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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.
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But she doesn't know, so instead she focuses on the wrapping, murmuring apologies to Galadriel every time her movements cause the other pain. The first thing she needs to get out of the way is Haldir's suspicion that she had some malicious purpose to the potions. She looks up, and meets Haldir's eye with an intensity that shows no fear.
"Lady Galadriel is a light in the darkness. I would gladly give my life for her, and just as gladly take the life of any who try to harm her." She stares at him for another moment, so he knows she's serious, then moves back to her task, and continues the conversation.
"I'll take your response as a no on being Feanorian." Unless he has some serious self-loathing issues. Which...was apparently also part of the Feanorian package. Then turns to Galadriel. "The eldest two arrived through rifts. I had spoken to Maedhros, not knowing who he was, and then went to tell Thranduil the good news, that others from his world are here..." She tilts her head, glancing off to the side.
"...He wasn't pleased."
An understatement.
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She stared from the Dalish elf and turned her gaze to Haldir. Haldir was of no help, nor could he be, it was long years after Maedhros's death before Haldir was even born, but still she stared at him. Eventually she looked back to Beleth.
"Eldest two? Maglor is found?" Galadriel stared and hissed as Beleth grazed her side. The more she thought upon them, the more her panic mounted. Without her ring, what could she do to prevent their activities in these lands? What if they had also lost their treasures? What havoc would they bring upon this realm? "Do not speak with my cousins, Beleth, where they walk, war will follow.
"If they are here--did they carry anything with them, Beleth? Gems?"
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“May the grace of the Valar protect us if they have the Silmarils in their possession.” He breathed. “If they do, we must act quickly.”
He looked over to small thing-he still was unsure what exactly to call it. Beleth his Lady called her. He didn’t know if that was her name or the name of whatever race she was, but he didn’t ask for clarification. The markings on her face where intriguing, but there would be a more appropriate time to inquire about them.
Her declaration was a bold one, but it rang with truth and honesty. His Lady seemed to trust her, so he would try not to antagonize her without gathering more information. He had a sinking feeling they would need allies desperately in the coming days. She had come to their aid, and done more than he could as much as it pained him to admit.
“Tell us all you can." He said neutrally. "If Thranduil is here we should seek him out quickly, should we not, Lady?”
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“Oh! But Thranduil already spoke to them, so I’m sure that he’s managed to handle everything. I’m sure he’ll be glad that you’re back.” She smiles assuredly, for if nothing else, she trusts Thranduil.
Wrapping done as best as she could, Beleth inspects her handiwork, before tying it off. It was nothing to write home about, but it would hopefully keep her stable until the healers could get to her. Crisis mostly averted, Beleth has time to think about something else Galadriel said.
“...They’re your cousins?” She shoots Haldir a look, raising an eyebrow. “Are you her cousin, too?” Just how many cousins did she have???
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He waved his hands in front of himself. He looked to Galadriel with wide, pleading eyes for a moment and then continued.
"I have been-I am in her service. I'm Commander of the Galadhrim. Or...I was."
He feels his face heat- a strange sensation he's never felt before. He disliked it.
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"Haldir is the head of my guard," Galadriel explained, "The sons of Feanor and Fingolfin are my cousins. Come, Haldir, help me up."
She beckoned to the elf at her side and lifted her arm toward him. He took it without hesitation and Galadriel gradually rose from the mud. She looked dreadful, save for the green light that spilled from the brooch on her belt. She felt the pull of it as the mud began to gradually slide free of her gown--the blood was a little more permanent, but in time it would be removed as well.
"When you are as old as I, Beleth, you find you are related to more elves than not. Though it is not often so many of my near family are...alive and in one land."
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He looked back to the small thing. "Thank you for coming to our aid."
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"I suppose you're right, my Lady. Maybe I'm lucky I won't have to deal with that, I can barely keep track of the relatives I already have." Of course, they're also churning out children at a much more rapid pace than someone who has a millennia to get around to it must do it. Wait, did sound like she was complaining about the whole terribly short lifespan thing? Time to change the subject.
"I'm glad I was able to lend assistance," Or you know, do the entire thing, that's nice, too. "Lady Galadriel is always welcome to call upon me, no matter how dire the circumstances. And it is a pleasure to meet you, Ser Haldir." She doesn't know what title he would get in Arda, but it can't hurt to give him one appropriate for Thedas. She places her hand on her chest, palm flat, like she's seen the others from Middle Earth do, and nods to him.
"I am Beleth of Clan Ashara, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." With that, she turns back to Galadriel. "Can you walk? Do you need help? I can show you the way to where the Inquisition is camping."
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A riot indeed."I will need help, I fear," Galadriel replied after a pause and pressed a hand against the bandages at her side. Already the blood was soaking through them, though the potions had done much to numb the pain. Quendi were hard to kill, even with such injuries, but that did not mean they retained their strength as they healed.
"I will not make it far before I must rest." Already she began to sound out of breath and she met Beleth's eyes, her expression pained, but urgent. She had no desire to alarm Haldir of her plight, but panic still coursed through her, and she could not bend to search this place, nor could she leave before she had. Her voice resounded in the young elf's mind, unmistakable and without the strain that her speaking voice held.
Beleth, search the ground if you can, as we move. I have lost something precious to me, something of great power, and it must be found, but Haldir cannot know. Not now.
The image of a silver ring, wreathed in white starlight is granted to the Dalish elf; it is a sight no being apart from herself has seen in thousands of years, but Beleth can be trusted.
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She locks eyes with Galadriel, and nods. "I'll help you, my Lady." It's a statement for both things she's been asked of, and an easy way to agree without letting Haldir know.
That said, Beleth is quick to Galadriel's side, just as determined to help her in this task as the other...though she's not sure if her stature is quite up for it. "You can lean on me, or--I can try getting some more people to come help? I wish I'd taken my hart along, now." He, certainly, would have been able to carry Galadriel.
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"No need, little...one." He said as his cheeks colored. "I will carry her."
He looked down at Galadriel. "My Lady, I apologize for having to carry you in such a way."
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"Thank you, Haldir. Please, Beleth, which way?" she asked and looked down at the Dalish elf.
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But Galadriel seems to allow it, and Beleth bites her tongue. Instead, she finds a different way to show her annoyance, turning to Haldir with a rather imperious look. "I am Scoutmaster Beleth Ashara, leader of the Scouting Division of the Inquisition, and I would prefer that you refer to me by name, as I have done for you." Feeling like she's properly told him off, she turns to Galadriel, expression instantly smiling and fond. "Of course, my Lady."
And with that, she sweeps around and starts towards camp. But she moves slowly, both for the sake of Haldir carrying Galadriel, and so that she can inspect the ground for the ring. If it doesn't show up now, she'll come back to look, once Galadriel is safely settled. She can't let the Lady down.
The pissing contest for who loves Galadriel more begins.
He held Galadriel as far from his body as he could in this situation. He would not want to cause her any discomfort by holding her close. He also sought to keep her any further injury from his hard and somewhat pointy armor. He had not missed the twitch of discomfort she displayed when he first lifted her. He'd spent thousands of years watching her, and though much of her was still bewildering to him, he felt like he was fairly adequate at reading her face.
For one so seemingly full of energy, Beleth was moving a snail's pace. Haldir ground his teeth. The muscles in his arms burned a fraction with their efforts to hold and also stabilize Galadriel, but he was more than fit thanks to his combat training and the rigors of climbing tree after tree. He could feel her warm blood soaking the cloth under his armor, and he let out a small keen. He picked up the pace, and moved along Beleth's side.
"Scoutmaster Beleth Ashara, leader of the Scouting Division of the Inquisition, my Lady needs attention quickly. We must hurry. What direction do we travel? I may get there faster on my own."
oh it's on
"Forgive me, I was concerned for how my lady would take to being roughly jostled if you walked faster than our current pace. Clearly, I didn't think that it might be possible that you can't carry her for such a period of time." She starts moving again, this time at a fast clip, neatly hopping around the worst areas of muck. If that's how Haldir wants it, fine.
"But don't give up, if the burden is too much for you, you can try singing about it!" She calls over her shoulder, before scooting around a puddle. Even now she keeps her eyes trained to the ground, both to avoid the terrible field conditions, and to search for the ring. There's no helping it, she'll have to come back once Galadriel has been taken to safety and Haldir has...gone wherever it is he wants to go, as long as it isn't around her.
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"You must be frail indeed to think the act of carrying someone to be an arduous task. And, while your concern for my lady's comfort is admirable, it will be of no use if bleeds out while we journey there."
He could feel the wet warmth of blood on his armor was getting larger, and he started to panic even more. "I will keep her from discomfort, but if we do not hurry to get whatever help she needs, she will be lost to us." His voice cracked with emotion as he looked down at the top of his lady's head. "Now, please I beg you, point the way. I will run if I need to."
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Then a thought occurs to her, and Beleth stops in her tracks. Of course, why didn't she think of it sooner? Because she'd wanted to accompany Galadriel to camp, and see the faces of the elves when they saw her again. But...no. There's a way to avoid Haldir, and to continue her search for the ring.
"Of course," And her voice is too calm, her face too neutral. She points over the hill she'd been about to cross. "Right over yonder hill, as soon as you pass the crest, you'll see the fires of camp. There will be healers there who can attend to her. By all means, please go."
She hesitates, and then says: "I need to return, anyway. I must make sure all of the rifters have been safely evacuated. Lady Galadriel," And here, she bows low to her. "My soul is lightened and my heart sings, to see you again. I will pray for your swift return to good health." Then she straightens, and tilts her head, eyes flickering to Haldir. "Nice to meet you, Holdor. Try not to fail." And with that, she turns primly, and heads towards the field again. Maybe she can rope some scouts into helping her look.
HOLDOR?! REALLY?
"My Lady," he said as he ran. "How attached are you to that thing? Would you lament it's absence? For the next time it opens it's mouth, I may have no choice but to put an arrow through it."
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"Please refrain from mauling the Dalish, Haldir, particularly Beleth."