Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2015-10-21 11:34 am
faderifting) wrote in faderift2015-10-21 11:34 am
Into the DANGER ZONE
WHO: All Rifters + the 7 natives who signed up
WHAT: Searching the ruins of Haven for survivors, an Inquisition crew finds something strange. And demons. It's kind of scary that the demons aren't the strange thing.
WHEN: Third week of Harvestmere, 9:41
WHERE: Haven
NOTES: We've broken rifters and rescuers (or "rescuers") into two groups. This log has an arrival comment for each group--you can start smaller subthreads beneath those rather than try to have an eight- or nine-person log, just incorporate surrounding chaos/fighting--and a third top-level set for the whole group's journey back to Skyhold
WHAT: Searching the ruins of Haven for survivors, an Inquisition crew finds something strange. And demons. It's kind of scary that the demons aren't the strange thing.
WHEN: Third week of Harvestmere, 9:41
WHERE: Haven
NOTES: We've broken rifters and rescuers (or "rescuers") into two groups. This log has an arrival comment for each group--you can start smaller subthreads beneath those rather than try to have an eight- or nine-person log, just incorporate surrounding chaos/fighting--and a third top-level set for the whole group's journey back to Skyhold
You were asleep-- deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.
But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact, barely softened by snow that lies a foot deep with an icy crust that cracks beneath the force of your landing. The wind is biting cold, the sun is bright, and you are not alone. Others thud to the ground nearby, as bewildered as you, and others run up who look no less confused for having their feet beneath them.
You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like that you're being attacked by monsters, some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all.
Welcome to Thedas!
no subject
Oh. Oh. It was one thing to chat with the forest elves- the Dalish, or the Circle elves. Ones that knew the history to the point it was part of their very blood and flesh. But to bring up the mass enslavement and loss of immortality of an entire race- a race he was most certainly not part of- to an elf that didn't know about it? Peter went a little pale.
"You...should talk to the elves. From here, I mean. Or from now? I'm not- I'm not really sure which the difference is for you."
no subject
Still, she marked his advice, eager and disjointed as it was. She had already met one elf, and she had no issue speaking with kin, even if they were distant.
"I do hope it is the former, it would sadden me greatly to think I had missed so much time that the stars overhead were drawn anew.
"But I shall ask as you suggest, once we have come to our destination."
no subject
"There was some sort of time...thing, before. People doing mad things with magic. Maybe someone did it again. Or...maybe this is all a whole new madness. You never know with the fade."