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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(Group 1 includes: Korrin, Beleth, Lucan, Martin Walker, Barbara Gordon, Yuna, Martel, Araceli)

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. With an official state funeral scheduled in just a few days' time, the hunt for her remains has intensified, and anyone who can be spared has been sent down the mountains to clear snow and rubble. That includes you.

There is a rift near the edge of town-- almost dormant since the Breach was closed, and guarded by another small team of Inquisition members, just in case. Someone up the hill in Skyhold had the brilliant idea that maybe it still being there has something to do with the Herald, so you've been asked to search this quadrant first. There hasn't been much to see so far, your biggest find a barrel of nails. Useful, sure, but not exactly exciting.

And then the rift nearby crackles to life, all of a sudden. Demons spawn out of it in arcs of green light-- a half-dozen wraiths and terrors, and a despair demon, and you can see that more have arrived on the other side of the hill by the guard 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.

Edited 2015-10-22 01:44 (UTC)

(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.

Edited 2015-10-22 01:44 (UTC)

(This is open to all for use after the initial arrival, as they regroup and make the trek back to Skyhold.)

There aren't a lot of Inquisition agents in Haven, but there are enough to handle this: someone up the chain has ordered that all the "people" who came through the rift are to be brought back to Skyhold. The air quotes aren't subtle, and neither are the stares that follow them around Haven's barebones camp and up the road into the Frostbacks. Sure, they have marks that look like the Herald's, but who's to say they aren't just some new sort of demon, or worse? Hopefully someone in Skyhold can make sense of it, and nobody is clapping them in irons just yet, but in the meantime suspicion is unavoidable.

Edited 2015-10-22 01:43 (UTC)

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...

Edited 2015-10-22 02:06 (UTC)

Sorting through the rubble was a rough, thankless job. Certainly not what she'd signed up for, though the importance of it was enough to keep her from mentally grumbling too much. Those who died deserved to be honored, to have their bodies receive the proper rites. That is what Beleth tells herself as she digs out a box from the snow, filled with--wait for it--more snow.

She gives the box a much deserved kick, right as the crackling of the rift starts, earning an undignified squawk and jumping backwards from the box. But the true culprit is easy to figure out. Demons aren't exactly subtle. Within a moment's breath, she's got her bow out and strung, firing at the demons. She only pauses to beat a quick retreat to a safer distance, hopping on top of a pile of rubble. Ha, now she's tall. Not that it would really do much to keep her out of the reach of the demons, but it was better than nothing?

"DEMONS. WE'VE GOT DEMONS, AND--" She squints at the creatures that fell through the rift, then shakes her head, turning back to the others. "--PEOPLE-SHAPED DEMONS...?"

Edited (what are tenses) 2015-10-22 02:20 (UTC)

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!"

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 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.

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!"

The first thing she became aware of was the sense of falling. Rather, it felt sort of like being hurled along some nameless space, up until the point she made hasty contact with the ground. The snow around her kicked up with the force of the impact where she laid for a moment more, face down.

When she lifted her head, eyes finally opening, she had to squint at first, the brightness too harsh, but eventually diminishing... just in time for a terror demon to come into view. Scrambling to her feet, Yuna reached for her staff, which she was lucky enough to find just beside her, retreating slightly while she made an attempt to get her bearings.

As she looked from side to side, she had hoped to see someone familiar, Lightning? Tifa? But she saw no one she could recognize... and to make matters worse, they were apparently in the same demon-facing predicament she was in.

Turning back to the approaching threat, who screeched its unholy scream, she found her resolve, tightening her grip on her weapon. "Ifrit!" she called, waving the staff in conjunction, but... the aeon didn't come. A fear began to rise in her chest as she took another step back, "V-... Valefor!" her call was going unheard!

Her heart began to beat faster and faster -- what was going on?! Spinning on her heel, she needed to retreat, figure out what was going on with her magic, and broke into a run. Only... she didn't manage to get far at all as the demon, appeared right in her pathway again, knocking her back off of her feet in surprise.

With a large downward arc, it moved to rake it's claws down in the direction of its prey.

Edited 2015-10-22 02:51 (UTC)

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!"

"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 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!"

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.

Peter had been seated in the snow, back against a half-burned down building and idly poking at one of the numerous bruises blossoming along his arm when the word they would be moving on came along. Back to Skyhold, taking all these...rift-people with them. While he'd helped in the fight, he wasn't entirely sure what to think of this taking in people from the Fade plan. Luckily, it wasn't his job to make big decisions. He just had to walk.

But that didn't stop him from openly staring at any new arrival he got within twenty feet of as they moved along. Where had they come from? And, more importantly, why? These questions are so pressing he, from time to time, was so focused on a rift-person walking to the side him that he accidentally walked into one in front of him.

"Sorry. I didn't- sorry."

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.

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!"

"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.

Lucan had been shifting through rubble for weeks prior to his arrival in Skyhold so this particular mission was nothing tough but necessary. He had been tossing a small pile of flatten rocks off into a nearby snow drift as a way to break the monotony when the air begun to feel heavy. For a second there he almost swore it tasted funny to, but the thought was not one he could continue to dwell on as the the rift sparks to life.

There's a loud smacking pop as he draws on his own magic to step to Beleth's side on the ground below. His fingers are quite to reach to his belt where the hilt of his spirit blade rests. "I'll take care of the ones that get close, keep the rest off me."

Demons are bad enough, the people shaped ones will have to wait their turn.

"Sword or spear?" It wasn't her specialty but- demons all around and another sword arm would be of use, no matter how dazed and drained this woman appeared. Before the answer came she already had one hand held off to the side, frost blooming on her skin while the beginnings of a hilt or haft of a spear grew. To make it solid, to make it strong would take just as long as the barrier would give them. If the maker was kind, it would be long enough for the woman to recover somewhat.

"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.

[Just before the creature's claws can come down to rend a glistening blade of brilliant blue and white light is thrust forward to block the oncoming strike. The demon responds with a shrill shriek that echoes out and into the back of your mind, but Yuna's savior is quick to turn the blade before sending it back to the creature.]

Begone!

[The spirit blade cuts through the demon's flesh like a hot knife against butter, ichor thick and vicious pours from the body of the beast briefly before it's entire being begins to disintegrate as it is banished back into the fade. With just one monster among many defeat, Lucan turns his green eyes downward and on to the young woman.

Out of caution the blade is turned on her next.]

What are you?

Well, that was...definitely a thing that happened. Korrin tries to make sense of the latest events at Haven, but of course can't. The Herald had stepped out of the Fade, sure, but it spewing out all these new people, all with that mark? It's beyond bizarre and more than a little unnerving.

The tall, horned woman observes the rift-folk closely as they make the trek back, wary but also curious. If they are demons, they certainly aren't behaving like any she's ever seen. Noting the suspicion from others, Korrin can't blame them but nor does she want an incident to break out. So, she'll just stay close to the rift-folk--yes, observing them, but also somewhat protective. Until they know more, nothing will happen to them on her watch.

"Spear," the answer came quickly enough. The weapon was half formed, already, and glittered in the woman's hand. Galadriel had time, if only a little, and drew herself back up.

She had been unprepared before, using her will even as her thoughts lie scattered around her, but she would not be caught unawares again. These creatures were unknown to her, but they were filled with such hate, such violence, that she could not stand by and permit them to escape.

Two shades, creatures of shadow and bone, clawed at the wall of ice and Galadriel watched them in silence. How they existed, she could not say, but there were precious few things that were immune to a sharp edge.

"What is your name?" Galadriel asked as she caught her breath and was finally able to maintain it.

"A spear you shall have." But a pulse of thought and a rush of will, the ice crackled out in either direction, providing a serviceable spear. The enchantment would not last much longer than the fight, but it would hold. Before she offered it over Adelaide pulled a bandage from the pack on her belt and wrapped the middle, so there would be something more comfortable to grip other than cold, smooth ice.

Done, it was held to be taken.

"Adelaide." A beat passed, the scrabbling at the wall of ice cracking under the demon's blows. "Aim for the core- they have no true heart but it is similar enough to see them dead."

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Page 1 of 22

Into the DANGER ZONE

GROUP 1

GROUP 2

AFTERMATH

Ariadne | OTA

Beleth Ashara

Peter Pettigrew | DA AU Native

Gavin Ashara | OC | Open

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

Lady Adelaide LeBlanc | OC | Open

yuna (rifter) | any format welcome!

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Would one made of ice work?

OTA

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Jamie (Rifter) | OTA

Yes, I think so.

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One spear, coming up

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OTA

What service, fantastic.

She tries.