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scouting mission: opening doors.
WHO: Aenor Dinadhal, Caric Van Kassel, Ellis, Sabine, Vanadi de Vadarta, Vance Digiorno
WHAT: The gang are sent on a mission to the Anderfels to retrieve an eluvian from a lake and install it in Hossberg.
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Hossberg, the Anderfels
NOTES: TBA
WHAT: The gang are sent on a mission to the Anderfels to retrieve an eluvian from a lake and install it in Hossberg.
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Hossberg, the Anderfels
NOTES: TBA
sabine. ota.
It is a quiet day, in the outskirts of Hossberg. The lake is a broad silver mark on the rolling steppes, perfectly still, save for where newly hatched flying insects alight on its surface, touching down with tiny ripples or dying quickly as lurking fish rise to feed.
Towards the centre, disturbance. Bubbles that rise and break.
A thrashing arm, next, attached to an elf woman who had volunteered to go first through the eluvian. Sabine claws her way to air to gasp it in desperately, less okay about the underwater excursion from mirror, through ruins, to surface than she had anticipated herself being. Kicking in place, she turns in a quick circle, squinting through waterlogged eyes to determine which shore is the nearest. They all seem pretty fucking far.
Frog-leg kicking and slightly uncoordinated windmill arm swimming ensues, fighting against the small travel back she has lashed to her, her own clothing which, while chosen for its lightness, still drags at her as she goes.
There is a shack at the edge of the far side. Dry weeds growing in thick around its entrance indicate that it's been long since abandoned, with no evidence of recent activity. The doors themselves are closed with rusty chains and a lock that is probably already too far gone to be coaxed open with more subtle tools.
Peering through a window had shown evidence of wooden boats, hanging from the ceiling, which could prove useful.
Sabine has a prybar wedged where chain latches to wooden slat, hauling her not very considerable weight backwards in an attempt to work it loose. Splinters give, and she swears once, wriggling the prybar loose.
She turns to whoever is with her, and offers it out. Your turn.
They will likely not be able to stay on the lakeside. It's exposed out here, like this. Anyone could see them a mile off.
But on a given day while they work, Sabine supervises from dryland (she has gone in neither boat nor water since that initial entrance, although only from an absence of volunteering rather than strict refusal), or watches their perimeter, or gathers some drywood together to build a fire so that they can eat something warm. It is warmer out here, far warmer, than the Free Marches, but the last grip of winter still smarts skin when the wind blows, with an open sky that does nothing to hold in the natural heat of the world.
Find her feeding twists of dry and dead plantlife into flame, or combing the lakeside for interesting... rocks, or staring out at the wilderness with watchful sharp-eyed attention, bow and quiver lashed to her back.
exploring
"Do we need the door intact, or no?" seems like a crucial point to agree upon, before Ellis takes up the prybar.
There's no reason to assume anyone lives here. Ellis' meandering circuit around the building had yielded nothing but overgrown, browning weeds and dust. But still, before they do some real damage to the structure, he'd like to be on the same page.
no subject
Sabine glances at it speculatively. The wood is old to look at, but the splinters expose decent timber at the core. Still, strapping human men are good for some things. "We could still use it as shelter even so," she thinks out loud, a hand touching the door, pressing it, listening to rusted over hinges creaking.
Very well. She moves back, highstepping through the dense growth of yellowed grass and tangling weeds as she does so.
no subject
If the door gives in the right place, it'll be easy enough to prop closed. Ellis mimics Sabine's inspection, running his hands along the wood, marking the placement of the hinges, the weather-rusted handle.
"If this doesn't work, we try the crowbar again."
A little like hedging his bets, backing away from the idea that his efforts will pay off so immediately. He leans to hold out the crowbar for her to take back, for the moment.
escaping.
He comes through after Sabine, gasping for breath, before seeing her struggle. He wagers she could do well enough on her own, but he would rather like to help. He swims a bit ahead of her, trying to demonstrate a better-- if far from perfect-- form.
"Like this!" He says between breaths. "Do not be afraid!"
no subject
She struggles her head above water long enough to take in a few calming breaths, before realigning her movements, of kicking her feet the way Caric does. She can sense the strength of that propelling her forward, can feel the resistance of her closed hands more tangibly than she could when simply clawing it at it.
Her arms kind of move with whatever her intuition dictates, but the next time Caric glances back, he will see her not far behind.
"I'm coming," she says, and then spits water with a half articulated Orlesian cuss.
no subject
"It will feel very cold," he says, pulling himself out of the water, "be careful of that."