MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

[portalling]

Hm indeed! Much like there are worse worlds they could’ve ended up in, there are worse companions Strange could’ve chosen. It wasn’t precisely premeditated, but it’s a good call regardless; the sorcerer is the type to use whatever tools appear at his disposal and within reach. And it shouldn’t go wrong, but he’s not discounting the idea that it could go horribly go wrong.

“Somewhat particular, yes. I used to have monitoring spells all over the Sanctum — probably similar to the monitoring that Tony installed at Riftwatch to detect an opening rift — and they used to be able to alert me for any extradimensional incursion, an energy spike coming in from another plane, or visitors with too much magical power. The stink of magic in a place where it shouldn’t be. Any activation of the Bifrost — it’s a rainbow bridge across the stars, don’t worry about it — was like a screaming fire alarm whenever it hit Earth. So, you’d think this would have worked for the Sealing Stone, no?”

He keeps talking while they walk down the hallway. He’s a master at the walk-and-talk. Aaron Sorkin would be proud.

“But my scrying hasn’t gotten anywhere. Pooling their magic together, however, multiple sorcerers can boost their spells. So I think it’s high time I called in the big guns. The big guns, in this instance, being Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme — you likely know him as that grumpy guy who hogs the TV room and refuses to do any of the cooking, no matter how nicely I ask.” As Mobius juggles that globe in his arms, Strange adds, “The globe’s to help mark where the artifact is. Hopefully. That’s the theory, anyway.”

[portalling]

“Nice to meet you.” Strange rolls with it. Hesitates for only a second at that limp outstretched hand — is he supposed to kiss the other man’s knuckles, or what? — but in the end he simply reaches out and shakes that proferred palm, his own grip solid and perfunctory.

“Tevinter,” he echoes. “Apart from the fact that we’re at war with it, I keep finding myself wishing I could visit. That place sounds like a marvel.” A marvel amongst horrors, but still, you can’t dangle the prospect of a city humming with magic in its lifeblood and not have the former Sorcerer Supreme want to see it.

There’s a beat, then, indelicately: “Does that mean you’re a mage as well?”

[portalling]

It had been something to struggle to wrap his mind around: the fact that these people were technically still alive, and yet functionally braindead. Lost causes.

“Yeah, I found one of—” Setting the can aside, he fumbles in his hoodie pocket, reaching to pull out an old and crumpled but familiar pamphlet. The FEDRA Stages of Infection, with handwritten annotations scrawled in the margins. The paper is covered in what looks like grainy autopsy photos, ink smeared as it depicts fungal growths blossoming, exploding outwards. Ugly pictures but necessary ones, and Strange can’t help but admire the informative practicality of it, the way he wishes he could have been a fly on the wall at that dissection. By the sounds of it, FEDRA was brutal, but at least they’d managed to print informational flyers before they lost their foothold in Seattle.

“Out of curiosity. What are they called past stage three? After clickers.”

Which already don’t, at all, sound like anything he ever wants to experience firsthand.

[katabasis]

Despite the encouragement of his scuffing fingertips, the map on Flint's phone has failed to resolve in any more detail than a series of blank squares on a grid. The phone disappears back into the shearling coat pocket. It's fine. He has seen the map before and has some sense of the direction they need to go in even if the cartographic nightmare they're currently observing insists on being utterly featureless beyond the jagging color-coded subway lines.

There's a savvy, hawkish air to the tilt of his head as Flint studies the orange and yellow lines and their respective intersections. Presumably this isn't Flint's first run in with a shitty chart.

"All right," follows a moment's study. It must be a relation to 'Simple enough,' as his attention is already skating away from the cracked screen to fetch out toward the edges of the platform. A turn of a boot heel, a glint of its silver toe cap. No need to stand here consulting dots on wiggly lines their whole lives.

[armd]

"I didn't belong there."

It's a complicated story, but Abby thinks this is a good, short answer. She didn't want to belong there either so it wasn't any skin off of her nose to throw it away (or so she tells herself). "I was looking for something. Information. Staying with the WLF was the best way to get it and once I did, I left."

She wonders if this makes her sound like a bitch. Well, she kind of is, but at the same time, she thinks she's changed. She awkwardly adds, "It's- not the same with Riftwatch." For one thing, she literally can't walk out on them or her shard will kill her. But also she doesn't want to. She actually likes Riftwatch.

[armd]

"Perfect." Time to sit here and relax for a bit longer... time to argue about who is going to stand up to go get the pizza at the door, and have to talk to whomever is delivering it.

And then she cracks an eye open from where she's tossed her head back against the couch, and catches sight of one blackening fingernail on Clarisse's hand, and she sits up ram-rod straight. Takes another look, to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

It's not just the one finger! A bunch are swollen up, bruised to fuck and back, tender. It looks so painful. "Holy shit," she breathes, annoyed with herself for not catching it sooner, and worried, "The hell happened to you??"

[cozen]

[ They are going up the stairs.

In the meantime Bastien looks back over his shoulder at Mrs. Gilbert. On its surface it is a glance of mild apology for their supposedly unrespectable hijinks. Beneath it is the burning ache of two thousand unanswered questions. Among them: what will Miss Poppell's mother say?

Aloud he says to Valentine: ]

You talk very much.

[ Just an observation. It doesn't sound condemning at all. If anything, slightly admiring. What a personality, what a pair. ]

Miss Poppell, [ for the sake of fitting in, ] you have no advice?

[laruetheday]

Ellie's arm is warm, pressed lightly up against her own. Her eyes are closed while she tells the story. Clarisse listens to her without saying anything.

It's not her story to comment on, but she remembers how young Ellie said she was when this all happened, and Clarisse can't help but think about what she was doing and feeling when she was fourteen. How fucking determined she was to get her dads attention, and then how fucking scared she was when it worked.

"Was he pissed?"

Ares would've been.

[notathreat]

"Yeah. Really pissed."

It's something that Ellie had only a basic grasp of back then, the idea that Joel would want to protect her from that. She'd grown up in a different world than he had, and protecting her innocence was a long-ago moot point to her fourteen year old self. Now, as an adult, she has a lot more perspective.

She had been innocent. It had been hard. But it had still been necessary, if she wanted to stay alive.

"Why didn't I hang back like he told me to. Lucky he didn't get his head blown off by a goddamn kid."

Ellie's voice goes lower, a little more gravelly, which gives those phrases the feeling of direct quotes. This is something that's stuck with her a long time.

"I told him that was bullshit, but. He didn't wanna talk. He just wanted to pretend it never happened."

[laruetheday]

"Well... yeah, it was bullshit," Clarisse agrees.

She's annoyed that Joel was such a dick about it, but this time it's mostly because Ellie's one of her people and because Clarisse is, if nothing else, extremely loyal to her people. It's not because she can't understand Joel's perspective.

Pretending things never happened, that's easy. And preferable.

"That sucks he'd never talk to you about it," she allows. Since it's clearly what Ellie wanted, needed, from him, and since she clearly never got it.

"We never talked about shit either. Back home. I don't even... know how."

Kind of embarrassing, but it's the truth.

[nonvenomous]

“Whether or not the artifact has arrived here.”

That’s two.

A long beat passes in silence after the skitter of Wysteria’s punted pebble, her unfinished question hanging in the air. The corpse is going to remain where and how it is for questioning. That much is clear.

“He will retain his memories from life but cannot be compelled to answer truthfully. His answers will likely be brief and may be cryptic. Not entirely dissimilar to questioning a wayward spirit of the Fade.”

Richard spiders open one hand, a simple gesture to boost along the mutter of a spell under his breath. Easy and clean as that, a second seven-foot malison stands in his place, bristling green scales feathered out sharp from lidless grey-gold eyes, clawed hands and rippling muscle under golden armor. It looks at Wysteria, and in Richard’s voice, continues, mildly:

“You should remain out of its line of sight for the duration.”

[notathreat]

"No," Ellie says softly, and licks her bottom lip, sitting with him and the sound of the fire. "It's not crazy."

Once upon a time it might have been, maybe. Some part of her wishes that it was, but- Ellie has seen so much more of the work of things so far beyond her. And it's what moves her to tell Mobius something she's never told anyone. No one at all. Something that some part of her still she thinks she must've dreamed.

"Do you know what a sin-eater is?"

[laruetheday]

The sudden shift in Abby's voice startles Clarisse out of her zen, and she sits up on the couch, wincing almost guiltily.

"Nothing." Well, okay, that's obviously not true.

"I mean, I just... hit it on something. It's fine." It's not fine, but she's not gonna die, so... it's fine.

[heirring]

Wysteria is not particularly interested in corpses until they begin speaking, and so it has been very natural to favor following that simple motion of her companion's hand, though her attention only really sharpens on him in the aftermath of the shifting form. She turns keen, her stare very fixed as if she's somehow still examining Mister Dickerson's more humanoid shape hidden behind the curtain of the malison—

Wysteria takes a prudent step backward. And then another, slightly behind the nearest tangle of ferns just to be certain.

"Very clever. Yes, all right."

[sparklequeen]

"Right..." Glimmer pats down the pouches on her purloined belt and opens one of them. A spare magazine, this one full. Another half-loaded. Well, better than nothing. That done, she slides her current magazine back in until it clicks and examines the gun again.

"I think that did it?" She said. "It sounded right. I wish Bow was here. He's way better with stuff like this."

[notathreat]

"He gave me a gun later that day," Ellie says with a shrug. It does suck. They never did talk. "Handed me a rifle, showed me how to use it, and told me to cover him from above while he cleared a street. He didn't... apologize, not exactly. But after that he gave me a handgun. Taught me how to use it properly."

Ellie shrugs, and Clarisse's grumpiness over the whole thing is a little bit vindicating, actually. She hadn't known she'd needed that.

"... and yeah. That makes sense. You made it sound like everything back at camp was really sink-or-swim. You do it or you don't."

Which is a really bleak fucking outlook, especially for a bunch of kids.

[favoriteanalyst]

She says it because she knows better, because she's seen things. And at the same time, it doesn't make him not crazy. It doesn't make him someone who thinks some hallucination is a Maker-touched vision and that they are--special, when really they end up raving lunatics standing on a street corner.

They say one of the Hero's friends claimed to be touched in the same way. It can't all be bullshit. His isn't. Because if it is, he's not sure where it leaves him.

"I don't," he says. Has the phrase passed him by in a book, before? He doesn't recall; it doesn't seem familiar. He even keeps the comment, 'it sounds as though it's something that eats sins, if I had to guess', to himself. Because Ellie's giving him something in return, and given the conversation, he'd rather not make a joke about it.

[favoriteanalyst]

He's reading it, but he's not focused on it. Because magic is treated so differently in every world. And having it, having it here in a place where magic isn't feared (any more than any other weapon) is...in itself a little frightening. But fascinating.

"I always liked to think the Maker likes me," is the comment that slips out, amused, to cover for whatever else that might mean. Other gods taking an interest? Gods of this world, or gods of Thedas? He has, in theory, already been touched by another, and now he can't feel his damn hands. "I take it you mean something a little different."

[favoriteanalyst]

"Still try to keep up my training, every day." Forces of habit are powerful forces indeed. "Obviously instead of going through the motions, I've had to use that time to...adjust."

He may have added a strap to his sword, such that it too doesn't slip from his grasp should it end up just slack enough to do so.

"Could train together so you don't feel like an out of practice newbie."

[favoriteanalyst]

"You'd think a building of mages would all be very interested in finding a magical item full of magical power."

So. Something's wrong, there. Because Strange might have some hubris in him, but he's also got enough awareness to know to ask for help. An incursion of people from another world should merit more frenzy, he thinks, even after a few weeks of getting used to it all.

Maybe for the same reason Stark's so hesitant to call on his Avenging fellows. Because they're not real.

Mobius isn't as eager to accept that this is all just fantasy, even knowing how well the Crossroads can suck one into an elaborate one, pulling at memories and fears and all else. Because this is huge. And it seems so real. He can eat and drink and--it's been weeks. That has to mean something, surely.

"Do you think your friends are who they say they are? What they say they are?"

[armd]

Breaking a finger or two is definitely not the end of the world on the general scale of things, but even so.

Abby takes one of her wrists firmly, and without asking. "On what, a rock?" That's what it looks like. And it's both of her hands, too. Abby wonders if she went down hard and threw her hands out to break the fall, but- if that were the case, the heels of her hands would be all chewed up. And Clarisse said she hit something, anyway.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" She doesn't sound pissed or anything, she's actually trying to sound as neutral as possible.

[laruetheday]

"Well we're gonna pay for it," Clarisse says loudly, and utterly ruins Ellie's subterfuge. But it's true. They're going to pay, and they're not doing anything wrong.

... Maybe they're doing one thing wrong by playing with the mustaches. But why sell gummy mustaches if you don't want your customers to stick them on their faces? Huh?

[portalling]

It helps, too, that Stephen’s wardrobe is now the most ragged it’s ever been: he’s not in medieval Theodosian attire or a crisp fresh set of midnight-blue robes in New York or wearing that dramatic scarlet cloak. He’s dressed in castoffs and whatever they could scavenge from Seattle stores, wearing a tourist hoodie over those tatters. It sands down his edges, makes him look less grandiose and bombastic; now he’s just any tired middle-aged man in an apocalyptic ruin.

Her telling pause, though, hits the nail on its head. His smile doesn’t fully fade, just turns rueful. “It was a work thing, so there wasn’t really much time to enjoy the view. I was kidnapped by an alien and carried off-planet. Tony and a guy in a spider-suit tagged along to rescue me.”

He skips the part about the torture.

Sometimes there’s an undercurrent of grief and a heavy burden on his shoulders when Strange talks about his past life; other times he purposefully leans into the absurdism of it, a way to balance out the horrors of what he’s heard from Ellie and what they’re surrounded by today. Dryly, he adds: “Do you ever stop and think that our lives are very weird? I’ve grown inured to it, but sometimes I stop and remember.”

[portalling]

“Several of them. But not as much as I always intended to,” Strange admits. He’s still glancing down at the small ridges and borders of New York under his fingers, as if he can look down at the globe and see the very city itself (and perhaps, in some way, he can). Then he looks back up at the other man.

“I was always too busy, or told myself I was too busy. Living here, you would always think, oh, I’ll go see that museum exhibit some weekend, and then you blink and the exhibit’s done and over and you missed it. Or you only ever get to see things when you’re showing around a visiting friend. Or you decide one weekend that you’re finally going to see a play, and then someone comes knocking to say they’ve got a problem with a haunting, and then you’ve got to go take care of that instead. I got… busy,” and he waves a hand vaguely at their intensely mystical surroundings, the books and artifacts humming contentedly with magic, the twisting winding hallways of the Sanctum which seemed to rewrite themselves every morning.

Neither a life as a surgeon nor a sorcerer had left him with much left over for himself. Forgetting to check out a gallery at the Met was the least of it.

[portalling]

It has. It’s a perpetual calculation ticking in the back of Strange’s skull, and one that he’s been balancing ever since he was a teenager: how best to accrue the skills that would be of use, that would be indispensable, to save lives, to not be in the position he’d once been while watching a death unfold in front of him, helpless.

“A medic and yet I can’t do a single stitch,” he points out, and sure, it’s feeling sorry for himself — but the tone somehow doesn’t sound like it. Just mordant, a little dry, sardonic.

“You’re Forces, right? You seem handy with a mace. What’s your story?”

Is it asking about the warrior’s curriculum vitae, his qualifications in a battle, or about who he is as a person? Maybe either-both. Strange likes to know who he’s fighting alongside and who he’s having to trust with his life, particularly since these engagements have been stretching out for weeks.