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

[judgemewhole]

"There seems to be a great deal of loose definitions of animals around here these days." James stated, whistling to Interceptor to his side, as they moved deeper into the woods. "You know, I have to wonder if these are animals that in fact, came through the rifts. After all, we had to go all the way out here for this one - who knows what else might have come out first?"

Or gotten corrupted by red lyrium, come to think of it.

"Well, at least we have gotten to the point that everyone in the Inquisition knows you are not demons. It will take awhile to get the rest of the world on that -- but I have a feeling we have time." He stated wryly.

[foxsays]

"I've felt that way since someone brought a mysterious spiky horse to Skyhold." Yes she knows they're called dracolisks, too many of her now departed friends have had dracolisks for mounts but it's funnier to pretend you know nothing of land beasts and just continue to call them mysterious spiky horses when you stare at their rows of teeth when tending to your nuggalope. "The rift was over the water and that was where the rifters fell out, in all the time that rifters have come out, or things have come through, it hasn't tended to be like this. Rifters and demons come through. Or people find some strange thing or a thing from home at a rift. Never before rifters, demons, and scaled cats. Warden Serra would be a better person to bring that one to, she might be able to look into it."

At least she packed the dad shades she snagged from the box that got spat out in the Western Approach she's going to sit on a rock later and look real chill and mysterious the whole time like she came out of the sea to tell Thedas to stop. Maybe when she's finishing her drawing of the sea serpent that she and Loghain killed and brought back for 'science'.

Araceli disagrees with the whole Inquisition because she doesn't know everyone and what they say when they're not showing their public face. Being called a demon to her face more than once was a lesson on both occasions for her and being seen in a position where she's making decisions and to be trusted with authority places her under more scrutiny than in the past. "We began arriving two years ago," she says carefully. "There are other ideas Thedas has had far longer to become accustomed to that it has not."

[judgemewhole]

"... this isn't that weird horse with the nail through it's head, is it?" Forget dracolisks, bog unicorns are what truly make James look sideways and wonder what precisely had cursed that particular beast. "Fair enough - but as I have always said - we never know what to expect from these rifts." He hummed thoughtfully, "Another thought is that the red lyrium corrupted them ... at least we know they have infected the sea creatures. I am not sure about the dragon-cats."

He looked over at her, before he stated simply. "I never said it would be soon. It may not even be in our lifetime, that the record is set straight. Just know that there are a few of us who absolutely know that you are not demons, and have never been demonic, and will continue to set straight any idiots who say otherwise."

[foxsays]

"No, that's just the unfortunate horse, I mean the dracolisks." When she wrote the first letters for the ever-growing stacks that can't be sent back home, she'd tried to describe them before someone had told her the name and had had to settle for that when nothing else had come to mind. And now she just likes it. "I like my shaded glasses. Their arrival was timely in the Western Approach." Some people can pull off the dad shade aesthetic, some people can't and will forever live their lives boiling in envy.

"I brought back one of the sea serpents - dead - and I have a sketch made to show the sailors I'm friendly with back in Kirkwall. I'll see to copies being made so we can find out if this is a more widespread problem or an isolated case. Either way, ships are warned and it might buy us some goodwill if the warning came from the Inquisition. Whoever kills anyone, I hope they bring back bits of them for someone to look at." That particular page of her notes had been tucked safely away as soon as she'd finished it because she only has the one for now and given the nature of the serpent, getting it back in the water as soon as she was done had been the safest plan. Continuing, her voice softer and sadder as if speaking of it hurts, "The kraken though, they're harmless where I come from unless we antagonise them. I feel sorry for them. That it's the world itself being corrupted, creatures that should have no part in any of this."

Still, it's hard not to forget that it was a Knight-Commander who made such an impression upon her when she was new and afraid in Thedas. If Stannis wished for a legacy, he has it. "There are times when the more you attempt to prove one thing to a person, the more you prove the opposite to them. Usually in a business deal but it would work the same here."

[judgemewhole]

"Aaah .... yes I was never really sure where they came from. Are they simply large lizards or are they some form of dragon? Clearly I never studied biology." James arched an eyebrow, before he snorted softly, "All the rifts have ever given me is a damned song. "

His eyebrows rose together at that - but it was smart planning. He nods his head, "I'll let my contacts in the shipping lanes know. Get the word as far up and down the ladder as I can. The more informed, the better protected them can be." He is silent for a moment, thinking of all the corrupted bears and wolves he has had to kill. Animals driven mad from it ...

He glanced over at her, before he snorted softly, "Well then I suppose certain people should just let it lie. Show through action and not through words."

[foxsays]

"My home, it's other places that have the things on land, most of ours live in the sea or belong near it. The naturalistics," her word but parsed through Cosima's explanation before, "didn't get into dragons because those are in our stories. Like magic. But mermaids and sirens? Those are the real things for us. So," her hands tip up and down until settling, scales balanced.

Smiling, she's glad to have someone else from the same project already here who knows about it. "There's a small group in Kirkwall already that I go to for contacts, I've passed some names around but I'll make sure everyone knows them, and our new secretary can make sure you have as many as you need." Which is another thing to make sure she does once they're all back and settled, whenever that happens to be because it's easy to forget who knows all the faces and who doesn't but the dwarven girl in the office is probably a familiar sight with her smile and very long memory.

"We live as we live, always there is at least one person looking and listening if we are lucky. We are judged. People think that the Game is left behind whenever we leave Orlais or the party ends but there's part of it that walks at our side, has a seat at the table, drinks up its own share of wine or rum." How old had she been when she learned that? When Thedas had made it more important to live it and breathe it, to only stop behind a closed door with the right people? Young enough that she doesn't remember not knowing some variation of it on her father's knee or at her mother's dresser.

[judgemewhole]

"Here we are, in worlds where fantasy and reality in different worlds. I just hope that my theory is now wrong and nothing horrific comes through those rifts outside of ... well. The demons." He sighed softly, holding his hands behind him, as they walked behind.

"Good. Thank you - that will help immensely, getting all the information spread from coast to coast." He looked out to the water. "If we get out of here alive, at any rate."

He looks over at her, before he stated simply, "Then I hope we are judged on the entiriety of our own character, and not the character of those who have come before us, or after. We should all be seen as our own person, should we not? Regardless of whose Game we are currently playing." He sighed as he took out his sword, to smack away some of the vegetation.

[foxsays]

There are a hundred things that could be said. A thousand. Thedas so mired in itself that it can't manage to stop looking for the next conflict instead of sitting down and seeing why there's war after war, battle after battle, people who don't get to be people, who live as their parents lived and died all in the same village unless the war or battle tramples through it and burns. Her life in Thedas would not have been nearly so charmed as her life at home. Her opportunities not so numerous. There's a growl that saves her from speaking, her body tensing but the cat doesn't come, stalks off through the trees.

She should've brought Lux. She really should've brought Lux along with her. But no, he's back in Kirkwall probably sprawled in front of someone's fireplace to sleep away the afternoon in peace.

"We are going to get out of here, that's no attitude to have to any of this." Focus on the practical survival aspects but if people start worrying they're stranded then they're doomed before they really make the effort to get off and away. At least it's not far now to the where the Qunari last were, she can spot some blood and scales splattered on the leaves so that's likely why the cat avoided the two of them if it was nursing a wound. "Of course," only it's never that simple when Thedas tends to have history driving it, "I hope that the Inquisition one day helps for that idea to spread throughout Thedas for all under the banner." Elves, mages, anyone with some tenuous relation to the Qun, dwarves, all those overlooked: the people who don't get treated as people, she'd very much like for that to be made otherwise.

[judgemewhole]

Although his body was tense at the shifting of James fell silent as she spoke, a quietly wry expression coming across his face as he listened to her intently. He looked over to the forest, before he finally answered her.

"You are so certain, and since I am a man of faith? I choose to believe in your certainty." He glances over at her, and his look is pensive as he puts his hand on his sword as the leaves rustle once more. "One day, they will. I am just not sure if today is that day. As Lydia used to say to me - change is slow when it comes to human hearts."