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

[nonvenomous]

There's no answer.

Wide as it was for humans to traverse, the passage is cramped now with the coils of this yuan-ti, its hands heavy and cold as the stonework. Gold armor gleams at its bracers, jeweled rings thick on its fingers, glossy in the torchlight.

It rolls like a crocodile in its struggle to rip Abby off her feet, once, twice, the mace in its jaws gouging ancient carvings in its haste to draw her into constriction. The shed skin bunched on the floor is heavier than it looks, and tough, tangling thick at further efforts to escape.

A flash of Fade green overtakes the torches for an instant, stretching shadows.

She’s as likely to feel as she is to see the sudden drop of one of the serpent’s arms rotten out of it socket, flesh desiccated, crumbling to damp ash off the bone. The effect ruptures up the back, out the through the ribs on one side, across the jaw into the eye, allowing the mace to clatter free when the creature recoils with a mighty hiss, leaving clumps of charred gore behind.

Dickerson is on his feet down the hall with his hand raised, ready with a hissed response to the yuan-ti cursing both of them -- a bitter back-and-forth in snake-tongue that briefly captures its attention.

[propulsion]

[ How novel, for a bunch of people to have context about your history, and to bring it up in conversation without you having supplied it. ]

Sure.

[ Or— ]

Pepper had, anyway, [ god knows, ten times over. He amends; ] I don't know. It was like the worst thing had already happened? Like, hands down, beyond my wildest expectations worst case scenario. I didn't have anything left to give, but we wanted to make something out of it. Had to.

[ A little suit-shrug whir. ]

At least back home, we only got a taster. I'd rather we don't resort to time travel.

[hassaran]

As would I. That taste was enough.

[ The taste of burrito, on the other hand—. She contemplates it between metal-skinned fingers, takes a bite and as she chews looks back out once again on his city at their feet. Another subway train heads across the bridge below, wheels clattering out of rhythm above the more constant buzz of traffic. Some madmen race a pair of jetskis in swooping arcs through the East River. The breath she exhales is heavy enough to be underlain by a soft purr of machinery as chest and shoulders rise and fall with it. ]

You would think there might be some sense of accomplishment, if not then, at least after learning of your death. Completion. [ Whatever the word is. ]

Have you seen them here? Pepper and— is it Morgan? [ She knows it is. It feels polite somehow anyway. ]

[propulsion]

[ Tony makes a muffled agreeable sound at this first part, around his nearly-last bite of burrito. You would think. And maybe there is, but it's a little like double-vision. He can rest easy, knowing that home might be okay, and somehow,

resting easy turns into 'being able to focus on the task at hand'. Too itchy, to attempt to think he's done for good.

She asks that, and he makes a 'uh-uh' sound. It twinges, that question, but it's a sore point he's been poking at himself anyhow. He could explain the logistics, with Pepper girlbossing her way around the world and the access point in time he hasn't hit yet where Morgan exists, but, fundamentally, ]

Kind of ghoulish, don't you think?

[propulsion]

The long suffering look is met with a brief gesture of surrender, Tony peeling away to start picking through the place. It is, of course, completely ransacked, crumpled where nature has reclaimed it, nothing to be found save for whatever is tucked away into the less obvious corners that Ellie knows to search. He will make an effort, anyway.

"That's," Tony says, and then sighs out the, "not nothing."

Uses the end of the rebar (see, he has it for a reason) to flip something over he doesn't want to touch. The smell of plant decay, water damage, slimey congealing muck. He wrinkles his nose.

"Thedas has a way of forcing everyone to cool their jets."

[hassaran]

[ Her first reaction is a more ambivalent hmmm, swinging up at the end not in question but for lack of any anchoring certainty, an audible shrug. She gives it another moment's consideration before forming a real response. ]

It's a glorified dream, there'd be no harm in it. But I can see how it might make it harder.

[ She lowers her head for a second, then turns back up toward him. ] I'm sorry to've asked that way, it was insensitive.

[propulsion]

It might.

"Yeah. Sure. Great, uh, thinking."

Tony kind of pivots, like he's on the verge of just going, which is his normal response to a prickle of nerves. Thinks better, pivots back.

"What are we talking, like, more urgent than where the little boys' room is, more believable than there's a hostage situation happening in the aviary."

tees up a bow

[propulsion]

"Let's do it,"

easy enough, but not flippant. Not, either, like he'll be enduring something against his wishes, but maybe like it's not the worst idea he's ever had. Something about accepting the Fade's ability to faithfully reconstruct a place, even if he's not super hot on reconstructing the people in that place.

(Lofty floor in an old building, soft curtains and rugs, shining polished wood and archways. Tall ceilings, a myriad of photographs in gilt frames. There's an office he used to sneak into, and a small kitchen that had a cookie jar, and a piano in the sitting room that needs tuning.

A little less alien than all Ellis has seen so far, if still an extravagant display of wealth, more so for the context of being such a sizeable chunk of Manhattan real estate. But still. Softer, credible, roomy, big windows and small, personal touches.)

Howard and Maria have been gone for a long time. There's little the Fade can do, in that area, that he hasn't already done to himself.

"It'll be nice," Tony adds. "Do we wanna take all this to go?"

cinches it

[heorte]

In a car, moving smoothly through traffic towards a set destination, Ellis might feel some quiet pang of loss for what has been excised from him in that temple. He will never find his way back to the ruin of his childhood home.

"Aye, we should."

Because Ellis is still hesitant to waste food, even if he is uncertain of how well any of this will travel with them, wrapped into parcels and then again into plastic. It will wait on the seat of the car as they walk through a dream recreation of a home Tony grew up in.

If Tony had taken him here first, instead of the Tower, there would still have discomfort. But not quite the same, and it ebbs a little easier for the traces of inhabitation, of people who have been gone a very long time.

And possibly for the way Tony fits into this place too, how the place seems to welcome and brighten for his presence in it.

Within that space, Ellis asks very few questions. It isn't very necessary, he finds, between the structure and what Tony offers unprompted. Whatever curiosities Ellis might have had are answered as they walk through the place together.

[laruetheday]

"On it."

Clarisse stops at what looks like a linen closet in the hallway, first, but on opening the door she knows there won't be anything they can use. There's an old washer dryer set inside, the doors cloudy and smeared with some kind of residue, and an ancient bottle of detergent sitting on top. She lifts it and gives it a shake, just in case, but the liquid inside has long since dried up.

She moves on to the bathroom, where she has more luck. There's no useable soap that she can find, but there are two towels folded inside the cabinets that aren't totally covered in mouse shit. They are covered in a layer of about three inches of dust, though. She shakes them out and gathers them under one arm, holding her breath, and then checks the medicine cabinet. She isn't expecting to find anything, but there's an old and slightly rusted pair of scissors that she takes and slips into her bag. Nice.

"I found towels," she calls as she heads back to the stairs.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse follows her out, slipping her broken hand into her hoodie pocket again. The pizza should get here soon, she's pretty sure.

"Nightmare, right?" Like, she knows everybody in Riftwatch is having nightmares, but she means before. She's only guessing, but... Abby does seem like the type who'd Get It, if anyone did.

[laruetheday]

Yes, an elevator would be much safer, wouldn't it?

Don't mind Clarisse having a silent heart attack over here, not to mention gripping Gela's hand like a fucking vise. She's completely quiet as they land on the base of the spire, which is how you know she truly got the shit scared out of her by that near miss.

After a couple seconds, she loosens the muscles in her chest enough to inhale weakly. Fuuuuck.

[portalling]

There’s a twinge in Strange’s chest: sharp, unexpected, catching him sideways at the thought. He had originally been set on leaving Thedas as soon as humanly possible, just like his stay in 838, barreling his way in and then out of the universe like barging through panes of glass. But the longer that he’s been with Riftwatch, the longer he’s been forced to sit and reckon with it. His impact here. The fact that Theodosian problems are now his problems.

“I consider Kamar-Taj a home away from home, so I imagine that long enough spent here— there— well, you know what I mean. Long enough in Thedas, then I hope so too. There are far worse places to be stranded.”

Like plague-ridden overgrown Seattle, for instance, with every turn a danger. He’s been trying not to say as much to Ellie or Abby. He continues to rifle through the dusty cabinets — there’s no food, but he eventually finds a bottle of old expired painkillers alongside crumbling bottles of spices. Good. The expiration isn't a danger, just lessened efficacy. Talking, while they search:

“Back home, there was a time in history called the Age of Exploration, or the Age of Discovery — a time when people were exploring and pushing the boundaries and the horizons, shrinking the map. Through sea and then air and then, eventually, space. I’m sure the same will happen in Thedas over time. I believe the general arc of history is a merciless path of progress in that regard.”

Merciless might sound negative, but it’s not really, in Strange’s mind; it's simply that inevitable onwards momentum, devouring the map as they go. What does lie north of Par Vollen? Surely someone will find out, someday.

[armd]

It works. Abby looks up at her, arms tight around her own body. Underneath of her feet the lift shivers and jolts as it takes them up and up and up. The wind is colder up here, and louder.

Closing her eyes in a tight blink, she exhales, rough. Hums.

"Sure." It's not that she doesn't believe her, just that she'd rather Ellie keep talking than doing pauses for effect or whatever the fuck, "What happened in the mall?"

[armd]

Ohhh he took that literally and it's happening right now, okay. Abby sets her own stump down; she's brushing off her hands when the kid before her abruptly becomes a bear, lengthening, widening, and she staggers back a step as the bear rears over the top of her. Something in her chest scrabbles, clawing at her ribs, and she blinks hard, forcing it down. Threat, her wolf urges, baring teeth, fight. Defend yourself, but she keeps hold on it. Just.

Fuck.

"Can you give me some warning," she snaps, as the grizzly huffs hot air at her, eyes wide, her heart thumping in her ears. "Holy shit Reilly."

C'mon, she's still new!

[heorte]

It seems to occur to Ellis in this moment exactly what he's proposed. Something about the question—

"You believe you've seen an intruder," Ellis suggests. "Call on them to investigate."

A good balance, isn't it? With so many people about, it may simply be someone wandering where they shouldn't be. Not something that could be ignored, but not something that could spiral too far outside their control.

[heorte]

"Aye," likely comes off as more serious than it should, but considering Ellis spends so much of his time chasing after scientists—

Well. The fear of what kind of things will warrant further exploration has been very clearly demonstrated to him.

"There was a dream before. Two years ago, I think. But what we saw was very different from this. It showed us the future. Possible futures."

Or possible presents. Ellis isn't exactly certain, had been preoccupied at the time.

"This is...not a future, really. It is as if Rifters' dreams have been pulled from them to form this place for us."

[nonvenomous]

“I see,” says Richard.

The pause that stretches while he looks Fox over may be filled by further prattle; he’s disengaged, no longer closely following past measuring sentence breaks for an opportunity to interrupt with an even:

“Would you fetch me a fresh glass of wine, Mister Fox?”

He presses the point with eye contact. Expectant.

[favoriteanalyst]

"The Sanctum didn't feel like home, but it was home-y until it all fell apart." There's some tablecloth that isn't fallen apart or eaten holes in. He packs that away. No telling what use some half-decent fabric can have. Maybe in a year or two (or ten, not that he expects to live or at least have his mind intact that long) it could've been home, if need be.

The hell is home, anyway? He'd left his own young, once-familiar trappings becoming foreign. Training, that had been home for a while, until he graduated into being a Templar. Ostwick was home for the longest time. Starkhaven, for a time.

Does Kirkwall, does Riftwatch feel like home after a year? Not yet.

"If we don't win this war, the arc of history is gonna go spiraling downward pretty rapidly."

[cozen]

[ Bastien has not had occasion to visit the little mansion, no, and he communicates as much with a minute shake of his head. A small gesture because that is how much it matters. ]

Of course.

[ Not of course. But they do seem at some genuine risk of being sent back down the stairs, not permitted to see this room and this Maejyr, and he would hate that. It would be the greatest tragedy of this entire trip. ]

You cannot scandalize me, Miss Poppell. It's not possible. I am only interested. And Monsieur de Foncé only struggles to help himself in general, I'm sure. But we will behave. Won't we?

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Adrianna nods, to indicate it's similar here. That the history is immeasurable, and in some cases, lost forever.

It is a lot, and a true understanding would take time that they don't have. What they have is hard-won and imperfect and ever-evolving, but it bears being tried by others. By the people it will benefit.

"This place isn't so old," Adrianna admits, running her thumb over the side of her mug, a gesture that Jude makes often. There are little things like this, small glimpses, to say this world isn't so impartial as they would all like to believe.

"Ours is a tenuous peace, hard to enforce due to a disparity in power. We live because we are still a wildcard. An unknown. It works because the human government does not know just how powerful we are, and who would aid us. We are just powerful enough to be a significant problem to exterminate, but not a threat to their control."

Adrianna grimly sips her drink. "Our agreements with the human government are local to this country, and called the Shifter Accords. We are allocated this land, Yellowstone park, as our territory. No human may build or trade here without our approval, but they are welcome to freely come and go within certain areas. We are entrenched in business, in science, in the internet. Humans have need of our expertise, our goods, and our strength. We agree to provide agents to be used in conjunction with their military, who operate as independent contractors, managed by their alphas. They have specific rights equal to any contractor for their military, and if they are abused, they have legal recourse. Our agents, much like your people, are powerful players with specialized skills, not easily replaced and endlessly useful. They are often deployed as independent units who answer only to top leadership."

Another sip of her drink. "Our outer borders are protected by enforcers and scouts. All of our young ones are trained in self-defense from the moment they are able to walk. We have regular patrols both from the skies and the earth. Our way of life, even our pups' games, playing at learning to hunt, all circles back to keeping us safe."

"One thing that may not work for you, and what may cause trouble in the future, is our absolute leadership. I am alpha. There are no democratic elections. My authority is recognized utterly."

There's a note in her voice, something sad, resigned.

"The weakness in our system is in that. A pack is only as good as its leadership. Compassionate, strong leaders create compassionate, strong packs. A weak or cruel or stupid alpha is a sickness that eats away at a pack from the inside. While these can be unseated, the damage is often extensive. I am fortunate to know and remain good friends with many strong, compassionate alphas of their respective peoples."

A grim cast appears at the corners of her eyes.

"When a corrupt or abusive alpha surfaces in this country, they are removed, and depending on the area, the local alpha will assume responsibility and care of the pack. Ideally, it will be through a tribunal of shifter courts, where they will be accused by their pack of a misuse of power, and have a trial. Jurors are chosen from the entire population of shifters within the country. If they are found guilty of abusing those they are responsible for, or threatening the security of our treaties with the human government, they are imprisoned in the north with the polar bears. They are not kind wardens. However, there are very few prisoners."

The grim cast only grows more grim. "Our kind, when corrupt, most often prefer trial by dominance battle. Ideally this will not end in death, but with imprisonment. It's not often so ideal."

[hornswoggle]

Who?

It prompts a slanting, amused look from John, as if the question hadn't occurred to him as a necessary thing. There is some humor in the perception of his partnership with Flint, that it is a foregone conclusion but not so often perceived as such.

"Do you intend to tell me to find another if you think the first one wanting?"

[favoriteanalyst]

The hallway just keeps twisting, and, unless he's gone crazy, he's also pretty sure it's getting longer? It definitely seems longer than it was just a minute ago.

"And how do you propose we get upstairs?" Given that the stairs keep changing where they're oriented, and given that if they pick the wrong time, they'll fall either up (down?!) the stairwell or back down (up?!) to the ceiling. "Better," with a puff, "to get out as soon as--Andraste's sake!"

Sure! Sure, tentacles as if from some massive sea beast! Yeah, okay! That's happening, and he drops to a slide that turns into a tumble under another thick and slimy appendage. It leaves a trail of mucous on the floor/wall/ceiling/wherever it hits. The apprentice doesn't give a shit about the ever-twisting hallway, given she's still bouncing around in the air on her little orange disks, lashes out with another long-range attack. Mobius holds up the mirror, and he's frankly shocked to find the attack sparks off the reflective surface rather than breaking his impromptu shield like a sheet of parchment.

Down the impossible hallway, the shockingly imposing figure of Wong steps into view, hands moving, walking along the floor and ignoring the pull of gravity. And each step forward is steady and purposeful. It's got real Terminator vibes. Which, no, Mobius hasn't watched it, but the vibes.

Okay. Maybe do this the hard way. "Get me somewhere I can plant my feet for two seconds."

[foolsmakeitcolder]

"If you see anything actually spooky, chances are it's not ours."

Which... is not at all a comfortable thought, but Jude seems to think it is. He digs his fingers into Mobius's shoulder, rubbing, holding on.

"Happy haunts only," he jokes. Not that Mobius will. Understand the reference. But oh well.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

The bear huffs again, this time much more clearly a laugh, a human boy underneath all that fur and fang and claw. But he takes pity on her (and her poor wolf, he's scaring her, which is bad manners) and changes back instead. He's smooth with his clothes, yanking them all on at the same time he changes back. He's not quite at the level of shifting into pants, like the hawks are. But he admires them so much, he tries.

"Sorry, sorry," he laughs, reaching out to press her hand, back to being much shorter now. His smile is just a little bit of trouble, even through the apology. Like he'd be devastatingly good at mischief if only his heart didn't get in the way.

"I didn't mean to scare you."