THE SEAS SHALL RISE & DEVOUR, Part I

[faderifting]

WHO: Any Inquisition members + all rifters
WHAT: A semi-involuntary tropical island vacation
WHEN: Kingsway 20 onward
WHERE: The sea and an island east of Rivain
NOTES: OOC post.

I. THE JOURNEY

Two ships depart from Kirkwall on the morning tide, sturdy vessels crewed by veteran sailors--but a mere skeleton crew, as it turns out, or so a few of them would have you believe. They're prone to assigning tasks to anyone who happens not to look busy, shoving ropes into hands without a care for station or experience, barking out instructions and expecting to be obeyed. With plenty of work to do the journey seems quick, and besides the unexpected chores it's otherwise smooth sailing through the Waking Sea. Some claim to've spotted the Windline Marcher one night, but it could just as easily have been clouds on the horizon, and that's it for excitement until the ships round the island of Brandel's Reach and out into open ocean, the ever-present coastline finally falling away behind.

The sky is bigger out there and the waves are too, especially when a storm strikes a few days out, dark clouds and driving rain sending any inexperienced sailors below decks to wait it out. The worst of it being the pitch of the ship rolling up and crashing down the massive waves, and the way the hold fills with the stench of people being sick. But the next morning dawns calm and clear and with no lasting damage done.

The group is bound for a desert island, drawn on maps with a big deep cove like a bite chomped out the side it, and a narrow channel through the surrounding reefs to reach it. That's the only moment of true tension on the voyage: as soundings are taken every few feet and the helmsmen adjust and readjust in response, carefully threading the needle to avoid running aground on ship-killing banks of sharp coral.

Both ships make it, and anchor offshore in the bay in the sheltering lee of a cliff, safe from future storms. The first party ashore reports back that Qunari are present in the area, but while they've displayed a palpable wariness, hostility does not seem their aim today, and they retreat back up to the hills above the beach as Inquisition forces arrive. Anyone able-bodied is tasked with assisting in unloading, and those less hale with helping the quartermaster's assistants track the process to make sure nothing goes astray between hold and shore.

Camp is to be a collection of tents: large ones beneath which makeshift facilities for cooking, eating, and working are set up, and many small ones designed to hold 2-4 Inquisition agents. They're still hammering stakes into the sand and tying off ropes to the sturdier palms when a shout goes up, though anyone present who possesses an anchor shard will not need to be told: a rift has opened nearby, a couple hundred yards out into the bay, a knot of shapes splashing about it. Better hope the rifters can swim.

II. ARRIVAL

Rifters

You were asleep--deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.

In this world, when the afterimage left by a flare of too-bright, greenish light fades, you will find yourself at sea. Not metaphorically (though perhaps that too) but literally: dropped into what is unmistakably the ocean, from the salt in your mouth and the incessant slosh of waves into your face, the squawk of gulls circling overhead. You had better start treading water.

Thankfully, if you can keep your head above the waves long enough to make a quick inspection, it turns out that land is in sight, only a few hundred yards off. Unfortunately, between you and it is a strange slash of greenish light. It sticks up out of the water but seems to continue beneath as well, turning the otherwise-turquoise waters the same pale greenish shade of a man gone seasick. The cluster of demons emerging from the rift are tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes who flail about like stickbugs dropped in pond, but use the long reach of their arms to attack. Some are hunched and hooded with no eyes at all, their shrouds sodden and draped in seaweed. Others are mere wisps of greenish light that float easily over the surface. While you might get the impression they are as surprised as you to find themselves in the drink, any humor that might bring is probably outweighed by how angry it seems to make them.

If that were not enough to contend with, there is also the narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here that now glows out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. But there is some good news: from the beach over yonder boats are launching. Perhaps they'll save you.

Rescue

As if rescuing rifters from drowning and demons weren't hard enough work, all the commotion in the water inevitably draws the attention of the local predators. But what arrives isn't the usual eel or ray or even a shark: it's something much bigger and much...redder?

Slinking through the water comes the flash of a fin and the glint of a scaly back, so quick and sinuous it's hard to say how many of the sea serpents there are. As wide around as the circle of a man's arms, with snapping jaws lined with an unnatural number of curving teeth, but what should be smooth snakey curves are instead jagged with the jut of brilliant red crystals that catch the light and make the sea seem to be already splattered with blood. They're studded all over its body, making any even glancing blow carry twice the danger: there's not just the stunning force of the strike to worry about or the possibility of being coiled in a crushing grip, but also being sliced and gored by red lyrium.

And the serpents aren't alone. While all eyes are on the churning water and the incredible sight of demons battling it out with sea monsters (because everything in that water is fair game to the beasts, not just the Inquisition), one sailor is suddenly plucked out his boat and carried screaming down into the depths by a great, crystal-encrusted tentacle. Cleansing runes are effective, but the monsters are canny enough to avoid capture, falling back into deeper water before attacking again. The arrival of a red lyrium-tainted kraken is just about the final straw for the ship's crew, and after seeing the monsters come dangerously close to cleverly flipping one of the longboats, they insist that the Inquisition row back for shore.

If flight is hard to stomach, consider it a tactical retreat: in shallower water the great bulks of the monsters become a liability, thrashing about among the rocks as they try to give chase. Escape back to the beach is possible, and surely the safer course, but it may be possible to lure one of the sea serpents into a tide pool or to beach itself up on the sands. The rest continue to prowl the bay, visible circling the ships at anchor and making any return impossible for the time being.

III. STRANDED

Once everyone is safely on land and out of the monsters' reach—after any wounds have been seen to, with particular attention given to any that may have been exposed to red lyrium—it's obvious that there's no way to leave for the time being. There isn't much to do but to try to make the most of things and try to accomplish what you came here for.

Some of the team will be tasked with continuing to set up camp. Now that the stay might be longer than a single night, it needs to be a little sturdier. The beach and cove are protected from harsh winds and exposure by a half-circle of rocky cliffs, and the Qunari communicate in grunts and one-word answers that large predators make sleeping in the jungle itself a bad idea. They've only been here a few days (that much can be gleaned despite their reticence), but some of the untamed jungle has been cut through to make clear paths to fresh water and fruit sources.

Penetrating the rest of the island is slow, difficult work—though magic may make it easier. The goal is near the top of the formerly volcanic peak in the island's center, but hacking through the growth to create a path may abruptly become a waste of time when it gives way to a steep drop-off or an equally steep incline and forces everyone to double back and try another route. If there was ever a clear road to the top, it's gone now, grown over during centuries of abandonment. But there are signs of past habitation: the lower portions of the island are spotted with crumbling ruins, chunks of moss-coated wall rising out of the forest floor, the occasional pillar looming up amongst the trees. Some have architecture and faded murals that are distinctly elven. Others, more recent, are clearly human, including a statue of Andraste in the center of a clearing. Others are harder to identify.

The predators the Qunari were trying to warn everyone about turn out to be real--they're large, jet-black cats about the size of a height of a mabari but longer, with short manes, near-scaley skin, and horns almost like the Qunari's. And before anyone gets any ideas about keeping one, they're fiercely territorial—always likely to try to eat your face, but doubly so if you come near their adorable kittens. Feeding them may buy a moment or two for escape, but nothing is going to win them over.

Comments

Araceli Bonaventura; open

[foxsays]

i. journey;
As with any time she's on a ship, Araceli spends much of the voyage pitching in because this is what she knows and there are never enough hands on deck. If you need to know how to tie your knots correctly without fear of being shouted at then she's probably the safe bet. If Kirkwall made her happy just to be by the sea again, to hear the gulls, smell the salt, wake up to masts in the docks then being out on the open waters again has her smiling even when the waves lash and the wind almost blinds her.

This is like being home and she loves it.

When the cry goes up about the rift after they finally make it, she's one of the first to kick off her boots and strip off her coat (sorry if you were helping her unload anything) because yes she can absolutely swim.

iii. stranded;
Things could be worse.

They could be in the Fallow Mire. Or Emprise du Lion. Or Skyhold. Because if you're stranded anywhere an island by Rivain isn't the worst place to be stranded on. The fish might be out judging from what was in the water - what a thing to tell Madame de Cedoux - but if anyone wants to fashion nets or rods at any point and try their luck since no one knows the length of their stranding? She's willing. Hacking through jungle, yes, that's fine too and she has notes she's taking for back in Kirkwall so she doesn't forget. (She isn't submitting a report but not all eyes are here and information is currency and vital.)

But she's diplomacy and approaching the Qunari is probably what Madame de Cedoux would like for her to do in the interests of getting some sort of information if they can or at least just speaking with them so she does try. Vashoth apostate mercenary kadan might be a poisoned chalice with them but so might rifter and Inquisition so they might all be equally screwed here.

I

[mactears]

It has been some decades since Loghain was last at sea (the memories of that vain voyage hounding him every time he steps out onto the deck and looks out to the horizon), but what his mind has forgotten, his muscles remember. He puts his back into the work of maintaining the ship with vigour and no complaints; he lacks Araceli's enthusiasm for the work, her joy in the scent of the sea and the rush of the waves, but that doesn't deter him from putting everything he has into each task he undertakes.

When the rift opens and spills the rifters into the open sea, he's on her heels towards the shoreline, though his destination is one of the boats waiting to be launched into the surf. "Wait!" he calls out to her, "they'll drag you under before you're of any help to them!" If they can get the boats to the rifters first, they'll all stand a better chance of getting back to the shore alive.

[foxsays]

Glad that Lux was left behind in Kirkwall (he'd enjoy this but she loves him too much to place him in harm's way), Araceli turns at the shout, cinching her belt tighter as she makes herself turn her back on the water.

Her hand glows brighter, begins to ache even from this distance; she speaks through gritted teeth from the shock of it after so many months. "And if the boats are smashed to pieces?" Uncurling her hand hurts but she manages it as she walks to him, breathing carefully through her nose. "We don't have unlimited boats."

If they're stuck here, losing boats is going to become a problem fast that she's trying not to think about. One crisis at a time.

[mactears]

"Better to risk the boats than lose our people to drowning," he calls back and meets her eyes levelly as she approaches him. He can tell he's riled her, but he'll endure her anger. It doesn't shake his resolve.

That's when he notices the first of the red serpents cutting its swift, undulating path through the surf. Blanching, he points to it, and swears an oath under his breath. "Help me launch this!" he adds quickly, and puts his back into getting the boat into the water.

[foxsays]

"We swim before we ever walk," she manages under her breath and presses her hand to her thigh. Kraken she knows too but it's not the time for her to bring up what she knows about the sea as she makes her way up.

Watching the serpents to try to count how they move so close to the kraken, she stops in front of the boat to dig a small furrow in front of the bow to ease the way ahead before she joins him. "Muévete," she commands the boat as she starts pushing too, feet sinking into the sand with the effort as she goes.

[mactears]

He puts his back to the task of getting the ship into the surf; as soon as it's floating, he hoists himself into it and offers her a hand to give her a leg up as well--if she needs it, that is. Then he grabs for the oars and pushes them off towards the rifters in need of rescue; it's highly likely he'll soon need to wrangle a sword as well as an oar, but he's confident enough in his abilities to manage both, should the situation call for it.

[foxsays]

Taking the offered hand because there are only one or two occasions where pride has her spurning help, she loosens her rapiers in their sheathes to have them ready when she looks at him.

It's ridiculous, going into this without knowing the name of the person beside you when for her it's the second most dangerous thing she's done. Most dangerous in her right mind.

"Araceli Bonaventura y Castell. I can row, I'm a captain's daughter," she has to shout to be heard already over the roiling waters as a serpent passes beneath the boat. Taking the chance while she has it, she grabs the coil of rope tucked by the left side for throwing to anyone that needs it, rifter or fellow rescuer.

I

[onlyhymns]

Working alongside her much of the time is Cade, who vaguely remembers Araceli as a friendly person. He works well and is helpful for dealing with things that are heavier than Araceli can manage, and to boot he's very easily bossed around, eager to please, and glad to get things done.
He never says much, if anything at all, but he tends to gravitate toward her for her obvious knowledge and confidence. If there's anyone to be near on a ship where you don't know what to do, Araceli seems like a good bet.

[foxsays]

With the move and everyone settling in, this is the longest Araceli's seen Cade because in passing in the Gallows doesn't ever count in her book. There's been gossip since (there's always gossip, Kirkwall is worse than Skyhold for it) but having someone around to help is welcome.

"Have you sailed much outside of your time with the Inquisition?" She asks as she squints at the nearly illegible note directing them both to go fetch up rations to the galley. "I think a drunk squid wrote this..."

Behold, Cade, look at this sloppy penmanship.

[onlyhymns]

Perhaps hiding in a lowtown inn for several weeks has helped the gossip, perhaps it's made it worse. Cade has nowhere to go from here but up, and he's more appreciative than Araceli could ever know for her casual, amiable company.
"No," he admits with a shake of his head, peering at the note with a useless shrug. Maybe a squid did write it. "Just... just when I was a boy, and then twice with the Templars." Going to and from Kirkwall from Ferelden, naturally.

[foxsays]

Luckily for Cade, someone else stepped in with what he'd been involved in and Araceli had her own affair or two to wade into. Templar personal business isn't the safest or smartest thing to go poking your nose in too deep when you're a rifter no matter how long you've been here (maybe even being here too long muddies the waters, says something about comfort, familiarity, that others might wish to disabuse any of such notions.)

"I think...I think we're looking for vegetables - no one's going to care save the cook if we take the wrong thing up, and ship's biscuits." Half a mutter to herself because reading it belowdecks is going to be a pain. "My father is a captain, I used to go sailing with him sometimes if the trips weren't too long - did you enjoy it? Coming to Thedas, I met people who hadn't even seen the sea. I couldn't imagine that. Skyhold was very hard for all that time so far from it."

III

[misdirection_hex]

Well. He had always said he wanted to travel the world beyond the Circle tower. Granted, he'd said it quite a bit less frequently after a few months of camping and starving and fighting in the Hinterlands, and he's stopped saying it altogether after one ill-timed remark had gotten him assigned on a mission to the Deep Roads, but at least now he's broadening his horizons even further. (Now that he's left the ship's hold, anyway. The ferry path between the Gallows and the city proper is about all the water a desert flower like Vandelin can stand to cross if he has to look at it.)

He is sunburned, waterlogged, sweaty and bug-bitten--clearly the perfect condition in which to introduce himself to a new colleague. Never one to be easily deterred by unfortunate circumstance, Van marches himself with all the dignity he can summon over to Araceli as she records her observations.

"Mademoiselle Bonaventura?" What name she might prefer other than what Petrana has given him, he's not sure, but he supposes now is the time to find out. "Enchanter Vandelin Elris. I'm told we're to be sharing an office. It's a pleasure to meet you."

[foxsays]

Madame de Cedoux had corrected enough by the time Araceli had come along to speak with her that she doesn't immediately offer a señor; if a person gives her their title, she's happy to go with it and it saves her embarrassment. "Please, if we're working together it's Araceli. At your service." The bow is a little delayed as the notebook is tucked under whatever part of her is least damp since Thedas hasn't mastered the range of waterproof inks she'd take for granted back home.

What a change, to speak with a man that's her height. Granted that's usually only going to happen with elves but there's a lot of craning her neck and it's nice to know that her new colleague is going to be at eye level with her.

"I was looking forward to meeting you, not under such alarming circumstances but such is the Inquisition, no?"

[misdirection_hex]

It's a far cry from what's become the norm among other Inquisition members, most of whom seem to be quite insistent on the usage of titles--perhaps consistently, perhaps only when Vandelin is concerned, but nonetheless, it's rare to have someone warmly and openly offer up a first name like that. He appreciates the gesture, wonders if he ought to reciprocate it, but opts to hold off. Just for now.

"Never a dull moment," he agrees, with a grin. "But I can't complain about unexpected travel destinations. It's like making up for lost time." He hasn't forgotten Petrana's concern about his years as a Circle shut-in, but he won't let them be a disadvantage. He'll own them, if he must.

[foxsays]

Giving her whole name as the introduction is a new old thing for her instead, not accustomed to any sort of title anyway but settled as she is in Thedas with a real job more than just being a bard and one of the Nightingale's students, picking the whole thing back up to give to people? It feels right. Not the frightened girl making herself small enough to fit in Thedas. Thedas will give her space enough for her whole name and all that she does with it.

"Most of what I've heard of the Circles haven't painted the picture of a life of travelling to far-flung locales unless it's the first trip you take," she says since it tends to be among the first things people learn about Circles after all. "This is the first place the Inquisition has taken us as a whole where I feel useful for a change."

Apart from Kirkwall although she doubts everyone in Kirkwall agrees that politics is a useful way to spend your time when you're poking your nose into their business and making a face when you think they're doing things that might hamper the efforts to settle things with the locals.

III

[judgemewhole]

When Araceli starts going towards the Jungle towards the Qunari camp, James gets up from where he was helping the healers make bandages, dusting the sand off of his breeches. Considering the heat, he's stripped down to a mail shirt and his clothes, but he automatically plucks up his shield and tightens his sword belt as he walks across the sand towards her.

"If you're going to talk to the Qunari - you need a show of strength." He states, and then sighs as he looks back to his armor. "...Which might be more impressive with the full plate armor, so if you give me a moment to put it on, I shall travel with you."

[foxsays]

Once her clothes had dried out from the rescue attempt and sealing the rift, Araceli's been dressed more or less as she'd been the whole voyage. But Norrington was in Rivain before so it shouldn't come as a surprise that heat and humidity don't seem to bother her at all unless her notes turn to mulch.

"If you collapse, Ser Norrington," her voice is dry as she rises up on her toes stretching out an ache from fighting, "I am sadly ill-suited to carrying you and your armour back. Our resident cats would at least have to put up a fight for their cooked Templar supper."

She's teasing but no, really, are you actually able to go in all your armour in the heat because look at her and look at you she can't do physical support if anything happens outside of making a valiant attempt.

[judgemewhole]

He looks at her. He looks back at his full set of plate armor. He looks back at her. Then back at the suit of armor. "...Well. While the delightful thought of being eaten by mad jungle cats seems so very appealing, I think I'll bow to the lady's subtle suggestion and leave the heavier armor behind."

He snorted softly, making sure that his shield was attached tightly. "I hope the Qunari are in a friendlier mood than the cats are."

[foxsays]

"We've been spoiled for choice." Brushing off her clothes, she smiles up at him since this isn't an ideal circumstance for the Inquisition but when she does allow herself to think about how bad it could have been? They've done well. "Reclaimed by the sea, devoured by a kraken, devoured by sea serpents, devoured by jungle cats and those are only things with hungers."

Speak nothing of the elements, of any insects that might come or what anything poses in the long term for survival on an island with so many of them here after all since she doesn't want to possibly upset anyone and sow the seeds of anything but she's thinking about it. Stretching supplies. Shelter. Keeping safe and cool in the day, warm in the night.

With a quick movement to loosen her rapiers and settle silkdart where it's tucked into her belt instead of under a sleeve as usual, she leads the way to where she last knew the Qunari were. "If they aren't, I don't know if they can be blamed. Cooperation is the way forward for us all but when they had to see people landing in the sea, the water writhing and foaming with all that was in it and them alone with so many of us united under our banner? If not friendship, I hope at least for civility."

[judgemewhole]

"Well, better to be spoiled for choice than with no options. I mean, after all, perhaps I would prefer to be reclaimed by the sea instead of devoured by a kraken or a jungle cat." He smirked in turn, meeting her gaze levelly. Araceli might have been small of stature but she was a woman to bear watching. Dangerous was only one of the monikers that James would attach to her, and woe to the idiot who didn't see that behind her clever words and sharp eyes.

Which meant, he rather liked her. Short, clever women seemed to be his own personal weakness.

Beyond that, she was right. Sooner or later, unless they found a way off this damned island, they were going to die by a variety of ways. Best to start working on how Not to die immediately.

He follows after her, letting his gaze slide to everything in front of him, including the trees. He's been in too many combats now when thugs dropped from the sky seemingly. He wasn't going to let his guard down now. "Perhaps we can reach an accord - you help us, we help you - we all leave here alive. That would be favorable in the Qun, right? All of us doing what we should."

I.

[kartereo]

On the list of things to do when not being put to work on the ship was to get more practice in with climbing things in a rapid amount of time. His inital session with Araceli had given Waver a big boost in confidence, and although he wasn't the best by any means (with some impressive bruises to show for it), he was getting better.

Ship rigging seemed like the ideal, in truth. So when they were less in use, or Waver could politely offer coin for someone to look the other way, he did what he could to stay sharp. And to practice going down in ways that weren't falling, but being as quick and clever as climbing up.

Which was all to say that he was doing absolutely great with the whole thing until two seconds ago when, on final decent, he got his leg tangled up in some rope and was now dangling upsidedown, the ends of his hair just brushing the floor.

Of course he managed to do it right in front of Araceli to boot. Brilliant.

"...Hey," he managed, absolutely red. Damnit.

[foxsays]

Sailors talk but if they're being paid a bit on the side they'll bite their tongues unless they think they'll get in trouble so while Araceli's been spending her off time with some of the Inquisition members or finding out where the crew have been, their favourite voyages, anything they've seen that anyone else would call them mad for swearing to be true, Waver's activities have pasesd her by.

Anyone could be up there. Inexperienced or small, young hands often end up there at home too so why should Thedas be much different.

Practice means she doesn't shout but she jumps and curses when Waver just appears in front of her when she turns. "Fuck! Where-- How--" Hand on her chest since her heart almost flew out, she grabs the rope as her gaze darts about between him, and it, and everything else. "Are you hurt? Let's...let's start untangling you."

[kartereo]

"I was practicing and missed a foothold," Waver said, his voice heavy with embarrassment. Obviously this was not what he had planned, but at least he had a general idea of what happened.

Sighing, he gestured to the rope wrapped around his leg. "That's the culprit, I just don't know where it leads to."

[foxsays]

"Believe me, I did it all the time when I was younger." She doesn't say little. Araceli's been this height for a long time, hit her growth spurt early and used it all up and that was that. "Mostly on my father's ship or one that belonged to someone he knew but sometimes it was worse if I knew them and they knew me, they'd leave me there for a time. Teach a girl a lesson."

Clearly she's going to be a far more merciful teacher as she starts to climb up for a better look herself and starts to work on freeing Waver. "Probably somewhere up in the sails for hauling them in when we need to slow down or if we can't risk damaging them when a storm rolls in." Always a when on the chance of storms this far out at sea, if they don't hit one on the voyage she'll eat the curtains when they're back in Kirkwall.

[kartereo]

"Well, thanks for not rubbing my nose in it," Waver replied with a heavy, embarrassed sigh. He had already learned a lesson, and that was to be much more careful with his footing.

Watching Araceli move from his upsidedown position, Waver's eyes track the rope keeping him in his current spot. "I'm trying to follow the tangle. It looks like you might want to go up a few feet and maybe slightly to the left? If you can just lower me down like a pulley system so I'm on the deck, I can then get my leg free."