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

[unshadowing]

"Blue's the color of the normal stuff. The templars consume it to enhance their abilities." A pause. She's definitely a rifter if she doesn't even know what lyrium is. "Anti-magic abilities. Magic suppression and the like. That's what they're trained for. Regular lyrium apparently affects their memory after several years of taking it, and is addictive. But it's nothing like the red stuff." Blue lyrium comes with its own set of dangers, of course, but that pales in comparison to the red. "They'll destroy it. Not sure how but they've done it before."

[swordproof]

So, Templars are... People that fight against magic, it seems. It begs a dozen more questions, but Six feels a little as though she's pushing her luck already with the handful she's asked. Instead, she moves a touch away from the Lyrium, her hands crossing over her chest as she considers, thoughtful.

"There are people here who take something that they know is addictive and damages their bodies?"

[unshadowing]

"I don't think the Chantry exactly leads with that bit when young boys and men join the order." That's how he understands it, anyway. Lyrium addiction's not entirely common knowledge. "Not an expert, but as far as I know it's the only way they can use their abilities. Price you pay for that power and all."

[swordproof]

"No, I suppose not. It wouldn't encourage many to join their ranks." Six knows for a fact if her Oath had come hand in hand with some kind of magical control she would've never accepted it, no matter how gentle and kind Sarenrae was. "There are other ways to be strong." Slowly, her hand drifts up to her amulet. "It cannot be so hard to find in this place, surely."

[unshadowing]

"You are looking for a way to be strong here?" He senses she means something a little more than that, but he can't discern what.

[swordproof]

"I lost some strength when I awoke here," not that she's entirely willing to admit what that was. "I would like to make sure that I am capable of helping if I can."

[unshadowing]

Mysteriouser and mysteriouser. And odd. He tilts his head. "Injury? Illness? Or something else? There are healers around if you need to see one. I heard you lot were trapped down in that crevasse for a few days. That would do a number on anyone."

[swordproof]

"Something else. I have been told that it is normal." Lifting her hands, she touches the medallion around her neck, fingers brushing over a symbol that colours the metal there. "I devoted myself to a God in my world and She guided me. Here... I cannot feel her, sense her, so the strength she gave me is gone."

[unshadowing]

...well, that's not something one hears every day. He takes note of the medallion, but says nothing. It means nothing to him, after all, though he assumes it's associated with what she's talking about. "Your gods are around in your world? Or is it all a leap of faith?"

[swordproof]

"They are present. They speak to us and aid us, and give us strength. With my Oath to Sarenrae I was able to use her divine power to protect those without, but now..." Six bows her head, sad and lost looking despite her height. "Now she is gone."

[unshadowing]

"You're not in your world. Your gods don't reach here. If the Chantry's to be believed, you're in the Maker's territory, and He hasn't spoken to us in a long, long time." And doesn't seem quite willing to anytime soon.

[swordproof]

"Then that is a shame," Six frowns, crossing her arms. "Sarenrae was with me." In the darkest times, but it doesn't seem fit to go ahead and just announce that to a complete stranger. "Perhaps she will find her way here, too."

[unshadowing]

"I don't know if the rifts can take gods, but then who knows." They seem capable of dumping just about anyone into Thedas, so why not a god? "But I wouldn't get your hopes up."

[swordproof]

"If I can find a way to her I will do whatever I can." She seems determined about that, at least, with a steely expression on her face. "I will not abandon her."

[unshadowing]

Now that's an interesting choice of words there. "Abandon? How does one abandon a god? Usually gods do the abandoning. We need them more than they need us, and all."

[swordproof]

"I could turn my back on her and break my Oath, or choose another over here. There are many ways." Six shakes her head. "It is rare that the Gods I know abandon their people. It is not so easily done."

[unshadowing]

"Then your gods are either very forgiving or ours is damn fickle." Could be either or really. Or both. "Unless you choose to follow the Dalish and their ways, you've only got one god here to pick from. And He hasn't been around for a long time."

[swordproof]

"Some are forgiving. Others or not. It depends on the path you follow, as things often do." Six frowns, pausing, intense and pensive. "Perhaps he has been locked away, or he is waiting."

[unshadowing]

"No, He went away of his own accord, if you believe the Chant." Which is a whole other can of worms. "The Tevinters killed His bride, and He washed His hands of us for it."

[swordproof]

"Perhaps people went away from him." She shakes her head. "But I cannot say. I've been here a few scant days and people have lived here for their entire lives. I know only Sarenrae."