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

[foundmyselfagain]

“Not really.” Gareth replies cheerfully, making sure to close the tent behind the woman. “But it’ll keep us from being slightly less cold, and if that isn’t fun, it’s at least not as miserable.” Which is probably as close to fun as it’s going to get here.

He raises his hand to give a mock salute in return, and spots the shard in her hand. “Ah, right, you’ve got one of those annoying fuckers too, haven’t you?” He unlaced the ties on his sleeves—careful not to push the sleeve up, if Alex is the sort to notice that kind of thing—and removes his glove, to show her his very own matching rave hand. “They’re useful, in a way, but that barely makes up for how inconvenient they are. Take advice from me: even when it’s not so bitterly cold out, you’ll want to keep a glove on it. Keeps people from staring, at least.”

[periastron]

Alex does notice, but doesn't immediately jump to conclusions. It's more of a oh, was he—? than any kind of certainty, a kind of cautious observation born of years hiding scars and bruises.

"Righto," she says, somehow rendering it into a thoughtful sort of agreement as she steps towards the pit... thing. "Honestly, I'm just upset it's not blue. Would really work nicely with my complexion." Her grin is sort of offhandedly obnoxious. "Not bad for reading by, I guess."

She holds out her hand for a handshake. "I'm Alex. My little buddy here is Beauregard."

Beauregard is currently a little shape in her coat and a couple of round shaped, tufty ears sticking out.

[foundmyselfagain]

"If you figure out a way to change colors, let me know. I'd love to have something that matched more of my outfits." He says, like his outfits aren't usually already faded and worn, the shades dulled to the point an extra color or two wouldn't matter. Except for the shirts Marisol got for him, but he certainly isn't taking those to the ass end of nowhere.

"Gareth," He replies to the names, too busy looking down as he replaces his glove and ties it again to notice there's another guest here. But he does catch little buddy and looks up, squinting at the fuzzy ears.

"...What is Beauregard?" The question is cautious. He's seen the giant green chicken. And he's really hoping this isn't something just as weird.

[periastron]

"Beau's a koala. He came through the rift thing with me."

She opens the coat just enough to show a little of his face, the furry grey body. "He's just a baby, though. It's lucky he managed to hold on this long with this kinda weather."

Beauregard looks sleepy, rather than very alert, little eyes opening and closing a few times before he buries his face against Alex again, and she closes the coat again.

"Maybe really thin material gloves, by the way. So the light still shines through, but you get a colour filtering it."

[foundmyselfagain]

"Oh." He's never heard of koalas before, but squinting at what he can see, it doesn't look too weird. And it stands to reason that different worlds might have different animals. But, most importantly: "Does he bite? Or scratch, or...anything like that?"

He'd like to know if he's going to wake up with a koala trying to gnaw off his foot, thanks.

The mention of a thin glove makes him look thoughtful. He wouldn't use it, of course. He has his own reasons for the thick gloves he wears. But still. "Maybe lace. It can be dyed different colors, I think. Or...whatever that stuff is that ladies wear on their clothes, that's all. Gauzy."