faderift | Into the DANGER ZONE

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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!

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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.

Edited 2015-10-22 02:21 (UTC)

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.

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.

"Demons -- swords -- me, no swords, please--"

A simplistic but effective sentiment--and he had taken a wound in her stead--so they were allies, then, at least for now. It mattered little; the rage of the battlefield was no place for complexity. And she was beginning to feel more clear. Clear enough to quickly step into place between the demon and the archer, to turn its claw aside with her blade, a cry of challenge on her lips. She winced at the impact of steel on flesh, the vibration traveling down the blade to spike the ache in her left hand.

The wound was strange, but it did not bleed, nor did it drain her. That downgraded its importance to "complexity". To be examined later, once the corruption had been purified. Lenneth ducked beneath a claw, heard the metallic screech as they dragged against her shoulder guard. And then she was on the offensive.

The young woman fought aggressively, broad sweeps of flashing steel coupled with quick footwork, confident strides that ate the ground. Despite the advantage it might have given her, she refrained from weaving, making it easier for Gavin to line up safe shots, finding fierce clarity in the otherworldly shrieks of the shade as the shafts struck home.

And then she drew on her power to finish the beast, and found it changed, strange, like reaching through water, elusive, and the harder she pulled the way she had before the fall the stranger it got until the shade reared before her faltering and she yanked with all the force of her fear and confusion and the resultant blast of energy threw Valkyrie and demon apart and to the ground.

She was incredible, and intimidating, and despite having absolutely no idea who she was (or what she was), he was very, very happy to be fighting just behind her, firing arrow after arrow into her foe.

And then suddenly there was a blast - from where, he had no idea - and he was thrown backwards with them, though with not nearly as much force. He scrambled upright, sliding back into place at her side, firing an arrow into the demon as it struggled on the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual.

Dazed, with motes of light still dancing in her eyes from the uncontrolled burst of energy, Lenneth shook her head slowly. When she spoke, her voice caught hoarsely.

"No. This is wrong. I am... ensorcelled. I cannot reach... something blocks my magic."

In contrast to her plated armor and the intense confidence of her swordplay just before, the Valkyrie looked painfully young in that moment, looking up at him from where she'd been thrown sprawling into the snow.

And then her eyes flickered over his shoulder. In an instant, her vulnerability turned to steel and she staggered to her feet, dragging her sword with her.

"Behind you, it comes!"

It was kind of stunning, how young she suddenly seemed, and Gavin was abruptly much more worried. What on earth was she doing here, in armour like that?

"Magic? But I thought--"

But his thoughts were interrupted by her cry, and he stumbled upwards, three arrows out of his quiver and between his fingers in the blink of his eye - holding all of them as he notched the first and let it fly, the second one notched not even half a breath later.

A quick shot. she thought approvingly, as the molten creature behind him took the arrow solidly in its shoulder, the wooden shaft already beginning to blacken under the heat. Not something they wanted to close with, then.

She reached for her power, meaning to encase it in crystal for a short time so they could gain distance, but faltered, remembering the previous time she'd tried to bring power to bear in this strange place. Not that then.

"...A tactical retreat perhaps," she said, moving to stand beside the archer, sword in hand again. "Have you more allies here?"

To be fair, Gavin never wanted to get close to a demon (hence the arrows) but that was another point entirely.

He nodded quickly, gesturing back over his shoulder. "There aren't many of us, this was just supposed to be a - a guard mission, but--"

He looked back over his shoulder, to see that their group had now somehow doubled in size. "-- we seem to have gotten, er, reinforcements..."

At least. That's what he hoped all these new strangers were.

Reinforcements?

Is that what she was? Summoned from one war to fight another? The archer seemed surprised by her appearance in this place--and apparently the appearance of others--so if it was such a thing, it was not planned. Lenneth was suddenly filled with a burning desire to see if she knew any of the others who had been pulled through the rifts.

"Let us fall back to join another group, then," she said, swinging her sword in a great horizontal arc in front of her, more to ward the demon away than inflict any damage. "I will cover the retreat."

"Sounds good to me," Gavin immediately replied - knowing that he wasn't equipped to cover her, save by running a few feet ahead, turning and firing an arrow at the demon past her, and then continued running toward the group.

They'd know what to do, he hoped.

Someone had to.

"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."

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.

He'd guessed as much, and was about to say so when the creature - the demon - let out a scream and started sending bolts of light at the elf. The moment Jamie saw him start to topple, he started to move, darting out from his hiding place, making for the pole where Gavin had been only moments before. The motion didn't go unnoticed by the wraith, and it let another bolt fly.

While it missed Jamie, the makeshift club wasn't so lucky, the force of the blow knocking the piece of wood out of his hand and sending it flying. There wasn't time to try and retrieve it, only time to run, and a few seconds later he came skidding to a stop by the elf, ducking down to avoid another bolt as it sailed over his head.

"Hey! Hey, are you alright? Can you move? We've got to get you to cover."

He'd managed to sort of roll at the end of his fall, and it wasn't too too high, so nothing was broken but he was a little battered. "I'm alright! I'm alright. But yes - cover - cover is good." He groaned as he struggled up, only noticing then that Jamie was disarmed.

"I guess it's too much to hope that you're a mage?" He asked a little wryly as he grabbed his bow (thankfully unharmed).

"A what?"

Much like the question about the demon earlier, Jamie was serious - and more than a bit confused, as well. It wasn't that he hadn't heard of mages. He had, just as he'd heard of demons, but mages were something that were only in stories. No more real than any of the other tall tales he'd heard of as a young lad. He wasn't entirely sure if Gavin was trying to have him on or not. But...on the off chance the elf wasn't joshing, he shook his head.

"No, I'm a piper. Unless you've got a set of bagpipes on you, though, I'm afraid you're out of luck." He honestly wasn't sure if it'd do anything even if he had them, though. These demons didn't seem like they'd be intimidated easily. And that, more than anything, was what was getting him moving and headed for that pile of rubble he'd hidden behind earlier. It wasn't much, but it'd give them a few seconds to think of some sort of plan. "Come on, over here!"

Edited (cat on the keyboard, sorry.) 2015-10-25 06:50 (UTC)

Gavin had thought he knew what a piper was until Jamie mentioned bagpipes, and then he was completely lost again, and utterly confused. He'd been about to ask what bagpipes were before Jamie was off - headed to cover - and Gavin quickly followed.

Perhaps in the middle of fighting demons was a bad time to start asking about bagpipes.

He skidded into place behind the rubble, reaching behind him to grab one of the daggers that was sheathed against his quiver free, reaching over to hand it to Jamie.

"Here. You shouldn't be completely defenceless."

Normally he'd be more than happy to explain, since it's something he's still quite proud of even after years away from home...but maybe later, when there's not bolts of light being shot at them. For now, he popped his head up to check and see if the demon was still wanting to fight, and then, just as quickly, ducked his head back down again as it took aim and fired again. It seems that it wasn't going to give up quite so easy, which meant they'd need some sort of plan.

He started to turn towards his new companion, about to say as much, when he found himself being offered a dagger instead. That was a bit of a surprise, although not an unwelcome one. He'd had one before he'd fallen through the rift, but either it'd gone missing on the journey through or had fallen out shortly after, leaving just an empty sheath on a belt around his waist. Having had to make do with a large stick, the idea of having something to properly fight with again was one he couldn't say he minded at all - so long as it meant he wasn't leaving Gavin defenseless by taking it. That was easily checked on, at least, and instead of moving to take it right away, he tilted his head slightly to one side, giving the elf a slightly questioning look.

"Aye, well, I had a knife of my own, but I think it might have fallen somewhere when I turned up here. Are you sure you'll not need it, though? Not everything'll be shooting you at a distance, if I'm not mistaken. I'd not want to wind up making it so you'd nothing to fight with if something gets close."

"Well, if they get close, I'm hoping this means I have an armed friend to stab them for me," Gavin pointed out, before flashing the man a grin and notching a new arrow.

"Or you could take it, run, and leave me to die cursing your name-- what is your name, actually? In case I have to curse it."

An answering grin crosses his face at that, and he wraps his fingers around the hilt that's been offered out, giving a nod at the same time.

"If that means I've a friend with arrows to help watch my back, then I'll take it, and gladly. And I've no plans of running off, so you'll not need to curse my name...but for the record, it's Jamie. Suppose that means I should ask the same of you."

"Gavin," he offered immediately, with a warm smile. "Of clan Ashara, now of the Inquisition - whom you're about to meet more of! They'll be the ones shooting the demons, rather than trying to kill us," He added with a helpful grin.

He took a breath, readied himself, and then stood up from behind their hiding place. "Alright, let's go!"

"Oh, aye, that's good to know," he commented dryly. "I'd rather not be trying to be killed by them, too. Glad to meet you, though. Remind me to give you this back after the fight, alright?"

With that he stood as well, but took a moment longer to reach over and give Gavin a friendly pat on the shoulder. It wasn't anything he couldn't move away from if he didn't want to be touched, but Jamie wanted to make the gesture by way of thanks while he could. He'd fought enough before to know that there was always the chance that he wouldn't be able to after.

At the same time, though, he was still confident about the fight itself. With a bit of luck - and a few well-timed blows - they'd get through this quickly enough, and he'd be able to give Gavin his dagger back soon. So whether or not the elf allowed the gesture, he didn't waste much time before shifting his stance and running out towards the creature with a loud "Creag an tuire!", hoping to use the sound as a distraction so Gavin could try and take it out from a distance.

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Into the DANGER ZONE

Gavin Ashara | OC | Open

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