faderift | Firstfall Rifter Arrival

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Firstfall Rifter Arrival

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.)

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"--Fuck!"

It wasn't an elegant opening or response to waking up with a face-full of earth in one's face. It also wasn't a smart thing, as the curse was muffled into the dirt and said dirt ended up in Waver's mouth. He coughed and spat as he picked himself up from the ground, desperate to dust off every inch of him. His stomach was covered in dirt, as were his trousers, and given that Waver had no idea where he was, he at least wanted to look presentable.

After the dirt was gone, Waver took a long, sobering breath to try and get a gauge of the stituation. Or, at least, that was the plan Waver had in mind until the first hoarse shriek pierced his ears. No swears came out of his mouth when he saw the source, he only tried to recognize it.

Too many eyes. Bursts of green light. Something burned into his hand like a command seal but felt far more bone deep than a command seal ever did. He didn't have a point of reference, and that, that was as sobering as it was terrifying. There was no Gray around to do the fighting either, to look after his physically unfit ass and make sure he didn't get killed. Waver knew that too, knew it as he tried to pick up a gnarly looking longsword. He could barely lift it, and so he began to try and find something else. Anything else.

"Shit," he said finally, realizing that he wasn't going to be able to fight, period. He needed a barrier. Hell, he had a barrier, but he knew better than to be selfish. There were other people around. "If anyone's not capable of fighting, please get towards me!"

Pamelia is not the only one on the scene but she is up front, rushing to place herself between the rift and the demons that have spilled forth. Whether or not people are already fighting against the horrors she throws up shields of light that envelope a few of those closest to her.

Dressed in heavy robes with wild red hair and a petite stature, she takes absolutely no time to throw a heavy glass vial towards several of the demons. The glass shatters on impact, engulfing the area around one of them.

She reaches for the nearest person.

"Come on! We're here to help!"

Edited 2016-11-14 01:57 (UTC)

The sound of hooves could be heard followed by the bellow of a battle cry. The advancing creatures were suddenly pushed back by a powerful force as an enormous horse ran past the mage. On it was a man in leather armor with a cloak of billowing red. There was a grin on his face as he slashed into one of the creatures then allowed his horse to trample it while it was down so he could kill it.

Looking back, he smiled at the man with black hair.

"You there! Can you fight?" Iskandar then turned so he could cut into another one of these shrieking creatures. Neither horse nor master showed any fear here as they tore them down. These were a pair used to being in combat together. Better still, they were used to adapting to unusual circumstances in order to obtain victory. For example, arriving in an area filled with people that had unknown levels of combat experience in order to rescue them. Probably by guiding them through the battle first.

So basically the good news was that the new arrivals had this particular Rifter on their side. A good thing, right?

"Do I look it?!" Waver shot back, all too quick and barely registering the voice or the speaker. His cigar was halfway to his lips, ready to put up a bounded field, and then realization smacked him like a cold wave.

He knew that those hooves, he knew that war cry, he knew that horse and the great idiot atop it who looked all too at home on a field of battle. Waver's logical brain screamed at him to light the damn cigar and get a safe field up already, but the rest of him, the part that always stood at that bridge in Fuyuki, wanted to ignore everything else, hop up onto the horse, and greet it's rider with a hug.

Waver settled for a breathless utterance of the man's name, before adding, "Idiot, you know I can't!"

"Ha! You sound like a boy I knew!"

Iskandar laughed then turned toward the enemy, putting himself in the way now that he knew that this man wasn't one to be able to fight. It was good information to have since he would have to ensure that he got him out of this safe and alive.

"Stay back then. I know not what you can do but I give you my world that I will ride you out of this alive and well. I swear it on my name as Iskandar the King of Conquerors!"

With that he roared loud as he charged forth to fight once more.

"That'd be because I--"

Now wasn't the time, Waver realized, and he cut himself off with an exasperated sigh. That much was a familiar thing from dealing with Rider in the past, and it was with that in mind that he finally put the cigar to his lips. It was the same heady scent as always, but now mixed with the mud and blood of battle, it was also a strange comfort. Nothing about the situation made sense, not arriving, not where the fuck Rider came from, nothing at all.

He lit the cigar, feeling the bounded field take hold. It was a safe enough vantage point to watch Rider go to town on whatever those things just beyond were.

Iskandar called upon what looked like his Noble Phantasm. There was suddenly army of men there and the demons were distracted by that. However there was something interesting about these men. They weren't real. Everything he'd just created was an illusion. This was the best he could do but it was enough for now because it allowed him to ride in and kill enemies himself.

"Ha! Such confusion for you! But I shall not let you have these people!"

But when he saw one moving towards the long haired man he rushed over and got in the way, slicing the head off. Iskandar looked around then nodded. Just a little bit more.

"You there. The pretty one with the cigar. Can you ride a horse?"

Waver stared. It was reasonable for Rider to not recognize him. There was too much going on right now, but a tiny part of him ached that for Rider, it wasn't automatic.

"No," he said, calmer than he felt. "Why?"

[ clarisse should probably be used to shit like this happening to her. the labyrinth did fuck all whatever it wanted, dropping people halfway across the world by taking a wrong turn down a hallway. it feels a lot like that, almost, except she knows that it isn't. this place is distinctly unfamiliar, and even if she wanted to blame it on the labyrinth, annabeth and percy were supposed to have destroyed it. besides, the last she remembers -- ]

[ well, she doesn't want to remember what she last remembers. she's not about to forget it, either, but thinking about silena right now isn't going to do her much good. thinking about that ... dream, or whatever it was, isn't going to do her any better. she's used to having weird dreams, too, as most demigods do, but this was just as different as the place she's in now. definitely not manhattan. probably not earth, unless she did manage to get that fight with kronos and he sent her here (god of time and all). but that's doubtful, she thinks. she would remember that. she would have died trying to wipe his smug face from the earth. ]

[ at least there's one thing that's familiar -- the crackle of maimer, in tact, even though it shouldn't be. but, then, there's an unfamiliar weight on her wrists, and she almost thinks it's a dream come true, until she realizes silena is nowhere to be seen. she doesn't have time to think how cruel of a joke this is before something nearly hits her right in the chest -- bright green light she barely manages to dodge, cursing under her breath as she rolls over her shoulder to grab for maimer. her sword must be around here somewhere, too. ]

[ she hardly registers the cold (is it the weather or an aftereffect of battling a hyperborean giant and losing?) or the pain in her left hand -- she's fought through worse, and, frankly, it's the adrenaline that really gets her going, the absolute rage that she's here alone, when she can still feel the phantom touch of silena's soft hands slipping jewelry over her wrists. think of me, her voice echoes in clarisse's head, and clarisse charges forward, caring little for the dangers she might be diving straight into. a fight is a fight, and she intends to conquer it. ]

[ whoever might be around to offer their assistance, she blatantly ignores, frequently shouting "out of the way!" she can handle herself. or so she thinks. ]

--Happily!

[What else can one yell when there's someone charging ahead and making it clear they are stopping for no one and nothing. Waver barely has the time to move before he realizes the person running straight into a fight could easily be the age of one or two of his students.

That part doesn't chill him as it might others. He's seen those much younger than him pull off greater achievements then he could never do in his life time, to say nothing of his young apprentice's abilities. The only thing he calls after the young woman rushing past is:]

There's another coming right behind that one!

"You will have to hold on tight then."

Reaching down he went to grab his clothes so he could lift him onto his horse. No big deal at all and like the man didn't weigh anything. But he needed him up on his horse to get him closer to where the rift was.

"I am going to take you to where you will be able to close the rift with that shard in your hand."

( for a moment the falling, the jolt, the trees and stone and green flares above her head all take a back seat to the simple and thrilling realisation - the crushing realisation - that there is no longer water in her lungs. her first breath actually occurs somewhere between the rift and the ground, but it isn't until she has a face full of dirt and hands planted firmly on solid ground that she actually notices the alarm bells going off in her head, her chest heaving in a desperate attempt to regain more air.

she'd been a goner. she was dead- and now she wasn't.

thankfully life is just a little too complicated to focus on that little detail right about now.

there's another detail that probably should take her attention ( the shrieks going on above her head, mostly ) but for some reason the thing that grabs elena is her damn dress. it's like something out of gone with the wind -- actually it's exactly like she just stepped out of gone with the wind, it's scarlett o'hara's iconic dress. for a hot minute all she can focus on is that stupid outfit. and then she remembers the ache in her hand, the green glow from above, the chaos around her, the fact that she was drowning literally a minute ago.

any person would be well within their right to melt down, but elena would rather not die any time soon, so instead she clumsily picks up a weapon off of the floor that very much does not belong to her. she's used weapons before, but nothing like this. it's heavy and she's in no shape to be swinging it around, but that's the situation that she's in right now. )

What the hell are they?

( elena directs the question to no one in particular, whoever is listening honestly, because seriously - she's dealt with a lot, but this is a totally new ballpark. )

Now that was a familiar action, almost painfully so. Waver didn't squawk or flail around like a scruffed kitten as he might have done in his youth either. If anything, he seemed to be perfectly okay with the action, and familiar enough to know how to get comfortable on such a massive horse.

"Okay, I need context for both of those words."

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.

[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.

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.

( elena's dead. that's his first thought.

really, it's his only thought. even as he vaguely processes being spat out onto the ground — when did he even lose consciousness? — and the chaos going on around him, the bulk of damon's brain is taken up with the knowledge that elena is dead. he doesn't know how or why, but elena was clear that her life was tied to ric's, and ric had fallen. suddenly, inexplicably, just... dead. there was only one thing it could mean.

for a long moment, damon stays where he landed on the ground. it's hard to care enough to push himself up to check his surroundings — it's hard to care about anything at all. but there's screeching noises all around him, green glowing at the edges of his vision, and a sword in front of him, and maybe he'll change his mind in an hour but damon doesn't want to die now. not until he knows how the fuck his brother got elena killed.

(it's easier to blame stefan than to think about the fact that she's gone. no vampire blood this time, no uncle daddy to give up his life for hers. she's just... gone.)

it takes a second, even after he's resolved to do it, but eventually damon grabs the sword in front of him and pushes himself to his feet. the battlefield is... not what he was expecting. it's hard to say what he was expecting, honestly, but... it's not what's in front of him. three unnaturally tall creatures with too much arm and too many eyes, and six shrouded creatures hurling green balls of energy at anyone they can see. not something he was prepared for, but damon's willing to fight, if only to find out where and why he is.

at least, he was willing until his ears pick up on a voice he's been attuned to for a year now. a voice he never expected to hear again. )

Elena?

( damon whirls around in the direction of her voice, back to the advancing monsters and not caring. he heard her, he did, where is she, he has to find her — )

"The rift is the glowing thing in the sky. The shard is the thing causing pain in your hand." Turning toward said glowing thing in the sky, he headed towards it while there was still a clearing before more demons could arrive. The sooner they closed that thing the better. This was what he'd learned on the day that he'd arrived here and it was something he'd hold true to.

"The rest I shall explain later but when we get closer you will feel it. Lift your hand toward the rift and you will feel the energy building. Hold your hand steady until there is a crack in the air that tells us it is closed down."

"Right," Waver nodded. It was a change of pace, being the one to take instruction rather than give. Standing in front of a classroom for years made all of this feel novel, and coming from Rider, well, wasn't this how it was between King and those who served.

Rather than examine the thing on his hand, now aching harder and deeper than had first registered, Waver kept his eyes ahead and slightly up.

"Is there an opportune moment to do so, or should I just go about this now?"

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?"

"I will tell you when. Let me slay this last demon first."

Iskandar zeroed in on the distracted demon as it tried to slay an army of men who didn't happen to be there. They weren't doing damage to it either since they were mere illusions but the distraction was enough for him to ride in and claim the head of it. With that he headed for the rift, feeling the ache in his own hand and smiling as he did.

This was exciting, what could he say?

"Get ready...Now! Lift your hand and hold strong!"

Waver tried not to flinch as the next demon came in and was summarily dispatched. The view from where he was offered too good a seat to see it go down, and Waver was not a fan of watching something so gory.

Thank God for fast moving horses, and as instructed, Waver lifted his hand. What it might feel like, what the power surge might do, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was trying to imagine the great rift closing and then trying to channel that into reality. He felts his magic circuits trying to help, even if this seemed beyond them and their ability. That combined with the aching throb of the thing on his hand caused him to let out a string of curses, indicating that this was far more painful than first anticipated.

He managed to get out a single, "Let me know when to stop!"

Iskandar sheathed his sword and wrapped an arm around him to help steady the young man. He watched the rift as the stream of light touched the shard but he didn't do anything to help. This was something he felt that this new rifter should experience for himself all the way through. Besides, he seemed perfectly willing so that was something.

There was something of a crack sound in the air as the rift closed up and Iskandar tightened his grip on the man should he find himself shaken by this at all. But he did smile at him all the same.

"You did well, my friend! We should be quite safe now." Well as safe as one could be in a world they were unfamiliar with but still.

"I am Iskandar! It is a pleasure to meet you!"

The second the crack sounded was the second Waver wanted to drop onto the ground and lay there for a while. Rarely was he winded by acts of magecraft, but whatever just happened was even more demanding than summoning Rider all those years ago. Even with Rider's hand on his shoulder, Waver slumps a little, vaguely realizing that his hair looks a mess in addition to everything else.

But at the introduction, Waver can only pray his response will get through to Iskandar that he's talking to someone he's known for some time.

"I know, idiot."

He blinked at the young man sitting in front of him on his horse. He knew? Idiot? Iskandar blinked several more times after that as he tried to understand but simply was not coming up with anything. It made no sense to him that this young man should know him at all honestly. Certainly he'd met many before but he was sure he'd remember this face at least.

"I'm afraid you will have to be clearer, my friend. I do not know your face."

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Firstfall Rifter Arrival

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