OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & characters in Emprise du Lion
WHAT: More people falling on ice than usual, this time with demons, templars, and bonus nighttime
WHEN: Guardian 23
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is open to all.

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 onto freezing stone or ice that is twice as cold and just as hard. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a dark sky, a full moon straining to be seen through intermittent clouds, and a second moon low on the horizon. Its light reflects off snow to add an eerie ambient glow to the darkness, made stranger by the sickly green tint added by the fluttery menacing shape of the rift hanging in mid-air. Be careful getting up: you are at the edge of a cliff, what was once a waterfall now frozen solid in a massive curling sheet of icicles. The drop to the bottom is several stories, surely a deadly fall even without the huge humps and spikes of ice and snow that litter the ground where splash and spray were petrified.

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 the fact 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. Some are entirely different but perhaps more monstrous for it: men and women in heavy, gleaming armor, all of them with chunks of red crystal protruding out in a way you soon realize indicates it is actually growing out of their skin. Their eyes are a dull red, hollow and empty, and they attack with a single-minded determination.

Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are waking up, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. There is stuff scattered about, like the contents of someone's life exploded through the rift with them: a picnic table and benches upended, metal camp furniture flung about, clothes and utensils, bits of wood and canvas and mattress littering the ground. Even better, you are not far from a path leading toward an Inquisition camp, and noise travels far in this terrain, echoing up canyons and off cliffsides, carried by the chill night wind. Help is on its way; just last until it arrives.

Comments

[bookish_lioness]

Flashes of green light were never a good sign for anyone who'd ever lived through a wizarding war.

It explained why Hermione had immediately decided that she was having a nightmare and decided not to fight it, expecting to fall into wakefulness and have Ginny mumble something about how she needs to stop talking in her sleep. Instead of her soft bed in her dormitory, however, she landed hard on something cold, the wind getting knocked out of her even as she realized that she shouldn't be able to feel intense pain in a dream.

She tried to get up on all fours, but there was no traction under her feet, and she realized that she'd landed on ice. In the middle of... woodland? And there was something green shining in her hand and it hurt and there were strange-looking monsters and if this was a dream she needed to wake up right now.

One dilemma at a time, she decided, and searched around her for her wand even as she locked eyes (were those eyes?) with something large and gaunt and terrifying. Hearing a screech coming somewhere within the gaggle of creatures, it was more than obvious that even the vaguely humanoid ones among them weren't intent on being friendly, and she was relieved to finally crawl across the ice and wrap her fingers around her wand. "Confringo!" she cried, fully expecting the Blasting Curse to cause enough of an explosion to knock the charging creature back and perhaps even rend through the surface of the ice to help take care of the others.

... unfortunately, she didn't notice that the tip of her wand had been crushed, a bit of the core protruding from it. Instead of blasting outwards, the damaged wand sent her skidding hard across the ice, the force strong enough to send her rolling over the bank and onto the hard ground. It was a good thing a tree so generously decided to gently stop her progress (except it wasn't gentle, not at all).

On the one hand, she hadn't fallen over the cliff that she still hadn't noticed. On the other hand, the dazed young witch had attracted more attention than she could currently handle. And on the other hand... well, she could definitely use more hands, with or without glowing green shards embedded in them.

[aintwejust]

Walk'n a dog to do it's business away from the center of camp ain't much fun when the weather's good and the sun's high. In the piss black of night beyond the camps on the foutu frozen outskirts? When said dog won't do his damn business for anything less Mal found him just the right kinda bush or the right kinda smelly rock and it's cold 'nuf he feels like his nose was 'bout to fall off?

Even less fun. Mal didn't much think it could get worse from that- unless demons, maybe. Them shiny templars. A rift-

The sudden, visceral pain in his glow'n hand and the snap of Jayne's head when a familiar (and he did hate that it was gett'n familiar) flare of green near the cliff kicked up spill'n out demons, shiny templars and other folk likely mind'n their own damn business? He shouldn't be surprised. Every chance this place had to get worse, it took. 'least Jayne did his damn business before lean'n into the firm, hard posture of a warhound like's proper instead of the usual lazy roll'n about he did. Mal didn't much need that question'n growl to hike up his spear and nod. He got this damn thing to close those and hound to kill demons. "Lets go be good guys. Git."

Jayne sprinted for the spindly thing com'n up on what looked like a girl and Mal? Ran best he could on the ice, crackl'n shard in his hand mak'n hold'n onto his spear a bitch but not impossible. Where man would needa li'l more time to close the distance, Mabari made in short time, slamming into the demon's side with a snarling growl.

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione tried propping herself up, but between the pain and the disorientation and the myriad of distractions, she'll have to be excused if she can't quite manage it. Holding her hand up in defense, she got sidelined by the fact that the green in her hand matched up with the strange green cloud just above the monsters; it looked like a suspended Killing Curse, which wasn't a comfort when the thing was lodged in her hand.

Before she could worry too much about whether she was dying a slow and painful death, a much more immediate threat of death loomed in front of her, only to get tackled by what looked like either a very large dog or a wolf. A dog would be a comfort; dogs are domesticated, so that would mean there were people around. Wolves, though? That would just mean that there was something else out here that might eat her.

And then out came a man with a spear, and Hermione was just going to have to assume, based on the fact that he was aiming it at the monster and not at her, that he was intending something resembling a rescue. For one man to think he could take on numerous opponents who weren't even human, he either had to be insane or a Gryffindor... or very, very optimistic.

Managing to crawl enough so that she could put the tree she'd crashed against between herself and the madness in front of her, she held her wand in front of her and cried out, "What are these things?" If she knew what they were, she might know what their weaknesses were, which meant she'd know what spell to use.

Because obviously, using magic will totally turn out all right the second time around. Clearly. Which was why there was someone running around using a bloody spear, of all things.

[qunari]

Time to give these bastards something more their speed to contend with.

"Damn...demons!" The growl comes from nearby a second before a presence comes roiling over the snow, thick and heavy and red. It's enough to call the attention of those at the fringe at first, seconds before an over-sized axe comes swinging through the air, smashing into their flank.

The Qunari certainly makes a bigger target than the girl at the base of the tree, and he only intends to make himself bigger, head lowered and stance firm as he lifts the weapon again. A snort causes the cold air to come out in a cloudy huff from flared nostrils. Doubtless the new Rifter won't see much difference between him and monsters.

Except maybe that he's willing to stand between her and them.

"Come on, you want a piece of this? Come get it!"

[bookish_lioness]

If there's a difference between this new arrival and any of the others that had been here before, it's that this giant horned individual is capable of speech. Or, at least, could be bothered to actually use his words, rather than mindlessly shriek and lunge and otherwise behave as a feral beast. So ultimately? She'll assume that means he's the one less likely to attempt to rip her to shreds.

Granted, that doesn't mean he isn't violent, and she jumps in shock at the initial blow of his axe, scrambling back a little to attempt to put the tree between her and her possible rescuer, just in case he ultimately decides against a proper rescue. As intimidating as he might be, it doesn't seem to deter the demons, if that's what they are. Seeing a hooded figure blasting something in their general direction, she makes the quick decision to act now and simply ask questions later. Assuming there is a later.

"Protego!" she calls out as she jumps to her feet, already preparing herself for the spell to backfire as her first one had. Instead, she feels an unfamiliar push back as whatever magic had been flung at her stops just in front of her. It doesn't seem to be bouncing back, though, and she has the distinct impression that not focusing entirely on the barrier is going to see to it that she gets an unpleasant surprise, leaving her feeling - for the moment, at least - utterly helpless. And open, since they're outnumbered. Brilliant.

[wontforgetyou]

One thing that could be said for having a shard stuck in you was that it wasn't hard to tell when a rift was about to spring open. Even without being in a position to get a good look at what was happening to the sky, the flare of light from his hand and the painful crackle of energy was impossible to miss - and the moment he felt it, he was on the move, pausing only long enough to grab up his sword and run towards the rift.

By the time he got there, a good chunk of the demons had already been taken down, but he could still see the hunched and hooded figures of the shades as they drifted towards the people who'd fallen from the rift. Worse still where the figures in armor, red crystals protruding from in places where no crystal should be. Whatever had happened to bring the red templars to the same place as the rift, Jamie had no idea, but it wasn't good. Any thoughts he might have has on that were going to have to wait, though. First things first, though, he needed to sort them out, and a moment later there was a shout of "Creag an tuire!" from his direction as he flung himself into the fray.

The next little while became a bit of a blur as he fought, his sword flashing through the air, his blows aiming for whatever vulnerable spots he could find. It was only by luck that he happened to the glimmer of another shard, this one belonging to what looked like a wee slip of a girl, one he didn't recognize. Maybe she could fight, or maybe she couldn't, but if she was new she had more than enough to deal with right now, and as far as he was concerned the best thing to do was get between her and the enemy so he keep them off her as best as he could. Well, that and try and get her to get out of the way, which would make that part of things much easier, and he pivoted in her direction, kilt flaring out slightly with the movment - something he didn't even seem to notice as he called out in her direction.

"Here, get behind me!"

[bookish_lioness]

Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. And they were. But they were also human, subject to becoming overwhelmed and confused and not being stupid. Hermione was definitely prone to becoming overwhelmed and confused, and she was certainly not stupid.

There was something wrong with her wand, and her usual magical energy felt scattered and weak, and for some reason, it felt absolutely draining, despite the fact that she was casting spells she'd known since she was eleven or twelve. And she wasn't even casting them correctly, which was what had really gotten her in trouble here.

She hadn't escaped unscathed, though all things considered, a few scratches and scrapes was hardly as bad as it could have been. Still, she could very easily get much worse than that if she wasn't careful, and she was running out of the stamina to keep being careful.

So as more and more people joined the fray and one of them even went so far as to offer himself up as a shield of sorts, she found that she was too smart to let her pride put up a fuss as she fell back, grabbing onto the stranger's arm as she barely looked him over. He seemed young and not nearly as hardy as some of the others who were fighting, but then, Harry didn't exactly look like much of a champion, either, all things considered.

"Be careful!" she panted out, still trying to keep a barrier up and just barely succeeding. It wasn't keeping her enemies away from her, but it was at least keeping the majority of their blows from falling. "There are so many of them!"

[aceso]

Christine had never approached a rift before. She knew they were nearby, and that they had dropped rifters into this world not too long ago, but she couldn't close them and had no desire to face demons, so she'd just stayed away.

Unfortunately, her study into red lyrium meant she had to go where those spires of lyrium were twisting up from the ground, and that was actually closer to a rift than she had anticipated. The crackling sound followed by the sounds of bodies hitting ice caused Christine to turn towards the rift with wide eyes filled with alarm. She tucked her notes into her satchel and took her staff off her back, moving to a better position through the trees to see. A woman's body went flying back from a demon and hit a tree, and the mage healer took off after her without delay.

Arriving at Hermione's side, Christine held out a hand and a blue glyph appeared under both of them. She set the spell and a shade of blue washed over the women.

"There; that should keep us safe for a moment," she said quickly in an Orlesian accent, perhaps French to Hermione's ear. "Are you injured? I can heal you."

After the rift is closed

[gatheringstorm]

Relatively nearby when the rift erupted, Korrin acted swiftly and decisively upon seeing the demons and rifters emerge. She'd wasted no time in putting up defensive barriers and drawing the demons to her with shouts, explosions and other uses of magic. Her spirit blade saw liberal use, tearing through demons as quickly as she could manage. At least Vivienne's teachings were being put to good use, and she couldn't ask for more than that.

When there are no demons left to slay, the Vashoth mage will be pacing the area, offering healing potions to those who need it. She'll also be peering around with some puzzlement, as there's quite a lot of gear that's traveled with the rifters this time. Looking over the picnic table and other camp furniture, along with other far less familiar items, she just raises an eyebrow. "...the fuck?"

But, yes. Her main priority will be guiding rifters back to camp and answering the usual questions.

[aceso]

This is the first time Christine has been close to a rift that's opened, and she can't say she enjoyed the experience of battling demons. She stops next to Korrin, a booted toe peeking out from under her mage robes to poke at a metal camp kettle with a hinged lid. It slides on the ice, and she looks up at her friend.

"You have seen the rifters arrive before, have you not? Were there things like this with them the other times?"

[bookish_lioness]

Less than an hour earlier, Hermione had been in her dorm, having just finished her nightly review of her notes and feeling confident that she would do well on the next day's Arithmancy exam. And now she was limping, harboring a broken wand as well as a tender backside and possibly some frostbite, and she wouldn't be able to tell someone the difference between advanced Arithmancy and basic maths. All in all, this wasn't how she'd expected waking up.

She also hadn't expected coming across another horned figure like the one she'd seen on the battlefield, sifting through oddly-familiar items. She didn't know how any of this had gotten here, not having noticed the tattered remnants of the small beaded bag she still (sort of) had slung over her shoulder, but she also didn't know how she felt about pieces of her life being strewn about the ground as someone attempted to make heads or tails out of it.

It was seeing the bedraggled remains of the dress she'd worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding that made her cry out forlornly, staggering towards it as she plucked it from the ground. "My dress! How did-...?"

That was when she frowned, looking over at the woman (?) who seemed to be scrutinizing the items scattered everywhere. "These are my things," she explained weakly, clearly not knowing anything more besides that.

[thelastking]

If it wasn't for the pain, Aragorn would've just assumed this to be a dream.

Dazed and disoriented, Aragorn was up on his feet within seconds. He couldn't make out what's happening but the telltale signs of battle gave it away. The ranger doesn't have time to think when something lunged at him. He quickly kicked the creature off him and reached for the spare dagger he keeps at his boot. When the beast struck again, Aragorn stabbed it right in the neck. It's a messy kill. Blood spewed forth coating the icy ground in crimson. Aragorn was given a brief reprieve before another monster charged at him. He's quick to avoid the incoming blade but his dagger is still lodged in the other beast's neck.

The odds were against him here. Without a proper sword to defend himself, the ranger was outmatched. That's why he hurried to find one.

The monster on his tail was a relentless one. Now that Aragorn could get a better look at it, he could tell it's no Orc. It certainly could be confused for an Orc judging from the foul stench and even fouler grin but something about it seems more humanlike than Orc. Not having much time to dwell on that thought, Aragorn found a dented sword upon the battlefield. He quickly lunged for the sword and struck the monster. The creature managed to parry it with its own jagged blade but Aragorn's clever. He quickly drew his sword back and stomped on the monster's foot. The beast let out a scream that's instantly replaced with gurgling once Aragorn's sword made its mark. He then shoved the fiend aside and takes a breath.

This is no dream.

[qunari]

Well, he knows how to handle himself, that much is clear.

Bull's fended off a couple of the creatures coming for the Rifters by now, and it appears there's a moment to breathe for all involved. His attention turns for a time to the ranger, taking in the look of him at a glance. Alright. He's probably going to be handy to have, provided he decides to be cooperative.

"Didn't take too big a bite, did they?"

Aragorn doesn't look to be wounded, but it's hard to say. Some come through the Rift wounded, according to Martel, so it doesn't hurt to ask.

He also keeps his distance, for the time being. People not used to seeing Qunari have...varied reactions, to say the least.

[dreadinquisitor]

"Look out!"

The shout came, and a heartbeat later, the arrow followed, skimming past Aragorn to strike a ghoul slinking up on the man. It screamed in pain, skeletal hands clawing at the air, and with a rush of air, spun away.

Maxwell hopped down from the perch he'd found - a high boulder - and approached quickly, reaching for another arrow even as he crossed the ground.

"Don't give them an inch, they'll take far more."

He aimed and loosed again.

[middle_of_calibrating]

There's a sickening screech as a pair of arrows embed themselves in its chest, falling just a few feet behind the man. Garris clicks his tongue at having hit his mark, raising a brow at the unfamiliar face in the middle of the battleground. He seemed to fight well with that first one, but seemed rather lost afterwards. With further inspection it is obvious why - even at this distance the tattle-tale sign of the rift mark is clear.

Giving a sharp whistle to draw the man's attention Garris motions for him to come towards his direction. "There's plenty more of those heading this way. Best you aren't in the middle of it once they show up."

[eviscerates]

OPEN. ( might end up being a bit timey wimey because of canon bro shenanigans but :Db )
The plus side is that she landed on a mattress before her momentum tossed her onto the ice. The negatives, however, would be that she was tossed onto the ice, lands back-first on she the thinks might be a gas canister, and doesn't really have a whole lot of time to process this chain of events and how much it does not match her expected outcome of using a magic bean to get back to the Enchanted Forest, because it looks like a ball of fire is moving towards someone else. Or a... blob of fire. Something firey, okay, that is the point here, something firey and dangerous is going towards someone, and so Red does what any sensible person would do, and throws the closest item to hand at it.

Which is, incidentally, a spatula. "Hey!"

It's enough to grab the thing's attention, and she suddenly wishes that she had her bow and arrows, here, and not just a dagger. She's not too sure how the Wolf would go if she hurled herself at something on fire either, but hey. She can figure that out in a moment, after she picks up a frying pan and throws that, too, to try and get the other person on the ice out of the line of fire (so to speak). At least her aim is still great.

"Hey, jackass, over here."

Ah, yes. One (1) woman dressed in a red brocade cloak, a peasant blouse and bodice and full skirts that seem in place enough for Thedas but maybe aren't quite right, and one of her red leather gloves is torn, revealing a glow at her palm that she hasn't noticed yet, but will have a heart attack over in a little while.



closed to EMMA.
She has this rancid taste in her mouth from tearing into something that looked like a screwed up monster tree, tall and thin and bursting up through the ground. It left a dark ichor in her mouth that she's going to need to wash out, but right now there is this: a wolf, large and black and grey, with golden eyes that and its hackles raised, and the scent of burning rising off its fur from an encounter with another monster.

This is not what she expected when she tried to come home. She remembers taking a breath, closing her eyes and tossing the bean on the ground, and then--
and then everything kinda went to hell, just a little.

There's no indication that it's going to get any easier, either, not when the next intake of breath brings a familiar scent and has her pausing a moment before she turns, the Wolf springing forward, following the scent back towards the seam in the sky that she just managed to break away from to lick her wounds and assess the burn across her shoulder from one of those monsters, and ignores the painful stretch and pull at her injuries that the sprint demands. Emma.

Has Emma ever seen the Wolf? Red doesn't actually have a chance to think about it, because there she is, and there's a greater terror demon lurching closer. In a moment, Red is latching onto its tail with her teeth, growling as she jerks and pulls the thing away from Emma. She'll have to say 'hi' in a moment.

[dreamcatcher]

To say the least, Emma is a little overwhelmed right now. The last thing she really remembers is the darkness, whispering around and slithering its way into her veins. She remembered the pain, and then blackness, yet nothing about that dark was particularly comforting. The darkness was added to weightlessness and then suddenly she's somewhere else, and the pain of landing disappears quickly, lingering just long enough for her to know she doesn't want to feel it again. Everything is cold and hard as she forces herself to her feet, which are unfortunately quite bare. She almost regrets it when she notices how close to the edge she is. It's a precarious place to stand, she should have crawled a bit before standing.

She doesn't get a lot of time to be alarmed by her wardrobe change — a thin shift and a meager cloak and not much else — not when she seems to have crash landed into madness. A man in full armor creaks toward her with a sword raised above his head. While the palm that slides out to stop him is one intended for defense, instead of freezing him he flies back at an enormous rate, slamming painfully into rock and ice. Emma has never felt weariness after using magic before, and she keels over from the weight of it, before panic sets in at how much magic screams through her veins.

Emma had taken on the darkness on purpose, but that didn't mean she understood what that meant until she actually felt the impact.

Emma is distracted enough that she doesn't even notice the next monster swinging toward her, staring at her hands like she's not sure who they belong to anymore. When she does manage to look up, she spots the wolf trying to drag something away from her. The wolf doesn't immediately strike her as someone she knows, but it does seem to be friendly. She's known friendly wolves before, perhaps she's not as afraid of them as she should be. Emma stumbles through the snow to the dropped sword from her first unfortunate attacker, and she aims a rather gruesome swing at the monster, doing her damnedest to avoid hitting the wolf.

[gatheringstorm]

The tall, horned woman doesn't expect to see a spatula of all things come flying at the rage demon, but she has to admire anyone who arrives into the unknown and still has the presence of mind to fight back. As for 'blobs of fire', Korrin knows how to deal with those by now, and she's not one to stand idle when there's chaos all around her. Blurring forward on waves of magic, she summons ice to encase the creature. It won't last for long, but perhaps long enough for the new rifter to compound the attack with one of her own. That dagger will do far better than the spatula, she's sure.

[hlif]

For a second Asher Hardie is terrified because there is one woman in his life accustomed to using kitchen utensils as weapons. She just so happens to be his mother and well, he really doesn't want to deal with that but years of very nearly having his head caved in on visits home (and she tries to deny her Avvar heritage in the same breath) has him ducking out of the way just in time.

The moment of faltering passes as he swings a giant axe, roaring even louder than the creatures around them, if that's possible.

"Eyes on me!" He's even smiling, savage and too bright as he slams his weapon down hard enough to have the ground shaking. "You armed?"

[obi_wanmanshow]

Obi-Wan woke immediately and completely.

There were procedures in place, training regimes, what to do when the gravity cuts out, when you suddenly find yourself out the airlock, when you're thrown off something and need to land safely, somehow. Obi-Wan remembered none of them; pure instinct flipped him right-way-up and landed him on his feet.

Or, it was meant to; the ice was slick, and he was on his knees almost as soon as he had landed.

"What?" Green light, and red glow, bubbling black shadows along the icy ground. Obi-Wan looked up into a face full of teeth and terror danced an unwelcome jig down his spine, "What?!"

His hands reached automatically, found the lightsaber under him; it had broken a chip from the ice. It sparked in his hands and he grimaced; that was useless. Then he flung up a hand and the Force answered, tumbling the creature back and away.

No time for questions then. No time for anything, unarmed as he is, except to survive. If he could.

[gatheringstorm]

The tumbling demon catches Korrin's attention, and she notes the mage responsible; given the lack of a staff and odd attire, he has to be a rifter. But there isn't time for more than a quick once-over to ensure that he doesn't need a potion. Blurring forward on waves of magic, the tall horned woman comes to stand by him and throws up a Barrier spell for them both.

"I hope you can that up!" Because more demons are headed their way, and the spindly terror demons are her least favorite kind. Keeping her staff in her right hand, she draws and activates her spirit blade in her left, charging and slicing at the nearest one.

[dreamcatcher]

Emma is not used to the need to rely on other people. She's strong and certain and independent and all sorts of things inbetween. That was before she was swamped with dark magic, of course, before every motion she made seemed stained with it. She had only just gotten a sense of control over her magic again and now she's tumbled backwards. She can't use it to defend herself, and there's all too many things here that don't care she doesn't want to fight back.

Apparently she's not the only one with magic capable of knocking these creatures over. She's not sure if it's a relief to find someone else with magic or not, but right about now, she'll take just about anything. Her hands are aloft, a weary attempt to show she means no harm. Her hair is damp and freezing quickly in the cold air and she's certainly not dressed for this adventure, in thin fabric and bare feet.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she says, and there's a dark whisper somewhere in the back of her head that she could if she wanted to that actually makes wince as she shakes it off. "I'm just trying to get out of here."

[thelastking]

As soon that creature got blown back, another with dagger-like claws lept at the Jedi. It was a shriek, one of those grey skinned beasts with pointy ears and razor sharp teeth. The monster lunged for the man just as Aragorn came upon them. Armed with an elven dagger, a bow and a few arrows, the ranger sprinted towards them quickly.

He arched back his arm and threw the dagger at the demon's back. It was a perfect shot. The demon let out a pained gasp before heaps of blackened blood sprayed out from the wound. As it fell lifelessly against the hard ice, Aragorn reached for the stranger to yank him away.

"Don't go near!" He warned. "The blood will kill you." The ranger had been warned by others about the posion within the beast's blood. The natives claimed that the only cure was death.

After the Rift is closed

[el_tybs]

It had been quite the day, having stormed Suledin Keep earlier and now just getting back. It was already dark out and the only thing on Sam's mind at the moment was getting some rest. Forget eating after the amount of energy he had used up, and forget washing up with how cold it was - he would only end up freezing. Fighting demons, red templars and giant spiders had certainly taken a toll on him.

Though once they grew closer to camp it was evident that he wasn't going to get his wish. There was debri everywhere - or was it debri, it looked like a whole room had been tossed out here - and remnants of magical energy in the area.

A rift must have opened up, and he could probably guess after all the others that they possibly had more visitors.

Once back in camp Sam makes sure to help with healing any of the injured, or getting blankets for those not dressed for this kind of weather. He's also particularly looking for anyone with a mark to help ease the pain from it and any injuries while coming through the rift.

[thelastking]

After making it to the camp upon a hope and a prayer, Aragorn instantly lend his aid to the healers here. He assisted in dressing the wounds of the injured with a couple of poultice and bandages he found. The healers explained briefly about the healing properties of elfroot before he attempted to assist them. These healers relied heavily on magic but he's a more traditional healer.

Now focusing his attention on a warrior injured during the onslaught, Aragorn almost hadn't noticed the mage. The ranger was still a bloody and sweaty mess but that didn't deter him from his work. He tilted soldier's head back gently and got him to drink a few drops of the potion. Then he got started cleaning wound upon the soldier's arm with water and medicine.

The faint green glow of the shard embedded in his hand gave away his origins quickly. Aragorn wasn't of this world.