faderift | 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Lateral promotion. Wardens are roughly as wonderful as a bad stableboys. ]

So you disturb my rest instead? How kind of you. Find somewhere else.

This is where I was told to go.

[ Hands no longer frozen, he fastens the wooden toggles on the tent flap—not going anywhere, sorry—and turns back, stooped over, to survey the tent for a place to lie down while he unfastens the especially-metally bits of his armor. ]

You can find somewhere else. I'm going to sleep.

I am going to have words with whoever made the assignments.

[ It is dark in the tent, he is rattling about- with a sigh of frustrated exasperation she waves a glowing wisp into being so he can at least see what he is doing. ]

Be quick. And don't put that on my side.

I'm sure you are. [ The straps under his arms come loose, his breastplate is lifted over his head. ] And I'm sure he'll be very interested in rearranging people to make sure you, personally, are comfortable.

[ But he puts the armor piece down on the side that--he thinks--is not her side. ]

How difficult is it to remember 'no templars'?

[ Not that difficult- and for all that he whined and whinged- this fool is close enough to one for her to be left frustrated by him. ]

I'm not a Templar. Next time you should say no Wardens, or no Fereldan Wardens, or give him my name in particular.

[ He'd almost take that as a compliment. ]

I promise I won't dispel anything unless you try to light me on fire or are secretly a darkspawn. I'm too tired.

No, you're a templar hobbyist. All of the skills, none of the discipline- which is worse.

[ She squints across the tent at him, Compassion niggling for her to check. Even if she thinks him foolish. ]

Other than tired- are you injured?

Isn't that what people say about apostates?

[ He's still in his mail, his boots, everything, but he kicks out the bedroll and lies down as he is, with squeaks and quiet scrapes of leather and metal, face-down with his head on his arms so the next words are muffled. ]

No. Not unless you can do something about this blighted song--

[ He's fine. ]

We have odd dreams. If I make too much noise just throw something at me.

False templars overreaching don't have the same consequences as an apostate- they live long enough to keep repeating their foolishness.

[ Apostates do not.

The song, though- that gives her pause. She'd sung for Felix, but she likes Felix. She can hardly tolerate Alistair. ]

Or I could send you to sleep with a spell and you'd wake relatively refreshed. [ And he'd be quiet at night. Hopefully. She has not tried this on a warden before. ]

I'm on your side, [ Alistair says, before she can get the wrong idea, or that specific wrong idea--he can't stop her from having any wrong ideas-- ] but [ for the sake of argument ] from what I hear apostates set the Hinterlands on fire and tossed my uncle out of his castle, and they're not especially dead. So you could cut me a small break.

[ He holds up a hand with his fingers together to indicate how small it should be. Very small. ]

And I'm supposed to trust you, hm?

[ He lifts his head to squint at her. But he doesn't mean it. ]

Sure, all right. Thank you.

Frightened circle mages promised a better future- much like the templars growing red lyrium in their bones. We are all damned here and-

[ A beat, a blink, a squint. ]

...Teagan is your Uncle? That would make you...I can now call you a bastard in public and be honest. Thank you.

[ It's like Wintersend all over again, that detail. ]

[ He laughs. It's a very short laugh, and lacking substantially in the genuine mirth department, but still a laugh. ]

Happy to to be of service. If my life serves as nothing but a joke for those who otherwise would have none, [ Snippy McSeriousface, ] it will have been well spent.

IT's the first useful thing you have been good for.

[ The spell coils around her hand in low wisps, glowing faintly. ]

open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

my heart, it is broken

i'm sorry i'm just not very persistent

now i'm malcontent

I'm sorry. I know the puns were importent.

stop being so resistent

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