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

[motherfucking_ghost]

[It's fucking cold, even through his cloak, and it's dark in the middle of the god damn night, but he comes when he's called. Or like, he goes where rifts get opened because it's a thing he does for the Inquisition, okay? He does it more for his fellow Rifters than the Inquisition, but so long as it seems like he's doing something useful, he feels a little safer, okay?

Fucking highwayman assholes waylaying them, the party's already in full swing. (On the other hand, when isn't it?) Decent group this time. And the usual demonic fuckasses. Doesn't look like there's a pride demon this time, though. Good, because fuck those guys.

Church charges in on the first person he sees--because that dress really sticks out, okay--and throws up his left hand, a shine of green the same color as the light above and in her hand turning into a translucent shield that blocks and dissipates a couple lobs of magic those wraiths are throwing.]

Hi. Nice to meet you. You ever use one of those before? [The weapon she's holding, that is.] Cuz maybe we should go duck behind some of the stone here. Just a thought. [Ruins mean plenty of cover, anyway. Beats that time at the top of a mountain in a giant nest covered in ice. That was a shitshow.] And by maybe I mean go.