Firstfall Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & their rescuers
WHAT: Weird people fall out of a rift with demons! Again! But this time there are trees.
WHEN: Firstall 8
WHERE: A ruined fortress in the wooded region between Redcliffe and Haven.
NOTES: This log is OPEN to new rifters and to anyone who might have volunteered or been ordered to go retrieve them. Rifters: the log is intentionally backdated to allow you to also jump straight into RPing in Skyhold. It's safe to assume everyone lives.

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 earth and stone, dropped from above by a flaring, crystalline green rip in reality that hangs overhead. Beyond it the sky is dark, but the light from the rift is bright enough to illuminate the stone walls around you--a fortress, once, now a ruin, walls crumbling and beginning to surrender to the trees and vines from the surrounding forest. The air is cold enough to sting, but it's yet to snow here, and with the walls and trees sheltering against wind it isn't so bad. At another time, in other circumstances, it might be peaceful.

No chance of that now. The brief period of quiet after you fall is shattered by a hoarse shriek. Three hoarse shrieks. Three tall, spindly creatures with gasping mouths and too many eye sockets advance on you and the people lying around you, and beyond them, six flickering, ghostly wraiths begin to throw bursts of green magic that saps anyone hit of energy and strength. And 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.

But you're not alone. There's that. You've arrived with company. Scattered around on the ground with you are weapons--maybe one of them is yours--and it won't be long before more people arrive, armed and armored and not at all surprised to see you. Just a little late to get here. (Delayed by highwaymen, you know how it is.)

Comments

[cuanifrinn]

It was all relative, where Lancer had been, where he was going, and his varying states of awareness. His memories of the previous Holy Grail War were remarkably fresh -- he saved the girl, he killed his master, he laid out a little weasel, and he committed suicide by command -- not necessarily in that order. What he was distinctly aware of was the simple fact that he died, he remembered the metallic smell of his own blood and the crepitation of flames as his rune magic burned the Castle of Einzbern to the ground.

With those memories of where and when tucked away within the abstract spaces of his mind, Lancer focused on the present state. It was a long way down the rabbit hole until he was finally deep-sixed out of the rift. This was not a summoning and this was not a War, not his War, maybe a different kind of war, but instinctively he knew the Holy Grail had nothing to do with it. Two things struck him instantaneously: a strange sense of lacking was the first and the second was just how close he was to the ground. There was nothing he could do about the former, but the latter had his agility instincts kicking in.

Instead of landing on his face he managed to roll into a less devastating crouch. Underneath him was an unassuming red spear with some rather nasty barbs. His first instinct was to grab that before levering himself onto his feet so that he could take in his surroundings. He had only a moment to assess himself, his surroundings, the awakening ache in the palm of his hand, and the fact that he wasn't alone, before the real fun kicked in reminding him of that strange sense of lacking in the most exhilarating of ways.

One of those spindly creatures took a swipe at him, not only did it knock him back a few paces, he felt wet heat that he knew was blood blossoming on his cheek and rolling down his jaw. There was no indication of pain if he felt it, simply an odd, manic desire to retaliate that oozed through his expression. Knowing that an injury like this shouldn't so much as tickled let alone damage him was curious and exciting -- what else was he susceptible to in this strange place?

"If this is the welcome mat, I'm anxious to see what the party is like," and before the beastly thing could take another swipe at him, Lancer struck first, taking out a few of the spindly creature's spindly fingers with a return swing from the red, barbed spear.

[conqueredhearts]

The thunder of hooves could be heard in that moment. It came from behind the man with the spear and soon an enormous horse with his rider came flying over him to trample the creature to the ground. The horse trampled the creature further fearless despite the heat of battle, clearly an animal trained for this kind of thing even if perhaps it wasn't used to the creatures it fought.

The rider laughed, looking down at the demon before turning his red eyes towards the man. "Welcome to the party, my friend! These festivities have just begun so I hope you can use that spear of yours. We have to clear out these enemies before I can show you what to do with that shard in your hand."

Another laugh and then he lifted his sword. "So charge with me, Iskandar, King of Conquerors!"

Quite the introduction but he wasted no further time. Instead he ran at the next demon so he could slash this one with his sword, letting out a loud roar of a battle cry as he went. So at least someone was having a good time in all of this.

[kartereo]

Waver was working on getting to safer ground. He wasn't a physical fighter and he never would be. He was best off in a room with books and the time to theorize, or at least time to think and let his brain to the heavy lifting. It was what made him a good teacher and a decent amateur detective.

At least he had his cigars, and those cigars provided a safe bounded field to manipulate as need be. His strategy was, for now, to move away from the creatures when he could, and then throw the field up when he was clearly surrounded. Watching the things be repelled was a strange and reassuring reminder that in spite of having no idea what was going on, he still could use magecraft and defend himself.

Lancer's remark hits Waver's ears just as he drops the field again, ready to start another run away from the beasts. It seemed good humored in a way not many other people would be, and it was because of that observation that Waver called out, "How do you know this isn't the party itself?"