faderift | OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That reaction causes Korrin to stifle a sigh, realizing her words have had the opposite effect. Sometimes she should just keep her mouth shut and stop overestimating common sense. "You'd get along well with Kain, that's for sure."

Anyway. She follows his gaze, shrugging. "I'm no expert, but dried meat? Fish? They seem to be expecting something."

"So this Kain, does he study dragons? Or keep them?" Newt, had he any common sense when it comes to large and dangerous creatures, would have tried to quell the obvious note of hope in his voice. As he rather lacks it in favor of passion and curiosity, he plows right on ahead, oblivious, as usual, as to how strange he might appear for his enthusiasm.

Newt nods. Food would make sense.

"I wonder how long they've been out here," he murmurs. "They look as abandoned as the rest of this place."

"He has a dracolisk, if that counts. They're lizard-like mounts...not anything you'd see here, of course." Too cold-blooded for this climate, that's for certain. "You want to see a dragon, talk to Adalia or Beleth. Their dragons aren't here -I don't think- but back in Kirkwall."

She frowns at that last comment of his, growing sympathetic towards the creatures for all that she's wary of them. "...true. I guess we could test their reactions with something to eat, as long as we're careful and don't get close. Just leave it for them to approach."

"Dracolisk?" Newt repeats, even more curious once she explains that it's a mount, a creature that people ride. He will say this for Thedas, at least: it is certainly much more interesting than he expected, what with the various demons trying to kill them all and the variety of creatures about. He might be trapped from home, but it sounds like there is much to discover and study here, at the same time. "Adalia and Beleth," he nods. "Understood. Thank you."

"That sounds like the best way to approach," he agrees with a nod. "I don't suppose you have anything for them to eat on you?"

"Not a fan of dracolisks, myself. Their legs are too spindly, and I'm...well, look at me." She's big, she needs a sturdy mount.

In response to that question, she reaches into her satchel. "Nothing fresh, but I have some jerky. Since we're not straying from the main force, I can always get more."

"Spindly legs," Newt repeats, thoroughly enchanted without even having seen one of these dracolisks. His eyes take on a somewhat dreamy expression which vanishes as he turns to obey his companion's command. He can see her point, but he thinks to acknowledge agreement verbally might cause offense, so he settles for a slight nod instead.

"Meat is meat," he says, watching her reach into her satchel. "I'm sure they'll be happy with whatever we can provide. I haven't seen too many other sources of food while out here."

Korrin shakes shakes her head at that dreaminess, not sure dracolisks of all things deserve it. But they didn't bring any with for her to prove him wrong, so that will just have to wait. She passes on some dried meat to Newt, since he seems so interested in interacting with the bears, but that doesn't means she won't keep an eye on him just in case he gets any ideas about throwing caution to the wind.

"Yeah, it's pretty barren. They must have adapted, but if they've been dependant on people, that could be blunted somewhat. Anyway, let's find out."

Newt smiles when she hands him some of the dried meat, pleasantly surprised that she entrusts him enough to approach the bears. Honestly, getting to at least offer food to the polar bears might turn out to be the highlight of his day. Days, really, when he considers how the previous ones have gone before the Inquisition found them.

He nods. "Being around people for so long likely dulled their survival instincts somewhat," he says. He approaches slowly and carefully, not wanting to startle the creatures. He holds his hand with the meat out cautiously, keeping his palm flat the way he does when he feeds the more dangerous of the creatures he cares for back home.

If he's focused on the bears, he's too busy to hunt down dragons, or so goes Korrin's thought process. Besides, at least she's here to intercept if matters go south. She keeps pace, perhaps just a little ahead so that if the bears have to focus on anyone, it will be the giant horned woman who's obviously more of a threat. Unlike Newt, she doesn't hold the meat out and simply tosses it where the bears can see. One treads over to inspect the dried meat, devouring it quickly.

"...well. They're already pretty trusting. You know, for bears. Come with me to the Hinterlands sometime and you'll see why I'm just a little bit hesitant."

For the moment, Newt is entirely focused on the bears in front of them, his mind occupied by observing and getting close to them instead of the possibility of finding dragons to study. Once they move on from the bears and this village, however, it's likely that his thoughts will turn to dragons once again.

For now, he keeps his hand held out as one of the bears approaches, his gait slow yet steady. He sniffs Newt's hand for a moment before happily taking the dried meat and eating it, without taking Newt's hand off. He grins.

"I suppose the bears of the Hinterlands are much more...wild?" He asks, reaching out to see if this polar bear will allow him to pet it.

"They're assholes...but to be fair, they were driven mad by the Breach. The Breach is what created all those rifts, like the one you stepped out of. Wild animals don't like it when demons appear on their turf, go figure."

Korrin reaches into her satchel for some more dried meat, this time not throwing it quite so far. But most of her attention is still on the bear interacting with Newt, just in case.

"Can't really blame them for that, no," Newt agrees. "So this Breach. Is it exactly what it sounds like? How long has it been around, driving bears mad?"

He's as curious about the world of Thedas itself as much as he is about the creatures that reside in it. He wants to know more about this world into which he fell, to try and understand his new environment as much as he's able to.

The polar bear sniffs his hand a moment before allowing Newt to gently and slowly pet him. Newt smiles, talking to the creatures as though they were a bunch of school children.

"It must be hard for you lot," he says. "Being stuck out here after your humans...vanished."

"It was sealed, a while ago, but the Breach was the mother of all the rifts, including the one you stepped out of from wherever. An ancient magister asshole tried to enter the Fade with an elven artifact, and an explosion happened that took out most of our leaders in the south. The main reason the south hasn't gone to shit is because of the Inquisition. We've kept it from falling apart for now, but that won't matter if said asshole tries again and succeeds."

A grim thought, but not an unrealistic fear. Watching Newt with the bear gets a small smile out of her, and she watches as another starts sniffing at the dried meat thrown. "I wonder what would happen if we brought a pack of bears to Skyhold, on our way to Kirkwall. It might almost be worth it just to see the higher-ups reactions."

"...Merlin," Newt says, shaking his head. He could have guessed that the cause of the Breach (and, as a consequence, the rifts like the one that spit him out) came from the reckless actions of an individual. Even in this world, perhaps especially in this world, the potential consequences seem especially devastating.

"This...person. Is still alive? I would have thought the explosion would have killed them," he observes. But he supposes he's heard stranger things in his time.

"I take it these higher-ups might have a collective heart attack?" He guesses, smiling at her over his shoulder as he continues getting friendly with the polar bears.

"You'd think so, yeah, but the asshole who did this isn't exactly mortal. He should be long dead, not just from that, but for whatever reason death doesn't seem to have any hold on him. We need to know more and change that, if we're going to have any shot at fixing the mess he created."

It's been three years now, three more years than she thought Thedas would have, back when everyone thought the world was ending right then and there.

"I got the side-eye just for bringing nuggalopes back, so I'm pretty sure they'd shit themselves about bears. Oh well, enjoy them while we're here." She raises an eyebrow as a smaller one steps closer to stare at her. "...you're cute, but I'm pretty sure you can't come back with us. Maybe we can bring you to some Avvar, though."

Internally, Newt sighs. Probably, he would guess, the person responsible for the Breach pursued a particularly dark and dangerous sort of magic; or something close to it, something that promised eternal life or glory. There's always power involved, in messes like this. Power beyond what anyone should even want, but, in his experience, that has yet to stop people and probably never will. "He sounds...difficult," he says, knowing as he says it that it's a gross understatement.

"I can't imagine trying to take them out of their habitats," Newt agrees, still very much enjoying himself among the company of bears. He smiles as the one closest to him nuzzles into his hands, probably the best thing to happen to him since getting rescued. "Even though I feel bad that their humans abandoned them."

The understatement provokes a soft snort of amusement, as Korrin crosses her arms and nods. "That's one way of putting it. We'll see him again, I'm sure. And I personally would like to pay him back for destroying the Conclave and our first headquarters, Haven."

Still cautious and observing even if the nuzzling is sweet, she nods. "I'm not the authority on anything, but we might be able to do something for them. You'll have to ask a division head for confirmation on anything, though."

"Difficult people always have a way of turning up again when you least expect them too," Newt says softly, shaking his head. "They're rather stubborn like that." He is also, without realizing it, describing himself, too. "So I suspect you'll have your chance."

"Really?" He says, glancing over at her. "That would be wonderful, truly. I'd like to be able to help, if I can."

"Oh, I know I will. I just wish that chance would hurry the fuck up. It's been three years." She shakes her head, knowing that her impatience isn't going to change things, so time to focus on something else. "You have experience with creatures back home, I take it? You look too comfortable around them for that not to be at least somewhat true."

“I can imagine those three years must have felt quite long,” he observes. In some ways, he thinks, it’s the waiting for the worst to happen that seems harder than the worst itself.

He’s quite happy to drop such a dreary topic I’m favor of one especially close to his heart: creatures.

“Yes,” Newt nods, enthusiasm obvious in the sudden brightness of his expression. “I’m a magizoologist back home; I study and care for magical creatures back home. I was finishing up a research trip and on my way home to publish a book on them before...” He trails off, gesturing to their current environment.

“All this.”

"Magizoologist...that sounds like it covers a lot. Thedas has some draconologists, but I'm pretty sure the rest aren't lumped together with it. Grey Wardens deal with the surviving griffons, and so on. You'll have to tell me if any of your discoveries here overlap with your world. I'd be curious to find out if they do."

“Quite a lot, in fact,” he says, bluntly. He isn’t trying to brag but he’s also proud of his work and everything he’s accomplished with it so far. But what he especially loves is that such work is the kind of work which is really never ever finished. With all that he’s learning about the various creatures in Thedas, he holds out hope that he might be able to pursue similar studies here.

“I would be glad to,” Newt nods. “I’d love to find that out for myself, really. We have several varieties of dragons back home, for instance. I’m curious to know how they compare with yours.”

"I haven't spent my life studying dragons, but I've met enough where I can give an overall picture of what they're like. In a word; aggressive. They usually stick to unpopulated or underpopulated areas, at least, but sometimes they park their asses next to a village and then there's problems. And since I've heard of dragons that can talk, from other rifters, these aren't like that. They definitely have some cunning, but they're still creatures. Contrary to popular belief, not all of them breathe fire, either. Some breathe ice or lightning instead, which can be just as fun as you'd think on the receiving end."

If it wasn't so cold out, she'd remove her armor to show the resulting scars on her body. As it is, her vague gesture to herself will give him a rough idea.

"I admit, I would very much enjoy meeting a dragon with whom I could converse," Newt says wistfully, as if this is the most important piece of information he could take away from this particular conversation. He might even sigh a bit as his mind ponders the possibilities of talking dragons.

"You've got dragons that can breathe ice and lightning?" He asks, again focusing on the dangers with keen interest. All that he's hearing about the dragons of Thedas, with the exception of the tidbit about other dragons from other rifter worlds, only makes him that much more determined to see the creatures for himself eventually.

He takes in the way she gestures to her body, understanding that to mean she has experience with these dragons and the evidence to prove it. "I take it you've had your share of being on the receiving end?"

"Oh yeah, more than once. I am -was?- a mercenary and a few times my company was called to help out, when a high dragon decided to start leveling a village or somesuch. One claimed a swampy area and could breathe lightning; you can guess how much that hurt if we couldn't get to higher ground in time." She eyes him for a moment, then shakes her head. "That doesn't discourage you in the least, doesn't it? Thought as much, but you're a grown-ass man. If you don't keep your distance, that's on you."

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