faderift | THE SEAS SHALL RISE & DEVOUR, Part I

THE SEAS SHALL RISE & DEVOUR, Part I

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Stranded

A. Prompto hadn't minded the journey all that much, aside from that fun little storm that nearly broke his camera and just about caused a concussion on his part. Fortunately, both were averted, and the young man had been in cheerful spirits when they arrived.

That went downhill when the sea monster struck.

If Prompto looks pretty shaken up, head between his knees and positioned far away from others far long the beach after the fight with the Red Lyrium Tentacle Monstrosity, that's because he is.

He's not unused to rough fights like that. Romping around the countryside with Noctis and the others, and his time alone in the Imperial wilderness made him somewhat hardy, despite appearances. He's battled the cold, the damp, and everything in between. But this, this has him reeling.

The whole battle had him flashing back to Altissia. Every time that monster roared, and every time the waves came over Prompto and he found himself drawing in breath before plummeting under the water, he remembered Altissia, and the battle with Leviathan. The havoc that was wrought, and the way they struggled as the city tore apart under her wrath. In the end, almost nothing good came out of it. Just suffering and death. He tried not to let it get to him afterwards, but here, it had all come crashing back, and he's left trying to get his head on straight and get up and help.

He hears someone approach, but he doesn't look up. Not yet. "Sorry. I'll - I know I'm needed somewhere. Just need a second, you know?"

B. Later on, once he's collected himself, Prompto can be found darting amongst the ruins and the jungle, camera in hand as he snaps some photos. Mostly he focuses on taking pictures of the murals he sees. Some are pretty embedded into the jungle, and it'd be safer to take the murals to those more knowledgeable than the other way around.

"Hey, would you mind pushing that huge leaf back? It's blocking the light."

Edited 2017-09-14 00:19 (UTC)

Compared to the bruises earned during her investigation work, the ones gained in battle today are nothing and once she gingerly tends to them does she begin to help others. Saoirse is not a healer though, and it shows as she works with more basic herbs and remedies. Few times does she call upon her magic, using her weak connection to the school of Creation to ease away pain and exhaustion. It helps, she hopes and continues her usual state of humming as she worked.

At first, she doesn't recognize Prompto from where he is seated in the sand. She is far more used to a more... cheerful sort of person but she cannot blame him. Everyone has suffered in some way, some more than others and she cannot help frowning as she crouches down in the nearby sand.

"If you are needed somewhere then I have not heard so," she says lightly. "Most importantly, you must care for yourself first. You were not hurt were you?"

Saoirse, at least, is familiar enough to Prompto to get him to raise his head. He offers her a weak smile, trying to keep up that cheerful facade even when it's clear he's anything but.

"Ah, not too much. Just some bumps and bruises. You know, the usual stuff when you get a sea monster coming at ya." Oh, but it's always so much worse than that, isn't it? Ignis certainly suffered from much worse than a bruise, and nothing could have been done for him. "What about you? I hope you weren't caught up in all that."

"I can help a little bit, if you'd like." She says softly, tilting her head. "I've never been very good at healing but I can help take away some of the aches and pains."

It's the least she can do, Saoirse thinks. Especially since he just looked... so sad.

"I was, but I'm okay. Nothing I couldn't handle when others were hurt worse than I."

Oh no. It's so hard to say no to a pretty girl so kindly asking to help him. Though man, he must really looked like a kicked puppy.

"I mean... they're not so bad, but something to take the edge off the pain might be nice." That's always good. Then maybe once he gets his head on straight he can go and actually help out. Do... scouting things like he's supposed to.

"Well, don't forget to take care of yourself, too. Hate to see you tend to everyone else and neglect yourself."

"You're kind, too kind. I will be careful though and be sure of my limits," she says, smiling brightly. "It would not do me well to not think of myself.

With a nod, she takes his hand and raises it up with a concentrated look. Even simple Creation magic was on the side of difficult for her, which she imagines might be because of her talent to a school that instead took life rather than gave it. There is a brief moment of silence before her magic flickers to life, a whitish-blue glow giving it away as it worked to ease away some of the pain and stiffness.

She can't do much else, but she hopes this will help. "Any better?"

He hopes he's not blushing when she takes his hand. Gods, please don't let him be turning red.

To keep himself distracted, he watches her magic as it forms. It's fascinating to him, seeing it reach and curl out to him, traveling down his arm. Within seconds, he can feel some of the pain ebb away. Like a fast acting morphine, or something, but without the risks.

"Yeah, I can't believe how quickly it works. Thank you."

If he blushing then she doesn't notice, or at least Saoirse doesn't comment on it as she let's his hand go and offers another smile.

She's grateful for his words, chuckling happily and nodding. "I can't believe how fast it worked either, healing magic has always been really difficult for me but... you're welcome. I'm glad I was able to help you."

Oh dear... is that a blush? It's hard to say because she looks off, ducking her head and dusting her robes down. "Hopefully we won't be stuck here for long, but I'm here to help as much as I can so don't be afraid to ask."

So much blushing, so little time.

"Really? You made it look pretty easy. Figured you were a regular healer." It just floated out of her and into him like water. If she struggled, he didn't see it at all.

Is that-? Nah, that has to be from the sun or something. There's no reason she'd be blushing, right? "I hope not either, but it'll be, uh, fun trying to get around Red Lyrium with Tentacles out there." He shudders a little. The last thing he ever wanted was to have to survive another angry water creature.

"I'm terrible at it," she says with a chuckle. "I've always wished to be a healer but I was always much more talented in the school of Entropy. It didn't work out so well."

She glances away toward the water, frowning slightly at the thought of facing that creature again. "It'll be difficult but I'm sure we'll be able to make it through all of this. There's a lot of us here, but it would be nice if the next set of Rifters perhaps didn't get thrown into such crazy situation."

Which makes her wonder...

"It wasn't this exciting when you first arrived was it?"

"Entropy? That sounds like it gives people a bad time." Or is he thinking of another word? Maybe he's thinking of atrophy... Man, that would be such a rude spell to cast on someone. And yet kind of awesome.

"Oof. Yeah, I felt so bad for the new people that got dumped into the water like that. Had to fish out one of them." That hadn't been the least bit fun, let him tell ya. So. Much. Fun. (No, no it wasn't it was terrifying and he kind of wanted to cry.)

"Luuuuuckily, no. Just landed in some nice grass. A walk in the park compared to what happened here."

"It is the opposite of Creation... so those familiar with the school of Entropy can manipulate the forces of erosion, decay, and destruction to put it simply."

She grins, tiredly and gives a small laugh. What a set of powers for someone cute to have, huh? Saoirse has to pause why telling him this worries her. Will he think differently of her and if so... why does she feel so saddened by the thought?

"They explain it back in the Circle that every end has a beginning like a flood bringing new life to its floodplain and a fire ushering in new growth. It used to saddened me when I was young, believing myself only capable of creating hurt," she says with a shake of her head. "I've learned to believe in my magic more in recent years though."

Still, she listens with a small smile. "That's good to hear. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to be ripped from your home and then thrown right into a battle."

"So regular good ol' destruction magic." Still different than what he's used to back home, which is pretty much just entirely the basic elements and whatever brand of magic the Oracle had, which sounds similar to Creation magic. All the different schools of magic here fascinate him.

There's something making her hesitate, and Prompto frowns a little at that. But he doesn't have long to wonder when she does start speaking, revealing something small but clearly personal. There's a part of him that's really pleased that she's telling him this, a part he quickly shuts down. "We all gotta play to our strengths, right? But I can understand it being hard, if you really want to be able to help and heal but you're only good at hurting stuff." Especially when you were created to do just that: shoot and kill. It's an all too hauntingly familiar feeling. "I'm glad you've come around to it. It might not be healing, but your magic can help keep people safe so they won't have to be healed."

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sulena - 2017-10-23 00:18 (UTC) - Expand

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crowncitizen - 2017-10-24 23:22 (UTC) - Expand

The first to approach is Garahel, who sits down right by Prompto leans on him affectionately. He issues a soft whine, and then there are other, lighter footsteps following.

"Take all the time you need, Prompto. I believe everyone needs a break after...that." The worst-placed rift yet, with red lyrium monstrosities all around? Yeah, she doesn't blame anyone for needing to shed some of the horror that wrought. Or at least try.

Edited 2017-09-14 14:13 (UTC)

Little is better at cheering up a person than a friendly dog. Prompto lifts his head, smiling as he reaches over and gives the canine a scratch behind the ears.

Inessa gets a small smile for her words, even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah, yeah. That was something, huh? Even the sea creatures aren't safe from that red lyrium stuff. Think it ate a shipful of it at some point?"

Garahel rumbles contentedly at the scratching, nuzzling Prompto in response. Inessa sits on a piece of driftwood, brushing the sand off her boots. "Quite possibly, along with the others. The thought of it spreading already keeps me up at night. I can see those fears are well-founded."

She sighs and rubs the back of her neck. "At least we know the Cleansing runes work as exceptionally against them as they do the Red Templars. I'll press to have more made and distributed."

"How are we even gonna take down that thing? We can't just leave it, right?" For one thing, it's got them stranded on this island. So something has to be done at some point. Too bad cannons aren't a thing here; cannons on the ships would have put a dent in that beastie. "I guess I'm just glad no one lives on this island. No collateral damage." Or civilian casualties.

"No...no, we can't." Inessa's lips form a thin line. She can't imagine the devastation that would wreak, were it to migrate away from the island and towards a well-trafficked shipping lane. "It's too dangerous to be left here, if we even could. And just as importantly, we'll need to find the source. There must be red lyrium nearby, and Maker knows what else it might have corrupted."

Hearing her own words, she winces a little and shakes her head. "That's not comforting, I know. I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. Nothing that isn't true, or that we shouldn't worry about." That's what the Inquisition does, right? They help and protect people, and if that stuff spread through the sea, a lot of lives would be in danger. "Maybe the Qunari stationed here know something about it. I mean, they HAD to have noticed."

"Perhaps. When faced with a greater enemy, they might deign to cooperate. However, I suspect that will be easier done on the part of those agents who bear neither magic nor a shard. The Qunari despise and fear mages, and I can't imagine they'll react well to unknown rift-induced powers, either."

Garahel snorts, obviously not thinking much of the Qunari and their priorities.

"They do?" Oh lovely. He's heard about the conflict with mages and the Chantry/Templars, but this is the first he's heard about the Qunari hating them. "Geez, mages have it rough here. Chantry doesn't treat them well, and neither do the Qunari." He honestly feels bad, and he doesn't understand why they're so feared. For their power, he guesses, but that just seems... stupid.

"The Qunari are worse, I hear; not that I have any intention of seeing this for myself." Inessa's tone is dry as she rubs Garahel's ears. "It's not an easy life, no. 'A mage is fire made flesh, and a demon asleep.' People look at us and are reminded of all that Tevinter -a magocracy- has wrought. They fear history repeating itself in the south, and so they do all they can to ensure it won't. They also fear what comes of possession, and the damage one can inflict in that state. Even after a mage passes their Harrowing or other training, they are always on guard against the spirits and demons drawn to them. 'True tests never end.'"

There's a slight wry smile as she echoes words told to her by the pride demon who had failed at her Harrowing. If she hadn't kept her wits about her, if she had allowed it to deceive her into getting what it wanted, all would have been lost. And it's something she has to deal with every time she enters the Fade. Neverending tests, indeed.

"At any rate, this world has been irrevocably altered, in many ways. Returning to the status quo may not even be possible. Whether or not lasting good comes of it...we'll see."

This strikes a nerve. He doesn't doubt what she says - he's seen plenty evidence to support it. Between what she's said and what Anders told him (a slightly biased source, true, but he doesn't know that). People being seen for the worst in them and nothing else just makes him want to scream. He can't quite put into words why, but it does.

"So they lock mages up in these Circles because they're afraid of what they might do? And I heard about what Templars do to mages that step out of line. That Tranquility thing. It's just awful. I get not wanting to imitate a mistake, but you don't suppress group of people to avoid it. Because then you become a different kind of history that hopefully someday, someone else isn't going to want to repeat."

Not about to stop Prompto's outburst, Inessa patiently listens and is silent for a moment afterward before speaking. Garahel watches them intently, but doesn't interfere, perhaps realizing that some discussions should be had. His mistress nods, a sigh escaping.

"The Templars of the Kirkwall Circle did use Tranquility as a punishment, it's true. For Circles at large, it was meant as a means to avoid the possession of a mage believed too weak to survive the Harrowing. If they cannot control themselves, if they succumb to a demon, the damage would be incalculable. I cannot deny that, even as I wonder how much could have been done, was done, to ensure that it was the very last resort."

She paces, her next words a bit less polished in tone. "...this is not easy for me to speak of, Prompto, but I'll try. Life is not kind to city elves. When the Templars found me, I was a sickly, malnourished alienage girl who likely would not have survived childhood. The Circle gave me regular meals, clothes that fit, an education to rival any in Thedas. I was happy there, for the first time in my life. I thrived in the system, and others like me were similarly raised up. We would never have had that chance outside it, not as elves. And yet, I never saw my parents again; they died during the Fifth Blight. I'm the elf other elves call 'flat-ear' because I'm so out of touch with my elven heritage.

Mages have the potential to be dangerous, very dangerous, and we need an education to help us counter this. I believe that firmly. But I also believe it can be done without strict separation from the world at large."

As always, the issue is more complicated than he first realized. But isn't that always the way?

"Given that there was a rebellion, something tells me not enough. Maybe it wasn't like that everywhere, but people suffered." He frowns heavily. A mage succumbing to a demon... "What exactly happens when a mage succumbs to a demon? If they're - possessed? Is that what it's called? Is there no other way of helping them when that happens?"

Anders mentioned being able to disconnect the spirit that had been inside of him, though it resulted in the spirit being killed. Couldn't that work for all cases? Or is there something he's missing? (Yep, there is. Inessa gets the joy of explaining the finer points of possession to Prompto.)

Guilt gnaws at him as she talks about her childhood and how the Templars rescued her. He ran full tilt into this subject without thinking it through, though he had no way of knowing her background. It does, at least, put it more into perspective for him, even if he still doesn't agree with a lot of the practices he's heard about the Circles so far.

"Sort of pictured life in the Circle as something akin to a prison. Which, I guess it still was since you didn't have a choice in being there, but at least you were taken care of. That's something." Even if only in the basic sense. "But yeah, you shouldn't have to be cut off from the world just to learn how to handle your powers." There's a small smile. "Thank you for telling me about that, especially since it wasn't easy." Boy does he know what that's like.

Prompto Argentum | OTA

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