There's no trace of the tear through the Veil that once existed here, the air as clean and undisturbed as it was before. There are, however, signs, if you know where to look for them. Blasted, black-tinged rock. Unstable patches of earth.

But the first order of business is to scout the area, starting small, and then expanding. The immediate central point is within range enough of the tempestuous ocean enough to hear it crashing on craggy rock, but far out enough that the going isn't too wet. This patch of land is all sand and sea-shattered pebble and shell, with a sheer cliff-wall that rises up on the inland side, pockmarked from weather.

Blood lotus and spindleweed grow in thick batches between the rocks, more towards where sea water floods through the cracks and forms shallow pools, but this is nothing very notable save for anyone who wants to harvest some and win some points with the medics and alchemists. What everyone has been instructed to look out for are Fade-touched materials, any sign of fauna or flora that seems strange or altered, and in specific, the unlikely but possible evidence of Deep Mushrooms growing nearby.

And there are. The Wounded Coast, beyond just being the place the land meets the sea, is a mess of natural caverns, tunnels, and caves. Giant cracks in the stony ground make tight passageways to squeeze through, and shallow caves filled with stagnant water make for physically laborious exploration. Some of the deeper caverns seem to have been developed at one time or another, with aged wooden steps built into steeper pathways, or metal hooks hammered into rocky walls that once held lanterns or equipment. And in some of these, the glowing fingers of Deep Mushroom grow sporadic out from the rock.

If you look at it on a map, you'll notice something odd. The exact location of the rift that regurgitated Naomi Nagata is fairly central to a few of the identified cavern entrances. It's decided, then, for a lack of other leads, to make some careful investigations.

The ones that flourish with Deep Mushrooms are those that run deepest. A couple are flooded beyond hope, and some have the evidence of strategic collapse, rubble compacted into tunnels to prevent further exploration. Others lead into empty caverns with the evidence of decades old mining work, exhausted of its resources. If you are extremely lucky, you'll find your torch burning through an unexpected patch of thick spider webbing, and the inevitability of a dog-sized arachnid dropping from the ceiling.

Deep Mushrooms flourish all the same, lighting up the walls with bioluminescence.

A working vacation requires that you work, but by definition, also that you vacation.

There is a temporary camping site set up that, during the day, acts as a centralised location to gather materials, study maps, organise groups, get something to eat. The Wounded Coast is near enough to Kirkwall that feasibly, anyone participating in these tasks could make a day trip of it, but it is likewise easier to bed down overnight while the weather is not awful.

And if you do, there are kegs of ale available, and fresh meat and fish roasted over open flame, and friendly bonfires dotting the rocky landscape—and in such a pattern that they can watch their perimeter against particularly brave bandits, or other kinds of threats that might try to ruin the vibe. Although the chill of last month's blizzarding hasn't left the air, there seems to be a marked enough improvement that makes the early evenings pleasant, with sunsets staining overcast skies, the meditative crash of waves in the distance and the bright smell of salt and earth and rain mingling with beer, fat, and flame.

The tents are sturdy things but not especially plentiful. You might make your own arrangements, or wind up sharing with a colleague. They fit comfortably two or three adults.