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

[hello_there]

Only to be sprawled out in the dirt once again, when Obi-Wan senses his rush, and steps aside-- tripping him. Thrice, he's used that tactic, not to resist, or to even fight back, but to use Kylo's weight and fury against him.

So young, Obi-Wan has to marvel, staring down at the boy, prone with rage. It's grief that makes him desperate then, and he knows it shows in his face.

"You're not going to stop, are you? Not until you realize that there's no winning this, not here, not like this? It's over," And Obi-Wan hears the echo of his own voice. The high ground? Well, he certainly had that now. A terrible calm descends over him.

Obi-Wan lets the lightsaber go, lets everything go, and the calm becomes the trance, true focus, if only for a moment. The Lightsaber disassembles itself right there, floating between them. For a moment, the kyber crystal hangs naked in an exploded diagram made real, winking red in the sunlight. And then the pieces drop, a quietly tinkling rain into Obi-Wan's outstretched hands, crrystal and all. He tips them into a pouch, on his belt.

"Let go," He tells the boy, and doesn't bother to hide the grief. What for? He's not even speaking to Kylo, anymore, "Your anger serves no one. Not even you."

Obi-Wan walks away.

[letoldthingsdie]

He barely manages to scramble to his knees before he watches, with horror, as Obi-wan completely dismantles his lightsaber. The weapon that had been with him for so long, his protector when Luke had tried to kill him, when he'd fought Snoke's guards with Rey at his side.

All he can do is sit on his knees in shock as Obi-wan drops the pieces in a satchel on his belt. It's his words that break through to him the most, sounding so much like the last words his uncle had spoken to him.

Strike me down in anger and I'll always be with you, just like your father.

For a moment the anger he feels is almost feral and he lets out another angry cry while remaining where he is. His gloved hands tear through his hair, abusing himself more than anything else. He'd not only just lost to one of the most revered Jedi in history but had lost his weapon all over again. The lesson Snoke had taught him was still holding true: He was too weak, easily bested as his emotions got the better of him.

Despite the lump in his throat, he decides to follow the Inquisition forces that have begun to gather some feet ahead, ready to return to Kirkwall.