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

Unlike Skadi, there are branches just high enough to allow Araceli to pass beneath them as she creeps along with the rod nudging aside what doesn't need to be cut. At least once they get to where they're going she can add more to the notes she's been taking down, something to help paint the picture of the entire situation they all found themselves in at the time after.

"They're dangerous," her voice is softer, mindful of what might be lurking close to them because if Lux is sneaky when he's lived around people his whole life, these cats she has to assume are far more likely to be better at it. "At the Winter Palace they managed to invade alongside others and they can shoot red lyrium from their bodies. Some of them are huge hulking things with jagged lumps twisted out of their flesh, or their whole bodies are made of it. Bigger than even you."

Lord Martel died and he was better than damn near all of you, it hurts when does it stop hurting, when does the knife under my ribs finally come out for the silk and the needle? Her back is to Skadi, the air is thick and wet, a thin soup that leaves; when she wipes her face it would be for that and that alone.

There's the sound of water not too far off, they're getting close at least.

There's a grim nod from Skadi, who likewise lowers her voice a touch. Not that the Avvar woman has any talent at stealth in general, but at the very least she can try not to actively draw attention to them. It might even work. "I believe you, I've heard much the same from scouts and soldiers. That stare they all have, I don't envy it. Though with any luck, the gifts the gods gave me will help protect against that red lyrium shooting my way."

Lady, she hopes so. That's not how she wants to die. The sound of running water perks her up, and she smiles a bit. "Good, almost there. Now to see if it's worth our trouble and if we're sharing it."

Somewhere there's a soft snap that has Araceli sucking in a breath, holding very still with a hand hovering over her rapiers but the moment passes with nothing more than the pounding of her heart to show for it and a shaky laugh. It could easily be someone else in the Inquisition or one of the Qunari somewhere she can't see. "So far the sea has guided me well here but there are things that it hasn't protected me from," she admits quietly, almost questioning because she doesn't know if it's that sort of gift Skadi means or a more literal gift. All she knows is that nothing helped when it was just the lyrium people use here every day when it was forced into her and she forgot so much that even both of those aren't enough in her mind now.

The sooner the people looking into it get real answers about it all, the better. For now however, the sooner she gets a definite answer on the fish situation here, the better. Taller folk than Araceli have been through recently, hacked branches to her left that she moves to and there's another trail she can spot that probably comes from the camp or somewhere else on the island; everyone needs to drink.

"No matter how we slice it, we'll be exposed but I can finish the net if you want to try your luck with the rod?"

Noting the passage of others has Skadi raising an eyebrow, looking for footprints to compare her own against. "Qunari, I'm guessing. I've never really met one, unless you count a dockhand. Said he may have the horns to match, but he wasn't a Qunari anymore. I'm a little curious to meet the ones who still are, if they're the type to talk."

But maybe it's best to concentrate on necessities such as water, for now. They can deal with issues of contact later. She nods, taking up the rod. "I remember enough to know where best to cast it, hopefully that'll get us something worth taking back. If it's tainted, we'll find out soon enough."

"I've been with a vashoth woman for almost two years, the Inquisition had a few who were or weren't part of the Qun. Three of the chefs are Tal-Vashoth." Kas, Taashath, Lena - she still misses them though that has to be a shadow compared to how Korrin feels when she thinks about them. She doesn't say that Skadi's likely to have better luck than her with them when she does have plans to get speak with them. No sense in putting herself at even more if a disadvantage with bad thoughts.

Nodding, Araceli passes over the rod and the bait dug up on the beach, lugworms or something like them still as vicious to look at dead as alive. Sat on one of the rocks she takes the partly completed net into her lap to finish weaving it together. "I'm hoping it's something as simple as the kraken devouring a ship of red Templars and feasting on them and not that it runs into the waters from other places."

"Really, now? Good for you." Skadi grins, briefly wondering what it'd be like to have a lover to rival her in size. The lowlanders, for the most part, don't compare but they'd be an interesting exception.

Oh, well. It's food for thought...at a later time. There's work to be done, and she's going to keep up her end of it. Sitting down, she attaches the bait, then peers around for the best spot to cast it. Getting up, she moves about a foot away, still close enough to help defend Araceli and still speak with her. "You and me both. It'll be quite the take to carry home either way, won't it? If I didn't already have a legend-mark, I'd take 'Kraken-slayer'. Has a nice ring to it, but I suppose it'd be greedy of me to claim it, considering."

Smiling, Araceli nods, hand finding her dragon's tooth from where it's tucked under her clothes to flash it all skin warm and smelling of salt from the rescue or fishing out whatever was needed from the sea. She tucks it away again, unwilling to risk it. Korrin might not be here and Araceli isn't in Wycome but technically if they have one half each...

"Bring back food and we might both have to fight over fishwife." Not that it'd bother her to have that title since fish is fish and she has no issue with them at all but she looks up from the net, turning the title (it sounds like a title) over in her head. "What is that? A legend-mark? There isn't very much written about the Avvar that isn't very old, filtered through someone to do with the Chantry, or both." It'd be something else she can keep in mind to take back for Madame de Cedoux since they don't know Thedas and she isn't entirely sure how much Enchanter Vandelin knows of the Avvar either or anyone else in the division. If she remembers since she needs both hands for knotting the rope and weaving it correctly, her shorter blade from home next to her for trimming off lengths and frayed ends.

Skadi chuckles, as her gaze turns from the dragon's tooth back to the steam. Nothing's biting yet, but she's optimistic. "Heh, I'm not surprised to hear that. And most of what I've heard on Chantry lore about us is either misleading or just plain wrong. Like Tyrdda Bright-Axe, the legendary chieftain who founded the Avvar. She was a mage, you see; the name referred to her fire staff."

Right, answer the actual question. "A legend-mark is like a surname, but one we gain for ourselves, not something that's passed on. Before I got mine, I was Skadi Thyrisdotten, Thyri's daughter. I got mine thanks to a high dragon's scattering brood, the wee buggers. They were wreaking havoc on our area, and their direction was taking them too close to the hold. Getting their attention, I lead them to a pass and smashed my blade into an ice-bridge, bringing it tumbling down on them. I lost the blade, but gained a legend-mark, not a bad trade. Besides, the new one suits me. It's called Hakkon's Valor, after our god of war and death."

Standing, Araceli threads another line through the net at the top and shakes the whole thing out to test it as she listens. Cast it off the rocks by the shore and it might be teeming with fish but this is a small stream where she can leave it open and sit further down from Skadi for anything that might dart past the rod. A simple knot to close it shut when she has something and it'll be good to go.

But that first fish...cutting it open is going to be a nervous wait.

"I didn't know part of your last name would come from one parent's first name either." Settling downstream with the net ready, she settles it into the water with the least disturbance she can manage so she won't upset what Skadi's doing. There's a moment spared to wonder what it is with people in Thedas and dragons but best not to say that to someone who made part of her name by their involvement. "So is it deeds in battle that earn you the legend-mark?"

"Yes and no. It doesn't have to be gained from battle...but Avvar being what we are, it often happens that way. Sif Stonesinger gained hers from traveling to learn the sonecraft of the dwarves, benefiting our hold. Gorgeous stuff, that--and it's built to last."

Feeling a tug on her rod at last, Skadi grins and takes advantage of that as quickly as possible. Raising the flapping fish for inspection, she sighs in relief. "I don't see any red, do you?"

"So a thing that's worthy of being attached to the name?" None of what Araceli's ever been called in her life has ever had much to do with fighting since duels aren't battle and she didn't make her true living fighting them but there was the nickname she does have at home, the one the guards used. Perhaps didn't like to use and she isn't about to start it up here but good to know if she ever needs one in a hold again that she might have one at the ready.

Looking over from a scan of the jungle, there's still only one way to be truly sure since some of the Red Templars don't look as bad as others. She slides a smaller knife over, the hinged one with ships on the outside. "Cut it open, just to be sure. Measure twice, cut once." Which is a very sort of dad thing to say but Felix Bonaventura has a lot of good wisdom to him.

"Aye, exactly. Whatever has made you noteworthy to the hold. My twin sister is still working on gaining hers, but she'll get there someday." And yes, maybe she's pleased to have gotten there first. Freya's going to go on to do great things in time, she's sure, but at least Skadi herself isn't in anyone's shadow.

Taking the knife, she does as Araceli suggests. It may be 'dad' advice, but she'll still take it since that red lyrium substance isn't to be underestimated. Cutting it open in one firm stroke, she stares intently...and then relaxes. "Nothing. Good. But I'll do it to each and every one, just to be sure."

"Is she a warrior like you?" Most of the queensguard had siblings, back in their own homelands but Araceli's never had someone else like that, herself, her friends, and her fox all the time, mostly the fox. If they translated the name it'd be clumsy but she knows more or less what her own might be now.

A few silver fish swim into the net where they bump at the lines to try to get out without quite having the sense to turn round yet so she doesn't close it shut just yet in hopes that more will swim in. It won't be a feast but it should be a welcome sight at the very least. "Just be careful, too much blood and the damned cats might show up. If they're cats. Have you ever seen cats that look anything like that? I thought the strangest beasts I'd see might be the ones in the Western Approach but these might beat one or two of those."

"No, she's a mage and apprentice to the augur. Her strength comes from the Land of Dreams, not a blade. I've tried to bridge the gap, though. Spirit warrior training doesn't turn us into mages, but it gives us some insight into their source and how to tap into it, to become more effective warriors."

She speaks casually while setting the fish aside and snagging bait before casting her rod anew. Mention of those casts has her warily glancing around again, shaking her head in response to the question asked. "We've nothing like them in the Frostbacks, I can tell you that much. It'd be an interesting fight, but I'll not spoil what food we can get snag here just to satisfy curiosity."

It seems pretty inevitable that the cats will cross their paths sooner or later, so she's content to wait.

"I've met more than a few spirit healers as well as some knight-enchanters, I didn't know that those who favoured the blade that way could become so close to a spirit in that manner." She tries to keep some of her discomfort with the idea out of her voice at the idea, maybe not as successfully as she would on other days. Spirits are difficult to understand and last time one came near her life it brought nothing good.

Well that's something to add to her notes at the very least. More of the 'no one knows much about anything, sorry' but at least they're all equally in the dark. It might motivate some of them. "Any cat I've met hasn't had scales before. But no one ever explained dracolisks or nuggalopes either. " Hauling her net out when she pulls it closed behind one last fish, she sets it down beside her to strike each one swiftly. Kinder than suffocating.

Whatever discomfort Skadi hears, she takes in stride. She's certainly gotten worse reactions in her time, and while there's no apology on her parts, nor is offense taken. It is what it is and if she's going to change any minds, it'll be through example rather than force.

"No surprise there, lass. I don't know if the Avvar alone have developed that style, but it'd be a rare lowlander that would adopt it. The Chantry barely sees us as different from mages, so we have to be careful. But their Circles fell apart and the old leadership is gone so maybe things will change, eh?"

She darts a grin turning sharply back to her rod, where she gets another tug. "Nuggalopes...now those are handsome beasts. I thought about getting one, but Kodlak, my hart, was too majestic to resist. I couldn't ask for better."

Without an audience, there's a chance to be slightly more free with her opinions than usual though it wouldn't exactly be much of a stretch for people to say that Araceli sides with mages and always has when it comes ot things. "We can only hope that after such tumultuous times and with so many opinions and experiences brought together for perhaps the first time in Ages that change might truly come to Thedas." Her smile is small, daring, but she wants it to be true. She's working hard for it to be true. It just isn't entirely up to her.

"Hart are the even bigger deer?" Land animals aren't her strong point. Point at anything that came from the sea or seabirds and she'll know those but big land animals mostly remain mysterious beasts to her that in Thedas at least tend to be on the horrifying side of things. Generally suited for wanting to kill you. Or being extremely ugly. Sometimes both. "You should come meet my nuggalope when we're back in Kirkwall, he's the one called The Walrus." Titled, like a true gentleman should be.

That gets a chuckle out of Skadi as she plants her feet, trying to reel in a larger fish. "A grand name for a grand beast. And aye, hart are enormous, with or without their antlers. Some people don't like them for mounts because of the way they screech, but I've gotten used to it. They're as smart and steady as the rest." She's hardly a master of stealth, anyway; why expect it from her mount?

"I hope you're right, lass. It seems like so much shite has come from people holding onto what doesn't work, just because it's been in place for a long time. Doesn't that just make it a bigger mistake in the end, then?"

"They screech." A flat question because what is she meant to do with that, why would oversized deer screech, nuggalopes make a trumpeting sort of noise but deer screeching? Even Lux with years of love makes noises Araceli winces at to this day.

Pausing, she considers best what she should say. What's important to say. "People are attached. For some it's because it works for them and they like it that way so why should it change at all. This is how it's been for so long," finishing with the fish she casts the net back in, "so this is how it should be for good. Some of them are just used to it even if it hurts them because they don't know anything else, because there's still that possibility that it might get worse. Hope is good and you have to give them that but hope doesn't put meals on the table and a roof over your head, it doesn't keep you safe when the sky splits itself open or the soldiers come or the people with weapons you don't have or whatever other thing there is to fear. It's there for so long it's just hard to get out of, you have to extend the hand but not be surprised when people turn away from it or bite." The first time, the second time, however many times or if they spurn it entirely. You just keep offering.

She smirks at that response about harts, glad Kodlak isn't here to demonstrate for Araceli but if they end up riding together later on then it'll definitely be a thing. Bring earplugs, Araceli. For a moment, her attention is divided with bringing in that larger fish, carefully slitting it as with the other to ensure it's clean. Nothing they get is going uninspected, not after what they just witnessed at sea.

Listening as she works, Skadi nods thoughtfully to what's said. "Better the demon you know, aye? I'll keep that in mind, but it's a perspective I didn't grow up with. Permanence is a foreign concept to Avvar; our settlements are temporary, our agreements, even our marriages. Gods die, and are reborn. It's the way of things to change and it may not be easy or pleasant or even safe, but we know better than to deny it. The sooner lowlanders understand even a part of that, the sooner my sister and other shamans might live without threat of being hunted the moment they leave our lands."

Knowing that this stream and everything in it can be marked off as clean and usable on her map helps to lift Araceli's spirits some knowing that they'll be able to go back to camp with good news. Wherever the lyrium came from, it hasn't infected this stream and for that she's thankful.

"Things have to be done carefully, there have to be things in place as much as possible to not hurt those who can't afford to be hurt. Because when the people with power lash out against something? They'll hurt other people to make their point." All the contacts of naval presence commonly born, people who could be overlooked but people Araceli would've known back home because they're the sort of people she wants around her and trusts more than nobles who might turn on her after currying her favour and getting what they want. "Things last where I'm from. We had one war and it was so terrible that ever since we've worked tirelessly to keep it from happening again and the agreements might have been discussed and tweaked as you'd expect but they stand. There is the sea for my people, and the moon, the tide and the cycle that go in and out, wax and wane but always there. Always so sure. Things we can't deny. What I would want is an understanding though I know it can't be forced, but mages who wish to live apart might live apart with watchers, those who wish to return to somewhere safe might have it and those who wish to live as all others might have that too."

But she does mean all others, a distinction that she's seen get lost at times in other arguments and talks in the past.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

THE SEAS SHALL RISE & DEVOUR, Part I

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject