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

[bouchonne]

That request brings him back to himself. He takes in a breath, and shakes his head, and says - "Yes. Of course - Of course."

At once he's drawing her over to a spot at a base of a tree, stripping out of his doublet and setting it down upon the ground to make a cushion for her. A slightly absurd gesture - she's dirty enough that a bit of mud won't really change anything - but at least it might add a bit of softness.

Solicitously, gently, he helps her down into a sitting position.

"You must be - hungry. Thirsty."

[vorbratta]

She's stiff from the long days of walking, easing herself down with Byerly's help, but once she's down she goes slack against the tree with a breath of relief. Something about Byerly's chivalrous gesture is both absurd and deeply comforting. A gesture that would have been sardonic under any other circumstance.

Maker, her feet are killing her. Somehow they hurt more now that she has time to think about it. She nods, licking at dry lips. "Yes -- please. It...didn't seem like they had quite enough rations to go around."

[bouchonne]

For a moment, the fury returns. Or - fury is, perhaps, the wrong label. For this isn't fury so much as it's hatred - a true, pure, hard, cold hatred.

But hatred is hard to maintain when there's work to do. So he turns away, going to the supplies. He grabs at a flask of water and brings it over to her, kneeling down, lifting it tenderly to her lips, even though she's fully capable of holding it herself.

[vorbratta]

She's glad for the help anyway, offered wordlessly. She needs a gentle touch right now. She drinks deeply, the water a cool relief. Water, she decides, has never tasted so good. She leans her head back with a sigh, resting it against the tree. She reaches for his hand, her eyes dark and serious.

"Byerly," she says quietly, tugging his hand until he'll look at her. "They didn't really hurt me. Nothing happened."

[bouchonne]

"They force-marched you," he says, voice brittle, "and put you in chains, and starved you. They - "

His hands are trembling. He forces them to still, lest he spill water upon her.

"That is not nothing."

[vorbratta]

Sonia closes her eyes. No...no, it was not nothing. She wishes it were, but it's too fresh, her skin still raw from collar and chains, the sense memory of the hard ground in the Crossroads and the tension in the air -- it was not nothing. It was almost too much. She had been waiting to buckle and break at any moment. She hadn't, but she had felt so near to it. She just wants to assure Byerly that she's alright, even though she isn't, not yet.

"Oh, Byerly..." Her breath escapes her in a whoosh. There is a question she wants to ask, but she's not sure she wants to hear the answer. "I'm sorry I worried you so."

[bouchonne]

"It is not...for you to apologize." Byerly is rarely earnest, rarely honest, and he has trouble with it now, his voice faltering as he offers his reassurance. At once, he looks around, more to escape from her apology than anything else - "You needed food as well."

[vorbratta]

Ah, dear Byerly. She's never met anyone as terrible at being honest as Byerly. It teases a small smile from her, even now. She touches his hand again and nods hesitantly, trying to keep her breathing steady. She still feels dizzy from it all. Perhaps food would help.

"Yes, please. Just..." She tries to banish the silly, senseless anxiety from her face, but fails. This sudden, striking fear that if Byerly leaves her sight now, she might never see him again. Utterly foolish. "Just don't be gone too long."

[bouchonne]

He touches her hand gently. Then he gets up and moves away.

As requested, he's not gone too long - five minutes, perhaps. When he returns, it's with food - nothing particularly appetizing, just some dried fruit and meat, but still something. When he hands it over, his knuckles are scraped, as though he's struck something rough and hard - say, a tree trunk - several times. No comment or apology is offered; instead, he just holds the food out to her, his expression gentler.

"Will this do?"

[vorbratta]

It feels like an offering, when he holds it out to her like that, with that look on his face. Sonia reaches to take the food from him, her fingers touching the back of his hand gently, but she says nothing. It may as well be an offering, for how grand it seems, this small amount of food. She smiles then, so small, but real, a tiny touch of sunshine on her face.

"Yes," she says simply. She is hungry, starving even, but there is still a rock at the bottom of her stomach, an ill, uneasy feeling, so she eats slowly. She's almost too tired to eat any faster. She had been dreaming, desperately, of a rescue that ended with her in a comfortable bed, possibly even a bath. Those things are distant possibilities now, and she hasn't even begun to settle into the reality of their current situation. But surrounded by friends, in relative safety, with food and water, maybe she'll sleep anyway.

[bouchonne]

"They were saying we'll likely have to ration," he says, and then wishes he hadn't. Too late it occurs to him that if he kept her in the dark, he could likely slip her his food, give her a full portion, and keep her in the dark about it. He wonders if she'll accept it if she knows that's what he's doing. Well - He'll find out later.

"I fear we're not exactly well kitted out for our current surroundings." Well. "But we'll make do."

[vorbratta]

Sonia smiles faintly, a touch of irony, because no, no one could have foreseen this. Come all this way for a rescue and wind up trapped in a stinking jungle. At least the rescue had been successful.

"We will," she echoes, nibbling slowly at the food. "And...we'll find a way back. Won't we?"

[bouchonne]

"We will - do our best."

He cannot quite bring himself to lie to her. Damned fool. There's no reason not to live in that comfortable lie, and if he can be counted on for anything, it ought to be lying. But - he cannot.

Instead, he struggles to make a joke. "Poor prank you pulled this time, cousin."

[vorbratta]

It has its intended effect, bringing warmth to Sonia's face, a look of real comfort. She needs a little humor and all its trappings just now. She has thoroughly lost her taste for grimness.

"Ha...yes, I suppose it backfired terribly." She smiles crookedly. "I shall have to trap you somewhere considerably more comfortable next time. Bet you won't see it coming, though."

[bouchonne]

"You do often take me by surprise." A little bit of the tension ebbs - not much, but a little. He gives a small shrug, and finally sinks all the way down to sitting. "Perhaps a nice surprise, though?"

[vorbratta]

"Only nice surprises from now on," she declares, raising a bit of dried meat as though in toast. God, what she would not do for a bottle of wine right now. "They are my preference, at any rate." Well, mostly. She nibbles thoughtfully, a weary but comfortable smile on her face. Her eyes brighten with mischief.

"Maybe you'll come back from a mission one day and find that I've suddenly decided to get married after a whirlwind romance, and you'll have to plan an entire wedding in under 48 hours."

[bouchonne]

"Oooh," he says, forcing himself to brighten. "Now, that's a challenge worthy of my talents. First off, how much of a scoundrel would you be marrying? That would determine the nature of the wedding."

[vorbratta]

"Oh, good question." Sonia eats a little more, looking thoughtful. The nervous nausea is starting to subside, now that she has a little more food in her. "Hm...maximum scandal, all the better to piss my dear uncle off once he hears, all too late, about my impromptu wedding. Perhaps a Rivaini pirate...ooh, or an Orlesian noblewoman. A real player. Now that would be a true Barra scandal." She smiles smugly at him. "And you'd have to do a huge wedding, Orlesian-style, with all the trappings. In under 48 hours."

[bouchonne]

"Hm," he says, tipping his head back, as though in deep thought. Then, after a moment of silence - "Are you favoring women lately, then, Sonia?"

[vorbratta]

"Mm. I suppose." She hadn't really thought about it, but she realizes it's somewhat true in the company she's been keeping lately. "I'll admit, it's rather more challenging to find unobjectionable male company. Perhaps I've been lazy lately."

She tilts her head at him, eyebrows delicately raised. "Why do you ask?"

[bouchonne]

"So I can play matchmaker, of course." Flippancy is coming progressively more easily to him. It scarcely sounds strained now.

"I wouldn't want to set you up with someone you don't much fancy. And don't protest, because I most certainly will be setting you up."

[vorbratta]

Sonia raises her eyebrows. The levity is deeply welcome, though, and there's an amused pinch to her lips.

"And when have I ever needed matchmaking?" She peers at him, suspicious but no less amused. Perhaps it's the other party who needs the matchmaker. "Just who are you trying to set me up with?"

[bouchonne]

"I don't know yet," he says. "But surely you need me to do so now? You'll feel homesick otherwise, won't you?"

[vorbratta]

She makes a face at him, tongue poking out through her teeth, and for a moment, she doesn't look quite so tired.

"Of all the things to be homesick for," she scoffs, mock incredulous. "Besides, how do I know you'll play to my standards? What exactly are your criteria for a match for Sonia Barra?"

[bouchonne]

He frowns thoughtfully a moment. And then he lifts his hands to his chest, his fingers slightly curved.

"Huge tits?"