entrancelogs | [OPEN] He's searched the surface for an exit.

Entry tags:

[OPEN] He's searched the surface for an exit.

Who: Cullen Rutherford & YOU
Where: The Deep Roads
When: 5/5 to 5/9
Rating: up to R for violence
Summary: Cullen is a loyal collector of the Worst Things in Thedas series, but for over ten years the Blight has steadily eluded him. Now Wonderland is finally giving him a chance to complete his ensemble.
The Story:

5/5 - ( Closed to Anders )

The day is a nightmare long before Cullen hears the news. Shards of glass in his veins, where the lyrium ought to be. He doesn't rise from his bed before noon, before the living cards' strange appearance makes sense. Then he laboriously packs supplies, because all he knows is this: Something rose from the ground last time, something rises from it now. If the surface doesn't hold answers to their prison, then perhaps the space below will.

And he knows he can't do it alone. Couldn't, not on his better days. Not even when he's halfway out of pain's grip by the afternoon. Cullen makes a point of standing up straighter when he walks up to the fourth floor. He knows exactly which group of people he must ask, but the specifics make him question his own choice. There are others, he reminds himself, even as he stops in front of the mage's room.

Is saving room on torches really worth this? he asks again, but his hand is already a fist, and makes three sharp knocks against the door. Cullen swallows down the urge to announce himself. He'd rather see that door open once, before it gets slammed in his face again.

A) 5/7 - Tunnels

His steps sound remarkably small on the smooth floors of those massive roads, until a cave-in blocks the path ahead. With no way through the rubble he takes to a side passage, narrow tunnels dug through the rock. He barely rounds the first corner, when he hears the sound of a fighter - and sees the number of darkspawn no man ought to fight alone.

The leeway for strategy is narrow. Cullen charges ahead with a booming outcry, and lets his sword and shield clash together challengingly. "Over here!"

He sees the spawn turn his way, some more readily than others. The strategy, apparently, is this: Divert their attention, and hope that two of them will be enough to stand against the group.

B) 5/8 - Camp

Alone the campside brings neither rest nor relief, but needs must as much as they can. He risks a small fire, and tends to his wounds. Negligible, save for his arm, where an emissary's lightning seared its mark into his flesh. He slathers on some of the ointment he brought, and wraps it in what little clean cloth he has left. Good enough.

Cullen breathes a quiet sigh, and leans back against cold stone. Eyes and ears focused intently on the darkness he reaches for the rations in his pack.

C) 5/? - ???

[ Prompt me! Cullen will be down and available in the Deep Roads from 5/6 to the very end of the event, so encounter him wherever and however you like! Prose or brackets are fine, contact me if you'd like me to set up a starter for you. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There is nothing enjoyable about the Deep Roads. Life underground was not, is not, will never be for Morrigan; she has learned that lesson well enough. She could have done without this reminder.

Her attempt at rest on the third day leads to perhaps half an hour of light sleep, that much brought on by exhaustion, but she wakes to the metallic song of swords nearby. Rising quickly from her makeshift bed, she shoulders her supplies and follows the sound. It is not the first battle she has joined in these passages, but recognizing Cullen behind his raised shield is more of a surprise.

"Commander!" she shouts, all instinct, a warning for him and a distraction for the enemy. Her hands spread, the space between her fingers crackling, and lightning pours out, arcing to the shriek that circles Cullen and then forking to the two hurlocks ahead and finally the genlock archer beyond.

The Deep Roads are no place to travel alone - nor is Wonderland's likeness of them. Cullen knows it well enough, and started his journey with a companion, but ways got separated time and time again. Between abandoning the tunnels and venturing deeper alone he chooses the latter. The risk must be worth it, he thinks, even when the larger group of darkspawn catches him by surprise.

The risk will be worth it, he thinks through clenched teeth, and stops before 'if he survives' can be amended. Two genlocks advance, and he makes short work of them. An arrow splinters on his breastplate, and he hurriedly raises his shield. Two more ahead of him already, the group advancing too quickly to--

"Lady Morrigan!"

They all turn their heads at the sound. Only he draws the right conclusion on time. Magic thunders past him, and Cullen stands rigid as it find its targets around him. Soon the last bright crackle strikes, and he jumps back into action. One swift arc of his blade beheads the shriek (which he'd yet to notice before, Maker). One hurlock has already been brought down by her lightning, the other still spasms. Cullen slams his shield into it for good measure, and considers his new options with a cursory glance.

"The passage behind you, is it clear?"

After more than a few occasions where she met with Leliana, the Commander, and Lady Montilyet over a war table, there is one thing -- precisely one thing -- that she greatly appreciates about Cullen: he has little time for nonsense. When he is not being unreasonably cautious about eluvians.

"For thirty paces." The archer ahead of them may have shuddered to its knees but still has the audacity to reach for another arrow. The fireball that erupts from her palm puts an abrupt, if noisy, end to it. Scorched darkspawn flesh does not smell pleasant, but it does satisfy a very frustrated part of her. "Perhaps more."

That much is all she can guarantee, but it seems better than the alternative. She is fairly certain she has never known a shriek to travel without others of its kind, a fact that keeps her from letting her guard down. Casting rock armor on herself first is reflexive, skin briefly feeling as though it thickens into a kind of bark. "Unless you prefer the company of darkspawn, I suggest you follow," she adds, sparing a moment to cast a barrier on him.

She did her part to keep Alistair alive first during the Blight and again hours ago within these very tunnels. She will do no less here and now.

The last Cullen heard at Halamshiral was that the Inquisition had inherited Celene's arcane advisor, to aid in their own cause. And then Wonderland drew him in, now weeks ago, with the news barely digested. Dimly he remembers that he'd hoped to speak with Leliana about her former travel companion, first. That he'd hoped for a moment to speak to Lady Morrigan herself, and that he'd probably been so very naive as to imagine their introduction would be set by daylight, without the company of darkspawn. That they would speak somewhere in Thedas, too, he adds with an unseen frown.

The fireball crashes into the tunnel beyond, and briefly illuminates some of its adjoining tunnels, and the snarling faces within. If stand or retreat was up for debate before, then the matter is very plainly settled now.

And yet it is still an improvement over Orlais.

"Lead the way," Cullen calls out and starts to close the distance, bristling when her magic encases him, because he had his own guard perfectly well in hand- is an objection he considers raising, until a razor-sharp blade slashes at his side from the darkness, and scrapes uselessly at the barrier.

(Cullen will set some time aside to be annoyed about the timing of this later.)

With a monstrous howl the shriek arcs out for another attack. Cullen ducks halfway underneath the strike, and severs the creature's arm. It wails furiously, and lunges again. He catches its body on his shield, and slams it back against the rocky walls. A crack of bones, and it falls down limply at his feet.

Behind him the darkness comes to life with the next group of spawn, and Cullen hurriedly follows Lady Morrigan down the path.

A fine idea this has been: descend into the darkspawn-filled depths once more, as though she was not fortunate to avoid the taint during the Blight, and spend time with templars and those foolish enough not to avoid it. She feels no less certain that this place was not created entirely to try her patience.

Turning away, she conjures a single spell wisp that hovers slightly overhead to provide a much-needed boost to her power and cast a bit more light through the dim passage, and then she begins to double back with hurried steps. She only glances over her shoulder when the anguished wail gives her pause. Cullen, she imagines, would sound far more human if he screamed in pain, but she has no actual desire to see him with a shriek's claw piercing his chest. In truth, she finds it more than a little surprising that a man traveling these tunnels alone -- one man who is not a Warden and who she imagines to have little gift for stealth -- has not already succumbed.

"Careful," she calls back toward him. "Some shrieks coat their claws with poisons made from their own blood."

And avoiding their blood is, she hopes, a warning she does not need to offer. Though she did not have a good look at him, she did not recognize the unenviable complexion of one suffering from corruption in their blood. It cannot be sheer luck.

The flicker of light catches his attention, and while Jowan's now learned enough caution that he doesn't immediately rush towards it, he does dare to feel a little hopeful from the sight. Darkspawn, from what he's seen so far, don't seem to be going around lighting torches or making camp fires, so he's more hopeful that it's another person down here instead.

All the same, he tries to remain quiet as he approaches, and thinks he doesn't do too bad a job of it (although someone more practised at listening for signs might disagree).

When he sees who it is he, oddly enough, feels more relieved than anything. A templar seems a safer bet than most down here, with the exception of a warden, and even if the man doesn't trust him - entirely warranted, Jowan feels - it's better than being alone.

"Cullen?" he ventures, moving close enough to be seen and casting a searching look at the other man. "That is you, isn't it?"

After a while Cullen finds it difficult to determine which sounds in the dark are real, and which are imagined. Once he narrows his eyes, because he thinks he can hear the approach of quiet footsteps. Soon he reaches for his sword, because a silhouette actually emerges from the shadows. And then Cullen hears the voice, and doesn't entirely know if he has cause to lower the blade, or grip it tighter.

"Jowan." Cullen frowns. He answers by leaning closer into the light, and looking at the new arrival warily. Pulls his sword closer to his side, but lets go of the hilt. Surprise, truthfully, outweighs suspicion at the moment.

"You're down here. And alone? Why?"

It's not the first time he's been asked that, and Jowan imagines it's not going to be the last either. As much as it bothers him, he also knows it's something he brought on himself. He's spent so much time running from his problems, here and in Thedas, it's no wonder that people think he'd do the same here. More than half the time he still wants to himself.

But he has to at least try to make a change somewhere, doesn't he? Even if it means trying to hold himself a little straighter as he meets Cullen's gaze, feeling for all the world like an apprentice caught sneaking out of classes.

"I wanted to see if it led anywhere, like back to Thedas," he says, moving a bit closer to the fire and the safety it offers. "I didn't think there'd be as many darkspawn as there are. Why are you down here alone?"

"We were separated. I wasn't able to join anyone else, until now."

There is a long beat before 'until now' comes, but it does, because the alternative is sending Jowan away. Not a sure death sentence, but the possibility is great enough that he can't speak it in good conscience.

"A way back. I was looking for that, as well."

If not a literal part, then at least information that might lead to it. Something, anything Wonderland would normally seek to keep hidden underneath the surface. So far he has remained deeply unsuccessful.

Cullen nods at the bedroll he sits on.

"If you need to rest, I suggest you do it now."

He doesn't plan on sleeping, and will move on soon enough.

Jowan flashes Cullen an immediate, grateful smile at the welcome, cautious as it is. He understands entirely why it's cautious though, and doesn't blame him for it. Honestly, he's grateful that the templar is trusting him as much as he does, particularly considering Jowan's record.

He heads over to the bedroll, sitting down on it and scooting a bit closer to the fire, hands out to warm himself more. The flickering light makes clear the faint scars on the palm of his hand, an ever-present reminder of why Cullen has every reason not to trust him and with a jolt, Jowan recalls the little vial he'd found earlier in his adventures down here. He'd been shocked by the discovery, horrified as well and had almost broken it all over again, but... another part of him pointed out that he had wanted for everything to go back to how it was, hadn't he? And the vial represented a point where everything had gone so horribly wrong. He couldn't help but feel like breaking it again would only make everything worse like it had before.

But there is a way that's different and might go a lot further in helping Cullen, and likely anyone else here from Thedas that knew his past, feel safer around him, and would ensure that if he did ever lose himself... it would be easier to stop him.

"Cullen," he says, then clears his throat as nerves make a lump that's hard to speak past. "I... I found something down here and I think you should have it."

Reaching into his robes, Jowan finds where he'd stuffed the vial and draws it out, offering it to the other man. "Please? In case anything happens and I'm not... me any more."

sometime 5/8? can work the emissary in if you feel like it!

sounds gr8 let's do it! o9

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Camp

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late 5/8

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5/8

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