faderift | MOD PLOT ↠ SECRET STEEP'D ROOTS

Entry tags:

MOD PLOT ↠ SECRET STEEP'D ROOTS

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What?" His gaze sharpens, becomes a bit less guarded and distant. At once, he shakes his head. "You've already refused," he says. "You already told me what you think of the whole affair."

"I apologized for that. I set the record straight. I told you I wanted to help, and you cast me off like I was worth nothing to you."

His lips tighten. "I was coercing you, remember?" His hands find his pockets and shove themselves in. "You washed your hands of it."

"And then I calmed down, remembered you're a good man, and spoke to you again. Don't pretend you don't remember. I told you I wanted in, and you wanted nothing to do with me."

He stiffens. "I am not a good man," he bites in return. "You had the right of it at first. I am wicked. All right?"

"You say that." Colin steps forward. "All the time. And then you take great offense when someone believes it even for a moment. You don't think I know wicked men? You're an arse, certainly. You hated me for having no faith in you when I hadn't learned to have faith in anyone. Then I told you something that took a great deal of faith to say, and you hated me more for it."

"That you'd tried to die." His smile is thin and utterly, direly humorless. "I think that actually takes the opposite of faith, if I am not mistaken."

"Telling you took faith. In you. I didn't believe you would ever use it to hurt me, but you did. And I'm not even sure it was really me you wanted to hurt."

"How is it that one can hurt a dead man, precisely?" he snaps in return. "Aren't you supposed to beyond all that? Wasn't that the point?" He gives a short, harsh laugh. "It took faith in me. Faith that I'd do what, exactly? What was your aim?"

That hurts. A lot. Again.

"I owed you an explanation. I gave you one. And I wanted to be able to be honest with you. We were friends. I trusted you, I wanted to show you I trusted you, and I wanted you on my side. Out of everything you know about me, how is that the thing that made you walk away?"

"How is it, pray tell, that you're interpreting this as me walking away?" He scoffs, loudly. "You, dear fellow, are the one who quit. What you said is that, but for a medical intervention, you would be quit of this world. You walked away, not me."

"Not from you." He shakes his head. "I've been fighting this battle more years than I can think right now. I didn't walk away--I lost. Then by the grace of my friends, I survived, and I've been fighting again since. Every day, a battle for my life. That's thousands of battles and I lost only one."

Tears are standing in his eyes.

"It happened to me, Byerly, not you. I have to live with it, not you. I have to remember it, not you. I have to be afraid of it. I have to have nightmares about it. But getting to that point was the only thing that made me realize I had to stop trying to fight it alone. I needed my friends. And you were my friend."

"It didn't happen to me?" Another scoff, louder. "If you had succeeded, who would have had eternity at the Maker's side, and who would have kept living in this shithole? With all the memories?"

A tense shake of his head. "You're not the first who's done this. This isn't new to me. And every fucking time - " He breaks off, then, jaw clenched. "I can't."

He'd had a feeling. There's a hard lump in Colin's throat at the finality of Byerly's words.

"I understand that," he says thickly. "I understand if you can't handle it. Handle me. But you never had to be cruel about it. Whoever's done this in your past, don't take it out on me. Don't treat me like I'm dead when I've done so much in the past year to keep living. Don't define me by--fuck."

He bows his head, bringing a hand to his face. After a moment, he has collected himself enough to finish.

"The difference between me and your other people is that I'm still alive, and I plan on staying that way. Don't pretend this is the same. Grieve them, and we don't have to be friends again, but you have to show me the same dignity as before. And you still owe me an evil man."

He's silent a moment, stiff, unreadable. He just looks off into the darkness. When he does speak - and it takes a long while - his voice is quiet.

"I don't know why you told me. I wish you had not. If you had just kept it to yourself, I wouldn't have had to know. And I'd have been gladder for it." He shakes his head very, very slightly. "It would be one thing to come to me, telling me of an enemy. A fight I could assist in. But this..."

Colin's eyes squeeze shut, knocking tears down to his cheeks.

"It's done," he says, and sniffles. "And there are plenty of people who have helped me in this fight. You've even done so without knowing it, by helping me with Lutair. You can do it again--by doing what I'm asking. No more judgments. No more snide comments. No more suspecting my intentions. I'll miss your friendship. I have missed it. But if it's not something you can offer me, you can at least do this."

"This being what, exactly?" he asks. "No judgments, no snideness? You wish me to - what - treat you differently from how I treat everyone else? I cannot imagine how that would help."

It is something of a genuine comment. To refrain from those things would be, in Byerly's view, to treat Colin like an ill man, someone delicate. The only way to move past any of this would be some return to normalcy.

Colin's hands come up to pull at his own hair, a breath hissing in through his nose. It's not that Byerly seems to be willfully misunderstanding, but trying to explain what he means in a way that makes sense is something he is finding very stressful. He spends a few seconds like this, eyes closed, cheeks gleaming with tears.

"No judgments about this," he clarifies. His eyes open and his hands come down to his sides. "No snide comments about this. If I speak to you professionally, speak back to me professionally, unlike when you asked if my questions about transferring to your division were real. Treat me exactly like everyone else instead of letting this poison everything. Snide comments and judgments are fine, just...not where this is concerned. Pretend you never heard about it."

"And how am I to do that, precisely?" he bites back in return. "Because I did. And the knowledge sits with me. It will always sit with me."

Then, a low scoff - "I would not forgive anyone who tried to kill you. You ask me to do so now, just because the hand was your own?"

"Yes," Colin says bluntly. "I already hate myself enough for the both of us, I don't need it coming from you, too."

He takes a breath to speak more, but finds himself expelling it in shuddering, dry sobs, face crumpling again as more tears release. He lets himself break down for a single breath before pulling himself together.

"How can you care enough to be angry, but not enough to stop treating me like shit? How do you get so blinded that you forget you're hurting the victim as well as the murderer?" A pause as he decides whether to say the next thing. "What do you think I would do if our situations were reversed?"

His answer comes in the form of a rough shake of his head. His fists are clenched so hard that his nails might break the skin.

What would you do if our situations were reversed? You would forgive me at once, because you would not care enough to feel anger. That is the problem. If he was willing to remove himself, to destroy himself, then what care could he possibly have for the people around him? By thinks of his mother; he has been thinking of his mother all this while - His mother who is still alive, but a living corpse, turned into nothing by her own self-loathing and self-destruction. She'd stopped caring. Lost her love. At least his father had hated him.

"Answer me this," he returns. "Did you save Sonia because you wanted to save her? Or did you just do it because you were hoping they'd cut your throat in her place?"

The horror on Colin's face should be enough of an answer. If not, the way his fist balls at his side as if he'd like to strike Byerly might also speak for him.

"This," he says with an angry tremor in his voice, "is exactly what I mean. You've forgotten everything else about me except that I tried to kill myself a year ago, and how painful it is for you." He shakes his head slowly, trying to clear his head enough that he doesn't lose his temper. "The man wasn't looking for someone to kill. He was looking to soothe his ego after he tripped over a woman's foot in front of everyone. I spoke to him to let him know we all knew our place was beneath him; if that hadn't worked, he might have beaten the shit out of me, but I've been through that before. She hasn't."

Tightly, he responds -

"Perhaps I'd have an easier time forgetting about it if you didn't bring it up every fucking time we talk."

"I don't bring it up every time we talk. We haven't spoken about it since I told you about it. Though apparently you're thinking about it every time we talk."

"You brought it up this time." His lips tighten. "I'd have been glad to speak of it not at all."

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tw discussion of suicidal behavior

and very bad reactions to the same

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