player plot: catharsis makes me free

[aberratic]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: Making Heroes of the Veilguard Riftwatch
WHEN: Mid-Cloudreach (April)
WHERE: Riftwatch's dwarven outpost beneath the southeastern reaches of Ferelden
NOTES: OOC post here. TW for spiders and various forms of backstory drama, I'll add anything warned for in top levels!

catharsis makes me free, for i do not prefer to be a prisoner.

For the past few weeks, Riftwatch's dwarven outpost on the outskirts of Fereldan has been experiencing an influx of creepy-crawlies. It started in Guardian with a higher-than-usual number of spiders scuttling about—not entirely unexpected in an underground living area, but notable for sheer volume. Then, in Wintermarch, a deepstalker was caught trying to make off with a nug, and it was only after it was dealt with that anyone noticed—there used to be more nugs down here, didn't there? Investigating some of the unused homes revealed holes dug up from the floors, the presumptive source of the intruder... and perhaps others. Deepstalkers are pack animals, after all.

To deal with these infestations, a greater number of Riftwatch agents than usual have been assigned to man the outpost. For the past few days, members of Riftwatch have been filling in holes in the floor, killing spiders (those are too big to be normal spiders, aren't they? Have they always been that big??), and searching for any other cracks in the walls a deepstalker might wiggle its way through. It's tedious, somewhat heebie-jeebie-fying work, and everyone will need a long bath after to make sure there are no spiders on them, no really, I swear I felt something crawling on my neck—but it's been more or less uneventful.

Which makes it a surprise when, the morning of their last day in the outpost, a number of agents can't be roused from sleep.

I. WAKING UP IN THE MORNING

For the agents who do wake up, they'd be forgiven for being a bit freaked out. Any reaction is understandable when your friends and coworkers can't be roused from sleep by any means you can conjure—not touch, not loud noises, not magic, not pain—and figuring out what to do about it may not come quickly. Someone's gotta tell the Division Heads, probably—hope none of them have fallen asleep too—and maybe somebody should stand watch over the sleeping agents... But no one in Riftwatch would steal from their unconscious coworkers, right?

II. DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

For those asleep, this might be a good chance to describe the memory they're facing without any observers or outside interference to alter it in any way—or you could start it in media res, I'm not your boss.


III. SPIDERS AND DEEPSTALKERS OH MY

The spiders and deepstalkers show up at the same time, and immediately start trying to stake their claims to the outpost. On the spider side, they range in size from a large cat to a particularly well-fed druffalo, with mom being biggest—she's young, and on the smaller side for a breeding female of her species, but she's got a lot of ambition. Ways to deal with the spiders aside from actively fighting them include burning and tearing down webs and destroying egg sacs—though doing either may turn into a fight if the agents doing so are caught. The deepstalkers are the size they should be, but there are approximately a million of them, and the matriarch is crafty: she rarely shows herself and seems almost to have a grasp of strategy in this war. Non-violent ways to deal with the deepstalkers include filling in holes and destroying egg nests, though the matriarch dislikes that as much as the spiders do. The two groups do not get along and will fight each other as eagerly as they'll fight Riftwatch—maybe that could be turned to the organization's advantage?

IV. CONFRONTING CATHARSIS

When the "delegation" to confront the spirit keeping the agents asleep find it, they will find that it...isn't a very scary spirit at all. Catharsis looks and sounds for all the world like a friendly old man, and it's as stubborn as one to boot. It has places to be, you know! There's not very many spirits of Catharsis around, and it's one of the oldest—it's needed in so many places, but it decided to help here because boy, do you all need it. It's happy to let the sleeping agents wake up... once they've untangled the knot it's helping them work on, and not a moment before! That would mean it hadn't helped, and it's here to help! What do you mean this isn't helping, of course it is.

© tessisamess

Comments

[dirthsal]

"No," he says again, immediate, sharp with the pain of it. But the babe's eyes flicker between elf-wide and human-dull; the shell of her ear curls round and then points, indecisive. He could have this, at least, if not Bela or his parents or his sisters or the Keeper or—this, at least, something to protect and adore and keep for his own—

Charlotte resolves into her human shape and he pushes her at Isaac, his eyes firmly focused away from the bundle in his arms.

"Love is worth having," Talin insists, hard with the edge of someone who's lost it, "give her that."

It's all he had to give his daughter but it was enough, it must have been enough. She'd curled her bloody hand around his finger, uncoordinated and soft with her newness, as she'd wailed her introduction to the clan, and the point of the world had opened up to him then, the why of his whole existence: to love and love and love her his whole life long. She was such a good baby, choleric and smiling in every memory he's ever been able to bring himself to linger on, uncaring of the lack their People lived with because she had all that mattered. She had love.

Charlotte must be loved by someone who will see her as clearly as he sees Sulana.

[wythersake]

"It's not enough."

The smile belongs to an older man, gravity collecting lines. Charlotte has never wanted for love: A mother, a father, brothers and sisters; perhaps one or two more deluded servants,

(Whatever he should count for.)

She has love, and she has the lie. It isn't enough. Talin presses her out, and she yanks his thumb, stubborn from the womb.

"Kell," A man's voice, Orlesian, lilting with money. "Who are you speaking to?"

Talin presses her out, and Charlotte pulls. Isaac hesitates. He hesitates, and new hands enfold her; broad and strong, at once between them. Past them. Gone.

The Lord of the house bundles his daughter away.

A noise cracks from his throat. Isaac lunges after, and the taste of wine shifts odd, and the fist that seizes Talin's shoulder is mailed; its grip tight.

as always, feel free to drop if you're not feeling it anymore!

[dirthsal]

"It is," he hisses, enough, and he lunges after Charlotte in tandem with Isaac; the fist lands heavy and cold on his shoulder and he snarls, furious, a trapped animal.

He turns, whirling and shoving, trying to dislodge the grip holding him in place, but the hand doesn't waver. No matter how precise or wild he becomes, how violent or gentle, he can't get free, and he can't see who is holding him back. Talin tires, and Charlotte gets further away, and Isaac—

"Do something," he cries, eyes wild and wet and desperate, "don't let them take her, she's yours, do something! Fight!"