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

closed to nell;

[aenseidhe]

[ Despite the battle of Vergen and the way Saskia had brought humans and nonhumans together to fight for a free future, it still feels bizarre for Iorveth to be fighting alongside humans here, as true allies. Before Vergen, it had been with Nilfgaard, and the Vrihedd Brigade had been their own, autonomous unit, that took different missions, worked only among themselves to carry out orders from higher generals in the army. The everyday Nilfgaardian soldiers never associated with them if they didn't have to, and they'd been perfectly content with that.

Here, at the mine camp they've laid siege to, it's more like the militia Saskia had scraped together; human helping elf helping dwarf hold the line and watch one another's back. Or, given they're the offensive party in the battle, boosting one another further toward victory, carving a path through monstrous abominations covered in red crystals. The order was to let none live, complete and total extermination, and while he might not like the idea of taking orders from some unseen commander, this is the kind of thing Iorveth excels at - the cruel violence of war. And he's really needed some stress relief of late.

In battle, he looks nothing like the graceful, composed picture most imagine Elven warriors to be, toggling between a bow that frankly looks overkill as hell to be pulling out in a melee, and the twin swords at either of his sides he wields quick and ruthless, weaving between bodies and cutting viciously at the gaps between armor plating (the Nilfgaardian Wars taught him the anatomy of heavy armor well), severing limbs if he can manage it, or at least ripping through arteries and tendons. He does, however, keep a strict mind to lay of the battle around him, finding a Templar engaged with another Inquisition warrior (or approaching them from a flank), sweeping behind to slice against the unprotected backs of their knees. Or, making his way to an Inquisition fighter that doesn't seem to be handling things well, either from injury or inexperience, cutting into their fight to forcibly take their place, then give them a literal swift kick to the ass, with a sword pointed back towards the rear of the fray.

Knowing what Solas had advised him of early on, Iorveth keeps a particularly close eye on the mages that stray too close to the Templars and their dampening abilities. Sorcerers are an invaluable thing in a battle, he knows, whether or not he's that fond of magic - it's simply the truth. Should one come under too close of a threat, there will either be a barrage of arrows coming from somewhere close by, or this six freaking foot plus tall elf hacking into their arm at the shoulder, or all together decapitating them. Very sorry for any stains received by this. ]