Entry tags:

MOD PLOT: A Night Without Moon and Stars

WHO: Anyone/Everyone
WHAT: Riftwatch investigates a strange occurrence in Western Orlais.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 9:51.
WHERE: Yvoire, on the edge of the Tirashan Forest.
NOTES: OOC post with reward claims. Body horror CW for the main post.

I. YVOIRE

It should have been a straightforward mission. Not a simple one—attempting to help mediate some sort of disagreement between the people of Yvoire and some local elves isn't simple—but straightforward. The sort of thing Riftwatch's diplomacy division has done plenty of times before. From the Hunterhorns base they ride southeast, through the late spring mud to a town on the edge of the Tirashan. Instead of a bit tense, edging toward violence, maybe a little strange in the way remote villages can be, they find the entire town encased in a nearly-translucent, impermeable magical dome. This calls for reinforcements.

II. THE BUBBLE

By the time Riftwatch has arrived en masse, it's been determined that anchors (it will take at least two, working together) can open and close a passage through the barrier the same way they might a rift, allowing teams to enter and explore the area. Inside, they find themselves in the Fade—the sky an unnatural green with no sign of sun or moon, jagged black rocks jutting up from the ground, the air teeming with spirits and demons—but also not. Among the boulders are houses, shops, torn apart by the Fade stone. A barn roof is pierced by a spire of dark stone, a bakery all but flattened. The residents haven't been spared. Some have been crushed by the arriving landscape, others encased within it. Arms reach out from more than one block of dark stone, the crown of a head just visible in an edge, a corpse frozen mid-stride as if charging out of the rock, but caught just too slow to outrun their fate.

The merging landscapes have rearranged some parts of town even more strangely. More than one building has been sliced in pieces, one remaining in place, the others and its contents relocated or vanished. Every book in a library has been severed from its contents, covers slumped in a bookshelf in a bisected library, pages now suspended in a cloud above a pigsty. A pocket of pond water fills an intersection, two drowned bodies floating trapped within it along with the contents of a wheelbarrow and a couple of now-well-fed fish. A copse of trees, uprooted, grow down from a patch of earth that hovers beside the town's small chantry.

As they investigate the fate of Yvoire, Riftwatch will encounter:

Demons, primarily of the less-powerful varieties but in unusual numbers. They don't manifest in the way demons often do and don't appear to be tied to any particular object or location. They're just here, similar to areas where a rift has been open for a time and demons are already roaming free.
Possessed corpses of the townspeople, some aggressive and violent, others just curiously wandering about the town going through the motions of life.
Spirits, of many different types and degrees of curiosity, communication, and helpfulness
Evidence of explosive magical violence, like a body burned by a flame that seems to originate where they stood, or a person crushed under a bookshelf toppled by the tell-tale blast of Stonefist.
A handful of survivors who have survived by hiding in cellars or other out-of-the-way spots who will report that whatever happened happened the morning before Riftwatch's initial arrival, when suddenly there was a strange sense of pressure and static in the air, as if a storm was arriving, and then everything suddenly flew apart or was crushed and a cloud of spirits and demons appeared everywhere.
At least one survivor will report that some of the elves who have been "stalking" (their word) the village lately were seen sneaking into town before first light, lurking around the chapel as usual.
Some survivors will report family members or neighbors who they had never suspected to be mages suddenly doing magic, often with deadly consequences for themselves and those around them.
And among them, a few people possessed by demons who will present themselves as survivors and do their best to get Riftwatch to help them exit the bubble and be free.
One elf who has been trapped half-inside a tree, his entire right side from ear to toes encased in the thick trunk of a flowering oak that wasn't in this spot yesterday. He is alive, for now.

Fully exploring the area takes time, not only because of the demons but because Riftwatch will find that staying in the bubble indefinitely is unpleasant. Humans and Qunari are affected first, then dwarves, then rifters who have amputated their anchors, and finally elves, but over time anyone may begin to experience headaches, nausea, blurring vision, and feelings of either strange pressure or the equally strange absence of pressure. The exception is anyone with an anchor — they and those in their immediate vicinity will feel fine, and once that becomes apparent, Riftwatch can begin organizing so exploration teams never need to stray very far from someone with an anchor. Even the presence of an anchor, though, won't stop some people from exhibiting the strangest effect of all: the spontaneous development of Fade-touched magic that, unlike the headaches, does not go away when they leave the area.

III. THE ARTIFACT

Yvoire's Chantry is small, the sort of village chapel typically staffed by a single Sister, or maybe a Mother if she's a local. It was a Sister, here—she'll be found dead in a closet along with a number of her parishioners, the apparent victims of a hunger demon. Despite the limited presence of people, the Chantry is a hive of spirit and demon activity, which Riftwatch will have to make its way through in order to investigate.

Once they do, in addition to the deceased inside, Riftwatch will discover another closet that instead of remains contains a patch of stone floor that looks older than the rest, and yet also as if its mortar has been recently loosened. Levering up the large stone tile will reveal a passage into an old basement crypt, shelves of vestments and liturgical supplies covered in cobwebs, niches containing grace goods and dedicatory plaques to prominent members of the chantry past. A path has been tracked through the heavy dust, leading to the far wall, which has been demolished to reveal a different stone wall, this one elven in design. This has been opened like a door, though neither seam nor lock nor hinge is visible, one portion of the wall simply rotated on a non-existent axis to create a passageway.

Inside is a chamber not so very different in design from the chantry crypt: the walls lined with shelves and niches, all of them bare. A strange absence of dust in the room makes it difficult to tell how many were previously full, but several contain stands or racks seemingly designed for display, many in unusual shapes. In the center of the room is a plinth of black marble, the stand in its center still gleaming. There's no ambiguity about the shape it's meant to hold, the spidering fingers plainly designed to contain a sphere.

Set into the wall opposite the door is a frame in the familiar shape of an eluvian mirror, its glass dark and impassable.

Threaded | Flat

The elven man in the tree — the man who now is the tree — does not have long. He should already be dead. It's magic that's sustaining him, and it's magic that's killing him, as any attempt at chopping into the tree will reveal he cannot be removed from the tree that has encased him because he is becoming part of it, and more so by the minute. They have until the process advances too far into his vital organs and brain to try to get information out of him.

The expression on his face when anyone approaches, a mix of pained grimace and furious sneer made more aggressive by the angles of his red vallaslin, suggests this will not be pleasant. Depending on one's approach, however, it may at least be unpleasant in a simple way.

[ OOC note: multiple threads are allowed, and multiple participants in a single thread are fine too if you want to team up. To facilitate the time-crunch vibe you can expect the NPC to die within 5-10 tags, with the upper limit of that requiring attempts at healing or Templar abilities to slow the progress of the spread. NPC tags will be network/action-spam levels of brief, so feel free to do the same. ]

I. Possessed Corpses (fighting)

It's the violent ones first that Barrow seeks out, making it his prime directive to put them down. The hammer is strapped to his back for this, replaced by the more Templar-aligned sword and shield, albeit without the official insignia; all the better to carve his way through the small mobs, his blade flashing intermittently with holy energy. If he had to stay on the lyrium, might as well make it worth his while.
He sets his sights on the nonviolent corpses when he's convinced the others are cleared, and, unless otherwise talked down, will make quick work of them as well.

II. Possessed Corpses (burning)

Those who were present in the aftermath of the Gallows attack may remember how active Barrow was in the cleanup: strong enough to haul and pile an impressive number of corpses, he resigned himself to the task and is doing the same now. The visible Dalish are set aside-- they have their own rites, don't they?-- but humans are reliably cast onto the pyre, sacred words murmured over each in turn as he lays them to rest.

III. Wildcard

exploration

the possessed

captain

right now

the spirits

Fine

the survivors

wildcard

(

throw something else at me, add a twist, or hmu if you want a ~bespoke~ starter!

)

1. WARNING

To him it seemed obvious where they were the minute they stepped in, and from what he knew and had seen of the Riftwatch he'd think they could all make an educated guess and land on the correct answer, but above all he was a teacher. Making an assumption about what others know only set a group up for failure.

"We're in the Fade. Be mindful of your emotions, and question the reality and logic of what you see and hear." His voice was calm, though he had yet to put his staff back into its straps on his back. He'd pulled it out before coming in and for now at least it was staying in his hand, just in case. The presence of lesser transformed spirits was a comfort, though. They weren't fleeing a stronger, more predatory being. "We are likely not in immediate danger, but do stay alert."

2. POSSESSION ('ARMLESS)

An older woman, missing her left arm and much of the skin and hair on the left side of her face, stared at the library in dismay. "The books, all the books," she seemed to say, sounding mournful. She wasn't bleeding, and she'd taken no notice of her injuries.

Emmrich joined her, gaze on the damage. Obviously the woman was long gone but one must still be considerate and careful when dealing with a spirit that had been caught up in the emotion of the dead and dying.

"It must have mattered a great deal to you." Others were tending to the living. He could help see to the dead and a tangled-up Compassion spirit, even if it might look rather odd to an onlooker.

3. POSSESSION (NOT SO HARMLESS)

"You have to help us." The speaker was a young man. His abdomen was wrapped in bloodied bandages, and the jacket over it as well as his pants were filthy. There was an air of condescension to his words and the way he looked at anyone around him. "That's what you're here for, right? You can get us out of here?"

Of course a Pride spirit would be the first to attempt to cross over, Emmrich thought but did not say. It was strong. It was powerful, old enough to seem convincing, and it was right next to actual, non-possessed survivors which means it couldn't be simply confronted. He'd have to play along and hope for assistance.

"In good time. We must first figure out what's happened, so we know it's safe to remove anyone or anything." That was almost definitely not Riftwatch procedure. Emmrich glanced around to see if anyone nearby had also picked up on Pride's presence, or if he was about to be contradicted.

4. WILDCARD

[Hit him up! His focus will be mostly on helping/dealing with/fighting the spirits and aiding any survivors who are in mourning, but I'm down for whatever.]

Survivors will tell: When the lights went out, they went all at once; not a guttering of candles but the fall of some great shadow. They'll say that it was darkest in the Chantry. They won't have seen it for themselves.

There'd been scratching at the door, and a girlish voice. Please help, I'm pinned. It'd taken an axe to clear the makeshift barricade. Noisy work. Through it all, small reassurances, simple questions. Simple answers.

When the lights went out, The voice said, They went out all at once.

It's silent now. The storeroom packs with the dead, slumped atop each other in the way of people first afraid, then very afraid. Something's been chewing at them. Walls score with claws. Cedric hangs back, lifting his anchor as lantern. Briefly, something shifts —

Trick of the eye. The room is very still.

Edited (im sorry mods i hope you arent tracking this) 2025-05-28 05:13 (UTC)

AMBIENCE
It's highly unusual to see Gela among the ranks of Riftwatch today; she doesn't go anywhere that could threaten combat but, before the slick appearance of the pearlescent dome and the town held within it, the diplomacy party sent ahead had little reason to think it would come to that. Things have changed, but she's stayed anyway. She doesn't have to go inside and probably shouldn't; it doesn't seem like she has a weapon of any kind on her being, just a silk cloak draped around her shoulders, held in place with a clasp. Her hair is drawn back.

She says, "I haven't seen anything like this before."

Green sticks to the inside of the dome. The shapes of what she thinks are people move around inside but both too fast to really be people and also too slow.

She's thinking out loud while she watches. "We should set up a perimeter... And send reassurance to their neighbours that this isn't about to happen to them too." You know. Probably. Hopefully? "The last thing we need are mass evacuations."

SURVIVOR-PRESENTING
The woman who comes to stare at Gela plaintively through the surface of the bubble has her palms pressed flat against it. She's more visible now that she's close and it's so easy to see her expression, how it twists in fright and desperation. The rest of her body disappears behind the translucent shield, torso and legs more indistinct but angled strangely, suggesting pain and injury.

"Help meeeee," she wails. The sound comes through as if from underwater and then she's crying noisily, fogging the dome from the other side. "Please, they're coming. Please help me—"

"We will," Gela urges her, horrified, turning her head at once to look for shard-bearers. Raising her voice now, anxiety in the short, sharp breath that heralds a shout, "We need help! Quickly!"

She can't get the barrier open herself.

ESCORT MISSION
"I can help."

Gela has a knife in her hand — been a while since she's had to use it but it's not like you can really forget how to stab (or at the very least threaten that you're going to do it convincingly). "There are people missing still."

Most of Riftwatch is concerned with battling the demons; finding the source of the barrier; holding off the corpses of the people who didn't make it. Doesn't leave many hands left to coax out the hiding survivors and, in good conscience, Gela simply can't stay out here comforting the people who have broken free. "Can I go in with you?"

WILDCARD
go hard

SORRY ABOUT YOUR POSSESSED CORPSE
The first dead body Abby sees walking around isn't attacking — only because it isn't looking at her. The man catches her off-guard as she rounds a corner and, instinctively, she kicks him hard in the calf. He goes down yelling a very human, upset sort of wail which is the only thing that stops her from continuing the momentum, and driving her boot heel down into the back of his skull.

"Owwww," says the corpse.

He's very, very obviously dead, made obvious by his smell and the way half of his face has been melted down to almost nothing, something she notices when he flips over on the ground like a fish to look at her accusingly. It makes him seem even more mournful than he already is; he groans, pale hands descending to his leg, clutching it. "What was that for...?"

Abby has never had this happen to her. She opens her mouth and nothing comes out.

CLEARING OUT THE CHANTRY
It's the busiest place in the entire town — Abby has been back and forth across the length of it a few times now, hauling wreckage aside to free survivors, sending the odd possessed corspe scrambling in the other direction, helping anchor-less members of Riftwatch get to where they're going without puking all over themselves. The chantry is in the middle of it all, sitting exactly where it is in good condition, innocent and small. Consistently spawning demons.

"We have to go in there," she says, wiping her brow as she looks at it. "Fuck."

And later, in the middle of the fray —

throwing rift-energy projectiles over her shoulder at anything in her periphery, reserving cruel mace blows for the corpses that stumble and jerk across the floor, their juddering arms outstretched as they get in close —

she shouts aloud, breathless and furious. "How many more?!"

WILDCARD
go hard

Threaded | Flat

TREE GUY

Barrow OTA

gwenaëlle baudin | open

exploration

the possessed

the spirits

the survivors

wildcard

Emmrich | OTA

vanya; csi yvoire

Gela, OPEN

Abby, OPEN