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

[circleprodigy]

Inessa turns her wrists to reveal her palms. "I bear no shard. I am a mage; those thus born manifest their gift at some point in their lives. When we do, we are taken to the towers of the Circle of Magi, to hone our abilities and guard against the dangers that come with our gift. Well, we were. The current state of affairs is...in flux, on more than one level."

Rifts are only part of it, but she's not sure how interested a newcomer would be in political matters. Besides, he's been through enough and she doesn't want to overwhelm him further. Noting Garahel's happy rumbling, she smirks. "And yet, he tries. One would think I never feed him, the way he stares pleadingly at any who give him attention."