faderift | OPEN: The Nightmare's Domain

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.)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ One more spear. Just one more spear to crack the carapace and she could leave an opening large enough for other mages, for archers, to do cripple the leg. One of many but every one shattered and cracked is a victory. Every blow an inch gained.

Another volley and she barely hears him, head snapping about only as one templar shaped thing raises it's arm to swing. The barrier she rises for herself is half formed and frosted over, deflecting the first blow only. ]

[Bruce had called for her because he was coming with some trouble of his own, but watching closer now he could see that she was in danger too. The first blow had been deflected, sure, but there was another coming right after and she clearly had no time to react to it. Bruce could see it coming close, closer--

He doesn't think about it, instinct riding over reason and so many years of control - his right hand stretches forward, blood burning in his veins as sparks flicker in his palm. One, two times, and then there's the roaring howl of flames as a fireball shoots out from his hand and flies straight in the direction of the Templar shaped thing that had been about to strike Adelaide down. The fireball flies straight and true, tearing though the air as it lards on its target and burns its arm right off; it howls in pain from the shock of it, stumbling back, giving Adelaide the chance she needs to put it down for good.]

[ No time. No time for another barrier, for a spell, she can only brace herself for the blow and prepare Compassion to mend as much as they can-

The fade is not precisely dim, but the reality of fire, burning, boiling, crackling bright sears her eyes as Adelaide staggers back, hand thrown up in defense. The air thickens with ash and the scent of burning ichor, heat flaring against the frost that covered her hands. When she can blink past the afterimages of that demonic templar, when the opening is revealed for what it is- Adelaide reacts- driving her staff forward, a spear of ice erupting from the ground to impale it viciously. ]

What- [ Someone saved her- and there are mages enough around to have done so- but it is only Bruce and the remaining demons yet chasing him, Bruce with his outstretched hand. ]

[Using his magic is never pleasant, and Bruce can still feel his veins burning with the aftermath of his mana surging through, but he grits his teeth and bears with it. It's been a while - a very long while - and this isn't how he wanted things to be but its not like anything in his life has ever gone his way. Whatever happens, at least Adelaide is still alive.

He continues to run, getting to Adelaide's side as fast as he can. He tumbles on the last few steps, almost tripping but managing not to, the dracolisk next to him keeping him upright as he stumbles over to her and finally starts to catch his breath.]

I might've--brought more company. [A pause.] Sorry.

[In the distance more templar-like forms approach them both, swords and weapons at the ready once they're close enough to begin attacking.]

[ He staggers- she catches him about the shoulders, frost still crackling over her skin like a thin shell. She's not reason to not, with how often she's casting. No reason to worry about chill or harm when her focus is on the massive demon above them and the fearlings that surge below. One of The Nightmare's many limbs scrapes and shudders and seems to shift in their direction from the one side- mages and archers trying to breach the joint.

On the other, fearlings.

Here, Bruce, ragged, and a dracolisk. ]

You- [ And her breath fogs in the air, anger turning inward, twisting outward as she focuses on the next wave. A raised hand that curls into a fist, a snapping gesture not unlike ripping plants up from the root and they are offered a moment's reprieve by the wall of ice that erupts into being. ] Have some explaining to do, Bruce.

[Its easy to feel Adelaide's anger, her annoyance and all the feelings Bruce knows that he absolutely deserves. Even if he hasn't exactly lied he's done as much by omission; and though he's no Anders this is probably just as bad, considering the length of time they've known each other.

He coughs once, taking another second to catch his breath, and then he nods at her words.] We can do that later when we're not fighting for our lives in the Fade.

[He attempts to pull himself back up properly onto his feet and mostly succeeds; the dracolisk shifts closer to give Bruce more support to lean against, which he does, as loathe as he is to take the help. This is his own problem, after all. Not anybody else's.]

[ Palpable, visible anger is all the more so when she does not take the steps she might otherwise to keep the chill from her hands, her voice, the air around her. Here it is a benefit to the battle. Here it is of use- even if it is a sign of control that slips. ]

You owe me.

[ Not just an explanation. Not just the truth. He owed her for all that he'd just saved her life. For the months they've known one another, trusted one another-

But he had never truly trusted her at all, had he? Ever distant, ever polite. Civil, kind, but noncommittal. She'd thought that to be his way. That it simply was how he treated people he held in any manner of regard. She truly ought not be so accustomed to this deep, bitter disappointment.

Fine, then. Later. She could mend him. Ought to, if Compassion's lingering glances and extended hand to Bruce's shoulder meant anything. But she is too angry to be kind, too hurt to be careful- and turns her wrath and will upon the demons as they clamber around the wall. A variation on a spell, less a mine, less a wall, more a violent expansion- shards of ice snapping out from the wall, spreading like frost over a lake, spearing as many of the fearlings as were within it's reach. ]

[The chill even as cold as it is burns - it burns with Adelaide's fury, her anger, all that disappointment and hurt and--again, all those things Bruce knows that he very much deserves. Once they were out of here, she could throw all her rage and anger at him as much as she wished to.

If they got out of here.

Bruce tries his best to ignore the sight of Compassion lingering so close, so willing to help. Underneath his skin he can feel the demon inside of him growling, wanting to shun away the presence of such a virtuous spirit, but Bruce tampers it down. In this, at least, he still at least has his control, even if being in here challenges said control every single second, with each time he uses his magic.

But he wouldn't still be alive if his control was so easy to lose. Bruce continues to lean against the dracolisk for support, one more moment to catch his breath as Adelaide deals with the demons that are breaching her defenses. No matter her feelings on the matter, the fact is that she's not going to be able to handle all these demons herself. And as much as Bruce loathes to do it, its not like they can talk if she is dead.

A quick glance around helps him locate a staff that's been discarded nearby, presumably from one of the constructs that had been turned real within the Fade. Bruce stretches out with his leg and hooks his foot around it, kicking it over to himself and grabbing it with his hands. He turns around once the staff is with him, mana and lyrium burning through his veins once again as he calls upon his magic, channeling it through the staff in his hand. It comes out in a blazing explosion just beyond the ice wall that Adelaide's put up, a loud bang of fire that sends ichor and the parts of their enemies flying into bits all around the battlefield.]

[ There's a song to his spells- not one that cracks out of silence like Korrin's blows or swells up warm and certain like Dorian's flames and horror. No- this is merely a dialing up of something that had always been there and the undertone is painfully familiar for all that she cannot place it. There is something in Bruce's magic that she cannot pick out, something she knows the sound of- but there is no time.

While the Nightmare yet rages, they will never have the time.

Just on this side of sharp, a minor harmony in fire and ice, ash and snow swirling in the air as their spells wove around one another, a throaty cello's thrum to her pointed harpsichord. She breathes ice and exhales mist from the heat of his magic, stabs the ground to send another line of ice tangling about the templar's feet like climbing brambles. She can hold them still. He can demolish them. They will endure- and they will speak once this is finished. ]

[In a way, its exhilarating - its been a long time since he's had anybody to work his magic with, let alone to this extent. Of course Bruce still has a strict control over how much he's letting out, but there's still that sense of freedom that comes from doing this after having suppressed his abilities for so long. Even with the circumstances, he can feel the sheer relief of being able to simply cast without worry.

He slides in easily enough to Adelaide's tempo, blasts of fire to accompany her frost attacks. He follows her cues, demolishing the ones she holds still, using his fire to circle around groups of enemies to keep them restrained so that she can continue on uninterrupted. His moves are restrained, controlled, almost none of the flashiness and whirling that most other mages tend to do - but his spells are no less effective, and no less devastating. It's clear that he's more than just a nowhere mage, but one with years of experience and training under his belt.]

[ Magic has not felt to her like this in years. Contrasts act in tandem, spells and will and raw elemental power crafted to specific purpose weaving around one another as though they've done this many times before. Like they've learned one another's silences, one another's gestures- and in a way they have. They've healed around one another, meditated, shared silences and tea and wry sentiment. It feels like that final piece clicking into place that she had not even known was missing. The last time she had felt like this- cast like this, worked like this-

It'd been far less violent. But this reminded her so much of casting with Robert it made her heart ache.

This. They could have had this for months, but he hid it. People have died that could have used his skills in the field and he could have saved them. He could have stopped Lauren before more were hurt. He could have protected himself.

She shoves all this from her mind and focuses on the precise strikes of ice and spirit, twining both together into frosted crushing prisons, projected blasts of concussive force as she warps and weaves barriers with frost to send shards of ice in all directions. ]

[Bruce knows very well of how much he could have done, had he been upfront with his magic from the very beginning. But he couldn't, for so many reasons, and he knows even this will have repercussions later. But he'll deal with those later, once they're out of the Fade, once Adelaide and the others are safe.

Fire isn't exactly as flexible as ice in terms of usage but in the heat of battle the fire spells are always the ones that comes the easiest to him. He hurls out more fireballs after Adelaide's blasts of ice, weakening them further for her to finish off and for the ones that she traps he easily concocts searing glyphs that only flare on the ground for a brief moment before exploding violently in a tornado of flame. He barely flinches from the shrieking cries, jaw set together in grim determination as he works with Adelaide to try and turn the tide of battle in their favor somehow, holding out for the fact that there has to be an end to these things.]

[ Whatever had been chasing Bruce is dealt with in short order- but the massive limbs of the Nightmare remain. The whole of it remains, casting a shadow over the field. This is the thing they were meant to fight. This is the thing that tries to twist their fears against them. This is the thing that deserves the focus of her rage, of her spells. Compassion flares, cool and bright as she summons a wisp for Bruce. Something to enhance his casting, now that she knows he has magic that he can cast.

Something to ground them both. ]

Aside from fire- [ Like she would ask any student, any peer. ] What do you know?

[ What can they twist together to kill this thing? ]

[Bruce lets out a small sigh of relief when the last of the things are dealt with, glad that he no longer has to worry about that - although the relief is short lived as the Nightmare continues to stand before them, a giant looming over them all.

He has to take a moment to catch his breath, wiping away the sweat on his forehead - he already had to burn through a fair bit of his mana for the battle alone and though he was recovering from the usage... he recovered quicker than most, but it was still going to take a while.

Feeling the hum of the wisp that Adelaide's spirit summons for him, Bruce is quiet for a second before he responds to Adelaide's question.] Every basic spell, at the bare minimum. [Every basic spell in the Circles, he doesn't need to elaborate, and he knows that will probably draw more questions but right now - this is no time for lies.] Fire just comes easiest for me, but ice takes too much focus in a battle. I'm adept enough with everything else - though my main skills lies in healing and support.

[...well, lies that don't hinder anything, at any rate. But Bruce has spent years researching on non-combative branches of magic and it was only because of his condition that fire became the thing he best worked with, so it wasn't a complete lie. He just hopes that Adelaide doesn't press too deep for this.]

Edited 2016-06-01 16:38 (UTC)

Then I will crack him open.

[ Forming the first glittering shards of ice in her hands takes a moment, but offers that much more precision as she picks her mark. If they are to do this, they are to do it coordinated and in agreement. He has seen her cast- he knows her skills. She does not need to tell him anything. ]

And you shall burn him from without. Yes? Alternating wisps for mana, the same with barriers.

Edited (and i hit enter early TWICE OH MY GOD) 2016-06-02 06:01 (UTC)

[Bruce only takes a second to run his head through her plan before he nods. It's a sound enough plan, and even if Bruce isn't fully sure how effective it is any little bit counts. The Nightmare is a massive thing that looms before them and being able to bring it down to their level will probably be an accomplishment by itself.]

Alright. [He takes in a breath and grips the staff in his left hand tightly, starting to let the mana flow onto his right, ignoring the old burn of lyrium in his veins - its easy enough to ignore, despite everything.] I'll take your cue, Leblanc.

[ Pick a leg. Pick a joint. And so she looks up to the massive beast before them and focuses upon a single joint of a single leg, ice frosting over her hands and wrists as she weaves her spell tighter and tighter, intricate layers of shards upon spirals upon shards. Once she has the shape of it she snaps her hands forward, casting the spears of ice through the air until they dig in at the joint. Close enough to see, she paints their target and works on growing the spikes larger. On helping them burrow deeper, cleave that flesh under the hard carapace open.

It takes three such spells and most of her whisp to finally rend the joint open with a cracking like bone, showing the doughy, roiling mass inside for Bruce to target. ]

[Bruce readies himself as Adelaide prepares for the strike, focusing on his mana and letting it flow through him for him to use once he has the cue. He watches as she digs the icicles into the joint, over and over again until finally, with a final snap of her hand, the carapace snaps open with a thunderous crack.

Once the opportunity presents itself Bruce acts, magic burning in his hands as he heats up the air at the exposed area and lets it combust with a wave of his hand. The blast rips in air around it, white hot and blazing, scorching right against his target. Bruce doesn't stop there and immediately starts on another spell, using the remnants of those flames and expanding them, making them stretch and weave, snaking around the exposed joint and wrapping around it to keep the damage going.]

[ Once the first seam is broken she follows the cracks, tearing more and more of the carapace out of the way so each blow of Bruce's could do that much more damage. Finding the rhythm takes time but soon it comes easily. Tear a chunk free, watch him burn what is inside, rinse, repeat. Soon between the two of them that limb is hanging by a narrow thread. ]

[As they continue on their assault Bruce can feel the strain of his mana usage weighing on him; there's more than one reason why he doesn't like to use his magic, aside from the fact that he's not a combat mage. Magic use for him has always been a tricky thing, and constant usage like this? There's a reason why he doesn't want do that.

Still, he pushes on, forcing himself to continue. One spell after another, consecutive attacks coming down without pause to further damage the demon. Eventually they manage to whittle that limb down to a few more strands, and after Adelaide's ice attack Bruce follows up with one more strike, channeling through his staff to unleash another blast of fire at those strands, snapping them apart entirely.]

[ Even with Compassion's aide- she's reaching the limits of what she can manage. Wisps can only do so much. Lyrium can only do so much. After a point a mage simply needs to stop- but she will not let up until that limb is cut free. Watching it fall twists something viciously satisfied in her gut that she fights to ignore, stumbling instead back to lean against her staff. A moment's quiet? The fearlings seem otherwise occupied. She cannot do anything more. ]

We need to fall back.

[ For a short time. Not long. ]

[It's easy to feel the relief that runs through him as he sees the limb fall with a resounding crash onto the ground, seeing the demon buckle at the sudden loss. But with that relief comes the burn of his mana loss, and it takes a good part of him to simply not fall onto his knees. He gets about halfway there, slouching against the staff he's picked up as he takes in gasps of air to calm the hammering in his chest.]

That's-- [He pauses and swallows down a mouthful of saliva.] --that's a good idea.

[Just a moment, to rest and recharge. Then they can get back into it.]

[ She reaches out to him before it occurs to her to not- catching his elbow as he slumps. Together they needed to stand ready- she would not fall back without him. Even if he lied. He was not going to die without giving her answers and she has so many questions that need answering. ]

There is cover not far from here. I've a water skin.

[ Thank the maker she'd filled it before this began- otherwise...would they need to eat, here? rest? What would it be like to sleep-

She doesn't worry about this. Merely steadies Bruce until he could manage on his own. ]

Come.

[The support is... appreciated, and Bruce manages not to tense at the contact, if only because he's that worn out. He takes in a breath, and then another, steadying himself and to bring his breathing back to normal. At Adelaide's suggestion, he nods.]

Okay. [And Bruce shifts, starting to turn and move with her to seek shelter for that break that they both need--but before they can take more than three steps a deep, dark voice echoes in their minds.]

Running away again? You were always good at that.

Ignore it. [ They just burned themselves out cutting off one of it's legs- of course it is going to try to tangle them up, turn them on one another. Later she might find it bitterly amusing that it never even had to try.

Bruce managed that well enough on his own.

Adelaide keeps her eyes forward and their barriers raised, leading him step by step to the nearest hollow of fade stone.

Her words lack conviction, however. Probably because a part of her agrees. ]

OPEN: The Nightmare's Domain

TOOT TOOT

CHOO CHOO MOTHERFUCKERS

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

are we gonna nightmare it up ourselves?

HELL YEAH

\o/ awwww yeah

time to bring the pain

allllll the pain

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)