player plot: the horror of sarrux's pass

[aberratic]

WHO: Caius, Gwen, Hermione, Jayce, Ness, Siorus, Stephen, Vanya (sumptus, elegiaque, reparo, pathlit, aberratic, wildered, portalling, wearyallalone)
WHAT: The Horrors Cometh
WHEN: Beginning of Harvestmere (October)
WHERE: Sarrux's Pass, outside Wycome
NOTES: OOC post here. TWs for body horror, NPC death, ghost town/apocalypse vibes, children in upsetting situations, and general horror stuff.

Characters

CAIUS

GWENAËLLE

HERMIONE

JAYCE

NESS

SIORUS

STEPHEN

VANYA

The residents of Sarrux's Pass, a small village tucked into the mountains of the Free Marches, have long held that their settlement used to be a bustling trade city where dwarves were as plentiful as humans and they had constant contact between the surface and the Deep Roads. These were assumed by the surrounding cities to be nothing more than fanciful legends for decades, but any long-time resident swore it was the truth, lost to time and "monsters in the deep."

Residents were finally vindicated a few months ago when an earthquake caused a landslide in the surrounding mountains, revealing a long-lost outlet from the Deep Roads. At first, residents of the pass were apprehensive, all too aware of the dangers posed by such an opening, but the longer they went without Darkspawn spilling from the entrance, the more eager they became to investigate.

Eventually, the bravest among them began to enter the Roads, in search of ore and artifacts. They were vindicated again, finding both, and Sarrux's Pass quickly became a magnet for treasure hunters, Lords of Fortune, historians, archaeologists, and anyone in search of a quick buck. Even in the face of the Venatori invasion of the Marches, the promise of fame and riches drew handfuls of people seeking their fortunes to the Pass. News from the area was steady, and filled with discoveries and success stories—as well as the brawls, backstabbing, and even the occasional murder that comes with any good gold rush town.

It's been a few months since the reveal of the Deep Roads entrance. News from Sarrux's Pass has slowed to a trickle, then a drip, and now, in the past weeks, nothing. The last message to make it out of the village three weeks ago said simply: "We weren't just right about the dwarves." The parchment was stained with an unidentifiable liquid—not water, not blood—which smelled of the sea.

Riftwatch has been tasked with investigating the village, with three goals: find out what happened to the residents, recover whatever valuables they can from the Deep Roads, and, if necessary, close the entrance again. There may be Venatori in the area, or Darkspawn, or territorial prospectors—without contact with the village, there's no way of knowing what Riftwatch may discover. © tessisamess

Comments

[reparo]

It's a bit rude, isn't it? The whole speculation between their guides about who lives in the derelict cabin. Imagine living in a place your whole life, trading and working and maybe even making friends, only for the people of that place to know you as Old Man Mercer.

(She tries to imagine herself, surviving - living until she's that old, even. What would the new recruits call her? Old Riftwitch Hermione has a good ring to it.)

Of course, it stands to reason that as she shakes off that thought, and turns to chide Kitt with you can't just call old people abominations, the door to the cabin opens. (Falls open? Falls?)

Out rushes what could potentially be described as a weird old man, waving his arms in a shoo-ing motion at the group.

"Leave! Leave, there is nothing left - nothing past this pass for you! Leave if you know what's good for you!" he shouts, ominously.

"Told you," Holden Chapman mutters as an aside.

"Not you," Old Man Mercer's quick dismissal, complete with a bony-hand wave-off. He sets his eyes instead on the two dressed like Riftwatch people, addresses them, fingerpoint and all. "You leave. Heed my words, you fools!"

[wildered]

"Aw. Unnecessary," Siorus says, quiet and wry more than properly scolding. However limited his experience with old people—which is very—he knows they're due a modicum of respect, raving or not. "Are you the famous Mercer?"

He also knows Old Man Mercer is probably not the best thing to say to his face. And he knows that these men would have called his childhood shaman an abomination, too. Mercer very well could be possessed with something. But something keeping to itself and warning people away from danger, that's not so bad.

"Best not to engage," Kitt Chapman tries to say behind them. Siorus looks back at him. (Back and down. But not as far down as he's been looking, among dwarves for most of the decade, so it practically feels like looking up.) Then at Hermione, deferential. Does she want to engage?

A shutter on the sagging house behind the old man shifts and creaks in the wind.

[reparo]

She meets Siorus' look for a moment, the fine line that her lips become, and that resigned drop of her shoulders both signalling that they are going to engage. Whether or not the Chapmans like it.

A second or so later, she plasters on a tight smile and looks at the man known as Mercer, and says carefully: "I'm afraid we must, serah, on account of the lives that could be in danger. It is sort of what we do."

Or something of that sort - there are all sorts of things that Riftwatch does, including being sent for possible outposts scouting, or for wrangling supplies. She's not sure what this one will be - funerary rites? Rescuing survivors? It's grim either way.

"Plenty of capable people here, though, so worry not," she adds. "Right, Siorus?"