FIRSTFALL RIFTER ARRIVAL

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & their rescuers
WHAT: People fall out of a rift and get attacked by stuff, as usual.
WHEN: Firstfall/November 14
WHERE: Somewhere a ways off the Imperial Highway between Cumberland and Nevarra City
NOTES: This arrival log is open to all. Solas was able to alert the Inquisition to the general area where the new rifters would be arriving so people can pick them up. Rifters can then either continue on with the main Inquisition caravan to Nevarra City or be escorted back to Kirkwall.

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, when the afterimage left by a flare of too-bright, greenish light fades, you will find yourself landing with a wet smack. There is no avoiding the mud: this rift has opened up in the center of some unfortunate farmer's field, and all his hard work plowing and manuring has now been ruined, first by the rain that has churned it into a thick and especially fragrant muck and then by the arrival the rift itself, splitting the air mid-field and making it impossible to safely plant. And now, of course, there's you as well, tumbling out of the Fade and into the shin-deep mud.

The cluster of demons emerging from the rift seem at odds with the setting, strange stark shapes in this empty space, standing out against the grey sky. Some are tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes who seem like they should tumble down the hill in a tangle of limbs but instead sink into the snow to anchor themselves and use the long reach of their arms to attack. Some are hunched and hooded with no eyes at all, others mere wisps of greenish light that float over the icy ground. None look friendly or familiar. Also unfamiliar is the narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here that now glows out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions.

All around is more fields, except for an abandoned farmhouse a ways off, beside a windbreak of spindly trees topping a low ridge before the next stretch of pasture. As you find your feet, you may catch sight of a handful of figures in the distance, exiting the farmhouse and hurrying away over the hill. If anyone ventures to the farmhouse, they will find the remains of a camp, and may be able to locate a dropped notebook or what looks like pieces of some unknown scientific instrument, apparently broken in the rush to leave.

Comments

c, i

[mactears]

There's a shadow moving along the edges of the treeline, light catching and reflecting back from a pair of highly intelligent, topaz eyes. The wolf-dog doesn't seem to show much fear of the travel party--and the war harness she wears is enough to indicate she's no feral stray.

"She won't harm you."

The reassurance comes from a gruff-looking man approaching the edge of the camp from the other side of the fire. Loghain Mac Tir comes to stand several paces away from Klaus, watching his mabari prowl the periphery with a restless energy unique to wild things.

[purered]

Klaus acknowledged the newcomer with a polite bow - straight-backed, hand over his heart. His simple attire loaned to him aside, one could safely deduce he was from high society wherever he came from.

"She seems very well trained," Klaus remarked. He'd always been quite comfortable around animals - they'd kept dogs at the estate after all. For hunting, his father had said, but about the only thing those dogs ever hunted were tidbits Klaus and his siblings would sneak them under the table.

"Klaus Von Reinherz," he said by means of introduction. "It is a pleasure to meet you and your companion."

[mactears]

"It is a pleasure to meet you and your companion."

A pleasure? Not often words he hears during a first meeting. The surprise on his face registers as raised eyebrows and a bit of a wry twist at the corner of his lips, before he nods once. “Loghain Mac Tir,” he replies, then glances towards the wolf dog just in time to glimpse her disappear into the trees. “I’d give you her name as well, but I haven’t quite decided on one yet.”

A quick glance towards the green glow that now emanates from his hand. “Does it pain you much?”

[purered]

Klaus didn't miss the peculiar expression, and his mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

"Ah - please pardon me if I offended. I'm not yet familiar with what is or is not an appropriate greeting here."

He glanced back to the wolfdog, seeming quite fond of her already.

"I am sure a name for her will come to you. Sometimes these things take time." And then his gaze fell to the dull glow in his palm. "It seems to have settled - there's an ache but nothing more."

[mactears]

Insofar as Loghain can ever manage to look confused about anything, he manages such an expression now, and decides to blame his resting jerk face for Klaus' reaction. He shakes his head once. "You didn't offend. I don't often meet strangers who are pleased to meet me in turn." There's clearly a story there, but Loghain doesn't offer it out uninvited; they'd be here all night, anyway.

He reaches for one of the nearby logs and steps closer to add it carefully to the fire. "I suppose you have some questions," he begins, glancing Klaus' way. "I don't know how many of them I can answer, but I will try."

[purered]

There very much was clearly a story there - one Klaus doubted Loghain would appreciate him picking at within the first few minutes of their meeting.

"The initial questions have been thoroughly answered," Klaus said, joining Loghain by the fire.

"The others are more nebulous," he continued. "As I learn more of this place, I'll likely be able to put words to them. For now, the creature Corypheus is of most interest. All I've been told is that he is very ancient, very dangerous, and something called a Darkspawn."

He exhaled, brow furrowing under his mess of bangs. "Such a title indicates nothing good."

[mactears]

The subject of darkspawn is one Loghain feels uniquely predisposed towards describing--and so he does, though he endeavours to break the subject down to brass tacks rather than getting into the weeds of it.

With that topic out of the way, he grows silent again for a time. Then, grimly, "Grey Wardens are meant to be the best defence Thedas has against the Blight, and blighted creatures like Corypheus. Now, it appears we are its greatest liability."

[purered]

Klaus listened patiently as Loghain explained the wretched creatures, interjecting occasionally with the occasional question or request for clarification only when the other man had paused.

It was clear Klaus was used to such ghastly things - his everyday life was spent in a city populated by people and creatures that would drive most to madness, after all - but when Loghain brought up Broodmothers, Klaus's expression grew somehow more grim.

It was already not a very pleasant face, and now he looked almost more snarling beast than man. His calm, collected, and refined manner of speech was rather at odds with the expression.

"Tainted blood causing physiological transformations is not a wholly alien concept to me," he said. "Their rapid regeneration seems to almost mirror the ghouls created by beings known as the Blood Breed in my world."

[mactears]

Klaus does appear to be a number of different contradictions artfully arranged within one individual. Loghain listens to his response, his eyebrows drawing together into a disconcerted furrow.

"The blood breed?" he repeats; with an ominous name like that, they must be as much a curse upon Klaus' land as the darkspawn are upon Loghain's. He considers the strange man a moment longer. "You fight them, I assume."

[purered]

Klaus nodded. "You assume correctly. They're terrible creatures," he said, holding his hands out over the fire and attempted to coax warmth back into his extremities.

"Their DNA -" He paused and reconsidered his wording. "Their genetic make-up - no -" He muttered something, rubbing his temple, his brow furrowed as he sought something more universally understood. "Er... their blood is set about with curses, to the very basic building-blocks of their being."

It was about as accurate as he could get without having to explain the basics of biological chemistry to someone from a society that would have no idea what he was talking about.

"I would assume from your explanation, you have more than a passing familiarity with these Darkspawn? Perhaps you are even among these Wardens you mentioned before?"