faderift | open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

WHO: Inquisition Forces
WHAT: Inquisition forces cross the mountains into Orlais to deal with Emprise du Lion
WHEN: Wintermarch 25 onward
WHERE: EMPRISE DU LION
NOTES: This is a mingle-style log for the Inquisition camps, local tavern, and general/open Inquisition work, etc.

This time they hike down to the west, but the trip through the mountains is no easier. The snow is heaped up about the road where wagons have pushed it aside, stomped into slippery pack beneath the feet and hooves that have gone before. Of the main track it is ankle deep at best and in places it drifts, waist-deep on a tall man and enough to bury a dwarf who hasn't come prepared with snowshoes. Everywhere the wind howls, biting cold, and the sky hangs low, a pale flat grey that makes it difficult to judge distances. Those who know winter weather call it a snow sky, and near-daily squalls prove them right.

They set up camp in Sahrnia, across the broad expanse of frozen river that has trapped the villagers here upstream. Tents pop up in rows and in the shells of tumbled-down buildings, fires blazing and thawing the ground to mud. When the supply wagons roll in they re-open the local tavern, brightly lit with flaking paint on the walls that might once have been colorful and patterned tiles on the floor that seems to swim like an optical illusion after too many glasses of the cheap red wine that fills the cellars.

Even deadlier reds hold the hills: Red Templar sightings have been frequent and it is said they are operating in several locations in the region in significant force. Some of these men and women have become hulking, crystalline beasts. Many others are in the earlier stages of corruption: red-veined and -eyed, aggressive and superhumanly strong, but still visibly human and coherent if spoken to. Red lyrium is even easier to find, jutting out of the ground or cliffsides, filling caves-- the Tower of Bone, a fortress that has stood for centuries, now threatens to split from the inside out. The area's wildlife was none too friendly before, but now the wolves and bears have begun to be corrupted by the lyrium and many will attack on sight, without provocation. (The snofleurs that bumble harmlessly around the river seem unaffected.)

Everywhere there are ruins: broken bridges, crumbling colosseums, and the great hulking mass of Suledin's Keep tucked between the distant hills. Scouts reported that Red Templars hold it as well.

RIFTER ARRIVAL - SAHRNIA - THE HILLS - TOWER CAMP - A HANDY MAP

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Norrington could feel the touch of magic on him, and with that, the compassion that fueled it. With that in mind, he climbed atop the fallen behemoth and raised his sword, to make it a quick and clean death through the creature's eye, and as he did so, Adelaide and Compassion might have heard across the silence, "...and may the Maker forgive you for your sins, brother. I release you to His mercy, and pray your suffering be over."

The sword swung down, and the behemoth moved no further. Norrington exhaled, before jumping away from it, watching the creature disintegrate. He nodded his head in a silent good bye, before turning to walk towards Adelaide. For now, it was quiet all around them.

"Typically ... " He said solemnly, "When we vanquish a formidiable opponent, we have a manly display of chest thumping. Considering the circumstances however?" He solemnly lifted his fist to the air, inviting her to do the same.

"...chest thumping. Really." Somehow that was as surprising as it was exactly not surprising at all. She stared at him for a moment, incredulous, before she lifted he hand in turn and made a fist.

Chest thumping. How quaint.

"Blood runs high after a battle, my Lady." Norrington leaned in, and bumped their firsts together lightly. "It's either that or start whooping and alerting all the other troops to our position. Shall we press on?"

Yes, he may just be smirking behind his helm. He got you to fist bump, Adelaide.

"Such displays of spirit were often frowned upon in the Spire. Maker forbid a mage take pride in their work, or a Templar seem overzealous in their duties. Our praise came something along the lines of..." She turned to look at the downed creature, at Norrington an his men alive and well. "That was adequate."

James looked out at his men, who were in fact now chest thumping one another, cheering for her and for James. Then he looked back at her, before he stated simply.

"Then isn't it good we're all part of the Inquisition now?"

Can you hear the eyebrow there, Lady Adelaide? He's not your enemy, and yes, the Templars can change. If he has to keep fighting every damned behemoth and fist bump every damned mage in Thedas, he'll do it. His honor, his pride asked for nothing less to prove it. One day, one step closer.

"I think, then, the appropriate reaction is to say 'we owned that bitch, shit yeah.'" Said in a bland deadpan to further emphasize how out of character the entirety of the phrase was for her- and she held her hand out once more. "Finished with another one of your fisting things."

James nodded his head solemnly, before he stated, "We did, indeed, own that bitch. We brought the thunder."

And he leaned over and bumped his fist against hers again. "And then we rolled it."

In the interest of continued good relations, Adelaide offered a similar outstretched fist for Burns, dick on his helmet and all. Though the dick on his helmet did make her squint. "...Do. Do I even want to know what that is about, or shall I assume it is one of your templar traditions?"

Burns grinned as he trudged out, holding out his fist and gently bumped his fist against hers as he was wearing gauntlets. A grin that turned downright wicked as he tapped the penis on his helmet. "Oh no - this was a gift from one of our ardent admirers on Knight Commander Sauveterre's public posting. Giselle and I decided to claim them as our own - after all - if I am going to be called a dick Templar, might as well wear it with pride. Besides, keeps our side from getting confused on who to hit."

"...someone drew male genitals on the templar posting." She'd seen it before the defacing, taken it at face value and went about her business. "And you...are wearing these genitals on your helms to differentiate yourselves from the red templars. As though the eruptions of glowing red lyrium would not be enough."

Norrington coughed into his gauntlet, because he had said the same damned thing when he had seen his men's helmet. He also knew what answer Burns was about to give.

Burn's dark brown eyes widened, before he flashed her another grin. "You know ... I may have noticed that? But I like my penis design better. Because I'd rather be a dick then a spikey-faced arsehole."

He looked to Norrington, "We scouting ahead further sir?"

Norrington looked around, then back at Adelaide, "Press forward, or secure behind us for the next troop?"

"...All your men may continue scouting, Commander, but I must recommend Burns return to camp and have his head checked." Not really, but it is something she can say with a straight face that sounds serious enough to give everyone pause before turning her attention back up the hill. "I fear he has caught a dire case of assuming he's actually funny. A terrible affliction indeed."

Both Norrington and Burns lifted their eyebrows together at that while the rest of Norrington's people looked at Adelaide with some concern -- until she finished her comment. Burns flushed pink, while Gilette burst into a hearty laugh, as did the rest of them, with chortled, "Showed you, Burns!" "Hah!"

Norrington's lips twitched up as he coughed out a laugh. "Well, luckily, we're all aware of it. Lieutenant Burns, do please scout up the hill, so your affliction doesn't infect the others?"

Burns rubbed the back of his head, shooting Adelaide a wry grin. "Yessir. My Lady LeBlanc." He dipped a bow, before leading the others up the hill.

Norrington watched him go, before stating dryly, "I'd watch it. He may end up having a crush on you, Lady LeBlanc."

There was a moment, terribly brief, where she was uncertain if she'd overstepped this tentative alliance. A man's pride was a terribly fragile thing without the warped dynamics her being an Orlesian and a mage brought into the mix, nevermind his being a templar. She made the crack and kept her face calm, her voice even, though the hand on her staff was tight.

They were not Unger, they were not Lambert, and even knowing this as well as she did could not shake the ghosts away.

But he flushed, they laughed, and the moment passed. The subtle tension wound in her shoulders eased a bit, offering her snort of laughter a sincere incredulity. "If all it takes is an Orlesian snipping at him, he will have crushes on half of Val Royeaux."

"...Only if they're as strong as steel, my Lady LeBlanc. Burns has an affinity for men and women who can break him over their knees." Norrington stated, as he waved his sword over his head. "Fan out, keep an eye out for more trouble."

He tilted his head at Adelaide. "Shall we see what other fantastic stories we can tell back at camp? Outside of killing a Behemoth all on our own."

"...I am not certain if that is entirely appropriate." When in doubt? Formality reigns. But. "I suppose I am...flattered?"

That was the easier course to take. Being offended would be ungracious and she must strive to be gracious with templars. Honestly it ought to leave her more uncomfortable than it actually does- her lack of discomfit is what renders the entire concept uncomfortable.

Better to focus on the task at hand. "Perhaps if we step quickly, we might kill two."

"I assure you, despite all his ... rather immature bluster, Burns is a Chantry boy at heart." He looked over at Lady LeBlanc, his green eyes serious, "So if you want me to tell him to stop flirting? I will, and he will."

There was absolutely no reason for anyone to feel uncomfortable with one another - any more than they already were. Mages and Templars were working on this tentative peace, and he wouldn't have that ruined by Burns's flirtations.

"Ooooh, now that will be a story to tell the grandchildren." He started up the hill, waiting for her to fall in step beside him. "Two it is."

"If it is harmless, let it be harmless." She could and would ignore it accordingly- apparently that only made it worse but; If nothing else she was slowly coming around to the idea that Norrington and his men were actually half decent people.

Nothing would come of it.

"You know him better than I- and will know if he crosses a line he ought not." Most likely due to her telling him so, but a few words and a bouquet of flowers would not unsettle her deeply. For these men? No meant something.

"If we are truly fortunate, We might make it three."

"He's .... basically a puppy. A puppy with a lame sense of humor, but a puppy none the less." And Norrington thought of him as a little brother.

So there would be flowers, and then Burns would run after someone else after Adele politely showed no interest.

"I shall make sure he knows not to." He stated firmly, before he breathed out.

"Three .... that would be something." He whistled softly.

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open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

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