Cloudreach 9:44 Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & their rescuers.
WHAT: Welcome to Thedas.
WHEN: Cloudreach 10, 9:44
WHERE: Amaranthine
NOTES: This is the arrival log for all new rifters, open also to current characters who would participate in their recovery. New players can also assume everyone survives and arrives back in Kirkwall within a couple of days, but please note there will be a brief quarantine period when they won't be permitted to leave the Gallows, to get them up to speed while ensuring they're not diseased or otherwise going to kill anyone, before they're set loose on the city.

You were asleep—whether deeply or fitfully, falling unconscious for the last time in a pool of blood 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 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, bathed in the light of a flare of too-bright, greenish light you will find yourself hitting mossy cobblestones with an unforgiving smack. You're alive, and you're fine, except for the narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here that now glows out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions.

Above you is a shifting, crystalline tear in reality; beyond that, gray clouds and a sea breeze, framed by the high walls surrounding the city you've landed in. There are people on the walls, some of them armored and armed, all of them briefly and collectively paralyzed by the sight below.

Don't let their terror go to your head. It's not you that has them intimidated, nor is it any of the humans (or Qunari) who are sprawled out on the ground around you, nor is it the assortment of unfamiliar—to them, not to you, perhaps to you it's very familiar—junk that's spilled out as well, most notably some flaming metallic debris and a giant wooden cross.

It's the beings that are coming out after you, almost as if in pursuit. Two are drifting, spindly things with six spidery limbs in addition to grasping skeletal arms, eager to grab hold of anyone who comes too close and fill their field of vision with swirling darkness and corner-of-the-eye glimpses of whatever frightens them. Several more most closely resemble trees, perhaps, with half-melted squids for heads—which might not sound particularly scary, fine, but their ability to dive into the ground and resurface anywhere with rasping screams helps on that front.

All of these things would like to kill you, and the people around you, and the people on the walls, and perhaps the other people screaming and scurrying into taverns and shops for cover. But you're not alone. Out of those same taverns and shops come people who do seem to know what they're doing; many are wearing a symbol that looks a bit like a hairy eyeball being pieced through by a sword, and at least a couple of them seem to know what they're doing. Almost like they've been waiting for you. In fact, exactly like they've been waiting for you.

---

AFTERWARDS, the grateful citizens of the City of Amarenthine might provide a drink, a meal, or a place to tend to wounds before everyone sets back toward Kirkwall. It's not a long trip, but one that requires boarding a ship to cross a narrow sea. It will be a rough, stormy journey, but there won't be any demons.

Comments

Resa | OC

[summerfae]

I. The rift

A sharp, jarring pain wakens Resa, and her eyelashes flutter open, sleep-fogged brain trying to comprehend what's happened. For a few moments, there's a hard, cold fear in the pit of her stomach--had Fiachra found her? But this was...not his base, and these were not his people.

And those monsters were certainly not his. They were no fae, no sentient creature, it felt like. Each had a single emotion that emanated from it, single-minded in intensity and nearly overwhelming. The sizable amount of fear radiating from the crowd around her only made it that much worse. What the fuck was going on?

There's something in her hand. Resa turns to look at it--a mixing spoon. She'd been having a dream involving one, but that meant--a quick peek into her purse confirmed it was filled with noodles. Great. Wonderful. She couldn't have dreamed about mace, or a taser, or some kind of weapon. But it is what it is, and Resa slowly rises to her feet, spoon in hand.

The next time the fear demon tries coasting to her, she smacks at it with the spoon. The demon is utterly unimpressed, but it probably would be if it weren't, you know. A demon.

II. After the fight.

Well, this sucked.

The fighting over, Resa's had time to take stock of the situation. She's currently camped out at a table in the tavern, a drink sat down before her. Mead, or ale, or whatever they drink in old timey places. Which is where she is, apparently. An old timey place. Which would be hilarious, if it wasn't happening to her. And her glamour is gone, that's a thing. The lack of it out in public makes her feel naked, but while people are certainly staring, it's probably because she just fell through a hole in the sky.

Thoughtfully, Resa takes the mug, and eyeballs it. "I'm taking a wild guess here and saying Starbucks is off the table, now. Jesus, how am I supposed to survive without frappucinos." It's the least of Resa's worries, but it feels better to complain about the minor luxuries than to start trying to truly wrap her head around what she's lost.

i

[motherfucking_ghost]

"Jesus, what are you doing, get away from that thing!" Wooden spoons are not for thwacking demons. Rifters rarely have a choice, obviously, whether they have to fight, but man, maybe don't intentionally tap an eldritch being with a cooking utensil.

He runs at it from behind, running then his sword along its back, and it screeches with some pain and moves. Which is what they ought to do. He offers the woman a hand. Bubblegum hair? Nice. "C'mon, let's try to get you somewhere safer!"

I

[coiledscales]

"Haven't you anything a bit sharper...?" That's Alacruun's first question to the poor woman trying to hit a demon with a mixing spoon. He doesn't much care either way, but the idea of it is incredibly amusing. At least when he's not the one about to be ripped to shreds by the thing. Still, he did come along to help, didn't he? He extends his hand and murmurs a few words in a sharp language and he forces the demon back with a zap of lightning from his hand.

"I don't say this often, but perhaps you'd better stand behind me."

At least he's a qunari. That makes him... biggish.

ii

[periastron]

Alex overhears, and leans against the wall. She's holding a glass of whiskey, and while she could have just slouched into the seat opposite, even in her mildly inebriated state she's opting to try and be respectful. Lady who just fell into a new world probably wouldn't appreciate has to deal with drunken random joining her table on top of that, and all.

"I'm so fucking glad you know what Starbuck is. You can join me and Cosima and Church's special club of people who understand modern references." A moment of pause, and she scratches her jaw. "We could try work out how to make some kinda bastardisation of frappucinos, I reckon. Might make a bloody packet in summer."

Yeah, banter is easier than dealing with real shit. She points to the chair at the table. "Mind if I join you? I won't be offended if you'd rather I fuck off so you can process on your own."

She can, sometimes, be considerate.

Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1

[exascendee]

I. Arrival

The dream in itself is nothing unusual. Daniel doesn't have any memories of what it was like being ascended, but he's heard the stories, read the reports. He's not sure if the dreams are just his imagination, or some latent, buried memory, like when Osiris was trying to extract information out of him through his dreams, not long ago.

There is a battle raging around him, human military, Tok'ra, Jaffa, Goa'uld, Abydonians, all fighting and shooting at one another, dying all around him, blood staining the golden desert sand. Above him, ships are shooting at each other, crashing into the ground with thunderous noise.

Daniel reaches out towards them, tries to stop them, to intervene. If only he could do like Oma did, strike them down with lightning, stop his friends from dying, but nothing happens, and no one notices him. He's wearing both the Stargate garrison uniform, covered by the Abydonian robes he apparently appeared in when ascended, like his mind can't decide which one he's supposed to be.

And then he falls, and it all goes dark, and he hits the ground, his head hitting stone with a thunk.

When he sits up and looks around, there is very little that's familiar about the situation. There's burning debris from the fight, people all around him, but they're in a city, neither a temple nor a desert. He rubs the back of his head with a pained frown.

And then there's a monster looming over him, unlike anything Daniel has seen, tall and spindly. He only has about a second's warning as it strikes down at him, and Daniel barely manages to roll over in time to avoid it. He gets to his feet, looks around. There's more monsters, popping over all over, and people looking terrified, several of them completely helpless.

A little bit next to him he spots a dead Jaffa soldier with a staff weapon next to him. Daniel doesn't hesitate, darting over to it, picking up the weapon and pointing at the monster. He has to shoot it multiple times as it pursues him, seemingly unfazed by the powerful blasts, until it finally goes down, only to disappear back into the green glowing light above them. Daniel doesn't stop to watch, looking around for anyone that needs help.


II. Aftermath

Daniel is confused, tired, and in pain. His arms and face in particular are covered with scrapes and bruises, and he's got a pretty bad gash in his side, which has slowly stained his robes with blood during the cause of the fight.

He's had worse, and he's probably not gonna die this time, but he's still very grateful when they lead him somewhere he can get patched up. The blood loss has started to make him a bit dizzy as the adrenaline's left him.

I

[gatheringstorm]

Nearby is a tall -easily a head taller- woman, horned and armored, with her own staff in one hand and a blade hilt in the other. As for the blade itself, it makes an appearance as she swings, a mystical glowing form that winks out until she swings again. Drawing two fear demons after her, she smirks as the swarm in close, only to be zapped with a round of chain lightning, the blast arcing from one to the next almost instantly. However, a terror demon decides it's time to join the fun and phases in almost on top of the woman, knocking her to the ground.

II

[circleprodigy]

"Hold still, if you would? This should ease your pain...." The slight elven woman in armor probably doesn't seem much like a healer, but appearances can be deceiving. Stretching out her hand, she sends forth blue energy which envelopes and sinks into the battered Daniel, easing wounds and restoring energy to some degree. She pauses to see how much that attempt heals before subjecting him to another round of it.

II

[strangel]

Helena is crouched atop a crate, watching the man with muted curiosity.

"Do not be baby. This is nothing."

The man is bleeding from a nasty wound, but Helena's frame of reference is admittedly skewed. She is looking at the broken crate fallen from the rift that she's perched on, prying slats loose.

"When I arrived, we were stuck in snow for week."

Tina Goldstein | Harry Potter

[goldsteins]

arrival.

Later, much later, Tina would be annoyed that one of the rare times she'd gotten a restful sleep resulted in... well this. The dream itself odd enough itself, but it held no candle to the moments that were to come. She'd fallen asleep in her dream and the moment she had everything tilted. Her eyes snapped open as quickly as they had shut, every sense that had been trained into her suddenly alert.

She can't do anything for the fall short of grimace and try to pull herself up-- suddenly all too aware of an unfamiliar pain in the palm of her hand. A glimpse at it told her something was very, very wrong but she doesn't have time to linger on it. Painful it was, but at the time there were bigger, more pressing matters at hand.

Such as the spindly looking creature that told everything she knew: run. Easier said than done when there were dozens of people looking on in horror, one was coming towards her, and there was a sudden pressing weight at her side. She couldn't see it at the moment, but she suddenly became vividly aware of her companion during the dream.

The demiguise, currently invisible, had a much better plan at running than she did (that plan, of course, being invisible). "You are not helping," She found the moment to grumble, heaving herself up to feel for the nearest item near her-- The cover of a book.

Helpful, her brain supplied drily and her fingers fumbled for her pocket hopefully-- The familiar, thin wood pressed against her fingers for what she felt would be her first and last bit of luck that day. The woman barely had time to cast a stunning spell on the creature, but it was enough, just enough. It doesn't last even a fraction of the time it should have but at the moment it wasn't something to stand around and consider more.

The book lied abandoned as she moved a step backward, nearly into the back of one of the other poor new arrivals. Dark eyes taking in the situation from the spewed debris and people, the frighteningly old looking city, the demons, and the people streaming out from the various buildings.

"Definitely can't dream this up," She said to herself, or perhaps it was to the Demiguise. There was screeching from behind, the other creature, and she winced from the sound before twisting in place. No doubt these had to be dealt with and quickly-- unfortunately for her, magic doesn't come all so easily.

later.

Despite quick work to get to her feet earlier, the woman can't fully bring herself to believe the nature of her circumstances. Understand it? Yes. Think she was going to have to stay in Thedas for any length of time? Absolutely not. Even as others trickled into local buildings she'd been careful to keep her distance, wary of those that had appearing to help and the civilians alike.

Perhaps that was only heightened by the fact that when the demiguise had stopped being invisible there were a few looks she didn't like. She can't blame the people for the wariness of the people for an odd creature after the recent occurrence-- demons, she remembers to call them-- but she can't help but be protective of the creature who'd stumbled along on this journey with her.

"You know I don't know what you eat."

She found herself sighing while plucking off a piece of bread to offer to the creature. It'd been clingy since they arrived and now it considered its offering. She shook her head, turning her gaze towards the night sky. "They're not the same constellations, either," Tina said, partially to herself. This was an ever-growing list and so far there wasn't a similarity. It was absolutely going to get worse before it got better, it seemed.

Not that she was helping herself any.

{ later }

[zombra]

Tessa shouldn't stare, because her mother raised her better than that, but she can't not stare at this weird little thing the woman's feeding. It's still hard to fathom this whole situation isn't just a drug induced dream, but she can't imagine herself being this creative. Is her mind capable of demons, a big green thing in the sky, a medieval village, and... whatever the hell this creature is? She isn't sure, but it looks like she's stuck until she wakes up, and when she wakes up she'll be back in the world of the zombie apocalypse so you know what? She'll make the most of this.

"Looks like a monkey and the Abominable Snowman had a kid."

[periastron]

"I had the same problem when I got here. Fell through a rift with a koala and not a bloody gum tree in sight."

Her accent is broadly Australian, and she is... well. Not sober. She holds up a bottle of whiskey in offering. "Need to take the edge off?"

From inside her coat, a koala peeks its head up. "Not you, Beauregard."

Later.

[somethingwild]

Newt, caught up as he was in trying to help fight the demons and help close the rift, doesn't realize that one Tina Goldstein is now here in Thedas, to say nothing of his demiguise. He's been scattered, running around and trying to help out wherever he can, using what magic of his wants to actually cooperate.

Later, once the demons have been dealt with, as well as the rift itself, Newt makes his way back to the local town, determined to find something to eat and a place to rest.

Which is when his gaze catches on what draws the attention of others in the crowd, of course. He stops, his mouth falling open.

"Tina?" A moment. "Dougal?"

Judas Iscariot | Jesus Christ Superstar (2000)

[thirtysilver]

[Content warning: This literally starts off with a suicide, so keep that in mind.]

I. Arrival

The vision Judas has as life leaves his body is basically the antithesis of how he would react if it were real. He finds himself mocking his suffering friend, in words that hardly make sense to him, unable to stop himself. It causes his more pain than he could ever articulate.

And when it ends, the pain becomes agony, and he screams out, but at least he can control his own body now, gasping for breath.

And then all is darkness, and he's falling, not sure through what, until suddenly he isn't anymore. His body winces with the pain of hitting the ground and he rolls over, trying to catch his breath. It takes a few moments before his mind starts becoming aware of what's around him, noise and chaos, and he reaches out to push himself up.

Then he realises what he'd been put his hand on is the giant crucifixion cross, smeared with blood, and he scrambles backwards, horrified.

Fear starts to course through him, and he looks around. He's still wearing the vinyl outfit, ostentatious and off-putting, nothing he would ever wear willingly, and it's not ideal for moving. There's no sense of coherence in what's going on around him, everything is madness, like he's still in some sort of fever dream. And then looks up at the grotesque figures looming over him. Not a dream, then. He's in hell.


II. Aftermath

To say Judas is shaken is to put it lightly. He's carrying the crown of thorns in his hand, having found himself unable to leave it there once the battle was done. He couldn't very well take the cross with him. He doesn't notice the pain as the thorns pierce his skin when he holds it too tightly.

He didn't think the battle would ever end, and now that it has, he's even more confused. He keeps waiting for something awful to happen, something to attack him. He's following the crowd, barely registering what's even going on as he ends up ushered into some sort of pub.

ii

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Y'know, the giant wooden cross definitely catches his attention, but given battling demons as per usual when gathering up Rifters--thank god it's in civilization this time--he chose not to comment on it. He doubts it means anything to any of the natives. (Do they even do crucifixions here? He doesn't know and frankly doesn't want to find out.)

And they're not gonna haul that thing with them. Fuck no. Maybe it's a coincidence! Maybe someone in Amaranthine is doing up some fortifications orrrr decorations, or maybe they really do do crucifixions here, listen, Church is not here to judge. Best to just ignore the shit that is weirder shit than normal. And make sure everyone's okay from the fight.]

Nice duds, dude. [Best way to judge what kind of world someone is from: drop all the fucking slang, or alternately, pop culture references.] You, uhhhh. [That sure is something covered in thorns the guy is holding.] You okay?

I

[nadasharillen]

Parts of buildings were coming out of Rifts now? The brief thought darts through Nahariel's mind as the noise of the massive blood-smeared cross slamming solidly into the cobblestones not too far off from her side draws her immediate attention to both it and the too-bright red jacket of the man who had fallen with it who is now crawling back away from the thing with a nearly palpable horror.

She's not the only one who notices. To some of these demons his fear is a solid thing, and one that emits a clarion call to feed at that. One such creature is leaping into the ground at this very moment, the telltale sickly green circle beneath the man marking him its target. Nari bursts into a dead sprint and leaps at him with arms outstretched ahead of her in the hope of slamming into him and rolling them both away from the violent eruption of the demon's re-emergence.

Clifford Norman | Wilde Life

[notthatclifford]

i. Arrival

It wasn't the first time Cliff dreamt of a freeing sort of run through the forests surrounding his home, with little to no fear of anyone spotting him as a wolf. Most days he woke up with a start because it was so utterly real-feeling that he half-worried he'd changed in his sleep. There was no reason this would've been any different a sort of night until it was.

There was never a cliff in these dreams. This time there was, and at his speed, he couldn't stop his momentum in time before he was pitched off it. The ground rushed at him as he tumbled, uncontrolled. In a panic-fueled haze, he thought it had to be a dream, he just needed to wake up.

He did, but not the way he wanted to. It was like getting shocked out of a dream, complete with extra, weird pain, even, except he hadn't woken up. He was in some town he never saw, with horrible monster looking fuckers in the vicinity. There barely time to register something was happened before he could feel the ground beneath his feet start to rumble.

"Shit, shit!" he screeched, just barely tumbling out of the way as one of them burst through the ground underneath his paws. Because yes, yes, of course he was still a wolf, like his dream never ended and he'd just been tossed into a new, fresh nightmare.

Except he's pretty sure this is real, and he was not really equipped to deal with that. It's pure instinct he got to his feet and fell into a battle stance, because it was either fight or run, and well...running would've won out, honestly, if he knew where he was. But there were people here, and while that was terrifying in itself because he knew he was better right now in a group.

He bared his teeth and tried to not come off as a cornered dog. The one that had come after him was already approaching menacingly.

He'd help fight if he had to.

ii. After

There was some part of Cliff that knew sustaining fairly mild injuries for what happened was a miracle to begin with. He'd kept hoping to wake up throughout it all, but the relief never came. Instead, exhaustion took him, and he found himself almost forced to return to normal as the last of the monsters were killed, despite a weak attempt at at least limping to an alley to do it. It was seamless, the transformation from wolf to boy, and he was sitting much like he'd been sitting as a wolf moments before.

He clutched the arm that had blood trickling down it from a large gash there, the injury near where it'd been when he had been shifted. He swallowing thickly and didn't even try to deal with the fact doing so allowed him to get a good look at the glowing thing in his hand right then, because it'd only cause him to panic more. He immediately struggled then to get up, but it was like every part of him was fatigued in a way he never experienced before.

Not like he was sure where he would've ran even if he were able to get up just then.

He winced inwardly when he heard someone approaching, glancing sharply in the direction, with a legitimate look of real fear on his face. It wasn't because of the monsters anymore - he knew everyone had just fucking seen him, and that was an issue.

A big, big fucking issue.

iii. Wildcard

[a little time passes, and you find him in a less freaked out state somewhere, if you like. Feel free to move him to an area not in the middle of the street!]

II

[exascendee]

It was pure chance that Daniel had spotted the wolf turning into a boy, honestly. There had been other big dogs fighting alongside them, so he hadn't paid the wolf too much attention during the fray, but then he had glanced over and saw the change. His capacity for surprise is starting to run out, but he'll admit it caught him off-guard.

That's not really why he's walking over to him though. The reason he walks over is because there's now a very scared-looking young man, probably a teenager, who looks hurt and terrified and alone. Which is hardly something Daniel can ignore.

"Hey kid, you okay?" he asks, approaching him relatively slowly. Partly because the boy looks ready to bolt, and partly because Daniel's injured, his hand covering a bloody gash in his side, staining his robes red.

Kara Line ( Original Character )

[pati]

arrival.

( That's a jarring way to wake up.

Slammed against the ground suddenly, Kara sits up and rubs the back of her head. ) Ah... ( She murmurs, her vision slightly blurred at the edges from the hit she just took to her head. Sleeping on her back? Apparently a negative in this scenario.

Whatever... this scenario was...

Slowly the reality of it all starts to sink in for Kara. She climbs to her knees, her vision clearing as she spins around to take it all in. ) What the... is this a breach...? ( That doesn't sound right, even as she says it. Not that she's ever experienced a breach, but she's pretty sure a breach would mean she'd still be in the barracks when she woke. Not on the street of what looks to be like a scene straight out of an old timey movie. With the addition of demons.

Demons she doesn't recognize.

Her eyes go wide at the sheer numbers of them. She's never encountered more than one demon at a time. Some people move to strike at the creatures, others run screaming in opposite directions. ) What the fuck... ( She murmurs again.

This isn't Glasiel. What happened while she was asleep?!

Before she can think much harder on that question, she sees a woman trying to slam the door shut of a local home or store or whatever. Not the important fact. What is important is the creature slamming up against the door, trying to break in on the people hiding within. )

Hey! ( Kara shouts, running in that direction. ) Pick on someone your own size! ( Okay, she's not short by any means, but she's nowhere near as tall as the creature she's charging.

Doesn't matter. She slams herself against the creature, pulling at a well of energy inside her to give herself some force as the two of them go flying to the ground. )

Any help? ( She calls, as the thing starts to take swipes as her face and she leans back to avoid the hits. )

aftermath.

( A little bruised, but recovering decently, Kara stands on the top deck of the ship taking them to the place they call the Gallows. Which seems like a pretty dark name to trusting sail towards, but what does she know.

Not much apparently.

Okay she knew that part, but even less than she realized. She sighs heavily as she leans over the railing of the ship. Lightning sparks in the near distance, hinting at storms about to hit. Already she feels the light sprinkle of rain. Its a little heavier than the light mist from the sea as it breaks against the ship. For now, she ignores both factors and watches the waves with a smile. )

So this is an ocean... or sea or whatever it is. ( She smiles slightly and shrugs. It's nice either way. )

other.

( ooc; open to any other scenarios not listed! )

aftermath;

[foxsays]

[The sailing this time is less eventful, fortunately for all parties involved. No one needs a repeat of the last rifter arrival that required a sea voyage and a stopover for repairs by way of Llomerryn, and Araceli is happy to come along for the trip since honestly she looks for any chance to come sailing (not that's it hard, it's her job here really) as she tugs her cloak tighter about herself as she makes her way round the deck.

Sometimes a person needs a little peace, certainly a new arrival, but hearing that? How can she ignore someone saying that?]

This is part of the Waking Sea, it opens out onto the Amaranthine Ocean but on the other side of this is Kirkwall. Is it your first time sailing?

aftermath!!

[aenseidhe]

[ Iorveth's slouched against some crates nearby, halfway on his way to a nice nap, accompanied by the rocking of the boat and soothing splashing of waves below, scent of salt water in the air. it's relaxing in a way he isn't terribly familiar with, but enjoys none the less.

and then some human girl on the railing next to him starts talking to herself. god, humans are so weird. ]

Is this your first time seeing the sky as well?

[ which could actually be a real question, okay, some dwarves and gnomes never leave their mountain caves, maybe she's part dwarf, you never know. ]

Jester Lavore || Critical Role

[the_cleric]

i- the Rift.

Jester falls asleep at the Leaky Tap, and wakes up--

"Shit, shit, shit!"

--on a street, in a city, with a big ugly squid screaming at her.

No, it isn't a squid. It looks like a very tall tree with a squid mask on the top of it. That is so stupid that it would almost be funny, if Jester wasn't backed up against a wall with the squid tree screaming in her face. She had tried to get away more gracefully, but there is something really really wrong with her balance. Like when you spin in a circle and get dizzy, but worse.

Her belly hurts, too, and not in a way like she ate too many doughnuts. It is different, and when she spares a glance, the front of her pretty dress is glowing green from the inside. It looks like the light above them, which is very weird, but then, this whole thing is weird. The things that are on fire around her might be the least weird part. Sometimes stuff is just on fire.

The squid tree monster swipes at Jester with its big spindly hand. She has nowhere to go, and no shield, and she hasn't pulled out any weapons because she just woke up. Instinct makes her lift her arm to defend herself, and the sleeve of her dress tears under the monster's twiggy fingernails. Dark blood blooms across Jester's sleeve. It hurts, almost worse than her belly. The monster screams again.

"You look REALLY REALLY STUPID!" Jester screams back, cradling her bleeding arm against her chest. Her scream is in Infernal, a Hellish Rebuke that sends the monster stumbling back. A burst of ice forms like a beard on its stupid squid face and all down the front of its chest, and the monster begins clawing at itself now, trying to break free of freezing.

Jester kicks its leg. There's a crack. The monster gives a cry of rage, muffled by the ice that has crystallized over its mouth.

Wait, Jester thinks. Her foot is really big. And so is her arm. And so is her hand. Despite the situation, Jester takes a moment to gasp, as she looks down at herself. "What the--? Ahh! Shitballs!"

It's more awed than frightened. To anyone else, she looks like a Qunari: seven feet tall, well-muscled, with horns and a tumble of dark hair that, in human terms, would be best described as a bob. A Qunari, wearing a pretty blue dress with a cloak, looking
down at herself like it's the first time she's ever seen herself.

ii- AFTERWARDS.

"Yes, yes, yes." Jester, at a trestle table in a cozy inn, pokes her bottom lip out. For anyone expecting Qunari stoicism, she is, perhaps, looking uncharacteristically and exaggeratedly sad. She's even holding a handkerchief in her big grey hand, which she dabs at the corner of one eye, to take care of her imaginary tears. "I woke up and I had no friends, and there were demons, screaming at me. And one of them tore my dress, which was so pretty. And I am so hungry."

The serving woman (the true owner of the handkerchief) makes a noise of sympathy. She is the only one who dared to approach the sniffly Qunari and has been roped into listening to a rifter's tale of woe. To a native, her accent will be very strange: most certainly foreign, though from where, who can say. To a Rifter who knows Europe, she sounds Eastern European.

"If I had a plate full of muffins," Jester says, dabbing at her other eye, "I would probably feel much better. But I don't have any muffins...."

Muffins are maybe a long shot, but Jester's luck holds out. A few minutes later sees her well-supplied, seated behind a big platter crowded with muffins. The serving woman touches her shoulder, gently, and Jester sighs a happy, trembly breath, and presses the handkerchief to her mouth.

"Oh," she says, "that is much better. Thank you. And, maybe some milk? Then I would feel really great."

The serving woman moves away to comply with that request. The moment her back is turn, Jester drops the act, and the handkerchief. She picks up a muffin and takes a big bite. Chews.

"Oh, man," she says, with her mouth full, "this is really really good. Hey!" She turns to whoever is sitting next to her, and holds out the bitten muffin. "Have you tried the muffins yet? They are amazing!"

iii- other.

[ Hey write me something else or I can write you something else too, thanks!!! ]

I

[gatheringstorm]

As though the battlefield wasn't chaotic enough, a shout in an unknown language resulting in ice definitely gets Korrin's attention. She glances around and spots the fear demon, smirking a little at the ice 'beard' before noting that some terror demons have been drawn to the racket. As the other qunari woman gawks at herself, she blurs forward on waves of magic in order reach her first. Brandishing a staff and currently empty blade hilt, she glares and unleashes a Chain Lightning spell, provoking a chorus of grating shrieks as the terror demons are each struck in turn.

"Stare later! Can you keep doing that ice thing?"

Poe Dameron | Star Wars

[gotyourselfapilot]

I. Arrival

The dream had been pleasant, a dream about home on Yavin 4. The one planet the Resistance could go to, but also dangerous since he didn't want to endanger the only home he knew. The First Order may not be able to do much but to invade it. They would struggle against any attack but at least there would be bases, probably a temple. Most of all in his backyard a uneti tree. In Poe's dream he's upon a branch over looking the back of the ranch and the Koyo grove before he wasn't there any longer.

There's nothing but pain suddenly as he slowly stirs. Hitting the cobblestone wasn't exactly pleasant and there's a groan as he slowly wakes up. Poe is confused by the scenery at first, the armored people along the top of the wall seemed scared about something. He turns his attention to the spindly thing with six spidery limbs. Just as he's about to get up to move a big curvy branch lands right on top of him, pinning him back to the ground. The branch itself is on top of his chest leaving his legs free. Why? It must have been the uneti branch he had been sitting on. A piece of the Force tree that Luke Skywalker had given his mother. How did it end up here? How did he end up here?

"This isn't ideal." He mutters out loud while looking for the demon again. He knows it can't be that heavy to push off but at the same time the wind got knocked out of him for the second time. There's another movement from his peripheral version. It had a squid looking face. Poe sighs a little at his fate but he'll find a way out this. The only thing he could do right now is push at the branch that's on top of him though. Want to lend a guy a hand maybe?

II. Aftermath

His life wasn't exactly easy. Every time he thought he finally had a moment of down time there was always something to get to next. Poe felt out of his element when there was indeed downtime after the fight of the monsters and dealing with the branch. He wanted to figure out this planet too, what did it mean by coming here? The rift was really strange to him. To be truthful, everything was different for him. He's dealt with many creatures and species before so he isn't too surprised by them. He's more curious than anything to want to learn about them. How they came to this town? If they were natives.

Poe would partake in a meal and a drink since he couldn't tell when the last time it was he had sat down to eat. The Millennium Falcon would have very little resources and then coming here he hadn't noticed how hungry he had been. The demons too were strange and he would need learn how the weapons were here too. All metal, wood... he was pretty sure he hadn't seen anything flying or something familiar.

There's a calmness to him though after the fight as he slowly drinks from the mug not wanting anything go to waste. It didn't taste bad. If someone is nearby he will lean over and ask. "Where are we exactly? And where are we heading toward next?"

III. Wildcard

[ Want to write a different scenario? Go for it! I'll go along. ]

ii

[summerfae]

The current situation may be one hell of a clusterfuck of awful, but surrounding yourself with pretty things always helps. Poe isn't her favorite poster of a purple galaxy, but he's close enough that she slides into a chair near him. As he speaks, she eyes him over the rim of her own mug of...whatever this was. Alcohol, probably. Edible? The jury was still out.

She, of course, has no actual answers for him. But that's not going to stop her from answering anyway.

"The best I can figure it, we've been kidnapped by a marauding band of LARPers and we're heading to their secret base in their mom's basement." A pause, and she opens her purse, withdrawing a cooked noodle out of it. They may be weird dream noodles, but they were her weird dream noodles. Chewing on one thoughtfully, she offers him a shrug. "They're all wearing that weird eyeball symbol. A cult? They did save us from those demons, though. So a nice cult. A nice cult of kidnapping LARPers."

Nailed it.

Tessa MacKenzie | Original Character

[zombra]

{ i. the rift }
Tessa dreams of dying. Ever since this all began and panic started to spread, she's dreamt of zombies tearing her limb from limb. And this dream is no different. She has her backpack, she has the gun Mike gave her, and she's looking for an escape before the zombies overrun their position. Only... Mike isn't here. And this looks like a village out of that HBO show with all the sex and violence. Game of Swords or something? And those definitely don't look like any zombies Tessa's ever seen before. Oh God, have they started mutating? Is that one floating? What the fuck?

And then a weird thought enters her head. She's on the roof of a hospital, waiting for evac as zombies tear through the place. She's drugged up to her eyeballs because they wouldn't tell her where Mike was and she thought he was dead, and she wasn't going to just put up with that shit so... how is she here? What is this pain in her hand? The palm of her hand. They had all the tubes and shit in the back of her hand, didn't they?

All these thoughts only last a second, because then one of the squid faced tree things starts screeching and she feels like her eardrums are going to pop. She checks her M16 to make sure it's ready to fire, then unloads into the fucked up creature. It screeches and jerks from the impact of the bullets, before it disappears down into the ground and Tessa stops firing.

"Dude! What is going on?"


{ ii. afterwards }
Once the fade rift is closed, Tessa finds a spot to sit with her backpack in her lap, sorting through her things to make sure it's all there. Suddenly she stops, lifting up a man's wristwatch. She stares at it a long moment, then her head jerks up and she surveys the city around her, searching faces. They don't seem to be who she's looking for, however, so the watch is put back and the backpack zippered shut. She takes to examining her hand and the light emitting from under her palm. Then she turns her hand over, frowning and running fingers over her smooth skin.

"I'd like to wake up now," she mutters aloud.

II

[gatheringstorm]

One of those faces is definitely not familiar, belonging to a very tall horned woman clad in armor. Since the battle is over, her staff is on her back and spirit blade hilt at her hip, empty. She's pacing around, checking the damage done and helping any wounded over to the healers. Once she gets a moment, less urgent concerns can be dealt with.

So it happens that she spots an unfamiliar woman inspecting her glowing hand. Must be a new rifter that she'd overlooked in the heat of battle, but she can make time for her now. Plopping down nearby because Andraste's ass does she need to get off her feet, Korrin glances over.

"That ache ought to go away after a while. The healers might have some painkillers, but if you want something else...." She draws out a flask. "It's just ale, nothing fancy."

Obi-Wan Kenobi | Star Wars

[hello_there]

i. It Begins
Obi-Wan hit the cobbles with a sensation that was disturbingly, painfully real. It was disorienting in the extreme, and no logic but that which dreams usually accompanied would explain how he had come to be here. How often did it go-- I was one place, emotionally charged, deeply involved, and then suddenly, with no reason or explanation, I was in another?

He had been back there, with the brimstone blazing all around him and-- and now, he was here. Wherever here was.

And then, the screaming.

He reacted without thinking, without needing to think, rolling to one side as the Force cried out a subtle warning and the claw of a-- he knew what it was, suddenly. A Demon. Fear demon. But how could he know that? How could he remember an such... No time for that! Obi-Wan backed away, fumbling at his belt through pure instinct; a useless gesture, the loop for his lightsaber hung empty. He kept his eyes on the demon as it advanced, vicious and aggressive, and all around him others were pulling themselves to their feet while civilians scattered and screamed.

Something pierced his left hand, bright and painful as a blaster-bolt and he spared it a glance. Someone shouted from the sidelines and he looked there-- saw the eye emblazoned in steel and leather. And he remembered. The Inquisition. Thranduil. Cassandra. Rey. Obi-wan knew then what he-- what they had to do.

"Push them back!" He called out, in his best parade-ground shout, as that certainty lit in him like a fuse. The whole world was confusion and horror, and the last months of his life had been as bleak as any darkness could be, but for once in all that blackness, he knew exactly what to do, "When the demons are dead, we can close it together! Fight!"

Then he flung out a hand, and the fear demon went with it, thrown back as if crushed by an enormous weight. So it begins.


ii. Crescendo
Closing a rift was much, much more painful than he had remembered. It started at a well-bearable tenor, an ache like cold in the bones of his hand, but the vibration rose and rose. Rapidly, it went from a rumble to a scream that transmitted along his wrist and arm until pain outlined every joint and bone. It gave Obi-Wan a brief hyper-awareness of the structure of his body, as if his proprioception had been lit from behind by that blazing green. And then, almost as bad, was the climax, a crescendo that burst and left them all dazzled and silent.

For the moment, that's all there was. Breathing, the fall of rubble, and the quiet that comes in the momentary wake of any explosion. Obi-Wan straightened, smoothed down his robe, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Well," Obi-Wan said into that waiting spotlight, "That was... certainly exciting."

Awful. The word he meant is "awful."


iii. Coda
Let it never be said that Obi-Wan Kenobi turned down a drink. In fact, let it not be said now, in particular. He feels he's earned a drink just by virtue of showing.

"Thank you," He tells whoever's just handed it to him, with significant gratitude, and then drinks deeply. It's awful, of course, but then that still makes it light-years better than Tattooine's best, "I suppose we'll be on our way to Skyhold, if this is anything like the last time."

i. ↠ ii.

[castintoflames]

He moved like a relentless flame, cutting through the demons as if there was no end to his stamina. Maedhros was a towering figure and his bright copper hair was bound into a long braid that swayed in tandem with him. He showed no fear and his sword caught the light nearly as much as his hair. Then again, Elvenkind radiated their own light. They were pure creations of Eru, though this Elf in particular had sold his purity for jewels long ago.

And perished for it.

But he was alive and as long as he breathed, he would do what he could for this land. The Rifters in particular. He knew how they felt and he would not leave them to fight alone.

"Well done!" he praised Obi-Wan, giving him a brief, bright smile, "We will see it closed!"

Because there was no other choice. It was too late to run and being overrun was a entirely unpleasant possibility. Once the moment arrived at last to see the deed done, Maedhros sought out the Man and extended his hand, calling forth the strange power they had been given. The pain wasn't new to him and he held his ground, sword lowered at his side.

"We're alive. Blessings mustn't be ignored." he glanced at his companion, "If you are injured, I can patch you up."

Willem Bassey | Original Character

[wolfslayer]

aaaaaaaaaaaa;;

[he opens his eyes to green light. the smell of fresh grass is familiar. he doesn't immediately feel himself assaulted in his senses by a violent hangover, but that honestly is his first assumption, as he searches his memory for recollection of who he might have been drinking with. second, he reaches blindly for his belt, to reassure himself his money pouch is there— only for the ache to seize up in his fingers, and a distinct realization that all is not well rear him into sitting up.

monsters. he stares at them for a moment. probably, the second thing he should've grabbed is the fearsome-looking sword strapped to his back. but instead, he abruptly pops up to his feet, boots on. and starts

running.

either he trips over you, which case you'll receive abundant apologies in a moment. or maybe you're the one who steps in, placing yourself between the panicky warlock and the hideous monster pursuing him. in which case, he'll start to slow, as he chances a glance backward. oh. oh. it's different, you know, when you're not alone.]

---

afterwards;

[a drink. he takes the drink. he actually takes more than one, after sort of sheepishly pretending that he hadn't actually had one before, from a nice older woman who decides that he's still a bit pale under the normal shade of his skin. (it's true.) (he's not white person pale, but he's paler than normal!!) and so, he's a little past tipsy as he watches the kirkwall-bound boats load up. his head turns at you automatically, the big round fluff of his afro nudging past the post he's leaning on.]

Never sailed before, [he says.] Any idea what I should expect?

I.

[somethingwild]

Newt has to give Thedas credit: it does possess quite the variety of monsters. And quite a number of them, as well, it would seem, if judging by the sheer amount of them he's faced so far at this particular rift. The smell of the sea breeze seems particularly cruel in contrast to the violence and chaos currently unfolding in the city; a hint of the beauty of nature among all this bloodshed.

He's balancing using his magic with care and trying to help close the rift with the shard in his hand all at once, a precarious sort of dance. He shifts his focus when he catches a young man running from one of the demons out of the corners of his eyes, turning and aiming a stunning spell at the demon. When it doesn't work, he throws himself between the demon and the young man.

"I've got it, if you need to get away," he shouts back, risking another spell at the creature. This one actually lands, and lands true, but it doesn't entirely stop the demon the way he'd hoped it would.