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faderift2018-06-15 08:17 pm
player plot: who's a heretic now?
thunderproof), Gwenaëlle (elegiaque), Iorveth (aensidhe), Kostos (exequy or exsecutus why do you and cee hate me, mj), Nari (nadasharillen), Solas (dirth)WHAT: Temple of Falon'din
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Northern Orlais
NOTES: CW suicidal ideation, blood, general creepiness. If anything else comes up I'll edit, and if there's a CW you can think of while reading that I didn't include, lmk and I'll add it!
The ruins look, on the surface, much like any other Elven ruins might — crumbling stone structures overrun by plant life, chipped mosaics and tiled floors almost entirely hidden by centuries of overgrown underbrush. A quick investigation reveals nothing of note; this temple, it seems, had been picked over many times throughout the centuries, and anything of note has already been taken. The venture seems to have been pointless, at least for a few minutes.
Until someone stumbles upon a hidden stairwell, camouflaged in the underbrush and a secret to the original temple besides. It's a long journey down, lit only by magelight and the torches of the Inquisition, but as soon as the first foot steps down onto even ground, the Fade-green flickering of veilfire lights up a massive antechamber. The veil pricks at the skin, here, warping perception and sensation for those sensitive to its fluctuations, and embuing the whole room with a sense of foreboding solemnity for those who aren't. An eerie silence broken only by the sound of flowing water, and the musty scent of stale air make it clear: this place, whatever it is, hasn't been seen in centuries, if not millennia.
At the foot of the stairs is a landing butting up to a moat of dark liquid, fed by a pool set into a dais in the middle of the chamber. The pool itself burbles quietly, a waterfall spilling into it from the two cupped hands of a massive elven statue. The only way to reach the dais is to ford the river, but as soon as the party approaches, it becomes clear — the dark liquid within is not water, but blood, still fresh despite the millennia of abandonment.
On the journey to the temple, Solas told a story of Falon'Din, and the words seem more apt than they perhaps had at the time, given the weight of myth rather than truth:
It is said Falon'Din's appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans.
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[ Nari isn't paying attention to context clues. She's not even entirely sure why they've stopped, save that it's given her time to better fill in the quick sketches she'd been making upstairs of the ruins, and to start on a rough of the statue that is currently spilling their problem in thick rivulets from its hands.
This is better than ruins. Even abandoned as they are, the temple is amazingly well preserved down here and damned if she isn't going to use whatever chances she's given to do some preservation of her own. ]
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kostos' wisp crosses the river without issue, though its search for levers or drawbridges or flying nugs is fruitless, at least so far. if there are any such things, they're hidden well enough that the wisp is unable to find them, though it will look as long as kostos wants it to.
it's seeing the wisp make it across, though, that has adalia smiling and letting out a relieved breath as she smacks her palm against her forehead. ❱
Of course, how silly — I brought my broom, we can just fly across.
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It is said that Falon'din's appetite for adulation was so great he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal herself intervened only when the shadow of his greed touched her own people and Falon'din only surrendered when his people bloodied him in his own temple.
[ He turns back to look at the group, watching them with a careful, measured expression, tilting his head and trying to hide his own discomfort and uncertainty. He doesn't like this, but he's prepared all the same. ]
It would not surprise me if this was a test for entry. If this was real, or a symbol, of those rivers of blood.
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a test.
in the big magical disturbingly well-preserved blood magic temple.
she might not know much about elvhen history, but she's a bright girl. she can draw a line between 'failing the test' and 'facing the consequences of that failure'. )
The blood's real enough, ( she observes, toeing the edge with a boot. she likes these clothes. the tailoring cost a pretty penny. damn. )
Just out of intellectual interest, what might be the consequence for hubris where that sort of test is concerned?
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If you wish to try your broom, do it now. The longer we wait, the more daylight we waste.
[ which maybe doesn't matter inside a temple, but nightwraiths, yo. anyway, while the others are all being grossed out by this and trying to think of ways around it, Iorveth glances around just long enough to see the failed attempts at finding things, recall what Solas had said before about Falon'Din, and start tugging his armor and weapons off. does he want to go wading half naked through a river of mystery blood? abso-fucking-lutely not. does he expect they have much of a choice if they want to progress? nope. ]
Keep the packs over your heads. We can use pieces of the tents to towel off on the other side. [ he's not going totally bare-assed, because fucking ew, and also that's weird, but he's at least down to some loose pants that he ties spare bow string around the bottoms off to try to keep them sealed. here's hoping we thought to bring a change of clothes, or, at least, pants. ]
There was a stream not far from the ruins. If we've canteens or buckets, fetching some to spare to clean off would be wise. [ because blood is gross and sticky and best cleaned off with more than tent canvas. but, they also don't want to be without rations in case they get stuck inside the temple for long. ]
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If they're going to have to do it, they're going to have to do it, and being squeamish is of no use. ]
Extra water's good, but we don't know how deep the temple is going to go, or how long we'll be down there.
[ or what other things might bar their way forward. Or back. She's pretty much just echoing the man's thoughts. ]
We should be able to scrape off most of it without too much rinsing, if everyone's down to what skin they can stand to have bloodied.
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I'll go across first to make sure we can get across, then I'll come back for each of you one at a time.
❰ with that, she's off, and it seems at first as if it's going well. nothing reaches for her out of the depths of the river, no invisible force stops her at the lip of the pool. where she had been moving forward slowly at first, with every inch she successfully crosses adalia picks up speed, confident in her plan.
when she reaches the middle of the river, she hits a wall. or at least it feels like hitting a wall — there's nothing stopping her from moving forward but the broom halts all the same, throwing adalia forward with the momentum. she yelps and tries to keep hold of the broom, but her overconfidence betrays her, her light grip on the broom not enough to keep her from tumbling forward and dropping into the river. without her instruction to keep it in the air, the broom falls in after her, and for a moment both adalia and the broom are submerged in the river, adalia clawing upward to try to reach air —
only to be picked up and thrown out of the river. a spiraling arm of blood lifts her up by her waist and throws her back at everyone's feet, where she gasps in huge lungfuls of air and blinks in shock up at the group.
belatedly, the broom follows, bloody but intact, and hits adalia in the stomach. ❱
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Nevermind, Solas. Are you all right down there?
( we're going to consider that question thoroughly answered by the powers that be within this temple. there's no over, under or around; they're going through the river of blood, or the river of blood will go through them.
noted.
she'd been already loosening her pack off her back, stripping out of her boots and trousers but not the rest, twisting her braid up and shifting a pin to hold it off her neck—she makes a gesture at iorveth's pack, ) If I try to carry anything over my head I'm going to fucking drown. Give me yours as well, I'll sit on your shoulders with them both.
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All the same, he makes his way over to Adalia and kneels at her side, checking her over carefully. It doesn't seem as though the river has done anything more than wind her, but it's always better to check, especially when it comes to someone as dark and daunting as Falon'din himself. Solas' frown grows deeper and he sighs, from somewhere deep inside of him, before he tilts his head back to look around at the temple itself.
He leaves Gwen to wrangling Iorveth. He has more important matters at hand.
Carefully, he summons his magic and casts a barrier around everyone, mood getting darker as the seconds pass by. ]
That should help. Shall we begin?
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Kostos is only half paying attention, legitimately, because the other half of his attention is across the river, with his lone wisp, on its entirely futile quest. It isn't far behind Adalia in returning to their side of the river, much less dramatically, and after a moment of silent rifling through its barely-there consciousness to be sure there was no obvious lever or trick tile or other convenient trick on the other side, he sends it back where it came from as easily as he summoned it. ]
Begin— [ he echoes, pauses to take in Baudin's progress with her clothing and Adalia's blood-soaked form, and glowers at Solas as if he were to blame for the entire thing, because he's the one most recently suggesting they walk through a river of haunted blood like it's a standard environmental hazard. ] Are we [ you ] certain we are not submitting to something that we might regret? If it can stop us from entering, it can stop us from leaving.
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If you're not up for it, mage, they've still got a token human.
( don't be a pussy, kostos. do you really want to go back to kirkwall and tell them you were replaced on a mission by gwenaëlle baudin. )
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You can certainly stay here, if that's your preference. I doubt anyone will stop you.
[ Given the fact that he's well aware that his clothing doesn't particularly offer much in the way of finery, he has no issue beginning to move forward and approach the river of blood again. It's hardly the worst thing he's done in the name of the Inquisition, and his desire to get close to the temple overrides any fear he has of spiritual backlash.
Besides, if they thrust him out it'll be because of who he is, not because he is a simple trespasser. ]
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In the interest of respecting, [ he says, with teeth, ] what we do not understand and cannot control, whoever goes first should make sure they can come back again, while there are still people on this side to try to do something if they cannot.
If that would not waste too much daylight.
[ He’s going to make a list of reckless fools in his diary and guess what.
His own name will be on it, too, but smaller than everyone else’s. ]
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[ iorveth adds dryly, from where he'd come to crouch in the other side of Adalia, having poured some of his canteen out on a piece of sleeve other to clean off her face. Gross or not, leaving unknown substances on or near your orifices is a bad idea.
But he's already the one most stripped down and ready to go, pack handed over to Gwen, where he leaves it (if he dies, they can make his shit useful). Standing up, he looks to Kostos, giving him a shrug. ]
Did you honestly expect an ancient temple devoted to a god of death wouldn't have some dangerous or unseemly elements within?
[ tomb raiding 101, my dude. Wry commentary aside, he paces forward, a single blade in hand that is held over his head as he starts to step into the river, and cross, ready to stab at anything that might grab his ankles. HERE WE GO, KIDS. ]
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A thought.
[ she undoes her pack, fishes around in it, and pulls out a coil of light rope, tossing him one end. ]
We don't know where that river goes, or [ a nod at the readied blade ] what's in it. Perhaps nothing, perhaps a host of... something... that will take you under.
[ not that she doubts at all his ability to stab the actual shit out of any given thing, but sometimes there's a lot of any given things ]
Better overprepared than under?
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Should I die to the Serpent of Blood River, someone please mind my chicken. [ difficult to tell if that's being said seriously or not, as he tugs the knot of the rope tight, and turns to pace towards the steps. ]
Ready?
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( it might be physically impossible for gwenaëlle not to crack on when the opportunity presents itself. )
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But after that, it's a glance over the sluggish river, before taking a step in. When nothing immediately tried to gnaw his foot off, another. And so it follows as he crosses the water, until something changes, or he reaches the other side. ]