OPEN ★ ARRIVAL LOG

[futurologists]

ARRIVALS ( OCT 2 ) The dragons are taken from you, sent off to a safe haven. You're back in Oska for less than a day when you hear the announcement and head to the rendezvous point. You blink, step through the portal, there's a loud crack, and... You're thrown into darkness. You taste copper and, for a moment, your ears won't stop ringing. All common side-effects of portal travel. The entire crew arrives just beyond the city gates, so you might also be feeling a little bit claustrophobic. It takes a second for the eyes to adjust, but one can make out buildings and the cobblestone beneath their feet. To the right is the Trade District, where all the vendors are gathered to sell their wares. Up ahead is the City Square, where the rest of the citizens out and about seem to be gathered. To the left of the square is the Commoners' District, and to the right of it is the Nobles' District, the two main residential areas. Further travel west will come to the outskirts, a makeshift residential area, this one densely populated with goblins. Many of the people are holding candles or lanterns. You might want to try getting your hands on one of those. If you have not already done so, your enchanted jewelry will manifest words in front of your very eyes — or sounds in your ear, if you're illiterate — asking you to identify yourself. A quick look around shows that you seem to be the only one able to see it. All you have to do is think or say how you wish to be identified. After that, you're immediately given a message. Those who participated in the dragon mission at Anwick will first receive this: We appreciate your help at Anwick. The wyrmlings will live to grow up and bring about the world's natural end. Thank you. -- ALASTAIR Afterwards, the crew will be given an abridged version of this, then told to familiarize themselves with the city and natives, report all information gathered back to ALASTAIR, and wait for further instruction. At the end of the night, wherever they may be, everyone will receive a letter with the royal seal thanking them for their efforts to end the goblins' defiance and inviting them to the Festival of Illumination on the 4th. FESTIVAL OF ILLUMINATION ( OCT 4 ) Candles are sitting on windowsills throughout the entire city, but the main event is in the city square. In the fountain float lit lotuses, and people all around are holding lanterns, waiting to light them. There's a minstrel playing songs, and several of the vendors have pulled their carts up to the square in the hopes of making a sale. Many sweets are for sale, including baked apples, gingerbread, cherry tarts, pudding, and more. There's also some drinks for sale. Some children are playing games in the corner, and others are dancing to the music or writing wishes on slips of paper to be sent into the sky with their lanterns. Everyone seems merry for once, but you'd better be careful. This is an ideal place for a pickpocket. About an hour and a half into the festival, the lanterns are sent into the sky. They're sent flying, the sky becoming filled with bright lights, until... A strong gust of wind sends all the lights out. At least, you think it was a gust of wind. What else could have done that? On closer inspection, however, you'll see that even the candles sitting on windowsills inside have gone out. For a minute or so, there's only darkness and chaos. Suddenly, the flames begin to burn again, revealing a message in the cobblestone in the center of the square. It almost looks as if it's been burned into the ground: IT IS COMING, followed by a symbol of a creature with a lion's head, goat's body, and serpent's tail. [MOD NOTE: This is a catch-all log for the first few days. For the sake of organization, all arrival threads should be posted under the subheader ARRIVALS and all festival threads should be posted under FESTIVAL. Threads that don't fall under either of those categories can be top-levels. Also, please remember to add your character's tag to the post! Thank you, and have fun!]

Comments

[lethen]

[His vision tunnels, then opens back up. The taste in his mouth is familiar, but when he drags his tongue across his teeth there's no blood to spit out. The ringing hurts his head. Whatever has happened, he recognizes he's no longer where he used to be. Again dragged to an unfamiliar landscape--Anwick wasn't this dark for the brief period of time spent there. Kirkwall as never this dark, except perhaps in Lowtown's grimiest corners.

The bracelet speaks to him, something he's learned to expect although he doesn't understand what sort of magic fuels it, if any. It's a valuable source of information. Fenris isn't surprised when he hears about the dragons. It was what he expected from destructive creatures. What unsettles him is why they were saved, why this ALISTAIR sought a 'natural end'.

It doesn't matter. More immediately, his gaze scans the surrounding crowd, but he recognizes none of the faces around him. The need to escape this cluster of strangers presses upon him, and he takes two steps before he's stopped by a voice at his back. Fenris turns, frowning.]

Why? [He doesn't know the woman, but her appearance is... unique. It almost reminds him of a Dalish elf, except for the lack of pointed ears. He can't place her accent.] Who are you?

[adlantisag]

[ She pauses to regard the man speaking, and finds--a man, yes, wide-eyed and dusky, pale tattoos peeking out from his collar, his face framed with white hair. He looks, she thinks almost immediately, Atlantean, but for those slender ears and that ugly metal plate he wears. ]

Adlantisag? [ She speaks before she considers it, hopes--but then shakes her head, turns away. He is no Atlantean. She knows all her people by name. ] I am Kidagakash. I am--[ She motions to the people scattered around them. As she ends the circular gesture, her hand remains suspended in the air between them, her palm open, fingers towards him. ]--with you.

[ 'With you' is perhaps not the most eloquent way to express it, but it's enough to convey that she's an ally, even if a temporary one. She isn't against him. She turns away from him, moving back towards the city. The marketplace is where people go to trade: you can learn a lot about a place from what goods are made and marketed there, and the kinds of people that sell them. ] If you think you will find answers out here, you are welcome to stay.

[ But she will not be idle, and she's soon taking up her spear again, walking away from him. 'Why?' indeed--why not? She would rather seek than be sought. Let him make his choice. ]

[lethen]

[The word doesn't translate. It's not anything he recognizes, a fragment of another tongue he's never learned or heard in his life. The incomprehension on his face is chased by wary caution, body language tense and guarded as the woman introduces herself. Kidagakash.

She says she's with him. According to the force that sent them all here, it's true. It doesn't make them allies, but he senses no threat from her, although his dark gaze lingers on the length of that spear. He has his own greatsword on his back, a solid and welcome weight; he can defend himself if necessary.

Then she's walking. It takes him a few moments to decide whether he's going to follow, but he does. Something about that commanding lead is familiar. And it's smart--there's nothing to be gained standing at these gates and waiting for answers that won't come.]

Do you believe anyone in the marketplace will be willing to speak to you? [He's genuinely curious.] I'm not certain we can expect a warm welcome.

[Fenris is close behind her now, his strides purposeful.] Kidagakash. [He says it slowly, to get the pronunciation right.] Your markings. Where are you from?

[adlantisag]

[ It takes a second, but he comes after her. She hears him come up, his steps against the cobblestones like banging metal pots. Unlike Fenris, Kida has little tension in her body; she meets this world unafraid as she does everything else. She trusts herself completely. She's lived through so much failure and managed success despite it, that now she finds herself without a care to give for the danger. Besides which, even if every townsperson turned against them, they would run, strategize, return--more than one way to solve a puzzle. That her companion himself might pose a threat takes up little space in her mind. His body language betrays his frustration, but not with her.

She cants her head, her eyes sliding sideways to examine him through her bangs, then past his face to whence they came. Fifty-odd foreigners on their door as conflict rises? I do not think they will open their arms! But that does not mean they cannot try. It's in Kida's nature to be optimistic, and she's been given more opportunities with which to challenge her people's fate in the last hour than in the last millenium. She doesn't intend to waste it.

He says her name, and something vague as approval curls in her chest. She has given her nickname to some, struggling with the long form, but he does not struggle, so she doesn't offer the alternative. It's such a small thing, a token of respect, a name—but that he attempts it is good enough. ]

I am of Atlantis. My tattoos were given to me when I was small. [ She says it with only half a mind; in truth, she hardly remembers getting them, part of some ritual to celebrate her birth.

Her gaze has returned to the town, picking up the curls in the etched wood of the homes, thatched roofs, laid brick, clothing, the gleam of weapons, the strange animals penned in. Each sight so fresh, so new as to be difficult to look away from. Her companion seems to fit in here more than she does. She turns her shoulders to look at him again. ]

And yours? [ They raise the flesh lightly, unlike her own which lie smooth. ] Where are you from?

[lethen]

[Tattoos, not vallaslin or anything as magically potent, although he's surprised to hear she's had them many years. It implies a culture of identity behind the marks. The name of Atlantis holds no meaning to him, but he's beginning to suspect none of his own names, none of the places or words or languages he knows, will inspire any recognition in this woman. They've come from different worlds.

It should unsettle him. To a degree it does, but not enough to destabilize his focus on the predicament at hand. He's come to terms with it as much as possible in the last few days of upheaval--he's faced situations of unfamiliarity and uncertainty more contemptible than this in the past. And he realizes he's not a target. No one is after his throat, no one even seems to know who he is or where he's come. That anonymity is an advantage.

Fenris hasn't shared himself with the others. He doesn't trust them; they've done nothing to earn his trust, but neither is he hiding himself. He's long since learned not to hide or run.

While Kida watches their surroundings, he gauges her in open appraisal. The market isn't new to him, and in fact these surroundings remind him keenly of Kirkwall, except perhaps the blanketed darkness.]

A place you won't know, if my suspicions are correct. [As for the other question, he doesn't hesitate.] They are lyrium markings. Scarred into my flesh a long time ago by the man who kept me as a slave. He is dead now.

[Sometimes he says it to remind himself. His voice is very clear, and very low, almost growling. But not with anger--resentment, maybe.]

I came from a city called Kirkwall, but the last I saw of it, it was in flames.

[adlantisag]

[ Kida's people are so far removed from whatever the reality is on the surface that even were she to encounter those from her own Earth, it would be as if they were from another world. Her qualms on the subject are nonexistent, as both her 'crewmates' and the townspeople exist in the same sphere that is not-Atlantis. Kida carries only her willingness to look outwards and forwards; foreigners were what she knew could bring her people the perspective, the knowledge they needed. As soon as the first, singular moment of recognition had passed and gone between them, Kida looked upon Fenris just as he was before her: strange, but not unknowable.

His story evokes a bleak fury that uncoils in her breast, and Kida fails to imagine the darkness of the mind to create such a system. It is a thing for surface-dwellers. Still, her energy is better used elsewhere, so she she spits on the ground as if to eject the feeling. She explains curtly: ]

For his soul, may it rot forgotten.

[ A powerful invective, coming from someone who has lived through the birth and fall of more than one empire. She folds away the word 'lyrium' to ask about later. She is sorry for the state of his city; privately, she thinks it good that it should burn down rather than be gangrened away into ruins, but she isn't so insensitive as to say so. Perhaps, if he is lucky, Kirkwall will be standing still when he returns. Perhaps, if she is very lucky, she will have the same. ]

We can only hope Kirkwall's fate doesn't befall this place. Why was it on fire?

[lethen]

[Slavery is a point of contention in his world, although outlawed everywhere but the Imperium. Even where it's banned, slave trafficking thrives. He's accustomed to it even if he isn't tolerant. Her blatant display of disgust is... not what he expects. The corner of his mouth lifts before he can hide the flicker of amusement. Dry and empty humor over a dark topic he hates, but still there nonetheless. He approves.

Speaking of Kirkwall only reminds him of all that went wrong, but he doesn't shy away from it. If anything, it's an omen to this place they've now found themselves.]

There was... an explosion, after years of conflict that could have been avoided. My companions and I were forced to flee, or else be captured and possibly killed for our insubordination.

Whatever magic fuels these artifacts-- [Fenris brandishes the bracelet he's wearing, black corded leather with the silver face of an animal.] --it spoke about what's happening here. A struggle between the humans who rule and hold power, and the goblins who pray to their god, Ydite. I suppose that in a way Kirkwall was similar.

[Different, too. Mages and templars are not goblins and humans. Ydite is not Andraste. He shakes his head.]

I didn't give you my name. It is Fenris. Have you met anyone familiar to you? Another from your home, Atlantis.

[adlantisag]

[ Fenris. She mouths that name, wonders how its syllables can sound so familiar and so foreign. She cannot picture Kirkwall only from his words, but she imagines it a bit like Odette before her now, mostly stone and wood, perhaps also with vast looming manors and stained-glass windows and pebbled streets. She wonders how literal the explosion he mentioned was, or if he meant something like a surge of hot emotion, something that precipitated conflict like a spark to dry wood. To be truthful, his story only serves to create more questions: who were these companions? Whom were they all meant to be serving? Insubordination?

It's difficult for Kida to stay focused when all she wants to do is ask, ask, ask. ]

No. [ There's a note of relief when she says it. ] No, I have not seen any of my people here. They are safe at home, I can only hope. [ That she's been pulled here is bad enough; she needs as many of her hunters and warriors and fishers back in the city as possible. Life must continue without her. ]

My people live without war, but also without contact with the outside. [ Therefore, without conflict, without change, without new life. ] At the bottom of the ocean, we live locked away from the surface, never changing. Since the Flood, I've watched our civilization decline. [ If she sounds bitter, it's because she most certainly is. Her tone is sour and filled with longing. She looks around her and despite the darkness, she sees life, she sees a city on its knees but not bent. ] Our city was glorious, and now it lies in shambles, ignored and silent.

[ Her tone has sharpened, the 's' in silent nearly a hiss. Recognizing she's spoke too much, and her emotions are rising, she turns her face away, her mouth pulled in a thin, angry line. She raises an open, empty hand between them, a pacifying gesture to tell him nothing is wrong besides a lowering of her mood. ] I am sorry, Fenris. I feel strongly on this.

[ Her people wait. All the more reason, she thinks, to get that sun back in the sky. ]

[lethen]

[My people. It's a phrase he's often heard used to describe Dalish clans--bearing a sense of belonging and isolation both. It's as foreign an idea to him now as it was back in Kirkwall. He's under no illusions that Hawke and the others are his "people," given their disagreements and personal identities. Kirkwall itself held too many fragments groups: mages and templars, humans and dwarves and elves and Qunari, the Alienage and the gangs of Lowtown. It had drawn in a colorful variety, begetting disaster. Too many minds. Too much power shifting hands.

Fenris finds himself rapt through the explanation. He can't imagine it. He shakes his head at what she says.]

I may not understand, but there's no need for an apology. [Not when it's clear how important this is. The life and death of an entire civilization is significant. It makes him wonder what her city looks like, what sort of culture lives there.

Fenris stops at a vendor selling colorful spices. He sniffs his nose, inhaling the fragrant wares, then glances at Kida as though something's occurred to him.] What do you mean, the bottom of the ocean? How is that possible?

[adlantisag]

[ Her hand makes a circle as she explains, as if demonstrating the arch of stone that protects them. ]

Atlantis was vast, a great civilization, but the gods grew jealous, or so the stories say. [ Kida isn't sure how much she believes in gods--what can she say the gods have ever done for her? ]

A great Disaster swept over us, sinking our city. [ The capital letter is almost audible, given the reverence with which she says it. ] It was centuries ago--I was small, I barely remember it...

[ A great star, light, heat. Seawater everywhere, her father's robes, her mother's hand. Kida, don't look! ] Shouting, and light... Now Atlantis is but one city, laid out beneath the earth in a great cavern, guarded by a volcano. The ocean stretches over us. Getting in and out is almost impossible.

[ As she speaks, recounting an age-old story, she runs her hand over the various baubles at market, fascinated by intricate glassware and shining jewels and weapons. Everything's so different--Atlantis' market had been selling the same wares for years, for centuries. The same stone, the same gold, the same crystal and earthware and fabrics. Even just the smell is enough to transport her. ]

[lethen]

[Centuries ago? His gaze flickers toward her, scrutinizing, full of question and incomprehension she describes her world. The idea of life lasting that long is only a myth in his world. He's heard of ancient elves, magic and immortality, but there was never substantial evidence. He's never cared for the past. He's never considered himself one of the people. Why should he?

Fenris does his best to imagine it. A city at the bottom of the ocean. It makes him feel trapped, and he shifts with discomfort, eyes wandering their surroundings. There are village children playing in the road. It reminds him of Kirkwall. But children never played in the dark there.]

Your city sounds impossible, not that I doubt you. It's admirable your people have survived. You feel strongly about this--perhaps there's something you can still do. [He glances at Kida, turning his head.] And now you're here.

[Thinking about it for a moment, Fenris takes a few steps, then frowns.]

There are similar legends where I am from. It's said that the elves were once the dominant race, long ago. I am one--an elf, that is. [It's awkward to make that clarification, but he realizes it's not common knowledge anymore.] They lived forever. They wielded magic as effortlessly as they breathed.

[He can't fathom it. He'd never want to live in that world, but he wonders whether his outlook would be different if he was born into it, rather than enslaved after it.]

Eventually they fell. Most of that history is lost, but some elves cling to glorified ideas of what they once were. I see no point to it. It will not change the present, or the future.

[adlantisag]

[ Words of encouragement don't mean much from a relative stranger, but she senses he's genuine and it cheers her somewhat. He's right; as long as she's alive she has the capacity to fight for her people's chance at a better life, and she will. His voice, low and rhythmic, pulls her along its cadence and as he describes the long road of his people she finds herself nodding. ]

It is important to know where you come from, to know where you are going. [ She says it methodically. It's something she fundamentally believes in, because she can't divorce her quest for betterment with her pride for her people and her culture—she wants them to change only so long as they may return to knowledge and to enlightenment, not if it means abandoning themselves. Atlantis will rise again if it can connect to its past. If only they hadn't lost all that knowledge...

She wonders about his people; the picture he paints isn't a kind one. Is that his own bias talking, or if the elves truly are mired, wallowing in faded glory. ]

But you must adapt. Atlantis' weakness is its exile. If we could only reach the surface... [ She clenches her fist around the pendant at her neck, feeling its warmth, nails digging into the skin of her palms. ] What happened to them, your people? What struck them down?