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

[colecomfort]

"There's sense. We just can't see it, yet." Cole's words are hesitant only because he isn't certain she's going to understand what he means. If something exists, if something happened, it must make sense. Even if it's a kind of sense you don't normally run into.

"They were pulled." His left hand closes softly, fingers curling toward his palm. "Anchors are heavy."

[gatheringstorm]

"I'm waiting for when it does, but something tells me it won't be for a long time." Unable to deny that comment about anchors, and wondering how the rift-folk will fare with them, Korrin sighs. "I don't envy them those things, if they're anything like what she had."

The Herald. Korrin doesn't want to think about another losing their life in such a fashion, but how can she not? As much as it was a symbol of hope to her before, to many, now she looks at those slivers and wonders what it will cost the ones bearing them.

[colecomfort]

Nor should she. His hand curls in on itself a little tighter.

"Shards, splinters, buried beneath the skin. They hurt."

[gatheringstorm]

She frowns at that but nods, unsurprised.

"That's what they said, at least those I spoke to earlier. I wish there was something we could give them for that, but the potions we have only help with normal wounds. I doubt the people at Skyhold will be able to do more for them."

Though at least they can be concerned and confused with adequate shelter and supplies. That's not nothing.

[colecomfort]

The people at Skyhold? No, not much. One person, perhaps.

"Solas will come back." It's a certainty now. He stayed before because of the Herald. He'll stay again for these ones.

[gatheringstorm]

"Solas...the one who was studying the Herald's mark, right?"

At least that's what she's heard, that and he's one of the few non-Dalish elves around. Not that the latter is important; as long as he can help, that's what matters. She relaxes a bit at that.

"I hope so. It'd be nice to tell these people something substantial. Do you know when...?"

[colecomfort]

"When he knows." Word sometimes travels slowly, and Solas was sent away from Skyhold before all this happened. For now...

"We can watch them. The light will make sure everyone sees."