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]

[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?