WINTERMARCH RIFTER ARRIVAL

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & their rescuers
WHAT: People fall out of a rift and get attacked by stuff. This time, not everyone makes it.
WHEN: Wintermarch 11
WHERE: The foothills of the Vinmark mountains, somewhere between Ostwick and Markham.
NOTES: The arrival log is open to all. Solas was (as always) able to alert the Inquisition to the general area where the new rifters would be arriving so people could be sent to pick them up.

I. ARRIVAL

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, you wake with a jolt when you hit the ground, though at least it's reasonably soft. You tumble down onto a grassy knoll, a grey and chilly day in a piece of countryside that would be entirely unremarkable were it not for the rift that brought you here, and you, and the other beings that have accompanied you. There are other people finding their feet after a similarly sprawling exit, and there's a monstrous, horned beast with too many eyes and electricity rippling down its arms, tall, spindly creatures with gasping mouths and too many eye sockets that immediately advance on you and the people lying around you, and beyond them, flickering, ghostly wraiths that begin to throw bursts of green magic that saps anyone hit of energy and strength.

If that all weren't enough there's also a narrow splinter of light in the same sickly green as whatever brought you here, now glowing out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Given how many other things there are to take in, it may take some time for anyone to notice that one of the people to stumble out of the rift has not gotten back up. But nothing can be done for him until the demons are no longer trying to kill everyone present.

II. AFTERMATH

With the demons dispersed and the dust settled, there's time to regroup—for the new arrivals to collect their scattered belongings, for anyone who was injured to seek a healer or healing salves as needed, and to deal with the man still lying where he fell from the rift.

He isn't moving at all, in fact, just lying face down, and it's strangely difficult to focus on him. If you look away you may find your mind skimming over him entirely, no time at all required to simply forget that he's there until you look again or someone else calls your attention back to him. Which is especially strange because he should be a very striking fellow, extremely tall and quite broad, with gaudy gold and purple attire, some sort of robe fringed with fur that looks metallic but is soft to the touch. When he's turned over there's also the way his bangs and his eyebrows have been braided together into an elaborate netlike pattern over his forehead, which really ought to be more memorable. It's currently matted to clammy skin, as is all of his dark hair, drenched in droplets of bright pink sweat. His eyes are closed, and he will remain firmly unconscious despite your best efforts.

[ ooc | No attempts at healing the unconscious rifter, magical or otherwise, will have any visible effect. What's done with him is up to your characters. But we assume they'll bring him back with them instead of leaving him in the wilderness to die, so please make sure to let us know if that's not the case. The rifter is not an apped character or a canon character. We'll provide more information in a few days, but if you have questions in the meantime, you can ask here. ]

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Chloe Price

[tagartist]

[ i. ]

She had just meant to close her eyes for a second. Chloe didn't know how to process everything that was going on around her back at home but, really, with a giant tornado ready to destroy Arcadia Bay, it wasn't the time for a nap. She had only wanted to close her eyes so she didn't have to hear Max's decision making process, so she didn't have to know if she was going to live or die right that second, she just... She just wanted to sleep. All the overwhelming information over the past week - the number of times she'd died, the fact that she had no way to save her dad no matter what kind of powers her best friend had obtained, the fights with her mom, Rachel - it was just too much.

What she hadn't expected was to actually fall asleep enough to dream. Or fall. Why was she falling? Was this what going back in time was like? Had Max decided sacrificing her for the good of the town was the best option? Or had she just somehow got caught up in the winds of that stupid tornado after all? Some Wizard of Oz level bullshit.

She gasps for air when she feels her back hit the soft ground, rolling a few feet, and groaning when she comes to a stop. There's a hissed Fuck where she briefly thinks she might have broken her hand somehow with how badly it hurts, but the first thing she notices when she opens her eyes is the weird glow from it, the way it spreads out and how that's not normal in the slightest. The second thing she notices, now that she's actually trying to figure out what's going on, is that this looks literally nothing like anywhere in or near Arcadia Bay - the closest countryside is way too far inland, and even that would more rocky, the ground less soft in the middle of October.

The third and final thing that's come to her attention is probably the most important, which means it's also the last thing she notices, because it's kind of hard to think about anything else when that ... thing made up of too much of everything that looks like it could easily rip her apart is now in her field of vision. Her first instinct is to reach for the gun that she'd been keeping in her waistband all week, but she comes up empty handed. Of course she did. Because she's definitely dead and this is definitely hell and dammit, why didn't she actually listen to David for once when he was rambling about his Bible bullshit?

With quite literally nothing left on her person to defend herself, she does the only sensible thing; run in the opposite direction of literally whatever the hell is near her, because apparently even when she's sure she's dead, she still has her survival instincts in tact. Interesting.

[ ii. ]

She's going to cry. That's the only appropriate response after that, right? Except she doesn't even have the energy to do that. She might have the energy to throw up, but she's doing her best to keep it back by sitting on the ground with her head resting against her knees and taking deep breaths. It's working, temporarily, and she's got one comfort; she's doing better than the guy who has yet to get up.

Someone else was gonna help him, right? Someone not her? Because as a high school drop out, she probably shouldn't even be touching the guy in case she just messes him up further. Except it makes her feel guilty to just let him lie there, so she pulls herself up to go and try and see if he's at least breathing.

"This is such bullshit." He is. Now that means she has to actually look for someone else who might be able to help. Just great.

i

[mactears]

Something behind Chloe lets out a high-pitched shriek--literally the stuff of nightmares--but before the demon can spring forward from its crouch and pin her beneath its spindly frame, it is tackled bodily to the ground by a wolf-dog.

For a few taut seconds the pair scrap intensely, before the bloody fight is brought to an end abruptly by the arrival of a man astride a quarter horse who doesn't need to dismount to drive his sword through the demon's head. A quick tug of the reins sees him wheeling the horse around to face Chloe.

"Are you injured?" Loghain calls out; his horse gives her head a toss, eyes rolling at the stink of blood.

[tagartist]

If she wasn't dead, she was convinced she was about to be, and it was why her only instinct had been to sort of duck down and protect her head with her arms, like that would totally stop the demon from ripping her apart (spoiler alert: it wouldn't), but the whole attack never came. And instead there's a dude and a horse and why did everyone have a weapon but her?

There's a large tear in her jacket, she's pretty sure she fucked something up when she fell because her wrist is still killing her, but considering that she could've just been a lot worse, she offers Loghain two thumbs up, even if she looks less than thrilled with the circumstances. "Never been better, Lancelot."

[crowncitizen]

An arrow flies from somewhere behind them, nailing one of the wraiths in the head. Or what looks like a head, anyway. The demon dies with a screech, dissipating into the air. Prompto runs up from where he had hunkered down to fire, bow at the ready as he warily eyes the rest of the demons. The big one especially.

"I'll give you a hand with this," he shouts to Loghain, notching another arrow. "Is she okay?"

[mactears]

"Never been better, Lancelot."

He has no idea what that means, but in his experience, those coming through the Rifts often spout nonsense while they're struggling to regain their bearings. Regardless, the girl looks as though her near brush with death has left her uninjured.

"She's fine," he calls out to Prompto as he arrives. Still wielding his sword, he swings a leg over his saddle and dismounts from Sooty's back, giving a quick clap to her rump to send her galloping away from the combat before the pride demon can advance on them. In a general's cadence, he says to Prompto, "We'll flank him--cover us."

'We,' apparently, refers to Loghain and the wolf-dog who, at his whistle, begins to prowl just beyond the range of the pride demon's vicious lightning lash. Rolling his shoulders once, Loghain approaches the monster head on, shield at the ready.

[lightninginabottle]

'We' should probably remain a reference to the man with actual armor and the combat dog with actual fangs, and not necessarily be expanded to include the nearly-naked dwarf who comes running up with his considerably smaller shield, but Janzik has just a bit of a personal stake here in whether this battle succeeds. He might as well try to electrocute enough things to improve the odds.

"Right there with you," he pants, with an ironically over-formal salute. "You know, in a manner of speaking. I'll be back here with this guy." He jerks his head toward Prompto. The mace, despite the white knuckles with which he clings to it for dear life, is decorative.

II

[crowncitizen]

Now that things have calmed down and the rift's closed, Prompto focuses on the rifters that have newly arrived. There's no way he can't be sympathetic to them, and not want to help. It's always so scary, being dumped into Thedas with no warning, and then being attacked... Yeah, it's a lot.

He walks over to Chloe, glancing down at the unconscious rifter. Right, this guy. Why won't he wake up? "Hey, you doing all right?" he asks her, kneeling down next to her. "I mean, physically. I know your head's probably spinning right now."

[tagartist]

Somehow even when she was thinking of searching for someone, having a person actually approach after everything is still enough to make her flinch at first. At least she sort of thinks she recognizes him as one of those faces fighting those things that had been actively trying to kill her two seconds ago, which is enough to make her relax for a second, and give a tired laugh in response.

"I'm not profusely bleeding or missing any appendages that I know of, so I'll call it a win, I guess." She feels like her head is gonna split open and it definitely carries through in her voice. "Spinning is an understatement, though."

[crowncitizen]

"Definitely a win." Prompto is glad to hear she's okay, if likely shaken up and completely confused. The man on the ground will need to be seen to, but Prompto's no medic or healer. He'll flag down one later. Right now, he's more focused on Chloe. "But yeah, I know it's a lot to take in. Been there." He lifts up his hand and takes off his glove, showing the shard in his hand, and thus his role of rifter. "Let's start with something simple. I'm Prompto. What's your name?"

[tagartist]

Chloe glances down at the own shard in her hand after she'd seen his. So it hadn't just been because she'd hit her head too hard and was seeing shit. That was good to know, she guessed. She wasn't exactly sure what it was supposed to mean, but there was some comfort in knowing it wasn't just her. Still, her hand lifted a second later so she could take off her beanie and run her fingers through her hair instead. "Chloe. I'd say nice to meet you, but I'd be lying about anything being nice right now."

[crowncitizen]

That is some nice hair. Unfortunately, it's going to make her stick out horrendously in Kirkwall. However, that's not something worth discussing at the moment. "It's okay, I get it." These aren't nice circumstances to be meeting under, let's face it. "Uh, welcome to Thedas. We always make something of a grand entrance when we get dumped here."

ii

[gatheringstorm]

"Yep. Sorry about that." A tall, horned woman -at least a head taller than most adult men- heads over after glancing around to be sure there's nothing else that needs her immediate attention. Crouching down by the inert riter for a moment, she looks him over and heaves a sigh.

"Short of carrying the man, there's nothing I can do. I'll have to get an actual healer for him. Are you hurt at all?" She glances over at the blue-haired girl, raising an eyebrow.

[tagartist]

She had been about to say it wasn't the woman's fault, but the horns and the height and everything got an instinctive jump and, "Holy crap." instead. Really, after the things that just tried to kill her, this shouldn't surprise her as much as it does. She gives her own sigh as she watches her check over the unconscious rifter, shoulders slouching as she tries her best to relax.

It's hard, considering. "I'm ... fine. I think." She flexes the hand with the shard in it, still not sure what to make of it. "I mean, not hurt. Not fine fine. That might be pushing it."

[gatheringstorm]

That holy crap gets a knowing smirk from the Vashoth, likely having gotten just that reaction many times before. She takes it in stride, though, as long as the blue-haired girl's knee-jerk reaction is just that.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect that. You got yanked into this world through a rift and got to meet demons firsthand. That's never a fun experience. Your hand should stop hurting after a few hours, though."

[tagartist]

"Not a five star experience. If you guys were all that desperate for tourism, you coulda just built a really big ball of yarn or a restaurant shaped like a burger or something." Not that she looks like she would have any idea what that all meant, but Chloe's mostly rambling. She's pretty sure she hasn't even fully stopped shaking long enough to try and take anything seriously.

"Is there a return ticket through the -- what did you call it? Rift? 'Cause I've got some like. Really important shit going on right now and if I'm not dead, I could really use to finish it." If she's not dead she also has no idea what is actually going on and, even after the week she's had, this is all a little much to wrap her head around. Denial is just a really good place to start at the moment.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin looks as though she's heard all that before and while her expression is sympathetic, she's not going to sugarcoat the truth. "That tends to be a common thing, but...I'm sorry, no one's been able to figure out how to send people back. Going through the rift doesn't take you back, only to the Fade, and that just means tons more demons. If it makes you feel any better, there's always chance someone you know was brought over, too."

ii;

[arcaneadvisor]

Morrigan hasn't come to a rift in some time but this time she does, racing over with her staff in hand, mouth curled from having fought a wayward demon on the way to—

The expression slides from her face for the most, staff readied, a few rather unfortunate splashes of gore and ichor on the front of her robes from earlier encounters with demons.

"'tis indeed, however the sooner we might be away from all this? The sooner you might find answers." Coming closer, she kneels by the man, glancing to the young woman as she goes to her pouch; no healer but live a lifetime alone in the wilds then raise a child, you inevitably pick up a few things at the very least. "Are you wounded? And what happened to this one?"

[tagartist]

Even when convinced she's in hell, there are apparently bright spots, and the bright spot is that she's pretty. Even with splashes of gore, that's the first thought Chloe has when she actually looks up from the unconscious rifter to the woman who'd just started talking. The worst part about recognizing that, though, is that it also means she's even more tongue tied than she would have been ten seconds ago, which is a feat considering everything.

"I - uh - no. No, I'm -- He was like this when I first saw him. I don't think he ever woke up. I dunno."

[arcaneadvisor]

At the Exalted Plains, Morrigan had allowed soldiers in one armour or another (she hadn't looked, the young woman had been too new, too afraid, unable to fight but she hopes they'd been in Gaspard's colours) to be torn asunder by demons to allow them to make an escape back to the where the Inquisition was. So she'd never thought to ask if others made it or not.

Apparently this is proof. A potion will do him little good if unconscious but the lack of demons prowling here…well there are others, and Morrigan isn't built to carry another upon her back.

"You have come through the Fade from wherever you called home," she explains since there's not always going to be an easy way to say that surviving this far is a feat all its own. "'Tis the land of dreams but also home to spirits and demons. You have survived it, take heed of that. You may call me Morrigan."

[tagartist]

The Fade had felt not to dissimilar from the tornado and she's wondering briefly if the two are connected. This place is weird, like something out of one of Steph and Mikey's fantasy games, and it makes her wonder if whatever tear had broken between worlds could have been what manifested the storm in Arcadia Bay. Maybe it wasn't her fault, maybe it wasn't Max's, maybe it was just... really bad timing.

And she would die for nothing.

She feels like she's gonna puke again but she pulls herself upright, giving a nod at the words that may have been meant to be comforting in some way. Take heed. She talks like an NPC but NPCs don't usually have names.

"Chloe. I'm... Chloe. Does this shit happen often here?"

[arcaneadvisor]

"In the past few years? Yes. Before this, we never had people fall from the sky. Tears in the Veil - that which separates the waking world where we are now from the Fade - would occur but not this way." Pausing for a moment, she finds a poultice that might do some good for him; there isn't a wound she can see but there are herbs in it, good and strong, grown from seedlings tended to with care, so she might as well since her healing magic…

Well she learnt very much the opposite to it.

"Prior to the what allowed you and the demons that attack to pass through, there came a thing called the Breach, a massive tear in the Veil that threatens to split the very sky asunder."

Fortunately there are agents of the Inquisition about, the benefit of sending crystals, and a quick message to someone better equipped to deal with this--

"Come, you might wish to be away from this lest the demons attack again, and he's hardly in any state to fight." It's a favour to him to be a moving target that they'd be drawn to first while the runners can do their job, her staff at the ready because after last time and other tales of rifts, Morrigan doesn't trust that there won't be creatures lurking, ready to strike. "Thedas is in a time of crisis, Chloe, if you have questions though, I shall do my best to answer, I cannot imagine how alarming this must all be."

ii

[ichaer]

"Isn't that the bloody understatement of this Age."

The voice comes from a woman, scarred and in armor marked by griffons. Her sword is drawn but she is seemingly busy clearing it of blood and muck before sheathing it once more and her focus landing on the pair of newcomers. For a moment, she almost frowns because Chloe looks young... probably not much younger than her but still young and utterly out of place in this world.

Quickly enough her focus turns, eyeing the man with furrowed brows and moving to kneel near him. Her fingers find a pulse but she can't help the confusion that likely continues to bleed over her features at the sight of her odd hairstyle and pink (was that really pink?) sweat beading on his face.

"Not wounded, are you?" She asks suddenly with a glance over her shoulder to Chloe. Meanwhile, she shifts and seems to begin remove a few items from the pouch attached to her belt and laying them on the ground.

[tagartist]

There's a tired laugh in response, because well - she's right. She didn't have a strong enough word for whatever this was, in all honesty, but bullshit was definitely coming up a bit underwhelming. She looks up at the woman as she approaches, eyes glancing over her armor, her sword, the blood on it, and she swallows back what is either intimidation or another wave of nausea, because damn she is not used to seeing that in the slightest. Horror movies and video games was one thing, but all of this is just... too much.

At some point she realizes she's staring, though, and she lets her eyes focus back on the guy who needed way more help than she did. She watches as the stranger pulls out the items, not responding right away out of curiosity, or maybe it's still shock. It's up in the air.

"Uh - no. No, I'm good. I mean, not good, but - I'm - I'm not hurt." Yes, way to talk smooth in front of the lady, Chloe. Getting tongue tied was supposed to be something she'd gotten passed with Rachel, but apparently not. "Which is more than I can say for this guy, I guess. He's not - like - dying, is he?"

[ichaer]

For what it is worth, Ciri at least offers a smile that softens her features considerably when Chloe confirms that she is unhurt. It was one less thing to worry about given that the rift could very well open and spit Maker knows what else out before they had a chance to tend to the wounded properly.

Or as properly as possible because this is... odd.

"Good to hear," she says with another crooked smile. "As for our new friend here... doesn't look like there's any immediate danger. No blood, no visible bones but rather suspicious pink stuff. Not normal for me but perhaps normal for him? Or weird Fade shit which is another wagon of trouble."

[tagartist]

"That sounds comforting," she grumbled, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Weird Fade shit sounded like it could sum up literally everything right now, even if she didn't have the largest grasp of what was going on in the moment. It all sounded like some weird story, a dream that maybe came from eating meat that was slightly bad or whatever that old wives tale was. She did feel pretty nauseous...

She at least had no intentions of touching him to find out if it was just normal sweat or some kind of weird magic thingy.

"Are there people who can help him? Or do you just... leave him here and hope he wakes up on his own time before the thing reopens?" She said it with a tone that showed she was really hopeful it wasn't something she had to personally deal with. She was happy to just leave him there, if she were honest, but saying that out loud sounded sort of heartless.