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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“Who what?”

Salvatore is mostly regretting coming here. Oh, sure, he wanted to see somewhere new. He has a grand goal of seeing everywhere ever. But it is fucking cold, even with the extra layers he’s piled on himself. He should have waited for warmer weather. Too little too late.

“Sorry. If you want to be alone, I can leave.” He’s balancing two bowls in his hands, and offers one. “I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet. But it’s warm.”

"Who you," he answers immediately, though upon realizing that this guy comes bearing food, he relaxes a bit. Everyone that he's met so far here has been friendly, nobody really looking at him funny until they realize that he's not native.

He scoots over some on his little section of log to offer a warm space; this guy doesn't look like he appreciates the cold any more than Gam himself does. To make it a little easier he takes one of the bowls, holding it between his hands to try and leech some of the warmth. "Take a load off, man. Plenty'a fire to go around."

"My thanks." With a bit of a shiver, he takes the offered seat. No way is he going to turn down a chance to warm up. "I'm Salvatore, by the way." He let the bowl warm his hands for a bit and glanced sideways at the other. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Most get callin' me Gam," he replied, offering his hand to shake. "Just got here through one'a them green motherfuckers floatin' about ten feet up. Met a tall lady with some killer motherfuckin' horns when I got here, she brought me here."

"Gam." Sal takes his hand, narrowing his eyes some. Not in a bad way. Just, the name is hard to place, the speech patterns, and then it makes sense. He nods. "You came through one of the rifts. I'm glad you made it here in one piece."

"Yeah, you n' me both. Would hate to be gettin' back home down a leg or somethin'." He chuckles quietly, then lifts his bowl to his lips and takes a mouthful of the stew. He chews slowly. "Mnn. Needs seasonin'," he mutters, then looks back over at Sal. Prob'ly a long shot, but y'all got any kinda smoke here? Would like to not be all motherfuckin' on edge, y'know?"

Sal just smiles and nods. The night's still young, but he's ever the optimist. He doesn't want to be the one to inform Gam that it could be a while - or never - before he gets home.

The stew goes untried. It's still doing a good job of warming his hands. He purses his lips, frowning, and looks at Gam, then slowly looks at the fire. Smoke? Oh! Smoke. "Uh ... Possibly? I wouldn't know where to acquire it, I'm afraid."

"Damn." Well, he's not going to make a big deal out of it. He could figure it out for himself, sooner or later. There's got to be a hookup somewhere in the Inquisition, if it's as big and connected as he's been led to believe.

"So, you from 'round here Salvatore? Met a couple people like me, but more of 'em around seem to be natives. Better to know who's from where in case I gotta find someone with information."

"I'm very sorry." And he truly is. He likes being able to help people, and he hates when he can't.

"I didn't fall out of a hole in the sky, if that's what you're asking." He smiles over. "I'm not from here specifically, but I am from here. If you've got any questions, I ... well, I may not be the best source, but I'd certainly do my best."

He laughs a little. "Yeah, I mean native to Thedas- Thedas right?- in general. Dunno what else I can ask right this second, but I been gettin' the impression this place is a hell of a lot bigger than just this snowy-ass motherfuckin' ravine we done found ourselves in. Heard at least three different accents just movin' from the rift to the camp here."

"Thedas, yes. It's quite large. We're sitting in Emprise du Lion right now. And if we survive the madness here, we can go home to Skyhold, which is slightly more impressive, and has hot baths." Which sounds so wonderful right about now. "You seem to be taking this well. How are you feeling?"

"Way I see it, y'all need help here, n' I'm uniquely qualified to be givin' it. Sooner all this shit gets sorted out...Iunno, things calm down, n' I get to go home. Mopin' or panickin' or gettin' all mad's a waste'a energy.

"Would look forward to gettin' a warm bath after we's able to get on up outta here though. Y'all got good soap in Skyhold? Definitely gonna wanna scrub off some'a the grime that fightin' off demons leaves on ya."

"Oh, um. That's one theory, I suppose..." Wouldn't it be great if it were true. He's worried Gam is setting himself up for a let-down down the road, though. "It's not so bad here, though, when you get past the fighting and the things trying to kill you. Lots of great people."

He hums with a quick nod. "There's soap. It'll get you clean." But more interestingly. "You fought demons?"

"It was that or get my limbs chewed off by spindly green fuckers." Gam shrugs some at that, as if it hadn't been a big deal for him to have basically knifed a Terror in the face while wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. It was, but he preferred not to worry people, and understating things was almost reflexive by now.

Edited 2016-02-01 07:44 (UTC)

"Those are awful, aren't they?" Being a distance fighter had some advantages. He rarely had to face things like that head on. And he'd like to never admit to the flashes of panic when the bad guys got too close for comfort. "Is your world anything like this?"

"Man, 'specially when they get poppin' up outta the motherfuckin' ground under ya feet. Glad to be quick or I'd'a been on my back more'n once." He makes a face, then surveys the landscape thanks to Sal's question. "Everything looks about the same, or at least analogous. Trees're pretty familiar, probably got different names for 'em here though. N' people are recognizable enough. All kinds'a stories about elves n' dwarves n' hobbits n' whatever other motherfuckin' things you might be havin' here even if we ain't had many that I know of. Kinda comfortin', findin' somethin' with a familiar sorta motherfuckin' tone, though that lyrium shit's news to me."

"Sounds like a terror demon." He never had one up close and personal, thank the Maker, but he's seen them near enough to know he never wants to.

He doesn't know what a hobbit is (because he hasn't met Sam) but the rest makes sense. "That's good. The familiarity of it should help you adjust. Still, I'm sorry you've taken from your home." He grins and reaches into his robes to pull free a small corked up bottle of bluish potion. "This?"

He takes a moment to examine the blue stuff, then huffs a quiet laugh. "Shoulda known the red shit wasn't the only sort. Explains the fuckin' qualifier." He turns the bottle over in his fingers then hands it back and points off eastward, where he'd first seen the massive chunks of eerie crystal jutting out of the ground. "Guessin' since that shit's evil n' poison, this what you got in ya hands there's a kinda medicine or somethin', right?"

He takes the bottle back with an, "Ooh. Red lyrium. You need to stay away from that, and never touch it if you see it. Evil and poison is right." The blue lyrium disappears back to wear it came from. "Sort of, maybe, yeah. It increases my mana, uh... strengthens my connection to the Fade."

"Yeah, got that much when I was walkin' past it. Shit gets fuckin' whisperin' in ya head you get too close. Smells like hot copper, n' ain't nothin' good what smells like that."

When Sal tries to explain the blue lyrium, Gam's face breaks into a wide grin. "Shit, brother, I got shit like that back home, just for smokin' instead'a drink."

"You smoke it?" He cracks a grin of his own, laughing. What kind of lyrium - or equivalent - do they have where he's from? That doesn't seem very prudent delivery method. You can't light one up in the middle of a battle. "Are you a mage, too?"

He laughs in kind, shaking his head. "Guess it's good I don't need it for fightin' then. Ain't no motherfuckin' mage, my magicks ain't any kinda combat-worthy, n' they anchored to specific spirits..." he pauses briefly and looks up, as if listening for something. He shakes his head some. "-that I ain't got connection to no more. Not bein' here, anyway. Weird, not bein' able to feel m' Damballah n' his Ayida."

"You're cut off?" That's sad, in a way. Isn't it? Losing his connection to the Fade would be like losing a part of himself. He glances up when Gam does, but of course sees nothing, and feels silly for doing so. "Is ... Are those the spirits' names?"

"I always got Damballah at my ear, in my head. 's part of the deal, he gets to watch the world through my eyes. But I can't feel 'im no more. It's like...sheddin' a skin you always fuckin' had, n' senses is duller for it. 'cept the one that knows where the green shit is, that's a new one to me." Gam runs a hand up the back of his neck under his dreads, nodding thoughtfully. "'s right. Damballah's the All-father, n' his wife's Ayida-Weddo. They lookin' out f' me n' mine. 's what this shit means." He pulls the scarf around his neck up, then tugs the leathers of the basic scout uniform out away from his chest to show the snakes twined together. They are connected to a larger design, but he would have to take off the top of the uniform entirely to show that as well.

He tries to keep up, though the names are unfamiliar, and he has a little trouble envisioning what Gam means by in my head and watching the world through his eyes. It seemed like communing, but maybe more intimate.

"Green shit?" His lips quirk. "Is that the rifts? You can sense them?" He hasn't spoken to many rifters, and not about their marks or what they can do. Was that a Gam thing or a rifter thing?

He leans forward to see the snakes, and leans back once he's got an idea of what he's looking at. "Is it just a symbol, or does it have any properties?"

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maladgogo - 2016-03-02 19:28 (UTC) - Expand

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