faderift | [OPEN]

It's been just a few short months since the last trouble with Rifts in The Weyrs, but once more agents of Riftwatch find themselves traipsing through picturesque farmlands after a rift in need of closing.

This particular rift has peeled open in the basin below a grove of olive trees. In the rosy dawn, the shrubby plants switch back and forth up the steep hillside above the soon to be battlegrounds to where the grove eventually terminates against a low stone wall. Elsewhere in the region, small gray birds had flit among the trees and shrubbery, calling cheerful morning songs to one another. But here there is no birdsong, and the early daylight is dominated by the crackle and pop of Fadelight from the rift at the hill's base.

Upon approach, the seam of the rift shudders. With a now-familiar clap of air, it cracks open.

The tear belches out darkness and countless demons that roar into the countryside. The sound would have been heard for miles. They swirl out at the bottom of the hillside creating a horrible viscous puddle of shades and slavering hunger. This hill is now the worst hill that has ever existed. Thank the maker it happened here and not in the middle of civilization. There is absolutely no one around to–

A Chantry Sister comes tumbling down the hillside with a yelp. In her wake, yelling significantly less as he's clobbered by the hill, a man tumbles end over end over her. Season-end leaves and bits of yellowing grass shred up after them until, with a great undignified crunch and clatter, the pair are spat directly down into the chaos of the open rift and the slew of demons swarming there.

Edited 2023-10-16 23:59 (UTC)

Go to Antiva, they said. You'll spend the whole while doing the usual diplomatic clerical duties, they said, you won't be out trudging through a field dotted with assorted livestock excrement because you're one of the only people around who can help close yet another Rift, which is ostensibly one of your duties as a member of Riftwatch, but--

--but he doesn't want to. But Benedict is here anyway, in his fancy traveling cloak and boots, heaving a dread-filled sigh through his nose at the sight of the seam opening right here and now. His sulk is quickly tempered by the sight of people leaving the rift, however, and he picks up his pace while securing his grip on the staff which has until this moment served as a walking stick.
The anchor in his left hand thrums, and he curses it as he approaches.

Happily for Benedict—and anyone else tasked with closing the rift and purging the hillside of the demons that have come sloughing through it—, it seems for a brief moment that none of those aformentioned corrupted spririts have any interest in the members of Riftwatch.

Probably this is due to the fact that Chantry Sister and her murderous looking pursuer (he has a sword; it's drawn, though it has bounced free of his grip and tumbled away out of immediate reach) rolling around on the ground near the Rift make for more appealing targets. Presumably, the pair interlopers will find this favoritism less than enjoyable in roughly half a second if they haven't already.

Cue: a demon gathering its miasmic arcane energies, and lunging in the direction of the Sister and the Swordsman.

Edited 2023-10-17 01:22 (UTC)

The chantry sister looks at the sight before her and then to the intolerable man who's been chasing her who she hasn't had a good look at until now. She inhales and exhales trying to catch her breath. She's been running a long way and this scoundrel has the audacity to be handsome? How dare he. But, nevertheless he has a sword.

Before either of them can react, she takes him by the shoulders and pushes him towards the demon, crouching behind him.

"Do something!" She shouts. She hasn't noticed Benedict.

"You have to--" Benedict shouts in a strangled voice (what is even happening with these two, never mind, they'll figure it out later)-- "shit." He breaks into a run, lowering the staff like a battering ram to cast through it, surrounding the pair with a temporary barrier.
"OW," he yelps as the anchor spits again, and he raises it to catch the energy coming off the rift, teeth gritted, a low whine in the back of his throat from the continuing pain. Why did he go out of his way for one of these fucking things?

"FIGHT THEM," he yells at the other two, nodding frantically toward the fracas as a demon or three begins to take notice of his arrival.

Edited 2023-10-18 18:23 (UTC)

A list of things happen all at once.

Were he reviewing this list at, say, a small table in one of Seleny's many comfortable little copper universities over a small cup of very hot coffee, it wouldn't seem like such an extensive list, really. But in the moment? It feels very long. Or rather, as if a very long list has been folded into an accordion and made to squeal out one horrible, complicated note all at once. But for the sake of clarity, in something like order:

He is shoved (which is saying something when he had hardly found one foot much less gotten both back under him after toppling down the hill).

A demon is already mid-lunge in his direction.

He bounces off an invisible netting of arcane energies, the scent of ozone crackling all about him once and then twice again as the demon's claws rake the same barrier his face has only recently been introduced to, and the barrier bursts like a popped bubble.

Everyone is yelling. He feels, for a moment, compelled to yell himself. It has been a long day and his face hurts.

Instead, Desidério's hand finds his sword in the dry grass. This particular item, he can't take much credit for, really. It's habit more than anything, as is the motion of his arm that brings the blade around to skewer the demon as it comes back for its second attempted swipe.

(Maybe he does yell then, but if he does then it's a wordless sort of thing. You would shout too if a demon was on the end of your sword.)

Edited (fusses) 2023-10-19 05:48 (UTC)

Maybe one should not make a habit of wearing a fancy cloak to the countryside. When Mobius was here last, he'd rolled up his sleeves (metaphorical, physical) and gotten to work.

This is, perhaps, not the kind of work he'd like to be focused on. But that's what Riftwatch is here for. Unfortunately.

And unfortunately for Benedict, he's the one here with a shard in his hand, so he has to be the one so far to close it, unless the new Rifters (presumably? they came out of the rift, right, that makes them Rifters, right-?) can figure it out themselves. One of the Rifters seems to be able to sword pretty well. No idea about the other--a Sister? Something like it? But it means Benedict's spending his focus and energy on the rift and not on defending himself or anyone else.

Mobius charges his way past his compatriot whether the help is wanted or not, ramming himself shield-first into one of the demons before giving it a swipe, two swipes of his blade while it makes an unholy noise. No yelling on his part for it, though.

"Everyone keep each other safe," he huffs, "until the hole in reality stops spitting demons at us!"

Edited 2023-10-19 20:45 (UTC)

"Did you hear him? You're supposed to keep me safe!"

Lia hisses Desidério hoping he knows what he's doing. She looks around her, looking for an escape. The hill is too steep to climb. She glances at Benedict, the first shouter and dismisses, her best bet is one of the two swordsman and one is closer.

She pulls off a shoe and throws it at a demon, hollering and hides behind Desi as best she can.

Maybe one should mind their own elderly, aesthetically-challenged business, Mobius,

but the help is as appreciated as it is needed, and Benedict gives a deep sigh through his nose as he narrowly avoids getting murdered yet again, forced as he is to stand here with his arm outstretched and connected to the rift until his anchor can build enough tension to... whatever. Pop it. Over and over.

"Keep me safe or it's not closing," he mumbles under his breath to no one in particular, glancing from side to side as he tries to remain aware of the various demons' courses and not be caught off guard.

Edited 2023-10-19 21:54 (UTC)

Later, given a half measure to reflect on the trajectory of his life, Desidério will wonder why he didn't grab the woman by the arm and throw her into the oncoming hoard of otherworldly horrors and simply use the ensuing chaos to turn tail and book it back the way he'd come. This is above his pay grade. At the very least, it is certainly worth more than what that sniveling scoundrel Nimus is paying him for.

In the moment, however, the mental note he makes is not Fuck this, but rather more to do with the number of zeroes he's going to append to the list of expenses and damages he demands of the man. How many lunches does facing off a hoard of demons equate to?

This, reader, is ironic. Because the answer, as it turns out, is All Of Them For the Foreseeable Future. For after Desidério has successfully pincushioned the demon nearest with a ha! of something like triumph and terror both, he moves his right arm (the one without a sword on the end of it) to elbow the woman attempting to crowd in behind him. At that moment, the Rift flares in answer to Benedict's connection to it. Spits hot fade fire, arcane energies crackling and bursting as the seam struggling against being close. It lashes out, all liquid green sparks, and strikes both strangers with the crack of a thunderclap.

(This will be familiar to Benedict; he'd caught an anchor once too, albeit somewhat less by accident.)

The fun part, the real luck of the draw part, is how the energies hit everyone but Benedict, probably by virtue of him already having an anchor.

This is going to be a concern. Later. It will be a concern later when there's time to think and plan and--when there's actual time. Right now it's stay-on-your-feet-soldier time.

So not now. Not with the rift going nuts, and the woman who may or may not be a Sister throwing a shoe in a most un-Sister-ly fashion, but at least she's got the spirit. (Ha.) And a swordsman by her. Which does leave the resident rift-closer needing a hand, so Mobius finds footing on the not super great terrain and pivots, circling around Benedict for frankly all their sakes. "One at a time, boys," he grits, as though the demons will listen. His shield hand spasms, almost like there's a phantom pain to what should be sensation-less. To the strangers: "Make your way this way!"

Sure, that'll put everyone in one spot, that needs protecting. But then everyone will be in one spot, protected.

Lia was moving to elbow Desidério right back when the rift hit her and she now shrieks. She moves towards where Mobius led, lightning fast, despite only having one shoe. She glances at the green in her left hand. Let's just ignore that. She quickly takes off her other shoe and glancing at her companions, wields it like a sword.

"This is all your fault!" She shrieks at Desidério.

A grimace as Benedict clenches his fist, having not noticed yet that the explosion merited anything except the usual release of rift energy. Pleased that he was listened to, at least to some degree-- and moreso that Mobius is now giving instructions, so he himself can be more useful, he takes the downtime to generate a misdirection hex on the ground nearer to the Chantry sister.

The rift sputters; soon it will be ready for anchors again.

[OPEN]

UNINVITED GUESTS - Closing the Rift (ota; single group thread only pls)

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