Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2016-10-11 06:56 pm
faderifting) wrote in faderift2016-10-11 06:56 pm
Entry tags:
Harvestmere Rifter Arrival
WHO: New rifters & their rescuers
WHAT: People fall out of a rift and get attacked by stuff… in the desert!
WHEN: Harvestmere 10
WHERE: The Western Approach
NOTES: The arrival log is open to all. Solas was able to alert the Inquisition to the general area where the new rifters would be arriving so people could be sent to pick them up.
WHAT: People fall out of a rift and get attacked by stuff… in the desert!
WHEN: Harvestmere 10
WHERE: The Western Approach
NOTES: The arrival log is open to all. Solas was able to alert the Inquisition to the general area where the new rifters would be arriving so people could be sent to pick them up.
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.
In this world, you wake with a jolt when you hit rock or sand or wooden planks--you've been dropped into a narrow canyon, into the rocky orange sand at the floor or onto the rickety scaffolding along the steep wall. Judging by the heat, somewhere above is a bright and unforgiving sun, but view of the sky overhead is blocked by a flaring green rip in reality. There's a narrow splinter of light in the same sickly green as whatever brought you here, now glowing out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions.
The way ahead is blocked, too, by a monstrous, horned beast with too many eyes and electricity rippling down its arms: a pride demon with a very off-putting laugh. The only quick way out is up. The ladders and scaffolding and narrow bridges across the gorge have demons, too, but only smaller shades and wraiths. Your chances are better up there--you and the people you arrived with, four altogether, collectively less dangerous-looking than the demon.
Along the way, the planks are littered with debris: crustaceans, skateboards, crustaceans on skateboards, a cyvasse piece, a dagger, a set of bloody and very sharp canine teeth. And an enormous, moving, roaring tiger made of something green, translucent, slightly bouncy, and fruity smelling. The tiger has a rider, at least briefly, clad in a crinkly white suit and rounded helmet. It also has saddle bags, which are full of donuts if anyone is able to get close enough to check without getting swiped by a giant paw, claws sticking out through the ends of pink bunny slippers.
And at the top of the canyon walls, there's help--armed, armored help--already making its way down to meet you.
In this world, you wake with a jolt when you hit rock or sand or wooden planks--you've been dropped into a narrow canyon, into the rocky orange sand at the floor or onto the rickety scaffolding along the steep wall. Judging by the heat, somewhere above is a bright and unforgiving sun, but view of the sky overhead is blocked by a flaring green rip in reality. There's a narrow splinter of light in the same sickly green as whatever brought you here, now glowing out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions.
The way ahead is blocked, too, by a monstrous, horned beast with too many eyes and electricity rippling down its arms: a pride demon with a very off-putting laugh. The only quick way out is up. The ladders and scaffolding and narrow bridges across the gorge have demons, too, but only smaller shades and wraiths. Your chances are better up there--you and the people you arrived with, four altogether, collectively less dangerous-looking than the demon.
Along the way, the planks are littered with debris: crustaceans, skateboards, crustaceans on skateboards, a cyvasse piece, a dagger, a set of bloody and very sharp canine teeth. And an enormous, moving, roaring tiger made of something green, translucent, slightly bouncy, and fruity smelling. The tiger has a rider, at least briefly, clad in a crinkly white suit and rounded helmet. It also has saddle bags, which are full of donuts if anyone is able to get close enough to check without getting swiped by a giant paw, claws sticking out through the ends of pink bunny slippers.
And at the top of the canyon walls, there's help--armed, armored help--already making its way down to meet you.
1
Gummy tiger with bunny slippers and donut bags and astronaut rider? Weirdest shit he's seen. (So far.) He's definitely all for killing the tiger, and maybe eating its delicious potentially green apple flavored insides before they go bad, but it's also got claws and teeth that it isn't afraid to use.
Like on its rider. Which he had thought might be an enemy. But it's attacking its own rider, so...that's...that's weird, and maybe it's just some weird-ass fucking Rifter from a gummy tiger planet. Or it's a wayward spirit of the Fade who ate too many shrimp tacos before bead and/or absorbed too many weird mortal dreams.
Either way, Church is a little afraid to go wailing on it with his sword, because what if it doesn't feel gummy pain? What if it claws him up instead? Listen, running around with a sword is not as easy as it looks. Guns are easier! "Hey!" Just because he's afraid to doesn't mean he's not going to. "Hey Flubber! Get your bouncy ass away from the spaceman!"
Woman, sorry, but who can actually tell in that getup? He's both trying to distract it from finishing the astronaut off while also trying toooooo rescue the fallen rider, so, y'know, that doesn't really direct attention elsewhere. He skids to a dusty stop not far from the rider, sword in one hand, shard-powered pain shield in the other. "Howdy, partner, you might wanna get up before Tigger decides you look extra delicious."