Roughly ten minutes ago, Viktor stepped through the eluvian with tools in hand. He could have sailed out with it, yes, but he could do a lot of other things he's not inclined to do, and hanging around on a boat for days while his stomach shares its opinions on the six degrees of freedom is not listed among those he's willing to suffer. Not for this.
So, the mirror—a most convenient shortcut, even taking the Crossroads into account—stands some metres behind him. Those tasked with keeping sentry, whether swapped in for the sea-travellers or determined to see this all the way through, occupy themselves around the cave entrance or the Brecilian mists beyond while they wait for this great old dwarven door to budge. As of now, it has moved not at all.
"It's well hidden," he's saying, fingertips running along stone seams, "I'll give them that."
A means to reach the mechanism, that is. There must be an access point somewhere—hopefully not only on the inside, or they're going to have a hell of a time breaking in.
ferelden / abandoned dwarven outpost / open, one thread;
So, the mirror—a most convenient shortcut, even taking the Crossroads into account—stands some metres behind him. Those tasked with keeping sentry, whether swapped in for the sea-travellers or determined to see this all the way through, occupy themselves around the cave entrance or the Brecilian mists beyond while they wait for this great old dwarven door to budge. As of now, it has moved not at all.
"It's well hidden," he's saying, fingertips running along stone seams, "I'll give them that."
A means to reach the mechanism, that is. There must be an access point somewhere—hopefully not only on the inside, or they're going to have a hell of a time breaking in.