Wintermarch Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters and their rescuers
WHAT:
WHEN: Wintermarch 10
WHERE: The Southern Hinterlands
NOTES: This log is backdated intentionally to allow new rifters to also immediately play in Skyhold and have a few days to handwave acclimation and explanations, if you'd like. It's open to rifters and to any Inquisition members who would volunteer to recover them.

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 stone, dropped from above by a flaring, crystalline green rip in reality that hangs overhead. Beyond it is blackness--no, if you focus, it's not emptiness, but stone, with the light from the rift reflecting on distant crevices and stalactites. You're underground. And you're not alone. There are two other people on the ground with you, and something with a deep, guttural laugh not far from you.

The source of the laugh is soon lit up with light of its own, arcing purple electricity rippling over a hulking body so large that humans don't quite reach its hip. It's the only demon here, but it isn't going to go down easily. And the only way out is a narrow tunnel that the demon is--demonically--blocking.

But you're not alone. There's that. The ground around you is scattered with weapons and belongings--maybe one of them is yours--and it won't be long before more people arrive, armed and armored and ready to fight.

Comments

King Thingol | Open

[thehiddenking]

Slumber was an oddity for any Elf; dreams even more so! But surely this wasn't reality? Thingol recalled the feel of Dwarven weapons colliding with and slicing into his body. He had felt death; he had felt his immortality shatter. The Halls of Mandos awaited him surely and when he hit the unforgiving ground, the breath was knocked from him.

Did a fëa have breath? Did a fëa have a beating heart? His strong hand shook as he pressed it to his chest. No, his senses were not deceiving him! He was...living; a fact that would need to wait for awhile yet once he heard the ominous laughter.

Rising onto his feet in one smooth motion, Thingol found his sword and daggers amongst the other weapons, quickly sheathing the daggers where they belonged. The sword he kept out; Aranrúth had always served him well and it would do so again as he faced this unknown and large foe.

"Wake!" he ordered, voice deep and resonating against the cave's walls. He was not alone and now was not the time to slumber no matter what spell was lying over them.

[meds4sale]

New names, but always the same faces, marched across his dreams. How many times had the same drama played out with only slightly different variations? He'd lost count by now. Though perhaps this time, the soul had finally found rest. And then he felt a sudden dip, as though his foot had slipped off a ledge. Dreaming, he thought. He was dreaming.

That was fine then.

He relaxed into the fall, letting his subconscious carry him where it would. He passed through familiar currents, that became suddenly and violently alien. There was a burst of vicious green that flooded his vision, a sharp and sudden pain in his hand, and then dark unconsciousness.

The Medicine Seller awoke to the feeling of cold stone under his cheek and a voice ringing in his ear.

Noisy, was his first thought. His second followed the crackle of electricity, the metallic taste of a storm, and the overwhelming feeling of a presence. He knew the sensation in the vague way a river fisher could recognize a shark as a fish, even if he'd never seen one before.

This was new.

He dragged himself to his knees, forcing his eyes open. Ayakashi, he thought, looking over the pride demon. He'd never seen one like it, but that didn't really mean much - Ayakashi were as varied as gods or people. The process of dealing with one was, at least, familiar. He could work out the minutia of the strange situation when the hulking being had been dealt with.

He reached into his sleeves as the pride demon bared down on them, the electricity taking shape.

"You should duck," was his only warning.

[thehiddenking]

He would rather be noisy - commanding was the descriptor he preferred, Medicine Seller - than allow his fellows to perish in their sleep! Thingol had once thought himself a better warrior than most; the Dwarves had proven him wrong with their rage and numbers. As such, he was not as confident that he could defend those around him from such a mighty foe; not that he wouldn't try valiantly. No King or Elf of his reputation would flee like a coward.

"Excuse me?" he did not let his confusion slow him, however, and he ducked as low as he could, marveling at the power. Surely that was magic?

"You are accustomed to such foes? Weaken him and my blade shall rend him to pieces." his silver hair shimmered in the light available; the strands were nearly the same hue as his sword, which was thrusted, blade out before his body should the demon come too close.

more delighted screaming

[rowancrowned]

He comes to the Rifts for a reason that ought to be apparent to anyone who knows what he is, and what he has lost. The caves do not frighten him—he was born underground; his palace is belowground. What sparks caution and mindfulness in him is the laugh that echoes through the halls. He steadies himself on his feet, swords at the ready, but the voice that echoes after the laughter freezes his blood.

Thranduil knows what he hopes for when he visits these rifts. He did not dare dream that those passed into the care of Mandos might be—

“Hîr vuin!” he shouts, echoing the words a coltish elfing once used in his court. But this time, he is armed, and there is no parents telling him to run, that the dwarves are upon them—it is so easy to flank the pride demon, to slice with the whole weight of his many years behind him, to do what he could not before—save his lord.

;-; thranduil <3

[thehiddenking]

His heart had sank upon waking, but now it soars. Thingol knows that voice - though it has deepened with age - and he watches, in wonder, as Thranduil challenges the demon without pause; without fear. This child of Doriath has grown magnificently!

"Thranduil!" he cannot help smiling as he swiftly joins him in battle, cutting at the place where the artery should run in the beast's leg, "I do not think my eyes deceive me? I shall make certain once we are victorious!"

For they will be. He no longer feels vulnerable now that he is amongst one of his people; one of his family, in truth, for those in Doriath are always held dearly in his heart.

After the fight?

[circleprodigy]

During the battle, one elven woman made her presence obvious. Her debilitating ice magic was rather unsubtle, though she did her share of hexes and protective barriers as well Alongside her was a large war hound, providing defense as she cast her spells. Sometimes, that defense was needed and at those moments, the war hound reacted swiftly and with a strong bite.

When the demon is drawn back into the Fade and the rift is sealed, Inessa doesn't take a moment to rest. Instead, she slips her staff onto her back once more and makes the rounds, casting healing spells upon those who seem to need it. Rifters get the bulk of her attention, as they tend to lack supplies. Spotting the elf that's nearly two feet taller than her, Inessa automatically straightens as she approaches. Her voice is calm and even, her accent matching the Fereldan forces of the bunch.

"Are you hurt? Do you need healing?" Her mabari pads over alongside her, tail wagging hopefully.

Sure! :D

[thehiddenking]

The battle had shaken him; it had not been long at all since the Dwarves had taken his life and to fight after such an event was unsettling. However the demon had brought him together with one of the most precious residents of Doriath, his kingdom: Thranduil, son of Oropher. The child had grown into a bright, confident and fierce warrior. Thingol's heart sang to see him and the shock of the revelation had not subsided much when Inessa approached him with her fine companion at her side.

"Only that which you cannot see needs to be healed, lady, and that will take time." he sighed, "Much time."

He spoke of his heart - his soul - and his mind. Elves moved slower than other races because they had the time to do so. Thingol was not against spending years allowing himself to heal and to cope with the changes. It did not occur to him that his time might be limited.

"One moment I think I am dreaming. The next, I am awake. I must be for how can a mind produce a creature that ne'er walked on Arda?" his pale gaze focused on her, but it was the mabari that earned a small smile, "I am King Thingol of Doriath, Lord of Beleriand."

Was.

[arlathvhen]

It has been some since she was present for rifters. Since the first, maybe--? But she'd agreed to come along this time, and she was already beginning to regret it. A pride demon. Of course. It's easier to get out of that narrow tunnel than into it--it's not like the demon is paying that much attention in that direction. Once she's safely in the cavern, she pops open a vial, dabbing her arrows in the foul-smelling concoction that it contains--

And suddenly, someone is yelling, quite near her, and Beleth lets out an inelegant squawk, nearly tumbling over--and more dangerously, almost spilling the poison all over herself. She manages to avoid a painful death by a hair, quickly putting the poison away to raise her hands defensively.

"I'm awake! I promise!"

Shuffling around to face the man with the authoritative voice, Beleth can't help but give a quiet gasp. She's grown accustomed to Thranduil and the Lady Galadriel, but this man is a stranger, and she's struck anew by the amazement she felt when she first laid eyes on the other two elves of Arda. Or--she supposes it's rude to instantly assume where he's from, but how many places have tall, noble elves that glow? If there are more than one, she'd love to hear about it.

Feeling a bit like a potato--a staring potato--Beleth casts around for something slightly more intelligent to say, and comes up empty. After a panicky moment, she manages: "It's a pride demon." Which is, at least, informative.

[thehiddenking]

Thingol - first called Elwë - was one of the few Elves that had stood in the Light and seen the Light of the Two Trees of Valinor. Such an event undoubtedly had an effect on his presence and while other Elves glow, he had a fierce Light; a Light strengthened by his marriage to the Maia Melian. She too was to thank for his excessive height on Arda. Said height had been diminished by over a foot, but he had not noticed yet.

"Then I suggest you arm yourself." he moved to stand before Beleth lest the demon take an interest in her, "How can it be killed?"

He assumed like any other beast. His sword - Aranrúth - would cut it deeply and bleed it dry if need be. This demon was like the creations of Morgoth and Thingol had no trouble wishing for its demise.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Being so near a rift is unsettling these days, ever since he's gotten the shard in his hand. Kain will bear it for the sake of aiding new rifters, though. There's always bound to be demonic foes near a rift, after all, and this time is no exception. As he charges in, Kain slashes toward the towering figure with his two-handed sword. Hopefully, it'll buy the nearby rifter time to prepare as well.

"A pride demon!" Kain shouts as he again charges in for another attack. "Beware, they have considerable power!"

[thehiddenking]

"Power of body or power of a more unnatural sort?" Thingol moves swiftly to follow Kain, ducking and weaving with a grace that seems impossible for such a tall Elf, "I have little shield against magic, but a strong body I can combat!" for he is an Elven-King - one of the first Elves of Arda - and he will be damned if he is bested by a creature that reminds him of one of Morgoth's Balrogs!

The Doctor | Open

[not_the_question]

The Doctor didn't sleep often. Mostly did standing-up catnaps whenever anyone else was talking. But he was... Well, he was depressed. He couldn't hardly think about her, let alone consider saying her name. He was mental, but that really wasn't anything new. He was sad. Very sad. Some might call it depression. He would never admit it, but he was grieving. And sometimes, grief forces one to sleep.

Nardole was off having some - Nardole time and the Doctor was supposed to be piloting them to their next "But, less adventurous, please" adventure. He had sat down to just take a load off and rest his eyes for a minute. He really should know better than to give himself a break. Good things rarely came of it for him.

He... Hit the ground with a hard thump and all thoughts flew out of his mind as he was quite winded. After blinking his eyes a few times, his breath came back to him and he muttered. "It's never the fall that kills you, it's always the sudden stop at the end."

He shook his head to clear it and did a quick assessment. "Arms, legs, neck, head, nose. I'm fine."

He stood up properly and patted down his pockets to make sure he had everything. That was when he heard that low, guttural laugh. He looked up to be momentarily distracted by the green rip that he momentarily figured was what he fell through. "Infiltrated the TARDIS. Impressive."

He was reaching into his pocket to pull out his sonic to do a scan when he heard the laugh again and he actually looked at the creature this time. "Oh, hello. Who might you be? You know I think I saw your cousins not too long ago. The Shadow Kin?"

He looked at the creature and sort of waited for a reply. If there's anyone else around, their existence hadn't yet distracted him...

after the fight! lmk if that doesn't work.

[rowancrowned]

His King is more than capable of protecting himself, and Thranduil leaves him confident that Thingol can handle himself and watch Thranduil’s back (as Thranduil will watch his—some vows cannot ever be truly broken) and so it’s onto the next newly-arrived Rifter, who—for all intents—appears unarmed. Pride demons are—it is difficult for Thranduil not to look at one and wonder if he has his own on the other side of the veil, but between the new arrivals and the Inquisition troops, the demon fell easily.

He has cleaned his swords and returned them to the scabbards, washed the ichor off his boots. All that remains is to wait for the orders from the leader of the little group that came down, and pick through the detritus that fell through the rift. Nothing from Arda beyond Thingol himself, and here will be time for asking questions later, but for now, there is this one—a Man, but his fëa was strange and his pulse stranger. That’s enough of a reason for Thranduil to wind his way over, and indicate the shard in the Man’s hand with an elegant little gesture.

“Is the shard causing you pain?” There’s no Solas to soothe it away, but there is elfroot and a healer not too far off who ought to be able to dull the worst of it.

YAY! Yes this works, thanks :D sorry for the TL;DR

[not_the_question]

During the fight, the Doctor had found that neither sonic worked. Which was disappointing and frustrating. He had also discovered that he didn't really understand some of the languages that were being spoken here. That was - troubling. So, he figured that his taunting didn't fall on deaf ears, but probably he wasn't speaking a language the other could understand. If it were one of his Companions, well, he'd write it off as faulty wiring with the TARDIS, but he knows five billion languages himself... he should be able to understand some of it.

He decided to forego the silliness of using his spoon and picked up one of the free swords that seemed to be on the ground. He would return it to the owner, should anyone claim it, but this particular foe it seemed better to be armed. He had put the sword back where he had found it after the battle.

The Doctor was a bit dazed. He hadn't fought like that in... billions of years. God, he was old. So, when he was asked about the shard in his left hand he looked down at it.

"I... Hadn't but now that you've pointed it out. What is this thing? And why is it the same colour as the rift? And why did people keep telling me to use to to do things, nothing happened."

Sure people had instructed him to use it, but he hadn't really known what he was doing. And nothing had really happened, anyway. Though, the pain was getting worse the more he was thinking about it.

[gatheringstorm]

The only reply is that deep, ugly laughter, one that gets the attention of a very tall horned woman whose strides take her close enough to cast a Barrier over herself and the new rifter. With her staff and spirit blade brandished, she certainly doesn't see a conversation partner in the enormous, spiked creature. As it moves to backhand, she blurs forward to strike at it with her glowing blade.

"Over here, pride demon! Let's go!" Their kind is annoyingly powerful and immune to her favored element, but she's not about to leave someone to deal with them alone. Without looking back, she raises her voice so the rifter can hear her. "Raise your shard hand to the rift! That'll stun it!"

hope this is okay? I don't have AC points yet for shooty things LOL

[not_the_question]

The Doctor is utterly confused at this point. When the tall woman shouts her command he looks at his hand and sees something glowing green on the back of his hand. He's not sure what her command means but he raises it up toward the other green thing that he's pretty sure he fell through.

"Okay, what do I do now?"

It's rare that he's the one asking the questions, but he's not really been in a situation like this before. He waits to see what the shard will do, he's not sure what to expect.

He does feel... something as if the shard is somehow trying to do something, but other than causing his hand to hurt, nothing seems to happen.

[wontforgetyou]

For the most part Jamie doesn't get the chance to come help out the new rifters, at least not anymore. Usually there's something that gets in the way, another mission for the Inquisition or a different rift that needs closing - something that stops him from being able to come lend a hand.

Today is different, but in some ways, very much the same. There's still demons, although "a demon" would probably be more accurate, really. The fact it's a pride demon, though...well, that more than makes up for the fact that there's only one as far as he's concerned.

At least there's not too many new people that have to worry about getting killed by it this time around, although he can't for the life of him fathom why the one with the grey hair is trying to talk to it rather than fight it. Hit his head on the way down, maybe.

Still, he can't sit back and let the man get flattened by the thing, and it's only a matter of a few seconds before a handy rock goes sailing past the Doctor and towards the demon's head. It bounces off without really looking like it's done any appreciable damage. But that's not the point. The point is to get its attention, something that Jamie is more than used to doing by now.

"Take that, you overgrown horned beastie! Why don't you pick on someone more your own size?"

[not_the_question]

Talking to aliens, let's be honest, is what the Doctor does. There was lots of commotion and he was easily distracted, but when Jamie spoke, it was like a blast from the past. The Doctor stopped cold and turned to look at the young man.

He couldn't quite believe his eyes, because well, Jamie. He ducked and avoided a swing of an arm as he made his way to his former companion.

"I could be wrong, Jamie, but I think I'm closer to his size than you are."

Oh yeah, the Doctor went there. Mostly because he could. Sure, it was only two inches closer, but still... Taller than he was when Jamie knew him.

[in_death_sacrifice]

"Shadow kin? Close enough, it's a demon."

Kain shouts this as he comes rushing in. He'd been planning on doing his part to aid the new rifters. Now that he's found one being threatened by a demon, he has to do his part to help. He watches the demonic creature warily.

"And that... thing that brought you here, above us! It's a rift..." He'd explain more, but with the demon starting to set its sights on them, he has to focus on fighting it, first. Already he's preparing an attack with his large two-handed sword out and aimed at the approaching demon.

[not_the_question]

"Demon. Lots of things are demons. Even I've been called a demon."

Well. Close enough, at any rate. The Doctor didn't like fighting, unless all other options had been exhausted and everyone so far had jumped in head-first to fighting. Even Jamie. What was this place? Why had it changed Jamie?

"Yes, I know what a rift is. Travel through them regularly."

Not any more. He's closed most of them up. Apparently, he missed at least one. He'll have to correct that when he gets back. Just then the demon started to charge (at least that's how the Doctor saw it) his hands with lightening.

"Heads up!"

And he dived out of the way just in time. That had been a little too close for comfort.

The Medicine Seller | Open | Post battle

[meds4sale]

After the commotion had passed, the Medicine Seller was taking his time to recover his wooden pack and what supplies that had survived. Many tinctures and powders had been trampled into the dust, but his rarer stock seemed reasonably unscathed.

There was a new kind of chaos, strangers from something called the 'Inquisition'. The Medicine Seller was no fool - if this wasn't some elaborate illusion or trap, then the situation was, potentially, precarious. Now was the time to seem innocuous, and listen to what snatches of conversation he could pick up to better gauge the matter at hand.

After making sure his sword was still in its box in the top compartment, he set about gathering up the scales that had spilled, placing them carefully back in their drawer. The medicines, various paraphernalia, and the occasional book of dirty woodcuts that hadn't been trampled by the demon came next. There were a few powders he was going to sorely miss, but it seemed the damage to his stock wasn't terrible.

His sword and scales safe and his belongings secured, the Medicine Seller could more accurately assess matters. For starters, the strange grin sliver of light in his palm. It left a dull ache, and something about it left him uneasy. It thrummed with the same energy of the rift, and if he were to wager, it likely was the cause of his presence there. He inspected it closely, more curious than concerned for now.

[gatheringstorm]

A tall, horned woman paces around the general area, having participated in the fight and likely allied with the Inquisition even as she doesn't wear their uniform. She glances around for who might need supplies, a healing potion or explanations. The latter is a given when people pop out of a rift, after all.

Spotting the elf and his attention at the shard in his palm, Korrin pauses a few paces away, trying to be polite about personal space. "It'll stop hurting constantly after a few hours, though from what I've been told it always tingles when you have it interact with a rift. Sorry about that, we don't know to remove the things." And no, there's no glowing in either of her palms but she's picked up enough by now to know more or less what she's talking about.

[meds4sale]

Korrin was peculiar - he'd almost mistaken her for an oni at first. But that was clearly not the case here. Still, she had provided a quick answer to his most pressing question.

"The pain has stopped," he said, and turned his gaze back to where the rift had been. Even without his unique senses, it was no leap of logic to connect the shard in his hand to the rift. How they were linked and worked in tandem was the question of the hour. That, and just where he was.

He'd seen a somewhat similar style of clothing before, but that had been centuries ago when the Dutch had started trading with Japan. Not exactly the same, but it had a western feel to it. And not in the same way the styles of the twentieth century copied western trends - this Inquisition was straight out of picture books depicting knights in shining armour.

Had he fallen back in time and crossed continents?

"...Am I in Europe?" He asked at last.

[conqueredhearts]

A very large man just seemed to appear behind him. He was stroking his beard and looking more at the stuff the man had than at the fact that they both happened to have shards in their hands. That was rather old news to him compared to the case. At least that was how he was viewing things. Maybe or maybe not the most healthy outlook? One might never know.

"What is it you have here, my friend? It looks like many shelves that you carry."

That was honestly the best way for him to describe it since this concept was rather foreign to him. And the best way to learn new information was simply to ask about it! Since Iskandar didn't have a shy bone in his body, well, here he was doing just that.

[in_death_sacrifice]

"They call those shards." Kain approaches, his two-handed sword still in hand. He's still wary for any sign of an approaching thread. But after a few moments, he relaxes somewhat. Not enough to put the sword away yet, but at least to lower it. No more demons that he can see.

He'd noticed the other seemed to be concerned with a number of items, setting things in order, or so it would seem. "And I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that you've strayed far from wherever you call home. Is there anything more that you're missing? It seems you were well supplied..."