( closed ) PLAYER PLOT: STILL WATERS

[dashing]

WHO: Alistair, Herian, Myr, Nell, Prompto, Saoirse, Wren.
WHAT: ( Plot post ) Shady rumours concerning the Tranquil lead to a remote Circle in the Northern Anderfels. Its relative isolation from the rest of Thedas has prevented news from reaching the Inquisition sooner. Our crack team investigates.
WHEN: forward dated, around 21st-ish Cloudreach
WHERE: Salzklippe, the Anderfels.
NOTES: Content Warning for violence, murder, and other grim Dragon Age things. The grief demon threads in particular include themes of death, suicide, and gore. Please add additional warnings to subject lines where necessary.

— Making the approach (group thread) — Into the catacombs (individual starters) — Discovering the lake (group thread) — Into the tower (individual starters) — Bossfight (multiple group-ish) — Later Stuff (individual starters) FOR GROUP THREADS: in order to keep threads moving, I will be aiming to do a GM tag once every 24 hours. Don't worry about a strict tagging order, but please don't tag more than three times every 24 hours, just to make sure no one gets left behind.

Comments

[limier]

Wren stoops to her feet, fingers trailing from the song-encrusted bow. An ancient thing, but sturdily-built. Half-covered in a shamble of refuse, a water-stained page and the melted remains of a devotional candle mark the dock.

She spares a glance for the tiles, and little more (she's never been accused of an artistic eye). No warning signs. No bones at the bottom of the lake. No predators, nothing to lurk and leap free — nothing that they wouldn't see coming.

Still, the mages with them would be wise not to swim. The air tangs sharp with ozone.

"This place may not have always been so. It is an old country."

[faithlikeaseed]

Salt and lyrium, old wood and fraying rope; the quiet plash of water and creaking of aged boards rubbing one on the other, overlaid by the faintest thread of distant song—what he can gather of the scene is enough to get Myr nearly to the water’s edge, feeling along with his staff to find the dock. The crunch of brittle candle wax beneath it startles and he draws back in puzzlement, head tilted as he tries to work out what he just crushed.

“What are ‘they’?” he calls to Prompto as he does. “Is there something in the water?”

[galvanising]

"Mosaics," Nell answers, curt, "Chant-themed, like everything else in this blasted place." She's clearly not a fan. Another time, she might appreciate the artistry at least, but she's plainly not pleased to be here, with 'here' being, in roughly equal measure, 'the Anderfels' and 'an unfamiliar cave system packed full of mysterious religious iconography'.

She steps up to the water's edge and crouches, dipping a rock into the glowing pool and bringing it--carefully--nearer to her face. "It's lyrium. Or has lyrium in it. And must be man-made given the mosaics on the bottom. Why bother?"

[dashing]

Her gaze flickers to Nell, sidelong, as she steadies Myr a moment. "Candle wax," she offers by way of explanation, as she moves closer to the boat.

Mosaics in the water, lyrium in the water, a boat with no oars and notes carved about the stern. She looks for Saoirse, to see where she might be, if she can wave her closer—

"Does anyone recognise this music?"

Because Herian has all the musical aptitude of a rock.

[sulena]

Saoirse is not far away, slipping over to Herian's side as she is waved closer and peering at the musical notes carved into the boat with knitted brows. She lingers close to her friend for a moment but cautiously steps closer to a better look, frowning in thought before glancing back with a small look.

"Although my understanding of Ander is rather lacking... it would not surprise me if it was from the Chant." She says carefully, studying the piece for a moment more some words she can figure out simply because the word in Ander is not so different but others are more confusing. Still although Ander is a confusing language, her understanding of the Chant is not.

"What I can understand, I'm positive it is from the Canticle of Andraste. From one of the earliest verses when she is despairing for her people."

[crowncitizen]

"Big Chantry people up here, huh?" So he's gathering, at any rate. Prompto's heard little of the Anderfels, save that it's where the Warden fortress is (and where Bad Stuff with them went down), it's hot and desert-y, and it has a Circle. "But lyrium in the water? That's weird."

Really, he has little to offer here. This all requires knowledge of Thedas and the Chant of Light, if Saoirse has the right of it. Two things Prompto doesn't have much of in spades.

[dashing]

"No oars, and lyrium in the water... paddling by hand is impossible."

She chews her lip, perplexed. "Is the music... ornamental, do you suppose? Or could it have some purpose?"

It seemed a very particular verse.

[faithlikeaseed]

He casts a grateful nod in Herian's direction to have that explained, backing a step away from the dock. Lyrium in the water--explains the scent.

"The Anders are known for their devotion," he offers to Prompto. And then, to Herian: "Are you thinking it's part of a spell to move the boat across the water? So the lyrium's a conduit for the enchantment."

[byblow]

"If someone's going to start singing, we ought to get in the boat first," Alistair says, "just in case." Not that the boat speeding off across the lake without them wouldn't be sort of funny. Everyone is so pleased to have him here, helping, surely, and if not, here's another good idea: "And if that doesn't work maybe we can start throwing people off in order of faithlessness, see if that helps."

[dashing]

Despite the gravity of the situation, Herian looks at Alistair with amused exasperation, and punches him in the shoulder. (Knightily, honourably, etc.)

[galvanising]

Nell is busy casting a long Look at Coupe after Saoirse recognizes the verses on the boat, one that involves a tight press of her mouth and a challenging gaze that is at once both smug and irritated. See, it says, you didn't need me after all. They both know the language skills listed in her file aren't the real reason she's here, and maybe she takes some contrary pleasure in refusing to offer them now, just to lay it plain.

Instead, she smiles at Alistair's suggestion. "Do I beat you automatically by being a mage, or should we have some sort of blaspheming contest to see which of us goes over first?"

[limier]

"Let us not discount the Rifted," Get it, because Prompto's a demon and also fucking harmless. She gestures for everyone to climb in, presses a hand to Myr's shoulder to guide. And because she doesn't particularly trust ancient obscure enchantments: "Can any among us not swim?"

Looking at you, Circle mages. Well. Looking at Nell, mostly, with an expression still a little too sand-clogged to properly convey the distant thought of murder.

As there are those among us who cannot read.

[crowncitizen]

Wow. Darn it Wren, he thought you were cool!

"Heeeeeeey." So Prompto says as he's halfway getting into the boat. Excuse you, he's far too cute to get tossed overboard (also he can't seem much please don't toss him overboard.)

[sulena]

"Luckily Starkhaven's alienage was built along the river's edge." Not the good side of the river either. Still, she let's her gaze linger on the boat for a moment longer. How overly complicated. "Herian always had the best doggy paddle among the other children. Though unfortunately I haven't done much swimming since as they didn't offer swimming lessons in the Gallows."

A half-hum as she boards the boat and ignores the uneasy rock. Brilliant, really. Hopefully the darkspawn were not attracted to singing. "Shall I? I do not wish to step on any toes if anyone else here would like to sing us across the lyrium pond."

[faithlikeaseed]

"Sadly we hadn't much opportunity for swimming in the desert," Myr says, all easy cheer to cover very real unease as he takes Wren's offered help onto the boat. (He can pretend it's not any different than riding the barge across the channel from the Gallows to Kirkwall. Or try, anyway--it's a lot less stable; he can feel as much. And there's lyrium in the water. Don't think about it.)

"Not even a doggy paddle, so I'll have to decline from the blasphemy contest," among other reasons not to join in one. "Though I'm sure even a wooden-hearted boat could forgive a little faithlessness if we've got Enchanter Ceallach to sing us across."

[dashing]

Saoirse, ever ready with undeserved praise. Herian doesn't look to her friend, just keeps a focus on Myr as he climbs in, to ensure his safety. Once he is safely in, she follows suit; it would not do to demand others take the risk before herself.

"The river was dangerous." The current, the grim matter that could be found in it. "I all but forgot any skill I possessed, before I came to Kirkwall." And then had lessons, but no one wants to hear about that, let's be real.

"Let us hope there are no other entrances the darkspawn used to access these catacombs." Better to be ready.