Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2016-05-09 07:36 pm
faderifting) wrote in faderift2016-05-09 07:36 pm
OPEN: Bloomingtide Rifter Arrival
WHO: New rifters & helpful Inquisition volunteers
WHAT: Welcome to Thedas!
WHEN: Bloomingtide 7
WHERE: The Imperial Highway near Sulcher's Pass
NOTES: This log is slightly backdated, so it's safe to assume safe arrival at Skyhold and begin RPing there as soon as you're ready OOC. It is open to any characters who would have volunteered to go welcome the rifters, whose arrival sites can now be predicted, thank you Solas.
WHAT: Welcome to Thedas!
WHEN: Bloomingtide 7
WHERE: The Imperial Highway near Sulcher's Pass
NOTES: This log is slightly backdated, so it's safe to assume safe arrival at Skyhold and begin RPing there as soon as you're ready OOC. It is open to any characters who would have volunteered to go welcome the rifters, whose arrival sites can now be predicted, thank you Solas.
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 onto cold dirt and long grass. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself lying flat on stone, squinting up into sunlight and a shifting, blinding green tear in reality.
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 the fact that you're being attacked. Surrounding you and the rift through which you arrived are five massive beings made of fire and molten, veiny flesh, rearing back to throw flames at anything that breathes. But mind your step, getting out of their way: the stone beneath you is the ruin of the Imperial Highway, elevated high enough that dropping off either side or the crumbled gap ahead will not be much more survivable than the fire.
Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are rising from the ground, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. And help is already here—prepared, this time, unsurprised by your appearance, with armor and a few extra weapons to hand off if you've come empty-handed.
But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact onto cold dirt and long grass. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself lying flat on stone, squinting up into sunlight and a shifting, blinding green tear in reality.
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 the fact that you're being attacked. Surrounding you and the rift through which you arrived are five massive beings made of fire and molten, veiny flesh, rearing back to throw flames at anything that breathes. But mind your step, getting out of their way: the stone beneath you is the ruin of the Imperial Highway, elevated high enough that dropping off either side or the crumbled gap ahead will not be much more survivable than the fire.
Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are rising from the ground, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. And help is already here—prepared, this time, unsurprised by your appearance, with armor and a few extra weapons to hand off if you've come empty-handed.
no subject
no subject
Well, okay then.
"Storybrooke is a town inhabited by characters from a magical world where characters from fairytales are real living people. We were cursed by an evil queen who isn't evil any more, exactly, but sent us there to try and ruin all our happy endings." A beat. "I'm Red Riding Hood."
no subject
To be fair, at the end of the day, is that really that much crazier than 'falling through a misty green afterlife portal in time and space to land in D&D world'? "Well, you're a way hotter Red than the fairytale gives you credit for."
no subject
A ridiculous question, and delivered that way, although all she has to offer is a shrug. But his summary is close enough without wanting to split hairs and make it more confusing, and Ruby just shrugs.
That last part makes her close her eyes and huff out a breath of laughter. "I'm also the wolf, so not all versions of the story are created equal."
no subject
Church peers at her closely. "Did you eat your own grandma or something? That's. y'know. kind of a weird interpretation. Cannibalism and all." SUPER CASUAL LIKE
no subject
At that Ruby sighs, and her manner turns more serious. "Granny is fine. She is alive and well."
She literally just met this guy maybe a few minutes ago. She's in pain. She's nore sure how far into this she wants to go right now. "I'm not really up for all the more troubling parts of my history right now. Sorry."
It's not a denial about the cannibalism, because that would be a lie.
no subject
"How about we just blame Stephen King and call it a day. Fuckin' spooky-ass Maine." Fucking spooky-ass Agent Maine, too, but. Different story, different day.
no subject
Her tone is a little wry, and the twist of amusement doesn't quite make it into a laugh. Ruby's not sure she'd want it to.
"I, uh. My head's pretty sore," she starts, in a move to try and spare them both. "I might get some more potion."
Graceful??? Retreat???