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

[the_cleric]

"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."

[circleprodigy]

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."

[the_cleric]

"Ooo-oooh!" Jester's enchanted glissando carries that exclamation up into an excited pitch. She takes the napkin from Inessa and wipes her hand on it, without breaking eye contact. "What is the scouting division? Is that your job? You scout for things? What do you scout for? Ahhh, no wonder you have a dog. He is very useful for scouting, I bet!"

[circleprodigy]

Inessa chuckles as Garahel barks in agreement, though she shakes her head. "No, I'm a part of the Research division; namely, laboratory work and long hours at the library. There are four divisions in the Inquisition; Research, Scouting, Diplomacy, and Forces. Forces is basically for those who assist on the field of battle, while Diplomacy involves visits to our countries or entertaining dignitaries here, and Scouting involves reconnaissance, surveillance, cryptography and the like. Most people belong to a division, but it's not required."