faderift | 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

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Running sounded fine. She couldn't produce another scream for at least half an hour. And even if she could, she wasn't sure it was a good idea. It had made him nervous and twitchy. And he seemed nice. Who knew what it would do to someone less friendly?

So she nodded, realizing a second later that she had no real sense of her surroundings.

"Where?"

Good question. Excellent question. Technically, he was supposed to be one of the guard stopping just this kind of thing...but he had an innocent civilian (with insane vocal abilities) to protect. Surely he could be excused in saving her? He looked back over his shoulder towards the former village and decided it was good enough.

Not even thinking, he reached out to grab at her wrist, back in escaping mode.

"This way. We can get to a better position, any rate."

It may be half a half buried and burned village, but enough of the chantry may still be above the snow to let them at least funnel the on coming enemy into a single file line.

Since the boy seemed to know better about what was going on, Ariadne decided to go with him. She still wasn't entirely used to working with other people--although Lysia had grand schemes for an elite strike force--but she had a trusting nature.

But there was one thing...

"What's your name?" she asked, keeping up with him gracefully.

"My- oh, right."

He almost stopped. This really wasn't a proper way to meet, and if he had anything left from his childhood at all it was manners. Usually, at any rate. When things weren't trying to kill him. But they had more important things to do.

"Peter. Peter Pettigrew, of the Inquisition. Miss...?"

The word 'Inquisition' immediately struck a sour note with her. She couldn't put her finger on why, but words and Alastrians had a special kinship.

As did hate crimes and Alastrians.

But he seemed to be reasonably kind, so she dismissed her misgivings for the moment.

"Ariadne," she said. She would have dipped into a proper curtsy, if they weren't running. But the intent was there all the same.

It's more to himself than anything, but she might catch him repeating her name under his breath- putting it to memory- as they finally reach the burned out shell of Haven. Safe spots are slim pickings, particularly with the snow, but at least part of the chantry is still showing. They can have a wall behind them and force the demons through the doorway one by one.

"Well- I, ah, wish I could say welcome to Haven? You picked a bad time to visit."

"Haven," she repeated, surging forward a little bit to scout the area with practiced precision. "I've never heard of Haven before."

It was, admittedly, the lesser of her problems at the moment. But Ariadne's mind was racing, going back through all the maps she'd traced with her fingertips, locked away in the castle library for days at a time, curled up in a patch of sunlight.

There was no 'Haven' on those maps.

"I never heard of Deleo. But-"

Well. It was a little more weird she hadn't heard of the place she was, and Peter can only express that part with a frown thrown her way as he makes his way into the ruins of the building. Hiding from demons first, figuring out the mysteries of strange women second.

"How'd you get here?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," Ariadne said, pulling away from him to go test out the surface of one of the ruined walls. The bricks were uneven, which made for perfect handholds. She climbed up the side of the wall as easily as taking a stroll through a part.

The beams of the ceiling--or what remained of it--were a little less steady. She used her palm to test out their strength, one place followed by the next.

"The last thing I remembered," she said, frowning with concentration, "I was climbing a tree in North Castle City. One of Princess Amanda's courtyard. The next thing I know, I feel and I was here. Ah ha!"

Finding a suitably stable beam, she swung her legs up onto it, neatly perching like a cat on her haunches for a moment, before she spread herself out flat along the beam, holding out a hand to Peter.

"That's no where near here- no where I've ever even heard of."

He looks at that hand for a long moment. What in Thedas- was this really a good- but he was on the same ground as demons and that was worse than anything this girl had planned. Which, considering how nice she'd been so far, probably wasn't anything bad at all. He reached up and accepted the extended hand.

"Were you dreaming?"

Ariadne had dexterity and stamina in spades. Strength, however, was not one of her gifts. Gritting her teeth, she strained, trying to pull Peter up to the beam. Or, well, to a point where he could grab on and help her pull him up.

Compared to her earlier displays, it was a decidedly graceless effort.

"I don't know," she said. "I never remember my dreams." Alastrians rarely did. And on the occasion when it happened, it was almost certainly a nightmare. "I was thinking of taking a nap, though."

"We're closest to demons-"

He had to stop to fully grunt here, doing all he could to haul is own weight up- but damn. He slumped, arms and nothing else on the beam.

"When we sleep. Hold on, I've another way up."

Now it was just matter of lowering himself back down.

She decided not to point out that she was close to demons awake or asleep, being considered one and all. Still, it was an interesting suggestion. She'd have to ask more questions. But later.

When they were running from nasty things that wanted to kill them.

"Can you teleport?" she asked, examining his ears. He didn't look like an Elf.

Into the DANGER ZONE

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