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. ]

Comments

[crowncitizen]

"Aaaand that's my worry, too." ...wait. "I mean, I could probably lift him okay but it's a long way, and I don't want to like, hurt him by accident doing it." NAILED IT. "Right. So I'll flag down someone to grab him. Then it's off to Kirkwall." He straightens up again, holding out a hand for her. "That being the nearby city we're set up at."

[tagartist]

"Nice recovery." Is she teasing? Maybe just a little. She uses the hand to get herself upright again, not letting go of it right away because honestly, it's steadying. Even if just for a second. Her legs are still a little shaky anyway from all the adrenaline running through her system. She goes to pull her hand back finally so she can search her pockets, coming up with --

A very sad, pathetically crushed pack of now unsmokable cigarettes. "... They don't have a convenient store in Kirkwall by chance, do they?" She doubts it, but desperate times call for stupid questions.

[crowncitizen]

"Aaaadmittedly not my best, but you know, I blame all the fighting from earlier." Sure, let's go with that. Seems as good excuse as any.

Oh dear, those are some very crushed cigarettes. Another home item bites the dust thanks to the rifts. "Yeeeeeah, about that." He's gotta break the bad news to her. "No convenient store, and no cigarettes. You wanna smoke, you gotta pick up a pipe and tobacco."

[tagartist]

"Well, damn; now I can't give you shit since you saved my ass and all." Even if she did or didn't believe him, it's the principle of the thing.

Or was until those words. A pipe. She groans, loudly, and she's going to deflate more than a little. She doesn't know whether or not she can even stomach the thought of a pipe when David was so fond of them. "I take it back. I can give you shit because you should've just let me die."

[crowncitizen]

Welp, it was nice for the five seconds that it lasted. Prompto laughs, rubbing the back of his head. "Next time you gotta roll out saying 'I'm a smoker, leave me to die if I can't have my smokes!' or something." That being said, he adds, "But it's kind of for the best that you can't. Your lungs will thank you later."

[tagartist]

Apparently she's already comfortable enough with him to punch his arm in response. "Thanks, Doctor Prompto, I had no idea it was a bad habit until just now. That withdrawal is looking so good right now."

[crowncitizen]

OW! Is her fist made of iron or something?? Prompto rubs his arm where she hit it.

"What can I say, I can't help but dispense free medical advice wherever I go." There'a a pause. He should make a pun about doctors or something, but right now, he's just not coming up with anything. What a wasted opportunity. "But it's just for like a week or two, right? Then it should taper off."

[tagartist]

She groans slightly. "I guess. Must be easy to be optimistic about it when you won't be the one with the headache." Not that optimistic and Chloe go hand in hand even without a headache, but that's beside the point. "Do they at least have something like pain killers in this place to help out?"

[crowncitizen]

"Well, I kind of always am, or try to be!" Yes, Chloe, he's one of Those People. Be prepared. "Not the pills like you might be used to, but elfroot tends to help out a lot. It's a plant that the healers often use. You chew it, and it helps numb pain."

[tagartist]

There's an audible groan at that. Those People. The noise probably is enough to make it clear what she thinks about that, although it could be mistaken for not having pain pills. "Elfroot, huh? Sounds... appealing, I guess."

[crowncitizen]

Awww... he's working with a Negative Nancy here. Oh well. That doesn't mean they can't be friends or at least get along. She just might push him into a mud pit now and then for his optimism. Wouldn't be the first time!

"You get used to it quick. Bit of a minty taste, if you're good with that. There's always a ton in the infirmary, so you won't have to worry about it running out much."

[tagartist]

"Minty, huh? Like menthols." She hated menthols, but that was beside the point. "Hopefully it tastes better than that shit though. I'll get used to anything if it means getting to numb the pain, though." Of the withdrawal. She totally means of the withdrawal.