[OPEN] holes in the sky, pierced by the fire

[eolasemah]

WHO: Everyone who's around!
WHAT: A rift has opened in Skyhold. We have to deal with it.
WHEN: The last day of Wintermarch
WHERE: In the courtyard, between the tavern and the dungeon.
NOTES: I will be posting periodically to let you know the results of what your dudes are doing! If you need clarification or want to ask me something, PM me on this account.

It’s a dismal, rainy evening, with Skyhold at the mercy of one of the many winter storms that passes through the Frostbacks. Most of the keep’s denizens have shut themselves inside to sit by a warm fire, have a drink, even go to bed early rather than face the freezing rain and the wind.

The tavern windows are aglow with light and merriment, but in the open area just behind it comes a different kind of glow: flames bursting to life and then dissipating, as a solitary elf in an oilskin cloak practices her fire spells in the relative safety of the rain.

It’s no secret that Sina has been isolating herself as of late, though her mood has taken an even more pointed downturn in the last few days. Her movements as she works are increasingly erratic, frustrated even, as there are times when she casts a serviceable fireball, and others when barely a spark leaves her hands. As she grows angrier, her energy depletes, and she’s barely resting between casts.

Perhaps it is because of this that what happens next occurs at all. In a burst of anguish and fury, Sina wrenches her hands forward, drawing from whatever reserves she has left—and then her shard reacts.

In an explosion of neon green that knocks Sina flat on her back, a rift erupts into the gloomy sky. It crackles and hums insidiously, its strange electricity causing every shard belonging to every Rifter in the vicinity to suddenly spit and pop in recognition.
No doubt drawn to the new opening in the Fade, the dark form of a despair demon slithers from the rift, takes stock of its surroundings, and slowly begins to approach the prone form of the fool that freed it. Moments later, it is followed by several spindly green terror demons, and at last the hulking inferno that comprises a rage demon.

Comments

[dwarfing]

Shale would like to punch a demon, but hey. They would have ample opportunity for that while with the Inquisition. Right now the golem was far more interested in seeing how the rest of the people handled it - and if the shiny elf lived.

Noticing a human next to them, Shale scoffs slightly. "You fleshy ones break under anything. One rib, at least." They point at the person in question, and then shrug. "The demon is paste soon. The tattooed elves are very efficient. I would be more concerned with the foolish people with their glowing hands."

They didn't seem to know what to do, and that was chaotic. Whatever the magic in their hands was, it wasn't enough.

[clarioretenebris]

Well, if Shale was to be punching any demons in the future, Bowhannon would hope to be behind the golem. Out of swinging range, naturally. He was better suited to being a merchant despite his skills with a bow.

"It is only natural, we need armor to keep ourselves sturdy, you're so fortunate," he sounded almost envious, "hmm...I'll give the demon a while longer...and I say it'll take out a few more before this is done. I have a soft spot for under dogs and lost causes."

Though he did raise an eyebrow at Shale's last remark.

"Oh? Any reason in particular you would be concerned?"