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

[luaithre]

Marcus has been a quiet presence, at first stand offish in that pensive way of someone who has entered this world without close companions of his own to gravitate towards, and is unsure as yet as to when they will leave. Then, in the days that followed, some synchronicity. Battle-scarred and given to brusque dialogue, it may be surprising to find him participating in tasks like washing dishes or gardening or requesting to be brought along on supply runs into town, where he mostly carries heavy things in obedient semi-silence. Uncertainly navigating his way around gas station coffee.

And then another handful of days pass in which no one sees him at all.

But not difficult to locate. The presence of a large timber wolf exploring this territory is not subtle, and even if he does not range too close to the Den itself, his presence is probably more obtrusive than the man. Carcasses left in the brush, scent marks, and then, eventually, a minor scuffle between a furred scout that had gotten curious about this outsider carving his own small patch of territory within the larger one.

Nothing deadly, this clash, but perhaps notable, reported back that a somewhat misapplied moment of compulsion (an impolite request to be left alone) following some flashing fangs and warning bites signalled that this could be a problem.

There is a river that runs nearby, a wide and shallow stream of water that burbles over rocks and is the home to river fish and those that might dine on them. A wolf emerges from the brush, mud spattered, a confident trot in his pace. He keeps his head low as he dips his nose at the very surface of the water, drinking deeply.

He only pauses this action when a noise of something else nearby gains his attention, going still save for the swivel of one ear.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Oh, it's a problem.

To be fair, it's not one that Jude hadn't been ready for, hadn't brought up to Adrianna near-immediately in his meeting with her upon his return. Shifter instincts are overwhelming even for full-grown adults who have had a lifetime of practice with their animal, and any of them can be dangerous.

Jude has brought a band of what amounts to psychic toddlers carrying flamethrowers into his pack's territory.

Like it or not, the members of Riftwatch are his responsibility, and he knew what it would entail. But it doesn't mean he enjoys it.

Somehow, it doesn't surprise him that Marcus is the first one he hears about. He can practically feel the dominance simmering around the man even in his human form. It's no wonder that he goes a little sideways, drunk on instinct. For the first few days, Jude is content to watch, biding his time.

But when Leif comes back all scuffed up with his tail between his legs, Jude knows it's time.

Jude comes with a pocket full of jerky snacks, two peanut butter cookies in a plastic bag, a bottle of water and a bag with some spare clothes. When he hits the makeshift border of Marcus' slapdash little territory he feels it shiver over his bones, but pushes through without hurting himself.

He is at home with the implicit danger. The tearing, hurting push of Marcus' dominance find no purchase in Jude's soul. This was his job, long before Thedas.

Jude approaches with his hands in his pockets, barefoot and in a loose sweater and comfortable pants. It's cold.

"Hey, Marcus," he says, lifting one hand to greet him, hooking his thumb in the bag at his shoulder.

"My guy, you cannot be beating on our scouts."

He very much doesn't expect Marcus to be lucid enough to hold a conversation about this, but it's nice to be able to establish a baseline.

[luaithre]

It could be innate skill on Jude's part or arrogance on Marcus' that the other man slides through the invisible borders of this territory without notice until just now, but it happens, and here he is.

Water and saliva both trickle from his muzzle as he lifts his head, deathly serious as he locks focus on the man emerging onto the riverbank. Fur, muddled grey and brown, hackling over high shoulderblades, body moving so as to face Jude more squarely. It is, as predicted, the first indication that the wolf has moved to the forefront and taken control in its yellow fangs, slowly simmering hostility in response to such an affable greeting.

The words mean something. Language still translates, sinking through, even if he has no words in response. Ears pin back at what is easily interpretable as a challenge, the suggestion of what he cannot do, what it means if he continued.

The snap into the air is a warning, protruding fangs, wet snarl, and with it, the invisible push of will that he would expect to drive Jude backwards. The attempt, anyway.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude doesn't really have to engage his sentinel for others around him to feel it. It's a part of who he is, as easy to notice as his height, but oh. He can lean on it.

Marcus pushes out with his dominance, and Jude feels it around him, crackling and crashing like thunder, warning and ward. He's strong. It's no wonder he's Danny Phantoming it.

Sucks.

So Jude lets the dominance pass harmlessly through him, big and loud and without the bite that by all rights should accompany it, and leans on his sentinel.

Where Marcus might be a storm, Jude's an undertow. A deep leviathan passing far below, churning the current of the world around them. It doesn't push, doesn't drown, but it could.

"This land isn't yours, Marcus," Jude says, his voice a low register. His irises haven't changed. They're still the same warm human brown. "It belongs to the Yellowstone pack. You could be a part of that, if you wanted. But you don't get to keep it from us."

There's nothing of anger or threat there. But he does refuse to move.

[luaithre]

Later, Marcus might compare it a little to a Silencing, a dispelling of magic and closing off of the ability to access it, but not the roil of feelings and intent that produced it. A lower growl rumbles out of him when Jude does not respond in the way he had predicted.

Different to the clash of wills with another dominant personality, the inevitable hurricane of conflict that sort of push-pull would cause. There's space for Jude to talk as Marcus process this shift, this sense of something shadowy passing by beyond where he can influence it, unease rippling through him.

Isn't yours. Belongs, a part, keep. Us.

Part of him grasps after these meanings, trying to make sense of them in a way more nuanced than the wolf standing on the riverbank, but they are fragments, sharp edged pieces of memory and association. Painful. Irrelevant.

The wolf has delivered his warning, and so all that is left is to make good on it.

Jude has seen it plenty. A more experienced animal may do something to mask its intent, to act swiftly and trade on agility and cleverness instead of brute strength. In this case, Marcus borderline projects his intent in the coil of muscle and distribution of weight onto back paws that follows launching himself forwards, fangs bared.

cw: body horror/injury

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude shifts before Marcus can fully coil.

It hurts like hell to do it this fast, near-instant. Pins and needles all over his skin, rippling inky-black fur brindled with brown. The crunch of bones all at once sounds like a wet gunshot.

Jude's shields are up even before he shifts, locking the pack out of it so he won't cause a mass panic in their rush to defend him. Adrianna will feel it, certainly, and a handful of the very strongest, but they know better than to come.

They're near-evenly matched in size; Jude's large even for a shifter, but light on his feet. He's got a lifetime of fighting behind him, but never the type of battle Marcus has, never the type of experience Marcus has. He might be able to hold him off for a time, but he could never beat him.

Still, Jude wouldn't be Jude if he didn't try to spare him something more painful.

Marcus rips his shoulder open in a hot spurt of blood, nearly tears off the sleeve of his sweater with it as Jude dodges to one side. Jude digs his claws hard into the earth as he pivots and goes for his flank.

Even if this is the "gentle" way, he doesn't hold back. He has to hurt him enough to make him stop.

[luaithre]

Jude's teeth find purchase, draw blood, a growing run of crimson that trickles and disperses through dense fur. Marcus twists aside, paws scrabbling over loose riverstones. The split-second calculation of dealing with an evenly matched wolf over the blunt-toothed humanoid does not appear to change his actions, bright eyes vibrant with malice.

He'd accept chasing him off, presenting a show of force too chaotic for the other wolf to want to stick around for. In lieu of that, well, wolves don't fight to injure.

Horrifying, given the conflict. But such is nature.

The slam of his body into Jude's is forceful enough to send them both tumbling, with a graze of fangs across the dense ruff of dark fur protecting the other wolf's throat, but it's a close call, the violent snap of bone on bone from a missed bite as his teeth close on mostly just air just by Jude's ear.

But when Marcus rolls to his feet, he has a minor advantage of subtly higher ground, and launches forwards with another leap that aims to knock Jude down and this time stay.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

The snap that mostly misses shreds the outside of Jude's ear, and it drips as he backs up. It will heal in minutes. He's in his territory, in the very heart of his pack.

Jude doesn't have time to dodge when Marcus comes for him again, but he does have time to angle himself, brace properly.

Marcus tackles him, and Jude hits the ground with a bone-shaking crush, but he twists under him, refusing to be pinned. For one hair-raising moment he gets his jaws around the ruff protecting Marcus' neck, but the angle isn't good enough.

Instead, Jude goes for his belly with one hind foot. Without a grip it won't have leverage to gut him, but it'll keep him from being pinned, at least.

[luaithre]

If a wolf could say 'oof'.

It knocks the breath out of him, anyway, barely escaping from blunt claws catching on flesh but taking the brunt of it through his own momentum, attempted pin aborted. There is the brief flash of memory, somewhat recent, a smart remark followed by his own vision going red, followed by pointless tavern brawling that was barely a hair removed from something more serious, an undercurrent of the blood pounding desire to get his hands around that man's throat, just to have done it—

This feels like that, human rage mingling corrosive with wolfish instinct. He doesn't recall who Jude is, why he is here, just knows there is this wolf here who refuses to capitulate, and it's intolerable.

Marcus is quick to initiate the next clash, front paws raised in renewed attempt to tackle, to get his teeth around flesh and fur and haul Jude down, favouring force over cunning.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

This time, Jude favors cunning.

Instead of going for Marcus' throat, Jude wrenches himself from underneath him, rolling to one side, all four feet out. Their proximity to the shore makes the footing precarious, makes the river stones underneath them roll.

He doesn't have time to twist around and bite. He doesn't have time to bring either teeth or claws to bear, and they're too close.

But he does have enough leverage to push on the ground with all four paws and shove the entire weight of his body into Marcus broadside, shoulder-checking him directly into the river with a large splash.

Jude uses the moment to regain his feet, and this time when he leans into his sentinel, it churns around them both, making it hard to breathe.

One last chance for Marcus to cool his head. One more shot before Jude makes this hurt.

[luaithre]

The cold shock of the river is barely insulated against through thick fur coat, but still, a shock all the same. It drives needles through raw bite marks, floods through long nasal passages, and then there's this. The flood of strange, disorienting psychic pressure, that seems to make the whole world around him malleable.

Marcus scrabbles to his feet, hauling himself up out of the shallow ice-cold water, fresh blood streaking down his flank, the taste of Jude's blood between his teeth still lingering.

What would it be, to surrender? It's not a fear of death, but fear of something else. Some dismantling, something breaking.

Fangs bared again, muzzle pulled back tightly to expose them, Marcus propels himself forward, leaping clear of the water in a sideways lunge, paws slamming hard into the stone-littered riverbank, coiling up that momentum. A paw raised to scrape aside the possibility of a bite in return, disregarding the potential for pain as he goes to tear into Jude's flank.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

There's his answer.

Jude readies himself, even as he can read how this ends in Marcus' eyes. He'd thought so, but it doesn't mean that he's going to enjoy doing this him.

Jude doesn't crouch or guard, only draws himself up as Marcus comes for him, all killing intent and shift madness. It's pain, it's rage, it's injustice done, and he can read it as easily as he would his own name.

Instead of fighting, Jude reaches both metaphysical hands deep down into the current that runs inside of him. It retreats like a tidal wave, building up inside of him to the point of bursting, and Jude holds it inside him like the vessel he is.

And then he brings the full weight of his power down on top of Marcus, like a hammer.

It hurts. It hurts for both of them, an unmaking, a sundering, a crush that rends Marcus forcibly from his wolf, like it's ripping him out of his own skin.

That's because it is. It's doing it to them both.

Marcus hits him, all momentum, and Jude wraps both arms around him as they both go down on the rocky shore.

[luaithre]

The world goes white, for just a second.

And then it all crashes back into place, dizzying and vibrant and painful. Hurt radiates from the bone marrow out as Marcus is dragged from one form to the other, enough that he is barely conscious of slamming into the rocky terrain with nothing at all to protect him.

The consciousness of the wolf breaks from him, and it feels like shackles springing free, tumbling away, and taking with it its territorial rage. And it's terrible, the sort of things it leaves behind—pain, and fear, and deep regret.

But the alternative is worse. He becomes conscious of strong arms holding him, and he grips back, the coiled instinct to shove them apart all at once seized by the sense of lucidity that seems to emanate from the person holding him. The spin of the world righting itself, feeling less dizzying the closer he is to its centre, and he doesn't let go, brow pressing to shoulder as he shudders and gives a choked sound.

Overwhelmed, disoriented, but human.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude lets out a hissing breath, a low exhalation of pain that's quickly swallowed by the sound Marcus makes.

His arms gentle around him, making space to be shoved away, but it doesn't come. Instead Marcus ends up in his shoulder, riding the aftershocks. It's a hell of a lot to take, and Jude won't begrudge him this.

"I gotcha," he says when he can breathe again, easing his arms in around him to hold him securely to his chest, like he can keep him off the freezing rocks. He smells like blood and wool and wolf, and pack.

"Just breathe, now."

[luaithre]

Memory doesn't flood back to him as though Marcus were now a different person. He is conscious that all that just happened just happened, that the past few days have happened, and he was present for it all. It is only that he remembers it differently, that the far more neurotic spectrum of human emotion is capable of rendering it in more colours than the moment-by-moment mindset of the animal.

It doesn't feel removed from him, which is why, after an extended moment of doing as he is told—breathing—that he says, "I'm sorry," which only people close to him can say is his instinct, for wrongs perceived or real.

The hands he has flat against Jude's chest and shoulder curl fingers inwards, a subtle withdrawing even if he is not quite prepared for whatever happens after they separate fully, after the psychic comfort that Jude emanates is made less. Or maybe it will go away completely.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

It breaks Jude's heart a little. It always does.

His big hand smooths over his back, like he can settle him, like he's still in fur. The grip he has on him eases even if it doesn't retreat, letting him pull away, if that's what he needs.

"I'm sorry, too," Jude says seriously, angling his head. It's a hell of a thing to go through, a traumatizing thing, but so is the aftermath of it. The realization, the understanding.

"You have a wolf as strong as you are and instincts you're not used to. He was protecting you the best way he knew how."

[luaithre]

It's settling, fur or no. Something in this recalls to him holding onto Julius at the back of the prisoner's carriage, or almost lifting Petrana off her feet when he'd returned to Kirkwall. Derrica, drawing him close in the halls of the Cumberland Circle. It lacks the same context, the specificity, but carries the same pulse of need for closeness, a seeking out of comfort. It's calming properties, centring.

And something in Jude's words twinges hurt, the way kindness can. In the back of his mind, Marcus tentatively feels out that space where animal instinct lies. Carefully. Then, less carefully. It's still there, the wolf, responsive to sensory input, but quiet and locked down tight enough he's not sure he could change again soon even if he wanted to.

He should tell it sorry too.

Slowly, Marcus pulls away once the need to reclaim his sense of self overrides desire for comfort. In contrast to the sizeable wolf he just was, he's a much more medium-sized man, shivering and scarred in interesting places, river water clinging to his skin and dripping from tangled hair. This is the worst surface to be on but he doesn't get to his feet, half-curled in place and dragging his focus to Jude's face.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

As Marcus eases back, Jude shifts the both of them up. His ear's closed by now, healing up, filling back in bit by bit. His shoulder's deeper, but it won't take long to follow.

Jude meets his eyes, unflinching through the ache. There's no pity there, just a steadiness, a light push that says keep going, don't stop, I'm right behind you.

Reaching up with his free hand, he brushes Marcus' wet hair back, curls his fingers around the back of his neck and holds him securely for a moment, the both of them winding down.

"There you are."

[luaithre]

Marcus dimly acknowledges that it should be startling, the ease with which Jude reaches for him even now, but he is yet to regather the usual defenses. He doesn't flinch or tense or pull away, but lets his eyes sink closed for a second or more, breathes out. The sound of the river behind them, the grounding sensation of a hand holding him just so. Relaxes under it.

That terrible anger and the distress that was left over in its wake, both evening out into calm. He is still distraught, ashamed—it pinches his expression, weighs heavily on his shoulders, but encouraged by that push is the familiar task of reckoning with it.

When he opens his eyes again, his focus moves from the tear in Jude's ear to the slowly healing wound at his shoulder. His mouth opens, closes. Grasping for language a little more articulate than apology.

"Good fight," must have some dry humour in it, voice all quiet gravel.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude's small smile broadens, a laugh shaking his shoulders more than making an actual sound. He gives Marcus an affectionate little thumb on the backs of his shoulders -- easy as breathing for him, that affection.

"And you've had your wolf, what, a week?"

To say he's impressed is an understatement, and it shows all over his face as it softens.

"Got some clothes in my bag for you, if you want 'em."

By his expression, it's not for Jude's comfort, just an offer.

[luaithre]

Even in this early reconstitution of himself, Marcus trends towards understated. Subtle expression, a slow raising of walls that, here, it's apparent that they are more about keeping in than keeping out. Accepting this comment as a kindness as well as a compliment is a twinge in his expression, a look aside.

But it is loud, all that's under the surface. A complex churn that feels painful but is not expressly negative for it. Much of this is familiar, in some strange way, even when much of it is new. Wounds sting when they're closing, so it can't be all bad.

At the news that there are clothes on hand, there's a flicker of relief, and Marcus nods. Maybe simply for how cold it is, but probably also for some gesture to dignity, for all that the shifters are so comfortable in any state.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude nods and rubs his warm palm over Marcus' shoulder, releasing him before he heads back to where he left the bag, fishing out the clothes. They're much like Jude's: A soft sweater in a rich brown, with a yellow-gold tulip sewn cheerfully in where a lapel would be -- clearly a patch job.

The pants are joggers, loose and comfortable. The sweater's made of wool, which will hold heat even when wet. He hands them all over.

There aren't any proper shoes, unfortunately -- but Jude kicks his off. He's fine with going barefoot, but Marcus still has tender feet in this cold.

While Marcus sorts that, Jude gets out the water bottle, the cookies and the snacks. Water bottle first, then the snacks one by one. Get his blood sugar back up.

It has the feeling of an established routine, one that Jude's been through many, many times, with both the comfort of familiarity and weight of understanding.

"You'll need to rest for a bit, but your shift'll come back soon. Your wolf might feel feel bruised up and tender and docile for a bit. That's a hell of a thing, what the two of you just went through. Give yourself some room to recover."

There's a note there in his voice, the seriousness, the sadness of it. It's not something he's happy to have put him through, even if it was necessary.

[luaithre]

Marcus has gotten to his feet by the time Jude returns with clothing, which he accepts with a muted sound that stands in as a thank you. The healing wound at his thigh has streaked blood down to his knee, and there is a little time spent cleaning the worst of it away with a handful of cold water before he finally pulls on the sweater and pants. Shoes.

There's been time to get used to Earth items. No quizzical inspection over plastic materials or zip seals takes place.

What has Marcus' attention is the slow cognizance to the routine. The choice of foods—sugar-filled buttery cookies and leathery cured meat—and the water and the clothes. He was under no illusions about whether or not Jude had sought him out,

but all the same.

He absorbs what is being said to him as he inspects the cookies. Bruised, tender, docile feels like it extends further from just the wolf huddled at the very back of his consciousness. He asks, "Can I come back?" and looks up in the wake of an answer, more prepared for whatever it is than hopeful.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude pauses, a pulse of feeling washing over them both, a whisper of shock and sorrow and disbelief that that was ever in question.

"Always," he says, bracing himself for the possibility that he won't. Few wolves do well without packs, and Jude has the feeling that Marcus isn't a loner, much as he might feel it's easier. The life of a ghost is not a pleasant one. But Jude won't hold him here.

"Everyone slips. Everyone struggles. If this were enough for us to give up on you..."

Jude shakes his head.

"Half the pack wouldn't be here, including our Alpha."

[luaithre]

Perhaps that's why no one minds the clothes situation, here, in this enclave. The sharing of feeling is far more exposing.

It's bracing even from someone else, but being in the process of governing himself, Marcus governs this too, absorbs it, and from him there is a very genuine twinge of relief, warm and aching. He has seen no prisons, here. No implements of punishment or obvious indications of enforcement, and so though he hadn't expected any, exile had seemed the most credible alternative.

There are two cookies. He takes one out, offers it over. It is clear to him that whatever Marcus went through, Jude's experience was not extremely different.

He also says, "You've done this before," which is but one step towards the many questions he has, slowly gathering, or previously gathered and left unspoken.