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

[cozen]

[ Just now there is no room for disappointment at the absence of the Maejyr and his promised abuse and suspicion. There is barely room for them, and that lack of room is due to a feast of details to be noted.

The size and quality of the boots. The luggage and whether it appears to be there in preparation for anything in particular. The age of the furnishings. The books—these Bastien steps closer to, fully intending to squat and read the titles without touching anything.

But before he can he is distracted by the newspapers. These he does touch, finger to the ink, corners flipped to examine the quantity of pages.

When he lifts one, it's to give if a good sniff.

Does the Maejyr's absence—or silence, shyness or nap both possible, or perhaps an intoxicated coma—mean they can speak freely after all? Bastien might ask if he weren't confident Valentine would eventually take that risk instead. Instead he mouths in silence, holding the newspaper aloft, May I have this?

Very politely, of course. The politeness is in his face. ]

[youwonscience]

She huffs a laugh, quiet. "...right. You know, this entire experience has given me some more sympathy for Thedas natives, in a way. Hearing about other people's worlds is one thing, but seeing them."

She's quiet a moment, thoughtful, rubbing her thumb along one of the water bottle's ridges.

"Two of my sisters were rifted into Thedas, years ago. The first time I was there. And it was funny, because people would just see us and think 'twins.' Or even 'sisters,' Helena dyed her hair and we all had really different accents, and it was ... it was good having them there, but it was weird being in a place where I could count on my fingers people who even know what clones are when it was this big secret we kept at home. And I guess it's like ... well, it seems like the pandemic defined your whole life, and before this almost no one knew what it was really like, even if you explained it. Right? It's like that for all of us, I guess."

[armd]

"Yeah," Abby says quickly, pushing through the awkwardness, "Exactly."

She gets it, there's no need to explain herself. She'll sling in a joke though, to try and back out of the emotional honesty of the situation, "And the dog can't talk back, so..."

[armd]

Abby snorts, and then tries to answer seriously, "Yeah, I guess– we haven't asked anybody if we can have one. So."

Maybe that's all a dragon summoner needs to make that happen. Some manners.

[overharrowed]

His quiet laugh is at his own expense. "I suppose it depends on what you mean. Hand-to-hand combat and martial arts ... I suspect most of your students here could best me fairly easily if magic weren't permitted. But I've been in a variety of real battles, and I've had battle-specific training."

He looks more thoughtful, watching the pair of trainees sparring, as he adds, "Granted, not too much, as a young man. The Circles were in the awkward position of wanting docile, easy-to-control mages ... but also not wanting to give up their usefulness against threats like Darkspawn or invading armies. A tricky problem for them, you see." It gives him a strangely unexpected pang, seeing the trainees in Kamar-Taj, working under the eyes of their teachers and not heavily armed Templars. "Some of what I know I've learned more recently or worked out on my own."

[notathreat]

"Moved some stuff around," Ellie says with a wicked grin. "Tops of the trucks, over to the loading dock. Right over their heads."

The kind of height she knows Abby can handle.

"That's nothing to how I handled the assholes coming after me later, though."

All the better to keep Abby's attention on her, but yeah, she's skipping way ahead in the story.

[elegiaque]

Gwenaëlle resists the impulse to repeat Rotunda of Gateways, which is — it isn't even an impressive name, it's just literally what it is, but it's beautiful. The liminal space between eluvians is not (not elf enough for that, and definitely not bitter about it), but this feels like what she thinks it should be like, if maybe a little too manicured. The topography changes, in this place, and why shouldn't it, when beautiful things like this exist?

Or sort of exist. Or existed in a dream.

She resists the urge to reach out for any of them, too, like some kind of country bumpkin come to be dazzled by the city, but after a moment,

“It seems so effortless,” elegant, in a way that automobiles do not strike her, “you must be...”

Her nose wrinkles, as she searches for words.

“Impatient, in Kirkwall.” Thedas.

[favoriteanalyst]

Mobius is very glad he's in shape and has stayed in shape. He might be getting older, but good clean living and swords and shields keep him from needing a second to double over and catch his breath.

He keeps the mirror in hand as a makeshift shield, though he'll likely ditch it when he finds something he can hold better and strap to his arm. "How about one of those--what are they...shotguns, you got any shotguns?" Even if his hands are a bit shit, he could probably hold a shotgun pretty well. "Looks like those have some really good stopping power. A magic one would be better."

Just because he knows he's asking too much does not mean he's not going to ask for it. His feet hit the stairs, hot on Strange's tail, when they suddenly slide out from under him.

Because the stairs have folded in to become a slide.

"If we ever," Mobius puffs, shoes squeaking to get traction on the incline, "end up on your actual world, in your actual Sanctum," skidding a few times but finally managing to get momentum, "I'm just gonna stay somewhere else just in case."

The banisters curl up after them as though they've become sentient tendrils. They crash into the marble not-stairs behind him when he reaches, finally, flat floor and starts for the nearest cabinet. The doors of which start swinging open and closed madly, threatening any wandering fingers that come near. Just wood, but that can still do damage aplenty if he isn't careful. There are some spears decorating the walls, and some heftier gear on display behind glass.

Fuck it, it isn't like he's going to have to pay for the damages. He braces an arm and smashes a glass case, and a halberd is not anywhere near his weapon of choice, but it appeals to him a little more than some of the other readily available options.

Another sizzling portal opens, and the Wonginator marches through in the same place they had appeared. The slide snaps back into place as stairs, and Mobius gives a huff, spinning the halberd a few times. Plant his feet for two seconds it is.

"This is going to be unpleasant." It's the only verbal warning he gives Strange, because a loss of magic has got to feel weird, or so he imagines.

He faces the stairs and focuses. It feels...different, this time. Familiar energy gathering inside of him, but somehow to the left. It doesn't simply feel like calling on a divine power that then fills him; it feels like he's drawing it from himself, and it fills him with a tingling surge from his feet and moving up. And it feels like it builds, such that it's difficult to hold within him. The same power, but filtered through a different lens?

"Though all before me is shadow," from his lips, solid and certain, steady, "yet shall the Maker be my guide." Planting the halberd firmly, dropping to a knee, his voice rising, that building energy rising to a fever, "I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond." His body trembles. It's not usually like this. Not even in the Crossroads. And yet, with conviction: "For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light! And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost!"

All at once, flowing out from him, a wave.

The energy itself is sight unseen, but it pushes back against--everything. The halberd in his hand vanishes as though it simply had never been. The floor around him dissipates, moves outward; the display cases cease to be; the cabinets stop flailing when they begin to be undone; the ceiling quivers where it seems a dome touches it, and a hole forms into familiar turbulent sky.

It washes over Strange, with all magic being shut out by will alone.

It washes over the form of Wong, fury on his face, glowing weapon held high in his hands--and he, too, vanishes with a thought.

It doesn't encompass the entirety of the room, but a good portion of it has stopped being. There is ground beneath their feet that also strikes familiar. It is quiet. It looks like the room might collapse in on itself, and yet whatever is left remains standing, but paused, hanging, suspended in this moment.

Mobius braces himself on hands and knees. "It won't last," he says heavily. This, he remembers. Any moment now, it will come flooding back.

But now they know. This is all illusion.

[portalling]

Strange hesitates at those particular words, his movements stilling as he turns the idea over. (He occupies such an unusual space: still a skeptic and agnostic, although it gets more complicated once you’ve met literal gods and know that at least some of them are real. And the elvhen gods are supposedly far more concrete in Thedas, too—)

“A sign from the Maker. What, like a burning bush on a hilltop or something? Prophetic dreams telling you what to do?”

He doesn’t sound outright disparaging — he knows how wide and wondrous the universe can be, these days — but it’s still a little dry, a little sarcastic. He can’t help it. Old habits die hard.

[notathreat]

This of all things is probably someone's favorite thing. When she's asked just the right question, and she gets to see what someone's extremely into.

She's distracted utterly with watching him, feeling better by virtue of having her mind occupied from the universe-sized downer wrapped around their little group.

Ellie nods, fascinated. She's often wondered what would've become of her if certain things had gone just a little bit differently. Most are depressing to think about. Some of them keep her up at night, and others have her longing for what might have been.

"What's it like, then? Talking to yourself? Weird, or frustrating, or awesome?"

[notathreat]

"Yeah, it really is."

Ellie's quiet a moment, pressing her lips together, looking off towards the fire.

"I remember hearing people talk about what it was like before the outbreak. The whole world that apparently existed. Like... I could see the ruins of everything. There were books, and art. Broken down museums and malls. I used to sneak out just to go through them."

Ellie fidgets with her fingers, her knuckles, then where they're missing.

"Joel used to tell me stories all the time about how it used to be. And I thought I knew what it was like, but. Getting to see it was something else. I'd had no idea."

She scoffs under her breath.

"Nothing prepares you for something like standing in a grocery store produce section. Or seeing Times Square."

[favoriteanalyst]

Yeah. That's what he was afraid of. Mobius' mouth thins. It doesn't matter, he knows, whether anyone believes him or not. He knows he sounds like all the other crazies who've claimed visions of the Maker and Andraste and signs and portents. Hell, he's not the biggest fan of Exaltations because he doesn't really himself fully buy that Drakon got those visions.

Still. The skepticism of something he holds firm has a sting even after all this time. "No bushes on fire, no." He doesn't know the reference. "The griffons. Most people, and by most people that's me included up to that point, think that they went extinct ages ago. They were the noble steeds of the Grey Wardens; that's why it's their emblem. So, in a time of need, when it felt like chaos and no help was coming, seeing griffons from Riftwatch fly overhead was what I decided to take as a sign and a kick in the pants. Stop feeling so damn sorry for myself and get back to work."

[portalling]

He exhales, a small noise which might be a huff of breath or halfway to a laugh. “Probably,” Strange says. “Those little devices we use to stay in touch here, like the crystal network back in Kirkwall— we can use them for photos as well. Like, er, portraits. But immediately created. So there are probably tons of publicly-available pictures of you now, if you’ve a narcissistic streak. People like to photograph new and interesting things.”

He’s been monitoring Twitter (and had tasked a few novices to do the same), on the lookout for any late arrivals, or the Sealing Stone, or Venatori, or anything just generally batshit being spat out from a rift onto other baffled city streets. Although it seems the crowds weren’t as struck by the new arrivals as he’d half-expected; Earth has gotten truly, bafflingly accustomed to the strange and surreal.

“Still, if you come across any trouble out on the streets. Just holler into one of those devices, and Stark or I can come assist.”

[armd]

"You gotta stop telling it like this," Abby cuts across her, but she sounds like she might laugh in a second, "I'm not gonna stand here and say wow, Ellie, what happened next? Just fucking tell me."

It's working.

[degenere]

[The books.

Val is unbothered by the disorganization, the clutter and the cramped quarters. He cares nothing of boots or coats or personal items. The books do catch his eye--he adores books, would boast a vast personal library if all of his assets were to be gathered into a single room, instead of spread across a workroom and a Hightown mansion and a much-neglected apartment in Val Royeaux and a storeroom and forgotten in bags and satchel in all of those places and then also somewhat forgotten upon the shelves of others to whom he has deigned to lend a volume or two. Books are meant to be read, to be enjoyed, to be written in and marked and have the pages dog-eared or occasionally folded entirely in half.

He stoops to examine a stack of books, making a great show of ignoring Wysteria and the not-at-all-present-and-perhaps-not-existent-Mayjer Ralston--

(Ralston? Who is this person? What is his purpose and his function and how does Wysteria fit into this life, and he into hers, and why--when she chatters on and on and on about friends and acquaintances whose names Val would say he forgets instantly--well, perhaps that is why he has he not heard this name before.)

--and even Bastien, fiddling with the paper. From the top of the stack, he selects a book and opens it. Then he decides to sit upon the floor properly so that he might read more comfortably. It is admirable, how silent he is still being.]

[portalling]

The corner of his own mouth curls; a small smile, an acknowledgment, an understanding. “Mmhm. I was likely— extremely annoying for a while, always pissing and moaning about my missing sling ring, portals, flight. I hadn’t even realised how accustomed I’d become to the convenience. The speed of it all. I got… well, impatient is already the best word for it.”

But Strange is gratified, seeing Gwenaëlle’s reaction to the tour, that carefully reined-in reaction and the quiet compliment. Because there’s a common streak here, between how she’d spoken of La Souveraineté and how he speaks of the Sanctum: that warm fondness when it comes to a home, a trusted place to call your own. A sovereignty, a sanctuary. He’s comfortable surrounded by these lamplight-warmed hallways and wooden stairwells and occult curiosities in a way he isn’t yet at the Gallows.

“It is curious, though,” he adds, thoughtful, drawing that connecting line as well, “where the similarities still lie. Magic exists just fine in Thedas, so I keep thinking there ought to be a way to portal around Thedas at will. I’m very interested in the eluvians, to no one’s surprise.”

[tender]

And Derrica can do nothing.

The first impulse, the things she would do for Ellie if they were in Thedas, are closed to her.

She is quiet for a long moment, laying bandages carefully over Ellie's alcohol-slick skin. Covering the wound. Securing the wrappings.

"I love you," Derrica tells her. It is a messy, complicated sentiment, she knows. "I know you'll do what you have to, but please, know that I want you to survive. And so do so many others here."

It's a very, very delicate balance. Many in Riftwatch struggle to find it. Derrica worries that Ellie doesn't mean to try at all.

[portalling]

Strange doesn’t really know how to answer that particular question, and so his expression turns a little contemplative, weighing over the options, before he settles for a slightly comical pained look and: “Frankly? It turns out I’m an asshole. Which is also why I was worried about you meeting another one.”

He takes another sip of the water, more to have something to do with his hands. “So, probably ‘frustrating’. I’d expected… I don’t know, a colleague? An ally? We had to fight each other instead. So I’m trying to think of it like one of those morality stories: roads not taken, cautionary tales about what your worst self might become. Did you ever get to read A Christmas Carol? I’ve been approaching the situation like that. Try not to be an asshole. Try not to accidentally destroy the world. You know, normal stuff.”

[notathreat]

I love you, Derrica says, and Ellie knows perhaps better than anybody that she doesn't mean for it to sting, but it still does. Ellie's expression drops, closes off, and she sets her jaw as she looks into the fire until the feeling passes, until she can will her face to relax.

She's over it, mostly. But there are moments when things are unexpectedly tender, and she has to work through it. And when she turns back, she is okay. Her eyes aren't walled off, but they don't invite comment, either.

"I'm not planning on dying," she says. She never is. It's the rest of it that's difficult to find a direction on. But for right now, it's keep her people safe, and to get them all back to the Gallows in one piece.

"I love you too," is also a messy, and complicated, but still the truth.

"I'll come back, we'll all go home, and you'll fix up my arm for real."

[notathreat]

Ellie rolls her eyes, but she knows that she's being plenty distracting, because Abby's not shaking like a leaf, doesn't look sick.

"Fine, okay. So I got up into the ceiling of this- I think it was a bookstore, and they were trying to come find me, and they were in one section, and I saw runners standing all creepily like they do in another part, but they were all being quiet.

"So I picked up a can and threw it as hard as I could. Brought all the runners to their section."

Only mildly horrifying view.

"They cornered me up against the juice shop though. Tried to smoke me out. But- you know. By then I had the place rigged up."

Abby knows. Nail bombs. Molotovs.

[portalling]

Funny thing is, he’s pretty sure there is a magic shotgun on display somewhere—

But before he has a chance to chime in, Mobius is squaring off in the middle of the room, staring down those stairs and wielding a halberd. Reciting what is, even to Stephen Strange’s decidedly unreligious ear, clearly the Chant. The halberd hits the floorboards, his knee drops, his voice rises with the firm conviction of absolute reality — and that wave roils out in a blast radius from the templar, peeling back the layers of this world.

The sight would be surreal enough, like Mobius has stripped away a layer of paint from reality (or torn aside a veil), as everything around them simply vanishes. Wong & co turning on them was already an indicator, but now they know. They’re now standing in a blank circle in the middle of the Crossroads, so similar to the floating islands that Strange bounced around when going for the Book of Vishanti,

but his world is gone, the Sanctum is gone, and he feels decidedly unwell.

It’s— the strangest sensation— his fingertips buzzing with bees, oddly numb, all of his body prickling as if it’s fallen asleep and the nerves are only haltingly flaring back to life. Strange’s sense of his magic was already askew after coming to Thedas, his own grasp on sorcery approached a little sideways. It’s been a little muffled, being in another universe and his own existence possibly spun out of fadestuff (not a thing he ever wants to think about too closely)…

But now his magic is entirely out-of-reach. Silent, like someone’s slammed shut a door between him and his abilities. Mobius has slammed that door on him. Reinforcing reality. Stating what is and is not. There’s a terrifying moment where Stephen panics and wonders if this nullification is going to dissolve his own body, his self unraveling into nothingness because he is also not real,

but instead, thankfully, he’s still standing. Even if his magic is gone. He looks a little shaky, a little wan, trembling. “That was… worse than I was expecting,” he says. Mobius had warned him, and still in Strange’s arrogance he had thought, Oh, I can handle it.

He forces himself to keep thinking, to keep talking through that numbness.

“Christ. Alright. I don’t know how this works, but if we run here, maybe we’ll pop back in a corresponding place further along in the,” ugh, “illusion?”

an attempt @ a closer

[portalling]

“Might as well try. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, after all,” he says lightly. “Get a dragon egg. Raise it. Have it imprint on you like a baby bird. Presto, now we’ve got a pet dragon. Evens the odds.”

Extremely not-serious. But humour is Strange’s habitual fallback in times of trouble — and what better time than when they’re in a post-apocalyptic environment where everything wants to kill them?

But at least they’ve reached a kind of equilibrum. He folds the FEDRA pamphlet into neat angles, puts it back in his pocket. Picks up the can of peaches, steals another piece, and then passes it back to Abby to share the rest.

He hadn’t made the best first impression at all, and he’s well-aware of it. Unlike back home, he doesn’t have the cachet to spend here; the shoe’s on the other foot for once, and he needs her help (and that of the others) to stay alive.

So. When the time comes for their group’s sortie for the Rat King, Doctor Strange will need to hang back, leave his fate squarely in the hands of several young rifter women and some Thedosians. It actively pains him to put down the metaphorical knife, to not be involved, to trust the others to handle it without him—

but he needs to accept his limits, acknowledge his strengths and weaknesses.

And here, where she’s been forged and moulded into the shape of this world, then Abby is the better call.

[portalling]

They’re back indoors, but Strange is going through the scavenging on autopilot, because the genuinely more interesting thing in the room is this conversation.

“Oh. Huh. Griffons are a commonly-imagined fantastical beast back on Earth, too, so I thought they must have been common in Thedas. I didn’t know they were so rare.”

He’s rifling through one of the sidetables; annoyingly, because the universe seems to have a sense of humour, he comes across a Bible. Worn black leather cover, golden cross emblem on the front. Strange raps the book with his knuckles, contemplative.

This particular topic is difficult, for so many numerous reasons. That shift from science to magic, to spiritualism, had fundamentally changed him — and he’s travelled worlds since then, mucked with literal gods and demons, but that innate skepticism is still hard to shake. He’s been working on shaking it.

“I once had the ability,” he says slowly, “to look into the future. To examine all of our potential threads and… well, divine what our fates were likely to become. Visions of what was to come. If it’s quite literally physically possible to see the future, then who’s to say that there can’t be some other sign of things to come? To guide people? Strictly speaking I don’t believe in the Maker, or my world’s equivalent of the Maker, but these days I consider myself fairly agnostic. Nothing is impossible. So, if you saw a flock of extinct beasts at just the right moment to give you the right motivation and guidance… then who the hell am I to judge. The universe sometimes puts us where we need to be. That, I do believe.”

[elegiaque]

The subject of the eluvians and travel through Thedas is one that easily occupies much of the rest of their tour conversation — Gwenaëlle is happy to assert how much of the eluvian research was Morrigan's own, that she had brought an eluvian to the Inquisition, that it's a shame he's not easily able to make her acquaintance. (Though she concedes, as they move on: the lady Morrigan would probably find him sort of annoying, and she promises to soften her to him in advance if the opportunity arises.) Through the Rotunda of Gateways, it's a simple enough thing to relocate her accumulated dragon's hoard of things Tony Stark has generously paid for into a guest-room of the sanctum, the space that it crafts for her reminiscent of her own, at the top of her terrible boat. It has a thick, dark cosiness to it that she likes at once,

the intricacy of carved wood, the plushness of a rug. It is familiar in a way Stark Tower's modernity is not. She spends some time unpacking.

Some more time, wandering; retracing her steps, not anxious of the changes in the way the space fits together but curiously seeking them, willing to waste some time on it. Hours, it turns out, long enough that she misses dinner with just a quick don't worry I'm an ordinary amount of lost to account for her whereabouts, and confident enough, later, to slip down to the kitchen in the night hours, barefoot, in a robe that she only remembered to take the tag off halfway down the stairs.

There's never been tags to take off; she is still holding it in her fingers when she says,

“Oh, you're up, too?” in the doorway, blinking in unexpected light.

[youwonscience]

"If it makes you feel better, I wasn't prepared for Times Square. But no, I get what you mean. It's never what you imagine. I logically knew a world where most people get places on foot or by horse just feels bigger, but before Thedas, I'd never lived somewhere like that. Cars and trains and airplanes were just ... background noise in my world."

She looks over at Ellie, considering the other woman as she looks at the fire.

"For what it's worth ... I'm really sorry. I mean, I guess that's a weird thing to say, kind of, but it's just really unfair, the hand you got dealt. And I'm glad you made it to Thedas so I could meet you."