faderift | 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

Nothing that would affect you long-term. I can make it so you breathe lightning for a minute. It might give you the upper hand against that behemoth.

❰ all said as though this is perfectly normal, perfectly reasonable. it won't help the man to coddle him over his unfamiliarity with magic — it will be a fact of life for him now, whether he's comfortable with it or not. better to throw him into the deep end and make him figure it out quickly than draw it out and leave him vulnerable at some point. ❱

[ D'Artagnan stares at her like -

Well. Like she's just suggested he shoot out lightning from his face. ]

You can make it so that I breathe lightning.

[ Just to make sure he heard that right. Part of him wants to laugh. A very large part of him, in fact. He looks away, smiling with disbelief. She sounds so serious. It's insane that she sounds so serious. He turns back to her, hand lifted, gesturing while he talks. ]

And you don't suppose that might burn me to a crisp, as lightning often does? Bolts that cleave trees in half, that's what you're suggesting I breathe.

❰ adalia smiles right back — haha, what a funny joke we are both in on! what a strange world this is! only when she speaks, she sounds sort of offended, and quite serious. ❱

You think I would do something to hurt you? Or that I'm so inexperienced I don't know how to work my magic safely?

❰ she holds out her own hand, and shows him how sparks dance harmlessly over her skin, spitting and hissing out of nowhere and dying before they can touch him. ❱

The only way my magic would hurt you is if I wanted it to. When you breathe the lightning, it will simply... feel hot, and bright. You'll be fine. Anyone in your line of fire will not be. Anyone.

❰ meaning pls don't breathe lightning on inquisition members, please. ❱

[ D'Artagnan resists the urge to step back when she lights up her palm. It's not easy; any ordinary person would react like that, he thinks, defending himself to himself. God, this is all actually happening. He looks from her palm to her face, and maybe for a split second to the interesting little points of her ears, and then he rubs his hand over his eyes. ]

Anyone, including friends.

[ Well, allies. He throws another speculative glance at the giant. Swords and knives aren't going to make a dent on that. Bullets might, if he could get close enough, but he'd have to get to crushing distance. He steels himself. ]

All right. Will it stop if I close my mouth, or do I just have to hope everyone's paying attention?

[ Which means, he's actually going to do this. Already he can hear Athos' voice in his head, telling him what a stupid idea it is. Well, Athos isn't here, and the giant certainly is. It's time to work. ]

❰ adalia's smile turns gentler now, and there is an impressed quality to the way she looks at the stranger — not everyone could roll with the punches like this, and that he is making the effort instead of digging his heels in means he may adapt more quickly than she had thought he would. it's this bump in estimation that makes her much less combative in tone when she speaks, this time. ❱

It will stop if you close your mouth. It's at will, and only for a minute, so I'll have to cast the spell right when you get near enough to the monster for a breath — fifteen feet, or so. I can also magic you to move faster, if you think you need it.

❰ not said with any judgment — fifteen feet is closer than she'd like to be to something that big, even if she's rather sure it's far enough away to be able to maneuver safely out of its range. haste could help with that, if he wanted it, but she's not about to overload this man with magic when he's so thrown by it already. ❱

Either way, we'll have to make the approach together. I have to touch you to imbue you with the spell.

[ Fifteen feet or so. Focusing on the mechanics of all this makes it much easier for d'Artagnan to process. It's just like picking the right location to shoot. ]

We have to get close enough to bring it down, anyway.

[ That sounds a little too reasonable. No one in their right mind should want to get close to that thing. ]

What are the odds he won't notice? We could really use a distraction. Unless by fast you mean, faster than he can see us.

[ He says that as if she can't possibly mean that fast. Because that would just be crazy, right? ]

Maybe not faster than he can see us, but faster than he could react to seeing us.

❰ faster than sight, totally crazy. too fast to be hit? doable. adalia's tone remains matter-of-fact, like all of this is completely reasonable and he just has to go with it, because... it is, and he does. ❱

In order to hit you at the speed you're going, he'd have to be able to anticipate where you'd be before you get there. Something that big and stupid won't be able to manage it.

❰ at least, adalia assumes it won't. she's never really estimated her enemies to have the highest levels of intelligence, but this behemoth doesn't really look like it will be doing much thinking. ❱

[ D'Artagnan stares at her. ]

Well, I wish I had your confidence.

[ He looks up again, eyeing his target. Then he presses his lips together and turns back to her, pointing at her. ]

All right, do it. But if this ends up getting me killed, I'm going to take it very personally. [ A final glance, and then he nods. ]

I'm ready.

OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

are you okay to handwave the battle?