Into the DANGER ZONE

[faderifting]

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!

Comments

GROUP 2

[faderifting]

(Group 2 includes: Adelaide, Peter, Cole, Gavin, Ariadne, Dante, Galadriel, Jamie, Lenneth)

Haven's destruction was total. Between the battles with demons, templars, and mages, the corrupted dragon Corypheus unleashed, and the avalanche that finally ended the fight and covered the Inquisition's retreat, what was once a small town is little more than charred and broken remains, large portions of which are buried.

But it is far from abandoned: pilgrims and gawkers still come to see the place the Herald of Andraste rose and fell, recruits, agents, visitors and suppliers pass through on their way to Skyhold, and the Inquisition itself has not entirely abandoned the village they destroyed. Teams work to clear debris, to salvage what materials and supplies they can, to find the dead and give them proper send-offs. All those who fell that day deserve rites, but they search especially for the Herald.

There is also, of course, the matter of the rift. Hanging over the edge of the village near the road, it has been almost dormant since the Breach was sealed, occasionally spitting out a couple of demons to be dispatched by the Inquisition squads posted to watch it and protect travelers. Today, that means you three. It should be a pretty easy job, certainly easier than the job of those poor saps just on the other side of this hill of debris, busy working away trying to clear it while you stand around waiting for nothing.

Until the rift crackles to life, all of a sudden. Demons spawn out of it in arcs of green light-- a half-dozen wraiths and shades, and a rage demon, and you can see that more have arrived on the other side of the hill by the salvage team, but rubble and monsters both bar your path. And instead of stopping there another wave comes immediately, and this time the creatures that are spat out are like no demon you've ever seen. The rift claps shut behind them and dissipates with a swirl of green light like smoke.

Ariadne | OTA

[demonicbeauty]

Alastrians slept in the trees. That was the way that packs survived in the forests of Deleo. Of course, now Ariadne lived in a house and was given a bed and treated like a Human girl, but she still had an occasional longing for the canopy of home. And Valeria's trees were oh-so-very tall and wonderfully thick with glossy leaves.

It had been late afternoon when she'd shimmied up one of the trees in Aunt Lysia's yard. She was only going to rest her eyes for a moment, lost in thoughts of better days and better times.

And then she fell.

Through all the light and the swirl and the commotion, one thing remained true about Ariadne. She was exceptionally good at falling. Or rather, good at landing. She hit the ground in a crouch, the knuckles of her right hand steadying her balance. A throbbing pain shot through her left and she tucked it behind her back, raising her eyes to try to gauge what had happened.

Or rather...what was happening...

[colecomfort]

There was snow around her, commotion... and then, there, on her right, a tall and hunched figure in a cloak, raising a clawed hand in preparation for a strike —

— which never fell. The demon lurched forward as something struck it from behind. The blow wasn't enough to kill it, but enough to make it turn and focus its attention on the attacker. Daggers in hand, Cole flashed around its side, giving it a couple of quick jabs before ducking away again. He kept in motion, always, always looking for the openings that would allow a swift strike.

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne's head snapped to the side just in time to see the creature struck from behind. She'd never seen anything like it and, for a moment, her gray eyes widened to the point where one could see the whites all the way around. But her questions would have to wait. She knew a fight when she saw one. And she knew that the stranger had clearly just saved her.

For a moment, she remained crouched, trying to follow the rhythm of his fighting. Oddly, it reminded her of her mother's style. Always moving, flowing like water. She'd inherited some of that.

He was looking for an opening. One good turn definitely deserved another, so Ariadne sprang into action.

Like all Alastrians, she wore her hair long. But she kept it in a braid that went to her hips. Most of her kind were protective of their locks, but Ariadne had her pheromones--or so she believed--working to her advantage. She spun herself in a circle, using the same momentum as a roundhouse kick. Only, instead of lashing out with her leg, it was her braid that swirled around her. It flew at the creature, going in a wide arch around its neck. Ariadne caught the other end and gave a tug, trying to pull the creature off its feet.

[cameasarat]

He'd stumbled around in the confusion of things appearing out of the Rift, hadn't watched closely enough to see everything that appeared. But he did know there was a girl by the demons. Peter didn't know where she'd come from or why- maybe some random thief looting when things went bad- but it was not the place to be. He was backing up from the appearing monsters himself, a clear path left in front of him in the snow, but she apparently hadn't realized the danger just yet.

"H-hey, you. Run!"

[demonicbeauty]

She turned in the direction of the cry, her keen gray eyes widening then narrowing slightly as she noticed the boy. Where had he come from? She couldn't quite figure. But straining to hear his heart, she sensed genuine fear.

It helped, too, when she turned her head and spotted the...creature.

Well, it was her duty to help protect people--even if she didn't have a name for what she was protecting them from. Immediately, Ariadne sprang up to her feet, running not away from the danger, but over to the boy. Two was always better than one in a fight.

"What is that?"

Peter Pettigrew | DA AU Native

[cameasarat]

A moment before he'd been scavenging what he could from his last former 'home' of Haven. A few torn magical notes here, some preserved elf root there. But all the treasures he'd managed to recover were forgotten in an instant, dropped to the ground at his feet at the same moment it felt like a chunk of ice had dropped into his stomach, terror tightening his throat as it all started to happen again. Demons and monsters in Haven, with far too few people near him to actually do anything about it. It's a weak magical barrier, but he throws it up anyway as he clutches his staff with both hands. Demons. Possession and horror and-

And then there was a person. A normal human looking person, stuck down there with the demons. While he doesn't run forward, he does at least shout as he throws another barrier to surround the poor bastard that had (clearly) been in the wrong place and gotten stuck in this mess.

"R-ru- Get out of there!"

[slipshot]

An arrow slammed into the Shade that had been barrelling towards Peter while he wasn't paying attention - exploding on impact into bright, flaming shards, and making the creature scream out with rage.

It gave Gavin the thirty seconds he needed - leaping down to put himself between Peter, the rift, and the demons, in a rather ungraceful tumble. He landed with one knee into the dirt and the other up - pulling his bow string back to fire an arrow straight into the flaming demon.

"I've got you, Peter! Please tell me you know how to light things on fire!"

[cameasarat]

"I- ye- sometimes!"

It was very hard to think with everything happening around him, but explosions Peter could cause. Usually accidentally, when trying to cast a healing spell or proper ward. But fires still happened. If he could just- Yes.

It wasn't a fireball in traditional form. But it was a general spray of flame that mostly went towards the demon (and took out the things Peter had managed to scrounge, as well). And, incidentally, towards Gavin.

"Roll, roll!"

Gavin Ashara | OC | Open

[slipshot]

Gavin rarely sat still well, so he had somehow managed to crawl up a burnt, angled pole of what had probably once been the gate - crouching on the top of it like a strange, gangly gargoyle, an arrow notched in his bow but not drawn as he watched the rift. He was humming to himself (because what else was there to do) - something that drifted between a few different songs, of a few different peoples - when suddenly the rift sprang to life.

"Demons!" He snapped - standing up suddenly, making the pole wobble slightly below him. The first arrow was off almost in the same breath, slamming into the first shade that appeared. He was already drawing another, a half a breath later.

Re: Your Arrows

[lennethvalkyrie]

The Valkyrie had opened herself to listen, to let their calls find her; those desperate last words, thoughts, and cries of those near death whose souls were worthy to serve in Asgard.

That was not what found her. The energy that touched her was something entirely unknown to her, felt different, foreign. A frown creased her forehead; she thought to follow its tendrils to investigate the source, and found she already moved. And found she could not stop. It surged around her like a rip current, and startled, she floundered, and fell--

--and landed without landing. She was suddenly on the ground and staggering, fighting to draw a full breath. First, she felt the cold. That was wrong. But even as she should not feel it, the chill of the air in her lungs brought her clarity. And with clarity came pain. She looked, saw green, felt something new. The Valkyrie had never taken wound-fever, had never felt a sickness beating within her in time to her heart--although this pulsed with the light that washed the snow. Wrong. All wrong.

The familiar sound of an arrow cutting the air interrupted her daze, and her still-focusing eyes snapped up to see the end of its arc in a monstrous thing that stank of corruption. Reflex borne of a life at war had her sword from its sheath in the next breath, although the hand that held it faltered under its wound.

Where had the arrow come from? She was not alone on the field; there were others fighting, she could hear the clash, but it was processing too slowly, like she'd taken the flat of a blade to her head. Too slowly. And then it was upon her.

Re: Your Arrows

[slipshot]

The second arrow was swift as the first, though it was less the arrow that interrupted the demon's attack as it was the sudden, hurtling body of an elf throwing himself against it. It was not, shall we say, a graceful maneuver. Nor did Gavin land gracefully, both he and the demon tumbling several paces.

It turned out to be both an effective, and horrible, plan. The demon lashed out, tearing into Gavin's light armour and into his side before he managed to scramble up and run back toward the rift woman who had appeared out of the fade.

And her sword. Swords were much better for direct contact with demons, and the people that wielded them even more so, so instead of barrelling into he, he skidded past her side, drew an arrow, and let it fly past her shoulder into the Demon that was now turning on them both.

"Demons -- swords -- me, no swords, please--" he managed to get out, breathless between both his bizarre attack and the pain that was lancing threw his side.

[wontforgetyou]

"Is that what they are?"

The voice came from a little off to one side, one that had a bit of a brogue to it, although one with a slightly disbelieving tone coloring it. It belonged to a young man in a kilt who was crouching down behind a pile of rubble, holding what had once been a largish chunk of wood salvaged from the ruins. It had clearly seen better days, having been used to beat on a few of the more solid looking creatures he'd encountered since having wound up...well, wherever he was. The one he was pointing at now, though, was different. Green and sort of see through, and able to shoot at him at a distance, hence the cover. It wasn't a particularly great sort of cover, though, and coming up with some sort of a plan to take care of it before it took care of him was sounding better and better by the moment.

"So how do you stop that one, then? Because I've not got any holy water on me to speak of, and this wee bit of wood isn't doing much at all to it."

[slipshot]

The voice was unknown to him, and the words even more confusing - who in Thedas (these days) didn't know what a demon was?

He let another arrow fly before letting himself look down and to his left - to see the figure of a man, who - well - looked very, very out of place.

"Generally, we hit them until they finally die," Gavin called down, pulling an arrow from his quiver and notching it quickly. He turned, took aim, and sent the arrow straight through the head of the green wraith, which screamed in anger and started hurtling bolts at him instead. Oops. One took him smack in the chest, and sent him straight down off the pole he'd been perched on.

Galadriel | If anybody has a spear that'd be great.

[laurenande]

The snow bent beneath her and it took long moments for her eyes to focus; she drew herself up in the hazy green light and the world swam. She had never quite known disorientation like this, so sudden and complete, so enduring that it was hard for her to focus, but she drew herself up, nonetheless. Had she fallen? The idea was ridiculous, but the pain that lanced through her left arm was severe.

Without thinking, Galadriel closed her hand and drew on the power of her ring. The familiar sensation was wrong, it burned behind her eyes and the pain in her hand was magnified by her efforts. She swayed with the force of the conflict and, as the discomfort faded, her vision settled.

She was surrounded by others; she knew none of them. Above them, curled in the air, was a tear in the world. The power that poured out of it was listless and unfamiliar, unknown to her and dangerous for that simple fact alone. When it coalesced it was with a sickening crack, then the creatures it spawned were upon them.

Galadriel was not so recovered that she could spare the time to seek escape. Her senses fought her and these creatures were both numerous and terrible. She threw out her hand and, with the force of her will, she cast them back. Unfortunately, the effort failed to destroy them and dazed her in the process. She required a weapon.

[slipshot]

Gavin didn't exactly have a strong belief in the Gods. It was a vague sort of half-knowledge - learned more by absorption than by study. But he saw Galadriel tumble from the breach. Watched her rise up to face the demons - watched the magic spear out from her and push the advancing wave back. He couldn't understand how a) she had survived the rift and b) what kind of magic she was using, and c) why she looked unlike any other elf he had ever seen.

It actually made him stare for long enough for a Wraith to hit him square in the chest and send him sprawling. Reeling in pain, he dashed forward, straight at Galadriel, grabbing for her arm. (If it turned out she was a demon, he could deal with that later.)

"Come on!"

[laurenande]

There were spirits, faint and violent, scattered at the edges of her vision. What they were she could not say, they were not separated from themselves, but they had no form--the hand that caught her wrist was firm and it pulled her sharply. Looking down threatened to upend her vision once more, but she fought the reaction.

It was..an elf who took her hand? Galadriel stared at them curiously, they were entirely unfamiliar, unknown in a way she could not have imagined. She paused for longer than was wise. The curl of heat and anger was sudden and far too near. She twisted and threw out her hand with barely enough time to turn the flame away. Her head hurt badly, but Nenya was undamaged by the falling.

"Lead, quickly," Galadriel answered and looked back to the elf at her side. If there was a way to escape, she would take it.

Would one made of ice work?

[fleurdesel]

Not all the shapes were demons- some looked human. Some were caught in the middle and unarmed and that she could not abide. One even seemed as though she had some manner of magic- though not enough to do more than force them back. Adelaide snapped her staff out, forcing a line of ice to run between the demons and the dazed figure, drawing it up formed that ice into a wall. Time bought- not much but enough for her to run closer, to offer whoever it was a hand out of the frey.

"Are you injured?" She said, half a mind on the woman and the rest on the barrier of ice.

Yes, I think so.

[laurenande]

"I am uncertain."

The answer was less than helpful, but honest. Galadriel had never witnessed a barrier being raised so, though it was not so strange that she could afford to give it attention. It granted her a moment to breathe and calm the racing of her heart, if nothing else, and she regarded the woman who made it.

However she had come to be on the ground, however she had been injured, it had taken her focus. She would require more than a few moments pause behind a wall to regain it; wielding Nenya was far too dangerous if she could not walk without risk of falling.

"Can you make me a weapon?" Galadriel asked and closed her fingers around the mark in her hand. They worked well enough, despite the pain that bit at her. If she remained unbroken, she could use a spear or sword well enough.

[thedevilson]

If it was a weapon she required, it was a weapon she soon got, if not entirely in the way one might expect. Rebellion might not be a spear, but it's certainly more than half Dante's size, guaranteeing that it was big enough to do its job--that job specifically being to kill demons. Perhaps not the demons he was used to, but one demon couldn't be all that different from another, at least not to him...they were still ugly, irritating fuckers.

So it was with extreme prejudice that Dante lobbed his sword through the air at closest advancing demon to Galadriel, spearing it right through the head...or what qualified as a head anyway. Technically swords aren't designed to work that way, but who cared about the details as long as he got the job done. Afterward he approached this unsteady angel in white, and wrapped a steadying arm around her stunned shoulders.

"You run, I'll cover you," after making sure that Galadriel was stable enough on her feet he released her, extending his hand out to grab the hilt of his sword before the demon collapsed at their feet. Ripping Rebellion right out of it's present casing, which of course caused some debris to fly as the demon finally hit the ground, Dante side-eyed Galadriel once before pressing forward. It wasn't that he didn't think she could be useful, hell he saw what she could do...but that wasn't enough.

He'd rather she retreat to safety.

[laurenande]

Violence was far less jarring to Galadriel than it should have been. The great-sword that struck the shade before her did so with speed and power, it folded bone and rent what little flesh these creatures had. The shade collapsed on the snow, bent under the weight of the sword. She turned her gaze down at it and it upset all of her senses.

She closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, when she opened them it was to find an arm braced about her shoulders and an instruction to flee. She was uncertain what manner of person had slain that shade, and he was gone with enough speed that the question remained.

At the moment, unfortunately, she did not have the luxury of indulging curiosity. She was injured, though she knew not how, and a strong sword arm would be of far more use and far less danger than she. She steeled herself as she looked for a reasonable place to retreat, but her searching did little good. There were few options and each was blocked by spirits.

Thankfully, she had been granted a moment of pause and, while she was weak already, she was not so weak that she would be stayed by something as fleeting as these spirits. She waved at the creature in her path and it burst apart in silver light; the mark in her hand seared and the force of her will wavered as it died. Destroying one took far more effort than she'd have liked, it nearly took her feet out from under her, but now a way was clear.

Lady Adelaide LeBlanc | OC | Open

[fleurdesel]

It'd been a strange, somber hike out to the ruins. Being away from her charges for any length of time was enough to leave Adelaide on edge, but going into the ruin of what had been Haven did little to settle her. But a mission was a mission and where there was ruin there would be wounded, the dead, and likely demons. Fortunate enough that Compassion did not consider Demons to fall under the 'do no harm' rule of their agreement. Whether or not it'd need to be tested remained to be seen- but.

The rift for all it's strangeness was quiet.

Until it wasn't.

There felt like there was a twist in the veil- the pinching of a migraine, ice drawn up the spine, then? Demons.

So many demons.

Something else as well- but that she'd worry about later. Ice formed in the air, swirling, spiraling, spears that snapped into being and were hurled at the first wave of Wraiths. "Find cover!"

[thedevilson]

Being ripped through the rift and thrown into, well, wherever the hell this place was, had all the signs of Limbo nonsense etched into it. Demons, weirdness, a sense of disorientation as bis body was slammed from one place and into another. Fortunately Dante was very good at keeping his feet and his years of surviving demon assassination and being pulled into Limbo gave him a heightened awareness of...well...everything.

That's why he didn't linger. He was on his feet in no time, but he wasn't panicking or staggering about, he was sauntering through the chaos with the easy kind of casualness associated with one used to what was happening. Basically it was the same shit, just a different day...slightly weirder and more medieval times, but the arching overall theme was no different.

"That's pretty good advice, sister," not that Dante was about to take it, he was impressed by her ice magic, no doubt, it was formidable, but Dante was piss poor when it came to finding cover--and taking orders. He was more the wade-through-the-shit-storm type, which he did against all better judgement. He withdrew a rather large sword from his back, a sword that shifted from sword-shape to a weightless looking scythe that he handled with a grace that was easily just as weightless. Giving the weapon a wide swoop he impaled two shade demons before lobbing them off into the distance.

Jamie (Rifter) | OTA

[wontforgetyou]

Force-fields were not one of Jamie's favorite things. After pushing his way through one that'd made it like he'd been trying to move through a river of mud and then being stuck behind another one and not able to do anything but watch as his best friend was dragged off to a trial by his own people, he was more than a little bit frustrated. All he could do was stand there and wait until someone came to fetch him. He'd never dealt very well with waiting, and it was frustration as much as anything else that'd driven him to lean his head back against the force-field and close his eyes for just a moment.

The next thing he knew, he was falling, and his eyes snapped open again to a scene that was both familiar and strange at the same time. The sight of destruction and debris was remarkably like those of some of the war zones he'd just been dealing with, and for a split second he thought the Time Lords had sent them back there for some unfathomable reason. But then he saw the monsters, creatures out of nightmares that were nothing like anything he'd seen before. They were headed straight for him, and it didn't look like they were the sort of beasties that were particularly inclined to stop and talk about the situation.

Wherever he was, it was clear he was in for a fight, which meant there was only one real thing to do. As one of the more solid-looking grayish ones seemed to focus on him and start to move with more purpose, he threw himself to the side, reaching down to grab the first large thing that came to hand - the charred remnants of a wooden beam, something that had once been much larger once but now was only about the size of one of those baseball bat things. It wasn't a sword, but it was better than his dirk, and until he came up with a better plan, it'd have to do. Gripping it in his hands, he pivoted on his feet and shifted his weight as he started to move forward, hoping to get momentum on his side as he rushed the beastie, letting out a loud yell in the hopes of throwing the enemy off balance.

"Creag An Tuire!"

[fleurdesel]

"Get down!" One thing about foolhardy warriors and rogues- when they ran in just ahead of a spell that's been cast. Though- this did not seem to be much of one or the other. NO armor to speak of and a haft of wood is no true weapon- but in the way he'd been.

Diverting the ice to an adjacent demon took but a push of will and twist of her staff- but it'd been a near thing.