[ OPEN | PLAYER PLOT ] This is how it feels to take a fall

[illithidnapped]

WHO: Tiffany, Barrow, Astarion and...you??
WHAT: an assignment gone terribly wrong
WHEN: week 5, segueing into week 6 of the plot, just after dragon tracking concluded with a terrible, literal bang
WHERE: the most silent portion of the Silent Plains, nearer to Hasmal, and not far from Tevinter's very nicely constructed base
NOTES: cw for injury, darkness, being stranded, absolute idiocy | OOC POST: here

Previously: having successfully scouted Primus Taxarchis’ base in the Silent Plains, Tiffany, Barrow and Astarion make an unsuccessful escape under the fully alerted watch of the base’s active forces— provoking a near lethal counter attack that sees them crash landing not far away, and forcing the stranded trio to desperately petition for help.

That’s where you come in.




The ravine runs like a crooked gash throughout desert sands, deep and layered, sloping inward at an angle too steep to safely (or reliably) climb. Easy to spot from above, not as easy to get into without breaking an ankle or an arm, and impossible to freely clamber out of once inside: the stone is brittle and flaking to the touch, lean too much on it, and you’ll drop right to the earth along with it.

The caverns connected to it are far more accessible— the only downside is they’re labyrinthine in their knotted nature: it’s easy to reach an end too narrow to be traversed, or so broad that it loops back on where you’ve already been, descending downward in steeper layers, becoming a near honeycombed network at points.

Of course, you also might not be alone in the dark. This territory isn’t as unclaimed as appearances might otherwise suggest, factoring in proximity to the base the three had been previously scouting. Luckily no overwhelming force has been sent to give chase and comb the desert in pursuit, but that’s not to say there aren’t still eyes to be found in the depths of lightless pathways. Armor-clad agents working for the exact same reasons you are, their noses to the trail.

Well. Not the exact same reasons.

The temperature is freezing cold at night, and in the fuller depths of the caverns where light doesn’t reach, that’s a near consistent constant. Firelight might draw attention, for better or worse. Magic, too, and— despite earning the label of Silent— there is wildlife occasionally to be found. Proof of life’s perseverance even in the harshes of places, fleeting and skittish.

Or dangerous.

Whatever approach is taken, one thing is clear throughout: none of this is going to be easy.


[ooc notes:

-The trio rest at the very bottom of those lightless depths where they’d initially fallen, in varying states of wellness and action.

-they’re lacking in supplies, warmth, healing, mounts, protection, a way out— you name it they need it.

-time is a given: none of this will go quickly, so feel free to handwave or assume anything you need to to make your dream threads come true.

-this timeline wise takes place at the end of week five segueing into week 6, when Riftwatch forces are free to head home if they care to, but given that this is technically hostile territory between Primus Taxarchis’ base and Hasmal, it’s probably going to be a deliberate choice if your characters decide to come here.

-pls just don’t do anything to officially alert the nearby base in full, that would be Bad— and super difficult to do from a hole in the ground but mostly just Bad. Otherwise chase your bliss and make your wildest spelunking/survival/heroic fantasies a reality.

-ooc post is here, for all your delving needs and details.]

Comments

[thereneverwas]

It takes Barrow a moment to collect himself, to control his expression back into something that isn't a grimace. Every breath only enhances the deep, searing ache, given new clarity by the lyrium's effect.

Bless the stuff for being nearby, and damn it for existing.

Another shuddering breath, and he nods, clinging to Tiffany's gentle words. "Do you," he wheezes, "like poetry,"

[fairforce]

Tiffany laughs, quietly, the sort of laugh you give when it's late and everyone else has gone to bed and you don't want to wake them. Carefully, slowly, she shifts the way that she's sitting so that she can stretch her legs out in front of her and put her back against the wall of the cliff beside Barrow. The rearranging takes longer than it ought to. That particular worrying ache in her ribs doesn't make moving easy. Her armor doesn't help.

"I feel like I've aged seventy years," she says, half to herself. "Do you like poetry? Or are you guessing at what I might like?"

[thereneverwas]

"I like..." Barrow gasps, measuredly, "some poetry." He pauses, his eyes falling closed a moment.
"...the filthy kind."

[fairforce]

That makes her snort.

"Disgusting." It's too light to be a true judgement. "Go on, then. Recite me one."

[thereneverwas]

It's like he's been waiting his whole life for this (and, you know everyone has favorites).

"A harlot who came from Churneau," he begins in a rasp, pronouncing 'Churneau' in the terrible provincial Fereldan way, which is to say, 'Chernew';
"...filled up her nethers with glue."
Each breath is measured, his eyelids fluttering from the effort.
"She said with a grin... if... they pay to get in... they'll..."

He coughs.
"...pay to get... out of it, too."

[fairforce]

"Oh," Tiffany says, and lets her head loll back against the side of the cliff wall. "No. I hate that."

She's grinning all the same. Hate is to be taken with a grain of salt.