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

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is thudding down the stairs (and honestly being kinda loud, but who's going to get mad about it, the dead guy?) as Abby starts prying nails off the front door. She's stuffing the towels into her bag, but she looks up when she hits the last couple steps, and frowns.

"We're not going back out the window?" Seems like it would be easier. And... more fun...

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is already shaking her head as Abby tries to explain herself. It's fine.

"No," she says, "I get it." She does. Really. And it worked out, because now they're friends and Clarisse can bug Abby whenever she feels like it. (Often.)

"It helps having someone else around. Back at camp I lived with my siblings, and at college I had a roommate too. We weren't... really friends or anything, but it was still good to know someone else was around, just in case."

In case of nightmares, or a random monster attack. Whatever.

[nonvenomous]

A venomous crackle of electricity forms at the abomination’s fingertips, its remaining hand outstretched to Richard, scaled lips peeled back from puffy gums --

Bonk.

There’s an undead quality to the flex of the jaw after that first blow, strings of muscle glistening through split scales, the exposed eye socket a blackened crater, cracked through at the brow. It sways drunkenly to face her, unsteady on its own coils, just in time for her mace to shatter through fangs and skull and brains and everything around and in between, cracked and rotten.

The creature slumps. It folds. Heavy, backwards, into the still-writhing loop of its aft end.

Blood dribbles off the loose fork of the tongue, greasy with venom.

Down the hall, Richard scuffs his chin with his sleeve, mussed and slick with his own battle mess. He’s blanched pale and short on breath, whole if not hale: a sharp jerk from his elbow sees him ripping the fang tip lodged up under his collarbone free.

[youwonscience]

Since the contact doesn't seem unwelcome, she leaves her hand where it is. "It's a thing people do, it wasn't like ... what I set out to specialize in. I ended up teaching myself a lot because even if I wasn't an expert, all my sisters knew less." A wry smile. "Sort of good prep for Thedas, I guess, in a way."

A little shrug, and she adds, "What I was actually studying was more looking at the past than looking at the future. Evolutionary developmental biology, it's like ... You look at how an organism develops for clues about questions we have about how it evolved. It turns out that there are only, like, a few genes that control building an organism, whether it's a fly or a giraffe or a human. Before I got sidetracked into not dying, I was studying how the environment affected identical cells, to see if affected their development." You know, no big deal.

Then she says, almost abrutply, "Also, oh my god, I've been talking about myself for a really long time, sorry. It's just ... it's good. It's nice, to have someone interested."

[armd]

The sound of the creature hitting the floor is very loud in the silence only broken up by panting, and Abby seething, hissing out a breath of her own through clenched teeth. She passes off her mace again, and flexes her hand, splaying fingers, squeezing them into a fist. "Shit."

It's fine, but it aches.

"You good?"

Richard looks- not great. Abby's professional assessment. He's unsteady on his feet down the other side of the corridor, paper-pale. He reaches up, fingers curling around the fang-tip as if to tug; Abby says, "Leave it!" far too late.

Out it comes, in a wash of blood. She strides toward him, gesturing at her collarbone and throat to indicate where the wound is on him, instructing, "Get some pressure on that. With your hand, push down- bunch your shirt up underneath."

[notathreat]

"I'm trying."

There's no hint of the infection spreading under Ellie's skin. No cysts and spores and flowering, creeping death. No redness in her eyes, no bleeding gums and blistering fever. Ellie's been bitten before, more than once. She's lived what should have killed someone hundreds of times. She's not afraid to die. Death is patient, and it'll have her eventually. She's just afraid of what it'll do to the people that love her.

Besides, dying's not the hard part. Living is.

"Abby's got an idea of where to find the thing we need to get out of here," she says levelly, sticking as always to the next step.

"We'll take a team and be back in Thedas by the end of the day tomorrow."

[armd]

"Eugh," she says, and means it, a bit of amused disgust finding a path through her climbing anxiety, "Gross."

The smell... "How'd you get out of there?"

[portalling]

“Real question,” Strange says, which is maybe the first immediate clue that what’s about to come out of his mouth is some tongue-in-cheek nonsense à la Stark, “how do we get one of those for ourselves? I’d hate to wind up bringing a knife to a dragonfight.”

(No one take this man seriously.)

[portalling]

“Not functionally enough that it matters; they’re synonyms, mostly. There’s different sources of magic and the types of spells one can cast, and whether or not you need an external object to harness the energy or if you can do it yourself, but that’s probably splitting hairs. Magic is magic.”

Strange catches that rueful self-awareness, and it’s an interesting question in light of what they can see across the temple: hose two trainees going at each other, rolling over the stone ground, quarterstaffs smacking at knee and arm and elbow.

It feels like an entire lifetime ago that he was sparring with Mordo himself.

He glances over at Julius. “Where do you fall? On the nature of battle-readiness.”

[portalling]

Stephen snorts at the mention of the protocol; bites back a small rueful smile. And then, still picking his way through this conversation, adds, “I can’t help picking a scab. It was one of the first things I did. I went to visit— an ex, and had to apologise for literally jumping off a balcony at her wedding the last time I saw her. If these are all simply spirit automatons built from our memories, they’re still incredibly convincing. It’s uncanny.”

Mug of coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, Stephen glances down at the maps of the various estates, the diagrams of the city; they’re safer to look at for the moment than meeting Tony’s restless energy. Even with that steadily-blinking date in the corner of the screen, which feels like the light bite of a needle every time he sees it. The year in Stark Tower is earlier than the Sanctum. Weird shit.

“I don’t blame you for steering clear.”

yrs to fade out, or i could close in my next?

[portalling]

There’s the sudden inane thought to respond with a matching Aye. It’s weirdly addictive and weirdly satisfying to hear in Ellis’ burr of a voice.

But instead, Strange settles for a, “That makes sense.”

Their first stop, in New York— despite all logic, he had wanted it to be real. Genuinely, truly wanted to find that he’d stumbled and luckily tripped his way home again, and all they had to do was politely usher the Thedosians through their own rift homeward, bing bang boom and the problem was sorted and he could go back to being a full-time sorcerer in his prime with no anti-magic societal prejudice gnawing at his ankle.

But it had not worked. And it had not worked. And there had been another world, and another, and another, until now they’re in the most nightmarish of them all, despite the fact that the ground is wet beneath their boots and the campfire is warm and everything about this still feels as real as the first one did.

His head tilts back; a deep breath.

“Sorry our dreams are garbage,” he says, lightly.

[nonvenomous]

Rubble, dust, and reams of snakeskin rattle in time with the shudder of the passageway underfoot, more noticeable now that the fray is ended. There is a torn shirt in there, layered under Dick's armor, that could be pulled up from beneath the breastplate and twisted -- his first priority is raising slippery hands to stave off any effort she might make to step in and assist.

A muttered spell will pinch off the worst of the blood flow. It doesn’t make him look any less ragged.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. Breathless, distracted. He does press a hand at his collar as an afterthought, teeth grimaced red at the gap he feels under the bone. “Thank you.”

Movement whispers under a heap of shed skin nearby and is still -- a clump late to resettle after this latest quake, perhaps. Richard doesn’t glance after it, busy piecing Abby apart in search of open punctures. Also: fitting the fang tip down into a pouch he’s uncinched on his belt.

“Were you bitten?”

[portalling]

Normally, the mirror dimension is a friend to him, a weapon to be used. Strange is accustomed to breaking reality, shattering it, splintering it into multiple pieces and pulling them back together, shunting enemies into mirrored prisons, but now that whole realm is turned against them. They need solid ground.

“Coming right up,” Strange says, and he digs around in his pockets — please god don’t drop the sling ring while they’re running — but he finds it, slips it onto a finger, and with the spin of a hand, he rips a hole in reality.

The area directly in front of them, rather than still being that endless hallway, is now somewhere else: a grand staircase, leading upstairs. He’d tried to open it directly to the outside world, but the building’s wards are humming like an overworked engine, jaws snapped shut, keeping them inside. But they leap through the glowing portal, landing on solid ground, where they can start running up that staircase so long as it doesn’t start coiling like a snake and trying to buck them off.

Behind them, Wong is still advancing.

“I’ve seen worse,” Strange mutters under his breath. He seals up the portal behind them, but it won’t last forever. “There are swords and shields in the cabinets,” he says, starting to scale the stairs. “Ordinarily I’d give you a whole schpiel about being careful about what you touch, blah blah blah, but this time, I think all bets are off— just grab whatever weaponry appeals to you.”

[portalling]

“It’s not really the fashion here. If you’ve been out and about on the streets, you’ve probably noticed that people don’t dress like mages or scholars do in Thedas.”

During the day at the Sanctum Sanctorum, Doctor Strange has been bustling around in ornate, finely-made navy blue robes with that ostentatious red cloak; attire which truly would have looked at home in any Circle. Tonight, though, and at this late hour in the kitchen, he doesn’t look much like a sorcerer at all: comfortable sweats, comfortable sweater.

“Are you… fitting in alright?” Strange isn’t great at being a host, but he picks his way through that question. He’s trying. “No awkward encounters, no bystanders pointing and staring and people snapping your picture?”

[portalling]

Time travel’s a headache, and yet Strange seems to light up a little, discussing it. He’d been the sacred keeper of the Time Stone for a few years; one couldn’t help but still be interested in the concept.

“With actual time travel within your own universe, yes, you want to avoid running into your past self or changing events. You don’t want to deviate from the path or you’re going to create new branches, paradoxes, split timelines, it’s a mess. With alternate universes, though—”

He’s straightened up, some of that professorial tone creeping back in, sounding more enthralled than weary and defeated. It’s an improvement. “Think of it like rifting in. You’re a visitor to that world. You’re not meant to be there. I sought out myself hoping that he could help me get back home again, or at least lend an assist in general,”

and he hadn’t found help for either,

“but it doesn’t contradict their own timeline. Because your own experiences aren’t theirs. You’re from somewhere entirely else. They might look like you, they might have remarkably similar histories, but you were never in the same world and your paths diverged at a certain point. Which gets into nature versus nurture shit, but you probably get the gist.”

[portalling]

“Hm,” Strange says, but it’s a noise of agreement. Yeah. Probably.

And it occurs to him, then, in all that Mobius is inquisitive and thoughtful and a good listener and always eager to hear about rifter life, that Strange has spent a godawful amount of time talking about himself. It’s been easy enough to chalk it down to well, they’re locals, but New York is not Los Angeles just as Kirkwall is not Denerim, is not Minrathous, and their organisation has been drawing people to it from all over. He knows by now that Mobius used to be a templar, but the shape of the rest of his story is an unknown.

“How long have you been with Riftwatch, anyway?”

[favoriteanalyst]

These things are--sometimes deliberate. Usually deliberate, when questions get pointy. He has a bad habit of not talking about himself much, gathering what information he can about others, about the strangers from other worlds most of all lately. Himself? No big deal. Uninteresting. Let's focus on something else.

Part of that's out of the bag, the whole Templar thing. Still doesn't mean he talks about it for the most part, the details kept quiet. A lot of it just simply...is his.

This question isn't one that bothers him. He gives a hum, thinking about it as he tests another patch of floor and deems it safe enough to trod on. "About a year. It was the first month when I'd rolled into Kirkwall. Some of these people, some of them have been here since the start, when it was still the Inquisition based out of Skyhold. Not many, probably, but...definitely people in the group that've been on this for years."

[portalling]

It’s been easy enough for Mobius to continually, deliberately steer it that way — it helps that Strange is so very fond of the sound of his own voice — but he’s finally trying to execute that gentle pivot now. “What brings a templar to wash up in Kirkwall and throw his lot in as librarian with a bunch of misfits and mad scientists?”

Strange supposes he can be open about the templar card here; there’s no one else around, or at least no one else with brain function around, and even the building itself is slowly rotting around them, sagging on its foundations. They’ve been rooting around on the ground floor, but he doesn’t fully trust the stairs or the second storey to hold them without the floorboards just giving way.

[portalling]

“Not until you actually meet said other versions of yourself, at which point it becomes extremely concrete and real, and less of a thought experiment. It’s actually a possibility here. Although I don’t think it’s likely, even if this illusion goes that far.”

And it does go far. He’d never even seen that mirrored piece of art, after all, and somehow it’s here with the artist’s blurb and everything. How in the world does that work?

Strange is still half-looking at it, and the distant rolling winter-scoured hills, when his attention drifts back to Gela. “It’s a confusing, weird place. If you ever need another break like this, out to the countryside or seaside or anything,” he adds after a moment, “an escape from the city— just let me know. It doesn’t cost me anything to open a portal.”

[notathreat]

It's comforting, anchoring, and Ellie listens with wide eyes, her wrist draped over a knee.

She smiles abruptly when Cosima apologizes, shaking her head. "I like it," she admits. "Hearing about it. About you and the other Rifters, and who we all were before we came here." Whole lives and worlds with their own rules, their own entanglements. So many of them are so close, with only small diversions. Most of them have some version of Seattle, or New York.

It's unlikely that the world at large knew anything about Cosima and her sisters went through. It's entirely possible, with the Mist, that Clarisse and Cosima came from the same world and just didn't know it.

"No matter how much crazy shit happens to us, sometimes I just... can't wrap my head around the fact somebody here's probably lived through something crazier."

[favoriteanalyst]

He doesn't trust those stairs worth a damn, either, so when he thinks the first floor's gotten about as picked through with whatever left as they can manage he makes a motion to move on. Next door, really, if it doesn't look awful. Hit up a row of living spaces, former homes, dig through the rotted remnants of former lives.

As Strange asks, on the outskirts, poking with a stick, at the rotted remnants of his former life.

"Feel like I fit in with the misfits and outcasts," he says, a little blithely. Not that it isn't true. "And the books needed better tending to."

Strange doesn't say it like a curse. Jude hadn't, either. Ellie had been more directly hurt by it. The Rifters have an interesting relationship with everything to do with mages, here. There's the assumption that they're going to be treated the same. The Chantry might, even if they shouldn't.

Still. He sighs it out, a little quiet: "Former Templar." It doesn't matter to most. And given he still has retained the abilities (and addictions) of the job, maybe it's reasonable to not make the distinction. But it matters to him. "Who just wants to make the world a better, saner place before a madman destroys it all."

[altusimperius]

"Oh. Is that what they were doing?"

He's somewhat used to their strange devices, but didn't entirely know what to make of people pointing them at him-- now that Strange mentions it, it's easy to imagine why.

"...they liked when I went shopping," he says, suddenly a little (uncharacteristically) self-conscious.

[portalling]

“Funny, that’s kind of what drew me in too. World’s not really lacking for madmen trying to destroy things.” Kaecilius, his face scorched from his foray into dark magic. Then Thanos.

They slip back outside. The sun is starting to hang low in the sky — they’ll have to head back to rejoin the others at camp eventually — but they can probably pick over a couple more houses before they turn back. They cut through another backyard, stepping past rusting swing sets, jimmying open another sliding patio door. There’s always that pause and break in the conversation as they enter a new area, going quiet and sizing up the location, looking for threats, before they conclude it’s safe to go and the patter continues.

“Was it pure altruism, or did the recruitment pamphlets get to you? I’m realising that I don’t really know how Thedosians get sucked into Riftwatch. We rifters don’t really have a choice.”

[favoriteanalyst]

There's a dog house. That seems so quaint. And distressing. But there's nothing inside it, so there's no worry. No sounds when they get inside, either. The quiet in comparison to New York is so strange...

"I was living a nice enough, quiet enough life until I wasn't. Riftwatch came to help, and I had something of an epiphany. That I couldn't just sit on my ass if I could do something bigger, something more than the day to day." He considers whether he wants to say it, next, or keep it to himself, but: "It was something of a sign from the Maker, I figured."

Strange doesn't have to take it literally, given it tends to be a common enough turn of phrase. But to Mobius, it's very literal.

[armd]

"You can if you want," Abby replies, not pausing in her work, "I'm making it look like we've cleared this one."

Just in case another party traipses through here and thinks they've hit a jackpot or something. Good survivor etiquette. "Go ahead, I'll meet you out in a couple minutes."

Weirdo (affectionate).