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

[portalling]

“Hmm.”

Strange does seem to take it seriously enough, however, turning his head to look at the rest of the chamber in this new light, just in case someone’s lurking Looney Tunes-style. It’s a big, sprawling open space, and their party members are scattered throughout; it doesn’t seem likely that someone could have escaped notice. This is a good reminder, however, that illusions in Thedas are typically anchored to a specific person’s senses, not a standalone vision like he once knew them. Still, how will they ever know for sure —

“Are you still able to do your templar nullification field thing?” he asks, curious. Like peeling back the layers of the illusion in the Crossroads. Wanting to find the reality underneath.

But off the lyrium, maybe he can’t.

[wearyallalone]

Vanya glances back at Strange. Quiet: "No. It requires lyrium." Except for the volume, there's no indication of a particular reaction to the question. His tone is even and factual: a piece of information Strange didn't have, and now he does.

He gestures to the wall with a tilt of his head. "I'm not sure it would work on something like this, regardless. Silencing usually needs an actively casting target. At most, maybe a glyph. I'm not sure how it would work on something old or permanent, but it generally doesn't remove an enchantment from a weapon, say." Though right now, this is all speculative, since they don't have a lyrium-using Templar with them to test the theory.

[portalling]

“Unfortunate,” Strange says,

only to realise a moment later how that could be misconstrued, so he adds, quick, “That it doesn’t work on enchantments as a whole to begin with, I mean. Not that you can’t do it anymore. You specifically not being able to do it anymore is, ultimately, a good thing.”

Foot firmly lodged in mouth. He sighs. The atmosphere’s getting to him; he’s got a steady nerve for bleak and oppressive and terrifying environments, but he’s already not particularly delicate with his words, and so he’s guarding them less right about now. He simply doesn’t have the attention to spare for politeness.

“Well, either way, now I don’t trust anything my eyes are seeing. That could mean some of our path being impeded or passageways hidden without our even being able to tell.”

[wearyallalone]

There may be a brief, involuntary wince. He doesn't linger over it; as much as he appreciates the course correction, he knows Strange well enough to know he doesn't mean it the way it first comes out.

He considers, briefly, explaining that Silencing works by disrupting a mage's connection to the Fade, which is why it is cast against mages rather than magic. But even if Strange is the type of man to be interested in that distinction, it's not helpful now. Maybe when they get back to Kirkwall, or at least out of her.

Instead, he says, "It's something to look out for, certainly. Mages can sometimes disrupt ongoing effects. We could see if Porthmeus has the skill in question, I suppose." Assuming that if Strange could do something similar, he'd just do so.

🎀

[portalling]

Strange had indeed once worked with illusions: casting his own, dozens of multiplying sorcerer-shades distracting enemies on the field, then catching the edges of Wanda’s illusion and peeling it back from reality. But if he could have done these things, once upon a time, he simply can’t here, and so he doesn’t mention it; it’s like living with an arm tied behind his back.

So they keep going, although Strange occasionally pauses to send another mistrustful look at the reliefs, their surroundings, wondering how much of it is— shifting, and off.

There’s no solution to it, and it’s an ongoing frustration. In the end, they’ve nothing else to do but keep going down and down until they reach a dead-end chamber: the door, the darkspawn, the horrors beyond.