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

"I admit, bears wouldn't be the first creature to come to mind when it comes to potential mounts," Newt admits with a wry grin, turning to face her. He recognizes Ellana from her armor, the same as when her and the rest of her group first came upon them even further out in the wilderness.

"And we do have bears, but I've never heard or seen anyone riding them," he says. "There are plenty of better options for that. Hippogriffs, for one."

"Oo, what's that?" It's asked straight away, a twinkle of curiosity in her eye. She loves learning about the rifters' worlds, and she's pretty sure they don't have hippogriffs here.

Maybe she should have started with introductions instead of launching into a conversation about bears and mounts, but she just gets too excitable sometimes.

"Hippogriffs?" Newt brightens at the question, always delighted to discuss the creatures he cares for so deeply. And, growing up on a Hippogriff farm, he would hope he knows a fair thing or two about them in particular. "They're creatures who have the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses and upper bodies and heads of eagles. They're quite magnificent, really. And quite proud. They won't allow just anyone to ride them; you have to show them proper respect."

That she seems so enthusiastic in her curiosity endears her immediately to Newt.

"Oh, that sounds pretty similar to the halla when it comes to showing them respect." She pauses a moment in thought, then slips off one of her gloves, revealing a simple metal ring with several halla etched into the metal. They resemble slender deer with curled horns.

"You see? These are halla. Only elves can ride them, and only if they trust us. We respect them as our brothers and sisters, not as pack animals." Ellana gives him enough time to see the ring before she slips on her glove once more.

"We don't have hippogriffs here, but they remind me of griffons. They were thought to be extinct, but the Grey Wardens found a nest not long ago. They look like an eagle on top -- you know, head and wings and such -- and the body of a lion."

"Halla?" Newt asks, tilting his head. He leans in closer to examine her ring when she reveals it, studying the beautiful design with obvious curiosity. "How beautiful. They seem like lovely creatures."

He nods. "Every creature should be treated with such respect," he says. "It's wonderful to encounter those that seem aware of it."

"Really?" He blinks, growing cautiously warmer towards Thedas the more he hears of the various creatures to be found within it. "I don't suppose there's a way of visiting this nest and seeing these griffons for myself, is there?"

"Animals are smarter than people give them credit for," she says. It's a part of being a Shapeshifter. You have to study the animal whose form you want to take, and study them until you understand their soul.

"Ah, you'd have to speak to the Wardens about that, and I'd suggest one of the friendlier ones, like Warden Serra or Warden Ventfort." She can count a whole hand of Wardens who would scowl and say absolutely not, but she knows that Inessa and Kain share a griffon as its rider. Maybe they'd be more inclined to allow visitors? She can't really say for sure.

But back to the bear. It seems gentle and how can Ellana pass up the opportunity? She approaches slowly, head bent down and hand extended. Then she stops to see if the bear will back away, stay put, or come forward. After a pregnant pause, the bear steps forward, nose snuffling for her hand.

"That they certainly are," Newt agrees warmly, very much enthusiastic on this point. "And they're certainly smarter than people, a lot of the time, at that."

"Duly noted," he nods. His lips twitch as he tries not to smile. The description of the Wardens reminds him of some prefects back at Hogwarts. "I take it the Wardens aren't...the friendliest of faces?"

Newt watches as she approaches the bear cautiously, smiling as the bear comes forward to sniff her hand. He follows her example a moment later, his head also low and one hand extended in offering. It takes a fair few moments, but eventually the bear closest to him also comes forward to sniff his hand.

"They really are magnificent, aren't they?" He says in an awed whisper.

"Oh, some can be," she hurries to stress. "I used to-- well," She hesitates briefly, but then decides to press on. "I used to be in a relationship with one. So I know what I'm talking about when I say some are perfectly friendly. But some of the others are very... serious. Strict. Or just all around not very nice people." But if he wants to spend time with griffons, he'll probably learn that for himself sooner or later.

At least the bear is friendly. Ellana smiles and slowly lifts her head enough to see the creature sniffing at her hand. She murmurs a hello to it, and in return the bear moves to sniff all of her. She giggles, and replies, "They are," to Newt. Should the bear change its mind and turn on her, she thinks she can get away fast enough using some mage tricks, and she'd try to draw it away from Newt too. But it hopefully won't be necessary.

"Imagine curling up by the fire, using a big bear as your pillow."

In the way she hesitates before carrying on, Newt guesses that she is about to reveal a particularly personal detail. His guess is proved correct moments later when she reveals that she used to be romantically involved with one of these Wardens. He offers her a wry smile. “I’ve had my own share of serious and not very nice people,” he says. “It’s not anything I’m not used to.” His Ministry-minded family gave him years of experience in that regard.

He smiles, his own bear following the example and sniffing up all around. He imagines he must smell confusing, given that he’s spent the past few days surrounded by blood, death, & corpses.

“Sounds like a perfectly cozy evening to me,” he agrees with a smile, just as the polar bear examining him decides to start nuzzling him more excessively. “This is rather nice, too.”

"Well then you know how best to cope." And maybe it won't be a problem for him to see the griffons after all. He seems well-mannered and easy-going. Surely that has to count for something, right?

"I can see you're enjoying it," Ellana says with a smirk. "The bears in the Hinterlands could do with a lesson on how to act from these ones. Over there they just attack on sight."

"Indeed," Newt replies, a wry smile on his face. "You could say it's a skill I've cultivated over the years. I tend to...step on toes often, so to speak."

"Really?" He asks as he delights in the friendliness of these particular bears. He pets the polar bear, looking for spots they particularly enjoy. "This place does seem to have a variety of creatures, it would seem. Is it just the polar bears and these Hinterlands bears, then?"

"Oof, that's no good," she says, though she does sympathize. Hopefully things turn out all right for him here, since plenty of people tend to be suspicious of Rifters. Well, she won't spoil things by giving him the rundown on all that now. He'll be told plenty on the road back to Kirkwall.

"Do you mean as far as bears go, or in general, because Thedas has a lot of animals. The Hinterlands has some big ones called great bears too. They're giant, and you don't want to find yourself in their path. But beyond that, I'm not too familiar with types of bears, no."

"No, not a particularly valuable survival skill, no," he agrees easily enough. He's a prickly oddball who has his own strong opinions and a knack for annoying others and breaking rules; not an ideal follower of orders. Still, experience has taught him to adapt and to...lessen his harsher edges, over the years. And his time in New York taught him better in how to appreciate people.

"Does Thedas really?" He asks, perking up considerably at that. Now he just has to figure out a way to study aforementioned variety of animals. "Have lots of animals, I mean?"

"Of course! Birds, lions, dragons, bears, deer, sheep, druffalo, quillbacks, wyverns, dogs, cats-- well, you get the idea. Loads of animals. You sound pretty interested in animals." Not that that is so rare a thing. There are people at the University of Orlais who specialize in studying one type of animal, and usually the more exotic ones, like dragons.

She strokes the bear's head, pleased at how gentle and sweet it is. It must have been raised from a cub by the people who were here.

"Does your world have a lot too?"

His eyes widen as Newt finds himself actually excited, especially at all the names he doesn't recognize. Surely, there must be some way to study and get close to this wide variety of animals. If not, he supposes he'll make a way.

He smiles sheepishly at her observation. "Yes, well. They were my work, back home. I was studying and writing a book on the magical ones, in particular."

"We have a wide variety ourselves," he nods. "I just wish the people back home would learn to appreciate them better."

"Oh! I'm writing a book too!" she exclaims, amazed they have that in common. Of course once her brain catches up to her mouth, she quickly adds, "I mean, not on animals. It's on elven ruins." She clears her throat, hoping she hasn't come across sounding like a fool. "But that sounds amazing! Animals here aren't magical. Would you tell me about some of the magical ones your world has?"

"Are you?" He asks, clear interest lighting in his eyes as he takes in what she's just told him. How very interesting indeed, he thinks, to come across another author. Hopefully one with a better chance of publishing her book than he does with his, given that he can't imagine anyone would give his book on magical creatures the time of day in this world beyond a strange sort of fiction. And the fact that he lacks his manuscript, as well. "Elven ruins? That sounds fascinating. Any particular ruins, or just in general?"

He's eager to find out more about this world as she seems to be to hear of his own. It makes Newt smile.

"Well, we have dragons, like you do," he says. "Unicorns, Hippogriffs, Phoenixes, Mooncalves - those are but a few of the many species we have. Some of the friendlier varieties, you could say."

Many would, in fact, not say that, but those many weren't currently here.

Truthfully, Ellana would have a very slim chance of ever being published because she's an elf, but way back at Skyhold, Varric promised to give her his backing, and no publisher is going to say no to the great Varric Tethras, are they? Unlikey.

"A particular group of ruins. Each one held a clue as to the location of an elven artifact: the Sulevin Blade. And my team found the pieces of it! So I've been editing my journey for awhile now, trying to get it perfect."

It shouldn't take too much longer. It may be that perhaps she's stalling a little, worried that the fact she was raised in a Dalish camp means that her grasp on language isn't good enough to be readable. Hence all the edits.

"We have phoenixes too! They live in the desert. I'll bet we have plenty of the same type of animal if we start comparing."

"Oh really? This blade sounds like it's especially important," he says. "Are you and your team hoping to restore this blade, or are you going to keep the pieces of it as they are?"

He's so curious about all the history here in Thedas, though he also knows to be cautious, too. History has a tendency to being particularly brutal and ugly, no matter how people might also romanticize it.

"Do you really?" He grins, delighted by this piece of news. "I would be interested to find that out, indeed, as it seems like we do share some creatures in common, as you say. What else lives here in Thedas that you know of?"

"The blade was looked at by Inquisition blacksmiths," she explains. "The magic surrounding it doesn't allow for it to be reforged, but that's a good thing. The blade was cursed because of how it was used, so it's best it remains on display in pieces. But the blacksmiths copied the design, so copies can be made, should anyone want it. It's a big, two handed sword." A beautiful piece, but with a tragic history, as great artifacts often have.

"Hmm, well, along with phoenixes in the desert, there are hyenas, quillbacks, and gurns. Oh, and lurkers, varghests, and wyverns too. Did I already say wyverns? I think I did."

"Oh," Newt says, curious but also wary of a cursed blade. He could very well imagine the sort of damage such a weapon could do, especially placed in the wrong hands. "Well, that's wonderful, that they could at least preserve the pieces and copy the design."

"They all sound fascinating," he says earnestly. "Though, what are wyverns, particularly? They sound especially curious."

"Oh, they say a wyvern is the cousin of the dragon. I've only spotted them from a distance in the desert. They have smaller wings and their head shape looks a little different to a dragon, but what you really need to watch out for is their venom. They spit it at you, which is why I stayed well away. It's deadly." And though she can see the benefit in harvesting its venom, it's not something she'd risk her life over.

"Really?" Newt says, perking up with obvious interest. Between dragons, dracolisks, and these wyverns, apparently, there is a wide variety of dragon-type creatures here in Thedas. He'll have to find a way to study them, he thinks. But he suspects, given the (not unsound, mind) general wariness of such creatures, he'll have to be subtle about doing so.

"This venom...can it be used for anything other than poison?" He asks, generally curious. As someone who's studied various toxins and venoms in creatures, he's always curious about finding more to study and/or experiment with.

"Oh! Well, I actually don't know anything about it; just that it's highly sought after by potions makers. So it has to be used in something, but I don't know what that is. Sorry."

She gives a sheepish shrug, even those she knows it's not some great failing to not know. But she enjoys being helpful and this topic is a bit of a dead end for her, seeing how she stayed pretty far away from wyverns when she saw them.

"It's pretty cold out here. I think I'm going to head back to the fire." Ellana gives the bear a farewell pat before turning to Newt. "Are you staying out here longer?"

"Interesting," Newt muses, wondering what sorts of potions the mages of this world use such venom for. Venom, he knows, despite its nature, can be used for healing purposes, regardless, so long as the person making use of the venom knows how to work with it.

He considers her mentioning returning to the fire. A sensible idea, given how cold it is out here. He ought to follow her back.

But he can't stop petting the polar bears.

"I think I'll stay out here longer," he admits. "I'm rather fond of the company."

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OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

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