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

IIIc

[unshadowing]

Before he can reach for that stick, there's a hand on top of it. Not to take it for itself, but to stop her. Carver has no idea what she was going on about before - rifters are an odd lot, so who can say? - but he's not about to let her curiosity run off. Not in this instance.

"Don't," he says. "We need to get out of this tent. You don't want to be around this stuff for long."

[periastron]

"Not sure if it's really dangerous, or if this is some sort of amazing treasure and you're running a con on a new person who doesn't know any better so I stay away from it and you can run off with the goods."

She abandons the stick reach, and looks up at tall, dark and dramatic. "If you insist, Manly McOrders."

[unshadowing]

And this one's got a mouth on her. And a weird accent to boot. Great, just great.

"You want to stick around, you go ahead. I'll be sure to put you out of your misery once the paranoia and insanity take hold." He gestures his head to outside, where the rest of the Inquisition is. "See if anyone else is taking this stuff and running off with it, if you're so concerned."

[periastron]

"I'll resist the temptation," she replies dryly. She moves with a sort of swaying swagger, someone who is entirely too comfortable in her own space.

"What's your name? Unless I nailed it in one go."

[unshadowing]

"How noble of you," he snarks right back. Listen, he's a Hawke. Snark and drama are embedded in his genes.

Okay, that does, admittedly, get something of a snort out of him. "As charming as it would be to be called 'Manly', after awhile it'd get old. No. It's Carver." Habit keeps him from tacking on his last name, though he realizes belatedly that it wouldn't mean anything to her. A rare upside to dealing with a rifter. "Yours?"

[periastron]

"Carver?" It's not mocking, more delighted. "With a name like that you may as well be called 'Muscles.' It doesn't get much manlier than that, mate, sorry to break it to you."

Nope, this is amazing. She did nail it. With a sort of lazy ease, she offers her hand to shake. "Alex. Not even a little bit noble, sorry to disappoint."

[unshadowing]

"Shame my parents aren't around, I'm sure they would be hitting themselves for not thinking of that when I was born."

Well at least she's not making some dumb pun about his name. At least not yet. Hurray?

He glances at her hand for a moment before taking it and shaking it firmly. For all he can be an ass, Leandra raised him to be a polite one. Not that he always heeded it, but... "Don't worry, I wasn't really expecting much in that regard."

Isn't he so charming?

"Haven't you seen around and you don't know a thing about lyrium. I take it you're one of the ones that got pulled out from that crevice or wherever you rifters got dumped this time?"