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

B

[aenseidhe]

[ Iorveth is the one holding out food to the bears, or more so, crouched in the snow a distance from the bulk of the traveling party and tossing pieces of fish to one of the slighter bears some yards from the group of them. He'd been getting the creature gradually closer, tossing each one a bit less far, until the moron nearby starts screaming, Iorveth nearly slapping him with the next slice of fish rather than tossing it to the bear. ]

Shouting like that they will, just to have you shut up. Put it down, dh'oine. [ If d'Artagnan is close enough, Iorveth will lift up a hand to swat the pistol to the side. He's already startled the bear enough that it's backed up a few paces, so much progress lost. If he can manage, he'll grab hold of d'Artagnan's arm and yank him down to crouch with him instead - much less a threat to the skittish creature than someone standing and looking ready to attack. ] When was the last time you bothered to look at a creature like this over anything but that crude cannon? It's barely older than a cub.

[ Iorveth whispers it to him in a tone that's deceivingly kind, because creatures that have been around humans (like bears wearing freaking harnesses must have been) will pick up on tone, just as well as they will body language. the bear certainly isn't a rolly polly cub anymore, definitely has some impressive size to it, but it's maybe a year or so old. not really an adult yet. as for the village itself - ]

Look around. No one lives here any longer.

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan ends up crouched beside a roughly dressed scoundrel that just called him something completely unpronounceable, but most likely unflattering, while he tries to convince him that it's a good idea to share their lunch with bears. Actual bears! Everyone in this world is mad, including those who don't belong here any more than d'Artagnan. ]

Cannon?! [ He starts, but doesn't go on. All things considered, that's the least crazy thing Iorveth has just said to him. He leans close, scowling. ] They're bears. People don't invite bears into their camps if they want to survive. I don't care how innocent it looks; wait until its mother finds you touching it.

[ He casts a wary eye back over the creature, and then beyond it, to the others still looking interested at the edge of camp. D'Artagnan loves animals. He was also raised a farmer, though, and these are not the kind of animal he'd let anywhere near his fields. ]

I have a horse here. I didn't protect it through snow and wind just to see one of these things get their teeth into it.

[aenseidhe]

[ he called you human, d'artagnan. are you human? he doesn't like the common tongue, okay, it's dumb sounding so fight him. honestly, he wouldn't be the first to call him mad and is far from the last, likely, so even if he's more off kilter than the others in their group, not like informing him is going to change what's going on right now. Because he's giving this bear another slice of tuna. It was really nice fish popped out of the rift, of all things, as that's a big bear diet item. At least, bears Iorveth knew of prior to this icy hell. ]

Your people don't. And bears don't eat horses, unless it's already wounded. [ bears don't freaking eat horses, god, human, calm your tits. clearly these people did invite bears into their camp, enough to put harnesses and decoration on them, and why the fuck would you put a harness on a bear you're not intending to interact with regularly? were this one of the brown bears that roamed the forests near flotsam, where the Scoia'tael shared territory with them, he wouldn't be trying to bring the beast closer. he'd be staying still, avoiding eye contact, and backing away slowly if the creature wasn't interested in him.

these bears are clearly not those bears, and Iorveth doesn't have enough of a healthy sense of fear to play it safe, sorry d'Artagnan. The cub seems to be more pleased with the food offers, inching closer and closer, almost enough that Iorveth could touch it. Not just yet, he doesn't want to startle it. ]

It's mother is likely in that pack, and has already seen me. [ btw, might want to look up, because one of the much bigger bears is shuffling towards them, eyes on the cub, low grunting, but not threatening, grunting sounds coming from it. her, probably. please don't piss yourself, d'art. ] If you're scared, you may want to step aside and avoid the mauling. Maybe tend to your horse. Just walk, don't run.

[ But now the much bigger bear is making it's way over, and d'artagnan, while mildly problematic in possibly upsetting the cub, could make this a lot worse by upsetting the mother. his panic attack is really inconvenient for Iorveth right now, ugh. ]

Otherwise, put your head down and don't make eye contact.

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan eyes Iorveth with the vague worry that he might be mad. He's obviously far more comfortable in dealing with predators than d'Artagnan, which is not a very comforting thought. He reacts to that accusation, though - the suggestion that he's scared. He knows, somewhere deep in his head, that he shouldn't rise to that. He'll worry about that later, after he's done rising to it. ]

Hungry bears will eat anything on offer. And you're tempting them.

[ He says, with a pointed look at that fish. The larger one approaches now, and he resists the urge to grab for his weapon again. He doesn't like the idea of feeding them, but shooting them would cause a panic that he's no more eager for than Iorveth. Besides, he's at least a little mollified by the Elf's gruffness. And the successful cub-feeding, there's also that. He doesn't feed the mother, but he doesn't move, either. ]

This is not a good idea. You'll have them following us and begging for scraps at best. Where do you imagine this ends?

hover for translaaation

[aenseidhe]

[ were he not too preoccupied with trying to soothe the mother bear that nudges at her cub, ensuring it's safe, sound, and happy, before sniffing at the fish iorveth's laid out for her, he'd be likely punch this dh'oine that doesn't seem to want to just leave him be with his own choices. such is the issue with humans, they just can't leave other to their own devices. must always insert their own opinions, out of place as they may be. ]

When we find them new caretakers. Domesticated animals abandoned to the wild are doomed to perish. [ Stripping his gloves off, Iorveth holds his open hands palms up for the mother bear to sniff at, inspecting, not moving as she sniffs around at his face and his bandana as well. Letting her explore calmly, he whispers to d'Artaganan, finding difficulty in keeping his tone soft and sweet. ]

I understand humans aren't troubled by something so simple as nonhuman life, but I'm of a faith that demands respect for the life around us on even terms.

[ not elven or dwarf or human life any more valuable than the other creatures sharing the earth with them. were it a matter of the circle of life, hunting and gathering, that would be one thing. but these creatures were abandoned, and as he wouldn't leave an elf to die from the elements alone, he won't leave the bears either.

When the mama bear seems to be satisfied enough with his existence to turn her attention towards the food, nibbling at it while bumping at his bare hands with her forehead or snout, he murmurs a quiet string of Elder Speech, and soft sounds that almost seem like grumbling purrs, or low trills. ] Cáelm yn'awr, modreana melys. Ninnau a'canym ynr ichaeryd adwyth neén.

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan stares at him, stung by the implication that he doesn't care about nonhuman life. ]

I was a farmer. [ He says, so you know, get the fuck off his back here, Iorveth. Just because he won't encourage predators into his camp doesn't mean he hates animals. If anything it means he has a healthy respect for them, as well as the lives and limbs of his companions here. ] I care about the life around us. Do not assume you know what troubles me, Monsieur. If you lose your arm because you tempt them closer, do not blame me.

[ At this point, he decides not to stay around for more of this. It still seems foolish to him, even if he pities the bears for the loss of their masters. He moves slowly back, avoiding sudden movements. He doesn't raise the gun again, and won't unless things go badly, but he'll keep watching in case they do. ]