faderift | WINTERMARCH RIFTER ARRIVAL

Entry tags:

WINTERMARCH RIFTER ARRIVAL

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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"We try, at least. If there's one silver lining in all this, it's that we've become united in a common cause. That doesn't mean there is never tension, but taking all into consideration, we've come far." Not wanting to overwhelm Ignis with politics when he's only just arrived, Inessa will leave it at that.

"I should inform you: the project that Prompt and I have in common also has a significant focus on the anchors rifters and some natives bear. We're trying to study them and learn what we can, so as to alleviate any issues they cause. We've compiled a survey, for those interested in sharing their experience. It has a written form, but I am also fine with conducting a personal interview, instead." Between those who can't read and those who can't see, she's come to realize that should be a regular offer.

"I'd be more than willing to help," Ignis replied, offering her a small smile. Honestly, the thought of getting to work is reassuring. He doesn't like the idea of being idle, even more so when he has strange magic in his hand that he cannot see or examine properly for himself.

He rubs at his hand, trying to work through some of the lingering pain.

"I would like to hear more about the tensions you mentioned, if you've the time to discuss them." She might not want to overwhelm him with politics, but he wants to hear them. He wants to have a handle on his place sooner rather than later.

"Thank you, Ignis. Any bit of information we have adds to a greater picture. I'm hoping patterns will emerge and give us greater insight." It's tempting to ramble on about the subject, but given his fresh arrival and her confidentiality concerns, that's enough to keep her from delving into too much detail.

"If you wish, certainly, but I ought to warn you that it's a lengthy subject. If you want refreshment, I can lead us to a spot where we may be better situated." Garahel stretches, then perks up and barks. "If you want the assistance, Garahel will be happy to provide."

Ignis stands and holds out the walking stick he had found in his jacket. He tilts his head towards the sound of the dog.

"Does he have training as a guide dog?" he asks. The only dogs he's interacted with on anything more than a one-time basis had been Lady Lunafreya's dogs, and neither of them had been what one would consider normal.

Garahel huffs when Ignis is right next to him, aligning himself with the man so that Ignis can rest a hand on him. Inessa waits until that happens before beckoning him to follow, at Ignis' pace.

"Not formally, but my second for the project -Myrobalan Shivana- is likewise blind, and Garahel has spent considerable time with him in the field. He has learned to be considerate and careful in worse terrain than this. That reminds me; Shivana has created glyphs around our headquarters, to help him navigate the area. I hope they will be as useful to you when we arrive."

Oh boy does that just open the door to even more questions, but Ignis needs to tackle one thing at a time. Still, having the dog is helpful. He keeps a hand on Garahel as they walk.

"That is very considerate, thank you."

"It's no trouble." Inessa smiles as Garahel takes pride in his task, being a faithful and protective presence for Ignis. When they reach the nearby encampment -as evidenced by the sounds of cooking or setting things up- she'll continue to lead them until reaching the firepit. Thankfully, it's already set up by the time they arrive, and Garahel eagerly leads him to the best source of warmth nearby.

"Would you like tea? We ought have some mulled wine as well, if you prefer that instead. It's mid-winter, the need for something warm never seems to cease."

Ignis has to admit he's impressed by Garahel and is grateful that he had been willing to take the dog's lead. Once they settle by the fire he carefully arranges himself as he sits.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." It's not coffee, but he can make do.

"Tea it is, then." Inessa departs only to return a few moments later, after Garahel has spread himself out by the fire. Stepping forward, she places a mug in his hand. "I hope you don't mind it plain, we'll resupply once reach Ostwick."

Raising her own mug to her lips, she takes a moment to savor her own. Plain is what she prefers, usually, so it's no hardship for herself.

He seems more concerned at having something warm to sip at. He takes a moment to let work its magic before he turns towards the direction of her voice. He isn't facing her exactly straight on, but it's enough to be sure he's addressing her when he speaks.

"About the tensions you mentioned..."

"Right." Inessa draws in a breath, gathering her thoughts. "Some of it is, I'm sorry to say, rifter-centric. Many Thedosians fear the unknown, and they fear demons. That you -and others like you- have emerged from rifts which have also spewed forth demons has made some wonder if you are perhaps demons in disguise. The Inquisition -the organization dedicated to sealing these rifts, restoring order and finding the one responsible- had tried to quell such fears, but they remain nonetheless. You have to understand, mages such as myself are also feared. The fact that we know the Fade -and what is a demon and what is not- matters little to those who also don't trust us."

"I have encountered a demon who looks like a man before, I can understand the fear." He sips at the tea and tries not to dwell too much on the memory of Ardyn's face.

"Is that a common occurrence here?"

She takes another sip, gathering her thoughts. "Suspicion regarding rifters is common, and at times it's worse than others. That two of our four division heads are rifters has further strained our relationship with our home-base city of Kirkwall, prompting a curfew to protect our rifter agents. The harsh winter has redirected concerns for the time being, but the situation is still delicate and we must tread lightly."

"Then I shall endeavor to be on my best behavior," Ignis reassured. He felt relieved that he had prompted her to share this information. It was important for him to know what he was walking into.

"You made it sound as if the suspicion against Rifters was only the start of the tensions? Is there more I should know?"

"That will help, I'm sure. And...yes, there is more. There are other tensions at work; mages overall are distrusted if not feared, and the issue of their freedom after centuries of being bound to the Circle of Magi is still unresolved and will be until the election of a new Divine. The Divine is the head of the Chantry, the dominant religion of Thedas, and it's her voice which will ultimately decide such matters.

It's a long and complicated history, but to greatly summarize matters, a rebellion occurred a few years ago, between rebel mages and the Templars in service to the Chantry. At the time of the Breach's creation -which spawned all smaller rifts- they were still at war. Now, in light of a larger enemy and with the Chantry currently leaderless, that war is...on hold, more or less. Whether or not it will resume after the Inquisition fulfills its purpose -and mage and Templar are no longer united in a common cause- remains to be seen."

There are a lot of concepts there that are new to Ignis, but the underlining tensions sound familiar. He can understand war, for example, because Lucis had been at it basically his entire life.

"Why are mages distrusted?" he asks, assuming there has to be something to underline the dislike.

"Several reasons; some historical, some more practical. Mages in Thedas are born, not made. At some point in our lives, usually puberty, our power manifests. Sometimes, it's harmless, but other times...it very much is not. Once it manifests, we need training or we'll be a danger to ourselves and others. Even afterward, there is the fact that demons often target mages for temptation and possession. They are drawn to our power, and desperately desire to influence this world. A weak-willed mage is a danger to themselves and others, especially if they become an abomination. The resulting abomination is extremely powerful and dangerous; entire towns have been felled by just one in their midst."

She sighs. "And then there is the fact that the Tevinter Imperium at its height controlled most of Thedas. The imperium is a magocracy and they...do not set a good example to follow. Slavery, blood magic...and if legend is correct, they are responsible for the arrival of darkspawn and the Blights. Our common enemy, Corypheus, is one of those ancient magisters who tried to physically reach the Golden City in the Fade and was cast down, condemned to become a darkspawn. As you can imagine, this hardly helps the general reputation of Tevinter, let alone mages overall."

Ignis follows most of that, and the things he doesn't quiet understand he can infer some meaning from just based on his own personal history. He isn't sure what a 'darkspawn' is or how it's different than a demon, but the word sounds like it can't be anything fun. The same could be said for 'Blights.'

"I can imagine," he answers though, because the idea that a country would have a terrible reputation based on their bad behavior is something he can relate to very easily. "Despite the fact that it sounds so foreign."

"On Eos, magic is the domain of the royal family of Lucis and the bloodline of the Oracle. It was a gift to those two families from the Six to help them battle daemons and the Starscourge. For us, magic is a symbol of hope."

The tea soothes and revitalizes her as she listens, responding with genuine interest at the completely different roles and perspectives magic has in their worlds.

"So, it serves a rather heroic purpose? And no one fears two bloodlines containing such power? It's difficult to imagine power that doesn't have fear accompanying it on some level, at least in regards to Thedas. Even if possession wasn't an issue, I think it would remain."

"Some do, certainly. Lucis has been at war for generations with the Empire of Niflheim and many see their motivations as centering around the Crystal that links to the power of kings," Ignis explained. "But the magic itself? No, I don't think many fear that. Some in Lucis even strive to gain magic as they train to join the King's closest ranks. It enables you to better protect your home and people."

All that is very interesting, especially how Lucis doesn't seem to have followed in Tevinter's footsteps despite some interesting parallels. One thing in particular gets her attention, however.

"How does one gain magic?" As someone who lives in a world where that is always determined by birth, the idea is pretty foreign.

"One would pledge loyalty to the King and then form a connection through him to the Crystal," Ignis replies, and then realizes that there is likely a lot there that needs to be explained.

"Though I'm afraid none of that is as simple as it sounds."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

WINTERMARCH RIFTER ARRIVAL

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject