Carta's Cut

[inagutterson]

WHO: Yngvi, Kithan Gandir, Seoraj Allaway, Ciri, Wren Coupe
WHAT: The Carta ask Yngvi to investigate a 'situation' in Orzammar. Of course he's got that sinking feeling when it involves his family, Orzammar, and the Casteless.
WHEN: First week of Harvestemere
WHERE: Orzammar; Dusttown, Deep Roads
NOTES: ooc post, Yngvi asks Kit and Petrana for permission, Letter to Scoutmaster Beleth; major warnings for violence and character death

Comments

[ichaer]

They need her sharpish, was it? Unfortunately, Ciri is currently as sharp as the blade held by the belt against her back.

It's like a game almost where she pushes and pulls against the darkspawn influence that lingers through the Deep Roads. Rogue groupings could always be found throughout these tunnels but she worried for the main group of darkspawn that lingered somewhere down here, constantly digging and searching for the next Old God to awaken. She doubts they'll come across it but there is always a small pang of... worry? Worry, perhaps, lingering in the background of her mind.

Truly, they are more likely to come across the skeleton of some poor sod of a Warden that came down here to die than an Old God. Better or worse, who knows? Still, she glances upwards and noticeably ducks slightly as instructed.

"Lovely, just wonderful." She murmurs tiredly. "We're at least making good time against the darkspawn."

[limier]

She's been canting her head the better part of their journey, sticking close to Ciri, shoulders low. Hard to slam your face into a stalactite that someone else met first,

(Harder to avoid crunching what was once someone's fingers,)

But the angle of her neck creaks sharp aside at the wash of red heat.

"The rocking chair," To Ciri, "That's what the call the throne of Orzammar."

It's sharper now than any joke ought to be. Missing casteless, and a song underground. It's too easy to leap to first conclusions; her second thoughts don't lend kind alternatives. She slips past towards the dwarves, hand ready at her side.

[serjeant]

A muttered, “Decorating leaves something wanting, a bit,” is Seoraj's response to the red lyrium, the hint of humor in his smile that's more a short baring of teeth will come familiar to Kit as well as Yngvi, harkening back to other roads walked, other stupid things said through gritted teeth in the hopes of living long enough to get punched in the arm for them, later. An after you ladies that's more gesture than anything verbal-

But they're all tight together. The problem isn't so much not knowing what they might be walking into, but rather having a pretty good fucking idea. Something crunches underneath his boot, and he doesn't think about what - who - it was, doesn't need to when the sound will linger with him, later.

[inagutterson]

"Orzammar's leavings meets Darkspawn's finest meets Aunt Meredith's stunning baubles, sorry you're slummin' it down here." Not the best Yngvi's ever come up with but he's still managed to crack something that sounds like a joke slogging through this.

Yngvi's probably the least accomplished at this bit. Not a lot of call for Deep Roads when you're a mercenary after all, too young to be wasted poking about down here. He fights with himself for a bit about saying what he wants to say but when has he ever won those battles so, "There should be Darkspawn, right?" Look he's young, this is terrible, but they're in the Deep Roads so where are the Darkspawn?

And is that-- clinking? Maybe. Could be something striking a thing like stone but down here all sounds echo strangely, who knows what they're rounding passageways into in the gloom. (There's definitely a rhythm to it. A pattern. Striking sounds. Vaguely ahead.)

[ichaer]

A beat passes and then Ciri chuckles, tiredly but unable to help it because she'd never deny herself a good pun. Never mind she was the only person to laugh, she usually is but it definitely helped her mood considering she was once again down here in the Deep Roads.

"There's always Darkspawn. In the walls, on the roads but definitely digging around wherever they can get their shitty claws which is everywhere." She says, verging on gritting her teeth. "For now we're just doing a good job not grabbing their attention."

For now. If she could sense them then they could sense her, it was only a matter of time before attention might turn their way. Still, she notes the clinking with a hard frown and tightens the grip on her sword. Water dripping? No, it's sharper than that. Metal of some kind then?

[ragweed]

It's the clink of a miner's pickaxe striking against stone. Kit isn't the first to hear it, but even the casteless dwarves could recognize that sound back in Orzammar. He glances at the red lyrium veins and protrusions extending out of the cavernous walls around them, then grimaces.

"I'll scout ahead," he suggests quietly to the others and, unless there are any objections, slips ahead of them through the bending and twisting passageways to ascertain just what lies ahead of them down the path.

[inagutterson]

The further Kit gets, the more red lyrium there is growing, a deliberateness to it. It points inward, around a bend into a cavern that'd be easily missed even with the glow; this dark everywhere else it burns the eyes, with darkspawn usually present, or roving packs of deepstalkers, perhaps spiders, there's more to be wary of that don't beg looking into every dark space.

But there's a hand outstretched.

Lyrium grows from it, nothing else left.

Louder the closer he gets, groans of effort. Laughter from a few others. Commands-- still no Darkspawn.

[ragweed]

The cavern might be easily missed by another set of eyes, but Kit's had decades to grow accustomed to the tricks of the shadows; the cavern's entrance catches his attention, and draws him closer, mindful with each step of the red lyrium that grows and reaches from the stone--

--he pulls up short at the sight of the hand, lyrium protruding from the flesh, and stares at it with dull horror wrought on his face.

It takes a few moments for him to get his legs to move, past the sudden, roiling nausea in his gut, but he manages. Keeping to the shadows and moving with practiced silence, he slips further into the cavern, just enough to get a glimpse of what lies ahead. Just a glimpse, enough to ascertain the number of bodies, of enemies and prisoners alike, and then he'll return back.