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

Maglor | Tolkien | OPEN

[seawanderer]

Wake up time!
[After so long of not allowing himself to sleep, to find himself dreaming of the Two Trees still alive and giving their light strikes Maglor as odd. But it lightens his heart to the point of a joyful laugh as he runs towards that sacred mound.

Only to trip over nothing and fall. And fall farther than any normal height warrants. He lands face first with a squelch in mud that has no business of being in Valinor to such a degree!

Pain in his left hand drags him to consciousness and he pushes himself up and into a sudden roll as all his senses scream danger! and the warrior in the elf sends him into immediate action. His sword is pulled from the sheath at his back and he makes quick work with it, half-dancing even through the mud and manure of the field he distantly realizes he's landed in (though he knows not why or how!) and slices blade through flesh and bone.

A feral gleam enters grey eyes and a hard, almost mad smile spreads on the pale face.]

Come, foul ones! Come at me!

After the battle
[He has a few scratches, a number of bruises, and is a fair amount of blood spattered on him along with the general state of mud all over his emaciated form by the time his bloodlust for the ending of any and every demon that had come after him abated enough for him to leave the field.

He might be humming as he walks, flicking his sword absently as if he can clean it of blood that easily when it's so caked. He'll have to do a proper clean later. His pack hasn't left his side, the comforting weight at his back tells the awareness he has left.

Maglor notes figures approaching, but senses no immediate danger from them so ignores them unless they hail him.]

Some wake up call!

[castintoflames]

(He will not allow his brother to hunt alone. With his body able, his armor repaired and his sword sharpened, Maedhros rides into the fray on a chestnut horse. The poor beast isn't as skilled or steady as an Elven horse, but he reins it in tightly, striking out at the demons with such force that he beheads three of them.)

Kano! (His heart sings and grieves. How will he face his brother? How will he atone - ? But that must come later.) Come to me!

But it called his defender so it's all good!

[seawanderer]

[The call tugs at his heart and spirit and he automatically turns and runs to the approaching horse and rider before even registering who called to him. Who even could get him to react without thought but Maedhros?

But he does, and his sword continues to slash out at anything that even looks at Maedhros even as he runs to take his usual place as his brother's right hand.]

His defender would've come anyway.

[castintoflames]

(Maedhros grabs his arm and hauls him onto the saddle behind him. The demons can wait. Damn them to the lowest pits of hell for all he cares! He has his brother and he will bring him to a safe place.)

Hold on! Let us leave these abominations behind!

Best big bro ;.;

[seawanderer]

[He sucks in a sharp breath but settles himself behind his brother and curls an arm around his waist, even as he ensures no demon hops on as well.]

Agreed, let us away!

[But only because it means his brother is protected. Only when the demons fall away behind them does he frown, perplexed at the back of Maedhros' head.]

...Nelyo? Is it...really you?

He tries ;n;

[castintoflames]

(Any demon within his reach will be kicked or stabbed. He just needs to make a path for them to escape. The horse shies a few more times than his nerves can handle, but they eventually find room to gallop.)

Yes, it's me. (He squeezes Maglor's arm briefly.) And this isn't Arda. I will explain as much as I am able, I promise. But, for now, you are safe.

<3

[seawanderer]

[No demon stands a chance against them! But Maglor sings softly to try and ease the poor horse's nerves, as well as his brother's. Then he leans against his brother's strong back, resting his cheek on a shoulder.

...But something is still different.] ...Nelyo! Your hand! [He simply accepts the rest of what Maedhros tells him, because this is Nelyo.]

[castintoflames]

(The horse settles enough to run without bolting wildly in one direction or another. Maedhros is able to loosen his hold on the reins a little and glance back at his brother.)

Forget it. (He grimaces and tries again.) I arrived whole and unscarred. (A state that didn't last long!) I will take you to where I have been staying.

[seawanderer]

[He absently sheaths his sword, finally, and slips his other arm around his brother. Maedhros won't be escaping him any time soon. He frowns, brow creasing in worry.]

You say this is not Arda, but perhaps is it Mandos? [Maglor doesn't seem entirely upset with the idea of being dead. Because he's not alone.]

[castintoflames]

(He keeps his sword out, but he does glance at the arms around him. Having Maglor with him again feels...right. Leaving him had been wrong. All wrong!)

It is not Mandos. This is...another world entirely. (He pulls the horse to a stop so that they can all catch their breath.) Are you hurt, Kano?

After the battle

[utulien_aure]

[Makalaure that weapon is your life, please treat it better

Not far away another dark-haired elf is scouring the battlefield, making sure every demon is gone. His ears are tuned for the sounds of monsters, but the sounds he keeps up instead...

Well. There are some voices which stay with you- and that of the greatest of the bards of Aman is one of them. Fingon's head twists to the side until he's sure he's not imagining it. After a few moment, he calls back]

Kano! Kano, can you hear me?

[seawanderer]

[He'll clean it later! When he's less crazy!

The hail makes him pause and tilt his head, listening, before smiling absently, turning. Why not a dead cousin? He's seen them all before.

So he slowly wanders over, blade slashing out as what few foul creatures remain in his way appear and are swiftly dispatched.]

I have heard many voices, why not yours too?

[utulien_aure]

[...Maybe Fingon should run a rag over it, just in case...]

What-

[There's indignation in Fingon's tone, before he catches himself- Maedhros hadn't quite believed it either. Maedhros, though he had never mentioned it since, had believed Fingon-

Maglor thinks he's talking to a dead man. Maglor thinks he's talking to a dead man and is under the impression that this is completely normal.

And Fingon's heart aches for his cousin, even as the situation frustrates him beyond word.]

Humor me, cousin! Will you stay where you are for a few moments?

[He can find Maglor, can follow his voice; but it will go more quickly if the bard is standing still.]

[seawanderer]

[Fingon can do whatever he wishes!

Maglor continues butchering whatever monsters come at him but pauses, debating if there's a harm to the request. Then shoves a fist into another beast that got a bit too close and hums absently.]

I will do as my king commands.

[Meaning he'll stay put- for now. If nothing appears, he'll eventually wander on as he has whenever else he's been asked something like it.]

[utulien_aure]

And what about what an old friend asks?

[And Fingon's not going to give him the time to wander off. It takes a few minutes- he has a few stragglers among the beasts to deal with, for one thing- but soon he spots a familiar figure in the distance.]

Makalaure! Turn around!

[seawanderer]

[By this point he's really just standing, idle, listening and still humming quietly. The call to turn has him spin, though, just in case he's missed a creature and was about to be jumped.

Then he lowers his sword, seeing Fingon, and blinks. One by one the normal signs of his memories taking over more than usual are met and turned aside.]

Cousin?

[utulien_aure]

Who else?

[He calls back, and despite himself a smile crosses his face. And then he’s running ready to catch his cousin in a hug.]

Here I am, Kano. Flesh and blood and fine, see?

[seawanderer]

[...The sword might have just dropped to the mud in a belated flail to catch and cling and burrow into the surprise heat of his cousin. Oops? He'll pick it back up later?

Maglor lets out a shuddering breath and tightens his hold almost desperately on Fingon.]

..'M sorry!

after the battle;

[mactears]

The figure isn't approaching Maglor so much as patrolling the periphery of the area, searching with hard, keen eyes for lingering demons let loose from the rift. Loping along at his side is a wolf-dog who appears... mostly tame, at least.

Loghain recognizes Maglor as one of the rifters, and so greets him with a nod. "This must be quite a shock for you," comes his gruff comment; not much of a greeting, but he does poorly with small talk.

[seawanderer]

The elf glances at the wolf-dog long enough to see it stays at it's master's side close enough. He holds his sword point down, though remains prepared to defend himself as needed- but the nod is enough to earn Loghain an answering gesture and absent little smile.

"It is strange, sure enough. But not as much a shock as one might think."

[mactears]

Loghain makes a gesture with one hand, inviting Maglor to fall into step beside him as he walks. This task--ensuring the security of the camp, rather than forcing himself to engage in conversation with others--seems to suit him better anyway, though one-on-one, he doesn't appear unsociable.

"Is it commonplace in your land to travel to different worlds, then?" he asks as they walk together.

[seawanderer]

Loghain isn't Maedhros, but the gesture is simple and Maglor takes the invited place. They seem to have the same errand, and the furry companion is likely to only be a boon. And he senses no recognition beyond the awareness of one soldier of another. It's enough to make it easier to not simply bolt away for fear of discovery and recognition.

"Nay. Having enemies suddenly thrust upon you from all directions. Especially from above- the Enemy was always fond of his dragons and fell-beasts."

[mactears]

Well, Loghain has some dreadful news for him on that subject.

"We have dragons in our world as well," he says, sounding somehow both awed and regretful on the subject. It's difficult not to admire the sheer presence the beasts possess, their raw power, but nevertheless, they wreak destruction wherever they go. "Hence where the name of our age comes from: dragon."

[seawanderer]

Looovely. Can you feel his excitement and joy?

He twitches before frowning, eyes narrowing. "I fear I know little to nothing of this world," the elf admits. "Are there many dragons here? I would presume so, by the name as you say. Are they friend or foe?"

[mactears]

Loghain can certainly discern something of Maglor's feelings on the subject, that much is true. At his question, he looks momentarily thoughtful as they walk along together, brows drawing together into another frown. "It is difficult to say," he admits. "Up until recently, it's my understanding that they were believed to be extinct. But no, I don't think any would consider them friend. They're beasts--majestic and awe-inspiring, but they have a beast's base needs and instincts. One will as soon consume a man as a druffalo, should she get hungry enough."