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

MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 ↠ MCU Earth-199999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 ↠ Shifterverse

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

Real-world 2022, but what if Shifters?

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

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

3 ↠ Tassia

D&D Original World, Loxley & Richard Dickerson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 ↠ Sulleciel

Original fantasy world, Petrana de Cedoux.

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

Special Abilities: In Sulleciel, magic is a skill that may be pursued like any other — and there are those of more or less talent, as if someone were to attempt the violin, or swordplay. It is practised primarily through incantations and foci, with more elaborate spellwork for more ambitious results sometimes requiring particular items or a full coven to achieve. As magic is limited in Sulleciel only by the will, imagination and stamina of those practising it, no one coming here will be subject to any nerfs; all mages and otherwise magical or powered individuals will be able to use their powers as they're used to using them. In addition to this, anyone who is as magical as a chair-leg ordinarily can feel free to have a go at Sulleciel's magic — it's up to you if they have a knack for it or not. Simple spells like casting a light or telekinesis of small objects can be mastered by toddlers; a powerful enough witch or coven might be able to summon a thunderstorm and alter weather patterns, but ""can"" and ""should"" are different and it's generally advised that you try not to do a climate change.
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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.
luaithre: (bs401-1857)

normal seattle.

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-11 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
Marcus has his mage staff, and although there is no ability to conjure magic through its runes, it's still a big stick with an iron blade attached to the end.

Thunk. He drives said blade in between a door and its frame, scraping sharp edge through flaking paint and wood. Lowers a shoulder, applies force, grunt as wood splinters and cracks. Someone in the recent past has barricaded the other side, wood and nails, but he can hear these measures creak and begin to break as he bears down. Conscious of making noise, conscious of wishing he wasn't, but—

The door gives. It springs open, and Marcus catches the edge before it can slam on its hinges. He lets out a breath, glances back towards his scavenging companion as if to say: who first? The building is like so many, decrepit and long abandoned and not unlikely to be full of twisted, mutated corpse-monsters.

Another day, another exploration, this time of a sprawling department store that reminds Marcus with his new frame of reference of the first world they had come to, but this being its dark, grimy mirror. All the gloss and shine is murky, the hollowness of the absence of people, the long shadows where natural light struggles through glass ceilings and large windows, instead of the artificial glow of electrical lighting. It feels a little like attending a funeral for someone you hardly knew.

Maybe it's quiet, a calm and patient search for supplies, Marcus seeing no reason to change out of his mage armor leathers, the staff strapped over his back. He does pause over a half-looted cavern, recognising it as a clothing store.

Maybe it's not so quiet. Maybe something goes wrong. Marcus' position is given away to those he is with from the rapidfire blam blam blam of pistol fire, and snarling. Hard breathing, heavy bootfalls, as Marcus simply breaks and runs, mage staff back in hand. The pistol he'd been carrying, no where in sight. Behind him, the twitching forms of pursuers emerging from the shadows, skidding across the smooth floor.

He doesn't look back, fear crushed right down but threatening to spark and ignite.

Later, sometime, perhaps days. On watch, Marcus is sitting with his back to where the rest of his current party is asleep. Pared down to clothing that fits in better—leather jacket, denim jeans, a loose-fitting T-shirt that admittedly feels more comfortable than his armor. Between his hands is a can of food, something that claims to be soup. He fidgets with the tab, appetite too dwindled to feel motivated to open it up, his focus forward and watching through the window of the building they've taken. It is too dark to see more than movement in the moonlight, but he'll be ready for that too.

Tense, quiet, tired. His mage staff lays next to him, still, heatless and idle. Finally, there's the sound of cracking metal as he goes to peel open his late dinner.
overharrowed: (tell me something bad you've done)

watch

[personal profile] overharrowed 2022-12-11 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Julius sincerely did try to sleep. He's aware of how important it is that he be alert, here. But no matter how much he shifts or tries to level out his breathing, he stays stubbornly conscious.

Finally, he gives up and reaches for the canvas jacket he's been wearing, shrugging it over his flannel shirt. He also picks up the sawed-off shotgun he's proven himself a good enough shot to merit keeping. Julius has the vague idea of planning to relieve whoever is on watch, since he's up anyway, but when he sees who it his, he just comes to settle near Marcus instead, approaching quietly but not so quietly as to sneak up on him.

At first, there's not much to say. It's not as if it's a moment that merits asking how anyone else is, really. He's just grateful for someone he cares about in arm's reach, at present.
luaithre: (#14257222)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-12 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)
He pauses his fidgeting with the can when the sound of quiet footsteps register on the periphery, Marcus pausing a half-glance past his shoulder. But then, Julius is familiar enough in presence, movement, other semi-subconscious clues that Marcus returns his focus forwards as the other man settles, rather than needing to confirm further.

Even in the absence of greeting, which fees implicit in the silence anyway. As much as Julius does not truly need to ask how Marcus is (stressed, focusing his mind on a task, not very hungry, and he could use a razor and washbasin), Marcus does not have to query why Julius isn't asleep right now.

Still. He does finally say, keeping his voice quiet, "I think I'm supposed to tell you to get rest."
overharrowed: (how long have I been sleeping)

[personal profile] overharrowed 2022-12-21 04:30 pm (UTC)(link)
"In the unlikely event anyone asks, I'll say you did," Julius responds, equally low. "Quiet night so far?"

Presumably he'd know it if it hadn't been, but the muted conversation itself feels normal and grounding in a way he wouldn't have fully anticipated. Although he wouldn't have credited in advance how the most unsettling things about this world are the ways it doesn't feel strange to him. He wishes it were more foreign, if he's honest with himself.
luaithre: (bs402-0510)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-22 09:17 am (UTC)(link)
"Mm."

Marcus has a handful of associations he might ascribe to being in this place. Nightwatches during the war when they'd ventured beyond Andoral's Reach, ever anticipatory of a sudden clash of charging horses and suits of armor and raised swords. Or simpler times, scavenging out an existence when the rebellion had sunk into stagnation, and it was just him and his.

But they are fragments only, no different to the way ordinary fieldwork reminds him of such times. The ongoing smell of decay, the prospect of human-shaped scourge, of infection and overwhelming odds—yes, he knows what that is like, and that he wasn't there.

Something familiar, differently: Julius being in proximity and Marcus setting aside the object he was toying with to instead take possession of the other man's hand, and bring it into his space. On his own is the ring that Petrana had gifted them—had debated, some, in wearing it into the field, before deciding it was important he do so.

"Just waiting for light again."

That seems to be what every night is, here.
overharrowed: (tell me something bad you've done)

[personal profile] overharrowed 2022-12-31 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
"It's strange, how much the light seems to help," he says, quietly, his hand fitting into Marcus's with a comforting naturalness. "I remember that, from Denerim. That we'd always be waiting for daylight, even though with torches and magic, it shouldn't make so much difference."

Here, of course, light is a slightly more precious commodity. But he still feels the craving for day goes beyond the practical.

"I suppose the night passes faster, if you're one of those that can sleep," he adds, ruefully, at his own expense. "I suppose eventually you're just exhausted. The Fifth Blight didn't last quite long enough for me to find out. And it seems insensitive to ask."
luaithre: (bs401-1868)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-31 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Marcus slides his fingers between Julius', mapping their palms together and simply holding there. "Denerim was the last of it," he says, a means of confirming.

He'd done, some time ago, a little reading on the topic, back when reading was available to him to do. Given the research interests of Riftwatch, what texts exist on recent history in another country are decently easy to find. Of course, stories found in taverns, hearsay and opinion, can be differently enlightening.

"For how long did they let you and the rest out?"
overharrowed: (was happiness within me the whole time)

[personal profile] overharrowed 2023-01-02 05:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"It wasn't the same for all of us," he said, quietly, watching their hands. "I was young enough to be valuable on the battlefield but tested enough that no one thought I would run, so I was out of the tower a great deal that entire year. A handful of us were supposed to join the army at Ostagar, but the disaster there happened before we made it. Most went back to Kinloch, but a few of us were sent to Denerim to offer a bit of security. It's why I wasn't there for Uldred's rebellion." All delivered quietly and evenly, but it's still real to him in a way he hoped would have faded more by now. Then again, seeing the world around him, he doesn't imagine Abby and Ellie are likely to stop carrying it, even if they stay in Thedas for decades.
luaithre: (bs401-1817)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-01-03 12:04 am (UTC)(link)
It's an interesting account, and there's the sense that the real story, Julius' story, exists in the negatives. In between and before and after a missed disaster in Ostagar, and an avoided rebellion in Kinloch Hold. The way the night, now, is quiet, but at any moment could be filled with screams and panic and gunfire.

Marcus sits with it a moment, then tugs a little on the hand he's captured. "Then if you're not going to sleep, you ought to rest."

He lists back slightly, implicit suggestion that Julius find a more comfortable, horizontal configuration. It's probably a more intimate proposal than happens beyond their room in the Gallows, but there are no Gallows and rooms, and they are at least alone.

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tender: (035)

exploration / dibs on something going Wrong

[personal profile] tender 2022-12-13 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
Marcus isn't the only one still carrying his stave.

There is no lightening to wreath Derrica's body, no tang of ozone or sparks catching at her fingertips. There should be. She is prickling and aware of every rasping sound echoing in this dark tomb of a building.

It's so quiet. Terribly so.

Derrica breathes out. She wants to speak, fill the space with something, but it would be foolish to the point of suicidal.

Marcus stops, and she stops a few paces ahead of him, turning to look. Take in the store that's caught his attention.

"Should we look?" is a breath of a whisper, carrying only because they are so in tune with the silence and what things disturb it.
luaithre: (bs408-0422)

disaster imminent.

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-14 05:00 am (UTC)(link)
There's a sort of portcullis half-lowered over the wide mouth of the store, and it has been secured against closing a few feet up off the floor by whatever was found in reach. Through the gloom, Marcus can see this store—as is true for all of them so far—has been ransacked, but not completely emptied. His hands shift around his staff, feeling that strange itch of absence where he would normally set alight the runes to see better by.

At Derrica's question, Marcus first gives a small shrug—should they do anything? All of it is risk without certain reward, but he knows that Petrana de Cedoux has arrived in this world and is in need of more practical, warmer things to wear.

He steps nearer to the half-downed gate, sinking down to place his staff on the floor. Lashed to his torso is a holster of this world, containing a sidearm he's been educated in using, currently resting beneath his arm. He ignores it for now as he carefully ducks under the gap, making sure not to rattle or compromise the portcullis before rises up to stand on the other side, the leather tail of mage armor dragging after him.

"Come on," quietly, gently. He would rather they stick together, more so than leave her vulnerable watching his back.
tender: (035)

[personal profile] tender 2022-12-30 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
It's just as well he invites her to follow; she wouldn't have been inclined to let him delve into the dark wreckage of this place on his own.

She is constantly aware of how little she has to offer. No magic to reach for, only a deep, empty space where that connection should have been. Knowledge of first aid that feels inadequate, compared to what she had been capable of in Thedas.

Silently, swiftly, she ducks beneath the portcullis. Her knuckles are white around the hilt of her staff.

"We should check behind the counter," she murmurs, remembering Abby and Ellie's instruction. Useful things might be found there, even if they find nothing worth taking off the shelves, or the broken racks spilling their contents onto the cracked linoleum.
luaithre: (#14257222)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-01-03 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
"Alright."

Marcus has been, now, to a few iterations of this sort of rifter world, and it's always a bit different in some strange way. Yes, one has satellites and fast cars and this one has putrefied fungus-covered animated corpses, but also: the arrangement of their shops, with its quantity on easy display, duplicates of things, impersonally produced, rather than assembled in a backroom upon request.

Just as well. In the gloom, it will take a moment to identify the counter and the backrooms behind it as they quietly make their way through the mess, mostly stained, mould-spotted bits of cloth that would tear under even a little duress.

Then, something cracks beneath the heel of Marcus' boot—quiet, objectively, but still sharp in the oppressive silence. He glances down, where cheap jewelry and glasses have been left scattered across the hard floor, and he pauses to listen.
tender: (106)

[personal profile] tender 2023-01-03 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
Such a small sound.

Derrica, only just beyond arm's reach, had gone rigid at the crunch of glass and plastic. (Here, a moment where she strains to grasp at her power and finds it absent. It is wrenching still.) For a moment, all is silent still. The patter of rain overhead continues, distant and muted. The drip and puddling of water in the cavernous hall from which they came goes on. Derrica is holding her breath, though her own pulse beats hard in her ears.

And then, a sound from the dark beyond them. Aimless, confused, but menacing all the same. A moan. A clicking.

Derrica reaches in the half light for Marcus' elbow immediately, though good sense says they should make their retreat very carefully lest he repeat the sound that stirred whatever lies in the depths of this store.
luaithre: (56)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-01-03 07:21 am (UTC)(link)
It is with great restraint that Marcus makes no sound at all when that terrible moaning-clicking gently drifts back to them, and only closes his eyes for a second when Derrica's hand finds his elbow.

His heart is already racing, as if he were in full flight.

But fleeing hastily cannot be the action they take. It only takes him another second to stop himself from the instinctive blind reaching for what is not there, and then—moving. A step back, careful. Staff in hand, the hold he has of it is a defensive one, blade forwards and low. Slowly, internally, gathering fear and coiling it tense into something useful.

Aware that at their back is the lowered gate, and how much of an obstacle that will be is purely dependent on how they navigate the thirty or so feet they'd advanced.

Another growl of clicking, from that same spot. Is it closer? Impossible to tell. But something scrapes, a soft thump, and a creak.
Edited 2023-01-03 07:22 (UTC)
tender: (108)

[personal profile] tender 2023-01-04 05:48 am (UTC)(link)
Even through the layers of fabric and leather, the intensity of Derrica's grip makes itself known. She is gripping his elbow very hard as they take those first backwards steps.

Pray it is only one.

That is what Derrica would say, if she trusted even the scantest murmur of sound to be safe.

The second, rust-rattle crawk of sound is unmistakable, but not focused. Exploratory rather than predatory. It is agony, not being able to make out the thing in the darkness.

A tug at Marcus' arm, towards the side and the moss-moist wall. There is cover. A long jagged wreck of shelving to put between themselves and that thing, which may be too flimsy to stop a charge but good enough to mask them from sight and sound.
luaithre: (bs401-0638)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-01-09 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Marcus doesn't resist where she pulls him, even if he's slightly slow off the mark. Reluctant, first, to cower instead of continue their direct retreat.

But the next series of glottal clicks sounds out clearer than it did before, as if emerging around a corner or through an open door somewhere in the darkness, and he capitulates, moving after her. He directs her ahead of him but is quick on her heels, moving behind the half-collapsed structure just as he detects movement in the gloom out the corner of his eye.

Dragging footsteps. A jangle of metal of something pushed aside.

Carefully, quietly, going through motions he's repeated so many times before, Marcus replaces his staff back into its harness at his back, and, in a motion he has repeated like maybe fifteen times, tugs free the pistol at his belt.

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hornswoggle: (089)

watch.

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2022-12-13 05:04 am (UTC)(link)
Is it possible to ever feel fortified in a world like this?

None of the places they've holed up have felt secure enough to relax within, which John has noted but not bothered to complain about. What could be done to change it? Nothing. John doesn't care to waste his breath and alienate either of the two people familiar with their surroundings.

Still, it's not an accident that sees him settling beside Marcus in the space he's chosen to take up his watch. John comes to a stop on the other side of the stave. Listens while Marcus pries up the tab on his soup.

"Care for company?"
luaithre: (bs402-1097)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-14 06:32 am (UTC)(link)
Marcus gives a sound, an affirmative one.

Pulls away the soup can's lid, assesses its contents without much in the way of reaction. Everything here tastes like nothing, in distinct contrast to the sensory overload of their first world, and somehow neither are preferable to chasing down woodland prey creatures with wolf-sized tooth and fang. He discards the curl of metal after looking it over.

"How are you faring?" is a real question, no detectable edge of sarcasm in anticipation of the answer. They are all, presumably, doing badly, but surely some are worse than others.
hornswoggle: (113)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2022-12-20 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
This is not an unexpected question. They are all trading variations on it, aren't they?

John has an answer to hand. Rote. Passable. A glancing relation to the truth: that their circumstances are miserable, but they've managed this far. Some minor anecdote of the day, some bit of humor. Things that tide over the slogging impatience to leave this place for whatever follows it.

"I've a new appreciation for Kirkwall," is what John settles on, in the wake of the minor ting of flung metal.

Among other things.

"You carry it with you?" comes with a nod to the stave. Presumably useless. John doesn't imagine Marcus has held on to his ability any more than John has.
luaithre: (#13636412)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-20 09:02 am (UTC)(link)
The pocket knife that Marcus fishes from his jacket pocket was stolen off the remains of a dead person, clearly not killed by anyone (anything) who had had a need for it. Shiny red metal hilt, spotted blade. He's probably cleaned it.

Hopefully. It's the only utensil he has when it comes to fishing through the can for anything edible. There's no hunger in his actions, no eagerness, just utility.

He glances to John, then down at the staff. Black iron and wood exist in this world. Lyrium does not, and so there is nothing behind the runes that have been etched into either material, nothing run through its core but, probably, more iron and wood. It's probably been cleaned too.

"I've made my peace," he says, looking back at his food, "with my lack of skill around a pistol. At least a blade is still a blade."
hornswoggle: (208)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2022-12-28 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
What else is there to do but accept the terms of the place they've found themselves in?

Still, John chafes at the overwhelming breadth of danger they find themselves navigating. He is ill-equipped for it, he knows.

"A shame I'm without mine."

Not that John has any prodigious skill with a blade, but Flint's tutelage has not come to nothing. The possibility of coming across something similar enough to make do is slim to none, so John has set his own hopes on the bulk of the hunting pistol hung at his hip.

"Have you made your peace with the more pressing deficit?"

Is it better or worse for Marcus to be without his magic? He has far more options than John in a scrap, but he has reached for it without hesitation all his life. What does that come out to, in a situation like this?
luaithre: (bs401-1857)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-12-29 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"No."

Simple, that answer. Freely given.

And any misgivings attached to it are not vocalised—no anger or fear or even overt irritation in his tone, just the sedate confirmation that no, Marcus is not at peace with the more pressing deficit. From starting campfires through to sending lurching corpses into inescapable pits of molten rock and flame, things would be simpler.

And he would be more useful.

If he was in remotely better spirits, he might query if Silver means magic or tobacco, and it would be funny, a little. This urge is lost beneath the oppressive bleakness of the place, the moment, and also: the knowledge that Silver is asking for a purpose. Nothing grand, he thinks. Orientation, comparison.

"The first world was full enough with distraction that it almost left my mind," he continues, quiet, taking a bite out of something he is hopeful was at least once a root vegetable. He swallows first, tips the can to look again at its insides. "In this one, it never strays far."
hornswoggle: (301)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2023-01-03 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
The meaning is understood.

Had they dreamed this first, rather than the misery of last year, John would have sat entirely alone with this consideration. (Would he have spoken of it to Flint? Was it something he could dredge up for him?) But Marcus answers bluntly, straightforward, and John nods in return.

He has thought much the same. Only there is a very specific kind of punishment to existing in this place in his present state without any magic to cushion the predicament. John is of no use at all. He is a problem, if anything.

"I had something in that first world," John says, thumbing over the heavy metal of the gun resting on his thigh. "A kind of ability, that did more and less than what I was used to."

If he'd had more time, more privacy, he might have tested the limitations of it further.

"I don't imagine you ever concerned yourself with this before," he presses, briskly passing the meditation on a power already lost to him. "Existing without it."
luaithre: (bs401-1921)

[personal profile] luaithre 2023-01-03 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
There's a small, curious hook aside for this news, manifested in a glance that lingers even after Silver discards the topic in pursuit of a new one.

Marcus is inclined to follow along rather than step back and pick it up, focus turning inwards. "You mean," he says, after a second, "existing as a non-mage does. Not the Rite of Tranquility."

They have their sense of self, here. Their feelings, their convictions, their ability to dream in all ways that matter.

But in ever having concerned himself with it for—this powerlessness—it's what springs to mind.

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