Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faderifting) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2017-11-15 12:48 am
faderifting) wrote in faderift2017-11-15 12:48 am
FIRSTFALL RIFTER ARRIVAL
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.
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.
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.
no subject
[Which pretty much confirms for him that she's not from his home, either. Not that he holds out a lot of hope for seeing anyone from there in Thedas, but one never knows.]
no subject
Well, go on then, tell me about where you're from, what you did there and what you do here, what you think a Rifter needs to know about this place, et cetera.
no subject
I'm from a place called Eos. That's the name of my world. My home town is [The lab in Niflheim where he was grown] Insomnia, what was the last city of the Kingdom of Lucis. Empire took it over a few months ago. But, we're working on taking it back!
no subject
Your hometown is Insomnia? What a terrible place name! ❰ adalia is not the best at things like "tact", it must be said, but really, come on, insomnia? that's just asking for terrible evil to hit. ❱
I assume the Empire is... bad...?
no subject
Well, it's a big city. Cities never sleep, so I think it's kind of apt. [Also, Lucian culture has a mild fascination with the morbid and dark. But that's an entirely different discussion.]
Yeah, they are. They've been slowly taking over the world as we know it, one country at a time. Lucis was the last to fall.
no subject
Come to think of it, that is a bit more poetically evocative than Baldur's Gate or Candlekeep. What candles were we keeping, anyway? Candles and books are not a great mix!
❰ also an entirely different discussion. faerûn has always had little skirmishes going on, battles for territory or between bandits, but... there's never really been a large-scale incursion of any one territory within the continent taking over another. it's hard to even fathom, it's so foreign an idea to her. ❱
I'm sorry, ❰ she says eventually, serious now. ❱ Being here instead of there, unable to help take it back... That must be very hard for you.
no subject
[It certainly evokes some pretty powerful imagery, at least in his mind. He's with her on Candlekeep, though. What an odd name...]
Thanks. Yeah, it's... hard. And frustrating. I just hope the others are doing okay, you know?
no subject
there's a protracted pause, and then adalia smiles brightly, and when she speaks again her tone has regained a bit of pep. ❱
Well, this is a dreary topic! Let's move on to something less awful. How long have you been here? Is there anything you think I should know?
no subject
Oh, uh... let's see... [Geez, it's been awhile since he's been here.] It's been about nine months for me, I think. And there's a whole lot to this place. Best thing you can do starting out is just listen and don't assume anything. There are a lot of conflicts here playing out. It can get kind of messy.