[PLAYER PLOT] THIS WEATHERED HEART

[katabasis]

WHO: A Lotta Folks
WHAT: Preventing a Venatori plot on a distant island; everything goes a-okay.
WHEN: Mid Kingsway
WHERE: Nascere, an island off the coast of Seheron
NOTES: OOC information and plotting post HERE. Ty to cass and mj's nevarra city log structure which I shamelessly ripped off.

ARRIVAL.
Accommodations are tight on the single ship which leaves Kirkwall, but spirits—of the crew, at least—are surprisingly high given what is likely to be unpleasant work ahead. In true Waking Sea fashion however, the weather turns just as the Walrus enters the straight between Ostwick and Brandel's Reach. A number of days are spent at the mercy of viciously inhospitable weather, shouting over screaming wind and struggling the length of slanting decks, as the ship beats its way East to smoother seas. On the plus side, the days which follow allow plenty of time to repair anything carried away or damaged by the storms. 'Better now than when we're trying to land,' seems to be the general opinion of the seasoned sailors aboard.

When the Walrus passes into its native latitudes, great care is taken to avoid all sight of the coast until they can skirt in under the cover of darkness. So what at last rises up from the horizon in the night is not an island but a shadow. The lightless shape rising against the canvas of the night sky consists of some mountain range rendered featureless by the dark, jungle cliff sides, and just the faintest line of foaming bio-luminescent waters against a narrow strip of beach. The landing itself is uneventful - a series of longboats run them to shore, then return to the Walrus with a skeleton crew fit to see the ship smuggled back over the horizon.

Now effectively stranded, Riftwatch (and their half a crew of pirates) make their way through the hilly jungle terrain and eventually into the valley beyond where the vegetation and twisting paths occasionally give way to signs of agricultural life—groves of macadamia trees and broad swathes of sugar cane—and the faintest flickers of light from distant plantation houses. Their destination is a small farm cut into one of the red foothills. From its overgrown state, it's clearly been abandoned for some time. The farmhouse is beginning to grow dilapidated from lack of care, and its interior has been cleared to accommodate both Riftwatch and the small force of about twenty insurgents—a strange combination of escaped enslaved and pirates-turned-revolutionaries, and evidently just one of a series of rebel cells in hiding throughout the island's interior—they meet there.

DAY.
With some expectation that it will be a few days before they mount their assault on the rift and the underground ruin, the first day on Nascere is meant to simply be an opportunity to familiarize themselves with the current conditions on the island. The bulk of Riftwatch's force is either to stay put on the farm away from prying eyes, or may accompany one or two rebel scouts to coordinate with other cells scattered across the island so long as they can move quickly, quietly, and avoid detection. Specifically, two groups have been tasked to gather information in Nascere Town proper—particularly any news relating to the whereabouts of the missing half of the insurgency which disappeared when the rebel force was successfully broken by the ruling force in residence—, and to explore as much of the network of caves leading to the ruin as is possible while avoiding detection.


LOCAL GOSSIP - Athessa, Byerly, Isaac, & Vanadi

Seemingly carved out of the living rock overlooking the harbor below, Nascere Town is a visage in relief upon a steep hill, its deep contours cast in a harsh light by the rift fixed high above it at the hill's summit. The buildings at the base are built on stilts, with stairs or ladders leading up to the entrances. As the elevation rises, the buildings fall until they are all level with the dirt road that cuts through them.

Residences and shops line the road on either side, and what seems to be otherwise shockingly normal commerce is slowed by the purposeful momentum of a few Venatori gathering supplies and taking them somewhere. The warehouse near the lowest point of town is supplying wagons with tools and rope and chains and the like, the supplies needed to imprison rather than to build. A handful of Tevene-aligned foot soldiers not at work can also be found enjoying drinks or a meal at the tavern or enjoying intimate company at the brothel across the street. The center of operations seems to be the old Chantry—built as counterpoint to the Qun fort overlooking the bay when the Imperium took control of the island, converted into a public market during the pirate possession of the island, and then reverted back to its former religious significance upon the Governor's takeover—, overlooking the town and back lit by a verdant veilfire sun. It's where the ranks sleep, and plan, and where it's rumored a few people have never returned from.

That is a story that can be from a number of different people in town. Some folks just vanish, and it's chalked up to the guerrillas in the surrounding jungle, the pirate resistance, sometimes even the Governor's men. But sometimes they're seen being led to that holy spire, and what else are they supposed to think when it's Venatori taking them there?

It's too risky to approach the Chantry itself, but it's clear enough by the commotion in the streets that there isn't any time to waste. This is confirmed by the nervous and surprisingly competent gentleman named Mr. Featherstone who meets them in the tavern's back room. He unfortunately doesn't know much about the missing half of the rebel militia; all he can offer is a few rumors that they've been smuggling people off the island, which could explain some of the fighting still happening in the jungle, or perhaps that they scarpered entirely when the resistance fell. Most on Nascere have taken to believing them dead.

The most important information Featherstone has to share is that whatever the Venatori are planning to do will be happening tonight.

UNDERGROUND EXPLORATION - Caius, Dorian, Gwenaëlle, Leander, & Madi

At first, the passages are simply dirt walls, roots and moss, but slowly, they give way to stone. It would be easy to get lost in these caverns, if no one was paying attention. The passages branch, though some open into single-roomed chambers and others have collapsed or been overgrown by plant life. But upon close inspection, it's clear which routes have seen regular foot traffic, and Madi has some knowledge of the route, enough to quell doubt upon reaching forked passages, though it's inevitable to take a few wrong turns and come across closed chambers or mark light ahead where tunnels curve back towards the surface into the jungle. The walls bear runes and other markings, some appearing to be simple directions while others are historical and instructional in design. Luckily, there are plenty of small crevasses to wedge tunnel markers, ensuring a return to this route won't require as much trial and error.

Eventually, the echo of voices prompts the dousing of torches while guiding forward travel. The tunnels give way to a large, vaulted chamber. Debris has been moved to the edges to reveal looping, intricate runes set into the floor. A single shaft of light illuminates the dark-smeared altar in the middle of the room. A number of Venatori are in attendance, clearly hard at work in preparation for something. Torches have been lit, and the glow reveals a set of cages along the far wall, ceremonial robes, a table of sharp implements reverently arranged.

Walking further into the chamber is too much of a gamble. Every time it looks as if the room will empty out entirely, a few more Venatori reappear. But it is possible to eavesdrop on the conversations as Venatori come and go through several other entryways. The discussions reveal that the Venatori have used regularly visited this chamber to perform rituals, as well as that they are confident in having finally crafted the exact sequence of events that unlocks⸺

Something? It's hard to say, because the Venatori never refer to the outcome in anything but vague, glowing excitement. But it is safe to assume that the outcome of the upcoming ritual is probably very bad. Judging by some of their conversation and the layout of the ruin's modifications, Caius (and potentially a few other nerds present) will be able to calculate that the fallout from a spell like this has the potential for some serious collateral damage if left unchecked, enough so that the town above proper might be endangered by it. Luckily, it's possible to back out of this cavern and backtrack towards the town to pass along this information without attracting any attention from the Venatori prepping the ritual space.

NIGHT.
Time being a luxury evidently in short supply, efforts to coordinate and strategize promptly take on new urgency. While the bulk of the effort is dedicated to rallying forces and preparing to move out, two teams are sent to alert select local contacts to the destructive potential of the runes under the island and to fetch a secret cache of gaatlok buried on the island.

SACRIFICIAL LAMBS - Barrow, Lukas, Ilias, & Silver

With the warning that the town could be turned into collateral damage, a more tangible threat than several years of guerrilla warfare, evacuating the town to safer ground is the only logical thing to do. John has an idea of who should be told first, which brothel, which tavern, which spaces in the town square and market they'll need to visit to make sure the alarm they're sounding carries swiftly and effectively.

However, they make it as far as the town square before it becomes clear something's amiss. More amiss than usual.

The town is crawling with Venatori. The streets are full of people trying to scramble into hiding or being dragged from their homes or from behind the market stalls. The gallows, always an ominous sight, are eclipsed by a barred cart into which people are being shoved, or thrown. Even in all the chaos and rising level of hysteria from the townspeople as they try to avoid capture, it quickly becomes obvious that the Venatori aren't rounding people up for a night in the pokey.

Knowing what's scheduled to occur at the ruins, it's safe to assume the people being thrown into carts haven't been volunteered to act as moral support so much as they're intended to provide the required blood component.

Stealth is paramount; it's crucial to keep the Venatori from realizing any opposition beyond the pirate rebellion has arrived on the island. That being said, the Venatori also can't be allowed to haul a cart full of potential blood sacrifices down to the ruins. Therefore the task becomes: either find a way to release the victims and prevent the Venatori from collecting more without being seen, or make sure no Venatori are able to raise the alarm if there's no way to proceed stealthily.

TREASURE HUNT - Edgard, Darras, Derrica, & Flint

Armed with Flint's knowledge of where the cache of gaatlok is buried, it seems an easy enough task to locate and unbury it. Or it would be, if there weren't an enemy patrol in the nearby vicinity (likely motivated by the burial site's proximity to a now abandoned rebel encampment). That discovery is brought about by one of the enemy scouts straying too far from a familiar path and snagging his boot on an old trip-wire. His impact with the trap makes enough noise to call over two others, and to cover the sounds of a retreat into cover.

The Venatori can't be allowed to discover the gaatlok, and the risk of an alarm being sounded is too high to get away with being spotted. They'll have to be scared off or eliminated. Anyone who cares to eavesdrop a little can discover that the Venatori are already spooked, thanks to the Veil being so thin on the island. There have been ever increasing reports of wraiths, shades, and even ghosts manifesting on the jungle. Some have even heard the sounds of wailing loved ones or the voice of the Maker himself whispering on the breeze.

RIFT & RUIN.
With some sense of what they're up against and a gaatlok cache shaped ace up their sleeves, Riftwatch and their allies are divided into two forces. One party is to take the foothills just north of Nascere Town where the burning rift demands closure. They've been instructed to value speed over subtlety; with the bulk of the Venatori force preparing to make their way into the underground, they'll need to draw some of their number back to the hilltop if the team handling the ruins is to have any chance at scuttling the magic being performed there. The other group is to spirit the gaatlok underground and disrupt the ritual by destroying key segments of the temple's sprawling adapted runework.

THE RIFT

When viewed by night, the rift which sits at the crest of the hill overlooking Nascere Town is naseauting in its brilliance. Likely it has grown slowly in magnitude and any change has been so gradual that the locals can hardly recall what it looked like to begin with; but to anyone familiar with what a Rift should be, the danger is indicative in the sheer span of the grim aurora spilling over the hilltop. The rift hasn't torn itself open yet, but yet seems to be the operative word.

Immediate resistance is relatively light, consisting of a few Venatori mages and shockingly ill-equipped foot soldiers. Unfortunately, reinforcements from the town below will quickly answer and it will briefly appear likely that the bid for the rift will fail. However the closer they get to the rift, the more disorienting and serpentine the jungle vegetation seems to become. What must be a path certain to lead to the glowing summit instead winds travelers in circles; forms inexplicably familiar - an old friend, a favorite childhood dog, a girl someone once loved - flicker at the periphery of vision and tempt wrong turns. The confusion makes it possible to escape being overwhelmed; unfortunately, it will be easy to become separated and Riftwatch and its allies are as prone to being scattered by their desire as the enemy is. Anyone separated from the bulk of their force may find themselves prey to rare hunger in the dark.

When they at last find their way to the rift, it is as a swollen belly being split open with pulsing heaves of nauseating light crackling across the rocky summit. What at first appears to be the guts of some great thing spills from the seam in slow motion on regrettably necessary closer inspection, is in actuality some appendage of an entity ready to push its way through the Veil which takes the form of twisting snakes. They are appealingly hypnotic, turning end over glittering scaled end, as with each pulse of light they slip further into the world where they might attempt to devour anyone who gets too close.

While at first it may seem as if Gwenaëlle and her supercharged anchor should have no trouble closing the rift herself, as whatever is happening in the ruin below progresses, Vanadi will have to aid her to counteract the effect of the ritual and successfully close the damn thing.

THE RUIN

Thanks to the earlier mapping mission, it's relatively simple to slip back in through the circuitous network of caves leading to the underground elven ruin. Even better: they have a perfect cover story. After all, the folks down in the ruin are expecting a few guests. Down in the caves, dirt floors cede to stone, and then to lovely domed rooms once laced with elaborate dalish decorative stonework sheared into shapes which grow more brutal and hard edged the closer the party gets to the central chamber. Deep furrows have been cut into the floor of these passages and brushed with some dark stain; according to the earlier survey, they form some elaborate rune all their own whose center rests in the main chamber.

Riftwatch (and their cache of gaatlok) are to secret their way along passages which run parallel to these main corridors, taking anyone they might meet by surprise. When at last they arrive at the central chamber, it is to be greeted by a ceremony already underway. A series of glyphs burn at key locations around the room, each managed by a pair of mages, and arranged around the central platform with its ugly Tevene altar lie a number of corpses (likely Nascere's missing persons) face down in the furrows which converge there.

Riftwatch's job at this point is to simply ("""simply""") fight their way to the central platform, set the gaatlok, and blow the central series of interlocking runes where the Veil has been rendered most thin. They'll be facing off with a number of Venatori mages, but the working theory is that they only have to last long enough to get the charge off. Maybe it requires an elaborate relay of passing the gaatlok from behind one series of barriers to another to avoid being blown up by stray magic; maybe stray magic does trigger the explosion. What is guaranteed is that when the explosion rocks the chamber, it decimates the central platform, sends stony shrapnel spitting in every direction, and knocks anyone left on their feet to the ground.

And as the central series of conduit runes in the subterranean ruin is split, power lances free. It courses lightning like along the channels—twisting rune forms—which spiral outward along the floors of various arms of the underground cavern from its main chamber, strippign the life out of anything unlucky enough to be standing (or stumbling or lying) in any of the carved furrows as the arcane burst surges down it.

In its wake, the ruin splits.

ESCAPE.
If anyone wasn't already moving to escape before the ceilings of the ruin's ornate underground rooms begin to fall in, and as walls and floors begin to crumble away into widening fissures, they should be now. A collapsed wall exposes a previously unmapped series of passages leading up and away from the ruin's chambers. As the network of caves tumbles in on itself and Riftwatch's forces underground flee through the rough hewn tunnels to emerge in the chaos of the disintegrating Qun-era fort which once guarded Nascere Town and the harbor beyond, an otherworldly fog rises ravenously after them.

Meanwhile, the team responsible for closing the rift has their own problems. While the disorienting effects of the jungle have evaporated with the rift's closure, the moment the bedrock fractures and the caverns below begin to fragment so too does the hilltop. The rift closure team will have to outpace the foothill's collapse to join their fellows struggling out of the ruin. By the time both groups converge in Nascere Town, there will be little doubt that the destructive force meant to shred open the Veil—power derived from years worth of a guerrilla war, from decades of bloodshed produced by both the island's internal turmoil and its embittered exchange of ownership between pirates and the Imperium, the Qun, and whoever came before—is perfectly capable of doing the same to the island when left unchecked.

At this stage, there's little to be done to control it. The best Riftwatch can hope for as the port town and the mountainous region surrounding it break into pieces is to get to something that floats and out of dodge before the harbor and its contents can be sucked into whatever cavity opens as the entire landmass breaks apart. In the bitter pre-dawn aftermath, the place they came to has been reduced to irregular jagged teeth plunged under a fog so unnaturally dense that it refuses to burn away even as the sun rises and the Walrus creeps in to rescue them from whatever irregular fleet of longboats and little sailing vessels they managed to escape on.

The ruin is gone. The Veil is intact. Technically speaking, Riftwatch accomplished exactly what they came here to do.

Comments

LOCAL GOSSIP

[katabasis]

[Closed to Athessa, Byerly, Isaac, & Vanadi]

group thread

[wythersake]

It's airy.

Which is to say — porous, which is to say leaky, which is to say that walls may be presumed to talk. Isaac burned through the last of his tobacco somewhere between storm and subterfuge, and the persistent twitch of his fingers borders on the comic.

Floorboards creak (hand to pocket), laughter from below (pocket empty).

"Eventually," Palm pressed experimentally against the wall. The wood bends slight with damp, nothing more. "One of us ought to moan."

UNDERGROUND EXPLORATION

[katabasis]

[Closed to Caius, Dorian, Gwenaëlle, Leander, & Madi]

feel free to switch to action spam

[filotimo]

It's hard not to be drawn towards the light. Not of the torches, but of daylight, of freedom, of fresh air and open spaces. The work they have to do is in the darkness, in the cold and damp surrounded by stone and rune.

Madi does not take point — she may be a leader, but to be first around a bend when there might be a sword or spear or staff to contend with would be folly. She is no fighter. So she walks behind someone, offering direction when she's able.

Left, here. Place a marker, this tunnel is not on the map. We have to turn around, the way ahead is blocked.

Now, they stand at an intersection. Unmapped, unblocked, but marked with runes that could prove enlightening, to the right person.

"Do any of you know what these are?"

SACRIFICIAL LAMBS

[katabasis]

[Closed to Barrow, Lukas, Ilias, & Silver]

[hornswoggle]

"Well, this is fucked."

Does he need to say anything more? This is hardly what they'd expected to walk into, even with some of the rumors or the anticipation of guards. Is there a way to get the word out?

Does that even matter anymore, set against the contents of that cart?

"Do we have any idea about how we can disrupt their harvest without giving ourselves away?"

Clearly John's made up his mind on what's more important, moving briskly from the lightly imparted list of stops for the evening to—

Well, something with a lot more potential to get them attention, unfortunately.

TREASURE HUNT

[katabasis]

[Closed to Edgard, Darras, Derrica, & Flint]

[tender]

Part of the trouble is that it's almost impossible to discern how many Venatori are in the area. The lush, shadowed mass of plant life surrounding them might be hiding the four of them from sight, but it's also obscuring their enemies. The howling of the unfortunate soul who set off the trap has disturbed some of the wild life, and the yelps and shouting and rustling of leaves creates an unfortunate racket.

Straightening from a crouch, Derrica adjusts her grip on her staff before peering at Flint. The moon is full, but that's not as much as help as she'd expected it to be.

"Is there a way around, or should we just make our way through?"

Which is really a question of "Do we commit to staying out of sight or do we embrace the possibility of a tussle?"

isaac;

[wythersake]

leander, boat;

[wythersake]

Dangling from a hammock below deck, the nameless spine of a book draped over shut eyes, one might almost imagine Isaac blind to the storm outside.

A thin layer of water sloshes over the floor. The shipbelly tilts at sharp angle, bobs back. His arm sways.

"Is there a reason," Voice raised just high enough to pitch over the shouts of crew, the battering of waves. Not that loud: Quarters are close. "You've been watching me?"

Now. Before.

derrica;

[wythersake]

It's morning. The storm's past.

Isaac perches on an out-of-the-way barrel, bits of broken tack in his hand. Some crewman's bird eyes him from a nearby rope, crest ruffled in wary interest; refuses to hop close enough for crumbs.

"Did he let you touch any of it?"

It's a moment before he looks over to her, face scrubbed clean.

john silver.

[hornswoggle]

pre-arrival boat free for all.

[hornswoggle]

As it turns out, the more things change, the more things stay the same. In the case of the Walrus crew, the expectations for John are very much the same: to stand up and tell a fucking story.

So it's fairly easy to find John during the course of a day. The times at which he seems to be entertaining vary, but the tell-tale signs of stomping feet and roars of acknowledgement are easily heard. The Walrus is not a ship so large that sound doesn't carry, and there's always someone willing to move aside, make room for another person in the audience if you care to hear John tell a pirate story. (Or maybe a Riftwatch story, who knows.)

Otherwise, there's always a chance to find him at the close of the day lingering on the deck before he disappears from public view. If you've ever wanted to split a cup of questionable alcohol with him, now's your chance.

@ madi.

[hornswoggle]

John hadn't known Miranda Hamilton, not really. He'd known of Mrs. Barlow, whispers of a witch in a house set back from the sea, and he knew of her as Flint had described her.

And he knew of her as a ghost, seated alongside Flint in the Gallows. The pale serenity of her face sticks in John's mind, has lingered ever since he follow Flint through the doorway of this house.

He is thinking of her now, as he leads Madi out into what was once a garden, now overgrown. The island has been reclaiming this place, piece by piece. But it's easier to find space here, to be certain they are alone. (Alone but for the ghost of the woman who once lived here, whose shade had sat quietly across from John in the Gallows, blood pooling around her feet.) He has taken Madi by the hand, but finds himself uncertain of where to begin.

And he must begin. He must tell her this truth, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

"There's something you need to know before we begin our work here."

Her hand is cool in his own. John is aware of the neat fit of their fingers, the welcome slot of her palm against his own. He is aware of the possibility he may lose it.

the ruins / one thread ota, threadjacking welcome

[hornswoggle]

They've either arrived at just the right moment, or too late to be useful. John can't tell at a glance. The description of the chamber holds as true, as much as the description of the winding path with through it's chambers had guided them safely to this point.

However, now that they've arrived—

"We'll need the two fastest of our number to bring the cache, and the rest of us will have to keep the Venatori diverted," John murmurs. But is that wise? Can they keep the occupants of that chamber from blasting their attempt to high holy fuck before they reach the altar? Perhaps the blast takes them all out in such an enclosed space, but John isn't particularly eager to test whether or not they survive that kind of accidental explosion.

"Unless someone can think of a better way before we're noticed?"

Certainly John isn't built for speed anymore. The sickening after-effect of each addition to the ritual seems to stick to the skin, toxic and heavy. The tang of blood is thick in the air. They only have so much time to debate their entry point before they must act, or the decision to act is taken from them.

post-sidequests, pre-ruins;

[katabasis]

They meet on the footpath, converging from two separate directions - his party with their freight of gaatlok and John Silver fresh from the outskirts of Nascere Town. The combined force (if such a word can be applied to the six other members of Riftwatch) are sent ahead to alert Madi and the contingent lying in wait for the word to begin this last long leg of their evening, and for a moment as Darras and Ilias and the others disappear into the night through the deeper shadows cast by leaning trees and overgrown sword ferns the two of them are afforded a last confidential moment of isolation.

A heartbeat in which to pause and reassert their grip on a dozen threads being pulled too quickly to manage with real precision.

"I trust you were able to warn the street."

The moon is full and the night—long in the tooth already—is so very pale.

aftermath.

[hornswoggle]

Nascere is gone.

The weight of that follows John through the overcrowded ship, taking stock of survivors, lifting spirits in the wake of what feels more like a defeat than anything else. Seeing to the needs of the crew, softening that blow, promising retribution, those things give him some distance from the looming reality of what's occurred.

And it's strange to move between two groups of people on this ship, half keenly connected to the loss, stunned and bitter, and half along for the ride, having technically done all they came here to do. There would be some humor in it, if John were able to make space for it in this moment.

At some point, late in the evening when the ship has quieted, he becomes a solitary figure on the upper deck. Elbows on the rail, looking out over the dark stretch of sea as it carries them back towards Kirkwall.

"If there's a disruption below, let it sort itself out," he says at the sound of footsteps, an automatic attempt to divert company aside. "They're expressing their...dismay."

One word for "the loss of safe harbor." It's not quite the right descriptor, but Nascere had been a complicated place, the nearest thing to home many of this crew had, and if not a home, then a reliable touchpoint to return to over and over. Llomerryn would never be able to fill the void in the same way. John understands that, even if it hadn't been exactly the same for him.

vanadi | open prompts

[highborn]

[ Arrival ]

Vanadi has done a bit of time on boats, he's no stranger to the concept of open water. True, they were typically expensive enough to make you forget you were on a boat, or manned by an expert in unchallenging waters, leaving Vanadi with nothing to do but dreamily watch the sky overhead.

This is considerably different, and Vanadi is having a poor time of things.

They're out of the worst of the storm, but the rain still lashes cruelly at the deck — and at the elf draped over the rail. He's a pretty pathetic sight, clothes and hair soaked through and too tired to do much about it. He's done so much barfing over the last few days. Are they there yet?

[ Day ]

His mood has picked up sharply once they'd set ashore and about their business; Vanadi is finally in what he'd like to consider his element. With the rather memorable scar that stretches across his face covered with makeup and his pale hair darkened to black, Vanadi makes his way more or less anonymously through the settlement, smoothly chatting his way from one source to another, buying drinks for strangers and making temporary friends.

Once or twice his questions go a little too far, though. The first time he senses the overstep quickly and excuses himself with no consequences, but the second time things get a little trickier.

Vanadi might be spotted slipping out the back of a tavern very hastily, glancing over his shoulder with some concern. A careful observer might even notice the quick wave of spellcasting fingers — and that he's followed, but the armed man pauses when he hits the little alleyway Vanadi is hastily strolling down, staring almost directly at the elf with no sign of seeing him. The man looks around, searching, but eventually shakes his head, mutters something to himself, and sheaths his dagger as he lurches back into the tavern.

Got off scot free, right? No witnesses? So Vanadi can hope, and he hurries on for the main street, breathing hard.

[ The Rift ]

He's not sure how long he's been wandering this path, although it very much feels like he should have crested the summit by now. He's lost track of whoever it was ahead of him, as well as behind, and he's already left one unpleasantly surprised enemy behind with several rapier-holes punched through them.

Since then he's seen only — flickers. Unsettling presences. He's not sure if he ought to blame the magic in the air, an actual slippery enemy, or just his own jagged anxiety. Regardless, he grips his rapier hilt tightly and forges onward — only to skid to a stop at the sight of a robed form on the path ahead of him. The robes are ornate, covered with a unique shade of purple embroidery. He's not seen anything like them in this world, only in the one he'd left behind.

Vanadi takes a stumbling step away from the form, only to find himself pressing back into whatever unlucky soul has come along the path behind him. He spins with a terrified yelp, his blade out and ready to threaten whatever throat presents itself while his spare hand glows an ominous dark purple.

[ Escape ]

After the (alarming, confusing, pants-shittingly terrifying) light show with the rift, there's still what feels like the swift crumble of everything once solid to contend with.

He has no idea what whirlwind of mad dashes and leaps led to this, but Vanadi finds that he is, somehow, clinging tight to the trunk of a slowly toppling tree. That wouldn't be so bad, except the tree is slowly toppling into a dark, watery void. Emptiness yawns below his kicking feet, and even his elven eyes can't make out what's crunching up all the debris down there in the darkness.

What he does know is that his grip is slipping, and branches keep snapping away whenever he thinks he has a hold on one. His death is supposed to be something ignoble, a quick stab in a dark alley — not this. This is far too dramatic, it won't do at all.

Unfortunately, it's beginning to look like this is what he gets.

for Gwenaëlle

[highborn]

Getting to the summit hasn't been easy, he's exhausted and on edge — and it looks very much like things are only worse up here. He holds back, lingering at a distance that doesn't really feel any safer, and sizes up the situation with a few darting glances.

Gwenaëlle, he thinks that's her name — looks as though she's got things in hand. Maybe. More or less? Having never been particularly heroic, this could be a very excellent time, Vanadi thinks, to practice a bit of self-preservation and disappear.

Arrival

[thereneverwas]

"There now, mate, you'll be all right."

A heavy hand nonetheless gently patting Vanadi's back precedes an offered cup of fresh water, held in front of him until he's ready to take it.

"I hear you're supposed keep your eyes on the horizon, but I suppose there's not much of that to be seen when it's pissing rain all day." He rests his elbows on the railing.
"But at least it won't be long before you've nothing left to hock up, eh?"

Escape

[muckspout]

Edgard is running back towards the ship and sees someone in a tree that's about to fall into the water. He changes course immediately and heads straight for them.

"Get out of the tree! Get out of the tree!" He screams. He is adept at climbing trees, but fears his weight would topple this one further. He grabs some rope on the ground, ties it to the rock and then an arrow.

He shoots an arrow right next to the elf's hand that sticks into the bark of the tree.

"I can pull you back, you can slide back, or you can jump and I'll try to catch you. Pick your poison!" He hollers.

flint;

[katabasis]

[wildcards aokay. HMU @ prosodi or on disco if you want something specific.]

arrival, ota;

[katabasis]

Some persistent, driving rhythm unheard by anyone but Flint's ear has seen him from Kirkwall to these northern latitudes. The man who had been painted as some squared off, determined figure through the foul weather out of the Waking Sea is the same one who barks orders en sotto voce over their beach landing, who hikes along the mountainous trail head and down into the dark valley at the island's interior. It isn't until they reach their rendezvous point—that broken down farmhouse slanting out of the vegetation that has grown dense around it, a faint light through a hooded lantern burning in its window—that he pauses.

It's a small thing, more consideration than fact: a hand lingering briefly at the house's door frame. Then the next hours of the night are dedicated to closed door conversations in order to coordinate the work to be done in just a few short hours.

So it is late (verging on early) when Flint can be found in one of the overgrown, garden-sized fields adjacent to the house. He is methodically counting paces from the patch's southern edge toward it's center: one, two, three—

athessa;

[sulahnan]

[ wildcards welcome. hmu @ shadowblindr or on disco if you want something specific ]

O HELO IT'S BOTE TIME

[thereneverwas]

It's been a little while since they spoke last: before they were all in Orlais, before more Atrocities were committed, before Barrow was completely confident in his ability to make it through the day without physically falling apart, but it seems he passed the test well enough for his own comfort.

It's been a long and arduous day of Dealing With Ship Things in the Rain, a task Barrow was roped into on account of being both strong enough to do what needs doing and good-natured enough to not put up a fuss, and as a result he is near collapsing from fatigue down in the galley.

But there's Athessa, and he comes to slump beside her with a big hand on the crown of her head to lightly muss her hair with a grunted "hey, kid."

madi.

[filotimo]

[ shadowblindr u kno the drill ]

flint | escape

[filotimo]

The fractured pieces of the island protrude through the fog like bones through flesh, a ribcage wrenched apart and the chest cavity flooded with seawater. The beating heart stills and all that remains is a heavy silence.

The water laps at the hull of the longboat. The oars hover in place for lack of a place to row. Madi stares. All they've worked for, all they sacrificed. It happened so fast.

"It's...gone. It is over. It cannot be over."

Edgard

[muckspout]

[This is mostly a commitment to myself to actually post something here, but if someone were to wildcard me i wouldn't object]

Open

[muckspout]

Calm Waters

Edgard stares up at the tall mast. It makes him a little dizzy to look at it. It brings to mind orchard trees he climbed in the past.

With a stupid grin, he turns to the person next to him, “Bet you I can beat you to the top!”

STORM!

Edgard wakes up by being thrown out of his cot below deck. Barely awake, he regains balance only to be thrown against the wall. He makes his way this way falling to one side then the other to the stair leading above deck. He can see pelting rain and a shock of lightning. He climbs his way upward yelling, “What do we do?!” to whoever he meets.