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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After the group gathering, and before the scouting team leaves, Aro finds time to make his way to Alacruun's side. They hadn't gotten the chance to address much of what connected them. He can feel Iessa's excitement thrumming through the air beside him. She's interested in Alacruun, interested because he'd spoken in Draconic and she's drawn to that, and drawn to him. Even while Aro approaches with care, she is all eager excitement, hurrying over to snuffle at him.

"Hello. I'm sorry to disturb you," Aro begins, with a polite smile. At least he hopes it's polite. "It's just that before...I've not met many who speak Draconic, even at home. Iessa and I are wanderers, we don't spend an awful lot of time around people. She already likes you."

His smile turns considerably more fond when it directs itself towards Iessa. She looks up at him, cool reptilian eyes seeming somehow warm. He touches her head.

"I'm Aro. This is Iessa. We just wanted to meet you properly, is all."

Alacruun can definitely pick on the interest that's filling the air, especially when that young dragon trots over and gives him a few quick sniffs. In retrospect, probably a good thing he's not 'himself'. Chromatics and metallics tend not to get along at all and he's reluctant to start a fight or out himself from a position of weakness. So he smiles at her and gives her a greeting in draconic again - Hello, little one.

Aro earns himself a nod as well, "Truly? I always thought is the language of wizards and practitioners of magic. Not common, but not exactly the rarest thing in the world."

Which neatly sidesteps why he speaks draconic in the first place and allows the listener to draw their own conclusion.

"You may call me Alacruun, the two of you. Charmed. I take it you're from a world much like my own - if not actually the world?"

Aro nods, personally eager to talk. It doesn't overly matter that Alacruun doesn't explain why he knows it; the important thing is that he does, and it means he's from home. Familiarity matters now like it never has before, especially for Iessa. Aro doesn't want her to forget her own tongue, whether she can speak it yet or no.

"We tend to travel alone," he says, with a lift of his shoulders. "Unless someone needs help. I've come across the occasional sorcerer, or cleric who can speak it, but they're never around for long. Or I'm not around for long. We're from Faerun."

Which doubtless answers the question of whether they're from the same world. Aro is hopeful. Iessa has gone right up to Alacruun to watch him carefully, like a child might watch her teacher. Aro doesn't know exactly how much he likes that. Iessa is still so young. She's not yet learned to be careful with who she trusts, and Aro isn't eager for her to learn it the hard way. He keeps a watchful eye on her.

"She doesn't speak yet. She will, someday. She's pleased to meet you, though. I can tell."

"I know Faerun well! Although I've been... busy as of late, so my knowledge of current events has been a bit lacking lately," Alacruun smiles, trying to be charming. As well as explain away any discrepancies that may or may not crop up in the course of their conversation. Besides, he's more interested in trying to find someone (or several someones) who might be useful in this strange new place, if they end up being trapped here in the long run. Aro and his brass dragon friend seem to fit the bill - at least for now. Besides, he enjoys the way the dragon seems to look to him for some kind of guidance.

Ah, if only they knew.

Still, he won't dwell on that.

"And I'm just as pleased to meet her," he says, offering the small dragon his hand, "She can't be too long out of her shell, can she? Don't most dragons speak fairly early?"

Iessa proceeds to snuffle at his hand, and then nudge her head into it. It's an affectionate habit that makes Aro smile. He's probably fostered that over their time together, however short it's been so far. Iessa is protective of him when they're under attack, but it seems she's already sorted Alacruun into the category of Not Enemy. They had, in fairness, fought on the same side when those creatures had attacked their group. Still, Aro worries that the little dragon might be too trusting. Maybe he ought to encourage independence.

She's young for that, though. Alacruun has it right. She's young for everything.

"Not long," he agrees, and folds his arms. "But they're supposed to learn in the egg, and I suspect her mother had been away from her for a time. But I'll teach her. She can speak when she's ready."

Iessa looks up at him, feeling his eyes on her, and she swishes her tail across to knock his ankles.

"Have you known other dragons her age? Or other dragons at all, I suppose. I want her to learn of her own kind, and there's only so much of that I can teach."

Alacruun honestly doesn't hate metallic dragons. He finds them (often) sanctimonious, self-important, and far too interested in meddling in things they shouldn't, but there's no burning hatred there. He has more important things to worry about than wayward cousins. So for the moment, he's happy enough to let Iessa nudge herself against him. He even gives her a little pat on the head. If she trusts him, well - there are possibilities there.

"Oh, I know. Young dragons tend to speak when they're ready and not before. No matter what anyone does..."

He glances at Aro and nods, "I've interacted with dragons before - even been around young once or twice - and I might be able to tell her a thing or two. Then again, I'm not sure if my perspective would be at all helpful, considering I'm not of her kind."

Technically, none of that was a lie.

Aro is of the opinion that any perspective could help, especially if Alacruun has been around other dragons. It's more than Aro can give by himself, and that means it's worth having. He smiles a little, while Iessa nudges Alacruun's petting hand and then zips back to his side. She still watches their new friend with intent, her tail curving high over her head.

"I'd only met one dragon before her," he says, with a little shrug. "And that was her mother. We could have looked for others, but I was wary of that, in case they might want to hurt her. I thought it'd be best, you know, to wait until she was older. So I think she'd like to hear your perspective."

He hesitates, and then steps a little closer.

"I know I would. If you didn't mind."

"Ideally, she'd have parents to raise her. But... most dragons are resilient creatures. Even without parents, I think she'll be alright. She'll... just have to learn some things on her own," Alacruun remarks conversationally. He's not sure he wants to be saddled with helping to raise a young dragon, especially one that's not one of his. There might be an opportunity though - he could have allies here, however temporary. Cost-benefit.

He makes a low noise of consideration.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Then again, I don't know how much help I'll actually be..."

Aro looks pleased.

"I think even speaking to her in her own tongue will help," he says, having honestly no greater expectation than that. Aro is generally not used to relying on people at all. "Thank you. I'm sure you're right, regardless, and she'll speak in her own time. Dragons are clever, and I know she understands me."

She's looking at him quite intently right now. She nudges her nose into his hand when he smiles.

"Either way it's just good to know we're not the only ones from home here. What did you say you do in Faerun?"

"Oh, me? I'm a researcher. I collect knowledge - mostly along the magical line. A wizard. I dabble in all sorts of things really. Keep my attention on everything. You've no idea how stressful that can be, but... somehow I manage," Alacruun laughs, "Call me a glutton for punishment."

Among other things.

"I gather your some sort of... well. What do you do?"

Oh, so he's a scholar! And a wizard. All right, that's good news. Aro smiles, perfectly comfortable with those distinctions.

"I'm an explorer," he says, which leads Iessa to nudge him and growl. He smiles wider. "Yes, all right, and a sorcerer. Quite a new one, though. I've only had my powers since just before Iessa hatched, so I have some idea of the stress you're talking about. I'm still finding my feet with all of this."

"Being a sorcerer must be very useful in those dangerous areas of the world," Alacruun allows with a little smile, "Especially when you find unexplored ruins and strange creatures who might not be that friendly..."

Self-defense is handy. Alacruun also just likes magic in general.

"Ah, so your magic is linked to Iessa...? Or was that a happy coincidence?"

"Ah...I wouldn't really call it happy," Aro says, grimacing a little. He folds his arms. There's no real reason not to tell the story, particularly to another mage.

"Her mother was badly hurt, in combat with another dragon. She was dying, and I tried to help her, but I was far too late to save her. She asked me to protect her last egg, and of course I promised that I would. Then, as she died, she gave her power to me. That's why we're together."

He touches Iessa's neck, petting it, which prompts the little hatching to press against his side.

"So it's linked to her in a way, I suppose. I have to do what her mother can't."

"Oh. Interesting. That's... not quite how most sorcerers discover their powers, but I suppose everyone is a bit different," Alacruun says, looking slightly startled at the story.

"While I'm... deeply sorry that she had to lose her mother - or rather, did - I'm glad that she has someone to look after her."

Alacruun gives Iessa another glance, "I wonder if you've been granted an increased life-span as well..."

Not really knowing how his situation compares to anyone else, Aro just lifts his shoulders. It's hard for him to think that he was lucky, given that it would have been better all around if Iessa's mother had been able to stay with her. He does see it as a gift, though.

"I can't speak for anyone else. My mother has no magic, and I honestly don't know about my father. I don't know if I'd have discovered it at all without Iessa's mother. I doubt it, somehow."

There'd never been any hints of it. In fact, no one who's related to Aro has even seen him since it happened, so they'd be none the wiser.

"She didn't really tell me everything it would do to me. There's…well. There's this, though."

He rolls up one sleeve, exposing the skin on his forearm. He holds it up, turning it to catch the light. It's just about possible to see the scale-like pattern reflecting there, barely visible if you're not looking for it.

"It makes my skin stronger, like armour. I know that wasn't there before, that's for sure."

"Oh - fascinating-" ALacruun leans down to get a better look. It's a bit far of a lean, considering that he's much taller, but he still tries to get a good look. He's heard of such things and seen it on sorcerers before, but it's still interesting to consider. Especially because he's reasonably sure there are a few sorcerers runnign around out there who are technically his descendants, but he's not about to quibble too much about it.

"Dragons can do that sort of thing... but usually I've seen it passed down via blood-lines and distant descendants, very rarely from a direct gift or transfer of power. I'd love to learn more about it and help you figure it all out... if you're willing, of course. I wouldn't want to force you."

He's being reasonably honest. For once.

Aro's surprised, but not at all put off; all of his is still reasonably new for him, after all. There's a lot he's still figuring out.

"No! That - I'd really appreciate that. Do you know about draconic sorcery, then?"

He doesn't know what kind of magic Alacruun does, after all; there'd been the hint he was a mage of some sort, but not more than that.

"If you do, I mean. I'm still very new to all of this. Learning through experience has been working, but there's so much I don't know."

"I've studied it, yes. I consider myself a scholar and lore-master in the field of magic. I've spent most of my life collecting information about the various schools of magic and how they work. Which, naturally, includes draconic magic."

Plus he was born with it. That helps.

"I'd be... happy to try and educate you on some of the finer points - or at least what my research has led me to believe are the finer points."

Well, that sounds believable enough. Aro has spent no portion of his life involved in any kind of study, honestly, unless studying the world around him counts. He's been educated insofar as his mother taught him, but he's had no formal schooling in any kind of magic. Or in general, actually.

"I'd be really grateful. Thank you, Alacruun. And please - you must tell me if there's anything I can do for you, in return."

"Perish the thought-" Alacruun laughs and his smile sharpens a touch, "But... if I need anything, I shall let you know. For now, I'm happy enough to be of use."

So he says, anyway.

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