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

[periastron]

Oh, Jesus Christ. It's not the horns that illicit her eyebrows raising, she had a chance to get a bit more used to people with horns and pointed ears hanging out with Alacruun and Iorveth for a week, but everyone here seems so fucking tall. She's a couple inches over five feet, certainly on the shorter side for a human, and everyone around these parts seems to be determined to reach Amazonian proportions.

Okay, that's an exaggeration, but Alex looks faintly bemused.

"I've had a real week, mate, honestly toxicity barely concerns me right now." Flippantly said, and not entirely true, though her Australian accent adds a certain dramatic emphasis and dragging out of the words. She has had a week (magic??? demons???), but that doesn't mean she wants to cuddle up to some uranium or similar bullshit. "More curious than cold, specifically. I mean, I am cold." But more curious.

[gatheringstorm]

She shakes her head, rather no-nonsense when it comes to red lyrium. 'Flippant' is fine, once the threat is over. So she slips the staff off her back and gestures for her to stand back before taking aim.

"We're supposed to destroy that shit on sight unless the red lyrium project needs it for study, so. I'll answer all the questions you like on it, but please do yourself a favor and stand back. I don't envy the week you must've had, but you still don't want any shards touching you."

[periastron]

Alex sits back on her heels, eyebrow raised. "You lot are real bloody bossy, you know that?"

She rolls her eyes, but does step back, leaning against a handy wooden pole with her shoulder to watch.

[gatheringstorm]

That gets a smirk from her just before she fires. "Yep, so I've heard."

Impatient to finish this, she fires a bolt of lightning from her staff, and then another and another. That effectively blasts apart the cluster of red lyrium, and she lowers her staff, glancing over. "Don't worry, unless it's life or death I prefer to life and let live. You want real bossiness? Go to the healer's tents. They're great at what they do but Andraste's ass, do they smother."

[periastron]

She is determined not to flinch at the sudden burst of lightning. To her credit she doesn't, but her back tenses up as she watches yet another instance of weird fucking shit going on.

"Yeah, no thanks." She stands, and truthfully, she's a shitload shorter than this person with their lightning magic. "Ah— no thanks, I'm not sure I wanna go diving into the whole magic healing thing."

[gatheringstorm]

The tension is noted, but Korrin doesn't apologize for what was done. Thedas has magic and mages; rifters without either will need to adjust at some point. But having finished her task, she places the staff on her back once more.

"Most of them know non-magical healing, too, but trust me, that doesn't make them any less of a hardass. But to be fair, I'm not a great patient." Her boredom threshold is low and easily breached by laying around idle, no matter how well-needed. "The name's Korrin, I'm part of the Forces division of the Inquisition. You lot must be pretty damn tough, to have made it on your own for a while. Sorry things went tits-up, or you'd have had help long before."

[periastron]

"I did Biomedical Science at uni. Trained another few years to become a veterinarian, did some extra stuff on top of that. I might be trained to do surgery on animals, but I'm pretty sure I got a better grasp of medicine than people in some medieval seemin' place like this. Bet your healers here still think trepanation is the hot new technique."

It's rude, she knows it's rude, but this is also fucked. She's a doctor for Christ's sake. Her white coat and stethoscope aren't ornamental, even if they covered in a cloak.

"God, this is such bullshit." A breath, and finally: "Sorry, Korrin of the Forces division. I'm Alexandra, of the 'What the fuck?' division."

[gatheringstorm]

Yeah, she raises her eyebrows at that outburst. Newcomers are often under a lot of stress, it's true, especially the ones fending for themselves for a few days. Even so, she can't help but get a little defensive about the people she's worked with for the past few years. "Hey, give our healers a chance before you judge them. Many of us wouldn't be up and around without their help, magic or not. Though I'll admit magical healing gets us back on our feet a lot faster."

Trepanation...nah, that's too close to blood magic. But that's a whole can of worms that Korrin really doesn't feel like opening, yet. "'What the fuck?' is a totally valid reaction to all this, and we all know it. Rifters have been arriving for a couple of years now, and we don't know how to stop it from happening or how to send them back. For now, you're stuck in Thedas while we're dealing with a bunch of other bullshit on top of that. We're trying to fix said bullshit, but it's not easy."