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

MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 ↠ MCU Earth-199999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 ↠ Shifterverse

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

Real-world 2022, but what if Shifters?

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

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

3 ↠ Tassia

D&D Original World, Loxley & Richard Dickerson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 ↠ Sulleciel

Original fantasy world, Petrana de Cedoux.

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

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

5 ↠ Kalvad

Original fantasy world, Wysteria Poppell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6 ↠ Abeir-Toril

D&D Forgotten Realms, Astarion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7 ↠ Orphan Black

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

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

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

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

8 ↠ The Last of Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arrival: Welcome one of Ellie and Abby's least favorite places: Seattle. The Space Needle is visible in the distance, so despite the advanced state of decay, it's actually recognizable. Except it's been bombed, and rotting, and nature's reclaimed it for the last quarter-century. This adventure won't be for the faint of heart; there are no home bases and no safe space to be had. All clothing, supplies, weaponry and food are things you'll need to find yourself. Everyone can assume they'll get a quick lesson in gun safety and a rundown on various types of infected. Multiple rifts will open, so feel free to appear anywhere in the city (even apart from others) but expect to find no native allies. The city of Seattle is embroiled in civil war between the Seraphites (a religious cult who rejects anything "old world" and scars their faces, called "Scars") and the Washington Liberation Front (a ruthless mercenary coalition, called "Wolves") and both sides will assume you're with the other group and attack on sight. Better pick up a brick.
foolsmakeitcolder: (29)

[personal profile] foolsmakeitcolder 2023-02-16 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
Very big fuckers. Reilly admiringly watches as Abby lifts up the stump without trouble, balancing it without straining too hard or immediately getting winded.

"Wow, you're really strong. Yeah, right over here-"

And then Reilly takes the second biggest stump, rolling it onto his back without bothering to brace for leverage. That thing must outweigh him, but he trips along like he does this every single day.

This is -- this is unusual, given that even the adult wolves struggle with this much weight.
Edited 2023-02-16 05:46 (UTC)
foolsmakeitcolder: (43)

[personal profile] foolsmakeitcolder 2023-02-16 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
"Depends on their beliefs, their wishes," Jude says, tipping his head to one side, easing up his grip. Mobius has a bit of room now. Jude's still muffling it for him, but he won't squeeze, won't block it all out.

He could, but he won't. If Mobius uses those muscles, he'll strengthen them.

"Some want burials. Others opt for cremation. Shifters aren't a monolith."
armd: (snap)

[personal profile] armd 2023-02-16 09:23 am (UTC)(link)
Abby, too busy directing her own stump, doesn't notice him bending for his own until he's got it up and on his back like he might sling his arms through the straps of a pack: easily. Doesn't even break a sweat.

She nearly stops walking. Whistles. "What the fuck..."

Obviously impressed. They walk like that for a couple beats until Abby can't contain herself for a moment longer. "How are you doing that?"

He's a shifter, she gets it, but she has a feeling Jude would be struggling with something like this. Reilly is maintaining a regular pace, Abby is barely keeping up with him.
favoriteanalyst: (cause they're not worth fighting)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2023-02-16 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"We-" Mobius stops, hums. "Andrastians. Burn their dead. It's symbolic to the way Andraste was burnt at the stake. But others bury theirs. I've read the Avvar leave theirs out on cliffs for the buzzards." He won't make any outward judgements, but boy, some of the stuff he's heard and read of the Avvar are wild. "Nevarrans are a fun exception; generally staunchly Andrastian but the highest honor is to be entombed in mausoleums." There's a little more to it than that, but it's not here nor there nor his place to say.

"I don't see how a...psychic can be a connection to those gone, no matter what's done with them. Generally speaking, back home, getting in touch with spirits is bad news."
hornswoggle: (234)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2023-02-17 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
The slant of John's smile is not quite an answer on its own.

"There are apostates," John says. "Southerners."

Fleeing.

What is the word for mages raised in places like Nascere? Apostate does not quite fit.

"The attitudes in a place like that do not follow the southern style."
hornswoggle: (41)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2023-02-17 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
There it is. That quality John has come to know so well.

These young people who know so much. Too much.

These young people who never flinch.

"He and I were crouched there, in the belly of that ship. Waiting. Clutching sword and dagger, listening for the signal to hurl ourselves over the side and onto whatever merchant vessel had the misfortune to cross our path. As I recall, his hands were shaking."

As was natural, in such a situation, says the tip of John's head, the sweep of his hands in the air between them.

"At such a late point, there was no alternative. To flee would be signing one's own death warrant. It simply couldn't be done, so he threw himself over the side into the fray alongside the rest of us. Screaming at the top of his lungs, waving the sword. If I recall correctly, he dropped the dagger right off so he had to rely upon what he had left."
charmoffensive: (1)

[personal profile] charmoffensive 2023-02-17 08:38 am (UTC)(link)
Loxley looks down, at her fingers picking over the ridge of scar tissue where something deadly had plunged through flesh, muscle, bone, organs. A rippled seam that disguises much of the mess that had occurred, there.

But he's brought some things along from Thedas too. Her charm she gave him, resting warm on dark golden skin, just above. He gathers her hands into his like he's forming a bouquet, brings them up to kiss her knuckles.

"I think so," is honest for its uncertainty. "How powers come to be means a little more in this world. Yes, it comes from me, but that's because I come from something else. I wish I knew more about that part, is the only thing."

And whether it's good or bad. Some other aspect of himself that he can't trust, twisted through infernal bloodlines.

"You like it, don't you? Your magic."
charmoffensive: (41)

[personal profile] charmoffensive 2023-02-17 08:47 am (UTC)(link)
"Condescending, sometimes," Loxley says. His attention, meanwhile, flickering over the spell as it fades, minor amusement at the corners of his eyes as Mobius reacts. "The books, I mean. Written by people who learned their way into magic, for whom people who just have it are curious creatures indeed. But,"

a shrug. "It's not so stark as that, these divisions. They're essentially helpful, instructive, optimistic. No moralising or anything."

This, a deliberate but gentle feeler.
tender: (035)

puts shameful hand over timestamp

[personal profile] tender 2023-02-17 03:09 pm (UTC)(link)
It's meant as a comfort, Derrica knows. She understands that Ellie doesn't want anyone to be upset over this injury. It's worse somehow, knowing that. Questioning whether Ellie would have stitched this alone, on her own, if she'd been given opportunity.

"You're hurt," Derrica tells her. "It's not okay."

The shock of it hasn't left her, not really. The terrifying swoop of that moment when she'd seen the bite and thought Ellie would die still hangs over them. (This is twice in so many months where someone she cares very much for has come uncomfortably close to death, nevermind the memories of Holden with a poisoned arrow in his boot, deflecting attention until he couldn't.)

What a thing it is, to have collected so many people who take injury and sacrifice in stride. It terrifies her.

"And I can't do anything but stitch it," is muted, frustration simmering beneath every other emotion.
tender: (019)

[personal profile] tender 2023-02-17 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)
As honest a question as it is, it still feels strange to consider.

"I do," is gentle, even if the kneejerk impulse had been towards of course.

How could she feel any other way about it? Was it possible to hate her lungs? Her heart?

"It's been a part of me always. Even before I understood what it was."

His mouth is good just there, over her hands. She doesn't make any effort to draw away from him, even as her stomach flips. Some quiet, private anxiety, twinned with these moments where she looks at him and feels the full weight of all this affection. Feels the way it loops between them.

Considers that he may ever find out what he hopes to, if he remains in Thedas.

"Can you live without knowing where you've come from?"
notathreat: (11)

[personal profile] notathreat 2023-02-17 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Ellie frowns slightly; Gela's not saying the happiest things about her mom, but. She kind of understands that. Joel was a mixed bag, too. If she were to talk about the things he's done, the way he treated her, it wouldn't all be good.

"I think if she wouldn't be proud of you now, then. She's finding the wrong things to be proud of."

It doesn't escape her, Gela's lack of tears. She doesn't think it's because she doesn't care, though- maybe the opposite. Maybe it's just. The way Ellie talks about home. Things that are facts.

... and maybe not.
notathreat: (3)

[personal profile] notathreat 2023-02-17 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Don't remind me."

Ellie says it breezily, lifting her eyebrows to Abby. Fuck that, she doesn't want to think about that house of cards wiggling while the cross. Fuck.

"It's not going to get better."

It's foggy, and icy. And slippery. Basically it's always going to suck.
luaithre: (201)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-02-18 05:00 am (UTC)(link)
A minor shrug, more of a breath in.

"It's a cudgel, that word," Marcus says. "It means to invalidate an existence outside of the Circle, beyond the Chantry's reach, and lend itself legitimacy for the slaughtering and capturing of those people. Apostates. It isn't an identity, it's a brand."

One imagine that in the long years given to Circle mages and the long hours they have to spend, there were plenty of opportunities for conversations as quietly spoken as these ones. It feels a little like a dusting off, to echo them now.

"But 'mage' doesn't have to be that way. One hopes." He is nothing if not hopeful.
luaithre: (201)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-02-18 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
Marcus surrenders his hand easily and without protest, accepting the gesture for what it is. Being around his partners, in Thedas, he'd always felt the most liberal of them with touch and affection in mixed settings, coaxing them into the same; here, in this place, he feels as stiffly formal as a Chantry brother in comparison. But his hand loosens, relaxes, clasps hers back.

Spirit, he thinks, caught between dismissing this thought and holding onto it, as a reminder. But her hand is perfectly human feeling, warm from work and bloodflow, soft and firm. Perhaps she is no more a spirit or Fade-formed thing than Jude Adjei. Or Petrana de Cedoux.

Doesn't matter, not when his muscles still twinge from the forced shifting earlier. It's all real enough.

"I don't know how long we're here for," he says, searching her face. Vague enough. They know they come from another world, and it stands to reason they'll return to it. "But I want to know more of this place before we leave it. It'd be useful, for the world I come from."

He believes that's so, anyway, whether in some broad and important sense or simply as his own knowledge to take back with him, and protect.
portalling: ᴛʜᴏʀ: ʀᴀɢɴᴀʀᴏᴋ. (pic#15613383)

[personal profile] portalling 2023-02-18 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)
“Nothing quite so direct,” Strange says. “It’s simply passed through many hands — it’s sold onto the next eccentric, and then sold again — and the sorcerers eventually bought it for a pittance from the last owner, who couldn’t figure out what to do with it. It turns out that people don’t much like haunted properties. Even if they’re not all that magically sensitive, they can tell that something is off about the location. We, of course, don’t mind.”

An aimless wave of his hands, indicating their surroundings, the visible signs of magic all around them. There’s some kind of orrery floating in the corner, contentedly monitoring the planes, flickering with the occasional glimmer of gold light.

“Still, though, I don’t recommend going into the basement. Unpleasant energy down there.”
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (pic#15781103)

[personal profile] portalling 2023-02-18 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)
“I’m obviously a fan, but that’s to be expected.” Strange is standing next to Julius now, stretching out his stiff shoulders — god, he needs to stop hunching over these books – and he reaches for that sling ring hanging from his belt. Slips it onto his fingers, and then it’s that flippant twirl of a finger to carve a circle into reality: casual, unthinking, comfortable where once he had strained and struggled to cast this spell.

Through that sparking circle, he walks them through to Nepal.

— where it’s bitterly cold, and Strange mutters a curse as a gust of cutting wind blows through them. They’re standing in a courtyard of sprawling stone, a temple surrounded by forest and distant mountainside. Some of the rooftops and towers are being repaired, novices shimmying up the scaffolding and carefully re-laying shingles.

It’s quiet here, compared to the big city they came from. The air is fresher, cleaner, and crisp; Strange exhales as the two of them step through. Passing masters in their own robes don’t seem fazed by the new arrivals, although one of them nods in greeting.

Where the Sanctum Sanctorum had its Victorian grandeur, this place feels even older, humbler. There’s a couple of trainees on the other side of the courtyard sparring each other with quarterstaffs, working up a sweat in the winter morning. It had been evening in New York a moment ago.

“Welcome to Kamar-Taj, the home away from home,” Strange says. “Sort of.”
hassaran: (Default)

how bout now

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-02-18 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's difficult to untangle the question and the compliment, the gentle arch of brows and upward curve at the corners of faintly pressed lips comingling somethings akin to surprise and sympathy. She's watching him, eyes fixed and keen but without the sharpened edge she tends to wield around the war room table (and occasionally the peace room sitting area). A searching sort of gaze, rather than one priming to pounce. ]

Were you tempted to do otherwise? [ Mild, curious. ] Or having been given a second chance at life, did you feel obliged to spend it on our efforts?
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (pic#15781141)

[personal profile] portalling 2023-02-18 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
“Eh,” Strange says, eloquently.

It’s hard to get comfortable on this lumpy couch cushion on the floor, the filling spilling out of it, but he readjusts. Shifts and fidgets a little. “You ever been in a social situation so awkward that you actually welcome the moment something attacks? It’s a nice distraction. Because you know what you’re supposed to do with an attacking eyeball. It’s very clear-cut.”

He doesn’t particularly want to dump his relationship issues on this Youth™, but considering how Ellie knows what it’s like to open your eyes and find yourself in another reality, several times over —

“Did you hear about the Blip, while we were in New York?” he asks, suddenly. “People vanishing out of existence for five years, then suddenly popping back. I was one of them. That was what made it strangest, I think. I blinked and half a decade had gone by. I remembered her as single, but that’s a whole long-term relationship in the interim. If she hadn’t moved on before, she certainly had by then.”

Multiversal struggles, am I right?
portalling: ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ. (pic#15624646)

[personal profile] portalling 2023-02-18 11:36 pm (UTC)(link)
“Of course I do,” Strange says, that ingrained arrogance near-automatic, because he hates being caught feeling sorry for himself — but there’s still a little flash of mordant tongue-in-cheek humour in the reply.

“Just, y’know, less so. I’m re-evaluating my stance on brute force muscles.”
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (pic#15646950)

never 2old

[personal profile] portalling 2023-02-18 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, that’s just the right question to ask. Something seems to light in Strange’s eyes; a kind of twinkling humour and satisfaction as he gets to answer it.

“Absolutely. There’s a saying here: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. It’s more true than people thought when they first said it. I believe they’re just two different ways of answering the same question, or getting at the same problem. For example— is time travel a thing back in Thedas? Here, I once accomplished it using magic, and Stark accomplished it separately using his science. One coin. Two sides.”
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (pic#15781031)

[personal profile] portalling 2023-02-18 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
“Oh, everywhere,” Strange says, and there’s something respectful in his voice for once, rather than that habitual flippancy. This is one thing he does take seriously. The toe of his boot nudges the edge of that mirrored artwork in the dead grass.

(That was what the multiverse looked like, he thinks. Panes of glass layered over and over and over each other, and all you had to do was smash through them in a clatter, ringing in your ears.)

“In short… You know how rifters come to Thedas through rifts? I once did a similar sort of travel here. There are uncountable other universes, and the boundaries between them aren’t as solid as they’d seem. There are entirely alien worlds, certainly, but there would also be other versions of your own world where the past played out differently. Every single decision anyone’s ever made could spawn another universe, another possibility. Alternate selves. Roads not taken. I’ve visited a couple of these.”
katabasis: ([149])

[personal profile] katabasis 2023-02-19 05:23 am (UTC)(link)
"The measures they've used to secure the artifact," he says, and then amends automatically. "The rose. If any."

It's possible, of course, that none of been taken. This wouldn't be the first place in which they've traveled where the fragment they're looking for has been better disguised than it has been protected. But so long as they have the dead man's cooperation—

(The reality of which prickles at the fine hairs at the back of his neck; tugs at some part behind his ribs which should be readily revolted but is failing to recoil from the thoughtless violence that colors the slow wobble of Bertalan's blood streaked face. How dark the front of his clothes are from the cut of his throat; how red John Silver's hand is.)
hornswoggle: (168)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2023-02-19 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
Be assured, revulsion is coiling low in John's gut. Enough for both of them.

The hum of power brought to bear, thrumming in the blood dripping from his fingertips, throbbing in the slash gouged into his palm, John would snuff it out. Wring it from him.

But the utility is undeniable. There is no resistance.

John lowers himself, levering down to hold Bertalan's wandering gaze lest it be drawn at a slant to Flint and shatter John's hold on him. Not graceful, but practiced, in setting his weight down to the cobblestones. Severed leg first, good leg next, uncut hand supporting his weight on the crutch. Overhead, clouds gather. The night grows darker around them.

"Look here," John murmurs. "Tell me about what's been done to protect the artifact. The rose."

Useful. There are spells that can detect certain measures, but has Flint put them to paper? Could John weave them if he hadn't? (This power he's spending now, it is wholly new to him. And he can feel the way it draws attention, the way something vast and cosmic bears down on him as Bertalan's slack jaw parts to draw a rasping breath.) And detecting isn't the same as undoing. John had already known that; part of being such a good thief and a good liar was being able to make that distinction.

"Traps," Bertalan answers. His voice has the quality of an echo, unsteady and fraying. "They hired a man to set magical traps, and another man to rig it with poisons. Impossible to disarm blind, they said."
Edited (words) 2023-02-19 05:44 (UTC)
katabasis: ([071])

[personal profile] katabasis 2023-02-19 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
In the lengthening shadows of the alley, Flint watches with the intent of a scholar—studying the shape of them as carefully as he might a page (a note copied out and carefully folded, secreted into an interior coat pocket and living even now close in against his ribs). The air whistles broadly through Bertalan's parted flesh. It's the sort of sound which makes as if to linger in the ear, strangely loud and distinct in the narrow span of the crooked little footpath.

Traps. Magical, and poisoned. There are ways to discern those if they know they're waiting for them. If not by either of them, then— well, what better reason to travel with a company than this one?

"Little Calimshan." How transgressive it seems to speak the prompt aloud, as if the heavy weight of the air crowding around them is something that can be punctured with a word. "Oasis."
tender: (80)

[personal profile] tender 2023-02-19 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
It is difficult to mind that prompt. Derrica certainly doesn't mistake it's meaning, only she is uncomfortable with leaving the distraction to Marcus while she makes a break for it.

But there is no way to extract any whispered promises from him as to what happens next, so she does turn as he pivots, as his arm draws back. By the time the debris cracks off metal, skitters to a stop on concrete, Derrica is crouched impossibly lower, edging her way towards the half-opened gate. Moving this slowly, there is utter silence to her movement.

A quick, backwards glance. Eyes finding Marcus, then the clicker swarming at the far back corner over whatever shattered bit of something Marcus had tossed. For a moment, it is only the one. Then a second weaves into sight, shoulder scraping off the wall as it bends to investigate alongside it's warped fellow.

Derrica feels herself pale, breath sticking in her throat. But satisfied at Marcus' intent, she keeps moving. The best option is to get themselves out, then speak of how unsettling the sight had been.