisition when we leave for Skyhold? Do you think it possible it has bonded with you, and will journey the entire way?"

Bruce can't quite keep away the laugh that escapes him at her words, the amusement easy enough to make out from it. It doesn't last long though, at least, and as the laugh dies down Bruce attempts to nudge the dracolisk away from his head once more (still to not much success).

"If it really happens then I'll do my best to handle it." Though Bruce is pretty sure that isn't going to happen... or at least he can't imagine it happening. He certainly hopes it won't happen or otherwise he's going to have to eat his own words.

"Perhaps Master Dennit can assist somehow." She wrinkles her nose at the animal before adding, "What does it eat?"

"If it gets to there, I certainly will." Bruce only knew some things about dracolisks through his encounters with such creatures in the past; he certainly was no expert. The best he could manage were to make informed guesses.

Such as what he was doing now to her question. "From what I understand, a mix of greens and meat - although it depends on the species." And judging from the sharp teeth he had seen, this one was probably more inclined to a diet that was heavier on meat.

"Hopefully it is content with whatever is on hand here, and does not go after our cooked meals." She shakes her head at the creature, finding this whole situation to be absurd.

"Have you been able to escape it outside your tent?"

Bruce certainly would try to make sure that it wasn't going to anybody's cooked food, at least. The last thing he wanted was to inconvenience anybody else with something that should clearly just be his problem alone to handle.

Not that he had been having a lot of luck with it. "Not really," he went, the exasperation more than obvious this time. "Though it hasn't really tried to get in the way either, so there's not much I can do about it."

She looks doubtful of that, but then again, Christine is stubborn and would work to get the animal away from her until she succeeded. Bruce may not be the same way.

"That is unfortunate. I suppose if it isn't impeding progress in the area, then it isn't an issue that needs taken care of straight away."

A wry smile crosses Bruce's face at this point. "More or less," he returns. It would be a lot more cause for concern if it was causing problems for others, but as it was, it just continued to be more of a personal problem. And that Bruce could deal with, more or less.

Dracolisk aside, however... "It's been a while since we could catch up. How have you been?" Well enough, he hopes, although with the illness last month and all the things that had happened in the last several months, its been hard to find a good time to simply rest.

"Well enough, I suppose. I take it you heard I am now a Spirit Healer?" Or maybe he's seen her eyes glowing blue as she heals a patient.

A nod. "I've heard about it in passing. Congratulations on that too, belatedly. It must be a novel experience." Not that Bruce could ever say for himself, but it certainly was something, to have a proper, righteous spirit inhabiting you like that. Bruce wishes he could be that fortunate.

"It has been, yes. Things have calmed a bit since I started. There are far less questions now, as the Spirit of Faith comes to understand the world." But despite that, Christine knows her life moving forward will be completely different. This spirit will be a constant.

Bruce could understand enough having heard Adelaide talk about it before, and he nods to show as much.

"I'm glad things went smoothly for you." And that's not a lie - Bruce really is glad for her. It's certainly an accomplishment, and the added help will surely be appreciated. "I'm sure you'll do well too, moving forward."

"Thank you, Bruce. My life will certainly never be the same. But I feel very good about it. It is what I have wanted ever since I first learned of it. I have always had an affinity for healing magic. What about you?" Of course, she means in general, since he's not a mage, now is he? "Have you always wished to heal people?"

What about him? ...well Bruce isn't really one to talk about himself, but not answering the question probably wouldn't be nice at the same time.

"More or less." Not exactly the truth, but not entirely a lie either - even if the half-truth alone has Bruce feeling a little guilty. But he's been at this long enough to work with it. "I understand that magic can do a lot, but mages who can heal aren't around everywhere in Thedas." Not to mention how magic was seen in general - one of the reasons why Bruce had elected to keep his status as a mage num in the first place, among other reasons.

"I certainly know that, especially when the Templars refuse to let you out to heal others." Her lips press into a firm line of displeasure here. Obviously she is speaking from personal experience. She also knows that her situation was not the same everywhere, as Adelaide was allowed out to heal people.

"It is good to have you with the Inquisition. Your experience differs from a mage, and you have much knowledge to bring towards healing."

Bruce flashed a sympathetic smile in her direction, more than able to understand her pain. His own Circle back in Ferelden was... incredibly traditional about how they did things, and it was only when he transferred to Harlem then did he have a bit more leeway with things. And even that wasn't a lot.

The compliment has him feeling a little abashed, and he does his best to not make a face over it. "I simply do my best to help the people here. That's all."

"Modest, I see. It is a good thing to be, I suppose." Better than being a little too prideful, which is something she's struggled with before. As a mage, it's dangerous to be too much of anything, and now that she has a spirit of Faith observing her, she makes sure to examine her pride and not delight in her accomplishments more than is healthy.

"I do hope that thing lets you work." Her eyes dart to the dracolisk briefly.

Bruce's learned the hard way to keep his head down low and himself humble. He's learned early on what trying and being 'special' gets him, and everyday for him is a reminder of what attempting to be more than what he was got him. He knows better now than to be special.

"I just do my best," he says again, then glances at the dracolisk when it's mentioned. It's pretty much left them alone for now, idly chewing on... something in the ground, apparently. Maybe it was some sort of rooted thing - or a burrowing animal. "And as I've said, it hasn't really given me any real problems." Just a tendency to stick around a bit too close for other people's comfort.

"Then I wish you continued luck with it," Christine replies, before gesturing in another direction. "I must go. There are things I should attend too. Until next time." When the dracolisk is hopefully elsewhere.

Bruce gives a smile in return to that and inclines his head. "I'll see you around," he replies.

And hopefully the next time they do speak, there'll be one less dracolisk hanging around them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN: The Western Approach

STORY OF HER LIFE TBQH

she does not deserve this

she will drink wine and cope somehow

bruce will try to help... somehow... :'|

good man

he does his best

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject