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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.
no subject
So maybe there are worse plans than being a research assistant and doing something helpful.
And if Adelaide was surprised and perplexed by the leg keeping her close, Ruby might have fallen off the headstone at the sound of Adelaide laughing. The sound gets a more sincere smile out of her, a breath of her own laughter that's silent and felt more than its heard, shoulders shaking with it just a little, and she cants her head so she can keep wiping down Adelaide's jaw, and nudges her very gently.
"You're not getting out of this that easily, I still need to do your neck." Although Adelaide leaning forward makes dragging the cloth down the back of her neck a little easier, so Ruby shifts focus, and the hand that had still been cradling Adelaide's cheek drops to rest at her back. "You sure? Because I think we could make it longer. Chief Captain Boss LeBlanc is pretty catchy."
no subject
It is impossible to forget what she's lost- but the work distracts her from grieving. It helps. Not much, but enough. Perhaps it will be enough for Ruby as well.
There is one final, token movement to try to slip away, more of a vague rolling of her shoulders as she considers standing but it comes and goes without any true effort put forth. This is not comfortable and it is not safe, but it is giving Ruby something to think about other than 'you don't have to'. Maker's breath, what does one say to such a thing? "You can get it fine from where you are."
She's too tired to move, she doesn't say, but she tries to tilt her head to give Ruby more room to work. "Chief Captain Boss- No, boss is enough. I am already Councilor LeBlanc and Lady LeBlanc and Enchanter LeBlanc. I do not need to be Chief Captain Boss LeBlanc as well."
How she manages to say any of that without losing it laughing again, she doesn't know. "You may pick one."
no subject
She pulls the cloth back, freshens it up with a quick rinse-wring and re-dampening, before carefully resuming her task.
"What if I just go with Adelaide? Too presumptuous?" Somewhere betwen teasing and genuine, because it's not lost on her, the value of titles. Just because she'd always known a King and Queen as David and Snow didn't mean everyone worked the same way. Some people wore their titles like armour.
Ruby is rarely this close to people, and it's strange. Good, she thinks. Nice. Definitely a little strange, as she gently slides the cloth around Adelaide's neck and up the line of her throat.
no subject
Adelaide hums faintly in the back of her throat, reaching up to brush her hair out of the way and bare the nape of her neck. With how her robe is torn the neck droops enough along her collar and shoulder to show the rough scarring of an Abomination's burn curving from the cap of her shoulder to the furrow of her spine. A reminder to be careful. To do better. "As long as you do not call me Addie, It is fine. Not presumptuous at all."
Ruby is neither mage nor student nor patient. There is nothing truly political at hand, here. Nowhere the other layers of authority and nobility would interfere with this oddly quiet moment.
no subject
She feels tired. Honestly she suspects that she shouldn't, because of however Adelaide's magic works - it seems like, logically, she should feel up to taking on a long distance run, or something. Instead she's glad to be sitting, even if the seat leaves something to be desired, absent-mindedly brushing her thumb over the scar before the cloth follows. Some part of her recognises the disconnect between the lack of a scar on her abdomen versus what she can see on Adelaide's back, but her head isn't quite able to put it together. It seems wrong and she can't quite pin down the whys and hows, just that its troubling and its wrong. (Caring for others and not caring for yourself might be a root that she trips over later, frown at, and worry at in ways that may or may not involve being a huge pain in the ass, or just stewing about it.)
"And as long as you don't make any dog jokes or call me honey, I think we'll get along just fine." Lighter. Easier than asking about the scars and the whys and hows, which seems like an invasion. Touching it so impulsively probably was, too. She should probably apologise, but that just seems like it'll make it raw somehow, acknowledging it.
no subject
But she might need them more later. Something might happen- another demon, another spell, another injury...for the moment she leaves them be and lets herself drift in the casual contact that Ruby offers. Later she'll wonder why she allowed this. Later she'll question how proper it is considering her station, considering the rather vague arrangement they've just made- she'll wonder where she chose she had the right to lay claim to a woman's life. It must be some manner of madness or exhaustion or desperation to not lose another person-
Later. Much later. "Miel Loup."
She tests it, tastes it, and snorts a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Ruby, I think, is enough, yes?"
no subject
There are distinct sounds, other battles and demons and God only knows what else. Maybe not audible to all, she has a wolf's hearing, but concern flits over her expression. She still isn't sure she gets the rules, here.
"We should probably go." And, given the energy Adelaide just needed to use, she makes a quick decision on an appropriate tactic, for a given value of appropriate. "I'll give you a ride. You should conserve your strength."
no subject
Or.
She would as soon as Red untangles their legs.
"What, are you going to carry me on your back?" Red is not that much taller than her- not enough to make carrying her in such a way at all efficient. "I can walk, just- give me a moment."
Or two, she has to frown at the way the neckline of her robe slips and tug it back into place from where it slides off her shoulder.
no subject
First things first but not actually first but first for addressing that one problem - shhh - Red slips her cloak from her shoulders, red brocade rippling strangely in the light of the Fade that doesn't feel like real light, somehow, and holds it out in offering to Adelaide. "Sorry about the--" and a nod, awkard, to her shoulder. "I'll replace that."
And she will, stubbornly.
"That depends. Do you trust me? And how much do you want to avoid fighting more demons?" The tone very much suggests that Red is offering an out. But: "Not that watching you glow and stuff wasn't super badass, but it seems kind of... draining?"
no subject
"I should have had Compassion take your pain straight away. I was- distracted." Terrified. "But if you insist."
To the replacing of the robe. To the cloak. She slips it on with care- it seemed important to Red and she'd rather not damage something that feels so fine, and finishes finding her feet. It is only slightly too long for her.
"If I am to be perfectly honest? Quite a bit- to both." The trusting and the not wanting to face demons. She lifts a hand and attempts to summon a wisp, eyes and palm glowing, wincing against the intensifying of the ache before she gives up on the venture entirely. "The term I most often use with my students is 'tapped out'."
no subject
"I'm an insistent person," she says, distracted as she inhales deeply, before retraining her focus on Adelaide. "Okay. Don't be afraid to grab on, and if you need to grab my attention, talk. I can understand but I can't really answer."
A beat, and she's taking a step back. "I won't hurt you. I mean it."
Which feels necessary to add, before her eyes glow that brilliant gold again. This time, instead of it fading away, Red drops forward. How the change happens is hard to say, just that in one moment she is a woman and in the next something monstrous, and it feels like a shadow or smoke or something is clearing away. The Wolf is huge, grey and black and watches Adelaide intently before dropping its head, like that could be an indication that she's still her. Still Red.
no subject
Smoke?
A crack of song- a rumbling that is almost sub-audible like a drumroll. A growl that is not a growl. Magic that is unfamiliar and yet similar enough to have a sound. She stares for a moment on account of never having witnessed a wolf so large in...ever. Tentatively she reaches out to rest a hand against its- her- shoulder. Red's shoulder. "You are..."
Beautiful, a part of her wants to say, but that would be horrifically inappropriate given Red's feelings on this part of herself. "Larger than I expected."
no subject
Her senses are sharper now than they are as a human, and her head turns toward a sound - distant crackles of a storm that strikes at a demon's will, and she looks back to Adelaide. A bow of he head and a crouching down to make this easier for sore, worn out limbs, though the Wolf's entire form seems tightly coiled and ready to lunge.
no subject
That seems safe enough. "I'm ready."