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

[exequy]

[ It isn't weird because Kostos has not, in face, ever seen Beleth in any state of undress. He's never seen her at all. What is a Beleth. What is Scouting. What is the Inquisition.

He is very cold. ]

No.

[ His favorite word. But he means it. He has his own socks, which she would see shortly if she were looking at him at all, which isn't advisable, maybe, because his trousers are also ice-encrusted and increasingly damp at the cuffs and also coming off to be replaced. He doesn't care--because, legitimate question this time, what is privacy. ]

I am going to die, and you would either lose your socks forever or forever know that they were once on a corpse.

[arlathvhen]

[ Beleth turns to comment on that whole dying thing, catches him starting to remove his pants, and makes a startled noise in the back of her throat, before whipping her eyes away from him. She’d be weirded out even if he were just another dude. There are five different things piled on top of each other that make it even weirder, which is impressive, even for her.

Maybe he’s doing this on purpose. Punishing her for dragging him up here in the first place.

It takes a little bit for her to manage an appropriately witty reply, then voice it. ]

You’d get to keep the socks, in that case. I suppose you could consider it a severance package. [ She gives a little snort at her own joke. ] But if you die, I’ll be left with only Val for an advisor. And while I’m sure he’d be happy to talk enough for you both, [ A joke aimed both at Val’s love of talking, and Kostos’ distaste for it. ] I’m not sure I’d want to listen that much.

[ She says, to the tent flap. ]

[exequy]

[ Beleth's throat-noise briefly gains his attention, and he notes her discomfort without especially giving a damn. Not enough of a damn to be sorry. But he does generally try to use his thighs to entertain rather than alarm, so he isn't proud, either, or amused, or anything short of efficient in finding another set of pants in his bag.

It's a good thing she isn't looking, though, for multiple reasons. He can't make the little fuck it's cold dance he does in the meantime look remotely dignified. ]

Should have thought of that, [ he says, between jerky movements, ] before.

[arlathvhen]

Is this going to be a thing? Are you just going to complain the entire time? [ That's a rhetorical question, because Beleth has very little doubt that Kostos is not only capable but willing to do exactly that. ] Because if so, I can just kill you off quickly, right now. It'd be merciful, really.

[ Deciding that she's spoken with the tent flap long enough for him to be dressed, she risks a quick glance back over at him. ]

I would prefer not to, for the record. There are plenty of ways to stay warm. Or...warmer, I guess. I'd rather that than killing you. But far be it from me to not give you a wide range of options.

[exequy]

[ She's in luck. He isn't naked. He's still working on a button, fumbling in his gloves, but he pauses that to spread his arms at his side, waiting for the offered mercy. Please kill him. He's ready to die. His extended hands tremble a little, because it's cold, if that hasn't been mentioned yet.

But she'd rather not kill him. Apparently.

Bummer. ]

I do not do fire, [ he warns. ] Not unless you want the tent to burn.

[arlathvhen]

It would put an end to your complaining, at least. [ But that would involve her, too, and if she's going to die, it'd better be somewhere she can actually be buried, not a frozen hellscape. So instead, she opens her pack, and digs around for a moment, before pulling out a thick woolen blanket, dyed in distinctively Dalish patterns, if Kostos has an eye for it (and even if he doesn't, it bares some resemblance to the various decor she has hanging around the office). ]

I wasn't talking about magic, though. Come over here.