faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2022-11-29 07:54 pm

MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

WHO: Everyone (more or less)
WHAT: Rifter Show & Tell & Steal.
WHEN: Early Wintermarch 9:49 (forward-dated!)
WHERE: The Crossroads and BEYOND.
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines.



Since Corypheus began opening the Gates, Riftwatch has been noticing pockets of instability in the Crossroads—crumbling platforms, paths newly blocked by rubble or broken bridges, sections where gravity has been shifted and altered in ways unusual even for the Crossroads, with new intrusions of green-tinged rock outcroppings or corners of temple walls. The barriers between the Crossroads, the Fade, and the world are thinning. It's a problem.

But more recently, Riftwatch has been made aware of an ancient artifact known (now; one hopes this isn't its original title) as the Sealing Stone, now in pieces scattered throughout the Crossroads, and the approximate locations of those pieces. If brought together and activated, the Stone may stabilize the barrier between the Crossroads and the other realms and may provide a model Riftwatch could use to reinforce the Veil elsewhere.

So Riftwatch ventures into the Crossroads to retrieve the pieces of the Stone. It's an intensive effort undertaken by large teams, due to the many now-familiar hazards of the Crossroads, the potential for encountering the Venatori that also use the eluvian network, and the need to cover ground as quickly as possible in hopes of finding the artifacts before the Venatori notice the increased Crossroads activity and come join the hunt.

It's not as simple as merely locating the pieces, however. Whenever a group of Riftwatchers get near enough to one of the artifacts, they're alerted first by the triggering of a sort of protection mechanism. In some cases—specifically, on teams without any rifters—spirits suddenly swarm from the metaphorical woodwork in numbers so great and with such hostility that retreat is the only viable option. The spirits chase the teams only as far as necessary to push them away from the artifact's location, then mass into a circling shoal, guarding the spot until they're left alone long enough to decide the risk has passed.

But for groups containing at least one rifter, something with the mechanism goes wrong. Or right, arguably. Rather than being overwhelmed by spirits, they instead find themselves abruptly engulfed by what appears to be a rift, opening suddenly and rapidly large enough to swallow entire masses of people before contracting again to lie in wait like a carnivorous plant for anyone else who comes too close. Those caught in its radius tumble out into what appears to be a new and unfamiliar world–for most. For one or more of the rifters in each group, it will be perfectly familiar.

The first group to encounter this effect will be one including Tony Stark and Stephen Strange, and will drop them and their compatriots straight into midtown traffic. Any groups attempting to travel to the same spot in the Crossroads to investigate the apparent vanishing—whether they have rifters with them or not—will find themselves drawn through the same "rift" almost as soon as they get within sight of the place, before anything can be discerned about their lost fellows. They will likewise emerge into Stark & Strange's United States.

Subsequent groups including other rifters will be seemingly drawn into their companions' worlds by the same effect. In each, Riftwatch will have to navigate local hazards and retrieve a distinctive lyrium-etched artifact, at which point the world will dissolve around them like a dream and they will find themselves back in the Crossroads where they began, in possession of a carved chunk of stone glowing with lyrium runes.

1 ↠ MCU Earth-199999

Alternate-universe Earth, New York and Los Angeles, 2012-2025, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange.

Earth-199999 is very much like contemporary Earth as we know it, featuring the same historic events, same nations, same conventions. For the average person, there is no difference, except that they know magic and aliens and gods and superpowers are all real and have been causing problems for a while now, with NYC as the hub for most of the shenanigans. MCU Earth has also made leaps and bounds in all science fields as compared to real Earth, although these leaps and bounds are not widely accessible, primarily exclusive to private organisations like Stark Industries, mad scientists, and the likes of SHIELD, but can range from interactive three-dimensional holograms through to biotechnology that turns people into supersoldiers.

It's commonplace to see or hear about criminals causing havoc in the streets with superpowers or gadgets, and crime-fighting vigilantes trying to stop them. The Avengers, as the world's first superheroes, became widely-known commercialised celebrities in-universe with merchandise, documentaries, book deals, and memorial murals to the deceased Iron Man.

Special Abilities: Everyone is nerfed to regular human, unless you want a sudden onset of mutant powers. 1 individual themed ability per character; like pyrokinesis, superspeed, superstrength, etc.

Arrival: One main rift opens in the middle of New York City, ejecting our rifters into midtown traffic… except thanks to Strange’s own multiversal mishaps, people in this world will seem astonishingly accustomed to this sight! Bystanders will be startled, but then the rifters will likely be dogged by strangers snapping photos and videos and tweeting about their arrival.

The Fade-constructed timeline will be a little off: the old Avengers tower and its penthouse is still standing and still accessible to Tony, and Strange will also offer up the Sanctum as a sanctuary, and these will be the main mission hubs while the team gets their bearings and tries to locate the artifact. In the meantime: relax, take in the sights, maybe check out a Broadway show, wrangle your new superpowers.

A secondary rift also opens up on Hollywood Boulevard, in case people want to do some helplessly stranded on Earth RP. Tony can very easily find out this has happened and go collect them, with various degrees of efficiency according to what people want out of that OOCly. As this universe will be available to explore for a few IC weeks, people can assume some degree of Stark-provided financial freedom for basics (i.e. clothes and food, burner phones, etc), and they can stay in the Avengers tower and/or the Sanctum.

2 ↠ Shifterverse

Original alternate-universe Earth, Midwest US, 2022, Jude Adjei.

Real-world 2022, but what if Shifters?

Special Abilities: All superpowers are unfortunately nerfed. However, everyone's a Shifter now. Your choice of animal. Enjoy.

Arrival: Everyone will arrive in Yellowstone National Park, which is wholly staffed and operated by Jude's pack, but... not in an area where tourists are routinely and happily welcomed. Welcome to the deep woods and canyons and plains, where Jude's pack has built their den for some several hundred people. Characters will immediately be found by scouts in fur and feathers, who will be guarded and curious, but not hostile. The wolves and ravens will greet the interlopers as equals, and if they aren't offered any violence, they'll be treated as guests. Hundreds of pack members live in a mixture of hand-built cabin homes and meeting places, portable tiny houses and various shared spaces. There is wifi, a greenhouse, lots of tasty food and warm clothing to wear. If they stay several days and prove themselves trustworthy, they might even start to see children out and about, and there's nothing cuter than a toddler who can become a wolf pup at will. (Mind the raven toddlers and the bear cubs. They're less cute.)

3 ↠ Tassia

D&D Original World, Loxley & Richard Dickerson

Tassia is an original Dungeons&Dragons inspired world, a single continent divided into four nations that is otherwise completely isolated from any other possible world beyond it. These nations are Lloryndell, Sylvica, Ifrin, and Promias, and at its centre lies the Cruxal, a university-city of diverse cultural influence.

While Tassia resembles Thedas in its day-to-day technology levels, including its anachronisms, it is more heavily laden with fantastical elements. Along with humans, elves, and dwarves, there are goblins, dragonborn, tritons, tieflings, sentient robots, bird people, centaurs, and more (https://www.dndbeyond.com/races) (but no qunari). There are many different kinds of magic users who wield their powers openly. There are shops full of magic items, potions, and spell scrolls. There are monsters of countless kinds that lurk just about everywhere. Most cultures in the material plane are polytheistic and worship themed gods from the default D&D (Faerun) Pantheon. Some smaller cults and individuals worship ancient fey, fiendish, and eldritch beings who dwell on the outskirts of their respective planes and may provide power to the exceptionally loyal -- for a price.

Special Abilities: You can choose to be a normal depowered person, but you are equally encouraged to take on magical abilities, whether you're a mage or not. In brief, you can be a wizard, whose magic comes from spellbooks and knowledge, a sorcerer, who have innate magical abilities, a bard, who draws their magic from music, words, and performance, a warlock, who has made a pact with a powerful entity in exchange of magical ability, a druid, who draws their magic from nature, and a cleric, whose divine abilities are gifted to them by a deity. (Other classes have magic too, but it might be easier to pick one of these major ones if you are unfamiliar!)

Rather than overthinking it, we recommend you pick whatever sounds fun to flavour your magic with, and then browse magical spells using classes as a filter. (Eighth and ninth level are off limits, and it may be easier to limit yourself further due to how many spells there are.) Given the temporariness of these powers, don't worry too much about how many spells you get or how frequently you can do them, but know that higher level spells (anything above fifth) can only be cast one or twice a day.

Your character may be Tassia-ised, in terms of their race, but in a limited capacity. All humans will stay human, but elves may adopt D&D traits like seeing in the dark.

Arrival: Rifts will open in the streets of the Cruxal. People will be startled by the sudden appearance of rifters and stand offish, but otherwise: they've seen it all before! No one will be calling the guard on you, unless you decide to start something, so please don't. Or enjoy jail.

The Cruxal is a labyrinthian melting pot built up in concentric rings around a massive central university and library. Goblins scarper among humans, elves, and dwarves in the street. There are tusked half orcs and horned, scale-clad dragonborn mixed in among more familiar silhouettes. This is a university town, but while a large portion of the population are students, academics, and staff, it is also self-sustaining, with taverns, shops, temples, brothels, residences, and marketways.

The university itself is guarded and degrees of entry closely regulated due to the school’s extensive collection of dangerous artifacts -- one of which just so happens to have gone missing last night. News of the theft has been suppressed, but every temple, tavern, and brothel on the outskirts of town is abuzz with the rumor. The entire corridor, they say, was scorched black.

Loxley and Richard won't be too concerned about herding everyone but can provide some coin as needed for inn rooms and food. They appear to have a near bottomless stash, at least as far as living costs go.

4 ↠ Sulleciel

Original fantasy world, Petrana de Cedoux.

What if magic was real and holy emperors still kissed the ring in Rome, until someone beheaded the fucking pope? Welcome to Sulleciel, and specifically to Lamor City, capitol of Lamorre and the seat of the Lamorran empire, ruled over by Empereur Marius IX and his consort, Empress Petrana Solene. A nation and empire in the throes, still, of great upheaval — think Versailles or Orlais, but lurching ungainly out of its dark ages into a theoretically more enlightened time, control of which is being actively fought in the halls of power and at grassroots levels of social influence. Power vacuums abound, thanks to the fall of the church and the rise of a conqueror who is less interested in ruling than he was conquering; women are still the often-illiterate property of their fathers and husbands, but now there are more alternatives to family and marital homes, and dedicated studies of witchcraft are being encouraged, with pilot programs across the empire primarily in those early sanctuary cities, figuring out how this is all going to work. Known for her efforts to lean on the scales in the people's favour Petrana herself is, in this era, rumored to be imprisoned; graffiti of her crowned likeness can be found in some places in the city, with the epithet ""la reine du malheur"".

Special Abilities: In Sulleciel, magic is a skill that may be pursued like any other — and there are those of more or less talent, as if someone were to attempt the violin, or swordplay. It is practised primarily through incantations and foci, with more elaborate spellwork for more ambitious results sometimes requiring particular items or a full coven to achieve. As magic is limited in Sulleciel only by the will, imagination and stamina of those practising it, no one coming here will be subject to any nerfs; all mages and otherwise magical or powered individuals will be able to use their powers as they're used to using them. In addition to this, anyone who is as magical as a chair-leg ordinarily can feel free to have a go at Sulleciel's magic — it's up to you if they have a knack for it or not. Simple spells like casting a light or telekinesis of small objects can be mastered by toddlers; a powerful enough witch or coven might be able to summon a thunderstorm and alter weather patterns, but ""can"" and ""should"" are different and it's generally advised that you try not to do a climate change.
"
Arrival: The rift will open into a spacious, luxuriously-appointed tower on the grounds of the imperial palace but not visibly connected to it above-ground. It was at one point the sole domain of the previous arciduc's personal astronomers, but is now the primary residence and working space of the Queen's Coven. The Queen's Coven is a particular group of women, so named for having been among the first witches to come beneath the new regime's protection in the first city-state to bend the knee where Petrana was first installed as Queen Regent; they are private, secretive, and increasingly cut off from the power-struggles of the imperial court, having been actively distanced from the Empress herself by a variety of other players in the game. Both relatively prepared for sudden magical happenings and inclined to keep shit in the tower on lock, they will be prepared to pass you all off as "foreign witches, seeking our enlightenment" and see both you and the sudden access to Petrana as potentially useful in their maneuverings. Which will make moving around easier, but will probably be an active hindrance to getting where and what you need. An underground tunnel connects the tower directly to the palace, though there are also pleasant, covered pathways to walk across the palace grounds; guards at the main, above-ground entrance to the tower will inquire about movements to and from, and will be skeptical but limit their interference initially ... as long as they don't see Petrana.

5 ↠ Kalvad

Original fantasy world, Wysteria Poppell.

Kalvad—specifically the city of Somerset, the magic capitol of the civilized world—is a mashup of Regency Era and Industrial-Revolution-But-Magic! Nebulously England (with the serial numbers aggressively filed off). When in doubt, default to Jane Austen vibes. But if it seems fun to do some weird magic-powered technological advancements, then go nuts.

Kalvad is an imperial island nation ostensibly ruled by three kings, though they're largely figureheads overseeing an upper and lower parliament. The country has made itself rich and powerful by doing a whole lot of war and colonization. As historically one of the most magically powerful regions in the world, magicians have long been a vital tool in the empire's efforts to do both those things.

Unfortunately for Kalvad, the strength of magic in the world has waned considerably in the last 40 years. Where once Talent was rare but reasonably powerful, magic users are both becoming more commonplace and considerably weaker. Even older magicians and hedge-witches who once might have manufactured considerable arcane feats have seen some diminishing of their powers. A popular, but unproven, theory in academic circles is that those with Talent all draw from the same "well" of magic. As more people are born with the ability to tap into that resource, the less there is to go around. Resentment for those with weaker Talents among older generations of magic users is A Thing.

That said, increased availability of minor magics has kick-started a 'minor magic' powered industrial revolution. Parlor witches who perform small arcane conveniences are growing in number; minor charms and enchantments have become more readily available to lower classes. Meanwhile, the non-magical population is slowly being shunted out of their respective cottage industry jobs and into factories powered by great enchanted machines. The empire as the world knows it is clearly teetering on the brink of major social and political upheaval, both at home and abroad. The consequences of all this change just haven't quite played themselves out yet, though you can bet there are people rushing around in an attempt to cover their asses before they do.

Special Abilities Characters will be nerfed of any abilities they had in Thedas, but can be Talented in Kalvad terms or not. Any Talented character under 40 is likely to be able to produce only minor magics (think lighting fires in fireplaces, being able to heal minor injuries, and temporarily being able to enchant objects to do one specific thing). Anyone over forty can be a little flashier (think appearance altering glamors, temporary invisibility, transfiguration and significant healing). General magic flavor is: Brothers Grimm fairy tales and Arthurian legends, except that someone somewhere made all that weirdly pliable magic adhere to a strict ruleset. Easy, thoughtless channeling of magic is a secret lost long before the arcane powers in the world began to diminish. Now, all magic must be carefully and deliberately designed and constructed. The magicians most accomplished by Kalvadan standards are methodical and patient. Think clockmakers and mathematicians, not wizards on the side of a van.

Arrival: Members of Riftwatch will arrive through a rift and find themselves on the wooded outskirts of a sprawling city. Luckily, no one will witness their initial arrival. Even more convenient: once they've gotten their bearings and made their way into the city, they'll discover they aren't the only weird strangers in town (although they may want to strongly consider indulging in petty theft to make themselves stick out less—particularly as it comes time to infiltrate places). It seems that a sprawling months-long academic conference turned party turned cover for political intrigue and cold warfare has descended upon Somerset.

In the aftermath of what everyone is claiming to be a major military victory somewhere, delegations from a number of implicated countries have converged on the city at the invitation of the Kalvadan Crowns in order to share and demonstrate their various technical and arcane achievements. The World's Fair-like atmosphere has drawn a number of non-Talented tourists, scheming politicians, and cutthroat spies along with the legitimately academically and/or magically inclined.

While Somerset is something of a city of wonders by the world's estimation, it's still first and foremost a dirty and crowded industrial hub in a world that has yet to bother with paving all its major roads. The conference has quadrupled that effect, transforming it into a riot of sights, sound, and (often to its detriment) smells. At this point, finding a room and board in the city has become less a question of where you want to stay and more one of how many other people you're willing to timeshare a bed with.

Luckily, it doesn't seem like Riftwatch will be sticking around long. Some snooping around the of pamphleting/gossip will reveal that the artifact they're after is likely to be found in the grand exhibition hall, and that there will be an opportunity to get their hands on it that evening.

6 ↠ Abeir-Toril

D&D Forgotten Realms, Astarion

The D&D continent of Faerûn is loosely based on Eurasia—if it ran entirely on magic, was roughly stuck somewhere in the 14th century forever, and was filled to the brim with elves, dragons, gnolls, faeries, gods, demi-gods, and just about any myth (or mythological creature) you’ve ever encountered in your life. For the purpose of simplicity, everyone from Riftwatch is going to get plunked down in the titular Baldur’s Gate: the city is massive, it’s known as the jewel of Faerûn, and its cultures, districts, trades and pastimes reflect that remarkable splendor. Still, think of it like Kirkwall in that there are some pretty damn rigid socioeconomic divides separating the city via districts. QUICK GUIDE.

The Upper City is the fancy part of town where nobles (known as Patriar) and their servants live, and it also houses the city’s government and key recreational buildings. There are no bars, pubs, taverns or drinking halls. Anything rowdy happens behind closed doors, and if you don't have an invitation, you'd better look for fun somewhere else. Magical enchantments and lanterns make it beyond stunning at night to stroll through. Lower City is more varied: you’ll find taverns, shops, tons of entertainment and ample trade, as well as pirates by the docks (and their ships), and the harbor waters are absolutely gorgeous for sailing on calm days. Doors are shut and locked during nighttime hours aside from taverns, inns or gambling parlors. Visibility is also lower at night when harbor fog rolls in, particularly where poorer residents can't afford oil, tallow or magic every night. The Undercity stretches deep (and hidden) beneath both the Upper and Lower Cities: it begins at its most shallow within the city as sewers and along seawall cliffs as open-mouthed caves. The deeper you go, the worse it gets: undead catacombs, cultists, temples, blood sport and bloody magic prevail alongside monsters too dangerous to clear out. Outer City sucks. There's almost next to no law or order, and is inherently dangerous to explore. Treat it like Lowtown for the most part, and you'll be pretty smack on (slavers and actual kind impoverished poor included).

CULTURE: Baldur’s Gate is primarily run by humans, and to a lesser extent, elves. Other races aren’t really considered a foothold here, but they’re more than welcome in the city and treated exceptionally well with a few exceptions here and there (ogres, trolls, more ferally inclined goblins, etc). This is not at all like Thedas: someone more familiar with discrimination against non-humans, certain pairings and particularly mages wouldn't find it here. Most of the time if you dress nicely and carry yourself well, you’ll be well respected. Or robbed. Or both!

Special Abilities: Characters will be adjusted to fit D&D, and powers are optional for all. For D&D’s magic/power/race everything, please take a look at some basic classes.

Arrival: Characters will arrive via rifts torn into the Outer City, just along its riverfront sprawl. They won’t be too far from the city gates, but witnesses to the scene will be inclined to gossip and gawk, assuming everything from a freak magical incident to believing the new arrivals are wealthy travelers from somewhere far and exotic, who simply missed their mark in teleporting to the Upper City for sightseeing. Anyone wearing Thedosian clothes will be fine to go without changing— wearing something more modern or say, nothing at all for some reason, will definitely require staging some kind of Terminator II style clothing (theft) acquisition in order to fit in.

Ideally, the team will at least want to make their way into Lowtown in order to begin snooping around, but it’s a big damn city to say the least, and information is expensive. Astarion will help within reason, but being a vampire means that he can only afford to fund so much on his own.

Might be a good idea to do some fetch quests or live your best Adventuring Party life, because you’re all going to likely be here for a (time distorted) relative while.

7 ↠ Orphan Black

Alternate-Universe Earth, 2014; Toronto, Canada; Cosima Neihaus.

Real-world mid-2010s, but secret unethical biology/biotech experiments including viable human cloning in the mid 1980s. Carrying out such technologically advanced work is a combination of international organizations including a private research company, at least one paramilitary organization and a shadowy organization that oversees both. (Orphan Black also features minor differences from our world typical of its genre, such as plot-convenient hacking and variably competent law enforcement, but the cloning project and related scientific offshoots are the most salient differences.) Relevant to this plot in particular, the Dyad Institute is a private organization, considered ""fringe"" by the mainstream scientific community, devoted to research related to human evolution and biotechnology. Some of its many employees had connections to the ""neolutionism"" community, the members of which believed human evolution should be actively shaped by scientific and technological intervention. The organization was responsible for the project that created Cosima and her sisters roughly 30 years before in-world present day. Also at the moment they're jumping to, Cosima works there, it's complicated. (If anyone is familiar with the canon, we're jumping in circa season two.)
A tiny pinboard.

Special Abilities: None, you're all just unpowered humans. Sorry/you're welcome.

Arrival: The group arrives at what turns out to be a nondenominational winter party for a local school; there are some mild shenanigans as Cosima clocks that it's a school attended by children she knows, and more pressingly, partially overseen by their mother, who has Cosima's face. Cosima press gangs one or more other people into helping her hide her own face while negotiating with Alison to borrow her minivan. She shuttles the group to Alison's large suburban Toronto home, which becomes the FR group's base of operation. (It is perhaps telling that while Alison finds this frustrating, she and her husband Donnie do sort of roll with it also.) If desired/depending on how big the group is, Cosima could also stow some Riftwatchers with Felix, the foster brother of one of her other clones, who has a big artsy loft downtown. She is not against taking anyone to her place, but she's a grad student; it's not huge. Everyone who knows how to use a phone or can be trusted to figure it out with a tutorial gets a burner phone for convenience. (Perhaps additionally telling how quickly Alison gets everyone a burner phone. She also decorates the protective cases for them. No, it's not optional.)

8 ↠ The Last of Us

Post-Apocalyptic Earth, Spring 2038, Seattle, Abby Lasterson & Ellie Williams.

This world was ours until 2013, when a worldwide pandemic broke out overnight. A fungus (cordyceps) that had originally infected mainly insects adapted to infect human beings. Anyone bitten by an infected person or who has breathed in a significant or concentrated amount of fungal spores becomes infected themselves. Over a maximum of two days, they utterly lose their humanity and deteriorate into violent monsters, eventually sprouting spores and fungal plates. There is no known cure, and the only human being ever known to be immune is Ellie Williams. 25 or so years later, humanity has crumbled into various factions in a struggle to survive. First came the Federal (FEDRA) response, resulting in Quarantine Zones and martial law. Life in the zones is highly regulated, with work assignments and rations that often aren't enough to go around. Many citizens are forced to turn to crime just to make ends meet. Orphaned children become wards of the state and are trained to become FEDRA soldiers by the time they're sixteen.

Various civilian groups rose up to rebel against FEDRA, forming factions such as the Fireflies (rebels who recruited scientists in an effort to find a cure), and the Washington Liberation Front (a militia-minded organization who overthrew FEDRA in Seattle). There are other smaller groups such as the religious zealots called the Seraphites, or the violent slavers known as the Rattlers.

Few and far between are independent human settlements like Jackson of Wyoming, where small communities have managed to gain self-sufficiency and safety with tireless group effort and highly vigilant defenders. They bolster their numbers by welcoming peaceful outsiders and engaging in trade with travelers.

Living outside of these groups, people are largely on their own, vulnerable to packs of hunters, bandits and even cannibals that prey on anyone brave enough to risk travel.

The infected are an ever-present threat everywhere, and the world is a ruin quickly being reclaimed by nature. (cw: body horror in the link) See board for world aesthetic and depictions of the Infected.

Special Abilities: Everyone is a normal human here. No supernatural powers, no magic, no non-humans.

Arrival: Welcome one of Ellie and Abby's least favorite places: Seattle. The Space Needle is visible in the distance, so despite the advanced state of decay, it's actually recognizable. Except it's been bombed, and rotting, and nature's reclaimed it for the last quarter-century. This adventure won't be for the faint of heart; there are no home bases and no safe space to be had. All clothing, supplies, weaponry and food are things you'll need to find yourself. Everyone can assume they'll get a quick lesson in gun safety and a rundown on various types of infected. Multiple rifts will open, so feel free to appear anywhere in the city (even apart from others) but expect to find no native allies. The city of Seattle is embroiled in civil war between the Seraphites (a religious cult who rejects anything "old world" and scars their faces, called "Scars") and the Washington Liberation Front (a ruthless mercenary coalition, called "Wolves") and both sides will assume you're with the other group and attack on sight. Better pick up a brick.
degenere: (37)

[personal profile] degenere 2022-12-02 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
🕺👢
heirring: (rather clever)

[personal profile] heirring 2022-12-02 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
🎺
heirring: (Default)

wysteria

[personal profile] heirring 2022-12-02 11:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[Misc starters in misc places below. Wildcards and/or ditching brackets also welcome!]
heirring: (responsible and mature individual)

↠ MCU EARTH-199999

[personal profile] heirring 2022-12-02 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
i. hollywood city tour; (one thread, no tag order, ultimate chaos)
[It takes a map printed on a three way folded paper leaflet (acquired for free from a rotating wire rack among printed picture cards—Greetings from California!—and colorful sunglasses) and approximately two minutes of careful observation from a bustling street corner to reach the obvious conclusion: If they've any hope at all of finding their compatriots who fell through the rift before them, they will need to cover a prodigious amount of ground. The best way to achieve that is self evident.

The first attempts to flag one of the horse exempt wagons down prove fruitless (unless one is aiming to be cursed at or ignored), but eventually Wysteria manages to accost one of them as its paused in preparation of rounding a corner. A brief exchange with the startled woman behind the wheel suggests that if they want a ride around the city, then they should try over there—

Which is how Wysteria arrives behind the steering wheel of a brightly colored touring van, the vehicle's engine having helpfully roared to life the moment she set her hand there to steer it by.]


Whatever spirits conjured this place certainly are accommodating.

[Yes, that's absolutely the motivating emotion the driver on his lunch break will experience when he returns to find his van missing.]

ii. cell block tango; (closed to any lady accomplices + tony stark & co)
[The holding cell in the Hollywood Community police station can be crossed in roughly twelve paces. She knows this because one of the women sharing the room has been pacing up and down and up and down and up and down for what feels like the past hour.

Wysteria, quite content to sit on one of the benches built into the wall, is still absently rotating her wrist around. The mark left there by the handcuff remains faintly red, though the discomfort has more or less faded from it and the ankle to which the other side of the cuffs had been clapped once the arresting officer recognized Wysteria's other wrist as imminently removable.

How long has it been since then? Hard to say. There are no windows and no relenting of brilliantly bright overhand lamps by which to measure. Long enough for the plotting of a rescue attempt?

Maybe.]


iii. wildcard
[happy to also do ny stuff/hydra base shenanigans/bespoke starters; throw something at me here, or ping me on plurk/snag me on disco!]
Edited 2022-12-03 00:15 (UTC)
bouchonne: (gosh i dunno)

Byerly

[personal profile] bouchonne 2022-12-03 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ Starters to come! ]
bouchonne: (arch)

general catch-all mingling

[personal profile] bouchonne 2022-12-03 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
A spy is a spy, no matter where he finds himself. And so it is perhaps delightful, or perhaps obnoxious - depending on how you feel about the Ambassador - to find that he acquits himself rather well in each of these new places.

On Earth, in New York, he can be encountered in a coffee shop, sipping on a matcha latte, wearing an unbuttoned blazer over a dark t-shirt - looking like someone who's here to talk to you about crypto.

In Kalvad, he looks like an absolute bounder, mingling with the more opportunistic and disreputable of the scholars gathered there. Grinning, he might catch the eye of someone he knows and invite them into a discussion on magic where he's managed to convince the others he knows what he's talking about even though he doesn't.

Even in the shifters' world, he finds his niche - in this case, as a tiger laying lazily (and alarmingly) in a puddle of sunshine, massive tail twitching contentedly, massive paws curling in the moss.


[ pick a world, any world, and gossip about how weird it is ]
Edited 2022-12-03 00:41 (UTC)
heirring: ([120])

↠ KALVAD

[personal profile] heirring 2022-12-03 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
i. home sweet home; (one thread, closed to whoever gets to it first)
[There is a kind of logic to all of this. The fragment of the Stone is somewhere in this make believe world where they've been deposited and so powerful is the urgency to protect it that the fiction of the world bends to meet it. Guardian spirits become rumor mongers and paper bulletins on notice boards and elaborate weeks long events, and the whole purpose of the disguise—to obfuscate—is spoiled by all the effort that goes into it. Eventually, these pretend places can't seem to help but to give up the location of the fragments Riftwatch is looking for.

So maybe locating the piece of the Stone doesn't actually require dividing the city into sections and exploring, listening to gossip and poking their heads into various cafes and shops and park avenues. But maybe it does, and if that's the case then Wysteria has been quite adamant about covering the search of this particular section of the city.

Why? Who knows. They hardly seem like Wysteria's habitat of choice; even in in the daylight hours, the purpose of particular houses in these barely above cheap neighborhoods are made blatantly obvious by the nature of the gentlemen moving in great festive packs, and the very affable young ladies, and the various visting parties to various definitely-not-bordello doorways. What is clear however is that Wysteria knows this end of the city quite well whether or not she's willing to volunteer this information to her partner (buddy system!).

Given some time spent dodging being trampled by horse-drawn carriages and unruly throngs of tourists both, Wysteria eventually pauses at an intersection to ostensibly to review the pamphleting papering the brick wall there. And also to peer round the corner down the adjoining street.]


Say, [is abrupt, and something of a distinct tenor shift from the ceaseless chatter Wysteria has thus far been deploying in an attempt to distract from their whereabouts.] Perhaps you might wait here for just a moment.

ii. the first college
[For a young lady who ordinarily delights in all manner of parties, Wysteria appears uniquely uncomfortable here amidst the throngs of people congregating about the grounds of Kalvad's First College.

Perhaps it's merely a laser-focused desire to find the artifact they're searching for and hurry along to their next destination—surely the novelty of trotting between these worlds has worn off by now—, but she evidently has no interest at all in the rambunctious dancing happening in the lower gardens where hoards of common folk in their bests coats and frocks are having what would promise to be the grandest time of their lives were they not merely figments of the Fade.

Or in lingering overlong in the various exhibition tents made public. Should a familiar face reveal itself from among the crowds, her relief is instantaneous. She offers to link arms, saying—]
We'll be able to get a closer look at what's on display if we combine our efforts.

[Least of all does Wysteria care to spend more time than is necessary in the upper verandas where the wealthy and titled have congregated in crowds which, despite all their high collars and well appointed lace, parallel the populace of the lower gardens far more plainly than anyone is likely to admit. Yet if causing a distraction is any part of this plan, this is clearly where Wysteria promises to be most effective. For all her efforts to skirt hurriedly along the fringe of the fine party, eager to make her way out of the First College's grand shadow and into the building itself, she's quickly spotted. A few heads turn after her. A distinct ripple of sparking gossip trails in her wake. A trio of girls so young they might fairly be called children gasp and laugh and abruptly turn into a tight whispering knot of curls and frippery.

It's fine. There's a logic to this and it's all just pretend.]


iii. wildcard
[happy to also do be wildcarded or cobble together bespoke starters; throw something at me, or snag me on plurk/disco!]
armd: (pack)

& EXPLANATIONS, open

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-03 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
It's hard to find a place all of them can safely stay the night- even when they find the house, old, crumbling (sporeless), they'll need to sleep in shifts. Abby volunteers to lead the first. Doesn't think she could sleep even if she had to. Thankfully she's used to the tug of exhaustion at the end of raw nerves. Amazing how quick it comes back to you. She tries not to think about how either her or Ellie will need to be on each shift from now until they make it back.

A fire has been established in the old furnace occupying what was a living room. Broken windows, long since boarded up with rotting planks of wood keep the light contained inside.

The stink of plant decay is underneath of everything. The corners of the room are green, wet. Abby is on the floor with her legs crossed, having chosen to give the sagging, damp couch a calculated miss. She is counting out bullets, nice and slow, rolling her index finger over each in turn, and her braid hangs into the empty space as she leans over her work.

"So," she says, swallowing over a dry throat, "You having fun yet?"
altusimperius: (Default)

bitch you live like this??

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-12-03 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
Having made it through their arrival encounter somehow, Benedict sits with a mildewy blanket tugged around his shoulders, his eyes still wide and alert like those of a cat in a brand new room.

"How do you do this," he asks in a hushed voice, rationally afraid to speak too loudly.
armd: (hunh)

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-03 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
For a moment it's safe enough to leave them all in the room now that dusk is starting to hit. Jagged amber light reflects off of broken glass to cast odd patterns on the crumbling walls, and Abby closes a door behind her, clicking shut, because she needs a moment to herself. She needs to let it sink in that she's back, here. In Seattle. Home sweet home.

She hadn't missed it.

Without looking she can tell Ellie is there in the hallway with her. Call it survivor's instinct.

They haven't spoken to each other in months.

"... I had this nightmare for months," she says, voice working over her dry throat. Hadn't missed being thirsty either, or constantly on the look out for food, something to boil down and drink, "And I'm still scared."

In her defense this is the wrong way around. The infected were always bursting through into the Gallows in Abby's dreams, she never brought Riftwatch home. They had the advantage every time, had their magic, shards, swords and shields alike. Tomorrow, she is going to have to teach multiple people how to hold and shoot a revolver. She feels sick to her stomach just thinking about it.
armd: (run and tell that)

:(

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-03 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
"It's either do this or die," Abby answers, toneless. She adds, "Relax," as she starts to slot the bullets back into her pistol just to keep her hands from trembling. "We're on the edge of WLF territory. They don't patrol out here this late, and the Scars don't usually hunt at night."

She is trying so hard not to think about who is resting upstairs, otherwise she might throw up. That's a lot of people to get up and moving at a moment's notice if she hears something go wrong out there.
laruetheday: (i regret nothing. the end.)

[personal profile] laruetheday 2022-12-03 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
This city smells gross. An old, wet smell, like mildewed leaves and rot, and she never really gets used to it. Then sometimes they walk into a building that's been all closed up for years and the smell changes, gets drier. It makes Clarisse think of old bones and the dried out husks of insects.

This gas station is somewhere in the middle, smell-wise.

She's been pretty quiet since they've been here. Not scared quiet, just serious, prepping for something bad to go down. For all her dicking around in the Gallows, Clarisse knows when to shut up and pay attention.

She still spares a smile for Ellie as she reaches up to catch the stuff being thrown in her direction. The smile's a little bit grim, but it's genuine. She stuffs the food into her backpack.

"Thousand year old zebra cakes... gourmet." She stands from her crouching position and looks longingly in the direction of the empty fridge lining the far wall. "Now we just need some Red Bull."
notathreat: (109)

[personal profile] notathreat 2022-12-03 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
Ellie has been trying to figure out a way to speak to Abby alone since they arrived. To speak to her at all, really- if only to create a temporary lift on the no-talking mandate so they can get everyone through this alive.

She has her mouth open and everything, but Abby, just like always, beats her to it.

... and tells her exactly how she feels, like they never stopped talking at all.

For a second, silence reigns. The muffled voices on the other side of the door, the whispers of wind and the scent of what will become rain.

"Me too," Ellie says softly. It feels like a hole in her stomach now. That constant, gnawing fear, the shadow of death pressing close, like an old love. She hasn't feared it in such a long time. Not on her own behalf. Now, with all of them there...

But now's not the time to delve into that. She has something more important to say, before they can get into anything else.

"Abby, I-"

Something down the hallway cuts her off. A soft skittering noise that pulls both of their attention immediately off into the dark. A glimpse of a spindly, rotting and fungus-encrusted leg, pulling itself away down a corridor, out of the light.

"... shhhit," she breathes, and brings the axe loosely into her hand. Ready.
cozen: (o012)

hollywood! city! tour!

[personal profile] cozen 2022-12-03 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ Due to not understanding shotgun in any sense of the word, and also finding the open air option delightful, Bastien has to lean in from the back to try to observe the buttons and levers and wheel. ]

IT'S SO LOUD.

[ Not loud enough for him to need to shout. Objectively. ]
heirring: ([047])

[personal profile] heirring 2022-12-03 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
It's moderately loud, yes.

[This, cheerfully, as Wysteria leans over in the cab to observe the various levers and pedals and switches available to her. She begins by pressing a number of the buttons on the console and twisting knobs—

A cavalcade of musical notes shrieks at a briefly ear splitting volume. Wysteria slaps the knob back round in the other direction.]


Has everyone boarded?
luaithre: (#14257222)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-03 08:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ It is unconscionably loud. All of it.

But a contender for least fun person to join a Hollywood city tour in an open-air van is following anyway, hesitating only for a moment before roaming up into the. Carriage. With the same latent discomfort that a mountain lion might have for entering an Orlesian masque. Marcus chooses, too, the open portion towards the back, ducked down low so that the mage staff strapped to his back doesn't hit anything.

It comes off with an impatient jangle of leather and buckle, glancing mistrustfully out at the street where several people are glancing their way with both too much and too little curiousity.

Without any clear idea about where de Foncé is going to take them, he can at least narrow his focus down to keeping people alive, stress notched up full volume and half-crouched in place without any sign that he's going to enjoy himself soon. ]


Just wait, [ he snaps, in Wysteria's direction. They aren't being chased.

Yet. ]
armd: (daddy's got a gun)

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-03 11:49 am (UTC)(link)
Abby can trust herself to be back. She knows how to spring into action when everything inevitably goes sideways. She can fight her way out of anything, but these people are here with her, one wall between them and everything else. This is a contingent of people that Abby can't lose, but the Crossroads brought them here, and in doing so, lined Riftwatch up like dominoes around her and Ellie.

God, she's so relieved Ellie is here. She can't imagine having to bear this alone. Never mind the silence, the bruised feelings and broken bones, she's just- glad. And-

She sees the sudden movement catch in Ellie's steady gaze, her head twisting away from Abby to follow the sound that interrupts her.

Abby hisses, "I checked the perimeter." She always checks. The stalkers are smarter than that, fuckers, shadow-like, silent right up until they're wrapping their arms around your neck from behind. They must have been watching her do her checks. She plucks her lead pipe from the wall where she'd left it leaning, and gestures with her chin down the hallway after it, "Take lead. I'll cover you."

Whatever is going on with them: it's dead from now on, or they are. Abby understands that perfectly clear, and she knows that she doesn't have to confirm it out loud. Her and Ellie, they'll do what they have to do to survive.
Edited 2022-12-03 11:50 (UTC)
heirring: ([064])

[personal profile] heirring 2022-12-03 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[From before the wheel, Wysteria turns to fire a long-suffering look in Bastien's direction. It's a very, very brief glance albeit no less tart for its brevity. Yes, yes, Enchanter. She will be the very image of patience. Future generations will etch out her portrait with which to embody it.

While Marcus acquaints himself the threat of rubberneckers bending to peer in their direction (Yet.), Wysteria taps at the pedals near her feet. The roar of the—phaeton, she decides—ratchets up by a few satisfying degrees in answer.]


Something must tell it how to go forward, [she has only begun to mutter; and thus the gear shift on the steering column clicks helpfully into place seemingly of its own volition.

The phaeton begins rolling.]
portalling: ɪɴfɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀʀ. (pic#15613391)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-03 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
After months in Thedas, it’s the smell which hits him here first. He had grown desensitised to it over time in New York, apparently — but after so much clean pre-industrial air, he had forgotten the reek of exhaust, of pollution and hot dog carts and burnt metal, of literal garbage bags stacked on street corners, and oh, it’s shitty but it’s also just so very familiar. Doctor Strange comes tumbling out of the rift with the others, and it could’ve been a tremendously bad fall except that some hardwired instinct kicks in, a spark of magic, and he lands gracefully in a slow descent — something which he couldn’t do back in Thedas, but he’s distracted by the surroundings, doesn’t think to notice just yet.

Strange just barely jerks out of the way of another passing car, hearing the wailing offended screech of the horn, and his heartbeat’s pounding in his chest like a mad rabbit. He’s staring like some slack-jawed tourist. It’s New York. It must be New York. And nothing delineates it from any other New York across the endless, countless multiverse, except that—

Well, except that one of those giant glowing billboards is bright yellow and has a famous silhouette and famous star emblazoned on it: ROGERS: THE MUSICAL.

Standing in the street beside Mobius and the others and staring up, he’s momentarily thunderstruck. All of Stephen Strange’s usual blasé sarcasm has been blown away as he says, “Oh. Hm. Well.” and then, finally: “I think… I think this might be home?”
cozen: (Default)

Bastien.

[personal profile] cozen 2022-12-03 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
portalling: ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ. (pic#15621520)

earth-199999. closed to tony; figuring shit out.

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-03 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, all of this is a new problem.

The Theodosians have been wary, and they’ve always told him you can’t go home again, besides the empirical evidence that this does, in fact, seem to be home.

Then again. Don’t trust your eyes and ears.

The doctor’s gone through the Sanctum Sanctorum from top to bottom (or at least, as far as he could go before the stairwells warped and faced a dead-end and forced him to backtrack), combing the rooms he used to live in, and it’s exactly as he remembers. Wong is still Sorcerer Supreme, and seems exactly the same. But—

Outside of the townhouse, it gets muddled. No one can quite agree on what year they’re in, and it feels oddly like when he first came back from the Blip, disoriented and timelagged and out of joint. He’s received a quick message from Tony that he’s set up camp at the Avengers Tower (which pings another faint alarm because, excuse me, there’s an Avengers Tower?), and so Stephen jots that into his ever-growing list of little details which keep not adding up. He’s too paranoid, too disinclined to accept a gift horse blindly; he can’t just sit on his hands here at the Sanctum, feeling restless. He needs to speak to the Provost.

So he goes to the Rotunda of Gateways. Reaches out with his senses, a quick gesture, reorients and redirects the portals until one of them faces into the main lounge of the tower.

“Knock knock, coming through,” Stephen calls out as he sweeps in, stepping through and appearing out of what looks like a rectangle cut through reality. The Cloak of Levitation is around his shoulders and it’s animated again, restlessly coiling and fluttering in his wake.
notathreat: (26)

[personal profile] notathreat 2022-12-03 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"I know," Ellie answers solemnly. Abby always checks, she's just as careful as Ellie is and sometimes moreso.

They both know it's always possible to overlook stalkers, because they're that fucking good sometimes. What's terrifying about the world they grew up in is that you can do everything, everything right and still die.

Ellie gives a silent nod and goes low, taking them down the corridor. They don't tell anyone they're leaving.

She's quieter than Abby is, and she finds herself holding her breath out of habit, even if it does nothing for her visibility, and the adrenaline rushing through her veins won't give her anything in the way of supernatural help. (Should she feel diminished, vulnerable? Does she have a right to?)

They get to the corner and Ellie pauses, listening for scratching, breathing, the rasp of anything in the dark. Her flashlight is off because they'll see it, and hide. Her back's to the light they've left behind, her vision adjusting. She switches her grip to guard, and steps out into the corridor, and nothing jumps her.

Ellie doesn't bother to gesture to Abby to guard her back. She knows she will. Instead she presses on, listening for the rustle of air and breath. It has to move eventually, even if only because it wants to follow.

She turns a corner at a crouch and goes dead still, reaching behind her to lay a hand on the back of Abby's wrist, draw her attention to what's in front of her.

Two cubicles away, there is a shadow with stalks crouching in the moonlight, turned away from them.
heorte: (50)

[personal profile] heorte 2022-12-03 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Is some of this tension due to the fact that Ellis' mace is out, held at his side as he trials after Tony and Wysteria? Who can say.

The arrival of elevator is met with a long, measured look. Wysteria's enthusiasm might be exaggerated somewhat by Ellis' reserve, the suggestion of a grimace somewhere in the clench of his jaw at the smooth parting of metal doors. He looks first at Tony, then finally to Wysteria to answer, "No."

But as they are leaving the ground floor, apparently whether he likes it or not, Ellis follows them into the elevator.

Once inside, it's difficult to know where to place himself. Given leeway, he'll gravitate towards a corner, but how often is he actually given leeway in these circumstances—
hornswoggle: (Default)

john silver.

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2022-12-03 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
tender: (Default)

derrica.

[personal profile] tender 2022-12-03 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)