faderift | Wintermarch Rifter Arrival

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Wintermarch Rifter Arrival

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.

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"Fair enough. I'm not going to lie; the Inquisition was sanctioned by the late Divine of the Andrastian Chantry. Andrastianism is the main religion of Thedas and carries a lot of weight, even now. The fact that she was killed by Corypheus and the Grand Clerics are divided means that there's no great authority guiding this, though. We're on our own--perhaps forever.

Our goal is simple; find Corypheus, destroy him, and stop the rest of the south from falling into chaos, and likely the rest of Thedas with it. Orlais is in the midst of a civil war, Ferelden is still weak from the Fifth Blight and Tevinter's off having a slapfight with the Qunari, and so on; basically put, none of the major powers are in any shape to stop this on their own. So, it's up to us. And I don't know about you, but I'd at least like to go down knowing I tried my damnedest to stop this shitstorm instead of giving up and letting it all happen. We're not perfect, but right now we're the only ones even trying to do anything about this Maker-forsaken mess."

He sighs heavily. "Why does everyone always think peace-keeping means war?"

He scratches his forehead. "And what if I say 'no'? Do I get sent into the Fade? Locked up in a dungeon? Drawn and quartered?"

He's fairly certain he was brought here now. And on purpose. Kidnapped. That's less than a pleasing thought. Though, nothing new, really. Except his sonics don't work. He'll need to do something about that.

"To be fair, he started it. We're just trying to defend ourselves while the darkspawn fuckhead's busy trying to become a god. It's not like he's giving us much of a choice." If Korrin has to choose between bowing down to him or death, she'd just fall on her own spirit blade. But she seems to be a little more optimistic than that, since that hasn't happened yet.

"If you say 'no', then that's it. You don't have to join. You're still offered shelter and the basics, but you're not conscripted. Hell, you don't even have to come with us...though in that case, you're completely on your own. I wouldn't go telling people you're from another world, in that case. You say you stepped out of a rift, they'll think you a demon taking a human shape. Skyhold is different; a lot of them are still unsure what exactly to make of rifters, but they won't be hostile. They know many of them have risked their lives alongside us."

He gestures to himself. "Does this face look like the kind of face that cares who started what?"

He listens as she explains what people would think of him. "I've been called worse. But I imagine my titles probably hold no meaning here. There's a lot about this I don't like. But I don't yet know which side is which. At least if I go with you, I might be able to sort those things out."

And he'll be able to ask the really hard questions. The ones that don't actually have an answer, but more beg an action. And he can always leave. He's been on his own before.

"One more thing, before we leave here. My... tools. Don't seem to be working, is there anything around that I can use to repair them? Computers, for instance?"

Judging by how the fight went - talking about magic and all - he's guessing not, but he's hopeful.

That first question gets a roll of her eyes, and though she can see how it might all seem the same to rifters at first, Korrin bristles nonetheless. Having lost many of her company to Corypheus, she can't help but care very deeply about who started this mess. But that's her hurt to carry and not one she wants to share, not now.

"You're right, titles don't carry over. We've had people claiming to be royalty, but it's not like their kingdoms came over with them. That said, your title...does it mean you can heal? We can always use more of that.

...I don't know what a computer is, but we have the Undercroft in Skyhold, a space set aside for crafting of all kinds. If we have what you need, it'll be there."

"If I have the right equipment, I can reattach heads to bodies, so take a wild stab in the dark."

The snark is strong with him today. He normally likes to joke about his name not being the profession, but he's over that.

"I'm the original Doctor. It's my name. Everyone else stole it as simply a title. My title is Saviour or Destruction of the Universe, depending on which side you're on."

Basically, it's probably best to not make an enemy of him.

"Crafting... You mean witch-craft? Or you said 'magic'. Well, I suppose this could be considered magic to you."

"Uh-huh." Korrin simply raises an eyebrow at such an over-the-top title almost wondering if...no, she's tired of running into royalty, at least this is slightly different and more interesting. "I wouldn't use either title here, not if you want to either keep a low profile or get people to listen to you. Or if you're in the tavern, people are likely to just chalk it up to one too many.

"No, magic is what I just did earlier; creating fire or lightning or that barrier that protected both of us, or a bunch of other uses of channeling the Fade's energy. By crafting, I mean creating weapons, armor, potions, and so on...all tools that are useful on the field in one way or another. You don't want to fight a fire-breathing dragon without a good resistance tonic, trust me."

He smiled when she clearly understood some aspects of his title. Good. And it broadened when she said not to use it. "Good. I always hated titles. And I like 'The Doctor', so that works for me."

He nods again at her descriptions. "Well, I have a lot of things that are useful in battle, though I tend to try to talk first.... Wait. Dragon? Did you say dragon? I wonder if they speak dinosaur..."

Because that would be very helpful if they did.

What's a dinosaur is a question that will probably have to wait, at least until the Doctor isn't quite so brand-new and in need of answers. (Though she wouldn't at all be surprised if he always has more questions.) Then she'll turn the tables and have plenty of questions of her own.

"Our dragons don't speak at all, unless you count shooting fire or ice or lightning with their breath as 'speech'. Also, they have this ear-piercing shriek to summon their children, which has the wonderful side-effect of stunning everyone in the area. The high dragons -always female- are pretty majestic, though you so don't want to be at anywhere near one is nesting. That's why this age is called the Dragon Age; we thought they were extinct for a long time, but then they resurfaced."

"Well the shooting bodily fluids aren't so much speech, but the shrieking can be. I would have to hear it. It's possible they share a similar pattern to Earth Dinosaurs."

Yup. He did say all that with a straight face. He was being serious.

"Well, no, I imagine bothering any animal around their children would be a bad thing."

Okay, learning basic information is good. Information he can work with, sort of, mostly, he's trying to place where he is and so far, none of it is sounding familiar. Well, the Dragons. He's dealt with some dragons before, but probably not these.

"How long has this age been going?"

"I'm no linguist, but I think the shrieking means 'I'm toying with you before I and my children eat you for breakfast'. Then again, some have tried that with me and I'm still standing." Korrin smirks, naturally smug about surviving some of the most deadliest creatures in Thedas. There's more to it than that, as well, but that conversation can wait in favor of more immediate concerns.

"It's been going on for...forty three years, now. Wow, it's 9:43 already? Dragons resurfaced at the end of the Blessed Age, the one before this. That's why the Divine at the time named it after them."

The Doctor smirked at her interpretation of the dragon's words. "Quite possible. But some day I'd like to hear it to see if I can translate it."

Because, it's just one of the things he does.

"But I'm glad you've survived so much. I presume it's why you're so knowledgable."

He'll give her that one, because he doesn't want to get abandoned. When she mentioned what sounds like the time, the Doctor looked around. "9:43? How can you tell? It's dark in here."

"No, that's the year. The Dragon Age is the ninth age, by Andrastian reckoning; every age is divided up into a hundred years. So, 9:43 is the forty-third year of the ninth age." It'll take some getting used to, but Korrin's sure of all the things to digest, this will be relatively straightforward.

"I've been all over Thedas; if not with my company, then with my parents'. Only places I haven't seen with my own eyes are the Tevinter Imperium and Qunari-held lands like Par Vollen. For those, you're better off asking a local vint or the Iron Bull. He's a real Qunari...culturally-speaking, anyway. Everyone in the south thinks someone with horns is one, but they're wrong. Most of us that you'll meet in the Inquisition have nothing to do with them. Hell, some might even get offended if you call them that." Korrin's gotten used to it, so it gets little more than an eye-roll from her, but she knows the tempers of others are best warned about.

"That makes sense, then. Not too different from many planets in my universe. Though they don't rename their ages automatically at the 100 year mark."

He frowns.

"If you're not a 'real' Qunari, then what are you?"

Might was well get it out of the way now, right? Korrin doesn't want an incident happening because she wasn't clear, though the truth is annoyingly complicated. Look, she didn't invent any of this.

"It goes like this; my 'kind' don't have any one particular name for themselves. Even 'Qunari' means followers of the Qun, a stupidly oppressive way of life that they try to force on everyone else. People who break away from that are called Tal-Vashoth, rebels. I'm a Vashoth, someone who was born outside all that rot. Most horned folk you'll see in Skyhold are going to be the latter two. It's okay if you ask what they are. They'd rather tell you themselves than be called something they aren't."

"So, you're about as simple as humans. By that I mean, not simple at all and you lot are just as caught up in labels. Which is good to know."

He has his own set of labels to simplify things, but given the size difference, he'll be keeping those to himself for now. He looked around.

"Well, seeing as I've nowhere else to go. Can you show me to this 'Skyhold' place?"

Korrin's lips twitch as she nods in full agreement about being caught up with labels. "More or less, yeah. And I don't think there's anything else to be done with this area, so we can make way for the nearest Inquisition camp, resupply, and strike out from there. You can ride on the back of my nuggalope, if you want. Or we have horses if you want one of those instead."

He nodded and gestured that she should lead the way, since she knows what's going on, and he's more clueless than he cares to admit.

"Best that I stick with horses for now. I can speak horse. But I might try other animals once I've seen how they behave and if I can talk to them or not."

Seriously, the man knows billions of languages. Why should animal languages be any different?

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Wintermarch Rifter Arrival

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OMG, I'm going to have to redo my icons, because horseback riding!