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

[champions]

Fascinating.

( Destructive. It sounds like it could not possibly have the precision of an arrow of the elegance of magic, but it is intriguing all the same. She watches him holster it with quiet curiosity before looking back to him. )

It is an unfortunate reality that in some trades, the people are the valuables.

[mousquetaire]

You think we're dealing with slavery.

[ He says that with a dryness that implies it's not the first time he's come across it. There's evident distaste in his tone, though. He sighs. ]

Is that legal here? Wherever here is. I'd like to imagine raiding a village would be criminal in any case, but perhaps I shouldn't assume.

[champions]

I think if the people here are very lucky then we are dealing with slavery.

( She has heard rumours, but when it came to the Inquisition sometimes it was hard to determine what was rumour and what was truth. There is a sort solemnity to how she says it that is jarringly out of place with her curiosity and whimsy of moments before. )

Not in most of Thedas. In the Tevinter Imperium, yes. Some would argue the Qun is a form of slavery, but I do not know enough about it. ( Qunari are brutes; that's about all she cares to know, beyond there savage treatment of their mages. ) It is hard to imagine they would bother coming this far south for slaves.

[mousquetaire]

[ Those are words that d'Artagnan files away. Thedas. Tevinter Imperium. He's never felt so ignorant. He hasn't always been well informed about the politics of his own country, but at least he's grown up knowing the names and the prejudices. Here, he's entirely in the dark. ]

I still can't believe this is in the south.

[ He says, with a dubious look towards the horizon. He's used to it getting warmer the further south he goes. Shaking that off, he frowns at her. ]

Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but what is the Qun? It seems there's a lot that I must get used to here, and no one's yet spoken that word.

it's time for MARISOL'S OPINION

[champions]

There is a great deal I don't know about the Qun, and I am glad of it.

( Girl, let her tell you about the Qun and why it's garbage anyway, though. ) The Qun is an order of belief and social organisation employed by the Qunari, a barbarian breed from the North. It is a... group of laws that dictates how the Qunari and all those who live under their rule must live, that strictly defines what a person may do or may be. It creates servants of all its people, and I have heard horror stories of what becomes of mages - those with magical gifts - who are so unlucky as to have their powers known.

[mousquetaire]

So, a religion.

[ D'Artagnan says, summing up what belief and social organisation means to him. Honestly, it sounds not unlike the Church he's used to. ]

When you say it defines what they may do or be, what do you mean? Where I'm from people are born into their class. They can't be what they aren't, and I know the leaders of my church would not be friendly to mages. Not that there are any in my world, but they still burn the accused at the stake when they get half a chance. I helped stop such an attempt not so long ago.

[ So is that what the Qun are? Fanatical priests he'd need to keep an eye on? It's possible. Her description gives him more than a little unease, at any rate. ]