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

She takes the bottle, swirls the liquid inside and gives it a sniff. A lot of people have been offering her drinks here, and her first inclination is to assume poison. And that's because pretty much the only reason she'd offer someone a drink (besides someone in the Valo-Kas) is because they're a target and she is trying to poison them. All this Inquisition niceness is weird. Somebody throw a punch or something.

But once she sees that it is, in fact, water, she takes a swig.

"Too much fucking sand," she answers, now knowing to let him see her mouth as she speaks, since Korrin has been descriptive enough in her letters. "And not enough results. Spent all day chasing after Venatori to see they cleared out and left an open tunnel with darkspawn behind. Oh, and there was a giant too. Of course."

Taas makes a note of her being the suspicious kind for any future bar crawls, and then sits down at the other side so he wasn't crowding her by sheer mass. Two big people took up a lot of space, after all.

Her lips were easy to read, thankfully. Korrin must have warned her.

"I agree with you about the damn sand," he says with a little frown, wondering if he would ever get it all our of his hair. Blood and sand was a shit mix. "...and yeah. Too little results and too many innocent bodies."

The warrior takes back his bottle and pours some over his hands to wipe his face with. "I missed the giant, though."

Lena really doesn't think in terms of 'innocent' so much as 'stupid' or 'unlucky.' Thankfully time around Korrin means there's at least one person around to call for justice and avenging them. Lena just goes through their pockets.

What? They're dead. Like they're gonna be using it anymore.

"Lucky you. Stank like shit and I don't even know what else. Didn't even have any good loot."

Rogues gotta rogue and all that, right? He's not surprised, she seemed the harder, sharper kind that Korrin.

"Giants are only fun if there are cliffs around. Luring them down one of those is pretty amusing." Not when you were still hacking on their back, but it at least it made him laugh. "Not surprised about the loot, though. Killed one that carried around a silk dress once, however. That was weird."

"That sounds like the way to go about it. This one's just rotting in the hot sun." That will be a treat for whoever comes across it next. They may pass out from the stench.

Lena gives a bit of a snort, lips lifting at the corners into a bit of a smile.

"Nice. He liked to dress up and pretend he was an Orlesian Marquise, yeah?" At least she thinks it's a marquise. Marquis meant the guy, right? The Valo-Kas was hired by a marquise once. Whatever.

Urgh. Corpses and hot sun was a shit idea to begin with, but add a giant to that and even a Seheron veteran would get queasy. He's glad it wasn't close-by.

She had a nice smile, Korrin's friend. It made him wonder what it would look like when genuine.

"I would pay good money to see that... but he probably ate a Marquise and kept the dress as a handkerchief." Not that giants ever used that.

Really the only way to get Lena truly smiling is to make her laugh, and then stick around to put up with her shitty personality. It's really why only Korrin and others in the Valo-Kas get her to smile. But she never tells people this; that would be too easy. They have to figure it out on their own.

"That was probably it. Though I figured giants just let their snot fly free."

"Sounds like a hazard to step in, if they do that." He gives a small shrug, looking amused. "I bet a sovereign the Orlaisians use giant snot for some expensive perfume or makeup."

Chuckling a little, he adds some wood to the brazier. "...how are you finding the Inquisition so far?"

"Ha!" she replies, head thrown back as she shows real amusement. It wouldn't surprise her one bit if Orlesians did that. In fact, from this day forward, she's going to assume they all do.

"Eh, it's all right, I guess. I'm not real big on the whole 'doing good deeds' crap, but as long as they pay me to kick Corypheus's ass, I'm in."

He gives a little shrug at that. There were plenty of people here in it for the money, and they fought just as well as everyone else. Himself included, a few months ago. Taking down Corypheus meant people could enjoy the money later, too.

"So, Valo-kas? You knew Korrin for a long time, then?" From what he'd heard about them, some died in the Conclave, and now three were here. Either they were getting low on people, or they were a really big group.

"Since she joined," she confirmed. Lena's a bit older than Korrin, though both joined the mercenary lifestyle when they were similar ages in life.

"Been in a couple of mercenary companies in my time. What about you? Tal-Vashoth, right?"

"That's right," Taas replies with a little shrug. It didn't seem to be a sore subject to him, at least. "I left seven years ago, and hung with a couple of mercenary bands for a while before I continued on to be a bodyguard."

The warrior looks over at the gathered people. "I never really intended to be part of all this, but I'm glad it happened in the end. I've met a lot of good people here." There's another smile. "Maybe you will, too."

Lena just raises a brow like, 'Yeah, right.' She doesn't intend to do anything more than cut a bloody path straight to Corypheus's shriveled balls, which she will then slice off and shove down his throat.

"What finally made you leave?" she asks, too curious not to ask.

He pauses a bit at that, taking another swig from the water-filled bottle. He doesn't particularly like sharing this, but if anyone understood, it would be other qunari. Even Vashoth. "I was bred to be a warrior. It was all I knew... so when I lost my hearing in Seheron, they wanted to retire me and hide me away with the enfeebled and sick."

Taas shrugs a bit. "I was young and stupid and terrified to be nothing but a burden instead of a soldier. I ran away. Killed my superior officer in a rage and pretty much burned all my bridges."

Lena figures if it's too personal an issue, he'll just tell her to fuck off. That's what she would do in his shoes.

"You mean they actually keep the sick and don't just kill them?" Lena asks, a little surprised. What he says about killing someone in a rage doesn't surprise her, though. Those that leave the Qun get kind of fucked up in the head. Her grandparents were that way. It's why when her parents married, they left the community full of Tal-Vashoth to carve out a life that didn't involve killing everything in sight.

"Of course not," he replies with a slightly horrified look. "I know there are horror stories and the Qun is pretty messed up in general, but it's not that bad."

At least not to his knowledge, but that was the issue, wasn't it? he was a soldier. He didn't need to know.

Sighing, he rubs the back of his neck again. Maybe it was better than he thought to get away.

Lena gives him a rather flat look. 'Horror stories' may have been what she'd heard growing up, but it wasn't all made up. If it was, her grandparents wouldn't have seen a reason to abandon that way of life.

"So what is the infirm's role in the Qun? Do they sit there separating seeds from their hull all day?"

He shrugs a bit at that. "Probably. I said it wasn't that bad, but it sure as Blight is bad." The thought of doing that for the rest of his life just because he couldn't hear was a nightmare, honestly.

"Are you first generation vashoth?" Taas asks, sizing her up a little bit. From what he had seen so far among the vashoth here, they were usually first or second generation.

...it always made him wonder if there were vashoth out there that couldn't even count back to when their family was part of the Qun. Taas isn't sure what to feel about that, honestly.

"Nah, second," she says. "My grandparents all left the Qun. Parents met in this little community they'd established with some others. But I've never met them. Mum and Dad moved us to farmland my brother and I were born."

Saying it like this -- just a statement of fact regarding her brother -- doesn't hurt. It's taken months for it not to hurt just thinking of him in even the most abstract way. But if she goes any deeper into thinking about him, then the hurt will return, as it always does.

"Really? Huh." He smiles a little bit, wondering how he kept hearing about all these Vashoth societies when the Qun just painted them as hunting in crazed mercenary packs. He really wanted to visit one, one day. Just to see how different it was from what he had imagined as a kid.

"I'm looking forward to see what you can do. Been a long time since I fought together with a rogue of qunari size.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN: The Western Approach

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