faderift | Cloudreach 9:44 Rifter Arrival

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Cloudreach 9:44 Rifter Arrival

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.

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That enthusiastic greeting makes Garahel instantly happy, and a small smile curves his mistress' lips. Anyone who has a soft spot for canines is someone worth her time. As Garahel quickly inhales the treat, she nods to the first question and the offer.

"I might as well have something to go with tea; thank you. I'm Inessa and yes, he's my mabari. They're the smartest breed in all of Thedas, and he has been my companion since a pup. Thank you for indulging him, though I shouldn't allow much more than that. I have to watch his intake, or he'll make himself ill."

"Aww, but he is such a cute puppy. If he got sick, I'm sure someone would heal him."

Jester sure would. She giggles as Garahel eats the muffin out of her hand. No flinching, though she does pull a face that is half grossed and half pleased. Eww, but a fun eww.

And--before she gets the muffin for Inessa--Jester leans in close so she can take Garahel's face in her hands and moosh it up a little, the universal this-dog-is-so-friggin'-cute-I-can't-help-myself move. "Don't worry," she whispers to him, "I'll give you treats."

No matter what. She air kisses him, mwah, mwah, and then she lets go to get that muffin for Inessa at last. Priorities, man.

"I'm Jester. And I'm totally, totally new here. I fell asleep in Zadash and woke up here. It is crazy, man." And not entirely welcome. But far be it from Jester to complain. "I had to fight these monsters with squid heads and I was practically in my pajamas!"

Garahel grunts happily at the treat and affection, wagging that tail excitedly and giving Jester a few licks of appreciation. Noting that, Inessa quietly slips over a handkerchief if Jester wants to wipe herself, taking the muffin in exchange. She nods, not recognizing the name of the town mentioned but at the 'squid heads'.

"Ah, the fear demons. They can be difficult opponents--thank you--but I'm glad to see you unharmed. It's a common thread we've noticed, that rifters -those from beyond- arrive while sleeping, which must make a sudden arrival even more difficult to deal with. The Inquisition does its best to track down those rifts, so that they might provide aid as quickly as possible. Still, it must be quite a shock."

And then she pauses and peers up, curious. "There are qunari from other worlds? We had not thought them native to anywhere but Thedas."

"Ohh, you know the squid heads." That's something to think about: that she'll be facing down more of those monsters, maybe even soon. Jester crumbles off part of a muffin with her thumb as she thinks about it. "Well, it was a little shocking. Just because I was planning to eat a really good breakfast when I woke up."

That's something she'll have to think more about. Well--not the breakfast. Well--a little bit of the breakfast. But also, Nott and Fjord and Beau and Molly and Frumpkin and Caleb and sometimes Zahra. Where are they now? Did they fall into a different monster camp? Are they all waking up wondering, oh no, where is Jester? We are so worried about her!

Jester sniffs, once. A little sad. Then she pops the muffin crumbs into her mouth.

"They weren't that bad to fight. They ended up dying pre-tty easy. And one of them did scratch my arm, but I totally just Cured Wounds'ed myself, so don't even worry about it. Oh--but I wasn't a qunari before. I'm a tiefling! This is just, like, a disguise. But I didn't pick it, or else I'd have made sure my skin was all pretty and blue still."

That sniffling attracts a soft whine from Garahel, who brushes his bulk against Jester's legs as he tries to give some comfort. The nice lady shouldn't be sad! Less apt to nuzzle someone she's just met, Inessa hangs back but her gaze is sympathetic.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jester. It seems quite unfair that some change significantly when they cross over, while others do not. I hesitate to say that there's an intelligence behind it, but from my understanding, it seems those who belong to races we lack are 'translated' into one of our own. A disguise is apt, and useful; not all understand that those emerging from the rifts are not demons, and they are less likely to panic at the sight of a qunari than a woman with blue skin." Not that 'less' means they won't, but that's a subject that can wait when Jester's obviously overwhelmed. "Blue skin sounds quite striking. It's a shame that we can't see it."

Jester scritches her fingers behind Garahel's ears, or whatever part of him is closest. It does make her feel a little better.

"I guess that makes sense," she says, slowly. "I mean, I could have just been a qunari with blue skin. But maybe that would be weirder."

And maybe Nott and Fjord and Beau and Molly and Frumpkin and Caleb and maybe even Zahra will be here too, somewhere else. Maybe there were other rifts that they fell through. Maybe Nott will be really tall. It's already a picture that Jester wants to draw. Which, speaking of--she gasps, excitedly, and grabs for the pink haversack that is on the bench beside her.

"Hey! I could show you a picture of what I look like. If you want to see. You want to see," she says, with confidence. "I am very good at drawing."

Garahel rumbles comfortingly, but steps back when Jester needs to reach the haversack. Inessa's gaze is drawn to it as well and she nods encouragingly; her curiosity would demand no less and besides, those drawings seem to be a source of comfort. Why not?

"Of course I wish to see. Please, go ahead and show us whatever you like. Garahel, don't get in the way."

"O-kay!"

Jester pulls out her sketchbook and flips it open. The pages are very full, taken up with sketches and drawings and paragraphs of handwritten notes--or, occasionally, just a spare few lines here and there. She has to look around a little for an ideal page, but finds it in no time at all: a picture she made of herself, sitting on the big comfy bed in the Pillow Trove. Blue skin, cute face, freckles, pretty horns, a pretty dress not unlike the one she's wearing right now, but smaller, of course.

"Here!" She turns the book around so Inessa can see it--and Garahel too, in case he wants to get a look. "That is what I really look like. Ahh, I will miss that dress, too."

Inessa smiles as she takes in the details, stroking Garahel's head as he perks up to have a look as well. Jester's consideration and the picture itself get a happy tail-wag from the mabari. "Very nice.

...you know, we might be able to find or replicate that dress. Items from beyond seem to arrive more often than rifters themselves, so it's quite possible that we have something from your world back in the Kirkwall markets. I believe a vendor has taken it upon himself to specifically sell rift items, though I hope you can find it before then." She hasn't checked, but Inessa would be amazed if said vendor wasn't severely inflating his prices.

"Thank you," Jester says, in a sing-song. She turns the book back around to look at the picture for herself. Boy, is it weird to look down at a picture of herself and know that it is not what everyone else is seeing. Like wearing her fancy lady disguise in Zadash, or putting on makeup and a hat, or playing make-believe, but for always, and it lasts for no matter how long she waits.

But the promise of a new dress is pretty cool. Well--a new-old dress. New for here. Jester looks up, already smiling at the suggestion.

"Really? That would be amazing. But I could also just get a different dress. It doesn't have to be exactly the same. Especially if the guy has a prettier dress for me. Heyyy, wait--items can come through rifts, too? What kind of things?" What would she want from Nicodranas? "Do demons come with them? Hey, could my horse come through the rift? Is a horse an item?"

Her brow furrows for a moment, then she nods. "For this purpose, I believe I horse would count. I remember one rifter whose pony arrived, and yet another with...an elk, I believe? I can't guarantee it, but it could indeed happen, yes."

Garahel barks at that, eager to make more friends. Horses can be friends, too, right? "For pretty dresses, you could try the market in Hightown, when we return to Kirkwall. The residents tend not to care for anyone that isn't human and noble roaming their neighborhood, but the market is right where you come up from Lowtown. So as long as you remain there, or are with someone who seems to belong there, you should have no trouble."

"Oh, really?" Jester can't help it. She starts snickering. First she tries to hide it behind her hand, but the laughter is clear in her eyes, and then she's snickering louder, and then she starts giggling outright. "Well, that would be very cool. Because, I don't have a horse. I would be playing a trick on the rift. It would look so stupid, bringing me a horse that wasn't mine!"

If the rift can be tricked that easily, maybe she should ask for other things, too. But not puppies, she decides, as she crumbles off more of her muffin and holds out her hand to Garahel. She does not want him to feel sad or jealous.

"If I have money to spend at the market, why would they want me to leave? Don't they want money?"

Inessa just shakes her head and smirks, as Garahel happily inhales more muffin. "You can certainly try, but there's no guarantee of whether anything will emerge from the rifts but more demons. But if there's no one else to claim it...well, who's to say you weren't meant to have it?"

She takes another bite of muffin, but holds onto her manners and doesn't speak with her mouth full. "The merchants always want your money, yes. With them, you'll have no issue. It's one you leave their particular area for the residential section, that you might encounter issues with the guards. The nobles like to keep their neighborhoods free of 'riff-raff' and that means us." Garahel grunts dismissively, not thinking much of anyone who wouldn't like his best friends.

Jester's eyes sparkle with barely-contained glee. She covers her mouth again, even though there's no need to hide her smirk from Inessa. "Ooooh, gossssssh--" Loot. "Yes, you are right: maybe everything that falls out of the rift is all mine. That is a very good point." You better believe Jester is going to be at every rift she can find, looking for cool treasures and horses.

Especially if people are going to be actively rebuffing her efforts to spend honest money on stuff at markets. That hint at potential future discrimination makes Jester frown, just a little.

"You mean rich people? Maybe at first, because my dress is a little bit dirty after fighting. But, once I buy a brand new fancy dress, then they will hardly notice me. I am very good at looking fancy. You can't tell now, maybe, because of the fight. You should try it, too!"

Jester's glee is met with an amused gleam from Inessa's own eyes, and a twitch of her lips. She probably shouldn't be encouraging this, but the predatory merchants who have been snagging the bounty of the rifts irritate her more than this cheerful, strange 'qunari' woman. If she wants a horse and a pretty dress, well, why not claim them?

The rest has the elven woman shaking her head, a wistful smile on her lips. If only it were that simple. "My clothing won't matter to them, only the shape of my ears. Elves are second-class citizens just about everywhere, and certainly never nobles. At absolute best they would view me as a servant, not a peer. You might have it easier; it's true that Qunari are viewed as heretical invaders as a whole, but your size means they'll be less likely to pick a fight with you and more likely to want a bodyguard." Welcome to the hotbed of prejudice that is Thedas, Jester.

Jester leans to the side a little, to get a better look at Inessa's ears. "Aww. But they're shaped so prettily!" In case she needs actualization. But it isn't a lie: they are. "What is wrong with elves? I have met a lot of very nice elves. Well, not a lot. But I have met some. And some of them are even rich. Plus, anyone can be a servant, you know? So this is all pre-tty stupid."

One tiefling's opinion. Well--quanari's opinion, anyways. Jester crumbles off a bit more of her muffin to feed to Garahel as she sifts through all of this information. Heretical invaders gets a frown out of her.

"I'm very religious," she tells Inessa. "I am a cleric. So I probably can't be really heretical. Man, this is dumb. Oh, wait--if people are going to be scared of me, because I am so big and strong--then we can go to the fancy market together, and I can be your bodyguard."

That gets a warm, surprised smile from Inessa before she can think to comment about anything else. Were it from a human, she might find such words condescending...but Jester isn't human, and she seems almost painfully sincere on all fronts. It's endearing, despite Inessa's own tendency to play her cards closer to her chest.

"I...thank you. Garahel is almost always at my side, and he tends to be a deterrent to some, but your company is welcome regardless." Garahel barks in agreement, wagging his tail. He likes this new person who feeds him muffins.

"Elves once had their own society, long ago. Humans invaded from the north and made them slaves. They rebelled, but long story short, never really regained equal status. Religion can be a rather touchy subject with some, especially the Dalish. They're the elves with tattoos on their faces, and worship the old elven gods, despite the Chantry trying to convert them. City elves are Andrastian, so we have no facial markings and live in city alienages rather than the forests. Those differences will be rather easy to notice, I think."

Then she raises an eyebrow, curious. "Who do you worship, exactly? What does that entail?"

"Yes, I bet he is really scary," Jester agrees, seriously--before she drops her voice into something both cutesier and goonier, as she reaches out to squeeze the sides of Garahel's face, smooshing him back and forth a little. "To people who do not see how cuuuute he is! He is such a good boy!"

It's not that she's not paying attention to the little history lesson Inessa is giving her. She is definitely, sort of, paying attention. She's just also petting Garahel.

"Are alienages the same thing as houses? Did you have a nice alienage when you were little? Mine was pretty nice. Well--it wasn't a house, exactly. But sort of. So it was sort of an alienage too I guess. Oh," wait, Inessa asked her a question about the Traveler, and Jester lets go of Garahel and scoots back, pulling the Traveler's holy symbol for her to see. The path, and the door. "I worship the Traveler. He is a really handsome god. I could show you a picture that I made of him, if you want!"

"Of course now he's a big cuddle-bug." Inessa sighs good-naturedly as Garahel soaks up the affection like a sponge, licking Jester and being a wiggly ball of happiness. Not that she doesn't love it when people love him, but it seems dignity is totally forgotten today. Oh, well. If he's happy, it's better to keep him that way.

"The Traveler? I don't know if there's an equivalent to him here, but I would be interested in seeing your picture and you can tell me more of him."

And because it's rude not to answer questions in turn.... "An alienage is an enclosed neighborhood in a city, where city elves life. Ideally, it's where we preserve our culture, and protect one another. Sometimes it falls short of that, but we do the best we can."

"Ohhhhh," Jester says, as she opens her sketchbook again, "a neighborhood. Okay, then I didn't live in one of those exactly. I lived with my mom. But it sounds really nice!"

She flips back a few pages and turns the sketchbook around again, this time showing off a picture of-- well, it looks like a man, in a green hooded cloak. Beneath the shadow of the cloak's cowl, Jester has marked out two shining green eyes. The figure is surrounded by garlands of pretty flowers and greens, and bursts of confetti.

"This is the Traveler," Jester says, with an air of introduction, as if the Traveler is here to shake hands with Inessa. She beams at the illustration. "He is very, very handsome under his hood. I think he is, anyways. And he has taught me all sorts of good tricks and pranks and cool new things. Do you want a pamphlet? It will tell you everything you need to know."

She pulls a flattened tri-folded parchment from the back of the sketchbook and show that to Inessa next. Pretty much the same drawing of the Traveler is on the front. Some of the bursts of confetti make the abstract shape of something very much like a dick. THE TRAVELER is spelled out in a banner above the image.

There's an awkward pause as Inessa tries to decide how much she should clarify about alienages. On one hand, she doesn't want pity. On the other, if it ought to be explained, it should be done by an actual city elf. She doesn't cherish the thought of what a Chantry sister or mother might say if questioned instead.

But Jester continues before she can truly decide, and Inessa allows herself to be distracted. She leans in to have a look at that picture, of the man in the green hooded cloak. "Well, he definitely has a mysterious and dashing air about him. Those eyes....and yes, please."

As Garahel sniffs at the pamphlet, she smirks briefly at the general shape the confetti takes. "This is certainly very different from the Chantry's approach, that's for certain. They preach about sin and Andraste's sacrifice, and spreading the Chant of Light to all corners of Thedas--no matter the cost. It's followers are many things, good and bad, but tricks and pranks are not a part of their scripture."

"You can keep it," Jester says--as much to Inessa as to Garahel. "It probably smells a little bit like doughnuts, but it is not actually a doughnut. So don't lick it too much, okay, Garahel?"

And to distract him, Jester pinches off another crumble of muffin and holds it out to Garahel, so he can eat out of her hand.

"There are lots of gods like the one you are talking about. Andraste. I think they are very nice, probably, but also, a little boring. The Traveler is a really fun guy and he has helped me out a lot. Like, a lot a lot. So it is the least I can do to tell other people about him, right?"

And also, play some pranks. Naturally.

Garahel responds with an affirmative huff. He'll be good, and a crumble of muffin definitely helps. Hope you like your hand licked by a doggy, Jester. Inessa tucks it away in her satchel, for a more thorough viewing later on. She's not about to ignore Jester while she's here, after all.

"That makes sense, but I would still advise some caution. The Chantry may be leaderless at the moment, but many who are in positions of power are among the faithful. They don't care for mention of other gods, let alone active recruiting. At least one Exalted March -a holy war- was declared in part because the elves were not believers in the Makers and had their own gods. The Dales were overcome, and now there is no nation in Thedas that is at least not technically Andrastian, Rivain probably the least so.

This isn't to say there aren't some who won't listen, especially those already marginalized. Just...be careful."

"Eeeeew," Jester squeals with delighted disgust, as Garahel licks her hand. She is so not protesting. Dogs are so great.

The rest of what Inessa says gets about seventy-five percent of her attention, as she wipes her dog slobber hand on a napkin, careful to twist away from Garahel's sight so he doesn't get offended by her. It's gross, but okay, but also, really sticky. She needs that hand.

"Oh, yeah," she says. Be careful. "Some of the places where I was, before I fell through that stinky rift, were like that too. People kept saying to me, Jester, they will be so mad if they hear you talking about the Traveler! But guess what? I talked all about the Traveler and nothing ever happened to me. And he appeared to me at the Pillow Trove even, and I got to talk to him for a little bit. So, I haven't seen him here," but she waves a hand, dismissively. "It is okay, though. And don't worry. I am super sneaky, if I want to be. But it is very nice of you to tell me all of that! You are a good friend."

Garahel doesn't seem to mind Jester's actions; she's paying attention to him and not shooing him away, so he'll take it. Inessa reaches over to hand another napkin if it's needed, and smiles. What a kind, polite person and so well-adjusted for being so new. Some of it could be shock, but she suspects this 'qunari' to be resilient regardless; a good trait, all things considered.

"That's kind of you to say, Jester. If you need us in general, Garahel and I will attempt to assist. 'Sneakiness' isn't my forte, but I'm certain you'll find many who do have that in common, especially in the Scouting division."

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