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Entry tags:
- ! open,
- { adelaide leblanc },
- { alistair },
- { bethany hawke },
- { bruce banner },
- { cade harimann },
- { cassandra pentaghast },
- { christine delacroix },
- { cole },
- { eirlys ancarrow },
- { ellana ashara },
- { galadriel },
- { hermione granger },
- { isabela },
- { james norrington },
- { jim kirk },
- { kallian endris },
- { kas },
- { katniss everdeen },
- { maxwell trevean },
- { obi-wan kenobi },
- { ruby "red" lucas },
- { sabine },
- { samouel gareth },
- { the outsider },
- { velanna }
OPEN: The Nightmare's Domain
WHO: Everybody present for the effort to draw out the Nightmare.
WHAT: Oh no.
WHEN: 28-30 Bloomingtide
WHERE: THE FADE as it exists, approximately, in an incomprehensible nongeographical way, alongside the Western Approach.
NOTES: You can only participate in this plot if you signed up in advance. (Not really, this is a joke.) For driveby GM taunting or to have the debris of personal nightmares appear in the Fade sign up here. Check here for notes on crystal functionality, which will not be normal. (GIF source.)
WHAT: Oh no.
WHEN: 28-30 Bloomingtide
WHERE: THE FADE as it exists, approximately, in an incomprehensible nongeographical way, alongside the Western Approach.
NOTES: You can only participate in this plot if you signed up in advance. (Not really, this is a joke.) For driveby GM taunting or to have the debris of personal nightmares appear in the Fade sign up here. Check here for notes on crystal functionality, which will not be normal. (GIF source.)
The plan is simple enough, on paper.
Lord Livius Erimond, locked in Skyhold's dungeon since his capture, finally cracks when he learns that the Grey Wardens have moved on and no one is coming to negotiate for his release. There's no mind-control driving the sacrifices, he says, only fear. Corypheus has an arrangement with a demon to amplify it and extend the reach of the song that's driving the Wardens to desperation. Handle it, and maybe they'll see that they're being manipulated.
In practice, it's a little fuzzier. Some guesswork. Some optimism. Approximating the demon's location takes time and effort from the Fade-fluent. There's a rift nearby, but it's small, nondescript. Making it bigger, drawing attention and drawing the demon out onto solid ground where it can be fought, calls for every anchor shard on hand, mages and Templars to assist, archers and swordsmen at the ready. The Herald did it before, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It's feasible. Just wiggle your fingers, and--
--and the sky opens up wide, then wider, too wide, green light flooding out like water finally cresting over a bank, and the ground beneath your feet turns from sand to stone. In some places it becomes vertical. In others it stops existing at all. The rift sprawls and spiders out with almost sentient aim, encompassing everyone it can reach. It takes two seconds, maybe three.
Then it closes.
I. THE NIGHTMARE
The good news is: the Inquisition pinpointed the Nightmare's location correctly. The bad news is: the Inquisition pinpointed the Nightmare's location correctly.
So if you find a second to to wonder where you are, there are two possible answers. The first is the raw Fade, where few have trod since the ancient magisters entered the Golden City and began the Blight. The City is Black now and it hangs in the distance, always on the horizon, always visible, but never within reach. The light is sickly green and seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, creating shadows from any and all directions. What direction is up and what direction is sideways is open for debate anyway. The ground--if it can be called that when it is only sometimes below you--is dark and rough, all crags and cliffs and spires. It's wet, too, with puddles and stagnant streams wound through the rock.
The second possible answer to the question of where, and the one that might warrant even more attention than the first, is right on top of a damn demon.
The Nightmare is massive, as large as a small fort. It has a dozen legs and at least twice as many eyes; a warm, civilly sinister voice that knows your deepest and darkest fears; and a seemingly endless supply of minions. Terror demons spring out of the ground around you with creaking screams. Fearlings take the shape of your simpler phobias: here a spider, there a snake, or roaring flames, a lyrium-encrusted Templar. Fighting through the flood of demons and bringing down the Nightmare will take every sword, every staff, and several hours. Pick a leg.
And when it's over--when the Nightmare is dead and only straggling Fearlings and occasional Terrors present an immediate threat--try to figure out what's next.
II. SEARCHING
Attempts to tear a new hole in the Veil from the inside will produce no results. But those sensitive to the Fade may be able to feel something--not quite like a draft guiding you out of a cave, but there's no closer analogy in the common tongue. A faint whiff of reality, somewhere in the distance, straight away from the distant Black City. There's no sunrise or sunset, and an hour can feel like a day or feel like a minute, but time is passing, and the walk is long by any measure.
While it's in your best interest to stay with the rest of the Inquisition's forces, this region of the Fade is a twisty, treacherous thing that seems to actively conspire to separate and mislead its visitors. More Fearlings slither out of crevices to menace anyone who lingers alone or tries to sleep. There's a marshy expanse that does its best to trap feet, and a field of memorial stones with the names of visitors etched into their surfaces, each with a cause of death marked below. Everywhere you step the ground is littered with evidence of terrible dreams, worked into the landscape like they were there first and it has grown up around them. There are skeletons in the stone, rock formations that twist into the shape of gallows, lost toys underfoot, an entire home tucked down a winding path, achingly empty.
III. ESCAPE
The Nightmare is dead, but its absence creates new reasons to fear. It begins slowly, things crumbling: the edge of a stair giving way unexpectedly, a towering hunk of rock a ways off collapsing upward into the open air and reforming there. The path rearranges as it's walked and takes wanderers in different directions, leaving them to fight their ways back to the main group. It was the concentration of fear and willpower embodied in the Nightmare that held this domain of the Fade intact, and without it, there's a power vacuum to fill. The spirits drawn here are drawn by lingering fear, and warped by it.
The forms they take may not be those you're familiar with from outside the Fade--less deformed, more malleable, more insidious, the things you most or least want to see. Those who long for safety may find a gentle Desire demon willing to offer it. Those whose fears stem from insecurities may hear the whispers of lurking Envy, mimicking their voices from its hiding place, cautiously testing for a foothold. If fear only pisses you off, be prepared to face your Rage. And if you refuse to be afraid--if you have this under control, if you know you'll be all right--a smiling embodiment of Pride may appear to praise your prowess and ask you to put those skills to other uses.
Whatever form your demons take, they are distractions from the larger issue: this part of the Fade is collapsing, unstable, and not meant for creatures like you to survive in. As important as it is to face your fears, it may in the end be more important to run from them. Regroup, keep moving, take head counts. There's a rift ahead, small enough to slip through one at a time, out into the desert, with its bright sun and relatively solid ground--and however long it feels like you've been walking, days or weeks, Adamant Fortress is visible across the sand.
Lord Livius Erimond, locked in Skyhold's dungeon since his capture, finally cracks when he learns that the Grey Wardens have moved on and no one is coming to negotiate for his release. There's no mind-control driving the sacrifices, he says, only fear. Corypheus has an arrangement with a demon to amplify it and extend the reach of the song that's driving the Wardens to desperation. Handle it, and maybe they'll see that they're being manipulated.
In practice, it's a little fuzzier. Some guesswork. Some optimism. Approximating the demon's location takes time and effort from the Fade-fluent. There's a rift nearby, but it's small, nondescript. Making it bigger, drawing attention and drawing the demon out onto solid ground where it can be fought, calls for every anchor shard on hand, mages and Templars to assist, archers and swordsmen at the ready. The Herald did it before, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It's feasible. Just wiggle your fingers, and--
--and the sky opens up wide, then wider, too wide, green light flooding out like water finally cresting over a bank, and the ground beneath your feet turns from sand to stone. In some places it becomes vertical. In others it stops existing at all. The rift sprawls and spiders out with almost sentient aim, encompassing everyone it can reach. It takes two seconds, maybe three.
Then it closes.
I. THE NIGHTMARE
The good news is: the Inquisition pinpointed the Nightmare's location correctly. The bad news is: the Inquisition pinpointed the Nightmare's location correctly.
So if you find a second to to wonder where you are, there are two possible answers. The first is the raw Fade, where few have trod since the ancient magisters entered the Golden City and began the Blight. The City is Black now and it hangs in the distance, always on the horizon, always visible, but never within reach. The light is sickly green and seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, creating shadows from any and all directions. What direction is up and what direction is sideways is open for debate anyway. The ground--if it can be called that when it is only sometimes below you--is dark and rough, all crags and cliffs and spires. It's wet, too, with puddles and stagnant streams wound through the rock.
The second possible answer to the question of where, and the one that might warrant even more attention than the first, is right on top of a damn demon.
The Nightmare is massive, as large as a small fort. It has a dozen legs and at least twice as many eyes; a warm, civilly sinister voice that knows your deepest and darkest fears; and a seemingly endless supply of minions. Terror demons spring out of the ground around you with creaking screams. Fearlings take the shape of your simpler phobias: here a spider, there a snake, or roaring flames, a lyrium-encrusted Templar. Fighting through the flood of demons and bringing down the Nightmare will take every sword, every staff, and several hours. Pick a leg.
And when it's over--when the Nightmare is dead and only straggling Fearlings and occasional Terrors present an immediate threat--try to figure out what's next.
II. SEARCHING
Attempts to tear a new hole in the Veil from the inside will produce no results. But those sensitive to the Fade may be able to feel something--not quite like a draft guiding you out of a cave, but there's no closer analogy in the common tongue. A faint whiff of reality, somewhere in the distance, straight away from the distant Black City. There's no sunrise or sunset, and an hour can feel like a day or feel like a minute, but time is passing, and the walk is long by any measure.
While it's in your best interest to stay with the rest of the Inquisition's forces, this region of the Fade is a twisty, treacherous thing that seems to actively conspire to separate and mislead its visitors. More Fearlings slither out of crevices to menace anyone who lingers alone or tries to sleep. There's a marshy expanse that does its best to trap feet, and a field of memorial stones with the names of visitors etched into their surfaces, each with a cause of death marked below. Everywhere you step the ground is littered with evidence of terrible dreams, worked into the landscape like they were there first and it has grown up around them. There are skeletons in the stone, rock formations that twist into the shape of gallows, lost toys underfoot, an entire home tucked down a winding path, achingly empty.
III. ESCAPE
The Nightmare is dead, but its absence creates new reasons to fear. It begins slowly, things crumbling: the edge of a stair giving way unexpectedly, a towering hunk of rock a ways off collapsing upward into the open air and reforming there. The path rearranges as it's walked and takes wanderers in different directions, leaving them to fight their ways back to the main group. It was the concentration of fear and willpower embodied in the Nightmare that held this domain of the Fade intact, and without it, there's a power vacuum to fill. The spirits drawn here are drawn by lingering fear, and warped by it.
The forms they take may not be those you're familiar with from outside the Fade--less deformed, more malleable, more insidious, the things you most or least want to see. Those who long for safety may find a gentle Desire demon willing to offer it. Those whose fears stem from insecurities may hear the whispers of lurking Envy, mimicking their voices from its hiding place, cautiously testing for a foothold. If fear only pisses you off, be prepared to face your Rage. And if you refuse to be afraid--if you have this under control, if you know you'll be all right--a smiling embodiment of Pride may appear to praise your prowess and ask you to put those skills to other uses.
Whatever form your demons take, they are distractions from the larger issue: this part of the Fade is collapsing, unstable, and not meant for creatures like you to survive in. As important as it is to face your fears, it may in the end be more important to run from them. Regroup, keep moving, take head counts. There's a rift ahead, small enough to slip through one at a time, out into the desert, with its bright sun and relatively solid ground--and however long it feels like you've been walking, days or weeks, Adamant Fortress is visible across the sand.
Christine | open
When Christine lands in the Fade, she's not alone. Oh, in the real world, it might look like she's alone, but right across the Veil is the presence of a spirit who assists Christine with healing. And now Christine is the one across the Veil. Standing behind Christine's right shoulder is a glowing figure, distinctly a person, but their features switch between masculine and feminine, and their body fades in and out in places, as if you could walk right through them. Their voice is a medium-ranged tone, and the accent halfway between Orlesian and Fereldan. The longer they observe others in the Fade, the more distinct its shape becomes, until it settles on a woman in mage robes.
You should not be here.
Christine whirls around, eyes wide. "Faith! I am in the Fade!"
Yes. And so are they. So is the Nightmare.
Now she sees the reason they've come, and the color drains from her face. "Maker's breath," she whispers, before slowing taking her staff from her back, preparing to fight.
{ II: searching }
Christine and the spirit of Faith wander like everyone else, the latter trying to assist them in escaping. The Fade is the spirit's home, and they will not be leaving with the rest. Anyone who isn't put off by the spirit is welcome to join them and will find Faith trying to put minds at ease.
Believe you will find the way out, and you shall.
Meanwhile, Christine stoops to pick up a child's toy and shakes her head.
"Did spirits create this?" she asks. "From something they observed in our world?"
searching
She wasn't put out by spirits, but she did approach with caution, not wanting to disturb their conversation, but she thought it would be best if her presence was, at the very least, known.
no subject
Greetings, Faith says to Fiona, causing Christine to lift her gaze and give Fiona a wary look for a moment, before she realizes that Faith would surely alert her if Fiona was, in fact, a demon masquerading. Her expression smooths out to one of relief and she even smiles a little.
"Fiona. You are not hurt?"
no subject
Even a healer wasn't above rage and the passions of revenge and rebellion, Fiona was a prime example of that so she would not begrudge Christine her feelings. Still, it is simple enough to become enchanted by the fade that one might just lose track of their original intentions. She's seen that too and had no desire to leave one of the Inquisition's, never mind one of her own, to it.
Fiona inclined her head toward the spirit in acknowledgement, glad, at least, that Christina found herself in the company of this and not something more menacing.
"I'm perfectly fine, a little rattled, but who isn't? Are you okay?" Even more important than her own wellbeing after all.
no subject
"Yes. I am very fortunate to have Faith here, otherwise I probably would not have fared well against the Nightmare or its minions." As she speaks, Faith copies Fiona, inclining her head back towards her. The spirit has observed much, but with Christine available to answer the most minute of questions, Faith is becoming far better accustomed to people and the world in general than most spirits can.
"I should not allow myself to become distracted with these things," she continues, setting down the toy. "The important thing is to find the way out."
no subject
She doesn't notice the spirit trailing after Christine, not at first, but she does notice more concrete things, or at least, as concrete as things seem to get here. When she sees Christine pick up a toy and inquire after it, Hermione frowns, even if she lets out an exhalation that could be considered a sigh of relief.
"Can they do that? Thank goodness; I thought that meant that there had been a child here."
no subject
"Yes, spirits and demons look to our world and copy what they see, but they often do not understand what it is for and therefore the object seems wrong."
no subject
"Wrong?" she asks, looking critically at the toy. "How do you mean?"
no subject
"Mabari have docked tails," she begins, before rolling her eyes. "I cannot believe I know that." Sam and Asher would never let her hear the end of it. An Orlesian, being well acquainted with the build of a mabari?
"The spirits here looked into our world and saw children's toys. They recreated them here, but they know so little of our world that they've combined different creatures. I am guessing if you handed this to a little Fereldan child, they would cry and say 'That is no mabari!'"
She takes a few steps forward and points to a table and chair not far away. The chair is a large, solid wood desk chair, and the seat is on fire. "There; you see that, yes? Spirits can see what a chair is, can see people sit upon it, but do not realize that a person cannot sit on a chair that is on fire. They get it wrong."
Faith moves to stand beside Christine again, not wanting to be far from her. The spirit looks at the chair and -- as if they are a child learning -- says slowly, The fire would burn a person.
"Yes, exactly." To Hermione, she says, "I have been working closely with this spirit of Faith, and therefore she has been able to have many of her questions answered. She is more knowledgeable on our world now."
no subject
Before she can say anything, her attention is drawn to a chair, and she follows Christine's gesture, only looking back when she hears the voice of that spirit again. Ghosts don't scare her, but as spirits are still unknowable and widely thought of with dread in this world, she's going to continue to have a healthy sense of caution whenever she's around them. Not fear, just... caution. That's basically the same as respect, isn't it?
"I see," she murmurs softly. "Then... spirits originated in the Fade, and have never seen more than glimpses of your world? How odd. In my world, a spirit is another word for a ghost. That is, for the soul of a dead person who, for some reason or the other, has lingered in the world of the living."
no subject
It would be good to have the time to explain as much as possible about this place to Hermione, but unfortunately, they don't have that luxury.
"Come; Faith and I can sense the way out. Perhaps you sense it too?"
no subject
"I'm lucky to sense which way is up in this place," Hermione remarks, looking around at the bizarre, forbidding setting. "But I'll follow you, if you think you know the way."
no subject
Walking around the puddles, Christine gets an uneasy feeling the further they go. There seems to be a little area set up to the right, gated off with large stones set upright. A part of her wants to turn away, but another part is drawing her closer.
"What is all this?" she asks, perplexed.
no subject
She eventually realizes that Christine is veering off from the invisible path that they'd been following, and when she looks around, she sees what it is that catches her attention. She can only stare for a few moments, lips slightly parted as she makes her way closer, reading several inscriptions and feeling a cold shiver go down her spine.
"It's a graveyard," she breathes out. "But I thought most people here burned their dead?"
no subject
"Christine," Faith says suddenly. "It is not real."
"What?" Christine asks, just as she reaches her own tombstone.
Failed everyone
Her heart nearly stops and she reaches out a hand for the stone. "What does this mean?"
no subject
She's looking down her own row of stones before the tone of Christine's voice catches her attention. Looking over at her, she joins her at her side, frowning down at the name before realizing what it's supposed to symbolize.
"It means that someone's toying with your mind," Hermione mutters, lips in a firm line. "You're no more dead than I am, and you wouldn't have that sort of thing written on your marker."
no subject
"Of course. It is not real. I simply lost my senses for a moment." Her eyes dart back to the marker and she frowns. Failed everyone. Christine is a perfectionist. She needs to do things the right way and feel accomplished. The fear of failing is what drives her to always succeed.
"We should keep moving. This place is trying to distract us from our goal."
no subject
"What exactly do demons and spirits get out of this?" she asks, stepping away from Christine's marker and silently encouraging her to do the same. "If they do distract us and keep us lost here forever, what good are we to them?"
no subject
"They feed off our emotions," Christine explains. "Usually the goal is for a demon to leave the Fade and enter our world using the bodies of mages as hosts. But since we are all in here, they merely wish to feed, I think. There are demons representing rage, despair, terror, fear, and pride. They grow stronger if they can weaken our resolve."
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ii
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It isn't until she really takes a good look at the horns that it all clicks, and she gasps.
"Is this what the Qunari do to their mages? Put muzzles on them?" She isn't sure if she's asking Faith, or just herself.
Searching
"Isn't that all this place is doing?" Because how else would it know certain things it had whispered to him? How else would it know the colors of those uniforms?
no subject
"That would make sense." She looks back at the toy before gently setting it down where she found it. "The Fade has been given a rare treat in having so many of us here. So many memories to draw from." She shakes her head in disgust before refocusing on him.
"Is that your blood, and if so, has it clotted yet? I can heal you if it has not." No one should be walking through the Fade while suffering from blood loss.
no subject
"Is this what the Fade always does? Try to find ways to pull people in?" he asked, liking this place less and less. It made his skin crawl and his hairs stand up to an almost painful degree. He wanted out, but if this place had taught him one thing it was that rushing through here was a terrible idea. He was as like to get lost as anything else, and he didn't want to burden anyone with the task of coming to find him.
He glanced down at himself, his clothing torn in spots, but nothing seemingly serious - at least nothing felt that way. "I think it's all finished bleeding - everything's clotted." One of the advantages that had come with Khan's blood, he'd found. "Thank you, though. I'll let you know if they break back open. What about yourself?" He was no Healer, but he knew basic medicine - enough, he thought and hoped, to at least patch her up long enough to get out of here.
no subject
Faith murmurs, "Yes, escape is not my goal. Your world would be too much for me to take in. It is better to stay here and look from afar." Which is really the standard for how all spirits who stay spirits tend to think. Those who go against their nature are corrupted into demons.
"I am all right. I can heal myself. And I am also a mage, which means I can sense the way back out. It is that way." She points ahead, ready to get back to it.