faderift | OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow

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OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Demons!" Malcolm came in hard and fast, piercing the rickety torso of the demon Jayne hadn't tackled, giv'n the girl (and she was just a girl, little whisp of a thing all wide eyes and wild hair and not foutu again-) time and a little room. Went clean through with how he leaned into it after the runn'n, gave him leverage to plant his feet and haul it up and over, fling'n it off into that great yawn'n abyss just on the other side of the sparse treeline. Cliff. He hated cliff fight'n.

Here he was, fight'n on a cliff.

"Joints don't hold up too good if you can make 'em go boom, mind the ledge- JAYNE!" The dog finished tearing at the throat of target A and perked up, ears and eyes locked on the mass of Demons and- aw damn- shiny Templars wander'n their way. "Recueillir!"

With a bark and an enthused tail wag Jayne did what he was told, haul'n round to weave through the mess, circle them up while Mal patted at his belt. He'd grabbed one of the damn things as a test and knew, kinda, how to use 'em. Pull the pin, count, throw. How long was he supposed'ta count again? Three? Five? Shit.

Despite having gone through a war and seeing her fair share of death and destruction, Hermione had seen precious little in the way of physical combat. The worst of it had been seeing a giant snake sink its fangs into her victims, and those instances had counted as among the most horrible she'd ever experienced. So seeing a spear go through something before it was dropped off a cliff - and oh, look at that, she could have fallen off the side of a cliff, so that was something to add onto the ever-growing list of dangers she was currently trying to process....

Focus, focus. She tried starting off simply, seeing if maybe that will make a difference even after she noticed the inconsistencies in her wand that indicated that it was broken. It was all right, it wasn't as bad as Ron's had been back in second year, and he'd still managed to more or less work around it.

Hoping she wouldn't end up casting another misfired spell and end up retching slugs on top of everything else, she aimed at one of the hooded figures that seemed to be floating out of the loose circle the dog seemed to be attempting to make. "Stupefy!"

Well... on the bright side, that was a red flash, which was supposed to happen. She just didn't get to see if it had any effect on her target, given that she staggered back as though pushed, taking a hard pratfall and crying out forlornly, tears of frustration attempting to make their way down her face while she was still trying to deal with figuring everything else out.

Three? It'd been three. He pulled the pin, counted, "Un, deux, trois-"

And hurled it into the center of that loose circle. Not much but it'd be a start. Somth'n for oil- slick with grease even on the skittering ice and shortly thereafter again. Pin. Count. Throw.

Crackling fire. Sure it meant runn'n in there was a shit idea but it kept them occupied long 'nuf for him to try and help the girl. The sudden flare of bright red something behind him had Mal dropping to the ground- flares like that meant magic, meant blood, meant death- but none of the above came roll'n on through. Just a girl on the ground cry'n and a shade hover'n in a wild circle, scrap'n at it's own face.

Huh.

"Jayne-" But the mabari was already round'n back, busy with shov'n demons and templars and the like back into the fire to make the most of it till the cold and the wind blew the damn mess out. Swearing under his breath Mal staggered to his feet and sprinted, spear braced against his shoulder like a joust'n lance (he done that too in the Marches, good money, less demons), and hurled himself in one beautiful (debatable) motion to pin the damn thing to the ground. Took a bit of a leap and the land'n wasn't too pretty but he got the thing by the arm and got it pinned to the ice. Mostly.

Would help if his legs hadn't gone out under him but beggars, choosers, he managed. "Y'all right?"

All Hermione knew, at this point, was that she couldn't let go of her wand, because even though it didn't seem to be worth anything in this dream or nightmare or whatever it was, it was the only thing that made her feel even vaguely in control of anything. Because otherwise, none of this was making any sense. The war was over, she'd been sleeping, and suddenly there were monsters and a man with a strange accent and a dog and a fire....

Hand trembling, she eventually managed to climb to her feet, leaning heavily against a tree as she looked everywhere to make sure there was nothing coming up behind her. "Wh- what are-...?" Oh. She'd asked that already.

Too concerned to stray too far from the tree and leave her back open, she looked at the man who'd helped her, trying not to shake. She hadn't been this frightened since the Battle of Hogwarts, and even then, Death Eaters had at least been a familiar danger.

"Where did they come from? Why are they-...? I'm sorry, I don't understand!"

Her hand was aching, and it wasn't the one that was clenched around her wand. It was the one that was shining brightly, the same color as that strange hole in the sky, and that was not helping with her sense of panic.

"Deep breaths." He'd seen this before- forever ago. Young soldiers (they'd all been young that was how it went) all shook up and out of sorts when shit went tits up. First battle's the roughest. Girl had her head on but she'd just fallen out of the foutu Fade. She was allowed t'be a li'l shook up. He ain't gonna say boo. "Demons. They're demons. Fell outta same place you did. Don't much like be'n on this side of things- otherwise we'd be hugg'n instead of try'n not to get et."

Like the thing that swiped at his legs and feet with it's free arm- nothing he couldn't fix with his shortsword. Two cuts grating against the ice- chest and throat, and the thing was down a head and dead. More or less. He thought it was dead.

Who the fuck ever knew with demons.

But hey. It was dead, he and the girl and his dog weren't, and the rest of them were on fire. Or. Mostly on fire. Not a bad middle to a fight. "All you need t'do is hang tight and let me and Jayne work, awright? Holler if you see one about t'kill me or summat. Or if one gets near you. We'll get your...thing."

Tiny staff. Why a tiny staff? "Fixed at camp after. Awright?"

It'd have to be with one of the burning shades scrambling at him. Mal wrenched his sword from the one he'd had pinned and tried to jerk his spear free. Tried be'n the operative word. Not much luck on that count. "Damnit-"

Even if she didn't right at this moment, Hermione would eventually come to appreciate the fact that he wasn't expecting much out of her. She was all too used to being scared stiff and being forcibly shaken out of it because she was the smart one, the prepared one, the one who knew everything and had it all planned out. In actuality? She just read a lot of books and happened to have gotten lucky enough not to die over the years.

Despite the low expectations, though, she still can't just let him go and get himself hurt on her account, even if she hadn't actually asked for his help. Pointedly not watching as he slashed at one demon with his sword, she watched as a fire-covered creature made its way over to him. She didn't entirely trust herself to be able to call out a coherent warning, so she braced herself against the tree behind her, hoping to at least get off one decent spell without hurting herself.

After a deep breath, she cried out, "Impedimenta!" Though the jinx still had an unfamiliar amount of recoil to it as though she were shooting off a gun rather than using a wand, it did seem to more or less work. Though the shuffling gait of the creature didn't slow down as much as it should have, it had certainly significantly reduced in speed, which should grant the man with the dog a bit more time.

He had to plant a foot and yank backward to free his damn spear- things he learned today: Jumping own was a move for the end of the fight, not the middle- and turned in time to watch that burning shade slow and feel the brush of something as it whipped by to make it happen. Magic. Well all Rifters were some kinda magic and this girl was clearly a li'l more so. Had a spine to her. Wanted to help. He could use that. "Jayne-"

The Mabari went in low at the misty mess of whatever the void it was that passed for legs and feet for demons what didn't rightly have visible ones; he'd think about it later- Mal went high. Aimed and thrust the point of his spear right in that foutu hood to silence the shriek'n it was do'n from be'n on fire. The legs? went out from under it, the shade went down, all was still. Handful more. They got this. Might as well let her work, maybe give a li'l direction. Calm and clear in a way he sure as shit weren't feel'n (dredges of the sergeant years ago) Mal braced himself for the next round. "Got anything that'll keep 'em in that circle a mite longer?"

Round 'em up and pick 'em off. That's how he and his boys would do with 'spawn back in the Wilds. These weren't 'spawn but they weren't all that much bigger, meaner, or smarter. Should work.

She just barely managed to get it through her head that he was talking to her and not his dog, which really should have been obvious but forgive her; she's never done well under pressure. Looking back at the mess of creatures still standing, Hermione swallowed and went over the spells she'd already tried that had failed horribly. She didn't know if it was those particular spells that were broken, or if her wand was simply being finicky about when it did and didn't want to work, but she'd at least picked up on the fact that the magic itself suddenly seemed too unstable for her wand.

"I can try a Binding Spell," she offered as she straightened up. This time, though, she opted to move forward, keeping herself a few steps ahead of him. "Just... stay behind me in case it backfires."

Taking a deep breath and saying a silent prayer that this will work, she held her wand out and cried out, "Immobulus!" She tried casting a large enough net of magic to encircle all of the remaining demons, but she could feel it weakening even before it fully left her wand; by the time it got to them, only two of them were rendered completely immobile, and she couldn't guarantee how long they'd remain so.

"I'd say leave those two for last, but I can't promise they'd stay still for an entire battle, unless you work quickly."

"Don't go bind'n yourself now." He'd heard tell of that with spirits and such- might work with demons but he gets the feel'n she was talk'n about somth'n else entirely. Pinning them to the ground? One of those fancy paralysis runes he'd seen before, maybe. But he shuffled back, count'n off the remaining demons and the surrounding scuffle- the others what fell through, the fight, the bright light above 'em. Made a plan best he could.

Kill the demons, close the rift, get this girl somewhere warm, fed up, and informed. Newcomers got cranky when they didn't know what was go'n on and he didn't rightly blame 'em.

Crack of magic and that weird twinge of somth'n in the air- two pinned and that was two less he'd have to worry about. Time to work. Left a handful to mind and demons weren't darkspawn but he had Jayne to cut and quarter and give him the space he needed, range from the spear and a powerful need to not get himself or this poor girl killed. Malcolm rolled out his shoulders and stepped around, call'n back with as close to a helpful smile as he could manage. "Attagirl. Holler if they start twitch'n."

Then it was cut and quarter, Jayne circling about the mass of shades and push'n back when Malcolm needed room, Malcolm keeping his distance with long jabs of his spear and quick cuts of his sword when he had them pinned. One went down with jaws around their burning throat (?), throat place, thing where their neck oughta be- another with a hard shove of Mal's spear through it's gut and a clean severing of it's head. Decapitation worked, who knew?

She assumed he was telling her not to get herself all tied up with her own magic, given that she wouldn't have been entirely surprised if that had happened. She supposed she should be grateful she hadn't rendered herself paralyzed or worse by now, but she was a little too busy at the moment to be thankful for the little things.

She hated not doing anything, and she couldn't even bring herself to run away, given that she wasn't sure if breaking her focus even a little would mean that those two demons would be free and able to tear that man and his dog to shreds. As it was, she was already alarmed by the way she could actively feel the magic leaving her, since that had never been something she could feel, and she had to force herself to concentrate just to make sure she wouldn't have to quickly think of another spell to try and keep everyone alive and in one piece.

It was probably for the best that she was so focused on her spell, both because she didn't have the stomach to watch what was becoming of the demons and also because it allowed her to see when one of the demons did twitch. Unfortunately, it alarmed her so much that the spell fell apart entirely even as she cried out, "One of them is moving!"

Both. Both of them were moving. She just didn't have the time to clarify that before they attacked. Sorry, Malcolm.

He found the rhythm of it quick enough. Ain't all that different from fight'n spawn back in the day. Jab and cut, turn and parry, shove and twist, get the blade in deep to get them down and damn well keep them there. Everything else shut out after awhile save the growls and howls of Jayne and the shades. Spindly bits got tripped, got gutted, got broke. Hooded fella's got bowled over into the fire and pinned till the flame did it's work. Mal and Jayne wove and waded and carved their own mini swath through the skirmish up till the girl hollered and a flash 'a red caught his eye far on the left. Not 'nuf they got demons. Them fucked up Templar folk were charg'n in for a piece of their own.

Well.

Shit.

"Jayne-" Didn't hardly have to order 'fore the dog cut away to buy him time. Not enough to get outta the way of the demons, he ain't that lucky, but long 'nuf to get his spear up and catch that first wild swing, get his sword out to hold off the second while he shoved at 'em both to get some space. Too many bodies, not enough swords.

Hermione wasn't even sure how much better off she'd be in this fight if her magic was actually working at full capacity, given that she'd never had to fight off enemies quite like these. And now with something interfering with her spells, she was rendered practically useless.

She couldn't be entirely sure of what would actually work, and so she hesitated for a few moments before sticking with the simplest spells in her repertoire. While it didn't seem as though it would work for the demons, those things that looked as though they'd once been human soon felt the effects of a different kind of freezing charm, one that's more literal than simply immobilization. Hermione managed to get a reasonably strong layer of ice forming forming around the feet and legs of these Red Templars without it backfiring on her.

She might not be able to actively help take down the enemy, but at least she could buy her allies a little more time.

There's a jarring blow to the ribs that cuts somth'n Mal won't much have time to look at till later, but he's fought through worse. Angry and braced against the pain he takes the last few demons with a bit more force than he probably needs to. Cloven through neck, impaled chest, fire and ash and brackish blood that reminded him more of the spawn than he'd like. His mind clicked through then and now, then and before, every moment on the cold field a reminder that this weren't the wilds compounded by the shout'n of the girl he was try'n to save.

He staggered away from the last, Jayne already try'n to herd the templars away from the girl and for a moment she had dark hair insteada blond, a knife insteada whatever stick she had in her hands, and blood on her dress. The moment came and went but it lasted long 'nuf for somth'n old to tear open and his temper to snap like crackling ice.

Nevermind the rift. He had a line to hold.

Malcolm sprinted for the templar nearest, too far, he wasn't fast enough- didn't matter. Spear flipped up in his hand he hurled it. Aimed true. Pinned the bastard to the ice behind him long 'nuf for Jayne to get a good bite in. "Get to the camp!"

Battles fought with magic were different from battles fought with hand-to-hand combat. And with her magic as limited as it was, it was difficult for her to turn this into anything simulating a battle, rather than the desperate bid to not die that it so obviously was.

Right now, she was sort of fighting back the urge to be sick at the violence all around her. Hermione's mind hadn't been so frazzled since before the war had ended, and she was already missing having studying for her exams being the most complicated issue on her mind. When one of these soldiers suddenly fell after practically being impaled by a spear, she staggered back a few steps, gawking in shock before looking up at the man who'd thrown it.

"Wh- what about you?" she asked, though she was already moving to take steps to anywhere other than here. "You can't just stay out here!"

"And I don't mean to!" Others with shards, others with swords swing'n about the skirmish and that was more than 'nuf for him to figure they could get a little breath'n room. Get the girl looked at, get her settled. Ain't no shame in roll'n back to breathe and steady yourself between one wave and the next, 'specially when you don't get much of one on your own.

Mal didn't wait for an answer, sprinting over to finish the templar with a quick shove and twist of his spear, turning about to face the next. "Git! Jayne- Cover her."

Didn't even need to order, didn't need to repeat himself before the Mabari rounded back to keep himself between the fighting and the girl. Made himself massive, muscular cover to steady her, even if he was vibrating with the need to jump back in and bite. "Just a ways, I'll catch up-"

Light crackling in lines from hands up to the rift and it was just about done. Just about there.

Hermione wasn't much of a dog person, even if she liked them well enough. But giant dogs of an indeterminable breed that she'd just watched tear into a variety of monsters? It was little wonder that she was eager to give Jayne a wide berth, at least for now.

Her hand hurt, and she found that she had to force it to stay down at her side, since it suddenly seemed to want to move towards the green glow in the sky. Ignoring it as best as she could, she stumbled forward, hoping that "just a ways" was local vernacular for "just past that bush over there". Because as it was, between the fear and the unfamiliar burning, tingling sensation in her hand and down the length of most of her arm, she wasn't really sure how long she'd be able to run, even with that large dog helping to keep the way clear for her.

Just a ways was, well, just about as far as the girl and Jayne could comfortably get. Coupla others from the Inquisition seemed fine and ready to swing in and help clear out the last of the damn templars. Mal could and by all rights should stick 'round, help close the damn thing.

Figured gett'n himself and the girl looked at took priority. He felled that last templar what had been chas'n him and bolted, shuddering against the ripple of air and rending of noise and pain in his hand that spoke to the rift gett'n flipped. Ain't his problem. Girl. Girl's his problem. One he skidded to a stop by, sweaty and a li'l bloody and a li'l ashy, Jayne much the same, stand'n 'tween them and the rest of the world.

Rift's just about shut. Good job all.

"So..." He took a moment to breathe. "You got all your bits? Noth'n bit ya?"

Once she was fairly certain nothing was coming after her aside from that giant dog that didn't look overly friendly at the moment, Hermione stopped and looked back, glad to see that the man who'd helped her hadn't been lying. He really was coming along after them, and since he wasn't being chased either, she figured now was as good a time as any to crouch down, head between her knees as she struggled to catch her breath without passing out.

A moment passed after he spoke to her, and she peered up at him, eyeing the blood and trying to ascertain how much of it, if any, was his.

"Would something have happened if they'd bitten me?" She was fairly certain she was mostly fine and unbitten, but she couldn't help imagining that these creatures spread a kind of lycanthropy of their own, turning people they've bitten into werewolves. Or were-whatever-they-are. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and she didn't exactly have a lot of other pleasant thoughts drifting about in her head right now.

"Well...it'd hurt and you'd prolly bleed a bit? More than a bit if they got ya." He staggered to a stop, propping his spear against the snow and leaning his shoulder into it as he peered at her and then Jayne. Jayne who was still wound tight and tense till Mal murmurs a curt. ""Démissionner."

Then the dog shook off what grit and growling it had been holding onto and trotted back to sit at the girl's feet, head tipped at an angle, all curious and friendly like. Ain't no danger here no more, best Mal could tell. Which meant Jayne was gonnas tart sniffing for scraps soon enough. "Nothing too bad aside from pain and bleed'n. Which...is reason enough to not wanna get bit. I didn't wanna get bit. It hurts."

Though he no longer looked like he was ready to tear into her, Hermione was still startled when that dog came over to her, suddenly looking almost as friendly as a golden retriever. She looked up at his owner uncertainly before slowly reaching her hand out to Jayne, assuming he was like any other dog and would sniff at it before deciding to either ignore, attack, or not-so-subtly ask to be petted.

"It's a good enough reason. I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't have anything to worry about. Like... like venom or disease or something. Or Dark magic. That is how I'd gotten here, I'm assuming."

Like all friendly dogs, Jayne sniffed at Hermione's hand a bit before butting his head into it, leaning for a firmer stroke. He loved him some affection, did Jayne. Specially from pretty girls that might have food.

Or.

Anyone that might have food.

"Nah. Demons don't do poison, they do magic. Them Red Templars, though- that stuff's apparently some kinda contagious. S'why I told you to run." He could keep 'em away and not catch it, probably. Her? Not gonna leave her to catch a lung full of death. "Dark? Dunno 'bout that. Strange? Sure."

Though she was still a bit too shell-shocked to actually be happy, Hermione smiled at Jayne's bid for affection, carefully moving in to gently scratch behind his ears. She might not know much about dogs, but at least they couldn't be all too different from cats in terms of how they liked to be petted.

Glancing up at Mal, she frowned for a moment before trying to focus more on the dog; focusing on anything else ran the risk of getting too disturbing. "You mean those things with the red crystals coming out of them? What are they? Were they people once?"

"That...they're a li'l complicated and a lot magic in a weird way I don't rightly know how to explain. So here's the plan. We're gonna get you to the healers and get you checked over, get you fed and warmed up and settled with someone that can answer all your questions and explain this place." Which, for the most part? Ain't him. "Jayne and I are gonna have t'come back out here, make sure everything that should be dead stays dead. Maybe check the perimeter of the camp if there's more of these things popp'n open. We'll be gone 'bout an hour, maybe two while you get settled. Soon as we're sorted we'll meet up with you. Promise."

If nothing else, he's at least able to keep calm and coherent in the midst of a crisis, which is better than Hermione usually is. Though she's reluctant to give up the comfort of the large dog, Hermione nods, deciding that Jayne would probably be better off protecting someone than simply comforting someone. "Thank you," she murmurs as she slowly climbs to her feet.

Then, as an afterthought, she mentioned, "My name is Hermione. I... take it I'm not the first person to land in the middle of things like this?"

"...or Jayne can stay with you, keep you company. I figure the worst of it's sorted and I'm not gonna be the only one tak'n a walkabout to make sure nothing nasty comes in where it shouldn't." Jayne certainly perked up at the idea, leaning in against Hermione's hand.

"Me? Malcolm Reynolds. And sadly 'nuf, you ain't. People what know what's going on are try'n to figure that out. Jayne and I just keep people from gett'n bit."

OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow

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