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faderift2018-03-10 04:17 pm
faderifting) wrote in faderift2018-03-10 04:17 pm
DRAKONIS RIFTER ARRIVAL
WHO: New rifters
WHAT: People fall out of a rift, get attacked, and discover that they are trapped and alone.
WHEN: Drakonis 10
WHERE: A snowy pit.
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is CLOSED to new rifters only. Don't worry, there will be chances for everyone else to meet (and help!) them soon.
WHAT: People fall out of a rift, get attacked, and discover that they are trapped and alone.
WHEN: Drakonis 10
WHERE: A snowy pit.
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is CLOSED to new rifters only. Don't worry, there will be chances for everyone else to meet (and help!) them soon.
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. At least in some worlds.
In this world, you wake with a jolt when you hit the ground, soft for an instant and then bone-jarringly hard. You've landed in a pile of loose snow, beneath which is more snow, frozen solid, and all around you are walls of more snow, tinted by the shifting green gash in the air. There are other people finding their feet after a similarly sprawling arrival, and then emerging from the rift in your wake are a number of hunched, greyish creatures in tattered robes that shuffle about, keeping their distance as they send sharp spikes of ice flying toward you.
They're accompanied by floating beings with too many insect-like arms, and creatures that seem to emerge from the ground like plumes of magma, their fire causing the walls to drip and turning the ground beneath your feet treacherously slick. There is also one giant scarecrow, nearly twenty feet tall, and with giant scalpel blades for arms. It is dressed in a tuxedo, a fine bolo tie, and a cowboy hat, and accompanied by five normal-sized scarecrows in matching suits and hats. Needless to say, they are not friendly either. There are many of you, but even more enemies.
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, and seems to call your attention back to the rift.
II. TRAPPED
After the first few waves of demons are defeated (there will be no more scarecrows), there will be a lull long enough to regroup and take stock of surroundings. You appear to be at the bottom of a deep crevasse, the walls stretching high above your heads. The space is only about 20 feet wide at its center, but nearly fifty yards long, tapering narrower at the ends, with the rift located near the southern end. There is no exit, no cracks or tunnels leading away, and no hand or footholds in the sheer walls. There are some animal bones scattered about, but no evidence of other living creatures. There is also no evidence of other people, here or above you.
Luckily, the rift has spilled out a great deal of crap along with you and all the demons. There is a gigantic cake several feet tall half-smushed into one wall, its ten tiers delicately decorated all in white fondant, with whorling patterns and flowers made of frosting. Each layer is a different flavor, ranging from the mundane (chocolate, vanilla, carrot) to the bizarre (strawberry & pickle, spicy lemon olive, red velvet mackerel). There are also some actual mackerel, a heap of live fish having spilled through the rift and scattered about the crevasse during the battle, along with bundles of dried (but now soggy) cornstalks.
You can see a narrow patch of sky above and sunlight does filter down to you, for the few hours of the day that there is any sunlight at all. Given the reflection off all the snow and ice, during those daylight hours it is pleasantly bright, though tinted a bit blue (and green by the rift). Unfortunately, daylight only lasts about eight hours, and it is frequently cloudy, which leaves the crevasse dimly lit, as if in a perpetual dusk. At night it will be utterly pitch black except for the rift's eerie glow. It's also very cold, with temperatures remaining below freezing during the day and well below at night.
III. LOST
Whether with magic or creative ice-pick improvisation, scaling the walls of the crevasse is not impossible—but there is minimal reward for the effort. Fully exposed to the wind, it's colder on the surface than in the crevasse, and on the third day there's a whiteout blizzard that reduces visibility to twenty feet for hours. Even when the weather is clear, though, there's not much to see. The land above is a wasteland of ice, snow, and wind, without visible vegetation or landmarks other than monotonous gentle hills. The only disruption to the landscape in any direction is about a hundred yards north of the rift, where spots of color and piles of snow mark what is, on closer inspection, an abandoned camp.
Whoever was there before built low walls out of packed snow to block some of the wind and dug enough snow caves to sleep a dozen people, though a few have since caved in. There's no food—there was food, before, but overturned crates and animal tracks suggest the area is not as devoid of life as it looks—but there are thick fur blankets and sets of boots or outerwear. More than a dozen, in a variety of different sizes. Almost like they were expecting poorly-clothed company.
Maybe someone was coming for you. Maybe they'll be back. Or maybe not.
[ ooc | The rift will continue to spit out demons at semi-regular intervals. After the rifters defeat the first couple waves of demons, the pace of these reinforcements will slow—instead of a few minutes, it may be a few hours until the next batch comes. It is possible for your characters to close the rift themselves, but because they have no idea what they're doing it will require trial and error to figure out how, and all (or near enough) of them working together to succeed. This should take at least two days to manage.
Other than the stuff described in the post and the inventories everyone arrived with (as approved in your apps; please don't suddenly remember some other useful things in your characters' pockets) there is nothing in the crevasse except snow, ice, rock, and animal bones. But don't worry, we promise we're not leaving your characters all to die. Your characters have arrived in the Sunless Lands, and the Inquisition is on its way. When the mod plot post goes up this coming week, it will include a prompt to rescue all of you. Until that time, please refrain from RPing elsewhere in the game and enjoy this exclusive opportunity to bond with your rift-mates.
Your characters will be alone for approximately five days IC. Please keep them from wandering off too far, since that will make it implausible for the Inquisition to find and rescue them and then you won't get to play in the game. If they would insist on trying, you're welcome to use adverse weather, ice collapsing into other caves beneath them, or whatever other natural obstacles necessary to stall their progress. ]
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Jang coughs, the snow burning her eyes and whipping at her duster. While it worked in New Orleans, it wasn’t as good for the cold winds of…Canada? Maybe Alaska, but she had just heard stories about the frozen wasteland. The other figures came into focus, laying on the ground, some dressed very oddly when her attention was grabbed by a thrown ice shard flying past her face.
“Everyone, get down, incoming!” Jang took aim on the nearest robed figure and brought her hand around, casting a blast of energy at the robed figure. However, to her great shock, nothing happened. No magic, no blast, nothing. She couldn’t even feel the presence of the demon in the back of her mind. This was a very big problem. But it was a problem for tomorrow, today’s problem was staying alive. She draws her rifle from her back holster, aiming at a figure and pulling the trigger.
The gunshot sounds around the canyon, and the cultist falls to the ground, blood staining the snow. Cocking the lever-action, Jang hears a roar, turning around and seeing the huge scarecrow looming over everyone. “Now you I recognize Corn Stalker! Everyone, I’m gonna need some help here!”
II. Trapped - Day 0
Jang moves through the detritus scattered around the ground, looking for anything useful. “Does anyone here have anything that’ll start a fire? We need shelter before we die of exposure…” She begins to gather the cornstalks and bits of the dead scarecrow, getting it in a pile ready for some flint and steel. “Or food…or clothing. I don’t think we’re set up to survive in this kind of weather for long…”
III. Trapped - Day 1
The next day, Jang seems to be in a much better mood. She’s calmer, seems more assured and less worried. “Ok, good news everyone! Anyone who’s hurt, I’ll be able to help them, if you’re not against magical healing. Can’t help with food though, not my field.”
IV. Lost
Jang looks over the windswept plains, trying to see any sign of life. “I don’t know where we are….I thought Canada had more trees, we must be crazy far north.” She heads over to the piles of fur clothing and the dug-out snow shelters. “Someone knew we were going to be here though. Don’t know if they wanted to help and got killed, or if they just knew where and not when. We may need to set up a hunting party.” Jang pauses for a moment. “Unless we’re still good eating that weird fish that spewed from that green tear in space. I don’t know about anyone else but that makes me a bit nervous.”
III
So did the Tall Man, the one who looked like Death. Helena unfolds herself from where she was taking a moment to rest, a movement that is fluid and disjointed in the same moment. "Magical healing does not sound pure."
Re: III
"I mean, we can try for a Loa, but I don't think they like fish, and they're already dead. Not to mention I really doubt anyone here has any rum."
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“What is Loa?”
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Jang pauses, looking at the woman for any sign of reconition. "So...what's your name anyway?"
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Her voice is low and rough, and yet different from Sarah's. To look at them, even though Sarah is not currently at her side, people could be forgiven for thinking that Helena was Sarah's ghost, pale and washed out though she was.
"You will not give my name to spirits."
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"Also, knocking on wood is for fey, not voodoo. For that you want to cross yourself after you come across a crossroad with a chicken feather on it. I think, not totally sure."
IV
There's a pause from him and he arches a brow.
"I have to say, I've never heard of 'Canada'."
Re: IV
Jang looks over at the man who just spoke. "Well, it's a country. Up north, lots of trees and frozen wilderness. Wolves, moose and after hard winters, Windego. Where are you from? And what's your name? Mine's Jane."
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So far, no one seems to know what his name signifies. Most of them aren't from his world, in any case. Then again, not many people know about him on his world either - unless they study ancient history or obscure cults.
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"And a Windego is an...well, it was an Algonquian myth. These days, it's not really a myth anymore. It's a huge creature, taller than a man with a massive mouth. Huge sharp teeth, and a seeminly endless hunger. It stalks the woods and artic wastes, looking for something, anything to eat. The only way to kill it for good is to capture it and pour hot tallow down it's throat. As to where they come from..." Jang clears her throat, looking a bit worried.
"Imagine this. You and your family and friends are in a cabin in the woods. Winter hits harder and faster than you exepcted. Time goes on and you get colder and hungrier. Then one of your friends dies. Then another. Then one of your family. You're stuck there, no food, no warmpth. And that body, well...it's what he would of wanted, you to live, you tell yourself. Just a bite, enough to live. Winter has to break soon."
Jang takes another breath, looking out over the cold plains. "So you take a bite. Then another. And another. But you can't stop. You keep eating, as do the remaninig survivors. Eating untill there's nothing but bones, and you leave the cabin, hunting for anything, anyone to eat."
She looks back up at Alacruun. "That's a Windego. A monster of cold and hunger."
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Then again, they are in the middle of the frozen wilderness.
"Most dark creatures of that nature hunger for something. It's usually just a matter of what..."
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Jang looks over at Alacruun. "What about you, what kind of horrors exist wherever you're from?"
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