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

[sprent]

(Gela laughs suddenly.) Am I supposed to be? (She's wearing the fanciest dress she's ever worn, and badly, if the whispers are anything to go off of, and she's being paraded about the place on the arm of a woman who seems to be the subject of a lot of gossip. She adds,) I think- it feels more like everybody is seein' us, rather than us seein' them.

(Herein lies the problem, perhaps.

Oh, and! Faintly,) Magicians?

[laruetheday]

And here Clarisse hadn't even thought about having to eat mushrooms again after this. Or even just smell them. She makes a face.

"Just pretend you're beating the shit out of a zombie every time you bite into one. It might make you like them again." Or, maybe not, since not everyone gets weird pleasure from fighting things, Clarisse...

[laruetheday]

Clarisse can't help but scoff at Gela's admission. She's... not sure how annoyed she should be about almost getting fake dropped off a building, since it didn't actually happen.

"You don't want me to be mad, or you don't want me to smite you?"

She can't smite anybody, of course. But Gela doesn't know that yet.

[heirring]

"For you and Mister Ellis, certainly. I suppose a good solicitor might see me remanded to a womens asylum. You almost never hear of a woman being executed. But even if they don't find the artifact tonight, these things take some time. We're all but guaranteed to be free of this place long before anyone might see the thing done. The ifs are hardly ifs at all, really."

She passes a fleeting look back toward Ellis as he falls back in line. The knife's relocation merits an absent nod of approval. Yes, very good. This will all be fine.

"Besides for all we know, it's entirely possible that what we're looking for will be in the warded rooms as well. We're only doing our due diligence."

hi sorry

[hassaran]

[ That saying, at least, makes sense, but Yseult gives him a faint corner of a smile for the impulse that clarifies it anyway. ]

That must have been very strange [ she says, folding back another strip of foil, smoothing this one into place with a thumb so it won't be carried off. It's a difficult experience to comprehend. Much about being a rifter is, even given this small taste. ]

Yet you've continued your work with us, even knowing you've already given your life for a cause once.

[ She doesn't phrase it as a question, but there's the sense of one buried in there. Maybe a compliment, too, even if it isn't given precisely that tone either. ]

[notathreat]

"Yeah. Babies are a lot more resilient than you'd think, but newborns still freak me right the fuck out, you know? Like little... screamy potatoes."

That houseplant stage, man.

"Sucks, though. It's one thing if it's a choice, but then at least you'd get to make it for yourself."

Ellie pauses, then decides to ask.

"Is it a cloning thing? Or is that- separate?" A beat, and Ellie waves a hand. "If you wanna talk about it, anyway. It's none of my fuckin' business."

[notathreat]

"I think it depends on where you're at. The country can be pretty fucking boring sometimes. But woods? Mountains? Valleys? Those are probably my favorites. The farm was a little flat space in all of that, in the Tetons."

Ellie considers him thoughtfully; she wouldn't have thought of him as a country boy, but she can see it. Him growing up longing for something different, something great. Strange doesn't strike her as someone content with simple peace. Maybe someday.

"... about a year and a half." She measures time by JJ's age back then, and briefly, something darker, sadder, passes through her eyes. He'll be walking, now. Running. Speaking in full sentences. Maybe even starting to ride the horses on his own.

"Then we uh, separated. She moved back to town. I ended up in another reality."

You know how it goes.

[notathreat]

Ellie bites her lower lip, nodding. She knows all about finding something and looking for the light.

She wonders what Abby thinks about all this. It's not the first time she's wondered it.

She finishes with Mobius' hand, wipes it down with alcohol and dabs it dry before she begins to wrap it with a clean bandage. It'll be more to keep his hands from getting dirty in the wounds than anything, but hopefully it'll stabilize his grip a bit, too.

"That's better."

[notathreat]

Ellie snorts pointedly, rolling her eyes and doing an extremely good impression of a 90's teenager as she opens the door wide to admit him inside the dusty, enclosed space. It spells a little like rot and mildew, but thankfully not disgustingly. Not like some of the other places they've been. Moss rather than spores cling to the countertops, and Ellie checks behind these first, squatting down to poke at the register.

It's stuck, so Ellie gives the drawer a well-practiced bit of percussional maintenance with the butt of her gun, and it pops open with a cheerful little chime. She tilts her head at one of the coins, pulls it out.

"New York," she says, flipping Tony the quarter. "And don't worry, if you die in a stupid way I'm telling everyone how much you loved and admired them. Especially Flint."

[katabasis]

The outer edges of it. The dark fringe past the glow of a candle flame, and what rushes to fill the space once the little flame has gone out. It's the power to make the world mutable. Its mere conduction summons spirits to lap thirstily after it through the thinning of the Veil.

It's not like the South imagines it is in Tevinter. Are there any souls in the Imperium who don't have a sense for what magic is? Rare is the mage who dreams easily; rarer still the soporati or freeman or slave who in unaware of the shape of the thing floating above their heads.

(A man in a Tevinter Navy uniform who has reached the limit of what charity will afford him has more in common with a ravenous spirit than he does a mage.)

Flint sniffs like it's a joke, or at the very least as if he has found some manner of humor in the question. His hand with its studding of rings moves to make use of the cup of wine.

"I'm familiar."

[notathreat]

Ellie puts it away in the time it takes to walk out, but she's still grateful that Gela's not looking directly at her. She wipes her face again on her sleeve, takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes before she focuses on the ladybugs, on the bright colored butterflies.

There's one as big as her arm. It's haunting and beautiful.

There's something kind of fucked up about seeing all these preserved little bugs, just... pinned down. Bodies lined up for inspection, for viewing. Did they have little bug lives? Did they sit and savor the air as it dried out their wings? Did they know what they were turning into inside their cocoons, or were they confused, afraid?

How did they die?

She doesn't think that they found such perfect specimens by chance.

"It's okay," she says softly. And to assure her that she means it, she reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. Squeezes, gives her a small smile.

"I just wasn't expecting it."

[armd]

Abby snorts. "Yeah."

Yeah. She kind of respects Ellie for this response, because she wasn't looking for comfort when she said it, not from her. Acknowledgement, though. That's good. She can handle that, it sits well in her chest. Been a while since Ellie has made her feel anything unexpected, but at least she doesn't flinch from it.

She sighs, allows the rest of what she's thinking to slough off, and returns to picking carefully through the glass. One more usable bottle in here, looks like.

"... It kinda was the worst," she agrees, scoffing, "Never stopped raining. You're lucky you weren't there in winter, the black ice was fucking endless."

[armd]

"Probably," Abby echoes, shooting him an apologetic look, "Look, it's- most infected don't live long enough to actually become bloaters, so they're usually in places nobody has been able to get into for years, where they have time to..." for lack of a better word, "cook. And I know Seattle like the back of my hand, so we're not gonna go anywhere near spots like that."

So he doesn't have to worry, is what she's saying. About bloaters, anyway.

But spores? "Yeah, they're fatal. Quick. It really only takes a couple of breaths to start the process, so we're not gonna be taking any walled off shortcuts either.

Ellie and I, we know what we're doing." They're young, of course. Abby is twenty-two years old, Ellie only slightly older than that, but they've both lived their entire lives like this. Her expression is calm, level. "We're not gonna walk you into anything you can't handle. If shit happens, it happens. We take it as it comes."

[armd]

Having other people around to catch the monster's attention is both helpful and downright goddamn terrifying- when she fought this for the first time, she only had to worry about herself and now there are others stationed about, drawing the creature this way and that with shouts, screams, heavy fire. Abby counts the damage as best she can: the explosion (Ellie she thinks, her style, those little bombs she wires herself), a heavy gunshot twining with it, and then she loses track as several more follow, the sounds ringing, cacophonous. Her heart beats in time. She drags her legs through stagnant water, running. Making room.

Flint is there. She notices him in the light of a fire pillar that cuts the scene in two. Abby anchors a foot against a bite out of the concrete so she can steady her gun and fire. Once, twice, three times, and the Rat King howls, and bows into the pain.

It's still alive, bleeding, and flaking. She's breathing so fast, and her mask is fogging slightly from the inside in response to the exertion; she took the one with the janky filter, voluntarily, fuck.

The thing scrabbles away from the car and launches itself out of the spray of fire, weaving drunkenly, and part of it splits: a stalker tugs itself free from the tangle by ragged fingernails, bone cracking like gunshots as it rips away from the host.

Hollering like a hit dog, it takes to the darkness to hide, to watch.

[youwonscience]

"Nah, it's cool. I don't mind talking about it." She takes a swig of water (not too big, considering that she'll need to make the bottle last for a while). "But yeah, you're right, it's the choice thing that really grates. They built my sisters and I ... for a lot of reasons, but one was to be a baseline for experiments. Didn't want modifications they made to the gene line getting out in the general population, especially since almost none of us knew our origins. Kind of hard to be like hey, can you make sure you never have a baby without explaining the whole context, I guess. So ... infertility. A failsafe."

She smiles, ruefully. "Worked for most of us. One set of identical twins it didn't, and they're the only ones as far as I know. But the whole thing was like, the greatest hits of unethical scientific practice." She glances at Ellie. "You know what's really fucked? There's an intellectual property warning encoded in my DNA. Like, I have no idea how they thought that would hold up in court, maybe it was a leftover from experiments that were just cell cultures, but it's a lot to know that there's like ... a piracy warning in my fucking cells, you know?"

[armd]

Abby surprises herself by laughing, not at him, just 'cuz his enthusiasm is infectious. "Gossip, huh? That's the best kind of newspaper." She loves gossip... who doesn't?? "You know, if you wanted you could probably get an entire edition of it out of us." She means the rifters, obviously, "Maybe you should do some interviews or something. I bet everybody would read that."

Because they are so... so nosy. She's never been stared at so much in her life. Can't help adding, mutter-grumble, "Would probably stop people from asking us the same questions over and over again too..."

[armd]

She yowls as he smashes into her, shunting her back in the snow, snips at him with her jaw, toothless, and they push and shove each other around. Her heart is beating hard and she's having fun, she feels good. If she could laugh like she does as a human, she'd do it.

And Abby knows he was born like this, that he's had an entire life of experiences, but it's never been more apparent than when he's roughhousing. She gets the sense that he's only skimming the surface of his strength. Can't wait to see him in a real fight.

Eventually she taps out, squirming pathetically away from him just to flop on her side and pant.

[armd]

"Used to bench 205 back home," she adds casually, and inwardly delights in being able to tell somebody who will actually understand what that means and be impressed by it. Squinting up at her, she jumps a little, grabs Clarisse's hand. Her own eyes widen as Clarisse does exactly that. Pulls her right up, until she's got a good purchase on the window, and can pull herself inside.

And she's not even built, or anything. She can just do that.

"Show off yourself," she breathes, wiping her palms on her pants, and coughing into her fist as the dust settles, waving it away, "Eugh."

It's smelly in here. A familiar kind of stink, the forgotten, abandoned, deep dust kind. That's good, she'll take it a thousand times over dead body smell.

Speaking of. "Woah," she says, hand lingering over her mouth and nose (just in case) as she approaches the skeleton in the chair. Completely decomposed, its been here for years. Difficult to tell what killed him. Without any hesitancy, she reaches out, and takes his gun right out of his hands.

[armd]

She asks because it's his body. He knows it best. He's not the only person to ever traverse Seattle with one leg, and he won't be the last either, and when it comes down to surviving, people will do anything, go anywhere. They will always find a way.

His answer doesn't surprise her- he's probably playing it safe, terrain-wise.

"Okay." She respects that he knows where to draw the line. "Look- these things, that we're fighting? You've seen a couple of them already. They're fast. There are slower ones around, but they're less common, we'll mostly be dealing with the runners.

I want to teach you how to shoot, if you don't already know."

[armd]

"Yeah." Heaps. Not- what Clarisse is asking her for, but plenty of stuff that Abby considers extremely fucking good. Like, "Holy shit, there are adrenaline shots in here?" Tony, this thing is stacked!

Ughhh, she's so mad she can't take it with her... imagine having this, on you, and being able to use it whenever, frivolously, because you can restock it any time you like and with anything...

A sigh. "Seriously. I want this."

She's... taking it. The whole thing, he won't miss it.

Anyway. "No drugs. Well, ibuprofen." Yayyyy

[armd]

"Yeah," she says, feeling breathless remembering it, "Yeah, it- fuck, I had a handaxe with me, I was lucky."

The feeling of being grabbed up, like a rag-doll. She swallows. "It lifted me off the ground."

And look at her. She's not exactly a dainty little person, is she.

[elegiaque]

“Mmmm, heroes don't get to decide things like that. Just ask Andraste.”

Who would be described as a lot of other things before hero, probably, but not not that, and an elegant demonstration of her point all the same. Whatever's believed about her now, there was a woman named Andraste who lived, and a story named Andraste who serves whatever purpose the storytellers with the most influence now wish to use her for.

It seems all the more relevant, for that particular end. Sacrificing himself to be lied about, because it felt better—

“I held Silver's job for a brief time, you know, master of information. The propaganda office, less tactfully. It's the sort of work that sort of makes you hate people, I think. The idea you have to give them a good story to get them to give a fuck about anything, and then when it doesn't even work—”

Gwenaëlle is more often indifferent to other people, but how little any of it seemed to mean to anyone really tested that.

[hornswoggle]

There is some muddy quality to their present situation. Have the rules as John has always understood them shifted? Does magic that comes from a world conjured by the Fade bring along with it the same dangers and difficulties?

Does John need to slash open his palm? Would that bring his own magic, familiar and costly, rushing back to him?

He has not yet tried it. It is not the question closest to hand now.

"What does it feel like?" John puts to him, a repetition as Flint drinks. "Have you had occasion to reach for what sits there?"

Is the manipulation of candle flame the beginning and end of what he's found here? John thinks not.

[hornswoggle]

Runners.

John's lip curls into a wry smile. Perhaps when all is said and done, when they have completed their work here, he can weigh up the naming of the monstrosities populating this place. Runners. Clickers. Whatever else he has yet to hear either of them put name to.

"I've had lessons," John says, not to dismiss, but to outline for her the incomplete nature of his understanding. The hunting pistol, heavy and bulky in his hand, so wholly unfamiliar that it feels more useless than beneficial. "But I expect you'd find my ability wanting."

It is something, that she's offered without any prompting. Because John is who he is, because he does so little without considering benefits and trades, he weighs up motivations as he presses on.

"If you've the time to share your expertise, I would be appreciative."

[sprent]

Gela looks startled. "Oh, well, I was- goin' to say the first one, but I don't much like the sound of the other either.

Please don't do that."

Smiter no smiting