RIFTER ARRIVAL: Justinian 9:44

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & their rescuers.
WHAT: Welcome to Thedas.
WHEN: Justinian 12, 9:44
WHERE: East of the Hundred Pillars and Perivantium.
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 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, hanging suspended in the air, is a shifting, crystalline tear in reality. It's the same color as the mark on your hand.

Beyond it, the sky is a clear and black, with stars that won't show until the rift's blinding light has been extinguished but two moons visible now. One hangs above you, beyond the rift. Another is lower in the sky, cut by the jagged line of mountains on the distant horizon. There's nothing in between to obscure the view or to block the steady, warm wind from the east, which isn't howling or whistling over the flat expanse of land so much as gently humming. Not gentle: the ground beneath you, which is more rock than sand. Further to the east there are dunes; here, the land has been stripped by the wind. It is nonetheless indisputably desert, with low, shrubby foliage and the earth beneath the rocks cracked and sun-baked.

But this isn't really the time for sightseeing.

You aren't alone here. There are other people on the ground around you—humans, or at least humanoid—with matching green marks, and an assortment of junk that might be familiar or might be very much not. Beyond them, forming a crescent ring around one edge of the rift's light, are a dozen wraiths, each capable of shifting between elements and hurling blasts of damaging magic. There's also a swarm of large buglike creatures determined to eat your teeth and three ghouls in suits chasing one rifter in particular.

All of these things would probably like to kill you. But you're not alone. In the dark beyond the rift's light, a group of armed and armored people swiftly descend on the scene. Many are wearing a symbol that looks a bit like a hairy eyeball being pierced 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, it's only a short hike to an Inquisition camp in the greenery where the landscape begins its shift into plains, where everyone can patch up any wounds, have something to eat, and ask what in the void is going on here. But don't wander off. In the dark beyond the campfires there are other hazards: prowling wildlife, scavenging bands of darkspawn, unfamiliar lands and no map to guide you if you don't already know where you're going.

Comments

[the_cleric]

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh..."

It's not that she's not listening. Man, is she ever listening. How is she not going to listen to a raven talking to her? It is pretty much the coolest thing that has happened to her today. So that definitely proves that she, Jester, is one of the smart ones. Even if she isn't human.

She pulls the end of one of the ribbons so she can look at it. It is one of the pretty blue ones, that looks like shallow water.

"Okay okay, so do you like blue? I think I have some pink ones too, but this one is really pretty. And I think it would look great with your feathers."

[notacrow]

Myira tilts her head to one side, then the other as she examines the ribbon. That is a pretty good ribbon, all things considered. And this strange girl seems really nice! Her head bobs in a brief sort-of-nod.

"Ayuh. I like that one. It's a good color!" Myira proffers her neck for ribboning. She's gonna look great.

[the_cleric]

"Awesome!"

Pleased, Jester twists, so she can get the ribbon around that cute raven neck. She's careful in the way she tugs it tight--not too tight--and works at a bow. It's hard, because she's basically working one-handed, because the hand that is at the end of the arm that is under the shoulder where the raven is sitting, so she basically can only use that hand to hold the ribbon still, while her other hand does all of the looping and stuff. But she'll get it looking okay!

"So-o, what is your na-ame? My name is Jester. And I am a rifter, too, but I have been here for a little while."

[notacrow]

Even if the bow comes out a little lopsided, Myira doesn't seem to mind. She's downright please, honestly. Getting fancy things and praise is all great as far as she's concerned. She puffs up a little and looks important.

"Oh, I'm Myira! Nice t'meetcha Jester. I suppose that makes me a Rifter, too?"

[the_cleric]

"Yep yep yep," Jester confirms, with a nod. "It is kind of exclusive, you know? Like a club."

But not a lot of perks. But some perks!

"And nice to meet you too, Myira! Heyyy, so do your feathers cover up your shard? It's the green thing. It kind of looks like a rock, but it's actually magic--mine is in my bellybutton. I would show you but it is a pain in the ass to untuck this shirt while I am walking. And I do not walk to knock you off! Even if you could fly, and catch yourself."

[notacrow]

"Oh boy. Ain't a club what you use to hit people, though?" Human language still escapes her sometimes. Forgive her, Jester. Myira stretches her wings out and blinks as she catches the glimmer of of green, almost like a gem.

"Oh. There it is. I dunno where it is on my human form though..." She tilts her head.

"An' yeah don't knock me off. I'm comfy!"

[the_cleric]

"Don't worry," Jester says, with great confidence, "I will be very careful with you. And yeah, that is sometimes what a club means, but only when you are talking about weapons. A weapon club is like, a tree branch, kind of? For hitting people with. But a club can also mean a group. A bunch of people who like the same things or who are the same things, or whatever. So for us, we are a club who are all Rifters, and have li-ttle shards of stuff in us, somewhere. Ravens don't have clubs, huh? Not even ravens that have human forms?"

Neither the human form thing nor the fact that ravens don't have clubs are really surprising information. It's just weird.

[notacrow]

"Oh. Is a club like a flock, then? That makes sense, I guess. I didn't know that the word two different things. That's pretty interestin' actually. I guess we're all in the same flock now, huh?" Myira seems content with this information.

[the_cleric]

"Hey--yeah! I guess it is like a flock." Aww, that's cute. Jester smiles, charmed by the idea. "I'm totally going to draw a picture of that, okay. That's what I am drawing tonight. Which is a big deal, man! Because I saw a lot of weird shit today."

[notacrow]

Myira puffs up a little and looks smug. You know, if birds can look smug anyway. She inspired something! Her! She's great!

"Oooh. You gotta promise to show me. I seen some drawings before and they were really neat lookin'."

[the_cleric]

"Oh, yeah, I'll show you! It will be a picture for the Traveler, but you can see it, that would be okay." Probably okay. It's not like the Traveler has ever gotten mad at Jester before. And she doesn't want him too either. But he's not a jealous weirdo. He would be totally, totally okay with it, probably. And just in case-- "And I could make a picture of just you, if you wanted. Then you could hang it up in your room and look at it all the time. The rooms that we have at the Gallows are okay, you know, but they are not painted and they don't have any wallpaper or anything like that, so you will pro-bably want a picture."

[notacrow]

"Who's the Traveler?" Myira isn't quite sure what this means. Is this someone at the Gallows? Well if it's for them, she's not one to argue.

"Oh? You would? Really?" Myira seems absurdly excited by this idea and begins to hop a little side to side on Jester's shoulder.

"Can you draw me as a raven AND in my human skin? Huh?"

[the_cleric]

"The Traveler is basically the coolest," Jester says, with matter-of-fact authority. "He is a god. And he is really really handsome and has a great sense of humor, like he is so funny. And he is smart too. He has taught me very very much so far. I draw pictures of stuff that I see for him, in my drawing book. Pretty much I do that every night. And yeah, I could totally draw you in any skin you want!"

Totally! She squints over at Myira on her shoulder, trying to imagine her as a human.

"How do you change into skin? Is it like, a spell?"

[notacrow]

"I mean he sounds alright I guess but the Skies is, well, the Skies! They're everywhere! Forever! So the Traveler sounds nice but I like the Skies better, still." Myira tilts her head for a moment.

"Ayuh. It's magic my grandmothers taught me."