faderift | DRAKONIS RIFTER ARRIVAL

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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.

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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Her experience at fighting is clear, and Six looks a little tired but not exhausted from using her sword so carefully and viciously. For all that she's confident, however, some of the loss of her Oath-given powers have her on edge and uncomfortable, feeling some of the discomforts weigh on her shoulders. Having been given time to think about it... She feels desperately on edge and a little tense, trying not to let the way that panic flares in her chest thrum through her and give any kind of outward sign. She has to have the appearance of someone completely in control and, so, she does her best.

"Good." Which sounds far less kind than she means it to, but casual conversation has never been her strongest suit, especially not in the middle of what is a battlefield. There's an edge of uncertainty and awkwardness and she sighs, frowning, wondering if there's a way she can get the man to speak the language again without giving away that she knows it.

Probably not. Unfortunate. At least it's a sign he might well be from the same world as she is.

"You are welcome." Shifting, Six turns and grasps her blade again, adjusting her weight so she can draw it close and heft it up into her arms. It's a good, familiar weight and she focusses on the flickering green, intent and almost deadly looking.

"I would not be surprised. Do not let your guard down."

Alacruun can see the tension in her, but he's not surprised by it. She's just been transported into a new world and been fighting for her life. He's not about to question why she might be upset. He's more than a little put-out himself. Especially because he can't use any of the power that he's accustomed to using. Nor can he really feel his connection with Adalia. It could be distance or it could be something else - but he'll figure that out after he survives. Not before.

"Well, if you can stand in front of me, I think I can handle whatever comes next-"

He always appreciates having a meatshield. Speaking of which, more of the little grey creatures - demons or something - are popping up. With a frown, he speaks a spell aloud - again, in draconic. So at least she's had that confirmed. His hand moves in a complicated gesture and he sends a blast of acid shooting from his hand. The creature drops dead with a smoking, hissing crater in its chest and he smiles, albeit thin-lipped.

"You take care of the ones that get too close - I'm not sure how many more of those I have in me."

Honestly, he could turn invisible and run, but he has nowhere to run for the moment. So stand and fight is the name of the game.

The idea of being some kind of meat shield isn't new to her - she'd done it before, and she has the wild, garish scar on her back, hidden from view, to prove it. Six might not have been successful that last time but she's not planning on repeating her mistakes, not when there are clearly more than a handful of people that might need her help and support - if there's something she can do she's going to do it, no hesitation. It's what gave her the strength she carried at home and she's certainly not going to abandon it now.

"Nothing will get through me." Unless she dies, but she's not planning on that, either.

Greatsword drawn, Six moves towards the creatures without hesitation - and, yes, she notes the Draconic and files it away for later. It's rare that someone shares that particular language, so it's something she has to consider well into the future for now. Any creature that steps too close is cleaved with a swing of her blade, her ferocity obvious as she steps forward, making sure none of them get towards her new companion.

"Tell me if you need to stop."

"I enjoy that confidence of yours," he replies with a low chuckle. He's not doubting - it just reminds him of a great many people who have said very similar things, only to end up on the wrong end of - well. Something unpleasant. It's not something he's dwelling on in the moment. He has more important things to think about. Like the... creatures that continue to attack them. He spends the rest of the fight looming behind her, sending acid arrows and jabs of lightning at them. Considering that none of them have ever worked together before, they're doing surprisingly well.

"I'm doing fine - a bit drained, honestly. Which... isn't right, not this early-"

He flexes his fingers. His magic feels the same but also... different. He can't put his finger on it.

"Give me a moment-"

"It is not just confidence. I am well trained." The person who had taught her had been remarkable, but she has no desire to talk about him - not now and not ever. She's much happier tucking those thoughts away to be dwelled upon another time, especially when there are more demons and monsters creeping out towards them - and her sword only reaches so far. She's torn between staying close to protect the stranger and charging forward to take them before they can get close, but his words make the decision for her.

"If you are tired you should stop before you collapse." She's met a handful of wizards and warlocks in her time, enough to know that if they hit the ground it can be deadly. Cutting through another set of demons, she turns her attention to him, just enough for her eyes to drink him in.

This is why it was easier when it was just her alone -

"Fall back!"

"I can see that-"

She is well-trained and he's never had too much of an issue stating facts. Especially when those facts are keeping him from being injured or killed. He takes a step back and then another, straining for more power. The more powerful spells seem to elude him, words and gestures jumbling in his head and he makes a frustrated little noise and settles for a simple cantrip - a spectral hand that latches onto a face and rots away the flesh.

"There's no where to fall back to</em-!" Which is true. The cavern is not that large. He's still trying to find a safer spot.

There's nothing that Six can do to help him; without the gifts from her God she can't help heal or support. The frustration she feels has to take a back seat, however, with her focus on swinging her blade to stop their enemy coming any closer. Whatever is happening to the man - is he a man? - behind her can't be her sole focus, not when she's the line of defence between him and death.

Cleaving again, she hisses out a noise, twisting a little before she slams forward. It's not going to work for very long and her head turns to gaze at him.

"Take a moment and gather yourself! I can fight them off." She thinks she can, at least, and she storms forward, bringing her greatsword down to cut through a demon.

Irritating. Irritating beyond belief. He'll just have to fight through it. Alacruun grits his teeth and finds down a snarl of anger. If he were himself this would be simple enough to handle. But he is't, so he'll have to do what he can instead. Not that he has any real objection to the stranger doing most of the fighting, but it's also a question of getting through this alive.

"One moment-"

Another spell. Another splash of acid that burns a demon from the outside in. He can keep at this, but he can feel the fatigue creeping up on him.

Maybe he should have learned fireball, after all.

Whatever is happening to the mage behind her, Six doesn't have the time for it - with her sword in her hand and herself as the only wall between the monsters and the struggling man she has to keep herself held tall and strong. She finds herself wishing that she could reach for Sarenrae and feel the strength of her Oath through her veins again, but there's nothing to suggest that it'd be possible. She can feel nothing from her God, not even a whisper of her strength.

It seems the same issues the mage is facing have befallen her as well.

"A moment you shall have." Stepping forward, Six cuts down another demon before she adjusts her footing and turns to the next one, her eyes focussed and intent. True, she's a little tired from not eating and not sleeping, but she can handle herself well enough for it not to be a problem.

He'd really rather not take out one of his trump cards this early in the game, especially since he still doesn't completely understand the rules. And he hates not understanding the rules. So Alacruun centers himself and barely even flinches as a shard of whatever it is they're throwing catches him in the arm. He grits his teeth instead and draws down, searches for that inner reserve of strength, and comes out swinging. They may only be cantrips, but his spells can still hurt. They can still kill and wound these things - so he goes at it in a flurry of spellcasting, targeting as many as he can before fatigue can overwhelm him.

He moves with her, sticking at her back and lashing out at anyone or anything that gets too close or threatens to get around her. He's going to live, regardless of what this world throws at him.

It doesn't take much for her to get into step with someone fighting so close to her side - it's what she's used to, what she spent most of her young life doing before she had broken away to travel with her teacher. Six moves quickly, drawing her blade and twisting her body to take down the next rush of demons, kicking them with a sharp push of her foot and shifting forward to cut them down. It's only when it seems as though the last few have finally been killed and there are no more to come - for a few moments - that she turns back to the man behind her.

"You were hurt." Moving forward, she stops, not reaching for his arm but motioning at it. "Do you need assistance?"

He's left breathing hard, glaring at the wreckage in front of them. This is atrocious. It's not what's meant to do. He's supposed to scatter his enemies, not be on the backfoot. This wretched portal is making a mockery of him-

Ah. Alacruun drags himself back to the present with a low hiss and then another sudden inhale and he glances down at Six, rolling the wounded arm experimentally, "I... think I'm well enough. Injured, but not seriously. It will need treatment, though."

There is a pause, as if he's considering something.

"You have my thanks."

It takes her a moment to come down from the rush of the fight but when she does it's with a soft heave of breath. Slowly, Six lifts her sword and puts it to one side, resisting the urge to stop now and clean it off; she wants to take care of it, to make sure that it is in good condition, but there are a handful of more important things to consider right now. One of them is the man beside her.

"I do not have any medical supplies with me," she frowns, frustrated. If she had her powers... But, no, better not to dwell on what she cannot apparently change. "I will see if I can find anything. You need to make sure you rest and don't cause yourself further harm."

When he thanks her she pauses, almost struck by it, before something resembling a smile settles on her face.

"Thanks are not necessary. You're welcome all the same."

"I believe in thanking those who assist me. My life is worth a few words of acknowledgement, don't you think?" He flashes a smile at her, slightly strained by the slight twinge of pain that's starting to bleed through as his adrenaline starts to go back down. He doesn't particularly care, honestly, but making people feel like they need him - or like him - might help in the near future. Better than dying alone, right?

"What's your name, warrior? I assume you have one."

He's staunching the drip-drip of blood with a hand at this point. Eventually he'll find someone who can patch it up properly.

"You're more thoughtful than some." Six is used to not being thanked - she was paid rather than offered idle words and kindness and offers of gratitude only came once she abandoned her mercenary band to join up with Adrian. Worrying about his thanks takes a back seat to the very fact that he is clearly still injured and she frowns, looking around before she grabs what appears to be some kind of shirt that must have followed someone through the opening.

They will hardly miss it, she thinks, as she begins to tear it into strips.

"Six." Moving forward, she reaches out, waiting for permission. "Let me stop the blood at least."

As far as Alacruun is concerned, it costs nothing to be polite. Besides, it can lull people into a false sense of security.

"Six," Alacruun runs the name over his tongue. Interesting name. Not quite what he'd expect, but humans and elves tend to have strange names. Humans more often than elves, honestly. He holds his arm out with a nod, "If you insist - I'm certainly not going to complain."

As he waits, he returns to his first train of thought, "Six is a bit of an unusual name. Might I ask after its meaning? Oh - call me Alacruun."

Unfortunately, Six's experience of the world has been that most people are less than polite and others are a little more dangerous than they make themselves seem; it's something to keep in mind.

"Yes." Moving forward, she settles down and focusses her attention on his wound. She's not a healer and she has nothing with her that'll help her in actually stitching up the wound and making it any better, but stopping the flow of blood will help until they find someone with more talent.

Carefully, face blank, she answers.

"It is a number." Which it is, but it's hardly an explanation of why it is also her name. "It is good to meet you."

Alacruun sits still while she temporarily binds the wound. He'll have to get it properly fixed later, but he's happy to have the rudimentary attention. Anything to keep his blood safely inside of his body. He makes a mental note of her side-stepping the question, but chooses not to press it. Yet. He can always ask again later.

"I wish it were under better circumstances. Fighting... demons isn't usually my typical idea of a good time. Or my usual occupation."

It's honestly been a while since he was slinging spells on the battlefield.

It's nothing professional and Six is missing her healing hands like a sore spot in her chest, but it'll have to do for now. She recognises that it won't last forever, especially if any kind of infection hits, but the risk of another wave of demons distracts her for long enough that she doesn't give it a second thought. There are more important things than a bleeding arm and he's not dying yet.

"I cannot say the same." It's said wryly, at least, and she pushes herself up, dragging her greatsword into her hands and slinging it onto her back.

"We should move before more come for us."

Alacruun will take what he can get at this point when it comes to medical attention. Better than nothing, at least. Besides, he can worry about this later when he's not in danger of freezing to death or being stabbed or anything like that. Immediate survival first, more concrete medical attention later.

"Agreed. But where to? I'm not sure this cavern opens out anywhere."

Whatever scraps of supplies there are around are quickly scooped up and into her arms, sorted quickly. Anything that she thinks could be useful is placed in her pack and everything else is left in a careful pile to one side before that, too, is placed on her shoulders. Only then does she breathe out, frowning as she looks around.

"If there is a way out I will find it." At least her Darkvision will help there. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replies with a little sigh. He's not sure where they're going to end up or how this is all going to work, but he'll try to play nice until he figures out why his magic is weaker and why he's stuck in this body. He doesn't really have an alternative.

"Please, lead on."

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DRAKONIS RIFTER ARRIVAL

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