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

[laurenande]

The fumes that rose from the shattered pot were pungent and numbing and Galadriel's expression turned with distaste as they distracted her. Her panic was not so easily forgotten, however, and she twisted, as far as she was able, to peer at the muddy field. Her expression was one of anger and dismay in equal parts.

"I awoke as I first did, disoriented and adrift, but it was far worse this time," Galadriel explained with a bitter sort of speed and certainty. "I am untethered from waking now, this is a dreadful dream, and the power to change it has been stolen away."

She looked back to Ellana, almost desperate for understanding.

"It is mine to protect; I have never removed it, nor would I. It was stripped from me and I cannot permit it to become lost. Not here, not anywhere."

[serannas]

Ellana nods, understanding her perfectly. "If it was pulled off in the Fade, then there's nothing we can do, but we can search the area around where the rift was. Just let me know if you need a healing potion?" She isn't sure how much good that healing mist can do on its own.

It's tempting to try and reconnect with her dear friend now that she's returned, but Ellana can recognize that it's something that has to wait. There will be time for it once the ring is safely back on Galadriel's finger -- or once they realize it never actually fell through the rift with her.

[laurenande]

"A potion?" Galadriel repeats almost distractedly, as if she cannot fathom the question. She looks down at herself after a moment and then to the brooch in her hand. She had bled too much, her focus wavered even then; she couldn't use the Elessar, not even to clean her clothing.

Her eyes shut and Galadriel drew a slower breath--it was not as deep as she would have preferred, but she could barely tolerate that much.

"I cannot use this myself," Galadriel admitted and her brow dipped in frustration as she extended her hand and the silver jewelry to Ellana. "Not at the moment, but perhaps you can. We must search and I cannot while I wear these wounds.

"The Elessar grants the power of restoration to the one who bares it," she explained with frequent breaks to breathe. "It will restore you to your fullest, grant you a healer's hand, and will show you the world at its height.

"If you would, use it carefully, mellon nin, for it is no toy."

[serannas]

This isn't the first time Galadriel has shown Ellana something that's left her in awe, but now with time and experience, she can focus and not get caught up in the grandeur of it all. She nods seriously, holding out her hand for the brooch.

"If it can give me the magic to heal you, then I'll use it. Do I put it on?" She'll need instruction on how to use it, unless the brooch is such an artifact than can help her feel out what to do.

[laurenande]

It required such trust, passing an object of this much power along, and her treacherous mind clawed at her as she unhanded it. She was without Nenya, but she ignored the thoughts prodding her, demanding she withdraw all power and hide it away.

Once the brooch passed from Galadriel's hand and into Ellana's, the effects of the Elessar were removed from Galadriel. She dimmed like a candle being snuffed out, the light bled from her and was gone away, as though it had never been. Without that light, her skin was flushed and pale in places, her hair fell lank with the drizzle of rain, and she curled forward, diminished, as the pain in her wounds returned.

In Ellana's hand, the Elessar did a most curious thing: it waited. For a moment, there was no change in Ellana and, all at once, the emerald glimmer seemed to decide how to proceed. The light that poured from Galadriel, issued from Ellana's skin, her scars and markings were evaporated in the shine of it, and her stature drew noble and tall. The effect shifted, even as she stood still, as if it were undecided on how far it could or should draw her to the end it had chosen, but it maintained.

"Holding it is enough," Galadriel said in a pinched tone. "It will use you for its work, pay it little heed but resist the song of it, the voice that whispers, for its will is not your own."

[serannas]

The sight of Galadriel without her light makes Ellana's heartbeat quicken. She has to do something now, or else her friend could succumb to her wounds. But before she can think of the brooch and how to make it work, it floods her with its essence, and she nearly shakes at the power she feels flow through her. Is this how Galadriel feels all the time? Ellana doesn't think she could bear it all day every day.

Yet at the same time, there's something alluring about the power coursing through her, and that feeling is one she fights to dismiss. Perhaps it's testing her, but a mage who is often tempted by demons knows how to resist. Even so, the song that comes into her head speaks of all the things she wishes for, and how this power can make it so. Ellana could unite Dalish and city elves, make humans respect them, and discover hidden ruins to discover the elves' history. She could have it all.

But Ellana won't let herself be swayed. If she was like this all the time with the light shining from her skin, regal and elegant, and with so much power under the surface, then she wouldn't be herself anymore, and she's worked hard to become the person she is today. Her jaw sets, and when she speaks her voice still carries the musical Dalish lilt, but it's lowered considerably, much like Galadriel's voice.

"I won't listen. I'm only using it for you." And with that said, she lifts her hand towards Galadriel in order to heal her wounds.

[laurenande]

Ellana reached for her and settled a hand against her shoulder. There was truly no method to the use of the Elessar, it was a passive thing, but the will to aid her and the inclinations of a Theodosian mage made some difference. The sense of power swept across her like the barriers these mages cast so easily, and at once she felt the strength trickle into her limbs.

It was an imperfect method of restoration and to do it so quickly was folly, but Galadriel was not awash with options and Ellana had not been told the details of how the power worked. A gentle hand binding wounds would find them cooperative, clean, and healing ere they finished. An active hand, pressing power and will, would find the results dramatic but fragile.

The wounds in her side closed rapidly, but the furrows were deeply cut and healing them so quickly was less than ideal. The flow of blood was slowed and then halted, altogether. Another moment or two and the wash of Ellana's power had her standing upright, no longer bowed to pain. When she could think, after waiting far longer than she should have, she drew away from the Dalish elf--Galadriel knew not if Ellana had fëa in the fashion of the Eldar, but it was irrelevant. The Elessar would draw more power than anything Ellana had ever used and if she pressed herself she could do herself terrible harm.

[serannas]

"Is it enough?" Ellana asks once Galadriel is upright and moving out of her reach. She seems ready to dismiss anymore healing, but Ellana wants to be sure that Galadriel is feeling better now. It certainly felt like Ellana had been doing something to help, but the real test was how her friend felt now.

[laurenande]

"It must be," Galadriel answers and lifts a hand to keep Ellana back. She can stand once more, for however much that counts, and her ease has been largely restored. She isn't eager to test the full strength of the mending on her side, but she is far less weak than she was a moment earlier.

"Once you return that brooch you will feel the strain of what you have done. I will survive; I will not take more from you for comfort's sake."

[serannas]

"It's all right," she says, already offering the brooch to her before its tempting song gets any louder. She wants to stay Ellana, not become someone exquisite and terrifying. That's never been an ambition of hers, and she doesn't plan to pick it up as one now.

"I'm ready to go back to being myself again."

[laurenande]

Galadriel reaches and reclaims the Elessar from her Dalish friend without hesitation, she is almost greedy for it, and seems more at ease with it pressed into her own palm. She shift back, as Ellana wanes and Galadriel is restored is less dramatic than the other way had been. The damage to her side is far better and Galadriel can breathe, can think, once more, but her desperation has not abated, not entirely.

She casts a long, sad look a the field behind her, at the tracks that combat had worn into the mud, and realizes the futility of her searching--of her desire to search.

"It was lost in the Fade, wasn't it? Taken from me ere I ever appeared in this place."

[serannas]

It almost feels as though the breath is stolen from her lungs for a moment, and Ellana wavers on her feet, head spinning. Closing her eyes, she draws in a slow, deep breath, realizing she feels right in her own skin again. Her eyes reopen at Galadriel's words, and she looks out where the elf's gaze sadly lies.

"If it's anything like the brooch, then yes, probably. Otherwise we'd see it shining or feel its power from here, wouldn't we?"

[laurenande]

"...Yes, yes we would."

Ellana is dazed, somewhat, and Galadriel has recovered enough of herself to realize she should not explain Nenya in public, not even to someone she trusts. The unfortunate fact is that while both the Elessar and Nenya are tools, the Elessar is but a hammer and Nenya--Nenya is a forge. It would not be possible for her to overlook Nenya no matter how deeply buried it was in the mud.

"Then it is gone and I have failed."

[serannas]

"Failed? No, don't say that. People have no control over being brought here. You have no control over getting a shard put in you either. The Fade is a powerful and mysterious place. Please don't blame yourself."

Now that she's given the brooch back, she moves carefully towards Galadriel to close the distance between them, the look on her face imploring her to understand that losing the ring isn't her fault.

[laurenande]

"To lose that ring, mellon nin, is to hasten the doom of all elves. Whether it was lost by my hand or not, it was my duty," she says as she shakes off her remaining disorientation.

"If it is lost to the Fade, or simply set adrift in Thedas, the horrors it may unleash are beyond my imagining."

[serannas]

"Then what can be done?" Ellana implores, trying to think up a solution to this. "If its loss can affect so much, then isn't there anything else we could try to find out where it's gone. Like... like scrying? Like we did with your mirror?"

[laurenande]

The mirror? Galadriel's expression is often neutral and it persists even now, but when she turns it to Ellana, the sharp quality in her gaze is softened. It is hard to say but, truly, she looks lost.

"No, it cannot be found from afar, it is hidden by its very nature," she replies distractedly and draws a shallow breath before looking up. By its very nature...it would try to return to her, would it not? Was its Will powerful enough? Galadriel could not say but, as she stands in the rain and mud, there is little to be done.

Her panic has given way to a distant sort of sorrow and an undercurrent of panic, but Ellana was right. She had to see a healer, she had to restore herself, and then she had to think of a way to find something very small and very lost.

"I...come, I must rest or this brooch will be my end."