Into the DANGER ZONE

[faderifting]

WHO: All Rifters + the 7 natives who signed up
WHAT: Searching the ruins of Haven for survivors, an Inquisition crew finds something strange. And demons. It's kind of scary that the demons aren't the strange thing.
WHEN: Third week of Harvestmere, 9:41
WHERE: Haven
NOTES: We've broken rifters and rescuers (or "rescuers") into two groups. This log has an arrival comment for each group--you can start smaller subthreads beneath those rather than try to have an eight- or nine-person log, just incorporate surrounding chaos/fighting--and a third top-level set for the whole group's journey back to Skyhold

You were asleep-- deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.

But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact, barely softened by snow that lies a foot deep with an icy crust that cracks beneath the force of your landing. The wind is biting cold, the sun is bright, and you are not alone. Others thud to the ground nearby, as bewildered as you, and others run up who look no less confused for having their feet beneath them.

You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like that you're being attacked by monsters, some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all.

Welcome to Thedas!

Comments

GROUP 1

[faderifting]

(Group 1 includes: Korrin, Beleth, Lucan, Martin Walker, Barbara Gordon, Yuna, Martel, Araceli)

Haven's destruction was total. Between the battles with demons, templars, and mages, the corrupted dragon Corypheus unleashed, and the avalanche that finally ended the fight and covered the Inquisition's retreat, what was once a small town is little more than charred and broken remains, large portions of which are buried.

But it is far from abandoned: pilgrims and gawkers still come to see the place the Herald of Andraste rose and fell, recruits, agents, visitors and suppliers pass through on their way to Skyhold, and the Inquisition itself has not entirely abandoned the village they destroyed. Teams work to clear debris, to salvage what materials and supplies they can, to find the dead and give them proper send-offs. All those who fell that day deserve rites, but they search especially for the Herald. With an official state funeral scheduled in just a few days' time, the hunt for her remains has intensified, and anyone who can be spared has been sent down the mountains to clear snow and rubble. That includes you.

There is a rift near the edge of town-- almost dormant since the Breach was closed, and guarded by another small team of Inquisition members, just in case. Someone up the hill in Skyhold had the brilliant idea that maybe it still being there has something to do with the Herald, so you've been asked to search this quadrant first. There hasn't been much to see so far, your biggest find a barrel of nails. Useful, sure, but not exactly exciting.

And then the rift nearby crackles to life, all of a sudden. Demons spawn out of it in arcs of green light-- a half-dozen wraiths and terrors, and a despair demon, and you can see that more have arrived on the other side of the hill by the guard team, but rubble and monsters both bar your path. And instead of stopping there another wave comes immediately, and this time the creatures that are spat out are like no demon you've ever seen. The rift claps shut behind them and dissipates with a swirl of green light like smoke.

Beleth Ashara

[arlathvhen]

Sorting through the rubble was a rough, thankless job. Certainly not what she'd signed up for, though the importance of it was enough to keep her from mentally grumbling too much. Those who died deserved to be honored, to have their bodies receive the proper rites. That is what Beleth tells herself as she digs out a box from the snow, filled with--wait for it--more snow.

She gives the box a much deserved kick, right as the crackling of the rift starts, earning an undignified squawk and jumping backwards from the box. But the true culprit is easy to figure out. Demons aren't exactly subtle. Within a moment's breath, she's got her bow out and strung, firing at the demons. She only pauses to beat a quick retreat to a safer distance, hopping on top of a pile of rubble. Ha, now she's tall. Not that it would really do much to keep her out of the reach of the demons, but it was better than nothing?

"DEMONS. WE'VE GOT DEMONS, AND--" She squints at the creatures that fell through the rift, then shakes her head, turning back to the others. "--PEOPLE-SHAPED DEMONS...?"

[shocktroops]

Lucan had been shifting through rubble for weeks prior to his arrival in Skyhold so this particular mission was nothing tough but necessary. He had been tossing a small pile of flatten rocks off into a nearby snow drift as a way to break the monotony when the air begun to feel heavy. For a second there he almost swore it tasted funny to, but the thought was not one he could continue to dwell on as the the rift sparks to life.

There's a loud smacking pop as he draws on his own magic to step to Beleth's side on the ground below. His fingers are quite to reach to his belt where the hilt of his spirit blade rests. "I'll take care of the ones that get close, keep the rest off me."

Demons are bad enough, the people shaped ones will have to wait their turn.

yuna (rifter) | any format welcome!

[fayth]

The first thing she became aware of was the sense of falling. Rather, it felt sort of like being hurled along some nameless space, up until the point she made hasty contact with the ground. The snow around her kicked up with the force of the impact where she laid for a moment more, face down.

When she lifted her head, eyes finally opening, she had to squint at first, the brightness too harsh, but eventually diminishing... just in time for a terror demon to come into view. Scrambling to her feet, Yuna reached for her staff, which she was lucky enough to find just beside her, retreating slightly while she made an attempt to get her bearings.

As she looked from side to side, she had hoped to see someone familiar, Lightning? Tifa? But she saw no one she could recognize... and to make matters worse, they were apparently in the same demon-facing predicament she was in.

Turning back to the approaching threat, who screeched its unholy scream, she found her resolve, tightening her grip on her weapon. "Ifrit!" she called, waving the staff in conjunction, but... the aeon didn't come. A fear began to rise in her chest as she took another step back, "V-... Valefor!" her call was going unheard!

Her heart began to beat faster and faster -- what was going on?! Spinning on her heel, she needed to retreat, figure out what was going on with her magic, and broke into a run. Only... she didn't manage to get far at all as the demon, appeared right in her pathway again, knocking her back off of her feet in surprise.

With a large downward arc, it moved to rake it's claws down in the direction of its prey.

Lucan Aslin | Open to All

[shocktroops]

[The light around Lucan glimmers with magic as he erects a disruption field around him and two of the tallest demons on the battlefield. He managed to clear a path, fade stepping to advance himself in the battlefield when he caught the arrival screeches of the Terror Demons.

The Knight-Enchanter has faced them before and their tactics of opening smaller rifts to bounce around the battlefield make them unpredictable and deadly. In this instance he doesn't want to give them a chance to even start moving and as the field of magic expands out to encompass himself and two other demons he is quick to yell back for additional assistance.]

You have 10 seconds.

[With his movements unhindered by the field the spirit blade hilt in his hand is swung in a hard downward arc in hopes of sending the at least one of the monsters to the ground.]

Korrin | OTA

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin is on the quiet side while helping out around the remains of Haven. That last night is still fresh in her mind, and it's not as easy to focus with such memories intruding at every turn. So, she skimps on conversation and focuses on her task of energizing debris in silence, allowing others to retrieve supplies or dead as they're uncovered. Her work is brisk, in the hopes that the sooner this is done, the sooner she can leave.

She's not too far away when the rift erupts with that loud crackle and flash of green light, spewing demons everywhere. Turning from her work, the qunari mage scowls as she instantly speeds over (thank you, Fade Step) to her nearest allies and casts Barrier over them as well as herself. "I knew something was going to happen here. Fucking knew it."

She frowns at mention of people-shaped demons, which...makes no sense, but there's no time to stand around and wonder. Cue a Chain Lightning spell for the demon-shaped demons.

Martin Walker -Rifter- OTA

[sandsofhell]

He had only nodded off, his body was tired and felt like it could fall a part at any second. Then a flash and he woke up swiftly, his body still feeling the stress from his previous excursion. Almost instantly his body was hit with the feeling of cold ice flurrying around him as he unexpectedly found himself acquainted with the ground.

Snow, this was snow, not sand and a sharp pain in one of his hands. Slowly he stood up, his body not protesting much as it became ready to burst back into action. Though the pain he felt did distract him somewhat from the task at hand, it also helped to keep his mind off of the pain that the rest of his body felt. It didn't help that he was dressed more for a hot and dry climate, not one of ice and snow.

Upon glancing at his hand he became very acutely aware of the green glow coming from it, similar to the light that he saw flash before his eyes before he woke.

He was torn away from his observations as he became even more aware of his surroundings, creatures, somewhat human in shape but clearly not human. His hand almost immediately went to grasp for his gun, only to find it missing. Cursing he went for his knife, and to his relief, grasped it and slid it out of it's sheath with ease.

"STAY THE FUCK BACK!" Walker yelled out in warning.

He looked around himself with a threatening scowl on his face. These things wanted a fight, he could tell from the way the moved towards and around him. Well if so then he was going to make them work for their kill, whatever the things are.

Araceli Bonaventura; ota/any format

[foxsays]

Bracing herself for water, the breath is knocked from her instead when she lands in the snow, her fox on top of her to further wind her. Uttering a curse, she forces herself to breathe, vision blurring as she squints and coughs; cold, cold hard ground and she's dimly aware of her hand not being quite right but there's a hideous screeching sound and she scrambles back, hand going to her hip--

Her pistols are gone.

"Lux, back!" The fox scampers just in time as she gets up, looking for the lost pistols with an awful sinking feeling. She'd fallen in surprise, leaping between mooring poles when a sudden green glow had frightened her, fox leaping her way and her pistols are likely ruined now, lost in the waterways of Castileos.

But there's little time to think, only time to rush out of the way of the onslaught of ice, her heart hammering as she frees her rapiers in time to meet green gnarled claws, the shock of impact on her crossed blades jangling all the way up her arm to her shoulder as her blood runs cold.

martel | open!

[apostasia]

The first thing Martel is aware of is

pain, and he has no immediate reason to question it. This is hell, obviously. The ache in his hand - the ache in his chest - the gurgling sensation of

Muscles that didn't anticipate being used again scream in protest as he drags himself up onto his hands and knees, high enough to - charmingly - take a moment in all of the excitement that he's only dimly aware of to vomit blood and bile. He makes a fairly striking image, wounded before he landed hard in the rubble, shock white hair plastered to his skin by sweat and catching all of the dust and debris to it, silver amulet dangling bloody from his neck - not a small man, either, several inches above six foot if he stood, shoulders like an ox.

Whether or not he looks like anyone (or anything) to inspire compassion is debatable, but he certainly doesn't look like he's in any fit state to do anything much about whatever response he does inspire.

GROUP 2

[faderifting]

(Group 2 includes: Adelaide, Peter, Cole, Gavin, Ariadne, Dante, Galadriel, Jamie, Lenneth)

Haven's destruction was total. Between the battles with demons, templars, and mages, the corrupted dragon Corypheus unleashed, and the avalanche that finally ended the fight and covered the Inquisition's retreat, what was once a small town is little more than charred and broken remains, large portions of which are buried.

But it is far from abandoned: pilgrims and gawkers still come to see the place the Herald of Andraste rose and fell, recruits, agents, visitors and suppliers pass through on their way to Skyhold, and the Inquisition itself has not entirely abandoned the village they destroyed. Teams work to clear debris, to salvage what materials and supplies they can, to find the dead and give them proper send-offs. All those who fell that day deserve rites, but they search especially for the Herald.

There is also, of course, the matter of the rift. Hanging over the edge of the village near the road, it has been almost dormant since the Breach was sealed, occasionally spitting out a couple of demons to be dispatched by the Inquisition squads posted to watch it and protect travelers. Today, that means you three. It should be a pretty easy job, certainly easier than the job of those poor saps just on the other side of this hill of debris, busy working away trying to clear it while you stand around waiting for nothing.

Until the rift crackles to life, all of a sudden. Demons spawn out of it in arcs of green light-- a half-dozen wraiths and shades, and a rage demon, and you can see that more have arrived on the other side of the hill by the salvage team, but rubble and monsters both bar your path. And instead of stopping there another wave comes immediately, and this time the creatures that are spat out are like no demon you've ever seen. The rift claps shut behind them and dissipates with a swirl of green light like smoke.

Ariadne | OTA

[demonicbeauty]

Alastrians slept in the trees. That was the way that packs survived in the forests of Deleo. Of course, now Ariadne lived in a house and was given a bed and treated like a Human girl, but she still had an occasional longing for the canopy of home. And Valeria's trees were oh-so-very tall and wonderfully thick with glossy leaves.

It had been late afternoon when she'd shimmied up one of the trees in Aunt Lysia's yard. She was only going to rest her eyes for a moment, lost in thoughts of better days and better times.

And then she fell.

Through all the light and the swirl and the commotion, one thing remained true about Ariadne. She was exceptionally good at falling. Or rather, good at landing. She hit the ground in a crouch, the knuckles of her right hand steadying her balance. A throbbing pain shot through her left and she tucked it behind her back, raising her eyes to try to gauge what had happened.

Or rather...what was happening...

Peter Pettigrew | DA AU Native

[cameasarat]

A moment before he'd been scavenging what he could from his last former 'home' of Haven. A few torn magical notes here, some preserved elf root there. But all the treasures he'd managed to recover were forgotten in an instant, dropped to the ground at his feet at the same moment it felt like a chunk of ice had dropped into his stomach, terror tightening his throat as it all started to happen again. Demons and monsters in Haven, with far too few people near him to actually do anything about it. It's a weak magical barrier, but he throws it up anyway as he clutches his staff with both hands. Demons. Possession and horror and-

And then there was a person. A normal human looking person, stuck down there with the demons. While he doesn't run forward, he does at least shout as he throws another barrier to surround the poor bastard that had (clearly) been in the wrong place and gotten stuck in this mess.

"R-ru- Get out of there!"

Gavin Ashara | OC | Open

[slipshot]

Gavin rarely sat still well, so he had somehow managed to crawl up a burnt, angled pole of what had probably once been the gate - crouching on the top of it like a strange, gangly gargoyle, an arrow notched in his bow but not drawn as he watched the rift. He was humming to himself (because what else was there to do) - something that drifted between a few different songs, of a few different peoples - when suddenly the rift sprang to life.

"Demons!" He snapped - standing up suddenly, making the pole wobble slightly below him. The first arrow was off almost in the same breath, slamming into the first shade that appeared. He was already drawing another, a half a breath later.

Galadriel | If anybody has a spear that'd be great.

[laurenande]

The snow bent beneath her and it took long moments for her eyes to focus; she drew herself up in the hazy green light and the world swam. She had never quite known disorientation like this, so sudden and complete, so enduring that it was hard for her to focus, but she drew herself up, nonetheless. Had she fallen? The idea was ridiculous, but the pain that lanced through her left arm was severe.

Without thinking, Galadriel closed her hand and drew on the power of her ring. The familiar sensation was wrong, it burned behind her eyes and the pain in her hand was magnified by her efforts. She swayed with the force of the conflict and, as the discomfort faded, her vision settled.

She was surrounded by others; she knew none of them. Above them, curled in the air, was a tear in the world. The power that poured out of it was listless and unfamiliar, unknown to her and dangerous for that simple fact alone. When it coalesced it was with a sickening crack, then the creatures it spawned were upon them.

Galadriel was not so recovered that she could spare the time to seek escape. Her senses fought her and these creatures were both numerous and terrible. She threw out her hand and, with the force of her will, she cast them back. Unfortunately, the effort failed to destroy them and dazed her in the process. She required a weapon.

Lady Adelaide LeBlanc | OC | Open

[fleurdesel]

It'd been a strange, somber hike out to the ruins. Being away from her charges for any length of time was enough to leave Adelaide on edge, but going into the ruin of what had been Haven did little to settle her. But a mission was a mission and where there was ruin there would be wounded, the dead, and likely demons. Fortunate enough that Compassion did not consider Demons to fall under the 'do no harm' rule of their agreement. Whether or not it'd need to be tested remained to be seen- but.

The rift for all it's strangeness was quiet.

Until it wasn't.

There felt like there was a twist in the veil- the pinching of a migraine, ice drawn up the spine, then? Demons.

So many demons.

Something else as well- but that she'd worry about later. Ice formed in the air, swirling, spiraling, spears that snapped into being and were hurled at the first wave of Wraiths. "Find cover!"

Jamie (Rifter) | OTA

[wontforgetyou]

Force-fields were not one of Jamie's favorite things. After pushing his way through one that'd made it like he'd been trying to move through a river of mud and then being stuck behind another one and not able to do anything but watch as his best friend was dragged off to a trial by his own people, he was more than a little bit frustrated. All he could do was stand there and wait until someone came to fetch him. He'd never dealt very well with waiting, and it was frustration as much as anything else that'd driven him to lean his head back against the force-field and close his eyes for just a moment.

The next thing he knew, he was falling, and his eyes snapped open again to a scene that was both familiar and strange at the same time. The sight of destruction and debris was remarkably like those of some of the war zones he'd just been dealing with, and for a split second he thought the Time Lords had sent them back there for some unfathomable reason. But then he saw the monsters, creatures out of nightmares that were nothing like anything he'd seen before. They were headed straight for him, and it didn't look like they were the sort of beasties that were particularly inclined to stop and talk about the situation.

Wherever he was, it was clear he was in for a fight, which meant there was only one real thing to do. As one of the more solid-looking grayish ones seemed to focus on him and start to move with more purpose, he threw himself to the side, reaching down to grab the first large thing that came to hand - the charred remnants of a wooden beam, something that had once been much larger once but now was only about the size of one of those baseball bat things. It wasn't a sword, but it was better than his dirk, and until he came up with a better plan, it'd have to do. Gripping it in his hands, he pivoted on his feet and shifted his weight as he started to move forward, hoping to get momentum on his side as he rushed the beastie, letting out a loud yell in the hopes of throwing the enemy off balance.

"Creag An Tuire!"

AFTERMATH

[faderifting]

(This is open to all for use after the initial arrival, as they regroup and make the trek back to Skyhold.)

There aren't a lot of Inquisition agents in Haven, but there are enough to handle this: someone up the chain has ordered that all the "people" who came through the rift are to be brought back to Skyhold. The air quotes aren't subtle, and neither are the stares that follow them around Haven's barebones camp and up the road into the Frostbacks. Sure, they have marks that look like the Herald's, but who's to say they aren't just some new sort of demon, or worse? Hopefully someone in Skyhold can make sense of it, and nobody is clapping them in irons just yet, but in the meantime suspicion is unavoidable.

OTA

[cameasarat]

Peter had been seated in the snow, back against a half-burned down building and idly poking at one of the numerous bruises blossoming along his arm when the word they would be moving on came along. Back to Skyhold, taking all these...rift-people with them. While he'd helped in the fight, he wasn't entirely sure what to think of this taking in people from the Fade plan. Luckily, it wasn't his job to make big decisions. He just had to walk.

But that didn't stop him from openly staring at any new arrival he got within twenty feet of as they moved along. Where had they come from? And, more importantly, why? These questions are so pressing he, from time to time, was so focused on a rift-person walking to the side him that he accidentally walked into one in front of him.

"Sorry. I didn't- sorry."

OTA

[gatheringstorm]

Well, that was...definitely a thing that happened. Korrin tries to make sense of the latest events at Haven, but of course can't. The Herald had stepped out of the Fade, sure, but it spewing out all these new people, all with that mark? It's beyond bizarre and more than a little unnerving.

The tall, horned woman observes the rift-folk closely as they make the trek back, wary but also curious. If they are demons, they certainly aren't behaving like any she's ever seen. Noting the suspicion from others, Korrin can't blame them but nor does she want an incident to break out. So, she'll just stay close to the rift-folk--yes, observing them, but also somewhat protective. Until they know more, nothing will happen to them on her watch.

OTA

[fleurdesel]

Weary from the battle but- not done. Never done. Where there was war there were wounded and that is where she would go. Every one of the strange "people" that came through she'd want to check. For illness, for injury, for pain. Anything she might do to be certain they were well and not a demon. Not possessed. It'll be a long walk- better to be certain everyone was capable of making it.

Slim and certain she would approach, mug of water in one hand and a glowing cloud of...something...around the other. To check. To rejuvenate.

"Drink this, hold still." Accent thick and vaguely French to those with worlds that had a France, the cup would be offered and the hand pressed against a shoulder, a forehead, an arm. Whatever was closest and looked the least painful.

Much the same she did, too, for the remaining members of the Inquisition. Water, a little rejuvenation for the long walk ahead. She'll be spending her time leaning on her staff, infinitely weary at the tail end of the line once everyone has been seen to.

OTA

[thedevilson]

Dante wasn't sure how he felt about this, in fact he was tempted to go his own way instead of being herded in a single direction by people he didn't know like cattle being led to slaughter. It was an apt description as far as he was concerned as he didn't know who these "people" were, he had no idea what this Skyhold was, and he had no idea what their intentions were for him. His gut instinct was to be a belligerent little fuck, throw his middle finger in the air, and just say "see ya later" but he didn't. For now.

Why?

Because from what he understood these "people" were on the opposite side of the demons he was just hacking through not moments ago so that gave them a one-up. Additionally Dante had no idea what the hell this was and someone had to have an answer somewhere and this was his only lead so far. If he had a better idea he might have followed his own nose and gone his own way instead, but for now he didn't. As long as nothing funny went down in the process he was okay with that, otherwise he kept rebellion close at his side...it was a wrench to have to carry it, but he couldn't access it's usual storage area which was in the marking on his back. For some reason it healed his wounds...but he couldn't return Rebellion from whence it came.

Oddly enough that marking had a strange resemblance to the symbols on the inquisition banners, it was very close, but maybe that was just a silly coincidence. Anyway he took note of it.

In the meantime the stares he received earned an occasional cynical little bow from Dante before he continued to push his way towards their destination. He didn't tire easily, but he could tell that there might be one or two among their number who would not be able to make this journey in a single day.

Ariadne | OTA

[demonicbeauty]

Nothing was right about this place. While on the surface, it looked like any other of the Red Dragon's conquests--hopeless, abandoned, burnt to a crisp--the smells were all wrong. They assaulted Ariadne's brain, foreign and suffocating. Following the battle, Airy pulled back, making herself look small and insignificant, like she'd been trained to do. She needed to scout the area, she needed to gather her bearings and figure out where Valeria was. She needed to get home.

But something funny happened.

Airy looked down at her hands. It was no unusual act. Her left hand had been throbbing since she landed. She needed to access the damage. Splinters weren't all that uncommon for someone who liked to doze in trees. But for the first time, she noticed that her skin wasn't the cool, mint green that she was used to seeing. Her hands were a sort of pleasant pink. The fleshtone that some Humans and Elves sported back home. Her gray eyes traveled up the lines of her arms, turning to either shoulder. None of it was right. Her pheromones were meant to trick other people's eyes, not her own. But as far as she could tell, she looked completely...her fingertips grazed against the tips of her ears...Human.

"How...?" The word just barely escaped. And like her nickname, it was a soft, airy sound that traveled in no particular direction.

((OOC: Small permissions meme for people to fill out, just to be on the safe side with Ariadne's assumptions.))

On the road - OTA

[colecomfort]

On the journey to Haven, the degree to which Cole's presence was known had been variable. Gavin, at least, had been startled every time he'd noticed Cole, had needed reminding that they were traveling together. While the elf had always warmed to him following the initial shock, the others in the party — Cole included — had been treated a few times to stories Gavin couldn't remember telling.

On the way back, his presence is more constant. He is quiet, for the most part, but he is there, walking along with the rest of them. When they stop on the first evening, he assists in setting up, then stays somewhat apart, sitting with crossed legs on the periphery of the camp. He does not appear to have his own tent.

Anyone who passes closely enough will be able to hear him murmuring, as his finger traces patterns in the palm of his left hand:

"Shattered, scattering, falling through the Fade. Pressed, then pulled from the stream. Fish flopping on the shore, against the stones. This isn't their world."

Open

[sandsofhell]

Walker knows he's a , though he doesn't wear any iron chains and isn't being carted around in a cell by these...people...he still knows when he's being look at as a captive. As a threat. It's fair of course, but it's still got him feeling anxious and had him make a point to stay near the back of the line, just in case he needed to get away.

But get away where?

He doesn't even know where he is, let alone where he could go. If there was anywhere to go. No, for now he would stick with this group and learn what he could. Still that didn't change the fact that he felt cold, and the loss of action made the pain in his body more acute, and his general lack of water become a more prone ant issue. Originally he had wanted to distance himself from the group and watch them for a bit. But he needs, craves it above all else, even more so than something to help keep him warm.

"Hey," his voice silently crackled from burnt, bleeding lips. "Got any water to spare? And maybe a blanket?"

OTA c:

[laurenande]

1 - In Haven after the battle.

Wherever Ferelden was, the lands within it were beautiful.

This place, Haven, had suffered great loss. Rubble and the aftermath of terrible rock-slides overwhelmed the landscape, half-sunken in the snow. There had been battle here quite recently, though the battlefield was not so fresh that blood remained, nor so old that the crows had found the dead in the winter cold. It was a sad sight, one Galadriel lamented even as they gathered at the camp above the road. It was little more than tents and tables, a station for a company of scouts or warriors, but it did not want for people.

The symbol on the banners was chilling, in its way, and each of the agents who wore armor were clad in its likeness. She had never seen a banner that used an eye so boldly, save one, but this was not Middle-earth. In Ferelden an eye wreathed in light did not conjure memories of ancient alliances or shadows on the east horizon. Here, the people who wandered through the wild were gladdened by the sight of that golden eye, but there was a reservation in their joy.

The cause of their dismay, however brief, she did not know. She thought to ask but it seemed unwise; none were eager to speak to any of those who had fallen from The Fade.

The agents urged them to the far side of the camp as they spoke, away from pilgrims and the harried travelers. The group was two dozen or so and not all of them strangers to this place. She moved willingly, had joined them and waited for their decision because, in truth, there was little else she could do. It was not unpleasant, the waiting; the mountains were bright and flawless with new snow. Each distant peak held her attention as she learned their shapes, and every break of dark trees and pale green caught her eye. She had not felt such deep curiosity since she had first come to Middle-earth and, grave as the situation appeared, it was not so terrible that she would refrain from indulging in the sights around her.

The land was not bountiful here, it had suffered and it bore deep scars, but it was not entirely barren. If the Inquisition turned them out, she would need to seek out her answers, but she would not be lost.

A cold wind whipped past her and stirred the gossamer fabric of her gown. Such wind rarely cut through Lothlorien; Galadriel relished the newness of it.


2 - Travelling.

Skyhold was their destination.

The name meant little, as names in mortal tongues often did. It was not an ominous title, not in her mind, but the sky was a source of comfort for the Eldar. She did not know if the people here shared in that same sense of security. Whether they did or not, it was hard to imagine they were being taken to a truly terrible a place. The mountains that housed Skyhold were unspoiled and had been for centuries; the creatures that darted through the snow were untainted and innocent, barely aware enough of travelers to scatter as the company approached.

She did not recognize them, the beasts that wandered these wilds, but she did not idle to study them. For the moment, the Inquisition was her host and the rest of her company found the trek more troublesome than she did. Curious as she was, and tempted as she had been to pause and beckon the creatures closer, she would not burden those beside her with waiting. No, she simply watched the creatures and the world about them with young eyes, younger perhaps than she should, and moved as they wished.

She remained within the bounds of their caravan, as the native agents had defined it, and matched the speed of those around her. Truly, the way the snow and terrain hindered them was a blessing, cruel as that thought may have been. Were the travel any more arduous or their speed any greater, she would have struggled to maintain pace without tiring. As it was, she merely walked alongside them, atop the pristine snow, and followed a road she did not know.