MOD EVENT ↠ Nothing to See Here

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone/Everyone
WHAT: Troubling observations.
WHEN: Mid-Guardian
WHERE: The Crossroads
NOTES: A mini-event! Feel free to use the Crossroads hazards for threads, get lost or trapped, or just ogle the new problem. If you want your character to do more than ogle, feel free to submit an info or plot request!

Traversing the Crossroads, popping from eluvian to eluvian until emerging elsewhere in Thedas, has become a routine part of many Riftwatch agents' work. It's not necessarily a pleasant one; anyone save native elves experiences the journey as disorienting and oppressive, with twisting light and a persistent distracting sound. Still, for reaching those locations and their immediate surroundings, it's faster than going by land or by sea.

But in Guardian, on one such routine journey, someone notices something wrong in the distance: one of the Crossroads' faraway crooked islands turned vaguely black in its center, with tendrils of darkness spreading like veins of mold over the stone, seeming to follow a waterfall (which is falling up, of course, because this is the Crossroads) to infect an island above it as well.

For the following few days, whenever anyone has time to spare, finding a way closer to that island is a top priority. It's not simple work. The Crossroads are a maze of crumbling ruins, and finding a way from point A to point B, even when point B is right there, is often a many-step process with disappearing stairs, puzzlebox locking mechanisms, and mazelike layers of half-destroyed buildings. Some eluvians are shattered or locked, and a necessary platform might ultimately only be reachable by lassoing a distant rock or, for the very daring, taking a leap far enough for a different pocket of gravity to snatch them out of the air and pull them to what now counts as down. And on top of that, several regularly traversed areas are populated by spirits that won't let anyone pass by unbothered.

As agents get closer and closer to the target island, things will only become more difficult. The Crossroads are already falling apart, but their disintegration seems to be progressing more rapidly near the blighted area—as it does become fairly obvious, even at a distance, that the blackness is the same substance that coats the darkspawn-infested portions of the Deep Roads and spreads through the veins of those who become tainted. Stone floors begin to give way beneath people's feet at a much higher frequency, and the rules of gravity and physics, artificially imposed by the Crossroads' shapers and now in disjointed disrepair like everything else, may change unexpectedly from one step to the next. In other places, mages may find the landscape as easy to alter as the raw fade, rock reshaping and elements shifting in response to their thoughts—though not their will, generally, in any deliberate way—with no ritual or spell required.

For obvious reasons, setting foot on the blighted ruin is a task only for Riftwatch's Grey Wardens—who, by the way, will begin to hear the song of the Calling as they come closer, and very loudly. But it's probably fine, and it will cease when they retreat from the area. But even from the safety of an adjacent platform, it will become obvious what everyone is looking at: a rift, pulsating and shifting, but filled with a dense, light-devouring blackness rather than the usual sickly green window into the Fade. The ruined structure surrounding the tear exhibits the usual ancient architecture of the Crossroads, where it hasn't yet been covered in blackness, but where it has, some of the walls seem to have been eaten away, replaced with new walls in new places. Some of them seem to be forming a doorway in the shape of a dragon. Past visitors to the Temple of Dumat may find it familiar.

This is obviously not great. But the least great part is that when they have reached the platforms nearest the blight-oozing rift, keen elven eyes—or anyone who uses a spyglass to help cut through the woozy shifting of the light—will be able to follow the direction that those tendrils of black seem to be flowing through the gravity-defying channels of water and spot among the constellations of further-flung ruins and platforms, in what would be the sky if the Crossroads had one, a second freckle of writhing darkness.

Comments

[illithidnapped]

[A pretty face, and oh if that doesn’t cut right through the misery of this place. Shallow joy ever his balm.

He’s more on that spirit’s side by the second.]

I don’t know. [Astarion counters brightly (as brightly as he can, given how much this place rattles his senses), busy working up a narrow grin, watching that small reflection go sprawling.]

Spirits tend to work with what they have, after all.

[And at least these ones seem content to latch onto brighter memories than the last set Dante encountered.]

Consider biting, little one. It takes everyone by surprise.

[rebellionyell]

[The child spirit version of Dante was on him again before he could even stand up and to be fair this spirit had a homefield advantage. This place didn't seem to disorient it's senses in the same way and Dante had to realign his own.

To keep the kid from headbutting him again Dante pushed his face back with the palm of his hand]

Hey Star, whose side are you on here? Don't give him anymore ide- [But it was too late for that, before he could even suggest it the younger version of himself already sank his teeth into Dante's hand.

As if that was a good idea after all.

When Dante tried to whip his hand back the kid was still hanging onto him like a demented fish on a hook. Even shaking him off wasn't enough to dislodge him.] What is...what the hell is happening?

[Dante has seen a lot, but this is almost too chaotic.]

[illithidnapped]

Oof. That looks...painful.

[To say the least.

Not that Astarion’s doing anything but grinning from his perch despite himself expression leveling out into a wan smirk as he watches it all play out in near slapstick chaos.]

Maybe the little darling just doesn’t like you.

[And then, to the spirit itself in that larking voice of his (an experiment of sorts):] Come here, my dear. He isn’t worth the trouble, that one.

Might as well let him go.

[rebellionyell]

[As if the command has some spellbinding affect, or perhaps it's the unabating affection the spirit can sense off of Dante as well that tempers the child who immediately lets him go.

To the credit of the spirit there are some visible teeth marks that beginning t0 recede gradually, but it does nothing to abate just how strange the tactic was at Astarion's suggestion.

And he seems more than happy to run at Astarion's calling.]

Does this mean I win? [Dante shook out what little soreness remained in his hand before raising his eyebrows as his child self clamored up to Astarion.]

I like him more than I wanna fight you, that's all. [The spirit child protested hovering close to Astarion's leg.]

Or you're a momma's boy [Which is also true, but the child just makes a huffing noise.]

I win and he gets the better end of this deal, something about this is unjust. [What, he's not jealous, not even a little bit jealous.]

[illithidnapped]

One might argue you get to spend more time with me than this precious creature ever will. [Funny, isn't it, how Astarion can hardly stand children— but the moment he's met with one that's a Fade-born spirit inhabiting some sort of skewed reflection of Dante's past, it's suddenly all endearment and approval.

He lifts a hand, patting the space beside him in offering.

Exactly which Dante he's trying to beckon over is anyone's guess.]

Rest up, darling. That seemed utterly exhausting.

[rebellionyell]

[Even if Dante wanted to commandeer the sport the child version of himself had already beaten him to it, curling up at Astarion's side. He seemed awfully smug about the whole affair.

For his part Dante just tossed the wooden sword over his shoulder before approaching the pair, the urge to nudge the spirit and watch him slide off and onto his ass was strong. Owing to the shit-eating look probably, but he resisted the urge, letting the child version of himself close his eyes and pretend he was resting peacefully.]

I do get more quality time with you, that's true. [Leaning over just enough to brace one hand on the space that wasn't occupied by the spirit so he can level his gaze with Astarion's.]

In all fairness, a kid could never do a man's job [he combed the fingers of his free hand through Astarion's hair aware that this place had a disorienting effect on him it was probably just as rough for Astarion.]

You holding up okay?