OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

[faderifting]

WHO: New Rifters & Inquisition Members
WHAT: A journey south to make new friends and kick some ass
WHEN: Drakonis 15-25
WHERE: Sunless Lands
NOTES: Violence and language assumed. Warn for anyting else. OOC post.

The Sunless Lands are not, in fact, sunless. This time of year there can be as many as eight hours of daylight, some of it blinding where it reflects off of snow and ice that stretches from the southern edge of the Kocari Wilds as far as anyone can see, broken only occasionally by rocky masses of land jutting out of the snow cover or barren tundra peeking out in patches where constant, unforgiving wind has pushed it aside. You'll be traversing this span primarily on foot—there are sleighs, too, pulled by hardy dogs, but they're carrying essential supplies rather than spare people. The only way to get a ride is to successfully feign passing out.

Beyond the dogs, the area isn't devoid of native wildlife: white fennecs hunt rodents underground, and a herd of excessively fluffy wild druffalo is seeking out whatever vegetation it can find. But hunting down a meal or two early and preserving rations for further south would not be a bad idea, because the further south the team travels, the more inhospitable the terrain grows, and the less life can be seen. And sometimes not much of anything can be seen, when clouds roll by and burst with snow thick enough to halt progress entirely for hours.

The nights are cloudy as often as clear, but when they are clear the sky is split by green and purple ribbons of light.

I. THE RESCUE

Two days' journey south, the monotonously icy horizon is broken by something new: smoke rising in interrupted puffs, an intentional signal. Someone is out there. Chances are, it's the rifters, with or without their first group of intended rescuers. But there's no way to be sure. And approaching with caution is wise either way. Rifters have strange powers (and strange personalities), and they've been out here for days now, dealing with demons and Maker knows what else on their own. For all anyone knows, they could be the reason for the rescue team's disappearance. Orders are to approach carefully.

Then, once contact has been made and initial concerns have been allayed, make sure those poor people have something to eat, and try to figure out where their original rescuers disappeared to.

II. THE STORM

After the rifters are recovered, there's still the matter of the red lyrium mine to address. Another two days' journey south will put the group within good range of the mine: not so close as to be seen, but close enough to be able to get there in a couple of hours as needed.

Halfway there, however, in the middle of the day, progress comes to an abrupt half when the darkest clouds yet gather suddenly on the horizon and barrel down on the group, bringing with them a glut of snow that reduces visibility to only a few feet and wind that roars so loudly you have to shout to be heard. Magic can help some with heat, but the storm shows little sign of quickly abating and with hours of deadly cold conditions to deal with, digging in and getting cozy for a few hours might be the most feasible solution for everyone.

III. THE VILLAGE

Shortly before the point everyone is aiming for—one marked by an enormous stone carving of an owl, several times taller than a man, that's inexplicably been left by the ancients in the center of the tundra—something else appears not far to the west. On closer inspection, it turns out to be a circle of low-sitting animal-skin tents pressed down into the snow to protect them from wind, rocky fire pits, and abandoned sleighs. Overall, it's a cross between camp and village indicative of a nomadic group that's staying a while but not forever.

It's empty now, with a coating of snow on most of the structures that indicates it's been at least a few days since anyone was here. Closer inspection reveals personal belongings inside the tents, including toys and clothing belonging to children—and, in many tents, chunks of red lyrium in the center or beneath the skins that form the beds, each piece emanating heat. They probably thought it was safer than fire.

Wherever they went, they don't come back while the Inquisition is there. But the activity does get noticed. A few hours after arrival, enormous white bears apparently moving in a pack come within a hundred yards of the camp and pace at a distance, watching the interlopers with wary interest. Some of them are wearing collars or harnesses decorated in the same style as the tents. For enough food, they may come closer, and they'll turn out to be abnormally tame.

IV. THE BATTLE

The red lyrium mine that Corypheus' followers built when their operations were crippled in Emprise du Lion is nestled in an icy canyon, with massive scaffolding built up the sides of the cliff and too many cages to count, though few of them hold living prisoners anymore. It's a massive operation, but one that's been crippled by its distance from civilization. It's sparsely guarded compared to its size, and other than the cliffs, it has minimal natural protection. The enemy has magic-silencing Templars, enormous behemoths, and a chained white-furred giant, but they are clearly not prepared to be attacked.

Ahead of the onslaught, traps are set and any surviving prisoners are evacuated under cover of darkness. Everyone else sent to fight either creeps down shortly before dawn, rappelling quietly to avoid notice in the dark, or waits at the top for the first surprise strike to provide enough distraction for them to descend more openly. If anyone has been particularly nice to the bears (see above) then it is entirely possible they'll allow themselves to be ridden into battle.

Once their presence is known, their orders are pretty simple. Destroy it all. Leave no one behind and nothing worth returning for.

Fire is a good strategy. Red lyrium doesn't do well in heat.

Comments

[aenseidhe]

Pack-mule, with incubation.

[ a short, but honest, answer. geralt the chicken-horse is a very sturdy, very warm chicken. and helena and galatea both seem to be attached to this idiot bird, so he'd rather not be the one to tell them he let the poultry get mauled by a bear.

as for the words of caution, they go completely ignored. had anders been something other than a human and a mage (mostly the human part), he might've at least made an attempt to seem like he cared, but nah, sorry broski. as the bear sniffs at the air, and seems wary of the two of them, iorveth pulls another piece of meat free, tossing it out. ]

Look closer. They were pets. [ he tells him after a moment, meaning the harnesses and cloth adorning the bears. it paints a pretty simple conclusion. ] They could have answers about these missions of yours.

[ perhaps both the lyrium and the missing first unit of soldiers. this village seems to tie them together fairly clearly, between the red crystals in the huts and the state of the place so identical to the camp they'd taken up in. ]

[justice_is_blond]

They were pets, [Anders agrees,] but they are bears and there's a chance that part of the reason people are missing is because they forgot that bears are, well, bears.

[You can train a lot of animals to be friendly, but if they get hungry, or feel mistreated, or any number of things, there's a fair chance the friendliness will wear out.]

I like not having to heal massive bear-paw-sized gashes in people. My favorite way to end a bear encounter is to have no one missing limbs.

[The elf doesn't seem entirely friendly. That's never stopped Anders before, especially when the elf isn't being rude. He watches one of the bears break ranks and come up to finally eat one of the meat pieces with a snuffled huff.]

I don't suppose you speak bear? Not really much of a chance of that, I'm not of the opinion that bears talk, but I might as well ask since you suggested they might have answers.

[A second bear huffs too and starts to lumber a little closer, toward one of the earlier thrown pieces of meat.]

[aenseidhe]

Most wildlife doesn't tend to eat people unless they're otherwise starved. Bear attacks are usually the fault of idiot humans who don't realize they're walking too close to a den. [ idiot humans or idiot nonhumans who have spent their entire lives forgetting who they are inside of the ghettos of human cities. a good part of the missing travelers of flotsam had nothing at all to do with the scoia'tael attacks. just their own foolishness in the forests. point being - ]

Do they look starved to you? [ these bears are fat, and well taken care of. all this he explains in a calm, almost soothing tone, because domesticated animals learn to read voices, as well as body language. simply a matter of adaption and survival, it's in their nature. he could be telling this mage to go fuck himself on a rusted rake, but as long as he says it in an even, gentle tone, the bear won't pick up on it. ] Most bodies bleed when they're mauled open - do you see any blood on white fur there?

[ it could've washed off, but any water around here would be frozen solid, and the cloth and harnesses would be damp or iced. as for the bears talking, Iorveth's eyes close, to disguise that they're near rolling out of his head. ]

They sent you on this mission solely as a healer, didn't they? [ the bears are carrying pieces of this village on their backs. even a scrap of cloth might tell them something about where these people went or why. clues, my dude. clues. ] Do you assume only things with voices can hold information?