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

[armd]

"Kinda hope you don't ever have to use it."

They don't necessarily have to keep having this conversation in Tony's bathroom, right. Abby's got her butt against the counter and sink so she straightens up, jerks her head at the door before she heads out. She's taking the first aid kit, tucked underneath of her arm like a rugby ball.

"Yeah. In the dream I was holding it, but I didn't have anything else on me. It's- kinda this reoccurring thing, so nothing felt out of place until I opened a door and fell out of the fucking rift into the Waking Sea."

[hornswoggle]

Consider how often Rifters defy assumption—

"You might confer with Enchanter Rowntree. He and I had a very similar conversation some months ago."

This is only light teasing.

It is far easier to take this suggestion in stride from Abby, given the context. The broad nature of the suggestion, the implication that it is meant for all of them and not specifically for John, it helps.

"I've a partner in this already. You needn't worry on that account."

[notathreat]

Ellie fixates on a scar on John's cheek, quiets her thoughts. It starts like that. One choice, and then another, and then another.

There are no clean hands. There are so many parts of the job that become necessary.

"... did he? Live through it? Get it done?"

[tender]

What can be done with this recitation?

It's the truth. Ellie is always truthful with her, always. So Derrica knows that Ellie is being truthful with her now.

This is how she moved through the world. How she expects to move through it now that they're in this facsimile of it, and perhaps even in similar moments in Thedas. It is painful, thinking about what kind of pain Ellie expects to absorb.

Her fingers lift to Ellie's jaw, silently beseeching.

"It doesn't have to be," she presses, as gently as she knows how. (Stubborn, Derrica can be more stubborn than anyone realizes.) "You're not alone here. You can be hurt. You risked your life, you can let that mean something."

[armd]

"Not helping," Abby tells her lightly, teeth already clenched. As if she needs to hear the person who just said they'd help her along is freaking out too! One of them has to fucking drive this thing.

Her breath leaks out of her in a hissy sigh when the elevatar jolts, and starts to move up. Don't look down... she tilts her head back, staring resolutely at the ceiling. This works for seconds, until the floor jostles gently along its path upward, making her look back at her feet instantly.

"Oh fuckkkk."

Bad. So bad. Hauling herself together, she musters up a, "No, you didn't tell me."

So go on. Distract!

[elegiaque]

“Death isn't a punishment,” Gwenaëlle says, absently, “it's abdication.”

The casualness of the assessment is probably the most striking thing about it; that she didn't think about it, that it was something she has already thought about before enough to just have that nocked, ready to loose at the appropriate moment, that she doesn't give it much more immediate thought after saying so. Like it should be self-evident, somehow. Death can be a consequence or a release from them, but she thinks of punishment as hand in glove with discipline, thinks it should be. If there's no lesson, if it just ends, what was the point?

To stop him from destroying another universe? Or to stop him feeling bad about having done it in the one he had to live in?

Neither of which feel like ... lessons, to her. No one else even learned anything from it, with a plaque to say what a hero he was.

It is a very particular outlook, and one he may not share; she doesn't dwell on it, herself, but refocuses from where her gaze had wandered to smile at the gesture, the cloak.

“I would like the tour.”

[sprent]

"Instead of stairs," Gela muses, picking it up quickly, "I see..."

That's so useful. If only the Gallows had the elevator too. She laughs, and the wind catches the sound, takes it away. "It sounds a lot safer than what we're doin' right now!"

And on that lovely note, she bends her knees and jumps, and they go up, up, up.

All the way this time, though the wind has a hand in pushing them slightly off course, not enough for it to ruin everything but enough that Gela's eyes go very wide in alarm. Still, they land on the circular base of the spire, right at the edge of it, Gela clawing to get them a little closer, taking an immediate step inward.

PHEW.

[youwonscience]

She grins and reaches for one. "He who comes bearing cookies will always be welcome, thanks man." Also, once the cookie is securely in hand: "Who's Reilly? You been holding out on me?" It's clearly teasing, though she doesn't go so far as to wink at Finch. (It's implied.)

[youwonscience]

"That," she says, pointing at Ellie with the (closed) water bottle, "is a great question. We spent a lot of time trying to figure that out, back home. It turns out we were cloned from a woman who was what's called a genetic chimera. In people, it means someone who has cells from two or more zygotes. In this woman's case, it meant the people who made the clones could use her genetic material as a baseline for both male and female clones. They told her they were doing cancer research, which, I guess was technically true but a pretty fucking large lie of omission."

She rolls the bottle idly between her palms, looking at the fire as she thinks about Kendall for a moment. "They wanted to see how all kinds of things affected the baseline. How we were raised, yeah, but it turned out to be way bigger than that. Private futurists with ideas about transhumanism, and a whole military operation, it was ..." A pause. "It was a lot. And my sisters and I were never supposed to be aware of any of it."

now me

[propulsion]

[ You shrug the normal way in the suit, except there's a pleasant little mechanical purr that goes with each movement.

Tony's patient for Yseult's answers. It's a hell of a view, up here, and it strikes him somewhere in the pause between her thoughts that there's also a real time limit on how long he gets to keep it. Fade-fabrication or not, the thought twinges. Somewhere, a siren kicks off, and he almost laughs.

Good thing he doesn't, because the next thing Yseult says is I should be dead.

Strikes a nerve. Not in a wrong way. ]

Someone out there would say it's a normal amount of selfish.

[propulsion]

"Security, do you think? Or just guys?"

Like any of the guys they've passed by, is his meaning. Tony is already trying to drum up excuses and honeypotting points of conversation that he himself might be able to pull off, where the ideal agent of distraction would be Wysteria if not for the fact she needs to pull off the job itself.

They could also just take 'em out. It's not off the table. Anything can be on the table, even if Tony is more thinking about a hopefully not permanently debilitating head injury rather than bloody murder.

[heorte]

"They'll be troublesome if they're mages."

Regardless of whether their function is to guard or not.

His hand comes again to rest lightly at Wysteria's shoulder as he takes a few steps forward. It's not his function to walk ahead of them, but at this point—

"Let Tony go up ahead of us, asking for help. If they come down this way in a line it'll be easier to deal with them."

[hassaran]

Someone. [ It's less rhetorical than it might be; the more specific sarcasm of knowing one such someone. Somewhere behind them a few more sirens take up the song, the noises converging and racing off into the distance. ]

You retired, for a time. [ Or so her Iron Man research has indicated. ] Did you feel you'd earned it?

[heirring]

There is a brief, baffled look that Wysteria gives Tony— only no, it's a perfectly reasonable question. Only in this moment does it occur to her that it would be entirely likely to have guards posted at the College's warded rooms while there are so many strangers about.

"They will be magicians," is the most minor correction and affirmation both. Don't call them mages. It will raise questions. Carefully, she unwraps her fingers from Tony's arm.

"If they have a pin on their collar like the one yours does, Mister Stark, then they're very senior. But if they don't, it wouldn't be out of order to make demands on their attentions. That might be true even if they've been posted to mind the door."

It isn't a poor strategy that Ellis is floating. It might work. Maybe.

[katabasis]

There is a brief instance where it seems as if Carver might be more concerned with having his handshake refused than being particularly analytical about what's happening under his nose. Presumably, he's not quite so myopic when it comes to the more finicky, less people-oriented portions of his work, but that hesitation wins Cosima and Tony (and Yseult and Flint) a further handful of seconds.

"Right, of course. Well—"

"I'll just need to check his badges," interjects Suit.

From beyond the doors, a very somewhat sounding thump! prompts the attention of both men to taper in that direction.

[katabasis]

"I have a suspicion," Flint says. He stands up reasonably well to assessment, and a anything that is less than convincing has a way of blurring in the smoky atmosphere given the added impetus of his raised eyebrows and certain knowing quality in the expression he's adopted. "That discussing the details here will take us out past your curtain."

On cue, there is a rasp of rollers as the heavy curtain behind them rushes to part. A shriek of a horn, the rushing of a drum to catch up, and the patter of soft soled feet as four dancers come hurrying out of the wings to catch their cue.

The woman sighs. With a flick of the hand, she makes to close the ledger.

[hornswoggle]

A flicker of old habit: what exactly is marked in that ledger, and how can he get a hand on it?

But it comes to nothing. A passing curiosity, turned over in his mind as this woman leads them along the edge of the room past the assembled clientele and otherwise, up a short flight of steps and through a side door.

Behind the curtain, there is still a buzz of activity. People mingling, fussing with items and costume, a man with a broken harp complaining in a guttural, unfamiliar dialect to a horned woman leaning against the edge of a crate. All dart glances to the woman as she enters, a moment of stillness fading as she strides past all activity.

Into a store room, where the tapestry across the back wall lifts aside to grant entry into another room. There is a desk. She seats herself at the far side of it, and the single chair across from it is left to their discretion.

[portalling]

“Ah, well. Good thing I do, then. I’ll maintain the scoreboard for us.”

Strange is always keeping mental score — a meticulous tally, a weighing of pros and cons, debts owed and obligations discharged — but this one’s a joke. Mostly. He’ll always remain his own worst critic.

The next house over has an open door, shattered windows. The men undertake a short conferral, and then they’re easing their cautious way into a quiet building to look for supplies, all sun-drenched windows and flourishing moss crawling along the floor and up the walls. No sounds of infected, but the detritus and debris of a domestic life. Strange stands in the mouth of the living room, looking in at it, the trinkets and belongings sitting abandoned if their owners had only just stepped away. There’s a half-open book on the coffee table, its pages rotting. Someone had lived here. This had been a home.

“You’ve known rifters for a while,” he says. “How long, do you think, before they say Thedas starts to feel like home? Back where I come from, we would say you couldn’t call yourself a New Yorker until you’d lived there for ten years.”

[hornswoggle]

Pirates, by their nature, accumulate scars of all sorts in the course of their lives. Or rather, sailors, any man who spends time doing hard work upon the sea. John's hands had filled with splinters and grown calloused and hard long before he had found himself aboard the Walrus.

It is inevitable. It is a life that marks those who immerse themselves in it.

John's hand falls to his thigh. Even in the shadow, the abrupt end of his leg is very stark. His opposite hand turns in the air, weighing as he tells her, "Yes, he lived through it. And he did get it done, albeit from what I saw it was far from his best work."

Is every first attempt at killing a clumsy, haphazard thing?

"Returned to the ship with blood all down his face. Ruined the tunic he came aboard in, if I recall. He never stopped reminding us of that either. The personal loss involved in taking that score."

[notathreat]

Ellie nods at him, encouraging -- and then rolls her lip over her teeth, thoughtful. Unsure of how to explain what she wants to say, but it's important anyway.

"I wasn't gonna say anything but- I'm pretty sure I met you, actually. Not in person, or I would have put it together faster. It was always over text. But there was a guy on the neural-link network with the name Stephen Strange. I was still really new and figuring out how stuff worked. I sent a... joke. Anonymously. Out onto the network. A pun. I don't remember what, but it was about birds."

Everything was about birds back there. It was weird.

"And he was the only one who talked to me for a while. It was late at night, and I didn't even attach my name. We both kept going until we ran out of bird puns."

Ellie pauses again, runs her tongue along her lower lip, turns back to him.

"... I wish I could remember more. I just remember he was always asking lots of questions. About everything, everyone. He seemed like he actually wanted to help people."

[notathreat]

Ellie looks up again abruptly as Derrica touches her jaw, looking from her arm up to Derrica's face. She's pressing, pushing, and Ellie doesn't know what to give her, what to tell her. Not for the first time, she wonders if there's something broken inside her.

Because -- sure, a regular person would be scared, right? Shaky, in need of comfort. To come down from the shock, to process the pain and fear of almost dying. But she and Abby- she can't remember the last time either of them were like that.

Because this happens constantly, and the only way to mentally cope with that is to sew yourself up, grit your teeth against the pain and keep moving. To joke with your patrol partner over cooling corpses and swap stories about the times you thought you were completely and utterly fucked, and still made it out alive.

"I swear I'm not trying to act brave," Ellie says, shaking her head slowly, and puts her teeth in her bottom lip, lowering her voice so it's clear that her words are just for Derrica.

"It's like- a gravedigger seeing a dead body. Yeah, if you're not used to it, it's the kind of thing that might fuck you up for a long time. But this- fighting infected, getting hurt, almost dying? This was every single day. This was my normal. And it's freaking you out and I'm sorry. But the thing that's freaking me out right now is you being here."

[luaithre]

The cold river rocks had been confronting, and would have left a collage of colourful bruises if he wasn't imbued with the gift of healing. Harsh elements, biting chilly air that had felt trivial to wolf hide but pricked and needled human flesh, and the remaining ache in his bones and muscles from the forced shift. The whole experience leaving him raw enough that there was nothing he could keep in.

Here, there is sweet lemonade, and the cuddly sweater he'd been given, and the hug of the couch he's in, and Marcus does not want to seem ungrateful, but it's strange how all these comforts jangle against his nerves. Maybe it's just the wolf, having had all that control for days on end, suspicious of domestic gentleness.

But Adrianna settles herself, looks at him. The power she exudes, he's beginning to grow accustomed to, and between that and Jude's aura beside him, it does something to remind him of where he is. And why.

"I don't really know your history," he admits. "Ours is long. That of mages, I mean. Centuries."

Marcus shakes his head, an indication that he will, if he can, pass on the responsibility of attempting to explain it. "My concern is the present, and whatever happens next. I'd know how this place came to be, and how it's run. How it's kept safe, within and without. How it's kept legitimate."

He stops there. It's a lot already.

[luaithre]

And it's a relief, nearly, when the choice is taken away, and Marcus can act without the anxious whir of higher brain function. It takes no thought at all for him to flow to his feet, for that movement to bring with it his staff in hand in a readied swing and a pivot to confront the runner. In truth, he is moving before it shrieks, having flicked his notice to Derrica's face and read her expression.

Adrenaline flushes through blood which fills muscle, and the graceless but accurate swing of his staff cleaves blade into corpse skull. He stumbles a little in the momentum after, needing to tug free his weapon as the other two give awful, rattling shrieks, no longer fooled. And another, stumbling in. There must be a passage back there where they've accumulated, and now he sees why the gate was jarred so.

With that one rageful swing over, the dead thing twitching on the ground, and the others all swarming through the debris-filled store, Marcus reverses, ready to fling himself down and haul himself to

well, something closer to safety than what he is in currently.

[luaithre]

A scrape of a breath out from him is almost rueful, because he says, "Other mages."

Which could be a commentary on the Conclave, the bickering, the way everyone seems to have a picture of a collective future, scattered over individuals, each one a little (or a lot) different from the other.

But Marcus goes on to add, "I don't know how many can readily picture it, a way of life beyond the Circles. Even those in the south that have, it was only in spite of them. It's one thing to convince a people that their circumstances are intolerable, but another to convince them that there are other ways beyond it, and those ways may be as difficult to achieve as they are worth it."

A glance to John, evaluating. "Ways that might only be proven generations after you and me."

[altusimperius]

Tony. How familiar. How intriguing.

"You're nobility, then?" Who else could afford such impressive domiciles?