MOD PLOT ↠ SECRET STEEP'D ROOTS

[faderifting]

WHO: Open
WHAT: Trapped! Trapped in a jungle!
WHEN: Bloomingtide 9:46
WHERE: Unknown
NOTES: OOC post! The three starters in the comments can have multiple threads, and feel free to ask us on the OOC post if you have any "what will happen if I x" questions.

When the eluvian shatters, there's a stutter in the flow of the fight. The eight Venatori nearly all freeze in place for a moment when the glass cracks, watching their way out and their plan crumble, and afterwards they never quite manage to get their rhythm back. But they don't quit, either. In the end, they all go down fighting.

Riftwatch takes no casualties, and the four members of Riftwatch who were taken captive are all alive, accounted for, and mostly unharmed.

That's the end of the good news.

The massive, shattered eluvian was set within a ruin carved and built out of a steep embankment, now almost entirely reclaimed by the jungle. All that's left are the remains of walls—some full height, others crumbling where vines have pushed between the stones or spreading tree roots have disrupted the ground. But with daylight fading and several injuries that need attending to before anyone can move, the surviving walls and thick plant growth form the best shelter anyone can hope to find before nightfall.

When the sun rises and better stock can be taken of their position, the jungle in which everyone finds themselves is still not immediately recognizable. It's hot compared to Kirkwall at this time of year, with temperatures hovering around 75-80F and kept relatively consistent between day and night by the high humidity and non-existent breeze. It rains with some frequency—light showers that are little more than mist by the time they reach ground-level or torrential downpours that start with little warning and drop several inches of rain in an hour before disappearing as abruptly as they'd arrived.

Most of the ruins extending up or out from the embankment are little more than chunks of moss-covered stone buried in the undergrowth. Searching around them will find them a stream running through the remains of a carved stone channel, fast enough to be safe to drink, and they can follow that a short ways out of the ruins to where it joins a much larger river. They won't see any traffic along it except for a variety of river creatures that would be happy to eat them. Judging by the position of the sun and moons, the river leads south.

There is one half-sunken portion of the ruin complex that's more intact, but after exploring it confirms there is no back-up eluvian on offer, there's little choice but to set out into the dense growth of the jungle. Huge trees create a canopy far overhead, and the floor is soft and springy with dead matter. Giant ferns, vines of every variety, and flowers of every conceivable color crowd them at every turn, making travel slow and damp. Overhead, and all around, are the sounds of other creatures moving through the same space. Birdsong, monkey screeches, the constant buzz and chitter of insects. The fauna in the jungle is a mix of the usual sorts of beasts one would expect in such a climate: parrots, monkeys, snakes, absurdly large insects, the rare big cat, whatever other weird animals walk around a jungle.

The walk south along the river will be a long and difficult slog through dense jungle with no real respite from the environment along the way—and no real certainty about their destination. They'll have to make a new camp each night as best they can and push on the next morning, hiking through seemingly-endless forest. At first, they will have the benefit of a path, a trail south alongside the river that appears to have been cut less than a month ago. It will lead to a second set of ruins where signs of Venatori presence will be obvious. They will make camp here for a couple days while they explore more thoroughly for clues about where they are and what the Venatori were up to.

Beyond that point it will be necessary to cut their own trail, an exhausting process that means even slower going and tired arms for everyone who takes a shift at the front of the line. The only break will come when the jungle abruptly gives way to a deep gorge, the river taking a hard west-ward turn and dropping down a series of magnificent waterfalls to what looks like a very large lake at the bottom. They can either find a way down the falls and hike west around the lake, or cross the river via a narrow rock bridge over the falls and continue south back into the jungle. They'll stop here and make camp among the rocks for another couple days to try to identify the lake or the falls before they go any further and risk walking miles in the wrong direction.

The journey will take a few weeks in total, with plenty of time and opportunity for a few people scouting ahead or foraging for food to find trouble (or fun) on their own. But the entire group will also encounter a few hazards together, including, in chronological order:

• Shortly after leaving the elven ruins where they came through the eluvian, a flash flood will catch the camp one evening, despite its position on the best available high ground, sweeping away some supplies and ruining others. People outside of the camp, for whatever reason, will lack the high ground and might experience a more dangerous rush of water, and everyone will have to go to sleep damp and hungry.
  
  
• A day after the group leaves the dwarven ruins, a swarm of dragonlings and several drakes will emerge from a mountain cave when the group passes too close, breathing fire and intent on chasing them away. Their high dragon won't appear for the fight, but several days later she will fly overhead, barely visible through the canopy but obviously very, very large.
  
  
• A few days later, they'll come upon a hot spring that appears crystal-clear and fine for drinking and bathing, but will result in people developing minor, mostly auditory hallucinatory effects an hour or two after their exposure to it. The plants growing nearby will show to have an even stronger effect, if anyone is foolish enough to eat them to find out.
  
  
• In a few areas, the river will cut gorges through the mountainous terrain, and following it will require either walking along narrow traversable paths on the cliffsides or holding supplies overhead and fording through the water. Watch out for dickfish.

Comments

throughout | open

[hassaran]

[ There have always been two main types of Scouting: the sort that maps terrain and tracks movements through it, and the sort that follows people about and learns what they know. While her predecessor might have excelled at the first sort, Yseult has always been very focused on the second. Normal camping while traveling is nothing new, but tramping through the forest long-term and unprepared like this is not at all her natural environment and though she won't be caught publicly complaining, even her normally unshakeable poise is tested by the conditions.

She's not about to pull rank to avoid getting her hands dirty (dirtier), pitching in with all manner of tasks that are alien at first and quickly become depressingly routine, like constructing rudimentary shelters out of fronds and vines, beating the underbrush to drive snakes out of a prospective campsite, hiking out from the pack to hunt and forage or find higher ground, skinning and skewering all manner of things for the fire, or taking a turn hacking away at the dense growth ahead to clear a trail. Even during breaks in the heat of the afternoon she's more likely to be found active than not, but it will be possible every now and again to catch her cat-napping in the shade, or catching her breath while watching a sloth creep slowly across a flowering vine.

She's almost always one of the first awake in the mornings, either climbing the likeliest tree nearby to try to get a look at the terrain ahead, or making a valiant attempt at laundry in the safest pocket of river. And she'll take her turns on watch at night, too, and can otherwise be regularly found on the edge of a campfire somewhere, often in discreet conversation with her fellow division heads or others, keeping track of supplies, of injuries, of morale problems, of new information, new theories on how to get out of here, or alone scratching notes with a stub of pencil in a tiny, water-stained notebook in the dim. ]

[staysail]

[Darras is a more-than-occasional evening companion. Not in a cloying way, thanks, his wife has a job to do and he wants her to do it. But with the sundown, and after a dinner of whatever has been roasted over the campfire, and after she's concluded her business with the other division heads, and only once she's settled in on her own to write notes, that's when he finds his way to her side.

Tonight he's keeping her company in a half asleep against a nearby tree sort of way. The jungle is cooler at night, but the air is still thick, and muggy, and even the ever-present sounds of the surrounding jungle aren't enough to keep him awake after a day of forging trails and cutting vines and fetching water.

Except suddenly he sits up, eyes wide, awake and alert and reaching for his falchion.]

Whatzit--

[A little garbled from sleep, he stares out into the dark of the jungle just to their left. The trees stand out dark against the darker and deeper shadows. Is there something there?

It better not be a fucking snake.]

[hassaran]

[ Yseult's head snaps up at the sound and she twists to look back at Darras first, and then in the direction he's staring, squinting into the darkness, not that it does her much good after an hour in front of the fire. ]

What is it? [ she asks, glancing over her shoulder at Darras again, and reaching to set a hand on his ankle where his feet are propped up against the log beside her. ] I can't see anything.

[staysail]

Don't know.

[Tension is quickly shaking loose the rest of his drowsiness, so the touch of Yseult's hand is a little startling. Darras shoots her a glance--there's the firelight behind her; he winces, looks back to the surrounding darkness of the jungle, trying to see. The brightness is superimposed over the darkness now. He blinks, quickly, trying to clear it.]

Sounded big. Didn't it?

[hassaran]

[ She flashes him a crooked smile at that slight jump and shifts her touch from the spider-like brush of fingertips to the firm clasp of a palm around the bare skin of his ankle.

Looking back into the darkness, she cocks her head, and lifts her other hand to try to shield her eyes from the glare of the flames. ]

Did it? I thought it was wings.

[staysail]

Wings?

[Stressed, Darras looks up. The darkness of the canopy is equally dark as the darkness of the brush and surrounding trees. What bit of the night sky that can be seen between the leaves and branches stands out almost blueish, a contrast speckled with stars.

No creatures that he can see. That he can see. That means nothing.]

I hate this bloody jungle. [--He mutters, half under his breath, as he scans the trees again.] Full of secrets.

[hassaran]

Nothing wrong with being full of secrets, [ Yseult quips, but she gives his ankle a squeeze and then a little tug. ] Come sit with me.

[ She's not gone back to writing, keeping an eye and an ear on the jungle around them just in case whatever he heard wasn't wings or a dream. ]

I've been thinking about when we get back, [ she says when he's nearer, voice low, conspiratorial ] I can't decide whether I would prefer to stay in the tower and have the staff deliver all our meals so that I can do nothing but sleep and bathe for a week, or if we should turn right around and sail home even if it means another journey and more work.

[staysail]

[He's still on alert, looking about the darkness of the trees around them--but grudgingly, he shifts back to sit beside her again, settling down. Still on alert, ears pricked for the next sound. But settling. Yeah.

Fortunately she next comes up with a topic interesting enough to divert some of his attention. He looks around at her again, one eye out on the jungle still, torn between alertness and the very pleasant distraction that is Yseult.]

That's what you've been thinking about? [--Somewhat bemused, but mostly amused.] No one would suspect it of you. If you're asking which I would vote for, it'd be the second.

[hassaran]

Even I can't think about work all of the time, [ she replies, a self-deprecating tilt to her smile. ] Especially here.

[ She flicks a look around the camp, confirming everyone is where she left them a moment ago, mostly sleeping or engrossed in their own quiet conversations, and then tips her head onto Darras's shoulder. ]

I knew you'd say that. I want to be there, but I don't fancy the journey, or the clean it will need after so long away, or hauling enough water in for the tub. But everything else.

[staysail]

You'd rather Riftwatch haul water in for your tub.

[Teasing. Obviously. And if he's teasing, he's relaxed by a measure more--at least enough to multitask, so to speak.]

I don't blame you. It's a thankless chore. And those that haul it in for you don't even get the bonus of seeing you lounging around in the tub once it's full.

[hassaran]

A free perk for you if the Gallows staff handles all the fetching and carrying for us.

[ She sighs, wistful at first but fading into dread. ]

I can only imagine how much there will be to do when we get back. I'm keeping informed of course, but there's only so much that can be done by crystal.

[staysail]

Ah, but you know me. I like to work for my perks.

[Having moved himself to sit beside her instead of in ankle-grabbing proximity, Darras leans his shoulder into hers, a friendly sort of pressure.]

If you'll be behind anyways, what'd be another few weeks. Let 'em fend for themselves.

[hassaran]

[ She hums her response, not quite approving but considering all the same, tempted despite her better judgment. She drops her head back onto his shoulder as he leans, and exhales a heavy breath. ]

It will be torture to drag ourselves away again if we do.

[staysail]

[Hmm is more an agreement than any sort of question. Darras lays his cheek against the top of her head, getting comfortable. His eyes flick back toward the surrounding forest, looking to see if any threats have made themselves plain in the meantime. They have not.]

We always managed it before.

[hassaran]

It's harder every time. [ She rubs his knee before giving a squeeze, and then nudges his head up so she can turn to look at him. ]

You know that, right? It was never easy.

[staysail]

[He complies with the nudge, and smiles down at her when she looks at him.]

Even that first time?

[hassaran]

[ Her brows draw a tick closer together, but after a moment of study she matches his smile and nods once. ] Even then.

I didn't want to go. I felt I had to.

[staysail]

I know. I didn't understand it then--or I wouldn't have, if you said it to me that way--but I do now. A bit better, at least.

'Course, I'm also more clever than I used to be back then, so perhaps that's why.

snake charming; yseult+ket+marcoulf

[esquive]

[In retrospect, it must be something like divine provenance that they have not suffered more significantly from chance meetings with aggressive wildlife. No one had died from eating the wrong bird, there have been relatively few encounters with flesh eating insects, and no one has been stung by anything so dreadful as to prohibit them from continuing on (albeit in a little more misery than previously depicted). They should all consider themselves quite fortunate, someone will say while sitting around the evening's campfire.

Presently however, Marcoulf finds it difficult to summon notions of optimism or charity. He is busy stabbing a very large snake as coils of its impressively powerful body twists tighter around the Riftwatch's Scoutmaster.

This will make for a good story later.]

[hassaran]

[ There are any number of ways Yseult has envisioned dying, some of them more likely than others. At least one even involved a snake. None looked remotely like this.

Her knife sticks out from the snake's body several inches below where her fingers can be seen caught between two coils, and she won't be making another attempt anytime soon: the coils wrap now from knees to elbows, pinning arms to sides and squeezing tight enough to test ribs. Her face is already gone red but she fights on as she can, planting feet on the tree opposite for leverage, trying to drive back into the trunk and pin the snake still for Marcoulf's blade. ]

[sohighandwild]

Fucking Maker, why is it so big?

[Ket's skills are really more geared toward threats she can lie to or distract, and this entire adventure has only strengthened her conviction that leaving the city for anywhere other than a well-traveled road to another city is a mistake. Still, allowing the Scoutmaster to die is not a good look for someone effectively on probation, and the shard in her hand means just running off isn't a workable option even if she wanted to take her chances with the jungle. (She doesn't.) Her rapier's out, but she wants a better target, as her first stab didn't seem to do much.

To Marcoulf:]

Where's its head, can you see?

[esquive]

Not here [--is a fantastically unhelpful answer, though he is currently occupied doing the math on how deep he might need to hack into the muscular coils twisted around Yseult before the snake is convinced to unwrap instead of clench tighter.

The rapier isn't much of a hacking and slicing weapon, however; it's very much designed for jabbing and stabbing, neither of which seems especially well suited to not accidentally turning Riftwatch's Scoutmaster into a pincushion on top of a squeezed balloon. So after a moment of insensible panic, his hind brain considers the question a second time and sending his attention spinning along the length of the reptile's body in either direction.]

You take that direction, I'll take the other.

[Surely one of them will stumble across the right end to stab.]

[hassaran]

[ Yseult's attempt at speech comes out as a croak, ] Up there [ so she adds a vigorous jerk of her head upwards, gesturing with the toss of her chin at the foliage of the tree above her. From where the giant boa constrictor watches, or at least did a minute ago.

She continues to try to make a nuisance of herself, wriggling in the snake's grip and trying to stomp on whatever bit of a coil comes nearest, for all the good it does. Which is to say, none.

Lucky she can hold her breath for quite a while. ]

[sohighandwild]

[She's quick about it at least, heading in the direction Marcoulf indicated looking for the glint of an eye. When something's bigger than you, a blade in the eye is usually a safe bet, in Ket's experience, no matter what it is. When Yseult croaks, she glances up and curses, but she's also alreaday sheathing her rapier.]

Get ready, it's going to be very angry as quick as I can find a better place to stab it.

[While she's not in love with trees, climbing is climbing after a point, whether it's wood or stone or a wooden trellis on a stone wall. She's light enough to go quick. The camouflage, though, means that even with help, it's going to take her a moment or two to find the target. She fervently hopes the scoutmaster has a moment or two.]

thread tracker I swan to john

[esquive]

[For a moment he considered that get ready could mean sheathing his sword even as Ket begins to scale the tree, so that he might attempt to force the blade down between the scoutmaster and the animal's tightened coils and somehow lever her any modicum of breathing room. But the urge is dismissed in favor of the agony of waiting for something to be done, his blade at the ready and attention fixed on Ket disappearing into the foliage above them.]

We will have you out, [he doesn't look at Yseult; she is a grim color.] Not to worry.

[It's fine.]