faderift | 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

"We have had reports of Venatori, dangerous wildlife, and even a dragon. There is no telling what else may be waiting that our scouts did not encounter."

Now when she looks at him, it's half amused, half faintly annoyed. Does he truly think her so ignorant? "As I said, I am used to wearing armor, and to looking after myself. I am in no need of advice."

"Venatori?" he repeated curiously, not having come across that particular word yet.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and chalk up the prickliness to the heat. "We're all out here together, so I just think we should look out for each other is all." There wasn't much use in starting a fight, and he no wish to anyways. The sun sapped to much energy for him to be overly stubborn on any one subject.

"A faction from Tevinter. Followers of Corypheus."

It's not just the heat, Kirk. Though that doesn't help. Cassandra gives him an imperious frown. "If you wish to look after someone, there are no shortage of civilians with no training or experience. As I have said, I am capable of deciding for myself what I am and am not capable of." Like wearing armor in the desert.

He fights the desire to through his hands up and curse whatever gods these people worshipped. He returns her imperious frown, though his is more colored with exasperation than anything else.

"Are all Thedasians this salty when someone expresses concern?" he asked, a bit more waspish than he liked with the heat pressing down, his temper more like to come to the fore than his usual calm control. But then, it rubbed a bit raw when you tried to offer concern and aid and nearly got spit on in return. "I never said you weren't capable, but heat sickness and heat stroke sneak up on people, so I thought I would check on you and, yes, everyone else. But I apologize if such concern is an imposition."

Sarcasm, that last bit, mighty and strong.

"Salty?" Cassandra repeats, in utter confusion. She's actually thrown for a moment, completely unable to interpret what he might be trying to imply.

It sounds like an insult, at any rate, and she huffs out a breath in frustration, coming to a halt and turning to face him. "It is not your concern that is an imposition, it is that you continue to insist on telling me things I already know! Do you truly think me so ignorant as to not know the risks of being in the field - of wearing armor in the heat? I am neither inexperienced nor stupid." She spits out this last, frowning at him. "As I have said, many times now, I am fine, and will continue to be. I do not wish to hear any more about it."

With that, she turns on her heel and continues walking. Whether Kirk decides to follow or not is up to him.

God, he was just sticking his foot in all kinds of places, including his mouth, wasn't he? He really should be better at this considering his job, but somehow he kept screwing himself in this place. He didn't mean to insult anyone's intelligence, though perhaps he could see how it came across that way - more parental or authority like than he had right to be. The captain in him seeped out without him realizing, and by the time it dawned on him, well, he had this situation.

He ends up following her, the good captain in him not wanting to let things end up on such a sour note. While he couldn't get along with everyone, he knew, he didn't want to make a sword enemy of someone or leave something to fester. That was never good.

"Why would anyone build fortresses out here?" he asked her instead as he kept in step, forgoing the previous conversation as she had suggested. "Doesn't the dessert act as safeguard all on its own?"

She tenses when he speaks up again, ready for more unwanted concern for her safety. But it seems he's finally gotten the idea, and she relaxes, more than ready to move on to another subject of discussion.

"Would you wish to live in the sand, with no shelter from the wind or sun?" she asks with a raised eyebrow - but the bite is gone from her tone. "In any case, there are more dangers even here than you might think. Those who truly mean others harm will not let the harshness of the desert stand in their way."

Kirk doesn't really have to be told twice, though sometimes it helped. He wasn't fool enough to keep pursuing the subject at least.

"That's true, but I would think you'd risk losing to much of your force walking through this kind of terrain," he mused, ignoring her earlier caustic remark, as he had not meant the question in quite that way. But discretion was the better part of valor. "Wouldn't it be easier to try and come from an area with more natural resources to draw from as you march to supplement your supplies? And yes, I'm becoming aware of those dangers. Giant spiders, creatures with quills, the dragon..."

"Fortresses are built where there is something worth defending, or something to stand against. In this case, Adamant Fortress was built by the Grey Wardens as a stronghold against darkspawn emerging from a great chasm in the ground." She glances at him. "As it happens, Adamant was built long ago, when the Western Approach was still lush and green. But even if had not been, the fortress might have been built anyway."

The darkspawn. He kept hearing that word, and though he had some understanding of it, it wasn't very detailed and basically came down to "they were bad". His brows crinkled at the information, looking around them and trying to see it as green and lush. How long ago was long? Deserts didn't just pop up overnight or even in a matter of years. It would have been the work of Millenia. Naturally, anyways. But Cassandra made it sound like there definitely were not natural forces at work here.

"How long ago is 'long ago'?" he asked her. "Deserts and the ecosystems that come with them don't just pop up out of nowhere. Or does it have something to do with that Blight I hear mentioned now and then?"

Cassandra pauses to think, trying to remember her history. "Adamant was built before the Second Blight, during the Divine Age," she says at last. "We are now in the Dragon Age, and there have been eight Ages since. If the Blight itself caused the land to grow hot and dry, it is not well known. I believe it is merely due to time."

Up ahead, the leader of their small group calls a halt, ordering camp to be set up. Cassandra sighs in relief. Her protests aside, marching through the desert in armor is far from comfortable. "I must assist with the camp. If you wish to learn more of the Blight or the wardens, you may explore the library at Skyhold, or speak to the Wardens themselves." She nods - cordial enough, if not quite warm - and departs to oversee the soldiers now setting up tents.

OPEN: The Western Approach

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