closed.

[propulsion]

WHO: Ellis, Lukas, Mhavos Dalat, Tony Stark Rhodes-Potts
WHAT: Do you remember finding those obscure drawn maps in Dragon Age: Inquisition of waterfalls and shit and getting very angry attempting to decipher them? Yeah.
WHEN: Harvestmere.
WHERE: On the way to and within the Planasene Forest.
NOTES: They anticipate at most three nights of camping, with some supplies to stretch that if somehow necessary, but likely no one wants to waste more time than that on this. Warnings TBA but probably not.

It's the bottom of the barrel as far as Riftwatch priorities are concerned, but eventually, someone has to check it off the list. It is a map and a report on its circumstances, found and compiled who knows how long ago, and by map and report-- the childish drawing of a mountainous range with arrows and circles and an X marking the spot, along with the barely legible half-assed note along with it, only barely count as either thing.

But here they are.

The map is not a bird's eye view depiction of rivers and roads and territories as expected of maps, but drawn from a ground-level perspective, presumably, and will likely only make any sense once they get there.

The report describes something about a researcher, Bernardo Kesoro, having taken a hermitage in the foothills of the Planasene Forest, and the map that was found on his unfortunate rotting corpse. It speculates as to the likelihood of valuables to be found at this location, and the frustration they personally had in attempting to decipher the map themselves before giving up. They suppose: rare texts, alchemy supplies, a cache of gold, or perhaps nothing at all.

Maybe someone will have better luck than they.

Maybe these are those someones.

Comments

[heorte]

Ellis has taken a step back, all the better to idly swing his mace back and forth without taking someone's knee out.

Connerie or not, the idea that they've arrived either months too early or months too late prompts a heavy, exasperated sigh from Ellis. It's the most vocal complaint he's contributed thus far.

[tensive]

Lukas, meanwhile, has been cultivating a sort of mental mute list for Rifter nonsense. Elf-on-the-Shelf is tidily added, though he has to resist rolling his eyes at Mhavos responding and possibly making it a Thing. He'd rather they didn't.

He takes a moment to squint at the map, very intentionally not leaning in to make it easier, then shifts his gaze out over the mismatched scenery.

"If there's evidence of running water along those rocks, that'll answer our question."

Not running now, obviously, either because of the seasons or because this map is severely out of date. He doesn't sound particularly hopeful, but what's the alternative? Wait for the right month or wander aimlessly (some more)? He doesn't look tired, or even distinctly bored. Boring, maybe, mostly silent and focused. Still, he'd rather be filing books.

[propulsion]

Mhavos' maybe-glare is met with big guileless brown eyes in return, Tony absently angling the map for Lukas' benefit. Currently attempting to work out if that first part was rhetorical and if not, does he get to have an opinion on it. (Sidebar: maybe one for the complaint box, being, elves should try to be far less easy to nickname.)

"Mr Dalat," Tony says, conciliary, kind of, "don't be shy about your gnomic conneries."

He twists a look out at the view. "Yeh," he says, on the back of Lukas' suggestion. "Getting a lot of rainfall, though. Seems weird." Seems weird what? Just seems weird. He hands off the map so as best to wander closer to the edge of the cliff, just shy of safely, apparently a little immune to social constructs like vertigo. "What about 'visible'? On certain months. Or hours. Pretending we're not learned men."

Which shouldn't be hard. Enough squinting at maps and wandering the rocky foothills in circles will definitely make you feel stupid in an hour or two. Tony's gaze goes skywards, assessing patchwork cloud, marble-white and slivers of blue. It is one of those hazily lit afternoons, all shadows ill-defined to be non-existent.