OPEN: The Western Approach

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

Korrin, OTA

[gatheringstorm]

I.

Now that's a dragon. Korrin pauses, staring upward in awe at the great winged beast overhead. It's thankfully flying high enough above that its screech doesn't deafen her, its attention drawn by something else. Hopefully something edible and filling and not Inquisition people.

"Andraste's shapely ass, will you look at the size of that thing?!? Glorious...."

Her thoughts going to her own dragonslaying battle and what came of it, Korrin grins as she briefly touches the dragon tooth necklace at her throat. It's fortunate that no other wildlife is currently taking advantage of her distracted state, but fortunes can easily change in a place like this. Maybe prod her to move along, before that changes?

II. (17th)

The battle seems nearly done, and the Vashoth mage smirks as she glances around, pleased to carve a path through the Venatori. Encountering them throughout the desert keeps the boredom away, but it's not quite as satisfying as fighting them for a worthy prize. The keep will do nicely, once the Venatori filth are kicked out of it.

Spotting one of their mages readying a spell at a nearby comrade, Korrin narrows her eyes. "Incoming!" She blurs ahead, swinging that spirit blade when she's close enough. Fucking Venatori aren't going to claim anyone on her watch, not if she can help it.

V.

And in another episode of 'things we never need to see again', Korrin tries not to look as sickened as she feels when they pass signs of blood sacrifice. The thinness of the Veil doesn't help matters any, and though Korrin isn't the most attuned of mages, it's enough to set her on edge. She's trying her best to keep focus, but between the stains and bodies, the Vashoth woman is more tense than she's ever been anywhere else in the Approach. Only periodically touching her dragon tooth necklace keeps her calm.

That, and combat. While Korrin can't do anything about sealing the rifts, she'll provide a distraction for those who can, blasting or slicing her way through any shades or other menaces. Never let it be said that battle-therapy isn't a thing.

Ellana | open

[serannas]

{ taking griffon wing keep: action scene }
Ellana is situated in the rear of the group sent to take the keep, and she fires off spells with a steely gaze, deeply focused on the task ahead. Yet when one of the Venatori mages sets a fire glyph under her feet, her expression shifts to mild panic, and she yells "Move!" to the people around her to alert them to the danger before using Fade Step to launch herself forward out of the glyph before it can be set off. Then she turns to focus on the mage on the wall, wanting to take him out before he can lay more glyphs down.

After that, the gate to the upper part of the keep opens and she heads up the stairs with the others to face the last of the Venatori stationed there.

{ keep taken: netflix and chill scene }
After claiming the keep, Ellana stays and helps clear out debris, energizing it and carrying it outside the front gate to dump. She sorts through chests, rebuilds ladders, and basically tries to do whatever she can to help make this a welcoming place amidst the desert heat. One morning, she sits on her bed in the barracks, smearing a special lotion on her skin to help block the sun. Already her very fair skin is turning pink, and slightly peeling at her hairline.

"It doesn't seem to matter how often I reapply this," she says to the nearest person. "It wears off far too quickly."

Lena | open

[fightingdirty]

{ coracavus: the #1 stop for all your tevinter lawbreakers }
Lena doesn't really want to be in a place that until recently was occupied by darkspawn, but she knows darkspawn are all over the Western Approach anyway, and besides, it's cool in here. She searches for clues, and pokes at ancient corpses with her boot from time to time, but overall, she's not too impressed.

"I say we leave. There aren't any fancy fucking artifacts here, and if we don't know what they were looking for, then we've got nothing worth reporting except they let the darkspawn out."

{ back at the keep for netflix and chill }
Once she gets back from the prison of ancient Tevinter fucks no one cares about, Lena settles herself down by one of the braziers in the keep with her rations. She looks surly and eats her food like it's a Tevinter who led her on this merry chase. Tomorrow she hopes she runs across some of them so she can slice and dice them for wasting her time. She has sand everywhere and it's all their fault.

[gatheringstorm]

Glancing over from inspecting rubble and old bones, Korrin shrugs. She's not that impressed with the area either, but it's easy to fall back into the role of devil's advocate. Maybe it's not vital that they be here, but she's not in the mood to return right away. Not if there's anything in here worth fighting, that is. Or on the other end of it.

"You never know, we might find more if we keep going. Besides, you know it's been far too long since we got to kick ass together. I haven't had my fill of bonding time yet." She flashes a grin at Lena, a challenge to keep going and show off at each other just because. Maker help anyone dragged along with them.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin's also among those who volunteered for cleanup duty, energizing and sorting alongside Ellana for plenty of it. Draining work, to be sure, but it's necessary, and they have a livable keep afterward. After finally getting an assignment that's more than the usual sort, she searches for Ellana only to pause and taken in her current state. "That...looks painful. I can go harass the requisition officer for more. She might as well be good for something."

Eirlys | OTA

[ancarrow]

ii.) Griffon Wing Keep
Eirlys throws herself into getting the Keep in order, clearing layers of dust and nests of various animals, shooing fennecs out the door and placing traps with a diluted poison from her stock of herbs in the corners to rid the place of rodents. It's hard work but satisfying; there are few things better to her than turning disorder into something clean and pleasant.

When she's done she throws herself onto one of the beds in the barracks, sighing happily as she feels the ache leave her bones, reflecting how nice it was to sleep in a bed for once rather than a makeshift cot or even just the ground. She turns over, propping herself up with a pillow under her chest, legs swinging in the air behind her, smiling a happy greeting at whoever passes.


iii.) The Still Ruins
She can tell something's wrong as soon as she steps foot in the ruins. She's never been in a place so big and grand, apart from Skyhold, but to Eirlys it feels like walking uninvited through the back of someone else's thoughts. Every footstep she takes shatters the thick silence of the place, yet the Tevinters and demons both are frozen in time and place, completely unaware of her presence.

In her previous encounters with demons, everything was chaotic. Now it's not peaceful exactly, she still feels the same dread in the pit of her stomach when she catches sight of them, but it's like opening up the chaos and seeing one thin slice of it rather than it all unfolding quicker than the can process it.

The rage demon, frozen before her for Maker alone knew how long. Eirlys raises a trembling hand, inches from it, terrified it's going to snap awake and tear her apart but unable to resist her own curiosity. It was a demon exactly like this that had started it all, the chain of events that had led her here.

Lara Croft, OTA

[make_my_mark]

Desert Camp (any):

While the first part of the journey, immediately outside of Skyhold, had still been chilly, Lara didn't regret her decision to leave her armor. Thedas' desert was proving to be very much like deserts back on earth, and she didn't miss the fur or plate any as the sun beat down them. Her street clotheswere still a bit much during the highest, hottest, points of the day, but the long-sleeves were enough to get through the cooler night.

Rolling them up now, she dropped to rest for a moment in the slight at the backside of one of the tents. Unclipping her canteen from her belt, she allowed herself one, deep, drink, then splurged. Dumping a small mouthful into the palm of one hand, she splashed the back of her neck with a soft sigh of pleasure.

"That's the ticket..."


When Quillbacks Attack:

Thedas was home to a host of strange beasts. This was not news to Lara. But when they seemingly came from nowhere, appearing suddenly behind you as you stopped to tie your boot, they were still surprising.

She'd heard the shift of sand as she'd looped her laces... had glanced back... and with a jump and a curse she was scrambling back up the ladder that had led her down to the small water-laden valley.

The prickly beast circled below, making a chittering-clicking noise as Lara leaned and peered down at it. She crouched on the platform, shifting her bow to keep it at hand, but she didn't immediately attack, watching it instead with wide, fascinated eyes.

"What are you?"

Andra | OTA

[faithstarved]

ii.

Andra is no stranger to hard work, and pitches in with the cleanup of Griffon Wing Keep without hesitation or complaint. She doesn't bother with helping rifle through the texts and tomes that the Venatori left behind, she isn't a strong enough reader to be able to discern the useful from the crap, but the manual labor she's capable of doing.

Right now that's coming by way of repairing the scaffolding the Venatori mages damaged in vain attempts to keep the invading Inquisition at bay. She's hanging upside down by her knees, hammering nails into a reinforcement beam when she drops several.

"Oh, for Andraste’s sake!" She huffs out a breath of air, staring down the several feet where the nails have dropped before waving her hand up over the scaffolding. "Anyone up there have some spare nails so I don't have to climb all the way down this bloody thing?"

iv

She's seen a fair amount of death in her time. Still, the poor slaves half-eaten by darkspawn didn't deserve to be left behind to rot.

"Maybe they're better off, out of the hands of blood mages," she murmurs quietly, along with prayers for each. There isn't much else here beyond tragedy, but even the dead deserve respect, and she gives them a little of that, at least. She doesn't know dwarven prayers, so they all get the same prayer.

"The Light shall lead her safely
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,
She should see fire and go towards Light.
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."

[fightingdirty]

"Pfft," Lena replies. "Ass kisser." But she doesn't continue arguing that they should return, because Korrin knows what she's doing and for Lena, it's easy to settle back into the old routine anyway. She's not eager to run into any darkspawn down here, but she'll face them if they turn up after all. Her knives are ready to go, and she cracks her knuckles to loosen up her hands, just in case.

"Well, let's go that way," she nods towards the one doorway before them. The other way is a dead end.

[serannas]

"I have a little left yet. It just doesn't seem to be strong enough? Or it just doesn't last long." She frowns, looking down into the little vanity pot of the stuff. She's not scraping bottom yet, but even if it were full, she doesn't think it would work on her ultra fair skin.

"It does feel like I've been continuously smacked in the face. That sort of sting. Thank the Creators I've kept the rest of myself covered."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin response to 'ass kisser' in what is clearly the most mature fashion possible, with a loud kissing noise and wide smirk. Then she slips her staff from the trap at her back, readying it in one hand while keeping her spirit blade hilt out in the other. It's not as though the lighter of the two can't be tucked away should they find anything worth taking.

"Right." Preferring to remain alongside Lena rather than fall back as before -no need to be purely ranged anymore- she shoves that doorway open and immediately wrinkles her nose. "Ugh, what a stench. Either the darkspawn are nearby or their body odor is strong enough to linger without them."

[gatheringstorm]

Simultaneously grateful and guilty that her own, darker skin isn't quite as susceptible, Korrin nods. "Alejandro had some good advice on desert survival. Speaking of which, you should see him when you get the chance. Now that we have the keep set up, he can make you some lighter armor, like what he did for me. It ought to keep you protected and covered up, so less of that stuff to use. Until then, being more nocturnal can help. I was going to ask if you wanted to help me root out darkspawn nearby anyway, but they're going to be more active at night."

[serannas]

"That would be wonderful!" she says, having been uncomfortable in her regular mage armor. She knows that no matter what, mage armor isn't very protective anyway, and having something that makes her feel less like she's boiling would be nice. "Does he need me to bring him the materials, or does he keep a stock?" She isn't exactly sure how it works.

"I can come with you to do that, sure. Have you fought darkspawn before?" Ellana has, in Emprise du Lion, and she knows about the precautions non-Wardens must take.

[foxsays]

The heat of the Western Approach might be dry without even a flicker of the sea air but it's still heat, and Araceli might be smug that it doesn't bother her at all, clad in light, loose layers. Still, there are perks to being with someone as tall as Korrin and that means using her shadow to avoid the worst of the glare.

The sound of the dragon has her shivering though, turning her head ever so slowly to stare up at Korrin with such a look.

"Sirena," she says, as sweetly as possible, "no."

[fightingdirty]

Ugh, how does Korrin have a stable relationship when she's such a goofball? Araceli must be the same way. It's the only explanation.

Lena pulls out her daggers and raises a brow when Korrin comes up alongside her. This is new. Lena will have to be more careful gesturing with her daggers in hand.

"Can it be the latter? I'd prefer if it was that." She touches her belt with the backs of her fingers, double checking that her poison and elixirs are ready to go. Obviously she keeps them on opposite hips, so she doesn't throw poison all over herself.

"Are you sure you want to jump into anything with your sword? There's less chance of you getting darkspawn blood on you if you hang back."

[foxsays]

A trip to Antiva wasn't just for the benefit of the Inquisition when you happened to somehow more or less speak the language, and Araceli weaves her way over to Lena, stripped down to as little as she can get away with without scandalising anyone, her own meal balanced in one hand as she takes a seat.

She clocks Lena's look, peers around to make sure no one's watching, and sets her food down and leans close.

"So I still owe you a proper meal but," she digs into a pouch at her hip and produces little jars of spices that she waggles, "I thought that might put a smile on your face."

[gatheringstorm]

Not minding her role as shade-provider at all, Korrin is still staring upward, mesmerized as the great beast soars through the air. Out here, far from any center of civilization, she can enjoy the view without worrying about what nearby civilians it might take. Sahrnia's dragons didn't come with that luxury.

"But Kadan...." Araceli's name for her sinks in after a moment, though she doesn't quite snap out of it. "That's what our name for them means, remember? 'Ataashi', the glorious ones. It's easier to appreciate when it's not aiming that glory right at us." Yet. The dragon isn't entirely out of view, and it wouldn't take long for the creature to circle back.

[gatheringstorm]

Just wait until Araceli and Korrin are both adventuring alongside you, Lena. The flirting never stops, and it's worse when they have an audience. As it is, Korrin shifts focus to their task at hand, responding to the raised eyebrow with a smile. She's eager to show off, okay. So far, it's just been training, sparring or killing minor belligerent wildlife. This place will be different, she's sure.

"They'd have to get past my barrier first, and good fucking luck with that. You'll see." Any Valo-Kas member worth their salt knows how careful to be around that shit anyway, 'back row' or not. "I'm sure there's more than darkspawn around here anyway, call it a hunch." But for now, that cackling up ahead has her pretty sure that it's time to destroy what darkspawn remain and seal up any entrances they find.

[gatheringstorm]

"Now that we have the keep cleared out of that Venatori filth, I'm sure our supply lines can get him whatever he'll need for that. Though it never hurts to volunteer whatever you can get locally, too." Korrin nods at the shift in topic, straightening. She wrinkles her nose, remembering their awful smell. "I have, many times with the Valo-Kas. It can be done without contracting their taint, you just have to cover yourself and be watchful. And with our staves, I bet we can get them before they close in on us anyway."

Rachette | open

[sistertohermen]

(I)
Somehow, bandits and Venatori yet survive. Rachette is not a fan of either one. In her dull clothes and small frame, it doesn't take much for her to take cover, practically looking like just another rock already. She crouches anyway from atop a short cliffside, peering at a small ragtag group of the former.

"They might have ransacked the fortress." That's not actually the main reason why she's keen on getting at them. "Might have something valuable." There we go. "Could always let the beasts pick them off..."

But then they might be here all day. The bandits survived this long, after all.

(II)
She's thrilled to see an actual well in the middle of a place like this, ready for a good source of water despite the inhospitable landscape. Even if some Venatori ass may have gotten pushed down in.

She balances her waist on the lip of the well to peer in, tugging on the rope and the empty bucket on the end. It uselessly splashes against some water at the bottom, but it doesn't seem like much. There's also a draft coming up from it. Which she's pretty sure shouldn't happen. "We might have to drag water from that river nearby, or we'll have some very thirsty soldiers."

Chette tugs on the rope again and then climbs up on the lip, hopping onto the rope to shimmy down. "Someone want to hand me a light?"

(V)
Adamant is not a pretty sight. None of the Approach was when she was out here, the thick smoke of sacrifice and the tainted air of blood, but now that they can finally see some of the damage done by the mighty, terrible Grey Wardens, it's enough to make her sick.

The place is abandoned and the people are dead. She doesn't feel it disrespectful to start sorting through belongings, any items of note that may have been left behind. She can't read any papers she might come across, grabbing someone else's attention for them. There's a little armor that might be useful, a couple discarded weapons. Trinkets. Personal effects.

The pyre has burned out, still leaving the stench of death on those who hadn't tasted the flames. She knows these surfacers have a habit of burning their dead, but she'd like to at least see if there are any dwarves numbered among the bodies, just in case. (Would the Stone care, a body touched by the surface, tainted by the Wardens? Maybe not. Probably not.) But it seems...gruesome to just restart the pyre as it was. Surely someone might want to try and identify people? Get in touch with families, if possible?

The shades and demons that slip through the cracks in the Veil are a good way for her to let out steam, so long as she doesn't get in over her head or get dropped on. Her attention is a little elsewhere, understandably.

[fightingdirty]

Lena wouldn't just take random jars of spice from anybody, because here she is an expert at poisons so of course she assumes if someone offers her something for free, it's poisonous. But the fact is, she actually recognizes a few based on color, and she can't come up with a reason why Araceli would want her dead yet. So she lifts her brow and waggles her lump of whatever it is (bread, maybe?) in response.

"What do you suggest for this hunk of crap? The red stuff? Or that one. That one's smoky, isn't it?" She nods towards another.

Malcolm Reed | open

[tactical_alert]

(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.

[fightingdirty]

Lena sighs, because she can't talk Korrin out of it, and then she too hears the cackling and sets a dagger back on her back.

"Fucking great." Her hand now free, she pulls up the kerchief from around her neck until it's firmly settled over her nose. No way is she risking the Blight over a bunch of Venatori assholes who aren't even around anymore. She retrieves her dagger once more and nods to Korrin.

"All right. Let's see what you've got."

[serannas]

"Yes, I made sure to do both when I faced them." Her voice is serious, because darkspawn are far more deadly than normal enemies. Their final blow can happen long after they themselves are killed, as Felix nearly experienced himself. The brief thought causes her to miss him, since he stayed behind at Skyhold. Maybe she'll call to him on the crystals after she and Korrin return from hunting darkspawn.

"So we'll set out once the sun goes down?"

Jamie | OTA

[wontforgetyou]

I.

[a]
This isn't Jamie's first trip to the region, and since the last time he was here with the Wardens, he's picked up a few useful tricks, such as wearing light-colored clothes (for the most part) and keeping water on him at all times. When he's away from the camp, whether it be hunting, exploring or on patrol keeping an eye out for beasties, he's also taken to wearing a broad brimmed hat as well. It may make his ears stick out some, but it keeps the worst of the sun off of his face - and gives him a place to stick a wet cloth under when he needs to to stay cool.

He's in the middle of doing just that when a roar catches his attention, something he's heard before, and his head whips up, one hand reaching to clap the hat in place so it doesn't fall off. Sure enough, off in the distance there's a dragon, flying far overhead. But even with that, Jamie can see it's huge, and his instinct, as always in this situation, is to get the attention of the nearest person and point it out.

"Hey, would you look at the size of that!"

[b]
For the most part, the landscape is barren, reminding him all too much of other places he's been. Rocky planets with little to no visible signs of life, only remnants of old buildings indicating that anyone'd been there at all. But the ruins are something to draw his curiosity, and when he comes across a still-intact arch, it's not long before he goes to check it out, mindful of the beasties that are surely lingering nearby. If they show up, he'll deal with them, but it doesn't mean he's not going to poke around a bit while he's got the chance to.

"Huh. Wonder what this was?"

II. - taking the Keep
Once the doors to the Keep are breached, Jamie's in the thick of the fighting, flinging himself at the nearby enemies in his usual Highland way, yelling and brandishing a sword. The fight goes much like the way fights tend to go, with give and take on both sides, and while overall the Inquisition seems to be winning, Jamie isn't about to count on that until all everything is said and done. So he keeps fighting...and then something unexpected happens.

The warrior he's currently fighting is a large man, and even with Jamie's natural agility, he's having problems keeping the other man at bay. The warrior has a longer reach, and that and the extra weight are starting to shift the battle in his favor. Slowly the man starts to press forward, forcing Jamie towards a corner in an attempt to pin him down and keep him from dodging away. When he's backed the young Scot up enough, he strikes, knocking Jamie's sword out of his hands and leaving him helpless...or so the thinks.

As the man lifts his own sword to finish him off, Jamie reaches up in a desperate effort to try and stop him, his shard hand glinting as he goes to grab the man's arm - and then, without warning, green bursts from his hand, small projectiles of light that slam into the warrior's face with enough force that he winds up stumbling back, dropping his weapon as he lets out a cry of pain, bringing both hands up to cover his face. For Jamie's part, he seems rather stunned, staring at his hand in disbelief - and leaving things open for anyone who might want to take advantage of the situation.

Wildcard!

[Want to explore somewhere else or help Jamie get into trouble somehow? Add your own starter or let me know if you'd like something specific and I'll add it on in!]